Her Cowboy Reunion

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “They can’t be as good as these.” She made a face of doubt and the boy wriggled.

  “I think they are!”

  So sweet. So bright. Innocence and hope, a perfect blend. She met his gaze. “I do love chocolate the most.”

  “And potatoes.”

  Heath’s voice brought her attention around. Three people sat between them, creating a good distance. Enough, she’d thought.

  But it could never be enough, she realized when he lifted his eyes to hers. She read the pain in his expression. For his lost wife? For his motherless child? Or was it her presence causing that angst? “I still love potatoes. I blame my Irish heritage. They haven’t come up with a potato I don’t enjoy.” The reply was for Heath, but she kept her attention on his son.

  “My dad loves ’tatoes, too.” Zeke leaned against her leg, keeping back from the fire. The boy’s warmth felt good against the cooling air. “I do a little bit, but mostly I like everything.”

  “A boy with a healthy appetite is a wonderful thing.” Corrie smiled at him. “Your daddy had a great appetite when he was younger, and look how big and strong he got. I think you’ll do all right, Zeke Caufield.”

  “You knew my dad when he was little? Like me?”

  Corrie shook her head. “Not that little, but young enough. Your dad and your grandpa worked with me a long time ago.”

  Heath stood quickly. He motioned to Zeke, ignoring Corrie’s statement. “Bedtime.”

  “But I’m not even a little bit tired.” Zeke braced his legs and met Heath’s gaze across the fire, looking like a miniature version of the strong man facing him down. “Can I stay up with Miss Lizzie and Miss Corrie for just a little bit? Pleeease?”

  Heath said nothing.

  He didn’t argue. He didn’t get bossy. He simply met the boy’s gaze. In less than half a minute, the boy trudged around the fire and thrust his hand into Heath’s.

  “Say good-night.”

  “Night, everybody.” Chin down, the little cowpoke walked away. He didn’t fuss and didn’t fight. He obeyed his dad, as if trusting him to make the right call even though he disagreed.

  It felt good, watching them. And different. Their branch of the Fitzgeralds didn’t win any parenting awards. If it hadn’t been for Corrie’s love and dedication... Lizzie leaned over and kissed Corrie’s round, brown cheek. “I love you, Corrie.”

  Corrie kept her gaze forward, on the fire and on Heath and his son. “I love you, too. And no matter what happens here, it is good to break away from the past, Lizzie-Beth. To forge ahead.”

  “An Idaho ranch wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” she whispered back when a handful of bleats broke the night air. “But a stable full of horses is more of a dream come true than a punishment right now.” She studied the flames for drawn-out seconds. “It’s an unexpected twist in a winding road, that’s for sure.”

  “What we’ve got in mind and what the good Lord’s got planned don’t always agree, but that’s what makes life interesting. Sometimes it’s a collision course. Other times it’s a wide, beautiful curve.”

  “I think our family has more experience with the collisions.” A smallish log had rolled off the fire’s edge. She leaned down and prodded it back into place. “Is that our destiny or our curse?”

  “Neither,” Corrie declared. “It’s human foolishness. Your grandfather stepped on a lot of toes to build that publishing empire, and I’ve heard people say his father did that, too, before him. And then your daddy did the same, but he didn’t have ambition. He wanted the world handed to him.”

  “And if it didn’t happen, he stole.”

  “Good or bad, it all comes down to free will,” Corrie said. “You see the beauty Sean created here. That’s the side of the family you take for, Lizzie. The hardworking trait, passed down. All three of my girls can say that and be proud.”

  “Well, life’s got a way of keeping us humble, so pride’s not a real big deal right now. And I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me in the morning. There are twenty-eight horses to learn about, I need to find a herd stallion, and I’ve got three emails from potential foal buyers so I need to brush up on lineage so I know what I’m talking about.” She stood and straightened her shirt.

  In a gesture of respect, all the men stood up as well.

  Cowboy code... Respect. Honor. Honesty.

  She’d loved that about Heath when they were young. His strong focus, his work ethic, the way he put the animals and others first. That sharpened the disappointment when he’d never looked back to see how she’d fared. After.

  He’d gone on with his life.

  She’d gone on with hers.

  Now here they were, working side by side. Two goals, one ranch, and a lot at stake. More than she’d thought possible until she’d faced those stables and the cowboy running them.

  “I’m going to stay a bit. Chat with the men.” Corrie waved her off. “Good night, darlin’ girl.”

  “Good night.” She crossed the graveled area, moved by the rugged beauty surrounding her. She hurried inside, grabbed her camera, and came back out, snapping evening pics of the men, the campfire, and Corrie’s sweet face set against a Western backdrop of hills, barns and land. She’d create a photo journal of this new path, something to share or to keep for herself. Either way, she could chronicle this new opportunity in pictures.

  Then she saw him, standing alone now that Zeke was tucked into bed, braced against the top rail of a fence. Heath, in profile, backlit by a full moon, a Western cover shot if ever there was one.

  She took a handful of pictures, knowing the sophisticated camera would adjust for light and distance.

  Then she stood there, quiet, watching him through the camera’s lens. Strong, rugged, determined, and looking so lonely and lost it made her heart ache.

  She lowered the camera and moved toward the door. She didn’t want him to catch her studying him. Wondering about him. But when she got to the thick oak door she turned one last time.

  He’d turned, too. Their eyes met. Held.

  She didn’t know how to break the connection. For just a moment, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

  But then she did. She’d learned a few lessons over the years. To forgive, to never hold a grudge, and to make it on her own.

  She didn’t hate men for letting her down. Men like her father. Her grandfather. Heath. But she wasn’t foolish enough to trust one again, either. A movement outside caught her eye as she crossed to the stairs leading to her rooms. Furtive and low, something skulked outside, moving toward the pasture beyond.

  Too small for a wolf. Maybe too small for a coyote, too, the creature slipped through the night, but the low profile and the stealthy manner put her on alert.

  Foals could be damaged by rogue wild animals. And worried mares might have less milk for their growing babies. She couldn’t afford to risk either, so she’d figure out what this was and how to handle it because she didn’t need reminders about what was at stake within these barn walls.

  She’d seen the spreadsheets. No sneaking creature of the night was going to ruin this for her, for the ranch or for those beautiful mares. She’d see to it.

  * * *

  Heath couldn’t get into the busyness of lambing fast enough, if having Lizzie around messed with his head this much. There was nothing like delivering hundreds of tiny creatures to keep your mind occupied, but tonight images flooded him.

  Lizzie, in the kitchen, engaging the men in conversation. Or on the porch, her long, russet hair splayed across her shoulders, smiling at his son. At the campfire, her lyrical voice and the flickering flames taking him back in time.

  Heath didn’t have the luxury of lingering in the past. Fatherhood required him to be fully present in today, but that reality had changed when he’d come face-to-face with Lizzie that morning.

  The other reality was the ma
ssive amount of work that they’d have on their hands after Ben, Aldo and Brad headed into the hills for the last time ever.

  He pushed off the rail to return to the house, and there she was, backlit by the stable lights. She stood quiet and still, with a beauty he remembered like it was yesterday. Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman that feareth the Lord shall be praised...

  He used to care what the Bible said. He used to pray with his heart and soul.

  Now he only went to church because he believed Zeke needed that structure, but the old verse washed over him as they locked eyes. He stood there, unable to shift his gaze while years melted away.

  She broke the connection first and kept walking toward the stables.

  In a weird reversal of roles, he moved toward the house. It had been different in Kentucky. She’d lived in the grand house and he’d bunked with his drunken father in the upper part of the horse barn, but he couldn’t find any pleasure in the change. It felt wrong on so many levels. Lizzie Fitzgerald shouldn’t be sleeping in a barn. Not now. Not ever.

  And yet she was.

  He cut around to the back door and slipped inside. He kicked off his shoes and moved into the bedroom he shared with his son.

  Anna had made the ultimate sacrifice five and a half years before. She’d understood the dangers to herself, but refused to terminate the pregnancy. And when the resulting heart damage from the previously undiagnosed condition proved too much for her body to bear, she’d kissed him and the perfect baby boy goodbye. And then she was gone. No pain. No suffering. Just wave upon wave of immeasurable sadness.

  Zeke rolled over. He brought his hand toward his mouth, an old habit from when he used to suck his thumb, but then his small brown hand relaxed against the white-cased pillow.

  Heath kissed the boy’s cheek. Then he went to bed, listening to the sound of his son’s breathing, like balm on a wound. But when he couldn’t get Lizzie’s russet-toned eyes out of his mind, he realized that shrugging some things off was much harder than others.

  Chapter Four

  Determined. Troublemaker. Big Red. Night Shadow. Red Moon Rising.

  Lizzie stared at the impressive list of stallion names, refusing to be overwhelmed.

  Getting eight mares bred to top quarter horse stallions had set her uncle back a cool hundred grand. And based on their lineage, the healthy foals could pay back three times that without a single credential to their record.

  That meant each one better hit the ground running, healthy and sound.

  You are now responsible for a million dollars in marketable goods. She stood and faced the broad window overlooking the verdant pasture as Heath walked toward the stable the next morning. And your goods aren’t static. They’re impulsive babies who run and jump and cavort. Your job is to keep them alive and unblemished.

  Her business major had prepared her for the financial scenario, but she’d assumed she’d be working with publishing spreadsheets and corporate executives, not living creatures. Despite all she knew about horses, she’d never felt less prepared in her life.

  “Sticker shock?” asked Heath when he paused at the office door.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Don’t get me wrong.” Heath came through the door. “Sean knew what he was doing. He didn’t play to lose. Ever. And his goal was to bring Saddle Up blood onto the farm one way or another, so three of those mares are bred to Saddle Up stallions. Speaking of which, this just came through the fax.”

  He handed her a picture of a magnificent red roan quarter horse. Red Moon Rising, with an offer of sale attached from Rising Star Ranch.

  She sighed, staring. “He’s gorgeous.” She noted the western Nebraska ranch named in the corner of the fax. “I have a note here from Uncle Sean saying this was his top choice, and pretty sure they’d never sell. And yet—” She raised the spec sheet higher. “Here we are. How did this happen?”

  “I don’t know. Sean approached them over a year ago and got nowhere. Then this appears, out of the blue. Do we want him?”

  The perfectly formed horse stood tall and proud, the way a stallion should. But he had a gentleness in his eye, too, an important factor on a working farm. “That’s not even a question. Of course we do. But I thought we were short on money.”

  “Short on cash, temporarily. At least until we get things squared away with all the changes. But we’re long on assets,” he told her. “And since this is something Sean tried to do before he died, I think we need to follow the plan.” He tapped the printed sheet in her hand. “I’m glad they decided to share. Sean could be mighty convincing when he needed to be. When it came to horses, he knew what he wanted and where to get it. I don’t have the knack,” he went on. “Sheep, yes. Horses, no. But Sean did. And he thought you did, too.”

  “Being an accomplished rider doesn’t make me a breeder.” She clutched the sale offer and gazed at the mares in the near pasture. “And there’s no big name vet on hand to offer advice and testing like other places have. And one groomer to help me, a guy who doesn’t speak horse.”

  “Not everyone’s a whisperer, Liz.”

  He used to tease her about that when they were young, about her ability to work well with the horses, to understand what they wanted. Needed. “It’s not whispering. It’s just instinct.”

  “It’s a gift and not everyone has it. Eric Carrington is expanding his place a little further south in the valley. He’s looking at expanding his cattle breeding operation into horses. He and Sean talked about a partnership, but then—”

  “Angus cattle, black and red.” She pointed to the laptop computer. “His name came up in my searches. We passed his pastures on the drive in, didn’t we?”

  “Yes. And if you decide to cut the deal for Red Moon Rising, I’ll transfer the money to the equine account. That’s a mighty fine-looking horse right there. And there are three stallion stalls sitting empty at the moment. He’d pay for himself in stud fee savings in a year.”

  She tapped the open page with one finger, thinking, then looked up. “A part of me feels vastly unqualified to make this call.”

  He waited.

  “The other part feels like someone just handed me the best opportunity in the world. To make my living working with horses. Who’d have thought?” She lifted her shoulders lightly because when the bankruptcy rulings swept in, the horses, the tack, the trailers, the food...everything disappeared. And there wasn’t a thing the girls could do about it.

  “Then the hesitant side will tug the reins on the other side so you don’t go hog wild.” He glanced behind her and whistled lightly when he saw the big calendar she’d mounted on the wall. “All the auction dates for next year. You didn’t waste any time.”

  “No time to waste if we’ve got foals due all summer. We want mama and baby teams to socialize together the first six months, so if I’m going to make this call, I need to get on it now.”

  “I’ll leave you to it. Call my cell if you need anything. I’ll be in the newer lambing barn up front, but I can get back here quickly.” And just when she thought he was extending an olive branch, his face tightened. “Whether I like it or not, what happens in this barn can make or break thirty years of hard work and investment. And that’s nothing I take lightly.”

  She met his gaze and kept her face flat on purpose.

  She didn’t punch him.

  She gave herself extra points on that, because she really wanted to.

  “Nor should you. Thanks for stopping by.” She sat down, dropped her eyes and reached for the phone, effectively dismissing him.

  He hesitated.

  She didn’t look up.

  And then he left, heading toward the house.

  She tried not to notice how good he looked as he strode away. She tried to ignore the breadth of his shoulders in that long-sleeved blue T-shirt and how easily he moved in the fad
ed denim jeans. He wasn’t wearing fancy Western boots. He walked off in well-made, waterproof farm boots, perfect for working stock animals.

  As the Rising Star Farm phone began ringing, she saw Zeke rush out of the house to meet his dad. Heath scooped him up, noogied his head, then hugged him close.

  An old ache nudged her heart with a feeling of loss, but then someone at Rising Star answered the phone. She brought her attention back to the present. She hauled in a breath and introduced herself to the person on the other end, and by the time she was through her day, she’d cut a deal on an impressive stallion and set up an appointment with Carrington’s ranch manager to see two mares the next day.

  They might not be what she was looking for. Until she got here and met Sean’s herd, she didn’t know what she’d be looking for.

  Now she’d had a firsthand look, and if Sean was willing to put his trust in a woman he didn’t know, Heath better be all right with doing the same.

  He’d said that Sean played to win. She did, too. And the only time she lost was when the outcome was taken totally out of her hands. But life went that way sometimes, and that meant you needed to straighten up, keep your chin up and pray your way through it. She’d had to do that more than once in her life, and when needed...she’d do it again.

  * * *

  Heath transferred farm equity funds into the equine account, and by the time he got showered and dressed for supper, the funds were out of the account. “You cut the deal with Rising Star that quickly?” he asked when Lizzie crossed the green square separating the stables a quarter hour later.

  “Yes.” She tipped a smile over his shoulder when Zeke spotted her and came racing their way. “I read Uncle Sean’s notes on possible stallions, and he was over the moon about this one. No pun intended,” she added. “If he felt that strongly about Red Moon Rising, I didn’t want to take a chance they might renege on the deal. Hey, bud.” She laughed when Zeke skidded to a stop and grabbed her hand. He looked up at her, she looked down at him and when they shared a smile, an old flicker of something warm and good ignited within Heath.