“Are you going to be back late?”
“Um—I’m not sure.” Gabriella didn’t want to stay out long, but she recalled the last time Marshall escorted her to his favorite restaurant.
The cowboy slid a cell phone out of his pocket. “What’s your number?”
She gave it to him and told him her first name.
“Mind if I call you Gabby?” He chuckled.
She glared at him. “I don’t accept shortcuts or derogatory nicknames. Four syllables are not difficult.”
“Maybe not for you because you shoot them out with the force and speed of an automatic weapon.” A huge smile lit up his face, and she found herself temporarily dazzled.
He gave her his number. “I’ll order what Harley needs and have it delivered.”
The horn blared again.
“Impatient, isn’t he?” Seth glowered as he put the phone to his ear.
“I’ll explain the situation to him...” Gabriella was overwhelmed by a dreadful urge to rip out the wires in Marshall’s car so his horn never worked again. She counted to ten to calm down but it didn’t work, so she kept going until she reached thirty. Meanwhile, her feet complained about the ridiculous blue stilettos and aggravated her mood.
She knocked on the window of Marshall’s car. It slid down.
“What are you doing in the barn? I have a reservation,” he growled.
“Harley is ill. The vet is ordering medication. Please be patient.”
“Didn’t you hear me? They’ll give the table to someone else if we don’t arrive on time.”
“Make another reservation for a later time.” She smiled as sweetly as possible considering how the pain in her feet had worked its way up to her calves. She went back to the barn where the cowboy swept sand onto a shovel.
“Someone brought the beach right here.” He dumped the sand into a garbage can.
Gabriella shivered and drew the fur more tightly about her. “I can’t believe anyone would hurt Harley intentionally. He’s such a sweet creature.”
“He needs warm water to drink,” the cowboy said.
Gabriella thought of breaking her date with Marshall, but he wouldn’t take it well. “I’ll help out as soon as I return, but in the meantime, you can get the water from the guest house—the building next to the barn. I’ll get the key for you.”
“I’d appreciate that, ma’am.” He tipped his cowboy hat.
She stared at him with an open mouth. She met plenty of men who fancied themselves cowboys because they drove pickup trucks. However, Seth behaved in the same manner as the stereotypical image viewed in old movies or ancient television shows. She had watched many of those classics when she was a child. His behavior was corny and sweet. Was it real?
Was he Grammy’s grandson? The handwriting on the back of the photo was unmistakably Grammy’s own. Seth resembled photos of his long absent father, but why was he here? To stake his claim on the property? To contest her Power of Attorney?
Anxiety gripped her, but she set off to get the key to the guesthouse, teetering along on her stilettos and wondering about the wicked sexist who invented the torturous footwear. She hurried past Marshall whose favorite soft rock station played loud enough to cause an earthquake. His taste in music reminded her of every dental office she ever visited. Perhaps dentists were required to take a course in appropriate songs for drilling and filling before they received their diploma.
She went through the kitchen door, picked up the keys for the guesthouse, and staggered back to the barn. Her feet screamed in pain. Any minute now, she might fall flat on her face like a drunken clown on a unicycle.
She leaned on a stall rail to steady herself. From the back of the barn, the cowboy sang a sad, sweet lament. The tune washed over her with the gentle warmth of a summer wind. It reminded her of those special times with her parents, Gramps, and Grammy as they sat around a campfire, eating s’mores, and listening to her daddy strum the guitar. Pain stabbed at her heart.
The cowboy went on to sing the chorus of the tune a cappella, without a guitar, simply his voice, which was as good as the chocolate in a s’more—dark, sweet, and meltingly delicious. She licked her lips.
He stepped out of the stall, lifted his gaze, and stopped singing. “Everything I need for Harley will arrive in an hour—except the warm water.”
She held out the key to the guesthouse, fearing to take another step. “I’ll eat quickly and help you the moment I return.”
“No need. I called my buddy, Flint.” He glanced at his watch. “He’ll be here in about fifteen minutes.”
His perfect teeth were as white as marshmallows. Something sparked inside her—an awareness she never experienced until now.
“It’s possible Harley didn’t ingest a dangerous amount of sand—enough to give him a bellyache but not enough to require surgery. Still, he must be monitored to be certain.”
A wave of relief washed through her knowing Harley would be all right for the moment.
Though he limped and used a cane, Seth’s stride narrowed the distance between them in the blink of an eye. “I think you need this cane more than I do with your fancy footwear.”
She sighed and dropped the keys in his hand. “I should have broken in the shoes before tonight.”
“In my opinion you ought to throw them out.”
She stared at the beautiful, shiny stilettos. “Wearing these makes me three inches taller.”
“Some men like petite women.” He winked.
Her heart did a little flip.
The blast of the car horn made her jump. “Marshall’s got reservations.”
The cowboy’s eyes narrowed. “And no patience.”
“B-but...well, I better hurry.” She turned and stumbled.
He caught her and saved her from a fall. Steadying her with his hands on her arms, his dark chocolate eyes stared into hers. “Change the shoes.”
Mesmerized, she nodded obediently, but reality set in and she shook her head. “Marshall will blow the horn again.”
“I’ll speak to him.”
In pain and in danger of breaking an ankle, her lips quivered. She realized she might never make it as far as Marshall’s car without assistance.
As she wobbled toward the porch, Seth’s hand closed over hers. She stiffened. Most people cringed at the sight of her scarred flesh—as if she had a disease and they feared catching it. She swallowed hard. His skin was warm, and though calloused, his gentle touch reassured her.
She took off the heels as soon as she reached the first step.
“You’ve got a blister there on your heel. Wash it well with soap, put on antibiotic ointment and a bandage.”
“But Marshall—”
“He’ll wait.” He smiled.
Chapter Three
“Who is he?” Marshall asked once they pulled onto the highway.
Gabriella thought the dentist resembled a fire-breathing dragon. She could almost see steam coming out of his mouth—even though it wasn’t cold in the car.
“He’s a vet,” Gabriella replied with a measure of calm she did not feel. “No other veterinarians were available and poor Harley is suffering.” Her eyes misted, but she blinked away the tears.
“Those animals are worthless.” Marshall had badgered her constantly about the alpacas and insisted she should sell Grammy’s land to a developer.
Tonight, she refused to argue with him and an uncomfortable silence lingered in the car. The anticipated snow began to fall, and by the time they reached the trendy restaurant, the ground was coated with white.
Despite Marshall calling ahead to update their reservation, he did not get the table he originally wanted, the one with the view of the duck pond. They were squeezed into a corner booth.
“This is ugly and plebeian,” he complained. “Reminds me of a pub.”
“It’s warm and cozy. It would be chilly by the window.” Gabriella studied the menu. She decided upon shrimp scampi. Marshall ordered steak and lobster tails, whic
h is what he always ordered. With Marshall, there were never any surprises. He was as predictable as snow in winter.
When the waiter left them, Marshall probed for more information about Seth.
“He claims he’s Grammy’s grandson. Grammy’s son ran off with some woman and she only heard from him a few times until she lost contact.” Gabriella always wondered how much money Grammy had sent to her son. Had it been a great deal or only a small amount? Had he deliberately cut ties because he didn’t want to pay her back?
Marshall narrowed his eyes. “You should have called the cops.”
“Seth strongly resembles the photos of Keith.” Gabriella sighed, toyed with the golden corncob saltshaker, and prayed for calm. Marshall never trusted anyone. Of course, she knew nothing about the cowboy vet, but Harley’s faith in him was evident, which was good enough for her. Harley spit at Marshall.
She decided to change the topic. “I had a wonderful time with Grammy yesterday. She told me how to make sweet potatoes like she always made.”
“You mean she was lucid?”
“For a few minutes. That happens sometimes.” Gabriella smiled. Grammy hadn’t changed. She was as charming as ever.
“I can’t understand why you visit her so much. Half the time, she has no idea who you are.”
“Now and again, she does. Besides, I love her. She and Gramps fought to get me out of foster care.” The memory of those dark times still haunted her. She had come close to losing all hope.
“The settlement in your parents’ deaths left you plenty of money.”
“Gramps and Grammy hired the best lawyers available and it took years for everything to be resolved in my favor, but my parents are still dead.” Her throat tightened.
“If you had invested the money instead of sinking it all into the greenhouse and the old carriage house, you would have had a considerable fortune by now.”
She lifted her chin and glared at him. “Since last year, my profits have doubled, and with weddings lined up for every weekend from April until September, I will undoubtedly do even better this year.”
“You should sell while prices are high. The market is too volatile. Next year, the property might be worthless.”
“I will not own the farm until Grammy dies.” She had mentioned this fact to Marshall more than once. Obviously, he had a very thick skull.
Their salads arrived and conversation ceased, which was a blessing as far as she was concerned. Marshall, in his expensive, tailored clothes, took her to nice places, but the rough edges beneath his suave exterior grated on her nerves.
Still, Marshall insisted she wouldn’t find anyone else better than him and she came to accept the truth of his words. Most men freaked out when they saw her hands. At the age of twenty-five, she decided all she needed was someone to take her out once in a while for an occasional date, which Marshall did.
She would not marry him unless she could manage to change him, which didn’t look promising at the moment. He did not want children because he claimed it was too expensive to raise them. She wanted three children, or even four—God willing. Marshall also made snide remarks about Italian culture. He said he was only teasing her, but he wasn’t. His priorities in life differed from hers in many ways.
Fortunately, they finished supper and he did not propose again. She thanked him for the fine meal and felt grateful it came to an end with no awkward surprises.
Her composure turned to dismay when she discovered how high the snow had piled up while they ate. “The roads will be slippery and dangerous.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got four-wheel drive.” He pulled out onto the highway and drove at the same speed he would use for a dry road on a sunny day.
A few miles later, the car spun around a few times and slid toward a bridge abutment. While Marshall swore, she protected her face with her arms. The sound of the crash was impressive, but the airbags and seatbelts worked. After she pushed away the airbag, Gabriella was relieved to discover she didn’t have a scratch on her.
Meanwhile, Marshall filled the interior of the damaged vehicle with every swear word ever invented.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
“No!” Marshall shouted before he went into another tirade about the idiotic highway department placing the bridge’s concrete support in an inconvenient place.
Gabriella sent up a prayer of thanks, since neither of them were injured, though she could not stop shaking. She stepped out of the car to check the damage. From the look of it, Marshall’s car was in no condition to go anywhere. He got on his phone and started shouting at people.
She stood underneath the relative shelter of the bridge and called Seth.
“Hi. How’s Harley? Did you get the supplies you need for him?”
“Yes, I did, and my friend, Flint, is here with me. Harley is doing better. He’s comfortable now and I’m sure he’ll be able to rest well tonight.”
“Thanks so much.” Relief flowed through her until she turned to see a police car approaching with sirens blaring and lights blazing.
“Something the matter there?” Seth asked.
“I guess it will be a while yet before I get back. A bridge abutment got in the way of Marshall’s car.”
“Are you both all right? Do you need help?”
The genuine concern in his voice set her lip quivering. She was ankle-deep in snow so her feet were frozen. Without a hat, her head was cold as well. It would be a very, very long time before a tow truck arrived.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you mind picking me up?”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” His soothing tone helped warm her feet a little—or maybe her imagination went into overdrive.
“Go slow. The roads are slippery,” she warned.
“I grew up in Colorado.” He chuckled.
She thanked him and ended the call. Meanwhile, the policeman listened politely to Marshall’s explanation of why his car was embedded in the bridge abutment.
She pulled the collar of the fur coat up and continued shivering while the old dark fears edged into her mind. She wanted to get home, wrap herself in one of Grammy’s colorful afghans, sit at the computer, and study the prices of dehydration machines for her overabundance of chives. However, the alpacas came first. She must see if Harley was doing as well as Seth claimed and she needed to pay the vet for his services. Afterward, she planned to call the nursing home to check how Grammy’s day had gone.
The policeman asked her some questions, too, and noticed a bruise on her leg. She assured him it was nothing. The policeman set up a few flares and left when another emergency call came in.
The pickup truck with the Colorado plates appeared about fifteen minutes later and pulled behind the mangled remains of Marshall’s car.
Gabriella wanted to jump for joy, but her feet had turned into solid ice. Seth climbed out of the truck. She waved to him.
“Thanks again for the delightful dinner, Marshall.” She smiled as wide as her frozen lips would allow. “I’m sorry your car is wrecked, but the insurance should help you in purchasing another.”
“Are you leaving me here?” he shouted.
“The tow truck will be along soon and I can’t keep the alpacas waiting.” She turned to go.
Marshall grabbed her arm. “You’re not going anywhere with that cowboy.”
“Take your hand off me,” she demanded.
His lips thinned. He applied more pressure to her arm. It hurt.
Fear knotted inside her, but she raised her voice. “Let go!”
“You heard the lady.” Seth stood next to her.
Marshall swore and released her. Since she had been trying to pull away from him, her balance was off and she nearly toppled over. Seth caught her in time with only one hand. The sinews in his arm had the tensile strength of steel.
Marshall uttered a string of obscenities and climbed into the mangled mess of his once luxurious vehicle.
“He needs his mouth washed out with soap,�
�� Seth drawled.
“Grammy would say the same thing.”
“Sounds like my kind of gal.” He put his arm around her shoulder. “If you don’t mind my asking, where’d you meet him?”
“A friend of mine hosted a party.” She shrugged as they walked to the truck. “Usually, Marshall’s quite cultured and knowledgeable on a variety of topics.”
“I would never have guessed.”
“I suppose he gave you a bad first impression.”
“Even worse second.”
“He’s a dentist, you know.”
“Yes, he made me aware of his superiority when I spoke to him while you changed your shoes.”
Gabriella nodded. Marshall’s elevated opinion about himself annoyed many people. “He should count his blessings since neither of us are hurt.”
“There’s a bruise on your leg.”
“It’ll be gone in a few days.”
“I doubt it.” He opened the door to the truck and helped her climb into the cab.
She settled into the seat and relished the heat blowing on her at maximum blast. The moment her toes began to defrost, they hurt so bad she kicked off her shoes and rubbed them.
Seth climbed in awkwardly. “My hip ain’t broken into yet.” He chuckled. “Sort of like your high heels.”
“Did you have surgery?”
“Yep. One of the meanest bulls I ever had the misfortune to meet decided I needed a new hip.”
“He trampled you?” Gabriella was horrified. Cows frightened her. They were big and stubborn. Alpacas were so much nicer.
“He intended to trample my buddy, Flint. I made an attempt to change his mind, but the bull did not take my suggestion well.” His wide grin held a touch of foolhardy bravery mixed in with a blaze of glory and melted more of the frozen parts of her.
“Do you compete in rodeo? I thought you were a veterinarian.”
“I got a rodeo scholarship to college. My specialty was saddle bronc riding. I hung on ʼcause it paid the bills.” He shrugged. “Never liked bull riding because it’s crazy, but I usually managed to distract a bull from killing his rider. Except this particular New Jersey bull was the orneriest critter I ever met.”
The Cowboy's Miracle Page 2
