Page 3 of The Way Back Home
She gave him a kind smile. “You’re welcome. You know, your mom and I go way back. Nothing I wouldn’t do for her or hers—you hear me?”
Noah watched as she got back into her truck and drove away with a final wave.
The cabin was small but more than adequate. Functional but warm. Full kitchen with a table, chairs, and basic appliances that opened into a modest living area, complete with a couch, armchair, and coffee table. A separate bedroom with a fully made full-size bed, dresser, nightstand, and desk. Surprisingly large bathroom with the essentials, including a shower and hot water.
He headed there first. Noah stripped and stepped into the walk-in. Closing his eyes, he let the hot water wash over him, easing the stiffness in his back and shoulders, while the peace and solitude eased the weariness of his mind.
No voices. No gunfire. No patients bleeding out in his arms. Just steam and silence.
Once done, Noah climbed, clean and naked, between the sheets. A few uninterrupted hours was all he needed. Hopefully, the exhaustion of the last few days would be enough to keep the nightmares at bay.
CHAPTER ONE
THREE MONTHS LATER
TEAGAN
Teagan McKenna stepped onto the sidewalk and breathed deeply. The air was fresh and clean and welcome after ten hours on a bus.
The small Kentucky town was picturesque, nestled among rolling green hills off the beaten path. She’d grown up in one very similar, though with forested mountains instead of hills. There was one main street dotted on each side with old houses and family-owned local businesses, including a diner. The delicious scent of grilled beef hit her nostrils and made her stomach growl in demand.
Reaching into her front pocket, she palmed the carefully folded ones, fives, and the last of her tens. Her cash was running dangerously low, but she needed to eat. She had a long walk ahead of her if she wanted to get to the ranch before nightfall. Passing out on the side of the road wasn’t an option.
“Sit anywhere you’d like, hon,” the server called out from behind the register, where she was ringing up a customer. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Teagan chose an empty booth near the back, one that gave her a good view of the diner and the street outside, and was close to the emergency exit. She didn’t think she’d been followed, but she’d been wrong before.
True to her word, the server was there a minute later with a steaming carafe of coffee and a laminated eight-by-ten sheet of daily specials. Teagan scanned the items and picked the cheapest—half an egg salad sandwich and a cup of soup. Once she had more money in her pocket, she’d come back for the bacon double cheeseburger and chocolate milkshake she really wanted.
“Do you mind if I hold on to this?” Teagan asked when the server tried to take back the specials menu. “In case I want dessert later?”
“Sure,” the server agreed and went off, calling out the order to the guy in the kitchen.
Teagan had no intention of ordering dessert, but the menu did provide cover. With her ball cap pulled down low, she discreetly scanned the dining area over the top of the menu.
She saw nothing worrisome. The diner was only half full, and nearly everyone was dressed like she was—in jeans, cotton, and flannel. More importantly, other than a momentary, curious glance in her direction, no one seemed particularly interested in her.
Which was exactly the way she liked it.
She ate her soup and sandwich quickly and quietly. The diner seemed safe enough, but why tempt fate? The less time she spent in public places, the better.
After paying her bill and leaving as much of a tip as she could afford, her pockets were noticeably lighter. Teagan stepped outside, looked up at the sun’s position in the sky, then began her trek northwest.
Luck appeared to be with her; the weather was perfect for walking. The sky was overcast, no hot sun or rain beating down on her. The temperature was hovering in the high 40s, which was unusual, considering they weren’t that far away from Christmas.
She stayed close to the road, but not on it, moving to cover whenever possible when the occasional vehicle came by. As much as she would appreciate a ride, she wanted to remain as invisible as possible—for her sake and for theirs. She already had enough guilt on her shoulders to last several lifetimes. She had no desire to add more.
To distract herself from the monotony of walking, she focused on her plan, which was iffy at best. Online, Hopewell Ranch looked and sounded idyllic and checked all her boxes—small, privately owned, and off the beaten path. The most desirable aspect was getting to work with horses.
In fact, it almost sounded too good to be true.
Nevertheless, there she was, about to appear on the doorstep and hope that the vague inquiries she’d made through the online contact form would get her a job and a place to stay through the coldest part of the winter.
Eventually, she saw the simple but well-made sign for Hopewell Ranch and paused. Was showing up uninvited a risk? Sure, but a calculated one. She was counting on the fact that it was harder to say no to someone’s face than over an email, especially around this time of year. Decent people tended to embrace the holiday spirit.
Readjusting her backpack, she straightened her shoulders and continued forward. Her tired, aching feet carried her down the long lane; along sturdy, weathered fencing; and through scenic rolling hills that remained a vibrant green. The sound of soft whinnies carrying on the breeze was like music to her scarred soul, as were the deepening scents of sweet hay and damp earth.
When she crested the final hill, she saw it. A sprawling ranch house sat in a shallow valley, surrounded by outbuildings and paddocks, where half a dozen horses grazed peacefully. At the far end, the edge of a forest stretched out of sight.
