The Reluctant Rancher

by Leigh Riker

  “In the exam cubicle at the clinic, he admitted he was looking for us,” Logan told her. “He woke up from his nap but nobody was here. Of course, he felt certain he could get to the barn and ride out on Gumdrop without help.”

  Blossom winced. “I shouldn’t have left the house. I wasn’t hired to go horseback riding with you.” And risk my own safety.

  “Maybe he panicked with us gone, I don’t know. Or maybe he thought he was okay—hadn’t broken his leg—and was off to ride fence with me.”

  Which only reminded Blossom that her stay here might be coming to an end. She stirred the now-cold tea in her cup. She added another spoonful of sugar. “When are you going to tell me?”

  “What?”

  “About Shadow. She didn’t come to the ranch today just to bring me half a dozen flea collars. Please be honest with me, Logan.”

  He rubbed his jaw where a five o’clock shadow had sprouted. “She found a man to take care of Sam.”

  That was no surprise—she’d expected it—yet hearing him say the words made her shrink inside. She didn’t need to worry, he’d said. But unlike Sam, Blossom wasn’t his responsibility. She cradled her stomach where the tiny bulge was growing. When she’d changed clothes to go riding, she hadn’t been able to snap her jeans. She hadn’t told Logan about her pregnancy for fear of being fired. She wouldn’t have to tell him now.

  “Sam’s not easy for any of us to deal with.” Logan’s gaze avoided hers. “He wasn’t before but after this—”

  “I know. You’re right. I should probably...” She gestured toward the ceiling. “Oh, wait. I’m already packed.”

  “Blossom.”

  “No, I’m glad Shadow found someone. This male caregiver is probably bigger and stronger than I am, and he’ll keep Sam from getting hurt.” Someone Logan might feel more comfortable with. “We both benefited from my being here...at least I did, for a while, but...”

  Blossom set her cup in the sink. She ran water, rinsed it out then slid the cup into the dishwasher.

  “I don’t know if this man will even work out,” Logan said to her back.

  “He must have more experience than I did.”

  He took a step closer. Blossom could feel his heat only inches away. “Where will you go?”

  “I can’t tell you,” she said with a thin smile.

  “Because of Ken.”

  “I’ve already stayed too long. If he did track me here, he might convince you to give me up. Like he did with my friend Tammy.”

  “I don’t knuckle under to bullies. I’d throw him off this ranch, off your trail so fast—”

  Blossom turned. Her eyes suddenly moist and her throat tight, she wanted to believe. But if she stayed, she’d be relying on Logan, leaning on him when she needed to rely on herself. And only herself.

  Logan didn’t seem to agree. “Blossom,” he said in a thick tone. He turned her toward him, and she didn’t stop to think. His voice had been enough. Without considering why this was a bad idea, she glided into his arms. “This doesn’t help anything. We shouldn’t...”

  “Right now it helps me.” He began to lower his head toward her, his mouth angling ever closer to her lips, his breath a whisper as he said, “Maybe we should.”

  But at the last second Blossom drew back. “Logan. I have Ken to worry about and...” My baby. “You have Nicky, Sam—”

  “And you haven’t completed your on-the-job training here.” His eyes looked somber. “Stay,” he said softly. “At least until Shadow vets this guy to see if he’s all right.”

  And to her surprise, Blossom agreed. She was used to not having choices, but this time she did. She hoped she’d made the right one.

  * * *

  AS THE WEATHER forecast had threatened, the rains had come. The constant downpour dampened Logan’s mood and shortened his temper. It reminded him of the flood three years ago and of Nicky, of his own guilt. His impatience grew until Willy and Tobias began to avoid him again whenever they could.

  Yet, to his growing irritation, Blossom bothered him most. By the end of the following week, Logan had seen her only a few times—once at dinner when she served a birthday meal for Tobias and those mornings when she’d passed Logan in the hall on her way to the bathroom. He’d tried not to notice her sleepy eyes or tangled curls. He tried even harder not to remember the night he’d all but begged her to stay until her replacement came. There had been no word from Shadow except to say that Bertie was still in the hospital and she was checking Jack Hancock’s references.

  “He’s an odd duck,” she’d added. “I’ll make sure to check them all out thoroughly.”

  Then, as the rains continued to drench the pastures and make deep puddles on the drive and the horses grew as cranky in their stalls as Logan was, the kitten disappeared.

  Blossom paced from the kitchen to the front door to peer outside.

  “Where can she be?”

  Logan tracked dirt through the house to follow her. The yard was a sea of mud. Where once his mother and grandmother had planted petunias in the flower beds every spring and mums in the fall, Logan saw only a few straggly shoots poking up through the rain-sodden earth.

  “I’ve told you. The cats come and go.”

  “No-Name is different. She likes to stay near—and she’s still a baby.” The word seemed to catch in her throat. “How will she defend herself? Her leg has barely healed. There must be predators around.”

  “Blossom, she’ll either come back on her own. Or she won’t.”

  “Cougars,” she said. “Mountain lions.”

  “Same thing. Different names.”

  “Coyotes, then.”

  She was on the verge of tears, which was nothing new. Ever since she’d agreed to stay a while longer, she’d been on edge. Logan suspected the only thing keeping her here now was the kitten. She hadn’t come near Logan since that night she’d decided to stay on. He wanted to believe that was a good thing for both of them.

  He sighed. “By dinnertime she’ll probably be in the barn waiting for food like the horses.”

  That didn’t reassure her. “What if she gets stepped on?”

  Logan stood behind her at the front screen door. “On a ranch you can’t be a bleeding heart, but you’ve fed that kitten, watered her, carried her around as if she was a baby...a human one.” He frowned at her suddenly stiff back. She’d become too attached to that barn cat. Or maybe the weather was getting to her, too. She could be worried about the distance from the house to the road, the chance that on this low-lying ground, typical of most of the state, the driveway would flood and trap her here. The way it had with Nicky. At least Blossom wasn’t sick, he told himself. She was determined.

  “I need to look for her.”

  “Not in this rain, you don’t.” He turned her toward him. “I’ll saddle Sundance and look around the property. The cat could have wandered off and then taken cover in the rain.”

  Her chin hitched. “I’ll go with you.”

  “No, you won’t.” The last thing he needed was Blossom riding next to him again, her leg brushing his thigh now and then. Just his luck, they’d find the kitten lying in a watery ditch somewhere—or electrocuted by one of the corral fences, some of which were wired. Blossom would fall apart. “I’ll call you on my sat phone as soon as I find anything.”

  Blossom glanced back at the yard. “You won’t forget?”

  “I promise. I’ll find her.” Her tone had sounded vaguely hopeful, and he appreciated that she’d held her ground with him. “In this rain I’ve got nothing better to do,” he said.

  Logan eyed the dark sky. Thunder rumbled overhead.

  The days were ticking by and Joe had already given Garvey that sweet assignment. Logan was losing ground—but at least not today.

  The weather was too ba
d to fly.

  Which, right now, worked for him.

  * * *

  WITH A DEEPENING SCOWL, Sam eyed Blossom from his bed. She bustled around the room, straightening a dresser scarf here, a cushion there. Sam was in a rotten mood, and he couldn’t help notice that Logan was, too. As the rains went on and the stream that paralleled the driveway rose almost to its banks, he knew his grandson’s mind must be on that flood three years ago. Sam remembered it, too, but he couldn’t completely blame his bad mood on concerns about the weather. Being flat on his back again had turned him into a grumpy old man. In trying to prove he was on the mend, able to take over the ranch again, he’d only made things worse.

  “I’ve never seen rain like this,” Blossom said.

  “Every spring.”

  “How can you grow anything? Corn, hay or whatever?”

  “With my fingers crossed behind my back.” He watched her fluff the same pillow she had minutes before. Everyone seemed to be on edge. “That’s the risk of ranching. Farming, too. We must all be crazy—except for those big agribusiness boys. They can afford the losses.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “There are no agribusiness ‘girls’?”

  “I’m sure there are.”

  “I thought the Circle H was doing well.” Her smile didn’t quite cover the sad look in her eyes. Sam guessed she was worried about the missing kitten. Logan had been searching for her without any luck. “Except for the sorry sign that was hanging at the gate, aren’t things good?” She smiled. “I’m glad Logan finally fixed it for you.”

  “I’d have fixed it myself if I hadn’t busted my leg.”

  “Well, you did.” As if she’d been waiting for the opportunity to scold him, she said, “Then you just had to hurt the other one falling off that horse.”

  “I didn’t fall. I got hung up. If you two hadn’t come in at the wrong time, I’d have worked my foot out of the stirrup, and been on my way.”

  Blossom studied him. “You remember where you were going?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  She hesitated. “Sometimes...you don’t get things exactly right.”

  “Now, that’s a darn lie.”

  She stepped closer to his bed. “I’m not lying, Sam. Several times you’ve mistaken me for Olivia—Logan’s ex-wife.”

  “I know who Libby is.” He looked past her. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because you and I are friends. You deserve the truth.” Blossom sat down on the chair beside his bed. “You don’t remember calling me by her name? Thinking—” she hesitated “—that she and Logan are still married.”

  His jaw tightened. “They’re divorced.”

  “You’re definite about that?”

  “Sure as it’s raining again right now.” The sky was dumping another inch on the already-saturated ground. There’d be no riding fence today, no checking on pregnant cows, no feel of a horse under him.

  Blossom looked relieved. So was Sam. For a minute, he’d thought they were going to get into some wrangle about things he’d never said. Or done.

  He tangled enough with Logan. Yes, Sam’s mind had given him some trouble after that bison cow tossed him against a tree, but he hadn’t suffered a headache now in days. He didn’t feel as dizzy. But did Blossom and Logan discuss him at dinner every night? Did his grandson think Sam could never take over the ranch again? And if he didn’t...

  This wasn’t really his property and he wasn’t true family. Yet Sam had to stay here. Somehow. He couldn’t leave Muriel behind.

  Blossom took his hand. “Why did they break up?”

  “Logan and Libby? That was between them,” he said.

  “But you do know.”

  “I raised Logan from a boy. There’s not much I don’t know about him.” Sam didn’t go on. Not many ways in which they connected these days.

  “I didn’t mean to pry, but I’m curious. He and Olivia don’t seem to get along well—and Logan doesn’t spend much time with his son.”

  “Nick’s a good boy. Libby smothers him, though.”

  “There must be a reason.”

  “All I can say is, she was never the right woman for him—or this ranch. So why would I confuse her with you?”

  “I shouldn’t have asked.” Blossom rose from the chair but Sam caught her hand again. He’d noticed she had a habit of backing off, of apologizing when there was no need.

  “Don’t go. I’m bored and I don’t know how much longer I can stay in this bed like a hog-tied calf.”

  “If you behave, the doctor thinks you can get up for a bit in a few days.”

  Blossom didn’t sit down, but she let him keep holding her hand.

  “That’ll be a relief.”

  “So be a good boy.” She let go of his hand. “I need to start lunch.” She was almost to the door when Sam spoke again.

  “Tell the truth. You have an interest in my grandson?”

  “I guess I do,” she admitted. “Which won’t do either of us any good.”

  Sam eased back onto his pillows, hurt again and all but helpless, which scared him. Logan and Sawyer had no interest in the Circle H except for their two-thirds share of the ranch. Together they held the majority vote on any decisions. If Sam could no longer work, would they sell? And throw him off the ranch? Right now Sawyer was missing like Blossom’s cat, which bought him time. But his and Logan’s only real connection to Sam was through Muriel.

  Everywhere he looked she was still here. He could feel her love, and Sam tripped through a few good memories. He wanted Logan to be happy in that way.

  He straightened in his bed. Blossom, he thought. He was no matchmaker, but if she stayed at the Circle H maybe Logan would, too. Sam wouldn’t have to quit the ranch when this was still his home, if not really his property.

  He stared out the bedroom window at the rain.

  Maybe the idea was too far-fetched.

  Face it. He was an aging man with nowhere else to go. And at the moment, it seemed, he couldn’t get out of bed anyway.

  * * *

  A FEW DAYS later the rain finally moved on, soaking the plains to the east and heading for New England. For Philadelphia. The sun came out and bathed the Circle H in light again. The ground began to dry out in the front yard—and, with the small rake and shovel she’d found in the laundry room cabinet, Blossom basked in the beautiful morning. She would plant flowers. Another first for her.

  On a day like this, she could almost believe she was safe here. As if nothing bad could happen to her in such a sunny spring. As if she could stay. There had been no more word on Jack Hancock, her replacement, and as a bonus Nick had come to visit today. “With a laundry list from Libby,” Logan had told her. “Don’t do this, don’t let him do that... It was like listening to fingers scraping on a blackboard.”

  “At least she let him come.”

  “I guess my talk with her had some effect. I still can’t believe she allowed him to visit the ranch, though. Will wonders never cease.”

  He was keeping an eagle eye now on Nick, who was kneeling in the grass by the neglected flower bed in front of the house. He was Blossom’s helper.

  “There’ll be more rain.” Logan stood above them on the front porch. “You two are wasting your time.”

  “This dirt’s nice and soft now.” Wearing sturdy gardening gloves, so as not to make direct contact with the soil that could contain toxoplasmosis, she held up a handful of rich, dark earth. “It’s the perfect time to plant these flower seeds.” I think. “Right, Nick?”

  “We’re making a garden. It’s going to be pretty.”

  Logan smiled. “But I’m warning you. Those will wash away next time it rains.”

  She raised her face to the sun. “No, with any luck they’ll get wet and germinate, Mr. Hunter. I’m gi
ving them a head start today. Isn’t the weather gorgeous?”

  His gaze stayed on Nick. “I see I can’t change your mind.”

  “You’ll eat those words when the first flowers bloom.”

  “Blossom,” he said, shaking his head. “I bet your mother was a gardener.”

  “No, they just loved the name. My father didn’t like plants. They made his nose itch, he said. And we moved so often Mom never had a garden.” She looked up at him. “She did risk a house plant or two in her kitchen, but they always got left behind.”

  She didn’t point out that these would, too, when she left.

  Jack Hancock was never far from her mind. Maybe Shadow had checked all of his references by now and Bertie had left the hospital for a nursing home. This might be her last day here. Maybe Logan was right—she was wasting her time. Several days ago when she’d tried to talk with Sam, she’d stepped over another boundary. You have an interest in my grandson?

  Digging in the dirt was supposed to distract her.

  “Thank you for finding No-Name,” she said, making a small hole in the ground. Logan was right. It was too wet, but she dug anyway, as if she might really become a part of this place, of a life here with Sam and Logan and Nick. The kitten had bounded across the grass to plop down in Nick’s lap. He giggled as she purred and rubbed against his face.

  Logan’s gaze softened at the sight. “She’s pretty smart. The hayloft was a natural hiding place for her, the same spot where she was born. It stayed warm as well as dry.”

  “But thanks again.”

  “I gave up,” he said. “Between you and Nicky, I’m outnumbered with that cat.”

  “Yes, you are.” Blossom sprinkled seeds into the first hole.

  She should enjoy their light teasing and let it go at that. Instead, she watched Nick abandon their project to chase after the kitten. “May I ask you something?”

  Logan was looking at Nick. “Don’t go as far as the barn,” he called out, waiting until Nick veered off toward the nearby field, then turned back to her. “He hasn’t seen that toy truck. It’s hidden in the barn.”

  “My question is personal,” she said. “You might not like it.”