| |
A CLOUD OF DUST BLEW around Emery’s face, making her sneeze twice. She brushed at her nose with her gloved hand and sneezed three more times.
“Bless you,” Cricket said, as she skipped around waving a feather duster in the air, stirring up more dust.
“Thank you, Cricket.” Emery grinned at the energetic little girl and went back to cleaning the building Hud referred to as the bunkhouse. He said it hadn’t been used for a while. A thick layer of dust and enough spider webs to do any haunted house proud proved his statement to be not only true but also glaringly obvious.
Emery took down the curtains and hauled all the bedding inside the house to wash. The more she cleaned, the more she toyed with the idea of turning the space into a guest house. The reality of that happening was slim, but it would make a wonderful getaway for city-dwellers hoping to experience ranch life.
“It would be perfect for glamping,” she said as she took books off a shelf and wiped them clean, setting them on a counter she’d already scrubbed.
The main area of the bunkhouse was basically a large open room with a kitchen and dining table on one end and a living area on the other. A short hallway led to four bedrooms and two bathrooms. Each bedroom held at least two beds. The largest held six bunk beds. If she could talk Hud into getting rid of the smaller beds in the two larger rooms and putting in king-sized beds, he could rent the place out. There wasn’t anywhere for people to stay in town, at least that she’d seen, and she was certain that was a big part of the lack of tourism.
Head spinning with ideas, she hummed along to the radio Cricket had turned on earlier. It wasn’t until she found herself singing along to a country tune that she realized she’d heard enough country music since her exile to Summer Creek that she not only knew the words but liked the songs.
“Glamping, glamping, glamping,” Cricket sing-songed as she ran a feather duster over the rungs of a wooden chair. The child stopped mid-dust with her arm in the air, then turned to Emery with a serious expression that closely mimicked her father. “What’s glamping, Emery?”
“It’s like camping, except more fun and less ... primitive.”
Cricket grinned. “I love camping! Daddy and Aunt Jossy took me camping last year. We got to roast marshmallows and hotdogs and fished in the creek. It was awesome!”
“It sounds like you had a wonderful time.” Emery cupped Cricket’s chin, then kissed her on the tip of her adorable little nose. “Do you do a lot of fun things with your dad and aunt?”
Cricket’s face scrunched up in thought, then she shook her head. “No. They’re both awful busy all the time and work too hard. Grammy says so.”
“Your grammy is a smart woman.”
“Yep. You are, too!” Cricket gave her a hug then twirled off to dust more chairs.
The growling of her stomach alerted Emery to the time nearing noon. She glanced at the clock and made a note to replace the dead battery in it since the time was the same as when she and Cricket ventured out to start cleaning.
“Come on, Cricket. Let’s go to the house and have some lunch.”
“I’m starving to death.” Cricket tossed the feather duster on the counter and raced out the door.
Emery grabbed a box full of photographs she’d found stuffed in the back of a cabinet and carried it with her to the house. After setting it on the counter in the mudroom, she washed her hands and face, then set out leftovers from dinner last night.
Hud left mid-morning to help Jossy repair a tractor, and Nell had gone to Bend to stock up on supplies. She’d invited Emery to go along, but she knew if she stayed home with Cricket, Nell could enjoy the trip without the little girl underfoot.
The idea of a morning spent at the ranch with just her and Cricket held a certain amount of appeal. She loved being around the energetic little girl. The child was bright and amusing, and always said something that made her smile.
Emery poured two glasses of milk, dished up plates of food, then set them on the counter.
Cricket ran into the room with her face freshly scrubbed and hands still dripping water from her haphazard attention to drying them. She climbed up on a barstool, draped a paper napkin across her lap, and looked expectantly at Emery.
“Would you like to say grace?” Emery asked, still not comfortable speaking her prayers aloud in front of others.
“Okay.” Cricket shrugged and held her hands beneath her chin, then recited a prayer Nell had taught her before adding, “And please bless Emery. I love her so much, and I’m so happy you sent her to be our friend. Amen.”
“Amen,” Emery whispered while tears stung her eyes. If someone had told her six weeks ago that she’d be covered in dust and cobwebs from cleaning out a bunkhouse, eating leftover lasagna, and babysitting a vibrant child who constantly kept her on her toes, she would have called them insane. But Emery couldn’t recall when she’d felt as happy and at peace with her life as she had recently.
Life at Summer Creek Ranch agreed with her, even if it grew increasingly difficult to ignore Hud’s virile presence. The man was a heartthrob, even if it sounded cliché. Her friends would have laughed at her for thinking in terms of that description, but she couldn’t generate a better way to describe him. Besides, she no longer cared what her former friends thought or said.
Hud was a gorgeous man, one that women couldn’t help but notice, even if he paid little to no attention to the females who ogled him every time he set foot in town. Emery couldn’t help it if she was just as taken as the rest of them with the cowboy. Between those muscles and that expressive face, how was she supposed to pretend he was anything but outrageously handsome?
Regardless of her feelings, Hud acted as though she was a nuisance. At least he no longer glared at her like he wanted to boot her off the place. After the fire at the Mayfield’s place, he’d been almost affable.
Emery felt bad for the Mayfield family. They’d lost miles of fence to the fire and one equipment building, but thankfully they’d been able to get all the equipment out. She wished there were resources available to help people like the Mayfields. Although they had insurance, it wouldn’t cover all their expenses from the fire.
While she mulled over the lack of resources for so many things in Summer Creek, Cricket chatted about school, her pony, and the upcoming Easter holiday.
“What do you do to celebrate Easter?” Emery asked when Cricket took a drink of her milk.
“We color eggs and go to the park to hunt them. The Easter Bunny brings me a new dress and a basket of candy, and we go to church, and Grammy makes ham, and Aunt Jossy bites the ears off Daddy’s chocolate bunny.”
Emery grinned. “She does? What does he do?”
“Eats the tail off hers.” Cricket giggled. “But they don’t try to eat mine.”
Emery wondered what she could find for Easter gifts in Summer Creek. She’d have to look when she went into town on Monday. And she’d promised Nell she’d help color Easter eggs, something she’d never done, at least that she could recall. Apparently, for the last ten years, Nell was the one who boiled and dyed all the eggs for the annual egg hunt in the park.
Cricket offered her assistance in cleaning up their lunch dishes. Emery put another load of dusty bedding from the bunkhouse in the washer, then they returned to the job of cleaning.
By mid-afternoon, Cricket curled up on the couch in the bunkhouse and fell asleep while Emery sat in a chair to thumb through an old photo album she’d found at the bottom of a stack of books.
The pages threatened to crumble from age and the photos were bracketed by little pasteboard corners that had once been glued inside the book. The images were beautiful antiques. Judging by the clothes and hairstyles, she figured some had to have been taken in the late 1800s. Emery assumed the people in the photographs were related to the Cole family. She could see resemblances to Hud and Cricket in the faces of the people. Her finger trailed over the image of a man who appeared to be similar in build to Hud. Although he wasn’t quite as handsome, he had the same dimple in his chin and chiseled jawline. A handwritten description listed him as C. Cole. She wondered if the man was Hud’s great-great-grandfather. If so, she at least knew where Hud got his size and his good looks.
A loose color photograph was tucked between the last two pages of the photo album. Written on the back of it were the names Mike and Jacqui Cole, and a date that meant the photo was taken thirty years ago. The man looked enough like Hud that she assumed it had to be his father. Emery could see the woman’s smile in Jossy’s face. The couple must be Hud’s parents, but no one ever mentioned them or talked about them.
Emery jumped when she felt something warm bump against her legs. She glanced down at the two ranch dogs as they sat at her feet, begging for attention. Although they’d frightened her when she’d first arrived at the ranch, she’d quickly learned the dogs were harmless and full of energy.
“Wrigley, what are you and Gizmo doing?” she asked, setting aside the photo album and reaching down to pet both dogs. They squirmed and whined, vying for a better position as she scratched along their backs and then their bellies.
Cricket awakened and slid onto the floor, rolling around with the dogs, giggling each time one of them licked her face.
“Let’s head back to the house,” Emery finally said, taking Cricket’s hand and shooing the dogs outside, then closing the door to the bunkhouse behind her. Cricket talked her into going to see the new foals. From there, they had to check on the calves racing across the pasture, and then look in on the piglets and newly-hatched chicks.
Everywhere Emery looked there were babies. For the first time in her life, she felt a longing for a baby of her own, especially with Cricket holding her hand and smiling at her like she could magically produce rainbows and unicorns.
Hours later, Emery sat in the living room with the box of photographs she’d found in the bunkhouse, thumbing through them. Nell had gone to bed early, tired after her shopping trip, while Hud tucked in Cricket for the night.
Emery studied a handful of images she was certain had to be Hud’s parents. There were photos of them wearing graduation robes, and riding horses together, holding hands as he leaned over and kissed her cheek. From what she could see, the couple had been deeply in love.
“What have you got there?” Hud asked as he sank onto the chair he seemed to prefer when he had a minute or two to relax. He set the glass of iced tea he held in his hand on a side table and leaned over, looking into the box. A frown creased his brow. “Where did you find that?”
“In the bunkhouse when Cricket and I were cleaning today. Is this a photo of your parents?” She held up a colorful snapshot of a young couple, joyously laughing.
Hud nodded, taking the image from her and holding it in his big hand with great care. “That’s my mom and dad.”
“What happened to them?” Emery wasn’t trying to be nosy, but from the look of agony on Hud’s face, she wished she hadn’t broached what appeared to be a painful subject.
“They died when I was three. Jossy had just turned five. We lived in town then. Mom was a schoolteacher, and Dad worked here on the ranch. I don’t remember much about them, but sometimes I’ll smell something, a soft floral fragrance, and it makes me think of a woman with a sweet voice and kind eyes. I know it was my mom. And I think of my dad anytime I look in the mirror.” Hud sighed and took the other photographs she held.
Unhurriedly, he looked through them then set them back inside the box on Emery’s lap. “My parents had gone into Burns to run errands while Jossy and I stayed here at the ranch. They were on their way home and were hit by a train as they crossed the railroad tracks. It was a place they’d driven over hundreds of times, but the crossing signal and gate malfunctioned. Normally, lights would flash, and the gate would come down, indicating a train. That day, there was nothing to warn them a train was coming, and it crashed right into them. My grandparents said they were killed instantly. Jossy and I grew up with Grammy and Grandpa as our parents. To this day, I avoid crossing railroad tracks unless it is absolutely necessary.”
“Oh, Hud. I had no idea. You were so little, both of you, to endure such a tragic loss.”
“We were, and it was hard, but we survived. I don’t know what we would have done without our grandparents.”
“Then you lost your grandfather,” Emery spoke aloud, regretting it when Hud swallowed hard.
Absently, he nodded. “He died when I was a senior in college. One moment he was riding the fence, the next he fell out of his saddle. He had what the doctor called an aortic rupture. Basically, his aorta had an aneurysm that caused massive internal bleeding. Grandpa died on the way to the hospital.”
Emery reached out and settled her hand on Hud’s arm, giving it a gentle pat. “I’m so sorry for your losses, Hud. From what you’ve shared, your grandfather was a very important person in your life, and losing him must have been utterly devastating.”
“It was. I still miss him. Grandpa was the greatest man I’ve ever known. He taught me everything I know about ranching and life. All I can do is aspire to be half the man he was.” Hud grew uncharacteristically quiet, even for him.
Emery longed to share condolences or encouragement with Hud, but she had no idea what to say. Words seemed so inadequate when he’d lost so much. First his parents and then his beloved grandfather. She couldn’t even begin to fathom what he’d endured, especially with the death of his wife, too.
Uncertain what he’d do, but needing to provide a bit of comfort to a man she’d come to care for a great deal, one she admired more than most, she rose from her chair. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around his burly shoulders, gave him a hug, and offered a silent prayer that he would know peace in spite of his many losses.
At first he stiffened, but then she felt him relax as he released a sigh. His left hand came up and rested on hers where she’d pressed them over his heart.
“Truly, I’m sorry for all you’ve lost, Hud.” On the verge of tears, she kissed his cheek, then hurried out of the room and rushed upstairs, wondering when she’d started falling in love with the cowboy.