The Widow's Protector Read online

  But she didn’t have one. Not yet. There was nothing to do but endure.

  At least she knew she could do that much.

  * * *

  Ryder went to get the portable radio from the storm shelter so they could try to find some news about the extent of damage around them and when they could expect the weather to clear. He had to detach the antenna that had allowed them to use it in the shelter, but he didn’t think he was going to have much trouble aboveground. If he did, he could always find a wire somewhere.

  He checked the phone when he returned and found it still out. His cell phone continued to give him no connection. Oh, well, Ben hadn’t expected him for a week or two anyway. Tomorrow would be soon enough to give him a call. Ben was already irritated that Ryder was taking the slow route out there. Another few days couldn’t matter.

  In the meantime, he realized he was grateful to be here. He couldn’t imagine that woman being alone and pregnant with no power, no phone, no idea whether roads were passable and nobody to help.

  It definitely wasn’t right.

  She had moved the oil lamps to the living room right off the small entry hall, and he joined her there with the radio. “Do you mind?”

  “No. That’s a great idea. I was just sitting here wondering what was going on in the rest of the county.”

  “Maybe we’ll find out if I can get a signal. Right now my cell phone thinks the world has vanished.”

  Her lovely smile reappeared. “It’s never easy to get a cell signal out here. Closer to town they have more towers, but out here where ranches are so spread out, we don’t have many. I hear a lot of the ranchers and farmers who can afford them have satellite phones.”

  But that would be beyond her means, he thought. That didn’t sit well with him, either. He supposed in the old days pioneer women had dealt with worse, but this wasn’t the old days, this woman didn’t much resemble a pioneer with loads of knowledge about how to do things, and a pregnant woman without a reliable telephone struck him as dangerous. But of course he couldn’t say so. He’d already inserted himself too much into her life. Maybe more than she wanted.

  The radio crackled and the announcer’s voice emerged and then disappeared again into the static. Road crews were out trying to clear roads. At one point Marti looked at him.

  “I won’t be able to get you to town until they clear Eighty-six.”

  “I’m staying at least a few days anyway.”

  Bursts of information got through. Line crews from surrounding areas were arriving to help restore power. Conard City had completely lost power. Damage reports remained sketchy as the sheriff’s department tried to visit outlying properties. Emergency aid had begun to arrive.

  They received an incomplete picture of the situation, some speculation about how many tornadoes and how strong, but the information sufficed to tell Ryder that it was bad. Very bad.

  With each bit of news, Marti sagged more. Drawn and pale, she appeared exhausted.

  “You need to get to bed,” he said finally. “It’s been a stressful day. Let me just check the attic one more time, then you get some sleep. We can assess things better in the morning.”

  She nodded wordlessly.

  He climbed one more time into the attic, checking around, but found no more new leaks. The bucket had hardly filled, so he felt no need to empty it.

  Back downstairs, he sent Marti up and watched her climb those stairs as if her feet weighed a ton.

  Sympathy squeezed his heart. Unwanted, unwelcome, it happened anyway.

  Unbidden, a thought floated across his mind: maybe he could help this woman out in a way he’d never been able to help Brandy. It probably wouldn’t ease his sense of guilt much, but it might put a bandage on his soul.

  And he so desperately needed a bandage.

  Chapter 3

  Morning arrived with the kind of perfection that could only follow a serious storm. As long as Ryder didn’t look down, all he could see was a sky clear enough and blue enough to hurt the eyes, he felt air so fresh it didn’t seem to be able to contain a dust mote, and through the open window he smelled rich earth and green plants. Just outside his window, an untouched tree rustled gently.

  Perfect. Until he looked down.

  For the first time, without rain and wind lashing him, he saw it all. It spread before him as if the world had been lifted and shaken, then tossed like dice.

  From this side of the house he couldn’t see the wiped-out hay field, but he could see debris scattered everywhere, some of it large and some of it small, and most of it probably never to be identified again.

  Pieces of twisted metal sheeting. Broken boards, scattered tree limbs—some of which, amazingly enough, still had their leaves. An armchair. For God’s sake, a chair?

  He hated to think of the story behind that chair. Or the ceiling fan that appeared to be in perfect condition about two hundred yards away. Somebody had been hit hard. Had lost everything.

  He jammed himself into his clothes and hurried downstairs. He heard stirring from the kitchen, and he couldn’t imagine how Marti must be reacting to the sights outside her door. He kind of hoped she hadn’t looked out her bedroom window this morning.

  Wrapped in a pink terry-cloth robe, she stood at the stove cooking some breakfast sausage. She turned as she heard his footsteps and gave him a wan smile. “You must be hungry. Coffee?”

  “Thanks. And I’m starved.” He helped himself to a steaming cup of brew, then got out of her way by sitting at the old farm table. “I’m not going to be able to do much about the roof until I can get to town. Any word on that?”

  She shook her head. “Eighty-six is still blocked. The…stories on the radio were getting so bad I turned it off. I was lucky, Ryder.”

  After looking out his window, he had to agree. “Maybe I can find some stuff in the barn to work with. But I took a look outside… There’s plenty to do out there, Marti.”

  “I know.” Her hand shook a little as she turned the sausage. “I saw. Some of it anyway. I don’t even know where to begin. People lost their entire houses.”

  He’d already figured that out. “Let me think about it,” he suggested. “There’s cleanup, and there are things I want to check out about the rest of the house. The way things were flying, there might be more damage than just the roof. Anyway, like I said, plenty to do.”

  “Eggs?” she asked as she forked sausage from the pan.

  “Please.”

  “How many and how do you want them?”

  “Three, please, over easy.” The way he planned to work today, he figured fat would fuel him more than it would harm him.

  At last she joined him at the table with her own single egg and a slice of toast. In front of him she put a plate with another four slices. He dug in. Simple food, but good food and plenty of it. He just hoped she was eating enough and not going hungry in order to feed him. But he couldn’t figure out how to ask without offending her.

  Then she answered without being asked. “I can’t eat much in the mornings,” she remarked. “Morning sickness is supposed to go away, but mine hasn’t.”

  He looked up from his plate. “Really? That’s awful. Is something wrong?”

  “I’m perfectly healthy.” She managed a smile as she lifted her piece of toast. “At least it goes away by noon. But that’s why I haven’t even dressed yet.”

  “You look fine to me in terry cloth.” The words popped out unbidden, and he saw her start. Then she blushed. “Sorry,” he said swiftly. “That was out of line.”

  “No, no,” she said hastily. “I was feeling like a hag, but I’m not anymore.”

  Again he caught sight of her enchanting smile. It made him feel good. He’d like to see a whole lot more of that smile. Then it struck him that getting attached to seeing her smile might not be
good for either of them. He had to get on to Fresno soon. He’d promised Ben, and he knew Ben needed to talk about Brandy as much as he did.

  But for now he had to leave this woman in somewhat better shape, and he had to do it without making either of them regret his eventual departure.

  So he turned businesslike. “I want to check the barn and find out what’s in there. Maybe I can find materials for repairs, at least temporary ones. I saw some debris in your yard that I think I’d better clean up so it doesn’t blow around and cause more damage if you have another storm. I’ll get started as soon as I’m done eating.”

  Her smile had faded at his change of tone and he felt a bit like a beast.

  “You don’t have to do all that,” she protested.

  He shrugged. “Lady, there are just some things a decent man needs to do, okay?”

  She didn’t argue with that. At her insistence he left her with the dishes, then headed out toward the barn. He’d gotten used to having space over the past few weeks, and all of a sudden he was feeling crowded. How stupid was that?

  But it was a relief to walk into the barn and be alone. Sometimes a man just needed room to think. Unfortunately, his thoughts kept wanting to turn to Marti. He decided to let them. Brandy had occupied his every waking moment for years now. Maybe he just needed a break.

  And maybe, just possibly, he was entitled to it.

  He opened up every door and window in the barn to let in the morning light and discovered a treasure trove that hadn’t been apparent late yesterday by the light of a single flashlight.

  Someone had once worked this ranch, evidently, although for what he was no real judge. There were a few horse stalls, some tack in the back room, some power equipment and a load of odds and ends that might come in handy. Whatever this had all once been, it was obvious it had been neglected for a long time. Layers of dust coated everything, and rust covered a lot of the steel.

  Then, looking up, he saw sunlight peeking through holes in the roof. A total mess from a construction standpoint alone. This barn had obviously weathered a good many decades, but if it didn’t get repaired soon, it wouldn’t weather many more. Some creeping vines had even begun to grow inside, evidently getting enough water and light from the holes above.

  He sighed. He hated to see a building neglected this way. Then he reminded himself that his task was to make sure Marti was safe in her home and that some random thunderstorm wouldn’t deprive her of her only shelter. The rest of it wasn’t his business.

  He cleared space to pile the debris as he recovered it then set to work, all the while wondering how she would get this stuff trucked out of here. Because it was going to take a truck.

  He thought of using the tractor that was under a sort of lean-to outside the barn but then dismissed the idea. He didn’t know how much of that stuff growing out there was someone’s crop, and although he definitely had to get rid of the debris, he didn’t want to cost Marti any income because he’d wiped out huge chunks of someone’s hay or whatever.

  As he worked under the steadily warming sun, carting handfuls and armloads of crap to the barn, it struck him how out of his element he was here. It was halfway to moving to another planet, he thought. He knew how to fix her house, how to fix her barn, but he had no idea what was growing in those fields, how much it might mean to someone and how much tromping it could take.

  He started to feel worse with nearly every step he took, wondering if the crushed stalks would revive. Nor was it as if he could stick to a single path. The tornado had not been so obliging.

  When Marti called him for lunch, he went upstairs to wash up and took the opportunity to look out all the windows again. As far as he could see, there was more twisted metal, more wood, wire…and that was just what he could see in the tall growth. Hell.

  Marti had dressed in jeans and a bright-blue maternity top that brought out the blue of her eyes. She had made him two thick chicken sandwiches and more coffee. On her own plate was a single sandwich and beside it a glass of milk.

  “I need to know some things,” he said as he joined her.

  “Like what?”

  “Like what’s growing out there, how much trampling it can stand and whether I should just leave some of the debris. It’s scattered everywhere, but I know damn-all about farming.”

  “It’s hay around the house,” she said. “Truthfully? They won’t be able to mow it if there’s much debris out there.”

  “So the crop would be wasted if I don’t clear it?”

  “I think so. If the phone was working, I could call the guy who leased the land and ask him, to be sure. I don’t know much more about it than you do, Ryder, except I’m pretty sure the mowers would get beat up if they suck up debris and try to bail it.”

  “Most likely. And it would probably kill the mower blades.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I’m trying to save as much of the crop as I can by pulling stuff out by hand. But there’s a lot of stuff out there.”

  “Then the crop is lost.” The corners of her mouth pulled down. “You can’t do all that work.”

  “I can do it. Someone has to because if it’s left there you won’t be able to grow hay next year for the same reason.”

  Her eyes widened a bit, then she put her forehead in her hand. “God,” she whispered almost inaudibly, “it just keeps getting worse.”

  “Don’t think that way,” he said, maybe a little sharply. “Just don’t think that way. There’s always a solution.”

  Her head jerked up. He’d startled her and felt badly about it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”

  She didn’t answer immediately, then astonished him. “You must have heard a lot of that from your wife.”

  He really didn’t want to go there. Unfortunately, she was right. There had been times when Brandy’s inability to see hope, or see a solution, or just deal with something had nearly driven him up the wall. He had understood she was sick and couldn’t help it, and he’d bitten back more irritation than he could even remember, but sometimes it had gotten to him even though he never voiced it.

  But now he had voiced it, and worse, he had voiced it to a woman who didn’t deserve it.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. “You’re right. I wasn’t reacting to you.”

  She gave a little shrug and picked up her sandwich. “I read somewhere the hardest part of moving on is that you keep reacting through old filters that might not apply. When you first said that, I reacted to Jeff. So I guess you have a right to react to your wife.”

  He studied her as she chewed and swallowed. “This is going to be fun,” he said after a few moments without any humor at all.

  “How so?” she asked.

  “We’re both full of mines. God help us.”

  She astonished him with a little laugh. “Indeed. But it’s only until you can move on. A few days, right? I think we can manage.”

  “It might be easier if we had Kevlar vests.”

  At that her laughter became full-throated. “If they make one to fit a heart, I don’t know about it. But I promise to check my responses.”

  “Me, too,” he agreed. “The thing is, I never said a thing like that to my wife. So where the hell did it come from?”

  “Maybe,” she suggested, “you’re dealing with a lot of pent-up stuff. I know I am. Sometimes it’s just easier to express to a stranger, someone your heart isn’t already tied up in knots with.”

  She had a point, but that didn’t make it right. Then she spoke tentatively.

  “It must have been hard to live with someone who was so depressed.”

  That went straight to the heart of it. He hesitated, not sure he wanted to share much, then realizing that this whole journey he was on was about trying to understand. Maybe talking about it with someone who wasn
’t involved could kick him a little further down that road.

  “The hard part,” he said, “was that I couldn’t make her happy. I couldn’t fix her. I couldn’t do a damn thing except make sure she got good doctors and good therapy and took her meds. I have to admit, it was years before I finally accepted it. Although sometimes I wonder if I really have. Her docs told me. Hell, even Brandy told me that I wasn’t in any way responsible for her depression, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. But you never stop hoping. Never stop feeling that if you could just find the right thing to say or do, she’d be happy, even if only for a little while.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

  “I admit, I’m a fixer. I see something wrong, I want to straighten it out. I couldn’t do that for my wife. There were times when she’d get better. Times when she could laugh or enjoy things, but then the pain would come back. What bothers me sometimes is I could never imagine that pain. Never understand how it could be so big and so consuming. Never imagine how it could hurt so much to just be alive.”

  She caught him by surprise, reaching out to cover one of his work-roughened hands with her soft and delicate one. His eyes started to feel hot, but he battled down the grief. “It just was, Marti. That’s all I can say. It just was. And I’m still trying to understand how one day she could seem almost happy, and the next she could kill herself. I wonder if that happiness wasn’t just an illusion, a relief of some kind because she’d already made up her mind she was going to end it. I’ll never know.”

  “I am so, so sorry.”

  He just shook his head, uncomfortable with how he had just spilled his guts. How had it helped? Saying it out loud hadn’t answered the questions. He was beginning to think there were no answers at all, anywhere.

  “So you said you were going to Fresno?” she said, clearly trying to change the subject.

  “To see Brandy’s brother, Ben. He has lots of questions, too.”

  “Why didn’t you just fly?”

  “Because I needed some time inside my own head. God knows what I’m going to tell him.”