A few moments later, he surfed through several stations until he found one that came in clear as he zoomed along the winding two-lane road. He watched civilization disappear, smiling as he hummed along with the country music tunes, the summer breeze whipping through the open windows of his truck. No distractions. No drama. Just blessed solitude, and a little fishing for two glorious days.
Three hours, two snakes, and several cobwebs later, Dalton surveyed the open-room cabin, pleased with how few critters had actually taken up residence. He lit a fire in the stone fireplace, then dug through the cabinets and filled the kerosene lamps with oil. The ice he’d brought would last a day or two, at least. Bread, peanut butter, and some fruit would sustain him if fishing proved unsuccessful. Popping off the cap of one of the longneck beers, he walked out and stood on the front porch. Taking a long pull, he savored the quiet and looked for evidence that he might be sharing the area with the forest’s permanent residents. He noted deep gouges on the trunks of one or two trees likely made by antlers, reminding him of times when he’d wake early enough to watch the deer amble across the dirt road they’d hewn through the forest.
He inhaled the familiar comforting scent of warm wood and pine, letting go the tension that had been building inside him. Peering up at the sky through the sentinel of tall pine surrounding the cabin, he noticed dark, black clouds rolling in from the northwest. They could use the rain as long as lightning didn’t come with it. He took a pull of his beer and started back inside when he heard a soft rustle. Turning on his heel, he stepped to the edge of the porch. He scanned his surroundings, his eyes and ears attentive as they searched in the waning light of the pre-storm dimness. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as his eyes connected with the gaze of a Great White owl, feathers the color of virgin snow. The bird hooted once as if in greeting.
Dalton’s shoulders relaxed and he lifted his empty bottle in salute to the animal. The realization that he’d seen the bird on occasion soaring around the ranch didn’t fully hit him until a moment later. The bottle weighed like a heavy stone as he lowered his hand. He held the large owl’s luminous golden eyes. Not one to readily adhere to the superstitious lore that Michael Greyfeather often spoke of, he couldn’t deny the strange feeling that this owl being here was just a coincidence.
A heartbeat later, the bird spread its majestic wings and soared up through the trees, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. According to an old Indian belief, the Great Owl's appearance was sign of an impending storm. He eyed the darkening clouds and, glancing at the bottle, poured out the remainder over the side of the porch. A shrill ring startled him and he dug in his pocket, amazed that he even had a signal.
“Hey, it’s Wyatt. Rein told me you’d headed up to the cabin. Just checking to see if you’ve got everything you need.”
Dalton smiled, knowing that Wyatt would never come right out and ask if he was okay. “I’m good. Just needed some time. Thought I’d make sure the cabin was closed up and ready for winter.”
“Probably a good idea. Rein also mentioned that you plan on fishing?”
He stepped to the edge of the porch and leaned on the railing. He wasn’t the only one fishing, apparently. “Thought about it, yeah.”
“Just checked the weather. Looks like a thunderstorm might be heading in. Hopefully, the roof won’t leak. God knows it’s been so dry we can use the rain, though.”
“I checked everything over when I got here. Things are just fine.” He toed the old floorboards with his boot. “Sorry I won’t be at the BBQ. But you’ve got plenty of help.”
“It’s still early enough in the day. You could still change your mind.”
Dalton’s mouth curved in a half smile. “Probably not.” Wanting to divert from discussing the reasons why he’d chosen his impromptu sabbatical, he brought up the recent odd sighting. “Hey, do you remember seeing this huge white owl hanging out around the ranch?”
Wyatt’s chuckle emitted from the other end of the line. “Yeah, in fact, I do, but not in a while. Why, have you seen it?”
“It just flew over a few minutes ago. Landed on a tree and I swear to God the damn thing just stared at me.”
“Yeah. You know what Michael says. It’s a sign of an unexpected storm about to blow in.”
Dalton looked up at the ever-darkening sky. “Yeah, I did notice the storm clouds.”
Wyatt cleared his throat. “Rein tells me the reason you high-tailed it up there had something to do with Angelique Juarez.”
“Rein is full of shit.” Dalton scowled, cataloging a reminder to take care of Rein when he got back.
“Just like another brother I know,” Wyatt responded. “I couldn’t help but overhear a little of your discussion with Angelique behind the barn.”
“Jesus. Can’t a guy have any privacy? And you wonder why I had to come up here?”
“Simmer down. I happened to be taking a ripe diaper out to the trash bin. I happened to hear part of the conversation, is all. It’s not really any of my business.”
“Damn straight, it’s not,” Dalton said. “Hey, gotta go. I want to go catch my dinner before the rain.”
“Okay, okay, take it easy.”
“I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.” Dalton picked up his tackle box, checking his lures. “Oh, and hey, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention to anyone, especially Aimee, what you accidentally overheard.”
“Got it. And little brother, one more thing about that owl you spotted?”
“Yeah?” Dalton sighed.
“I was visited by it once. Just before Aimee breezed into my life.”
Dalton rolled his eyes upward. “Your point?”
Wyatt let out a sigh. “Just that maybe the storms can be us fighting the changes in life, not necessarily relating to the weather.”
“Thanks, Gandhi,” Dalton said with a chuckle. “I’ll keep that in mind. His smile faded as his gaze landed on the Great White owl perched on a nearby branch, studying him.
“You’re an ass, you know that, right?” Wyatt said.
Dalton held the owl’s unblinking eyes. “So I’ve been told…many times.”
***
“So, have you found out any more about this Clay Saunders?” Angelique directed the question to Sally as they drove the back roads to the Kinnison BBQ. She glanced in the backseat and saw Aunt Rebecca staring out of the window as though deep in thought. No doubt. Angelique had unleashed on her everything that she’d kept bottled up for so long. And while sharing it lifted a weight that Angelique had carried forever, it seemed, the confession was now in her aunt’s heart. Processing it all would take time. As to how she felt about Dalton or the question of whether to tell him about Emilee—that remained a quandary.
“Hank is supposed to be bringing him to the ranch to help him get settled in. I guess having the BBQ was timed perfectly in terms of him meeting a lot of folks from the community.” Sally kept her eyes on the road.
“I guess he’s probably cute?” Angelique let the comment roll off her tongue, mostly to gauge Sally’s reaction. “I thought I heard Clay was a strapping Texas cowboy.” She caught her friend’s furrowed brow.
“Yeah,” Sally said cautiously. “Considering he’s a former football player, probably tan from spending time outdoors. Odds are good.” She turned to look at her. “Are you interested?”
“Me? Heavens, no!” Angelique responded. “I was curious if you might be.”
“I’m going to have enough on my plate this summer with shepherding those kids on a trail ride.” Sally said. “Still, a girl can look, can’t she? Say, speaking of being curious, you never did spill about what you and Dalton talked about the other night.”
“It wasn’t important.” Angelique glanced at Sally, then focused on the road.
“Really?” Sally asked. “Odd, he’s apparently not going to be around this weekend. I thought maybe it might have had something to do with your talk.” She crooked her fingers for emphasis.
Angel
ique kept her gaze forward, feeling her aunt’s eyes boring into the back of her head. She was partly relieved that she wouldn’t have to face him and yet selfish as it was, a slap of guilt smacked her brain. What was the point in telling him the truth about Emilee—then or now? What was done was done. Choices had been made.
“Angelique?” Sally’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Did you hear what I said?”
She looked at Sally, who’d pushed hard for her to get to know Dalton. She hadn’t even told Sally about that night. Angelique squared her shoulders. “Yes, I did. I’d think he’d want to be there to celebrate the grand opening with his brothers.”
Sally turned the car down the long entrance to the Kinnison ranch. “Well, you know how Dalton hates crowds, though it puzzles me that he’d miss greeting Clay.” She pulled into the grassy area at the side of the house corded off for parking.
Angelique smiled as she saw Emilee tugging her grandfather’s hand as they walked to meet them at the car. Waiting no longer, she released his hand and flew into Angelique’s arms.
“I helped Grandpa with chores, then Rein let me put a log on the fire pit and I helped feed Gracie her bottle because Aimee says she’s always hungry.”
Angelique watched her little girl’s dark amber eyes dance with excitement. She lived life to the fullest—a “dancing rainbow,” her grandfather called her. It was healing balm to Angelique’s soul to see her happy, carefree, as a child should be, assured in knowing how much she is loved.
“Do you need some help, Grandma?” Emilee wiggled free, her red cowboy boots hitting the solid earth.
“Sure, baby girl, you can carry the basket to the kitchen for me. Michael, there’s another box of pies in the trunk, would you get those for me?”
Kinnison gatherings, Angelique knew from experience, were anything but subdued. Wyatt’s and Aimee’s wedding was the last assemblage of half the town. Aimee had bonded with Emilee during the winter storm that had stranded Aimee and her second grade class at the ranch. The event, now legendary in the community, served as a pivotal turning point in Wyatt’s life, and ultimately led to their engagement. Aimee had wanted Emilee to be flower girl and with two brothers, needed an additional bridesmaid, it seemed logical to ask Angelique to be involved as Emilee’s mother.
Today, however, the backyard appeared to be a giant reunion. Rectangular picnic tables with red and white checked tablecloths provided seating for hungry guests. Wyatt was hard at work at the grill, handing off trays of smoked ribs and burgers to Liberty and Rein who were busily staging the food tables.
Aimee waved at her and Sally as she emerged from the kitchen holding a sack of buns in one hand and baby Grace snuggled against her front in a baby carrier.
Angelique hurried up to the deck and took the buns from Aimee. “Where do these go?”
Aimee smiled, but her face showed her weariness. “Anywhere on that long table is fine. There should be a basket there somewhere, and we need to make room for Rebecca’s pies. They look amazing. I may skip the burgers and go right for dessert.
Wyatt, holding a long spatula in his mitt-covered hand, snaked his free arm around his wife’s waist, dropping a kiss on her temple and Gracie’s tiny head. “Ladies.” He nodded to Angelique, taking the buns and tossing them over the crowd to Rein. Wyatt tossed a smile over his shoulder as he caught the bag with precision.
“Doesn’t look like he has a prayer when it comes to that baby girl,” Sally said. “She’s already got him wrapped around her tiny little fingers.”
Angelique reached over to peek at the dozing child.
“I’ve never seen him like this. It’s a side of him that mystifies me still.” Aimee grinned.
Liberty joined them as they stood on the deck ogling little Gracie June. “I can’t wait to see how he deals with her first date.” She smiled and kissed Aimee’s forehead. “Get prepared for that one.”
Aimee nodded. “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it.”
“Hey,” Liberty continued. “Rein said that Hank just called. He and Clay Saunders just got to town. They should be here in a few minutes.”
Rein trotted up the deck steps behind his wife and wrapped an arm around her. “You think I could talk you into making more of that bubble concoction for the kids? They’re plowing right through the gallon you made.”
“So Clay and Hank are on their way?” Sally asked. “Is there anything we should do to make things any easier for him?”
Rein shook his head. “Clay’s been very clear that he wants no special treatment. He gets by with his prosthetic and a cane. Hanks says he gets tired fast, but part of that might be a little depression.”
Sally nodded. “I can understand that part. Dad had days when he was depressed.”
“I think we just need to give him some space. Let him get used to things around here, then maybe ease him into helping out each day.” He looked over Liberty’s shoulder through the large paned windows of the great room. “Speaking of, they’re here. Excuse me, ladies. I’ll go see to our guest.”
Angelique stood in awe, once again struck with how Jed Kinnison’s vision of making this ranch a place of healing and second chances. In spite of everything, the ranch in its idyllic, rustic setting embodied a sense of calm that welcomed the lost.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to find her Uncle Mike. “The suggestion you made about Champion’s leg worked well. Would you like to see him?”
“Sure.” Angelique followed him around the side of the house, past the woodworking shop and into the barn. The scent of warm, sweet hay tickled her nose. Beauty, Dalton’s rescue horse--a lovely Palomino--raised her head as though hoping to see him. She stopped to scratch the brown-eyed horse’s nose. “He’ll be back tomorrow, girl,” she said soothingly.
“The salve you placed on his knee has taken the swelling down.” Michael knelt by a chestnut stallion that he’d chosen to call Champion. Left for dead on an abandoned farm, likely due to foreclosure, the horse had sustained an eye injury and other various issues due to neglect. Under the care of the Mountain Sunrise Ranch, Champion was nearly ready to be adopted by a forever family who would agree to care for, protect, and respect the animal for the rest of its natural life. Her uncle, however, had taken a particular interest in this horse.
“He’s a little rough around the edges. But in here”--he tapped his chest--“beats the heart of a champion. He’s a good horse--dependable and strong despite his challenges. Very gentle and loving. He just needed someone to give him a chance. Show him a little love.”
Angelique drew her hand down the side of the horse’s face, noting a glint of mischief in his warm, brown eyes. She glanced at her uncle, a niggling sense that he wasn’t just talking about the horse. “Have you been talking to Aunt Rebecca?” She continued to brush her hand over the horse, receiving a gentle nudge when she paused.
“Your aunt is a wise woman. I’m old enough to appreciate that,” he said. Though she had no idea how much her aunt had shared, she was certain that something about Dalton had come up—at least, in part.
“I’d like to handle my own relationships. When and if I choose to have them.” She looked at her uncle.
He shrugged and offered an apple to Champion. “You have always been independent, Angelique. While you could have grown up a victim of your circumstances, blamed the world, or given up, you persevered and did well for yourself and your daughter.”
She blinked away the tears threatening to spill over. “Thank you, Uncle Mike. That means so much coming from you.”
He sat down on a bale of hay, and she noted the time it took him to do so. He was no longer the tougher-than-steel man she remembered as a child, and while he wasn’t frail, he moved a bit slower these days. Hell, she moved slower these days. Still, she had a feeling he was gearing up. This conversation wasn't over.
“I’ve known Dalton Kinnison since he was in his teens—bitter, broken almost beyond repair after his mother left Jed and those boys. He’d bare
ly lived here a year and had to deal with all the small-town tongue wagging speculating on the reasons for his mother’s and father’s problems. I imagine it wasn’t easy.” He waved his hand. “Don’t get me wrong, Jed did an incredible job with those boys, all three of them. But when he died, they were barely out of college. Another devastating loss. Now his brothers have wives, and they’re starting families. I imagine he must feel a little displaced right about now.”
She listened and understood how Dalton could feel as he did--if her uncle was correct, of course. But what responsibility did she have in all of this? “He’s been through a great deal. Fortunately, he’s had his brothers and the ranch to fall back on.”
Michael nodded. “True, up to a few months ago when everything about this ranch as he knew it started to change.”
“Life changes. You of all people should know that. Mine did. I had to adapt, survive. Decide what I wanted,” Angelique replied. She folded her arms over her chest and stood at the barn entrance looking out over the wide-open prairie and the mountain range on the horizon.
“And do you know what you want?” her uncle asked.
“Not yet, not fully, anyway, but I’m working on it.” She looked at him. “Do you mind telling me where you’re going with this?”
“Maybe you have more in common than you think with Dalton. Seems neither of you has found what you want.”
“Do you remember the part where I said I’d handle my own relationships?”
“Your aunt tells me that you may have feelings for Dalton.”
Angelique sighed. She knew they meant well. “Uncle Mike,” she warned gently.
He slapped both hands over his knees. “May I be candid?”
She chuckled. As if she could stop him. “Please, go ahead.”
“If nothing else, you are both going to be around each other a great deal. And for the sake of us all, you’re going to have to find some way of developing a friendly existence around him. Everyone has felt the tension.”
“Everyone?” Angelique leveled him a skeptical look.
“Emilee asked me if you were angry with Dalton.”
Renegade Hearts (The Kinnison Legacy Book 3) Page 8