Love at Rosecrown Ranch

by Ruth Pendleton

  They reached the porch in next to no time at all. Hank reached for the handle, pushing the door open for Jenny. She looked up at his face. “Good night, Hank. Thanks again for letting me help. I will never forget this.”

  Hank’s face was shadowed in darkness. He nodded. “Good night, Jenny.”

  Hank closed the door, and Jenny floated up the staircase, her mind swirling from the events of the evening. She wasn’t sure which part pleased her more. The miracle of life or the fact that Hank was treating her like a person for the first time since she came to the ranch. She went to her bathroom and stripped off her grimy clothes, stepping into the shower to wash off the remainder of the birthing fluids. It was only as the water cascaded over her that she began to shake. She had really just helped bring a life into the world. Without Hank’s calming presence, the intensity of the night set in. It wasn’t until she was snuggled under her comforter that the shivers began to subside.

  Chapter 8

  Hank pushed open the door to his room and flopped down on an armchair, his body spent. He called for Sutter, and before long, he heard the pitter-patter of feet racing across the wood floor. The golden retriever jumped on the chair, his tail fanning Hank with excited wagging. Laughing, Hank pushed him off his lap, leaning over to scratch the dog’s fluffy stomach. Bree’s labor was a lot harder than he had expected, but she had pulled through like a champ. His biggest surprise of the night was Jenny. She had really come through for him.

  Most days, the ranch held to a fairly predictable pattern. Sure, there were the occasional hiccups in the system, with things like broken pipes, wind storms that downed fences, or torrential downpours, but those things were to be expected. They had measures in place to get the ranch back to running smoothly in no time. Unfortunately, there was nothing predictable about delivering a new life. Hank had been hoping Bree would go into labor during the day, when Louis was around to help. Instead, the labor hit fast and furious, and in the middle of the night, when Hank was alone.

  Thankfully, Jenny had been awake. Sure, she had hesitated, clearly terrified of the prospect, but when the moment came, she pushed aside her fear and stepped in. Hank couldn’t help but admire the way she knelt right down by Bree’s legs, her robe dragging through the hay. That robe was probably ruined, but Hank had a feeling that she wouldn’t mind. He hadn’t even thought to warn her to change before they raced to the stables.

  With a final scratch behind Sutter’s ears, Hank stood up and headed to the shower. As he scrubbed off the dirt and sweat from the day, his thoughts kept returning again and again to Bree’s delivery and the green-eyed city girl who was willing to jump in. How different she was from Amanda, who would have stormed from the barn at the first sight of distress, annoyed that he dared ask for help. He closed his eyes, only to see Jenny’s scared eyes piercing his soul. Had he been judging her too harshly? The city girl was becoming more of a distraction than he cared to admit.

  Hank’s arms were shaking by the time he dried off and pulled on his sweat pants. He was exhausted. As much as he had tried to put on a brave face for Jenny, he was terrified when Bree’s foal got stuck. Bree’s mom had died giving birth to her. They hadn’t been able to free Bree before her mom bled out. What if the trait was genetic, and Bree was destined to die as well? Thankfully, that was not the case, and now, she was relaxing with her new foal.

  Having Jenny at the birth had helped to calm Hank’s nerves. Instead of worrying about the delivery, his pep talk to her had let him focus on the fact that Bree would be okay. Standing next to Jenny after the delivery was a completely different story.

  With his heart still pumping adrenaline, he was admittedly not thinking about the horses in front of him. She was causing other feelings to flare up. Feelings that he had buried deep down after Amanda had destroyed his heart. Hank didn’t need that sort of distraction, especially not from the city girl. He shook his head and climbed into bed. The ranch already had too many distractions. Adding Jenny to them was not on his list of things to do.

  Rolling out of bed the next morning, Hank’s spirits were light. He was looking forward to checking on Bree and her new baby. What if he happened to bump into Jenny visiting the foal as well? All the better. He pulled on a grey t-shirt that hugged his torso, and layered a lightweight blue plaid shirt over the top, trying to pull his focus back to the tasks at hand. There were a lot more animals on the ranch than just Bree and the baby. He couldn’t let the hope of seeing Jenny distract him from the long day of work ahead of him. She could watch the horses, and he’d take care of the rest of the ranch.

  Hank left the guesthouse and crossed through the side yard to the main house to get some breakfast. When he got there, the house was completely still. Instead of a clattering of pots and pans, the kitchen was silent. A smile spread across Hank’s face. He rarely beat Jo Jo to the kitchen, but on the days he did, it felt like a small victory. He missed cooking.

  Pulling open the fridge, Hank took out a plastic container filled with leftover ham from last night’s dinner. He rummaged until he found cheese and green peppers. Eggs were in a basket on the counter, gathered fresh the day before. Hank cracked a dozen eggs into a bowl, whisking them together until small bubbles began to form.

  He hummed as he worked, his spirits light. He was reaching for a knife to dice the peppers when a loud thump echoed through the house, immediately followed by a softer thud. A sliver of worry entered Hank’s heart.

  He walked to the foot of the stairs and called out. “Jo Jo? Jenny? Is everyone okay?”

  There was no answer.

  Hank turned back toward the kitchen, but his gut twisted in knots. Something wasn’t right. Taking a deep breath, he walked up the stairs and peered down the hallway. Everything was still. He walked down the hallway to stand in front of Jo Jo’s room, raising his hand to knock on the door. There was no answer. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach. Hank knocked again, a little louder this time. “Jo Jo? Are you okay?”

  A soft moan came from the other side of the door, sending shivers down Hank’s spine. He turned the knob. “It’s Hank. I’m coming in.”

  Jo Jo lay on the floor, her long grey hair covering her face. Hank ran to her side and shook her shoulder gently. “Jo Jo? Can you hear me?”

  Her body was still. Then, after a few seconds, Jo Jo lifted a shaky hand to push the hair out of her face. Her eyes darted around the room before settling on Hank. She reached out and grabbed his arm. “Ouch.”

  Relief flooded through Hank’s body. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  Jo Jo pushed herself up on her elbows, batting away Hank’s hand as he tried to help her sit. “I’m not sure. The last thing I remember, I was coming down to make breakfast. One minute, I was standing. The next? Well, I think you know the rest.”

  He sat down on the floor next to her, leaning against the back of the bed. “Does your head hurt anywhere?”

  “Nope.”

  “That’s good. Mind if I check?” Hank waited for Jo Jo’s nod, and then he felt along the back of her head for bumps, tilting her face to look at her eyes.

  “And your diagnosis, Dr. Hank?”

  “Well, according to the basic knowledge my two years in scouting taught me, your eyes aren’t dilated, so I don’t think you have a major concussion.”

  Jo Jo swatted his arm. “I could have told you that.” Her face fell. “I hate being clumsy.”

  “Admit it. You were just trying to race downstairs so you could beat me to the kitchen.”

  Laughter shook Jo Jo’s body. “You caught me. I must have tripped over my feet running so fast. I feel fine now.” She pulled her feet under her and pushed away from the bed, trying to stand.

  Hank reached out a hand to stop her. “Easy there. Can I help you?” He offered an arm to help her stand. “Let’s sit on the edge of the bed for just a second to make sure your feet are behaving.” Hank stood by Jo Jo’s side, watching as the pink slowly returned to her cheeks. He wasn’t sure what had happened, bu
t he was pretty sure it wasn’t clumsy feet.

  Jo Jo stretched out a hand. “I’m ready to go to the kitchen now.”

  Hank shook his head. “Sorry to break it to you, but I’ve already got breakfast going. Why don’t you stay up here and rest?”

  “And let you make the entire meal by yourself? Not a chance.” She stood up and planted her feet on the floor. “Now. Are you going to help me walk down the stairs, or am I going to go down them all by myself?” There was a sparkle in Jo Jo’s eyes that negated her gruff voice.

  “Okay. You win.” Hank offered his arm to her, smiling as she wrapped a wrinkled hand through the crook of his elbow. They took a few tentative steps, and then Jo Jo pulled him forward.

  “See? I’m as good as new.” She let go of Hank’s arm, but he quickly grabbed her hand, placing it back where it belonged.

  “How about we take it slow, just for my sake. I don’t know that I can keep up with your boundless energy.” Hank kept his hand firmly pressed over hers as they walked the length of the hall. When they reached the stairs, he stopped. “Ready?”

  Jo Jo grabbed the railing. “Let’s do this.”

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Hank led her to the couch. “I think I heard Jenny rustling around in her room. Why don’t you wait for her? She has some exciting news to share.”

  Lips pouting, Jo Jo sank to the cushions. “Are you trying to baby me? I’m fine.”

  Hank put his hands on his hips. “Please. Humor me. I’ll breathe easier if you rest for a few minutes.”

  “But what about breakfast?”

  “I told you. I’ve got it covered. You watch for our city girl and let me know when she wakes up.” He handed Jo Jo a blanket and headed to the kitchen, pulling out his phone once he was out of her sight to shoot a text to Louis.

  She fainted again.

  A few seconds later, his phone chimed in response. On my way.

  Hank turned his attention to the vegetables in front of him. Chopping helped to keep his emotions in check. He was baffled that Jenny had slept through the entire thing. It was a reminder of all the other times she hadn’t been around. She really hadn’t changed much at all. Helping with the delivery had been a one-time fluke.

  It didn’t take long to fill the cutting board with peppers, onions, and ham. Hank stirred the chopped food into the eggs, folding in cream cheese. Then he divided the mixture into a muffin tin and set it in the oven to bake for a half-hour.

  While the egg muffins baked, Hank grabbed potatoes from the pantry and grated them into a large frying pan for fresh hash browns. He kept one ear open for Jenny’s voice, but the front door banged open instead. Louis’s voice mingled with Jo Jo’s. Hank carried out a tray filled with sliced strawberries and grapes. “Breakfast will be ready in twenty.”

  Louis nodded at Hank. “Thanks. Do you need a hand in the kitchen?”

  Hank shook his head. “Nope. I’ve got it covered.”

  “Perfect. Then I get to sit here with my favorite lady.” Louis plopped down on the couch and pulled Jo Jo toward him, wrapping his arm around her.

  She patted his knee. “You guys spoil me.”

  Louis grinned, placing a wrinkled had over hers. “You deserve it.”

  Chapter 9

  The sun streaming through Jenny’s window warmed her toes instead of her face. Either the roosters had been slacking on their morning duties, or she had slept in. A quick glance at her phone confirmed her suspicions. Bree’s delivery had wiped her out. She stretched her arms above her head, her shoulders tight. Jenny’s stomach rumbled loudly; it was beyond time for breakfast. She was starving after last night’s adventures.

  A crumpled robe sat on Jenny’s floor, a reminder of her help with the birth. She wasn’t sure if she should burn it or throw it away. There was no way laundry soap would be able to get those stains out. Helping Bree had been worth it, though.

  Jenny pulled on her t-shirt and a pair of fresh jeans. When she opened her door, she paused. The air in the house was heavy. She stood at the top of the stairs, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. Something had shifted in the middle of the night, but she couldn’t tell what it was. The urge to go back to her room was strong, but her stomach was a rumbling mess of hunger. She needed breakfast.

  When Jenny reached the bottom of the stairs, she peered into the family room and let out a sigh. Louis and Grandma Jo Jo had fallen asleep on the couch, their heads nestled close together. That explained Jenny’s uneasiness. The house was too quiet. She snuck past the sleeping couple to the kitchen, where she grabbed a paper plate and piled it high with hash browns and breakfast muffins. With a plastic fork and a napkin in one hand, and the plate of food in the other, Jenny crept out of the house, closing the door softly behind her.

  The morning sun cast shadows across the lawn as Jenny walked past the barn. She heard Hank talking to the chickens, and was tempted to go say hi, but the butterflies in her stomach were no match for her hunger pains. A smile crossed her lips, her feet turning towards the barn anyway, but she stopped. Bree was her most important patient today, and she really needed to check on her. She ignored the tugging in her heart and resolutely walked to the stable. The handsome ranch hand would have to wait.

  Sunlight flooded the stables when Jenny pushed open the door. Jenny carried her food and walked to the end of the stable, where she propped her food up on the gate so she could watch the horses. Bree was curled up on the ground, her foal nestled close to her stomach. The foal’s head rested on Bree’s forelegs, his body rising and falling in rhythm with each breath that Bree took.

  The peacefulness of the barn was exactly what Jenny needed to calm her nerves while she ate. She was thinking too much about Hank, and how patient he had been with her last night. When her food was gone, Jenny set her plate to the side and leaned against the door to the pen. Bree looked at her, and then clambered to her feet. She bent her head over to lick the foal, urging him to stand up and eat. When the baby latched on to nurse, Jenny took her cue to leave. She didn’t want to distract him.

  With the horses looking healthy and happy, Jenny could turn her attention to the barn, where Hank was sure to be working. She pushed open the door, and sure enough, he was inside by the water spigot. His arms flexed as he picked up a full bucket, water sloshing over the side. When Hank carried the bucket over to the pig trough, Jenny’s stomach did a little flip. Last night, she had seen a side of Hank that she liked a lot. She couldn’t wait to talk to him.

  Clearing her throat softly, Jenny walked up behind Hank. “Good morning.”

  Hank looked up; his lips pressed together in a thin line. “Hi.” He turned his attention to the bucket in his hands, pouring the water into the trough with a thunderous splash. Jenny’s eyes followed his every move, from the pull of his muscles against his shirt to the way he stopped to wipe his brow before turning back to the water spigot. She ignored the dance of the butterflies flittering against her rib cage.

  “Do you need any help?” Jenny walked to Hank’s side and reached in front of him to grab the handle of the water spigot, the metal icy cold to the touch. She took the bucket from his hands and pulled it close before yanking up on the handle. Water cascaded into the bucket, overflowing quickly to soak Jenny’s boots. She jumped back with a shriek, knocking the bucket across the floor before she bumped into the pig pen and fell flat on her bottom.

  Hank walked over to the spigot and shut the water off. His sigh was audible when he reached out a hand to help her stand. Rivulets of water trailed off the edges of her jeans, pooling around her feet.

  Jenny looked at Hank, a sheepish grin spreading across her face. “I’m so sorry.” She reached for the bucket again, but as she did, Hank’s hand clamped down on hers, sending the butterflies on a migrating path from his hand to her heart. Hank dropped her hand and grabbed the bucket himself.

  “You’ve helped enough today. Why don’t you go get on some dry clothes?” He pushed the bucket under the spigot, turning on the wa
ter once more to fill the bucket with ease. Jenny stepped back and watched Hank work, admiring his strength as he hoisted water to the trough. When the water was topped off, Hank poured bags of feed into the pen. His muscles rippled under the weight of the heavy bags, and tingles swept up and down Jenny’s spine. She wondered briefly how it would feel to have those arms wrapped around her.

  Jenny realized that Hank was almost done with his jobs. If she didn’t want to follow him around all day, she had better start some sort of conversation. Otherwise, she’d be the girl in dripping pants who stalked ranch hands. Besides, her jeans were beginning to stick to her legs uncomfortably. She cleared her already clear throat. “Thank you.”

  Hank glanced over his shoulder at her. “For what? Feeding the pigs? I do that pretty much every day.”

  “No. For letting me help you last night.” Jenny was speaking to Hank’s back. He poured the final bag of food into the trough before turning to face her. Jenny’s breath caught in her throat. Those eyes. So blue. So cold. The eyes studied her face, Jenny feeling like she was under a microscope. Maybe the chill from this morning had nothing to do with the house and everything to do with Hank.

  He shook his head, as if clearing away a bad thought, and then turned back to the pigs. After a long pause, he finally spoke.

  “How is your grandma this morning?”

  “Fine, I’m sure. She was asleep on the couch when I left.”

  “Mm-hmm. And that didn’t strike you as strange?” Hank walked over to a bench and sat down. He pulled off his cowboy boots and slid his feet into a pair of knee-high rubber boots. Then he grabbed a shovel off a hook on the wall and clambered over the fence into the pen. The pigs swarmed around his feet. “You may want to check again.” He began to shovel muck to the edge of the pen.