“This is church?” Noah looked around, surprised. “Where are the kids?”
“Sitting with their families,” Angelina whispered. “Being quiet.”
Noah glanced around. “When do we play?”
Colt coughed on purpose. Angelina’s quick look warned him to keep his opinion to himself, then whispered an answer. “Afterward. Right now it’s quiet prayer time.”
“For everybody?” He burrowed closer into Colt’s side. The big cowboy couldn’t deny how nice it was to have a little cowpoke seek shelter in his arms. He bent to explain what was going to happen even though it had been a long time since he’d darkened the door of a church for a regular service. The guitar player in the front left began picking out notes. As the congregation stood and began singing the beloved, familiar tune, Colt leaned close to Noah’s ear. “Do you want to stand on your own or would you like me to hold you?”
The boy snuggled closer.
Colt’s heart melted further. He toughened it quickly. He was starting to get comfortable with this old/new routine. Early to bed, early to rise, great food, a beautiful woman who wore faith like New York women wore black blazers, and the feel of a child tucked close beneath his chin.
Yeah. He could get used to this if he let himself, so he wouldn’t allow that to happen.
An hour later, after the reverend brought the service to a close, Noah jumped off Colt’s lap when two school-aged boys raced across the aisle toward them. He stared up at the bigger boys, almost dancing with excitement.
“Miz Angie, I did just what you said, and I closed my eyes before Mom turned out the light,” the smaller boy said, “and I wasn’t one bit scared!”
“And I made sure the cat had food and water every day,” asserted the bigger boy proudly. Behind them a petite little girl dimpled as she peeked around the bigger boy’s arm.
“And I only wet the bed once this week,” she whispered. The look on her face, like dry sheets were the world’s most amazing accomplishment, reminded Colt of Trey when he first came to the Double S. Trey’s mother had been Sam’s younger sister. She was a party girl who married a drug user, and by the time Trey was a toddler, his clueless parents shared a deep addiction. A bad mix of street cocaine killed them both, leaving three-year-old Trey orphaned. Sam brought the little guy to the Double S—a scared, sad bedwetter who’d been neglected by the two who should have loved him most. Sam adopted Trey, making him the third motherless child to call the Double S home.
The Staffords had been a poor substitute for normal, but at least Trey had clean sheets each night, a home on a thriving ranch, and the affection of several housekeepers over the years. Not perfect, no. But not as bad as living with drug-addicted parents in a hovel in Oakland.
He made a mental note to call Trey once they got home, see how he was doing. He’d let their relationship slide, and that was wrong. He was the oldest. He should be the mainstay.
Angelina closed the distance between them and bent to the little girl’s level. “Belle, that’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you! And now I have someone I want you guys to meet.” Angelina embraced the little girl with one arm, then drew Noah close on the other side. Her long dark hair fell over her front shoulder into an oblique beam of stained-glass light. The refracted ray sent colors shimmering across her shoulders like crazed, dancing, animated fairies. She looked up, and the rainbow patch shifted to her cheek.
Colt couldn’t breathe. Holding Noah through the service, seeing Angelina and the children, surrounded by the sights and sounds of the past he’d walked away from, he had a sudden and desperate need for air. He broke the connection, turned, and headed for the door.
“Colt, you remember Mrs. Iudicci, don’t you?” Sam had stopped just ahead, blocking his path.
It was either frog-leap his father or pause and suck it up while exchanging pleasantries with the former elementary school nurse. “Of course.” He stuck out his hand, wondering why he’d thought coming to church was a good idea. He’d walked away from this, all this, long ago, and he had no intention of getting caught up in the suffocating small-town atmosphere he’d labeled “unimportant” when he graduated from Wharton. “It’s been a long time, ma’am.”
She clasped his hand in both of hers. “Too long!” She smiled up at him and then his father before releasing his hand and admonishing him. “Now we just need Trey back.”
Sam shook his head. “Not likely, I’m afraid. He’s busy—”
Colt cleared his throat, and his father stopped midsentence, then sighed.
“What I mean is,” Sam confessed, “I was a jerk when he wanted to explore music and move to Nashville, and he probably wants nothing to do with me. Understandably.”
That his father admitted this to the elderly woman was astonishing. She reached a hand to Sam’s shoulder and said, “A man who sings of love and forgiveness with the grace of Trey Walker Stafford won’t let too many more suns go down without setting things right. Trey loves God. It’s plain in everything he does. He’ll be back.”
“I hope so.” Longing and exhaustion thinned Sam’s voice.
Colt put a hand under his arm. If you’d asked him a few weeks back if he thought he’d ever be helping his father out of church on a Sunday morning, he’d have fallen down laughing. But here he was. Obviously he didn’t know as much as he thought he did. “We’ve got the Bennetts coming for dinner, Dad. If we don’t get back to the ranch, they’ll be visiting an empty table.”
“I won’t keep you,” Mrs. Iudicci said. “Go with God and enjoy this beautiful day.”
The sun’s higher angle promised spring. Water dripped from gutters and trees, and the thick blizzard snow had diminished to thin lines on north-facing slopes. Beneath the church’s overhang, tiny green spikes from hearty flowers tested the warmth, tempting fate this early in the year.
“Mr. Colt!”
He turned. Angelina and their widowed neighbor were walking his way, deep in conversation.
Not Noah.
He raced along the sidewalk, then launched himself into Colt’s arms when Colt bent low. “Hey, bud. Whadja think?” Colt jerked his thumb toward the emptying church as the two women drew closer.
Noah threw his arms wide. “I l-loved it so much! Not at first.” He leaned close, whispering. “I don’t really like being quiet, but when those big boys said hi to me, it was so much fun!”
“Well, it’s pretty special when a little dude gets noticed by the big guys, I agree.” He hugged the boy close. So close. For just a moment the roles were reversed, and it was Cole being hugged outside the pretty stone church, caught and cherished in the loving arms of his mother.
He sighed, and when Angelina drew close, he turned.
She smiled at the boy, or maybe it was the sight of him holding Noah that inspired her look. He’d be okay with that.
He turned more fully toward the woman with Angelina and extended his hand. “I’m Colt Stafford, Mrs. Carlton.”
She looked uncertain, then accepted the gesture. “It’s Lucy, please.”
“Lucy.” He smiled down at the three kids, all of whom seemed to have taken a sudden vow of silence. “Nice to meet our nearest neighbor. You did all right in the storm, I hope?”
Surprise flitted across her face, as if the last thing she expected was to have a Stafford ask after her well-being. “We managed, thank you. The boys helped me shovel out.”
Regret hit Colt square. He’d never considered checking on neighbors, helping them move the heavy, wet snowfall. “I’m sorry. I should have thought of that, ma’am. Next time, for sure.”
“Which, hopefully, won’t be until next year,” Angelina said. “I’m ready for a change of seasons.”
“Me too.” Lucy glanced up. “The higher sun feels especially nice.”
“It does.” Angelina stooped to say good-bye to Lucy’s brood. “I’ll bring Noah over on Tuesday, okay? We’ll have a little time together before I need to get back and make supper.”
“Okay!”
“Sure!�
� The boys looked excited at the prospect. Colt found out why when the younger one asked, “Will you bring us cookies again? Because they were really good, Miss Angie!”
“It’s not polite to ask!” The older boy smacked the younger boy’s arm. “You’re embarrassing Mom.”
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
Colt turned back to Lucy. “Rye Bennett is bringing Brendan and Jenna over this afternoon for dinner and some time on the ranch. Would you like to bring the kids by?”
Lucy squirmed. “No, but thank you. It’s very kind of you to ask—”
“I’d like to go!” Now it was the older boy having his say. “How come we don’t ever get to do anything?”
Lucy gave him a mother-knows-best look. “Perhaps another time. And that’s not how you talk to your mother. Ever.”
“I’ve been wanting to see the big house for a very long time.” The second boy groaned the words in a most convincing fashion, as if he might run out of air by being denied his heart’s desire.
“I’ll wait.” The little girl whispered the phrase and dimpled up at Colt. “I’ll come over when Mommy says it’s okay.”
The boys didn’t like being shown up by their little sister. Grumbling, they trudged off to a minivan that had seen its best day a decade before. Lucy watched them go, and when they were safely in the van, she turned back. “I appreciate the invitation, Mr. Stafford.”
“Colt.”
She accepted that graciously. “Colt. Though I’m not sure everyone in your family would embrace our presence.”
She meant his father. Colt breathed deep. “You’d have been right a few months ago. Let’s just say Angelina has managed to have an unexpected effect and there’s been a change of heart up at the Double S.”
“That would be an answer to a lot of prayers,” Lucy told him softly. She glanced at the valley town surrounding them. “This should be a great place to raise a family, but divisiveness makes poor seed ground. I’d love to see the community working together. Not split apart.”
“I agree.” Angelina hugged Lucy good-bye. “I’ll see you on Tuesday. I won’t have too long to visit. Long enough for Noah and Belle to play and for him to have a few minutes with the boys.”
“You take the time you need,” Isabo said as she approached them. She’d gone to the bank of flickering votive candles in a secluded corner of the rustic church while Sam had walked ahead to the SUV. She came alongside them in time to hear Angelina’s last words. “I’ll make supper, and Noah can have time with other children. As it should be. But now we should go because Sam looks so very tired.”
“He does.” Colt held Angelina’s door open for her, then circled the car to do the same for her mother. “We’ll see you again, Lucy.”
“Of course.” Lucy waved good-bye and took Belle’s hand before walking toward her van. Once everyone was in the SUV, Colt deliberately waited to make sure Lucy’s van started. It did, but from the sound of it, it wasn’t going to start much longer. He pulled away, made a U-turn, and headed back up the hill toward the ranch, but his brain was busy dissecting what he’d seen so far.
Gray’s Glen needed jobs. It needed an energetic shot in the arm to get the wheels moving faster and without mishap. Jobs and small businesses were the rootstock of a successful community. But how to get them was another question altogether. Two small manufacturing plants had closed down long ago. The sprinkling of successful shops were long-established, family-owned businesses.
He mulled the situation as he made the turn up the ranch drive. He pulled up to the side porch and glanced at his father in the rearview mirror. Sam’s head lolled to one side. He jerked it back, fighting sleep, but Colt was pretty sure fatigue would win this round. He stepped out, rounded the car, and helped his father into the house. Should Sam be so exhausted by something as simple as attending services? Colt didn’t think so.
He helped Sam to his room, and when his father had collapsed onto the bed and fallen sound asleep, Colt went upstairs to call his brother Trey.
“Colt? What’s up? Is everything okay?” Surprise and concern hiked Trey’s voice, because having Colt call him in the middle of the day…or ever…wasn’t the norm. If anything, Colt would shoot off a text now and again.
“Does there have to be something wrong for me to call you?”
“Generally. What’s going on?”
“I think it’s time for a visit, Trey.”
A long moment of silence followed his words, then Trey’s voice came through softer. “Dad’s that bad?”
“I’m no doctor, but this injury and illness are taking a toll, and I don’t see him getting better.”
“He left a message on my voice mail the other day. Just to talk, he said. I never got back to him.”
“Well.” Colt breathed deep. “It’s probably a good idea to make that call, Trey. There’ve been a lot of changes around here.”
“As in?”
“He’s sick and he’s found God. He says he intends to make things right on multiple levels, which tells me the Grim Reaper’s got him scared spitless.”
“The late harvesters,” Trey muttered. “They always come back to bite you in the butt.”
“Huh?”
“A parable about not expecting equality. Jesus. Bible. New Testament. You remember that stuff, don’t you? A smattering, at least?”
Trey was the kind of Bible thumper Colt could get along with. Never shoving, always musing, quietly inspirational, and genuinely funny. Sitting there on the edge of the bed, he realized how much he missed his younger brother. What a jerk he was for letting so much time slip away. “I remember. Why don’t you show up here and remind me some more? I could use a dose of your common sense, Trey.”
“That’s no surprise,” Trey replied, and he sounded downright cheerful saying it. “I’ll make arrangements.”
“Arrangements? What arrangements?”
“A room, a place to stay. The Glen Hollow Inn is still nice, isn’t it?”
“You’ll stay right here,” Colt ordered. “There’s plenty of room, and this is your home.”
“I got tossed out when I moved to Nashville, remember?”
Colt scoffed. “We’ve all gotten tossed out. Big deal. Stay here, Trey. Really. The only way to get a feel for what’s going down is to be in the thick of it. Dad’s illness, a bossy new house manager who makes everyone pray before meals. We’re right up your alley now.”
“I’ll consider it,” Trey promised. His voice deepened. “And honestly, Colt, you’re surprising me. You sound…” He paused as if groping for words. “Different. Almost happy. I didn’t expect that. I like it.”
“Bad connection,” Colt replied smoothly. “Come visit, climb on a horse, and we’ll see if we can attract some pretty girl action.”
Trey laughed out loud. “I can do without the girl action. I’m ready for a little time off.”
“That’s right, you’ve got scores of women throwing their phone numbers at you, waiting at the back door to scream and wave and faint. I forgot how rough that is.”
Thick silence met his teasing, and when Trey replied, Colt heard the longing in his voice. “It’s not about numbers, Colt. It’s never been about numbers.”
“I know, bro. I was messing with you. Come hang out here for a bit. We’ve got the best food in the world, Nick’s girls need to meet their famous uncle—”
“Unlike you, Nick actually came to my Seattle concert last year—with the girls.”
“I went to the one at Madison Square Garden three years ago,” Colt shot back. “Nothing holds a candle to MSG.”
“Because it was practically next door, with the least possible effort expended,” Trey reminded him. “I’ll get back to you about coming. But you’re right, Colt. It’s time to set things right, and God doesn’t work on man’s schedule. He’s got his own calendar, and it would be plain stupid of me to run out of time.”
“You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless unti
l it rests in you.”
Restless. Yes. The perfect word with an imperfect solution. Saint Augustine sure did know what he was talking about, Angelina decided. She gripped the top rail of the fence and watched as Jenna worked a horse in the adjacent arena. Brendan hadn’t wanted to ride, but when Hobbs offered to take him uphill in the ATV, he’d jumped at the chance to climb aboard. Rye came alongside her, holding an insulated cup of coffee. “Your mother is a wonderful person. She gave me coffee and a monster-sized hunk of pumpkin roll.”
“Did she mention she accidentally tripled half the ingredients, so she had enough for six full rolls once we discovered the mistake and fixed it?” Angelina slanted a smile his way. “We’ve got three to eat and three in the freezer.”
“Don’t much care why she’s generous,” Rye drawled. “Just that she is. Nice that she’s staying here with you guys, Angelina.” He winked and sipped his coffee. “And the mystery kid’s a total bonus.”
“Rye.” She sighed. “I knew you’d call me out on this because you’re good at your job.” She watched as Noah clung to the saddle horn, then said, “He’s only a mystery to you. Not to me. That’s what counts, right?”
“Hey.” He shrugged, gazing outward. “I don’t know what your story is, but here’s what I do know. I came back to town at the worst possible time in my life. I left a job I loved in Chicago because this is where I was needed. Folks told me about you—the housekeeper up at the ranch who makes a difference.”
She flushed and looked away.
“And then I got a report of an unknown little kid being treated by Doc Humphreys last fall. Brought in by his Hispanic grandmother.”
“So much for HIPAA rules,” Angelina muttered as Colt led Noah around the far corner of the ring.
“Doc said nothing. He and Sam go way back. He’d never throw Sam under the bus. It was a not-so-well-meaning local who thought the kid and his grandma might be illegals.”
“Like that’s a rarity at apple-harvest time. And all Hispanics look alike, of course.”
He ignored her remark and leaned against the fence. “I asked around. No one knew anything. It didn’t seem to be a big deal, so I let it go. Now, four months later, we’ve got new folks living at the Double S. A grandmother and grandson—a kid you never mentioned. When mothers don’t mention kids, it makes a cop wonder why.”
Back in the Saddle Page 14
