Freedom Ranch

Chapter 6

Dakota sank into the couch with a cold bottle of beer in her hands. She typically tried to stay away from drinking two days in a row but the demons were at play today. She had been struggling throughout the evening to ignore the memories that would cloud her mind.

"Dakota?"

She glanced up from the apparent staring contest she was having with the rug beneath her feet to see Colt standing in front of her. He was dressed to go out. His shiny black cowboy boots matched the black button down shirt and cowboy hat. The steel color in his eyes were a stark difference than his ensemble.

"I'm heading to the bar. Do you want to come along?"

"Nope, I'm good," said Dakota with a forced smile.

Colt was looking down at her in concern. She didn't want his sympathy or for him to babysit her.

"Have a good time," said Dakota as she kept the fake grin plastered on her lips.

He shrugged and gave her a long sideways glance before leaving. It reminded her of when she first met him. He wasn't convinced then and she was sure he wasn't now. She threw her back into the couch and took another swig of the beer in her hand.

"This isn't going to cut it," she whispered to herself.

She stood up and went to the liquor cabinet. It was the one place in the house she tried to avoid but tonight was different. She needed to drown out the noise in her head. She didn't tell Colt but the last rule was because of her past habit. Being a daily heavy drinker almost destroyed her. It was only when she finally got the help she didn't know she needed that she changed her ways. Probably not for the better since she now was a heavy smoker some days to curb the alcohol cravings.

Dakota poured the whiskey in a small crystal tumbler, careful not to have too heavy of a hand. She returned to the couch and turned on the TV to further drown out the sounds in her head. She watched mindlessly at the images popping up on the screen. She sipped the burning liquid as the ache of her body continued to grow worse. The weather must be changing. She switched the TV over to the weather station and listened to the meteorologist warn about a winter storm moving in with the biggest smile on her face.

She pulled herself from the couch, knowing if she didn't get her body moving she would be stiff tomorrow. She refilled her drink before walking out back and pacing the wrap around porch. The wood echoed from the heels of her cowboy boots as she slowly made her way in circles, trying to escape from her thoughts. She took a break from walking to refill her glass again before returning to the porch. She took a few more laps around as she looked at the starry sky above. Images were starting to cloud her mind of blood, death, and pain.

Dakota leaned against the wooden pillar closest to her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of cool Colorado air. It always seemed to calm her during her darkest times. That and the horses. That's why she loved her work. If anything understood PTSD, it was those damn horses. They seemed to be born with it.

She took a staggering step back through the kitchen pouring one last glass of whiskey. Who was she kidding? She told herself that the last drink. That was a nasty habit that led her to where she was years ago. She took a swig of the liquid, barely tasting the contents but knowing that numbing burn was indeed the whiskey.

A rattle of the front door immediately sobered her fogging mind. Colt walked in looking as perfect as he did when he walked out.

"Looks like you are breaking your own rule," he chastised.

"I know how to handle my alcohol."

"That's what you said last time when you were driving well above the legal limit."

Dakota scoffed, "Well played, Cop."

"That's Ex-Cop to you. Why don't you sit down with me on the porch. We can talk about it."

She felt her eyebrows come together trying to decipher what he just said. Did he really ask to sit on the porch and talk about it? Like a therapist?

"Why do you think I have something to talk about?" said Dakota as she sauntered to the front door.

"Let's just call it intuition."

"Cops are smart. But, they aren't mind readers."

Colt sighed and led the way outside. Dakota sat down on the cold wooden bench and watched him carefully sit on the recliner across from her.

"So, you didn't drink tonight?" she asked.

"One beer. Then I waited for awhile before driving home. So, not really."

"Well that isn't any fun," she said as she took another swig of her whiskey.

"I had fun. But, decided to come back to the house early. I heard about the winter storm coming in and figured we had some work to do."

"Oh, that reminds me. I need you to get supplies tomorrow for that run-in shelter."

"I planned on it, Dakota," said Colt with a small smile.

She found her mouth twitching to smile to her surprise. She couldn't help but be impressed work was on his mind when she expected women or booze to be.

"So, tell me what's bothering you?"

The grin that was playing on her lips quickly vanished.

"Why do you think something is bothering me?"

"Because I've been in your shoes before."

She opened her mouth to blurt out that she doubted it. But, decided against it. He was a prior police officer. Their experiences might have been different, but she knew cops went through some tough situations.

"What makes you say that?"

Dakota wasn't sure where she was going with this. It was the liquor talking.

"Besides the disabled veteran plates on the back of your truck and your stoic behavior, someone may have told me you were a veteran."

Well, she couldn't argue that notion.

Colt sighed and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Look, I'm not trying to say I know exactly what you went through. But, I've been through some s**t and I've picked up a bottle or two more than I should have because of it. Not to mention the nightmares and trying to escape my memories."

She wondered if that is what led him to Colorado. Even in her poor state, she knew better than to ask that right now.

"How long were you a police officer for?" she asked in a near whisper.

"Fifteen years."

Her eyes widened as she responded, "That's a long time. Almost twice as long as I was in the Army for."

"It wasn't all at the same place. Dallas for a decade, a few years at a small city, and one year at the tiny town I met you. It finally caught up to me so I guess you could say I retired early."

Dakota slowly soaked all that information and was doing math in her head when Colt said with a crooked smile, "Now it's your turn to share."

"Oh God, you sound like those meetings. Hi, I'm Dakota. And, I was in the military for nearly eight years."

"I expected you had done twenty."

She scoffed and replied, "Oh, now you are back on that age trip again."

"No, just stating the facts. I may not know you well but I know you have grit. And, I'm not talking about born with it. Real life experiences that made you who you are."

Dakota grew quiet as she leaned back against the wood siding. He was right. Why was he always right?

"In all seriousness, I'm pretty sure I have some years on you," said Colt with a smirk.

"Well, I doubt that. You don't look a year over twenty-five."

He laughed, "I appreciate that but you are off by more than a decade."

She was surprised but thought back on what he said about how many years he was a cop. She studied his smooth features having a hard time believing him. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties and, from what she heard, the ladies seem to think so too. Colt took off his black cowboy hat and pivoted his head to the side. Strands of gray could be seen above his ear mixed in with his jet black hair.

"So, you're a silver fox," blurted Dakota.

Her eyes widened as the whiskey laced words fell through her lips. She covered a hand over her mouth as Colt roared with laughter. He grabbed his ribs as his body convulsed with his howls of amusement. Once he regained his breath, he replied, "Well, no one has ever said that. I'll take that as a compliment to my age."

She felt mortified. She had just called the cop that responded to the fight she had with her ex-husband, her newly hired ranch hand, and the man living with her a silver fox. He hadn't even lived under her roof for twenty-four hours yet.

"Since I know how old you thought I was before seeing the gray hairs, how old do you think I am now?"

"I would hate to answer that and hurt your feelings."

Colt waved off her last statement and put his fist under his jaw, waiting for a response as he stared her down. She felt the pressure rise with his unwavering eyes.

"You want me to answer honestly?"

"Of course. I only accept honesty."

"Fine. I honestly think maybe thirty since I got the first guess wrong."

"You forgot I said you were off by more than a decade. I'm thirty-seven. I guess I fit in the silver fox category as you so boldly mentioned."

Dakota groaned as Colt chuckled. He was obviously loving this conversation to boost his ego.

"So, you're almost a decade older than me since I'm twenty-eight."

Colt's face twisted in surprise. It was his turn for the shock and awe.

"You didn't even let me guess," said Colt with a small laugh.

"I didn't want you to paint me out to be an old broad."

"You don't look a day over twenty. But, your eyes say something else. An old soul who has seen her fair share."

She didn't like this at all. Colt was able to read right through her. Something no one had been able to do. She was use to suffering quietly without anyone noticing a difference. Honestly, she preferred that. She wouldn't be a burden as Colin would always love to point out.

Colt's lips were set in a crooked smile. He was leaned back in his chair now with his arms crossed over his chest. She looked at the black shirt with pearl snaps and wondered if he was going to burst out of it like Superman. She wouldn't doubt it how pronounced his broad chest was in that position. She tapped her fingers on the side of the crystal and reminded herself that men were off limits. Nothing good could ever come of them. Besides, Colt had a fan club of hot little cowgirls and he seemed to love that attention.

"At least you admit I don't look that old," said Dakota, after she gulped the last of the whiskey in her hand.

"You don't even look legal to drink but I won't ask for your ID."

"Cop has some jokes," she replied with a raised eyebrow.

He shrugged, looking amused with himself. Dakota stood up and realized all the background noise was gone.

"Thank goodness," she sighed.

"What?"

"All the nonsense in my head is quiet. That's my cue to go to bed."

Colt stood up and held the front door open for her.

"Thanks," she muttered as she stepped across the threshold.

"Have a good night, Dakota."

She walked to the master bedroom and heard Colt's boots echo to the other side of the house where his room was. Who would have thought her only safety net, one she thought was imagined some days, was living under the same roof as her now?