June first. Elsa walked by the wall calendar and refused to turn the page. She couldn’t stop June from coming, but she could pretend it hadn’t arrived in the privacy of her little home. Would she ever be so busy and vital again that she wouldn’t notice? She hoped so.
Her phone buzzed and Nick’s number flashed in the display. “Nick. Good morning.”
“We’ve got a problem here.”
A single dad, a lot of work, two kids, and a wide assortment of angst sprinkled liberally. Problems were going to be a given. “Explain.”
“Dakota wants to come to Cheyenne’s session tonight. I told her no, and I explained the situation before they got on the bus this morning, but she looked sad and Cheyenne looked triumphant.”
Besting her little sister sounded pretty normal in Elsa’s book. “Bring Dakota with you when you drop Cheyenne off this afternoon. I’ll tell Dakota that I’ll be there on Saturday and that we’ll work together then. That will prep Cheyenne for sharing me with her sister.”
“You’re okay with starting Saturday?”
She was, and that surprised her as well. Being around Nick Stafford and those girls made her feel alive again. “How’s nine thirty in the morning? We’ll give it a couple of hours this first time and see how that goes.”
“And then lunch, here at the ranch.”
“I don’t want to be a bother, and we might want to keep my roles separate,” she argued, while a part of her thought lunch at the ranch sounded lovely. “We don’t want to create a dependency.”
“Well, now, I think you create some kind of dependency any time folks develop a relationship or feelings, don’t you? I’m not sure how you can get around that.”
“Nick, I —”
“Cheyenne trusts you,” he continued. “Dakota thinks your bird is cool, and I can’t remember the last time I could carry on a comfortable conversation with a woman who didn’t have her own agenda in mind the whole time. Can’t we just leave it at that? Friendship with professional benefits? And we never settled on a pay rate for the tutoring. Is twenty-five dollars an hour acceptable?”
“I don’t need money.”
Silence greeted her words, and she could almost see him weighing her old car, the odd house, the dated clothes, but he didn’t need to know that she existed on a government subsidy to offset her loss of income when she left the well-heeled practice. That wasn’t exactly the kind of thing that inspired confidence in parents of needy children.
“I have to pay you. It would be wrong not to,” he argued. “I appreciate that you’re not practicing therapy now and that you’re not taking pay for seeing Cheyenne, but this is different. If you don’t do it, I have to hire someone who will, and I don’t want to do that because Cheyenne talks to you. That in itself is a step forward. We’ll compromise.”
Learning to compromise was a big part of a healthy emotional base. “I’m listening.”
“I pay for the tutoring, with food thrown in.”
“Nick, I —”
“Every decent job comes with a benefit package attached, and when you taste Isabo’s cooking, you’ll realize that the benefits outweigh the paycheck. Can we do three hours a day on the clock?”
Three hours was a reasonable amount of time to spend on missed schoolwork. “Three should be plenty. And I like benefits as well as the next person,” she told him. His answering laugh chased more shadows away.
A new day. A new season. A new time.
“Good morning! Good morning! Good morning! Bawk!” Hoyl hopped along his perch, wings flapping, feathers out, as if dancing.
“That is a crazy bird, Elsa.”
“He thinks he’s Mandisa.” She hummed a few bars of the singer’s popular hit tune. “I haven’t got the heart to tell him he doesn’t sound anything like her.”
“I’ll see you this afternoon. With two kids.”
“I’ll be here.”
She shouldn’t be excited about seeing him.
She was.
The thought energized her. She pulled the living room apart and gave it a thorough cleaning, windows and all, and by the time she got the room put back together with the windows thrown open, fresh air invigorated the surroundings.
She pulled a half-dozen planters out of the small shed behind the house and lugged them to the front yard. She’d known they were there last summer, but she’d left them in the dark shed purposely. Now she hosed them off, set them around, and added potting soil to her shopping list.
A few weeks ago the idea of a shopping list would have meant hours of mental preparation. Now it seemed almost normal.
Because you’ve taken steps forward, on your own. Welcome back. And let me just say…it’s about time.
It was, and she couldn’t even hate her conscience for the slightly mocking tone because it felt good to be teased. She showered and changed before the girls’ arrival, and when Nick hopped out of the truck, he smiled at her.
And she smiled back.
“Elsa!” Dakota raced her way and hugged her legs. “I’ve been wanting to see you!”
“And here I am.” She squatted to bring herself down to Dakota’s level. “How are things, Toots?”
“So good.” Dakota held up her fingers and ticked them off individually. “First, I got two stickers on my paper because I got done first and had everything right.”
“Bonus!”
Dakota grinned. “Yes! And then my kitten threw up on the couch and Daddy didn’t get mad. He just said babies do that sometimes and we cleaned it up.”
“Wise words,” Elsa noted, and she slanted a quick smile up at Nick.
He shrugged, humble, but his expression said he’d aced the moment.
“And then we’re here!” She spun around, nearly smacking Elsa in the face, and when Nick took Elsa’s arm to help her stand back up, something clicked again, as if it was right to have his help. “Can I stay?”
“May I stay,” Elsa corrected her mildly. “And the answer tonight is no, but…” She angled a frown down when Dakota started to whine. “I’m coming over to the ranch on Saturday to do some schoolwork. Would you like to do some schoolwork with us?”
“I love schoolwork so much!”
Cheyenne snorted. Elsa ignored her rude reaction and palmed Dakota’s head. “It’s a date. I’ll be there for a while, and maybe one of these times you guys can show me the ranch. When the weather’s nice.”
“We can do that Saturday!” Dakota aimed excited eyes up at Nick and grabbed his legs. “Right, Dad? If it’s nice out?”
“Not this Saturday, sweet pea.” Regret deepened his voice. “I’m working on the ranch because Colt and Murt are on the church work crew from one until dark,” he added. “How about if we all meet at church on Sunday and then go back to the ranch and we can show you around. Would that work, Elsa?”
It would if she accepted the invitation. She’d stayed away from church for a long time. The insensibility of a loving God versus evil men left her angry. If man was created in God’s image, why did humans have such a hard time choosing good over evil?
“I can show you the kitties and our dogs!” Dakota let go of Nick’s legs and did a little dance. “BeeBee and Kita are going to have puppies soon!”
Puppies.
She bent low again, excited by the prospect of puppies, of new life. “My mom used to breed dogs when I was little. She let me help take care of the dogs and help with the birthing, Dakota. I absolutely, positively love puppies. Like this much.” She spread her arms wide. Dakota grinned and a slight smile softened Cheyenne’s features momentarily.
Nick lifted one brow as he waited for her decision. He didn’t push, didn’t encourage. He simply waited, and that made all the difference.
“Let’s see how Saturday goes, okay?” She couldn’t pretend she was too busy for Sunday, because the fact that she did little was obvious.
“Sure. And bring Achilles along.”
She had planned to bring him, but would he behave in new surroundings? “He’s not cattle savvy.”
Nick shrugged. “Does he come when you call him?”
“Most of the time.” She stretched out the word most, and he laughed.
“There’ll be plenty of us on hand to keep an eye on him. And he might like a chance to run in the sun.”
He probably would, Elsa decided. She’d kept him shadowed, just like she’d kept herself in obscurity. Nick didn’t press. He didn’t sound disappointed. He sounded strong and hopeful.
She liked that. “Cheyenne, I’m going to have you help me clear out that shed. You left your good clothes at home, right?”
“Yes. Aren’t there laws about this? Against child labor?” the bright girl asked. “I think there are.”
“Not when it falls under the heading of therapeutic endeavors,” Elsa assured her. “Grab some gardening gloves from that box. You and I are going to put the finishing touches on an in-depth research study I call ‘work therapy.’ ”
“Are there spiders?”
“Quite possibly.”
“Great.” Cheyenne pulled on the gloves as she turned back to Nick and Dakota. “I’ll see you guys in an hour. If I survive.”
Nick watched Cheyenne tug the grungy gloves into place. He looked surprised but backed toward the truck, smiling. “You’ve got this?”
“I do.”
“Okay, then.” He waved, helped Dakota up, then waited while she fastened her seat belt before he backed around and pulled away.
Elsa watched them go. Dakota leaned way up in her seat and waved good-bye.
Cheyenne ignored her.
Elsa waved back.
As they crested the slope leading onto the logging path, Nick turned. When he saw her watching, he paused the truck and smiled. Just that, as if seeing her with his daughter was something to smile about.
“I’m ready.”
“Me too,” Elsa replied, but was she?
Maybe. Maybe not. But she wanted to be ready, and that was half the battle.
Nick pulled into Josh Washington’s driveway, grabbed his house plans, and waited while Dakota undid her latches. Once done, she hopped out behind him. “Well done.” He high-fived her before she raced to the backyard to see what Josh’s kids were shrieking about as Josh moved his way.
“Hey, Dakota.”
“Hey!” She dashed by him and disappeared through the wooden gate.
“Do we dare trust them out there?”
“Sammy Jo’s back there. She knows we’re going over plans so she got her homework done early.”
“I owe her.”
“I promised her a chance to help build this summer.”
“For real?”
Josh nodded, firm. “She looks like her mother, but she’s got a builder’s blood and she loves jumping in on jobs. So she’ll crew with me on the housing project at the lower end of town. And that child has a way with fine carpentry. Pretty amazing, and patient, besides.”
“I think it’s great,” Nick replied as he thought of all the stumbling blocks he’d put in Cheyenne’s path the past three years. Why hadn’t he recognized that God and nature had created her to be unique, and everything else built from there? He laid out the plans on Josh’s extrawide worktable, and as they talked, Josh jotted notes in the margins and at specific spots on the house plans.
“How soon can the logs be delivered?”
“Late July.”
Josh shook his head. “Can’t do it then, Nick. I never turn down work, but with the repairs and rebuilds to the houses in town and overseeing the church project, I can slip in small jobs here and there, but there’s no time to get to a new build like this until October. That spring fire caused a lot of damage and spurred two things. A whole bunch of insurance claims and more work than my crew and I have seen in years.”
October?
In his head, he and the girls would have been moved in by October.
“I don’t want to hold you up,” Josh went on. “If you need to pull in someone else to do this job, I understand, Nick. No offense taken.”
Josh had worked in this town since he was a kid at his father’s side, doing odd jobs. He’d stayed through thick and thin. He’d married a great gal, had a wonderful family, then lost his wife to cancer two years before. And when Nick was a gangly high school freshman, it was Josh who schooled him under Coach Irvine’s direction on how to pump fake, pivot, and deliver a perfect shot to the hoop, nothing but air.
Nick shook his head. “We’ll hold back until you can fit us in, Josh. I’ve waited this long; a few months won’t matter. I want the best, and that’s you.”
Appreciation softened Josh’s dark-toned features. “Sounds good. Can I make a couple of suggestions?”
Nick nodded.
Josh pointed to the plans. “You nearly double your living space if you make this a walk-out basement by moving the house to the crest of the slope.” Josh pointed to the lowest level of the plans.
Nick whistled lightly. “I hadn’t thought of that, and a finished basement like my father’s would be great. I’ve never liked that our house in town is on a slab.”
“Newer builds have done a lot of that,” Josh remarked. “Especially as you head east and the state gets drier.”
“I didn’t realize how handy a basement was until I didn’t have one.” Nick began unpinning the set of plans.
“Do you have more than one copy?” Josh paused him and tapped the house plans.
“I do.”
“Leave this one here. I can wrap my head around how I want things done with a visual. That’s been one of the toughest things about jumping in so fast with the church project. Hurrying isn’t my style, but I’ve never seen so many folks work together to get a job done. It’s like an old-fashioned barn raising, and your brother’s been on hand real regular. Of course, he’s waiting on the church for a wedding, and a wedding can push a man to speed, sure enough.”
“I figured the church was keeping you crazy busy. I’d be here more often, but Colt and I decided I’d take lead at the ranch and he’d put in more time down here.” Josh lived a scant two blocks from the big fire that had raged through town that spring, a fire that consumed multiple buildings, including the original Grace of God Community Church. “I know my father has you putting in a lot of hours over there.”
“I am,” Josh agreed. “With your father’s funding, we’ll have the exterior done soon, and we’re subcontracting a lot of the interior work. That fire destroyed a great deal, but these unexpected jobs will keep food on my table for the next year. With money tight and so many folks not liking change and mad about most everything, life was looking mighty grim a few months ago.” He lifted his chin and stared out the front window overlooking the small western town. “I don’t mind admitting I cried the night of that fire,” he added honestly. “Susan and I got married in that church. We’ve been raising our children there, going to services, being involved. Watching it burn was like a knife in the back.”
“It shook my father the same way,” Nick told him.
“I wouldn’t have thought I’d have much in common with Sam Stafford, but when you lose someone you love and watch the memories burn away, well…” Josh shrugged. “It’s a rough go. The fire wiped out part of my family’s history. But now?” He nodded to Nick’s plans and pointed to a jam-packed bulletin board hanging on the far wall next to the landline phone. “I’m hip deep in work, I’m scheduling into fall and winter, and I’m hiring crews, which means a big boost for our local economy. Out of bad came good.”
Nick had spent the last years being a churchgoing man to set a good example for his girls. He wanted to believe in something bigger, grander, and kinder than mortal man. Faith in God wasn’t easy to swallow, and faith in people was tougher yet, and that went right back to his mother and his wife, walking out the door and never once looking back.
Was it people who turned the bad around for good? Was it God? Or was it the combination of faith-filled people working for God?
He had no answer, but working side by side as the town came together to rebuild, he’d gotten to know more folks than he had in all his growing-up years, and he liked it. For the first time in years he felt like he might be where he was supposed to be. “Let me know when the excavation crew is coming in, and I’ll make sure nothing’s in the way.”
“I’ll order the survey done and the utilities to be flagged,” Josh replied. “And I’ll note which trees you want left untouched. Digging might damage roots to some, and they might not all survive, but we’ll trim out as needed once the structure’s complete.” Josh stuck out his hand. “Good doing business with you, Nick.”
“Same here.”
Dakota fussed at having to leave, but Nick stood his ground. “We’ve got to pick your sister up at Elsa’s place. Let’s go.”
“And then Elsa’s coming to our house on Saturday!” She caroled the words as if singing in a musical.
“Well, the ranch,” he corrected her. He realized he didn’t want Elsa to see them at the house on West Chelan Pass. He wanted her to see them where they belonged, at the Double S.
He pulled into her yard, hoping Cheyenne wasn’t quite ready to leave, but she was. She’d tugged a sweatshirt over her lightweight top, and as she went to remove it, Elsa waved her off. “Wear it home. I’ll get it on Saturday.”
Cheyenne grinned in delight, an expression Nick hadn’t seen much of lately. He missed her bright, crinkled eyes and her cute, winning smile. “Thank you, Elsa! I had fun!”
She enjoyed cleaning out a shed?
Normally Nick would have a hard time believing that, but Cheyenne’s expression confirmed her words. She climbed into the truck, humming, fastened her belt, and didn’t say one mean thing to Dakota. That was worth some therapy right there. He leaned out his window before he backed the truck around. “Nine thirty Saturday, right?”
“I’ll be there.” She met his gaze straight on.
“Much obliged.” He lifted his cowboy hat in a little salute. “See you then.”
Elsa steered her car past a small back-to-basics-style Christmas tree farm, hooked a right turn, then stopped on the long, winding gravel driveway.
She’d grown up on a northwestern ranch, surrounded by hills and fields of hay and corn, but nothing like this.
The Double S fanned out above and beyond her, stretching to either side, dwarfing other local farms she’d seen along the way. Massive barns extended along the stone drive to her left, while acres of pastureland rolled east. Green hills rose successively above the sprawling two-story cedar-sided house facing the daily sunrise.
Gorgeous.
Patterns emerged in her artistic mind, fields below giving way to pastureland in a patchwork landscape, utterly beautiful.
Above the main-level barns were higher elevation pastures, dotted with trees, merging forest and farm into a blended existence teeming with cattle.
Rachel had said the Stafford holdings were impressive. She’d alluded to money, but nothing the elementary school principal had said prepared Elsa for the stunning natural beauty that lay before her. She breathed deep, put the car back into gear, and parked it in the shaded area at the far side of the ranch house. Before she was able to exit the car, Cheyenne, Dakota, and an adorable little boy raced her way down the broad concrete walk.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” Cheyenne grabbed one hand.
Dakota clutched the other. “Me too!”
The little guy kind of stared at each of them, then her, then shrugged and stuffed little hands into tiny blue jean pockets, total boy. “Hi.”
Irresistible seemed to be a Stafford trend. “Hi. I’m Elsa.”
He peeked up at her as a dark-haired woman stepped outside the door and crossed the wide porch. “Elsa?”
She nodded and moved forward, a kid on each side and one in front. “Yes.”
“I’m Angelina, the house manager and Noah’s mother.” She swept the boy a fond look. “And I get to ride herd on these two regularly.”
“And she’s going to marry Uncle Colt as soon as the church is built,” bragged Cheyenne. “Uncle Colt works on the church every chance he can because he says the waiting is just about killing him.”
“Is it now?” Elsa exchanged a look with Angelina and decided she liked this woman instantly when Angelina rolled her eyes.
“You will soon find that handling men around here is not unlike handling children or cattle. Of course, that might be more Stafford than gender,” Angelina mused with a skeptical smile. “I’m still deciding that issue.”
“A wicked combination either way, darlin’.” The screen door opened and a broad-shouldered, square-jawed cowboy stepped out, grinning. “Dr. Andreas, I’m Colt Stafford. Pleased to meet you.”
“Elsa, please.”
“Mighty pretty name for a mighty pretty gal, but I don’t expect my brother’s figured that out yet, has he?” He aimed a direct look over her head, and when Elsa turned, she wasn’t surprised to see Nick approaching. “He’s a little slow on the uptake.”
“I thought you were meeting Murt and Ty?” Angelina asked, shooing Colt toward the stone drive. A cool breeze rolled down from the western hills. She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered. “Kiss me good-bye and head out so we can get our work done here. Men are a bother.”
He didn’t look at all bothered by her words, and actually, neither did she, and when Nick’s brother kissed his fiancée good-bye, he left no doubt he was a man in love. “See you tonight. Love you.”
“Me too.” She smiled as he crossed the graveled lot and climbed into an SUV with the Double S logo emblazoned on the front doors.
“Come on in.” Nick moved forward and swung the door wide. “That breeze is chilly this morning, but tomorrow’s supposed to be warmer, so if we decide to take a look around, it should be nice to do it then.” He removed his hat, set it on the counter, picked it right back up when Angelina tsk’d him, and hung it on a hooked rack inside the door. “Where’s Achilles?”
“I decided that today’s a workday so not a good day to bring him along,” she explained.
“Tomorrow, then. Give him a little sun.”
She’d considered telling him no to the tour on the drive over. She’d weighed it and knew what her answer should be, but the minute she spotted the gracious, terraced land and the sprawling house, she felt like Elizabeth Bennet first seeing Pemberley.
“That would be really nice. We’ll both enjoy it.”
Angelina set out a tray of fresh baked goods and pointed out the single-cup coffee brewer on the counter. “The doctors want to run some tests on Sam, so I’m driving him down to the hospital this morning. Nick promised to grill sausages and dogs on the wood-burner grill outside for lunch later, and my mother will laugh in the face of her Latino roots by making one of the best Irish potato casseroles you’ve ever had. We’ve found it best not to question these things,” she advised Elsa with a look that only a woman would understand, and Elsa did. “We just roll with them.”
A man approached the kitchen from a side wing of the house. At first glance she thought he was elderly, but as he drew closer, she realized her mistake. Older, yes, but not aged. Ill health seemed to be taking its toll on him. Ashen skin and hollow cheeks gave him a gaunt appearance, but when he spotted her, a hint of steel sharpened his expression.
“Dad, this is Elsa Andreas,” Nick told him. “She’s here to work with the girls.”
He started to extend his hand, then gripped the counter instead and looked downright aggravated at the necessity of it. “Welcome to the Double S, Miss Andreas.”
“Doctor Andreas,” Cheyenne corrected at the same time Elsa waved that off.
“Elsa is fine. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stafford.”
“Where is your walker?” Angelina crossed her arms over her chest again, but this time Elsa was pretty sure that temperature had nothing to do with the gesture. “You’re being stubborn and uncooperative, and if you fall on your way into the professional building, it will serve you right.”
“I won’t fall because you’ll give me your arm,” he retorted. “Dang fool walker is for dang fool old folks, and when I need one of those to get around my own blasted house, it’s time to call the undertaker.”
“Perhaps our infirmities are meant to offer a dose of humility.” Angelina tipped her head slightly. “Have you considered that, Sam?”
“I expect I’ll be humbled on a regular basis before this thing is done,” he grumbled as he made his way to the door. Angelina moved alongside and offered her arm, and the big man grasped it gently. “Thank you, my friend.”
She smiled at him, their height difference minimized by his stooped stature, as if standing straight proved too painful. “You’re welcome, as always. We’ll be back later, although maybe not in time to have lunch with all of you.”
“Vaya con Dios y bendiciones!” A busy-looking woman entered the kitchen from the opposite direction. “I’ll have lunch waiting unless Sam needs to eat as he waits.”
“If you’re making those special potatoes, Isabo”—he turned and sent her an expectant look from the doorway —“I’ll enjoy them when I get home.”
“They’ll be ready,” she promised, and when Elsa shifted her attention to Angelina, she read the gravity of the situation in the other woman’s face.
Sam’s illness added another layer to the broken family dynamics, which meant she needed to find out more about his prognosis. Children dealt better with the elements of life and death when they were prepared for them.
Sam and Angelina went through the door, and Elsa wondered why Nick didn’t move forward to offer his assistance. Was it to salve the older man’s pride or because grievance lay between them?
And that added a different layer of mortar to the already hard walls of being born Stafford.
A part of Nick longed to assist his father to the door, but Sam would only shrug him off. Nick had spent a lifetime being shrugged off. He should be used to it by now, but he wasn’t, so he let Angelina help his father. Angelina wasn’t mired in old hurts where Sam was concerned. In Gray’s Glen that put her in a miniscule minority status because at least two-thirds of the town hated Sam Stafford, and at least half of them did so with good reason. The others just went along for the ride.
Colt and Nick were determined to turn that around. Sam’s change of heart would help make that possible, if he lived long enough to see it through, and right now that appeared to be a big if.
“Girls, come on over here to the table, and let’s get organized, shall we?” Elsa set a bag down on the broad braided rug, and a smaller one on the table. “Who can get me crayons, scissors, pencils, and erasers?”
“I can!”
“Me too!”
The girls dashed off to the corner of the great room to gather supplies, and when they hurried back to Elsa’s side, their looks of anticipation blessed Nick. He’d put off meeting with a therapist for long months because of stupid, Stafford pride. He was a moron, plain and simple, and right now he wanted nothing more than to stay inside and hang with Elsa and his daughters.
Isabo would take a rolling pin to him if he tried, but it might be worth it to coax Elsa’s smiles. He started to pull out a chair when one of the ranch hands yelled his name.
“Nick!”
The ranch hand’s bellow from outside came at the same time Nick’s phone buzzed a 911 incoming text. He raced out the door, looked up, and saw the catastrophe unfolding from a distance but could do absolutely nothing to help. He ran for the ranch Jeep. One of the ranch hands jumped in alongside, and they torqued up the hill as the huge tractor careened over the small embankment and into the slow-running creek below.
The first thing he hoped was that Hobbs was all right.
The next thing he figured was that he’d have to kill the old-timer for taking that upper corner too sharp with a monster-sized rig.
He paused the SUV as a summer hand ran his way. He let the kid jump in behind Brock and raced toward the creek’s edge. Fear tied his gut into a massive knot. They hadn’t had a serious ranch accident in over a decade because Sam ran a tough, tight ship. Accidents cost lives, time, and money, and for all his father’s faults, Sam Stafford took safety seriously. As he spotted Hobbs making his way up and out of the creek bed, Nick knew the old man’s days of running tractor were over, but he had no idea how to break that kind of news to one of the hardest working cowboys he’d ever had the pleasure to team with.
Nick jumped out of the Jeep as soon as it drew to a stop. “Hobbs, get in.” He helped the old man into the backseat. He motioned for the younger ranch hand to take the wheel. “Get him to the emergency care clinic. If they can’t handle this, run him right to the hospital.”
Nick turned his attention back to his devoted old friend. “Are you okay to ride in this?”
Hobbs brushed the question off with old-timer ease. “I’ve rode in worse, and I'm just banged up. Maybe busted.” Hobbs glanced down, and it was then that Nick noticed his arm hanging at an impossible angle. “Yup. Busted.” He scowled. “Don’t much care to run into your daddy at the hospital when I just wrecked a major piece of equipment,” he muttered. “I thought I had it, Nick. I took that corner same’s I always do, and then the next thing I knew, I was heading for the edge. Mebbe I ain’t cut out to drive them bigger rigs.”
“Let’s get you fixed, then I’ll ream you out, okay?”
Hobbs smiled thinly through the pain. “Your daddy will take care of that, more’n likely. I can stay, you know.” He scowled at the creek bank where the monstrous wheel spun sideways, cutting the air smoother than a Dutch windmill. “We can fix this later.” He nodded to his arm as if working with broken bones was okay, and from the stories Sam, Hobbs, and Murt spun around the supper table, it might have been, back in the day.
But this was a new time, and Nick sent Hobbs and the kid off to get medical care while he and Brock surveyed the situation. He called Colt and told him to gather Murt, the local sheriff, and anyone else he could grab hold of and get back to the ranch a.s.a.p. They’d all been working on the new church, but everything stopped when the call for help was sounded. In farming there was a time for every purpose, just like the Good Book said. If you missed that window of opportunity, you could mess up an entire year or more.
It took all afternoon and lots of good-natured ribbing as they positioned massive equipment every which way to haul the tipped tractor back to navigable farmland, and when they’d finally gotten the big rig back on level soil, Nick drew a sigh of relief. “Don’t know how to thank you all,” he told the group of men as the double winch lines eased the rig over a shallower embankment. “Tank, you got enough daylight to give it a look?”
“Plenty,” the ranch mechanic told him. “Me and the kid can team up, then come up for supper in a few hours.” He’d driven an old farm rig out to the accident site, loaded with tools. “I put a sack of sandwiches and cookies there too, Tim,” he added when the rangy nineteen-year-old sent a longing look back to the ranch. “And Miss Izzie will hold stew for us. She promised.”
“Thanks, Tank.”
Colt smacked Nick on the back, a move that could have gone either way. Today it was a friendly gesture. “You handled this like a pro.”
“I am a pro,” Nick told him, irritated. It wasn’t as if he needed Colt’s approval on anything. Ever. “I’ve spent twenty years doing what needs to be done, half of which you spent in big cities.”
“What’s the burr in your boots?” Colt asked. “This is a job that would have taken days on your own. We got it done in a few hours. You’d think we interrupted some hot date or —” He stopped and stared at the house, then his brother as they followed Murt and a couple of area ranchers into the newer SUV. “I forgot. The doctor was in.” He made quote marks with the fingers of two hands. “That’s a mighty pretty reason to want to get back to the house, little brother. I thought you’d sworn off women completely.”
“Shut up.”
“Hey.” Colt lowered his voice so the other guys wouldn’t hear as he paused Nick with one hand. “I’m not messing with your head. I think Cheyenne’s got a better outlook these past few weeks, and while I’m no expert on women or raising kids, I can spot a happy face when I see it. For the first time since I’ve been home, my niece looks happy. And that’s something I’m thanking God for.”
Nick wasn’t sure how to handle this. Colt had spent his life messing with Nick’s head. To have him shoot straight and sincere was new and might take some getting used to. “Well, I was supposed to be back at the house to grill lunch for all of them. That didn’t happen.”
“Isabo and Elsa took care of things from what I saw, and when I stopped into the house to grab the waters, Elsa was cutting vegetables for the stew pot and the girls were helping.”
“She was ticked, I bet.”
Colt shrugged as they reached the SUV. “Didn’t look ticked at all, and you might want to stop assessing every woman by Whitney’s standards. A lot of women are willing to jump in and help out. Maybe Elsa’s not the exception. Maybe she’s the rule.”
He hated that Colt was right and that he hadn’t understood the measure of a good helpmate a dozen years before. Was he that blind? Or just stupid? Or was he so busy trying to create the perfect family to show up his father that he failed to look beyond appearances?
More likely.
They climbed into the car. Colt swung it around in an easy arc and headed downslope. “We’re two men down now, what with Dad and Hobbs, and with the work on the church in full swing, there’s not a lot of help around.”
“Dad doesn’t worry much, but he worries when we’re short on help. For good reason.”
“When’s Trey due in?” Murt asked from the backseat. “He knows his way around.” The youngest Stafford had followed his dream to Nashville years before. He’d stuck it out through hard times, made it big, and was setting everything aside to come north as they faced Sam’s prognosis together. He was a solid singer and musician, and an even better ranch hand, and Murt didn’t offer praise like that—or any, he realized—lightly.
“His last concert is Tuesday,” Colt answered. “He said he’ll close down the tour as quick as he can and get back here, but I don’t know what that means.”
“Then we slide by for a bit,” Murt said. “Won’t be the first time we’ve pulled double duty. Won’t be the last.” He climbed out of the SUV once it rolled to a stop. Angelina came out the side entrance to meet them.
“It’s upright.” She pointed to the distant hill and the tractor. “That’s a good sign.”
“It is, darlin’,” Colt told her. He hauled her in for a kiss, then tapped the brim of his hat. “I’m on barn duty for those F1 cross babies due now. To everything there is a season, and this appears to be the season for calves, ready to drop for the next few weeks.”
“Supper?” she asked and he sniffed the air, looking hopeful.
“Bring me some?”
“I will once the kids are in bed.”
“My girls rope you into letting them stay here overnight?” Nick asked as he moved toward the kitchen door.
“They didn’t have to rope hard.” She slanted the noisy front room a fond look as she led the way back into the kitchen. “And don’t even think of wearing that mud-spattered nonsense in here. Ditch it by the laundry room entrance and we’ll take care of it.”
Isabo came into the kitchen with a basket of fresh sweet peas. “I thought these would be stringy, but they’re not. They’re perfection. We’ll do some fresh and some steamed tomorrow.” She spotted Nick and turned her attention his way. “Your friend—the girls’ doctor friend?”
“Elsa?”
“Yes!” Her face split into a wide smile when he said the name, as if just hearing it made her happy, and Isabo wasn’t what Nick would call the effusive type.
“What about her?”
“Magnificent!” she declared. “With the girls, with Noah, with the kitchen.” She stressed the last because Isabo had great respect for anyone who could hold their own in her kitchen. “She made the best biscuits we’ve ever had, warm and cheesy and good, and she was not afraid to take the girls to the barn when I was too busy.”
“Translation: you wanted to see if she was tough enough to handle kids and half-ton animals without caving, and she passed the test,” Nick offered reasonably.
“That is one way of putting it, yes.” Isabo looked quite agreeable as she rinsed the peas beneath a stream of cold, clear water. “I like her.”
Nick wasn’t sure when winning Isabo’s approval became important but figured it was about the time she walked through the door a couple of months before, after being holed up in a cabin with Angelina’s little boy for two years. “I do too.”
“Well, good.” She waggled her head from side to side as if a momentous decision had just been made. “We are in agreement. Angelina, can you put the bread out with fresh butter?”
“Absolutely.” Angelina withdrew two soft, fragrant loaves from the warming oven. She handed them off to Murt as the other guys trooped in, looking tired and hungry. “I’ll finish serving supper, Mami. You take care of your produce.”
Their combined voices brought the kids running into the kitchen. “You got it out!” Cheyenne clapped her hands together as if proud of Nick, and Nick couldn’t remember the last time his oldest daughter seemed proud of him. “We were watching from down here, Daddy, and we weren’t sure what would happen, but when Isabo said we should pray for your success, we did! And it worked!”
“I heard you guys took care of everything down here while I was stuck up there.” He pulled her in for a hug and realized Colt was right. She seemed happier. Lighter. More relaxed since he’d brought Elsa into her life, which only made him feel bad for not following up on the principal’s idea sooner. “How’d the schoolwork go?”
“So fun!” Dakota twirled around, grabbed a toy gun from a holster she must have borrowed from Noah, and took pretend aim at a bear head on the great room wall, tomboy to the max. “We practiced sounding things out, and I didn’t know where to put my teeth with the letter v, but Elsa showed me and then it seemed like so easy! And she showed me how to figure out big math things right in my head. I just think of the bigger number, watch, Daddy.” She pulled on his hand and then tapped a finger to her temple. “I’m adding twelve and seven, so I keep twelve up here and then”—she held up seven fingers —“I add the seven!” She counted up and waved her hands, triumphant. “It’s nineteen! And it was so easy. I don’t know why I used to think it was hard to learn my numbers, because when Elsa showed me, it was so fun!”
Angelina cleared her throat.
When Angelina cleared her throat, it meant either you should listen up because something momentous was going on beneath your nose or she was about to explode and take a rolling pin to your head. And since she was a former cop, he figured a rolling pin was better than a small, lightweight Glock, her pocket weapon of choice.
He looked her way. “Say it.”
She tipped a look down at the girls and lifted one shoulder. “I don’t need to say a thing. It’s there, in front of your eyes.”
He smiled because it was suddenly easy to smile, despite the tractor mishap. Hobbs was going to be all right, the tractor didn’t appear to have suffered dire damage, and his precious girls were acting happy on a more regular basis for two reasons: he was encouraging them to be the rancher’s daughters they deserved to be, and he’d finally taken outside advice and given the girls someone to talk to, to listen to, to hang out with.
The quirky therapist who preached laughter with sad eyes made him interested in getting to know her more, in hanging out with her. She brought out the protector in him, but why? He was pretty sure Elsa could take care of herself.
And yet…
Her choice of shadows and privacy didn’t mesh with big city, big bucks therapy, and Sammamish was an upscale town snugged up to Seattle. So why was she here, living a hermit’s life in the forest?
Does it matter enough to mess up the forward progress you see in your daughters?
It didn’t, he decided. He wasn’t some wet-behind-the-ears kid, crushing on someone. He was an accomplished man, a rancher who ran a big business. He used instinct to make decisions every day. Sure, he’d almost walked away that first night, tempted to let pride get in the way.
He gazed into his daughters’ shining eyes and was mighty glad he didn’t, because Elsa’s quiet honesty seemed to have turned the tide in his favor at long last.
Elsa pulled into Rachel’s driveway on the upper outskirts of town. She climbed out of the car as Rachel’s boys headed out back with their father on thick-wheeled Gators. Rachel was walking toward the house with a tray of dishes in hand when she saw her.
She paused, then smiled. “Got time for coffee?”
“Tea, yes. Or water. I’ve hit my coffee limit for the day.” She followed Rachel into the house. Rachel set the tray on the counter, filled the kettle, then set it on to boil.
“You could just heat water in the microwave,” Elsa reminded her. “I do it all the time.”
“The kettle takes longer, allowing me to probe deeper.”
“No probing required.” Elsa made a face at her. “I was out and thought I’d stop by.”
Rachel could have reminded her that she hadn’t done anything impetuous since moving to Gray’s Glen. She didn’t. “I’m glad. What were you up to today that’s got you wandering the roads at suppertime?”
“The Stafford girls.”
Rachel’s sigh of relief wasn’t overdone. “Thank you.”
Elsa shrugged. “Don’t thank me yet, I’m just stepping in to help Cheyenne catch up on schoolwork over the summer. And maybe give her some tools to deal with the tough mix of emotions left to brew when mothers walk out on children.”
“Nobody does it better, Elsa.”
Elsa used to believe that. She’d always felt gifted when mixing children and therapy. And then she lost two beautiful children at the hands of an angry, possibly brain-traumatized parent, and she’d done what so many of her young clients yearned to do. She’d curled up into a ball and hidden herself, mentally and emotionally. “Well.”
“Mom called today.”
Elsa winced.
“And your expression says she called you and you let your mother go to voice mail.”
“I wasn’t exactly free to take calls in the Double S kitchen. I was doing reading skill builders with Cheyenne, who is, by the way, quite smart.”
“I’ve got the test results to prove it,” Rachel agreed.
“But she likes everything on her terms and her timeline, so we’ll work on that over the summer too.”
The kettle began to whistle. Rachel got up, made the tea, and brought it back to the table. “You think she can catch up?”
“Can? Yes.” Elsa stirred the tea just for something to do with her hands. “It’s up to her. The stubbornness might get in the way, but we have one very important trump card on our side.”
Rachel arched a brow in question.
“Her grandfather.” When Rachel looked surprised, Elsa nodded. “It’s clear that he loves those girls, and she wants to please him. So I’m going to use that for leverage in the nicest way possible, but there’s a big question mark that goes along with that plan.”
“Which is?”
“His illness.”
“Ah.”
“I’m not sure about the prognosis, but he doesn’t look good, and coaxing kids along new paths is tricky enough with no major potholes along the way. If he doesn’t make it, all this time and effort could be for nothing.”
“Or it could strengthen Cheyenne to the point of being able to handle the unexpected twists and turns in life.”
“That’s what the books say.” Elsa sipped her tea. “With kids, it’s not nearly so predictable because stages of development vary. But it can’t hurt,” she added, and she wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Rachel or herself.
“Teaching her how to build a platform of strength will only help her.”
“And help me in the meantime?”
Rachel smiled and tapped the mug of tea. “It did get you out of the cave and into the light, so yeah. I’d be okay with a fringe benefit like that. Because it’s time.”
“Maybe past time.” She drank some more of the tea, then stood. “I’ve got to get home and take care of my mini-menagerie. They’re not accustomed to my being gone.”
“Which means they’re about to enjoy a learning curve as well.” Rachel walked her outside, then hugged her. “I’m glad you stopped by. When do I see you again?”
“I was thinking about going to church tomorrow morning.”
Rachel stayed quiet, waiting.
“Nick invited me.”
“I see.”
“I’m still considering it, of course. There was an accident on the ranch today, so we couldn’t talk it over, and I’m weighing it up.”
“It’s church, Elsa.” Rachel’s expression called her out.
“It’s church, in a small town, with a single parent. I’m assessing possible implications.”
“Not possible, probable. And, yes, folks would actually see you in church with a single guy. But at least you’d be back in church, so I’m voting for yes. Get over yourself and shove the concerns aside. Like you used to, Elsa Jean.”
“Things were different then.” She’d been braver. More self-assured.
“And can be again,” Rachel insisted. “But only if you give them the chance.”
She wanted to.
She’d seen that today, working with the girls, helping when a farm crisis changed up plans, jumping in like she used to years ago.
So the question wasn’t should she step out.
The question was, could she?