“Are we wrong to do this?” Mel asked. “To take on this challenge to inherit Uncle Sean’s ranch when we didn’t even know him? Does that seem greedy to you?”
“We weren’t allowed to know him, so that’s not our fault,” answered Lizzie. “Considering the fallout from Daddy’s choices, I’m okay with being out of the limelight for a while. And Shepherd’s Crossing is definitely off the beaten path. I get to work with horses all day and manage the business side of things without too much interference from Heath, mostly because he’s got lambs dropping.”
“I bet they’re the cutest things ever. And maybe we can develop a woolens side business linked to the ranch’s sheep output. Natural fibers are all the rage right now.” The marketer in Mel jumped right on board. “Idaho’s the perfect spot for something like that, don’t you think?”
The thought would never have occurred to Lizzie. “That’s why you’re the decorator and I’m in the stables. Oops, gotta go, my mare app is signaling. I’ll see you in a week or two. I love you, Mel.”
“Love you, too, Liz.”
She hurried to the stable area, but didn’t approach the laboring horse. Commotion could delay the mare’s progress. She slipped into the center stable and crossed to the office just as Heath did the same thing from the opposite end. He held up his phone. “Looks like it’s go time for Clampett’s Girl.”
“I didn’t know you had the app, too.”
“It made sense.” He moved her way. “Are you watching from a distance?”
“As much as I’d love to cheer her on, that would be a stupid move on my part, so yes.” She opened the office door and switched on the lights. She turned on the office monitors while Heath brewed coffee. When he had a cup made, he added cream and sugar and brought it to her. “That smells perfect.” She breathed in the scent. Rich. Full. Real coffee, the kind she loved. “From the looks of her, this might be a while.”
“Lots of coffee pods.” He pulled up a chair once his coffee was made and took a seat.
“Who’s in the lambing barn?”
“Wick. Jace is catching some sleep. He’ll holler if he needs me.”
“Or I can page you if you’re needed here,” she suggested, then paused. Looked at him. “You’re not sure I can handle this.”
He denied that quickly. “That’s not why I’m here. I don’t know anyone more comfortable around horses than you, Liz. It was like you were born to do this kind of thing, but while we’re both good with horses, neither one of us knows a lot about breeding them. Although with other animals it generally goes smooth on its own, so I expect this will, too.”
She pointed to a stack of books and printed articles. “I may have read up on a few things.”
“I know.” He acknowledged that with a sip of his coffee. “But I need to learn, too, and the best way to do that is to be here. I won’t get in your way. And yeah, I’ve seen a few mares foal over the years, but there wasn’t this much riding on it. So this is different.”
How could she argue with that? “Okay.”
He dozed off twenty minutes in. Tucked into the wide office chair, his chin dropped onto his chest and his breathing changed.
He looked...vulnerable. That wasn’t a word she’d normally associate with a strong man like Heath, but it fit the moment. She watched the monitor, played solitaire on her phone, and when things began moving along two hours later, she nudged him awake. “Hey. Wake up. We’re getting close.”
He shot upright, frowned, then seemed to remember what he was doing. “I fell asleep?”
“A quick nap,” she told him. “Needed, I expect.”
He looked at his watch and groaned. “Over two hours. I shouldn’t have sat down.”
“Well, all you missed was some flank staring, walking and bodily functions. But now we’ve got a foal presenting. Let’s walk down to the outer corridor in case she needs help. But make sure your phone is on vibrate. I want a quiet birth. No distractions.”
“All right.” She wasn’t sure if he took direction from her that easily because he felt guilty about the nap or because he wanted her to feel in charge. Either option worked. They crossed to the south-facing stables and slipped down the hall where they could follow the process through their phones but be close enough to intervene if needed. Lizzie hoped it wouldn’t be needed.
* * *
Thirty-seven minutes later a perfect sorrel filly was born. Wide-eyed and long-legged, the newborn horse blinked, peeking out from the clean bed of straw. “She’s a pretty little thing, Liz.”
“Watch the mom,” Lizzie spoke softly as she moved around the foaling pen. “New moms can get protective and spook easy.”
“And with a lot more force behind it than a ewe,” he whispered back, but they didn’t need to worry. Clampett’s Girl tended her baby, took a long drink, then cleaned her foal again.
Lizzie pulled out a checklist once they closed the stall door. “Done. I’m going to bunk here so I can keep an eye on things.”
She was going to rest here? On the floor? “Won’t the app wake you upstairs in the apartment?”
“I want to be close enough to check her every hour for the first few.” She set her phone and propped herself in a corner outside the stall.
It felt wrong to leave her there, which was silly because he’d spent many a night in the lambing barns. But this wasn’t him. It was Lizzie. And when she stuck a ridiculously small pillow behind her head, he wanted to snatch it up, send her to bed and offer to watch the horse for her.
She gazed up at him from her spot, looking so much like the girl she’d been twelve years before. But different, too. “It’s my job, Heath.” She kept her voice quiet. Matter-of-fact. And quite professional. “People don’t inherit a quarter share of a ranch worth millions without putting in some time. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She was right. He knew that.
But walking away from her, down that hall, through the door into the cold spring night, was one of the toughest things he’d done in a long time. He did it because it was the right thing to do. But he hated every minute of it.
* * *
Lizzie stirred, scowled at her phone, then closed her eyes.
She’d checked the foal twice. The first time she’d been sleeping, curled up against her mother. The next time she was nursing, and that was only thirty minutes before.
What woke her?
She didn’t know. That fuzzy stray dog, maybe? She hadn’t seen it in days, but something was feasting on the food dish she’d put behind the barn. She could only hope it was the stray brindle dog.
The sound came again and she recognized the noise instantly. The bleat of a sheep in trouble. Not that she had any experience with sheep before this week, but no one could survive a week on a sheep ranch and not hear the various sounds of the ewe. Happy. Playful. Sad. Worried.
And this one sounded very, very worried.
She stood, stretched and walked the length of the barn hall separating the north- and south-facing stalls. A horse was walking her way, clomping quietly along and behind the horse was a very unhappy sheep. “Aldo?”
The bronze-skinned man turned toward her voice. Across his lap were discontented twin lambs. They bawled softly to their mother and she replied in kind, only louder and with more force behind every bleat.
“What happened?”
“Somehow this one got in with the others and went into the hills. And then...” He dropped his gaze to the twins. “There were three, but we did not realize what was happening until it was too late.”
“But you saved two,” she reasoned, moving closer.
“It should have been all three,” Aldo professed. He sounded sad, as if he’d failed. “We should have known she was nearly due, but her mark had faded and she blended herself in. Until this.”
“Aldo.” Heath appeared from the lambing shed. “Bring
them into the near end, I’ve got a stall ready.”
“She can’t just go out into the lambing shed with the other new mothers?”
“We’ll want to monitor what’s happening. She’s been through a lot, to take that long walk into the hills, then deliver in the cold. Lambs are hearty as a rule, but if she lost one, then conditions were rough enough to cause havoc already. She’s nervous right now and I don’t want her to spook the other sheep. Why were you up? Has something gone wrong with the foal?”
He probably didn’t mean to sound so gruff. He was tired. She was tired. And Aldo had taken a crazy nighttime ride by the light of a nearly full moon. “I heard a sheep in trouble and came to check it out.”
“I was going to call you and have you meet us with the truck when we got to the road,” Aldo told them as they got nearer to the shed. “But in the end, it was just as quick to ride them in the last half mile.”
“You were in the worst place for this to happen,” said Heath. He reached up and withdrew a lamb, then held the little creature close to his chest. “No easy way up. No easy way down.”
“That’s how it hits sometimes.” Aldo climbed down, then lifted the second lamb from the saddle, easing it into his arms.
“I can put your horse up for you, Aldo,” said Lizzie.
The men turned, surprised.
“So you don’t have to do it,” she went on. “You’ve had a long night.”
“You have a good heart, Lizzie.” Aldo smiled at her, but refused her offer. “I’ll take the horse back up straightaway. By the time I get there, they will have started for the next hill.”
“And by hill, he might mean mountain,” added Heath. “Wick dozed off about an hour back. I’ll keep an eye out here. Thanks for bringing them down.”
He set the first lamb into the bed of clean straw. Aldo set the second one right next to it. “Both ewes. Pretty little girls. It was a ram we lost.”
The mama sheep answered the babies’ plaintive calls with a sharp cry, then dodged into the stall. She circled the babies, tending to them with her tongue, then her voice.
She was worried.
The babies were worried.
And as Lizzie gazed at the tiny twin sheep, she felt pretty worried herself.
“You need sleep,” Heath told her. “Unfortunately that’s been in short supply tonight. They should be fine, but we’ll watch for any problems.”
“Perhaps tomorrow night we all shall sleep soundly.” Aldo climbed back into the saddle and tipped his round-edged hat slightly. “Here is to sleep and an uneventful night. What’s left of it.”
Lizzie’s phone buzzed just then. “Mother and baby calling, barn number three.”
She started to walk away.
Heath called her name.
She turned around.
“Thanks for checking on what you heard. That’s solid, Liz.”
She wished his praise didn’t mean a lot, but it did. No way she was about to let him know that, though. She tipped her head and offered a careless wave. “All in a day’s work.” Or a night’s work, she thought as she re-entered the horse barn.
Stable sounds surrounded her. Horses breathing. An occasional snort. And then the sounds of Clampett’s Girl caring for her newborn foal.
The mothering thing came so naturally to animals. At least it seemed to. Were humans different? Were they too smart to trust instinct and love?
She wasn’t sure, but there were times when she thought so. Times when she wondered how different her life might have been if she and Heath had defied her family and run off to a justice of the peace when she was seventeen. Was it fear that had kept her from doing that? Or had she been ashamed of disappointing her father and grandfather?
She paused outside the mare’s stall and peeked in. All was well. And this time when she curled up on the chilled floor to rest, nothing woke her until the morning sun rose a few hours later.
Chapter Seven
Sean’s lawyer pulled up to the house about the time Heath would have liked a nap on Saturday afternoon.
Obviously the nap wasn’t about to happen. Sean had decreed that Mack Grayson should go over the will with each beneficiary personally. Sean liked a personal touch as long as he wasn’t required to do it. He made contacts because he needed them to build the ranch, but by nature he was a loner. That kept Sean away from the little town more often than not. Had he even noticed the town’s steep decline over the past several years?
Possibly not.
Heath glanced back, wanting to check on the unexpected mother in the first lambing barn, but time was money for Mack and everyone else trying to eke out a living in Shepherd’s Crossing. Keeping him waiting would be plain rude. “Hey, Mack.”
“Heath.” Mack stuck out a hand, looking every inch the cowboy he was, despite the impressive law degree. “How you holding up?”
“Fine, Mack. Just fine.”
“Right.” Mack sized him up. “Nothing a half day’s sleep wouldn’t cure. Is Elizabeth around?”
He hadn’t heard anyone call Lizzie Elizabeth in a long time. “She’s in the house.”
“When are the others coming north?”
“Soon, I’m told.” He pulled the screen door wide for Mack, then followed him in. “Melonie is finishing up her job at one of the Fitzgerald magazines and Charlotte’s about to graduate from veterinary school.”
“A vet on hand?” Mack’s brows rose in appreciation. “Handy turn of events. Still, having a house full of women around is going to be different. You up for it?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Nope.”
“Well, then.” Heath crossed to the great room. “Let’s get this done.”
Lizzie wasn’t in the great room even though he’d texted her.
Corrie came out from the kitchen. He motioned Mack over. “Mack Grayson, this is Corrie Satterly. She raised the Fitzgerald sisters after they lost their mother.”
“I’ve heard only good things, Mrs. Satterly.”
“Ms. Satterly,” she told him firmly. “But just Corrie will do nicely.” She turned back toward Heath. “Lizzie’s not here?”
“Not yet.” He checked the clock, then his watch. Both read the same time, making her ten minutes late.
Irritation snaked a line beneath his collar and up his neck. Maybe being late was fashionable in the publishing world. But here on the ranch, no one wasted time, especially this time of year.
He looked at Corrie. “Do you know what’s keeping her?”
She headed toward the door as she answered. “She was ready half an hour ago. I’ll go check.”
She was ready? Then where was she? A momentary unease niggled him. What if she wasn’t all right? What if something had happened? He started to cross the room just as Lizzie walked through the front door. She looked fine.
Real fine, he noted, but he wouldn’t dwell on that.
He was about to lambaste her for keeping them waiting when she pointed behind her. “The ewe, the one that delivered in the hills.” She paused to catch her breath, but the worry on her face clued him in. “I went to check on her and something’s wrong. Very wrong.”
He hurried through the door, and down the steps with Lizzie on his heels. He barked a message to Harve over the pager and raced to the foremost barn.
He should have checked on her before. If anything happened to her, it was on him, and him alone. He ran into the barn, his mind racing through various possibilities. Lizzie followed.
Harve appeared from the other direction.
The diagnosis was clear and dangerous the moment he spotted the downed ewe. “Hypocalcemia,” Heath told Harve as he knelt beside the ailing sheep.
Harve disappeared and returned quickly with a small leather case and a bottle. “You administer, I’ll hold.”
Within seconds Heat
h began the IV drip into the ewe’s jugular vein while Harve held the life-giving bottle of glucose and calcium above. Once they had the fluid dripping, Heath looked up. “This is going to take a while—it’s got to go in slowly. Can someone tell Mack?”
Corrie answered while Lizzie watched the ewe with grave concern. “I’ll go.”
Within minutes the ewe was showing signs of recovery. She blinked, then opened her eyes with a renewed interest in life. He turned to thank Liz for her intervention as Mack and Corrie came up alongside her.
“Necessary change of venue,” said Mack as he withdrew an envelope of papers from his Western-styled briefcase. “If you’re going to be on the ranch, what better place to get the lowdown than the barn, saving an ewe’s life?”
He handed Lizzie a copy of the will, then opened his to read out loud.
And when he began reading, Heath heard the sound of Sean Fitzgerald’s voice rang through the words.
“I like things my way,” Mack began. “That’s not always a blessing, and when I found out I wasn’t going to make it through this final battle, I did some thinking. Quiet thinking and out-loud thinking, and here’s where we’re at. The legal mumbo-jumbo will be squared away below. Mack Grayson has assured me of that, but here’s my message to all four of you: Life’s short.
No matter what you’ve been through, what rivers you’ve crossed or grass-crawling snakes you’ve avoided (especially the two-legged kind pretending to be family or friends) I want you to see Pine Ridge Ranch as a fresh start, a new beginning in a land wild and free and stunningly beautiful. A land a man can get lost in and a woman can call home.
I don’t know if you’ll love it. I want someone to love it, and if it’s family, that’s good. But if not, then Heath can buy you out because he’s the closest thing I’ve got to a son. He knows the sheep. He knows my heart.
Lizzie, I don’t know you or your sisters, but I know horses and Heath says you do, too. I started something I’m not going to finish. I hate that. A marine doesn’t start something and leave it go. We work, plan, strive and wrap up a mission. Every time. But not this time, and I’m leaving it to you to either make it work or sell it off. The good Lord has his own timing. My life is drawing down, but you and your sisters, your lives are just beginning, and if a share of Pine Ridge helps launch you gals, well, that’s a job well done.
Her Cowboy Reunion Page 7