Bad Boy Rancher

The mayor?

Brielle hustled around her desk and snatched up the handset. Outside her open window was a domed blue sky, the mountains crystal clear around the valley. A light wind carried the scent of wild sage. “Hello, Mr. Cantwell. What can I do for you?”

“Hi, Ms. Thompson. I hope your first week’s going well.”

She thought of the missing paper supply order and the wrong-size bedsheets that failed to fit their overlong mattresses.

“Couldn’t be better.” Her eyes wandered to a picture of her parents from a cruise they’d taken during her first deployment. They stood barefoot in sand, their faces red and their smiles wide. She’d been surrounded by sand, too, back then. It hadn’t been a photo op, though. Not that she needed a picture to remind her. She could still see, feel and taste that sand. Grains of it clung and scraped inside her, out of reach.

“As you might have seen in the paper, some of our residents have raised concerns about your facility.”

“I’ve read them.” The one delivered to her house, the one delivered to the center, even the one sitting on the diner’s counter when she ordered her coffee this morning—each one reminding her of how unwelcome her facility was in this close-knit town.

Doreen appeared and set a glass of iced tea and a pile of mail on Brielle’s desk. She smiled her gratitude, passed Doreen completed applicant forms for data entry and picked up the welcome refreshment.

“The town council has taken an interest.”

The iced tea sloshed over the side of the glass and splatted her desk blotter. “And what does that mean exactly?”

“They’re calling a meeting to allow residents to air their grievances.”

“Grievances?” she echoed. “I don’t understand. We haven’t caused any problems...”

“You haven’t, and believe me, Carbondale is happy to have you,” the mayor soothed, then—“Hold a moment, I’ve got to get rid of this other call.”

“Not all of Carbondale’s pleased,” she muttered under her breath, thinking of Justin Cade as she awaited the mayor’s return. A sip of her sweet, lemony caffeine jump-started her jittering knee.

Despite her burgeoning responsibilities, she found herself thinking often about her dark rider, as she’d begun calling Justin after one particularly blushworthy dream. He’d taken her on a moonlight motorcycle ride to a secluded spot and then... She’d woken up.

Luckily.

Her full-to-bursting life, one she needed to succeed at, didn’t allow for romantic fantasies about some tragic Brontë-esque hero in cowboy boots. Her attention and focus needed to be on the clinic and its patients, not an angst-ridden bad boy with possible suicidal tendencies...especially one who might soon be a resident here.

Would he accept the challenge she’d issued after the hearing?

“Sorry about that,” the mayor said, back on the line. “More business about this year’s Halloween parade. Some are requesting a costume ban because they may scare the children. A Halloween parade without costumes? Can you picture it?”

She made a sympathetic noise, and the man continued, “Anyway, if you would attend the town meeting and present your case...?”

“Is Fresh Start on trial?” Her fingers traced a cross pattern in the condensation beading her glass. She’d expected a bit of pushback from a few of the old-time residents and figured it would just blow over in a few months...a town meeting was way more than she’d bargained for.

“No.” The sound of rustling papers crinkled in her ear. “But Fresh Start’s charter is conditional and can be revoked. It’d be helpful if you’d discuss the good work you do to help some of the more—” he cleared his throat “—cautious community members understand there’s no reason to fear your patients.”

“They’re just trying to get their lives back together. The only harm my clients pose is to themselves.” Her eyes swung to the dog tags stowed in a paper clip holder beside an overwatered spider plant. A discolored ring encircled the pot’s bottom.

“I know. But keep in mind this isn’t a big city like Chicago. We don’t have those sorts of problems here...”

They had those problems everywhere, she thought wearily. Carbondale just might be a bit too close-minded, too proud, too much in denial to acknowledge it. Maybe they believed a problem wasn’t a problem until you identified it.

“What about Jesse Cade?” she blurted, her mind zooming back to Justin.

Neither he nor his family had contacted her about admission. Given his impending sentencing tomorrow, did his silence suggest he’d chosen jail over the clinic?

Clearly, he wasn’t ready for therapy’s hard work. He’d refused to thank her for helping him or admit he’d endangered his life. And with more protest letters to the editor appearing in this morning’s paper, the last thing she wanted were resistant, negative residents during her center’s opening. He didn’t see the program’s benefit and refused to be saved.

So why did she still yearn to do just that?

She’d helped save his life already. The night on the side of the road, when he’d stared up at her dazed and confused, his body bloodied and battered from the impact. In that moment he’d reminded her of the soldiers who’d arrived at her army base on stretchers, crying in pain, asking for their mothers, their girlfriends, their kids. Yet Justin had requested no one, a lone wolf like her, without someone to turn to who’d understand the pain. Was their collision a sign she should help him, despite her reservations?

Her mind whirled, circling a dark hole; she made it stop and tuned back into her phone conversation.

“I believe he’s precisely the reason some locals are concerned,” the mayor said.

“They’d rather act like problems don’t exist than get people the help they need?”

“I’m sure it’s not as drastic as that. More a lack of understanding.”

She sighed. Lord. Give me the strength. “When is the meeting?”

“Next Wednesday at 8:00 p.m. in the town hall.”

“I’ll be there. Thanks.”

Brielle hung up and drummed her fingers on the side of her glass, making the ice cubes clink, her mind in overdrive.

Would her tenure at Fresh Start end before it began? Her chance to help others cut off again? The questions twisted in her stomach. She pressed her palms together, rested her chin atop her fingertips and eyed the dog tags. This time she wouldn’t leave quietly. Or easily. She was stronger now, able to bottle her dark emotions and fight for those who couldn’t stand up for themselves.

She’d made little headway with Justin Cade, but she’d do everything in her power to sway the rest of Carbondale.

No matter what it took.

* * *

“PLEASE, JUSTIN. GO to Fresh Start.”

Justin pulled his mother close in a quick hug. Her scent, lilac mixed with something powdery, rose from her neck and made his nose itch. He breathed in the familiar fragrance then forced himself to let her go. She had better things to worry about than him.

“I’ve made up my mind.” He dropped to the living room floor beside the family’s obese tabby, Clint, and rubbed his round belly. A fire, the first of the season, crackled in the floor-to-ceiling, two-story stone hearth. Javi’s train set and miniature village, once his and his brothers’, dominated a corner of the open living space.

“Wanna play with me?” Javi waved a piece of track.

“Sure.” He crawled over to join his nephew. “Looks like you’ve got some major remodeling going on, bud.”

“Yeah. I’m making room for the Halloween parade.” Javi ripped up more track.

“Like the one here in Carbondale?” His mother perched on the edge of the couch, her knees pressed against their glass-topped wagon wheel coffee table.

Javi nodded; his tongue poked through the gap between his front teeth the way it did when he concentrated.