Back in the Saddle

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “Do what?” he asked, stubborn as one of those yearling bulls on the ranch.

  “Get all mad and pull away from people. Isn’t that what got you into so much trouble with your sons? Each time one of them needed to get away, you made them pay.”

  “I never claimed to be easygoing.” Sam squared his shoulders, then stopped when the gesture caused more pain. “Easygoing doesn’t build a legacy like the Double S, and it doesn’t put food on the table.”

  “But it can help foster good family relationships.” She reached out and hugged him, ignoring his grumpy demeanor. “I love you, Sam. I love the Double S. But there are other responsibilities calling me. You understand that. And I want your blessing.”

  “You can’t just roll into people’s lives, change them up with all your talk of faith and hope, then leave them. That’s not how it’s done, Angelina.”

  “But isn’t that the strength of faith?” she asked him. “To weather change because we believe? By faith we stand firm.”

  “Tell that to a group of hungry cowboys at the end of a long, hard day when the kitchen’s empty and the oven’s cold,” he grumped. After a moment he reclaimed her hand. “You’re not rushing into this? You promise?”

  “On my honor. But it wouldn’t be right to keep this to myself, because it affects a whole lot of things.”

  “Darn right it does. I haven’t had to worry about much of anything other than cattle and horses since you came on board, and that hadn’t been the case for a lot of years. But there’s something else I’ve learned these past two years, a lesson I forgot a long time ago,” he said. “To put other people’s happiness ahead of my own. I forgot it with Christine, and then it was too late. For a long while I just didn’t care.”

  “You care now, Sam.”

  “Yes.”

  She squeezed his hand lightly and stood. “I’ve got to get back. Mami is cooking dinner, but I want to help Cheyenne with schoolwork. She’s Stafford stubborn, that one. And there’s an emergency town meeting tonight.”

  “So soon? Why?” Sam frowned. “Something’s not right.” His brows furrowed as he went into thinking mode. “Tell the boys we need to be there. If there are decisions to be made, we need to be in on the ground floor.”

  “What’s the matter with you people that you think rest is unneeded? The whole town could use a good night’s sleep, that’s what I’m thinking. And I’m guessing if someone’s pushing for a quick meeting, it could be because they know you’re in the hospital and won’t be in attendance.”

  “And three of those properties are part of Stafford holdings. You’ll give the boys my message?”

  “I will.”

  “One more thing,” he said. “What about Colt?”

  “What about him?” She kept her eyes and voice void of emotion—no easy feat.

  “A blind person can see—”

  “Don’t go there, Sam,” she warned. “Off limits.”

  Being a Stafford, of course he refused to listen. “I’ve seen the way Colt looks at you.” His words put her right back in Colt’s arms that morning. “What if God’s plans take you in that direction? Do you listen? Or still go?”

  “Dulce María, madre de Dios, ¿Qué estás pensando?”

  He answered smoothly, “What am I thinking? That my son has come home. He cares for you. What better way to spend the time I have left than seeing a son happy? That’s my dream, my goal right now. I want to see each one of my boys happy before I die. I think that means you need to stay.”

  “Stop trying to micromanage everything and everyone, okay? Colt’s got no intention of staying, and I have no intention of being left behind ever again.” She stood, slung her purse over her shoulder, and bent over him. “Don’t give the nurses a hard time and don’t cough. Or sneeze. Or laugh. Let your ribs rest and mend.”

  “You’ll come tomorrow to get me?”

  “Yes. And Trey will stop tonight on the way to the airport. So take a nap now. That way you’ll be awake when he comes through.”

  “You’re bossy.”

  “Which is why we get along. See you tomorrow.”

  “Angelina! Kittens!”

  Nick’s youngest daughter should have looked guilty when she drew Angelina’s attention toward the barn an hour later. Her comfortable expression meant sneaking into the barn while her father was distracted was becoming a new and bad habit, because a first grader shouldn’t be creeping into a cattle barn alone. Angelina hurried across the stone yard and followed Dakota into the barn. “You know you’re not supposed to come in here without an adult.”

  “Cheyenne does it.”

  “That doesn’t make it okay, sweetums. That just makes you both naughty.”

  Dakota looked up, her face imploring. “I had to follow Callie, Angelina, otherwise I wouldn’t find the babies. I love them so much. They’re so cute.” She squeezed her little hands as if unable to contain the glee, looking too sweet and innocent for anyone’s good.

  It was true that the barn cats were evasive when it came to their kittens. If a nest went unfound, they’d have a slew of feral cats running around instead of being adopted by happy country families. In that way Dakota had done well. “Where did she have them?”

  “Back here!”

  She followed Dakota to the far west corner of the second barn, and when they tiptoed behind some stored equipment, she caught Dakota by the shoulder. “You know your way around here way too well, ’Kota. You’ve been sneaking into the barn way more than you let on, haven’t you?”

  The girl sent a guilty look her way. Angelina bent lower. “This is no place for a kid to wander. There’s dangerous equipment everywhere, there are huge cows that aren’t exactly the most easygoing creatures when pregnant or protecting a newborn calf. Your grandfather is recovering from three broken ribs right now from one of those angry mamas, and he’s an experienced cattleman. What if something happens to you?”

  “I don’t touch anything,” Dakota protested. “I just follow the kitties. And sometimes I pet a horse. Or a baby cow. But I never go in the pens.”

  “You mustn’t do this.” Angelina settled a stern look on her. “I can’t keep you safe when you’re out of sight behind closed doors. If you want to come and see kittens or calves or this year’s foals, come get me. I’ll bring you, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Her quick answer sounded like token appeasement. Who would watch this daredevil child if she left? Who would see the seriousness of her desires to learn the ways of the ranch? Not her father. He was steeped in denial.

  “There are two calicos and one stripey and one orangey. I don’t know which one I want to keep, but I think the stripey is my first favorite.”

  “Oh. They’re so very tiny.” Angelina leaned over the straw bale and peeked at the new babies. “How precious.”

  “I know.” Dakota’s small hand clasped hers. “I’m always the happiest when I’m out here in the barn, Angelina. I wish I could stay here forever.”

  “Dakota! Where’ve you gotten to?” Nick’s voice bellowed from the ranch yard adjacent to the house.

  Dakota sighed, unhappy. “Good-bye, Callie. I’ll come see you and the babies soon.”

  “But not without a grownup.”

  “Okay.”

  “Promise?” Angelina stooped low. “Because otherwise you won’t be able to stay at Grandpa’s.”

  Dakota’s eyes went wide, distraught, and her sadness made Angelina want to give Nick Stafford a good shaking.

  Dakota had a natural interest in farming and horse work, and the Double S was part of her future legacy. Sure, she was little, but both girls had a curiosity and affinity for the ranch. In the heart of central Washington, most kids were playing rope-’n’-ride as soon as they could walk.

  “There you are.” Nick folded his arms as they exited the barn. “What were you doing in there?”

  “Looking at kittens.” She whispered the words in a sweet, tiny voice.

  “She had them?” He turne
d his attention to Angelina as Colt approached on horseback.

  “Four of them,” Angelina said.

  “I wanted to pick mine. You did promise us, Daddy.”

  He sighed, defeated. “I suppose it’s fine as long as you girls take care of it.”

  “Them.”

  “Them? What ‘them’?” he asked as Colt swung down from his horse.

  “You promised we could each pick one,” Dakota said. She folded her arms to mimic his stance. “You remember, right?”

  “I remember being hoodwinked. I don’t recall agreeing.”

  “Well, it’s the right thing to do,” she said, very serious. “Unless you get me a horse, Daddy. Then Cheyenne can have the kitten.”

  “Nice ploy, kid.” Colt reached down and bumped knuckles with her, then lifted his eyes to Angelina’s, and there was no missing his spark of interest. “Care to show me the kittens, Ange?”

  “I expect you’re too tired for kittens right now.” She stepped around the two men and the horse. “We need to make the town meeting tonight, so I’m going to help Mami get an early dinner on the table.”

  “I got your text about that,” Cole said as he loosened the saddle on the big chestnut gelding. He withdrew the saddle, settled it on the fence rail, and turned back to the horse. For just a moment he stood there, alongside his mount, chin down, as though he and Yesterday’s News were having a silent heart-to-heart. “Although why they’re meeting so quick is anybody’s guess.” He drew the reins forward and led the horse into the paddock as he spoke.

  “We go together,” Nick said. “If Isabo doesn’t mind having the girls here. I want to see what the rush is when the ground is still smoking.”

  “Your father is wondering the same thing and asked if you would both be there. As for watching the girls, I’ll check with Mami, but I’m sure it’s no problem. She’s enjoying their company tremendously.”

  “There’s Stafford land involved and Dad in the hospital. How often do you get an opportunity like that?” Colt’s tone suggested there might be other agendas afoot.

  “My guess is someone’s hoping we’re too busy to take notice,” Nick said. “It’s the perfect time to take advantage of our father when he’s too sick to stand his ground. So we’ll stand it for him,” he added. “I told Hobbs he didn’t have to go. He’s fine with sleeping now and taking the next watch on the mothers. Murt and Brock will help too, and Murt said Joe can sign on full time for the season. Then we can sleep tonight after the meeting.”

  “I’ll go get cleaned up,” Colt said. “Nobody wants me at a meeting smelling the way I do. With the power still out in town, you and the girls will stay here tonight, won’t you?”

  “Yep. Plan to.” Nick reached down and clasped Dakota’s hand. “But I’ll have to remind Isabo that these girls like to sneak into the barn.”

  Guilt kept Dakota’s eyes averted.

  “Maybe Brock can show Cheyenne and Noah the kittens,” Colt said.

  “You think he would?” Dakota turned toward Colt and her face lit up. “After supper?”

  “If he can’t, don’t go in there alone,” Nick warned. “You understand me, Dakota Mary Stafford?”

  “Yes sir.”

  Angelina flinched inside. She could rat the kid out, but her father already knew she’d adopted her sister’s covert missions as her own. Surely he knew that was partially his fault for making everything off limits.

  Dakota raced ahead, her excitement an example of everything good about raising kids on a ranch. Rebirth, industry, fruit of the land, and the labor of human hands. So much of what was proclaimed in the Bible came from farmers and fishermen. Buying food from sterile modern grocery stores tended to distance people from the source.

  Colt caught her hand. She turned, surprised. He held a clutch of white phlox, just beginning to open. “I found these on the south slope where they kind of appeared overnight, so I tucked a few in my bag. These little guys like sun but they don’t mind some shade, and they’re not fussy about dirt. I thought you’d like them.”

  She didn’t just like the clutch of baby blooms in her hand. She loved them. The thought of the wildflower beds ready to blossom reminded her of running the creek banks as a child. She held the miniature bouquet, the softer spring breeze gently ruffling them. When she didn’t say anything for long moments, Colt rocked back on his heels. “Stupid, right?” He shoved his hands in his pockets, and as he started to take a step back, she shook her head and raised her eyes to his. “Not stupid. Beautiful.”

  —

  He noted the sheen of moisture in her eyes right off.

  Colt might be able to handle a bunch of lying, cheating, conniving, suit-wearing Wall Street types, but he couldn’t handle a woman’s tears. Avoiding them made it worth staying single all these years, but when it was Angelina with damp eyes, he didn’t have the urge to run and hide until the tears passed.

  Instead he just wanted to make things better. “Hey, hey. Don’t cry.”

  “I’m not.” She swiped a hand to her cheeks, one at a time, and laughed through her tears. “I never cry.”

  “I can tell.”

  “I don’t,” she said, and he knew she was winning the battle by the increased authority in her voice. “Unless it’s a really good old movie I’ve seen a dozen times. In which case, all bets are off.”

  “You like them.” He indicated the spring blossoms.

  “I love them. I used to run the creek slope behind our house when I was young. I’d pick these for my mother, and every year she acted thrilled and surprised when I’d show up with a fistful of little white phlox.” She brought the bouquet up to her face and breathed. The sight of her long dark hair, the white collar of her turtleneck sweater, and the bouquet of white flowers made him think of weddings and pretty music and a beautiful bride, images he’d never entertained before. But he envisioned them now, watching Angelina.

  Maybe Murt was right. Maybe he’d been brought here for something that had nothing to do with money and everything to do with life. But that frame of mind would mean a full one-eighty change of direction. Was he ready for that? Would he ever be ready for that? He wasn’t sure, but with Angelina standing before him, the thought of staying seemed downright nice. “You’re beautiful.”

  She flushed. Looked down.

  He reached out and brought her chin up. “So beautiful.”

  “Colt…”

  He should kiss her again. He was aching to do just that, but the harmony of voices from the kitchen meant supper was being laid out. “I’m heading up to shower. We can revisit this later.”

  She didn’t look convinced, but she did look intrigued. He’d take that as a partial victory. He reached behind her and opened the door. When she walked in holding a bouquet of upland phlox, Nick, Murt, Brock, and Isabo exchanged glances. They all knew she didn’t find them growing in the yard. Which meant someone brought them to her.

  She said nothing, but as she crossed the room to get a small vase, she hummed softly.

  Isabo kept her eyes averted, pretending nonchalance. The men exchanged quick looks. Nick’s jaw went tight—remembering, maybe, when things with Whitney were good?

  Colt didn’t know.

  But when Angelina put the small round vase of white flowers on the shelf above the sink, the glow of the white blooms against the red-checked curtains brought him hope for more simple joys to come.

  “Well, Angelina, haven’t you got the two handsomest escorts in all of Gray’s Glen?” Wandy Schirtz’s happy face greeted them as Colt held the middle school auditorium door open for Nick and Angelina that evening. “If I wasn’t a happily married woman of forty-odd years, I’d take one of those lovelies off your hands.”

  “Take that one.” Colt popped a thumb in his brother’s direction, then reached down to grasp Angelina’s hand in front of everyone. “And teach him some manners, will you, Mrs. Schirtz?”

  “There’s a powerful amount of fixing to be done, so we’ll just add that to the list,�
�� she replied. She studied the blighted town a few blocks below. “We’ve got our work cut out for us, boys.”

  “That we do.” Nick moved through the door and then did something so sweet that Angelina wanted to go smack his ex-wife for a whole host of reasons, but mostly for not appreciating what a downright nice man Nick Stafford was. He put an arm around Wandy’s shoulders, gave her a half hug, and said, “Nothing we can’t handle, of course. And if that husband of yours ever leaves you a widow, I’ll come calling, okay?”

  She blushed like a schoolgirl. When Nick planted a son-like kiss to her temple, the elderly woman smiled through damp eyes. “You be sure to do that.”

  He walked in behind them as Angelina tried to wriggle her hand free from Colt’s grip. Face placid, and without a glance down, Colt didn’t let go. He moved forward, bringing her along. She knew he was doing it on purpose, because if there was one thing she’d discovered about Stafford men, they did everything with purpose.

  He led her to sit in a group of open seats to the right of the podium. Nick sat next to his brother as a large group of other locals filled in around them.

  The mayor brought the meeting to order. They started to follow the customary rules for meetings, but one of the old-timers stood up several rows back, his hat in hand. “Mr. Mayor, yesterday was a long day and night, and this one’s draggin’ deep already. Can we just let Eileen take the minutes while we move ahead without all the legal malarkey?”

  “I second that motion!” shouted a voice from the back.

  “All in favor, say ‘Aye,’ ” someone else called. When the room rang with approvals, the mayor smacked his small gavel against the sound block.

  He mopped his brow despite the cool room. Reluctance shadowed his normally easygoing face. He hauled in a breath and addressed the small crowd. “You all know why we’re here. We’ve got some big decisions comin’ up and not much time to weigh them. We lost several complete buildings last night, including four homes on Chelan Pass, Sal’s Auto, Curly Jo’s beauty shop, and the church. Six other buildings sustained significant smoke and water damage. Now I know we’ve got two other churches in town.” He gave a deferential nod to the priest and pastors sitting on the far left. “And I respect each one of them, but Grace of God Community was the first church hereabouts. Half of us were either baptized there or married there or said our good-byes to someone we loved there.