“Oh, it’s all right.” Greta flapped a hand in dismissal. “I know you mean well. After all, signing papers that prepare for a divorce isn’t the most romantic way to prepare for a wedding.” She pointed to a line of barrels at the end of the corral. “This time go to the left of the first barrel and weave through the others.”
Tracy did as instructed, and Greta cheered. “Well done! You’re a natural. Now let’s pick up the pace.” She showed Tracy how to use her legs and stirrups to keep from bouncing in the saddle.
When they paused for a breath, Tracy rubbed the achy muscles in her thighs and lifted a hesitant glance to Greta. She remembered Abra’s comment about Greta loving her horses more than her fiancé, and couldn’t shake the odd niggling that tickled her brain. “May I be presumptuous one last time?”
Her new friend sent her a wary look, then a wry grin. “Sure. The more candid the better.”
“Be sure, before you say ‘I do.’”
Greta’s eyes widened and her cheeks paled. “What?”
“The voice of experience here. I had reservations before I married my ex, and I ignored the tiny voice in my head. I regretted my marriage almost immediately, but...it was too late.”
Greta’s face darkened. “Tracy? What—”
She raised a palm to forestall Greta’s questions. “It’s in the past. Cliff is dead, and I’m starting over. My point is simply to be sure the man you’re marrying is the person you want to spend your life with. It’s easy to get swept up in the wedding plans or the romanticism of a proposal and engagement, and shut out the doubts.”
Jack’s sister looked visibly shaken, and Tracy regretted having said anything. She may have had a bad marriage, but who was she to rain on Greta’s parade? She ducked her head, ashamed of herself for her negativity. “Greta, forgive me. I shouldn’t be such a downer. Just because I got into a bad situation doesn’t mean I have the right to spoil your happiness.”
Greta nudged her horse closer to Mabel so that she could put a hand on Tracy’s arm. “Don’t apologize for caring. You’re absolutely right, and your frankness is refreshing.” She squeezed Tracy’s good wrist gently. “I hate that your marriage left you with scars, but...don’t give up on the idea of love. Your prince is out there. I just know he is. You deserve someone who makes you happy.” Greta shifted her hand back to the horn of her saddle and glanced out toward one of the pastures. “And you’re right. Now is the time to think long and hard about what I want.”
Movement in her peripheral vision pulled Tracy’s attention to the stable yard, where a ranch hand in a black hat was checking the hooves of a gray horse. As the cowboy straightened from his task, he glanced toward the practice corral. Tracy’s breath lodged in her throat as his eyes locked on hers.
Not a ranch hand. Jack.
He gave her a slow nod of greeting, and she twitched a smile, even as her heartbeat kicked up.
“Hmm.”
Greta’s hum of interest drew her attention, and she turned to see Jack’s sister watching her with a knowing grin.
“What?” Tracy asked innocently, although the sting in her cheeks said her damnable tendency to blush gave her away.
* * *
Over the next several days, Tracy spent much of her time learning how to muck stalls, groom horses and feel more comfortable in the saddle. Her busy days learning ranch work left her exhausted at night, but the ache made her happy, made her feel productive and useful. She enjoyed working side by side with Seth as he did his chores and was amazed at how much the little boy knew about ranching. Not that she should be surprised, since Jack was such a good teacher.
True to his word, whenever she was around Seth, Jack was close by, keeping tabs on their conversation and interaction. At first she considered his hovering annoying, but before long, she found herself looking forward to Jack’s presence as much as Seth’s, but for wholly different reasons. Like a schoolgirl, she caught herself anticipating an accidental touch of their hands or an opportunity to spend time alone with Jack. She even looked for errands she could send Seth on to provide such one-on-one time with his father. And was it her imagination, or did Jack move closer to her, touch her more often and look into her eyes more deeply when Seth left them alone together?
On one occasion, when Jack sent his son to retrieve a pair of work gloves from his truck, she suspected Jack was using the same ploy. She’d even thought he might be ready to kiss her, when Seth scurried back into the stables shouting, “Hey, Daddy, your truck is locked.”
Jack stepped back from her quickly and mumbled something under his breath. “Never mind, Spud. I’ll get them later.”
A couple of the ranch hands, a young fellow named Kurt Rodgers and an older, slightly pudgy man named Tom Vasquez, entered the stable then, sharing a laugh.
Tom slowed his step and gave Jack a funny look as they passed the stall where he and Tracy had been grooming Mabel. “Everything okay, boss?”
“Uh, yeah. Why?”
“Well, it just seems like you’ve been spending a lot more time than usual in the stable and pastures in the last few days. If we’re not doing something right—”
“No.” Jack raised a hand to reassure the man, and Tracy swore his cheeks flushed under his tan. “Y’all are doing fine. I just, um, wanted to show Tracy the ropes, you know?”
Tom flashed a knowing grin. “Oh, I think I know.”
Kurt muffled a chuckle, and Jack shifted uncomfortably before asking, “Did Brett tell you two that the shipment of vaccines arrived? We’ll start vaccinating the calves tomorrow.”
Tom tugged on the brim of his hat. “Sure thing, boss. See ya, ma’am.”
Tracy smiled and gave a little wave as they shuffled away.
“I want to help with the calves!” Seth said, bouncing on his toes.
“We’ll see,” Jack replied in the classic parental stalling technique.
But the next morning, Seth arrived at the main house just as Tracy was heading down to the ranch yard to see what she might help with today. Seth gave her a disgruntled pout and crossed his arms over his chest. “Daddy said I can’t help with the calves getting shot.”
“Shot?” Tracy echoed in shock, before she figured out his meaning. “Oh, getting their shots...the vaccines?”
He bobbed his head, frowning. “I’m big enough!”
“Well,” she said, not wanting to contradict Jack, “for most things, but...I was hoping you’d take me on that walk you mentioned a few days ago.”
Seth’s face brightened. “I can show you the fishing pond and the old tree where Daddy made my tree house!”
When he grabbed for her hand and tugged, she laughed. “Now?”
“Sure! Why not?”
“Well...” She knew she needed to check with Jack before she disappeared with Seth into the surrounding fields. “I’ll need to change shoes. These are my ranching boots, not my walking shoes.” Nodding toward his bare feet, she added, “And you’ll need to put shoes on.”
He gave a negligent shrug. “I go barefoot all the time.”
“Hmm. Just the same, if you’re walking with me, I’d prefer your feet were protected.”
He rolled his eyes as if she were the silliest female ever and groaned in capitulation. “Okay. Meet me at my house in a few minutes.”
When he fetched a bicycle from the grassy lawn and pedaled away, she muttered, “I need one of those.” Typically, she hitched a ride with Brett on a UTV for the two-mile stretch from the main house to Jack’s home and the ranch’s other outbuildings.
“Need what?”
She turned and smiled a greeting to Big J as he brought a glass of what appeared to be tomato juice out to the patio. Or perhaps a bloody Mary, she amended, noticing the celery stalk and ice cubes in his drink.
“I was coveting Seth’s bike. Brett headed out early this morning, and I was dreading the walk down to Jack’s house.”
Her host chuckled and set his drink aside to reach in his pocket. “You’re in luck. I have just the thing f
or you, darlin’.”
Tracy slid her sunglasses to the top of her head as Big J pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. After flipping through the collection a moment, he wiggled one small key loose and dangled it on his index finger. “We keep a couple golf carts in the garage off the back wing of the house for Abra and the house staff to use as needed. This key works for the blue cart. Use it whenever you want for as long as you’re here, my dear.”
“Why, thank you!” She crossed the patio and took the proffered key. “That’s very generous.”
He pursed his lips. “Pshaw! You’ll be doing me a favor. If they’re not used regularly the batteries go bad, and Abra has no interest, most days, in going anywhere near the stables or other outbuildings.”
Tracy repeated her thanks and hurried inside to change into more appropriate clothes for a walk. How would Jack feel about her going to the fishing pond with Seth? Was Jack going to be involved in vaccinating the calves?
If not, he’d likely insist on accompanying them. Secretly, she hoped he would, although the time alone with Seth would be welcome, too. She wanted to broach topics with Seth that she guessed Jack wouldn’t approve of.
Ten minutes later she parked in front of Jack’s house and tooted the tinny horn for Seth. As she climbed out of the golf cart, the boy burst through the front door, having donned a pair of tennis shoes.
When he skittered to a stop in front of her, she put a hand under the boy’s chin to meet his eyes. “Is your dad home? Did you tell him where you were going?”
“He’s working in his office. He doesn’t mind me goin’ places, s’long as I have an adult with me.”
She twisted her mouth as if considering his assertion. “I think you should at least let him know where you’re headed.”
Seth rolled his eyes but trudged back to the house, opened the door and hollered, “Daddy, I’m goin’ to the fishing pond with an adult!”
She heard a muffled reply from deep in the house, and Seth slammed the front door as he scampered back to join her. “Come on, I’ll show you the shortcut!”
He took her hand and tugged her toward one of the pastures. She followed, jogging to keep up with the pace Seth set, and occasionally sidestepping to avoid cow patties. After crossing the pasture, Seth ducked through the fence and rambled into an area where a few trees dotted the landscape.
Tracy panted for a breath, winded from the sprint across the field. Pressing a hand to her racing heart, she gasped, “Seth, slow down! I thought...we were taking a walk! You’ve...done nothing but run...since we left the house.”
“Oh.” He curled his mouth in a sheepish grin. “Right. I forget old people can’t run so good.”
Tracy sputtered a laugh. “Who are you calling old?”
Seth’s eyes twinkled devilishly. “You.”
She scrunched her face in a mock scowl, swatting at him. “Why, you scamp! I’ll show you who can run!”
Laughing, he took off with her at his heels. They darted through the trees until Seth pulled up short and pointed up in the branches of a large oak. “That’s the tree house my daddy helped me build. Wanna go up in it?”
“Umm...” Tracy eyed the two-by-four wood scraps nailed in evenly spaced intervals leading to the platform fifteen feet up the tree. Under normal circumstances, navigating the homemade ladder would have been tricky for her. She’d never been especially athletic. But her sore muscles promised to make it even more challenging.
“It’s easy,” Seth said when she hesitated. “I’ll show you.” And off he went, clambering like a monkey up the wooden ladder to his tree house.
Not willing to let her cousin’s boy down, especially when she had this rare opportunity to talk with him alone, she began an awkward ascent. One hand, one foot, hand, foot, hand, foot, achy muscles screaming, until she dragged herself into the fort next to Seth.
He grinned at her. “You did it!”
She cuffed him on the shoulder lightly. “You don’t have to sound surprised.” Even if she was a bit surprised at herself...and embarrassingly proud, as well.
He scooted to a window, cut from the sheet of plywood that comprised one of three walls, with the trunk of the oak making the bulk of the fourth wall. Peering out the window herself, she saw that the outside of the wooden walls had been reinforced with corrugated sheets of metal, spray painted with green-and-brown camouflage.
“Fancy.” She flashed Seth an impressed look. “Very sturdy. And camouflaged, too?”
“Yep. It was my idea to paint the camo so it was hidden. Do ya like it?”
She hugged his shoulders and nodded. “It is the best tree house I’ve ever seen!”
Her opinion clearly pleased him, and he settled on the small homemade wood bench that sat against one wall. “Did you ever have a tree house when you were a kid?”
She joined him on the tiny bench, suppressing a grunt as her leg muscles throbbed and her knees creaked. Though she felt battered and sore from her scalp to her toenails, she wouldn’t trade this chance to visit with Seth for all the world or an ache-free body. “No. I grew up in an apartment in Denver. I didn’t have a yard. If I wanted to play outside, I had to go to the park a few blocks from my building.”
“No yard?” Seth gaped at her, his tone truly astonished.
“Afraid not. I’m a city girl through and through.”
He wrinkled his nose as he mulled over this news. “Gosh, I’m glad I’m not a city boy. I love playin’ outside and helpin’ with the cows and horses.”
“And from what I’ve seen, you are very good at it.” She tweaked his nose, and he chuckled. “You’ll make an excellent rancher when you grow up.”
He puffed up his chest, and a broad grin spread across his face. He fell silent then and picked at the loose rubber at the toe of his muddy tennis shoe. “Ms. Tracy?” The quiet, almost reluctant pitch of his voice told her his thoughts had grown serious.
“Yes, sweetie?”
“Was my mom a city girl?”
Her pulse skipped. Jack’s warnings about what she could and couldn’t tell Seth about his mother echoed in her head. Her own resolve not to lie to Seth surged to the surface, and she drew a deep breath. “Sort of. She grew up in the suburbs.”
He tipped his face up to hers. “What’s a sub-burp?”
She sputtered a laugh. “Not burp. Burb. Suburb.”
He laughed at his mistake, and predictably, because he was a boy, he forced a burp. She pulled a face to show him she didn’t find his belch funny, and he lowered his gaze in remorse.
Tousling his hair, she explained, “A suburb is a neighborhood close to a city. Your mom had a nice yard growing up, as I recall, but she was something of a girlie girl.”
“What’s a girlie girl?” He scooted closer to Tracy, soaking up what she told him like a sponge.
“She loved girlish things. She liked dolls and tea parties and dressing up in hats and jewelry.”
He sneered. “Ew!”
“And her room was pink and frilly, and she had lots of Hello Kitty stuff and Barbies,” Tracy said with relish, enjoying the way he cringed in disgust. “I loved to go to her house because we could play with her Barbie camper and her Barbie pool and her Barbie beauty shop...”
“Ugh!” He covered his head with his arms as if to deflect the girl cooties. “Stop!”
She tickled him under the arms. “What’s the matter, Seth? Don’t you like Barbies?”
“No! Barbies suck!”
She gasped at the harsh word that sounded all the more crude coming from a five-year-old’s mouth. His eyes cut up to hers, and he wrinkled his nose in dread.
“Oops. Don’t tell my daddy I said that, or I’ll get in trouble.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Where did you learn that word?”
“Daniel said it. But he said I couldn’t or Daddy’d get mad.” Seth’s face sobered, and he grasped her sleeve. “You won’t tell him, will you?”
She pursed her lips as if considering the matter. “Tell you wh
at. If you promise never to say that word again, I’ll keep this little slip as our secret. Deal?”
He released a big breath and smiled. “Deal.” He wiggled around on the bench to face her. “Tell me more stuff about my mom.”
Tracy’s heart pattered. Here was the opening she’d been looking for. But now that she had the chance to talk to Seth about Laura, what should she say?
Chapter 9
“Seth?” Jack stuck his head in the family room, where he’d last seen his son playing video games. He’d reached a stopping place in the bookkeeping files and had noticed the house was quiet. Too quiet. Where was Seth? The television was still on, but the game remote lay abandoned on the coffee table.
“Seth?” He called louder, glancing over the breakfast bar into the kitchen. Also empty.
He turned off the TV and was headed upstairs to check his son’s room when a knock sounded on the front door. Turning to go back downstairs, Jack called out for his visitor to come in.
Brett poked his head inside, peering around the door, his expression unusually serious. “Got a minute?”
Jack eyed his brother in concern, imagining something having gone horribly wrong in the barn or in the fields.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“It’s Daniel.” Brett removed his hat and cocked his head.
Jack frowned. “What about Daniel? Did something happen to him?”
“I overheard him talking to Kurt Rodgers a little while ago. He’s gettin’ real serious about this breeding program. He’s been in touch with someplace called Kennedy Farms about their breeding program, and he’s all hyped up about it.”
Jack groaned. “Brett...”
“And it doesn’t help matters that his assistant, Megan, came here from a large horse breeding ranch in California.”
“Is this about buying that stud—what’s his name—Geronimo?”
“Yes. No. I...” Brett huffed in frustration. “I’m telling you, Jack. If you don’t let Daniel develop his horse-breeding business here as part of the Lucky C, he’ll take it somewhere else. We’ll lose both Daniel and the potential profits.”
“We already had this conversation, and I made my position clear. I won’t pressure Daniel to stay here if he feels led to go somewhere else. I won’t guilt him into staying just because horse breeding is profitable—”
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