Roped, Hitched & Lassoed

Roped, Hitched & Lassoed

Status: Finished

Genre: Romance


Status: Finished

Genre: Romance



Roped, Hitched & Lassoed Three siblings, all deeply entrenched in the BDSM lifestyle... Jared, wounded warrior who completes his healing as he heals his widowed slave Brad, roughshod rodeo cowboy who finally finds he wants more than just a partner in club play Diana, who raised her younger brothers and survived a sadistic master’s cruelty, who finds her happily ever after with her vanilla first love. Three couples, three interwoven stories of Dominance and submission—but mostly of forever love against a backdrop of the majestic hills of southwestern Wyoming.



Roped, Hitched & Lassoed
Three siblings, all deeply entrenched in the BDSM lifestyle...

Jared, wounded warrior who completes his healing as he heals his widowed slave
Brad, roughshod rodeo cowboy who finally finds he wants more than just a partner in club play
Diana, who raised her younger brothers and survived a sadistic master’s cruelty, who finds her happily ever after with her vanilla first love.
Three couples, three interwoven stories of Dominance and submission—but mostly of forever love against a backdrop of the majestic hills of southwestern Wyoming.

Chapter1 (v.1) - Roped, Hitched & Lassoed

Author Chapter Note

Roped, Hitched & Lassoed Three siblings, all deeply entrenched in the BDSM lifestyle... Jared, wounded warrior who completes his healing as he heals his widowed slave Brad, roughshod rodeo cowboy who finally finds he wants more than just a partner in club play Diana, who raised her younger brothers and survived a sadistic master’s cruelty, who finds her happily ever after with her vanilla first love. Three couples, three interwoven stories of Dominance and submission—but mostly of forever love against a backdrop of the majestic hills of southwestern Wyoming.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: April 20, 2015

Reads: 1001

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: April 20, 2015



Meet the McTavishes of Tie Siding, Wyoming

They’re the latest generation of rugged ranchers who carved out a dynasty in the southern Wyoming hills. The hills call to Jared, the youngest, whose military career is broken along with his body. They’ve never let go of Brad, the middle son who combines his love for the land with the family’s heritage of Dominance and submission. Finally, they once again embrace Diana, the eldest, who at the tender age of eighteen held her family together singlehandedly after tragedy took the older generations—first, her father and mother, and two years later, the family patriarch, the founder of the spread.

This is the interlocked story of the three siblings, their hopes and dreams, their sacrifices—and the deeply rooted family tradition of control by the males, submission by the females.

Enjoy. These are stories of Domination and submission, of the BDSM lifestyle into which these dynamic lovers were born. Mostly, though, it’s a story of love and triumph, of giving when sometimes the giving hurts. It’s a story of willing power exchange—of a special kind of love some may not understand in full.

I wrote this frankly erotic story nearly ten years ago as three novellas, each of which touched my heart in a special way. I hope you enjoy the book as it was originally intended—one story of love, of sacrifice, of loss and recovery.

Three siblings and their lovers all embrace some degree of the BDSM lifestyle, but they never lose sight of the sensuality, the love that underlies their purpose in every sexual action—their determination to grant the ultimate pleasure to their partners, even when granting that pleasure may cause them momentary discomfort.


Part One—Jared’s Story

Water. Gotta find water. Sand swirled around Jared McTavish, each individual grain pelting his hands and nose, the only parts of him not covered by the flowing white robe and headdress he’d stolen from the man he’d killed.

The man—a radical Islamist, one of the ISIS bastards he and his men had been searching for—had shot up Jared’s Humvee and murdered his driver moments before this sandstorm had blown up on the western Iraqi desert. Jared shuddered when he recalled the explosion that had rocked the primitive road ahead of them, and the resultant blood and broken body parts of the soldiers who’d taken the forward position on this hellish assignment.

Trying to ignore blinding pain in his legs, he stumbled forward—toward his platoon headquarters, he thought. He hunched his shoulders, and dropped his head to his chest to keep the wind-whipped sand from blinding him for real. It seemed he’d been heading toward nowhere for hours, praying for shelter…an oasis…anything but the desolate grave that had already claimed so many of his comrades.

Can’t go on much longer. His throat parched, every cell in his body screaming from pain as well as thirst, Jared lifted his canteen and let the last precious drops of water dribble through his cracked lips. He ached from the futile effort of moving against the forces of nature.

There. In the distance, barely visible over shifting dunes nearly as tall as he was, he spied some stately date palms bent nearly double in the wind. He redoubled his efforts, moved faster, his eye on his goal. Shade. Water. Gotta make it, can’t be far now.

Jared clawed his way over a dune, the last impediment between him and life. On his knees now, for he was becoming too weak to walk, he crawled the last fifty yards, only to look up and see the palm trees disappear, the verdant vegetation turn to arid wasteland. A mirage, he thought as he sank face down on the sand and took one last labored breath.

Blackness. A sensation of hot sand scorched the palms of his hands, his cheek. Then a halo of light. And a blessed breath of cool, soothing air swirled all around him.

Thank God. It hadn’t been a mirage after all. Jared inhaled deeply, aerating his parched body, his dry throat.”Water,” he croaked, sensing another presence yet too exhausted to open his eyes.

Chapter One

Soft hands cradled his head, tucked what felt like plump, clean pillows beneath it. The sound of fluid hitting a container was music to his ears—ears that had last heard the cry of the wind as it tossed desert sand around him like a shroud. This was better, he thought, lying on a silken couch while a lusty houri tended to his bath. He’d turn the tides on her, ravage her in payback for the way she’d been caressing him. Jared rolled her beneath him, restrained her for his pleasure while she whimpered eagerly in an Arabic dialect he couldn’t understand.

“Wake up, Captain, and open your mouth.” The voice was female, the tone firm but still somehow seductive, the language unmistakably English.”I’ve got some water for you.”

A slow stream of cool water bathed his parched lips, wet his swollen tongue.”More.”

If this was a dream he didn’t want to wake up. Not now, when he had his lover tied hand and foot to the four posters on his bed. Not when he’d stroked her silky skin until she begged for more, and drunk his fill of her sweet-salty essence. Not as he’d listened to her whimpering his name and begging him to take her. And particularly not now, when he was on his knees between her thighs, set to sink his cock into her sweet yoni and fuck her until they both were wrung out and hung up to dry.

No, this was definitely not the time for anybody to tell Jared this was only a dream, that like the oasis he’d seen in the desert that had damn near killed him, the erotic interlude he’d been experiencing the past few minutes was only a mirage.

“Sorry to bother you, Captain, but it’s time to change your dressing.”

Opening his eyes reluctantly, he looked into the face he’d subconsciously begun placing on the houris in his recurring dream. Nurse Ninia Barker. For the past few days she’d been his waking nightmare, bullying him into taking care of himself when he didn’t really give a damn. But yet, in the dreams he’d been having lately, it was always her face on the woman who kept begging him to take her. Jared let out a string of curses that would have sent most women running for cover, but his profanity didn’t seem to faze Ninia. As if he’d smiled and said ”Thanks”, as though she didn’t notice his erection tenting the blanket, she went about her business, folding back the sheets and baring the wound that had brought him here, to a small VA hospital in Cheyenne, not far from the home near Laramie that he’d left ten years ago when he’d opted for a military career.

He hadn’t gone back to the Iraqi squadron that he’d been sent to advise, or to his home base here in the States for that matter. The roadside bomb that had riddled his lower body with shrapnel and ended up taking part of his right leg had ended what he’d planned as a lifelong career in the Marines. The docs hadn’t wanted him taking up space at Walter Reed once they’d done all they could and determined he’d never be fit enough to go back to his Special Force Reconnaissance Team. Part of him couldn’t help wishing his second-in-command hadn’t risked his own skin to come back and drag his miserable ass out of the desert, especially at times like this when he was lying more or less helpless, either pretty much in constant pain or with the pain masked by drugs that also dulled his wits.

“Okay. Looks like another piece of shrapnel has worked its way out.” The pretty blonde stood and motioned for an orderly to come and take him to the procedure room so they could fish out the tiny shard of metal.” How many will this make?”

Jared shrugged.” How the hell would I know?”

“Don’t get upset with me. I was just making conversation. Lots of you guys like to keep count of how many pieces of your Humvees have made their way out of your bodies.”

“Well, I couldn’t care less.” He realized a lot of his irritability came from his situation, but part of it came from watching her, wanting her so desperately but knowing there was nothing more pathetically cliché than a wounded soldier falling for his nurse. She tended him, saw all his weaknesses, while his dick hungered to show her it wasn’t exactly helpless.

“You couldn’t care less about a lot of things, right, tough guy?” Ninia reminded Jared of a particularly hot Domme he’d once observed in his brother’s Laramie dungeon. Only thing was, that Domme had taken it easier—verbally at least—on the sub he’d watched her playing with than this nurse did on him and the other patients in the small post-trauma rehab unit at the Cheyenne VA Medical Center.” You got banged up a little, so the world’s come to an end.”

“What the hell would you know about what’s going on in my head?” Jared usually tried to be civil to the people charged with helping him, but Ninia was getting on his nerves. Not only because she’d just fucked up the best dream he’d had since coming back stateside, but because she’d been the main focus of it.” Or about what I’ve been through for that matter?”

Her lips went white underneath the pink lipstick she had on, and all of a sudden she got so quiet Jared felt like squirming, especially when he noticed dampness gathering in the corners of her big blue eyes, a barely perceptible tremor in her usually steady hands. Still he wasn’t ready to cut her any slack.” Well?”

When she lowered her gaze, he saw the pain in her expression.” I lost my husband,” she said,
“in the fighting in Afghanistan. I’d have given everything I own if he’d come home no more battered than you.”

He reached out, ashamed he’d taken out his frustration on her and chagrined that she’d had to remind him the whole world was filled with people who’d lost their dreams. Mostly he felt bad for hurting her just because he wanted her so damn much. Jared noticed how her expression softened when he grasped her hand, so he tightened his grip, taking a chance she’d think he was coming on to her like any other pathetic bastard in the place.” I was being an ass. I didn’t mean to take my annoyance out on you,” he told her, moving his thumb over her palm.

She didn’t move for a moment. Then her hand tightened somewhat on his, and he thought he saw the pulse in her throat speed up. For a moment, he forgot he was in a hospital bed again. He wanted to tug her closer and see if he could taste her there, make her…

“It’s all right.” She pulled her hand away, her cheeks slightly flushed. Damn, he’d flustered her. But he was also a fucking cripple, helpless to get off that bed and pursue her under his own steam. The jarring reminder made him turn away when she spoke, her irritating composure restored.” Come on, let’s get you into this wheelchair and down to the procedure room. The sooner this piece of shrapnel’s gone, the sooner you’ll be able to get up on your feet.”

“Don’t you mean foot?” He swung himself into the wheelchair the orderly had brought. It had become second nature for Jared to correct his caregivers when they referred to his prosthesis as though it were part of him instead of a bunch of plastic and titanium. Not that it didn’t work surprisingly well, but nothing could hold a candle to the real thing. Ninia looked stricken, though, so he made himself grin. “I’ll start thinking of feet in the plural when I can actually put the other one back on,” he said, gesturing toward the lower portion of the stump where shrapnel had been coming to the surface lately, requiring removal and keeping him from using his new state-of-the-art prosthesis while each tiny fresh wound healed.

“Fair enough. Come on, let’s make that happen ASAP. We need to get you out of here and free up your bed for a guy who really needs it.” She managed a smile, and it seemed to have as much effect on his libido as that erotic dream. Man, did he have it bad.

* * * * *

Nurse Ninia stuck in his mind, even now, a week after he’d been released from her inpatient ward to get his physical therapy three days a week at the outpatient clinic. Jared closed his eyes and envisioned the bossy blonde as he half-listened to a sports announcer on TV going on about the Broncos’ chances in the upcoming NFL season.

If it hadn’t been for his leg hurting him like hell, he’d probably have fallen asleep in the living room, but it did, so he grabbed his crutches and made his way to bed where he could elevate the stump. The noise from the TV gave the illusion that he wasn’t alone, lulled him off to sleep.

Sand dunes white as the snow back home on his Wyoming ranch stretched as far as he could see, past date palms swaying in the hot, dry desert air. A soothing breeze bathed his cheeks when he pulled the flap back and looked outside the luxurious tent where he’d awakened moments earlier.

He must have died and gone to heaven. Jared could think of no other explanation. The last thing he remembered was crawling, clawing his way across the Iraqi desert in a blinding storm, struggling to reach an oasis. An oasis that had only been a mirage.

He remembered that. Remembered gasping for air, taking in sand instead. But apparently he’d been wrong. Apparently just past his line of vision the oasis had been here after all, and God had helped him find the way.

This was no mirage, but a miracle. He closed his eyes, said a silent prayer this wouldn’t all be gone when he looked again. Relief washed over him when he saw the same welcome scene, when he turned back and found the tent still there.

And the woman. Ninia? Blonde hair like spun silk swaying loose against her tanned shoulders, sky-blue eyes made more compelling because they were set off by the veil that showed just a hint of her full, red lips, a chin with a dimple that softened its stubborn set. Voluptuous, smiling, graceful, she’d danced for him. Bathed his sunburned body with cool, fresh water. Dipped her fingers ever so slowly into the cool, clear liquid then held them just over his lips so it slid drop by drop between his parched lips and down his throat. Now she beckoned to him with outstretched arms, temptation beyond anything he could resist.

Tired. He was so tired. Back inside the tent now, he found the silk-draped sleeping couch, paused only for a moment before letting his unfamiliar Arab garb drop to the floor. He stretched out, naked, against cushions soft as goose down. Foreign sounding music, dissonant to his American ears, soothed him—yet it aroused him too, for it conjured pictures in his mind of dancers undulating to its haunting rhythm.

Dancing—for him. The woman who’d been tending him sat on the floor beside his feet, gently massaging the bruised, blistered soles, his toes…his ankles. Her fingers moved in time with the music, making him aware of her female heat—her desires.

His desire too. Rolling over, he started to lift her in his arms, only to wake up hard and sweating…and once again, alone.

He blinked, disoriented for a moment until he recognized the bedroom of the nondescript apartment he’d rented when he first arrived in Cheyenne for outpatient therapy. “Closer to home,” the brass had told him when they’d tossed him out of Walter Reed three weeks ago and sent him here. Well, he’d seen precious little of Cheyenne so far, since he’d freaked out during his first visit to the VA hospital three blocks down from this apartment complex.

Yeah. He’d made a real ass out of himself, letting the sight of a badly burned soldier set off a full-scale panic attack. Besides the fact that his action had embarrassed the shit out of him, it resulted in him spending more than a week back in a hospital ward. And meeting a nurse whose face now showed up in damn near all his restless dreams.

Jared glanced around his darkened bedroom, looked out the window at the clear surface of a small lake illuminated by a fat new moon. The throbbing in the stump of his leg made him want to scream, but he refused to give in and take more of the pain medications that dulled his mind.

Sooner or later he’d have to figure something to occupy himself with or he’d go fucking nuts. Not now, though. Now he was struggling, trying to accept that his plan to spend thirty years in the Marines was history. He hadn’t even begun to wrestle with the concept that he was no longer well-equipped physically to enjoy the BDSM lifestyle that had been the cornerstone of his personal life. The lifestyle he’d been exposed to since before his parents’ death when he’d been too young to comprehend it fully. Since he’d grown up in his sister’s household, observing the extreme BDSM lifestyle lived by Diana and her very dominant husband.

Would the take-charge, sometimes bossy Ninia surrender to a Dominant male? Jared couldn’t help imagining her melting in his arms, giving over control to him the way she never had when he was her patient. He’d stroke her soft skin, pillow his head on her full breasts, nibble at her nipples until she squirmed and begged him for more.

Stop it, idiot, or you’ll be taking another cold shower. Sex with your nurse is the last thing you should be thinking about, because it ain’t gonna happen.

Jared didn’t have the foggiest idea of what he might do, professionally or personally. Not that he needed money. His grandfather had left him and his two siblings a prime piece of southern Wyoming ranch land near Tie Siding, along with enough money to live on comfortably for the rest of their lives. As long as the stock market didn’t tank, the principal would keep on growing even if the oil wells should dry up. What he needed was to find something to do with the rest of his life.

And a real live woman to put this recurring dream to rest. Be damned if he wanted to keep fucking a mirage, and only in his dreams. As if there was a chance in hell he’d find a sub to love the scarred-up has-been Dom that he was now.

No chance in hell that he’d sleep any more tonight.

He sat on the edge of the bed and transferred himself into the wheelchair they’d lent him at the hospital when he refused to take a prescription for one of his own. Rolling it to the patio doors that led to a balcony overlooking the courtyard, he let the cool mountain breeze bring a small measure of relief to his heated flesh.

* * * * *

There he was. Jared McTavish. Captain, United States Marines until his medical discharge had come through last week. Her patient. Ninia had no business on earth staring out her bedroom window at the man whose battered body she’d tended…would likely tend again when more shrapnel was ready to be removed. She had no right whatever to fantasize about him pleasuring a woman under his will as a master. No right to imagine him taking her in the BDSM club where she’d submitted to her late husband before his death.

Across the courtyard with its small man-made lake, she watched him stare out at the night. The light of a silvery moon reflected off the water, accentuating the rugged planes of his face and making her want to caress him there with her fingertips, bring him peace from whatever demons kept sleep at bay for him tonight.

Ninia, he’s your patient. You must be insane, fantasizing how he’d master you…how his rough, rugged hands would feel when he touched you. How it would make your body sing when he claimed you the way a Master would.

But she couldn’t help it. Jared McTavish fascinated her as no one had done in the four years since Earl had died. There was something about Jared—the way he looked and talked, the way he mumbled arousing, erotic orders in his dreams…

Once, when she’d leaned over him to soothe him as he cried out in one of those dreams, he’d reached out his hand, closed it over her throat. He’d caressed her there, made her want to drop to her knees when he mumbled the order for her to do so, his voice hoarse, intense. She’d imagined then that if she’d complied he’d have clasped her head between his two big hands, guided her to his impressive erection and ordered her to take him in her mouth and suck. God how she’d wanted to do just that, to encroach on his sleep and taste the rigid male flesh she hadn’t been able to ignore.

Captain McTavish was a wounded male but there was no question in her mind but that he was a sexual Dominant. From the moment he’d surfaced to consciousness in her ward, even before that from the things he’d muttered in his sleep, she could tell he was used to controlling all aspects of his life, commanding those around him. Not only did that part of him make her weak with desire in spite of her fiercest admonitions to herself to remain professional, it made her want to be the one to help him to reclaim that self-confidence…and perhaps to claim her.

God but she’d lost her mind. Maybe it had been pure accident that she’d glanced at his address on the hospital record and noticed that he lived in her apartment complex, in the unit directly across the courtyard from hers. Or had it been fate? Ninia had never been one to discount destiny. She couldn’t lie to herself. She wanted more than to make Jared well. She wanted him. Perhaps it was impulse. The beauty of the night sky. Maybe it was the ache of her lonely body. She didn’t care why she felt this way and wasn’t going to take the time to analyze her actions.

Lifting off her sleep shirt, she stood naked in front of the open patio door, using a vibrating dildo to massage her breasts the way she longed for him to do. She skimmed her hands down her body, spread her legs apart and pretended the gentle breeze was his breath on her pussy, his fingers on her aching clit.

She kept her gaze on him, so she knew the moment when he noticed her. His gaze drifted past the open door then snapped back. Her face was mostly in shadows, but he could clearly see her body as she loosened her hair and let the breeze lift it as she stepped out on her balcony. His eyes were on her, scorching her flesh.

She wished he were sitting here, within reach of her eager arms as she displayed herself for his pleasure, showing him in every way that she was his for the taking. Even with the distance of the courtyard between them, she offered herself as if that were the case. Tendrils of hair curled around her breasts, her waist, caressing her bare skin as she bent and braced one hand on her side balcony rail and the other against the frame of the patio door, giving him a birds-eye view of her damp, swollen pussy.

See what you could do to me? She braced herself with one hand on the rail, used the other to reach between her legs with the dildo. A cool night breeze caressed her swollen flesh when she rubbed the toy along her slit. The heat from his gaze made her hotter, so hot she plunged it into her pussy, balls deep. The vibrations sent shivers through her, but no more so than the knowledge that he was watching. Watching and wanting.

He’d be hard as stone, hot and throbbing as he sat across the balcony watching her do herself. He’d be doing himself too, jerking his long, thick cock in his left hand—she’d noticed when she tended his wounds that he was left-handed—and cupping his balls in his right. His face would be flushed, and his tongue would go out to moisten the thin but sensual lips she longed to kiss. He’d be imagining eating her pussy, ramming his cock hard into her cunt, her ass…

Or maybe he’d order her to suck him off. Her mouth watered at the thought of going on her knees, taking him in her mouth, serving him that way and any other way that would bring him pleasure.

Ninia turned up the vibrator, let sensation wash through her, bringing release of the sexual tension but not the desire. Maybe it was time to go back to the club, to find a Master to fill the empty spot in her heart that losing Earl had carved out.


* * * * *

What the fuck?

Apparently he lived across the courtyard from a female exhibitionist.

Jared should have rolled his chair back inside and crawled back into bed. Instead he stayed out on the balcony and watched. It might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn he smelled her coming. No question about it, he’d seen the waves of ecstasy undulating through her naked body. Damn, he’d come all over himself before he realized that he’d unconsciously curled his fingers around his cock and mimicked the rhythm she’d set with her dildo.

He wished to hell he could see her face. Her body was dynamite, all slender curves with just enough meat on them for a man to get a hand-hold. When the new moon darted out from behind the clouds, he saw she was pale, with long light hair that cascaded around her, caught the moonlight. She’d gotten herself off with a dildo at the same time he was jerking off with his hand. Before that, she’d been a surreal shadow, like the oasis in the desert that looked so deceptively real in his dreams.

She looked so much like Ninia, Jared gave his fantasies free rein…

Fuck, he was a fool, imagining anything happening between him and the woman who’d nursed him through panic and pain, seen him at his worst. He had to forget her. Once no more shrapnel could be removed, he’d be gone from Cheyenne and she’d be nothing but a memory. That was all the better, because he was going to end up embarrassing himself, asking her out or deluding himself for a moment that he might pursue a relationship with her, like a hundred other guys who she’d helped through the pain of rehabilitation. She’d probably pat his hand, give him a sympathetic smile if he approached her.

But then he remembered that flush on her cheeks. No. Don’t go there. Don’t be an idiot.

Dawn was breaking in the eastern sky. Soon it would start getting light. He’d be able to see her then, except that now she’d gone back inside her apartment, closing the drapes against his prying eyes. Damn, he’d better get his ass inside as well, or the cops would be paying him a visit. Wouldn’t do if he got caught on the balcony staring at a window across the courtyard and salivating over a neighbor whose pussy he could describe in more detail than her face.

* * * * *

Showered and shaved now, he checked his legs, proud of himself because he hardly winced anymore when he looked closely at the below-knee stump. Good, the latest wounds where they’d taken out more shrapnel seemed finally to be healing. Satisfied that infection wasn’t setting in, Jared pulled on boxers and jeans, pulling the right jeans leg up over the knee of his stump.

He didn’t kid himself that his body had shed the last of the hardware. Seemed he had half a fucking Humvee inside his lower body in minute bits and pieces, mostly concentrated in what was left of his right leg. It had pissed the hell out of him when he was flying commercial for the first time after his injury, realizing that he made airport metal detectors go bonkers when he passed through. It made him want to scream when he recognized the pity in strangers’ eyes when they noticed his wheelchair or the crutches he’d still needed even when he was wearing his prosthesis. He hated it. Hated them for the sympathy that reminded him he was a fucking cripple.

He eyed the stump, wondered why he hadn’t let them re-amputate the leg at mid-thigh, the way the orthopedic guys at Walter Reed had recommended. They’d have gotten most of the metal fragments, and by now he’d have been up and running—or at least walking fairly well if he’d applied himself to his physical therapy as diligently as he had when he’d been trying to pass the fitness tests so they’d let him stay on active duty.

But returning to his unit had been a possibility with the below-knee amputation. He’d known fellow officers who’d done it, had been certain he’d be able to overcome this disability as well. If not for the shrapnel his body kept rejecting piece-by-piece, he’d have succeeded. He’d have been a man, doing a man’s work, not the object of anybody’s pity.

In any case, he wouldn’t put up with stares today. After re-bandaging the two wounds that would come in contact with his prosthesis, he rolled on two stump socks and snapped the stump into its custom-made socket. Getting carefully to his feet, he put weight on the prosthesis, found the pain bearable. More bearable than having people try so transparently not to stare at the empty space where his lower leg should have been.

He winced as he took the last of six steps from the bathroom to his closet where a selection of his shirts hung neatly in a row. The damn wounds weren’t as healed as they looked. Choosing a burgundy print shirt he’d bought two years ago while on R&R in Hawaii, he shrugged it on, then gave in and picked up the forearm crutches he’d sworn he’d never use again. Better to use them than to end up passed out on Cheyenne’s famed Greenway Path, and have to call for the paramedics to pick him up and carry him back here.

Shoving his wallet and keys into his pockets, Jared made his way to the elevator, ticking off his plans as the outside-mounted cab made its way down the twelve floors of apartments to the ground. He’d take it easy, walk a little way along the pathway lined with fragrant evergreens and an occasional massive cottonwood tree and enjoy the wildflowers and the animals that always reminded him he was practically home. Maybe this time he’d make it to that spot where his neighbor kept saying he could enjoy a spectacular view of distant mountains that still had small caps of snow, even now, in midsummer. If not today, he’d make it there someday soon.


© Copyright 2018 Ann Jacobs. All rights reserved.


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