Читать книгу Her Cowboy Reunion - Ruth Herne Logan - Страница 14

Chapter Three

“Dad!” Zeke clapped a hand to his forehead as they finished Cookie’s meal of thick, robust stew and fresh, warm bread. “Is it campfire night tonight? Remember? You promised.”

“I did say that, yes. Wick cleaned out the fire pit earlier. So we’re ready to go.”

“Then this is like the best day ever!” Zeke turned Lizzie’s way. “We couldn’t have campfires when the weather was really bad.” Wide eyes stressed the word really and his voice did the same. “But now we can!”

The last thing Lizzie wanted to do was elongate an already impossibly long day by going to the first campfire of the season, but when Zeke sent her an imploring look, she caved.

She and Corrie crossed the yard about an hour later, heading toward the warm, inviting glow of the wood fire. Corrie had brought a shawl, because the spring evening had taken a chill. “I haven’t been to a campfire since you gals were in that equestrian group back in the day.”

Neither had Lizzie. Heath Caufield and campfires hadn’t been on her radar a dozen hours ago. Now they were. “I should be working. There’s a lot to learn.”

“Although there is much to be said for getting to know those we’ll be working with,” suggested Corrie. She pulled the woven shawl tighter as they approached the fire pit tucked on a broad graveled spot below the house.

Brad and Jace stood and relinquished their seats on the bench the moment they spotted the women. Lizzie started to wave them back. Grabbing a spot on the thick log would be fine for her, but Heath caught her eye.

He shook his head slightly.

Just that gentle warning to accept the offered gesture, so she did.

Zeke rounded the fire and came her way. “You came!”

“It was a hard invitation to resist, Zeke.”

His grin was reward enough, but he made things even better by proffering a small brown paper bag. “Cookie brought stuff for s’mores, but I don’t like them so he gave me cookies instead. Do you like cookies?” He was quick to include Corrie in his generosity as he held the bag open. “I didn’t like grab them with my hands or anything so they’re pretty clean.”

“A pretty clean cookie sounds like the best offer I’ve had all day, Zeke.” Lizzie had spent two days sitting in a car, driving cross-country, and she’d been studying the horse financial records for hours. The last thing she should do was add empty calories to her already messed-up daily fitness plan, but looking around the ranch, she figured her step tracker was about to get a serious daily workout. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” He smiled up at her, eyes shining, as if sharing a cookie around the campfire was the best thing ever. When she bit into the broad double chocolate chip cookie, she couldn’t disagree.

“You made a wonderful campfire even better, my friend.” He giggled as he handed a cookie to Corrie, too. When she fussed over how good it was, the boy’s grin grew wider.

Endearing. Joyous. Carefree.

A dear boy, a delightful child. Gazing at him, she wondered what their little boy would have been like. Would he have gotten her eyes? Heath’s hair? Would he have had Heath’s inner strength and the Fitzgerald writing skills? His grandmother’s fine heart and gentle spirit?

Corrie laid a hand against her arm and pressed closer to whisper in Lizzie’s ear. “You are wearing your heart all over your face, darlin’.”

She couldn’t help it. Not at this moment. And then Zeke patted her knee. “If you like Cookie’s chocolate cookies, wait ’til you try the peanut butter ones with the most special chocolate frosting ever.”

“They can’t be as good as these.” She made a face of doubt and the boy wriggled.

“I think they are!”

So sweet. So bright. Innocence and hope, a perfect blend. She met his gaze. “I do love chocolate the most.”

“And potatoes.”

Heath’s voice brought her attention around. Three people sat between them, creating a good distance. Enough, she’d thought.

But it could never be enough, she realized when he lifted his eyes to hers. She read the pain in his expression. For his lost wife? For his motherless child? Or was it her presence causing that angst? “I still love potatoes. I blame my Irish heritage. They haven’t come up with a potato I don’t enjoy.” The reply was for Heath, but she kept her attention on his son.

“My dad loves ’tatoes, too.” Zeke leaned against her leg, keeping back from the fire. The boy’s warmth felt good against the cooling air. “I do a little bit, but mostly I like everything.”

“A boy with a healthy appetite is a wonderful thing.” Corrie smiled at him. “Your daddy had a great appetite when he was younger, and look how big and strong he got. I think you’ll do all right, Zeke Caufield.”

“You knew my dad when he was little? Like me?”

Corrie shook her head. “Not that little, but young enough. Your dad and your grandpa worked with me a long time ago.”

Heath stood quickly. He motioned to Zeke, ignoring Corrie’s statement. “Bedtime.”

“But I’m not even a little bit tired.” Zeke braced his legs and met Heath’s gaze across the fire, looking like a miniature version of the strong man facing him down. “Can I stay up with Miss Lizzie and Miss Corrie for just a little bit? Pleeease?”

Heath said nothing.

He didn’t argue. He didn’t get bossy. He simply met the boy’s gaze. In less than half a minute, the boy trudged around the fire and thrust his hand into Heath’s.

“Say good-night.”

“Night, everybody.” Chin down, the little cowpoke walked away. He didn’t fuss and didn’t fight. He obeyed his dad, as if trusting him to make the right call even though he disagreed.

It felt good, watching them. And different. Their branch of the Fitzgeralds didn’t win any parenting awards. If it hadn’t been for Corrie’s love and dedication... Lizzie leaned over and kissed Corrie’s round, brown cheek. “I love you, Corrie.”

Corrie kept her gaze forward, on the fire and on Heath and his son. “I love you, too. And no matter what happens here, it is good to break away from the past, Lizzie-Beth. To forge ahead.”

“An Idaho ranch wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” she whispered back when a handful of bleats broke the night air. “But a stable full of horses is more of a dream come true than a punishment right now.” She studied the flames for drawn-out seconds. “It’s an unexpected twist in a winding road, that’s for sure.”

“What we’ve got in mind and what the good Lord’s got planned don’t always agree, but that’s what makes life interesting. Sometimes it’s a collision course. Other times it’s a wide, beautiful curve.”

“I think our family has more experience with the collisions.” A smallish log had rolled off the fire’s edge. She leaned down and prodded it back into place. “Is that our destiny or our curse?”

“Neither,” Corrie declared. “It’s human foolishness. Your grandfather stepped on a lot of toes to build that publishing empire, and I’ve heard people say his father did that, too, before him. And then your daddy did the same, but he didn’t have ambition. He wanted the world handed to him.”

“And if it didn’t happen, he stole.”

“Good or bad, it all comes down to free will,” Corrie said. “You see the beauty Sean created here. That’s the side of the family you take for, Lizzie. The hardworking trait, passed down. All three of my girls can say that and be proud.”

“Well, life’s got a way of keeping us humble, so pride’s not a real big deal right now. And I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me in the morning. There are twenty-eight horses to learn about, I need to find a herd stallion, and I’ve got three emails from potential foal buyers so I need to brush up on lineage so I know what I’m talking about.” She stood and straightened her shirt.

In a gesture of respect, all the men stood up as well.

Cowboy code... Respect. Honor. Honesty.

She’d loved that about Heath when they were young. His strong focus, his work ethic, the way he put the animals and others first. That sharpened the disappointment when he’d never looked back to see how she’d fared. After.

He’d gone on with his life.

She’d gone on with hers.

Now here they were, working side by side. Two goals, one ranch, and a lot at stake. More than she’d thought possible until she’d faced those stables and the cowboy running them.

“I’m going to stay a bit. Chat with the men.” Corrie waved her off. “Good night, darlin’ girl.”

“Good night.” She crossed the graveled area, moved by the rugged beauty surrounding her. She hurried inside, grabbed her camera, and came back out, snapping evening pics of the men, the campfire, and Corrie’s sweet face set against a Western backdrop of hills, barns and land. She’d create a photo journal of this new path, something to share or to keep for herself. Either way, she could chronicle this new opportunity in pictures.

Then she saw him, standing alone now that Zeke was tucked into bed, braced against the top rail of a fence. Heath, in profile, backlit by a full moon, a Western cover shot if ever there was one.

She took a handful of pictures, knowing the sophisticated camera would adjust for light and distance.

Then she stood there, quiet, watching him through the camera’s lens. Strong, rugged, determined, and looking so lonely and lost it made her heart ache.

She lowered the camera and moved toward the door. She didn’t want him to catch her studying him. Wondering about him. But when she got to the thick oak door she turned one last time.

He’d turned, too. Their eyes met. Held.

She didn’t know how to break the connection. For just a moment, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

But then she did. She’d learned a few lessons over the years. To forgive, to never hold a grudge, and to make it on her own.

She didn’t hate men for letting her down. Men like her father. Her grandfather. Heath. But she wasn’t foolish enough to trust one again, either. A movement outside caught her eye as she crossed to the stairs leading to her rooms. Furtive and low, something skulked outside, moving toward the pasture beyond.

Too small for a wolf. Maybe too small for a coyote, too, the creature slipped through the night, but the low profile and the stealthy manner put her on alert.

Foals could be damaged by rogue wild animals. And worried mares might have less milk for their growing babies. She couldn’t afford to risk either, so she’d figure out what this was and how to handle it because she didn’t need reminders about what was at stake within these barn walls.

She’d seen the spreadsheets. No sneaking creature of the night was going to ruin this for her, for the ranch or for those beautiful mares. She’d see to it.

* * *

Heath couldn’t get into the busyness of lambing fast enough, if having Lizzie around messed with his head this much. There was nothing like delivering hundreds of tiny creatures to keep your mind occupied, but tonight images flooded him.

Lizzie, in the kitchen, engaging the men in conversation. Or on the porch, her long, russet hair splayed across her shoulders, smiling at his son. At the campfire, her lyrical voice and the flickering flames taking him back in time.

Heath didn’t have the luxury of lingering in the past. Fatherhood required him to be fully present in today, but that reality had changed when he’d come face-to-face with Lizzie that morning.

The other reality was the massive amount of work that they’d have on their hands after Ben, Aldo and Brad headed into the hills for the last time ever.

He pushed off the rail to return to the house, and there she was, backlit by the stable lights. She stood quiet and still, with a beauty he remembered like it was yesterday. Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman that feareth the Lord shall be praised...

He used to care what the Bible said. He used to pray with his heart and soul.

Now he only went to church because he believed Zeke needed that structure, but the old verse washed over him as they locked eyes. He stood there, unable to shift his gaze while years melted away.

She broke the connection first and kept walking toward the stables.

In a weird reversal of roles, he moved toward the house. It had been different in Kentucky. She’d lived in the grand house and he’d bunked with his drunken father in the upper part of the horse barn, but he couldn’t find any pleasure in the change. It felt wrong on so many levels. Lizzie Fitzgerald shouldn’t be sleeping in a barn. Not now. Not ever.

And yet she was.

He cut around to the back door and slipped inside. He kicked off his shoes and moved into the bedroom he shared with his son.

Anna had made the ultimate sacrifice five and a half years before. She’d understood the dangers to herself, but refused to terminate the pregnancy. And when the resulting heart damage from the previously undiagnosed condition proved too much for her body to bear, she’d kissed him and the perfect baby boy goodbye. And then she was gone. No pain. No suffering. Just wave upon wave of immeasurable sadness.

Zeke rolled over. He brought his hand toward his mouth, an old habit from when he used to suck his thumb, but then his small brown hand relaxed against the white-cased pillow.

Heath kissed the boy’s cheek. Then he went to bed, listening to the sound of his son’s breathing, like balm on a wound. But when he couldn’t get Lizzie’s russet-toned eyes out of his mind, he realized that shrugging some things off was much harder than others.