Heath didn’t do change well. He depended on himself and few others, and most assuredly not God.
She depended on God for everything. He’d been with her throughout the dark days after her father discovered her pregnancy. The shunning she’d received from her illustrious grandfather. And He’d been with her when she’d called on Heath for help, and Heath had ignored her pleas.
She folded her hands lightly in her lap. “I don’t know where I’d be today without my faith, Heath. It’s been my mainstay when people let me down. When man failed me, God stood watch. I’m sorry it hasn’t been that way for you because I remember when you used to go to church every Sunday and pray for your father.”
“A fat lot of good that did me.”
She heard the pain in his voice. She understood how hard it was to grow up happy when parents fail in their job of simply loving their children. She’d had money and stature to fall back on.
Heath had a drunken father in a dirty stable apartment.
She wouldn’t argue with him. Or try and convince him. He needed to find his own path back to faith, on his own terms. But she could pray for him to find the peace and joy God wanted for him. The quiet contentment she wanted for him.
His phone buzzed a text. He read it and moved to the door. “Jace needs a hand.”
Would he go get Zeke and let the little fellow pal around in the sheep barn? Or was he expecting others to take charge and keep Zeke under lock and key for the duration?
“I’ll keep you apprised of what’s going on here.”
“I’d appreciate it.” And before she could make a face behind his back, he turned. “Not because I don’t trust you to do it, Liz. But so I don’t thoroughly mess up if I have to step up to the plate someday.”
“A good plan. See you later.”
He cut across the grass to the house to throw some work clothes on.
She stared up at the cloudless sky, wondering how anyone could live here and not see the beauty of God’s creation. Or believe in God Himself.
Could she help Heath? Or would drawing close to him again simply draw her into his work-first world?
She didn’t know, but when he came out of the house and headed to the sheep barn without Zeke, she was disappointed.
Sure, there was risk on a ranch. There was risk everywhere. But if Heath used all his time working solo instead of bringing his little boy with him whenever possible, he wasn’t just building a ranch. He was building a wall between father and son, a wall that didn’t need to exist except when fear grabbed hold and wouldn’t let go.
And that might be the worst wall of all.
Chapter Ten
Heath returned to the stables when she texted him in the late afternoon. “I got your message. How’s she doing?”
“We’ve got hooves showing.”
“That’s quick. And she’s handling it well?”
“This isn’t her first rodeo,” replied Lizzie as she jotted notes into the electronic notebook. She’d set up a small table around the corner from the foaling mare. It held a tall iced tea in a plastic bottle and a container of Corrie’s homemade cookies, the closest she’d come to food all day. “She’s had two other successful foals. And one stillbirth.”
Heath had been watching the monitor above him. He stopped watching and turned her way. “Sean bought a horse with a thirty-three percent failure rating?”
Lizzie’s heart went tight. So did her hands. And when she found the breath to address his statement she kept her voice soft on purpose. “I don’t think the horse considered it a failure. I think she saw it as a loss, Heath.”
Her reply flustered him. Good.
“I don’t mean she failed, that was a stupid way to put it. We have lamb losses. Their percentages get higher if the weather turns, or if we get an attack of scours. There are so many factors that affect newborns that we’re constantly watching during lambing season. But with a horse it’s one foal every two years and when you lose one out of three, that’s a higher percentage than Sean would have normally entertained.”
He made sense but that didn’t erase the sting of the word failure. “Let’s just say they might not have been forthcoming about the stillbirth. I found it accidentally when I was examining records. Maybe Uncle Sean only saw what they wanted him to see. Or maybe he wanted her to have another chance. A happier one.”
He seemed to miss the latter part of her statement and bore directly into the first half. “They falsified records?”
“It wasn’t in the paperwork so unless they told him verbally, then yes. By omission,” she added. “But right now let’s focus on them.”
A nose appeared between the two thick hooves, and within twenty minutes they had a blue roan colt on the ground, one of the most majestic colts she’d ever seen.
“Oh, he’s a stunner.” Lizzie breathed the words, watching. “A classic beauty. And with a lineage that puts him into a class all his own. So maybe Uncle Sean did know about the lost foal.” She leaned on the adjoining stall gate, watching the pair bond. “But he saw Josie’s potential and bought her anyway.”
“That’s a big chance to take on a whole lot of investment,” said Heath, but then his next words eased the sting. “And well worth every penny. Like I said before, you and Sean have an eye for horses. And an ear. I’m making a pledge right now that I won’t interfere with your decisions. Mostly.”
“And I’ll promise to ignore you as needed. Mostly.”
She tipped a smile up his way, then paused.
Their eyes met. Held. Lingered.
His gaze dropped to her mouth. Stayed there. And then he reached out one finger to her cheek. Just one. He traced the curve of her cheek with that one finger as if remembering. Or maybe reminding himself of what they’d had way back when.
The sound of the stable door clicking shut pulled them apart, and when Corrie turned down the alley with Zeke, Lizzie was studiously watching mother and baby, which was what she should have been doing all along.
She turned to welcome Heath’s son and focused on the boy’s excitement. “Hey, little man. The baby is here and he’s beautiful.”
“I’m so happy he’s here!” Zeke kept his voice quiet. He peeked into the stall when Heath lifted him into his arms. “Isn’t he like the coolest baby horse ever?”
“He is a rare beauty,” noted Corrie, but she sent Lizzie a sharp look. A look that Lizzie refused to acknowledge. “He might be your second-generation stallion if you keep him. That color alone is worth a fair price.”
“We’ll see how he musters up, but yes.” Lizzie hung back with them so they wouldn’t spook the mother. “He’s a looker.”
“He sure is. I’m going up to take care of some overdue office work up front,” Heath said. He faced Corrie. “Are you okay with Zeke for a while?”
Corrie shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. We’ve had a nice afternoon, but Cookie and I are laying plans for the vegetable garden. But I’ll see you both at supper.”
He started to turn toward Lizzie. The mare whinnied, a reminder that Lizzie was on the job, too. “Well, bud, you’ll have to tag along with me.”
Zeke pressed a kiss to his father’s cheek. “I love that, Dad!”
Heath’s expression relaxed. “Me, too. We’ll see you ladies later.”
“Wonderful.” Corrie smiled, but when he was out of sight, she turned to Lizzie with a more thoughtful expression. “You guard your head. He guards his heart.” She drawled the words intentionally. “How can this possibly work, darlin’?”
“There’s nothing to work,” Lizzie told her.
Corrie sniffed. “You couldn’t fool me then, you can’t fool me now. And it’s not that I don’t understand the attraction. Heath Caufield is a fine man. And he carries himself tall and strong, but there’s a world of hurtin’ in those big blue eyes and you’ve had enough of that, I t
hink.”
“Corrie...”
Corrie raised both hands up, palms out. “I’m not interfering.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Lizzie drew the wheelbarrow closer for stall cleaning.
“But I’m not afraid to protect my own, Lizzie-Beth. I might have failed in that before. I don’t aim to fail now.”
Concern drew Corrie’s brows together and Lizzie knew the sincerity of the sweet nanny’s words. But she wasn’t a wayward teen any longer. “I’m all grown up, Corrie. And pretty independent.”
“Tell this old woman something I don’t know.”
Lizzie grinned and looped an arm around Corrie’s shoulders in a half hug. “You’re not old. You’re seasoned. And I’d be lying to say there isn’t an attraction. The kid is a total bonus. But I will never settle for less than the whole thing again, Corrie. Faith, hope and love. Heath’s so mad at God and life that whatever faith he had is gone and he wears his wedding ring like a badge of honor. I decided a long time ago that I’ll never take second place again. And I meant it.”
“So we wait and see while we work here. Maybe the good Lord has brought us to Idaho to make a difference. Your uncle’s generosity has opened a door for us. Perhaps there’s a way to open a door for others.”
Lizzie envisioned the worn-out town, the thinning population and the problems surrounding them. “I don’t know how, Corrie.”
“Then we pray for vision.” Corrie squeezed her hand lightly. “The little man and I made spoon bread to go with supper. If we bring some Southern cooking and hospitality into the deep north, it’s bound to have some kind of effect. It can’t hurt anything more than it’s already hurting.”
Southern cooking.
Hospitality.
Lizzie worked those thoughts around in her head once Corrie went back to the house.
How could people work together if they never came together? And what brought most people out?
Weddings and funerals.
Since there wasn’t a wedding in the plans, she sought Heath out that evening, once Zeke was in bed. “Got a minute?”
“Before I fall asleep?” He’d been checking something on his phone. He put it away. “Yes.”
“You said Uncle Sean was cremated.”
“He wanted his ashes returned to the ranch he loved. Yes.”
“Is there a memorial?”
He frowned. “A what?”
“A grave. A marker. Something to commemorate his life.”
“I think the ranch is a pretty big marker. Don’t you?”
“No.” The night had taken a strong dip in temperature so she pulled her hoodie closer. “Uncle Sean was a decorated marine. He was awarded the Navy Cross and a Purple Heart. He saved three men from an ambush and took a bullet to the leg while dragging them, one at a time, to safety. The farm is a great legacy. But a memorial is a better reminder of that sacrifice.”
He took her words seriously. “I’ve never thought of that. You mean like put a place in the cemetery? For us to buy a plot?”
She shook her head. “Why not right here on the land he loved?”
“Listen, this is a great idea, it really is, but I don’t have time to organize something like this during lambing. I wouldn’t even know how to.”
“I’ll do it.”
He still looked hesitant, but Lizzie pressed her point. “It’s the right thing to do, Heath.”
“It is. I’m just embarrassed we didn’t think of it ourselves.”
“And now we did. Zeke and I will get on it first thing tomorrow.”
“About Zeke—”
“Yes?”
He worked his jaw slightly. “Do you mind helping with him the next few weeks?”
She should refuse. Heath was way too protective and she found that stifling and fairly annoying. But he was caught in a jam. He’d done the responsible thing and had arranged child care, then got thwarted at the last minute. She couldn’t fault him for that. “I’ll help as I’m able. Between you and me and Corrie, we should be able to keep one five-year-old out of mischief for a while.”
He covered her hands with one of his, the one sporting a plain gold band. “Thanks, Liz.”
She kept her smile light and her tone easy. “That’s what friends are for.” She withdrew her hands from his and headed for the stables, but first she checked the dog food dish out back.
More food was gone, but there was no sign of the bedraggled dog. She whistled lightly, hoping it would come but nothing moved in the growing darkness.
At least the little dog was getting regular meals. She understood Heath’s concern about animals and disease control, but kindness mattered, too.
So the food dish stayed right where it was.
Chapter Eleven
Two hundred and forty-three lambs and they weren’t half done, but their results were promising, and that was a weight off Heath’s shoulders.
His phone rang midmorning. He glanced down, chose to ignore the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket.
“Melos again?” asked Jace.
Heath grunted. A sheep farmer from farther down the valley wanted to raise a ruckus over the change in grazing rights.
Heath didn’t have time for a ruckus, and he’d said that outright, but Blake Melos was persistent. “They’re having a meeting tomorrow night. Who’s got time to have meetings this time of year?” he asked.
Jace kept cleaning lambing stalls to prepare for the next wave. “If you want to have a neighbor, you’ve got to be a neighbor.”
Heath growled but Jace was good at ignoring his growls. Today was no exception. “Like it or not, you don’t exist in a vacuum here. Pine Ridge Ranch isn’t an entity unto itself. It’s part of something bigger. A town. A community. And if no one starts caring about that, then what do we have left?” The sound of the pitchfork hitting concrete punctuated his point. “Every fix begins somewhere. Getting together with these people is a smart thing to do. Sean lived on his own for a lot of reasons,” Jace reminded him. “But he probably should have reached out more. And Carrington, with his monster-sized spread, flying in and out on his private landing strip.” Jace waved toward south where Eric Carrington was developing a celebrated Angus cattle operation with his family’s pharmaceutical fortune. “If the big players on the board ignore the good of the community, pretty soon there is no community.”
Which was what they were facing now.
Jace was right. He didn’t have to like being involved in this group of angry ranchers, but it was the right thing to do. He texted Blake a quick message. I’ll be there.
Then he pushed the phone back into his pocket.
“I’ll go with you,” said Jace. “Wick will be on barn duty then. And Lizzie should go, too.”
“It’s got nothing to do with horses.”
“And everything to do with joining forces. Like it or not, she’s part of the force.”
That was another problem, because he did like it. He liked it a lot. She didn’t let him get so caught up in himself or the ranch that he couldn’t see beyond it, and that hadn’t happened in—
So long that he couldn’t remember. He’d been putting his shoulder to the wheel since setting foot on Pine Ridge soil, but maybe it wasn’t a question of working harder. Maybe it came down to working smarter.
Corrie had been with Zeke that morning. Lizzie was taking the afternoon as long as the remaining mares stayed quiet. He walked up to the house midafternoon. Zeke should be napping and he’d have a few minutes of quiet time with Lizzie.
That thought made him walk a little quicker, but when he kicked off his barn boots and came through to the kitchen, Zeke wasn’t napping. He was perched on one of the tall stools, making a cake. With Lizzie. And the sight of them, laughing together, daubing frosting onto the cake, softened another corner of his heart.
“Did I
miss someone’s birthday?” he asked.
Zeke slipped off the tall stool as if he were a much bigger kid and dashed toward his father. “Nope. Lizzie and me—”
“Lizzie and I.” The two adults corrected him in unison, and then they smiled. At the same time. At one another, with the miniature cowboy grinning between them, almost as if it was supposed to be that way.
“Lizzie and I,” Zeke corrected himself, sounding bored with the effort. He beamed at his father. Frosting smeared his shirt and the back of his hands. “My Lizzie said we’re making a cake just acause.”
“Because,” she told him. “Because we can and we thought everyone would really, really love cake.”
“Because it’s so delicious! Right, Dad?”
Heath reached out and swiped a finger along the edge of the frosting bowl and tasted it. “It is amazingly delicious.”
“And now Zeke is going to decorate the cake,” said Lizzie. She held up a plastic cone half-filled with frosting. “Remember how we practiced? Hold the bag tight with one hand and squeeze with the other.”
“I will.” He scrambled back to his seat, grinning.
“Don’t lick your fingers like I did,” warned Heath. “You’re fixing this for other folks to eat, so you’ve got to be careful.”
Lizzie didn’t mention that Zeke may have already licked his fingers a time or two. “Blake Melos called the house phone twice. He left two messages. Which means he’s probably calling your cell and you’re ignoring him.”
“Was ignoring him,” he corrected her. “I texted him that I’d be at the meeting, although the diminished grazing bill is a done deal. I don’t see the good in talking it to death. Not when we’re so bogged down in work right here.”
She handed Zeke a bottle of spring-colored sprinkles that Heath was pretty sure were a new addition to the kitchen, because Cookie wasn’t a sprinkle kind of guy.
“I’ve been here a long time now,” he went on, “and most folks here mind their own business.”
“Which could explain the failing town,” she noted as she watched Zeke’s attempts to squiggle frosting onto the cake. “I’ve never lived in a small town, but I’m pretty sure folks are supposed to rally together when things are rough. Aren’t they?”
Her Cowboy Reunion Page 11