“That’s a load to continually carry,” he agreed.
What was it about this vet that just made her want to spill her guts to him? Shaken, Shay was caught off guard. Maybe it was his low, modulated tone wreathed with understanding? The sudden sharpness coming to his eyes, his realization of her own struggle? Unsure, she smiled a little. “Well, I’ve pulled the ranch back from foreclosure, so that’s the good news, but it’s a daily challenge. And we’re hanging on by our teeth, if you want the rest of the truth.”
“And this indoor arena,” Reese asked, “is it part of your plan to expand your ranch so you can bring in more income?”
Her mouth almost dropped open. Shay hadn’t expected that kind of clarity and insight from him. “Well . . .” She stumbled. “Yes . . . yes, that’s part of the long-range business plan I’ve tried to put together. Not that I’ve got a degree in business. My ideas are just that—ideas that I’m sometimes not sure how to fully implement.” She cleared her throat and the words rushed out of her mouth. “When I came home, my father was ill and no longer able to run the Bar C, so I decided to change the direction of the ranch. I wanted a place where military vets who had severe PTSD symptoms could come and heal. Find a place where they were valued. To be among their own kind, and be treated with respect. Care . . .” Shay saw his expression change, grow intense, his eyes narrowing upon her, studying her. She’d felt the shift of energy around him and recognized it because she was a warrior herself. She’d struck something deep and important to Reese. Maybe that was good. Shay just didn’t know yet.
“That’s why you considered hiring me?”
“Charlie called me. He said you were a military vet. He knew I was looking to hire a fourth wrangler.” Briefly, Shay saw in his eyes his wounded pride, his crushed state, and then he hid it. Shame and humiliation were the greatest enemies these vets carried within them. That and the constant, gnawing anxiety that dogged them twenty-four hours a day. She suspected by the way his black hair was cut, that he’d lopped it off with a pair of scissors very recently. And Shay knew that Charlie had probably given this vet not only the use of the shower, but had fed him and given him the new clothes he wore. She could smell the fresh scent of Ivory soap around Reese. His hair was combed but pathetically cut, telling her the rest of the story. It broke her heart because these men and women had endured so much, and then to come home and be treated like this shocked her.
“What are the terms of staying on, if you hire me?”
Shay heard the wariness in his voice and saw it in his eyes. “The rules are that you give fifteen percent of any money you earn back to the ranch bank account. I’m feeding you and giving you shelter. I need money to buy food and pay for your room. Another fifteen percent goes into a bank savings account, in your name. It’s a way for you to build some equity and have a nest egg when you decide to leave the Bar C and strike out on your own once more. There’s a weekly gab fest at the main house that everyone must attend. I try to bring in people from surrounding areas who are knowledgeable about military veterans who are having issues fitting back into society, helping them readjust and return to the mainstream when they’re ready. Other than that, I expect you to work eight hours a day, Monday through Friday. You have weekends off.”
Shay held her breath. He was thinking over her offer. It was clear that he was an outdoors type of man, had worked damned hard judging from the thick calluses on his large hands.
“Is this gab fest a therapy fest?”
She smiled a little, knowing vets automatically shied away from therapy. But it was one of many healing tools that could help them. “Sort of. I know vets are closed up tighter than a clam. I try to bring tools to your awareness, and you can choose from among them, if you want. There’s county services here that might be of use to you, eventually. I just want everyone to be aware of what’s out there, is all. What you do with the education and knowledge is up to you. Each of us heals at different speeds.” Shay saw relief come to his eyes. For a moment, Lockhart reacted as if he were a bug that was going to be pinned down with needles and minutely examined by a shrink. “It’s actually pretty painless. You can ask the other men who work for me about it. Sometimes, we have a lot of laughs and good times, too. It’s not uptight or formal.”
“I can live with your rules.”
“How long were you in the Corps, Mr. Lockhart?”
“I was in ROTC in high school, went to college and got a degree in business administration, and then went through Officer Candidate School. I was pinned a shavetail lieutenant at twenty-two. From there, I worked in infantry, first as an executive officer to a Marine company over in Iraq. Later, after I made captain, I took care of Mike Company in Afghanistan until I was twenty-six.”