A Rancher to Remember--A Clean Romance

by Karen Rock

  “Take care, now.” Boyd squeezed her shoulder and led Joy away.

  “Aunt Cassidy!” Her head whipped around at Noah’s call. He waved at her from the llama pens. “The smelly one keeps eating all the treats and I can’t feed the baby.”

  “We’re saving the treats for the customers,” she hollered. “Remember?”

  “Beuford paid.” Noah pointed to the feed machine and waved a coin overhead.

  “Aunt Cassidy!” Her head snapped toward the barn to spy Emma emerging with ink-covered hands. “The Magic Marker exploded and ruined my sign for the hat and coat drive. I don’t want to do this anymore!”

  “Don’t give up,” she responded, striving to keep her smile in place. It’d taken lots of encouragement to convince a reluctant and easily frustrated Emma to work on the charity.

  Cassidy cupped her hands around her mouth. “Meet us inside, Noah!” She joined Emma, and they wandered into the back room’s prep area, where the kids had been making signs for pricing.

  Emma stopped at the large poster board she’d been agonizing over for days. Precise, rainbow-colored letters spelled out Hat and Coat Drive.

  “I got my handprint on it and ruined it.” Red splotches appeared in her cheeks and wet darkened her eyelashes. “Can I stop now?”

  “You’re doing a great job. In fact, your ‘mistake’ might be genius.” She eyed the mark, opened a small bottle of bright red acrylic paint and poured its contents on one of the pieces of newspaper strewn about the wooden floor. “Watch.”

  Just then, Noah bounded inside, knocked into the table and sent the poster board skidding to the ground. Beuford, oblivious and panting heavily from the physical exertion of—well—simply moving, stepped into the paint and then onto the poster board, leaving bright red paw prints in his wake.

  “Noah!” Emma pointed a paintbrush at her brother. “You ruin everything!”

  “No, I didn’t!” Noah grabbed a brush and brandished it. “Beuford did it!”

  Beuford scuttled to a corner, snagged a dropped bread crust from their lunch and slumped to the floor, his eyes already closed.

  “Kids!” Cassidy yelled, then lowered her voice once their eyes flashed her way. “What’s the rule about arts and crafts?”

  “You can never have too much glitter?” Emma supplied.

  Cassidy held in a smile. “The other one.”

  Noah nodded at the empty Elmer’s bottle. “Glue isn’t a food group?”

  “Paintbrushes aren’t...” Cassidy prompted.

  “Weapons,” they chorused and dropped the tools to the table.

  “The sign is ugly now.” Emma folded her arms over her narrow chest and jutted her lower lip. “Can I get a soda at Grandpa’s house?”

  “Not yet.” Cassidy placed the poster board back on the table and eyed it. “The paw prints look cute.”

  “They’re awesome!” Noah raced over to pat the dozing dog. “Good work, Beuford.”

  Beuford’s eyebrows twitched briefly in acknowledgment of the praise that was only his due, of course.

  “See! Beuford likes it, too.” Noah galloped back to the table, narrowly missing the newspaper holding the red paint puddle.

  “He’s not even looking,” Emma griped. She lowered her arms and peered closer at the sign.

  “Javi,” Noah said, referring to their new stepcousin on the Cade side of the blended family, “said Beuford’s superpower is seeing with his eyes closed because he never opens them.” Noah’s grin revealed the missing front tooth he’d lost at breakfast this morning.

  “And farting,” Emma added with a grudging smile.

  “He’s a champion at that, all right.” Cassidy pointed to the red paint she’d poured. “How about we all dip our hands in it and then put them on the board to decorate?”

  “Can I make one of mine a turkey?” Noah jumped up and down.

  “If your sister agrees. She’s in charge of the decorations for the drive.”

  “Maybe...” Emma angled her head and surveyed her brother, relishing her power.

  “Please!” he wheedled.

  “Okay.”

  “And I’m in charge of the animals with Pa, right?” Noah asked.

  “Right. Have you thought of a name for the charity yet, Emma?” Cassidy dipped her hand in the paint and pressed it on the board.

  Emma placed her red-coated hands in a fan position, applying it beneath her lettering. “What would Mama want?”

  “What do you think?”

  Emma’s face crumbled. “I don’t know. All she cared about was her computer and friends and this stupid store.”

  Cassidy caught Emma in a tight hug, then staggered back when Noah flung himself in the mix. They toppled to the floor in a tangle of limbs. She smoothed the damp strands from Emma’s wet cheeks with her paint-free hand. “Honey, I don’t know what was going on with your ma, but I can say for certain that she loved you, very, very much.”

  “How do you know? You don’t remember anything.”

  Cassidy hid her wince. Disjointed pieces of memory had been returning, snippets of an argument she seemed to have been having with her sister in the Jeep. She couldn’t hear the words clearly, but she saw Leanne’s livid face. Why had her sister summoned her home to quarrel? It made no sense. Worse, a nagging feeling that Cassidy had caused the accident grew.

  Why had she come back to Carbondale?

  It was a mystery she desperately wished to solve, not just for herself but for a grieving Daryl. She wanted to help her sister’s family pick up the pieces—an altruistic wish, nothing more. So why did her eyes follow handsome Daryl, then? “I know what a big heart your mama had.” Cassidy rubbed Emma’s arm. “How could she help but love you?”

  Cassidy had come to love them as her own these past few weeks.

  “I’m too messy and I forget to put my clothes in the hamper,” Emma whispered, breaking Cassidy’s heart. “And one time I ruined Mama’s makeup when I borrowed it to put on my Barbie.”

  “And I’m too loud and I don’t clean behind my ears,” Noah sniffled.

  “You’re right,” Cassidy announced, sitting up and taking the children with her. She wrapped an arm tightly around each, the paint on her hand now dry and flaking. “None of us are perfect and sometimes we annoy each other, right?”

  Emma and Noah nodded.

  “But we still love each other, don’t we?”

  Emma shrugged. “I guess.”

  Noah heaved out a long-suffering sigh. “Girls are gross, but Emma’s okay. Sometimes.”

  “See. You love each other. Just like I love you.” She showered their faces with kisses until they giggled and shoved her away.

  “Hey! What’s this?” boomed a deep voice from the doorway.

  Emma and Noah leaped to their feet and raced to their father, catching him around the waist. “Aunt Cassidy was just telling us we’re annoying,” Emma informed him.

  Cassidy’s heart lurched when Daryl’s brown eyes landed on her, a teasing light in them. “Oh, she did, did she?”

  “But she still loves us because we’re lovable,” Noah added, hanging on to his father and bending backward until his hair swept the floor. “And she gave us slobbery kisses. Do you love Pa, too, Aunt Cassidy? He’s not perfect because he still can’t make mac-n-cheese and he burns stuff but that’s okay, right?”

  “Oh—ah...” Cassidy shuffled her feet, her face aflame.

  “Are you gonna kiss him?” Noah dragged his father closer.

  Cassidy’s heart thrummed as Daryl’s gaze dipped to her mouth, then rose. He cleared his throat and dragged his eyes from hers. “How’s the sign for the clothing drive coming?”

  “Want to add your handprint, Pa?” Emma pointed to the paint.

  Daryl crouched, dunked his hands in the red fluid and eyed the poster board. “Mine are t
oo big—there isn’t space.”

  “Put them over ours!” Emma pushed his hands down so they crossed over the other prints. “Then we’re all holding hands.”

  Noah pointed to the paw prints. “Even Beuford helped.”

  “Many hands, doing good,” Emma murmured, stepping back and cocking her head as she assessed the sign.

  “What did you say?” Daryl placed another handprint directly over Cassidy’s.

  “Many Hands, Doing Good.” Emma’s voice rose in excitement. “That’s the name of Mama’s charity.”

  Cassidy’s breath caught. “That’s perfect!”

  “But even if it wasn’t, you’d still love it, right?” Emma asked, peering up beneath her lashes.

  “Yes, I would. We all would,” Cassidy said stoutly.

  Noah caught her hand and dragged her to Emma and Daryl. “Family hug!”

  When she attempted to back away, Daryl clasped her firmly around the waist and, in an instant, she was engulfed in a Loveland hug that both shattered her already fractured heart and began mending it, too.

  “Are we a family?” Noah asked, voice quavering. His gaze swung between her and Daryl.

  “Yes,” affirmed Daryl. She lost herself, momentarily, in his thick-lashed, brown eyes. “We’re family.”

  Incapable of speech, she simply nodded. She’d been solo for so long. To be included, wanted, by this tight-knit group filled her with unexpected joy. Simple. Pure. Sweet. Was she worthy of their affection if she wasn’t the best, the most successful? Perfect? She’d assured Emma of that truth and she needed to begin heeding it herself.

  Then her cell phone buzzed, interrupting the tender moment. She wasn’t sure if she felt disappointed, relieved or both.

  She moved a distance away. “Brenda?”

  “Hello?” her editor shouted.

  Cassidy wandered to the edge of the open back door for a better signal, her eyes on Daryl and the kids as they resumed decorating the sign. “Brenda?” she repeated, louder.

  “I thought calling you in Uganda was tough... Glad to finally get a signal.”

  “You’d better hurry because it probably won’t last long.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  Her gaze lingered on Daryl as he lifted his son to the sink and washed the red from his hands.

  Happy. Peaceful. Fulfilled.

  “Better. My vision’s back and the ribs and pinkie are just about healed.”

  “Watch the boom!” called her editor to someone.

  “Are you sailing?”

  “We’re on the Long Island Sound, but I had to reach you right away. We just got a lead on the missing Sudanese girls.”

  Cassidy’s pulse picked up speed. A couple of years ago, seventy-three girls had been kidnapped from school, never to be seen or heard from again. “Are they with the National Islamic Front?”

  “No. That’s the kicker. The tipster claims the Sudanese government is behind the kidnapping to turn public sentiment against the militant group.”

  “Where are they holding them?” Cassidy gasped. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears. If true, this was the scoop of the year...possibly the decade.

  “That’s for you to find out once you chase down the lead. Charlie’s still on the Syrian gas attacks and Je’nai is getting married next week. I could hand this off to Pradeep—he’s champing at the bit for a chance at a story like this—but you’re my senior writer and I wanted to give you first crack. Besides, if anyone can find those girls, it’s you.”

  It had everything Cassidy loved about investigative reporting: danger, mystery and a chance to change the world.

  But what if she wanted to change the world in her own backyard instead?

  “I—I—” Cassidy eyed Daryl and the kids rinsing the brushes in the sink. Emma flicked water at Noah, who returned the favor, the water fight escalating until Daryl hauled them back from the sink, drenched. He yanked off his cap and droplets flew from his hair as he shook it at the squealing children.

  “When would you need me to leave?”

  At her question, the children’s laughter died. Daryl’s grin disappeared. Their concerned eyes slammed into her and they all seemed to hold their breath.

  “Lara’s been checking flights,” her editor said, referencing her secretary, “There’s a United flight to Abuja leaving at ten thirty-five.”

  “Tonight?”

  Noah’s mouth dropped open and quivered while Emma buried her face in her father’s side. Daryl’s anguished eyes nearly ripped her heart from her chest. How could she leave them? They were just growing accustomed to life without Leanne. It’d be cruel to upend their lives again.

  On the other hand, the missing Sudanese girls needed her help, too. Plus, if she found them, she’d be hailed a hero and reach heights in her career she’d only dreamed of before now.

  Who needed her more?

  “If it’s too soon, there’s also a nine fifteen leaving tomorrow morning, but we can’t delay much longer. We’ve got to reach the girls before our lead dries up and they move them again.”

  “I understand,” Cassidy murmured, thinking fast.

  As she watched, Daryl directed the children’s attention back to the sign, his shoulders hunched. They half-heartedly added embellishments to the poster board while casting sidelong glances her way. None spoke.

  “So which flight should I have Lara book?”

  An involuntary smile crossed Cassidy’s face when Beuford lurched himself to his feet, lumbered across the room, then plopped his hind end onto the red-soaked newspaper. At Emma’s squeal, he scooted forward on his front legs, dragging his butt in a messy smear.

  “Beuford!” Emma shouted. “Bad dog!”

  “He’s not bad.” Noah grabbed a can of green paint and held it over the poster board. “Take it back!”

  “Kids!” Daryl roared.

  “What’s that ruckus?” Brenda asked. “Sounds like World War III...”

  “Just about.”

  Daryl dived to snatch the green paint can in midair, then face-planted on the red-smeared ground.

  “Which flight, Cassidy?” Brenda prompted as Daryl rose, staggering, temporarily blinded by the paint dripping in his eyes. He swiped it away as the kids giggled, shaking a finger at them, his teeth white against his rainbow-colored beard.

  She’d never seen him more attractive.

  “Better ask Pradeep,” she replied, hoping she wouldn’t regret this decision the rest of her life. “I’m not going.”

  “Are you sure?” Brenda gasped, incredulous. “You never pass up a story, let alone the scoop of the century.”

  Daryl bowed to his now laughing children, adding an extravagant flourish, Clumsy the Clown style. When his gaze swerved to her, a question in it, her lips curved into an involuntary smile. “I’m sure.”

  She ended the call, pocketed the phone and joined the group.

  For the first time, she chose family over her job.

  Her family, according to the kids and Daryl.

  Did she dare become a part of it? And if she did, would she ever be able to leave them when the time came?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “CAN WE PICK up the apples on the ground?” Noah tugged Daryl’s coat and pointed to the golden-hued, oblong fruit littering the orchard’s grassy floor.

  After eating a last-minute picnic supper, he, the kids and Cassidy had fanned out along a row of old trees to pick the ripe apples for cobbler. Tripod-shaped wooden ladders leaned against laden boughs while woven baskets rested beneath them. The gnarled branches crossed overhead and protected them from the brisk breeze blowing a distant storm in from the west.

  Daryl plucked a Colorado Orange, one of the heirloom apple varieties grown on Loveland Hills, and carefully placed it in his basket to avoid bruising. “Those are for cider, not eating.
”

  “Can we bring them home and make some?”

  Daryl opened his mouth to refuse, caught Cassidy’s subtle nod and agreed instead. They didn’t have a press and would probably create mush, not cider, but the kids would have fun.

  Daryl peered down at his son as the daylight faded, relieved to see Noah smiling more this past week. While Daryl’s grief for Leanne hadn’t lessened, he and the children were growing accustomed to her loss and returning to regular life. Cassidy was critical in helping them. When Noah bragged about standing up to the bullies and proudly showed the A he’d earned on his recent book report, his first good grade in weeks, Cassidy organized this impromptu outing to celebrate.

  Not following the usual evening routine, per se...

  But a little spontaneity lifted the children’s spirits, and his.

  No denying he galloped home faster than ever from the range, climbed his cabin stairs two at a time, wrenched open the door and breathed a sigh of relief when he spied Cassidy, not Joy, whipping up some unpronounceable but delicious meal with the kids. He’d stopped expecting Leanne, which filled him with guilt, followed by hope they’d eventually move on. Heal. Together, they helped Noah and Emma deal with their grief. He and Cassidy had always made a good team on college assignments, and they worked just as well in real life. She was becoming a part of the stable life he’d desired but didn’t receive from his biological parents. The kind of family he’d wanted for his children.

  And himself.

  Daryl admired Cassidy’s spontaneity, her adventurous side, her willingness to throw caution to the wind, and he worried over it, too. How much longer before she decided she’d had enough and took the next assignment her editor offered? Alongside his regrets over Leanne, his dread of losing Cassidy also kept him up at night. Often, he heard her pacing in his old bedroom while he stared at his living room ceiling, wondering if she hurt and needed someone to talk to like he did.

  Pa was preoccupied by the legal battle with his supposed half brother, Neil, as well as Joy’s health. Sierra’s wildlife vet practice recently rescued an orphaned bear cub, a cattle rustling outbreak consumed Travis’s sheriff’s department and Heath had recorded one of his songs in Nashville. Except for Maverick, who’d left his pro bull-riding tour to rehab his shoulder injury, the rest of his brothers were as busy as he laboring to bring in the hay before the first frost while spending their free time remodeling the country store. Since Lovelands didn’t pry, they hadn’t been pressuring him to talk...and he appreciated the solitude of his work. Yet the weight of his questions about his future and past only grew the longer he went without an outlet.