Riley's Rescue: Last Chance, #6

Riley’s Rescue

Last Chance Series Book #6

Lexi Post

Riley’s Rescue

Last Chance Series Book #6

Copyright © 2020 by Lexi Post

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

For information contact Lexi Post at www.lexipostbooks.com

Cover design by Bella Media Management

Formatting by Bella Media Management

Cover photo: Royal Touch Photography

eBook ISBN: 978-1-949007-18-3

Excerpt of Cowboy’s Match © 2015 by Lexi Post

Riley’s Rescue: Last Chance Series, Book 6

By Lexi Post

Army veteran, Riley O’Hare, is a loner for a reason—it’s safe, and it keeps her sane. After calling animal welfare on her last boss, she accepted the position of a ranch hand for the Last Chance Ranch. But things have become almost too comfortable. The only reason she’s stayed so long is she works alone…a lot.

Garrett Walker is a former Hot Shot, part of a special breed of firefighters who battle wildfires. At loose ends, he becomes the rescue horse hauler for Last Chance Ranch. When he meets the tough, distant Riley, he finds his usual aptitude for sizing up a person is completely useless. Either she’s as odd as she appears or her layers run deep.

It’s only after they spend time in close proximity in an abandoned copper mine that he uncovers more about her, inadvertently revealing his own weakness. A need to keep her in his life grows too strong to ignore. Their occupational scars may be impossible to overcome, but he was a Hot Shot for a reason. Jumping into fires has been his specialty…and his downfall.

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Acknowledgments

For Bob Fabich, Sr., my own firefighter who sees me as an equal in every way. And for my sister Paige Wood, who always makes time for my stories.

I had a lot of help with this book. Pamela Reveal came up with Riley’s last name. Thank you, Pamela. Thank you to Rita Cassidy-Kern Clements for coming up with the perfect name for the mine.

In addition, I need to thank Linda Herold and Michelle Hedgcock for being loyal readers who not only read my books, but my meandering newsletter as well. Love your comments ladies. You’re the best!

A special thank you to Marie Patrick, who never lets me forget that I’m a storyteller.

This story is dedicated to Schatzie, Marie’s wonderful German Shepherd who loved her unconditionally. A unique dog that will never be forgotten.

And I can’t close without saying thank you to Lisa Fishback, Denise Hendrickson, KC, and Michelle Hedgcock for their time helping me whip this book into shape.

Author’s Note

Riley’s Rescue was inspired by Bret Harte’s short story, High-Water Mark. It is a story about a young woman and her child living in a cabin on a river that flowed into a bay. Her husband leaves for his job, which is to work for a lumber company. That night, a storm comes up that is particularly strong. The water rises, and she goes through a harrowing experience as she takes her sickly baby and jumps onto a large tree that has swept against the cabin just before the cabin falls into the swirling waters. In the pitch black, she judges her position based on sounds and the taste of the water, thereby knowing when she reaches the bay. Eventually, she sees the light of the light house, and this is where the great tree snags on the bottom, halting its progress. She and her baby are rescued by two Native American women. Her husband, upon his return, is anxious he has lost her, but finds her when the tide goes out. He uses the tree to build a new cabin farther up the river above the high-water mark.

But what if the woman had to go through a similar experience again, only this time with someone at her side? Would that make it easier or would the experience drive her beyond hope or sanity? And how could he be of any help, when he doesn’t know what she’d actually experienced the first time? Could love truly overcome a second unbearable trauma?

Chapter One

Riley O’Hare stepped out onto the porch of the two-story ranch house of Last Chance Ranch and halted, the screen door still in her hand. Well, shit.

Letting the door slam behind her, she jogged down the three steps to the hard-packed Arizona dirt and ran for the south corral. Cyclone, their resident Clydesdale, and technically Dr. Jenna’s horse, ran circles around the enclosure.

Looking over her shoulder, she scanned the area in front of the house. Only her pick-up truck sat there of the more than four that usually graced the yard. In her peripheral vision, she noticed dust on the dirt road to the ranch, but didn’t have time to focus.

It better be Cole. He was supposed to take Cyclone to the abandoned copper mine to pull out some fallen timbers. She’d flatly refused to go anywhere near the decrepit mine, so he’d agreed to do it. It was the perfect chore for Cyclone. If the big horse wasn’t given work to do at least every third day, he started breaking things. And she was the one who had to fix them.

Jumping onto the lower rail of the fencing, she waved her arm. Cyclone! Come here, boy! She just needed to break up his windup. From what she’d learned, he’d been well-named. The running in circles behavior was the precursor to major damage.

She tried again. Cyclone! Putting two fingers to her mouth, she let out a shrill whistle.

The Clydesdale slowed, bouncing his head once and looking at her.

Come here, boy. I’ve got work for you.

As if he knew she lied, he started to pick up the pace.

Well, crap. Jumping off the rail, she made a beeline for the barn. There had to be something in there for Cyclone to pull. Rounding the corner of the open barn doors, she grinned. Perfect. Jumping onto the four-wheeler, she turned the key they always left in it and drove out of the barn and straight for the corral.

A truck with a horse trailer pulled to a stop in front of the house. Hoping Manuel could handle the new horse and whatever its issues were until she could get Cyclone settled, she stopped the ATV and jumped off.

Unfortunately, Cyclone had stopped, too.

No, Cyclone! She brought her fingers to her lips once again, but she was too late. The big horse’s back legs lifted and he smashed the top rail of the corral. Wood flew everywhere, and she ducked. Then before the horse could gear-up for another kick, she climbed up on the fence post closest to him and jumped.

Grasping his mane, she cooed as he walked sideways. Come on boy, I’ve got some work for—

A strong arm grabbed her around the waist from behind and pulled her off to the side.

Not expecting that, she lost her grip on Cyclone and her full weight fell onto the person beneath her. They both went toppling to the ground inside the enclosure.

She rolled out of his grasp and jumped to her feet, more worried about the horse than the stranger lying on the ground inside the corral. Spotting Cyclone starting his circle run again, she brushed off her jeans before glaring at the cowboy now rising to his feet. What the hell do you think you’re doing?

Striding past him, she climbed over the corral fence and hopped back on the four-wheeler.

What am I doing? I’m saving your neck.

She barely spared him a glance as he picked up his cowboy hat and ran for the fence himself as Cyclone headed directly for him.

If you want to help go get the collar harness hanging on the hook inside the barn while I keep him from jumping the fence.

Not caring if the dark-haired stranger bothered to listen to her or not, she turned the machine on and drove it parallel to the broken fence to fill the gap. The last thing she needed was a runaway Cyclone.

Not sure what the horse would do next, she jumped off and watched as he approached. He trotted by as if the four-wheeler was another part of the corral.

Figuring she had about thirty seconds before Cyclone came around again, she turned her attention to the cowboy who approached, harness in hand. She pointed to the horse trailer. Is the horse in there okay for a few more minutes?

At his nod, she waved toward the ATV. Good. Do you think you can hook that up to the ATV?

His brow furrowed. I just saw you drive it. Why would you need to tow it?

Cyclone was coming around again. Either she needed to get back on his back or let him out. Otherwise, there’d be two fence rails to repair. Just tell me, can you do it? Irritation colored her tone, but she didn’t have time for pleasantries. Where the hell was Manny anyway?

The cowboy threw her a scowl before moving to the ATV.

She climbed on the fence. Maybe if she could interrupt the big horse’s stride, it might take him a bit to build up steam again. Jumping to the ground, she ran out in front of him, waving her arms. Whoa, Cyclone!

The Clydesdale swerved in midstride, cutting short his circle.

Just great. Turning back to the cowboy, she found him staring at her his eyes appearing almost silver. For shit’s sake. Is it hooked?

Are you trying to get yourself killed? He dropped the harness and stalked to the fence.

She met him there. No, I’m trying to keep this big boy from destroying the corral. She climbed over the fence and picked up the harness then dropped it on the handle bars of the machine. Open the gate. She didn’t wait to see if he would help. She just put the ATV in gear.

Come on, Cyclone, skip the break in the fence and get to work.

The cowboy opened the gate, so she drove the machine into the corral. Turning off the engine, she jumped to the ground and rattled the harness just as Cyclone approached the opening with the broken rail.

His ears perked up as he slowed, coming to a stop next to her. Good boy. You ready to work?

The Clydesdale’s big brown eyes followed her as she started to lift the heavy harness onto him. When the weight was lessened, she nodded to the cowboy who lifted the other half onto the big brute. Once she had Cyclone hitched, she strode to the ATV and sat in the seat, hoping the harness would hold. Leaving the engine off, she shifted the machine into neutral. Okay, Cyclone. Let’s bring this baby to Cole’s house. Clicking her tongue, she grabbed the handles wrapped in reins and the horse started to walk.

When the horse exited the corral, towing the ATV with her on it, she finally gave the cowboy her attention as he closed the gate behind her. Nice ass, not uncommon among the cowboys she’d worked with. He was clean shaven, broad at the shoulders and slender at the hips. He wore a long sleeve shirt, which she’d find stifling in the dry heat, though many landscapers did that. She assumed it was to avoid burning from the brutal Arizona sun.

He came up next to her as Cyclone plodded along. So, what’s this? Some kind of therapy?

His eyes were actually a blue-grey and at the moment filled with curiosity as opposed to censure, which is what she would have expected from a stranger watching her over the last twenty minutes. Now that she had a good look at him, he reminded her of some of her military buddies before they’d all headed to the Middle East and changed. He had less swagger than the typical cowboy and a more commanding presence, but he was just as handsome as the rest at Last Chance. What was it, a prerequisite to work there?

She forced her attention back to his question. Not exactly therapy. Cyclone likes to work, which means he likes to pull heavy objects. If he’s left to his own devices for more than three days, he lives up to his name. She hooked her thumb over her shoulder. And I’m the one left with the repairs.

He glanced back toward the broken fence of the corral before facing forward again. Cole told me when he offered me the job that there would be some odd personalities. He chuckled. I thought he meant the ranch hands.

She smothered a smirk. There were definitely some interesting human personalities on Last Chance, but the horses beat them out. Where’s Manuel?

The cowboy grinned, and when he did his straight white teeth showed, making him appear very relaxed. Grandson due any day and his daughter offered him and his wife to move onto their ranch in New Mexico. Nothing stronger than family ties.

Right. Family ties. In her family, those ties had been as likely to hang her as help her. I’m Riley O’Hare. I do a bit of everything around here. To look at this place right now, you’d never know there are actually eight others involved with this rescue operation.

He reached over as he walked along next to her. I’m Garrett Walker. I’ll be the one bringing you horses.

She shook, his grip firm, not crushing, but the rough texture of the skin on the back of his right hand told her he had some serious scars. Speaking of horses, what’s the story with that one? She nodded toward the trailer in front of them before she directed Cyclone to turn right down the dirt road that would take them to Cole’s house.

Just old. If you can stop Cyclone here for a moment, I’ll take her out and walk with you. She’d probably like to stretch her legs.

She pulled on the reins for her answer.

Garrett strode over to the trailer and unlocked the back. Yup, definitely a more military bearing. That had to be why she felt comfortable with him. She hadn’t been with fellow veterans in two years. On one hand, getting together with her former unit members was like old home week, but it always brought back bad memories, so she’d avoided the last two get-togethers.

She watched the new hauler’s moves. He was confident in his actions and comfortable around the horse. Probably grew up with horses. Yet when he’d leaned in to shake hands, she caught a scent of aftershave with an almost clove-like scent. Most of the cowboy’s she’d run to when all cleaned up smelled more like soap or fresh linen. She liked the richer smell Garrett wore.

He walked a pretty buckskin quarter horse out of the trailer toward her. Yeah, totally confident and seriously had the face of an actor, more of a Captain America look than a GI Joe.

At the new horse’s presence, Cyclone’s head swiveled bringing her focus back to him. Give her a nice welcome, boy, but don’t be getting any ideas. Not that she needed to worry. Cyclone had the weirdest crush on Tiny Dancer, who was the frailest mare on the ranch.

He brought the horse over and allowed Cyclone and her to get acquainted.

What’s her name?

Lady, though I was told the old man who owned her started calling her Old Lady about seven years ago.

Old Lady? Was that because Lady is getting older or because the owner was from the seventies?

Garrett chuckled.

The sound reminded her of the rest of the men on Last Chance. They were always in a good mood. She found that seriously strange. Garrett was also just as good-looking and appeared to have the typical cowboy manners. Not bad overall.

It was because Lady here is twenty-two, but from what I’ve seen, she’s in very good health for her age.

From what she could see, she agreed, but she’d have Dr. Jenna come over and do her usual welcome to Last Chance physical.

Garrett clicked his tongue and Lady started to walk.

She didn’t need to encourage Cyclone. The big horse started pulling her as soon as Lady moved beyond him. Typical male. Just couldn’t stand to walk a few paces behind a woman. She squelched her attitude. So why is Lady here?

Her owner died. Garrett spoke over his shoulder because Lady was determined to remain in the lead.

The family doesn’t want to keep her or sell her? It was rare that they received horses who were simply old. To her, they didn’t really qualify as rescues. Most of the horses that came to Last Chance were like Nizhoni and Phoenix, the ones she’d been able to get away from her boss at the time.

Cyclone was moving along at a good clip now, determined to keep abreast of Lady. Garrett walked next to the ATV. There’s two more coming. I’ll be bringing them by in another day or two. No one in the family has the property to take them on, which from what I saw would have been their first choice. They seem to care for these horses as much as their grandfather. In fact, one of them will be coming here to stay for a few days to make sure this is the right place for them to live out their lives.

Now that was a first. I would think knowing this is a rescue ranch would be enough.

Garrett lost his easy-going smile. It should be, but the youngest grandson was the closest to the old man and is very particular about how they’re cared for. I think it’s his way of dealing with his grief. He actually made me read a two-page write-up on how to transport them.

She groaned. She’d had by-the-book men under her command, and they just didn’t realize that sometimes the book went up in flames. There was no way this would be good. Are you saying this young man is coming here to make us all read policies and procedures on how to care for these horses?

If that was the case, she would make herself scarce for a couple days. No young punk was going to tell her how to care for horses. She’d grown up with horses, even sleeping with them in the barn she worked in when she couldn’t stand to be home.

I’m not sure what he has planned. I feel for him. It’s hard losing someone you’re close to.

At his serious tone, she glanced at him. Had he experienced what she had? The idea brought both sympathy and defenses. The only reason she was functioning normally now was because she wasn’t around others who’d had her experience. Luckily, he was just the horse hauler.

Lady pulled ahead again, so she didn’t have to make more conversation, which was just as well. She needed to figure out what Cole might have in his barn that Cyclone could haul back to the main house. She didn’t care what it was because if Cole had done what he’d said he was going to do, she wouldn’t be on an ATV right now being pulled by a horse for no reason whatsoever.

Most likely he’d been called into a fire early in the morning. Ever since he’d made Captain, his hours were less regulated, as his wife Lacey had mentioned more than