by Vivi Holt
He might be a pain in her rear, but he was a hard worker, and he truly loved this ranch and his livestock.
She sighed and ran a hand over her eyes. She’d already had to place a phone call to her parents to let them know she was unlikely to make it to Jekyll Island this week. The way things were going, she’d end up blowing her entire vacation on this ranch. She knew she’d have to talk to Jen soon – maybe Rocket and Charity’s love affair just wasn’t meant to be.
She walked toward the pair, grazing cozily side-by-side. “Now, you two, do I need to play some Barry White, Kenny G? What’s gonna get you in the mood? ‘Cause Aunty Hazel really needs to get home sometime this century, okay?” She chuckled and pulled the carrots from her pocket, taking one in each hand and holding them out through the fence rails.
Both horses lifted their heads and ambled over, ears flicking back and forth. They nipped the carrots from her hands and munched happily while she stroked their faces. Rocket left first – she’d noticed he never stuck around long for pats – but Charity remained, her eyes half-lidded, enjoying the snack and the attention.
After a while, Charity too wandered off to find a new patch of grass deserving of her attention. Hazel shoved her hands into her pockets and headed back to the house. She’d spent much of the day cleaning up after the storm, and her shoulders, arms and back ached.
A small yelp caught her ear and she looked around, trying to work out where it had come from. When she heard it again, she ran toward the source – the long grass lining the side of the barn, where Dalton’s bush hog hadn’t been able to reach. She leaned forward and parted the grass with both hands, careful not to move too close in case whatever was making the noise was dangerous. There was really no telling what it might be.
The noise again – it didn’t sound dangerous, but small and possibly injured.
As she pushed aside a piece of firewood that had fallen from a nearby stack, she saw it. It was a little black puppy with a diamond-shaped white patch on its chest and floppy black ears. It yelped again, sticking out a tiny pink tongue with blue and gray patches on it. “Well, hello there. Who are you and how did you get here?” She scooped him up against her chest. He was a boy, she saw that right away, and she tickled the top of his head with her fingertips. “You poor little fella, you must have gotten lost in the storm.”
She carried the puppy into the house and set him down on a towel on the kitchen floor, rubbing him all over to make sure he was dry. “You must be hungry and thirsty, huh? Let me see what I can find in here.” A search of the fridge and pantry uncovered a leftover hot dog and a few cubes of cheese. She cut them up and placed them in a bowl in front of the dog. He stared at them, but didn’t move. He looked exhausted.
“Well now, maybe you just want something to drink.” She filled bowls with milk and water and set them out.
He wobbled to his feet and tottered over to the bowl of milk, lapping it up. She smiled and squatted to watch him for a few moments, until a hunger pang reminded her that she’d need to eat as well. And Dalton was probably starving - she’d seen him come in for lunch, but otherwise he’d been out working hard all day. Maybe she should whip something up for both of them.
She foraged for ingredients and found eggs, bacon and pancake mix. It wouldn’t be as delicious as the meal Dalton had made earlier in the week, but she loved breakfast for dinner and hoped he would too.
By the time he came in, it was already dark. She heard him tapping the mud off his boots as he deposited them by the front door. He walked inside and headed right for the bathroom, no doubt to wash up. The bacon was sizzling in the frying pan and she had a batch of beaten eggs in a bowl, ready to fry in the bacon grease. She’d even managed to find and drain a can of sliced mushrooms, which she’d sautéed before adding the bacon to the pan. Four slices of bread toasted in the toaster oven on the counter, and she’d mixed the pancake batter.
The sound of the shower filtered through the kitchen walls and mingled with the sizzling of the bacon. She smiled and lifted the bacon out onto a paper towel to drain, then filled the pan with the eggs. She warmed the griddle on the other side of the stove top and placed a dollop of butter on it before pouring out two generous portions of pancake batter.
She was pleased with herself and proud of what she’d managed. She rarely ever prepared meals for herself at home – it seemed almost a waste of time to put effort into a meal for one. Sometimes when Jen was around, she’d make breakfast. But otherwise, with so many good restaurants within walking distance, she’d never really felt the need to learn how to cook.
When Dalton walked into the kitchen, all the food was done and she was kneeling beside the pup, offering him a small piece of bacon. He’d nibbled it, but otherwise seemed content to lie on the towel and snooze. “What is that?!” exclaimed Dalton, crossing his arms.
Hazel looked up at him. “That is a puppy. Surely you can see that for yourself.”
He came over and crouched beside the dog, scratching him behind the ears. “Hey there, buddy. You’re a cute one, aren’t you?”
Hazel smiled. “I found him in the long grass beside the barn. He was crying and hungry. I think he must have gotten caught up in the storm somehow, since there’s no way he could have walked here from anywhere. He’s still unsteady on his feet – he can’t be more than a couple of months old.”
“At the most,” agreed Dalton, his eyebrows lowering over blue eyes. Her pulse raced. He was so close and smelled of soap and shampoo, his hair falling in wet strands around his face and his tanned arms bulged beneath the sleeves of a white t-shirt.
He angled his head toward the stove and sniffed the air. “Is something burning?”
“Oh! My eggs!” Hazel jumped to her feet and ran to the stove, stirred the eggs frantically and scooped them into a bowl. She flipped the pancakes onto a plate, poured more batter onto the griddle, then set the bowl of eggs on the table beside the bacon, toast and mushrooms.
Dalton stood and combed his fingers through his hair. “What have we got here?”
“I made dinner,” she said with a shy smile.
“Breakfast for dinner,” he commented. “It smells amazing.”
“Well, you’ve been working so hard all day, I figured you’d be hungry.”
“Starving!” He pulled out a chair and sat at the table. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I don’t mind.”
He grinned, his gaze caught hers and she felt her heart jump. She quickly turned back to flip the pancakes.
“So what do you plan to do with your dog?” he asked, a grin in his voice.
She sighed. “I don’t know. I figured he was yours, since this is your place. And I noticed you don’t have a dog – you know, every ranch really needs a cat and a dog. I think I glimpsed a cat in the barn, so all you needed was a dog, and now you have one. At least, that’s what I’ve seen in the movies.”
He laughed. “Well, if it’s in the movies …”
She chuckled too and felt the tension leave her shoulders. “He really is cute. Maybe we should ask around to make sure no one’s lost him.”
“Good idea. I’ll start doing that tomorrow. But for tonight, I’ll see if I can find him a box to sleep in.”
Hazel piled two plates high with golden pancakes and set one in front of Dalton, then sat across from him with the other. They each served themselves bacon, eggs, mushrooms and toast. Then Dalton linked his hands together above his plate and bowed his head, closing his eyes. Hazel stared – he looked as though he was going to pray. She hadn’t said a blessing over her meal in … well, she couldn’t remember how long. She quickly copied his movements.
“Heavenly Father, thank You for this delicious meal and for the hands that prepared it. Thank You for keeping the ranch safe, the livestock and us as well. In Your mighty name, amen.”
Hazel’s cheeks warmed. There was something very attractive about a man praying over his meal that way. She wasn’t sure why – something about
being vulnerable, grateful, humble. Maybe Dalton Williams wasn’t the man she’d thought he was. He’d certainly seemed different over the past two days, dealing with the tornado and its aftermath – confident and strong, but caring, and not arrogant or obnoxious at all. Maybe she’d gotten him all wrong.
She slathered her pancakes in butter and syrup, took a bite and chewed slowly while watching him eat. She swallowed and patted her mouth with a napkin. “So why are you so intent on turning this ranch into something?”
His eyes narrowed and he finished his bite before speaking. “Well, it was left to me by Grandpa Joe. And I found out it’s been passed down through the generations. In the 1800s, my Nana’s grandparents, Clem and Della, moved down here from Montana to spend their twilight years in a warmer climate. They bought the place and ran a horse ranch – they’d bred Morgan horses up north, I believe, but down here they took to stock horses. It’s been a stock horse ranch ever since. My father didn’t have the passion for it – he was a musician, and he died when I was young. So my grandfather hired a property manager who let the place fall apart.”
“You want to make it back into what it was for the sake of your family?”
He nodded and cut off a piece of bacon. “Yeah, I guess so, but not just that. It’s really all I’ve got now.” A muscle clenched in his jaw. “I can’t go back to riding broncs. My leg could be permanently damaged if I take another spill, and the doc said I can’t afford another concussion either. Problem is, I’ve never really done anything else. Honestly, before Grandpa Joe left me this place, I was wondering what on Earth I’d do with myself. I guess you could say the Cotton Tree Ranch saved me.” He cleared his throat. “Well, now you know my life story. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Tell me about yourself. I mean, I know you’re a vet. But what about family, friends. Boyfriend?”
Her cheeks flamed, and she pushed the pile of scrambled eggs around her plate with her fork. “Um … well. I live in Virginia-Highland, which is part of Atlanta, close to downtown. It’s full of beautiful old buildings and I can walk to dinner, so I pretty much never cook. I have a roommate. No boyfriend. And my parents are currently spending the summer in their summer house on Jekyll Island – I’m planning on joining them as soon as I leave here.”
Dalton swallowed a piece of bacon and tipped his head to one side. “Are you close with your folks?”
She shook her head and almost choked on a bite of pancake. “Uh, no. Let’s just say they make a Wisconsin winter seem warm.”
He chuckled. “Sounds bad.”
She nodded with a wry grin. “It’s not that bad – I’m exaggerating. But they’re not real big on affection, or encouragement …”
The sound of Dalton’s cell phone interrupted her. He apologized and excused himself from the table to answer it.
* * *
“Hello?” Dalton said as soon as he made it into the living room.
“Dalton Williams?” asked a man’s voice.
“Yep, you found me. Who is this?”
“Bill Swanson from the Green Peach Ranch. Just wonderin’ how it’s goin’ down there with Contessa’s Charity, the mare we sent you.”
“Hello, sir – nice to finally speak with you. She’s doing just great down here, though I’m afraid we’ve had a bit of bad weather so Rocket Peak hasn’t shown a lot of interest yet. But I’m sure it won’t be long.”
“That’s fine, fine. I’m actually callin’ ‘bout the young vet I sent down there with Contessa’s Charity. Seems somethin’ might’ve gone amiss.”
“Oh?”
“Well, Gus told me Jen never showed, but he took someone named Hazel down to Tifton with him. Now mind you, he’s never met Jen – wouldn’t know her from a bar of soap – but he’s sure the woman he met introduced herself as Hazel. It’s possible he got his wires crossed, but I just wanted to call and check, make sure Jen’s there and everythin’s fine.”
Dalton tensed and glanced at the door to the kitchen. “Yessir, everything down here is just fine.”
“And Jen’s doing her job?”
“Yessir, she is.”
“Well, that’s a relief. I’ll let you go, but y’all just holler if you need anythin’. Take care of my girl Charity for me – she’s worth a bundle, that one. I’d hate to hear she’d been carried off by a twister or some such – I saw on the news you had one nearby.”
Dalton chuckled. “Yessir, I sure will.”
“Bye now.”
“Bye.”
Dalton hung up, slouched onto the sofa in the darkness and rubbed his hands over his face. What was going on? It was possible the woman in his kitchen had some entirely logical explanation for why she called herself “Hazel.” But there was also the issue that had plagued his thoughts ever since she arrived in her shiny silver pumps – she didn’t look or act like a vet, and she didn’t seem to know the first thing about animals.
He stood, tucked his phone into the back pocket of his shorts and marched back into the kitchen.
Chapter 6
Dalton rubbed the sleep from his eyes and rolled over in bed with a groan. Everything hurt – every single muscle, joint and ligament.
He sat up with another groan and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. He hadn’t been able to get Hazel off his mind, and he still hadn’t decided what he would do about Bill Swanson’s phone call. He’d returned to the kitchen afterward, determined to confront her with what he’d learned, but she’d greeted him with a smile that made his heart melt and he’d sat back down at the table without a word.
With a sigh, he considered all the work he had to do that day, and the day after, and the day after that. The ranch had a neverending list of things for him to fix, mend, plant, harvest, feed, tend and more. It made his head spin. He rubbed his eyes again and took a deep breath. He needed help.
He reached for his phone on the bedside table, switched it on and dialed, glad it was Saturday morning. Eamon would be at home.
“It’s your quarter,” the man at the other end grumbled.
“Eamon, it’s Dalton. How are you?”
His brother’s voice blasted his ear. “Dalton! Bro! I’m great, how are you?”
Dalton pulled the phone from his ear with a grimace, then replaced it. “I’m fine, man, thanks for asking.”
“How’s the ranch going?”
“It’s going okay. We had a big tornado a couple of days ago – it created a lot of work, but we were lucky to miss the worst of it. How’s bean counting?”
Eamon laughed. “Oh, you know, still getting them counted. Someone’s gotta do it.”
“You get sick of it yet?” queried Dalton, looking for an opening.
“Well, I wouldn’t turn down a pro bass-fishing contract, if you’re offering.”
Dalton chuckled, switched the phone to his other ear, stood and stretched his free hand above his head with a yawn. “Sorry to call so early, man. but I knew you’d be up, doing that crazy boot-camp thing in your girly tights.”
Eamon burst into loud guffaws. “You know it.”
Dalton scratched his head. “I do have a favor to ask you, actually.”
“Yeah?”
“The ranch is in a pretty sad state. Since the storm there’s so much work to do, I just don’t see how I can do it on my own, but I can’t afford to hire anyone. I was wondering …”
“… if I’d come on down there and save my big brother’s butt?” Eamon laughed again.
“Well … yeah. If you aren’t busy.”
Eamon took a slow deep breath while Dalton held his, then said, “I thought you’d never ask.”
Dalton laughed out loud and slapped his thigh. “Woo-ee! Do you mean it? You’re gonna come down here?”
“I’ve been looking for an excuse to do something different – I need some time off. And I sure could do with some big-brother time. When do you need me?”
Dalton grinned and put his free hand on his hip. “As soon as you can get h
ere. And leave your girly tights at home – this is manly country. You’ll need your jeans and work shirts, some cowboy boots and a hat. That’s about it.”
“You got it. I’ll put in a request for vacation time and be down there Sunday. How does that sound?”
“Sounds just about perfect, man. Can’t wait to show you around the place.”
“I can’t wait to see it. Bye.”
As Dalton hung up, he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. Eamon was coming for at least a little while. He and his brother had always gotten along – a little too well, if you asked their mother. She always said that if there was mischief to be had, the two of them would be in the thick of it, egging each other on.
Now he called the younger of his brothers, Parker. The call was polite and friendly. He told Parker the situation, and Parker said he’d get back to him. He hung up with a frown and a heavy feeling in his heart.
He loved his brothers equally, and longed to have a better relationship with Parker. His youngest brother had always been a bit distant, had lived in his own thoughts a lot. And they didn’t always see eye to eye. Parker was serious, determined and focused, where Dalton was lighthearted, spontaneous and scattered, or at least had been when they were younger. He’d hoped that as they got older they’d grow closer together.
But then Parker had surprised the whole family by joining the Army right out of high school. He’d been an above-average student and a track champion, and they’d expected him to take one of the college scholarships that had been dangled under his nose. But instead he chose to defend his country, eventually becoming an Army Ranger, but breaking his mother’s heart in the process.
Recently Parker had gotten his honorable discharge, moved back to Chattanooga and their childhood home. The only time Dalton had seen him since was at Grandpa Joe’s funeral. They hadn’t gotten much chance to talk, but from what Dalton could tell, he was the same as he’d always been, other than a dark shadow behind his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Dalton hoped he would see the ranch as an opportunity to move into the next stage of his life. But for now he’d just have to wait.