Love Inspired June 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: The Cowboy's HomecomingThe Amish Widow's SecretSafe in the Fireman's Arms

by Carolyne Aarsen

  She felt suddenly off balance.

  Silly, foolish romantic, she chastised herself, frustrated that all it took was a soulful look from those deep brown eyes and she was back in high school. You can’t let that girlish crush influence your decisions.

  “Glad that’s out of the way,” she said, struggling to find some levity. “Onward and upward.” She slipped the camera back in her bag. “Where to next, cowboy?”

  Lee looked at her as if surprised at her response. Then he handed her Bonny’s reins. “I thought we could go a bit farther to the back pasture. You can get a better view.”

  “Of the extensive Bannister estate?” she said with a wry tone.

  “Of the ranch,” he said, a glower showing her that he didn’t fully appreciate her comment.

  She knew she was being flippant, but it was the only defense she had against him.

  And the way he was making her feel, she knew she would need everything she could use to keep him at arm’s length.

  Lifting her chin, Abby slipped her knapsack over her shoulders, looped Bonny’s reins around her hand, then carefully mounted her. The cut on her ankle didn’t bother her as much, but she still preferred to err on the side of caution. Once she was up in the saddle, Lee clucked to his horse and with a nudge got him walking along the edge of the basin.

  Abby couldn’t help a glimmer of admiration as Lee rode away from her. His movements easily matched Bandit’s, his hands light on the reins, his hips moving in sync with his horse’s walk. The angle of the sun highlighted horse and rider, now silhouetted against the mountains beyond the basin, and she had to stop herself from pulling out her camera and taking a picture.

  She had enough photos of Lee, and if she took any more, she was venturing too far into the same place that had gotten her into trouble when she was taking photos of Lee for the yearbook and Mitch and David had found out.

  She pushed that thought down, focusing instead on the land around her, looking for camera angles, light and shadows.

  After twenty minutes of riding, they turned a corner and were looking over another cow-dotted pasture. A fence line snaked down the side of the hill toward the creek spooling out well below them.

  “Did you want some pictures?” he asked, stopping.

  “I’d love to get some of those calves,” Abby said, pointing to a group of calves, tails up, racing across the pasture like a group of teenagers without curfew.

  Lee nodded then dismounted with an easy movement. Abby knew she wouldn’t be able to get off as smoothly. She could feel the muscles in her leg starting to hurt and her ankle was getting sore.

  Obviously Lee had noticed her discomfort as well and headed over, leading Bandit.

  “You okay?” he asked as he tied his horse to the tree.

  “Just a bit stiff.”

  “We can go home after this.”

  “Yeah. Might be a good idea,” she admitted, feeling foolish. Lee was probably just getting warmed up. He certainly didn’t look as though the hour ride was causing him any pain.

  Abby set up her tripod, deciding to try some telephoto shots this time. She changed lenses, then took out her notebook and scribbled down some of the things Lee had told her before they left her scattered brain.

  “So, what’s easier for you, the picture taking or the writing?” he asked curiously.

  “Pictures. For sure,” she returned.

  “Well, they say a picture is worth a thousand words.”

  “Yeah, but they take up a thousand times the memory on my computer,” she returned as she put her notebook back in her knapsack. “Especially once I start editing them.”

  “Do you do a lot of photo editing?”

  She was pleasantly surprised at his interest. “Depends on the picture,” she said, giving him a quick look before leaning forward to look through her lens. “Sometimes, if I’ve used a filter on the camera, not as much. But mostly I spend about twenty minutes or so per photo enhancing the light, tweaking the contrast, bumping up the color, sometimes adding some blur. Again, depends on what effect I’m trying to achieve.”

  “And the writing part. Will you be showing my father what you do before it goes to your editor?”

  Abby shook her head as she adjusted the tripod. “I don’t think so. I’m writing the piece from my point of view, and if I know that your father or someone else attached to the ranch could have input, it won’t be a true piece.”

  “Truth can be twisted around depending on your point of view,” Lee said.

  Was she being overly sensitive or had his tone sounded as sharp as she thought?

  Don’t overreact. Ask questions first.

  Maddie’s advice filtered into her mind just as Abby was about to protest. “What do you mean by that?” she asked.

  He frowned at her, then shook his head. “Nothing. Just...thinking out loud.”

  “I get the feeling there is more to it than that,” she countered. “Is this connected to what happened here in Saddlebank? After the accident?”

  For some reason she wasn’t ready to analyze why she wanted to understand his side of the story. It’s just what a good journalist does, she reminded herself.

  “The media outlets that covered the whole event, both local and statewide, made me out to be some kind of spoiled rich kid whose parents let him run wild without supervision. It made for better press than simply a story of some kid making a horrible mistake.” Jaw tightening, Lee squatted down, squinting at the view below them. “My parents were good people who did the right thing. All the mistakes were mine. The choices were mine and the consequences were mine.”

  He stopped himself there and gave his head a shake, as if to stop any further revelations, then glanced up at her. “Sorry. I suppose I don’t appreciate what my parents had to deal with either.”

  Abby held his steady gaze, letting his words settle into her own thoughts. She knew she was guilty of the same conclusion, and hearing him give voice to her own perceptions made her feel contrite, as well.

  “I’m not going to editorialize, if that helps,” she said. “I’m simply writing a piece about the ranch. You and your family can see the final draft when it’s done, but it’s only about the legacy of this ranch. Nothing more.”

  Abby sensed he was still unsure, but he simply gave her a curt nod. Abby felt annoyed, wondering what right he had to mistrust her. If anyone had grounds to feel that way, it was her.

  Not him.

  She looked through the camera again, rotating it around, then aimed it toward the pasture. A group of calves raced past again, but as they did, something else caught her attention and she zoomed in, focusing. A calf stood by itself, looking toward a clump of bushes.

  Puzzled, Abby turned her camera, then saw what the calf was looking at. A cow, lying on its side. It wasn’t moving.

  “I think there’s something wrong with that cow,” she murmured, looking up at Lee. “You should have a look.”

  Lee glanced at her, took his Stetson off, then bent over, looking through the camera’s viewfinder. He straightened, looked over the camera, then through it again.

  Then he strode over to his horse.

  “What’s wrong?” Abby asked as Lee untied him.

  “That cow is dead,” Lee said. “I’ll have to rescue that calf.”

  Abby grabbed her knapsack. “I’m coming with you.”

  “Just stay here,” Lee warned.

  But Abby knew this would add some drama to the piece. She left her other camera on the tripod, snatched another one out of the backpack, looped it around her neck.

  All stiffness forgotten, she clambered into the saddle and followed Lee down the hill toward where the calf still stood.

  * * *

  Lee glanced back, frustrated that Abby had followed him down here. Calves born out on pasture tended to be more skittish. The more people around, the more flighty this one would be. He held up his hand as they got closer, signaling to Abby to stay back. He stopped Bandit and slowly dismounted, but as
he came nearer, he could see the calf was swaying on its feet, its sides hollow. It gave another weak bleat toward its mother and then, as Lee slowly approached it, it wobbled and lay down.

  Lee slipped his fingers inside its mouth. Instead of a good hard suck with its rough tongue, the calf swiped feebly at his fingers. Its mouth was cool, which meant the calf had probably not drunk yet.

  A quick look at the cow showed him it was, indeed, dead. The afterbirth was already dry. Who knew how long ago this calf had been born? It had probably not even had its first drink yet. Lee bent over, fitted his arms under the calf’s front and back legs, then slowly stood up. He turned to see Abby off her horse, snapping pictures of him. Again.

  He couldn’t be bothered to be annoyed.

  “Can you help me?” he called out. “I need to get this calf back to the ranch.”

  “Is the mother really dead?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t mean to sound brusque, but he was feeling the pressure of time running out. If they didn’t get some warm milk or, hopefully, colostrum into this calf, it would die.

  Abby was off her horse and walking toward him. “What can I do?”

  “I’ll need some help getting this calf up on my horse. Push up on the back end while I try to lift up the front.”

  She seemed to figure out what he wanted, and in a surprising few minutes, Lee had the calf draped over the front of his saddle.

  “Hold Bandit’s reins while I get on,” he directed.

  Again, Abby was quick to respond and a few seconds later, Lee was up on the saddle, the calf lying across his lap.

  “I’m heading back to the ranch,” he said. “Can you catch up?”

  Abby nodded, then hurried back to Bonny and quickly got on. Lee kept Bandit to a slow trot, hoping the calf wouldn’t get too jostled. They passed the spot where Abby still had her other camera up on the tripod. He glanced back as he passed it. Abby was already out of the saddle and quickly packing up.

  “If you don’t see me, don’t worry,” he called out. “Bonny will find her way back to the ranch. Just trust her lead.”

  Abby nodded again, as she made quick work of collapsing her tripod. Lee looked ahead, feeling guilty for leaving her behind, but right now his priority was this calf.

  “Just stay alive, little guy,” he said, holding it steady with one hand while he managed the reins with the other. The calf’s hair was sticking up in stiff spikes, showing Lee that the mother hadn’t even licked it off after it was born.

  His concern grew when he heard the calf’s labored breathing. He slowed down a couple of times, but then the state of the calf would urge him on.

  He glanced back, but he couldn’t see Abby. Once again, he was torn between concern for the calf and concern for Abby. He knew Bonny would find her way home, but it was hard not to worry. Then the sound of hooves behind him made him turn in time to see Bonny trotting his way, Abby bobbing awkwardly up and down on his back. Poor girl had no style, but she seemed to have lots of grit. She was hanging on to the pommel of the saddle with one hand, her backpack bouncing behind her.

  In spite of the circumstances, the grim look on her pretty face made him smile. He was fairly sure she would be mighty sore tomorrow.

  Finally the trees broke open and he could see the ranch in the distance. The gate was ahead and he made quick work of opening it.

  “Can you close the gates behind you?” he called out as he rode through it.

  All he heard was a faint yes and that was enough for him. He stepped up the pace, still supporting the calf, who now had its eyes closed, as if it had given up.

  He got through the second gate, then rode Bandit to the barn, dismounted, made quick work of tying his horse up and brought the newborn calf into the barn. A quick glance around the yard showed him that both his father and John were gone. He was on his own.

  Calving pens lined the walls of the barn on both sides, and Lee brought the calf into the first pen, closest to the door. In spite of the warmth outside, it was cool and dark in here and, unfortunately, there was no straw in the pen.

  “Sorry, little guy,” he crooned, laying the calf down on the pitted wooden floor. “I’ll fix this up in a minute.” He ran out of the pen and down the dirt-packed alley to the back of the barn. He heard panting and looked down to see Sugar, trotting alongside him, appearing curious.

  “Got a sick calf,” he said to the dog as he grabbed a straw bale from a stack at the back of the barn. He heaved it up by the strings and carried it, one-handed, back to the pen. Sugar, hot on his heels, followed him inside. Lee didn’t think the calf would even notice, so he just left the dog be.

  Lee busted out the bale, sprinkled it around, nested it around the calf and then rushed out the door.

  Almost running smack into Abby.

  “What else do you need to do?” she asked breathlessly. “How can I help?”

  “We need to get some colostrum into that calf as soon as possible. Can you sit with him and hold his head up? I’ll be back in a few minutes. The calf is in the first pen to your left, just inside the door.”

  Then he hurried away, racing to the room off the barn. Sugar looked from him to Abby as if unsure of who to follow but then, for some reason, turned and trotted back into the barn.

  Lee yanked open the cupboard doors above the sink. Thankfully everything was all in the same place. Plastic bags of colostrum powder on one side neatly stacked. Bottles and tubes on the other all clean and ready to go. A few minutes later, he was hurrying to the barn with a warm pail of the colostrum and the other supplies tucked under his arm.

  Please, Lord, don’t let that calf be dead, he prayed as he scooted into the barn.

  He heard a rustle of straw as he burst into the pen. Abby sat on the floor, the calf’s head on her lap. Sugar was sitting in the doorway, head cocked to one side, watching Abby stroking the calf’s side, singing softly. She looked up when Lee came in and he saw a flush darken her cheeks, making the faint sprinkling of freckles across her nose stand out even more.

  He stopped and stared. She looked beautiful, sitting there, the light from the window behind her slanting across her face, illuminating her hair.

  Then he shook his reaction off.

  “We need to get this into him right away,” he said, turning his attention back to the calf. “Can you hold this steady?”

  She nodded, taking the large plastic bottle from him. He carefully poured in some of the milk, took the bottle from her and screwed on the oversize nipple.

  “Okay, we need to get him up on his haunches,” he instructed.

  She didn’t balk at picking up the calf and followed his orders, shifting the calf so it was perched on its back legs, front ones straight down in front of him. Lee opened its mouth with his finger and quickly slid the nipple inside. It immediately popped to the other side of its mouth. The calf had barely the strength to suck.

  “I think he’s too weak,” he muttered, running his finger along the outside of the calf’s throat, trying to encourage him to start swallowing, which would stimulate the sucking reflex.

  After ten minutes of frustration, Lee could see they weren’t getting anywhere and the calf was slowly going down. They were running out of time.

  “Now what?” Abby whispered, stroking the calf’s sides.

  Lee could see she was genuinely distressed and he gave her a reassuring smile. “Now we try tube-feeding it. You’ll need to lay him down to help me with this.” He set the bottle down and got the bag and tube ready. “I hope you’re okay with this.”

  “I’ll do what needs to be done,” Abby declared. She looked grim, but she seemed game.

  “Good girl,” he said, clipping the tube and opening up the heavy plastic bag attached to it. “Pour the rest of the milk in here.” Once it was filled, he sealed it off, then rinsed off the long, hard stick attached to the tube. “Can you hold this while I get him up again?”

  Abby took the bag and tube as Lee straddled the calf, got him up.

 
“For now, just hold up the bag,” he said to her. “And hand me the tube attached to it.”

  “What are you doing?” she asked as he opened the calf’s mouth and slowly eased the solid portion of the tube down.

  “The calf is too weak to suck, so the only way we’re going to get any kind of nutrition into him is to get a tube directly into his stomach and give him the milk that way.”

  Abby grimaced but continued holding the bag as Lee gently inserted the tube. He blew out his breath, listening to the calf. It was breathing properly, so all was well. “Now undo the clip—slowly,” he told Abby.

  Minutes later the bag was empty and Lee gently removed the tube. He laid the calf down and stroked its head. “Way to go, little guy,” he murmured, easing out a relieved sigh.

  “So, what do we do now?”

  “Wait.” Then he stood up. “And for now, I need to tend to the horses.”

  “I’ll stay here,” Abby said, looking down at the calf, her hand on its side. “Keep an eye on him.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Not at all. I feel invested in the adventure now, and it will give me some fantastic material for my story. Lee Bannister, rescuer of the weak and helpless.”

  He shot her a bemused look as he gathered up the supplies, wondering if she was being sarcastic, but her expression was serious. “I’m just glad you saw him. You had as much to do with this rescue as I did.”

  “This little adventure was an eye-opener,” she admitted. “In more ways than one.”

  Lee held her steady gaze, hearing a subtext to her words. “If you’re referring to what I said about my regrets, you need to know I was sincere.”

  “I got that.”

  Her pretty amber eyes were still locked on him and he couldn’t look away. Nor did he want to. Old emotions and attractions, simmering beneath the surface ever since he saw her again, rose, sifting into the moment.

  “I wish things were different for us,” he said thickly, the words spilling out before he could filter them.

  Her eyes widened, her lips parted and he heard a faint intake of her breath. Then she tore her gaze away, looking down at the calf, who was now asleep.