by Jillian Hart
“The best.” She tried to close her eyes for the blessing, but her gaze zipped across the lawn to the house. Large picture windows looked in at the family room and gave a sliver of a view into the kitchen where Dad stole Cady’s plate, set it on the breakfast bar and pulled her into his arms. Tenderness radiated from their embrace. As their lips met, Addy sighed again.
“I don’t think Dad knows we can see him.” Cheyenne watched with interest. “We shouldn’t be spying.”
“If he doesn’t want us to spy on him, next time he should close the blinds.” Addy’s grin stretched from ear to ear, showing off the dimples she’d inherited from their father. “I think he’s getting serious.”
“I do, too.” She tried to look away, but the way her dad ended the kiss with reverence and tugged Cady against his chest, as if he cherished her above all else, made it impossible. Her father had never dated once in the seventeen years since their mother left. His heart had never recovered from the betrayal and his life had been too busy with the responsibility of raising five kids and running one of the largest ranches in White Horse County. He’d been lonely for so long.
Father, thank You for sending someone to love Dad. Thank You for sending Cady. She bowed her head, finishing the prayer with thanks for the blessings in her life, so very many blessings. She opened her eyes. Dad and Cady had stepped out of sight but the feel of their happiness remained.
“So, do you have tomorrow off for sure or not?” Addy chose another chip from the pile on her plate.
Before she could answer, a cow leaned across the wooden rails of the fence at the far edge of the lawn, pleaded with doelike eyes and gave a long, sorrowful moo.
“No chips for you, Buttercup, sorry.” Cheyenne grabbed the plastic bottle of relish and squirted it the length of her hot dog bun. “Addy, tomorrow I’m on call.”
“Bummer. You’re always on call.”
“That’s because there are two vets in a fifty-mile radius.” She traded the relish for the mayonnaise bottle and gave it a squeeze. “Nate is going to take the big animal calls, if there are any. I’m taking the small animal.”
“You look happy, too.” Addy licked barbecue seasoning off her fingertips. “It’s good to see. You must be over your broken heart.”
“Over it? I don’t even remember it.” That was what denial could do for a girl. She was the queen of denial. She could block out nearly any hurt, any heartache, any disappointment. In fact, she couldn’t even remember what had happened with what’s-his-name back in vet school. Broken heart? Her heart was just fine as long as she didn’t have to look at it. “I’m my own independent woman. What’s there not to be happy about?”
“That’s my view, too. Marriage, who needs it?” Addy reached to grab more chips from the bowl in the center of the table. “No man is going to tie me down with matrimony.”
“Me, either.” Her experience with romance had been enough to make her leery. She thought of how their mom had treated Dad and of every other person she knew who’d been disappointed by love. Her sister-in-law Rori’s first marriage hadn’t worked out, her soon-to-be sister-in-law Sierra’s husband had abandoned her with a small son to raise. She couldn’t help recalling Adam Stone’s sorrow, a shadow that remained even in full light.
She was a healer and knew some of the worst wounds were not physical. The type she did not know how to treat; she knew of no medicine that would heal them and yet injuries to the heart and spirit happened every day. They left scars in the most vulnerable places, marring the soul.
“Look at Dad.” Addy’s whisper vibrated with delight. “In front of us, he can barely even hold Cady’s hand. Like we couldn’t have guessed they were kissing in the kitchen.”
“He’s bashful,” she said because the truth bunched in her throat and she didn’t want to say those words and ruin the happy moment as Cady laughed gently. Buttercup let out another moo at not being invited to the picnic table and Dad called out to the cow in his tender, deep-noted baritone.
Dad’s wounds still affected him and made it tough for him to bare his vulnerable heart. If she looked past her own denial to how shattered she’d been when Edward broke things off with her, she felt similarly. Love that lasted and stood the test of years and hardship was rare. There was no way to tell ahead of time which relationship would endure and which would fail. That was why she was staying single for a long, long time.
Chapter Three
“Daddy, why are the cows in the road?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a cow expert.” Adam stopped in the middle of the country road, since he had no choice. The herd of black cows with snowy faces blocked both lanes. No way around them. He’d always thought cows were flighty and scattered easily but changed his mind as the herd lifted their heads unconcerned at the car’s approach. Not one animal shied or ran. On the contrary, the creatures stood their ground like living, breathing tanks.
“They shouldn’t be out of their pasture.” The click of a seat belt told him his littlest had unbuckled. Julianna poked in between the front seats, straining to see. “I don’t recognize any of them.”
“How many cows do you know?”
“The Grangers have tons of cows.” Julianna gripped the leather seats and levered herself over the console and into the passenger seat, her gaze riveted on the animals. “I know Buttercup and Jasmine and Daisy and—”
“I get the picture,” he interrupted before she could go on and name the “tons” of cows she’d been introduced to one by one. He glanced at the dashboard clock irritably. They were fashionably late, thanks to Jenny who had changed outfits more than half a dozen times before she was fit to be seen in public.
“Can I go say hi?”
“No.” He made sure the word boomed with authority. Under no circumstance was his little slip of a daughter walking up to those enormous and dangerous-looking creatures. One animal had horns sticking out of his head. That couldn’t be good. Adam hit the car horn in one long blast. Surely honking would startle them into getting out of the way.
Wrong. Instead of bolting, the cows focused on his car with pinpoint accuracy. Dozens upon dozens of brown eyes zeroed in on the newly waxed finish and plodded forward, as if mesmerized by the brightness. They created an impenetrable barrier across the road like soldiers on a march. One bold cow broke out of the pack and lapped the grill with its tongue.
What on earth? Adam hit the horn again, long and loud. That ought to scare the cow, or at least give it a reason to back off a few feet.
Wrong. Curious, the cow leaned over the hood as if trying to peer into the windshield. The cow seemed as big as a truck and he’d never seen anything in real life with such huge teeth. The mouth opened, that big head shook, a spot of drool splashed on the windshield. At the back of his mind, he remembered the televised images of bulls goring runners on the streets of Spain that had made it to the evening news.
“I wouldn’t honk again if I were you, Dad.” Jenny crossed her arms, bored in the backseat.
“Yeah, Dad. Do we have anything to eat in the car?” Julianna asked.
The enormous cow’s teeth flashed as he bit into the windshield wiper and tugged it away from the glass. It stood up at half-mast, a little crooked. Excited, other cows crowded in, trying to grab it. Tongues tugged at the side-view mirror, others licked at the paint, teeth clamped on the door handles.
Now what did he do? He saw tomorrow’s headlines in the little local paper. Sedan Demolished by Bovine Attack.
“Dad, do we have any granola bars?” Julianna giggled as a cow spotted her through the window and tried to lick at her through the glass with swipe after swipe of her big tongue. The car rocked slightly as cows bumped against it.
“You and Jenny ate them. Snacks will spoil your dinner.”
“It’s not for me.” Julianna laughed, the door popped open and the scent of sun-warmed animals and the sound of paint being licked off his new car filled the passenger compartment.
“Young lady, get back in he
re—” Too late. She was gone, mobbed by the huge creatures who licked at her face, grabbed hold of her pigtails and tugged on her shirt.
“Julianna!” Sheer terror shot through him. He lunged after her, caught short by the tight embrace of the seat belt. Adrenaline pumped through his system but her giggle lifted above the sound of shifting of hooves and his car being mauled.
The cows miraculously looked up and stopped attacking his vehicle. Someone knocked on his driver-side window. A woman with auburn locks and laughing blue eyes appeared through the bovine throng.
Cheyenne Granger.
“Get back, Shrek.” She approached the horned behemoth fearlessly and patted him on the nose. “I know it’s exciting to be out here on the road, but it’s not safe. I hope that windshield wiper isn’t bent.”
Contrite, the animal offered his nose for a petting.
Adam rolled down his window, hoping the fact that he had trouble breathing didn’t show. She affected him, there was no way to deny it. “I wasn’t sure what to do. Are the cows safe?”
“They are tame, but as you can see, not harmless if left to their own devices.” She shoved the windshield wiper into place. “I’ll give the Parnells a call. It looks as if Shrek took down a part of his fence. You like doing that, don’t you, buddy?”
The big black-and-white bull—yes, it was really a bull—gave a head toss and focused on the pink phone she’d pulled from her pocket. She was a vet for a reason. Her gentle confidence, her loving laugh as the cows crowded around her trying to grab her cell, the way she lit up with affection as she rubbed noses, scrubbed ears and moved aside for Julianna to join in.
“This is a regular occurrence?” His question drew one cow’s attention who came over and stuck her nose through the window. What did he do? “Shoo.”
“That’s not going to work, Dad.” Jenny’s seat belt clicked, the door whispered open and he was alone with the bovine. Rather damp lips that smelled like grass came dangerously close to his wristwatch. His oldest daughter came to the rescue with a gentle, “Come here, girl.”
He took notes in case there was a next time, as the three human females led the throng of cows away. His neurotransmitters fired haphazardly, which had to be the reason he couldn’t look away from Cheyenne. The side-view mirror framed her perfectly as she walked with her hand on the bull’s neck, chatting merrily to the animals and to his daughters.
What was it about the woman? Why couldn’t he look away?
She paused at the green truck parked behind him and rummaged around in the backseat. She was a splash of colors, auburn hair, sun-bronzed skin, green T-shirt, denim jeans and she claimed something deeper within him he could not name.
He didn’t remember getting out of the car. Suddenly he was standing on the pavement with the Wyoming wind ruffling his hair, squinting against the sun, spellbound by her brightness. Cheyenne Granger tossed her head, her chuckle a soft melodic sound that rippled through the air and seemed to make the daisies in the field stand up to take notice.
He couldn’t explain what ached deep inside as if he’d contracted organ failure. He could not breathe as Cheyenne marched right through the herd, a slip of a woman compared to those large and powerful animals. His daughters trailed in her wake, Julianna skipping, her face beaming. He hadn’t realized how happy staying the summer in Wyoming was making his girls. Jenny laughed, actually laughed right along with Cheyenne as the girl climbed down the embankment into the knee-high grass, a different child from the one she’d been a month ago.
“Cheyenne! I think Shrek loves me.” Julianna wrapped her arms around the bull’s broad chest.
Concern lurched through him as he launched forward, but the huge animal nibbled at one of Julianna’s pigtails affectionately. Adam skidded to a stop, feeling awkward on the side of the road.
“He is definitely sweet on you.” Cheyenne strong-armed the heavy bag to the ground and bent to move aside the wires of what used to be a working fence. “Jenny, looks like you’ve found some new friends, too.”
“As if.” The tween rolled her eyes, hiding a giggle as several cows vied for her affection. With her dark hair framing her face, she looked as sweet as the little girl she used to be and grown-up enough to show the hint of the woman she would become one day. Kind and thoughtful and gentle-hearted. He was grateful the Lord had led him here.
“All right, you bunch of troublemakers.” Humor rang like a song as Cheyenne tore open the bag and waded into the tall grasses. “Look what I have for you.”
Every cow’s head lifted, and big nostrils scented the breeze. Ears pricked upward. Eyes brightened. The animals clattered around Jenny and lipped at Julianna’s pigtails on the way by, streaming down the embankment and through the hole in the fence, Shrek in the lead.
“Nothing like a little bribery.” Cheyenne upended the last of the bag, gave it a shake and stepped back as the herd descended on the pile of treats. Teeth crunched, jowls worked and tails swished as the cows happily ate. Cheyenne tracked back to the red fence posts, rounded up the girls and sent them climbing the embankment before she restrung the wire the best she could, considering the fence posts were leaning.
“Daddy, did you see?” Julianna rushed up, pleasure pinked her cheeks. “I love cows and they love me.”
Don’t even start. The words rang in his mind and formed on his tongue. We’re not getting a cow. But his daughter’s shining joy stopped him.
“I want to be just like Cheyenne when I grow up.” She grabbed his hand, her fingers small compared to his, so very small. Her pigtails were askew and tiny bits of grass were embedded in the soft brown hair. Her summery shirt had a big wet spot from some cow’s adoring lick. She tipped her head, chatting on merrily. “I’m gonna be a vet so I can fix birds like Tomasina and take care of dogs like Cheyenne does and so I can find every lonely animal their very own home.”
“I’m sure you will be very good at it.” He remembered what dreams were, so precious like twinkling stars that gave light to a vast night of darkness, dreams that could shine so bright if fed with hope and encouragement.
What had happened to his dreams? Where had they gone?
“Aunt Cady’s not going to believe it happened again, that more cows were on the road.” Jenny bounded up to the car door and yanked it open. “I get to tell her first this time, Julianna. You always do it and it’s my turn.”
“I do not,” Julianna argued gleefully. “Okay, maybe I do but I don’t mean to. It just comes out. I can’t stop it.”
“Well, try.” Feigning annoyance, Jenny rolled her eyes and plopped onto the backseat.
Adam felt a tug of awareness, the realization that Cheyenne Granger was near. Vaguely, he noticed Julianna release his hand, scamper away and climb in beside her sister. He reached for his open door, finding his knees a little iffy. Weak knees, damp palms—the woman was a hazard to him.
“The cows are safely contained for now, although how long that patch job holds is anyone’s guess.” Cheyenne padded toward him in hiking boots, and he realized the shirt she wore had Wild Horse Animal Hospital scrawled across it in looping white letters. “I called the Parnells, so one of them should be out in a jiffy to do a better job with that fence. They send their apologies for inconveniencing you.”
“I didn’t know what to do. Next time I will.” Near to her, he felt awkward, too tall, too big and too dark, as if the sunlight didn’t touch him. “Honking didn’t seem to work.”
“Goodness, no!” She laughed. “That only made them more curious. I don’t know why cows are so fascinated by the road, but most times when they get out they don’t head for the hills kicking up their heels and enjoying their freedom. They stand in the road.”
“I noticed.”
“I suppose if I was a cow in a field watching the traffic go by, I might want to go where all the action is, too.” She looked down at the crumpled and empty feed bag she still clutched, as if it held answers for her there—or perhaps he was making her feel awkward again.
Yes, that was it. He was staring at her too much. Definitely too much. He cleared his throat and turned his attention to the cattle. A few vied for the last of the treats while the rest of the herd had turned around and noted the gap in the fence had been repaired. Sorrowful moos rang out and several animals leaned against the wire.
“Isn’t it supposed to be electric?” he asked. “Shouldn’t that hurt?”
“Tall grass must have short-circuited the current somewhere. It happens.” She shrugged, taking a step backward. “You probably don’t run into this problem very often in midtown Manhattan.”
“Can’t say that I do.” She was funny, he realized, and almost smiled. “You have quite a skill when it comes to cattle.”
“I’ve been around them all my life. You’ve met my dad. He grew up on our family ranch just like I did. My earliest memories are being in the barns with him, walking between the stalls, going from animal to animal doling out treats, food, formula and medical care as needed.”
“It must have been a nice way to grow up.”
“It was. God incredibly blessed me with the life I have.” Love for her life, that was something that would never change. She shook her head at the cows leaning over the fence, begging with their Bambi eyes and tragic moos for more of those yummy treats. She held up the empty bag so they could see. “That’s all I have. No more.”
They surely recognized the words no more. The cows appeared shocked at how that could possibly be true, and then even more sad as their moos began again.
“Persistence is the key to more treats,” she explained. “Every pampered animal knows it.”
“I look at you and see what I’m in for. Julianna just told me she wants to be a vet.”
He must mean it kindly, but it was hard to tell from the stoic expression etched on his granite face.
“A vet? Well, that is a noble calling. It’s the best way to spend your life, in my humble opinion. Taking care of animals all day, every day. Complete and total heaven.” She flashed him a smile because he looked as if he needed one. Maybe he didn’t realize his wounds were showing; then again, she had a knack for sensing them.