Back in the Saddle

by Ruth Logan Herne

  —

  Stubborn, like his father.

  Rigid, like his father.

  Square-shouldered, chin raised, and in your face, just like Sam Stafford. What woman in her right mind would find that kind of stiff-necked bullheadedness attractive?

  You. You forgot to mention to-die-for handsome when his blue eyes met yours.

  Angelina swallowed a sigh. When those same eyes went wide with appreciation after smelling the rich, yeasty aroma of freshly sliced bread, her heart hammered. She’d fought a smile, keeping her face placid on purpose. The last thing she needed was for her boss’s son to think she was flirting with him. Which she wasn’t. She’d been duped by one high-profile investment banker already. Once was more than enough to convince her to flee from men who put more stock in what they earned than in helping others. She’d learned the hard way, but she’d learned.

  The house phone rang. Lucy Carlton’s name and number flashed on the display. Angelina answered it as she turned off the flame under the simmering stockpot. “Lucy, hey. How are you?”

  “I’ve been better,” the young mother admitted. “Belle has spiked a fever, the van won’t start, and I need to get her seen at Quick Care. Can you—”

  “I’ll be right over,” Angelina said.

  Lucy, their nearest neighbor, was a widow with three small children, scraping an existence from the only thing she owned—a small plot of farmland just east of the Double S. She minded her own business, sang in the church choir, grew plants and Christmas trees, and rarely asked for help. For Lucy to place this call was a big deal.

  “Thanks, Ange.”

  Angelina checked the bread in the oven. Just right.

  She tumbled the loaves onto cooling racks, rubbed them with a stick of fresh, cold butter, covered the stew, and headed out the door.

  Sam had used his water rights to punish the owners of the neighboring farm years before the Carltons bought the land. If Sam was ready to right old wrongs, he could start with the struggling family next door who had inherited the damage he’d inflicted on the previous owners.

  Her cell phone rang as she approached the big SUV. The name that flashed in the display came straight from her old squad on the Seattle police force. “Tony, hey! How are you? How’s the family?”

  “Jody misses you, the kids miss you, and it’s time to hang up your oven mitts and come home to Seattle,” Tony Giambrino told her. “The boss says we’ve got a place for you on the squad. I’d like nothing better than to have you come back to narcotics and fill it, Mary.”

  She hadn’t been called Mary in over two years. In the beautiful hills of central Washington, she’d been Angelina to everyone she’d met. Hearing Tony’s voice, his offer, and her real name instigated a yearning she couldn’t give in to. She climbed into the SUV and started the engine. “Tony, you know why I left.”

  “Because you lost something wonderful and needed to protect your own. I get it, Mary. But it’s been long enough. It’s time to come home.”

  Funny, she didn’t think of Seattle as home anymore. Not with her father gone and her mother and Noah here. “Hey, I—”

  Tony cut her off. “Let me remind you that as horrible as your dad’s death was, that was the first retribution slaying we’ve had in a decade. And the first one of a family member in over two decades. So while I understand your concern, what I really want is to have one of the best and most versatile Seattle detectives back on the job. No pressure of course.”

  Going back would solve the ongoing problem of her mother’s discontent. Isabo Castiglione would dance for joy to be back in Seattle, but there was no way Angelina could leave Sam in his current condition. He’d helped her, cared for her family, and given her a job while she tried to regain balance in her life. In the meantime, she’d fallen head over heels in love with the rolling hills, fertile fields, and towering trees of central Washington.

  She didn’t want to leave Gray’s Glen. But she didn’t want to be a housekeeper forever either, even though she worked for a generous man. At some point, she needed to make choices, but not with Sam sick and not at the start of calving season, no matter how much her mother missed her old home and her old friends. “Tony, I’ve got to hang up. I’m picking up a sick child at the neighbor’s. Your offer is totally impossible now, but…”

  “But it might not be impossible soon?” he pressed. “Leave me hope, chica.”

  This was a compliment of the highest order. The Seattle Police Department didn’t make a habit of calling former employees to see if they’d come back. Although the possibility of leaving Sam and the Double S wasn’t something she could currently entertain, who knew what six months might bring? “This would make my mother happy. Being sequestered in the country with a little kid didn’t make her bucket list, so she’s chomping at the bit.”

  “Our ears to the ground say there’s no apparent danger now that your father’s killer has been put away. Barnham called him a rogue assassin, and we’ve got nothing that disputes his assessment.”

  Hearing the original evaluation reaffirmed was a relief. She wasn’t big on having her family become anyone’s target practice again. A return to Seattle would benefit her mother, but leaving the Double S, Sam, and the adopted extended family she’d come to love would be hard. She was happy in Gray’s Glen, but her mother wasn’t, and she owed her mother a chance at happiness. However, with her father gone and all her mother had sacrificed for Angelina, it wouldn’t be right to send Isabo back to Seattle alone, either. A conundrum, either way. “I’ll let you know when things lighten up here. Okay?”

  Tony sighed loud and long. “Flipping pancakes and making beds aren’t as important as you make it seem, Mary, but I understand. I’ll call back if you don’t contact me. Good talking to you.”

  “And you.” She hung up the phone as she pulled into Lucy’s drive. Tony’s offer added another level of conflict to an already layered situation, but she couldn’t weigh those choices now. That was something to discuss with her mother. They’d both lost something of irreplaceable value on the streets of Seattle—a husband and father, retired police captain, a man renowned for fairness and integrity, executed on the street because she’d collared a racketeer with a network of fierce friends. She’d been so proud of that takedown. Her whole squad had celebrated that group of arrests. And when they’d put the convicted racketeer and killer behind bars for a life sentence, one of his minions had done a drive-by on Angelina’s father. It tore her apart to know that this man of substance, valor, faith, and worth had died alone, bleeding out on a cold, wet Seattle street, with his trusty black Lab beside him.

  She hauled in a breath, unlocked the SUV doors, and mentally shoved the offer and the memories aside.

  “You have what in the basement?” Nick stared at Colt as if he’d just grown another head. “A cow?”

  “The calf.” Colt put his saddle aside, hung the blanket to dry, and grabbed the horse brush. “She’s in the playpen with a warming light. Angelina said she’d keep an eye on her.”

  “She did, huh?”

  “Yes.” Colt drew out the word. “I’m not getting what’s funny about any of this.”

  “Did you notice any other calves in the basement?”

  He hadn’t, but he figured it was early in the day. A niggle of awareness caused him to push his hat back. “No.”

  “And did you think yours was the only one we needed to keep an eye on with weather conditions growing worse?”

  Put that way, Nick’s question made sense. “Like I said, I figured it was early.”

  “And you missed the space-age-looking igloos by the back barn?”

  He’d seen them, kind of, from the side, but he had no idea what they were used for. “I might have noticed them.”

  Nick burst out laughing. Colt had to think really hard before deciding whether to deck him or laugh with him, but since his brother had faced his own share of rough moments the past few years, he let it slide. For now. “They’re for calves, I take it?”


  “That’s exactly what they’re for.”

  “And my little gal in the basement?”

  “Needs to go join her mother and her friends.”

  He wanted to swear, but he held back. Nick wasn’t being a total jerk, and if he’d made the same mistake, Colt would be treating him in kind, which meant maybe they weren’t the two worst brothers in the world.

  Realization hit. He groaned. The red calf needed to be lugged over to the far barn, and he’d just put his horse up.

  “I’ll help you.”

  Ten hours back, pride would have kept him from accepting his brother’s help, but a day in and out of the saddle, tracking cows, and herding stubborn due-to-calf cows and heifers made him bone weary. “I’d appreciate it.”

  By the time the calf was resettled with her mother, the other men had gathered to eat. “Got your little girl put up for the night?” Hobbs asked, verifying that one thing hadn’t changed in Colt’s years away—cowboys gossiped worse than a clutch of old women.

  “She’s back with her ma, and the basement’s cleaned up. And yes, I’m stupid, but I’m too hungry to argue the point. So you boys have all the fun you want at my expense while I eat some of this stew. The smell alone is enough to warm up a long, cold day. And Angelina?” He waited until she looked his way. “Thank you for not laughing at me this morning. That was real nice of you.”

  “Your efforts were commendable, and the sincerity was downright sweet.” Her smile widened as she worked pie crust across a well-floured board. “And a little funny.”

  “Deserving of a hearty laugh is what I’d say,” Nick teased, “but then you turned around and did okay this afternoon. It just doesn’t seem right to make light of that.”

  “Unpracticed but not forgotten,” Colt said as he helped himself to more stew. “I’m sure I’ll be feeling every misstep and rabbit hole come morning.”

  “There’s muscle cream and pain meds upstairs in the main bath,” Angelina said. She finished crimping the pie and set it aside before starting a second. “Nick, are you having the girls catch the bus here in the morning? Or are you taking them to school yourself?”

  “I think I’ll have them catch the bus at home, then have them dropped off here in the afternoon. If we lose power on the ranch, we’ve got backup. I don’t want to risk having them cold and miserable at home with their afternoon sitter.” Nick shifted around to Hobbs and Colt. “Can you guys start at first light? That storm’s due in by nightfall tomorrow, and the more mothers we’ve brought down, the better chance we have of getting through this unscathed.”

  “How many heifers did you cover for market beef?” Colt asked.

  “Nearly two-hundred first-years and roughly the same in second-time mamas. Then we have a ten-day break before the older cows come due.”

  “That your idea or the old man’s?”

  Nick frowned at Colt’s reference to their father but didn’t fault him, and that was a first. “Mine. But he saw the sensibility of it. Gives us first look at the new mothers and the inexperienced second-years. That way they get the TLC they need and we have fewer casualties.”

  Numbers.

  Good business always came down to numbers. In that way, ranching wasn’t much different from hedge funds on Wall Street. Except Wall Street had the advantage of central heating and cooling.

  “You look done in, Colt,” Hobbs observed, but he seemed approving too. “It’s okay to call it a night. Light don’t come early in February, but when it comes, we’d best be ready to ride.”

  “I’ll be ready.” Realizing how tired he was, he stood. “See you guys tomorrow. And Angelina?”

  She glanced up as if she didn’t think much of his presence, which didn’t seem one bit fair because she’d been on his mind all day. “Yes?”

  “Thanks for dinner. It was great.”

  “My job.” She shrugged off the compliment as if it was no big deal, but he sensed appreciation for his words. And something else. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. Weariness hit like the north wind that had battered him throughout the day. He waved to the guys and headed upstairs, too tired to think straight. But when he could? He was going to figure out what was bothering him about Angelina.

  Angelina drove back roads, took two purposeful wrong turns, then steered the ranch SUV up the gravel drive overlooking the more distant eastern meadows of the Double S. She rolled into the thickly forested nook for the turnaround, grabbed the plastic bag of necessities, and hurried into the small cabin that most had forgotten. The cabin’s obscurity had become her blessing when she came to Gray’s Glen.

  “Finally, you are here.” Frustration put an unaccustomed edge on her mother’s tone. “Come in. That wind is sharp and will bring more snow tonight.”

  “Deep snow, from the sound of things.” Angelina took off her coat and scarf, then turned as a three-year-old spitfire raced her way.

  “Mama!”

  “Noah, my darlingest of all darlings, how is my handsome boy?”

  “I’m sick,” he announced and pushed out his lower lip. “Abuela is making me take medicine, and I don’t like it.” He folded his arms across his chest in wounded indignation. “I want chocolate milk and colorful cereal—not icky grape stuff.”

  “Colorful cereal?” Angelina asked, surprised. Her mother held up a box of Froot Loops. “Ah,” Angelina said.

  “This he has made known to me no small number of times,” her mother observed wryly. “To which I say…” She redirected her attention to her grandson. “When a grownup tells you what to do—”

  The small boy didn’t look happy, but he muttered the expected reply. “—you do it.”

  “Exactly.” Angelina smothered him with kisses and hugs until he wriggled free. “We must always respect our elders and one another.”

  “ ’Cept I don’t have another.” Noah motioned to the television sitting atop a table on the far wall. “I only have TV and ’Buela.”

  Regret tightened Angelina’s throat. “This will not always be the case, Noah. But for now you have Abuela and me, and we love you very much.”

  “If I’m good, can I go see some cowboys?” He ran to the west-facing window and pointed out. “I saw them a really long time ago.”

  Noah didn’t have a real grasp of time, so a really long time ago might mean last month or yesterday afternoon. “Were they working hard?”

  “Yes!” His voice ramped up with respect. “They looked so teeny, teeny, but ’Buela said th-they weren’t really that way. It’s because th-they are so far away from us.” Excitement over his news made him stumble over some of the words. “There were cows too. I could maybe help the cowboys catch the cows and stay with you. Can I?”

  His eyes, so round. His voice, filled with hope. His tiny stutter, endearing. His gaze, locked on hers, begging quietly.

  She swallowed hard and pretended to think it over. “There is a big snow coming later, but as winter winds down, we can talk of this. Right now my boss is coming home from the hospital.”

  “Is he sick?”

  “Very.” She kept her face and tone serious. “He could be sick for a while, and that might make things difficult. Even the quietest of little boys make some noise, and sick people need rest.”

  “My cars make a lot of noise when they crash,” he admitted. He drew his brows together, then asked, “Will your boss get better?”

  A question with no answer, so Angelina bent low and gave her son the simple truth. “We don’t know yet. He will come home, and I will be very busy caring for him and for the men who are delivering many calves these next few weeks. But then Abuela and I will talk about what is best.”

  “A return to civilization would be my vote,” her mother muttered. “For over three decades I walked the city streets unafraid. Should I live the rest of my days buried in the hills, surrounded by trees and snow? May sweet Mary, Mother of God, hear my plea, because my own Mary listens to no one.” She smacked a washcloth to the counter as she wiped it down.


  “I know, Mami. We probably should have made a change last fall, and I didn’t. I’m sorry about that.”

  Her mother kept wiping, eyes on her work, her mouth set in a firm, thin line.

  Angelina moved closer. “I meant what I said to Noah. We’ll figure out what’s best and make changes as soon as we can. I promise.”

  Noah pointed out the window. “I would be best with the cowboys.” He spoke firmly, as if trying to convince his mother—if only she had the sense to listen. “I could have my own cowboy hat and some boots, and I could help your boss all the time. And th-then he would feel better because he’d have more help.”

  “This is truly something I must consider.” She kissed his forehead, then indicated the table just inside the door. “If you look inside the bag, you might find something special.”

  “A present?”

  Angelina tousled his hair, smiling. “Look and see.”

  Noah opened the bag, handed her a bottle of cough syrup and children’s pain reliever, then shrieked. “A puzzle! With cowboys! How did you know I wanted a puzzle with cowboys?”

  “Mothers are wise creatures,” Isabo Castiglione said. “Most of the time. Even old mothers.” She moved to the small kitchen on the back side of the three-room cabin. “I have a large pan of cinnamon rolls rising for you to take with you.”

  “Bless you.” Angelina hugged her mother. “I went to visit Sam this morning, then came straight here, so my baking time is cut short. Mami, I really—”

  “I used a double recipe to make sure there would be plenty,” her mother interrupted. “That way you can relax while you are here with us.”

  A good reminder that Noah needed her, a fact her mother pressed regularly. Angelina had brought them here, opting for safety. She’d taken herself off the radar intentionally, but Noah was no longer a baby, and living in seclusion wasn’t healthy. She needed to bring them into the open. For her mother, that meant back to friends and the life she loved in Seattle. But could Angelina let her go back there alone, with no family around? No.