The Cowboy's Miracle

by Penelope Marzec

  “I planned to stop in to see her tomorrow after the crew goes home for the day.” She tapped her fingers rhythmically on the table and studied the flames in the fireplace.

  He stared at her hands and a deep sense of pity welled up in him.

  Suddenly, her hands disappeared under the table. He frowned. It seemed obvious she was very sensitive about the state of her damaged hands.

  “May I join you when you go?” he asked.

  She crossed her arms, tucking her hands out of sight. “On one condition. You must not tell her you’re her grandson.”

  He clamped his jaw so hard the muscles twitched but he figured he had to play by her rules. She knew his grandmother. He didn’t. But he added, “I do not intend to hand her a pen and ask her to sign another will.”

  Her tone turned glacial. “I am only concerned with her mental status. I don’t want to upset her.”

  He nodded. “I spent all my years growing up unaware of any other relatives besides my father. Everyone else had grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Holidays were kind of lonely.” He was the kid nobody wanted. It never took long for his father’s girlfriends to decide against an instant family.

  She hung her head. The lush fall of her hair hid her features from him, but her words held an edge of sorrow. “There are relatives in Italy I’ve never met, but they weren’t much use to me when my parents died. As my godparents, Gramps and Grammy didn’t have any legal responsibility since my parents had no will. However, Grammy and Gramps got a lawyer and eventually were awarded custody. They sent me to college. They also hired a team of lawyers to make those responsible for my parentsʼ deaths pay for their mistake.”

  His curiosity ramped up, but before he thought of a gentle way to ask about the manner of her parents’ death, she busied herself with putting the dishes in the sink.

  “It’s late and I’ve still got stuff to do, but keep the pepperoni bread. Do you know the old song ‘Oh, My Darling Clementine?’” She spilled out all the words so quickly, it took his mind a moment to put it altogether. People in New Jersey spoke as if they were in a hurry—all the time.

  “That’s a genuine antique.” He picked up the guitar. “Only two chords, C and G7. Easy. Are you going to sing along?” He strummed the first chord.

  “Can you deal with my terrible voice?”

  “You have a golden throat.” He winked and was pleased to detect a pink tinge glowing on her cheeks.

  They sang every verse as she tidied up the kitchen area. Images of good times flashed through his mind—camping trips with the Boy Scouts, camping out at rodeos, and some awesome parties when he was an undergrad. He enjoyed the company of many friends until his father’s scam turned him into a pariah.

  When he glanced up, he caught Gabriella dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a tissue.

  “Did the song make you cry?” He stopped playing the guitar.

  “No, no. It was wonderful. Well, I’ll get along now. Sleep tight. I’ll see you in the morning. Thanks for taking care of Harley and picking me up on the highway. You’re really quite something.” She turned to rush out the door.

  “Hey! Don’t forget the drawstring,” he called.

  She ran out as if she didn’t hear him.

  He toyed with the long cord for a moment. Tomorrow, he would meet his grandmother. Would she resemble his father? Would she quote Shakespeare? Would she attempt to sell him worthless stock? If she was a horrible mother, he could understand why his father had cut all ties with her. However, Gabriella thought of her as a wonderful person—and if she had taken in an orphan, she demonstrated true compassion.

  He sighed. Curiosity brought him here, but now he must find living quarters and a job.

  A hint of Gabriella’s perfume lingered in the room. The warm and comforting scent teased his senses, but all women smelled good. It was another one of their tricks. Women were not to be trusted. After all, his mother left him. His father’s girlfriends vanished. Seth’s long-time girlfriend blocked him from calling the moment the scandal involving his father hit the newswire.

  He drummed the belly of the guitar. While Gabriella was kind to him tonight, she had her reasons. Evidently, the alpaca meant more to her than any fear she had of him walking away with the Holmes’ farm and leaving her empty-handed.

  Still, it disturbed him to watch the way her supposed boyfriend treated her. He sure hoped she didn’t go out with him anymore.

  Chapter Five

  The rumble of an engine roused Seth. For a moment, he forgot where he was, but then he remembered and a sense of something like wonder filled him. He never enjoyed much rest in the rehab facility due to constant noise and too many bright lights, but in the guesthouse, he slept solid without a single dream.

  For the first time in months, he awoke refreshed. He glanced out the window. A foot of snow lay on the ground. Outside the barn, Gabriella commandeered a small tractor with a plow attached in the front. She chugged along the drive, shoving the snow to the side.

  She improved the scenery with her bright, knitted hat and her long, black hair flying behind her. Though she appeared self-sufficient, he didn’t doubt she’d appreciate an extra hand. Shoveling snow would give him a good workout, too, and he sure needed it.

  By the time he stepped out of the guesthouse, she had cleared the entire drive. He waved to her. She drove up to him in the tractor.

  “Did you sleep well?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Got a shovel?”

  “Are you feeling up to it?”

  “Yep.” The cold, fresh air invigorated him.

  She directed him to her stash of snow shovels. He picked out the one with the ergonomic handle and shoveled the walkway to the carriage house and the barn while Gabriella used a snowblower to clear the walk to the main house and the other sidewalk to the greenhouse. Afterwards, he took care of Navigator before checking on Harley and giving him more warm water to drink along with his medication.

  “How’s he doing?” Gabriella asked when she came in to give the alpacas their feed.

  “Less miserable than yesterday.”

  “Is that good or bad?” Her full lips quivered slightly. Unadorned, without any slick color, they appeared soft, tender, and very kissable.

  He took a deep breath and fought his errant urges. Sometimes, he was just plain stupid. He should never focus on her lips. He should know better. “Good for now unless someone tosses sand into his feed again.”

  “I can’t understand how it could happen.”

  “Dumping half the beach into a food trough is not an accident.” He drew the drawstring out of his pocket. “By the way, see if anyone lost this.”

  She took the worn cord in her hand, peered at it, and twisted it around her fingers. “The Happy Hookers decided not to hold a meeting today due to the snow. My crew will be here later than usual since the roads are bad. You may join me for breakfast, although at this point, I suppose it’s more like brunch. I’ll be in the house.”

  “Do you have Wifi?”

  “Don’t you care about food?”

  “Food’s good, but I want to find out if I can ride old Navigator with this new hip.”

  “How new is your hip?”

  “I got it the day after the last rodeo show for the season in Cowtown.”

  “That was in September.”

  “Yep. But I won the prize.” He grinned. He admitted he would miss the glory of it all.

  “How can you be happy about winning the prize when you broke your hip?”

  “I still have some cash.” Enough to get by for a month or so. He hoped.

  “Isn’t being a veterinarian a better way to make money?”

  “From what I hear.”

  “Have you had much practice being a vet?”

  “I’ve had plenty of practice, and I own a bunch of flashy credentials to hang on a wall. The problem is finding the wall.”

  “If you’re looking for office space I can recommend an excellent real estate agent—�
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  He shook his head. She jumped to conclusions faster than a bronc leaped out of the chute.

  “I want to become a part of an already established practice, which is another reason I would be most grateful to you if you allow me to use your Wifi.”

  She invited him to join her in the kitchen after he retrieved his laptop from the truck.

  Before he walked up the steps to the back door, he glanced out over the snowy landscape and prayed for guidance. Though he had run from his notoriety, he had never run from the Lord. Unfortunately, he learned the people in God’s house didn’t practice what they preached. His own reputation was stellar, but his father’s misdeeds tainted his name and those sanctimonious Christians behaved as if Seth was a criminal, too. It cut deep.

  He knocked at the kitchen door.

  “Come in!” Gabriella called.

  He took off his hat and admired the details of the big kitchen—especially the woman at the stove who tossed him a smile. Trusting women was dangerous, but they sure added a special ambiance to any scene.

  “Make yourself comfortable. The password’s on the sticky note.”

  “Thanks.” He sat, glanced at the note on the table, and turned on his laptop. “Whatever you’re cooking smells mighty good.”

  “It’s eggs with polenta and pancetta.”

  “Eggs with what and what?” He squinted in confusion.

  “Polenta is corn meal and pancetta is like bacon but it has spices in it. I love Italian food. My parents ran a pizzeria in town, but Mom made all sorts of Italian dishes for my father and me. I’ve found similar ones online, but I’m constantly trying new ones to find which are closest to those I enjoyed.”

  Her words ran all together as usual with no difference in tone or inflection. He wondered about her parents and whether she would tell him what happened to them. She didn’t. She simply continued her monologue. “Corn and tomatoes came to Italy from America and the Italians incorporated them into their own cuisine. Of course, way back, Marco Polo brought pasta from China to Italy. Such a delightful mingling of cultures and tastes—and yet so specifically Italian.”

  Obviously, she considered food a safe topic, which was good because if she divulged her tale of woe, she would undoubtedly expect to hear his.

  Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains. One of his father’s Shakespearean quotes floated through his mind. It fit the situation, he supposed. He and Gabriella might get along well if they kept conversation to trivial matters.

  “The only Italian cuisine I’ve eaten is pasta and pizza.” He typed in the password and the world was at his fingertips once more.

  “I’m sure there are good Italian restaurants in Colorado.”

  “Between rodeos, college, and vet school, I never had the time or the money for anything fancier than pizza and pasta.” He didn’t doubt his father visited many of the more elegant restaurants while coercing investors to hand him their cash.

  “So now you will experience genuine Italian food.” She slid her creation out of the pan and onto a plate.

  Meanwhile, he watched his email load and groaned. “Who knew I was such a popular guy.” He glanced at the names of lawyers, angry investors, rodeo news, veterinarian news, and spam flying by. No former friends, though.

  “Eat first, check your email later.” She put the plate beside him.

  The aroma started his stomach rumbling. He moved the laptop over and pulled the dish in front of him. “This looks worthy of a blue ribbon.”

  “Thanks.” She poured out coffee and juice. “I appreciate your help with the snow.”

  “Feed me like this and I’ll shovel snow for you anytime.” The dangerous promise was out of his mouth before he considered the implications.

  “I might take you up on that.” She sat, put her hands together, and bowed her head. Again, her prayer was silent.

  He added a soft amen. His father often made quite a show of grace when given the opportunity. Remembering his false piety sickened Seth.

  Gabriella glanced up and smiled. Her beautiful features glowed—without makeup, or any other artifice. Seth wondered why he believed his former girlfriend, the aspiring model, was attractive with the layers of cosmetics on her face.

  “Does breeding the alpacas bring in much income?” Seth’s father thought selling the fleece would make him a fortune.

  “They are pets. Harley is...um...gelded.” She cleared her throat. The color rose in her cheeks.

  He found her embarrassment amusing. What a rarity in these days to find a woman who blushed. “Do you sell their fleece?”

  “I send it out to be spun into yarn and take it to the Cowtown Farmers Market along with my plants, herbs, and so on.”

  “Does the profit keep this farm going?”

  “No, it’s small potatoes, as Grammy would say. The rental of the carriage house for parties, weddings, and meetings is my main source of income. For the weddings, the bride and groom are given the opportunity take a photo with the alpacas. It’s a bit of a gimmick, but it works.”

  Seth frowned. “Sounds exhausting.”

  She shrugged. “Mostly time-consuming, but I enjoy it. This place is like New York’s Penn Station at rush hour on many occasions. I’m rarely lonely.”

  He had no inclination to visit New York’s Penn Station. He’d passed through several large cities, working his way east, and he preferred wide vistas and open roads. So did Navigator.

  A knock came at the door, startling them both.

  “Excuse me.” Gabriella left the room and hurried to the front door.

  A moment later, her voice rose. “This is ridiculous. Who reported this incident? It’s not true. You can’t do this!”

  Seth rushed to see what the trouble was, but Gabriella had already thrown on a coat and run outside, slamming the door behind her.

  He quickly followed. Another trailer was parked along the drive with an Animal Control logo on the side.

  Gabriella stood in the doorway of the barn with a piece of paper in her hand. “Harley has never bitten anyone and his rabies vaccination is up to date.”

  A man in a drab uniform led an unhappy Harley to the trailer.

  Seth placed himself in front of the ramp. “That alpaca is very docile. I checked his fighting teeth and they are ground down.”

  “If you don’t move, you’ll be arrested for obstruction of justice,” the man stated. “This animal is a menace to society.”

  Seth laughed. “I’ve dealt with plenty of mean, rotten, and crazy animals, but Harley’s not one of them.”

  “Who reported this biting incident?” Gabriella insisted.

  The officer ignored her question. “This animal will be quarantined for ten days. If he shows no signs of rabies and you pay the fine, you’ll get him back. Now tell your friend to move or I call for backup.”

  Seth sighed and stepped aside. The last thing he needed was to be arrested and have his name plastered all over the news so everyone in New Jersey could connect him to Keith Holmes, the Colorado swindler.

  Harley turned his huge, sad eyes toward Seth as the Animal Control officer tugged on the halter to lead him into the trailer.

  “See you in ten days, big boy.” Seth smoothed his hand along the alpaca’s soft fleece.

  “Please take good care of him,” Gabriella begged.

  The officer didn’t offer any solace. He secured Harley, closed the door, got into the cab of the truck, and drove away.

  Seth stood next to Gabriella. “Ten days isn’t long.”

  “He’ll die of a broken heart.” Her voice sounded high and tight. She glanced toward the barn. “There must be evidence. If Harley bit someone, there’s blood somewhere.”

  “Brunch will get cold.”

  “I’m not hungry.” She went inside the barn.

  He sighed and followed. She searched methodically around the feed bins and in the empty stalls where she stored extra equipment. He wandered into what appeared to have been the tack room at one time.
It was now full of fencing paraphernalia.

  “Seth, come see this!” Gabriella called.

  He turned too quickly and the searing pain in his hip immobilized him. He had often ridden wild broncs with every part of him screaming in agony from his last fall, but this was different. He feared this new hip would defeat him. He wanted to ride again. He wanted to gallop. He stamped the cane down on the floor in fury, wishing he didn’t have to rely on it.

  She slapped words into her phone like she was whipping a bronc.

  “This is a crime scene! Of course I expect you to get over here. I pay your salary after all and Dr. Holmes appointed you to your job. Someone tried to kill Harley and now they’re putting him in quarantine. That’s prison! When he did nothing wrong. The girls will mourn for him. If he dies of a broken heart while he’s in custody, I will sue Animal Control. The evidence is all here. Besides, I make sure Harley and the girls get all their vaccinations. It would be impossible for any of them to have rabies. I’ll expect you in half an hour with evidence bags.”

  She ended the call and drew in a long, ragged breath.

  “I got winded listening to you talk so fast.” Seth quirked up one brow.

  “I wasn’t going to give the police chief any chance to say no.” She sniffed and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “Do you think Animal Control will let me visit Harley while he’s in custody?”

  “I don’t know all the rules in New Jersey—yet.” He figured he better start studying now. “What evidence have you found?”

  “It’s in the trash barrel. I put on gloves and sorted through it. There’s an empty bag of sand with blood on it. Whoever opened the bag used the old manual shearing scissors I had hanging on a nail. They cut their own skin in the process. The perpetrator tossed the shears in the barrel, too.”

  “Sounds like a simple case of following the DNA.”

  “Who would do such a terrible thing and why?” She sniffed again.

  “Did the alpacas bother any of the couples who posed with them for wedding pictures?”

  “No.” Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “No one has ever complained about them. Well, except Marshall. Harley spits at him.”