Back in the Saddle

by Ruth Logan Herne

  He would be happy with her back on the job. Her mother would be happy back in Seattle. And it wasn’t that she didn’t like the city or her job; it was—

  She sighed as she slipped the last batch of cookies onto the cooling rack.

  Seattle wasn’t the problem. She was the problem, and she needed to erase the pipe dreams she’d entertained recently. Her, Noah, and Colt, finding a home on the Double S…because it wasn’t about to happen.

  “No time for food. Pressing to finish. Back just in time for meeting.”

  Colt sent the text, then repocketed his phone.

  “You letting Angelina know time’s tight today?” Nick asked as he and Brock unspooled fresh wire to Colt’s fence post. “Hate to have her make something and no one’s there to eat it.”

  “I told her not to worry about dinner.”

  “I hope Isabo doesn’t mind watching the girls again. I should have mentioned it to her this morning.” Nick waited while Brock applied the fastener before he looped his wire in place. “I don’t mean to take advantage, but the girls really like her.”

  Colt glanced at his watch. “They’re already at the house, so I expect she’s got it figured out. I know you’ve got a neighbor who keeps an eye on them after school, but who watches them when you go out?”

  Nick frowned as he worked the second strand into place. “I don’t go out.”

  “Oh, man.” A hint of warning came with Hobbs’s words.

  “Like ever?”

  Nick’s forehead formed a tight ridge, a real warning sign. Colt ignored it. “No dating? None?”

  “The girls need me. They come first.” Nick jerked his head to the upper post. “Come on, Brock.”

  As Nick and Brock moved on, Colt and Hobbs leapfrogged them with the four-wheeler, and by the time Nick and Brock reached them again, Colt decided to let the subject slide. Nick had always been more cautious, and he’d done an impressive job with their father of bringing the Double S to incredible standards. Colt respected that. And with Cheyenne’s current school issues, Nick didn’t need his older brother’s teasing. Right now, Nick needed his support.

  “We’ve got to call it, guys,” he told the group about two hours later. The uphill activity warmed him, but the lengthening shadows had grown cold. He was plenty hungry, and it was almost meeting time. If they headed down immediately, he might be able to slap a quick bologna sandwich together. “Brock, can you take care of the horses while we head into town?”

  “Glad to.”

  They arrived barnside with no time to spare. Colt made sure his plans and notes were in the back of the ranch SUV, then headed into the kitchen, where a dear, familiar smell greeted him. “Is that rhubarb I smell? Isabo, I think I love you.”

  Isabo didn’t give him her customary smile of appreciation. In fact, she barely looked up. “With strawberries, yes. It’s cooling now. It should be ready after the meeting.”

  “Try this, Colt. It might look funny, but I think you’ll like it.”

  He saw himself sitting in their old kitchen, a kitchen trimmed in apple this and apple that. Funny, he hadn’t thought of that old apple décor in a long time.

  “What is it?” He’d eyed the fork full of pie filling and made a face. “I don’t think I like it.”

  “It’s one of my favorites.” His father’s voice rang through, hearty and happy. He turned and saw his father’s face, a smile so wide and true that Colt felt happier seeing it. “And no one makes it better than your mother, Colt.”

  He didn’t want to make his mother sad. She worked so hard to make things nice for him. To take care of them all—him, his dad, all the workers. And Grandma Mule when she came to visit. He took the fork and tested the tiniest bit.

  Sweetness burst on his tongue. He hesitated, surprised, and tried a little more. The sweetness hit again, followed by a tangy taste, like those candies he liked so well, the ones that mixed up sweet and sour until his mouth wasn’t sure which he liked better. “It’s so good, Mom!”

  “You like it?” She’d leaned back and smiled at him…

  This time he could see her face. Her bright blue eyes, her blond-brown hair pulled back in a western-style ponytail. He couldn’t see what she was wearing, but he could see her, his mother, in his mind’s eye, and that was the first time he’d been able to remember her clearly in decades. And all because of a pie.

  “I’ll look forward to a piece when we get back, Isabo. My mother used to make strawberry rhubarb pie. It was one of our favorites.”

  “Your father said the same. Angelina made sure the freezer was full of rhubarb last spring. It is a nice treat to have something out of season.”

  “It really is.” Was he that overhungry, or was it the glow of a good memory that made his stomach gurgle in anticipation? “I’ll look forward to it. Has Angelina already left?”

  She looked at him then. Something in her eyes put him on alert, but she only nodded. “She and your father have gone. Sam said he didn’t like being slow, and he likes it less when everyone’s watching.”

  Nick came through with a fresh jacket on and keys in his hand. Cheyenne grabbed hold of his sleeve before he got to the door. “How come you never let me do anything I want to do?”

  “Because I’m the father and it’s my job to keep you safe.” Nick sighed. “I don’t have time to talk about this now, Cheyenne.”

  “You never do!”

  “You’re being overdramatic, Cheyenne.”

  She made a noise and stomped her foot as though proving his point.

  But Colt thought the kid was pretty much on the money. She’d brought things up to her father repeatedly, and he either pleaded for more time or just said no. Colt might not be a father, but he’d been a kid. Back then he eventually refused to listen to his father and did his own thing. After knowing Cheyenne these past weeks, he was pretty sure she was cut from similar cloth.

  “We’ll discuss this later,” Nick told her. Her expression said later wasn’t good enough, but Nick ignored it. “You’re busy enough, your schoolwork needs more time, and I’m the decision maker.” Nick leaned down and kissed Dakota, then Cheyenne. “Gotta go. Be good for Isabo, okay?”

  “It’s not fair.” Cheyenne looked mad enough to cry. “I’m almost nine years old. I should be able to make my own choices!” She crossed her arms, her jaw set. “You never listen to me, you never have time to listen to me, and I don’t care what you say. I’ll do what I want!”

  “Your little tirade has earned you nothing. No treats and no screen time for you tonight,” Nick informed her as he moved to the door. He faced Isabo. “Sorry to leave you in a lurch.”

  Isabo waved them off. “We are fine. We have much to do here. Go to your meeting, and there will be pie waiting for your return. The town must be fixed, yes?”

  “Yes,” Colt agreed. “Maybe together we can really make a difference.” His words drew her gaze up, but she didn’t smile in agreement. Instead, she gave him a cool, questioning look before shifting her attention to the kids at the table.

  “Will I like the pie, Isabo?” Dakota asked.

  “If not, there are cookies. But first, let us finish our reading in the other room. Talk of pie will be for later.”

  “Mr. Colt?” Noah raced out of the front room and threw himself into Colt’s arms. “Do you have to go away again?”

  Colt hugged him and kissed his smooth, soft cheek. “Just for a little bit.”

  “But why?” He leaned back and locked eyes with Colt. “Can’t you just stay here? Pwease?”

  He’d like nothing more than to grab food, eat, and play with Noah, but he shook his head, regretful. “Can’t do it, bud. I’ve got to get to town, and I’m already late.”

  “I don’t want you to go.” Noah buried his face into Colt’s neck. “Pwease don’t go away.”

  Colt breathed in the scent of him. Maple syrup, something fruity, and a hint of chocolate from the plate of cookies. “Kid, you smell good enough to eat.”

  Noah lau
ghed as if eating little boys was an actual possibility.

  Colt noogied his head and set him down. “I’ll be back soon, okay? With Mommy.”

  Noah looked confused. “I th-thought you were going away.”

  “To the meeting, same as Mommy. I’ll see you in the morning.” He bent low and looked into Noah’s eyes. “You can tell me all about the story you read with Abuela tonight, okay? Uncle Nick wants me working the cows mighty early these days, so don’t sleep in.”

  Noah gripped his hand, suddenly happy. “Okay!”

  The boy’s smile made him feel good—the way he thought a father would feel. The way he wished his father had felt for him when he was little. He’d like the chance to show Noah the kindness he’d missed. Teach him the ways of the ranch, how to clean a barn, tend a saddle, and care for folks around him. That was the big difference between Gray’s Glen and New York. Here, he actually cared for the people. What happened in Gray’s Glen took on a personal feel because it was personal.

  He let Nick drive and thought about ranch things he’d brushed off long ago. A well-run ranch should spawn family unity—although the occasional squabble couldn’t be avoided. They’d gotten it backward. They had the squabble part perfected, but they’d completely messed up the part about family unity.

  And yet that same enterprise encompassed land husbandry, animal appreciation, respect for life, and attentiveness to food production. His father was brilliant at all of them. If Christine Stafford hadn’t died, how different would all this be?

  There would be no Nick. No Cheyenne or Dakota. There would have been no need for Angelina’s services in the cool, shady glens beneath the Cascades. He might have never worked on Wall Street. Did it all happen for a reason? Or did it just happen, and as humans they needed to apply reason? Either way, he was determined to make the best of what lay before him. A second chance, a new bend in the road, not just for him and Angelina but for all the Staffords.

  The school lot was full. Cars, trucks, and SUVs lined both sides of the square. Nick parked close to Hammerstein’s, and they hurried across the scramble of construction zones. Nick pulled the middle school door open. Colt stepped in just as the crowd voted to approve the minutes from the previous meeting.

  He moved to a nearby seat. Nick followed. Angelina and his father were diagonal from him, close to the opposite exit. He tried to catch Angelina’s eye, but she and Sam were focused on Hi Baxter, Johnny’s older brother, as he moved to the podium. Hi swept the room with a look, then paused long enough to get the crowd antsy before he began. “Most of you know why we’re here tonight. And it’s not to rubber-stamp the same old, same old way of doing things.” He settled his gaze on Colt’s father, a silent call-out. “It’s to look at all our options.” He stressed the word all with pretty fierce intent for a small-town councilman. “All the choices we can make now as a community. Not a monarchy.” A murmur of assent crossed the room.

  Colt expected Sam to react.

  He didn’t. Instead he sat there, letting Hi spew as though it wasn’t directed to him at all. Colt bided his time, the tube of plans firm in his hand, but kept an eye on his father.

  Lucy stepped into the meeting room from the door nearest Angelina. She moved to her side, bent, and said something in Ange’s ear. Angelina whispered something to Sam, stood, and quietly followed Lucy out the door.

  Where were they going? Why now? And why hadn’t she even glanced around looking for him? She hadn’t texted him back, hadn’t answered his calls. Generally, when a woman set her hat to ignoring a man, she had a reason, but Colt had actually been on good behavior for days. For him, that was some kind of record.

  “And like the phoenix rising from the ashes—”

  Colt bit back a snort and texted Angelina again.

  “—the tragedy of our fire can be turned to good if we rezone the acreage at the end of West Chelan Pass and Martin Street from farmland to commercial as we reinvent our master plan.”

  Nick jabbed his midsection. “Hey. Einstein. Pay attention. He holds the right of first refusal to buy that land from old Mrs. Porter,” Nick whispered. “She sold part of the farm to the developer who built the houses near mine, but she held on to the rest. Hi’s been after her to sell for years. He wants to put a strip mall in there.”

  “A strip mall? In Gray’s Glen?” Colt couldn’t imagine it. “There couldn’t be a worse idea.”

  “Well, the mayor’s up for reelection next fall. Due to the declining population and lack of jobs, there’s more than a few people clamoring for change. No one’s quite sure what they want. This whole underinsured situation has everybody thinking hard about what to do.”

  Jobs. Security. Homes. All things he’d ignored as a financial powerhouse in New York, but here in his hometown, they were crucial elements of well-being.

  Colt approached the podium once Hi moved back to his seat. Would they like his ideas? He’d been so sure they would that he hadn’t considered someone else might be looking to turn the situation to an advantage. Was Hi’s solution best for the town? Or best for Hi Baxter?

  Colt breathed deeply, braced his hands on both sides of the podium, and faced the filled-to-capacity room. “I want to thank Hi for his suggestion of rezoning tonight, without the bother of studies or approvals or plans. He’s got a real git-’r-done attitude.” He faced the audience and made eye contact with multiple people. “He’s right. Unfortunate circumstances can lead to progress, but it’s crucial for us to choose what kind of progress we want.”

  An old-timer in the back shouted, “We mostly want jobs so our kids stop runnin’ off soon as they graduate high school and never come back. I ain’t seen no one figure that out since you was a pup, Colt, and if Hi’s line of stores can bring some jobs along with it, I’m inclined to favor ’em.”

  “I hear you,” Colt said. He drew the roll of plans out of the shipping tube at his side. As he did, Josh Washington set up a drafting easel on Colt’s left. “And I agree, jobs are the basis for stability. Well…” He looked at his father and thought of how the town had rallied around the thought of rebuilding the church. “Jobs and faith, it seems.” He smiled, then shifted his attention to the layout Josh posted. “Let me show you what Josh and I have been discussing.”

  He anchored the paper while Josh pinned the plans to the board. “I agree with Hi that we could benefit the town and our families with some change, so this is what Stafford Enterprises is ready to propose.” He accepted a pointer from Josh and motioned to the attractive layout. “What you’re seeing looks like a street of shops, probably more suited for New England, and I apologize that we couldn’t have them redrawn with a more western facade for this evening’s meeting. However, that adjustment is already in the works.”

  He indicated the upper sections. “Above the businesses, we’ve got two levels of senior living apartments with affordable rent that stretch for two-thirds of the available space. The apartments will share a common party/gathering area here”—he moved the pointer down—“with a full kitchen, three meeting rooms, two bathrooms, and plenty of room for folks to come together for family events or town functions.” He pointed to the next section. “This gives us room for shops and small businesses at the street level—clean, fresh, and new but designed with old-style western warmth. And over here”—he moved the pointer north—“we propose an assisted living house with a small memory care unit, a place where folks like Coach Irvine can live out whatever time God gives them, close to friends and family.”

  “Don’t know how it can be affordable when it’s that fancy,” said an old woman. “Why do we need fancy? Plain’s good enough for most folks around here.”

  “Jemma Myering, who put a burr under your saddle?” Wandy demanded from behind Nick. “If you’re going to do something, I’ve always thought do it right, not half baked. Don’t we all love the way Hammerstein’s keeps its old-fashioned appearance?”

  Most of the room seemed to agree. “Then why not use an Old West theme on this idea, i
f folks like it?” She turned more toward Colt. “Where exactly would we be building this, Colt, because it’s a mighty big piece you’ve got there.”

  “We’d like to put this along the stretch where the fire did the most damage, the section of Chelan Pass overlooking the town. There would also be the future possibility of building patio-style homes up here.” He used the pointer to display the location, but part of his attention was on the far door. Where had Angelina gone, and why hadn’t she come back? He’d really wanted her to see this. “We’re hoping that future plans will include a health clinic just north of the complex,” he explained, continuing to make eye contact with as many people as he could. “We’d still need to drive to Ellensburg for major medical care, but a clinic would give us good solid services right in our own backyard.”

  “What about them homes that burned? And the folks that rented ’em?” called a man from the far back.

  “Well, that’s where Josh comes in. You all know my father owns this parcel down below.” He pointed to the east end of town. “We’d like to raze that old machining building and build six small homes in its place. That way the families would be closer to schools, the park, and the playground.”

  “I’d be happy not to look at that old building anymore, that’s for certain,” Jemma Myering said.

  “And neither one of these proposals is dependent on zoning changes or acquiring land,” he reminded them. “The Staffords already own the land, and my father is investing his own money to fund both projects. I’ll be here to oversee them.”

  Sam had been sitting quietly, listening, but now his head came up. He stared at Colt as if confused.

  Josh stepped to the microphone. “I’ve talked to Colt and signed on to do the construction for the new homes on Jasper Road. I’ve already ordered the demolition of the old building. We intend to leave as many native trees standing as we can. I’ve also recommended Slater Commercial Construction to bid on the larger residential/business complex Colt has presented.” He ran a hand over his short, nubby hair, then gave the plans an admiring look. “I don’t know if you can envision this like I am, but here’s what I see. When the church is rebuilt with logs and a western-styled entrance, and just uphill these western-style storefronts are facing the square along with the church, the whole thing feels right and good, like it fits us and our town.