Healing Trace

This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of
the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed
as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Healing
Trace – Lakota Ranch

1st
Digital Release: Copyright© 2013 Debra Kayn

All
rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically
or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in reviews.

www.debrakayn.com

Dedication

To those who have lived and survived.
May you always believe you're worthy of love. Hold the hand that's offered
tightly, and know you were never forgotten

Chapter One

Joan
had passed the sign announcing she'd entered Lakota ranch property two miles
back, and she'd yet to see a single house or pass any oncoming traffic since
turning off the highway. She gave a passing glance in the rear view mirror and
cursed under her breath. A plume of smoke bellowed from the rear of her car,
blocking visibility of the road.
No, no, no. Not now.

The
phone call this morning from a Mr. Whitefeather wanting to hire her for in-home
care for the next six weeks had come at the perfect time. Her only form of
transportation was on its last leg, and after finally making her final student
loan payment a week ago, she needed the extra money to purchase a new vehicle
before she could go out and search for a full-time nursing job.

Her
goal of bringing her sister home permanently depended on her earning in a
bigger paycheck. Her part-time job of delivering meals to the elderly only paid
her bills and barely supported one person, never mind two. Her one crutch in
the equation was obtaining reliable transportation to apply for one of the
nursing jobs at the county hospital, thirty miles away.

With
the accelerator pushed down to the floor, she still only achieved in getting
the speed up to twenty miles per hour. She bit her lip. This was worse than
last time when the junker overheated on the interstate and she had to walk
three miles to town.

An
explosion rocked the car. She screamed. A thick, white cloud blew up onto the
front windshield blocking her view. She slammed on the brakes.

"You
piece of shit!" She pushed the driver's side door open.

Coughing
from the smoke, she waved a hand in front of her face and pulled her keys out
of the ignition with her free hand. All the clothes she'd packed for her time
at the Lakota ranch were inside her trunk, and she needed every one of them if
she was going to do her job. Without her things, she wouldn't know what to do.
She was living on her last fifty dollars until she completed her new job.

Acrid
smoke surrounded the car, filling her lungs and stinging her eyes. She held her
breath, stretched her arms straight out in front of her and walked blindly into
the noxious cloud. If she could manage to get the trunk open, she'd throw her
bags to safety and not be completely without a way of supporting herself.

"Whoa,
lady. You need to step back out of the way." A man grabbed her around the
waist and carried her across the street.

"Please,
I need my suitcases out of the trunk." She pushed him away.

He
glanced between the car and her. "Stay put. Don't move."

Two
minutes later, she sagged in relief as the man retrieved her last bag. She
plopped down on the biggest piece of luggage and shook her head, staring past
him in horror.

"Are
you hurt?" The man squatted beside her.

She
shook her head. "My car blew up."

"You're
not going to start crying, are you?" he said.

"Of
course not." She wrinkled her nose.

"Good.
I never know what to do when a woman starts producing tears." He scratched
his head.

She
wrapped her arms around her knees. "God, my life sucks."

The
more she thought about all her problems, the more apparent it became that her
car was the only thing she had going for her. Without transportation, she stood
the chance of losing the one person she loved more than anything else in her
life.

"Well,
there's nothing you can do about your car. It's toast. You should be happy that
you're out here with your luggage and unharmed. It could have been a lot worse,
in my opinion." He pulled her up. "Now stop worrying, it could've
been worse. You're safe. I'll take you to the ranch. Then I'll get a couple of
the guys to come back and tow your rig off the road. Someone can drive you back
to town. I doubt if there's anything salvageable, but your insurance company
will want to take a look at it and make sure. In a few days, you'll be able to
replace the car."

"You
live at the ranch?" Joan suddenly smiled. "The Lakota ranch?"

"Yes,"
he said.

There
was hope. If she could make it to her new job, she'd earn the money for another
beat-up old piece of junk, and be back on the road to bringing her sister home.

Joan
clutched his arm. "Please, take me to the ranch."

"Sure.
I'm Brody Whitefeather." He offered his hand.

Brody
was a walking rock, not overweight, but his muscles had muscles, and he
definitely worked out for long hours each day. She shook his hand. Dark and
handsome, he stood only a few inches taller than her five-foot-eight inches,
but he held himself tall and proud.

He
ran his hand through his short black hair, studying her with dark eyes. She
breathed a sigh of relief.

"My
luck is changing. I'm Joan O'Hanlon, the nurse who was hired to take care
of…Trace LaBatte. Do you know him?"

"Yep.
I was the one who made the call to hire you." He grinned. "I'm glad
you showed up. You'll be perfect for Trace as he recovers from his accident. He
needs someone who's dedicated to his recovery and makes sure he does everything
the doctor ordered."

"You
have no idea how glad I am to hear that." She stuck out her lower lip and
blew the stray strands of hair out of her face. "The last thing I need is
to screw up and lose the job."

"Don't
worry about that." Brody put his fingers in his mouth and gave a sharp
whistle.

She
lifted her shoulders against the noise and wondered what he was doing. A chest
thumping noise grew closer and she scrambled to hide behind Brody as the
biggest horse she'd ever seen came running out of nowhere straight toward them.

"This
is Red Moon, my horse. He won't hurt you." He grabbed a handful of black
mane, swung up on the back of the horse, and stuck out his leg. "Put your
foot on my boot, and I'll give you a hand up."

She
eyed the snorting horse, the sexy rider, her abused luggage, and crossed her
arms. No way could she leave her belongings scattered all over the road, not to
mention climb onto the back of a horse the size of a mountain. A very steep
mountain.

"Come
on. We should hurry. By now, Trace probably got it in his mind to walk to the
stables and check up on that damn horse that threw him. He's not the best about
minding the doctor's orders." He motioned toward her pile of things.
"I'll come back for your bags the minute I drop you off at the house,
don't worry."

"I
think I'll walk. You can point me in the right direction, and I promise to go
fast. I'm anxious to meet Mr. LaBatte and start working." She jumped back
when the horse stuck its nose close to her face.

"I'm
afraid I can't let you do that. Your patient needs your…skill and guidance
before he does something stupid." He held out his hand. "I can get
you there quicker if you accept my help and get up on the horse."

Brody
sat atop the massive animal without a saddle. She hesitated, doubting that the
horse would let her claw her way up its back without throwing a fit. "I'm
not a big fan of pain…or heights or even horses."

"You'll
be fine. Unlike your car, Red Moon won't blow up and leave us stranded on the
side of the road." He grinned, amusement lighting up his face. "Come
on now, any woman who was ready to jump into a burning car can handle riding a
sweet horse like Red Moon with her eyes closed."

Ten
minutes later, Joan's teeth were on the verge of shattering for all the times
she'd bounced atop the back of the horse. She plastered herself against Brody's
broad back, and prayed she wouldn't totter off the horse and break her neck.
There was a very real reason why she'd never taken up the sport of horse
riding. Heights scared her to death.

"You
can open your eyes. We've arrived." He chuckled.

The
horse came to a stop. She peeked over Brody's shoulder, but didn't let go of
him. The animal shifted sideways, and she squeaked.

"You'll
have to let go of me, if you want to get to the house." He picked her hand
off his shirt.

"I-I'm
not sure I want to get down." She lowered her gaze to the ground and
moaned, clutching Brody tighter. "Can't you make the horse kneel
down?"

He
laughed. "You're funny. That'll go a long way with keeping your sanity on
the job."

Somehow,
without giving her the slightest bit of warning, Brody deposited her on the
ground. When the shock wore off, she smiled up at him, thinking he must be
magical.

"Thank
you." She straightened her shirt. "I'm sorry I was such a baby about
riding. I'm sure it's a fun experience for some people."

He
flashed a smile. "Oh, I can think of things that would entertain me more
than riding a horse, so we have something in common."

"Mm…I
don't think I want to touch that, do I?" She laughed softly.

He
shook his head, hiding a grin. "Probably not today, since we just
met."

She
liked Brody. He had a teasing attitude, and considering how rude she was asking
him to risk his life to safe her belongings, he treated her with respect.

"Go
ahead, and let yourself inside the house. Trace should still be on the couch in
the living room where I left him, unless he's crawled around the house in an
attempt to find his crutches."

She
frowned. "He wouldn't do that, would he?"

"Hell
yeah. But, hopefully he's sleeping. The doctor gave him a heavy dose of pain
killers before I brought him home." He clicked his tongue, and Red Moon
stepped away from her. "There're instructions from the doctor on the
kitchen counter. I'll check in with you at dinner time."

Then
he was gone, riding off into the sunset— or in this case the sunlight.
Everything happened faster than she could process this morning, and the day
wasn't over yet. She still had to meet Mr. LaBatte, and figure out a plan of
action regarding his care.

She
turned around; ready to take her first look at the place she'd call home for
the next six weeks. It took three seconds for the bottom of her world to turn
upside down. "Oh, frick, this isn't an old ranch house."

Staring
up at the spacious front porch, she puffed her cheeks out and blew out a slow
exhale. She expected to find a weathered old farmhouse like the ones scattered
around the area with the typical two-stories, white shutters, and daisies in
the yard. Instead, a sprawling one-story mansion at least half a football field
wide blended into the neutral colors of the landscape.

A
huge stable and livestock barn outlined with white fencing graced the area to
the left of the house. She scanned the grounds and her heart raced as she began
to understand the amount of money involved in building a ranch of this size.

She
walked up the cobblestone pathway lined with a myriad of flowering plants.
After climbing up the wooden steps on the porch, she stopped at the double
doors and glanced behind her. No one was around to ask permission to enter, so
she followed Brody's directions. Quietly, so not to wake Mr. LaBatte in case he
still napped, she squeezed the elaborate handle and stepped into the foyer. Her
low heels clicked against the wood floor.
Oh, my God.