by R. C. Ryan
“Sounds very mysterious.”
He nodded. “I suppose so. It’s just part of the family lore. I know the story, but just barely. It’s not something my dad likes to talk about. He’d rather just mind his own business and tend his land.”
“It’s all so beautiful.” She studied the way his gaze moved over the rolling hills. “And you love it.”
When he turned to her in surprise, she laughed. “It’s written all over your face.” She lifted a hand to his cheek. “You have a very expressive face, Ben.”
He caught her hand, holding it against his flesh. “Thanks for that warning. I’ll try to hide some of my more…wicked thoughts.”
“Wicked? You?” She gave a shake of her head. “You’re one of the best men I know, Ben Monroe.”
Seeing the way his eyes darkened with feeling, she turned to indicate the lovely rolling hills. “It’s so peaceful out here. Living in town, I forget how different it is up here in the hills, away from stores, cars, people.”
“When I’m up here, I think how lucky I am to be living in paradise. My life could have been so different.”
“Why?”
He seemed surprised. “You don’t know? My brothers and I weren’t born here. Thanks to the efforts of Mary Pat and Zachariah, we were able to be adopted by Mackenzie Monroe.”
“I knew you and your brothers were adopted. But I never knew any more than that. How did your father find you?”
Ben gave a wry laugh. “We found him.”
As they walked through waist-high grass, he told her how he and his brothers, desperate and ready to fight for their freedom, had broken into Mac’s house during a blizzard, and the amazing turn of events that had forever changed all their lives.
When he’d finished, she put a hand on his arm. “What a story. You could write a book.”
“Not my style.” He closed a hand over hers. “Maybe Finn will write it one day. He’s the brain of the family.”
“And you’re so proud of him.”
“I’m proud of both my brothers. Don’t let Sam’s zany sense of humor fool you. He has more fun than anybody I know, but when it comes to ranching, he takes it seriously. In a lot of ways, he’s the most like our dad.”
“You call Mackenzie Monroe Dad?”
He grinned. “It took me a while. I wasn’t sure just what I was getting into. But I knew one thing. I was never going back to the life I had before I met him.”
“Was it bad?”
His smile faded. “I’d rather hear you talk about your dream for that little plot of land.”
She could feel the sudden darkness that came over him.
Sensing his need to change the subject, she sighed. “I wish I knew more. Right now, I can see Lamar Platt’s log furniture luring shoppers in. But I’ll need a whole lot more than a swing, a chair, and a table.”
“You’ll figure it out. But at least you’re beginning to see the possibilities.”
“Oh, Ben.” She squeezed his hand. “I can’t wait to get started.”
Ben lifted her hand to his lips and was about to draw her close when he heard a voice.
“Hey, you two.”
“Hey, Dad.” Ben waved before he and Rebecca led their horses toward the horse and rider in the middle of a herd of cattle.
Mac dismounted, whipping off his hat and wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “Did you two enjoy your time with Lamar and Lloyd Platt?”
Rebecca and Ben both nodded.
Rebecca’s smile said more than words. “I told Ben and Mary Pat they’re two of the sweetest men I’ve ever met.”
“That’s them.” Mac chuckled. “My Rachel used to send them a huge tin of peanut butter fudge every Christmas Eve. Lamar told her it was always gone by Christmas night.”
“He did admit to having a sweet tooth. In fact,” Rebecca added with a laugh, “the only thing he asked Mary Pat to bring him on her next visit was her chocolate chip cookies.”
“Some things never change.” Mac nodded toward the distant barns far below. “Let’s head home. I’m sure Zachariah will have supper ready by the time we get there.”
Ben held the reins of Rebecca’s horse as she pulled herself into the saddle. “Mary Pat is lending a hand. I think I heard Roscoe hinting for pie.”
“That man does love pie.” Mac turned his mount toward home. “And so do I. As long as it’s baked by Mary Pat.”
As they rode up to the ranch house, Ben turned to Mac. “I’ll rub down your horse, Dad. You go ahead inside and clean up.”
“Thanks, son.” Mac slid from the saddle.
“I can take yours, too.” Ben turned to Rebecca, but her attention was fixed on a faded garden standing in a small, fenced-in area to one side of the barn.
“Who’s the gardener?”
“That’s all Otis. He’s been fascinated with growing vegetables and fruits and berries for years.”
She dismounted and followed Ben to the barn, where they proceeded to rub down their horses before turning them into a corral.
Inside, they washed up at the sink before stepping into the kitchen, where the others had gathered for their daily ritual.
Mary Pat was handing around frosty longnecks. Both Ben and Rebecca took long swallows.
“Nothing better after a long, hot ride,” Ben said.
Rebecca nodded, enjoying how casual and comfortable this all felt. “I was just thinking the same.” She looked around. “What’s that amazing smell?”
“Lemon meringue pie.” Roscoe spoke the words almost reverently, causing everyone to burst into laughter.
“It’s the least I could do for my mechanic.” Mary Pat put a hand on Otis’s shoulder. “You realize I still owe you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His lips split in a wide grin. “But I’m not sure you know how to make ham and collard greens the way my mama used to.”
That had everyone grinning.
“I could probably make it, but I’m sure it wouldn’t taste as good as your mama’s,” Mary Pat said.
“Nobody’s could ever taste that good. Probably ’cause it’s one of my happiest memories. And real life can never hold a candle to our memories.”
“Well, my man, I did my best with roast beef,” Zachariah announced.
“I know you did.” Otis breathed in the perfumed steam as Zachariah opened the oven door.
Soon, after Mary Pat intoned a blessing, they gathered around the table, feasting on roast beef so tender it melted in the mouth, along with oven-roasted potatoes, the last of the garden tomatoes cut into thick slices, and sourdough rolls.
“More potatoes, Roscoe?”
When Ben offered him the platter, the old man shook his head and patted his middle. “I’m leaving plenty of room for Mary Pat’s lemon meringue pie.”
And he did, helping himself to a second slice only slightly smaller than the first.
“That,” Mac said with a sigh, “was amazing.”
“The best ever,” Roscoe added.
When the meal was finished, and Sam and Finn stood up to start the dishes, both Ben and Rebecca shoved them away.
“You guys did the barn chores this morning,” Ben said.
“That’s right.” Rebecca put a hand on Finn’s arm to steer him back to the table. “All we did was play the whole day. Now it’s our turn to do something useful.”
Sam circled the table, topping off cups of coffee while Finn helped himself to a beer.
He leaned close to Rebecca. “Careful. I could get used to watching a pretty woman do my work.”
Ben gave him a friendly punch to the shoulder. “Find your own pretty woman, bro.”
The others laughed as they sat back, feeling relaxed and replete.
Zachariah noted that Rebecca’s cheeks weren’t nearly as red as they’d been earlier. Could it be she was already getting accustomed to Ben’s rowdy brothers?
Rebecca hung a damp kitchen towel on a hook to dry. “We should be getting back.”
“Okay.” Ben loo
ked around at the empty kitchen. “Where did everyone go?”
“I think they’re outside, looking at Mary Pat’s van.”
“Okay. Let’s join them before we say good-bye.”
She nodded.
Ben took her hand as they walked out the back door and down the steps.
The entire family was gathered around the van, with Otis and Roscoe explaining what had gone wrong with the engine.
“The main question is,” Sam said with a straight face, “will it be good for another hundred thousand miles?”
The two old men shared a laugh. “The truth?” Roscoe chuckled. “This old engine should have been given a funeral years ago. But we’ve just given it a new life. I think it’s safe to say you won’t be grounded any time soon, Mary Pat.”
“My heroes.” She patted the hood. “So, can I leave in the morning?”
“More like noon,” Roscoe said. “I’d like to do a full evaluation and take it for a test drive first.”
“All right. That sounds fair.” Mary Pat turned to Otis. “That will give me time to fix those collard greens just like your mama’s.”
He pointed to a box. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’m going to see what’s left to pick in my garden right now.”
Rebecca walked up beside him. “Can I help?”
He gave her a wide smile. “I’d be happy to have your help, Miss Rebecca.”
When they circled the barn, she pointed to the field of pumpkins. “Did you plant all these?”
He gave a huff of laughter. “I tossed some seeds, and I swear, every one of those vines produced a dozen or more of those blasted pumpkins.”
“You don’t like them?”
He shrugged. “What’re they good for except pies? We’ve already baked half a dozen. Even Roscoe is sick and tired of pumpkin pie. And that man does love his pie.”
“Could I buy some from you?”
“Buy them? Why would you buy pumpkins?”
“I was thinking they’d look festive in a space I’m planning.”
“Miss Rebecca, you can have all the pumpkins you can carry home. I’m more than happy to get rid of them.”
“Do you mean it?” She walked over and began to pick up a pumpkin.
“Not that one.” Otis stepped up beside her and thumped it with his fist. “Hear that?”
She shrugged. “What am I listening for?”
“A heavy sound. Like it’s full of pulp. This one’s hollow. No good for pies.”
“But probably really good for carving.”
“Oh.” His smile grew. “Yes, ma’am. I’d say it would be very good for carving, if that’s what you’re after.” He turned. “I’ll be right back.”
Minutes later he returned.
Ben trailed behind him, hauling a wagon. “Otis says you’ve found something else to take home.”
“I hope you don’t mind.”
He was grinning. “Otis is happy to get rid of these. They’re just food for the deer once the snows come.”
In no time, with all three of them working, they’d filled the wagon with dozens of bright orange pumpkins. That didn’t even make a dent in the number still left behind in the garden.
Ben started away. “I’ll load these in the back of my truck.”
“Thanks, Ben.” Rebecca turned to help Otis pick greens. As they worked, she said, “You really have a green thumb, Otis. How did you get so good at this?”
He huffed out a breath and sat back, looking up at the sky. “I’m just one of those people who had to learn everything the hard way. Gardening wasn’t something I could do, growing up on the streets of Chicago.”
“How did you get from a big city like Chicago to a tiny town like Haller Creek, Montana?”
“It was quite a journey. I grew up in the projects, and was still living there years later, with my wife and two little boys.”
“You have a wife and sons?”
He went still for a moment. “Had. They were the light of my life. They all died in a fire, and I wanted to die with them. I was a lost soul.”
“Oh, Otis.” She touched a hand to his arm. “I’m so sorry.”
He seemed to go somewhere in his mind. “I couldn’t handle the loss. I wandered around for weeks in a daze. Then one night I got so drunk, I decided to sleep in a boxcar parked along the railroad tracks. I woke up in that same boxcar, except that it was somewhere in Iowa.” He shook his head, remembering. “I’d never been outside Chicago. But here I was, alone, no money, no place to sleep. I had to survive, so I took a job in a diner, washing dishes, and sleeping in the back room. Then I hitchhiked across Nebraska and…” He shook his head. “I just kept going, working whenever I could. And one day I looked up and all I could see were miles and miles of rolling green hills and more cattle than people. I should have been scared, but in truth it felt like I’d died and gone to heaven. I walked most of the day. Then I walked up to this door and said I’d do whatever they needed done if I could have a meal and sleep in their barn. And this beautiful lady with a smile that could rival the sun and eyes that danced whenever she smiled took me in, fed me, then introduced me to her husband and said to do whatever he asked. I expected to be gone in a day, but they told me I could sleep in the bunkhouse, and I could work there as long as I wanted. And here I am. Still living and working here all these years later.”
“You met Mackenzie Monroe’s wife?”
He nodded. “Rachel. And their son, Robbie. Such good people. I don’t think they even noticed that my skin wasn’t the color of theirs, or that I was a city dude who’d never been up close to a horse or cow before.”
She said in awe, “Rachel and Robbie.”
“When they were killed in an accident up on the interstate, I knew exactly what Mac was going through, because I’d been there myself.”
Rebecca knelt in the dirt beside Otis. “I can’t imagine your incredible journey. Especially after the pain of losing your wife and sons.”
“I thought at the time I’d never get past it.” He shook his head. “Funny, how time has a way of healing even the deepest wounds.”
“Would you ever go back to Chicago?”
He looked over at her. “There’s nothing there for me. This is my world now. My life. And it’s a good one.” He looked up at the fading sunset trailing ribbons of pink and gold across the sky. “I do believe there are no accidents in life. It’s all part of a grand plan. That boxcar started what you called my incredible journey. And I’m still on it. Riding through a life I never could have dreamed.”
Seeing Ben starting toward them, Rebecca put a hand on the old man’s sleeve. “Thank you for sharing your story with me, Otis. And thank you for the pumpkins.”
When Ben reached her side, she stood. “Enjoy your collard greens tomorrow.”
“Oh, you know I will. Good night, Ben. And, Miss Rebecca…”
She paused.
“You’re easy to talk to. I’ve never talked about that part of my life before. I guess it’s because you’re such a good listener.”
When she turned away, Ben took her hand and led her back to the others. After saying good night to everyone, he helped her into his truck.
As he put the truck in gear, he turned to her. “What did Otis talk to you about?”
“About what brought him here to Montana.”
As they started away, she turned to wave and felt her eyes fill.
Ben looked over. “Tears?”
“Just dust in my eye.” She blinked furiously. “I really like your family, Ben. All of them.”
“Yeah.” Seeing that she was embarrassed by her tears, he decided not to ask anything more. “They’re something, aren’t they?”
She nodded, unwilling to trust her voice.
On the long drive home she thought about what Otis had told her.
There were no accidents in life. It was all part of a grand plan.
Everyone, it seemed, had to deal with life in their own way. Now if only she could find the courag
e needed to deal with hers, and to continue on the course she’d set for herself before coming back to Haller Creek.
Chapter Thirteen
The lights were on in the houses and shops as Ben drove through the streets of Haller Creek.
When he pulled up to Rebecca’s house, he walked her to the door.
She glanced toward his truck. “What about all my things?”
“Since the hardware store is closed now, why don’t I unload them tomorrow morning, before I head back to the ranch after work?”
Her eyes widened. “You’re working tonight?”
He nodded.
“Oh, Ben. I thought you had the night off. You’re not wearing your uniform.”
“Virgil ordered new ones for me. He said they’d be coming today and that he’d hang them in the back room.”
“But you didn’t get any sleep today.”
“Don’t worry. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to work around the clock. Ranchers don’t get the luxury of sleeping if there’s a snowstorm, or a flood, or the hundred and one things that can go wrong on a ranch the size of ours. Besides, this day was better than sleep.”
“It was the best. Thank you, Ben.”
“Good night, Becca.” He kept his eyes steady on hers as he lowered his mouth to hers. Just a butterfly brush of lips to lips, tasting, testing. When she didn’t resist, he drew her fractionally closer and moved his mouth over hers again, absorbing a rush of heat that had him thinking about devouring her in one quick bite. Instead he cautioned himself to move with care.
He saw the way her lashes fluttered, before her eyes closed. He could feel the way her breath came out in a sigh, filling his mouth with the sweet taste of her.
She reacted to his touch like a deer being offered a carrot. Too hungry to flee, but watching warily with each delicate taste.
And so he fed her.
He brushed soft kisses to her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. Against her lips he murmured, “Remember to lock your door.”
He ran his hands across her shoulders, down her back.
“Yes. I…will.” Though she stood perfectly still, the little tremors that shot through her were a sign that she wasn’t immune to his touches, his kisses.