“Very okay.”
She let him lead the prayer, and when he was done, he looked back up at her. “You’re apposed to say ‘amen,’” he reminded her.
“Amen.” She smiled down at him, and then, on impulse, she leaned her cheek down, against his. “God bless you, little man.”
He leaned his cheek into hers, then shifted again. “Did you bring some snacks? My dad always has snacks in his bag.”
She hadn’t considered such a thing. “No. Sorry. But we can head back and see what Cookie’s up to.”
“Today is his day off.”
“Corrie, then. And maybe we can do something in the kitchen together. Would you like that?” She angled the horse along the ridge edge, then down an easy grade trail. “Cookies?”
“I love cookies!”
“And I like making cookies. I’ve been making them since I was a little girl. Corrie taught me.”
“Well, she’s very smart.”
Lizzie smiled, and as Zeke relaxed against her, her heart eased a little more. It felt good to hold the boy, talk with him, laugh with him.
She hadn’t expected that. How natural this would seem, despite the awkwardness of the situation.
“Thank you for bringing me on a ride.” Zeke sounded peaceful, clearly comfortable and wonderfully content. “It’s my favorite thing, Miss Lizzie.”
Having grown up on a horse farm, she understood that completely. “Mine, too.” She’d longed for that kind of tranquil therapy for years. How much it had meant to saddle up Maeve and hit the ground running.
Maybe because she had been naive then.
As she hit the flats, she encouraged the horse to a gentle lope. Mane flying, Honey cantered her way across the unfenced pasture like a master. Not too fast, not too slow, enough to make Zeke laugh with delight while she held him snug with one arm.
When she slowed the horse to a cooling walk, Zeke squealed softly. “I love going so fast, Miss Lizzie. This was the best ride ever!”
She’d had a lot of sweet rides in her youth. She’d brought home many a ribbon and trophy as a young equestrian. But Zeke was right. Holding him on the saddle and letting the gentle mare fly free might have been the sweetest ride she’d ever taken.
Chapter Eight
The sight of Zeke in Lizzie’s arms, curled on the couch in the great room, made Heath stop short later that afternoon.
His breath caught somewhere in the center of his chest. His heart winced, then continued beating.
She looked beautiful, holding his son, as both slept. Her lashes lay dark against her pale skin.
And Zeke’s lashes lay black against more coppery tones while his brown face was tucked beneath hers.
The peaceful scene looked natural.
It wasn’t.
He knew that. His son was a total blessing despite the grievous result of Anna’s pregnancy. He’d been conceived in love...
His conscience gave him a sharp mental kick.
That first baby had been conceived in love, too. A younger love, fierce in its beauty and excitement. As he watched Lizzie snuggle Zeke in sweet repose, he realized a marked difference.
He’d married Anna. He’d gone about things the right way that time. He’d made her his wife in front of God and a small gathering at the Holy Grace of God Church in the village.
He’d made no such vow to Lizzie. He’d let her father and grandfather browbeat him into leaving while she’d ended the pregnancy. Anguish had begun his journey north once Sean Fitzgerald contacted him, and anger had taken over about halfway to Idaho.
And yet—
If he hadn’t been strong enough to fight for the girl, was the outcome more his fault than he’d been willing to believe back then?
Lizzie’s eyes opened.
His heart paused. His mind raced back, over the years. She’d been pretty back then.
She was beautiful now. She blinked slowly, saw him, and her gaze clouded. Then she seemed to remember Zeke and her arms folded around him in a protective gesture. “Is he still sleeping?” She whispered the words, stirring more old memories.
Heath nodded.
She shifted slightly and adjusted the curled-up boy as she did. When Heath reached for him, she shook her head. “Don’t disturb him, he’s comfortable. We had an early morning and a busy day,” she went on, and Heath couldn’t help but notice how she cradled the five-year-old against her chest. “I got schooled in sheep, then I schooled him in cookies, horses and chocolate milk bubbles. A good day, all in all. How is Rosina doing?”
He sat along the edge of the rugged sofa table, perfect for propping feet after a long day, or holding a mug of coffee. “They ended up doing the C-section, but the baby’s safe and sound.” He paused. “And tiny. I forgot how small babies really are.” He let his gaze rest on Zeke for a few seconds. “Anyway, she’s beautiful. Rosie’s doing all right, and Harve looked shell-shocked. But happy. So happy, both of them. She’ll be home in a couple of days which seems really quick for a procedure like that. But then sheep recover from C-sections pretty quickly, so maybe I’m being overprotective.”
Her smile faded. She sat more upright and indicated Zeke with a glance. “On second thought, can you take him, please? I need to get back to work.”
Her voice had been soft and lyrical. Now it was clipped. “Sure.” He lifted the boy to his chest. “Thanks for watching him, Liz.”
“Glad to help.”
Was she? It’d seemed like it, and then...not so much. He tucked Zeke into his bed, yawned, and wished he could join the little guy, but there were things to do. Sleep would have to wait.
He walked outside, hands in his pockets. Seeing Rosie in labor, then seeing baby Johanna in her father’s arms, thrust him back in time. Anna had been a scheduled C-section to spare her heart the rigors of labor. She’d wakened long enough to see Zeke. To hold him. To smile at her son and bless him before he was whisked off to the NICU.
She’d lingered for three days, in and out of a semiconscious state. And then she’d slipped away forever. Johanna wasn’t in the NICU. At over seven pounds, she was a full-term, beautiful little girl with clenched fists and a button nose, but seeing her brought so much flooding back. And then, walking in, spotting his son curled in Lizzie’s arms.
He headed to the lambing shed to relieve Wick. Corrie would call him when Zeke woke up. After a snack, she’d noted, as she packed fresh cookies into a zipped bag for him.
“Hey, boss.” Wick had been bent over a stall wall, monitoring a fresh delivery. He straightened, rubbed the small of his back, but kept smiling. “Harve and Rosie are doing all right, I hear?”
“You hear right. Mother, baby and aging father.”
Wick laughed. “Nothing like a baby to keep you young. And it’s real nice to see them welcome this little girl after so long. And this little mama just presented triplets so we should red-string this one.” He motioned to a ewe with a single lamb behind him. “And gift her a daughter so no one has to fight for food. If she takes it on, that is.”
“I’ll keep an eye on them to make sure she takes.” Most sheep would accept an orphan lamb, but not all. “I’ll give the baby a colostrum bottle before we shift her over.” He scanned the tape markers on the stall doors, indicators of what had happened on the last shift. He whistled softly. “You’ve been busy.”
“We’re in the thick of it now, but I just fed and you should get a breather for a little while.”
“I’ve got coffee.” He set his insulated cup onto a small shelf close by. “And a fistful of cookies. I’m good.”
Wick washed up in the barn sink before he went off to rest. Heath warmed a bottle slightly. He slipped into the pen, picked a female lamb and fed her the bottle. Then he marked her ear before offering her to the mother down the aisle.
The ewe had been resting comfortably, her baby at her
side. She brought her head around when he deposited the little lamb alongside the day-old baby ram. Then he backed away.
The baby seemed confused. She bleated, turned and bleated again.
Her biological mother’s voice answered from down the walkway. Then the new ewe leaned back and sniffed at her. She sniffed again, then looked around as if wondering how this had occurred.
Then she stood. The moment of truth had arrived. Would she clean up this newborn and feed her? Or would she chase her off to protect her original baby?
The lamb bleated again, as if pleading her case.
The older ewe nudged her with her nose. And then she began cleaning her, working the lamb’s surface with her tongue, letting the newborn know it would be all right.
His mind went straight back to Lizzie, cuddling Zeke on the couch. Could a woman accept another person’s child as readily? And how could a parent risk a bad pairing? Zeke was his responsibility. Would anyone else be able to love him like Heath did?
Anna would scold you and tell you to get over yourself. To get real.
The mental reminder was right. Anna had a way of setting him straight when he let worry take hold. She’d had faith in God and confidence in him when he had precious little in himself.
“Dad!” Zeke came through the lambing barn with a broad, open grin. “I had so much fun today! My Lizzie is the best babysitter in the whole world and she was so excited about my tooth!” He grinned wide to show off the gap. “It was like the best day ever!”
There was no denying the naked joy on his son’s face. His grin. His excitement. “What did you guys do that tuckered you out so much?” he asked. “When I got home from the hospital, you were sacked out on the couch.”
“Rosie’s baby!” The little guy slapped a hand to his forehead in an almost comical move. “I almost forgot and we’ve been waiting so long!”
“The baby is beautiful, she’s little but not as little as you were when you were born, and her name is Johanna.”
“Jo-Jo.” He shortened the name immediately. “Miss Lizzie made a card with me, and we’re going to pick some flowers for Rosie-Posie and the baby. Just to make them smile when they come home.”
“That’s a great idea.” And nothing he’d have thought of personally. He’d already ordered a bouquet of flowers to be delivered later in the week. He hadn’t thought of personalizing it and making Zeke a part of the gift. But Lizzie had. “What else did you guys do?”
“Went on the best ride ever,” Zeke told him. “I wanted to ride one of the new horses, but Miss Lizzie said no...but then she got Honey’s Money all ready and we went up into the hills.”
The hills?
“We went so high we could see the skinny top on the church and the old silos.”
Which meant they’d gone beyond the soft green grasses and into the rockier outcropping to be able to see Shepherd’s Crossing.
“And then she rode so fast across the grass that it was like flying, Dad! Like a real cowboy! And Corrie made cookies and grilled cheese and we cleaned stables and I fell asleep.”
He zeroed in on one term. Flying.
Lizzie loved speed.
She was fearless around horses and just as courageous up top, but to run a horse with Zeke on board?
Anger thrummed along his spine until his ears rang. He bit it back. It wasn’t Zeke he needed to scold. It was Lizzie, and as soon as Zeke was tucked in for the night, he’d have a word with her. She could do what she liked on her own. Her skills made that a nonissue.
But when it came to Zeke, Heath’s word was law and Lizzie Fitzgerald needed to understand that.
* * *
Don’t dwell on the negatives in life. Focus on the positives, the good things, the blessings surrounding you. The past can be a good advisor but a bad ruler. Don’t let it pull you down.
Lizzie needed the mental reminder as she worked a mare in the far field bordering the hills. She’d disappointed herself as a teen, but faith had saved her midway through college. She’d moved on from the past and worked hard to adopt Paul’s message to the Philippians. “Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.”
She’d adopted this verse as her family and their business crumbled around her. She worked hard to keep a positive attitude. But facing Heath dredged up her old choices. Her loss. So when he strode her way looking way grumpier than any man should that evening, she squared her shoulders. He could be grumpy all he wanted. That was his right. But no way would he be allowed to take it out on her.
“We need to talk.” He stopped a few feet from her, as if preparing for battle, a battle she wasn’t about to have.
“About me needing a stable hand that’s accomplished at riding? Perfect. I’ll start looking first thing Monday.”
His brows drew down. “I got the text you sent about that, but that’s not why I’m here.”
“Then...why?” She kept her voice cool and her face relaxed.
“You took Zeke into the hills today.”
His topic surprised her. “Yes. Of course. On Honey’s Money.”
“And you had her run with him on her back?”
And there it was, the sound of a hovering parent, micromanaging every tiny aspect of a kid’s life. She’d seen plenty of that among her millennial friends. She hadn’t expected to see it from Heath, a four-season cowboy with a strong work ethic. “Yet what other be so glorious to see? A horse, mane flying, running free.” She refused to flinch beneath his dark gaze. “Your words, cowboy.”
“I wrote that poem a long time ago, Liz.” Hands braced on his hips, he scowled down at her and she returned the favor by staying cool and calm.
“A lifetime, Heath. That’s how long ago it was.”
“Listen, you did me a favor today, and I’m grateful.”
“And yet, oddly, your tone of voice belies your words.”
His frown deepened. “Zeke’s my son. We play by my rules. If you’re going to be here for a year—”
“Not if, Heath. I am here for a year, and probably longer because not only am I good at working horses—” she drew a little closer just to underscore her point “—I love working them. And I’ve got the business degree and acumen to make it work. And if you question my judgment about what I do with Zeke, then you need to find someone else to help watch him because no one—” she stepped forward again “—sets my rules except me. I’ve made it on my own for a long time and I’ll continue to do so long after this initial year is up. So this is what you need to think about. If you leave that sweet boy in my care, I’ll do as I think best. If that means riding into the hills and cantering through the grass, I’ll do it again.” She started to pivot but stopped when he said her name.
“You’d do it again?” She hadn’t thought he could stand any taller, but he did. And then he folded his arms. “Over my dead body.”
“Whatever it takes, Heath.” She lifted her gaze and locked eyes with him in the fading light. “What form of torture is it to raise a boy on a beautiful ranch like Pine Ridge and deny him the chance to run a horse?” She met his anger with a steady voice. An even countenance. “There’s almost nothing as wonderful as being up top a horse, Heath Caufield, and a cowboy like you should know that.” She reached out and tapped his chest, just once. “Unless you’ve forgotten that, too.”
And then she walked away.
Chapter Nine
The church bell began to toll a five-minute reminder the next morning, an old Shepherd’s Crossing tradition. When folks lived in town, the tolling bell reminded them to step lively. Heath had just stepped out of the pickup truck when the bells began to chime.
“Yay!” Zeke threw his arms int
o the air. “We’re here for the bells, Dad! I get so happy hearing the bells ring. And Cookie’s chocolate cake makes me happy, too. But not as happy as riding with Miss Lizzie.” Zeke amended his statement with a glance back, over his shoulder. “That was like the best ever.”
“Ezekiel—” Talking about this now wouldn’t be a good idea. He’d already decided to quietly let the subject go and make sure Justine understood the rules when she stepped in to watch Zeke the coming week.
But Zeke was on a roll and the caution in Heath’s voice added no restraint. “She snuggled me so tight, and it was like having a mom, laughing and holding on to me so nothing would ever happen to me. And she said it was okay to miss my mom, because she misses her mom, too.”
Holding him so tight? Missing his mom?
Heath’s throat went tight. Zeke never talked about Anna. He never referred to missing his mother, but he’d shared that emotion yesterday. With Lizzie.
Zeke had started up the church steps but Heath called him back. “You had fun with Lizzie? Miss Lizzie,” he corrected himself.
“It was awesome.” Blue-gray eyes in a dusky face held his gaze and his heart. “When I go to school I’m going to tell all the kids about riding Honey’s Money with Miss Lizzie.”
Great. He’d spent five years raising the boy on his own, losing sleep and balancing things like a tightrope walker. And Lizzie breezed into town and won the kid’s heart in less than two weeks.
It was like that for you, too. Back in the day. Remember? It took no time at all for you to lose your heart to her. “I expect they’ll like hearing it.”
“Me, too.” Zeke reached for Heath’s hand and held it. “But first I’ll tell them that my dad is the best cowboy ever. Okay?”
Oh, man...
The boy’s trust and devotion were wonderful things, but had Heath earned them? Did he deserve them?
Some days, yes. Others...not so much. And now he’d lambasted Lizzie for something he probably should have been doing with Zeke all along. Not racing the boy across fields, of course, but letting him experience the joy of being in the saddle, safe and secure, going faster than an old plodding horse would take him. “Very okay. And next time we go riding, I’ll go a little faster. All right?”
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