The Ranch Solution

by Julianna Morris

  They weren’t hurting, and they were happy.

  That was all he needed to know.

  * * *

  JACOB WENT HUNTING for Kittie before dinner, finding her at the calf barn feeding Emily. She ignored him when he came in, but he could tell that she knew he was there. He climbed into the pen and sat next to her on the hay. He didn’t care who else heard him as long as Kittie did.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She cast him a quick glance and pressed her lips together.

  “I should have known better—known you better,” Jacob continued. “I didn’t have any basis for thinking you had something to do with the fire. You’ve been very responsible while we’ve been here in Montana.”

  Her jaw quivered, then stiffened. “Whatever.”

  Hell.

  They were back to whatever.

  “I also found out that you tried to put out the fire at Garrison and pulled the fire alarm when it kept burning,” he said determinedly. “I’m really proud that you tried to make it right.”

  Emily butted Kittie’s arm, demanding her second bottle, and his daughter held it for the calf without a word or look at him.

  Crap. He obviously wasn’t going to get more from her, so he got up and dusted his jeans. “Anyway, I wanted you to know that. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  She nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible nod, but Jacob saw it and breathed a thankful prayer. Maybe he hadn’t entirely blown everything, after all.

  * * *

  THOUGH JACOB HAD BEGUN sleeping better, that night he stared into the darkness for hours, unable to rest. Each sound seemed intensified, from the breeze ruffling the walls of the tent to the distant cry of a wild animal and answering whinny from a horse in the barn.

  He twisted the gold band on his left ring finger.

  What did he want from Mariah?

  Nothing would ever be easy with her—she was too outspoken and short-tempered and quick to dive into danger. He had nearly lost it when he’d realized she was fighting the fire as well, though he’d managed to keep his mouth shut. Worse, she didn’t believe they were compatible or that city people could adapt to Montana—she didn’t even think the Sallengers could make it work here for a few months out of the year.

  She could be right.

  Still... He inhaled deeply. The scents were varied—fresh air, grass and a faint odor from the canvas tent that reminded him of boyhood and camping with his folks. A light, cooling breeze blew toward the barn, so the aroma from the horses was absent, though he didn’t even mind that anymore.

  Mariah’s conviction that people didn’t really change was a valid concern, but it didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. She’d certainly made him see things he hadn’t been willing to admit previously. After Anna’s death he’d convinced himself that if he built a big enough fortune, everything would be all right. But regardless of where the funds had come from, there’d been more than enough for Anna’s and Kittie’s medical care. What was more, he knew full well that money couldn’t have saved his wife; her parents would have spent every penny they possessed to help her, the same as him.

  Perhaps pride had driven him as much as anything.

  As a young man it was hard to take financial support from Anna’s parents. The fact that they’d done it quietly and graciously hadn’t mattered—he’d felt he ought to be able to take care of his own family. Now he had more money than he could ever use, and he kept trying to make more.

  Jacob didn’t enjoy admitting it, but his situation wasn’t the same as Mariah’s. Ranching was her heritage. She’d grown up on the U-2, working side by side with her family and with animals. She wouldn’t be Mariah anywhere else; it was a vital part of her, the same as her laughter and quick mind.

  A faint sniffling came through the canvas and Jacob got up to peer into the other side of the partition, barely able to make out his daughter’s silhouette on the mattress. “Kittie?” he called softly.

  The only thing he heard was another sniff.

  “Do you want to talk?”

  “Go away.”

  Jacob hesitated. He wanted to comfort her more than anything, but he was likely the cause of her tears. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

  He lay down again and listened, but there were no more sounds from Kittie. If she was crying, it was silently.

  Damn. He might as well accept he could no longer soothe most of her woes with a hug, and it was painfully clear that being a parent didn’t get easier as children got older. He’d probably be just as paranoid and worried when she was thirty or forty or fifty.

  Jacob pressed the base of his palms to his throbbing forehead. Sure, it was tough being a father, but when Kittie was happy, his whole world lit up. There wasn’t any reason to think he’d feel less for another child, so if he and Mariah had a family together...

  He bolted to his feet, shocked at the direction of his thoughts. Trying to decide what he wanted from her was one thing; leaping ahead to considering a family was over-the-top.

  Frustrated, Jacob stepped outside the tent.

  The lights were off in the main horse barn, but he went inside anyhow. He got two apples from the barrel and fed one to Blue.

  “You’ve been a good friend to my daughter, old boy. I appreciate it.”

  Blue snorted companionably. In the stall next to him, Moonfire woke and peeked out inquisitively; she got the second apple, taking it with ladylike care. On Blue’s opposite side, Shadow pawed the wood floor and made a low, warning noise. He was a stallion from nose to tail, not an easygoing gelding.

  “Easy, boy. I’m not a threat.”

  The black horse peered over the stall door and whinnied sharply, a demon phantom in the filtered light.

  “Fine, I get the message.”

  Jacob returned to the tent and resumed staring at the canvas above his head. Mariah hadn’t avoided him that evening, but she hadn’t invited conversation, either. He’d made mistakes with her since they’d met, almost as many mistakes as he’d made with Kittie.

  Once again he found himself turning the gold band on his finger around and around. He missed Anna; he’d always miss her. Yet the frozen hole in his chest was gone...as if Mariah had filled it.

  Slowly, he drew the ring off and put it in his wallet. He’d worn it all these years, holding on to his memories of love as though they’d be lost if he didn’t leave the band where Anna had placed it on their wedding day. Yet he’d also held on to the pain.

  Maybe it was time to try something new.

  * * *

  KITTIE STOOD AT THE FRONT of the food table and said hello to the people arriving for breakfast. Her dad was at the end, using tongs to serve the pancakes, and the rest of them were spooning out eggs and stuff. The fruit and yogurt were on another table where everyone could help themselves.

  She could tell that her dad felt bad about what had happened, and he’d even said he was sorry—and he’d actually sounded sorry, too.

  “What’s that?” asked one of the new guests, pointing to a long pan.

  “It’s a Reggie special,” Kittie said. “Potatoes and cheese and onions—all kinds of things. We usually have country-fried potatoes in the morning, but there were baked spuds left from last night, so he made this. It’s awesome. Reggie is the best chuck-wagon cook in the state.”

  “Well, I’ll take some. Wouldn’t want to insult the best chuck-wagon cook in Montana, would I?”

  “No, ma’am.” Kittie gave her a generous scoopful, feeling like a pro...as if she really belonged on the ranch.

  Reid came in and tipped his cowboy hat at her. He was so cute and he wanted to take her for ice-cream sodas again. Hopefully Laura Shelton would see them together this time, too. Kittie giggled, remembering Laura’s sour-pickle expression when they’d run into her at the sod
a fountain.

  When nearly everyone had gone through the food line, the wranglers took over and the serving crew got to eat. Kittie took her plate and sat with Shayla and her parents. She’d told her friend about the lightning strike hitting the dry brush, but not about her dad thinking it was her fault, mostly because she’d have to explain about smoking and setting fire to a trash can at school.

  “We’re leaving the day after tomorrow,” Shayla reminded her. “Don’t forget you promised to write.”

  “I’ll have to send short emails from my smartphone until I get home,” Kittie said, hating the hollow drop in her tummy. She didn’t want her friend to go anywhere.

  “No worries. Same here. We’re driving to California before flying home. And when we get to Brisbane, I’m just going to surf until school starts, but I’ll write you at night.”

  Kittie sighed. When they went home to Seattle, it would be boring. She’d never realized how boring it was, and now it would be worse than ever.

  “You’ll visit, won’t you?” Shayla asked. “Me mum and dad said you can stay as long as you want, and I’ll teach you to surf. I have an extra boogie board you can use.”

  “I’ll try, but it won’t be for a while,” Kittie said, though she didn’t know if she could ever go to Australia.

  “It won’t be so bad. You girls can call and have a nice chin-wag every now and then,” Mr. McFee assured.

  Two days later, Kittie hugged Shayla and watched the McFees drive away. She sniffed, trying not to cry as the SUV disappeared.

  “Hey, you have Blue and Burt and the rest of us,” Mariah said, giving her a hug. “How about digging weeds with me in the vegetable garden? Burt has a doctor’s appointment this morning, so you have time. Your dad said it’s okay.”

  Kittie gulped. “Is Burt sick?”

  “He’s just getting a checkup.”

  They worked for an hour, tossing the weeds into the compost pile. Mariah explained it had been the family’s garden plot ever since her great-great-something-grandmother had brought packets of seeds with her in a covered wagon. The Westons still collected seeds every fall to use the next summer.

  “It’s a tradition Catherine Weston began a hundred and forty years ago.” Mariah rubbed a leaf between her fingers and the air smelled like candy canes. “Some of these flowers and plants are from the original seeds she gathered from her mother’s garden before she was married.”

  “You have seeds for everything?”

  “We gather them, but not for everything. Some things come back on their own like this peppermint, and we buy seeds for veggies like zucchini.”

  Kittie made a face. “Yuck. Zucchini.”

  “You should try it the way my grandmother makes it—in fritters, with cheese and hot peppers and eggs.”

  “That sounds okay.” She looked at the rows of vegetables, and the flowers that were growing everywhere, tucked in here and there. They had all kinds of neat things like corn and pumpkins and sunflowers. “I wish we had a garden at home.”

  “You have other things in Seattle, things we don’t have here, like museums and department stores and big libraries. We have a bookmobile, but no library.”

  Kittie hunched her shoulder. “I don’t care. I like it here best. I wish Shayla could have stayed.”

  Mariah sat on the grass and extended her legs. “At the U-2 you have to get used to saying goodbye to people,” she said slowly. “And it can be lonely during the winter. But the internet helps and we aren’t snowed in all the time the way most people think.”

  “It gets cold and lonely in Seattle, too.”

  Kittie tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Was it her heart? Maybe she was having an attack or something. Probably not, but she hated feeling as if everything was coming apart and wondering if she was going to die like her mother and grandmother.

  Finding out for sure had to be better than worrying without really knowing.

  She plopped next to Mariah. “Reid says I should talk to you about...uh...something that’s bugging me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I... When I was little I had an operation,” she said quickly. “On my heart. Something was wrong with it when I was born.”

  Mariah didn’t seem shocked like Reid had been. “I know—your dad told me, but he didn’t think you remembered the surgery.”

  Kittie bit her lip. “I don’t, and I don’t know why he told you. He hates talking about it.”

  * * *

  MARIAH HAD STRAIGHTENED the minute Caitlin mentioned her childhood surgery. She didn’t know why the teen was bringing it up, but it must be important to her.

  “We’ve had several discussions about the U-2’s safety procedures,” she said carefully. “He mentioned your operation in the middle of one of those talks.” She was fudging the truth, yet she could hardly tell Caitlin about the intimate conversations she’d had with Jacob.

  Caitlin had a disgusted expression. “I know, he doesn’t want me to do anything.”

  “Some fathers are more protective than others.” It was an understatement.

  “Ha. He acts like I’m going to get broken. And he’s been taking me to doctors ever since I started getting into trouble,” Caitlin said resentfully. “They took tons of blood for tests. I think they’re vampires.”

  Mariah tried not to smile. “He was probably trying to find out if there was a reason you were getting into trouble.”

  “No, it’s because I...” Caitlin stopped and chewed her lip again.

  “Yes?” Mariah prompted gently.

  “I...I visited Nana Carolyn and Grandfather Barrett in September and found out they operated on my mom, too, only she died anyhow. And ’cause Dad won’t talk about it, I...I can’t stop thinking that...that something is still wrong with me,” she burst out in a rush.

  Suddenly everything made sense to Mariah. Caitlin had started imagining the worst, and her father’s reluctance to talk about the past had magnified her fears. No doubt Jacob had thought he was protecting her; instead, he’d sent the opposite message.

  “I doubt your dad would have brought you to Montana if he was concerned about your health,” Mariah said. “I’ve seen how protective he is.”

  “I don’t know. He was real pissed about the fire at Garrison and thought the U-2 could fix me. He doesn’t get it,” Caitlin muttered.

  Mariah searched her mind for something to reassure her. The teenager was obviously strong and active, yet it would be easy to assume the worst in her shoes.

  “Caitlin, a lot of kids have operations when they’re little and are perfectly healthy afterward, but my grandmother can give you a medical check. Then I’ll find your dad and tell him that you need to know more about the surgery. Grams can be there when he explains, and you can ask her anything that’s bothering you.”

  Caitlin shifted nervously. “I don’t know.... He got mad when I asked him about it before. Well, not mad, but he said it was done with and not to fuss. I could tell he was upset. You know my dad—he gets stiff and his voice is uptight when he isn’t happy.”

  Mariah almost laughed.

  Stiff and uptight? That was nothing—plainly she’d seen Jacob a lot more upset than Caitlin ever had. Anyway, after getting into so many arguments with Jacob, one more wasn’t going to make a difference.

  “And it’s hard talking to him about my mom,” Caitlin added. “It makes him sad. I don’t like making him sad.”

  “I understand, but this is important. I’ll make him listen to me,” Mariah said. She’d make Jacob listen, all right, even if she had to whack him over the head with one of Reggie’s iron skillets. “You can’t keep worrying about your heart or worrying about upsetting him.”

  The teenager didn’t seem thrilled with the plan, but she finally agreed. “Okay.”

 
CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CAITLIN WAITED BY THE KITCHEN garden while Mariah went into the house to find her grandmother. Grams was kneading a batch of bread dough. She baked a lot more since giving up her primary role at the health clinic. They’d talked things over at breakfast, and she was going to begin handling the ranch accounting and other paperwork.

  Mariah gave her a swift explanation of Caitlin’s confession.

  Grams looked distressed. “The poor child, worrying about something like that.”

  “Jacob must have thought he was protecting her.”

  “He should have realized Caitlin is too intelligent not to begin worrying since her mother was treated for the same condition.”

  The comment was gently critical and Mariah opened her mouth to defend Jacob but swallowed the words. It would be bad enough when he returned to Seattle; she didn’t need her family knowing she’d foolishly fallen in love with the guy.

  Grams put the dough in a bowl and covered it with a clean dish towel. “I’ll do a general health check on Caitlin, though it won’t guarantee there isn’t an underlying problem. I’d need more equipment than we have in the dispensary to rule out anything for certain. She appears to be in excellent health, though.”

  “I know, and I can’t see Jacob bringing his daughter to Montana or allowing her to get on a horse if she had a heart condition. He hasn’t fussed about her being active, just doing anything that might carry a physical risk.”

  “I agree.”

  Mariah sighed. “Unfortunately, that kind of logic won’t help Caitlin. He’s the one who wouldn’t talk about it, so he’s the only one who can make her understand if there isn’t anything wrong. Besides, I have a feeling something else is bothering Caitlin. Whether she’ll tell Jacob or not is another matter.”

  “Perhaps. Adolescence is complicated.” Grams washed her hands and took her keys from a pocket. “I’ll open up and meet you at the dispensary. If you’re not back before we’re done, I’ll send her to Reggie—he has plenty to keep her occupied.”