Her Cowboy Reunion

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “You’ve got big game hunting and tourism on one side of this issue and failing sheep farms on the other. Beef is taking over and that lessens the effect of anything the sheep ranchers might say and hay’s battling it out with potatoes as the top crop. Why get into a war we can’t win?”

  “Because maybe the other ranches don’t have the means to switch things up and need that hill grazing to survive. This place is well-established and had money for a solid start. Not everyone has that option.” She was guiding Zeke’s hand to keep at least some of the frosting on the cake, but shifted those pretty eyes up to him. “If no one’s producing market lambs for the West Coast, you’ve got a lot of disappointed customers. A lot of ethnic celebrations use lamb as part of their festivities. Pointing out the beneficial factors to the governor might not be a bad idea. I’d be glad to write the letter for you.”

  He tensed instantly. “I can write my own letter.”

  “So why use the journalist to help?” She made a face of pretend surprise. “My bad.”

  “My Lizzie helped me write a letter, Dad.” Zeke kept on dotting the white-frosted cake with yellow blobs. “She’s a good teacher.”

  His Lizzie? Heath drew his brows down, good and tight. “You mean Miss Lizzie.”

  “Well, I keep forgetting that part, and I like saying my Lizzie.” Zeke flashed a smile at Lizzie and leaned his dark head against Liz’s side. “She teaches me lots of things. Like how to write letters. So maybe you should let her help you, too.” He beamed a smile up at Liz, then pointed to the far end of the table. “That’s my first letter, Dad! And it’s for you!”

  Heath crossed to the table and picked up the sheet of paper. He read it, then turned back to her. To Zeke. “You helped him write this?”

  “I helped him with spelling.” Lizzie bumped shoulders with the boy. “I was working on my things while he was working on his. Didn’t he do a marvelous job?”

  “It’s beautiful.” Heath stared at the paper, then his son. He didn’t want to get emotional over something so simple, but he did because his kid had just written him a letter. “I don’t know what to say, Zeke. Thank you.”

  “It says I Love You Dad,” Zeke declared from his spot on the stool. “And I do! I love you this much!” He spread his arms, but forgot to set the bag down. Sun-toned frosting dribbled onto the floor.

  “Oops.” Lizzie grabbed a couple of paper towels while Heath picked up a washcloth. They both bent to clean up the mess, a swirl of neon gold soaking into their respective wipes.

  And then their hands touched.

  Paused.

  “Liz.” Heath didn’t just say her name. He whispered it in a voice that begged a question, a question with no answers. He covered her hand with his, and whispered her name again.

  She raised her eyes.

  The look of him. His scent, the messed up hair, the ruggedness of a man unafraid to work the land long hours, day into night...

  Did she lean closer?

  Did he?

  She didn’t know, but the temptation drew her in.

  She pulled back quickly.

  What was she thinking? Doing? She knew better.

  “Our young helper made a little mess?” Corrie’s cheerful voice severed the moment. “Heath, you’ll need hot water and drops of dish soap to get the grease off the floor. We don’t want anyone slipping, and I’ve just been over to see Rosie and that new baby.” Corrie laid a hand to her chest as if to swoon, Southern woman to the max. “My heart, my heart, to hold one that small, and so perfect. I told them about the ceremony we’d like to do for Sean’s marker at the end of the month. Land sakes, she was excited. They’d like to wait for the men to come out of the hills, but that’s a long way off. When I mentioned Memorial Day, both she and Harve thought that was a good idea.”

  “Good.” Lizzie didn’t look at Corrie. She didn’t look at Heath, either. She didn’t dare, because what would she see?

  She didn’t know, and wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  He’d stood up when Corrie walked in. He crossed to the sink, rinsed out the cloth, then heated it with hotter water and a little soap. He cleaned up the spill thoroughly, then tossed the cloth into a laundry room hamper before he grabbed a sandwich from the tray in the fridge.

  Nothing in his manner suggested they’d shared anything other than a wipe-the-spot moment.

  “You’re okay with the pest for a while more?”

  His teasing made Zeke grin.

  “We’ve got some errands to run, so yes. We’re double-teaming the memorial project.”

  “After his nap?” Heath asked.

  “My Lizzie says I’m getting too big for naps.” Zeke drew his brow into a frown so much like Heath’s, it made Lizzie smile.

  “Corrie’s advice,” said Lizzie. “And I never argue with Corrie.” She shared a smile with the older woman. “Not when it comes to raising wonderful kids. And I believe my exact words were that you won’t be needing a nap every day,” she corrected him. “Because you’ll be off to school soon and there are no naps in school.”

  “That’s four months away. And little kids need their sleep.”

  “’Zactly, Dad.” Zeke offered his father a sage look. “But big kids don’t hardly need them at all. And ’member how you said I’m a big kid now? When I turned five?”

  Heath looked trapped by his own words, and Lizzie kind of liked that. “I think the grown-ups around you will take it day by day. Flexibility is good. And right now we need to finish this cake, my friend, and get out of Cookie’s way. He’s due back from the market any minute.”

  “Okay!”

  * * *

  She’d made a pretty picture standing there, a smudge of white frosting on her right cheek. She’d tucked her hair up in some kind of clip, and the pale, freckled skin of her arm, curved around Zeke but not touching him, showed a protective instinct that surprised him but shouldn’t because he’d known her gentle heart for years.

  He set a ladder up along the back of the barn farthest from the house. Winter winds had loosened shingles on a lean-to addition, and heavy rain and winds were predicted. Damp conditions played havoc with newborn lambs. He pulled old shingles and tossed them into the bed of a pickup below, but no matter how hard he worked, he couldn’t unravel the mix of threads running through his head.

  Landowners had largely ignored the town, and as online services and shopping improved, they’d gone into Shepherd’s Crossing for little more than church and to pay the taxes. Then the local government had made it possible to pay taxes online, so for the past couple of years now a click of a button took care of that.

  He wanted to help.

  Not just help.

  He wanted to fix things, to make it better. And to do that, he needed help. Or maybe just needed to be a help. Tomorrow’s meeting might be a good place to start.

  It felt odd to include others on Pine Ridge business, but it no longer felt wrong, and that was a step forward.

  An out-of-place sound grabbed his attention. A dog, he thought, where no dog should be. He stood up, peering left, then right.

  The sound came again, fainter this time, moving away from the sheep and the lambs.

  He saw nothing, but stray dogs were a rarity here. They posed a danger to sheep. A malicious dog could wreak havoc with a flock. The Maremma sheepdog hadn’t barked, and all seemed well in the nursing pasture. They’d moved the sheep and lambs up one field that morning to avoid soggy ground following the rain, and all seemed calm.

  His thumb went to the ring finger on his left hand, the reminder of what he’d had and lost. As it did, Lizzie’s SUV pulled away from the house, with Zeke in the back seat.

  He wasn’t sure if his heart ached or stretched just then, but it did something it hadn’t done in a long while. It opened. It opened to the thought of opportunities he’d never expected and didn�
��t know he’d want until Lizzie had stepped foot on the ranch.

  He slipped the ring into his pocket, then pushed the odd feeling away. His hand would grow accustomed to not having a ring in time. And he needed to be open to the changes around him. All the changes, he reminded himself.

  “Need help up there?” Jace asked from below.

  “I wouldn’t say no.”

  Jace climbed the ladder quickly. “Wick’s in the barn, Harve texted me that he’s going stir-crazy already, and we can get this done this afternoon if we double-team it.”

  He literally didn’t know what he’d do without Jace when the man left, because there was nothing Jace couldn’t put his hand to on the ranch. “Let’s do it.”

  By the time they finished stripping the shingles, the wind had shifted. A rim of dark clouds edged the western horizon, meaning they better move quickly.

  “You cut, I’ll shingle,” said Jace, and Heath didn’t argue. They worked in tandem, heads down, as the storm front approached, so when the sound of a tractor came out of nowhere two hours later, Heath stood.

  Lizzie and Zeke were rumbling up the farm lane leading south. He was on her lap, holding the steering wheel of the small, older tractor, and she was guiding the rig with her hands over his.

  Zeke looked up, saw Heath and tried to stand while the tractor kept moving forward. “Dad! Look at me! I’m driving a tractor!”

  He didn’t think. He didn’t pause. He climbed down the ladder. He hit the ground running, and when he raced around the edge of the barn, he doubled his pace to get in front of the tractor up the gentle grade. He squared himself in the path, held up one hand and said “Stop.”

  Lizzie stopped.

  She stared at him and rolled her eyes, but she stopped. Of course the other option would be to run him over, and the flash in her eyes indicated it might have crossed her mind.

  “Come here.” He moved to the tractor’s side and reached for Zeke.

  “But I’m riding with my Lizzie.” Zeke looked surprised and pretty indignant. “We are going to see what’s at the top of the hill and then make pictures of what we see from up there.”

  “You could have taken a four-by-four with seat belts,” Heath scolded her. “You could have walked. You could have made a choice that put my son’s safety first, Liz. But you didn’t.”

  She locked eyes with him.

  He’d infuriated her. He saw that.

  But then he saw something else, something worse.

  Pity.

  He didn’t think he could get angrier, but he did.

  He didn’t need her pity or her sympathy. He was fine. Just fine. She was the one out of line.

  He hauled Zeke into his arms and strode back to the house. Zeke cried all the way. He cried for Lizzie. He cried for his tractor ride, sounding like the tired boy he had to be.

  He took him into the house, tucked him into bed, then ignored Zeke’s anger until the boy fell into a troubled sleep.

  Corrie said nothing to him. Not one word. But her silence spoke volumes.

  Cookie arched a brow, but he stayed quiet, too.

  Why was Heath the bad guy in all this? Why did everyone think they would be better at raising his child than he was?

  He stomped back to the roof once Zeke fell asleep.

  “Oh, you are in it now, my friend.” Jace muttered the words as Heath began handing him full-size shingles. “I expect folks all the way in town heard that child carrying on, and the poor sheep were racing this way and that, wondering what the ruckus was about.”

  “They were not.” He knew how important it was to keep sheep calm. They were placid creatures, but once riled, they tended to stay upset.

  “Perhaps racing is too strong a term, but you got their attention. You know that was one of the things I loved about my daddy,” Jace continued. He waved the hammer toward the farm lane. “He’d set me right up on that tractor seat and talk to me while he worked. He showed me every little thing there was to know about working a farm, riding herd, running equipment. I don’t remember an age where I wasn’t part of his work detail, so when he died in that mudslide, it was like a part of me died, too. But I don’t have a view in these parts that doesn’t remind me of him. In the hills, on a roof, in a pew each and every Sunday or framing walls. Jason Middleton might not have lived as long as we would have liked, but he lived every minute he had, teaching me and Justine how to do things. And when he wasn’t able to be there, my mama wasn’t afraid to take the reins and do the same thing.”

  A part of Heath wanted Jace to shut up. Another part knew he was right.

  “You got mad at God a long time ago,” Jace noted. He didn’t stop hammering, and the pneumatic gun shot nails with a steady ping! ping! ping! as Heath laid shingles. “Anna knew it. Yeah, she talked to me about it,” he said when Heath gave him a sharp look. “She prayed for you. I expect Lizzie’ll pray for you, too. In time.” He bent low again, nailing shingles with quick precision. “If she doesn’t kill you first.”

  They finished the roof in silence.

  Lizzie had told him to delegate. He hadn’t listened, not really. And it wasn’t just where Zeke was concerned, although that was a major issue.

  He was turning into a micromanager, not trusting folks to do their jobs and that was no way to run a busy ranch. Overseeing was one thing.

  Being a bossy jerk was quite another.

  * * *

  I will not kill him.

  I will not kill him.

  I will not—

  Lizzie ran the pledge through her head while she drove the tractor back to the equipment shed.

  The little guy had been perfectly safe in her arms on the wide-seated tractor. She’d learned to run tractor in Kentucky, not because she needed to learn that stuff. That was what farm staff was for on a sprawl like Claremorris.

  She’d learned it because she loved working the land and working with horses, because showing, riding and caring for horses was part of her Celtic blood, and because she was born to it, just like she was born to run a business. God had gifted her with both talents.

  Did Heath know this? Or was he assuming a greenhorn was taking his kid on a death-defying adventure?

  The hammering on the roof stopped as she parked the tractor. She crossed to the stables. She wasn’t ready to have a face-off with Heath. In the peace of the horse barn she could work, think and pray.

  And then she’d kill him.

  That thought cheered her as she rounded the stable, but she hadn’t paused to peek around the corner and her quick approach startled the scruffy dog.

  It jumped up, barked twice and raced off toward the walk-in shed at the back of the first horse pasture. It darted out of sight like it had done before and she rued the lost opportunity to coax the dog closer.

  “Was that a stray dog?”

  She hadn’t heard Heath approach, and she wasn’t all that pleased with him so his tough tone of voice didn’t sit well. “Not a stray anymore.”

  He glanced to the food and water dish, then surprised her because he didn’t scold. He sighed. “It’s different here, Liz.”

  Right, cowboy. Tell me something I don’t know.

  “Sheep view dogs as wolves. The Border collies and the Maremmas are raised with them. That’s why we keep them in the field, not in the house. They’re here to do a very important job as guardians. But stray dogs can make sheep crazy, and crazy sheep lose lambs. They stop feeding, they get nervous, and that nervousness spreads through a flock. It’s not that I’m against being nice to animals. It’s that the wrong dog can mess up a flock real quick. We’ll have to catch that one.” He thrust his chin toward the shed. “And there’s a lot to lose if he starts bothering the horses. Had you considered that?”

  Of course she had, hence the coaxing. But he wasn’t scolding. He was...talking. And that eased the edge off h
er earlier ire. “Catch him and do what with him?”

  Heath frowned. “We could start with a bath.”

  She almost smiled. “I noticed that, too.”

  “And then take it from there. How long have you been feeding him?”

  “Awhile,” she admitted.

  “Ah.” He smiled then, a true smile, the kind she knew and loved back in Kentucky. “Listen, Liz...”

  She waited.

  He rocked back on his heels and rubbed his jaw like he always did when he thought too hard. “I shouldn’t have interfered with you and Zeke. I just—”

  “Get scared to death over things you can’t control and lash out irrationally?”

  “I was going to say I overreact when I get worried, but your take works, too.”

  She thrust her hands into her pockets as the cold front rolled in. “You are embarrassing yourself and me when you act like that. It’s got to stop.”

  He didn’t deny it. But he didn’t look happy, either.

  “Is this how you treat Rosie when she cares for Zeke? As if she’s incapable of handling a busy five-year-old?”

  “I would if she pulled dangerous stunts with my son involved. She doesn’t. Nor would she.”

  Lizzie raised a hand to thwart him. “First of all, learning to ride with an expert rider isn’t exactly letting the boy set off fireworks or juggle steak knives. And seeing the workings of machinery firsthand, for a little guy who loves Mega Machines and constantly asks to watch it on his tablet, is a no-brainer. If you were giving him a tractor ride, I suppose it would be all right?”

  “I’m his father.”

  “Except you’re busy, you’ve taken on a huge responsibility here, you’re short on help and you’ve got more irons in the fire than a beef ranch branding party. Let’s cut to the chase. You don’t trust me. But it’s not just me, Heath,” she added, facing him. “It’s everyone, except my uncle, maybe. And he’s gone.”

  He flinched.