Her Cowboy Boss. Arlene James

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      “Maybe Dr. Burns can give us some insight,” she said.

      “Why don’t you go ask him?” Ann suggested.

      Meredith caught—and ignored—the slightly suggestive undertone in her sister’s voice. “All right.” She turned away from the house. “He should’ve had time to make a full assessment of the horse by now.”

      He had arrived well over an hour earlier, his usual bag from the local diner in tow. At some point during the day, he had taken the time to shower, shave and change clothes. He’d even shown up wearing a different hat, a cleaner, better version of his usual black felt Stetson. The sight had done strange, unwelcome things to her breathing, so she’d scampered out of the stable as quickly as she could, but she wouldn’t let that keep her from seeking him out now. She might not like Stark Burns, but he was in no way a danger to her. She knew that, had always known it, by sheer instinct.

      Stepping off the porch, she walked down the well-beaten path beneath the trees. Behind her, she heard the thin wail of a tiny voice. Bodie was teething again, and sleep seemed to be eluding her. Meredith heard the screen door creak as her sister-in-law went into the house to see to the child. Ann and Dean had left Donovan at home with Dean’s grandmother.

      Meri heard Ann say, “We ought to be getting back. Dean’s tired. Call me later.”

      Rex replied something to that, but Meredith couldn’t make it out as she was moving farther from the house. She hopped over the bar ditch and out onto the dirt road. The vapor lamp atop the pole at the edge of the big red barn cast a wide circle of faint light over Stark’s truck. Cream colored, it looked gray in the light. The magnetic sign on its door read, Burns Veterinary Services, with a phone number beneath, followed by the words, War Bonnet, Oklahoma. He hadn’t bothered to include an address. War Bonnet was so small that a short drive around town would quickly locate the veterinary office on its outskirts, just past the Feed & Grain owned by Callie’s father.

      Walking past the truck, Meredith stepped out of the circle of dim light and into the darkness once more before crossing the second bar ditch on the opposite side of the road, then crawling through the corral fence. There was a gate, but no one used it except to let horses in or out or drive truckloads of feed inside. As usual, except in the very coldest part of winter, the stable door stood open.

      Meredith walked through the door and knew at once that Stark wasn’t inside.

      She had no idea why he’d stepped out, but obviously he had. He couldn’t have gone far, though. His truck was still parked at the side of the road.

      Going to Soldier, she checked his tracheotomy then the IV, the catheter first, followed by the bag. Wanting an accurate measurement, she tried to do it just the way Stark had shown her, pulling on the bottom of the big, heavy bag.

      Suddenly, two arms came around her, trapping her, and two hands covered hers. Meredith screamed and jerked backward, colliding with a warm, strong body. Panicked, she threw first one elbow then the other and tore free, stumbling into the stall and throwing up her hands in defense.

      “No! Let go! I’ll fight!”

      Stark stood there, his arms held up, hands shoulder high and spread wide. “It’s okay,” he said gently.

      Meri’s heart pounded so hard she thought she might be sick. Clasping a hand over the scar on her chest, she doubled over, gasping and swallowing down air.

      “I thought you knew I was there,” he told her evenly, rubbing his ribs. “I just stepped out to enjoy the cool air for a minute. I followed you in. Didn’t mean to surprise you.”

      She tried to stop shaking, memories of the assault flashing over her, a dark night, a quiet place... She heard his voice telling her to shut up and do as she was told, saw the knife flash, felt it slice into her flesh. He’d dragged her backward between two cars.

      “I...” Not another word would come.

      “I was just going to correct your hand position,” Stark said conversationally, reaching for the bag. “You need to pull on the tabs. Like this.” He demonstrated how to properly get a measurement of the liquid left in the bag.

      Meredith glanced over at him and nodded, gulping down air to settle her stomach. “I’m sorry,” she finally managed.

      “For what?” he asked. “You didn’t scare me. I scared you. I should apologize.” Very sincerely, his hand placed flat against the center of his chest, he said, “I’m sorry.”

      She knew that he was apologizing for more than scaring her, for something that he had not even done. Tears filled her eyes. She shook her head, waved a hand, tried to make light of it.

      “It was silly.”

      But it wasn’t silly. It would never be silly. She pushed it down, closed it off, as she had done from the beginning, and tilted her chin at the horse.

      “How is he?”

      “I feel he’s improved,” Stark said, easily shifting subjects. “I can’t quantify that, mind you. Just a feeling I have.”

      Blowing out a breath, Meredith tried to smile, to feel better. It didn’t work. Fear had its claws in her now, and she knew from experience that it would be slow to let go.

      “That’s...” She tried to swallow the knot strangling her. “That’s good. W-we have to decide what to tell Dad. Ann and Dean think he’ll resent being kept in the dark, but Rex and I don’t want to worry him unnecessarily.”

      Stark shrugged. “None of my business either way, but I’ll happily talk to Wes if it’ll help.”

      “All right. Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

      She looked toward the door and the darkness beyond, suddenly dreading what now seemed like a long and very frightening walk back to the house. Gulping down the lump in her throat, she sucked in a deep breath, squared her shoulders and prepared to say that she would leave. He beat her to it.

      “I need to get something from my truck,” he announced. “If you’re ready, I’ll, uh, walk you out.”

      He knew. He knew she was frightened. And at least suspected why. A sliver of the old shame pricked her, but she was too glad of the escort to pay it much mind at the moment.

      Push it down. Pack it away. Think of other things.

      Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable...

      Nodding, she clasped her hands together and walked as casually as she could manage out into the aisle of the stable. He fell into step beside her, his hands tucked into the back pockets of his jeans.

      As they reached the door, he said, “You’ve really been a lot of help.”

      She felt herself relax incrementally. “That’s nice to hear.”

      To her surprise, he turned to the right, taking a path that would carry them behind the stable, rather than to the left, the shorter path.

      “I go this way,” he said, “because of the light.”

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