“You take responsibilities seriously.” Her tone said that wasn’t a bad quality. “A good work ethic is a wonderful thing, but worker bees need to examine their lives with greater care than most others. Are they pushing forward so much that they forget to relax and enjoy the sun?”
“Time is money on a ranch.”
She didn’t appear impressed. “Time is money anywhere. The skill is in learning to appreciate what you have and tether the constant desire for more. What is it you need that you don’t have?”
“Nothing.” That was true in a material sense, but not in other ways, because all he’d ever wanted was a normal family. He’d missed out as a kid, and when he married, that was his one true goal. A delightful, normal family. Healthy kids, loving wife. He’d been so determined to show his father how it was done. He’d met every demand Whitney threw his way, and it still didn’t keep her happy. “Well, nothing money can buy.”
She acknowledged that with a wise look. “Exactly. I didn’t realize how fortunate I was, growing up on a ranch. Other than caring for the puppies, I resented having to help. I wanted to be a town kid in the worst way. They had the coolest clothes and the best cars. Our Walmart jeans and pickup trucks couldn’t compete. So I plotted my course to be a well-educated city professional, and in the end?”
He waited for her to continue.
“I missed the ranch.”
Nick understood the night-and-day rigors of living off the land. He loved the Double S, but he wasn’t one to paint rosy pictures about it. “I hear you, but a ranch isn’t just a postcard prospect. It’s work, every day. It’s living, breathing creatures, us against Mother Nature. It’s reaching goals—daily, monthly, yearly. And if you fall short, you have to try harder next time.”
“All well and good as long as we don’t lose the beauty of the hills. The forest. The birds. The children,” she chided gently. She swept the town a soft smile. “The little town trying to rebuild itself.”
“Well, missy, while you’re busy jawin’ on all that utopia stuff, here’s the reality.” He tipped a knowing look down to her. “To everything there is a season.”
“Ecclesiastes.”
“Yup. And there’s a reason the Bible understands simple people. We make up most of the world, and we have to plant when we’re supposed to and reap when it’s ready. We can’t just glance at a clock and decide it’s time to swing by the coffee shop, because if we miss that window of time before the rain, we’ve ruined thousands of dollars’ worth of cattle food.”
“But is that the exception or the rule?” she wondered. “Is every day that structured and important, or does it become a habit because it’s in your nature to overachieve and possibly best your father and brother?”
“Both.” He grumbled the word because she was right. Some things needed immediate attention, while others could be let go for a little here and there. “The problem is, I get worried if I let too many things go. It piles up in my head, and then I feel like the work’s controlling me instead of the other way around.”
“Will it be easier with Colt here?”
“Already is, but I’m not about to tell him that.” Nick watched his brother dash from swing to swing, pushing kids from behind. “He’s got a big enough head already. With my father and Hobbs down and out right now, we’ll be working double time for a while. So that’s a consideration too.”
“Kids! Time to go!” Angelina tapped her watch. “We’ve got chores and berry picking back home.”
Elsa’s eyes lit up. “Berry picking?”
Nick nodded. “It’s that time of year for the late season ones.”
“I want to pick berries. I haven’t done that since I went off to school. I used to make jam with my mother, and we’d freeze gallons of berries to use over the winter.”
He scanned her church dress with no small measure of skepticism. “You’re going to pick berries wearing that?”
“Of course not. I brought along some proper ranch clothes. Preparation is often the key to success.”
“Perfect.” It felt nearly perfect, like the kind of early summer day a body waited on all winter.
He looked down. Met her gaze. And when the color of her cheeks went deeper, the only thing he could think of was leaning down. Kissing her. Seeing if kissing Elsa Andreas would be as perfect and nice and delightful as he thought it would be, but the laughing voices of racing children made him put that thought on hold.
“Dad, let’s go! Elsa, can you come? Dad said you might. Please?” Cheyenne skidded to a stop by her side, scattering pebbles and scuffing her church shoes. “Oops.”
“I am coming,” Elsa told her. “And clothes and shoes don’t grow on trees. Someone works hard to make money to buy them. Don’t take them for granted.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Cheyenne grabbed her hand as naturally as if she’d been doing it forever. “I’m glad you’re coming over. Isabo is making strawberry shortcake and pie, and Daddy said he’d cook on the grill, and Uncle Colt said we could have a bonfire tonight to celebrate the end of the school year.”
“And Mommy said we can make s’mores.” Noah whispered the words with a little boy grin as Colt drew closer. “She said they will be so dewicious!”
“Chocolate and marshmallows?” Cheyenne smiled down at Noah. “Noah, you’re going to love them so much!”
“They’re marvelous,” Elsa promised him. Dakota came up, side by side with Angelina and Isabo.
“This is going to be the best summer ever,” Dakota announced. She spun around, carefree, arms out. “Elsa, I’m so glad you’re coming to the ranch with us! We’re going to have so much fun!” She spun again as the group turned.
A small, roughed-up car wove its way up Center Street. It rolled through the stop sign as if there was no need to obey something as mundane as traffic rules, cruised to edge of the community park, and came to a halt. Nick was ready to scold the driver for disregarding the stop sign, but then a cloud shadowed the glare of late-morning sun, letting him see the driver.
Disbelief and raw emotion gripped him. His hands went damp. His breath caught. And if Colt hadn’t had the presence of mind to put a firm “I’ve got your back” hand on his shoulder, Nick wasn’t sure what he might do.
The door swung open. Mere seconds dragged like minutes as the driver pushed the door open farther and stepped out. “Cheyenne? Baby? I’m back!”
Dead silence reigned until the woman stepped forward, bent, and put her arms out.
“Mommy?” Cheyenne’s voice broke, uncertain.
Dakota stared at Whitney as if she’d never seen her before, and Nick understood her reaction. Short, dyed blond curls had replaced Whitney’s nut-brown hair. She’d done something with her eyebrows, giving them an unnatural arch, and the dress she wore like a second skin wasn’t generally seen on Gray’s Glen streets on Sunday mornings. Long legs ended in pointed-toe heels, and the only thing missing from the overdone look was fishnet stockings.
“It’s me, baby! I’ve come home!”
Elsa slipped back, allowing Nick room.
Colt did just the opposite. He stepped forward as if shielding his brother, the women, and kids, and folded his arms across his chest in a formidable pose.
Cheyenne dashed toward her mother. Nick went to stop her, but she slipped away from his grasp and raced across the narrow road.
The force of Cheyenne’s embrace knocked Whitney off her feet. Nick was pretty sure he was okay with that and didn’t hurry to help her.
What was she doing here, with no warning?
What was she thinking?
And why was she dressed like that?
“There’s much we need to learn.” Angelina’s voice came from behind him, and it wasn’t her gentle, helpful tone. This was her cop voice, tough and succinct. “Don’t believe anything without proof and make no assumptions.”
Wise words.
He moved forward.
Dakota hung back, untrusting, and when he glanced back over his shoulder, she�
�d moved to Angelina’s side. She tucked herself into the curve of Ange’s arm, staring at the unfolding drama in total disbelief.
He stared in disbelief too.
He reached out a hand to Cheyenne as Whitney quickly brushed off the seat of her dress, and the way she turned to do it, so that everyone saw, made him cringe. She’d always loved attention, but this —
This was different, and his mind went to several unappealing scenarios. He wanted to send Cheyenne back to the group, but she clung tight to Whitney’s hand as if never letting go. The look on her young face mirrored his confusion. He took Angelina’s caution to heart and faced Whitney, arms crossed, legs braced. She’d broken a trio of hearts once. He had no intention of allowing her to do that again. “What are you doing here?”
She aimed a smile at Cheyenne. “I believe I live here.” She arched her sculpted eyebrows as if she spoke the obvious, and when Cheyenne’s smile grew, Whitney laid a confident arm around the girl’s shoulders. “I realized nothing was more important than my children and my family, and so…” She lifted her shoulders. “Here I am.”
“I’m so glad, Mommy! So glad!” Cheyenne embraced her mother once again, as if all her hopes and dreams had just come true. “I’ve been praying about this for so long! Thank you!”
“Oh, baby, I couldn’t stay away forever,” Whitney crooned, but Nick would have to be blind not to miss the cool stare she swept the gathered family. “Not from my girls.”
Anger boiled up inside Nick.
She hadn’t cared a fig about these girls when she ran off with a rodeo cowboy. She hadn’t given a second thought to breaking up a family, abandoning her daughters, leaving her husband, and sticking him with over three thousand dollars in credit card bills that financed her getaway. And then the significant sum her lawyer demanded for the divorce.
Separate her from the girls.
Think first. Then act.
The bit of wisdom said he’d done some growing up himself, because three years ago he’d have acted first and regretted at leisure later. What had Elsa told him? “In all things, put the girls first. What is good for them? What will work for them?”
Dakota didn’t look excited or welcoming. She looked terrified. Little Noah stared, eyes wide, but then Colt handed him to his grandmother, said something Nick couldn’t hear, and moved their way as Isabo turned and walked toward the ranch SUV.
“Colt’s here.” She flashed an insincere smile his way but kept her arm snug around Cheyenne as if using the girl like a shield. “How nice.”
Colt ignored her completely. He squatted down, faced Cheyenne, then indicated the group with a nod. “Ange is going to see you guys home so you can get changed, okay? Can you help her get the berry baskets organized? Can you help make sure there are plenty for everyone who’s going to pick?”
She stared at him, then her mother, then her father. “But what about Mom?”
“Not sure,” Colt replied smoothly. “But I expect there’s some adult talking that needs to go on.”
“There is, Colt.” Nick smiled down at Cheyenne, but he saw the change already. She’d spent the last few weeks looking happier. Easier. More settled.
Not now.
Shadows darkened her eyes. She stared up at her mother, then her father, then took a step back toward Whitney. “I want to stay with Mom. She just got here, Dad, and she came a long way. Can’t I spend some time with her? Can’t she come to the ranch for supper with us? To the bonfire?”
The last thing Nick wanted was to have Whitney at the ranch. Ever.
She hated the ranch, she hated his job, she hated his father and the entire life the Double S stood for. The mockery that she ran off with a cowboy wasn’t lost on him. He knew then it wasn’t his life that didn’t satisfy her.
It was him.
“Not today, Cheyenne. You’ve got to —”
“Why?” She took a step back and faced Nick square. “Why don’t you want her around?” she shouted. “She’s my mother and she came back to see me!” She stared up at him, trembling with anger. “Why can’t you just let her come back? We need her! Elsa, tell him!”
Silence hung still and deep until a soft, sensible voice said, “Nick, Cheyenne’s made a very good point. There’s plenty of food and it’s a perfectly gorgeous day.”
“Elsa, really?” Cheyenne’s gaze flew to the woman behind him, and while he appreciated what Elsa was trying to do, she didn’t understand how deeply Whitney had hurt so many.
“Well, of course it’s up to Dad, right?” Elsa stepped forward, smelling of springtime and sunshine and sweet moonlit nights. Her soft, flowy dress was a direct contrast to Whitney’s honky-tonk-friendly outfit. She looked up at Nick, and he read the warning in her eyes, a message that had nothing to do with him or her and everything to do with Cheyenne.
“There is plenty of food and it should be a good time.” He faced Whitney, and it took a supreme effort to hold back all he wanted to say. “We’re heading back home now.”
“To the house?” she asked, and Cheyenne shook her head.
“Dad’s going to build us a new house on the ranch, Mom! It’s beautiful, and he’s teaching us how to ride and how to take care of animals. But if you don’t like it,” Cheyenne added quickly, “we can just stay in our old house. Like, forever! That would be just fine!”
Nick’s heart melted while his backbone hardened to forged steel. How could anyone turn away from the longing in Cheyenne’s voice and face? And yet Whitney had done that before. He had no doubt she’d do it again, but right now, Elsa was right. He needed to look out for Cheyenne first and figure out Whitney’s motives second. If nothing else good came of this, maybe Cheyenne would see her mother’s true colors before she caused more pain.
His beloved daughter had built up a fantasy, trying to rationalize and excuse her mother’s actions, exactly like Nick had done as a boy. Maybe Whitney’s surprise reappearance would give the girl the closure he never had. He took Cheyenne’s hand and stepped back. “We’ll see you at the ranch.”
“I know the way.” The smug look she sent him refueled his anger, but he walked back to the group as if he hadn’t seen a thing.
“Elsa, can you ride with us?” Dakota clung to Elsa’s hand like a lifeline. Nick firmly expected Elsa to smile politely and deftly remove herself from the specter of family dysfunction spiraling around them, but to his surprise she bent and kissed Dakota’s cheek and said, “No, I’m bringing my car. That way when I need to head home later, I don’t have to disturb anyone.”
“Wise move,” Angelina muttered as the girls moved ahead with Colt.
“I’m assessing variables and coming up with so many potential scenarios that I’m losing count. This is not going to be the day they expected.” She indicated the girls with a quick glance. “I could duck out and go home, but that would create another action/reaction sequence, so I’ll come and lay low while preparing myself to expect the unexpected.”
“That’s the only kind of attitude a woman can have around here.” Angelina kept her voice soft as they walked back to the cars. “Just remember I’m trained in all kinds of defensive maneuvers.”
“None of which will be needed,” Elsa told her. When Angelina looked doubtful, Elsa added, “But it’s good to know you’ve got my back. Just in case.”
Nick climbed into the SUV, his thoughts churning.
Cheyenne hurried into her seat. Dakota moved more slowly, methodically, as if delaying her buckles might put off facing this stranger.
One too willing. The other untrusting. How was he supposed to make sense of this? And if he couldn’t make sense of it, how could he expect the girls to? Whitney had deliberately broken their vows with her secretive life and her quick getaway.
He’d trusted his mother when he was a child.
She left without a backward glance.
He’d trusted his wife.
She ditched him and their daughters the same way.
He never wanted to be in those throes
again, caught in deceit and lack of faith. He’d been there, done that, and the last thing on earth he wanted was to be involved with another dissatisfied woman. A part of him had been happy that Whitney stayed gone once time marched on.
But now she was back.
They made an odd convoy, following the turns and twists up to the ranch house, and as they pulled into various parking areas east of the first barn, a new thought hit.
How would his father handle Whitney’s surprise return?
He didn’t have long to wait because Sam appeared at the door as soon as Nick pulled in, which meant Colt had forewarned him. The old Sam Stafford would have needed no warning. He’d have simply tossed her off the ranch, and if she refused to leave, he’d have wasted no time in having her arrested.
But this new, gentler Sam—the one facing grim illness—Nick wouldn’t stake a claim on how he’d react. He stood just outside the door, hanging on to the railing, but not as if he needed it for support. No, it looked more like he was tempted to wrangle someone and was holding himself back by sheer force.
Nick didn’t pray often enough, but he prayed right now that this meeting of opposing forces wouldn’t put his father into some kind of cardiac arrest or scar his daughters for life.
Was there such a thing as liver arrest?
He didn’t think so, but he knew Sam was in rough shape, no matter what kind of face he put on for show. And right now, Sam’s stern countenance said he’d drawn on his reserves, full force.
“Grandpa!” Cheyenne raced to the porch, delight painting her face. “You’ll never guess what’s happened. Mommy came home!”
“Did she now?” He pulled her in for a hug looking like a sweet, old story-time bear, but the look he raised and pinned on Whitney said he’d protect what was his, regardless.
Whitney climbed out of her car, spotted Sam’s hard gaze, and faltered. While everyone else moved forward, Whitney stayed silent and still, eyes locked on Sam, until Elsa moved in her direction. “Does coffee sound as good to you as it does to me?”
Home on the Range Page 11