by Leigh Riker
“Not today,” Logan said. “We need to travel light, and if we don’t get started, your mom will be back to get you before we do.”
Nicky scowled. “She never lets me stay long. Can I come again?”
“I hope so.”
“All you have to do is make her.” Nicky’s world was still a simple one.
Logan looked at Blossom. “Try that.”
She took Nicky’s hand. “While your dad gets the horses ready, let’s go see if there are any of those oatmeal cookies left that I baked this morning.”
“Yay! I love them!”
Off they went, the kitten scampering to keep up with them.
Logan was on his way back from the stables, almost to the house, when Sam came out. He had a cowboy hat clamped on his head and a worn roping-heeled boot on the leg without the cast.
“Seriously?” Logan said.
“I’m going with you.”
This picnic wasn’t starting out well. “There’s no way I’m letting you get on a horse.” Blossom either, he decided. “You know what happened the last time.”
“I can drive the Gator.”
Logan groaned aloud. The Circle H had recently invested in a pair of the vehicles that many ranchers now used with their herds, saving horses and manpower and covering vast amounts of uneven terrain in far less time than on horseback, but if Sam had ever actually driven one, Logan didn’t know about it.
“Who says?”
“I’ve been driving since I was fourteen years old. You think I can’t handle a simple machine like that? It’s as easy as Nick’s toy truck—and he’s like a professional race-car driver in that thing.”
“Not if his mother has anything to say about it.” The truck permanently resided at the Circle H, so Nicky’s opportunities to make use of it were limited.
Sam blithely ignored that. “Well, she’s not here. Willy and Tobias could tell you, I’ll be safe as a baby in church.” Sam clumped across the yard. “Are we going to get moving before lunchtime turns into supper?”
* * *
FEELING MORE ALIVE than he had in weeks, Sam settled into the Gator’s passenger seat. He laid his hat beside him, baring his face to the warm spring sun. And smiled to himself. At the last minute Nick had been torn between riding with Logan or with Sam, but Logan had settled that, too.
“Blossom isn’t riding today. She’d taken one chance with her pregnancy the last time,” Logan had said. “You get Gumdrop again, Nicky. She can go with Sam.”
Blossom had glanced at Sam’s leg cast. “I’ll drive.”
He finally had to admit that was easier than him trying with his bum leg.
Now she and Sam were bringing up the rear with a couple of the border collies behind them. As they set off, he watched the backsides of the two horses sway in time with their easy gait. He liked the way Nick looked, leg to leg with Logan, who rode next to him.
The divorce had torn his adopted family apart, but seeing this sight gladdened Sam’s heart.
Nick already sat atop Gumdrop like a real horseman. And he shouldn’t fret. Blossom and Logan seemed to be getting on together better than they had at first. Much better, which he’d seen for himself that night on the porch.
The ride to the pond took just long enough for the clean air to double Sam’s appetite. By the time Blossom braked near the water, he was grinning.
The cast on his leg would come off soon. He could bear more weight now on his other foot, and he no longer needed crutches part of the time. Soon, he’d be on a horse. Running the Circle H. Still living in the house he’d come to with Muriel years ago—the ranch where he’d finally found his place in this world. And if Blossom stayed, maybe Logan would, too, and this would still be Sam’s home.
Mission accomplished? He could only hope.
* * *
LYING ON HIS BACK, Logan settled his hat over his eyes, arms laced across his full stomach. Blossom had outdone herself today, and he had to admit that she’d learned how to cook pretty well—not from Jacques but through trial and error with the things he liked. Last night she’d produced a good steak at last, done just right, which to Logan meant rare. Today, there’d been cowboy beans, thick ham sandwiches and creamy potato salad.
“Good lunch, Blossom.”
On her knees beside him on the picnic blanket, she didn’t respond. And his gut tightened. The past days had seemed idyllic, including this notion to take a break for the picnic, but now and then he caught a worried, uncertain look in her eyes again. When Logan peeked out from under the brim of his Stetson, he saw her watching a cloud on the horizon.
“What is that?” she asked.
“The herd. Probably grazing somewhere closer to Grey’s ranch. They cover a lot of ground, more than cattle do.”
“I don’t see much fence.” They had left that behind. “They roam free here?”
He smiled. “Yeah, within certain boundaries.” He gestured. “Over there is federal land. It backs up to the Circle H at this point and we have grazing rights. No fence there but they’re not exactly free.”
“Maybe they’d rather walk into Barren now and then.”
He smiled. “I guess they might. But that won’t happen.” He raised himself up on one elbow to study her face. The new glow of health, the radiance in her skin made him feel even happier than he’d been before. “You worried about their not-so-solitary confinement?”
“No,” she said. “Are you teasing me again?”
“Yep.” He wanted to lighten that look in her eyes and reached out to touch a russet curl, then wound the silk around his finger.
Sam had wandered off toward the pond. A short distance away, Nicky was chasing butterflies, or more accurately, scaring them. The net he carried swooped in on another victim but missed.
“He’s having a great time,” Blossom said.
“So am I.” He drew her closer. “How about you?”
“It feels good to be outdoors.” Her tone seemed to say more than that.
“Nicky ate three of those quartered sandwiches you made for him. He finished all his potato salad.”
“I’m glad Sam could come with us. He must miss seeing his land like this, being in charge of the Circle H.”
“Not his land.” Logan watched sunlight play over the red in Blossom’s hair. “The ranch mostly belongs to me—and Sawyer.”
“There’s nothing for Sam?”
“A third portion my grandmother left him, but we hold the majority stake.” He couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “Sooner or later, the two of us will have to make some decision. I’m happier flying, and Sawyer—who knows what he’s doing, except that he’s no longer here and doesn’t want to be. Sam’s not getting any younger. His accident—both of them—only helped to prove that. What if he was here alone and something else happened? Years ago he’d never have risked doing what he did, getting between that cow and her calf. Or having his leg stuck in that stirrup.”
“The same calf that knocked you down in the corral.”
“Ouch.” He winced. “At least I didn’t end up in a leg cast.”
“Sam’s doing fine now.”
He had to admit his grandfather had ridden in the Gator without incident, and as far as Logan could tell, his mind seemed clear as glass. Having abandoned the pond, he was limping across the tender green grass to reach Nicky. “Bet he’ll be relieved just to get rid of that cast,” Logan agreed.
“I wouldn’t write him off. He may have years ahead of managing the Circle H.”
He tilted his head. “And what about you, Mademoiselle Blossom?”
She raised her face to the sun. “I’m having an absolutely perfect day. That’s all I want to care about.” Blossom hesitated. “When I left before—when I came back for Nick’s birthday party, I felt like...I was coming ho
me.”
“For as long as you want.” Logan released the curl he’d been twining around his finger. Did she know how much she’d changed from the frightened woman who’d so often studied the long driveway for any sign of Ken? The vulnerable woman who hadn’t trusted him at first? If only he didn’t have Wichita to worry about. “We’re all fine right now,” he said. “Come here.”
Happiness. He reached for her and, after another brief hesitation, Blossom snuggled into his arms as she had on the porch swing after Jacques left, almost purring at Logan’s touch. Keeping one eye on his grandfather and Nicky, he soothed a hand over her shoulders, her back, then let it drop to her waist. “Your little one’s going to be a real bruiser.”
He felt her smile against his shoulder. “Maybe he’ll play football.”
“Or win a gold buckle riding broncs.”
“Or learn to fly jets—”
Logan tilted her face toward his. He angled his mouth to fit hers just so, fought back an urge to groan. He hadn’t only missed her while she was gone, even for that short while. He’d realized he loved her. It was too soon to say those words, and he had to iron things out with Libby, but...
Blossom broke their kiss. “That potato salad must have gone to your head.”
He’d lost his nerve. “No, I’ve been thinking. We need to talk. Whenever you’re ready.” He pulled back, too. “Something to ponder while I go catch the horses.” Logan eyed the bison herd, which had been moving closer to them. It was time to go. “I promised Libby we wouldn’t be long.”
On his feet, he’d just tracked Sundance to a thick patch of grass not far off, the horse’s reins trailing on the ground, when he heard Sam shout.
“Nick!”
And Logan’s newfound happiness—tentative as it was—shattered into a million pieces.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
AT SAM’S SHOUT Blossom bolted upright on the picnic blanket. Sam was already thumping across the grass, but his leg cast hindered his progress. Logan was even farther away with Sundance.
Oblivious to the bison herd, which had slowly meandered toward them, munching grass along the way, Nick had wandered off with his butterfly net. He skimmed over the open pasture, sweeping it back and forth at the edge of public land. One of the cows and her calf—the young bull that had tried to hurt Logan?—were grazing less than thirty yards from Nick, but he hadn’t seemed to notice.
Her heart in her throat, Blossom lurched to her feet. And ran.
At the same time the buffalo calf lifted its head. Its mother did, too, and seemed to smell danger. The little bull sniffed the air then began to lope toward Blossom, picking up speed with every stride. Did he remember her? His mother rushed forward, nosing him out of the way.
Then the cow charged. Blossom felt sure she was headed for her, but Nick was between Blossom and the cow.
Sam had come to a stop just ahead of Blossom and was panting for breath. With a growing stitch in her side, she passed him by.
The rest of the bison had picked up on the cow’s change of direction. A shaggy buffalo, larger than the rest, pawed at the dirt. These bison are unpredictable, dangerous. They don’t like people much. An hour ago they’d been far enough away to pose no threat. Now, as if they were one beast, the whole herd broke into a run, their hooves rumbling over the ground, their combined weight shaking the earth. Stampede.
Hampered by the baby weight she’d gained, Blossom couldn’t run any faster, yet somehow she had to. She didn’t think of her own well-being. Nick would get hurt, or even killed.
She was running flat out when a horse streaked past her, missing Blossom by inches. Waving his hat at the bison, yelling at the top of his lungs, Logan on Sundance thundered toward the cow.
* * *
LOGAN WASN’T SURE he was even breathing. He didn’t care. In that heart-stopping instant, he didn’t think of his reluctance to be on this ranch, or of Joe’s warning about the future of his job. All he could see was Blossom, Nicky, Sam...in the path of the stampeding bison.
In that one second the past flashed in front of his eyes. The lightning, the rain, the water rising, the roads closed—Nicky at the Circle H while Logan was in Wichita. His own guilt. He’d thrown caution to the winds that night, riding cross-country in the dark and the blowing rain with Grey, but he couldn’t think of that now.
If he didn’t reach Nicky in time, he’d be trampled by the panicked herd, his small body ground into the chewed-up dirt by hundreds of churning hooves at a full-out run. Libby had been right after all. He should never have brought Nicky to the ranch again.
What would he tell her? She already blamed him for nearly losing their child before.
Behind him, one of the dogs barked. Then, to his horror, he saw Blossom trying to get between the calf’s mother and Nicky. She was about to be overrun. So was Sam.
Logan bent low over the horse’s neck. He and Sundance were one being now, like some ancient centaur, and the horse knew his job. With the lightest touch of the reins and another nudge from Logan’s legs to Sundance’s sides, the gelding swerved to cut the mother bison and her calf in front from the rest of the stampeding herd.
The two border collies knew their duties, too. Both barking, they raced toward the bison.
In a flash, the cow turned sharply, steered by the dogs and Sundance, with her calf back into the herd. The rest arced around with them and, to his undying gratitude, seemed to flow like a dark wave, curving as one until they, too, ran away from, not toward, Blossom and Nicky.
His breath still caught in his lungs, Logan slumped in the saddle.
* * *
IN BLOSSOM’S ARMS, Nick had buried his face in her neck. She was still giving thanks that he was alive, and unhurt, when Sundance skidded to a stop beside them. Logan slid off the horse then pulled them into a three-way hug. “You both okay?”
Blossom nodded. “I think so.”
Sam hobbled over, still struggling for breath. He threw his hat on the ground with a shout. “That is one good cutting horse!”
“Believe it,” Logan said. “He gets extra grain tonight, that’s for sure. And treats for the dogs.”
“You looked mighty good on that horse. Still think you’re not a cowboy?”
Logan ran a hand over Nick’s hair, and his son trembled in his embrace. So did Blossom. “All I know is, we’re going home.” He met her gaze. “Then I’m driving you and Nicky into Barren to see Doc. You too, Sam. That was the last chance you’re taking.”
Blossom managed to keep her mouth shut on the way back to the ranch. She’d put the last of her energy into packing up the picnic items, and her side still ached. At the barn Sam refused to see the doctor, and Logan ordered him to the house instead. He told Tobias to watch him and instructed Willy to make sure the herd had settled down for the night, as well as to check the cow and bull calf to make certain they weren’t hurt. He didn’t seem to notice that Tobias was still wearing a sling on his arm and Willy’s eye was an angry-looking blue green where his bruises from Jacques were fading.
“I don’t need to go into town either,” Blossom tried to tell him. She’d been there only yesterday to buy new clothes that fit and some cute newborn outfits from Baby Things. She’d wanted to show the clerk and everyone in town that she was out in the open now, unafraid, although Ken was still on her mind.
“You’re going,” Logan said.
“Don’t give me orders.”
For a second, he eyed her with what she could only call respect. Something she’d never seen from Ken.
“Humor me,” he finally said. “I need Doc to check Nicky anyway. You ought to be sure the baby’s okay, too.” He held open the passenger door of his truck and Nick hopped up onto the rear seat.
“I don’t see a baby,” he said.
“She’s in Blossom’s tummy.”
At Doc’s office Logan paced the floor until an older woman Blossom didn’t recognize came out of the examining area behind the reception desk. He tipped his hat to her. “Afternoon, Milly. How you doing?”
“Doc fixed me up. I’ll live forever.”
“Glad to hear it. You take care now.”
Blossom hid a smile. If Logan thought he wasn’t part of this community or the Circle H, he was wrong. At the desk Doc’s wife, Ida, consulted her appointment book. Doc, Logan had told her, didn’t believe in computers. “Go on in. He’ll see you now, Nicholas.”
Blossom hung back but Logan guided her down the short hallway. The three of them crowded into the small exam room. “Like I said when I called, we had a bit of an accident, Doc. I’d have brought Sam with me but he wouldn’t budge.”
“I talked to him by phone after you rang on your way in.” Doc motioned Logan to lift Nick onto the table. “You know Sam. He said all that was wrong with him could be cured by running the Circle H again. You want to know the truth, he sounded all jazzed up.”
“His adrenaline was still flowing.”
“He claims he’ll talk you into staying yet. From what I heard, you’re one—” he glanced at Nick “—heck of a horseman.”
“I didn’t have any other choice.”
Doc sent Blossom a quick smile. “You handling this one okay?”
Seated on a chair, she studied her folded hands. “I try.”
But she knew Logan would have plenty to say to her later.
While Doc examined Nick, and Logan roamed the tiny room as if he couldn’t sit down, Doc chuckled. “Boys will be boys. You ever stop to think, Nick, that it might not be the best choice to get so near those bison?”
“They’re my daddy’s. And Grandpa Sam’s. They wouldn’t hurt me.”
Doc patted Nick’s scraped knee. He’d torn through the new-looking jeans Libby had dressed him in that morning. “Listen to your father. I’m kind of partial to bison myself, but I’d keep a clear distance between them and me.”