“How many head?” Becca asked.
“About two hundred.”
Joe slid from his horse to the ground. He tied the reins to a tree with a slipknot and headed to the water troughs. The dogs dutifully followed him.
“Do you want help?” she asked.
“Nah. They’re set to autofill. I’m just checking for contamination.” Finding everything in order he mounted Blackie again.
Sunrise continued a steady appearance behind them, as they headed the horses toward the hay fields. Riding slowly near the crop, he began to check the stalks.
“How do you know when it’s ready to harvest?” Becca asked.
“Didn’t your daddy teach you about hay?”
“No. My father was a cowboy, not a farmer.”
“We run a small operation. You have to be both around here.” He nodded toward the crop. “Timing is everything. It’s as much a fine art as it is a science. We want the young, tender stalks.”
“Looks to me like it’s about ready, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Almost. This will be the first cutting of the year. That means the highest quality alfalfa hay. The question is, will the hay mature and Mother Nature cooperate at the same time?”
“The hay will make or break your operation?”
“Probably not. We’re fortunate to have water rights on the property that bring in a little extra income, though not everyone in Paradise is happy about that situation. But with the high cost of hay, cutting and baling our own is one less expense. Sometimes we even have enough to sell. That would be a very good year.”
“So it’s all a gamble,” she observed.
“You said it. Basically the only thing I can control is the machines. So I’m getting the windrower, rake and bale wagon ready to go.”
“What will happen if it rains?” Becca asked.
“If the weather doesn’t hold, we’ll have to do it sooner than planned, and OrthoBorne will have to wait its turn. All we need is a couple of sunshine days strung together to get the job done.”
“Does ‘we’ mean you?”
“Usually Dan is here. Even then, sometimes we bring in a contractor with his own machine to assist, or an extra ranch hand. It will all depend on the budget. When the weather is fickle, I’m likely to let anyone help.”
Sliding off Blackie, he tossed the reins over the saddle and pointed to a four-wire fence. “Need to fix this barbed wire, as it’s a little loose. Then we’re done.”
“I can do that. I’ve fixed many a fence in my day.”
Joe nearly laughed aloud. “In your day, huh? How old are you?”
“Thirty-one.” She frowned as she dismounted. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Not at all.” He offered her the fence pliers. “I’ll let you take care of this, then. I’m going to have a look at that downed tree over there. Probably come back later with the truck and chain saw.”
Joe led his horse to the creek, where indeed a tall cottonwood had been struck by lightning. Its twisted trunk was split and lay between the grass and the creek. The dogs followed, running through the long grass that grew near the water, chasing each other.
“Come on, boys. Let’s go see if that old cowgirl is done.”
Becca was in the saddle and waiting for him as they moved down the fence line. Joe inspected the barbed wire with exaggerated care. “Nicely done,” he finally pronounced.
“Thank you.” She handed him the pliers.
“Let’s get you back before your city slickers show up and get into trouble again.”
“I can go back alone,” she said.
“No. We ride in pairs around here.”
“You’re the only one here most of the time.”
“Except for me. I’m the boss.”
“Overall, how did I do?” Becca asked once they returned to the barn.
“You did two hours of good riding. I imagine that answer will be obvious tomorrow after your city muscles start complaining.”
“Faint praise?”
“Not at all. You did fine.”
“Fine?” She uttered a noise of displeasure, and as if to agree, Princess snorted. Joe hid his smile. Becca had done more than fine, keeping up with him as he moved along the perimeter of the ranch making note of work that would need to be done later. A tedious chore, but necessary.
“Fine is a good thing. I noticed you didn’t mention how I did. You were, after all, observing my daily activities.”
“As a horseman, you’re far exceeding my expectations. As a rancher, well, that remains to be seen. You still favor your left hand.”
“Fair enough,” Joe replied. “So I guess I did fine, as well.”
Becca shook her head, but said nothing more.
Silence stretched as he rubbed down his horse.
He closed the stall behind Blackie and turned in time to see Becca pull off her gloves and wince.
“You all right?”
“Yes.” She tucked the palm of her left hand under her arm. “I cut my hand on the fence wire. It was fine until I yanked my glove off and it started bleeding again. No big deal.”
“Those fancy gloves. Why didn’t you say something?” he muttered.
“No big deal,” she insisted.
“Let me see your hand.”
“I’m fine, Joe.”
“I need to see your hand.” He sucked in a breath when she offered the palm for his inspection. Jaw clamped tight, all he could do was stare at the ragged cut, oozing blood, that marred her smooth skin. His gaze went from her hand to her face as irritation began to build.
“The glove has a cotton liner that clotted the cut. I didn’t realize—”
“Your tetanus shot up-to-date?” he fairly snapped.
“Yes.”
“First-aid kit is over here.” Joe moved to the other side of the barn where he’d built counters for working on paperwork. He pulled open a cabinet and yanked out the large first-aid kit.
“That’s some kit,” she murmured.
“My brother is a pharmacist and my sister-in-law is a doctor. They keep it well stocked.” He tucked a bottle of sterile water under his arm and opened it with his left hand. “Here, slosh this over the cut. Use the whole bottle.”
While she complied, he tore open sterile gauze packs with his teeth.
“You can use your prosthetic fingers to hold the gauze squares while you tear the package open.”
Joe slowly lifted his head to meet her gaze. “Seriously? You’re going to give me a lesson...now?”
“I said we’d being doing teaching in the field. The more you make yourself use the prosthesis, the more second nature it will become. If you keep accommodating and ignoring the device, then your myoelectric prosthesis is really just an expensive toy.”
He took a deep breath. “Duly noted.”
She nodded and took the gauze from him.
“Let me get the antibiotic ointment,” Joe said. He pulled the tube from the kit and looked from her to the cap. Determined to use his right hand, he focused on utilizing his muscles to generate the movement that allowed him to grasp the tube. Then, using his left hand, he removed the lid.
“Nicely done,” Becca murmured with her eyes on the tube and his prosthesis. She took the tube from him and applied a blob of clear ointment to her laceration line before topping it with the gauze. “Tape?” she asked.
“I’ve got wrapping gauze. That’ll work better with your glove.”
Joe held the small roll of gauze with his prosthetic hand and tore off the paper before handing it to her.
“Um, you’ll have to hold it in place while I wrap,” Becca said. Her lips curved in a small smile at the irony of the situation.
Yeah. He got it. They both were handicapped no
w.
Stepping closer, Joe held the end of the gauze against her skin. He averted his gaze, refusing to consider how soft her skin was or how long it had been they’d been this close. A lifetime ago, and the memories were as vivid today as then.
His gaze traveled from her jaunty ponytail sticking out of the back of the ball cap to the curve of her jaw as she concentrated.
Becca wrapped the roll around her palm several times, tucking the ends under. When she finished, she raised her head and their eyes met. She froze and licked her lips. “I... I...”
“All set?” Joe asked, stepping back into his safety zone.
“Yes. Thank you.”
He could only grunt a response.
“Joe?” Becca said his name softly. Barely a whisper as it slid over him.
He raised his brows in question.
“I’m so sorry.” Her eyes were sincere as she pleaded with him.
Sorry? She was twelve years too late for sorry. He turned and headed out of the barn, cautioning himself. He had vowed not to make the same mistake again. If he did, he’d be twice the fool.
Chapter Five
Rebecca poured coffee into a to-go cup and rummaged around in the darkened kitchen for a lid. When the lights suddenly came on, she was blinded and nearly stumbled over a chair.
“Mom? I sure hope that’s you.”
She heard a familiar chuckle and turned to see her mother tighten the belt on her old, blue chenille robe.
“Yes. Of course it’s me. Sorry. Did I startle you?”
“That you did. It’s four in the morning. What are you doing up?”
“I’ve hardly seen you this week. Goodness, you’ve put in long hours at the Gallagher Ranch.”
“Oh, Mom. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to get up at four to see your daughter. Things will slow down soon.”
“All the same, this is what mothers do when they’re looking for an opportunity to say they’re extremely proud of their children.”
“Aw, thank you.” Rebecca popped two slices of oat nut bread into the toaster. “But here I proclaim my independence and then turn around only to ask you more favors. I appreciate you helping with Casey during the week.”
“She’s my granddaughter. I’m happy to. We’ll manage around Casey’s summer vacation.” Joan opened the cupboard and grabbed a large container of peanut butter. She slid the jar across the laminate countertop to Rebecca.
“I only wish I could tell you what time I’ll be home today.”
“No worries. This brings back memories of you and your father putting in sixteen-hour days on Elliott Ranch.”
“Yes. You are so right.” Rebecca grinned. “Those are wonderful memories, too. I loved working with Dad.”
“Did you ever think you’d be on a ranch again?”
“No. I thought my ranch days were long gone once we lost Dad.”
Joan shook her head. “Well, just like the good old days, you have to go out even in lousy weather. Take my rain slicker, will you? It’s pouring out there.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Rebecca pulled a butter knife from the drawer.
“When are you moving into the cottage?”
“Casey’s last day of school is today, so maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Are you sure you’re okay with watching Casey while I’m working?”
“I’m happy to. It means less disruption in her life. We’ll all work around your crazy schedule.”
“Thank you.” Rebecca smiled, her gaze fixed on the glowing grates of the toaster. Her chest ached with joy, just thinking about the little house. “I keep pinching myself because it’s so perfect. Two bedrooms. A small, but modern kitchen with all the amenities. The house is furnished, too. Did I mention that?”
“No. That’s wonderful.”
The browned bread popped up, and she plucked the slices from the toaster. “Oh, and there are clay pots outside that are begging for summer flowers.”
“Casey is going to love helping you plant.”
“That’s exactly what I thought.” Rebecca unscrewed the lid of the peanut butter jar. “I know it’s only for a short time, but living a normal life again is all I ever dreamed about when the trial was going on.”
“Oh, Becca.” Her mother closed the distance between them, wrapping her in a hug. Releasing Rebecca, she hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath. “Honey, there was something else I wanted to discuss with you before you leave.”
Rebecca stiffened, sensing the uneasy tone in her mother’s voice. “Is everything okay?”
She nodded. “I, um, I got an email from Casey’s other grandmother.”
“Virginia emailed you?”
“Apparently the family is back in Four Forks for the summer. Nick’s sister is graduating from college. On Sunday. They want Casey to attend a party. Though it is short notice.”
“Jana graduating. Oh my. It seems like just yesterday that she was the youngest bridesmaid at my wedding.”
“Yes. Time does race by, doesn’t it?” her mother mused.
Rebecca nodded. “You were worried about telling me about this?”
“Not worried. I’ve tried to banish that word from my vocabulary and turn things over to God. Yet try as I might, I can’t help but be concerned. You know Judge Brown will be there.”
“The judge and I may have our issues, but Casey should still have the advantage of growing up with her extended family.”
“You aren’t concerned about the judge?”
“Of course I am, but I’m still going to try to do the right thing. I’m believing Virginia has my back this time, as well.”
“Then why didn’t she do something when you were arrested? All those ridiculous accusations that she knew weren’t true.”
“Mom, I’ve told you before. Virginia Simpson isn’t like you or me. She’s been taken care of all her life. That doesn’t make her a bad person.” She sighed and shook her head. “Besides, it wasn’t her job to defend me against her father. In the end it was God’s job.”
“You’re a much nicer person than I am, Rebecca.”
“Don’t give me too much credit.”
“You’re going to let Casey attend?”
“If that’s what she wants.”
“I could drop her off, if that will help you. I have plans, and it’s right on my way. Virginia did mention she’d be happy to bring Casey home.”
“That’s probably the best arrangement. Thank you for offering, Mom.”
“Thank you for reminding me to be more charitable.”
Rebecca glanced at the wall clock. “Uh-oh, I have to shower and get dressed.”
“You didn’t eat your toast.”
Rebecca reached for a small plate. “I’ll eat while I’m getting ready.”
“Some things never change.”
“You’re remembering high school, right? Always on the run.”
“Exactly.” Her mother paused for a moment. “Rebecca?”
“Mmm.”
“Isn’t it awkward working with Joe Gallagher?”
“Challenging. That’s what it is.”
“Do you ever wonder...?”
Rebecca’s head jerked up in time to meet her mother’s wistful gaze. “No. Let’s not go there.”
“Does that mean you do wonder?” her mother murmured with a small smile.
“Mom, to tell you the truth, I can’t allow myself to think about anything. I’ve made wrong choices in my life. I don’t know if I trust my judgment anymore.”
“Don’t blame yourself because you believed in the good in people.”
“I do blame myself.” She took a deep breath. “I’m grateful the Lord kept his hand on Casey the entire time.”
“We’re only human, Rebecca
. Sometimes all you can do is ask for forgiveness before moving on.”
“I’m grateful He forgives.”
“That doesn’t mean you should shut yourself off from the possibility of finding happiness.”
“I’m not. I’m just not looking for anything beyond what the Lord has given me today. One step at a time is about all I can handle.”
* * *
“Rain.” Joe grimaced and stared out the kitchen window at the gray world outside. Fat drops plopped onto the gravel drive and the yard, creating muddy puddles. Overhead, thunder cracked, promising continued rain. Another dismal and bleak day, guaranteed to leave him soaking wet and chilled to the core.
He lifted a mug to his lips. Even the aroma of strong, rich coffee and Patti Jo’s muffins waiting on a platter couldn’t lift his sour mood.
Truth be told, he’d like to have words with that smiley-faced meteorologist on television. The man was obviously not familiar with ranches. If he were, he’d use caution before sharing his weather promises for Paradise and the valley.
Scattered rain showers? Twenty-four hours of solid rain, hammering down, was what he should have announced.
Joe shook his head. Nothing to be done about the situation. Becca’s smile was pretty much the only thing positive about the last few days, though he sure wasn’t going to tell her that.
She’d been upbeat despite the weather, taking the crew to town yesterday for a tour of the historic landmarks in downtown Paradise, which took all of fifteen minutes. They’d stopped for lunch, and Becca brought him back a box of his favorite muffins from Patti Jo’s. A gruff thank you was all he could muster at the time. Fact was, he was floored she remembered that he preferred blueberry muffins.
If she was trying to test him, she was doing a good job.
He kept reminding himself that there wasn’t a single reason to strike up anything but a business relationship with the woman. It may have been twelve years ago, but he had nothing more to offer her now than he did then. It was more than apparent in hindsight that back then his future on Gallagher Ranch wasn’t enough to keep her in Paradise.
Not a thing had changed in the years since. He remained a rancher who was getting by. Not a rich successful lawyer like her husband had been.
Rocky Mountain Cowboy Page 6
