Colt

by Duncan Leigh

  He grabbed a handful of hangers. “I’m packing. I have to leave this afternoon.”

  “Are you going away?” Bree set the puppy on the floor. The dog scrambled for a pair of boots Colt had discarded at the end of the bed. Growling, the pup sprang for one.

  “Hey, there, Chocolate. Them’s my boots. They’re not for eating.” He checked the heels—clean enough—and propped the worn footwear at the end of the mattress. “Don’t you pee on the floor now.”

  “Are you going away?” Bree asked again.

  The panicky note in the girl’s voice snagged his attention. “Mr. Luke and Ms. Sarah and Jimmy will be back home today. That makes a lot of people in one house. It’s time for me to move out.”

  He hoped Bree accepted the explanation. The real reason—that he couldn’t sleep down the hall from her mom another night without taking things to the next level—yeah, that wasn’t fit for four-year-old ears.

  “My daddy went away.” Bree squatted down beside the puppy.

  Colt’s favorite pair of Wranglers fell from his fingers. Fighting an urge to slap some sense into his head, he knelt beside the child. “Your daddy went to heaven. My dad’s there, too.”

  His throat thickened and he swallowed. “I’m not going that far. Just down the road a little ways.” The puppy wandered in circles near the dresser. “Do you remember the other house? The one with a bedroom just for you?”

  Bree gave a solemn nod. “Mommy said we’d paint it. I like pink. What’s your favorite color?”

  Colt eyed the child, who wore pink bows in her hair. “If you like pink, then that’s my favorite, too.”

  “Good— Oooh! No, Chocolate!” Bree snatched the puppy off the floor, but the damage was done. A puddle spread across the wood. “I’m sorry, Mr. Colt. Don’t be mad. That’s a bad Chocolate. Bad puppy.” She hugged the squirming ball of fur to her chest, her eyes tearing up.

  “Hey, there.” Colt petted the dog’s nose. “He didn’t mean anything by it, did you, boy?” For a moment, he let the little dog lick his fingers. “We’ll clean the floor before the wood gets ruined.”

  Rising, he crossed to the bathroom, where he grabbed a handful of tissue. He studied Bree and her dog. “It takes a lot of responsibility to raise a puppy. You’ll have to train him right so he’ll be a good dog when he grows up.”

  Are you talking to yourself there, Colt?

  As he mopped and blotted, he considered what the next twenty years might be like if he and Emma made things permanent. He’d have more than puppies to worry about, for darn sure.

  He pictured walking Bree to the bus stop on her first day of school. Practicing her lines for the Christmas pageant. He saw himself sitting in the audience, mouthing the words right along with her. There were bound to be scrapes and bumps and probably more than one broken heart before she learned to drive a car.

  Before he knew it, he and Emma would be nodding off in their easy chairs, pretending they weren’t sleepy while they watched the clock the night of her first prom. One day, God willing, a nice boy would come along. He’d catch their daughter’s heart the same way Emma had caught his. Through it all there’d be laughter and tears and…

  He brushed his eyes against one sleeve. Raising a child right took a lot more effort than raising a puppy. Was he ready for that kind of commitment?

  “Did the pee make your eyes water, Mr. Colt? Mommy says it stinks, but it doesn’t. Onions make her eyes water.”

  Colt took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “The stink comes later. If you don’t clean up right away. Tell you what,” he said, disposing of the soiled tissues. “I’ll walk you downstairs so you can take Chocolate outside to see if he has more business to do. I have to work in the office for a while, but then I’m going to get Mr. Luke and Ms. Sarah. When I come back, I’ll bring a surprise.”

  He added a stop at the pet store for chew toys to his tasks for the afternoon. Kids and puppies went together like heat and humidity. As long as he was in the business of raising both, it’d be best if the dog learned to leave his boots alone.

  A short time later, he logged the last of the receipts into the Circle P’s financial sheet and hit the enter key. Done, he exhaled. The monthly reports on the cattle, all logged. Bills, paid. Paychecks, issued. Accounts, balanced to the penny.

  He mopped his face and checked the in-box before shutting down the computer. His heart rate kicked up at the Beaks and Wings logo on an incoming email. A feeling that was half apprehension, half elation swirled through him when he clicked the mouse and an advance copy of the magazine’s review appeared on the screen.

  He took a breath. Whatever the outcome, he was stuck with it. And so was the ranch because, according to Mike’s note, the summer issue had already gone to print. The mouse made a soft click. Colt scrolled down.

  Five feathers. He leaned closer. The magazine’s highest rating didn’t change. He scanned the flattering article, but earning Beaks and Wings’ designation as one of the top birding spots in America didn’t hold his attention the way he thought it would. Instead, a sidebar drew his focus to pictures of exquisitely prepared food and a glowing report sure to put “up-and-coming Chef Emma” on the map.

  Colt exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Clearly, a celebration was in order. He stood, picturing Emma’s face when he gave her the good news. Her eyes would darken. Her lips would widen in the smile she wore especially for him. He’d hold her close, and together, they’d dance around the kitchen.

  Or…

  His heart thudded. On the trail ride, he’d brushed aside the compliments Mike paid their cook, but this… Doubt unfurled in his chest as Colt stared at a photo of Emma in her chef’s whites. Even before the Beaks and Wings article, one of the premier restaurants in Fort Lauderdale had offered her complete control of their kitchen. According to this write-up—he thumped the printout—Emma had the skills to make a name for herself as one of America’s top chefs. A position she’d never achieve by hiding her talents away on the Circle P.

  He ran a hand through his hair. He’d spent his time at the top. Enjoyed the years of fame and fortune that came with being the best bull rider in the country. Emma wanted fame, too. Hadn’t she dreamed of having her own TV show? Her own restaurant? He shook his head. She’d never make that leap as long as she stayed on the ranch. Wouldn’t strike out on her own as long as he held her back.

  A sick feeling formed in the pit of his stomach as he realized what he had to do. Before his courage ran out, he faxed a response to his boss at the PBR and placed a call to his brother Hank. Then, summoning every vestige of strength he possessed, he called Emma to the office.

  “What’s up?” she asked from the doorway a few minutes later.

  Knowing one glimpse of the trust and love in her eyes would rob him of his nerve, he dug deep for the bravery he’d needed back in the days when he made his living by riding bulls. “Come on in, Emma. Close the door.”

  The saucy smile she reserved only for him faded just a smidge as she edged her way into the room.

  “Have a seat.” He gestured to the chair opposite the desk while he leaned against the wall. “Where do you stand with dinner preparations for the Parkers?”

  At his formal tone, Emma’s brow furrowed. Looking very much like the professional chef she was, she folded her hands the way he’d seen her do countless times.

  “I thought we’d serve rib roast, from the Circle P’s own beef, of course. It makes such a beautiful presentation. Chris and Tim are prepping vegetables for the grill. There’s a raspberry torte I’ve been wanting to try for dessert. Why? Was their flight delayed? We can push everything back if we need to.”

  Colt ground his teeth until they ached. The elaborate meal was as far from “simple food and plenty of it” as it could get. Though he knew every morsel would melt in his mouth, the menu made his task easier in a way. Maintaining his distance, he managed to say the hard words. “I know this is going to come as a shock, but I have to let you
go.”

  “Go?” Confusion swam in the dark eyes he longed to see when he woke every morning. “Go where?”

  His determination wobbled, but he forced himself to stay strong. “The meal you’ve planned for tonight only goes to prove what I’ve said all along—you’ll never fit in here. The people at Beaks and Wings recognized it right away. See for yourself.” He sent the pages he’d printed spinning across the desk.

  Cowboy up, he told himself when his knees threatened to buckle.

  Emma didn’t even glance at the papers Colt slid toward her. Briefly, she squeezed her eyes shut. Hiding behind the mask of indifference she’d honed through years of listening to her father’s, her husband’s, other chefs’ rants, she buried the hurt that threatened to crawl over her face.

  Hoping to get through to the man she’d fallen in love with, she asked, “What’s this all about, Colt?”

  When he refused to meet her gaze, panic beat its wings in her chest. Then, and only then, she reached for the magazine article Colt had tossed her way. Despite their raves during the trail ride, had Mike and Dave dissed her cooking? She worried her lower lip.

  “They gave us five feathers!” she protested.

  “They gave the Circle P five feathers,” Colt corrected. “They hailed you as the next Julia Child. And they’re right. You certainly don’t belong on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, Florida.”

  Was that pain in his eyes?

  A tiny spark of hope flared in her chest. Maybe Colt thought, somehow, he was firing her for her own good. If so, she’d prove him wrong. “I’m not going anywhere, Colt. I love it here. This is our home, mine and Bree’s. Yours, too. I thought…” Her words faltered. Hating the needy note that had crept into her voice, she took a breath. “I thought we were going to build our future here. Together.”

  “You were wrong about that.” Colt bit off each word as if he were tearing into a tough piece of meat. “The PBR has made me an offer I can’t refuse. I leave tomorrow.”

  Leaving? Going back to his life on the road?

  Emma blinked, her hopes and dreams wavering. Time and again, Colt had proven that underneath his rough exterior beat the heart of a man who doted on her, on her daughter.

  He hadn’t put it into words, not precisely, but she’d assumed they were making plans. Plans for the future. Their future as a couple, as a family. They’d talked about the ranch he wanted to buy. The bulls he intended to raise.

  She swallowed, straining to remember what, exactly, he’d said, but all she could recall were the words he hadn’t spoken. Words like forever and always. Nausea rolled through her midsection. She clamped a hand over her mouth.

  For a second, she thought Colt’s shoulders had slumped. She blinked, and realized she’d been mistaken. A cool reserve radiated from his rigid jaw line. Instead of softening, his stance only firmed. The arms that had once held her close were now folded across his chest, shutting her out.

  “It’s time we face the facts and get on with our lives. My future isn’t on the Circle P. Yours isn’t, either.”

  Emma reeled back against her chair. If she didn’t know better, she’d think the man she’d spent the past month falling in love with had never existed. In his place stood a stranger. One who looked remarkably like the angry man who’d yelled at her—twice—the day she’d arrived at the Circle P. In a callous voice, he said the words she’d dreaded then, but hadn’t seen coming today.

  “You’re fired. Pack your bags and get out. I want you gone by the time I get back from the airport with the Parkers.”

  White noise roared in her head. Her thoughts sluggish, she stared at Colt. At first, she’d been certain this was all some kind of joke, but his tone cut through her fog like a hot knife through butter. Hearing the harshness in his voice, she knew. Knew he’d fallen out of love with her as quickly as they’d fallen in love with each other.

  A hollow spot yawned in her chest where her love for Colt was supposed to be. Rising on legs that felt far older than their twenty-six years, she carefully picked her way out of the office.

  In the great room, she trailed her fingers over the back of the couch where she and Colt had traded the most amazing kisses. She spared a single glance for the staircase he’d carried Bree up the nights her daughter had fallen asleep in his arms. Her head down, Emma trudged through the long hall lined with pictures of Judds and Parkers, the hall where she had hoped to one day hang a photo of her and Colt and Bree.

  She glanced at the cedar walls of the house that had become her home and knew Colt was right about one thing. He’d done her a favor by firing her. She couldn’t stay here. Not on the ranch where she’d found love and happiness. Without Colt, the Circle P was a wonderful place, a place where she wanted to raise her daughter. But it took the rancher to make it a home.

  Summoning a calm she didn’t feel, she drew her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed the number for a restaurant in Fort Lauderdale. She winced at the thought of stepping back into a bustling kitchen where tempers flared as often as burners under the pans. She nearly sobbed when she considered uprooting her daughter again.

  But, honestly, did she have a choice? Her hands shaking, she informed the voice on the other end of the line that his new chef was on her way.

  Finally, she drew in a courage-laced breath, squared her shoulders and pushed her way into the Circle P’s kitchen a final time. In one corner Chris chopped veggies with the precision of someone who’d been born to the job, while at the pastry counter, Tim decorated a cake for the Parkers’ homecoming. A cake someone else would have to serve because she and Bree were on their way out of here.

  A wave of homesickness for the ranch she was about to leave threatened to knock her down.

  “Chris, Tim, I’m feeling a little under the weather,” she announced from the doorway. “I’d appreciate it if you could carry on with the dinner preparations.”

  “You okay, Ms. Emma?” A worried frown crossed Tim’s face.

  Buying time, she closed her eyes and nodded. “I’m leaving the kitchen in your capable hands.”

  For a few seconds, she concentrated on staying upright, on ignoring the searing pain that gripped her heart. She spared a quick look at the small corner table where her daughter was coloring a welcome home banner for the Parkers. Her chest tightened and she swallowed her tears. For Bree’s sake, she wouldn’t cry. Wouldn’t let her heartbreak show.

  “I’m making a present. See?” The sign Bree held up had more scribbles outside the lines than inside them.

  Emma lifted a hand, intending to brush it through hair she’d snagged into a bun in deference to the rising temperatures. She settled for tucking one of the pins in deep enough that it scraped across her scalp.

  Yipping, a puppy scratched at the screened door.

  “Chocolate!” Bree looked up from her artwork. “You’re s’posed to be with your mommy and your brothers in the barn.” Golden brown from the days she’d spent playing outside, her daughter rushed to the door. She scooped the dog of indeterminate breed into her arms and carried him inside.

  “Mommy, look, he runned to me. Watch. I’ll show you his new trick.” Eight pounds of squiggling fur poured out of her arms when she bent over. “Sit, Chocolate,” Bree ordered.

  The dog plopped its heavy hindquarters on the floor.

  “Now, shake.”

  The appropriately named puppy slapped one paw against Bree’s outstretched hand. With a squeal of delight, her daughter scooped the dog back into her arms. “Mr. Colt said a dog is a big job. But I teached him good, didn’t I, Mommy?” She patted the dog’s head. “I’m gonna teach you lots of tricks, Chocolate.”

  Another wave of pain knifed through Emma’s chest. When she and Bree left the Circle P, they’d have to leave the pup behind. Taking over as head chef meant impossibly long days that started late and ran far into the night.

  No, she shook her head. There was no way to fit even a small pet into their new schedule. And, from the size of his paws, Choc
olate was going to be anything but small. She dropped to her knees and let Bree think she was letting the dog lick her face when, in fact, he washed the tears from her cheeks.

  Just when he thought Jimmy couldn’t bounce any higher and still remain strapped in, Colt turned off the main road onto the long drive to the ranch house. “Keep your boots on,” he told the youngster whose presence had stifled the serious talk he needed to have with Luke and Sarah. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

  Beside him on the passenger’s seat, the Circle P’s owner stretched his long legs. “I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed. Hawaii was nice, but nothing beats coming home.”

  Home.

  Theirs, but not his. Not for much longer. The pain of leaving, of letting down all the people who were counting on him, was a knife in his chest. Colt stared through the windshield at land that had been worked by four generations of Judds. Thanks to Emma, he’d rediscovered a love for ranching that had been handed down from father to son. A love he wanted to pass along to children of his own someday. He wanted…this, he admitted as he studied barbed wire and green grass.

  Trouble was, having his own patch of saw grass and palmetto didn’t hold the same appeal without Emma at his side. Before he could have what he wanted, he’d have to get over losing her. Have to reach the point where he could think about her without doubling over. Which, by his reckoning, might not happen till he hung up his spurs for the last time.

  “Well, I want a decent cup of coffee.” Sarah gave one of the ranch hands a friendly wave. “I missed the gurgle of our old percolator in the mornings.”

  “About that…” Colt swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Emma called it a monstrosity. She tossed it. The new one, though, it makes a mighty fine cuppa joe.”

  “You don’t say.”

  Sarah leaned back so far into her seat Colt barely caught a glimpse of her raised eyebrows in the rearview mirror. Maybe he should have argued longer or stronger for the battered coffeemaker. He’d intended to. One look at the excitement in Emma’s eyes when she lifted the new one out of the box, though, and all his objections had simply melted. The same way they had when she rearranged the cupboards. Or offered the men a choice between apples and oranges in their lunch pails.