Evergreen Springs

by RaeAnne Thayne

  “Wow. What an incredible view!”

  “Isn’t it?” Cole said from beside her. “This is one of my favorite places on the whole ranch. It’s a good place to sit and ponder.”

  She sent him a sidelong glance. What sort of things did he ponder up here? For all his gruffness, she had a feeling he was a much deeper thinker than he would like people to believe.

  The man fascinated her, pure and simple.

  She wanted to know more about him. What had happened to his rodeo career and his marriage? What were the shadows she occasionally glimpsed? Why had he basically cloistered himself away up here on his beautiful ranch, making little effort to weave himself into the fabric of the social life in Haven Point?

  None of her business. Devin reined herself in sharply. This man and his secrets were none of her business. This silly crush she was developing was ridiculous and embarrassing.

  Coco had gone back inside the house where it was warm. Instead, Cole had brought along one of the outside ranch dogs—a funny-looking red-and-white dog he called an Australian shepherd. The dog hopped down from the back of the pickup truck the moment Cole lowered the tailgate.

  He raced to the children and licked them as a couple of magpies chattered at them from the trees.

  Devin watched one of them take flight, then noticed something a few hundred feet away through the trees. “What’s that steam coming up over the trees there?”

  Cole’s eyes took on a secretive look, his mouth lifting a little into what was almost a full-fledged smile that she found every bit as breathtaking as the view. Silly her.

  “It’s the second-best part about this spot, next to the view. Come see.”

  He led the way, tramping down snow in his big, heavy boots to make a pathway for them to follow. They were still on the road, she realized, just farther than he had cleared. The sky was a glorious blue here in contrast to the new snow, which reflected shimmery diamond-bright sunlight.

  Snow drizzled down from the fringy branches of the evergreens they passed. Even with him blazing a trail, the way was a little difficult, uphill around boulders and fallen trees.

  The air smelled of snow and pine with something else underlying it, a strange metallic scent in the air. She heard the sound of trickling water ahead of them somewhere and the air here seemed warmer somehow, moist and alive.

  Cole finally stopped. “Here you go.”

  All the clues came together when he stepped aside, revealing a magical treasure.

  “You have a hot spring!” she exclaimed.

  The steaming pool was about thirty feet by forty feet, surrounded by rocks that had obviously been brought in to protect it. A small log hut stood beside the pool and a few wooden benches clustered around the side.

  “This is Evergreen Springs, where the ranch gets its name.”

  Oh, it was glorious. She wanted to wade into the water right now. “Have you had the water tested? Is it safe? What’s the mineral content? What about bacteria? Algae growth?”

  He looked surprised at her interest and a little overwhelmed at the barrage of questions. “An old rodeo buddy is now a geologist at Boise State. He samples it every couple months or so for me, in exchange for me letting him use it when he wants to. It’s completely safe. The predominant minerals are calcium, magnesium, selenium and sodium.”

  “This is amazing! You have no idea.”

  These kind of mineral hot springs used to dot the entire area. Like Taos, New Mexico, or Sedona, Arizona, the Lake Haven region was considered a healing place by native peoples for generations before Europeans ever stumbled onto it. Early Native American tribes, mostly Bannock, Shoshone and Paiute, would bring their injured and sickly to the lake to rest and recover.

  Devin knew that in the Victorian age, a few intrepid settlers tried to capitalize on that reputation by creating a retreat community around the regional mineral springs with their purported healing properties, similar to Hot Springs, Arkansas, or Steamboat Springs, Colorado, but those efforts floundered for various reasons.

  Shelter Springs—the first town on the lakeshore—had prospered anyway by drawing in tourists and businesses alike, while Haven Point had struggled in recent years after the town’s most prominent business, Kilpatrick Boatworks, closed its doors. Many downtown businesses were shuttered as a result, though the town was now seeing a revival thanks to Devin’s sister, McKenzie, and her fiancé, Ben Kilpatrick, along with Devin’s friends Aidan and Eliza Caine.

  Because of her own particular medical journey, Devin was fascinated by Lake Haven’s reputation as a place of healing and refuge. She had studied the history and knew that a geothermal shift in the earth’s crust after a major earthquake in the sixties had dried up many of the hot springs.

  To find a hot spring here in this sort of pristine condition was for her more exciting than if he’d offered her a cave filled with gold bricks.

  “We go swimming there,” Ty said. “It’s fun. Dad says it always has warm water, even in the wintertime.”

  “We can’t get any in our mouths. It’s not safe to drink,” Jazmyn warned.

  “How hot does it get?”

  “The water stays between 104 and 112 degrees Fahrenheit year-round,” Cole said.

  “It flows into the Hell’s Fury?”

  “Eventually. First, it meets up with a couple of other tributaries before making its way to the big water.”

  “This is amazing. Do you have any idea what a rare find this is these days?”

  He shrugged. “That’s what Jake—my geologist friend—tells me. It’s been here forever, as far as I know. My grandfather was the one who lined it with all the smooth rocks. He said it worked wonders for his arthritis and used to soak here at least a couple times a week. I just know it’s a great place to soak during haying season or whenever you have stiff muscles.”

  It would be magical on a winter night lit by lanterns around the edge, with the steam curling up in the air while a light snowfall drifted down. Or on a summer night, for that matter, with a sweet breeze blowing and stars spangling the sky.

  She was suddenly filled with envy. “You should consider yourself very fortunate.”

  “You’re welcome to come out and try it sometime.”

  The invitation sounded warily offered and she sensed it hadn’t been easy for him, which meant even more to her.

  “Thank you! I would love that.”

  An idea seemed to have planted itself in her brain as she thought of her yoga class that morning and the dear people she had come to love. As soon as the idea came, she dismissed it. If he was reluctant to invite her, he probably wouldn’t be crazy about a bunch of senior citizens, even if they were darlings.

  She was admiring the handiwork—the smooth, natural stone steps into the water and the charming little clapboard warming hut when Jazmyn’s impatience spilled over.

  “Are we going to find a tree or just stand here in the cold snow all day looking at the dumb hot spring?”

  Cole’s mouth pressed into a line. “We’re looking for a tree. We have to pick the right one.”

  “It shouldn’t be too hard.” Jazmyn looked around. “There’s only like a million of them here.”

  “You can’t just cut down any old tree. Keep your eyes peeled for the perfect one. Remember, it still has to fit inside the house.”

  “Ooh.” Ty made an exaggerated face of disgust. “Peeled eyeballs. That’s gross.”

  “That just means be on the lookout,” Cole said. “We’re looking for one that’s not too big around or too tall.”

  He led the way back toward where he had parked the pickup truck. On the way, they found and rejected several for various reasons until Jazmyn stumbled onto one she immediately fell in love with.

  “This is it,” she exclaimed, her sour mood forgotten. “It’s beaut
iful. The perfect shape and the perfect size. We have to get this tree.”

  Cole tilted his head one way, then the other. “I think you’re right. This one looks just right. Are we agreed, then?”

  “Yay!” Ty said. “Can I cut it down?”

  “It’s kind of tough, since I have to go pretty low to the ground. I’ll tell you what. I’ll cut this one down but you can help me haul it back to the pickup. It’s a big job and I’m going to need somebody with muscles.”

  “I’ve got big muscles.” Ty lifted his arm and made a fist with his mittened hand. Devin assumed he flexed but it was impossible to tell beneath his many winter layers.

  “I’m counting on it, kid,” Cole answered as he pulled goggles and ear protectors out of the chain-saw case.

  “Okay, now you’ll have to cover your ears and step back,” he ordered them. Devin tugged the children back a little, where they could still see. A moment later, Cole fired up the chain saw, sending a few birds in nearby trees scattering into the air. In no time, he cut through the narrow trunk like a butter knife through peanut butter.

  Jazmyn clapped her hands with excitement but Ty suddenly looked upset.

  “Will the tree grow back?” he asked when Cole took off his ear protectors and joined them, the chain saw now silent.

  “That one won’t, but we always plant a dozen new saplings for every tree we cut down. You can come up here and help me in the spring.”

  “Okay,” he said, his tender sensibilities appeased.

  “Now what?” Devin asked.

  Cole shrugged with a half smile that made her insides shiver. “Now we haul it back to the truck, knock off as much snow as we can and take it home.”

  While she carried the chain saw, Cole and Ty pulled the tree through the snow with a rope Cole had tied around the trunk. Jazmyn trudged along beside her, her brow furrowed a little as if she were deep in thought.

  Just before they reached the pickup truck, Cole raised the tree vertically and tapped the trunk hard on the ground several times to knock off as much snow as he could before he lifted it into the bed.

  “So that’s that. Now we just have to get it home so you all can decorate it.”

  “Yay!” Ty said. “We’ll finally have a Christmas tree tonight!”

  Jazmyn said nothing. Something was obviously bothering her as she hadn’t said a word since Cole cut down the tree, Devin suddenly realized.

  When she finally spoke, her words were a surprise. “Dad,” she began in a hesitant voice, “can we cut down a tree for Grandpa Stan?”

  He jerked around and stared at her as if she had just sliced through his pickup truck with the chain saw.

  “It doesn’t have to be a big one,” she said. “Even a little tree would be better than nothing, wouldn’t it? He can’t get one himself. I bet he doesn’t have a truck with a plow or a chain saw of his own to cut one down. I think we should get one for him, don’t you?”

  “Why would we want to do that?” Cole asked, his voice as hard as the granite boulders scattered around the mountainside.

  Jazmyn drew in a shaky breath, looking nervous. “Last week when you gave money to the guy in the army coat with the sign outside the grocery store, you said he needed a little bit of help. You said we should help people who are having a hard time whenever we can. I think Grandpa Stan is having a hard time. He always looks sad.”

  “Some people’s misery is entirely of their own design,” he muttered, his mouth in a tight line.

  “So we’re not supposed to be nice to everyone?” Jazmyn asked. She seemed genuinely confused and Devin could tell Cole was having a tough time trying to work his way through this parental quandary.

  How did he teach his children about compassion and kindness to others while keeping them from a man Cole didn’t want in their lives?

  She wanted to say something but knew this wasn’t her decision. She had no right to intervene.

  He finally gave a deep sigh. “Fine. We’ll cut a tree down and leave it on his porch. The smallest one we can find. You’re right, it’s a nice thing to do and I’m proud of you for thinking of someone else. But you’re still not allowed to talk to him.”

  A moment later, Cole picked out a tree close to where they parked. It was a little bare on one side and had a few spindly branches but Devin wasn’t about to point that out to him.

  “Will this do?” he asked Jazmyn.

  She nodded, and he cut it down quickly with the chain saw and carried it with one hand back to the pickup truck.

  “What about you?” he asked Devin. “I should have thought to ask before. Do you need a tree?”

  She shook her head, touched that he would ask, even belatedly. “I’m good. I already have a couple of artificial trees that have been up since before Thanksgiving. My sister makes me decorate early. If I don’t have everything up by the first of December, she’ll come over and do it herself.”

  He gave a low sound that was almost a chuckle. “Sisters can be such a pain, can’t they?”

  “Yes,” Ty muttered under his breath, too low for his own sister to overhear.

  Devin tugged his hat, filled with affection for all of them.

  As they loaded into the pickup truck and took off back down to the ranch house, the children were more animated than she had seen them, talking about how they wanted to decorate the tree.

  Devin sat back and listened, warm air from the heater seeping through her coat to warm her chilled bones.

  That wasn’t the only thing warming her, she suddenly realized with a great deal of apprehension. Here with this troubled little family, she was discovering a dangerous, seductive sense of belonging.

  She would have to be very, very careful not to lose her heart to all of them.

  CHAPTER SIX

  COLE DROVE CAREFULLY down the snow-covered dirt road back toward the house, trying fiercely to ignore his growing awareness of the woman who sat beside him.

  She smelled delicious, that fresh, sweet, flowery scent he had noticed before. Being trapped in a pickup truck cab with her was more distracting to his driving skills than the kids bickering in the back.

  It was increasingly tough to keep a lid on this attraction, especially when he kept catching all these random impressions—the soft line of her throat, the gentle curve of her ear, the creamy skin, dotted here and there with pale freckles. Those freckles made a man want to go on a solemn quest to unearth every one she had, one at a time.

  He swallowed, his hands tightening on the steering wheel, aware of how very long it had been since he had spent this much time in the company of a female who wasn’t related to him.

  When he came back to the ranch, everything had been such a mess. First he’d had to throw his energy and time into fighting Sharla and her vindictive efforts to keep the kids from him. In between court battles, he had been trying to clean up the ranch’s tangled finances left by his grandfather’s death.

  When the hell was he supposed to find time to date in all that chaos?

  Once upon a time, horses, women and whiskey had been the only things that mattered to him. Not necessarily in that order. He had partied hard in every aspect of his life. On the circuit, buckle bunnies were eager to show a good time to any cowboy in the money—and despite being half-drunk most of the time he had been hell on wheels on the back of a bucking bronc.

  He could stroll into any bar west of the Mississippi and walk back out ten minutes later with the sexiest woman in there, if he wanted. And he had wanted, plenty of times. That’s how he’d met Sharla, after all.

  He had even been stupid enough to be flattered after that first weekend together when she showed up at his next PRCA event and then the one after that. Before he quite knew how it happened, she was traveling with him to every event on the circuit and a few months later, she changed
his life forever when she told him she was pregnant.

  He had put the womanizing aside after he married Sharla, figuring that one of them ought to at least try to keep the vows they made.

  He didn’t go to bars these days. After he dried out and came back to Haven Point, he had tried to go with a couple of his buddies a few times to watch a football or basketball game, but he’d learned that sitting there nursing a soft drink wasn’t quite the same. The funny thing was, when he was sober, the women trying their best to pick up a cowboy in a bar all seemed brassy and hard.

  He was going to blame that long, self-imposed drought for this sudden ache in his gut, this yearning for the softness of a woman’s touch. He could suddenly imagine it only too well, her breathy sighs, that luscious auburn hair tangled in his fingers, her small, competent hands sliding over his body—

  “Weren’t you going to drop off a tree for your father? You’re about to drive past his house.”

  Devin’s low voice interrupted the completely inappropriate direction of his thoughts. He drew in a sharp breath, aware he was half-aroused. Fortunately, things subsided quickly. Nothing like a conversation about his father to take the wind out of his sails, so to speak.

  “His temporary house,” he said, his voice short. “Stan is only here to be a pain in the ass.”

  He glanced in the backseat and was relieved that the kids were too busy arguing about who was better at building a snowman to notice his verbal slip. He was doing his best not to swear around them, though it seemed to be a harder habit to break than getting loaded every night.

  “Sometime you’ll have to tell me the story there,” she said.

  He glanced over and saw she looked genuinely interested.

  “It’s not a pleasant one,” he answered as he maneuvered the vehicle around and pulled back in front of the house.

  “I gathered as much.”

  As much as he would like to keep driving and find something else to do with the little spruce he had cut down, he couldn’t forget what Jazmyn had said.

  You said we should help people who are having a hard time whenever we can. I think Grandpa Stan is having a hard time. He always looks sad.