His Country Girl

by Jillian Hart

  “Thank you, Sandi.” Her throat felt tight as she grabbed Frank’s plate. She’d had some hard times over the past few years, but she’d never been alone in this friendly, small town, not once. It strengthened her as she grabbed the two waiting plates and circled through the open doorway.

  Her thoughts boomeranged to her son, who had stayed on her mind all morning long. She hated being away from him. She knew he was in capable hands, but that didn’t make the ill feeling in her stomach go away.

  “Need some more ketchup, dear,” Mrs. Tipple called out. “I know you’re busy.”

  Sierra paused in her tracks to smile at the sweet, elderly widow, seated with her friends from church. “I’ll get right on it. Do you ladies need me to refill your iced teas?”

  “Oh, no, we’re fine,” they all chorused, merry as larks, and Sierra went on her way toward the Granger booth. The three men talked away, Tucker chuckling at something his dad said.

  “Sierra!” Frank reached out to take his plate from her. “Just in time. I was about to eat my boot. The boys and I have been talking.”

  “Uh-oh. That sounds like trouble to me.” She slid Justin’s plate onto the table and told herself there was no need to dread facing Tucker. The man grinned up at her the way he always did, easygoing, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Except now she knew him enough to read the shadows in his lapis-blue eyes.

  He was only being nice to you at the hospital. She had to remember that. She eased his plate in front of him, ignoring the hitch in her chest and his leather-and-winter scent.

  “We got the sheep all lined up for your boy.” Frank stole a steak fry from his plate. “Although Tucker says it might be a while before Owen gets the go-ahead from the doc to ride, we’re making all the preparations. I hear he’s been pretty excited about the prospect.”

  “Excited? It’s all he talks about. Tucker, you gave him something positive to focus on. It’s helped him.”

  “Good. My family has had a lot of reminders lately how blessed we are.” Tucker’s words rumbled with honesty, a very attractive quality. It was hard to remember she’d ever had a low opinion of him. As he reached for his cola, he said, “We’ve been talking, and my dad suggested Owen might want to go for a ride on Jack before he wrangles a few sheep.”

  “Your dad suggested it.” It sounded like something Frank would think of. Frank, not Tucker. She had to remember that. She drew in a slow breath to steady herself, so the sting of disappointment wouldn’t show. Disappointment made no sense, but she felt it anyway. “Owen would love it. You know how he gets so excited about your rodeo horse.”

  “He can learn a few things about riding before he tries mutton busting. That was Autumn’s idea.”

  “Mutton busting?”

  “Riding sheep.” Tucker took a sip, watching her over the rim of the glass.

  This wasn’t a personal invitation. This came from all of the Grangers and it made it easier to accept. She took a step back, remembering her other duties. “Owen will love it.”

  “Then it’s settled.” It was Frank’s turn to speak up. “Give us a call when the doc gives the go-ahead. We’ll be looking forward to it.”

  “We will, too.” Another step took her farther away from the table and away from Tucker. She grabbed a fresh ketchup bottle for Mrs. Tipple.

  Could she help it if her gaze went back to him? He bowed his head as his father led the prayer. She had a good view of him over the back of the booth as she set the bottle on the elderly ladies’ table. The sincere low murmur of his amen rumbled like winter thunder. It was gratitude she felt for the man, nothing more.

  “Thank you, dear.” Mrs. Tipple smiled up at her, a lifetime of beauty on her face. “I heard from Cady Winslow that the doctor who diagnosed your son is coming out for another visit. Isn’t that nice?”

  “Oh, it certainly is.” Just what she needed to refocus. “Doctor Stone must be coming for the inn’s opening.”

  “I hear he and his girls made the very first booking. He is such a nice man.” Mrs. Tipple beamed. “And so smart, since he helped your little Owen.”

  “He’s unmarried,” Mrs. Plum chimed in. “I hear his wife left him for his best friend. What a shame. It had to have broken his heart.”

  “I’m sure it did.” Uh-oh. Maybe this change of conversation wasn’t an improvement. “Don’t tell me you three ladies are still trying to marry me off?”

  “Okay, we won’t tell you.” Mrs. Tipple chuckled.

  “Although we are,” Mrs. Parnell spoke up. “You work hard taking care of your little boy on your own. We want you to be happy, honey.”

  “Then please let me stay single.” The joke made the three ladies laugh with amusement, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Tucker turn away as if he’d been watching her. Whether it was relief on his face at her comment or something else, she couldn’t say.

  It was dark when she pulled into her driveway. The headlights of her second-hand SUV swept through the pitch-black of the snowy evening. The windshield wipers swiped at the dizzying rush of snow, making it hard to see the gravel driveway. Exhaustion hung on her like an overlarge coat as she pulled into the carport and turned off the engine.

  Silence surrounded her and she was too numb to think as she grabbed her purse, opened the door and met the bracing wind. It had been a long day. Her feet ached as she tripped up the steps to the front door. Her back complained, but she ignored it as she stepped into the welcoming warmth.

  “Mom!” Owen sat up on the couch and swung his stockinged feet onto the floor. He pushed onto his feet, Slayer tucked into the crook of his arm. “Gramma said I could call Tucker today, and you know what? It’s cuz we’re buddies.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Sierra tossed a smile at her mom, who sat in the recliner facing the TV, and dropped her keys and purse on the corner of the dinette. “I hope you aren’t bothering Tucker.”

  “Nope. I gotta report in.” Owen ambled across the room, his free arm flying out. “Tucker said.”

  She knelt in time to wrap him into a sweet hug. Infinite love welled up within her. Life was simple when she walked through that door. Owen was her purpose in life and every last piece of her heart. She wanted to hold on to him forever. She breathed in the sweet, sugary scent of little boy and faint traces of cocoa. It wasn’t easy to unwrap her arms from around his back and to feel his hand slip away from her neck. She wanted to protect him from every harm and hurt, no matter what it cost her. She ruffled his brown hair with her fingertips. “What do you report on?”

  “That I ate all my vegetables, even the yucky broccoli.” Squeezing Slayer, he backed away, his feet plodding on the carpet. “Right, Gramma?”

  “Right.” Jeri Lynn looked up from her knitting project with a smile. “I was amazed at how that boy tackled his greens. He was like a superhero.”

  “I was.” Owen beamed. “Tucker always eats his broccoli. It’s his supersecret. That’s how he wins at the rodeo.”

  “That’s pretty awesome he shared his secret with you.” Another reason why she had to like the man, although that was no longer a hardship. “Do you want to know another secret to winning a rodeo?”

  “Sure!”

  “Getting a good night’s sleep.”

  “Aw, Mom.” Owen rolled his eyes with good-natured exaggeration.

  Cute. “Go brush your teeth.”

  She waited until he ambled out of sight, resisting the urge to follow him every step of the way and hover over him. Owen might be healing just fine from his surgery, but she was having a harder time healing her fear of losing him.

  “It will get easier.” Jeri Lynn tucked away her knitting and rose from the comfortable chair. “I didn’t let you out of my sight for nearly three months after you fell off your pony and cracked your head wide open. Do you remember?”

  “How could I forget having to stay home while all my friends went riding.” She eased out of her coat and hung it in the little entry closet. “Don’t tell me that was more f
or your benefit than mine?”

  “Half-and-half.” She sidled close to slip her coat off a hanger. “You look beat. Hard day?”

  “Long day. Mom, did you clean?”

  “And did all the laundry, too. Terri did the hard work caring for Owen all day. By the time I got here, everything had been done, so I had to make myself useful.” Jeri Lynn leaned close to brush a kiss against Sierra’s cheek. “Don’t you do a speck of housework. That’s an order. You put your son to bed and that’s it. Tomorrow I want to hear how you collapsed in front of the TV and took some downtime.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Not only did she have the best son but the best mom. She opened the door. “Drive safe.”

  “I certainly will. What a winter we’re having! It started early and it’s still going.” Jeri Lynn zipped her parka in the spill of the porch light. “Good night, sweetheart.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Anytime.”

  Life was an interesting balance of good and hardship, of love and sorrow, and she was glad for this moment in time when her son was recovering, her mom was well and the rest of her family was fine. Snow dappled the window as she watched her mom make it to the four-wheel-drive. Headlights burst to life, Mom’s blue mitten waved a final good-bye behind the dim windshield and the Jeep chugged into the storm until it disappeared completely.

  “Mom! I’m done.” Owen’s call pulled her around and down the short hall into his little room. He padded around his bed in his red flannel pajamas and settled the Jack replica on his nightstand. “When I grow up, I’m gonna have a horse just like this.”

  “You are? What are you going to name him?” She turned back the edge of his flannel sheets. “Wait, don’t tell me—”

  “Jack!” Owen burst out. It was good to see him full of hopes and she prayed he would always be just this way, open of heart and joyful of life. “I’m gonna ride him in the—”

  “Rodeo,” they said together, and she patted the mattress. “In you go.”

  “Mom?” Owen bounced onto the bed and tucked his feet beneath the covers she held for him. “Do you think I can be as good as Tucker one day?”

  “I think you can be twice as good.”

  “Whew. Cuz then when I’m a big rodeo champion, Dad will want to see me win. He’ll come then.” Owen laid back on the pillow, Slayer tight in the crook of his arm. “He’ll come.”

  “Oh, baby.” Daggers to her heart could not hurt as much. She did not know how to protect him from what hurt most in life. She brushed silken, wayward strands from his forehead, fighting for composure. “Your daddy loves you. He’s having a hard time showing it.”

  “One day I can fix it.” Owen squeezed Slayer a little tighter. “I put it in my prayers.”

  At a loss, she watched her son steeple his hands and close his eyes. His rosebud mouth moved rapidly with silent prayers.

  Hear him, Lord, she added one of her own. Please heal his heart in all ways.

  The wind gusted against the side of the trailer and snow beat on the window. Owen opened his eyes, snuggled into his sheets and whispered good-night, ready to dream.

  Chapter Seven

  Cady Winslow knelt to gather towels off the concrete floor in one of the Grangers’ horse stables when she felt a telltale bump against her forehead, the feather of whiskers and the brush of a velvety bottom lip. Her red cap popped off her head before she could try to save it. She glanced up, already laughing. Her palomino mare, Misty, lifted her head high, holding the knit hat between her front teeth like a prize.

  “You funny girl.” She abandoned the towels to pat the mare’s neck affectionately, happiness making her feel half her age of fifty—not that she wanted to think on that too hard. She loved the satin warmth of the horse’s light gold coat and the ripple of her pure white mane as Misty bobbed her head, intentionally keeping the cap out of reach. Big brown eyes beamed with delight.

  “What do you have there? And however am I going to get it?” Her words made the mare happier, and the animal arched her neck proudly.

  All her life Cady had wanted a horse. Moving from New York to Wyoming had been a big change, one she worried about at the time, but every day brought more reasons why the decision to leave the law firm behind had been an excellent one. Buying Misty and learning to ride her was the best happiness she’d experienced in a long time.

  “I see she’s playing her favorite game again.” A rich, mature baritone vibrated good-natured amusement.

  Cady didn’t need to turn around to know who belonged to the smoky, resonate voice. It could only be Frank Granger because her heart had forgotten to beat, her nervous system short-circuited and her knees decided to wobble just a little. The sound of his dependable, powerful gait moved through her like a favorite piece of music she looked forward to hearing. She glanced over her shoulder as the big, wide-shouldered cattle rancher moseyed down the aisle.

  My, he was handsome. His good looks struck her every time, renewing her hopeless crush on the man. His face was too rugged to be described as classically handsome, but she couldn’t think of a single male movie lead who had aged as gracefully or as attractively as Frank Granger. His features were chiseled out of hard granite, but the man’s character and warm personality softened lines that would otherwise be too harsh.

  “Misty is a handful. I don’t know what I’m going to do with her.” Laughing, she leaned against the horse’s neck because she wasn’t entirely certain her feet would support her.

  “So I see.” Thick, dark hair fell over his high forehead and brushed his collar, perpetually windblown. His striking blue eyes and the dimples cutting into his lean cheeks made half the unmarried women in White Horse County sigh dreamily. He wore a parka over a white T-shirt, which only emphasized the impressive line of his muscular shoulders. “How did your riding lesson go?”

  “Great. I never dreamed there was so much to learn, but I’m enjoying the experience.”

  “I saw Autumn putting you and Misty through your paces. I hear you won’t be boarding with us much longer.” He jammed his fists into his coat pockets, bracing his feet apart, looking like a hero out of a western movie come to life.

  “The contractor is finished with the stable. The fences are going up tomorrow so I can finally have Misty on the property with me.” She would regret the lost opportunities of running into Frank, not that he felt the same way. At least she didn’t think so. She took an unsteady breath, trying to hide the wound.

  “That will be good for the two of you, to be together. Nothing like a bond with a horse. I spend every day with Rogue, and he’s my best friend.”

  “I thought I was!” Autumn’s voice rose out of the depths of the barn.

  “Nope, you’ve been demoted.” Blue eyes sparkled and his dimples made a breath-stealing appearance. “Ever since you agreed to marry the sheriff, I put you in second place. You’re going to leave anyway.”

  “No way. Just you try and get rid of me.” Autumn, slender and lovely with her light auburn hair and doe eyes, strolled into sight, leading a big black gelding by the reins.

  She was a lovely young woman, about the age of a daughter Cady might have had if her life had taken a different course. Cady slipped one hand into her jacket pocket and extracted a molasses treat. Misty brightened, politely traded the cap for the goody and crunched on it happily. Cady tugged the hat back on her head, watching father and daughter. The pair interacted with ease only a lifetime of love and trust could give.

  Frank was a good man and an even better dad. Anyone could see the respect his children had for him and the devotion he carried for them. He tugged on the end of his daughter’s braid as she strolled by.

  “Glad to see you up and riding again, darlin’.”

  “No bullet wound is going to stop me,” she tossed over her shoulder with a sunny smile, her step never faltering. She had healed up from a serious run-in with cattle rustlers over two months ago, but Cady couldn’t remember ever being so frightened as when she’d hear
d the news. She couldn’t imagine how tough that had to have been for Frank.

  “Dad, why don’t you offer to trailer Misty over to her new home?” Autumn called out as she led the quarter horse out of sight, the clop of his steeled shoes like music echoing down the breezeway.

  “I don’t know why she’s volunteering me like that.” A faint blanket of red tinted Frank’s high cheekbones. “I’d be happy to do it, if you don’t mind.”

  “Oh, I would be grateful.” Was her unending affection for the man showing? Heavens, she hoped not. She did not want to be known as one of the many unmarried women in town who mooned after Frank Granger. She didn’t have the best track record when it came to men and romance and, seriously, how many men were interested in a fifty-year-old bride? No, she wasn’t holding any illusions. She caught sight of her hands, showing the wear of age with fine lines no lotion could erase, and slipped them quickly into her pockets.

  “Then give the house a call when you’re ready for Misty, and we’ll go from there. How does that sound?”

  “Fine.”

  Frank tossed her the same, one-size-fits-all grin he used for every occasion. The grin that said he was being friendly, but nothing more, before he went on his way. Horses in their stalls leaned against their gates, nickering to get his attention as he strolled by, reaching their necks and noses out, trying to catch hold of him.

  Cady felt a nudge against her shoulder—Misty, getting her attention. She blushed, realizing she’d been staring after the man again. The chance for love had passed her by but apparently not the longing for it. Shaking her head at herself, she gathered up the towels and carted them to the laundry room. Since the washer was already chugging and swooshing, she dropped the load onto a pile on the tile floor and led Misty to her roomy corner stall. After a proper good-bye and a promise to return in a few days, Cady wandered down the aisle and stumbled when she caught sight of Frank, standing inside the wide doorway with his back to her.