The Forest Ranger's Return. Leigh Bale

If she got close to Dal again, he’d want an explanation as to why she’d stopped writing and calling. Her reasons were her own, and she couldn’t talk about them with him. It had taken a gargantuan effort just to discuss her sexual abuse with her psychologist. Telling an old boyfriend about it was impossible. Being by herself was for the best. No complications. No angst. No pain.

      But maybe that was all wrong. Maybe she should put herself out there with Dal and see what life might bring her way. Maybe...

      No! She whirled away from the window and returned to her desk. Plopping down into her chair, she picked up the pen, leaned over the desk and forced herself to write.

      Vegetation impacts. Juniper. Aspen. Willows. Indian paintbrush. Snowberry....

      She dropped the pen again and stared at the notepad. Moisture blurred the words in front of her eyes. She dashed the tears away, thinking she was being silly and emotional.

      Jerking open the top drawer of her desk, she gazed at a picture of her parents. She kept it close by so she could look at them any time she liked. So she wouldn’t forget. But she didn’t leave the picture sitting out on her desk. Not where other people might see and start asking personal questions.

      Why did Dal have to reenter her life? Why now? Over the years, she’d coped with being on her own. She’d dealt with her insecurities and fears. Hadn’t she?

      Apparently not. At least not since Dallin Savatch had rushed back into her life.

      She owed him an explanation. Her unexplained silence hadn’t been fair to him. If he knew the truth, he’d understand. He’d forgive her. But she couldn’t utter the words. Not now. Not ever.

      Snapping the drawer closed, she reached for her purse. She had to get out of here. Had to clear her head.

      Her fingers tightened around the straps as she slung the bag over her shoulder and stood. Gathering up a pile of files she’d set aside earlier, she walked to the door.

      She was a mature, professional woman, not a vulnerable little girl anymore. Dal Savatch needed her help. She could assist him and Sunrise Ranch. That was all. Other than offering to run with her in the mornings, Dal hadn’t suggested anything more. He didn’t even remember her. She was making too much out of this situation.

      Wasn’t she?

      Walking down the hallway, she paused at Shauna’s desk long enough to tell the woman she was going home. And tomorrow afternoon, she’d drive out to Sunrise Ranch and visit with Lyn Baldwin. She’d spoken to the former ranger a couple days earlier by phone, and Lyn had told her to stop by anytime. Julie wanted to discuss several projects Lyn had been working on during her time as ranger. Hopefully, Lyn could clarify a few things for Julie.

      In the process, Julie also hoped she might gain more insight into Dal Savatch. What it was about the man that she still found so appealing. And why she feared becoming friends with him again. Maybe then Julie could finally reconcile herself with the past and get the man off her mind.

      Then again, maybe not.

      Chapter Three

      At 5:33 the next morning, Julie flipped off the kitchen light and stepped out onto her front porch. Hazy sunlight filtered past her neighbors’ dew-laden lawns. She breathed deep of the crisp air and shivered, wondering if she’d need a jacket for her daily jog. She decided no, that her exercise would soon make her hot and the breeze would cool her off.

      Looking up, she froze.

      Dal Savatch stood leaning against a tall cottonwood on the opposite side of her white picket fence. Dressed like her in runner’s shoes and shorts, he rested his weight on his good leg. With his arms folded, his large biceps stretched his gray T-shirt tight. Even as a teenager, he’d been well built, with muscles any girl would admire. But the fully grown man he’d become almost made Julie drool.

      As the screen door clapped closed behind her, he lifted his head. Even from this distance, she could feel his penetrating stare like a physical blow. Lowering his arms, he stepped away from the tree. He paused at the gate, not entering the perimeter of her yard, but waiting for her to come down the front steps and join him.

      “It’s a bit early for a visit. What are you doing here?” she asked, trying not to sound curt.

      “Waiting for you. Remember, I promised to run with you.”

      “You don’t need to do that, Dal. It’s a long distance out of your way.” Yes, she remembered his promise, but she hadn’t expected him to keep it. Not really.

      “I want to.” He blinked, as though embarrassed by his admission.

      He reached over and lifted the latch before pushing the gate open for her.

      “Thanks.” She stepped onto the sidewalk.

      His gentlemanly manners reminded her of the conscientious boy he’d always been. When other boys had paid their girlfriends little mind, Dal had rushed ahead to open doors for her, had brought her yellow roses from his mother’s flower garden, had said please and thank-you. In high school, Julie had been the envy of every other girl. Because she’d had Dal.

      “So how long have you been waiting here?” She walked to the tree he’d vacated and braced her hands against the coarse trunk before stretching her calf muscles. Trying to appear unaffected by his presence.

      “Not long,” he said.

      “You could have come inside the house.”

      “No, I didn’t want to intrude until you were ready to go.”

      But what did he want? And why did his presence unnerve her so much?

      “How far do you usually run?” She made small talk, avoiding the real questions pounding in her brain. Thank goodness he didn’t remember her and their whispered promises to each other twenty years earlier. Part of her longed for him to recognize her. The part that still cared for him and wished he felt the same.

      Puppy love, her mom had called it before she’d died. But Julie had never felt anything so real before or since.

      “I usually run six miles. And you?” Taking a position on the opposite side of the tree, he braced his left hand against the trunk, then bent the knee of his good leg up toward his back and caught the ankle with his right hand. He tugged gently to stretch out his quadriceps.

      “Usually five miles. I don’t have time for more,” she said.

      A whoosh of air escaped his lips as he released his leg. “Then we’ll run five today. Do you have some preferred routes you usually take?”

      She nodded, pressing her left arm across the front of her body and holding it for the count of ten. “I measured the distance with my car’s odometer the first week I arrived in town. Because of my move to Stokely, I wasn’t able to run for a couple of weeks. I was eager to get back to it...and then I hurt my ankle.”

      “Yeah, I know what you mean. Exercise is addictive. I get antsy whenever I miss a day or two,” he said.

      So much for small chat. She kept warming up, concentrating on her movements, trying to think of something more intelligent to say. But maybe it was best if they stuck to the trivial stuff.

      “I told Cade and Lyn about our plans to view Gilway Trail on Friday. They’re excited about this project. So am I,” he said.

      “Good. Me, too.” And she meant it. The thought of doing something positive to help the amputee kids at Sunrise Ranch gave her a good feeling inside. As if her life’s work meant something important, even though she had no family to share it with.

      She finished her warm-up routine and stood watching him.

      “Shall we?” He indicated the black asphalt.

      With a nod, she stepped off the curb and ran down the side of the street. He followed, keeping pace beside her.

      At the corner, she