Hours had passed. Emery’s nerves became more jangled with each minute that brought them closer to Summer Creek. Her father and uncle both snoozed, but in spite of her exhaustion, Emery couldn’t rest. Not when her entire world had been so unexpectedly upended.
Perhaps her father and uncle were attempting to teach her a lesson. If she acted contrite, asked for forgiveness, and promised to mend her foolish ways, maybe they’d take her home and never speak of the incident again.
Somehow, though, she had the distinct idea that the two men intended to stand by their decision to abandon her in the wilds of Oregon to learn whatever cryptic lesson they deemed it important for her to know.
The car slowed, and the driver turned left off the highway onto a two-lane paved road. Farms and fields that had yet to spring to life after the winter turned the world shades of gray and brown lined both sides of the blacktop.
James and Henry glanced out the car windows.
“Looks like they’ve put in several pivots since the last time I came hunting out here,” Henry said, pointing to a machine in the middle of a slightly greening field.
“I bet that helps cut down on the labor. Remember the summer we worked for that farmer changing handlines? Whew, that was hard work,” James said with a grin.
“It was hard work, but the girls admired our tans and muscles,” Henry teased.
Emery never knew her father had worked on a farm, or her uncle. Rapidly, it became apparent there were many things she didn’t know about the two of them.
Only a few minutes passed before they drove into town, or at least Emery assumed it was supposed to be a town. The buildings that greeted them appeared, for the most part, run-down or deserted. More than a dozen old buildings that might have been lovely at one time looked ready for a wrecking ball.
A sign in front of a tall brick building to her right proclaimed it to be Summer Creek City Hall. Further down the street the tell-tale stripe of a barber’s pole identified the Klean Kut Barbershop.
In front of the post office, a purple-haired woman pushed a wheelbarrow with a behemoth dog inside, or maybe it was a really ugly pony. Just across the street at the grocery store they drove past an animal eating a plastic grocery sack.
“What is that?” Emery asked, leaning toward her father to better see out the window.
“A goat,” James replied. “They’ll eat anything that isn’t nailed down and some things that are.”
Emery wondered why a goat meandered free and unattended in town, but decided she’d rather not know. She turned and looked out the window on her uncle’s side of the car, staring at what appeared to be a saloon, complete with an old stagecoach parked out front. A neon sign proclaimed it to be the local bar and grill.
After passing a handful of houses and an abandoned mill, they left the town behind, heading north. Only a few minutes passed before the car decreased speed and turned onto the road to Summer Creek Ranch, or so the sign attached to a post announced.
“Take a good look, Emery. This is where you’ll either redeem yourself or enjoy your last months of freedom,” her uncle said, motioning to an old but solid house painted the color of the sagebrush around them. Flowers planted along the front of the dwelling had yet to burst into bloom.
“I believe in you, Emery. Don’t let us down,” her father said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as the car rolled to a stop in front of the house.
Resolved to facing the situation with dignity, Emery accepted the hand her father gave her as she stepped out of the car into the bright spring afternoon, into an uncertain and unwanted future.
Chapter Three
Reins held loosely in his right hand, Hudson Cole rested his crossed wrists on the saddle horn and surveyed the sea of red and white cattle below him from the nearby hilltop. In the middle of spring calving season, he kept a close eye on the cows, watching for any trouble. He’d already moved five cows into the pen closest to the barn, sure they’d all give birth before morning.
He scanned the herd again, his gaze resting on a cow that had moved off by herself, bag full and heavy.
“Come on, Ajax, let’s bring that ol’ girl in. I think she’s trying to sneak off to drop her calf when nobody’s looking.” Hud clucked his tongue to the horse.
Ajax carried him down the hill in a smooth, unhurried gait, one that wouldn’t disturb the cows as they milled around, grazing on the hay he’d tossed out for them earlier. He’d be glad when spring fully arrived, and they could turn the cattle out to pasture for the summer.
Hud tipped back his head and gazed up at the bright yellow orb inching across a clear blue sky. He sure wouldn’t complain about the nice weather they’d had the past week. Unseasonably warm, the temperatures reached into the mid-sixties each day and quickly dried the soupy mud left behind when the snow melted.
At least he wouldn’t have to worry about any new calves suffering from frostbite. He’d lost a dozen calves two years ago when winter had lingered clear up until April. A shudder rolled over him just thinking about the miserable days and nights he spent trying to tend the cows and care for the calves in below-freezing temperatures. He sent a prayer of thanks heavenward for the mild weather that made his job of ranching so much easier.
When he neared the cow, Hud flicked the end of his reins, making a popping sound against the leather of his chaps that sent the cow into a slow saunter along the fence.
Twenty minutes later, Hud shut the gate behind her in the small pasture next to the barn with the other expectant mothers. “You girls don’t do anything crazy until I get back to check on you,” Hud said, taking the horse’s reins in his hands and leading him to the barn. A glance at his watch made him hurry as he unsaddled Ajax and left him in the pasture on the other side of the barn with three other horses.
Cricket would soon be home from school, and Hud liked to be there when she raced off the bus, full of excitement and news from her day. Although his daughter was only six, he sometimes worried she was maturing way too fast as she talked about the boys she liked and fussed about her clothes and hair. Other days, he’d find her playing with a doll or lugging around her kitten, telling it a silly story, and think maybe his precious child wasn’t so grown up after all.
Hud drove his mud-splattered all-terrain vehicle toward the house. He’d just rounded the bend in the lane when he noticed a shiny black luxury car stop at the end of the front walk.
Unexpected visitors rarely showed up at the ranch, and certainly not in cars that cost more than he’d make all year. The possibility existed that his grandmother had invited someone and forgot to mention it to him. It wouldn’t be the first or last time.
As he approached the house, Hud observed a driver getting out of the car, then two older men exiting the backseat. One of them looked familiar, but he couldn’t place why. A slim young woman slid out and stood between the men. His breath caught for a moment as he watched the afternoon light create a halo around her, making her skin glow and her hair sparkle like each strand was spun with gold.
Painful recollections from his past, of another golden-haired woman, slapped over him with the force of a tidal wave. He brought a gloved hand to his chest, rubbing at the ache that suddenly began to throb in the region of his heart. Determined to ignore the tumultuous feelings generated by his thoughts, he shoved the memories back down in the fortress buried deep in his soul where he kept them. He parked the four-wheeler and made his way over to the visitors.
The driver noticed his approach and looked at him uncertainly as he pulled luggage from the trunk.
Before Hud could say a word, his grandmother barreled out of the house and down the porch steps, wiping her hands on a pink-flowered apron that contrasted sharply to the blue and green plaid flannel shirt and faded blue jeans she wore.
She wrapped her arms around the taller of the two men, giving him a hug.
“Land sakes, Henry Brighton! It’s been too long since you’ve come to visit. Welcome, welcome!” Nell Cole said, smiling
at the man. “And it’s good to see you, again, James. It’s so nice to have you all here.”
For a moment, Hud studied the men his grandmother spoke with, noting the resemblance between them. He assumed they were brothers. Suddenly, the name jolted something loose in his memory. Henry Brighton had been a good friend to his grandfather and used to come hunting every autumn. But Henry hadn’t been to the ranch in years, not since before Grandpa passed away.
Curious as to what brought the judge and his brother to Summer Creek Ranch, Hud stowed his gloves in his back pocket and walked over to offer a word of welcome.
“Hud, honey, you remember Judge Henry Brighton, don’t you?” Nell said, tugging on his arm to pull him closer to where she stood with the men and young woman.
“Welcome, sir. It’s been a while, but I’m pleased to see you again.” Hud shook Henry’s hand then turned to his brother. “You must be Henry’s brother. I’m Hudson Cole.”
“That’s right. James Brighton. Last time I saw you, you were about this big,” the man said, holding his hand about two feet off the ground. He smirked and his eyes twinkled with mirth. “You’ve grown a bit since then.”
Hud grinned, aware his size could be intimidating to some. “Yes, sir, I suppose I have.” Slowly, his gaze drifted over the young woman, taking in her delicate beauty, perfectly styled hair, and makeup that appeared to have been applied by a professional. Intriguing blue eyes held a guarded look behind unnaturally long eyelashes. Rosy cheeks could have been from the slight wind or too much blush, he couldn’t tell.
Her oval face was flawless, gorgeous, and therefore of no interest to Hud.
From the top of her head to the toes of her designer shoes, she reeked of money. No doubt her diapers had been made of hundred-dollar bills. Most likely, she’d spent her entire life spoiled and pampered, indulged and coddled.
Years ago, a pretty little rich girl had turned his head, entangled his heart, and caused him enough pain to last ten lifetimes. He certainly wasn’t stupid enough to make that mistake twice.
“This is my daughter, Emery,” James said, nudging the woman forward. “We can’t thank you enough for taking her in like this. If there is ever anything I can do to repay your kindness, I hope you’ll let us know.”
Hud’s right eyebrow hiked upward so high, it disappeared beneath the brim of his dusty cowboy hat. He swiveled his head around until his gaze clashed with his grandmother’s. She looked only slightly guilty as she smiled pleasantly and clenched his arm with both hands, as though she intended to restrain him from saying anything about James’ announcement that took him completely by surprise.
His grandmother’s elbow connected with his ribs. “We’re more than happy to have Emery stay with us for as long as she needs to. Isn’t that right, Hud?”
Rather than answer, he offered a noncommittal grunt and gave the woman another once-over. He’d be surprised if she lasted a day on the ranch before she hightailed it back to Portland or wherever it was she’d come from. From experience, he figured the first nail she broke or the first waft of manure blowing around her face would send her running for civilization.
The rattle and screech of the school bus diverted his attention and that of their guests to Cricket’s arrival.
Hud watched as his little girl hopped off the last step of the bus, shifted her pink backpack on her shoulder, then raced toward them, waving a hand over her head. He hurried out to greet Cricket, swinging her up in his arms and kissing her cheek.
“How was school today, baby girl?” he asked, relishing the feel of her arms around his neck as she gave him a hug. He received several a day but cherished each and every one as a special gift. Before long, she’d deem herself too old and grown up to give him hugs. Hud felt depressed just thinking about it.
“Great, Daddy! Miss Sullivan asked me to read to the class today. She said I did a good job. I got a sticker!”
“That’s wonderful, sweetheart.” Hud carried her over to where his grandmother waited with the Brighton family. He set Cricket on her feet but kept a hand on her shoulder. “Cricket, this is Judge Henry Brighton, his brother, Mr. James Brighton, and Emery Brighton. My daughter, Cricket.”
“Why, Nell, she looks just like Jossy,” Henry said, hunkering down and shaking Cricket’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Cricket.”
“Do you know Aunt Jossy?” Cricket asked, tipping her head to the side and studying the stranger.
“I used to, when she and your daddy were your age.” Henry stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a wrapped piece of candy. He glanced at Hud for permission to give it to Cricket.
Hud nodded and grinned when Cricket accepted the candy with a big smile. “Thank you, Mr. Judge. I love peppermints.”
“You are welcome, Cricket. And you can call me Uncle Henry if you like.” Henry straightened and took a step back. “Is Jossy here?”
“No. She married the rancher across the road and runs the Lazy J now. Her husband passed away the year before last,” Nell said, glancing to the east. “That girl is always on the go.”
Hud didn’t bother to offer his comments on the matter of his sister trying to resurrect a run-down ranch or how hard she worked to keep the Lazy J afloat. Goodness knew he’d tried more times than he could count to help her, but she generally refused, claiming he had enough to deal with at Summer Creek Ranch. She wasn’t wrong, but he hated to see his only sibling work herself to death. Then again, who was he to talk when all he did was toil on the ranch and occasionally help out in town when an extra pair of hands was needed.
“You’re pretty,” Cricket said, beaming at Emery like she was a fairy princess who’d dropped onto the ranch out of the sky. “You smell good, too.”
To her credit, Emery Brighton didn’t snub his child, but bent down until she was on eye level with Cricket. “Thank you very much, Cricket. Is that a nickname or your real name?”
Cricket tossed her head and glanced back at Hud. “My name is Caitlyn Amorette Cole. I’m six, and my favorite color is pink, and my daddy says I sound like a summer cricket.”
Emery smiled. “I’m not sure I know what a cricket sounds like.”
“Nonstop chatter,” Hud said, tenderly ruffling his daughter’s tangled black curls. With big blue eyes and milky skin, she held no resemblance to her mother, a blessing that filled Hud with gratitude every time he looked at his child. The Cole family genes were definitely dominant in Cricket’s DNA.
“Where are my manners?” Nell wrapped her arm around Emery’s and guided her up the steps. “Let’s go inside. I just took a batch of cookies out of the oven.”
Hud helped the driver carry in three large suitcases, three leather traveling bags, two duffle bags, and a box full of footwear, most of which appeared to be tennis shoes. After removing his boots so he wouldn’t track manure across his grandmother’s clean floors, he packed everything upstairs to one of the guest rooms. If any of the baggage belonged to Henry and James, they could sort it out later.
On quiet feet, he went down the back stairs to the mudroom and washed up, then wandered to the front room. His grandmother perched on the edge of a chair like she was serving royalty as she poured glasses of iced tea and passed around a plate of lemon cookies. Cricket sat on the floor in front of the coffee table with a glass of milk, a cookie, and her kitten, Luna.
Emery watched his daughter and sipped from a glass of tea while her father and uncle engaged in an animated conversation with Nell.
The driver had disappeared so Hud could only guess he’d gone back outside. He took two glasses of tea and set a handful of cookies on a plate then stepped outside. The driver sat on one of his grandmother’s wicker porch chairs, eyes closed, and face turned to the sun.
“Care for some cookies and tea?” he asked, setting a glass of tea and the cookies on the table beside the man.
“Thank you, sir,” the man said, sitting up and straightening his tie before he took a long sip from the tea.
“What’s your na
me?” Hud asked then bit into a cookie.
“Drew. Drew Daniels.”
“Nice to meet you, Drew. Have you worked very long for the Brighton family?”
Drew nodded. “I’ve been Mr. Brighton’s driver for about ten years. He’s a generous employer and a good man, a rare combination.”
“I’m sure it is. If you’ve been with him ten years, then you must enjoy working for him.”
Another nod. “I do. I mostly drive Mr. Brighton around for business matters, not a personal trip such as this one. Miss Brighton means well, but she sometimes … ” Drew glanced around to see if anyone was listening. Assured they weren’t, he continued, “is impetuous. It’s not my place to say anything, but someone should warn you that she can’t handle alcohol. Two sips and she’s plastered.”
Hud’s eyebrow hiked upward again. “Good thing our ranch is dry, then. Does she often get into trouble drinking?”
“No. In fact, this is the … ” Drew snapped his mouth shut. “I’ve already said more than I should. I believe Judge Brighton or Mr. Brighton would happily answer any questions, though.”
“Then I reckon I’ll ask a few. Do you know their plans?”
“Mrs. Cole invited us to spend the night, then we’ll be on our way back to Portland in the morning.”
“All four of you?” Hope filled Hud that Emery Brighton would soon be out of his hair.
“No. Miss Brighton has to stay here. It’s part of the terms of her release and community service. I thought … ” Drew gave him a studying glance. “I think it will be a learning experience for everyone.”
“No doubt about that.” Hud drained the tea from his glass in one long gulp then returned inside. He yanked on his boots and had his hand on the doorknob to escape when he felt a presence beside him.
“Mind if we tag along?” James asked. He and Henry had changed from suits into jeans and cotton shirts with work boots that appeared to have been worn many times. Not exactly what Hud had expected to see a billionaire tycoon wear.
Catching the Cowboy: A Small-Town Clean Romance (Summer Creek Book 1) Page 3