Page 67 of Relentless Hearts
“That’s the thing—we’re really short-staffed today. Lost two guys to the flu. Any way you could come get it? I hate to ask, but we’re swamped.”
She glanced at Decker, who was watching her with those observant, steady brown eyes. “Hold on a second.” She muted the call. “Feed store can’t deliver. They’re asking if we can pick it up.”
Decker nodded without hesitation. “We can do that.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.” He stood, scooping Navy up in one smooth motion that made her squeal with delight. “Right, Navy? Wanna go for a ride?”
Twenty minutes later, they were pulling into the feed store parking lot, Navy secured in her car seat in the back seat of the truck, babbling the entire way. Willow was behind the wheel with Decker playing peekaboo with Navy whenever she whined.
A man emerged from the loading area as they parked, and Willow recognized Cal immediately. He moved with the distinctive gait of someone adjusting to a prosthetic, his face tight with either pain or frustration—probably both.
“Thanks for coming out,” Cal called, already moving toward the pallets of feed. “I’ll get you loaded up quick.”
For a beat, Decker stared at the side mirror, and Willow noticed his posture shift subtly—more alert, more focused.
With surprise, she realized he was assessing Cal. Reading him the way he’d been trained to read potential threats.
“He’s agitated,” Decker said under his breath.
“He’s an amputee.” Willow kept her voice low. “A veteran. His leg’s probably bothering him today—prosthetics aren’t easy.”
“He should be in the program.” It wasn’t a question.
“He tried to get in and couldn’t get government funding. He doesn’t have benefits.” She saw understanding dawn inDecker’s eyes. It was something she’d thought about whenever she saw Cal. A veteran without benefits meant only one thing—dishonorable discharge.
She thought back to a few days before, when she missed that phone call from a vet in need. It made her ache to think of turning away vets, whether due to financial reasons or space limitations.
The Black Heart really needed to expand the program. And there must be some way to help vets who needed treatment but couldn’t afford it.
“You seem to know a lot about him.” He kept watch in the mirror as Cal moved toward the pallets and placed a hand on the door handle, ready to jump out and pitch in.
Willow rushed to explain. “When he found out he couldn’t get into the program, he asked for a job on the ranch. But you know we don’t hire outside workers for security reasons—it’s too much of a risk. So I gave him a list of places that might be hiring. That’s how he got this job.”
Decker climbed out. “Can I give you a hand?” he called out to Cal.
Willow rolled down her window to hear the conversation.
Cal swung around in an awkward arc and waved at Decker. “I got it, thanks.”
Decker backed off, probably sensing that offering help to Cal when he didn’t want any would be an insult. He slipped into the passenger seat again but kept the truck door cracked.
After several painstaking trips from the pallet to the back of the truck, Cal limped over to Willow’s door.
“All loaded.” He wiped sweat from his forehead despite the cool air.
“Thanks, Cal. We appreciate it.”
His smile froze on his face as he glanced at Decker, then at the back seat. “Oh, just a minute. One more thing.”
He disappeared back into the store, and Willow felt Decker’s hand settle on her thigh.
Cal returned with a clipboard and a lollipop, holding both out toward Willow. “For your daughter.”
“Niece,” Willow corrected automatically, though something about the assumption made her uncomfortable. She climbed out to accept the clipboard with the invoice to sign and the lollipop.
“Thank you.”
