“So...you are a real cowboy.” Her heart fluttered. Her father used to watch old wild west movies and sing western songs, with an Italian accent, of course.
“Well, not anymore.” His voice faded into a husky whisper. He reached behind the seat, pulled out an ice pack, and handed it to her. “For the bruise. Best do this now before it gets any worse.”
She thanked him, though the last thing she really wanted to do was add ice to her popsicle skin. When she glanced at her shin she saw a nasty purple lump. “How did that happen?”
“Your leg collided with the dashboard.”
“I told him he was going too fast considering the depth of the snow and the fact that the road hadn’t been plowed.”
“You think maybe he learned something tonight?”
“I hope so.”
Marshall’s abominable behavior all evening appalled her. He’d never been so horrible. While she was grateful Seth came to her aid, she remained suspicious about his motives in showing up after all these years.
“Why didn’t your father come with you to see his mother?” she asked.
“My father died.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. How long ago?”
“More than a year.”
“How about your mother?”
“She left shortly after I was born and didn’t leave a forwarding address.” The heavy touch of sarcasm in his tone startled her.
“Did your father remarry?”
“No. He had girlfriends at times, but they came and went like passing clouds.”
When they stopped at a traffic light, she studied his face, which bore creases caused by sun and weather, but the faint strain of pain etched itself in those lines as well.
“Are you my cousin?” He gnawed on his lip.
The question shocked her. “No. Your father was the only child Grammy and Gramps ever had.”
“Why are you on their farm? Did you buy it from them?”
“I am their godchild. When my parents died, they took me in. After Gramps died, Grammy signed a new will and put me in charge of everything.” She deliberately left out most of her personal history because it hurt to speak of it.
He nodded. “I’d like to see my grandmother, even if she has dementia.”
Doubt twisted around her heart. “Why did you come all the way to New Jersey?”
“My father never told me I had family out here. He kept the past a secret.” His knuckles grew white gripping the wheel.
“Why?” she pressed. He didn’t need to know much about her, but she certainly needed to know everything about him.
“I suspect it had a lot to do with pride.”
“Grammy was not happy about the woman he ran away with.”
“I suppose that might have been my mother.”
Gabriella nodded. “There are a wealth of photos of your father in the house. You do resemble him when he was young.” Except better, she decided.
“May I see the pictures?” His voice grew so soft she hardly heard him over the sound of the engine.
“Some other time. I’m really strung out after the accident.” Gabriella twisted her hands in her lap. She was tired, but Marshall was right. Seth was a mystery. Could he be after the Holmes’ farm? Did he have any rights to it? She should call up her lawyer and find out.
Chapter Four
The sudden lack of conversation in the truck twisted Seth’s nerves into knots. If Gabriella took the time for a simple search on the Internet, she would discover the entire sordid story of his father’s scheme. Flint claimed none of the local New Jersey news stations covered it. No one in the rehab facility had an inkling of what had been on the front page in Colorado for months.
The silence lengthened. His unease increased. He drew in a slow breath to maintain a calm demeanor. This was worse than riding a crazy, angry bull. “Do you know of a veterinarian hospital in need of an equine specialist?”
“Um...no. I always call the same vet Grammy used. Today was the first time I tried to get someone else for Harley.” Her voice quivered.
Seth ground his teeth together. Did her idiot boyfriend squeeze her arm on a regular basis? The man needed his attitude rearranged.
“Colorado has a larger horse population,” Seth continued. “But I thought it was a good sign that the horse is New Jersey’s state animal.”
“What’s Colorado’s official animal?”
“The Rocky Mountain Big Horn Sheep.”
She gave a high, nervous laugh. “I suppose wild animals don’t need vets.”
“There are a few in zoos.” He slowed the truck and pulled into the long drive. The snow fell fast and thick. Another inch must have fallen in the last hour.
“Where’s your friend?”
“When I went to pick you up, he left.”
“Oh. I thought he’d be here.” The tremor in her voice increased.
“He’ll be shoveling snow for his wife and kids tomorrow.”
“Where are you going tonight?”
“Flint told me there’s a motel down the road.”
“It’s a dump.”
“I don’t need anything fancy, but I hoped you’d let Navigator stay here overnight. I’ll pay you for boarding him.”
“I didn’t pay you yet for taking care of Harley.”
“Why don’t I drop the charge for Harley’s care and you drop the charge for boarding Navigator in your barn for a night?” He pulled the truck in front of the trailer and turned off the engine.
“That’s not the same in value.”
“Then board him for a few more days. I’ll be stopping by, anyway, to check on Harley.”
“I best look in on him and the girls now.” She handed him the ice pack. “Thanks for this, but I think it’s better.”
“You ought to keep it.” Though he wasn’t a physician for humans, he knew plenty about bumps and bruises from personal experience.
She ignored him, climbed out of the truck, and headed for the barn.
Seth’s hip ached. He slid carefully out of the truck cab but jarred the injury anyway. He hobbled to the barn with his cane. The snow was beautiful. It reminded him of his former home, and a hollow pain gnawed at his heart.
When the scandal first broke, he believed in his father’s innocence. As the evidence piled up, it became clear his father had been living a lie. Shortly after the indictment, his father died. Seth gathered up the pieces. Everything was sold. He walked away with Navigator, the truck, the trailer, and a few personal items.
Everyone abandoned him—the folks at church, his girlfriend, and all his colleagues from vet school. Only those in the tight-knit rodeo community stuck by him. From the first, they had been his family and remained so.
Several of the angry investors who had lost their money hounded him and threatened to squeeze more cash out of him by any means possible. He closed his eyes for a moment and prayed for the freedom to live in peace.
He found Gabriella inside the barn, singing to the female alpacas, “Goodnight ladies, goodnight ladies, goodnight ladies...”
“I’m bound to leave you now.” He finished the last line of the song. “Do you have a song for Harley?”
“Yes.”
Her smile dazzled him temporarily and he forgot his troubles as a funny kind of warmth filled up the empty hole in his chest.
“A man without a woman,” she sang. “Is like a ship without a sail…”
He joined in, and by the time the song ended, they both laughed. He never enjoyed something so simple with a woman before. They flirted with him and pretended to be all sweet and innocent—but none of them were. Their agenda usually included his cash.
“Do you sing them to sleep every night?” he asked.
“It’s silly, isn’t it?” She toyed with her hair, swirling it repetitively.
“I don’t think so.”
Gabriella reminded him of a shy filly, ready to gallop away in fear. The scars on her palms were worse than those on the back. The ring finger and pinky on
her right hand didn’t move. They curved inward. At some point in her life, she suffered a great deal. The pain from his hip lessened as he considered what she endured.
“You sang to your horse,” she said.
“I sing around Navigator while I’m cleaning out his stall or currying his coat.”
“It must be a comfort to him.”
“He hasn’t started singing along.” The horse was a major stabilizing factor in his life, a gift presented to Seth for his ninth birthday. Navigator was eighteen now and not as spry as he once was, but Seth loved him more than ever.
“He knows you have a good singing voice and he can’t compete.” The lilt of added sweetness in her voice stirred a bittersweet longing in him.
“Navigator has other talents.” He nodded his head. “I better head off now.”
“Why don’t you stay in the guesthouse tonight?” Her offer came out of the blue and startled him.
“The motel’s not far.” He already pressed his luck by putting Navigator in her barn.
“The roads are bad and the guesthouse is empty,” she entreated. “Besides, if this snow keeps piling up, it will be difficult for you to get here in the morning to check on Harley and care for your horse.”
Thanking her and leaving was the proper thing to do, but exhaustion weighed him down after his first full day of being back in the real world. All the pampering he received in rehab didn’t do him a lick of good.
“I don’t want to be beholden to you more than I already am.”
She took an abrupt step toward him. He caught a whiff of her cologne, with its scent more like food than flowers. His pulse jumped.
“You helped Harley when he needed it most—and seriously, the motel down the road is dreadful. It’s the sort of place people rent by the hour.”
He struggled not to laugh as a ripple of amusement went through him. “I’ve stayed in a few mean places, but when things get tough, there’s always the truck or a barn.”
“It’s much too cold tonight to even think about sleeping anywhere without heat.”
He fingered the edge of his hat. “You’re mighty kind, Miss Gabby.”
“Don’t call me that.” Her eyes sparked fire.
He enjoyed the change. He hated watching her act subservient to her unmannerly boyfriend. With an exaggerated sigh, he said, “Gabriella is too long for my weary tongue tonight.”
“Then go on over to the guesthouse and get some rest.” The sparks in her eyes cooled as she stroked each of the alpacas patiently while whispering endearments to them. “Oh, and by the way, you can join everyone in the carriage house for breakfast. I’ll be setting it up around nine for the Happy Hookers—”
“The what?” He couldn’t be sure he heard her right.
She merely chuckled. “The yarn club. I set up a Continental breakfast for them where they meet and crochet or knit with alpaca yarn—or any other yarn. They pay me for the use of the building and the cost of the food. Grammy started the club.”
“Oh, I see.” His shock faded away. “I wouldn’t want to disturb the ladies. I keep a stash of snacks in the truck.”
“There’ll be hot coffee, too.”
Lured by the possibility of a restful night, he couldn’t refuse.
“I’m very grateful to you.” On his long journey east, he’d been lucky to find rodeo folks willing to put him up, but outside the circuit, he found his trek a lonely road.
“You not only took care of Harley, you came out to the highway to pick me up. I thought I would freeze to death out there.”
He was more than happy to rescue her from the obnoxious dentist. “You should continue to put ice on your bruise tonight.”
She glanced down at her leg. “It didn’t hurt at first, but it does now.”
“Take a pain reliever, too,” he suggested.
“Turn up the thermostat in the guesthouse. I usually keep it low when nobody’s staying there.”
“I’ll say goodnight to Navigator before I head off for some rest.”
“I’ll see you in the morning, then. Oh, and turn out the lights here in the barn and put the padlock on the door when you leave. Goodnight.”
She gave a cheery little wave, blew kisses to the alpacas, and left the barn.
He took a deep breath. Thank you, Lord, for getting me here. He still wanted to meet Grammy. He needed to find a job with a veterinary practice. This journey was the craziest thing he’d ever done. All along the road, he considered turning around and heading back to Colorado, but he didn’t want to be the focus of civil suits served by angry investors. The Bible’s verse about the sins of the fathers affecting the sons was all too evident in his life though he had nothing to do with his father’s crooked scheme.
He put a blanket on Navigator, who stood dozing in the stall.
“I couldn’t have made this journey without you.” He leaned his head on the big horse and listened to the animal breathe in and out. “They wouldn’t let me out of rehab, and I missed you so bad my heart hurt. I won’t be busting broncos anymore, but I sure intend to go riding with you again. Be patient with me, old boy.”
Navigator nuzzled him gently.
“It’s not the first time I broke something, after all. We’re a team, right?” He patted the horse. “Pleasant dreams.”
He walked past the alpacas kushed down for the night. “Goodnight, my little fleecy friends.” Why would anyone want to hurt them?
When he moved to turn off the lights, he froze for a moment. He thought a thin black snake lay on the barn floor, but realized it was only a drawstring—probably from a sweatshirt. He reached down and picked it up. The ends were frayed and ragged.
He stuffed it in his pocket, turned out the light, closed the barn door, and put on the padlock. The guesthouse sat four feet away from the western side of the barn so he didn’t need to go far as the flakes whirled around him. He missed the beauty and grandeur of the Rockies, but knowing it snowed in New Jersey lifted his spirits.
The guesthouse, with its kitchen/living area, bedroom, and small bathroom, was compact but cozy. While it did not boast a wide-screen television or a phone, there was a gas fireplace. He turned it on right away.
The bedroom window sat opposite the window of Navigator’s stall. Though his horse probably could not see him, he waved anyway. In the corner of the bedroom, he found a guitar. Though battered and scratched, he picked it up.
He tuned the instrument, eased himself into the chair by the fireplace, and strummed a few chords. His father bought him an exquisite Martin guitar when he turned twelve. It fetched a good price at the auction, but Seth missed it now and then. Especially whenever he was alone.
He plucked more strings and started singing, “Goodbye, old paint, I’m a leaving Cheyenne...”
Though he hadn’t left Cheyenne, he had moved out of Colorado, and without any warning, the song choked him up. He set the guitar aside and glared at it for a minute before picking it up again. He was starting a new life. No sad songs for him.
He sang, “Buffalo gals can you come out tonight, come out tonight...”
The rollicking old tune cheered him. Too bad there weren’t friends with him to add harmony.
The knock at the door startled him.
“It’s only me,” Gabriella called.
The ache in his leg intensified, but he hurried to the door. When he opened it, he found Gabriella holding a huge covered dish of something that smelled heavenly.
“I forgot to ask if you had supper or not.”
“Flint gave me some of his wife’s stew.”
“Oh. Well, this is pepperoni bread. You might get hungry during the night.”
The aroma wafted out and his stomach rumbled. “I’m famished right now.”
“Good.” She smiled, walked in, and set the casserole on the table. She pulled out some plates from a cabinet and a knife from a drawer. “I overheard you singing. One of the alpaca shearers left the guitar here and moved to New Mexico. He told me to keep it.” S
he sliced up the pepperoni bread.
“Played well once I tuned it.”
“My father used to play the guitar and sing old western songs.” She heaved a long sigh.
“Did he grow up out west?”
She shook her head as a small, sad smile played on her lips. “No, he came here from Italy. He had a passion for old cowboy movies and television shows. He said that’s how he learned English, though he also took Gramps’ ESL course. But Dad never lost his accent.”
She put three large slices of pepperoni bread on one plate. “Oh, I forgot. There’s canned juice in the cabinet. It’s not chilled but there are ice cubes in the ʼfridge.”
He opened the cabinet door. “Grape or punch for you?”
“Punch, thank you.”
He found glasses, filled them with ice cubes, poured the juice, and took it to the table—one at a time while leaning heavily on his cane.
“Didn’t you eat a fancy dinner?” he asked as he sat at the table.
“Yes, but at one of those places that is so fancy they put very little food on the plate and charge an exorbitant amount for it.” She slid into a chair and bowed her head.
He wondered if she was like all those other Christians who did everything for show. While his father was by far the worst hypocrite of all, his girlfriend and all the other members of his church ignored him after the indictment. It was as if he’d become a ghost and they couldn’t see him. He hadn’t stepped into a church since then.
He added a quiet amen anyway when she lifted her head and proceeded to dig into the feast. It tasted like real genuine food and unlike anything he had eaten in the rehab facility. “This is excellent.”
“Thank you. I discovered the recipe online, but I added the fresh basil—since I have so much of it and it’s an awesome herb.”
He eyed the bread and decided to indulge in another slice before he remembered the drawstring. He pulled it out and laid it on the table. “I found this in the barn. Is it yours?”
She touched it lightly. “No, but it might belong to one of my crew.”
“I’d like to visit my grandmother tomorrow.” He didn’t care if she had dementia. She must still remember she had a son. She couldn’t forget that.
The Cowboy's Miracle Page 3