Back in the Saddle

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “ ’Course I did. As if I’d ignore a request from you, kid.” Murt jabbed Colt in the ribs, and Colt pretended to wince. “We’re ridin’ into the hills, I expect.”

  “Think your heart can take it?” Humor took the sting out of Colt’s barb.

  “This ticker’s handled bein’ a married man for near eighteen months now. I suppose it’s got spunk enough to hunt up a few cows in the snow.”

  “Murt.” Nick came into the kitchen from one direction as Hobbs and Brock entered through the back door. “You joining us?”

  “Appears so.”

  “Perfect.” Nick turned Colt’s way and didn’t look nearly as happy. “I’ve been trying to get him back here for months. Must be the power of the prodigal.”

  Colt didn’t rise to the challenge in Nick’s voice. He wrapped an arm around the older man’s shoulders in an easy gesture of love and respect. “He just wants to see me land my duff in a fair share of snow drifts. Too much city sittin’—Murt’s looking for a laugh.”

  “You betcha,” the old man said as he took his place at the table. “Brought my camera phone ’long so’s I could record the show. Nick, how’re them girls doin’? You ready for me to start their ridin’ and ropin’ lessons? I got time this spring. Nothin’ but time, good Lord willin’.”

  Nick glanced from Colt to Murt, then back, but Colt was busy filling his plate with fried potatoes, fresh-cooked sausage, and scrambled eggs. “They’re pretty busy, Murt.”

  Angelina made a noise of disagreement in the kitchen, just loud enough for the men to hear.

  Nick ignored her and kept his attention trained on Murt. “Riding and roping and jumping are dangerous sports. Dancing is a more controlled environment.”

  “Do they get a say in this matter?” Colt asked.

  Angelina kept her hand near the rolling pin, just in case.

  Nick’s posture went tighter. Straighter. “I’m their father, so no. They don’t. Once you have kids, you realize you bear a great responsibility for their safety and well-being. Which means what I say goes.”

  “Knowledge is the best safety harness in the world,” returned Murt as he filled his plate. “You take a greenie and let them try their hand without learnin’, well, then, you’re askin’ for trouble. But you teach someone the lay of the land and the tricks of the trade so they know exactly how to do it right, then you’ve not only kept ’em safe but you’ve given ’em a skill besides.”

  Hobbs broke in. “At some point you’re gonna need to transfer the business or sell, and right now, your girls are the only young’uns you got. Sellin’ this place to outsiders means a whole lot of somethin’, don’t it? Not that I’ll most likely be around to see it, but it took a long time and a lot of doin’ to build a place like this. Takes a bit of foresight to manage it into the future, I expect.”

  “We’ve got a few years to figure it out.” Nick smacked his plate onto the table loud enough to wake the dead, which meant the two little girls and his sick father down the hall might have been roused for the day. “This is Dad’s place. Not mine. That means I’ve got no say in the matter anyway.”

  “ ’Cept with those girls,” Murt repeated in an easy, reasonable tone. “No need to fuss on it now. We’ve got a heck of a workload ahead of us, and I’m anxious to get some leather under my seat for a change. We can talk again once the weather goes soft.”

  Nick didn’t reply, but Angelina saw Colt’s quick look of approval from behind Nick’s shoulder as Colt settled in to eat his breakfast. She wondered if he’d called the old guy in purposely to wear Nick down and let those girls grow up like proper ranch daughters. Colt began to eat, eyes down, allowing the conversation of others to make his point.

  Clever. Smart. She’d heard he had foresight that served him well in finance and equities and all the things money movers did in Lower Manhattan. But she hadn’t realized how intuitive he’d be, which meant she’d need to be especially careful around this oldest Stafford son. She’d let her guard down in Seattle, but part of that was her fault. She’d let the glitz of dating a power-loving, wealthy man tempt her. The consequences of her actions, and his, matured her.

  Colt reached out, gripped his stoneware mug with two strong hands, and raised his coffee at the same time he lifted his eyes to hers. Instant attraction flared again. She held his gaze, saw one eyebrow twitch in recognition, and waited to let him break the look.

  He didn’t, so she had to, which meant he won that round. While that was infuriating, it was intriguing too. Except she couldn’t let Colt Stafford intrigue her. Given a chance, he’d be out of here quickly. And after Tony’s phone call, who knew where she’d be in a few months’ time? Her mother was anxious to return to Seattle, and while Angelina’s heart yearned for the wide open spaces and sweet peace of central Washington, her head missed the challenge of police work. The uniform called to her. Like father, like daughter.

  She chanced a glance toward Colt.

  He was studying her, questions lurking behind the intensity of his look. She had questions too. She’d run out of easy answers when her child’s father abandoned her and her own father was gunned down while walking the dog on a rain-soaked afternoon.

  Once the men were out the door, she placed a quick call to her mother. “How is everything over there? Are you both all right? You’re warm enough?” Sam had installed a heating system so they wouldn’t have to use the wood stove with its telltale smoke rising in the air. She bet a strong west wind made the thought of a cozy fire tempting. Fortunately, her mother wore self-discipline like a coat of armor.

  Isabo’s yawn echoed through the phone. “We are tired. Noah did not sleep well with the storm and his congestion. If one did not wake him, the other did.”

  “I’m sorry, Mami. Is he all right, though? Is it just a cold or should he be seen?”

  “A cold,” she replied. “He is fine, just stuffy and a little whiny. If the wind dies down, I will take him to sled on the back hill. At least that will get us out of this small house.”

  “I hear you, Mami. We’ll change things soon. Winter can’t last forever.” She heard the chatter of little girl voices from down the hall. “I have to go. I’ll call back once Sam is up and settled. And I’ll try to visit later. If not today, then tomorrow for sure.”

  “We will wait for your company, then. Go with God, my daughter.”

  She was trying, but God’s directives seemed pretty confusing of late. “You too.”

  Dakota was first down the hall, no surprise there. “Is Uncle Colt gone already? I wanted to kiss him good morning!”

  “When calves are dropping you’ve got to get up earlier than this to wish the men a good day. They’ve got to go uphill at first light. Before that they have to check the cows in the barn, saddle the horses, and warm up the four-wheelers.”

  “I want to do that someday.” Cheyenne came into the kitchen in a more sedate fashion, which made her observation more ironic. “I think I’d be good with cows and calves when I’m older. Don’t you, Angelina?”

  Angelina looked directly at her. “You can be wonderful at everything you do, Cheyenne—which should include schoolwork.”

  Cheyenne flushed because they both knew she’d been ignoring her teacher’s directives.

  “As far as the ranch goes, you have the easygoing temperament that works well around animals.”

  “I practice sometimes.”

  Angelina listened carefully but kept her face matter-of-fact. “Oh?”

  “When Dad doesn’t know. I go out to the barn and pretend to know how to handle the cows and the feed and the babies.”

  “The barn can be a dangerous place.” Angelina set a plate of sausage links down in front of the girls next to one of freshly scrambled eggs. She kept her voice nonconfrontational to encourage Cheyenne’s confession. “And children should never go inside on their own.”

  “Well, if I wait for my father to take me, I’ll never get to go, so I don’t see an answer there,” the girl replied sens
ibly in a more adult tone than most kids twice her age used. “Half of my friends ride. The other half are townies, and they don’t know a thing about ranching. When I get invited to the other ranches, I make up an excuse why I can’t go, because if they want to ride around a paddock or go on a trail ride, they’ll know I’m a greenhorn. That’s so embarrassing when you’re almost nine years old.”

  Angelina appreciated the carefulness of Cheyenne’s confession. The girl was right. At her age she was years behind the other kids in ranch skills. Ranchers’ kids rode herd. They worked crops. They learned the basics early on, often in the arms of their parents.

  “Daddy said you should never go into the barn without him,” Dakota said.

  “You’re six. Things are different when you’re six.” Cheyenne used her haughty big-sister voice that set Dakota off on a regular basis.

  “I’m almost seven and at least I listen to Daddy!”

  Cheyenne’s quiet shrug added a calm measure of insult. Dakota’s eyes went wide, and before the first-grader went into a complete histrionic meltdown, Angelina tapped the breakfast bar in front of them. “Hush, both of you. Grandpa needs his rest, and there’s no reason for sisters to be so quarrelsome. You should respect one another.”

  Cheyenne said nothing. Eyes on her plate, she picked at her food.

  Dakota frowned, then brightened. “Maybe Uncle Colt will teach us to ride.”

  Cheyenne perked up instantly. “You think he would?”

  “Maybe. He thinks we should learn to ride,” Dakota reasoned in her more singsong fashion. “So why wouldn’t he teach us?”

  “Because your father must first say it’s all right.” Angelina leaned down and trained a firm look on each girl in turn. “Don’t go getting your uncle into trouble with your father. They’ve got enough to sort out.”

  “Let me get better enough, and I’ll run you gals through the paces,” Sam announced in a take-charge voice as he stood in the doorway.

  “Oh, madre mia! That’s all we need. The grandfather with broken ribs and failing organs to give riding lessons to two little girls who need to brush their teeth and get their coats on so I can take them down to the bus. Hustle, ladies.”

  Dakota slid off the high stool, hugged her grandfather’s legs, then hurried off to the nearby bathroom to brush her teeth. Cheyenne hung back, looking up at her grandfather. “Would you really teach me? So I know how to ride and take care of a horse?”

  Angelina cleared her throat in warning, but Sam was a Stafford, so warnings didn’t mean all that much. “I sure will. I’ll talk to your father. He’ll be fine with it. Just let me get better, okay?”

  Cheyenne released her breath in a rush, then hugged him tight. Too tight, from the grimace of pain that crossed his face, but he remained stoic as he returned the embrace. “I love you, Grandpa!”

  His face transformed. His eyes glistened.

  “Cheyenne?” Angelina tapped her watch. “Bus.”

  “Okay!” She hurried down the hall to get ready.

  Angelina looked at Sam. “Nick’s going to kill you.”

  “I’ll appeal to his common sense.”

  “He has none when it comes to this.”

  “Time he learned, I expect.”

  “I thought you weren’t going to start trouble anymore. I believe you promised to respect your sons’ wishes and choices.”

  “When they make sense. This doesn’t. He let Whitney decide that the girls should take on more feminine activities. Well, look where that got us.”

  “Sam.”

  He ignored her tone, lowered himself onto a chair, then gingerly felt his chest. “I think it’s easing up some.”

  “You better be sure of it before you take on Nick and those riding lessons.”

  He acquiesced. “Good point. Did I hear Murt out here?”

  “Colt’s doing.”

  “That’s Colt in a nutshell. A step ahead of a game he’s not supposed to be playing. When the girls get on the bus, we should talk about the situation in the cabin.”

  “You’re right. I’ve been putting it off and that seems weak.”

  “There’s nothing weak about you and nothing wrong with a woman protecting her family.” Sam hushed when the girls came back down the hall to grab their jackets from the lower hooks.

  “Thank you, Sam.” Angelina pulled on her fleece-lined coat and hat, then grabbed the car keys. “Let me get the girls to the bus and we’ll talk. First, take your pills. Doctor’s orders.”

  “An annoying bunch of know-it-alls.” Sam scowled but downed the pills with a glass of water. As the girls hurried through the door, Angelina slid a mug of fresh coffee his way. He smiled, sniffed, and smiled again. “I missed this, Angelina. Nothing like this at Slater Memorial.”

  “I’ll get you breakfast when I come back in. Rest.”

  “I’ve been resting,” he retorted as he stood carefully. “Doc says I need to move, so that’s an order I can work with. Putting eggs on a plate isn’t all that taxing.”

  She touched his hand. “Good point. And I’ll try not to baby you too much, but it’s important that we take care of you.”

  “Thank you.” Gratitude laced his words, a much-needed new step for the Stafford patriarch. “We’re lucky to have you.”

  “Blessed,” she corrected him lightly. “Luck had nothing to do with my arrival, and no matter what happens now, I’m putting it in God’s hands. He’s served us well so far.”

  Sam didn’t argue. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  “Will do.”

  —

  By the time she got back up the driveway, Sam was dressed. He poured himself a second cup of coffee and indicated the chair next to him. “Fill me in.”

  “I’ve gotten a roundabout offer from Seattle.”

  “It’s either an offer or it isn’t,” Sam grumbled. “And why you think going back there is a good idea is beyond me.”

  “It’s not the place.” She covered his hand with hers, and the feel of his thinning skin was cause for concern. “I love it here. And the thought of raising Noah here is so very tempting, but I have my mother to consider. My son and I are all she has. I have to consider not only my wishes, but hers.”

  “You’re not just a housekeeper here, you know.” Sam pronounced the edict as if increasing her job responsibilities made everything better, and in his world, it probably did. “You’re like a house manager. And maybe Isabo could learn to like Gray’s Glen if she wasn’t stuck in the woods like a hermit.”

  She laughed. “Semantics, my friend. And don’t get me wrong, running this place isn’t a cakewalk. We both know that. But I miss being on the force. Being part of a team, combining forces for truth, justice, and the American way. And my mother is missing her friends and her life in the city. Being where she and my father lived a good life. I have to be fair to her.”

  “I hear what you’re saying.” His thoughtful tone was quite removed from his normal hard-core demeanor. “I wish I’d put family first long ago. I didn’t, and there’s the devil’s own to pay for it now. But there’s no place like these hills to raise kids, Angelina.” He hesitated, glancing at his mug, then back up at her. “And I don’t want you to go.”

  “Well, it’s only an idea at the moment. You opened your home and your heart to me when I showed up here, and I won’t ever forget that.” She smiled when he covered her hand with his. “When I left the force, I wasn’t seeing clearly. I had a baby and a widowed mother, two game changers. There were too many things going on, too many emotions. All I could see were images of my father, bleeding in the street, with no one around to hold him or care for him. A man who took care of so many died alone. How could I risk a similar end for my mother or my son? I didn’t know how to deal with that, so I ran scared.”

  Sam gave her hand one last squeeze and stood. “Scared? Or smart? There’s a reason God gave us fear and intuition, and it’s not stupid to pay attention.” He set his mug on the breakfast bar as the kitchen phone rang.
“I’m going to rest a bit. And pray that you stay here. Selfish or not, that’s what I’m aiming for.”

  His honesty was touching but did nothing to ease her choices. “I’m glad you’re willing to rest. It’s about time.” She saw the neighbor’s name on the phone display and said, “I need to get this.”

  He nodded and shuffled in the direction of his room. She took a calming breath before answering the phone. “Lucy, how’s Belle? Is she doing better?”

  “She is. I wanted to thank you again for your help.”

  “It was nothing. I was glad to do it. How’s the van?”

  “In the shop. Sal’s working on it, then dropping it off here later today. It’s got issues, some major, some less than major. I’m hoping a few Band-Aids and duct tape will keep it on the road for another year.”

  “Ouch.” The comparison between the ranch and their neighbors hit Angelina square. The ranch had a fleet of vehicles while Lucy scraped by trying to keep one old rust-bucket van on the road. “Lucy, I was just about to go to town. Do you need anything?”

  “I hate to ask, but yes.”

  “Give me a list,” Angelina told her. “I’ll grab whatever you need.”

  “Thank you, Angelina. I’m so glad you’re nearby.”

  “Me too.”

  She jotted down the few items Lucy named and figured if a few extra things found their way into Lucy’s bags, that wouldn’t be a bad thing.

  She ignored the kitchen mess and scribbled Sam a note to let him know where she was going. Helping Lucy was the kind of thing neighbors were supposed to do. She loved that about Kittitas County. When she got back she’d clean the kitchen, make beds, scrub toilets, and see to the laundry while cooking and baking.

  Tomorrow you can do it all again. And again the next day. And the next…

  She clamped down on the pity party, recognizing the source of her unrest. She loved Sam, she loved the ranch, but she missed the challenge of putting her hard-won skills to work. Her mother’s unhappiness added guilt to the increasing load. She needed to fix things, but what should she do? What choice should she make?