Hearts Crossing Ranch Anthology

by Tanya Hanson

  He’d take the small miracles for now. To stretch his legs, he grabbed the blue bucket and headed to the corral where other horses hung their heads over the rail, waiting for carrots. He muttered to them as he fed them and knew they liked the sound.

  He looked around at the well-tended barn and outbuildings. His small ranch, Red Hill, was nothing like the awesome, sprawling Hearts Crossing, unless you counted the rocky peaks and grassy hills surrounding his place. And of course, this was a working ranch. His, as he was teased, was a rich man’s hobby. Nonetheless, leaving L.A. to start over in Colorado had worked wonders on him, brought back memories of his boyhood in southeast Idaho. But the onset of adolescence had stuck Addie in a bad place. She’d resisted the move and railed about not having a mom to confide in. Soon blame against him had set in, and his sweet little girl had cast him aside. Her brother-confidante departing for college had iced the unhappy little cake.

  As for himself and Addie, well, her neurologist, her physical therapist, and her psychologist had all three suggested a mutual interest to help heal their rift. Horses. With her spinal history, hippotherapy had been a good choice. Her taking a few therapy lessons would build confidence and balance before standard riding instruction. Addie had taken to the idea without much argument. She’d even laughed, asking if she was expected to ride a hippopotamus. Nope, Brayton had explained. Hippotherapy means therapeutic horseback riding, or simply horse therapy. In the long run, however, she’d resisted his company. Now with her brother, her usual chauffeur, off at school, she had no choice.

  The half hour passed quickly. Too quickly if one considered his daughter’s grim face when the lesson ended. Not quickly enough if one considered his racing heart. He felt like a teenager as the beauteous Rachel walked toward him, leading Peachy with Addie still astride. She wasn’t tall, just tall enough, lithe with long denim-clad legs. Scuffed boots tossed up corral dust as she strode her native stomping grounds with confidence and poise. Like a woman who could take on the world and then some.

  “Show your dad how well you dismount,” Rachel encouraged, and without meeting his eye, Addie did just that. She swung her right leg toward the ground then removed her left from the stirrup and hopped down. Of course Rachel was only inches away during the whole procedure.

  “Good job. One of these days, you’ll likely be ready for a horse all your own,” he told Addie, rewarded by the quick but real dash of approval in her eyes.

  “Good lesson, Addie,” Rachel said, bringing to his side her scent of outdoors and…cinnamon. Nutmeg maybe. Autumn scents. “But if that’s the case,” Rachel went on, “there’s more to horseflesh than exercise. Let’s see who needs grooming. Peachy has another lesson now. Tiffany?” She called out.

  Another young woman, obviously pregnant, came from the barn. She tossed Brayton a perky grin. “Howdy. I’m Rachel’s sister-in-law. Tiffany. Bragg’s wife.”

  Brayton nodded, having met the youngest Martin brother. But Addie surprised him.

  “Hi Tiffany,” his daughter said, completely at home. “Need any help grooming Curiosity? I need to learn.”

  “I was just about to ask. Come on.” Tiffany gave Addie a huge smile then addressed Brayton. “Can you give us a half hour or so? Curiosity sure likes to be brushed. Or longer, even? Joe Montana could sure use a horse massage. Sugarfoot, too.”

  Seemed a golden opportunity. A vision of Rachel glowed in the corner of his eye. “Take your time.”

  “Oh-uh.” Tiffany grinned. “She could be here for hours.”

  “I’ll be fine, Dad.” Beaming at everybody, himself included, Addie gave Rachel a tight hug and followed Tiffany inside.

  “OK by me.” Brayton grinned.

  “I hope you meant that,” Rachel teased him as Addie walked off toward the barn. “About getting your girl a horse. They can be a lot of work.”

  “Daughters or horses?” He teased back, miffed somehow at Addie’s ease and affection for the two Martin women. She’d known Rachel, what? Thirty minutes? And that warranted an enthusiastic hug? He rarely even got a sour air kiss.

  Rachel’s joyful laugh bounded on the crisp air. “Both. You’re going to have to badger Addie like crazy sometimes. If I know pre-teen girls. And I do, being quite a bit older than my baby sister. And I was one myself.”

  “I’ve got a small sideline breeding cutting horses. So Addie’s been around the culture all summer. And she’s started to love it. It might be a good idea to get her a saddle mount.” He smiled but his lips felt heavy. “You did a great job there. You all have got a good thing going.”

  “Why, thanks kindly.” She did a little cowgirl drawl that fit somehow. “It was Scott’s idea to start equine therapy here at Hearts Crossing. I’m pleased at all he’s been able to accomplish.”

  Brayton waved his hand as if to encompass the entire ranch. “I reckon you all do your share. And you have many tourist activities, too.”

  She nodded. “Everybody has their role at the ranch. That’s for sure. We’re both a working ranch and a guest ranch. But at this time, Scott and I are the only ones with CETR certification to give lessons.”

  Ah, yes. Children’s Equine Therapy Riding, a nationwide program. Hearts Crossing Ranch was the closest specialized location. But he had other reasons for admiring the place. One of his developments, Woodside Meadows, had been built on former Hearts Crossing property. He’d fallen in love with pictures of the area during the land acquisition process several years ago. He’d even invested in one of the condos. It sat empty, and of late, Brayton had started to consider moving there. The Red Hill Ranch was stunning, but the area was quite remote for a young girl needing friends and schooling. His staff could easily handle the operation.

  Since moving to Colorado, though, he’d kept it quiet that Tranquility Group was one of his companies. His project managers had headed all the work. His lawyers, all the legal mish-mash. With folks losing homes, jobs, acres during recessionary times, he didn’t want to come across as greedy, especially since the new ranch and breeding enterprise had been bought on short sale from a struggling family. Rachel, the ranch attorney, had no doubt been the Martin his team had dealt with. He couldn’t help a secret smile. Someday he’d let it out, and they’d no doubt laugh about it.

  A ranch hand came to take Peachy back for a traditional lesson, and Rachel leaned against a corral post.

  “Must be very rewarding,” Brayton offered, moving next to her. “Working with kids.”

  “It is.” Rachel nodded but stared at her feet. Then her face crumpled, and his heart tweaked. “My...my ma raised all of us to think about doing something for somebody else. Said somebody else always has it worse.”

  Brayton considered her words. “I guess you could be right.” And he guessed she was. For some reason, he’d been left alive, not orphaning the two kids. He’d had the financial means to try every treatment and surgery available to heal his daughter’s injured spine.

  Yes, Rachel could be right. Amazingly, guilt didn’t sizzle this time. Other than, of course, he still hadn’t gotten around to starting that art gallery in Marianne’s memory. He plunged ahead. Brayton Metcalf, who’d never been afraid of making a new deal.

  “You know, Rachel.” He said slow, liking the taste of her name on his tongue. “I hope this isn’t coming out of nowhere, but would you like to get a cup of coffee? Looks like Addie’ll be busy for a while.”

  Her cheeks pinked. “Oh, goodness. Please, forgive my lack of manners. My mother always has a pot of Arbuckle’s going. I’ll go get you a cup.”

  “Well, I meant”—heat brushed his cheekbones—“could I take you to get a cup in town? The Coffee Corral?”

  She didn’t say anything, and her eyes widened, making him feel like a sixth-grade dork. Brayton Metcalf, who had scored several multi-million dollar deals before aged thirty, had his confidence slammed to the ground.

  “Thanks, but I don’t think so.” Her hand squeezed his arm like she was comforting a kid with a scraped knee. “B
ut maybe I‘ll see you around. And please. Feel free to hit the kitchen for some coffee.”

  Her smile all but knocked his breath from his lungs, even with her “no.” She gave a prim little salute at her hat’s brim, turned, and walked toward the house. It was a brush-off, not any sort of invitation to follow. If he wanted coffee, he’d need to find the kitchen all on his own.

  Nonetheless, rejection wasn’t a word in his vocabulary. Rarely, if ever, had he taken no for an answer. See you around?

  You bet your boots.

  3

  Rachel trembled as she stumbled up the steps of the big front porch. Weighted both from disappointment and the confidence building in her heart. Here was somebody interested in her. And a handsome successful somebody at that. But was she ready? Nick’s memory and her guilt somehow told her she wasn’t. Still, all Brayton had suggested was a cup of coffee. It hadn’t been a date, now, had it?

  A touch of confidence had her peek behind her shoulder as she opened the front door. Hoped Brayton was watching. A new kind of disappointment surged when he wasn’t. For a flash, she watched him feeding carrots to the horses in the corral, his back to her. Then her rudeness reared an ugly head. Hearts Crossing Ranch was based on hospitality, and she’d just committed a cardinal sin. She should have taken Brayton’s arm, walked him over to the kitchen for coffee. Even if Rachel hadn’t found the nerve to join him, Ma could have chatted him up for hours. For a moment, Rachel was tempted to run after him and offer a last-minute invitation, but embarrassment had her flee inside and up to her room.

  She held cold hands to her hot red cheeks in her bedroom, “Belle’s Starry Night Suite,” as it was known officially to guests. Named both for outlaw Belle Starr and Vincent van Gogh’s famous painting. The room had value for other reasons—the redecorating project to help distract her oldest brother during the dark chemo days of his battle with cancer. Both Hooper’s remission and the wagon-wheel headboard made Rachel smile. And Rachel needed to vacate it, get on with her life. The room with its red gingham curtains, log cabin quilt, and terrific view needed to get back to basics as a guest room for tourists.

  With the summer rush over, she had time, and searching out new digs for her and Matty would be a fine goal. Maybe a condo at Woodside Meadows. There, Scott and Mary Grace would be neighbors, and Rachel would be close enough to Ma for babysitting.

  Calming herself, she gazed out the window. Far off pines stabbed the sky. Aspens shook and glowed like fire across the autumn-brown hills. She brushed her hair and tossed cold water on her still-flaming cheeks. Well, it was time to find Matty and take him for a ride. If Brayton had left the corral, that is. With her luck, he’d want to join her. That didn’t sound like a bad thing, but was she ready?

  Riding has a way of making things better. Her own words to him slid into her mind, and she nearly lost her own argument as she headed downstairs. Maybe that day would come, riding with Brayton by her side.

  But that day just wouldn’t be today.

  Except…she already recognized his laugh. It bounced through the dining room from its origin in the kitchen, straight up the stairs to her ears. To her heart. He’d found his way inside without her. Suddenly, heading out on a trail ride seemed more than ever a perfect escape, but she still had to retrieve her son.

  How to wiggle out if Brayton asked to come along? Or did she want him to? Matty might make a good buffer. But maybe Brayton didn’t know about her son. Maybe he was the sort of man who would run from a woman with the complication of another man’s child. Most of all, maybe he was just being polite?

  She had no choice. Her stomach snarled at its emptiness. And the scent of hot, fresh coffee was a temptation she couldn’t resist.

  Apology ready, she proceeded to the kitchen table. Over a cinnamon roll the size of her headboard, Brayton Metcalf joked with Ma as though he’d known her forever, and Matty squealed with delight on the man’s lap. She rolled her eyes. The man was more than polite, more than pleased with her boy.

  “Rachel?” He said her name almost with reverence. “You’ve got quite a little guy here.”

  “Sit down, girl.” Ma ordered.

  The now-familiar heat flooded Rachel’s face again. “Don’t I know. He’s the love of my life, that’s for sure.”

  “There’s always room for more,” Ma said. As usual, Rachel knew what Ma truly meant, and it had nothing to do with matchmaking her daughter. For the last couple of years, Ma had been keeping company with a successful rancher an hour away in Sunset Hills. Trying to assuage the guilt over somebody replacing Rachel’s father. Rachel had to wonder when she’d get there herself.

  “Hi Brayton.” She took a deep breath and gave his left shoulder a quick apologetic squeeze. “Please forgive me leaving you in the lurch out there.” There. She said it, and she meant it.

  “No offense taken.” His smile was kind but his eyes sparked. “But I needed my caffeine fix, and that’s a fact.”

  Her guilt started to ease and more than that, attraction flickered. Then raged.

  Something about his gentle hands holding her son touched her soul’s core. Not that her brothers didn’t…but this was someone else showing obvious affection. Someone who wasn’t related and didn’t have to.

  With a deep breath, she sat down.

  “Now Rachel, I know you and Matty have a trail ride on order, but I need to get some yarn at the Bobbin and Skein. I promised Matty a prize in town if he’d come along with me.” Ma’s eyes gleamed, and Rachel inwardly groaned. Matchmaking was afoot. She could smell it. Soon as she could, she’d halt that notion before it took root.

  “I don’t know. I’ve been promising him…”

  Matty shook his whole body along with his head. “No. Gramma is getting me a prize. ’K, Mama?”

  Her heart melted as it always did. Spoiling her son was almost always first thing on her to-do list. “All right. You be a good boy and mind her, OK? We’ll ride later on.”

  “Come on, sugarplum. Let’s get our coats.” Ma turned one last time to their guest. “Brayton, good to meet you finally. Congratulations on getting that exclusive contract. Be seeing you next week for Addie’s lesson.”

  After waiting for Rachel to kiss her son, Ma stomped out, all six feet of her. Rachel couldn’t help a smile as she busied herself with the coffee pot, and Brayton settled back to his cinnamon roll with a hearty bite.

  “Mmmmm. This is beyond anything I’ve ever eaten before.”

  “I would thank you, but I had nothing to do with it.” Rachel grinned. Cooking was not a gift she’d been given. “That’s all my sister Kelley. She runs the Butterbean Café in town and is chuck cook for our wagon train tours.”

  “Butterbean? I’ve seen it. Nice. Maybe—”

  “What contract deserves congratulations?” Rachel had a pretty good idea where Brayton had been going with the “maybe” so she interrupted as politely as she could. She wasn’t normally nosy—discretion was a big part of her career—but if Brayton had let loose to Ma in the ten minutes they’d been together, Rachel doubted he’d construe her question as meddlesome.

  His tanned cheekbones bronzed further. “Ah, the saddle makers just got the exclusive contract as official saddle for the Western Rodeo Riders Association.”

  “Wow.” Rachel knew her eyes widened. Impressive. “Congratulations indeed.”

  Brayton nodded. “Thanks. Good people. Here.” He pushed the plate toward her. “Help me finish off this bad boy. I can hear your stomach growling from over here.”

  “Hope you’re not insulting me.” She tried a girly pout as she pulled off a small bite. “What wonderful news for the folks of River Ridge. You’re a rancher now, too. But what did you do in Los Angeles?”

  His face coppered further. “Real estate. These days, I diversify, the market being what it is. But…” He hesitated as if wondering how or if to proceed. “I rodeo’d a while back and still have some contacts with the association. Good for me and mine; good for them.”

  “
A rodeo rider.” Rachel’s heart fluttered. Rodeo was hard work, dangerous, and kept a man on the road, but the image of a cowboy on a horse in an arena never failed to stir her blood. Her belly started a new rampage, hunger and Brayton both, and picking up a knife and fork from the Lazy Susan dove in now, waiting for him to talk while her mouth was full.

  “Yep. Rode saddle broncs. Did well enough to put myself through college.”

  She swallowed the scrumptious bite while visions of him atop a roiling gelding teased her mind. “Where are you from then?”

  “Southeastern Idaho.” For a flash, he smiled and looked away, eyes brimming with memories. “My gram Adelaide? Well, her second husband, my step-gramp, passed his ranch on to his son Bernie. Uncle Bernie kept Gram on, loved her like his own. Took me in.”

  Rachel was awed. The well-off Californian had ranch roots after all. It sure gave them something to talk about, although, she realized, there didn’t seem to be any awkwardness between them at all. Even after his date request and her faux pas. “A ranch boy? I’d have never thought. I just…”

  “Well, whatever you hear about me, some fancy big city boy developer and such, well—” his grin would have sent her heart pounding if she’d allowed it. “—I’ve got plenty of country roots. And here I just feel I’ve found home again. This all is something else.” Voice full of awe, he raised his head to look out the window

  “What happened to the ranch?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Still there. The Lazy T is just this side of Victor. Uncle Bernie finally married and had his own set of kids to leave it to. I got into rodeo, and after Gram passed, the circuit seemed the place to be.”

  Rachel fiddled with a fork. “You’re still in touch with Uncle Bernie?” She had to ask, hoped she wasn’t nosy. Kin and family relationships were the driving force for the Martins of Hearts Crossing.