Home of Her Heart (Hearts of the War Book 2)

by Shanna Hatfield

  Delaney grinned and tossed off more hay. “Me, too. Last one back has to make hot chocolate.”

  “Deal.”

  Delaney jumped off the hay wagon, and ran over to the wagon on the other side of the pasture where two of the hired hands dumped off hay.

  “Hey, Yank, go help Dad. We’re having a contest to see who finishes first.” Delaney grabbed a handhold and pulled herself onto the wagon.

  “Sure, Dee.” The gangly young man stepped down and jogged back to Dill’s wagon.

  “Are you always into some sort of tomfoolery?” asked Butch, a ranch hand who’d been around since her dad was a boy. She got the idea he’d started working on the ranch when he was in his early twenties and stayed. He never talked much about his past, but he was the closest thing she had to an uncle. Butch wasn’t quite as spry as he used to be, but he could handle the big team of Belgians pulling the hay wagon better than anyone on the place.

  She smiled at the older man and hefted a large forkful of hay. “According to you and Dad, I’m always neck-deep in some type of shenanigan.”

  Butch laughed and snapped the reins, encouraging the Belgians to increase speed. “Well, you typically are, Dee. What’s the prize for the winners?”

  “The loser has to make everyone hot chocolate.” Delaney tossed off another large forkful of hay, grunting under the weight of it.

  Butch glanced back at her and snapped the reins again. “Get to tossing faster, Girly. Your hot chocolate tastes like you mixed coffee dregs with turpentine.”

  Delaney laughed. “That’s not nice. I only scorched it once and you all are never going to let me live it down. At any rate, Dad makes the best hot chocolate of anyone I know.”

  “Then get to hustlin’ so we win!”

  “Yes, sir!” Delaney put her back into it and hay flew off the wagon. She dared not look across the snow-covered expanse to see if Yank and her father were finished. One advantage she and Butch had was their proximity to the gate and barn.

  Delaney used the side of her boot to scoot off the last bit of hay then slapped Butch on the shoulder. “Done. Let’s go!”

  Butch whistled and the Belgians broke into a trot. The hay wagon, which sported runners instead of wheels because of the snow, glided easily over the frozen crust on the ground.

  Tilting back her head, Delaney closed her eyes and let the cool breeze stroke her face. The jingle of more harnesses drew her gaze over to where her dad raced his team of Clydesdales toward the gate. According to the story Mac shared, her dad and Butch had gone to an auction to buy a team of young work horses. They argued for two hours about which were better Belgians or Clydesdales. Both men were so stubborn, they decided to purchase two teams and see which turned out to be the best. To this day, they still hadn’t decided and the horses had been with them for fifteen years.

  “Go, Butch, go!” Delaney encouraged, glancing back at her father and making a silly face.

  As though they sensed the need to hurry, the Belgians picked up their pace and breezed through the gate heading for the barn.

  Dill and Yank gained on them, but the Belgians pulled ahead at the last moment, arriving first at the barn.

  Delaney waved her arms in the air then jumped down from the wagon, doing a few dance steps as she laughed. “We won! Again!”

  Dill scowled at her as he set the brake and climbed down. “I’m sure you two cheated somehow.”

  “Oh, don’t be a sore loser, boss,” Butch said, grinning at Dill. “Just because my horses are better than yours,” he taunted.

  Dill glared at him. “I ought to fire you, old man.”

  “Go ahead. If you do that, you’ll be left without a cook and someone to make sure the work gets done around here,” Butch said, slowly climbing down from the feed wagon. He patted the rump of the horse closest to him then hobbled around to rub the neck of the other.

  Before Delaney was born, Butch had been in a terrible auto accident that nearly killed him. While he recovered, Delaney’s mother had taught him how to cook and had him help with the accounting side of the business.

  When Mary Danvers passed away, Butch was the one who’d tried to teach Delaney how to cook and helped her learn to balance the ranch books. For years, her father had been so buried in his grief, he’d all but forgotten he still had a young daughter who needed him and a son who mourned the loss of a beloved mother. Eventually, Dill let go of his pain and took back his life. By then, Delaney was in high school and Mac was married.

  Delaney sometimes wondered if her father’s overwhelming grief wasn’t what drove Mac to leave. She’d grown up assuming he’d take over the ranch, but he seemed to want to make his own way in the world.

  Still, she hoped he’d someday return to the ranch with Carol and Ry. There was plenty of room for them all to live there.

  Yank backed the feed wagons up to the haystack while two of the other ranch hands came over to help load hay, leaving the wagons ready for the next feeding.

  “I’ll start cookin’ supper while you whip up a batch of hot chocolate,” Butch said, ambling toward the bunkhouse. For the last dozen years, Delaney and her father joined the hands in the bunkhouse for supper. The rest of the time, they took turns making breakfast and lunch. Delaney wasn’t an award-winning cook, but she did well enough to get by. Domestic skills had never held her interest like learning about farming and ranching. She’d much rather be outside breaking a horse, chasing cows, or building a fence than learning how to sew or clean.

  She often wondered why her father hadn’t hired a housekeeper, but anytime she suggested it, he told her it was good for the two of them to take care of the house without help. Sometimes the furniture grew a little dusty or the windows failed to sparkle before they got down to the task of caring for their home, but keeping the ranch running came first. It always came first.

  Delaney wanted to bury herself in work, but for the next month, there wasn’t a lot to be done. Other than feeding the cattle and riding horses, the chores were light due to the winter. Once the cows began to calve and spring work got underway, she’d be so busy she’d wish for a day of quiet. For now, though, she had too much time to get lost in her thoughts. And much to her dismay, they kept circling around to a soldier named Klayne.

  In spite of the hours they’d talked, she still didn’t know much about him. He’d enlisted young and mentioned flying with a crew, but she wasn’t sure what he did. He seemed more like a loner than someone with many friends. He mentioned he liked to read, which surprised her. She pictured him as someone who was more of a doer than someone who read about others doing something. She supposed the same might be said about her, though.

  At the back door, she and her dad stamped their feet, loosening the packed-on snow, before stepping inside what had once been a summer porch. Dill had enclosed it and made it into a laundry room for her mother not long after they wed. It made a good place to remove dirty coats and boots without traipsing a mess throughout the whole house.

  Delaney had just kicked off her boots and hung her coat on a hook near the door when the jangle of the telephone rang from the kitchen. “I’ll get it,” she said, pushing open the door into the kitchen and hurrying over to lift the receiver from the phone on the wall.

  “Sage Hill Ranch.”

  “Dee, it’s Amy.”

  Delaney heard a hint of panic mixed with excitement in her friend’s voice. “What’s going on?”

  “You need to come to town. Right now.” Amy spoke in a whisper.

  “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Are your folks okay?” Delaney asked. Dill stepped beside her and gave her a questioning glance, but she shrugged, still unsure of what Amy needed.

  Amy laughed, setting her fears at rest. “Everyone is fine, but that cutie pie soldier you talked to the other night is here at the bakery. He just ordered a cinnamon roll and a cup of coffee. I can only keep him here for so long before he’ll leave. Get a move on and come see him.”

  “I don’t think so. It’s best if
I just…”

  Amy interrupted her. “Oh, hush! Change out of whatever horrible thing you’re wearing, wash off that rancid-smelling manure, and come to town. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  Amy hung up and Delaney glared at the phone, wishing she could reach through it and throttle her best friend. Sometimes Amy thought she was far too clever for her own good.

  “What’s wrong with Amy?” Dill asked, pouring milk into a pan and setting it on the stove to heat for hot chocolate.

  “She’s bossy and loony,” Delaney grumbled, washing her hands at the sink.

  Dill grinned. “So are you. What’s she want you to do?”

  “She said she needs me to come to the bakery. Something about cinnamon rolls and coffee. I might as well go or she’ll just bug me until I give in or pout if I don’t.”

  “Bring home some of Myrtle’s coffee cake. We’ll have it for breakfast tomorrow,” Dill said, grating a chocolate bar into the warming milk.

  Delaney sighed. “Anything else you want from town?”

  “Nope.” Dill stirred sugar into the pan. “Sorry you’ll miss the hot chocolate.”

  “Maybe I’ll get a cup with Amy.” Delaney spun around and raced up the back stairs, taking them two at a time. She wished she had time for a bath, but if she didn’t hurry, she wouldn’t make it to Pendleton before Klayne left the bakery.

  She yanked off her overalls and flannel shirt, and the long wool underwear she wore under them in the bathroom. After taking a quick sponge bath, she hurried to her bedroom and flung open the closet. A frantic riffling through her clothes turned up a navy and green plaid skirt. She pulled it on, grabbed a cream cashmere sweater Mac and Carol had given her last year for Christmas, and then cinched her waist with a wide leather belt.

  With deft fingers, she worked the braid she’d worn all day free and fluffed her hair. A few quick twists, and she pinned it up on her head, glad the waves from the braid kept her hair from looking flat. She swiped her eyelashes with a coat of mascara, spritzed on her favorite perfume, and touched her lips with lipstick. Hastily snatching up her green wool coat, she grabbed her handbag and a hat then clattered down the stairs.

  “Anything else you need from Pendleton?” she asked as she tamped her feet into a pair of snow boots she saved to wear to town.

  “Nope, just the coffee cake.” Dill gave her a long look, both eyebrows shooting upward. “You look nice, Sis. Sure there isn’t more to your trip than just meeting Amy?”

  She grinned and tugged on her hat then shrugged into her coat. “I won’t be gone long, Dad. See you later.”

  Her father would no doubt comment on her avoidance of his question, but she closed the door as he spoke, not interested in admitting why she was so anxious to get to town.

  The red pickup she’d purchased three years ago started right up and she was soon on her way to Pendleton.

  Within fifteen minutes, she pulled into a parking space a block away from the bakery and inhaled a deep breath. “This is absurd,” she muttered to herself, but opened the door and rushed down the sidewalk toward Bellamy’s Bakery.

  She opened the door and stepped inside, greeted by the mouth-watering aromas of cinnamon, yeast, and chocolate with a hint of coffee.

  Rather than her customary upbeat greeting, Amy stood behind the counter and unobtrusively pointed toward a corner table where Klayne sat with a cup in one hand and a book in the other.

  Delaney walked over to the counter and smiled at her friend. “I’m surprised he’s still here.”

  “Me, too,” Amy said, clearly excited by his presence. “Once he finished the cinnamon roll, he pulled a book from his coat pocket and started reading. He’s hardly moved in the last fifteen minutes.

  “What should I do?” Delaney asked, trying to watch Klayne without staring outright.

  “Just go say hello, like you happened upon him.” Amy gave her a nudge that direction. “I’ll bring you a cup of coffee.”

  “No, I want chocolate, please, and a macaroon. And Dad wants one of your mom’s coffee cakes for breakfast tomorrow. Can you box one up? I’ll grab it on my way out.”

  “Of course,” Amy said, tipping her head toward Klayne. “Now, go on.”

  Delaney removed her coat and draped it over her arm, took a deep breath, then silently walked over to Klayne’s table.

  He glanced at her, dropped his gaze back to the book for a second, then his head popped up and he rose to his feet.

  “Miss Danvers. What a surprise,” he said. Stiff, he stood in front of her as though he considered snapping to attention. When she smiled at him, he grinned and relaxed his stance. “Are you spying on me?” he teased, referring to their initial conversation.

  Delaney couldn’t suppress her laughter. “No. My friend Amy’s parents own this bakery. My dad was in the mood for coffee cake for breakfast, so here I am.” Conveniently, she left out the part about Amy calling the house and demanding she rush into town while he was there. She also wouldn’t mention that she broke multiple traffic laws as she sped to Pendleton.

  “Would you care to join me for a minute, if you aren’t in a hurry?” He motioned to a chair across the table from where he’d been sitting.

  “I’d like that,” Delaney said, taking a seat in the chair he held out for her. She draped her coat across the chair beside her and set down her handbag. Afraid her hair would look like a frizzy mess, she left her knit beret-style hat in place.

  “Here you go,” Amy said, approaching with a tray. She set steaming cups of hot chocolate in front of Delaney and Klayne then settled a plate full of assorted cookies between them. With a sly wink at Delaney, she spun around and left.

  “Your friend seems nice,” Klayne commented, settling his hands around the cup of hot chocolate.

  “She has her moments,” Delaney said. Amy’s matchmaking efforts were annoying, but appreciated. Delaney might have been irritated with her friend if she wasn’t so pleased to see Klayne again.

  Attractive and commanding in his uniform, he looked even more handsome than she remembered when he smiled.

  “This chocolate is good,” he said, taking another drink of the sweet, warm liquid.

  “It is good,” Delaney agreed and leaned toward him, dropping her voice to a whisper. “But my dad’s is better.”

  “You don’t say.” Klayne grinned at her and helped himself to an oatmeal cookie after Delaney took a chocolate covered macaroon. “Did your father make it home from Portland?”

  Surprised he recalled her father had been with Carol and Ry the last time she’d seen him, she nodded her head. “He did make it home. My sister-in-law and my nephew seem to be getting along well.”

  “That’s great news,” he said, taking another drink of the chocolate. “Have you heard from your brother?”

  “Yes!” She brightened as she thought of the letter they’d just received two days ago. She’d whooped so loudly when she collected the mail, Yank and Duffy both raced down the lane to see if something had happened. Jubilant to hear from Mac, she ran toward the two cowboys waving the letter over her head. Everyone on the place crowded into the kitchen as she read the letter. “Mac wrote us about going through training. It sounds horrible, but he says he’s doing fine and learning something new every day.”

  Klayne leaned back and slowly nodded his head. “Getting used to life in the military can be challenging, but if your brother is anything like you, he’ll do fine.”

  She tipped her head and gave him a studying glance. “Thank you, I think. You’re either telling me I’m tenacious and determined, or mule-headed and stubborn.”

  He grinned and lifted the cup of chocolate to his lips. “Maybe all of the above.”

  A scowl furrowed her brow before she broke into another smile. She lifted her cup and held it in her hands then pointed it toward his book. “What are you reading?”

  “Nothing much,” he said, sliding the book beneath his arm.

  “Let me see,” she said, wondering if he was reading one
of those disgusting magazines with pictures of nearly naked women and hiding it in a book jacket.

  His lips thinned and he shook his head. “It’s classified.”

  Delaney set down her cup of chocolate and pretended to reach for a cookie before snatching the book away from him, holding it just out of his reach.

  Shocked by what he read, she glanced from the book to Klayne before placing it back beside him.

  “Why are you ashamed about that?” she asked, lifting her cup of hot chocolate again and taking a sip.

  “Because grown men probably should read something more meaningful than Mrs. Wilder’s book about her childhood years spent on the prairie.” Klayne looked embarrassed as he stared at his hands, clenching the cup of hot chocolate between them.

  Delaney reached over and settled her hand on top of his. “I think it’s admirable you choose a variety of literature, Sergeant Campbell. It shows maturity and intellect. For the record, I greatly enjoyed her books, too.”

  He lifted his head and his gaze tangled with hers. She’d never seen a man with such beautiful, arresting eyes — the kind of eyes that could drive a girl to do something completely stupid and crazy.

  Klayne smirked. “If the guys found out I was reading this, they’d never let me live it down. Some of them have a hard time making it through a Captain Marvel comic.”

  Delaney shook her head. “Oh, those poor fellas. They don’t know what they’re missing.”

  They spent a companionable hour talking about books, music, and movies.

  “I don’t mean to be forward, Miss Danvers, but I’m off duty tomorrow night.” Klayne gave her a look full of hope. “Would you be interested in going to see a show with me?”

  Even if she’d wanted to turn him down, which she didn’t, the fortitude needed to tell him no was far beyond her ability to muster. Not when his company brought her so much pleasure. “I think that could be arranged. What time would you like to meet?”

  “Would five be too early? We could have dinner then go to the show. Or see an earlier show and then have dinner afterward. Or we could just see the show.” Klayne clamped his mouth shut, as though he’d said too much.