Hearts Crossing Ranch Anthology

by Tanya Hanson

“Why, now, I’ve got the samples taken for high altitude disease and sent to the lab. My pretty passenger delivered safe and sound to her mama’s door. And I’m sitting a great horse. I’ve got all the time in the world.” His squint beneath his brim sent another thunderbolt down her spine.-no question mark here?

  She ought to apologize for falling asleep, but it didn’t seem to matter now, the sun warm on her shoulders, the ground solid underneath Zee’s hooves. Jason at her side. Maybe she ought to check her chuck wagon first in readiness for Monday morning, but by now, Hooper knew every single supply she required, from food staples to band-aids and bug spray.”Let’s go.” She stood in her stirrups, and nudged Zee to a trot, Jason racing at her side down the long gravel drive, across the highway, and onto one of the many trails carved into the hills. Of course he kept up. She reckoned she’d have been mighty disappointed if he hadn’t. As breezes cooled her cheeks, the reality of a handsome man seemingly eager to be in her company lightened her spirits. Surely she deserved a little indulgence. Ned hadn’t even bothered to get her a card on their last Valentine’s Day together.

  She reined in Zee at a scenic overlook that was probably her favorite place on earth, and Jason pulled to a stop at her side. Neither spoke as the scene below wove peace and harmony between them. Broad mountain shoulders hugged summer pastureland stuffed with healthy cattle. Their crags touched the wide bright sky, and green hills starting to wear summer shook with aspen leaves. Below, the layout of her home, her family’s legacy, her ranch seemed perfect enough for a movie setting. In one of the corrals, the glorious draft horses, the black Percherons, and tan Belgians flirted with a ranch hand handing out carrots.

  “Quite a sight,” Jason said finally, and just as Kelley did, he dismounted.

  Kelley nodded as she tethered their reins to a low branch. “I always feel better coming here, to just this spot. Whenever I need to figure something out.” She wasn’t sure how much to tell him but felt his warm gaze on her cheeks, and met it firmly. “When I decided to take on a restaurant. I came here.”

  Of course in those days she’d come to the Lord in prayer, trusting His wisdom and guidance. Of course she hadn’t ever let herself believe that He could lead her astray.

  “You find your way, then?”

  Suddenly she wanted to leave, to feel wind in her face, to storm up a rocky slope that took all her concentration so she didn’t have to think about anything else. The Martins always claimed God had opened a window whenever He shut a door, and for most of her life she’d believed it, lived it. But He had done no such thing with her this time. Without Vegeterra, she would be a chef without anything. The chuck wagon cooking on the wagon trains was only a temporary summer gig, and she’d given up her job and apartment in the city. Glum, she found a log to plop on and rested her chin in her hands. “I thought so.”

  He sat next to her, his outdoor scent pleasing her nostrils, and the warmth of his skin tempting her to touch him, so she sat on her hands. “Hey.” His voice soothed. “You know, I can keep a secret…about, you know, business not being brisk and all.”

  Kelley grinned. “Aw, so you think. Ma has a way of getting top secrets out of anybody.” She slapped her knees. “Anyway, tell me about you.”

  “All righty. But just so you know, your secret is safe with me.” His smile dazzled her, then he shrugged, back to business. “I got here in March. Getting ready for the babies to arrive. Just in case.”

  Just in case. Kelley understood this one. The lethal genetic defect called Curly Calf had caused panic some years before when several Angus calves in the area had been born dead with twisted spines. The genetic disorder had finally been identified, but a scare like that didn’t simply go away.

  She must have tensed, because he laid his hand on hers.

  “All okay in these parts,” he said. “But I do get samples from the sires to identify any carriers through genetic testing and use DNA technology to screen for other disorders.”

  “You like what you do?”

  “Yep. Keeps money in my pocket. And when I get enough, I head out.”

  Head out? As if a sudden cloud dampened the sun, a flash of chill brushed her shoulders. Was this another man of wanderlust like Ned? His had been the rodeo circuit with Colorado Pro Rodeo Association. When he’d decided to compete nationally without talking to her, she knew they were over. Was Jason a wrangler of another sort, of other countries and cultures and languages, another man who just couldn’t sit still?

  Aw, it didn’t matter. A flush of embarrassment heated her face. The last thing she needed dished upon her messy plate was a relationship. Today was nothing but a trail ride. And starting Monday, feeding the wagon train would take just about all of her time.

  And worrying about Vegeterra would occupy the rest of what was left of her time…and mind.

  Even though it felt good to be so close to him right now, in this place, she tensed again.

  His hand tightened once more.

  ****

  “Head out?” she asked in a very careful way, like her voice might shake if she didn’t. Jason’s heart thumped once. Maybe she didn’t like the idea. The possibility intrigued him.

  “I’m not one much to settle down,” he admitted. A breeze bearing the touch of dusk chilled him, and likely her too, for she snuggled against him a bit. Nothing untoward but definitely man-woman. He wouldn’t be leaving all that soon. Even when Nick got back, there would be fall roundup. He waved his hand over the spread below. “I don’t have anything like this to draw me in. My folks were always on the go someplace new. Europe, Asia. I fell in love with horses in Patagonia.”

  “Whoa. That must have been an exciting life.”

  Maybe, but for a flash, he wondered how it might have been—a house and hearth and steady address. A horse of his own, his mom’s own garden.

  He shrugged. “Yep. They just didn’t want a traditional way of life. Maybe I can develop a DNA test for the hippie gene.”

  Kelley chuckled, a pretty sound that somehow matched the sparkle in her eyes. His hand moved a bit, and she made no effort to rid hers of it. Her scent both of rainwater and sunshine wafted in the air.

  “Languages stuck to my dad like burrs to a wool sock. He was raised speaking Polish from his dad, Portuguese from his mom, and English. In college, he found it easy to learn Russian, Mandarin, and Spanish. So wherever they went, he could teach or tutor any number of languages.”

  “And your mom?”

  He shrugged, for a flash recalling Elaine Martin, keeping house on land her family had owned for more than a century. He’d seen grief as well as glory etch her face whenever she talked about her late and much-missed husband. His folks hadn’t even thought enough of the traditional institution to wed, which might have been a good thing in a way, considering, the times his dad had taken off alone on some new adventure. With some new woman. And Jason had a couple of half-siblings to show for it.

  His own birth, later in their lives, had been something of a surprise, and his folks were together now after years of off-and-on, something he felt shame to let Kelley know. But he’d been raised on honesty, too. No sense to lollygag and prevaricate, but no reason to blab now to Kelley unless the conversation let it happen. No way would he bring up his unorthodox family life on his own. Not to a girl whose family was her world.

  “Well, I guess I got my mom’s love of science.” Beneath his brim, he moved a strand of hair that the breeze had blown across his forehead, finally leaving her warm touch. “She studied botany and writes books on herbal cooking, hygiene, and remedies. Royalties help keep them afloat, too. They live simply.”

  “Well, they sure sound fascinating. Hope to meet them someday.”

  He laughed out loud. “That won’t be any time soon. They are someplace called Moldova now, teaching English and growing potatoes. We kind of worked together to develop a better seed potato.”

  “No kidding.” Kelley’s face glowed like she just might be impressed. “Any siblings? You know
I’ve got a slew of them.”

  “I do know and funny thing, I know all seven of them except the one I most wanted to meet.” He could hold off on his own crew, some of whom he barely knew.

  The glow turned into a full-on blush that drove him crazy. “Why, cowboy. Might you just be getting flirtatious with me?”

  “I just might.”

  “Well, I’ll be.” She slapped her thighs and jumped to her feet. “Come on. There’s something else you ought to see. Our wagon train adventures get you there, but the view from here can pretty much take your breath away.” With a deep sigh, she led the way to a winding path where native grass and Apache plume peeked through clumps of rocks. His mother would be going nuts, uprooting wild sage to try new ointments and recipes.

  “Those adventures, why, they sure sound like something I’d like to do.” There. He said something he’d been feeling for weeks.

  Turning, she stopped so suddenly they crashed together, not all that hard but with enough force for Jason to grab her arms and steady her against his chest. He could feel her heartbeat, and his male ego let him know it wasn’t exertion. She was too fit to be winded after ten yards. A tinge of satisfaction tickled down his back. Staying put, she looked up into his eyes and for a second or two, he couldn’t speak as her warm gaze glazed his face like sunlight.

  “You should come with us,” she said and for some reason, her voice shook.

  “What?” His fingers tightened gently against the taut but feminine muscles of her upper arm. “You mean it?”

  “Well, of course. Why haven’t you asked Hooper?” Casually she rested her hands against his chest, and his breath hitched. She shrugged, jiggling her fingers. “He’s ranch foreman and wagon master, so he’s got the last word, but hey. We can always use wranglers who know horses. I know you’d be welcome.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure!” She nodded, her hat bobbling, and he let go of her. Even though he wanted to stay close, he stepped back.

  “I guess I didn’t want to put Hoop on the spot,” Jason said. “The wagon trains aren’t exactly part of my job description.”

  “Well, I can’t imagine him minding, if you’re caught up with everything else. Nick’s been known to come along from time to time.”

  “Ah, shucks.” He peered down at the toes of his boots and put on a western accent. “I kind of feel like a kid on Christmas. I’d love to go.”

  Kelley grinned. “You talk so down home sometimes. Not much like a world traveler with a dad who probably taught him a million languages.”

  He felt the heat of a flush. “I adapt easily. I love the West, but I do think I’d like to take in some Farsi in Uzbekistan. Just for a little while, you know.”

  Her face changed. Her jaw tightened, and he read disappointment. But a second later she parted her lips with the smile that weakened his knees. “Well, then, you must do this before Uzbekistan. It’s hard work, even for the guests. Everybody pitches in.”

  “Sounds like a deal, then.”

  “You’re on. Now come on.”

  “And Kelley? I’m not going to Uzbekistan any time soon.” Her smile thrilled him, and he read relief in it. As they headed up the hill, the path widened, and she paused to let him reach her side. Whether it was an invitation or not, he grabbed her hand and her fingers closed over his. And when she stumbled on a rock and landed against him, he steadied her and kept his right arm at her waist after she righted herself. She didn’t seem at all eager to leave his side, and his heart hammered against his rib cage.

  “So where’s this spectacular view?” His voice came out breathless, and he realized Kelley, not the upward path, caused it. The warmth he was feeling was nature and sweat and sunshine, but mostly that beautiful mantle portrait come to life. “Although I think it’s right in front of me now.” He couldn’t help the sappy remark as she looked at him.

  “Aw shucks, cowboy. You getting flirty again?” Her voice had husked up, too. “Come on.” She grabbed his hand and started running, boots crunching against packed earth and rocks big as eggs and pebbles small as sand. Bordered by golden columbine, the trail narrowed as it snaked into a stand of alder, and she dropped his hand. Disappointment flooded him, and rather than stop for breath, she hustled through the trees to the crest of the hill.

  Well, he thought he’d seen it all, from Victoria Falls to Lake Baikal, the Eiger, and K-2, but there at his feet, Hearts Crossing Ranch, mixed with national forest and the spine of the Rockies, held his breath deep in his lungs. He lunged for air as he ground his boots to a halt.

  “Told ya.” Kelley’s smile was real, her tone triumphant.

  “You’re right. It’s something.” The word was woefully inadequate, but nature had its own way of speaking.

  “I never get tired of this place. I guess….” Her voice turned soft, and the wind muffled it. He bent closer, but she turned her face away as if talking to herself. He heard her anyway. “Maybe it is time for me to come back home,” she said. Then she pointed to woodland miles off to the east nestled in a sanctuary of hills. “Elk Grove. There…” Her finger bent toward a splash of sparkle. “Old Joe’s Hole. A nice little stream-fed lake.”

  “Awesome. Is Joe a real guy?”

  She nodded. “A long-ago ancestor. First Martin to homestead around here. We make camp there. You’ll definitely want to take a dip after a long, hard day.”

  “Fishing?” he asked.

  Little lines pulled together at the bridge of her nose. “Catch and release, I hope you mean.”

  “Nothing less.” He grinned.

  “Row boating, a rope swing. The works. You ought to see the city slickers come to life after hours on the dusty trail.”

  Suddenly her breathlessness caught up with her and she sank down on a fallen log. He followed, close as he dared without being forward. “And that…” she pointed vaguely. “You can’t really see it from here, but north end of the lake is Posy’s Grove. For just ever it was called Posy’s Grave.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  She laughed. “Supposedly Old Joe buried his faithful mule Posy there. But now it’s become the grotto for Hearts Crossing Destination Weddings.”

  Jason didn’t know her well, but he knew women well, as a whole, and he knew she wasn’t putting any sort of move on him or tossing some big hint. She was just imparting family history. In a devout, traditional family like hers, men married their women in front of God and everybody they knew. They sure didn’t make up crazy new names for each other. Like his mother and father who called themselves Snowy and September, respectively

  He drank in the beautiful vista before him, feeling quite the outsider. Here, names and lore, home and hearth went back a hundred and fifty years. He’d never had a real place to call home, and his surname was something his mom had thought sounded pretty.

  He shook his head. At least, he’d been given a normal first name.

  Yet somehow he and Kelley had a connection. He didn’t know quite what it was, and until he did, he’d keep his unusual upbringing a secret. Especially when she looked at him, her eyes reflecting her homeland, and took his hand. “Why don’t you join us for supper, Jason? I’m making Sloppy Josephines. Ma loves ‘em, but there will be other food, too.”

  He was thrilled beyond measure, getting asked to eat at the big house instead of the simpler fare served at the bunkhouse. The hands and Jason took turns cooking. Thankfully his mother had taught him well.

  But Kelley’s voice turned practical. “You can talk to Hooper then. About coming along on Monday.” Then she stopped, face lined with doubt. “Oh, I forgot. Your date tonight.”

  “No, it’s all right. I accept. I can change my plans. She’ll understand. We’re just friends. We have a standing Saturday night burger date if nothing else comes up. And tonight, something has.”

  “OK then.”

  She sighed as if saying goodbye to the view ahead of them. “We better get going.” The June afternoon would laze long into dusk, but the temper
ature had cooled. As they hiked back to the horses, it didn’t take much for Jason to rest his arm across her shoulders with a squeeze once in a while when a breeze whirred by.

  And it didn’t take anything at all for him to lean close, back in the corral, after she dismounted her horse.

  Removing his hat to give himself room, he held her face in his hands and brushed his eyelashes against her cheek several times.

  “Butterfly kisses,” he said softly before he tossed on his hat and led Bridge and Zee inside to be unsaddled and brushed.

  3

  Kelley attacked stalks of celery with a bench knife in Ma’s big kitchen. Another man on the run. And she’d gone and invited him to supper. Jason Easterday. Why? Because he took her breath away? Kelley Martin wasn’t on the prowl for a mate, and Vegeterra took all her time and emotion right now, so what was the deal?

  And what on earth was a butterfly kiss? For a second, she stopped chopping and touched her cheek where his eyelashes had flickered. The innocent childish gesture, and the memory of it now, had somehow been blazingly sensual, and his outdoor scent of pine and leather swathed her, even over the scents of cumin and cayenne pepper.

  With a vengeance, the knife came to life in her hands once more. Snap, crackle. Slash. She’d also invited Jason to come along on the wagon train. Three solid days of him close by had her blood racing through her veins. What on earth was going on?

  As Ma trundled into the kitchen then, bearing enormous jars of the raspberry jam they’d put up last year, Kelley couldn’t stave off a groan. Some of her bone weariness came from the ride, some from the roiling emotions about Jason and Vegeterra, but in her case there was no rest for the weary.

  “Here’s the jam for your raspberry butter,” Ma announced although, of course, Kelley already knew. “I can help you dish it out into the individual containers if you want.”

  “Thanks, Ma. That would be a big help.” She dumped the chopped celery into a big skillet of hot olive oil. Her raspberry butter and homemade bread were favorites of the city slickers, but truth was, she loved the fare herself. “I’ve still got the graham flatbread to make. Oh, and my blueberry compote.”