Iron Will. B.J. Daniels
rushed down the steps to throw her arms around her son. Tears streamed down her face unchecked. She hugged him, closing her eyes, breathing him in as if she’d thought she might never see him again.
Frankie felt her love for Hank at heart level. She slowly slid under the steering wheel and stepped down. Hud, she noticed, had descended the stairs, but stopped at the bottom, waiting, unsure of the reception he was going to get. Feeling for him, she walked around mother and son to address him.
“Hi, I’m Frankie. Francesca, but everyone calls me Frankie.” She held out her hand, and the marshal accepted it in his large one as his gaze took her measure. She took his as well. Hud Savage was scared that this visit wasn’t an olive branch. Scared that his son was still too angry with him. Probably more scared that he was going to let down his wife by spoiling this reunion.
“It’s nice to meet you,” the marshal said, his voice rough with what she suspected was emotion. A lot was riding on what would happen during this visit, she thought, and Hud didn’t know the half of it.
“Frankie,” Hank said behind her. His voice broke. “I want you to meet my mom, Dana.”
She turned and came face-to-face with the ranch woman. Dana had been a beauty in her day; anyone could see that. But even in her sixties, she was still very attractive with her salt-and-pepper dark hair and soft, gentle features. She was also a force to be reckoned with. Dana eyed her like a mama bear, one who was sizing her up for the position of daughter-in-law.
Whatever Dana saw and thought of her, the next thing Frankie knew, she was being crushed in the woman’s arms. “It is so wonderful to meet you,” Dana was saying tearfully.
Behind her, Frankie heard Hud say hello to his son.
“Dad,” Hank said with little enthusiasm, and then Dana was ushering them all into the house, telling her son that she’d baked his favorite cookies and made his favorite meal.
Frankie felt herself swept up in all of it as she told herself this would work out—even against her better judgment.
* * *
“HANK SEEMS GOOD, doesn’t he,” Dana said later that night when the two of them were in bed. She’d told herself that things had gone well and that once Hank was home for a while, they would get even better. She hadn’t been able to ignore the tension between her son and husband. It made her heart ache because she had no idea how to fix the problem.
“He seems fine.” Hud didn’t look up from the crime novel he was reading.
“Frankie is pretty, isn’t she.”
“Uh-huh.”
“She’s not what I expected. Not really Hank’s type, don’t you think?”
Hud glanced over at her. “It’s been three years since we’ve seen him. We have no idea what his type is. He probably doesn’t know either. He’s still young. I thought Naomi wasn’t his type.” He went back to his book.
“He’s thirty-three, not all that young if he wants to have a family,” she said. “It’s just that Frankie isn’t anything like Naomi.”
“Maybe that’s the attraction.”
She heard what he didn’t say in his tone. Maybe that’s a blessing. Hud had never thought Naomi was right for Hank. “I suppose it might be why he’s attracted to her. I just never thought he’d get over Naomi.”
Hud reached over and, putting down his book, turned out his bedside light. “Good night,” he said pointedly.
She took the hint and switched off her own lamp as her husband rolled over, turning his back to her. Within minutes he would be sound asleep, snoring lightly, while she lay awake worrying. The worst part was that she couldn’t put her finger on what made her anxious about Hank coming home now and bringing a young woman.
“He wants to move on, put Naomi and all that ugliness behind him, don’t you think?” She glanced over at Hud’s broad back, but knew he wasn’t going to answer because he didn’t have the answer any more than she did.
She was just glad that Hank was home for however long he planned to stay and that he wasn’t alone anymore. “As long as he’s happy...” Hud began to snore softly. She sighed and closed her eyes, silently mouthing her usual nightly prayers that her family all be safe and happy, and thanking God for bringing Hank home.
* * *
“IT’S BEAUTIFUL HERE,” Frankie said as she stood on the guest cabin deck overlooking the rest of the ranch in the starlight. The cabin was stuck back high against the mountain looking down on the ranch and the Gallatin River as it wound past. “I feel like I can see forever. Are those lights the town?” she asked as Hank joined her.
“Big Sky, Montana,” he said with little enthusiasm.
She turned to him. “How do you think it went?”
He shook his head. “I’m just thankful that my mother listened to me and didn’t have the whole family over tonight. But maybe it would have been less uncomfortable if they’d all been there. Tomorrow you’ll meet my sister, Mary, and her fiancé, Chase.”
“There’s your uncle Jordan and aunt Stacy.”
“And a bunch of my mother’s cousins and their families,” he said with a sigh.
She couldn’t imagine having all that family. Her father had left when she was three. Her mother had married several times, but the marriages didn’t last. Her mother had died in a car accident right after she’d graduated from high school, but they’d never been close. The only real family she’d ever felt she had was an uncle who’d become her mentor after college, but he was gone now too.
“You could just tell them the truth,” she said quietly after a moment. She envied Hank his family, and felt lying to them was a mistake.
He shook his head. “This is difficult enough.” He turned to go back inside. “You can have the first bedroom. I’ll take the other one.” With that, he went inside and closed the door.
Frankie stood on the deck, the summer night a fragrant blend of pine and water. There was just enough starlight that she caught glimpses of it shining off the surface of the river snaking through the canyon. Steep, rocky cliffs reflected the lights of the town, while the mountains rose up into the midnight-blue star-filled canopy.
She felt in awe of this ranch and his family. How could Hank have ever left it behind? But the answer seemed to be on the breeze as if everything about this place was inhabited by one woman. Naomi. She was what had brought Hank home. She was also why Frankie was here.
Hank rose before the sun and made his way down the mountainside to the corral. He’d missed the smell of saddle leather and horseflesh. He was breathing it in when he heard someone approaching from behind him.
He’d always been keenly aware of his environment. Growing up in Montana on a ranch, he’d learned at a young age to watch out for things that could hurt you—let alone kill you—in the wild. That instinct had only intensified in the years he’d been gone as if he felt a darkness trailing him, one that he could no longer ignore.
“You’re up early,” he said to his father without turning around as Hud came up behind him.
“I could say the same about you. I thought you and I should talk.”
“Isn’t that what we did at dinner last night?” Hank asked sarcastically. His father hadn’t said ten words. Instead his mother had filled in the awkward silences.
“I’m glad you came back,” Hud said.
He turned finally to look at his father. The sun glowed behind the mountain peaks to the east, rimming them