by Tanya Hanson
Bragg stood in the front doorway, proud, stalwart like some famous lawman or cattle baron of old.
After endless introductions, Tiffany accused but in a most delightful way. “Did you play a part in this?”
“I honestly did not.” He grinned, the half-lidded one that so far had always hitched her breath. “But Kelley’s pleased as punch. Don’t fault her for being a busybody.”
“Fault her? She saved me.” Catching Kelley’s eye, Tiffany waved and blew a kiss. In a bit, she’d make her way through the throng for a real thank-you. Her gaze landed on the Hummel nativity scene on the mantle. “I mean, she and Somebody else, of course. Now, if I could just spread the Word.”
Paul and his family busily conversed with Elaine and Kelley.
“Well, it’ll happen. Paul isn’t going anywhere, far as I’ve learned.” Bragg pulled her behind the big Christmas tree, and pulled a package from a branch. She chuckled. Of course, it would be…a knight on a white horse.
But the wrappings gave way to a statuette of a cowboy on a horse that looked just like Winchester.
She burst into laughter. “I love it. It’ll have the place of honor everywhere I lay my head.”
“Well, after you went on about White Christmas, I went on the hunt for a knight. But I happened to see this in the catalog Ma orders from for the gift shop. Took a lot of wangling and wheeling and dealing to get it here in time. And I hope”—Bragg’s voice turned breathlessly shy—“I mean, if I’m not too forward, I hope it’ll happen.”
“What?” Her anticipation emptied her lungs of air.
His eyes sparkled, from the lights, and something else that she saw right away. “That my head is always the one laying next to yours.”
She batted her eyelashes. “Is that an indecent proposal, Mr. Martin?”
“Not on your life.” His cheekbones colored. “I guess it means…I think I love you.”
“You only think it?” She couldn’t help the tease even though she felt it, too.
Pulling her close, he mumbled into the top of her head. “I don’t expect it to take too long before I know for sure.”
“Me either.”
Epilogue
The following April
“This just has to be the most beautiful place for a wedding,” Tiffany announced atop Curiosity, the spirited Appaloosa mare Bragg had given her for her birthday. The foothills and mountains cuddling all of Mountain Cove had turned back to the green of spring, of life and hope. Mallie and Hooper had chosen well. And Pastor Hale would be performing the ceremony.
“With all the spring wildflowers, you gals sure don’t have to do much decorating,” Bragg commented as he dismounted before helping Tiffany. She slid down him with a skitter of delight as their bodies melded for a brief second.
“You sure your ancestor Joe buried his faithful mule here?” she asked, surveying the tree-lined glen on the shore of the small mountain lake everybody called Old Joe’s Hole.
“So goes the legend.” Bragg nodded, his black Stetson firm on his head over a tumble of shoulder-length sandy waves. He pointed to a large, box-shaped boulder. “Her headstone supposedly, but the first time Christy saw this place, she reckoned it would make a fine wedding grotto.”
Stretching, Tiffany breathed in the sweet fresh air. A rippling creek and birdsong tickled her ears. With no rain for a week and no snow for three, surely the good weather was a good luck omen for the wedding.
No. Not a good luck omen. God Himself and His infinite blessings.
God’s goodness had continued, with Bragg’s former clients regaining their trust in him after Tony’s public confession to the school board. Business was booming, and the Bar R hadn’t held Tony’s wrongs against him. Most likely because the swim team was drug-free and performing well. And Bragg himself had put in a good word.
“So beautiful,” Tiffany breathed.
“I’d say so.” Bragg tossed her a look full of fire, and she stepped on tiptoe to pull his head down for a kiss. The leisurely taste of him only sparked her raging blood and pounding heart. She reveled in his manly groan.
A waft of spring wind still bearing a hint of winter blew through the pretty woods. Although Mallie had sweetly asked Tiffany to be a bridesmaid, she had declined so she could watch Matty. Connor’s appearance as ring-bearer was more than satisfying. Still, the honor had deeply touched Tiffany’s heart. After all, she and Bragg weren’t officially engaged, yet. The months since Christmas had been a time of sharing, of learning, of acceptance as Tiffany’s life turned stable in her own family.
And of falling into a real love so deep and complete Tiffany never wanted to come out of it. She had every expectation of a proposal soon. Olga, who’d arrived for the wedding two days ago, would be thrilled. She’d visited the ranch often since the healing had begun on Christmas Day. Her relationship with Diana was a work in progress, to be sure, but they were making positive steps forward under Pastor Hale’s guidance.
Bragg took Tiffany’s hand as he led her deeper into the trees without letting go. “You know I love it here. I learned to swim at the Hole. But for me, well. When the time comes, I can’t imagine taking vows anywhere else but our church. Standing there, the mountains all backdropped through those big windows. Wouldn’t even need candles or flowers as far as I’m concerned.”
Tiffany’s heart throbbed. Here she was in the arms of the man she loved, with him talking about weddings. Yes, it would be soon, her promise to be Mr. Bragg Martin’s bride.
“What do you think?” he asked her.
“About what?” She tried to be coy, even with the pounding veins. Of course he was just setting her up for tomorrow. “Why would my opinion matter where you get married?”
“Because, Miss Tiffany Vickers, you better be right there at my side.” He got to his knee, and looked up at her with a melting gaze. “You’ll be marrying me, of course.”
“Well, of course.” Even as she trembled, Tiffany chuckled, squeezing his hand. “But you’re supposed to ask.” He got to his feet and pulled a box from his pocket. Her heart stopped in her throat.
“Well, never occurred to me you’d say no.” He smiled as he slid a perfectly-sized ring on her finger. A princess cut diamond surrounded by garnets, her birthstone.
“Oh, my goodness. Bragg, it’s beyond gorgeous. And perfect. How…my size and all? How did you know?”
He winked. She understood. Kelley.
Then he pulled her close. Against his beating heart, Tiffany Vickers was reminded for the millionth time Who had led her to Hearts Crossing.
And why.
She melted into his arms. “I don’t want to rain on Mallie and Hoop’s parade tomorrow. Maybe we should announce it tonight at the rehearsal dinner.”
“That works. I can ask Olga’s permission this very day.”
“Of course. But…” She chewed her lip. “I’ve got another good idea. Talk to Paul, too. I think it would mean the world to him.”
Bragg slowly nodded. “You’re right. He’s turned out to be a pretty good brother.”
“And one can never have too many brothers. Or sisters.” Tiffany thought of the Martin brood and meant every word. But…
“Bragg, you still didn’t ask me. You have to say the words, you know.”
“All righty, woman.” With the grin she loved, he got back down on his knee. “Tiffany, will you marry me?”
She hesitated just long enough for a grin of her own.
“I will.”
Soul Food
1
“There’s a good-lookin’ cowboy out front who says he’s your ride back to the ranch. And he’s not one of your brothers.”
“What?” In her little back office, Kelley Martin looked up from the spreadsheets at Caffey, her wide-eyed waitress, and scrunched her lids shut to hold back tears. Numbers didn’t lie. Her pretty little eatery wouldn’t last the summer. Of course her ancient car had chosen this very morning to conk out. As of today, she’d have to depend on family to cart h
er around. But ask for money, no. That she couldn’t do.
Her chauffeur wasn’t one of her brothers? She groaned and gritted her teeth. What was that about? She sure wasn’t in any frame of mind to chat mindlessly with some ranch hand on the hour drive back to the Hearts Crossing. Was it a fix-up? That’s all she needed—some sort of quasi-blind date.
Even though the pain of her breakup with Ned was long over, she knew whoever waited for her wasn’t her ex. A rodeo star, he followed the PRCA circuit. They’d bonded during a blood donation drive five years ago, promising to save each other’s life—should need be. But that’s all they had between them. He hadn’t wanted to share her life. Now, everybody back home reckoned she was ready to rumble on the dating scene.
“Listen.” Caffey Matthews turned serious. “You go relax and have some fun on that wagon train. Stacia and I’ll hold down the fort just fine ‘til you’re back next weekend.”
In spite of her worries, Kelley had to burst out in laughter. There was really no fort to hold down. Her job as chuck cook on the city-slicker wagon trains her family ran each summer was something she heartily enjoyed, but the duties were far from relaxation. Starting last summer, she’d begun splitting duties with her sister-in-law Daisy so she could alternate working at Vegeterra every other week. And this year, well, frankly, she needed the extra money she earned on the wagon trains. Stacia, her sous chef, and Caffey, not bad with pastries, had long proven their worth, although the restaurant was always on her mind. Relax?
Not.
Then she squeezed Caffey’s hand. “Thanks, I know you’ll be fine. Now, I better see who’s out there and just what’s going on.” Kelley stood and forced a smile.
Caffey leaned forward in a strong hug. “Hey. It’s going to work out.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Kelley’s heart crumpled. She’d been so certain last summer that the Lord had led her here to Sunset Hills, but her personal venture as a restaurateur was failing, failing bad, and failing fast. A vegetarian restaurant and tea room in mountain country alive with hunters, fishermen, ranchers, and local law enforcement wanting doughnuts and burgers. She rolled her eyes. “What was I thinking? Too much testosterone and red meat around here for Vegeterra.”
Caffey leaned back. “Now, you know God doesn’t steer us wrong. And He never sends more than we can bear.”
“I do know, deep down, but it’s hard to believe in the day-to-day.” She didn’t say it out loud, but Kelley hated going home feeling like a failure.
“Unfortunately, it’s easy to do sometimes.” Caffey’s rueful tone turned into a laugh. “But God’s right there. Don’t you forget it. Now get going. I want to know who’s out there waiting for you.”
After Kelley headed into the dining room, she stopped so sudden in her tracks ropes might as well have been tied to her ankles. Good-lookin’ cowboy was an understatement. The guy was smokin’ hot. Had she combed her hair lately? She’d chewed off lip gloss hours ago. Holding a cup of steaming Joe, he leaned against the counter, taller than any human had a right to be. The whiteness of a long-sleeved shirt contrasted great with his tanned face, and the black Stetson riding his skull belonged there sure as dawn came every morning. Since the day of her birth, she’d been around handsome cowpokes and every version of Western man God had ever put on earth, and she never tired of looking, never at all.
“Hey.” She grabbed for words, for composure, sadly aware on another level that he was the only customer since lunch. Even then, the crowd had been far too thin for comfort. “I’m Kelley. I guess you’re my ride?” She grabbed for confidence, too. That she could always fake. Did it every day, trying to convince passersby to come in and order something.
He touched the brim in an old-fashioned, endearing way, then a split second later, removed the thing revealing harvest-colored hair worn just a touch too long, and eyes brown as nuts. “Jason. Jason Easterday.”
“Oh, of course. The geneticist.” And artificial insemination guy standing in for her brother-in-law Nick during his deployment. How on earth could she possibly have missed meeting Jason at her visits back home? “I can’t believe we haven’t met yet. You’ve been here a few months now.”
His carved cheekbones shadowed a luscious grin. “Aw, my main gig’s Hearts Crossing, but I do consulting for BeauVine Genetics at other ranches. Likely I was away on business during your times home.”
“Well, it’s good to meet you now.” Under-statement again. Was that really her voice? She sounded like a sixth grader talking to her first crush.
“Same here. Your mom described you to a tee. I’d know ya anywhere.”
The way his eyes danced from her head to boots and his grin tweaked between lean, carved cheeks had her tingling. Sparks flared. Confidence, composure, she reminded herself. Ma hadn’t been nearly as thorough with her description of Jason in return.
He put down the mug and held out his hand, a strong callused one. Obviously a worker and a rider. When he closed his fingers around hers, warmth from the cup started to melt her bones. She straightened her knees and hung on tight for a long, delicious second.
“Anyway,” he said, pulling his hand away, “when somebody said you needed to hitch a ride back home, I offered. Your chariot awaits, milady.” He swooped his hat close to the floor like a great lord might have done for some medieval princess.
Her heart did a silly thump. “Well, thanks. I guess. I hope I’m not keeping you from anything. Or taking you out of your way.”
“Nope. Fact is, I had an appointment along the way at the 3M. It’s all good.” His grin squinted his eyes like sunlight, and summer-streaked hair brushed his shoulders. She reckoned she glowed.
Caffey sauntered in, not flirty, just in love and oozing it. “How’d you like a plate of Sloppy Josephines before you head out?” she asked.
“Um. That anything like Sloppy Joes?” Jason’s grin grew.
“A tad yes and a tad no. Same sauce fixin’s but eggplant and Portabella instead of meat.”
“Thanks. Some other time.” He glanced at his watch. “I, well, we better make tracks. I’ve got a date tonight and want to get in a trail ride first.”
Kelley’s spirits, already damp, sagged painfully. No, this wasn’t a set-up then. He was attached, and she admitted she was crushed. The tingle he gave off, well, it had to be nothing more than the aura of a charming, handsome guy. “Let me get my bag,” she managed, then turned the table on Caffey. “Jason, this is Caffey Matthews. Soon to be Mrs. Rhee Ryland if you know the local ranchers.” Local meant anybody for fifty miles.
“That I do. Ma’am.” He bowed, polite. “Done some testing for beef tenderness at the Bar R. Nice man you snagged.”
“Fate. And Faith,” Caffey said
After a reassuring hug from Caffey, Kelley put little Vegeterra in the waitress’s hands. She wasn’t going to pray any more. God had let her down when all she’d done was trust His guidance. But that annoying little voice echoed in her head. Had she trusted Him? Truly? Had her desires and wants to have this restaurant made her ignore God’s ultimate will? She shook her head a little. This was all something to think about some other time.
“Stacia and I will handle afternoon tea just fine, Kel. You know that. I know a thing or two about pastries.” Caffey winked. “You go now. See you next week.”
With a quick longing, Kelley paused at the threshold and peeked back inside. She’d tried hard to design an eatery that was trendy but rustic enough to fit Sunset Hills. Burgundy and gray, exposed rough brick. Vegeterra mightn’t be magazine-worthy but it did her proud. For a little while yet. Her heart sagged
“Nice place,” Jason said as he picked up her duffel. Just three months ago she’d splurged on her neon sign, and again her heart panged, almost with grief. What an unsellable waste.
“Thanks.” She followed him down the street to a big white Ford 150. Pick-up trucks and all-wheel-drive vehicles crowding the street meant a normal busy Saturday afternoon…for the tack shop, the feed store, the boot repai
r. Betty’s Dry Goods and Gifts. Every business but hers.
“I have to ask, why vegetarian?” Jason asked. “Here in cowboyland, I mean.”
With a sigh, Kelley decided to explain. The June sun warmed her skin but not her spirits. “It used to be a regular little diner, but I had the notion I’d expose vegetarianism to cattle country.” Even she heard the bitter twist to her words. “The old owner died, and his daughter didn’t want the business, so I leased the building cheap. I need to replace the stove,”—the words hurt because while true, it wasn’t going to happen—”but most everything else was in decent shape. I felt the call to be a chef with my own place…God knows why.” She muttered that last part to herself.
Jason held the door open for her, and she waited until he’d settled under his seatbelt behind the wheel to see if he was interested enough to want her to continue.
“So how’s the vegetarian deal doing? Those Josephines didn’t sound half bad. Smelled good in there. Although I am a meat-eater through and through.”
She reckoned he was just being polite. After all, he’d refused the meatless meal.
“Well, I am not judgmental against carnivores.” She had to laugh, for it was true. “I mean, I’m the daughter of a cattle rancher. But it all started when my favorite steer got auctioned off at the county fair for my college fund. Grand Market Champion.” She blinked back tears. “Broke my heart right in two, and ever after, I never ate anything with eyes. I was nine, I think.”
“Didn’t think to start up a tavern? A bar and grill, maybe?”
“Nope. I didn’t want to have to be a ‘policeman’ on top of everything else.” She stretched her legs and tried to do the same with her spine, where tension had set up permanent residence. “Even though business isn’t brisk. Make that business is downright terrible, I’d never forgive myself, you know, if somebody had too much to drink at my place, then went out and hurt themselves, or worse, somebody else.”
