by Lois Richer
But despite those words, Abby noticed Cade didn’t really sit and wait. Every so often he approached the horse using a soft, calming voice as he slid his hands over her to assess her progress. Entranced by the evident bond between them, she snapped pictures of the laboring mare from many angles, waiting patiently until Cade stood just the right way with the light on his face so she could include him in the frame. Through the lens, Abby saw the gentle man her troubled husband had spoken of so affectionately.
The more Cade worked with the horse, the more his demeanor changed. His face lost all signs of the stress it usually wore. The standoffish belligerence he’d used like a shield to keep people away when he’d taken her to the meeting in town evaporated. Now a warm glint lit his eyes and the sternness of his features melted, giving way to a boyish grin and a smothered chuckle when Recitation eased her head under his hand for a pat.
Cade seemed to forget Abby was there so she used the opportunity to take many pictures, trying to capture his pleasure in this moment.
“Okay, girl, we’re getting down to business now, aren’t we?” Cade moved beside the horse, his sensitive fingertips assessing her burgeoning midsection as she strained and grunted.
He seemed unsurprised and stepped nimbly out of the way when Recitation suddenly lay down, rolled, then regained her footing only to nuzzle around in the hay, making nests.
Confused, Abby finally asked, “Is something wrong with her?”
“She’s getting ready. It won’t be long now. I think the human equivalent is when pregnant women clean the house.” Cade spared her a grin before his attention returned to the horse. “It will happen quickly so have your camera ready.”
Cade’s words continued in a soft drawl, leaving Abby amazed at his communication with Recitation, as much through a stroke here and a caress there as by any words he spoke.
“Watch,” Cade ordered as the mare’s legs strained. Moments later a soot-black foal was born. Recitation proudly cleaned off her baby and nudged it to its feet. Cade leaned against the pen, beside Abby, his smile huge. “Isn’t he a beaut? Big and strong. He’s great Double L stock even if he’s not a thoroughbred.”
“But he’s not breathing.” Abby held her breath, concerned that she could see no sign of movement in the small chest.
“He’s breathing. He’s just tired. He worked hard to get here.” Cade touched Recitation’s head with an affectionate brush. “So did you. Good job, Mama. You’re a real trouper.” Recitation nuzzled his chest and Cade laughed. “Yes, I have a treat for you.” He held out a carrot. The horse quickly nipped it out of his hands, drawing more laughter from Cade. To Abby he looked as proud as any father.
“What happens now?” she asked, utterly awestruck by the amazing spectacle she had just witnessed.
“They bond. You can come in the pen now. Recitation wants to show off her new son.” He opened the gate, then waited.
Abby slid off the hay and walked toward him. She stepped inside the pen hesitantly, awed by the strength and power of the horse.
“Don’t be afraid.” Cade slid his hand under her elbow, his fingers firm as he drew her forward.
“I’m not afraid.” And she wasn’t, at least not afraid of the horse.
But Cade, like this, soft, gentle, tender—that sent a confusing shaft of fear through her. Was she letting him get too close?
For some reason Abby’s skin grew warm under Cade’s fingers though it couldn’t possibly be from his touch because there were layers of clothes between it and her arm. And the way her breath snagged in her throat had nothing to do with the horse and her colt.
“She’s beautiful,” she finally managed, tears welling as she thought of her own children’s births to come and wondering if she would do as well in labor as Recitation. Would Cade be there to help her? She glanced up and found him staring at her.
“Are you crying?” he asked in disbelief.
“How can I not?” she asked, half embarrassed by the tears tumbling down her cheeks. “Birth is such an affirmation of everything God gives. Max never understood—” She bit her lip, unwilling to let Cade see the troubled side of her marriage.
Guilt overwhelmed her and suddenly Abby was incapable of suppressing her sobs. She stood there, helpless and hurting. A moment later Cade’s arms closed tentatively around her shoulders. After a second of hesitation, he gently drew her closer and brushed away her tears with his thumbs.
“Max wouldn’t like these,” he said, his voice low.
“No. He hated tears. Said they made him feel helpless,” she agreed with a sniff.
“I know exactly how he felt.” Cade said nothing more but he didn’t have to. His comfort, the willingness to let her stand there until she could regain her composure, said more than any words could have.
Abby reveled in feeling cherished, protected, confident that if she leaned on Cade he would always support her. Only thing was, she could not let herself get used to leaning on him. She had to stand on her own two feet.
Once she’d regained control, Abby stepped away and swiped the back of her hands across her cheeks. She ignored the immediate sense of loss that washed over her.
“Sorry. That doesn’t happen as often now, but—”
“Sometimes his loss still catches you unprepared.” She was surprised by Cade’s nod of understanding. “I miss him a lot, too,” he said quietly. “He was my best friend.” After a moment he drew her nearer to the colt that now stood on wobbly legs beside his mother. “Recitation has produced our best colts for years. She’s an amazing horse.”
The tone of his voice, the way his eyes glowed, the fierce pride in his words made Abby study his face more closely.
“You really love all this—” She waved a hand. “Ranching, I mean. The land, the animals—all of it. This is where you belong.”
“Do I?” Cade twisted his head to stare at her, his expression altering into the familiar mask that hid his emotions better than a shield.
“I think so. I can see it in the way you relate to the animals.” Cade’s lips tightened and his body stiffened slightly but Abby continued to speak, certain she was right. “I don’t know much about ranching,” she admitted, “but I don’t need to in order to see how you feel about Recitation and the others. They’re part of you. This place is part of you. No wonder you’re working so hard to keep this legacy of your father’s going.”
He blinked, his eyes glowing with intensity as they studied her. His lips parted as if he would speak but then he clamped them together, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say.
A sadness washed through Abby. For a moment she had felt so close to him, hoped he might open up to her, let her see what was beneath the brooding anger he kept so tightly bound, as Max never had. But then Cade’s shields went up. He shut her out and she didn’t know why.
With a sigh she turned her focus on Recitation and her foal.
“The Creator made us just as He made this colt. He knows everything about us. It reminds me of that passage in Luke where Jesus is talking about our daily needs and He says not to worry about getting what we need because God knows exactly what we need and that He will always provide.”
Cade’s whole body jerked.
“I wish He would,” Cade muttered as he turned away. He checked the feed bag and water trough, then motioned for them to leave Recitation’s stall. Abby followed pensively.
“What makes you think He hasn’t?” she asked when they were standing outside the stall. “You live on this amazing place, which you share with your father. Your animals are reproducing. Mrs. Swanson says your beef is in high demand. Your life seems on track here.”
“Maybe it looks that way,” he said brusquely.
“Your life isn’t on track?” she asked curiously. “Why? What do you need?”
“Maybe a way to make my fathe
r better.” Cade turned on her, his blue eyes shooting sparks. “Or maybe a way to get him to look at me as his son instead of the dumb hired hand who can’t take two steps without fighting for some respect.” He clamped his lips together.
The pain underlying those words helped Abby understand. Cade wanted what his father gave so freely to Ivor; he wanted to be appreciated, loved.
“This might sound counterintuitive to you, Cade,” she said, wishing she knew how to heal his hurting heart. “But I don’t think your father argues with you because of who you are or because of anything you’ve done.”
He lifted one eyebrow in a question, waiting for her to continue.
“I think Ed fights with you because he’s angry at himself, at what he can’t do and feels he should. I think he feels he’s putting all the load of running this place on you.” Abby shifted, a little unnerved by her temerity in broaching such a sensitive subject.
“Then why doesn’t he work harder at his exercises so he can get better and take back the reins of this place?” Cade demanded in a tight, hard tone.
“What if he does that and nothing changes?” Abby asked softly. “What if he invests every ounce of courage and strength he has in trying to recover and it doesn’t happen?”
Cade studied her with a frown.
“Don’t you see, can’t you understand?” she asked, irritated by his blindness. “Your father is desperately afraid that even if he does everything he can to recover, he might still fail. I believe he fears that if that does happen he’ll lose you, the ranch, everything that matters most to him.”
Cade lifted his head and stared at her, locking his gaze with hers. Abby shivered at the intensity reflected there but her heart bumped at the flicker of hope that danced to life for a few brief moments.
Until Cade said, “Not possible. I never mattered. And my father was never afraid of anything.” He added with conviction, “Never.”
“Maybe once, he wasn’t. But the strokes stole his confidence, Cade. Now he can’t do the simplest thing he never gave a thought to doing before.” Abby let a smile curve her lips when he shot her an indignant glare, as if to ask who she was to believe she knew his father better than he did.
“I’m not sure—”
“It’s a kind of role reversal,” she said. “You’re the strong one now and he needs you. I think Ed’s afraid that he’ll never be the dad you remember, the strong, capable man who was always in control. And that terrifies him.”
“Really?” Surprise made Cade’s eyes widen for a moment. Then he frowned and shook his head. “I doubt that.”
“Think about it,” she coaxed. “He’s gone from being strong, independent and running the ranch on his own, to having to write his needs on a pad of paper. He must chafe at the dependency that now rules his life.”
“So we’re back to my original question. Why doesn’t God do something to make him better?” Cade’s frustration was obvious.
“I don’t know. Maybe He is doing something. Have you talked to Him about it?” Abby inclined her head, waiting.
“I don’t speak to God,” Cade muttered.
“Then how can you fault Him for not helping you?” Abby walked to Liberty’s stall and petted the horse. She chuckled at the snickered response. “Yes, I brought an apple.” She let the horse snatch it out of her hand before looking straight at Cade. “Your response is irrational. Not talking to God is like expecting Ed to do something without ever talking to him. That’s not a relationship.”
“I used to talk to God,” Cade said in an edgy tone. “When I was a kid and my dad had just reamed me out for something, Mrs. Swanson said I should pray. So I did. A lot. But nothing ever changed. And it still hasn’t.”
“You don’t know what God is doing,” Abby insisted. “You can’t see inside your father to know his thoughts and feelings and since you don’t talk to him about that, how will you find out?”
She would have said more but the clanging of a bell caught Cade’s attention.
“That’s Mrs. Swanson’s signal for me to get back to the house fast,” he explained, her eyes narrowing with concern. “It could be Dad.”
“Let’s go.” Abby waited till Cade tugged open the big door. As soon as he’d closed it behind them, she slid her arm through his. “I can go faster if I hang onto you,” she explained, wondering if he got the same jolt of awareness that she did when their bare hands touched.
If so, Cade didn’t show it, or maybe he was too preoccupied. All he did was lead her back to the house.
* * *
Six hours later Cade closed the door on the last guest and sighed his relief that they’d finally gone, leaving the ranch house to return to its solitude.
“Wasn’t that fun?” Abby’s green eyes sparkled with excitement. “I never imagined they’d all show up here to discuss the agency, but it wasn’t a bad idea, was it?” She searched his face, a question on her own. “You didn’t mind?”
“Only when I thought I’d have to go hunt down a cow to feed them all,” he teased, refusing to acknowledge the rush of fear that had filled him at the sight of so many people invading his home, people he usually avoided when he was in town. “Once they brought out all those goodies for a potluck it was okay.”
“It wasn’t the potluck that made you feel better,” she said indignantly. “It was the sight of Mayor Marsha’s raspberry pie.” Abby shared a grin with Mrs. Swanson.
“I didn’t think Ed was going to get a taste, let alone Ivor.” The housekeeper chuckled.
“It was an excellent pie,” Cade said, ignoring the burn on his cheeks. He hadn’t been that greedy, had he? He turned to Abby. “Are you pleased with the decision to proceed with the adoption agency even though all the funding isn’t yet in place?”
“I think it’s a great idea.” She nursed a mug of peppermint tea between her palms, letting the steam bathe her face. “It’s troubling to find out that Wanda doesn’t have sufficient funds for a contingency plan, but I believe God will bless Family Ties. We just need to be prepared for when He answers our prayers.”
As usual, Abby’s faith in God was irrepressible.
“Family Ties?” Cade couldn’t help appreciating how lovely she looked in the soft light of the kitchen.
“Everyone seemed to think it’s an appropriate name.” That was her modesty talking, not taking credit for a name that had been her suggestion.
Mrs. Swanson swished her dishcloth over the counter one last time before wishing them good-night. But she paused in the doorway, speaking hesitantly.
“I think having those people come out here for their meeting was a great idea,” she said, facing Cade. “Ed loved playing host and he enjoyed listening to the men’s discussion. The guys who drove their wives here had their heads together about something. Whatever it was, it seems to have put a light in his eyes. I think they should come again—only could you tell me first? I nearly died when they all drove into the yard and I had nothing prepared.” Then she turned and quickly left the room.
Cade glanced at Abby. Her lips twitched.
“Mrs. Swanson thinks we arranged that gathering,” she said in a choked voice.
“Actually, for a few minutes, I thought you had,” Cade admitted. “You didn’t seem all that surprised to see them.”
“Well I was. But I’m glad they came. The more people we get working on this, the sooner we can get Family Ties operational.” She sipped her tea, her gaze resting on him thoughtfully. “You know a lot of people around here, don’t you?”
“I know what you’re thinking, Abby.” Cade held up his hand while shaking his head. “No. I haven’t got time to take on more.”
“I was only thinking you might make a few phone calls to help with fund-raising. It wouldn’t take that much time,” she coaxed. “Since you’ll be driving me into town anyway, you coul
d make them on your cell while you wait...”
Cade kept shaking his head but deep inside he knew that eventually he’d make those calls. He was putty in her hands and the thing was, most of the time he didn’t mind helping because he liked being around Abby, enjoyed seeing her happy smile stretch across her lovely face. But he also enjoyed teasing her so he shook his head.
“No.”
“Fine,” she finally conceded. “Be like that. But you’ll wish you’d joined us when we have the grand opening.”
“Poor Max,” he said softly. “He must have been terribly henpecked.”
“How well did you know him?” Abby shot back right before a huge yawn stretched her lips. “Max never did anything he didn’t want to. Even when it would have been better for him to listen to someone else.”
There was a certain asperity in her voice that made Cade frown. What wasn’t Abby saying? She seemed lost in the past, her face closed up, a hint of—pain? flickering through her lovely eyes. He waited, hoping she’d say more.
Since Ivor was away on a visit to another extended family member and Ed had already retired, Cade lingered despite Abby’s obvious weariness. He enjoyed sitting with her in the silent peace of the cozy kitchen.
But when her head began to nod he rose.
“You’d better get some sleep if you’re going to church tomorrow.”
She jerked upright, a tentative smile lifting her lips. “You’ll take me? You don’t mind going to church?”
“I’ll take you,” he agreed.
“Are you going to start talking to God?” she asked, then added, “If that’s not too personal.”
“I’m going to take you so I can take Dad, so he can be among other people,” Cade told her without answering her question. “Mrs. Swanson’s comment makes me realize Dad needs the sociability that church offers. He’s been isolated out here with me too long.”
“Good idea.” Abby’s green gaze held his.
“Mrs. Swanson deserves the change, too. She’s had to miss a lot of Sunday services because of my ranch work.”
“Uh-huh.” Abby just kept watching him. Cade shifted uncomfortably under her assessing gaze. He was not prepared for her next comment. “Your dad, Mrs. Swanson, me, Recitation and the other animals.” Her voice dropped to a soft, thoughtful tone. “You take great care of all of us, don’t you? But who takes care of you, Cade?”