The Cowboy's Miracle

by Penelope Marzec

  It took a long time for Seth to calm down, even though he burned up plenty of energy raking out Navigator’s stall and helping Gabriella clean out the alpacas’ pen.

  Gabriella called the police chief again. She spat words out with such rapid-fire precision, Seth wondered how she ever managed to breathe while she was bombarding the police chief with her avalanche of verbiage. She finally let the officer go after he promised to investigate the next day.

  Once everything was cleaned up and a fatter padlock placed on the door, Seth limped toward the guesthouse, leaning heavily on his cane. Still, his hip did not bother him as much. He welcomed the activity after so much time in rehab.

  Gabriella stayed him with her hand. “I’ll bring you the rice pack so you can heat it up in the microwave. And thanks for...everything.” Her lips quivered.

  The light of the security lamps illuminated her soft features, the smooth olive skin, the long dark lashes, and the full expanse of her generous mouth. He wanted to kiss her, but he reminded himself of all the fickle women in his life. He was beholden to her, but he shouldn’t take any chances.

  “I’m glad I was here to help out.” He moved further away from her but turned to explain one more thing. “Animals usually won’t eat Jimsonweed because it doesn’t taste good. We are fortunate the entire plants were tossed on the hay, which made them visible and easy to remove. If the weed had been crushed up and mixed in with their feed, they would have been poisoned.”

  She merely nodded, but her eyes welled with tears.

  The urge to comfort her warred against his reasoning, but she whirled and headed off to the house before he acted on his baser instincts.

  He mulled over the evening’s events as he walked slowly to the guesthouse. Though his grandmother was clearly not in her right mind, a certain dignity lingered about her, hinting at what she might have been—once. When he first realized he had grandparents, he assumed they were horrible people. It seemed a reasonable assumption since his father alienated himself from them so completely. But after meeting with Joann Holmes he could never imagine her being cruel or wicked. However, his father proved to be a conniving thief.

  Perhaps it was a good thing his grandmother didn’t know what happened to her son.

  Shock had run through him when Gabriella offered him a job, but he would have been a fool to turn it down. It made his life easier, allowing his available funds to last longer. In addition, taking his time in choosing a veterinarian practice where he fit in was a high priority.

  He lit the gas fireplace the moment he stepped in the door and poured a can of pineapple juice from the selection in the cabinet. He stared at the guitar and tried to think of a jolly song, but none of the merry tunes appealed to him at that moment. He picked up the guitar, strummed a few chords, and started to croon about the tumbling tumbleweeds.

  A knock came at the door. “It’s me,” Gabriella called.

  “Come on in, it’s open.” He went back to his song.

  She walked in, popped the rice pack in the microwave, and listened to him finish the song.

  She handed him the heated pack. “My father sang that one, too. Have you seen tumbleweeds?”

  “Yes. I went on a cattle drive once.” He eased the warm bag of rice into a comfortable position. He was twenty-seven but lately, he felt like he was eighty-seven. “It’s surprising how ornery a herd of livestock can be.”

  Her smile warmed him far more than the heated pack. “Will you sing another song?”

  He picked out a few chords. “Give me land, lots of land under starry skies above...”

  “Don’t fence me in,” she joined in. They sang it together twice. Unlike the night before, she didn’t get teary eyed. She sighed. “Thanks. That was another old favorite.”

  “Did you ever take music lessons?” he asked.

  “Piano—until...” She held up her hands and shrugged. The simple gesture spoke more than words. A sad ache pierced his heart to think of the suffering she withstood.

  “You are a natural with perfect pitch and excellent timing.” He was rewarded for his compliment as a rosy tinge bloomed on her cheeks.

  “Thanks, though I don’t believe you. I tried out for a school musical once but I didn’t get in.” She laughed. “Breakfast is at six-fifteen. We’re off to the farmers’ market early. The van’s all packed and ready to go. The crew will care for the animals. Piotr said he’s an expert when it comes to horses, but if you have specific directions, write them down.”

  In a moment, she was gone, and all he could think about was how much he would enjoy spending another day with her, even if it started at six-fifteen in the morning—even though women weren’t to be trusted. He set the guitar aside. Trusting her for a day or two couldn’t hurt.

  Besides, she needed protection. Someone intended to harm her animals—and Navigator, too. He clenched his hands into fists thinking about it. Study after study linked animal cruelty and human violence. If he had been alone, he would have followed the car that pulled out of Gabriella’s driveway, but he didn’t want her to take a chance. The crazy, angry investor who shot at him back in Colorado went to jail for his misdeeds and Seth wound up with a few holes in his truck. He was lucky there were no bullets in his body.

  Was Gabriella tied up in some sort of scheme involving angry investors? It didn’t seem likely. A greenhouse, a carriage house used to host events, and a very small herd of alpacas didn’t seem threatening.

  Who claimed Harley bit him?

  Seth yawned and stretched. Day two out of rehab and he barely had enough energy to get himself into bed. He sure hoped his stamina returned.

  * * *

  Gabriella gnawed on her lip as she set the table for breakfast. She’d received two cryptic text messages late last night from Marshall. The first one read, “My new car has pre-collision assist.”

  She deleted the message immediately. Pre-collision assist would not help when speeding on a slippery road. Marshall needed rubber bumpers all around him.

  His second message made her smile. “Dental conference in NYC this weekend.”

  Her heart lightened. She hit delete.

  She pulled the breakfast bread rolls out of the oven as Seth knocked at the kitchen door. He was on time. The farmers’ market would be packed with shoppers, and she didn’t doubt she’d sell almost every wreath in her shop.

  “Good morning.” She placed the rolls filled with eggs and panchetti on the plates.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

  “Not really.” She prayed half the night, but maybe some of her petitions were answered. She wouldn’t see Marshall all weekend.

  “The ladies appeared to have a bad night, too, so I sang ‘Mamas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys’ to them.” He grabbed the coffee pot and filled the mugs. “They loved it.” The glow of his smile warmed her.

  “On the way home from the market, I’d like to visit Harley and bring him grapes. Those are his favorite treat.” Her eyes misted thinking of him locked away in quarantine—and wondering why.

  “He’ll be fine.”

  “Well, he’s probably safer there than he would be here.” She sat, folded her hands, and prayed.

  Seth added his soft, rumbled amen as usual. Undeniable reverence layered his tone—adding a gravity most men didn’t own unless they were preachers. She enjoyed his cowboy persona, but wondered if much of it was simply an act. Would she discover the substance in the heart of the man before he left to go his own way?

  “I’ve been approached by developers interested in buying this farm—for next to nothing, of course. I can’t sell it until Grammy dies, but I don’t intend to put it on the market and I won’t as long as the profits continue to grow. I might quit going to the farmers’ market, but it’s fun to be there and it’s a great way to advertise the carriage house. I hand out brochures to everyone. I’ve gotten far more business from those brochures than I do from advertising in the local paper.”

  “Why don’t you
eat your food before it gets cold?” he suggested.

  She glanced at his plate. He had already eaten every last crumb.

  “I guess I talk too much.” She giggled.

  Amusement flickered in his eyes, but he said nothing. She demolished her meal.

  The crew arrived before they pulled out. She gave them her instructions for the day before she and Seth set off with a van full of stuff. The clear blue sky and warmer weather melted all the snow from the road.

  The farmers’ market hummed with activity when they arrived. Having an extra set of hands made short work of setting up her small stand.

  “A booth next to the hotdog stand? That is pure genius,” he commented.

  “There’s a double space for rent on the other side of the hotdog stand. You could open up a vet clinic there,” she pointed out.

  “A horse vet tending to his patients might disturb the culinary sensibilities of the diners.”

  “Do horses like hotdogs?”

  “Navigator’s eaten a few of them, but he always spits out the bun.” He laughed and his joy dazzled her, making every moment with him sparkle.

  Soon, shoppers were streaming by. Gabriella discovered she wasn’t the only person bowled over by Seth. Several rodeo fans recognized him and spent a considerable amount of time chatting at the booth. From what she overheard, he was well known as a bronco-busting champion. Some fans had been at the rodeo the day he was trampled by the bull.

  “You saved the bull rider’s life!” one of the fans exclaimed. “You’re a hero.”

  “I did what any cowboy would have done.” Seth downplayed his action.

  He was humble—and she delighted in learning about this facet of his personality. He stepped up, pitched in, and helped out without being asked.

  With his handsome presence decorating her little booth, every wreath was soon gone and several of her potted herbs were also purchased. It was a profitable day all around. In addition, new customers signed up for her newsletter and one young engaged couple asked about the carriage house facilities. They made an appointment to visit it during the week.

  As they packed up, she said to him, “I had no idea you were such a famous rodeo star.”

  “Simply another hard-working professional with a PRCA card,” he drawled.

  “PRCA?” she asked.

  “Professional Rodeo Cowboy Association,” he replied. “Rules, regulations, and other good stuff.”

  “I thought cowboys were all about being free to do wild stunts.”

  “Even crazy has limits.”

  On the way home, Gabriella pulled into the Animal Control facility.

  “This reminds me of a jail.” Sorrow weighed on her shoulders as she walked up to the door.

  “I’ve seen worse,” Seth noted.

  Harley appeared to be waiting for the grim reaper to come along and put him out of his misery. When he saw her, he cried.

  Tears streamed down Gabriella’s cheeks as she handed him the grapes she brought. “My poor, poor boy.”

  Seth disappeared from her side and talked with the officer in charge, asking whether or not Harley had been dosed with the medication he had ordered for him. She didn’t realize he had taken the time to ensure Harley would be treated. She’d thank him later.

  She smoothed her hands along Harley’s soft fleece and crooned to him.

  “Are you going to sing his song?” Seth asked when he rejoined her.

  She sniffed and dashed away the dampness from her cheeks. “A man without a woman...”

  Seth joined her. Even Harley hummed along.

  “Think we can teach him the Hallelujah Chorus?” Seth asked.

  “If it were possible, we could retire early.”

  Seth laughed at her quip and she gloried in the moment.

  She hated to leave Harley, but other chores waited for her. “I’ll bring you more grapes soon,” she promised.

  “Don’t worry,” Seth reassured her as they left.

  “He doesn’t deserve to be punished. He’s always been sweet and gentle.”

  “He’ll be back in the barn with his girls very soon.”

  She nodded. Time flew with Seth for company. It seemed as if she had known him for much longer than two days.

  When they pulled into her driveway, Piotr waved at her from outside the barn, holding Navigator’s bridle. The horse was saddled and ready to ride with a step stool beside him.

  “Did you ask him to do that?” Seth frowned.

  “I sent him a text message when you were reliving the glory days of your rodeo career with your fans.” Gabriella held up her cellphone.

  Seth shook his head. “It wasn’t all glorious. I broke my collarbone, my tibia, tore my ACL, broke my left arm, my right arm, and tore my rotator cuff. There were other injuries, too. It was pure luck I didn’t break my skull or my back.”

  “Why did you keep doing it?”

  “I needed the money and it paid the bills.” His handsome grin spiked her blood pressure. “Though it ain’t bad when everyone stands up and claps for you.”

  “I’m glad you’re still in one piece.” She sighed.

  “I’m held together with metal. I set off alarms when I go to the airport.” Amusement flickered in his eyes. “One of the reasons I don’t like to ride in an airplane.”

  His nearness made her senses spin. She swallowed hard as her heart hammered against her ribs.

  “Get out there and ride around a bit,” she ordered.

  “Don’t you need extra hands to unload the van?”

  “Piotr will help me. Go have fun, but don’t jump any fences.”

  “Navigator’s not that spry anymore.” Seth took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “And thanks—I’m sure beholden to you.”

  As he touched her marred flesh, a current of warmth coursed through her. “You sold several of my wreaths to your fans. I’m indebted to you.”

  “You’re kind, Miss Gabby.” She stared at his big hand and her small, disfigured one. Nobody ever held her hand if it was something precious and beautiful. Her throat tightened. She didn’t even mind him calling her Gabby.

  He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, opened the door, and went to his horse. He mounted slowly with his face turned away from her. Once in the saddle, he sat tall. With a slight movement of his knees and a shake of the reins, he and Navigator walked off toward the pasture.

  She watched old movies with her father where the lone cowboy rode off into the sunset. The memory had faded with time, but the sense of loss never failed to wrap around her heart. Tears misted her eyes. Her cowboy would leave her because cowboys always moved on.

  She shoved the sadness to the back of her mind and a melancholy smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Things weren’t so bad. She was quite sure there was enough leftover chili in the refrigerator for two.

  * * *

  “We have cowboys in Russia,” Piotr informed her as they unloaded the van. “It is high priority to raise cows. The people are tired of eating borscht. I come because steak it is cheap.”

  “You came to America to eat beef?” Gabriella asked.

  “Not only reason,” Piotr explained. “My wife has sister here. She want to see her sister. So we come, but I say yes if I get steak.” He laughed.

  Sometimes Gabriella didn’t understand Piotr’s sense of humor. Often, it was rather dark, but she had met Piotr’s wife. The woman was a force to be reckoned with.

  “Where did you learn about horses?” she asked.

  “I work at racetrack. Horses, they like me. They are friends, but owners—they do not understand horses. All they understand are rubles. So I leave, but I miss friends.” He carried the last flat of herbs into the greenhouse.

  “Why don’t you work as a vet tech? Seth might be able to tell you how to go about it.” Gabriella would have to hire someone else if he left, but she wanted him to be happy. “You should work at something you love.”

  “Plants are good, too. No? I take care of them and
they grow. They are quiet friends. It is warm in greenhouse in winter. It is like Florida. No?”

  Gabriella shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve never been to Florida.”

  Juanita hurried toward them along the aisle of the greenhouse with a package in her arms. “This came while you were gone. From the big shot.” She rolled her eyes and handed the gold foil wrapped box to Gabriella.

  “Chocolates.” Gabriella gritted her teeth. Marshall never changed his tactics. If she didn’t send him a message soon, she would wind up with a dozen red roses next. “I’m on a diet. Why don’t you bring these home to your family, Juanita?”

  “Ha! Then I will be visiting his office with rotten teeth.” Juanita crossed her arms and refused to accept the box.

  “We caught a raccoon!” Greg, who was eighteen, called as he ran into the greenhouse. “The exterminator said you had something bigger than a rat so he set a trap. He was right. He’ll be here in half an hour to take the raccoon away. Let’s get a picture!”

  “Wait.” Gabriella set the box of chocolates on a potting bench. “I’ll check first.” She followed Greg to the barn and up into the loft. Sure enough, back in the corner, the trapped raccoon growled at their approach.

  “Never heard one growl,” Greg said. “I’ve seen lots of them, but I didn’t think they could talk.”

  “Did the exterminator say where he would take him?” Gabriella asked.

  “Some wildlife place—far away from here so he won’t come back.” Greg pulled a fistful of hay out of a bale and dropped it in the cage. “You hungry, raccoon?”

  The animal snarled with more vehemence.

  “Would you take a picture with me and the raccoon?” Greg handed her his cell phone.

  “No. Don’t get too close,” she warned. “If he so much as scratches you, you’ll have to get rabies’ shots.”

  “But…but it would be an awesome picture,” Greg fussed.

  “Please go help Piotr with the herbs,” Gabriella ordered.

  Greg sighed and went slowly down the ladder. Sometimes, the young man was a bit too daring.

  Gabriella eyed the raccoon. “Sorry to spoil your plans for the winter, buddy, but maybe you’ve learned a lesson.”