“Fine.” She leaned forward to scrape some of the icy slush from Bart’s mane. “I’m just glad the temperature hasn’t started dropping yet. We should be fine.”
“The herd up here has been brought home for several spring calving seasons. Unless the changing weather has them nervous, they shouldn’t be much of a challenge for you.”
“Challenge? How quickly you forget,” she said dryly. “I’ve been moving cattle since grade school. Let’s get moving.”
He hadn’t forgotten. He’d just wanted to tease her and see if she’d smile.
Their similar backgrounds had attracted them to each other from the first day they’d met.
She’d started riding ponies bareback when she was three, and moved up to team penning and reining horses by the time she hit high school.
He’d once thought she was his perfect match. But how wrong he’d been.
By the time they neared the final gate, the wet, sloppy sleet was changing over to a thick blanket of snow and the temperature was dropping.
With the worsening weather and over six hundred acres of rough terrain to search, trying to round all the cows up would be nearly impossible if they were scattered.
God hadn’t ever listened to his own prayers much, but he sure hoped Abby had been saying some prayers about finding those cattle.
“Do you see anything?” Abby shouted into the rising wind.
Just then, a curtain of snow swirled and lifted, and a huddle of cattle blanketed in white came into view. Bawling at the appearance of the horses, they pushed forward against the metal pipe gate, agitated, impatient and hungry for the hay they expected—but wouldn’t get until they reached home.
Jess rode along the fence line in one direction and then the other, standing in his stirrups as he counted. “I’m guessing at least a hundred are here—but I can’t see beyond the rise. I’ll get a better count as they come through the gate.”
Abby nodded. “I’ll keep them together out here till you know for sure.”
The cattle milled around and jostled each other as they poured through the gate.
According to Jess’s count, three were missing. And those three could be anywhere. The chance of finding them was growing more slim by the minute.
With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Jess rode into the pasture and made ever widening loops as he hunted for the stragglers.
Nothing. Just snow and pine trees and absolute silence except for the wind keening through the branches overhead. Please, Lord... Help me out, here. They could easily die in the coming blizzard.
He needed to move the ones he already had down to safety. That made sense. The dollar value of a few, weighed against the value of the entire herd, wasn’t nearly enough reason to delay, given the worsening storm. And yet, like the parable of the lost sheep, he just couldn’t leave the last three out here to die if the blizzard grew worse and he couldn’t get hay to them.
He pivoted Lucy back toward the gate.
“I’m going to look one last time,” he called out to Abby.
She stood in her stirrups to look over his shoulder, then pointed. “Look.”
Sure enough, a haphazard line of three head of cattle were just coming into view, trudging slowly toward the gate.
Agitated by the changing weather, the herd needed no encouragement to head toward home, where trees and the walls of the valley provided some protection. There, too, they’d find long loafing sheds angled to protect them from the prevailing winter winds and large round bales of hay waiting in the circular feeders.
After driving the cattle through the final gate, they rode to the main horse barn, dismounted and led the horses inside and down the wide cement aisle. The warmth of the barn and the bright overhead lights felt like a warm and welcome embrace.
“I’m glad to be back,” he muttered. “How about you?”
“I’m just glad I got to go along. Thanks!”
Jess’s jacket was weatherproof, but his jeans were frozen stiff and his feet were numb.
Abby, however, pulled off her stocking cap and strode merrily down the aisle ahead of him with Bart, her ponytail swinging against the back of her red jacket as if she were still seventeen and ready for another adventure.
Just watching her made him feel like he’d stepped into the past.
She stopped in front of the tack-room door and looked over her shoulder. “Can I cross tie Bart here?”
“Yep.” He stopped his mare at the previous set of cross ties. “The halters are just inside the door.”
Except for where their saddles covered their backs, the horses were blanketed in snow, and their manes and tails were clumped with ice. Steam began rising from their thick winter coats in the warmth of the barn.
Abby slipped off Bart’s bridle, put on his halter and hooked the two ropes hanging at either side of the aisle to it, then brought Jess a halter with a hopeful smile. “I can stick around for chores.”
“Just go on to the house. But thanks. I couldn’t have done it alone.”
“No problem.” Her expression crestfallen, she turned away. “Any time I can help with chores, I’d be glad to.”
She disappeared through the door, leaving him feeling oddly unsettled.
Which made no sense.
Riding up into the hills with her today, facing the worsening elements, had reminded him of things he hadn’t thought about for many years. The camaraderie that he’d never felt with anyone else. Their shared sense of adventure and determination.
And this morning, he’d felt that little thrill of anticipation that he’d always felt when he knew he’d be seeing her again soon.
It would have been far better to wait for Fred’s help rather than to have awakened old emotions he had no business exploring, he realized with chagrin.
He’d have to be more careful in the future.
Chapter Four
She’d been running on pure adrenaline this morning while going after the cattle with Jess. The joy of being on horseback for the first time since she’d graduated from college, braving the elements and slipping back into her rancher’s-daughter role had been exhilarating.
Working alongside Jess with real purpose once again had triggered memories of being twelve years younger with nothing but a bright future rolling out in front of her like a red carpet.
No disappointments...yet.
No misunderstandings or heartbreaks, or abrupt, wrenching changes in her life to catapult her in directions she’d never imagined. Her whole life had seemed as bright and new as that of a newborn foal back then, as limitless as the stars strewn across the sky.
That naive, youthful sense of being destined for great adventures had certainly faded over time, yet here she was in Montana once again, single and free to go wherever her dreams led her.
After a long, hot shower, she felt as if her bones had dissolved to molten honey, but at the sound of the twins squabbling over something in the living room, she quickly pulled on her jeans and an old red sweatshirt and shuffled down the hall to the living room.
Betty sat in an upholstered chair, her eyes closed and her walker at her side. The girls were arguing over a Candy Land board game on the floor, with the colorful game pieces flung far and wide.
“Girls,” Abby whispered, dropping to the floor next to them with a smile. “You need to be quiet. Your grandma is sleeping.”
Both of them edged away from the game board, then got up and disappeared into their bedroom. Apparently neither of them had listened to Jess’s remonstration last night.
“I’m just resting my eyes,” Betty murmured. “It’s all right.”
“Thanks for staying out here while I took a shower. I can take over now if you’d like to go lie down.”
Betty opened one eye and peered at her. “After the morning you had, you’re the one who ought to go take a nap.�
��
Abby smiled. “I doubt Jess is snoozing, so I don’t need to either. Did he ever come up to the house after we got back?”
“Just for a quick sandwich. He won’t be back in till dinner. Have you looked outside lately?”
Abby looked toward the wall of windows, bisected with a set of French doors, that faced the covered porch. Only a faint outline of the nearest pine tree was visible through the driving snow, and its branches were whipping in the wind. “Wow.”
“Looks like we’re getting everything the weatherman said and more. I set out some kerosene lanterns and candles in the kitchen in case our electricity goes. We’ve also got a couple cords of split firewood on the porch, so that always helps.”
“What would you like me to do?”
“Get the fireplace going. I can’t bend down to put the logs in, and it always feels so cozy in here with a fire crackling.”
“Gladly.” Abby rose and headed for the French doors. To the right, she could see a stack of firewood covered with a tarp. “What else?”
“Fill as many pitchers with water as you can find, in case the power goes out. While you were gone, I put a roast, potatoes, carrots and onions in the slow cooker, so at least that should be done for dinner.” Her eyes twinkled. “Unless, of course, we lose our power.”
“It already smells wonderful. But I really hope you didn’t try to do too much while we were gone.”
Betty waved a dismissive hand at her. “Only what I could. Maybe you and the girls can make biscuits and a dessert.”
“Gladly.” Abby retrieved an armload of firewood and knelt in front of the fireplace.
In a few minutes, cheery flames were dancing up through the fragrant wood, but she could hear the wind howling outside and just the sound made her shiver.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to take a nice nap before dinner?” Abby offered her a hand.
“I’ll catch a few winks right here.” She settled deeper in her chair. “It’s easier to stay right where I am.”
Down the hall, Abby paused at the doorway to the girls’ room. They’d pushed the door nearly shut, but left a sliver of it open. She knocked lightly. “Girls?”
They were talking and didn’t hear her.
“I don’t like her.”
“Me neither,” the other girl said glumly. “I heard Gramma talking on the phone. Abby used to be his girlfriend.”
“What if she’s like the lady with the black hair? Gramma said that one wants to marry Uncle Jess. Eeeuw. She always says we look like vegetables.”
There was a long, painful silence.
“But if mommy comes, she can marry Uncle Jess and we can stay here forever. I don’t want to leave.”
Abby knocked louder, and pushed the door open a little wider. “Would anyone like to help me make biscuits?”
They fell silent. Bella traced the swirls of the carpet with her forefinger. Sophie picked at a loose thread on the hem of her jeans.
“Chocolate-chip cookies? Or a cake? When I was your age, I loved to help because then I got to lick the beaters afterward.” Abby gave a blissful sigh. “And that was always sooo good.”
Neither responded.
“But maybe you two don’t like cake or cookies,” she added thoughtfully. “I could make...sauerkraut pudding. Or asparagus pie instead.”
They looked up at her in horror, though when Abby couldn’t quite contain a smile, Bella caught on and scowled up at her. “We don’t wanna help.”
“Your uncle Jess explained why I’m here, right?”
Bella looked away.
“’Cause Gramma’s sick,” Sophie whispered. “But we can take care of her. We’re good helpers.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re the very best,” Abby agreed, opening the door a little wider. “If she asks you to do something, I’m sure you do it right away.”
The girls exchanged guilty looks.
“But when you’re in school, there’s no one here to help her,” Abby said sadly. “And making dinner can be awfully hard, with those heavy pots and pans. Right? And then there’s laundry to do and beds to make. Grandma Betty is too weak to do all of that and Uncle Jess doesn’t want you girls working that hard.”
“But we could. We’re big girls,” Bella insisted.
“Yes, that’s true. But he hired me to be here for a couple months, which isn’t very long. While I’m here, do you think we could be friends?”
They didn’t answer.
“Well, you girls have fun in here. I’m going to go make my very favorite cookies. If you want some, they’ll be on the kitchen counter.” Abby looked out their bedroom window at the deepening snow. “If you really want a special treat, we could even make snow ice cream.”
Smiling at the puzzled looks on their faces, Abby headed for the kitchen.
They hadn’t been impressed with her explanations, probably hadn’t trusted that she would really leave, and with Betty as their grandmother, cookies were surely not a rare treat.
But she’d seen the curiosity and flicker of excitement over the possibility of snow ice cream, and perhaps that would be too enticing to miss.
* * *
At five o’clock Jess stamped the snow from his boots and came in the back door of the house. The scent of chocolate-chip cookies and the aroma of something wonderful emanating from the slow cooker made him even hungrier.
But the scene at the kitchen counter was far more captivating.
In a scene of domestic bliss, Abby stood at the counter in an apron, her blond hair in two neat braids trailing down her back, with the twins standing on chairs beside her. A heaping bowl of what looked like snow sat in front of them and the electric mixer was running on slow as Abby scooped in more of it.
“Is it working?” Bella exclaimed. “Is it ice cream now?”
Sophie tugged at Abby’s apron. “Can we try it? Please?”
“It’s getting a lot thicker, so it’s almost done.” Abby chuckled. “And yes, of course you can try it. Then we’ll save the rest in the freezer for after dinner, and you can tell your grandma and Uncle Jess about how you made it.”
Shucking off his boots and coat, Jess joined them at the counter. “What are you ladies up to?”
“It’s a secret,” Bella announced. “Don’t look.”
He held up both hands and backed away with a smile. “Okay—I’m not peeking. Will you show me later?”
Sophie nodded vigorously.
Abby glanced over her shoulder. “When would you like to eat dinner?”
“We usually eat at six, but it doesn’t matter. I’d like to clean up first, though. It’s been a long day.”
“No problem.” She scooped up two small bowls of the snow ice cream and watched the girls as they savored their first bite.
When she handed Jess a bowl, his hand grazed hers and he felt the warmth of her touch, which went straight through him.
She must have felt the same, because she abruptly turned away and he saw the tips of her ears turn pink.
“So, what do you girls think?” she asked, her voice a little shaky.
Enraptured, they finished their ice cream and eyed the big mixing bowl hopefully, but Abby just smiled. “No more right now—you can have some more after dinner.”
They scampered off to the living room. Abby covered the bowl in foil and jockeyed it into the freezer.
“I haven’t had snow ice cream since my mom died,” Jess said as he tried a spoonful. “She always said a heavy, fresh snowfall was a blessing and we should never waste it. There was never a winter when she didn’t keep plenty of cream and vanilla on hand—and the sugar, of course.”
“It does look good. Out here, with no pollution—not even any neighbors—the snow is perfect. Even so, it has to be really deep, and I would never use it the next day.”
“No pr
oblem there. I think we’re up to fifteen inches already and it’s still falling.”
“Are we drifted in?”
“Definitely, until the snow stops and I get out the big John Deere. But I hear the wind is going to be high all night, so there’s no point until tomorrow.”
He snagged one of the chocolate-chip cookies from a plate on the counter. “Did you get them to help you with cookies, too?”
“No... We haven’t quite made our peace, but the prospect of the mysterious snow ice cream drew them in.”
“I’m glad the girls are doing better.”
Abby suddenly lowered her voice. “You do know why they were upset, right?”
Jess frowned. “They were expecting their mom, but you were the new arrival instead.”
“Partly. They really do love you, Jess, and they want to stay here. But they want their mom to come back and marry you so that can happen.”
Jess felt his jaw drop. “Marry Lindsey? She’s my cousin. And not only is she way younger, she’s pretty immature for her age.”
Abby tilted her head in agreement. “They’re worried that I might get in the way of their plans. They’re also worried about some lady with black hair who seems to want to marry you, too. Apparently they overheard something Grandma Betty said about that, and they don’t like this woman much. I believe they take offense to her calling them vegetables.”
Aghast, he stared down at her. “I don’t have any idea who they’re talking about.”
“My only guess is that she might have said something like they’re two peas in a pod.”
He rolled his eyes. “Must be Maura. She’s an old friend who lives in town. We usually see her at church.”
“Apparently you see her often enough that the girls are afraid wedding bells aren’t far off,” Abby teased. “Just thought you’d like to know.”
“It’s true that we dated now and then over the years. But when the twins arrived she said she wanted nothing to do with ever being a secondhand mom and that was the end of it as far as I’m concerned.”
“No wedding bells, then.”
“No. A few months ago she said she’d had second thoughts, but she’d already shown her true colors. Those girls deserve better.”
Montana Mistletoe Page 4
