Healing Trace (19 page)

He'd
yet to tell her he was falling in love though, and she'd put her trust in him
because she couldn't imagine him playing her. She'd gotten good at reading what
was going through his head over the last several weeks.

She
had made up her mind the first night they were together that what she was
feeling was more than a fleeting fancy. She loved him. It was simple, and it
came out of nowhere. She'd never push him past his comfort level, and knew that
he would have to come to terms with his feelings on his own time. She'd wait.
He'd battled enough in his life, without having the added pressure to conform
to the way she handled her love for him.

"I
don't think I could ever get tired of discovering every inch of you," he
whispered.

She
was happy with that confession. For now.

Her
stomach growled. He chuckled, and she stopped him with a kiss. "I'm
hungry."

"We
better go eat. That's why I came in here. The guys are already washed up and at
the table." Trace helped her off his lap.

"That's
not the kind of food I need and want." She looped her arm around his waist
and walked out of the office with him.

"That's
dessert." He smacked her rear. "Let's hurry, cause I'm
starving."

She
snorted and grinned. "I like this side of you."

He
grabbed her hand and led her into the dining room.

Dinner
conversation swirled around ranch activities. Joan pushed her food around her
plate, listening to Brody talk to Trace. Her headache grew stronger, and it
didn't help that all their talk centered around what Trace planned to do with
Thunderbolt. Trace was determined to get back on the dangerous animal. Unable
to stand how confident he sounded at breaking the wild horse, she made her
excuses to retire early.

Twenty
minutes later, she'd worked herself up into a full-blown mood. When Trace
walked into his room after she'd finished with her shower, she stomped her way
to the end of the bed and planted her hands on her bare hips. She wanted to
shake sense into Trace. He wasn't thinking right if he didn't have any worries
getting on the back of Thunderbolt.

He
finished stripping out of his clothes and lay back on the bed. She glared.
"I want to talk to you."

"About?"

She
chewed her bottom lip. "Thunderbolt. You can't try to ride him
again."

"You'll
have to trust me." Trace leaned against the headboard of the bed with his
hands hooked behind his head. "It's what I do, Joan. I'm a horse
trainer."

"He'll
kill you. Why can't you understand that? Even if Thunderbolt doesn't kill you,
he could cripple you for life." She raised her hands and shook her head.
"I don't want to lose you after just finding you."

"Come
here." He patted the bed. "I don't want to talk about
Thunderbolt."

She
crawled up on the bed, still naked from her shower and frowned. "But you
will talk about Thunderbolt with me later. I don't like this."

Kissing
the warm hollow of her neck, he whispered, "Later. Much later."

She
shook her head, and despite the worry, released a bubble of laughter as he
licked the sensitive spot underneath her chin. Hovering over him, she arched
her back. Her body warming as he caressed her breasts. "You're not gonna
make me forget about  my stance on you riding Thunderbolt."

"Sh…no
more talk." Trace lifted his head and reached to the nightstand for a
condom. "Lay down on your back."

"Your
leg." She captured his mouth in a heated kiss, before moving off him and
lying beside him.

"My
leg is fine. I won't need that one." He rolled and held himself above her.
His pelvis nested between her legs. He thrust forward, and slid into her
wetness.

They
didn't speak…they didn't need to. They both knew what each other wanted.

The
subject of getting rid of Thunderbolt faded away with each caress. Her worry
about finding a job disappeared with each kiss. They were together, finding
comfort in each other in the most intimate way possible.

Each
of Trace's thrusts bound them tighter and closer, and Joan shuddered with the
pleasure of being with him. Her hands explored his body. A white fierce passion
filled her.

He
was gentle and tender, bringing her higher with each stroke. She kissed him
deeply and her body melted underneath him. The pressure intensified until she
moaned his name as he took her over the edge with him.

They
continued to hold on to each other, still needing the closeness.

"Joan…"
Trace's breathe warm against her neck.

She
smoothed his hair back away from his face. "Sh. I know. I feel it
too."

He
fell asleep with her curled up in his arms. She stared at the window into the
darkness. The moon lit up the room. She held his hand to her heart. They had
many hurdles to cross, but for the first time in ten months, she had confidence
that everything would work out in her favor.

Chapter Twenty-One

Trace
walked to the office with hardly a limp. The exercises Joan had him doing were
working better than he imagined they would. The fact that Joan had forbidden
him to get on the back of Thunderbolt while she was living at the ranch and he
obeyed, probably helped too.

The
horse had digressed even further than he'd hoped during the time he
recuperated, and he'd have to start all over at step one. He knocked on the
door with his knuckle, and walked inside the office when he heard Brody call
him inside.

Brody
and Devon huddled around the desk, but backed away as he entered the room. He
nodded his head at his friends. When they all came together, the sense of
family was never lost on him. He couldn't imagine life without them.

"About
time you showed up." Devon grinned. "We had to keep Brody from going
and getting your lazy ass out of bed."

He
cocked his brow. "He better not step inside my bedroom, or he'll find
himself walking backward the rest of his life."

Brody
laughed. "Oh, look at you. Just because you've got yourself a woman
staying at the ranch, you think you can boss me around. It's a damn shame how I
get treated around here."

"Joan
still sleeping?" Devon asked.

"Yeah,"
he said

Devon
chuckled. "Dawg."

Trace
grinned. He couldn't help it, Joan put him in a good mood. "So, what's the
big news you were hinting about over dinner? Did Devon make us another quarter
million in the stock market?"

"I
wish. Damn numbers are falling more every day. I think it's about time I
shifted some of our money around." Devon waited for him to sit, and tossed
a folder down in Trace's lap. "This is about something else. I want you to
take a look at these, and give me your opinion."

Devon
flipped through his own file. Trace caught Brody's eye.

"Do
you know what this is about?" Trace asked.

Brody
nodded. "Devon already filled me in."

Every
paper was a different color, tabbed, and stacked in a neat pile. He thumbed
through the first few sheets, and furrowed his brows. He didn't recognize most
of the paperwork, but the name of the reservation and tax papers he knew well.
"What's this about?"

"It's
everything we need to start a non-profit organization on the reservation. We
could offer family counseling, drug and alcohol abuse help, and be able to find
them support. In addition, the biggie…our people wouldn't have to pay a dime.
The money backing the clinic will come from an anonymous account, although
it'll be public knowledge that the three of us will sit on the board and
oversee the operation. That'll get around seeking the elder's permission, since
we've all remained part of the community, and we are active registered
Lakota."

Trace
rubbed his forehead and stared down at the folder. There had to be a catch. The
Lakota wouldn't run in droves for help.

"It'd
also be somewhere that we could use our money without being taxed to death.
With the clinic set up on the reservation, we can offer on-site help…for people
like Savannah. If her father won't come for help, she would still have
somewhere to run where she could stay, get a meal, medical attention, and a
warm bed." Devon sat back down.

"We'd
have to hire professional, qualified people to run the clinic, of course.
Despite your opinion, if the others found out we were funding the investment,
they'd never take advantage of free care. They look down on us already for
leaving our heritage behind, despite the opposite…you know that. I think you'd
have to make it blatantly clear that we're only there to act as buffer between
the clinic and the council." Trace lifted his gaze. "But, if this
will save one child, one family, I think this is a good idea. I'm all for
it."

"I
think that's the least of our problems." Brody shrugged. "Ten, twenty
years ago it was okay to ignore the drug and alcohol abuse happening with our
people. We've grown as a community, and although everyone is shy about
accepting help, no one will deny there is a growing concern for the youth. Kids
are picking up the habit earlier and with more frequency. The Lakota are losing
their young to Durham and surrounding areas, because children are maturing
faster."

"The
next question we have for you is—Devon leaned forward and steepled his fingers
in front of him—we'd like to offer Joan the job of running the clinic, of being
in charge of bringing in voluntary physicians, seeking help, and setting up a
community outreach. She has the heart for this kind of work, Trace. We'd pay
her wages, of course, but the doctors, the nurses, and the counselors would be
volunteers, strict pro quo status, for resident doctors and nurses, needing to
put their schooling into hands-on-cases to achieve more hours of
experience."

Trace
shook his head. "No. I don't want her anywhere near that place."

"She
needs a job, Trace." Brody sat up in the chair. "She told me about
wanting her sister to come home."

"I
don't care. She'll get another job. Somewhere that she'll be safe and I won't
worry every time she has to deal with some whacked out druggie or drunk
man." He stood. "Go ahead with the clinic. I think it sounds like a
solution for the children, at the very least, but keep Joan out of it. She's
too innocent to deal with the ugliness of abuse, it would tear her apart, and
she'd never be able to handle knowing what happens after they leave the clinic
and go home to their family. The job would eat her alive."

Devon
cleared his throat. "Things are different—"

"Bull
shit!" Trace pressed his lips together, looked away, and let his breath
out. "Tell Savannah times have changed, and her father won't kick her
across the floor anymore or she won't have to cry herself asleep while hiding
in an abandoned house while holding broken ribs. You'd be lying, and you know
it."

The
others didn't comment, and he walked out of the office. Without thinking, he
left through the front door, and headed to the stables. What they were
proposing was an answer to many of the problems of reservation life, but the
real life problems that came with caring for each of those individuals that
sought help would wear Joan down in no time and suck the goodness out of her.

The
cooler night air eased the anger rising in him. He left the lights off in the
stables, and walked down the aisle by moonlight shining through the open doors
to Thunderbolt's stall. In an hour, the sun would come up over the horizon and
wake up all the horses.

He
stood in the aisle looking in at Thunderbolt. The tension rolled off the horse,
and added to Trace's misgivings. The horse didn't sleep either.

"You're
a lot like me, Thunderbolt." He spoke softly.

The
horse tossed his head, backing up against the far wall.

"You
don't trust me, or anything I say. Instead of beaten, you lived a life on your
own, foraging, fighting, and surviving to stay alive. Your strength comes from
your independence, whereas my strength comes from fear." He shoved his
hands deep in his front pockets. "Someday, I hope you recognize that I'm
only doing what is the best for you. You'll have a good home, food to eat, and
never have to fight for your station in life."

Thunderbolt
kicked out, pushed to its limits with Trace standing and blocking his exit. He
closed his eyes, showing Thunderbolt that he would not challenge him. He was
safe. Then he walked back to the house. He needed Joan, and he'd be the first
to admit he wanted her support, her acceptance. With her, he felt almost
complete. Normal.

She
planned to leave this weekend, but he was going to ask her to stay. He'd
convince her to let him help her bring her sister to the ranch, and together
they'd stay together, in his wing of the house. It was the least he could do
for how much she'd brought to his life.

***

The
warm, delightful caress on her breast woke Joan up in the most pleasurable way.
She stretched on the bed and reached for Trace. She could get used to waking up
this way.