Hill Country Homecoming

by Julie B. Cosgrove

  She dabbed her eyes as she caught her breath.

  Travis sat back down. He took a deep, long inhale to calm his nerves. Something told him what he said next might send her over the edge or pull her back into reality. He lifted up a quick prayer for the Holy Spirit to speak for him. The last thing he wanted was to betray the man’s trust. He swallowed deep and began. “Sarah, your daddy has been pushing himself too much for a while now. Wouldn’t let me or the other hands pitch in and do the things he shouldn’t be doing at his age. You know how hard-headed he is.”

  She let out a small snort.

  “He acted as if he had achieved immortality. Wouldn’t slow down for nobody. Ate all the wrong foods. Refused to take pills for his blood pressure.”

  “He has hypertension?”

  “Yeah. And some other issues as well, according to Cook. Doc gave her a recipe book and told her to adjust his sugar and salt intake. First dinner, he threw the plate across the room and said he might as well eat slop.”

  She giggled. “Sounds like him.”

  Travis grinned at her mood lift. So far, so good. He continued. “Maybe Tucker was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back, but only because your daddy had been carrying an enormous amount on it for months.”

  Her eyes locked with his. “Honestly?”

  He nodded.

  A small light flickered in her hollow eyes. “Thank you, Travis. Truly.” She kissed his fingers. “You’re a Godsend. I’ve heard Daddy say that so many times. He’s right. The Bar-M can’t do without you, Travis. Neither can I. Say you’ll always be here.”

  Travis withdrew his hand and coughed into his fist. “No need to ask. Listen to me, Sarah. Your daddy loves you and this ranch more than life. So do I …” He gulped. “Um…I mean I love your dad and this ranch. I will help out anyway I can to get you and him over this hump.”

  She straightened her spine and her business demeanor resurfaced. “You’re a vital employee to us both. Thank you for your loyalty.” She smoothed the duvet wrinkles. “And thanks for letting me know about his health. He would never have told me.”

  Silence cloaked the room as Sarah toyed with the teddy bear’s fur and Travis stared at the floor, his jaw tense. Vital employee, huh? That’s all. Well, why would you expect to become more in her eyes, idiot?

  Then she cocked her head with a deep sigh. He raised his.

  She flashed him a sweet smile. “I feel better. More calm and in control. Can I go to him now?”

  “Not right yet. The hospital called a while ago. Seems he has suffered another stroke. I’m afraid it’s a bad one. But the doctor has ordered a full exam to determine the extent of the damage.”

  “I see.” She hung her head.

  He reached for her hand again but then drew back. “Look, everything is still uncertain. We’ll know more in a couple of hours after they finish the tests. Let me get Cook to bring you some hot tea and toast. Then in a few hours, if you feel up to it and the doctor says it’s okay, I’ll drive you over. Deal?”

  “That’s always your remedy isn’t it? Hot tea and toast.”

  “Mom always gave it to me as a kid when I was upset. Still tries.” He looked down and scuffed his boot into the carpet.

  “She must love you very much.”

  The room became a bit stifling. He rose to his feet. “Stay put. I’ll send up Cook or Maria to tend to you.”

  His boots couldn’t carry him out of the room fast enough. He’d wrangled snorting stallions and tamed them into show horses. He’d branded, shoed, and de-wormed anxious colts. He’d lifted hay until his bones ached and then lifted more. He’d broken up brawls between ranch hands and mended miles of barbed wire fences in the midst of electrical storms without batting an eye. So the fact this one-hundred-and-ten-pound lady continually unnerved his psyche shook him to the core.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The woman who entered the Mercy Hospital ICU shuffled with her head down, taking tiny steps as if resisting the effort she knew she had to make. The one who emerged held her shoulders back, her spine straight and her chin raised. Travis stared with his mouth open.

  Sarah winked and pushed it closed with her finger. “Let’s go. The ranch isn’t gonna run by itself.” She sashayed down the hall.

  Travis scuffled to catch up with her. “Um, did Mr. Mansfield say anything?”

  She punched the elevator down button. “No, but when I told him I was sorry for my childish behavior and that you and I were teaming up to keep the place churning, I saw a glimmer in his eyes and the edges of his lips curl up just a tad to the right.” She held up her thumb and forefinger to measure the tiniest amount. “All I needed to know. He approves.”

  A ding sounded and the doors swooshed open. They stepped inside. Travis pressed the “P” for the lower level parking garage. Nobody else rode with them. He watched the numbers light up in descending sequence. “So…?”

  She slapped his arm. “So, my dear Travis. Thanks to you, I got up the gumption to ask God to give me the words to apologize. He answered that prayer and they flowed from my mouth.”

  Travis smiled. “He always does, Sarah. In one way or another. Glad you and the Almighty are talking again.”

  She blushed. “Daddy forgives me and all is well. I am out to prove he—and you—are wrong about me. Spoiled rotten daddy’s little girl is gone. Poof.” She blew an imaginary feather from her fingertips.

  “Sarah, I already told you I’d changed my mind about you. I know you want to try—”

  “No. Not try, Travis. I will do this. The Bar-M will thrive once again.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. We’ll see. More wintery weather is barreling down on us. The kind Texas isn’t used to. Lord, help us all muster through it.

  * * *

  Sarah awoke to the shutters slamming against her windows. The wind howled. Thuds, like a million tiny fists pounding against the panes, filled her ears. Sleet? No, wait. Thunder. A white flash pulsated though the slats. Lightning, too?

  She shivered and pulled her throw around her shoulders. Outside, sheets of white pelted the ground. The sound became deafening. She tugged on a pair of jeans and a sweat shirt, and dashed in her sock feet down the back staircase to the kitchen. Travis entered and stomped his boots on the mat. “Good, you’re up. We have thunder sleet and the horses are spooking.”

  “Thunder what?”

  Cook shoved a thermos of coffee into her hands.

  Travis raised his voice. “Now?”

  Sarah blinked as his command registered. “Oh, yes. Right.” She handed him the carafe and sat on the bench in the mudroom to jerk on her boots. He helped her into her Armani ski jacket. “This is going get ruined, you know.”

  She shrugged. “Don’t care. Tell me what to do.”

  His eyes narrowed onto her face. “Yes’m. Manny and Adam are already mucking the stalls and starting fires in the metal barrels to warm the barn. The colts and foaling mares need water, fresh hay, and oats, and blankets buckled over them. I’ll handle the studs, especially M-Man. He trusts me most.”

  She nodded as they ventured outside, their heads angled against the wind. The sleet peppered them like a thousand sharp blades. Ice crunched under their boots. Twice, Sarah slipped and he grabbed her elbow to right her stance. After what seemed to her an hour, they made it to the stables. Every bone in her body had frozen stiff. Inside, she heard panicked whinnies as the tin roof became assaulted by more sleet. Or was it now hail?

  Manny dashed toward Travis to update him. The cacophony drowned out their voices. Sarah swung her head left and right to survey the situation. She saw the prize colt, Star Blazer, backing into his stall corner and bucking. If he spooked much more, he might injure a leg. She eased towards him as she slipped off her pink jacket and slipped it over his eyes. With soothing tones, she comforted him. “Whoa, boy. Easy, boy.”

  Uncertain if the horse could hear her or not, she stroked his withers and brought him closer to her for comfort. The yearling nudged her and slo
bbered half-chewed oats on her shoulder. In her peripheral vision, she detected the hired hands in controlled chaos as they calmed horses and mucked stalls. Barrels had been spaced every few yards in the middle of the aisle, orange flames licking the tops, and a wisp of smoke billowed to the rafters to dislodge a flock of doves.

  She retied the colt’s restraints to the ring in the stall and slipped her jacket off its eyes. A few more hand strokes, and she backed out and latched the door. Without being told, she fell into line, imitating the ranch staff as they secured the animals and tried to warm the stables enough to raise the temperature above freezing. Sarah shoveled, hauled, coaxed, and comforted. Her muscles ached and her teeth chattered, but she kept going.

  A hand tapped her shoulder and shoved a hot mug of coffee into it. She inhaled the java aroma, took a sip, and raised her gaze to see Travis’s stature hovering over her. “Take a break. They’ve got this now. The other hands have blanketed the geldings and fillies and herded them into the corrals.”

  “How’s Chester?”

  His face softened. “Fine, I’m sure. He’s tough. Angel Hair is nice and toasty over there in her stall. Manny saw to that. So is Lady Fair and your father’s horse, Monarch.”

  “Good. And thanks for securing M-Man.”

  “You look beat. Sit.” He led her to a bale of hay and pushed her shoulders down. She huddled with her gloved hands around the steaming cup. “Mmmm. Two sugars and cream?”

  He poured some for himself out of the thermos. “Uh-uh. Told Cook to add stevia. I know that’s what you prefer.” He took a sip and grimaced. “How can you drink this stuff?”

  She laughed. “You’ll spoil me.”

  He reached over and pulled a piece of straw from her hair. “Thought you were through with being spoiled.”

  Travis’ face stopped inches from her own. He obviously hadn’t taken the time to shave. He smelled of horses, hay and day-old manliness. Never had such an enticing aroma swirled her brain. She leaned closer, drawn to his firm, pinkish lips.

  “Boss!”

  Travis jolted and turned. “What?”

  Manny held up a cell phone. “George is at the south fence, marker forty-three. A mesquite tree’s snapped over the wire and taken out three posts.”

  A guttural groan emitted from the ranch manager’s lungs. “What’s he doing out in this weather?”

  “Says he had an inkling we needed to check the area since we’d yet to ride that section. George is from Montana. He knows how to drive in this stuff.”

  “And now, so will I.” Travis raised his voice. “Grab the chainsaw, some gasoline, and meet me at the other jeep.” He turned back to Sarah. “Stay with Adam and the other hands. Y’all must keep the horses calm, okay?”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he crammed his Stetson onto his head and ran, his head down, into the white sheets of ice.

  Before she realized it, she’d prayed to God he would stay safe and come back to her. She added in a whisper, “Only because I need his help running this place, Lord.”

  But her words didn’t convince her heart at all.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Travis shuddered as he stomped the ice from his boots onto the back door mat. Inside, Cook and Sarah provided fresh coffee, biscuits and gravy, scrambled eggs and bacon—piping hot and ready. Apple cinnamon oatmeal bubbled on the stove. Even though it neared one o’clock by the time the ice storm stopped and the hands returned from the fence repair, they welcomed the hearty breakfast as they shuffled inside.

  “Man, it smells amazing in here.” He shook the sleet from his cowboy hat and removed his gloves with his teeth. Manny and George followed close behind, as did Adam and the others from the stables. Each took turns shedding sleet-covered coats and washing up in the warm water spray of the sink faucet. Sarah and Cook finished setting a table for six in the kitchen and eight more in the dining room. The workers took their places near the warmth of the stove while Sarah coaxed Travis, Manny, George, and Adam to the dining room. Jake and Maria were already seated.

  “Come on, gents. Before it gets cold.” Cook placed her ebony hands on her substantial hips and grinned, a gold molar cap gleaming. Travis cocked an eyebrow at Sarah who stifled a giggle with her napkin over her mouth. He turned to Cook. “Think we have one more person to invite to the table, don’t you?”

  Sarah counted heads. Who? Then she noticed the men bow their heads. Oh, he meant God. Her cheeks warmed as she found her place and held onto the chair back.

  Travis winked at her and lowered his head, audibly asking the Lord to bless their food and thanking Him for their safety. Not one livestock had been lost, down to the newly-hatched chicks.

  A scraping of chairs across the floor commenced, along with the clanking of dishes and murmurs to pass this and that around the table. Cook rocked back and smiled at their appreciation of her culinary skills. Travis handed her the biscuit basket. “You better serve yourself up, Cook, before it’s all gone. Come take a load off and join us.”

  Cook turned her attention to Sarah who grinned and patted the chair seat next to her. The old woman blushed and scooted in.

  Never had Sarah seen people eat so fast and furiously. She inched her chair closer to her placemat and scooped some oatmeal into her bowl before it disappeared from the pot and down their gullets. Two months ago, if someone had told her she would be here now with these common cowpokes instead of dining in a fine restaurant in Dallas with Tucker over flutes of bubbly, she’d have laughed at the absurdity. Now, a quiet warmth flowed through her like the milk she poured into her hot cereal. Admit it, girl. These people mean the world to you.

  In the cordiality of the dining room, the chattering turned to tales of the men’s antics. Adam pointed his fork at Manny. “Remember the time you caught your britches in the barbed wire? Had to shimmy out of them to yank loose.”

  George piped in. “And he hadn’t done his laundry so he didn’t have on any boxers.”

  Manny blushed. “Then Mr. Mansfield rode up. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.”

  Adam roared. “Stood there with his hat covering his—”

  Travis coughed loudly in his fist.

  Adam blushed. “Um…oh. Beg your pardon, ma’ams.” He blinked and hung his head over his breakfast.

  Maria cast her eyes to her plate. Cook rolled her ebony-colored ones.

  “That’s okay. What happened next?” Sarah placed her chin on her hand and shifted her gaze to each face as they shrugged apologies and continued the tale. Her mouth eased into a huge grin.

  Travis leaned in. “Penny for your thoughts?”

  She lifted her fork and shuffled some eggs around the plate. “Just thinking.”

  He edged closer so he could be heard over the other ranch workers’ laughter. “Sounds dangerous.”

  Sarah stuck out her tongue.

  Travis snickered and wiped his mouth. “Tell me, then.”

  Heat prickled the back of her eyes. She swallowed a gulp of coffee. “Y’all truly are my family. I feel awfully lucky to have you men here to help me run the Bar-M. I don’t think I have ever felt so comfortable, content and…” She choked on the rest of her words.

  Travis squeezed her fingers. She could sense the rough calluses, and yet his touch remained soft. She gazed into his eyes and saw a deep connection there. To hide her embarrassment at desiring his tenderness, she added, “… and so absolutely dead on my feet in my life.”

  He threw back his head and gave a hearty chortle. His defined Adam’s apple bobbed under the bristles of his day-old beard.

  Sarah gazed unabashed at this honest, hard-working, and loyal cowboy. Any residual emotions she carried for Tucker vanished. This ranch, this house, here with these folks—this was where she belonged. Not Dallas. Not cocktail parties on yachts.

  She knew then she’d fight to her last breath to keep the Bar-M viable. Not only for her father, but for the hands, Travis, and yes, herself as well. After all, the Mansfield blood flowed through her ve
ins.

  But did the well-weathered, God-fearing gentleman next to her act as the pump to her heart? No, foolish notion. She simply appreciated his service and loyalty. Right?

  * * *

  Travis eyed the lady of the house. Yes, she was truly that. Just like her momma. He’d been wrong to think her shallow, manipulative, and uncaring. And though she’d tried her best to fit in, the weariness in her eyes and paleness of her cheeks worried him. She’d lost weight as well. And her skin no longer glowed. So much stress rested on her slender shoulders, and he’d shoveled a bunch of it there to just see if she could take it. And bet she couldn’t.

  Well, she had, with grace and charm. Couldn’t conceal breeding. Her father had chosen to give his daughter the best in education, social status, clothes, and jewelry. But somewhere under it all lay the daughter of a Texas rancher. She had done him proud.

  A chilling thought splashed his brain. Maybe Travis had been going against his boss’ wishes by teaching her how to run this place. Sure, she and her father argued about her sticking around more, but not so she could take over one day. More likely to fill the shoes of his late wife when it came to running the house, greeting guests, and entertaining. No, some rancher’s son would take over with her by his side.

  Maybe Mr. Mansfield had some wealthy friend’s son in mind to court her. That’s why he didn’t cotton to Tucker. He’d be shocked to learn Travis had developed eyes for his beloved daughter. In fact, it might be cause to fire him. Travis wiped his hand over his scalp. He’d overstepped his bounds. He wasn’t close to being in her league. Breeding always mattered to his boss.

  Travis wanted to kick himself in his own behind. Sarah Mansfield floundered out of her element. Like a listless catfish in a bucket, she needed to be dumped back into the crystal waters of wealth and swim with her kind. She might think these were her people seated around this table, but now, he knew better.

  As soon as the weather cleared, he’d persuade her to head back to the lights of the big city, one way or another. Best thing for her. Then he’d keep an ear to the ground as far as potential suitors amongst the wealthy oil or ranch families. They couldn’t all be pompous like Tucker.