A Rancher to Remember--A Clean Romance

by Karen Rock

  Cassidy groaned. “I thought we kicked that habit.”

  “I just can’t quit it, Cass.”

  “Fine...but seriously, have you got anything in mind for my next storyline?”

  Now it was Brenda’s turn to groan. “Do you ever stop and just enjoy your accomplishments? It’s always about what’s next with you, isn’t it?”

  “I—I love my work.”

  “Hmm.” Brenda slurped more coffee. “I wonder.”

  “You wonder if I love my job?” Cassidy’s voice rose. A buzzing window fan dragged in muggy air scented with something fruity and cloying.

  “Sometimes, Cassidy, I wonder if your drive is fueled by something else.”

  “A paycheck works nicely.”

  Brenda laughed. “There is that. Okay. Gotta go. We’ll chat about your next piece when you get back. You can stay with me.”

  “I appreciate it.” Since Cassidy lived a nomad’s life, all her possessions in her suitcase, it didn’t make sense to pay a Manhattan apartment’s astronomical rent. The rare times she returned to America, she rented an efficiency room.

  “I’ll introduce you to my brother. He’s been dying to meet you. And his divorce is final...”

  “I’m sure he’s lovely, but I—”

  “Am too busy, traveling too much and a type A, perfectionist workaholic,” Brenda finished for her with another laugh.

  “Pretty much. Bye, Brenda.” Cassidy punched off her phone and sighed. She longed for a lasting relationship and a real family, yet her career came first.

  Sure, she was lonely, but her demanding schedule, her dangerous life and the standards she drove herself to meet didn’t allow for long-term connections. She picked up the framed picture and the memory of that day—an annual family picnic in the Colorado Rockies, which she’d mostly avoided over the years—rushed through her like laurel-scented sunshine.

  Her fingers tightened around the frame. She stared into the smiling eyes of her younger self, recalling the photographer who’d made her that happy. Daryl. Her college boyfriend had snapped the photo when they’d returned home between semesters. He was the only man who’d tempted her to abandon her career aspirations for love...

  The only man to break her heart.

  No amount of time or distance had healed it. Hurt remained like slivers of broken glass, impossible to see and liable to draw blood even after she thought she’d swept them all away.

  How different her life would have been if she’d said yes to Daryl’s proposal instead of making him wait.

  Her oppressive, jumpy thoughts drove her downstairs and out into the stifling night, her cell phone’s flashlight feature illuminating the dark. She peered up at the crescent moon.

  When it’d gotten too hot, she and Leanne used to crawl onto their roof and stare up at the sky. They’d called themselves moon sisters. No matter how they grew and changed, they’d sworn to always be a constant in each other’s lives. Crescent had been Leanne’s favorite whereas Cassidy had preferred the full. It saw everything, just like she’d wanted to someday.

  Funny how blind she’d been after all. They hadn’t spoken in over a decade, not since Leanne’s crushing treachery, not since their worlds collided and they’d spun into different orbits, infinite space between them.

  Cassidy’s cell phone buzzed and then, as if conjured from her very thoughts, a familiar name appeared on the screen. Her mother had made Cassidy enter the contact because of her father’s fragile health.

  Why would she call? It was the most shocking, dangerous sight Cassidy had witnessed today. She’d rather face Duterte’s firing squad than answer. Something had to be very, very wrong...

  It took her three tries before she managed to push the answer button. Her phone shook as she lifted it to her ear and opened her trembling mouth.

  “Leanne?”

  * * *

  DARYL LOVELAND CRANKED the heat beneath a pot of water, snatched up his landline’s wireless handset and stopped by the kitchen counter where his children, Emma and Noah, labored over school assignments. “Be right back. No stabbing each other with pencils.”

  To his relief, they nodded without looking up from their homework. No signs of stress. No deviating from the routine he’d established to provide his teetering family stability. He ducked into the bathroom, shut the door and flipped on the shower. The phone slid in his damp palms as he dialed the next number on his list.

  “Hey, Kevin. Daryl Loveland calling. Was wondering if my wife was at your bar today.” He paced the narrow, tiled floor.

  “What?” Kevin asked. “Can’t hear you. Sounds like you’re in the car wash or something.”

  Daryl raised his voice slightly, one eye on the door. “I’m in the shower.”

  “Dude. Call me when you’re dressed.”

  “No... I’ve got clothes on... Just... Have you seen Leanne?” Daryl wiped the fogging mirror and met his dark eyes. Dilated pupils turned them black, and a deep, vertical line cut between his brows.

  “What about your clothes?” Kevin asked.

  “It’s about Leanne!” Daryl shout-whispered. “Have you seen her?” He whirled from the mirror and leaned against the vanity, his chest so tight he struggled to breathe. Puffs of white steam billowed over the shower curtain and slicked his skin.

  “Leanne? What about her?”

  “She didn’t come home last night.” Daryl raked a hand through his hair.

  “Hey. You don’t have to shout,” Kevin protested. “Haven’t seen her since the other evening.”

  “And the night before that, and the one before that,” Daryl said wearily. He thanked Kevin and punched off the phone. Leanne spent more time at Silver Spurs than she did with her family.

  He reached behind him to grip the vanity’s granite edge and hung his head, thinking fast. Where was she this time? For the past year and a half, she’d checked out of their ten-year marriage, demanding he sleep up at the ranch’s main house when she was home. Otherwise, she was barhopping with friends and staying out until all hours, sometimes not returning until the next day.

  She’d never taken a suitcase before, though. When he’d returned to their cabin after his ranch work, he’d found his stepmother, Joy, with the children. Some of Leanne’s clothes, shoes and jewelry were gone, save for the wedding band he’d given her before their shotgun wedding. Had she left him?

  He rubbed his temples. His head ached as though he’d spent the night banging it against the wall, which would’ve been more enjoyable than staring at the ceiling, replaying all the quiet arguments, the bitter silences, the scathing asides he and Leanne had shared these past eighteen months.

  “Pa!” The knob turned, and his nine-year-old daughter, Emma, peeked her head around the door. “The water’s boiling over.”

  Shoot.

  With his thoughts swerving in every direction, he’d be lucky if he didn’t burn down the cabin. “Thanks, darlin’.”

  “Is Mama coming home soon?” Emma tore the top off the pasta box and handed it to him once he lowered the cooktop’s flame.

  Daryl nodded firmly. “Of course.” He dumped in the spaghetti, grabbed a wooden spoon and pushed down the brittle noodles until he submerged them beneath the bubbling water.

  “Where is she?” Noah hopped off a stool and passed over the salt shaker.

  “It’s a surprise,” Daryl temporized, adding a pinch of the white crystals.

  “Are we getting a puppy?” Noah clapped his hands together.

  Daryl ruffled his six-year-old’s dark, silky hair. “We already have Beuford.”

  Hearing his name, their geriatric beagle, Labrador mix opened his eyes, raised his head and thumped his tail against the wooden floor. Then, as if the effort had worn him out, he dropped his head again with a long, suffering sigh.

  “But all he does is sleep and fart,” Noah co
mplained. “He never wants to play with me. Nobody does.”

  Daryl’s heart clenched at Noah’s hurt expression, knowing he wasn’t talking about just Beuford.

  Leanne hadn’t spent much time with the kids lately either. She’d begun organizing a country store on his family’s ranch, Loveland Hills, and planned on selling the heirloom apples they grew along with produce and homemade baked and canned goods. When she’d first begun talking about it, he’d been encouraged, believing she’d recommit to their family, their marriage, but she’d only become busier. More distant.

  And now she was gone.

  Why? He’d failed to make her happy, clearly, but the kids and the store she’d invested so much time into?

  Something must be wrong.

  Very, very wrong.

  He’d swallowed his pride alongside the deep-rooted Loveland need for privacy and called his brother Travis, Carbondale’s county sheriff, earlier to report Leanne missing. Had they found her yet? Located her white Jeep?

  “Can you help me with math, Pa?”

  At Emma’s question, he grabbed a can of peas and an opener and carried them to the counter. Books, paper and crumpled candy wrappers littered the stone surface. “Sure.”

  “A bat and a ball cost one dollar and ten cents in total,” she read from a worksheet. “The bat costs a dollar more than the ball. How much does the ball cost?”

  Daryl fitted the opener over the can’s metal line and cranked the turner. Approaching headlights glared through the window above the sink. His heart resumed beating when they swept by to the main house. “Ten cents,” he said lightly, careful to keep his tone neutral.

  Where was Leanne?

  “Nope! It’s five cents,” Emma announced, checking the answer in the back of the book.

  Five cents? What did he know about anything anymore?

  “Pa?” Noah mumbled around the pencil clamped between his teeth. “What’s a pie-mary source?”

  “A pie what?” Behind him, water hit the metal grate and hissed. In his hurry to whisk the kettle off the heat, he dropped the now open can of peas, splattering the floor with sticky fluid and preserved vegetables.

  His cheeks bulged, holding back a string of oaths. Heat burned from his chest to his ear tips.

  Emma flicked back her wispy blond bangs and stared. “Are you having a stroke?”

  “No.” He pulled the overflowing pot off the burner and the boiling water splashed his fingers. “Ow!” When his boot slipped on the bean mess, he crashed to one knee, biting his tongue.

  He forced himself to his feet and gave his gaping children an exaggerated bow. “Greetings from Clumsy the Clown,” he pronounced, donning the persona he’d created to make Emma laugh when she’d been teased for the orthopedic gear she’d worn to straighten her pigeon-toed gait.

  “Please, no.” Emma’s mouth quirked.

  Noah giggled. “Clumsy’s funny.”

  “He’s also not getting any younger.” Daryl rubbed his aching knee, then peered at Beuford. “Any chance you want to help me clean up this mess?”

  Beuford cracked open an eye, studied the mushy peas, then lowered his lid again, adding a loud snore for effect.

  “Man’s best friend my butt—er...” Daryl yanked open the broom closet and pulled out a mop.

  “Butt! Pa was going to say butt!” Noah grabbed the plastic jar on the end of the counter. “Now you have to put in a quarter.”

  “Two quarters,” Emma corrected. “And you owe them since you said butt. Twice.”

  “Well, so did you!” Noah fired back.

  “I did not!” Emma jabbed her pencil at Noah. “I repeated what you said, butt.”

  Noah spun on his swivel stool. “Now you owe two quarters, potty mouth!”

  “Take that back!” Emma screeched, lunging.

  Daryl grabbed Emma’s pencil inches from Noah’s eye. “Enough!” he thundered, then sucked in a shaky breath and started again. Slower. Gentler. “What’s the number one homework rule?”

  “Don’t get caught cheating?” Noah grabbed the counter edge and stopped the rotating stool.

  “The other one.”

  “Don’t feed it to Beuford?” Emma subsided back in her seat.

  “Nope. Pencils aren’t...” he prompted, waiting.

  Emma and Noah exchanged confused looks.

  “Weapons.” Daryl heaved out a sigh. “Pencils aren’t weapons. For the millionth, gazillionth time.”

  “Gazillion,” giggled Noah. “Who wants to be a gazillionaire?”

  “Aunt Jewel said she stabbed Uncle Justin’s hand clean through with a protractor once,” Emma supplied.

  “I believe it,” he muttered, picturing his petite, roughrider stepsister. Her mother, Joy, had married his father, Boyd, a year ago, blending the neighboring Cade and Loveland ranching families and ending their 130-year feud. Now Jewel was engaged to his brother Heath, their wedding set for Christmas Eve. Would Leanne attend it with him?

  If she came home...

  Noah pulled the tip of his eraser from his nose and sniffed. “Is the house on fire?”

  The smoke detector shrilled.

  “And what’s a pie-mary source?” Noah shouted.

  “It’s primary,” Emma answered as Daryl dashed to the stove.

  Black smoke billowed when he yanked it open, coughing. Inside lay the charred ruins of his famous cheesy garlic bread.

  “I’ll call 911!” Noah snatched up the phone.

  “I’ll get the extinguisher.” Emma hopped off her stool and raced to the broom closet.

  When it came to disasters, he and his kids were becoming a well-oiled machine. “Put down the phone and don’t spray the—” An explosion of white foam drowned out his next word.

  “Did I put it out, Pa?” Emma lowered the red canister.

  “Sure did.”

  “Then how come you still look upset?”

  He mashed his lids shut, counted backward from ten and wished like hell for Leanne...for an extra pair of hands even, since that was all they’d been to each other for a very long time, he realized, looking further back than just the past year and a half. He was lonely, and somehow, crazy as it sounded, it was harder to be lonely when you were with someone. He wasn’t making Leanne happy, and his family was falling apart. “Who’s upset? You saved the day, sweetheart.”

  “But what about dinner?” Noah pointed at the white goop dripping from every surface, including the pasta pot. “I’m hungry.”

  “How about grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup once I clean this up?” He filled a bucket, dipped a mop in the fluid and raked it over the sticky floor in quick, jerky half circles. Beuford’s tongue flicked out to sample the foam. “So now you’re helping?” Daryl growled.

  “You don’t make them as good as Mama.” Noah’s lower lip trembled. “How come she’s not home?”

  “Does she still love us?” Emma warbled.

  The mop clattered to the floor and, in three quick strides, Daryl caught them in a tight hug. “She loves you very much.”

  “Because she’s our mama?” Noah buried his head in Daryl’s shoulder.

  “Yes,” he affirmed, though that hadn’t been his experience growing up. He fought to provide his children the happy, loving and stable home he’d longed for as a kid before the Lovelands adopted him...the reason Leanne’s erratic behavior tore him up. The children hung on each of her rare smiles and called out a good-night to her, even when she wasn’t home to hear it.

  Long ago, he’d messed up and sealed his and Leanne’s fate...though he’d never regret the impulsive action that’d created Emma. He’d lost the future he’d wanted with another, a woman he’d never been able to forget, but he’d committed to this marriage, this family. Leanne made him content, if not truly happy, and deep down, he wondered if she sensed this, if his inabi
lity to give her his heart fully drove her away.

  She’d rebuffed all his attempts to reconnect. When he’d signed them up for ballroom lessons, she’d gone line dancing with friends instead. The new saddle he’d tooled with their initials and wedding date gathered dust in the stable. She was miserable, and the children suffered because of it.

  Where are you?

  Come home to your family...

  A loud knock broke up their family hug.

  “Mama!” Noah flung himself at the door, sliding on his stocking feet in his haste. When he wrenched it open, his brother Travis stood outside wearing his gray sheriff’s uniform. Noah’s face fell. “I thought you were Mama.”

  Daryl’s heart beat faster at Travis’s somber expression. “Come inside.”

  Travis doffed his hat and mashed it between his hands. His jaw was set as if to control some powerful emotion. “Would appreciate a word with you outside if you have a minute.”

  Daryl struggled to lift his heavy feet from the floor, to move, to breathe even. Haziness made his head lurch and spin.

  “Daryl?” Travis prompted, his voice grave.

  “Yes. Uh—kids, get back to your homework and then I’ll take you out for pizza.”

  Travis’s stone-faced expression suggested Daryl had just made a promise he might not keep.

  “Yay!” Emma and Noah whooped.

  Once the door clicked shut behind them, Travis’s blue eyes blazed into his. Their sister, Sierra, huddled on the bottom step with her arms wrapped around her shivering body. Travis must have picked her up at the main house, then brought her here to...to... Daryl’s thought hit a dead end, unable, unwilling to complete itself.

  “Did you find...” His throat closed around his wife’s name, as if by not naming her, he’d shield her, protect her from whatever turned his siblings’ faces pale.

  “Leanne.” It was a whisper, and Sierra’s face contorted tearfully around it.

  Goose bumps raced across his skin like a squall through a hayfield. He swallowed and just that small physical reflex felt like an effort. He felt as if the blood had drained from him, and with it the strength that he had left, the fight.