The old ranch home wouldn’t meet Jacob’s standards, but it was unlikely that anything in Montana would measure up for him.
She peered through the curtains and saw a light shining in one of the tents on the hill—no doubt the O’Donnells’ tent, though she couldn’t be certain. The fact that she’d checked was infuriating. Jacob wasn’t as bad as she’d originally thought, but it didn’t make him a friend or potential lover.
Letting out a disgusted groan, she sank onto the couch. She’d been attracted to a variety of guys since she had begun noticing the differences between boys and girls and had gotten her heart broken big-time when she was fifteen. That was when she’d made a personal rule not to get involved with visitors, realizing the disparity between ranchers and cowhands and everyone else was too great for a serious relationship.
But she had to admit that she’d never been attracted to someone as much as Jacob O’Donnell. He was a pain in the ass, yet he had grabbed her attention from the day he’d arrived. Except for brief flashes of humor, he was mostly annoying, yet the way he talked about his wife was compelling. He had loved Anna without reservation, the way he loved Caitlin.
Was seeing that kind of devotion the reason she was questioning her commitment to Luke? Her parents had been willing to do anything for each other and she’d believed she felt that way about Luke, but now it wasn’t so clear. Did “anything” mean throwing caution to the wind and marrying him despite the responsibilities she’d inherited? He would have welcomed her brother—once he’d even suggested they get married and live at the U-2 until Reid was eighteen or went away to college.
But no, she’d wanted to wait. She hadn’t thought it was right to burden Luke, though he clearly hadn’t seen it as a burden. How often did she tell herself that the Westons took care of their own problems? But “Westons” meant family, and the man she loved was family, right?
And now she had Jacob O’Donnell confusing everything.
Mariah rubbed her face and tried to put Jacob out of her mind. She’d told Luke she would visit his new foal this week. Maybe it would be easier to talk things over at his place, away from the U-2’s hustle and bustle—then she’d see how crazy it was to question her feelings for him.
A sound came from the opposite side of the room and she looked up to see her grandmother. A silvery braid of hair hung over Elizabeth Weston’s shoulder and she wore a pale sage-green silk dressing gown. Silk dressing gowns were impractical on the ranch, particularly during the winter, but Granddad had been buying them for her as long as Mariah could remember.
“Did I wake you, Grams?”
“No, apparently insomnia is making the rounds tonight. I got up so I wouldn’t disturb Benjamin. What has you awake?”
“Just...stuff.”
“Stuff? That’s descriptive.”
Mariah shrugged. She couldn’t reveal her doubts about marrying Luke. If she was going to break up with him, it was only right that he hear it first. Yet even the thought took her breath away—she’d expected to marry him for most of her adult life.
“How about you?”
Grams sat in her rocking chair. “Nothing really.”
Mariah tucked her legs beneath her and didn’t challenge the “nothing.” Then she realized it was past midnight—today was her father’s birthday. Grams was probably thinking of her son and giving birth to him when she was a medical intern. It must have been rough, falling in love with a rancher while still attending school and having a long-distance marriage until she finished getting accredited. Grams had been a brilliant student but had given up a surgical career for a family practice in Buckeye.
“When did Granddad start buying you silk dressing gowns?” Mariah asked idly.
Grams chuckled. “It began with a movie. Do you remember that little theater we used to have in Buckeye? The one they tore down when you were five?”
“Barely. It was in an old World War II–era Quonset hut.”
“That’s right. They didn’t have air-conditioning, just a water cooler, so in summer they had to show movies in the evening when it wasn’t as warm. And the films were years or decades old—current theatrical releases were too expensive.”
A warm, nostalgic feeling went through Mariah. “Yeah, that’s where I saw The Wizard of Oz.”
“Well, soon after your aunt Lettie was born, we went to see Murder on the Orient Express. I felt frumpy, overweight and groggy from being up with a newborn baby, and then onto the screen walks Lauren Bacall and Jacqueline Bisset, slim and impossibly glamorous in those beautiful period costumes. I could have strangled them on the spot.”
Mariah searched her memory of the classic Agatha Christie mystery film. “Bisset played a countess, and Bacall’s character turned out to be her mother, a famous stage actress.”
“Yes. They looked so amazing and elegant that I sulked the entire movie.”
“You?” Mariah sat up, dumbfounded. Grams didn’t sulk—she was far too direct.
“It was a touch of postpartum depression. Regardless, when the countess informed Poirot that her dressing gown was apricot silk, I sniffed and said that she couldn’t possibly be a mother, because mothers didn’t get to wear silk. Next thing you know, your grandfather had gotten me a half-dozen silk negligees. I think he called every department store in Los Angeles until he found a salesperson he could sweet-talk into helping him.”
“That sounds like Granddad. He doesn’t know fashion, but he’d break his neck to make you happy.”
Grams rocked back in the chair, smiling at the fond memory. “He has his moments. I never told him that silk and baby spit-up didn’t mix well.”
“No more than silk and horse manure.”
“Yes. And it’s nice to have something so frivolously feminine in such a male-dominated atmosphere. It’s you and me out here with a whole bunch of men.”
“True.” Mariah bent over the end of the couch to throw a scrap of paper into the wastebasket. She frowned. A manila folder was inside and she fished it out—inside were the college applications that she’d given Reid a couple of days before, along with information on various university campuses. She’d downloaded the material from the internet, thinking the sooner he began working on his applications, the better.
“What is that, dear?”
“Oh...just something that got thrown out by mistake.”
But Mariah knew it wasn’t a mistake. If she truly thought Reid didn’t want to go to college, that would be one thing, but she wasn’t convinced. And even if he didn’t want to go, why not apply to the schools he liked anyway in case he changed his mind?
“I’m going to warm some milk to help us sleep,” Grams said.
They chatted about plans for the next barn dance as the milk heated. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon rose from Mariah’s cup as she carried it to her bedroom and saw Squash curled up on the bed once more. His eyes closed to narrow slits as she sat beside him, sipping the creamy concoction. She was reminded of Caitlin, who’d never had a pet, though she plainly loved animals. What sort of life did the teen have, encased in her father’s protective cocoon? Mariah felt sorry for her. Visiting the ranch must be the most fun she’d had in years. Caitlin needed...
Damn, Mariah mouthed silently. She had to stop worrying about the O’Donnells’ problems.
She flipped through the applications that she’d fished out of the garbage. Except for some slight wrinkles from being tossed in the trash, the papers weren’t creased. She would bet that Reid hadn’t even bothered to look at them. Sighing, she put her cup on the bedside table and turned off the light.
She’d have to get through to Reid somehow—she just had no idea how.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING Kittie tapped tentatively on the wall of Shayla’s side of her family’s tent. They’d agreed to get up early to feed the orphan calves, but Sha
yla had said she might not wake up and to come get her—apparently her sleep was messed up because of the traveling her family had been doing.
“Shayla,” she whispered.
“Crikey,” Shayla muttered on the other side of the canvas. “Coming.” She stumbled out a few minutes later, yawning and fastening her jacket.
“Did I wake up your mom and dad?” Kittie asked worriedly as they walked toward the back barns. She wanted the McFees to like her. They seemed like awesome parents. Shayla had told her that when she’d gotten sick the previous year, her mom and dad had homeschooled her while she got better. But they weren’t weird about it or anything, and they’d taken her on a long vacation before she started regular classes again.
“Naw, Dad could sleep at a football game, and Mum is using her Kindle. She has some books she’s reading on holiday.”
Kittie liked to read, too...or at least she used to like it before finding her mom’s diary. Now she wasn’t so sure. You found things out when you read stuff. Bad things.
“Uh...is it really winter in Australia right now?” she said as a distraction. “And Christmas is in summer? That seems upside down.”
“Things seem upside down to me here. But in Brisbane it doesn’t get that cold, even in winter. You can go diving or surfing all year—Kittie, you have to come stay with us and I’ll teach you how to surf. Someday I’m going to try out a beach in Africa that I heard about from some surfies.”
Surfing?
Yeah, right, Kittie thought crossly. Only if her dad got amnesia. He’d never let her go surfing. What she couldn’t figure out was why he’d let her come to Montana and ride horses. If it was the cigarette and accidentally burning up a trash can, she was kind of glad all that happened now. But she couldn’t imagine what she’d have to do to get on a surfboard...probably paint a mustache on the Statue of Liberty.
They got to the barn that housed the orphan calves, yet Kittie hesitated when she saw two ranch hands she didn’t know very well. They were mixing the milk replacer and debating their favorite brand of saddle soap for cleaning leather. After a moment they stopped and smiled when they noticed her and Shayla.
“Hello. May we help?” Kittie asked in her most polite voice. “Reid showed me what to do yesterday, and Mariah said it was okay. She wants me to feed the littlest calf. I named her Emily.”
“Mariah let us know. We usually don’t have guests work the first feeding of the day—it’s too early for town folks—but you’re most welcome,” said the ranch hand in charge. Kittie knew his name was Hector, and even if he didn’t seem as old as Burt, he was still pretty old. “Go on and visit the calves. We’ll bring the bottles when they’re ready.”
“This one is Emily,” Kittie said to Shayla, climbing into the pen and pointing to the calf in the far corner. “She isn’t doing as good and needs extra attention. She’s shy.”
“These beggars aren’t.” Shayla laughed as the two other calves crowded around her, bawling. “I’ve gone horseback riding before, but I haven’t seen a cow close-up. They’re real corkers.”
Kittie petted Emily. “You’ve never gone to a ranch? Someone said that Australia raises a bunch of cows in the outback.” She didn’t say the “someone” had been her dad or that he’d told Ray Cassidy he was surprised anyone would come from Australia to spend a few weeks in Montana when there were spots like New York and San Francisco for them to see.
“Mum is afraid of dingoes,” Shayla explained, “so there isn’t a flipping chance of us visiting the outback.”
Kittie had heard of dingoes—they were a kind of wild dog—but she only had a vague idea of the “outback” from geography class. Mostly her teacher had shown them pictures of koala bears and the Great Barrier Reef when teaching about Australia.
“Here you go,” said one of the ranch hands, giving them a basket with six of the filled bottles.
Giggling, Shayla fed the two noisy calves, balancing the bottles on each arm, and Kittie sat with Emily. The anxious look was still in the calf’s big, soft eyes, but she drank almost two full bottles of milk replacement and fell asleep afterward.
“Nice job,” Hector said approvingly. “Nobody else has gotten that much into her. At this rate it won’t take her long to catch up.”
A thrill went through Kittie...and a nervous shiver. She was the only one who could get Emily to eat enough and it was an important responsibility. She would have to get up early every morning and see if Burt would take them back to the ranch in time for the afternoon feeding.
It took a while for all of the calves to get their milk, and afterward Hector showed her and Shayla how much hay, grain and specially made calf creep pellets to give them. “Not too much at once,” he said. “It needs to be fresh. And later we’ll let ’em into the paddock where they can eat grass.”
When they were done and the calves were settled, Kittie stayed for the cleanup. “You can leave if you want,” she told Shayla. “Breakfast is starting soon.”
“I’ll stay. Do you think they’ll let us go out together? Last night our jackaroo said Mum and Dad and me are supposed to ride fences, whatever that means.”
“Jackaroo?”
“Station hand. You know, the bloke who’s showing us how to be real American cowboys.”
“Oh, your wrangler.” Kittie put a batch of washed bottles in their racks. “We rode fences our first day, too. It means you’re checking the fences for damage and also checking the stock—looking for cows out on the range, making sure that any you find are okay. We found one that needed doctoring and had to bring it back here. Mariah and Burt and Ray fixed it up. But I can’t go with you today.” She wrinkled her nose. “We’ve got stable duty this morning. I have to learn how to shovel hay and manure out of the horse stalls.”
“Gaw.” Shayla made a face. “That’s bloody awful.”
“I know. It’s going to be so gross.”
“Can’t you pretend to have a sick tummy?”
Kittie shook her head. “I better not. My dad is mad at me for some stuff, and that’ll make him madder. He doesn’t believe anything I tell him.”
Between the four of them, they got everything washed up fast, ready for the next feeding. Breakfast was being served in the mess tent when they arrived and they got their food together.
Kittie felt funny that she’d pretended to be upset about cleaning the stables. While she didn’t want to shovel poop, it was part of taking care of the horses, and she had to take her turn along with everybody else.
* * *
TUESDAY EVENING MARIAH DROVE to the Branson spread after dinner. She’d visited often over the years, usually riding her horse across country. Now she didn’t know if she’d ever be on Luke’s ranch again; would he be so angry he’d tell her to get off and stay off?
She had hoped for a bolt of lightning to make her come to her senses, but nothing happened. Nevertheless, she and Luke needed to talk...a talk that was long overdue.
One of Luke’s ranch hands waved as she swung into the compound. “Señorita Weston,” he exclaimed, racing to open the truck door for her. “Señor Branson said you might come tonight to see our Light Foot.”
“Hey, Pedro. How are you?”
“Good, very good. I’ll get Señor Branson.”
Mariah waited by the truck, looking around at the place she once thought would be her home. The Bransons had nearly as many barns and outbuildings as the U-2, including a bunkhouse, though being both a cow and horse breeder, Luke had more fenced paddocks. What he didn’t have were the commercial restrooms and other facilities the U-2 provided for the greenhorns.
“You did come.” It was Luke. He gave her a slow smile and kissed her cheek. “Come see my prize baby. Other than my cowhands and Doc Crandall, you’ll be the first.”
As they approached the paddock, Little Foot ran around the perimeter. Her
colt ran with her, a smaller version of his light-stepping dam.
“Luke, he’s wonderful.”
“Yup, I’m pleased with him.” Luke leaned on the fence and watched the two horses. The colt was a perfectly proportioned Morgan and was already displaying an alert, friendly disposition. Little Foot stopped and grazed in the lush grass, while Light Foot scampered up to nurse, his tail swishing happily.
“They’re such incredible animals,” Mariah murmured.
Luke didn’t say anything for a moment, then gave her a sideways glance. “I know you didn’t come to admire Light Foot. Just say it, Mariah.”
She swallowed. “I don’t know how.”
“Straight-out is usually the best.”
Mariah massaged the base of her neck. She’d barely slept since Sunday and continued to fight with herself over what she ought to do.
“The thing is, I need time to decide what’s right for the future. I can’t bear the thought of hurting you, but getting married for the wrong reasons would be worse. And whenever we talk about our plans, I feel...” She shrugged.
“Trapped?”
“No.” She gave him an appalled look. “I’m just not sure of anything. It sounds crazy, but I’ve been on autopilot since Mom and Dad’s accident. And I think I’ve tried to make everything keep fitting into old places...places that no longer exist.”
Light Foot had stopped nursing and come to the fence, staring curiously at them. Mariah put out her fingers and let him smell them before stroking his neck. His mother promptly trotted over to stand nearby. She only trusted the man who’d hand-raised her.
“I didn’t change, Mariah. I’m the same as ever.”
The Ranch Solution Page 15