by Leigh Riker
Shadow beamed. “I went to visit Bertie. He knows his release from the hospital will probably be contingent upon his going to a facility. Medicare rules,” she said. “Sad, but I think he realizes he’ll never be able to live at home again.”
“Did you check out this caregiver guy?”
“He’s coming in today to fill out the application.”
Shadow was clearly waiting for Logan’s agreement. He slid the stall door shut. He envisioned Blossom in the kitchen, humming to herself while she fixed lunch. He remembered wanting to hold her in his arms. To kiss her until she forgot about Ken, and he forgot about his need to leave the Circle H and get back to Wichita.
“I like Blossom,” Shadow said, as if she were speaking for him. “I can empathize with her obviously unhappy past, though she didn’t tell me much. But I don’t feel as if I’m undercutting her with this. She won’t stay much longer anyway, and you wanted a male caregiver. I think I’ve found you one—although it’s certainly not a done deal yet.”
Logan looked at the floor, knowing this was what he’d wanted. “We’ll see how this goes, see if his references check out.”
“I’m hoping they’ll be stellar. But as I said, he’s moved around, had a number of different jobs. He could be ‘enhancing’ his résumé or glossing over some failures.”
“I’m sure you’ll get to the truth. You’re good at what you do.” He paused. He’d meant to avoid the subject that was guaranteed to make Shadow prickly. “Not so good with Grey,” he said anyway.
“Are you trying to probe a sore tooth?”
A sore heart, maybe. “No, I just—”
“You are. Don’t bring him up again, Logan.”
She stalked from the barn, her shoulders set, sunlight streaming over her dark hair.
Logan raised his eyebrows. He’d gotten what he’d asked for.
And he wasn’t the only one with mixed emotions.
* * *
AT THE CIRCLE H, lunch really meant a full dinner to Blossom. Today she’d served fried chicken with mashed potatoes (lumpy) and gravy (too thick), corn (overcooked) and green beans (crunchy). As usual Sam devoured every bite, and even Logan had claimed it was okay except for the breading on his chicken, which was soggy, but when he’d finally pushed back from the table, he left his plate half-full.
Cowboys, she’d quickly discovered, even reluctant ones, needed plenty of fuel to get their ranch work done and leftovers were rare.
Something was wrong now other than her cooking.
Blossom had lots of experience at reading other people’s signals. Often, though not as often as she wished, that had saved her. She suspected this had something to do with Shadow’s visit. But she would have to wait to find out, and even then Logan might not tell her.
In the barn she tried to corral No-Name, but the cat kept scooting into corners and crevices until Blossom’s hair was dusted with cobwebs from trying to lure her out. She blew wisps of the sticky stuff off her face.
The other night, after she’d told him about Ken, she’d asked Logan if she could use the computer in the office. Alone, she’d explored the topic of toxoplasmosis. To her relief the danger didn’t seem that great. It was unlikely, unless she cleaned a litter box—which she didn’t—or dug in a garden bare-handed, that she’d risk contracting the parasite. Still, it wasn’t a good idea to let the kitten in her room again.
“Gotcha!” She finally snared her just as Logan wandered in.
Shadow had talked to him earlier. She hadn’t wanted to leave a message with Blossom. This couldn’t be good.
She’d taken a liking to Shadow. Under other circumstances, they might have become friends. But had she merely been setting Blossom up that morning with what she’d thought was a simple girlie chat? Maybe Shadow had been probing Blossom’s weak spots. And the few things she’d said about Ken had only confirmed Shadow’s suspicions that she’d lied to the agency.
She reached into the bag Shadow had brought from town. The collar she’d bought at the pet store on her trip into Barren hadn’t lasted long—Blossom had found it abandoned on the tack room floor. She hoped for better luck this time, minus the kitty glamour.
“What’s that?” Logan asked.
“It’s a flea collar.”
He looked at the ceiling. “You serious?”
“I tried a regular collar with a little bell on it. But the other night you mentioned—”
“You’d have to put one on every barn cat on this ranch.”
“That’s my plan.” She showed him the rest. “You didn’t want fleas in the house, remember.”
“I don’t want cats in the house. In case you haven’t noticed, the dogs don’t come in either.”
“Haven’t you seen the weather report? It’s going to pour rain for days.”
“These cats are used to bad weather,” he insisted. “The litter this one came from was born during a late-winter blizzard. She spent her first weeks in the hayloft—snug as a bug in a rug—until her mama decided to take off.”
“See? Now she has no one.”
“She has you, I guess.” He couldn’t hide a smile.
“And you,” Blossom said, handing him the kitten. “Hold her, please.”
It took both of them another twenty minutes to get the flea collar on No-Name. Blossom had to admire her spunk. The little cat wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want to do.
She wished she’d been able to handle Ken that way.
Her uneasiness returned. What if, after Shadow’s visit, she had to leave the Circle H? Just when she’d decided to take the risk and stay longer.
Well, she was packed at least. Ready to go. But if she left, she’d be on her own again. Which was what she’d wanted. She needed to know.
“What did Shadow tell you?”
Logan tensed. “Not much. She never does.”
“I don’t mean to pry, but she came to the ranch for some reason.”
“Apparently, to bring you a bunch of flea collars.”
“That, too.” Blossom realized she’d forgotten to pay Shadow. “You talked about me. Didn’t you?”
“No need to worry.” Logan moved past her to the first stall. He had that edgy look about him and couldn’t seem to meet her eyes. “What are you doing this afternoon?”
“Distributing the other flea collars. Then I’m making a pot roast.”
“Two big meals in one day. You’re spoiling us.” But he was smiling, his blue eyes warm, as he led a bay horse from the stall into the aisle.
Blossom stepped out of the way. Was he thinking instead about the other night in the ranch office? And that near-kiss? Or had she imagined that?
“You live on this ranch—you need to get on a horse.”
Willy had said that, too. She didn’t want to think about him. “Really? Kittens are more my style.”
He groomed the horse with the brush in his hand, long, sweeping strokes over its powerful shoulders and flank. “I have more fence to ride. It’s boring work. I’d welcome having you along—this’ll be our last nice day for a while—and this bay is bombproof. Meet Ginger.”
“Bombproof?”
“Gentle as a lamb. Quiet as a mouse.” Setting aside the brush, he began to saddle the horse. “I’ll ride Sundance—Sam’s horse. Sam likes him to keep in shape. He’s a happy boy. You’ll be perfectly safe on this one, too.” He knew how important that was to her.
“I’ve never ridden.” Yet she felt tempted, and this might be her only opportunity. It was a beautiful day. “You really want me to go with you?”
“That’s what I said.”
But would she even be able to stay on? And what about her baby? Blossom eyed the horse he’d chosen for her. This wasn’t a good idea, but she couldn’t tell Logan why. And risk losing her job. No
t yet.
He saw her hesitation. “We’ll just walk. I can lead you, if you want. Like a pony ride at the county fair.” He gestured at her clothes. “You got any jeans? A long-sleeved shirt? A light jacket to put on? Maybe you could bring us a couple of sodas.”
If he’d meant to put her off balance, it had worked. This was the first time, except for their trip into town, that Logan had invited her to do anything. Maybe, after their talk the other night, he felt guilty about planning to fire her. Was that what he and Shadow had talked about?
She was torn between wanting to go with him and protecting the child she carried, but she couldn’t admit she was pregnant. If she was careful, and she trusted Logan to keep her safe, this one time might be okay.
“Could I take potato chips?”
Logan grinned. “You a chip lover?”
“I am.”
“Me, too. Bring a big bag.”
Before she left the house, Blossom put the roast in the slow cooker—her new best friend. This might be the final meal she cooked here.
Not that she hadn’t planned to leave. Even Shadow had picked up on that.
Still. The air felt good, clean and fresh, as Logan had said. And she felt free for the first time in longer than she could remember. A couple of the border collies trailed along, and in the middle of the open range, on a clear early spring afternoon, any threat of Ken seemed far away. Nonexistent, even. His world was so different from this one.
The horse she rode was indeed gentle, and riding mostly involved just sitting there holding the reins loosely in her left hand, Western-style. Logan didn’t have to lead her. She liked how warm the bay felt under her, and the land stretched out before them like a green blanket of new grass.
Blossom could see forever. There would be no surprises from this vantage point. She and Logan rode close together at a slow walk, checking for any breaks in the fence line as they went and talking about everything but Shadow.
Finally, she decided to circle around the question she wanted to ask.
“When Shadow was here, she kept glancing that way.” Blossom pointed in the direction of the Wilson Cattle Company, where she glimpsed the rise of a barn roof in the distance. “I don’t mean to pry, but were she and Grey—”
“An item, as people like to say? Years ago they seemed more than serious. Grey—who was barely nineteen—asked me to help him pick out a ring. But then, well, something happened. He and Shadow broke up—and since she’s come back to Barren, she avoids him. You want to know more, ask her. You like her, huh?”
“Yes, but I know she told you something today. I think it must have been about me.”
He nudged his horse closer to hers. Logan’s leg brushed Blossom’s, sending a rush of warmth through her. He reached for the bag she held then helped himself to another handful of potato chips. He washed that down with his soda. And looked beyond her. “We’d better turn back. I need to get home before sundown. These horses are getting antsy for dinner.”
“But—”
She never said the words.
Did she find my replacement?
* * *
LOGAN STILL HADN’T figured out what to say. How to feel about Shadow’s news that she’d found a potential new caregiver for Sam. A male. And a cook. Just as Logan had requested.
Instead, he’d asked Blossom to go riding with him, and having her company had temporarily eased his mind. But as soon as he and Blossom rode back into the barnyard, he heard snuffling from inside the stables. The horses were stirred up—and he doubted it was anything good.
There went his troubled thoughts again. Should he keep Blossom close to protect her from Ken, if necessary? That was his inclination. Or hire the male caregiver, the one he’d hounded Shadow for? His life would become simpler again if Blossom wasn’t in the picture. No matter her growing bond with Sam, she tested Logan’s resolve not to get close to a woman when his focus should be on Nicky and the coming custody suit.
One of the dogs barked.
Ears laid flat, Sundance picked up his pace and Logan sniffed the air. Fire—his first concern—didn’t seem to be the problem. No smoke issued from the open barn doors. Maybe as he’d thought, the stock were just anxious for dinner. Sundance, too.
Then he heard a low groan.
“Sam!” Blossom said at the same instant he thought of his grandfather.
“Stay here.” Logan slid from the saddle, tossed his reins to Blossom then ran inside. He found Sam dangling from the side of a horse in the aisle, his left foot awkwardly wedged in the nearby stirrup, his casted foot in midair. The horse Sam had managed to saddle was prancing in place, nostrils distended, snorting.
Logan caught the bridle. Carefully, he turned Sam’s foot enough to ease it from the stirrup. If the mare had bolted, Sam might have been dragged halfway to the Wilson ranch. Seriously injured, or worse.
Sam rubbed his head. “What happened?”
“That’s my question.”
Blossom hurried into the barn and dropped down beside Sam, who now lay flat on his back.
“I tied the horses outside to that old hitching rail,” she said.
Logan left her with Sam while he settled the mare in her stall. He gave her a pat on the rump. She’d remained steady enough not to let Sam get in more trouble than he already was. He returned to Blossom. “How is he?”
Sam said for her, “Stop fussing.”
Blossom continued to gently hold his hand. “The cast seems intact but his other leg doesn’t look good. Not that I’m an expert.”
“Neither am I. I need to drive him into Barren. The walk-in clinic there should be open till eight or so.”
“There’s no hospital nearby?”
“This isn’t Philly, city girl. Other than the clinic and one doc in private practice who should have retired years ago, medical care is hard to come by.” Which meant going into KC for anything serious.
And, if Sam was really hurt, possibly more time for Logan to spend on the Circle H.
He suppressed the thought. Except for Nicky, Sam’s well-being was his main priority. What if he’d broken his other leg? Or his neck? If he had to stay bedridden longer than expected, even here at home, he’d be in danger at some point of getting pneumonia, which at his age could be deadly.
Sam blinked up at him.
“Who am I?” Logan asked.
“The stubborn cuss who makes my life miserable.”
Logan frowned. He hadn’t inherited Sam’s orneriness through his genes, but it was part of him anyway, and it would sure be the last thing to go for Sam.
He grunted. “Stand back so I can get up.”
Logan held him down. “What did you think you were doing?”
“I’ve ridden horses all my life.”
He glanced toward the nearby stall. “Good thing you picked Gumdrop.”
“See? I know what I’m doing.”
“The jury’s still out on that. Where were you headed anyway?” Not far, he thought. Gumdrop’s cinch had been so loose the saddle would soon have spun around to her belly and Sam would have tumbled off. At least he hadn’t made it out of the barn. Logan hunkered in front of him. “Wait here. I’ll move the pickup.”
Blossom laid a hand on his arm. “Let’s take my car. Then Sam won’t have to climb up into your truck.”
Logan looked at her. He could lift Sam if need be, yet she hadn’t hesitated to include herself. Or to make plans. She had a selfless side. He would definitely miss her when she left. Logan’s mind flashed back to that kiss he’d almost given her in the ranch office.
But Sam was still his problem. “You can stay here, Blossom. I can take Sam.”
“No,” she said. “I’m going, too. And we’re wasting time.”
Logan stood. He wouldn’t argue with her. Later, he
would think about that hard decision he needed to make. But for now he had to see to Sam.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SAM HAD STRAINED a major ligament in his foot. The doctor at the local clinic had done what he could, but his main recommendation was for Sam to rest. This new injury would take weeks to heal, and he should spend as much time as possible off his feet. But Logan didn’t seem satisfied with the diagnosis or treatment plan.
“I ought to take Sam into KC after all.” He drove Blossom’s car on the way home as he had on the way into town. “Get a second opinion. We could check with Doc—our family physician—too. He’s good but not as spry as he used to be or up on the latest methods.”
Sam had fallen asleep on the backseat. Blossom turned to check on him again. The painkiller he’d gotten had done its work. His face appeared serene, and she didn’t see a flicker of an eyelid or the twitch of a lip. He didn’t quite fit lying down on the rear seat, so his position looked uncomfortable, but she figured he was too exhausted to care.
“The clinic doctor said there was nothing more to be done. It’s not as if they can set the ligament like a bone.”
“Thank God he didn’t rebreak the other leg.”
Blossom tried a smile. “At least he didn’t fall down the stairs.”
Logan shot a look at Sam in the rearview mirror. “How did he get from upstairs out to the barn? Without killing himself?”
“I’d pay money to have seen that.”
He smiled weakly. “Me, too.”
Sam was still out cold when they reached the ranch. Logan managed to nudge him awake long enough to get him into the house, hobbling with Logan’s support, and half carry him up to bed. Blossom tucked him in. By the time they came downstairs again, Sam was snoring.
And she was still expecting Logan to lower the boom. She’d waited all day.
“I don’t know what to do.” He leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. “Now more than before, Sam needs supervision. The way things are going, I’ll never leave here.”
“I have to admire his ingenuity—his determination—in saddling that horse,” Blossom said. “But how did he manage? And as you said, where was he headed?”