Long Road Home

by JoAnn Ross

  Just the thought of losing this man, whose crusty exterior hid a warm and generous heart, had her eyes swimming. She leaned over the torn arm of the recliner and kissed his bristly cheek. “I love you, Dad.”

  “Have fun at your wine party.” He might not say the L word, but the gravelly huskiness of his voice assured Austin that she was, indeed, well loved.

  “It’s a book club.”

  His chuckle, as rough as a mile of ungraded gravel road, was one she didn’t hear all that often since his old polio nemesis, which had been lurking all these years inside him, had made an unexpected and unwelcome appearance. “Sure it is.” The warmth in his eyes belied the gruffness of his tone. “You’re a good girl, sweetheart. You deserve a night out. Even if you want to insist it’s all about the book.”

  “It is,” she said, even though they both knew that wasn’t totally true. Ranch life could be a lonely life. Even lonelier for women. Austin valued her time with friends as much as she did whatever book the group would agree to read every month.

  The drive to the Bar M was less than five minutes house to house. During the day, she might have walked or ridden Blue, her roan quarter horse, but tonight, with a new moon and rain on the horizon, she drove the ranch pickup that had turned over a hundred thousand miles long ago but was still running. That was the first cardinal rule of ranching: you either made do, did over, or did without. The Dodge Ram might look as banged-up as an old bull rider, but it got her where she needed to go, and that was all that mattered.

  Although the meetings changed locations every month, most of the women who’d begun the group had remained, becoming close friends. Jenna Janzen ran the Chapter One Bookstore; Layla Longstreet was a nurse practitioner who also was in charge of Ryan Murphy’s medical office; Rachel Hathaway was engaged to marry Cooper Murphy this summer; and real estate agent Mitzi Murphy had married Sawyer’s father, Dan, this past Valentine’s Day.

  Rounding out the group was Heather Campbell, whose husband, Tom, was a large-animal vet, while she was an avid gardener who sold her flowers and vegetables at the local farmers’ market. The past few years she’d begun to gain a reputation around the Northwest for her weaving, which, she’d told Austin, allowed her to have the best of two worlds: a career doing what she loved while being able to be a stay-at-home mom to her twelve-year-old daughter and seven-year-old son.

  Heather had been Austin’s best friend all their lives. And Tom, who’d grown up on a small, struggling ranch that his parents had sold a few years ago, could always be found hanging out with the Murphy boys. Sawyer in particular.

  “Oh, yum!” Jenna said as she took the container and lifted the lid. “You brought brownies!”

  “I’m trying out a new recipe.” Along with breeding Desperado and training and selling her horses, Austin picked up much-needed extra income baking for Chapter One and the New Chance Café. “They’re dark fudge with a caramel sea salt frosting.”

  “I swear,” Layla said, “you don’t ever have to read any of the books we’re supposed to be discussing as long as you show up with your unbelievable baked goods every month.”

  “I second that,” Rachel said. “I can’t wait to taste them. Your lemon meringue pie bars sell out like hotcakes. Actually, better than hotcakes,” she amended. “Which is really saying something because the place is packed at breakfast.”

  For even longer than Austin had been alive, once local ranchers finished with early-morning chores, they’d driven into town for a hearty breakfast at the New Chance. Since Rachel had bought the café, they were not only getting the best food in all of Southern Oregon, they no longer had to risk food poisoning the way they had when the previous owner, Johnny Mott, had been in the kitchen.

  “So,” Heather said, “how did this afternoon with Sawyer go?”

  “It was nice seeing him again,” Austin said mildly, taking the glass of wine Rachel handed her. “Thanks.”

  Heather was not one to give up. “Just nice?”

  “I think you’ll like this Oregon rosé,” Rachel said in a less-than-subtle attempt to rescue Austin. “It just said spring to me. It’s complex, crisp, with flavors of peach, rhubarb, and the slightest edge of salinity.”

  “You read that off the bottle,” Layla said. It was well known that while Rachel had aced her studies at New York’s Culinary Institute of America before buying River’s Bend’s New Chance Café, she’d flunked wine.

  “I did not.” Rachel laughed. “It’s how Gabriel Lombardi described it when he came down from the Willamette Valley to sell me a case from his family’s vineyards. I’ve learned to trust his advice. Although, to be honest, I would have bought it without the salesmanship because it’s such a pretty pink color.”

  “It reminds me of spring apple blossoms,” Jenna said.

  “Speaking of spring,” Heather pressed on, “we all know what men’s fantasies turn toward during this time of year. So, I’m going to try again.” She speared Austin with a look. “Well?”

  “He’s leasing the land.”

  Austin had mixed feelings about that. She didn’t have any problem with a Murphy grazing cattle on Merrill land. But as much as they needed the money, she wasn’t certain how she felt about Sawyer being so close after he’d already let her know, in no uncertain, heart-crushing terms, that the mind-blinding, toe-curling kiss they’d shared outside the hospital had merely been triggered by jetlag and stress about his dad’s heart condition. And had had nothing to do with her. Really.

  While she’d been wanting that kiss for as long as she’d been able to remember. Which had made his curt brush-off even more painful.

  “So, he’ll be living right there on the ranch with you.”

  “In the foreman’s cabin,” she clarified. “Which isn’t exactly across the hall from my bedroom.”

  “More’s the pity,” Mitzi said, eyeing Austin over the rim of her glass. “How long has it been since you’ve had sex?”

  “And solo doesn’t count,” Heather clarified.

  “That’s personal.” Austin could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. No way was she going to admit that it had been so long she’d almost forgotten what it felt like. Though, being with Sawyer that afternoon had caused a lot of vivid sexual fantasies to come flooding back.

  “I brought my copy of this month’s book,” she said, holding it up as a hopeful diversionary tactic. “With all the discussion question scenes highlighted. Who’s ready to dive in?”

  “Well, I think she just answered that sex question,” Jenna drawled. “Obviously too long if you’d rather talk about fictional characters than a hottie like Sawyer Murphy.”

  “These Three Words is a wonderfully romantic book,” Austin insisted.

  While reading about the estranged couple who hadn’t been able to say “I love you” to each other, although she knew it was impossible, she’d almost felt as if Holly Jacobs, the author, might have been writing about Sawyer and her. She’d gone through nearly an entire box of tissues before the hero and heroine finally got their happily-ever-after ending. Unlike hers and Sawyer’s, which had gone up in flames, leaving behind a mess of cold ashes.

  “It’s a great emotional story about the need for couples to remind each other that they’re loved,” Mitzi said. “Dan, who, heaven knows, isn’t the most talkative male God ever put down on this green earth, never turns off the light at night without telling me that he loves me. And I tell him the same thing.

  “Of course,” she added, “we were fortunate to have found each other later in life. After he’d loved and lost his first wife, and I’d certainly made my share of foolish romantic mistakes.”

  “I enjoyed the dynamics of the couple having moved their relationship from friendship to lovers, then marriage,” Rachel said. “Which was totally different from Cooper and me. When we first met, I felt as if I’d been struck by lightning.”

  “Been there, done that, and have the divorce papers to show for it,” Austin said dryly. “Not that it wasn’t the right
thing for you and Cooper,” she said quickly, not wanting to throw cold water on what had turned out to be a true love match.

  “It was obvious, when you had dinner at the Bar M your first night in town, that the chemistry between you and Cooper was off the charts,” Mitzi told Rachel. “But the fire that gutted the New Chance’s kitchen turned out to be a blessing in disguise, because while you were busy rebuilding, you had time to get to know each other before things got physical.”

  “True. There was also Scott to consider,” Rachel said of her nine-year-old son. “Which kept me from jumping Cooper’s bones every chance I got.”

  “Kids are the ultimate birth control,” Heather agreed. “Which is why, thanks to you taking ours, Tom and I are going to be able to spend our anniversary in Ashland. Tom even surprised me with tickets to the Shakespearean Theater to see Twelfth Night.”

  “I’m happy to take the kids,” Rachel said. “Scott’s excited about the sleepover, and fortunately, since business has taken off, allowing me to hire both a sous chef and a manager last month, I’m finally able to take some evenings off.” Her lips curved in a slow, secretive smile. “And maybe start working on making a baby brother or sister for Scott.”

  And didn’t that comment sidetrack everyone for the next ten minutes?

  Finally, everyone settled down with their wine and brownies, which won unanimous approval. Then, contrary to what Austin’s father had suggested, Jenna opened up the discussion of this month’s book.

  The conversation flowed easily as they shared insights and opinions about the fictional Gray and Addie’s winding road to finding each other again.

  “Do you think it’s truly that easy?” Austin asked what she’d been asking herself for the past week since staying up way too late finishing the novel. “Would just saying, ‘Here I am,’ actually get a man to notice a woman? In that way?”

  “Sweetie,” Heather said, “if you’re talking about Sawyer, he hasn’t stopped noticing you since grade school, and from the way he kept watching the door all during the party, I’d bet nothing’s changed.”

  Austin wasn’t so sure Heather wasn’t engaging in hopeful thinking. She certainly hadn’t gotten that vibe from Sawyer when they’d checked out the pasture. In fact, he’d seemed more interested in Desperado than her. “I called to say we couldn’t make it.”

  “That didn’t seem to stop him from acting like a bird dog on the lookout for a covey of quail.” Heather reached out and snagged a second brownie from the tray Rachel had set in the middle of the coffee table. “The problem, the way I see it, is neither one of you have ever actually done anything about what’s obvious to everyone else in River’s Bend.”

  Since not every woman in the room knew about the kiss, Austin chose not to share that debacle. “It’s scary,” she admitted.

  “Hell, hon, love is always terrifying,” Mitzi said. “Like I told Rachel when she and Cooper were doing their dance around the situation, I sure as hell wasn’t looking to fall in love when I walked into the New Chance that day.

  “But then I saw Dan and my heart went all pitty-pat”—she patted the front of a pearl-decorated peony-pink spring sweater—“and I knew I’d finally met my soul mate. Which didn’t mean that things fell right into place. Oh, no.” She wagged a finger lacquered in a shiny hot pink polish. “It took me a while, not to mention a lot of pillow talking, to convince him to take another ride on the marriage-go-round.”

  As one of the people who hadn’t believed the citified blond real estate agent who’d come to town in search of ranch property for a wealthy client would ever stick around, Austin envied Mitzi’s confidence. Especially since her own self-esteem had taken a major dent after her husband texted that he’d fallen in love with another woman.

  One, it turned out, who could better support him in the style to which he’d like to become accustomed. Even knowing the morning after her impulsive, tacky Vegas chapel wedding ceremony that she’d made a mistake, even having suspected infidelity, she’d been hit hard by Jace’s desertion.

  Heather and Rachel had managed to convince her that her ex-husband’s behavior had nothing to do with her and everything to do with him being nothing but a slick-talking player in a cowboy hat. Something anyone could buy at any western wear store in the country.

  Real cowboys weren’t playacting at being John Wayne. They had ranching in their blood. They believed in what many these days might consider old-fashioned values of honesty, integrity, and character. And yes, those values could sometimes tend to be more black and white than shades of gray, and even the quietest among them had a capacity for rowdiness from time to time, but you always knew that you could count on them for standing by you. For having your back.

  Like Sawyer had always been there for her. Unfortunately, Austin allowed, there was also the chance that she was romanticizing their relationship. He had, up until that kiss, always treated her more like a sister than a girl he was interested in. And it wasn’t as if he’d been lacking for girlfriends back in high school.

  Not that she’d stayed home and taken up knitting. While her dating life hadn’t been as active as Sawyer’s, she’d been kissed lots of times, and once, while parked on the bluff above the river, which had long been a popular make-out spot, she’d come close to letting Radley Biehn get to third base.

  Later, she’d happily shed her virginity with a bass player in a motorhome at the Pendleton Roundup. She’d been there with stock while he’d been in a band that had opened for George Strait. The earth hadn’t moved, and it had been awfully quick, but at least she hadn’t had all of River’s Bend watching to see what, if anything, would come from what turned out to be a four-day hookup.

  Which had set the stage for other out-of-town affairs whenever she and some appealing-enough cowboy landed in the same town. Like that first time, the men were no more interested in a forever-after relationship than she was.

  Which, whenever she thought about it, Austin found ironic. When had she—the girl who’d grown up looking forward to settling down, becoming a wife and mother—become so averse to marriage?

  It was only when she’d received that New Year’s email from Sawyer that she’d realized the reason she hadn’t wanted to settle down was because none of those other men were the one she wanted. The one she’d always wanted.

  And wow, hadn’t she gone and screwed that up?

  “What if Sawyer’s happy the way things are?” she asked. “What if he doesn’t want to move out of the friend zone?”

  “That’s possible,” Layla allowed. “But you can waste time wondering—”

  “Not to mention giving him mixed messages,” Rachel broke in. “Which I’ll admit to having been guilty of with Cooper. I wanted him from the beginning. But I didn’t want to want him.”

  “Most of us have been there,” Layla agreed. “It’s damn hard putting your heart on the line. But here’s the thing. Guys are simple. They’re not real big on nuances. Especially when it comes to relationships. So, my point is, you should simply cowgirl up and ask him.”

  “Or seduce him,” Mitzi suggested. “That’d give him the idea real fast. And save on words because guys also aren’t big on multitasking. Asking them to talk coherently when they’re presented with the girls all dolled up in lacy bits is expecting a bit much.”

  “I wouldn’t have a clue how to do that.” Nor did she have any lacy bits for her girls, even if she’d had that much to present. Which, unfortunately, she didn’t. Also unfortunately, she was probably too old for stuffing her bra with tissues to create the illusion of boobage. Which would set up another problem of what would happen if they ever got to the point of undressing.

  Austin could burst into a rodeo arena at full speed, her horse leaning at nearly a forty-five-degree angle as she raced the hairpin turns around the barrels, finishing off with a no-holds-barred exit as easily as she could breathe. But having watched way too many buckle bunnies flutter their lashes, toss their big sprayed-to-a-rock hair, and swivel sprayed-on
jean-clad hips in ways hers would never be capable of moving, she’d reluctantly decided that she’d been born without so much as a single flirting gene. Nor, if her debacle of a marriage was any indication, any talent for keeping a man in the saddle. So to speak.

  “No problem,” Jenna said. “Stop by the store tomorrow. I’ll have a selection of hot romance novels waiting that will not only have you primed to jump Sawyer Murphy’s bones, they’ll also give you some creative seduction ideas.”

  “You know,” Rachel suggested with a slow, sly smile, “there just happen to be other uses for a rope than lassoing a steer.”

  Austin sprayed out the wine she’d just sipped. “Rachel!” She could feel the heat flooding into her face.

  “Just saying.” Rachel topped off Austin’s glass. “You might want to give it some thought. While you’re reading those sexy books.”

  Give it some thought? Now that the idea was in her mind, Austin feared she wouldn’t be able to think of anything else.

  4

  THREE DAYS AFTER his deal with the Merrills to rent the pastureland, Sawyer and his brothers had driven forty-five cows and their calves through the temporary gate they’d made in the fence between ranches. His herd wasn’t anything near the size of the Bar M’s, but it was a start, and looking at the black cows settling right into grazing in their new homes was more satisfying than expected. For the second time in a week, he’d felt a distant stir of life.

  “They’re settling right in,” Ryan said as the three men sat on their horses, watching the calves nurse while their mothers’ heads were lowered into the grass.

  “I’d hoped they would.”

  Sawyer’s dad had figured out long ago that, since cattle were territorial and liked staying in one place, moving them a long distance back and forth between grazing grounds, as had been traditionally done in the past, stressed them enough that they lost weight, which then took weeks to put back on. Which was when the Bar M had started rotating the fields every day or so, opening temporary gates and moving the stock to new grass. It hadn’t taken long for the cows, realizing that the opening of a gate meant higher, tastier grass, to begin moving of their own accord. With the two ranches being connected, and with the fields both planted in the same grass, there wasn’t that much of a change for them.