5

“Sounds good, Brayton. And I did enjoy our day.” Rachel meant every word, enjoyed the return of her smile, but his face tensed, and he pointed toward the house.

A few of the kids at the porch steps wore Scout uniforms, but most had on plaid shirts and Western hats. Surrounded by a half-dozen of them, Addie Metcalf preened like Scarlett O’Hara at Twelve Oaks and set Rachel grinning. She easily recalled those days of being almost-thirteen. She grinned harder as she watched Brayton’s fingers clench.

“Oh, that must be Bragg’s Rodeo College,” she said with a tease, glad for the change of subject. “They sure look like a bunch of nice boys, don’t they?”

Grumbling a response, Brayton obviously recalled the age group, too, for he started a fast stomp to the house. Ma was standing guard, though. Rachel saw Brayton relax. The bachelorettes were part of the mix, too. Walking normal pace from the corral, she caught sight of Bragg and a few of the Scouts romping past the corral with Matty and one of the ranch dogs. Toddler and Border collie had obviously made complete and frequent contact with a mud puddle. As always, her heart exploded with love at sight of her boy, and now, with the pure joy of nature and family. Love? She knocked that word out of her head.

But hmmm. A dog of his own might be something for Matty when they made the move. Funny. The ride with Brayton had helped Rachel realize she was ready to move on.

“Oh, howdy, Rachel,” bridesmaid Cricket called out with a squeak as she left her friends and trotted close. “Bragg’s been teaching us all roping skills. I nailed the pretend wire cow twice! Who’s your friend?” Her eyelashes batted toward Brayton although Rachel clearly remembered she was attached to Travis. Brayton, however, wasn’t attached to anybody. Yet. Could he and she be something together, someday? She wasn’t ready...but she had liked the touch of his hand.

And the hand was usually given before the heart.

She remembered her manners. “Cricket, this is Brayton. His daughter Addie is over there...”

“What a cutie. You’re gonna have your hands full.”

Brayton grumbled again and Rachel smiled in secret.

“Brayton? Brayton Metcalf?”

Suddenly a voice rang out from the porch where a herd of Scouts’ parents lounged on sturdy log furniture, plates of lunch balanced on laps. “Is that you? Whatcha’all doing here?”

As if roused from another place, Brayton shook his head and looked up, waved, and turned back to Rachel. “Some River Ridge folks.” Then he returned the yell. “Hey, Crusty. My daughter’s had a riding lesson. You?”

“Scoutmaster. Ridge County Scout troop’s getting some merit badges done. Gonna take a trail ride in after we eat. The lot of us is spending the night in the bunkhouse. You ought to stay over and perform some horsemanship skills with us tomorrow. Another badge for the boys, but we’re all having fun.” Suddenly, Crusty looked over at Ma, perhaps realizing he wasn’t in charge of guest services.

But Ma, ever all eyes and ears, added to the invitation. “You sure ought to, Brayton. Addie’s fitting in with these fine folks like rainwater in a drought. We have plenty of room.”

Rachel’s heart sank. Riding at Brayton’s side all morning had thrilled her, but she was confused. She wanted him near and yet she wanted him gone. Somewhere on this ranch she needed to find a quiet space to catch her breath and sort her thoughts, clear her head and open her heart. But he’d fill every cubic inch of air if he stayed. She sighed in defeat. Ma was a force of nature in her own right and rarely did folks tell her ”no.”

Addie was jumping up and down like the child she was. “Come on, Dad. You always keep a change of clothes for us in the trunk. Come on. Say yes. Please?”

“Besides which,” Ma said, dispatching her matchmaker glare, “anything you might need, you’re likely to find in our gift shop. We keep it stocked for any tourist eventuality.”

As Brayton’s eyes beseeched Rachel to second the invitation, her blood poured heat through her veins. Sitting at supper with him, lounging close afterward in front of the fire. The possibilities were endless, beguiling. Tantalizing, but frightening as well. Forcing every cell to calm down, she shrugged. “Sure, why not?” Her tone was neutral, not inviting but not inhospitable either. “Addie’ll have a blast.”

The disappointment in his gaze made her ache, but she left him, headed into the house, leaving him to chat up his hometown neighbors. In the dining room Ma had spread a luncheon buffet, and her mouth watered in spite of her nerves. Once calm in thoughts and controlled of body, she’d take Brayton a plate so he could eat with her. Just the thought, just the anticipation started her heart beating up her ribcage, ascending to a knockout when the clomp of boots, the scent of outdoors and pine came up behind her. And mud.

“Mama!” Matty jumped at her, and she caught him.

“Your own mama declared this ragamuffin is ready for lunch and a nap. I volunteered to bring him inside,” Brayton said as her heart hammered now.

Rachel’s delight stole her breath. She might not be ready entirely, but it was just one day, after all.

“I’m thinking a bath has to line up somewhere in there,” she said, amazed at her calm tone. She set Matty down, brushed away mud flakes, and handed Brayton a plate. “Let’s eat. Matty, Gramma has cheese here. And ham.”

“No mustard.”

Brayton grinned at her son while she dished up. Then, as if a thunderbolt had struck, or a locomotive had caught him in its headlamps, he stood stock still at the table.

Rachel understood. Most visitors did that when beholding for the first time the artwork hanging on the wall. Her grandmother’s large oil painting of The Feeding of the Five Thousand, only Jesus wore fringed buckskin and the hungry were representatives of as many Native tribes as Grim-Gram had been able to research.

“Incredible. I’ve never seen anything like that. Mari...” He halted, but it wasn’t with emotion from the painting.

“Marianne would have loved it,” Rachel finished for him, covering his embarrassment at a slip of the tongue, waiting a few seconds while she spooned some baked beans on her plate. “I know she would have. She studied art. It’s quite something. Primitive and unexpected, but real.”

Brayton peeked close. “It’s an original oil. Signed by Frieda Louise Julia Martin.”

“My grandmother. Our gift shop building used to be her granny flat. She painted relentlessly in her golden years. I’ve always loved her worldview. ”

“That’s mighty something.” Brayton looked straight at her. “More and more, I see how special life is here at Hearts Crossing.”

His lips caressed the word special, and she wasn’t too naive to understand that he meant her. “Let’s eat.” Food ought to discharge the potent moment. “Then I’ll get Matty tended. He’ll want a story after lunch before his nap.”

“I’ll help,” he announced. For some reason, the announcement irritated her. Because she wanted to be near him and then again, she didn’t dare.

“No need. I’ve been doing it myself his whole life.”

Brayton’s cheekbones colored burgundy across his suntan. “I know. I just missed those little things with Nate.”

Of course. He’d been five when Brayton met Marianne.

“Well, I’d say he’s lucky to have you.”

“You mean that?” His voice was so soft she could barely hear.

“I do.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I know, that’s all. I’ve seen Addie.”

“But she and I aren’t getting along all that well.”

“It’s all part of nature, part of the process.” She grinned. “You’ll see. Especially if you don’t go all shotgun at that boy out there.” Raising her chin and shoulder, she indicated one of the Scouts outside, gabbing up a storm with Addie. “Look at her confidence. How tall and strong she’s standing. Everything you could wish for.”

“Gotcha.” Brayton chuckled.

“Now let’s eat.” Somehow shy, they settled in the big front room highlighted with a Ponderosa-sized fireplace of river rocks. Both for ambience and for warmth, Ma kept the grate burning almost full time six months of the year using deadfall from the family’s forestland. Brayton’s placing an afghan on the sofa cushion before letting muddy Matty sit there touched Rachel’s heart. Truly he’d had a little boy in his life! When he started cutting Matty’s food in bite-sized pieces, Rachel thought her heart would explode at the sweet sight.

“Great grub,” Brayton mumbled through a bite of cornbread soaked in chili.

“I don’t eat that,” Matty announced. “But I like my ham.”

Brayton laughed. “Well, I like ham, too. Everything is delicious.”

“Thank you kindly on behalf of Hearts Crossing, sir.” Rachel smiled at him.

“More reason to stick around,” he said then blushed furiously.

Busying herself with Matty, Rachel had to ignore him. The image of him close by was far too appealing.

As if a switch had been turned off, her little boy suddenly all but collapsed into his food, his busy romp having caught up with him.

“I think naptime starts now,” she said as Brayton chuckled. “We’ll have to stick with the traditional Saturday night bath.” She rose. “If you’re finished, I’ll clear our dishes then tuck in my little man. At present, we share a room upstairs.” Somehow, it wouldn’t be seemly taking Brayton up there, even if it was just to lullaby her small child.

Clearly he got her point. “Of course. But let me clear up so you can tend him. Don’t forget his story. Are you going to join us for Rodeo College? Addie’s bound to be beside herself.”

Rachel laughed out loud. “Now you mind your manners around her and those boys. But, no. I’ve got to finalize an intellectual property agreement Tiffany has worked up. I always try to get some work done when Matty’s asleep.”

“Um.” Brayton grabbed Matty’s plate then touched his shiny little curls. Rachel’s heart pittered. Almost like they were a family. “Before I came in, Crusty said there’s a hayride and campfire tonight after supper. Care to join...me?”

She knew he’d been about to say “us,” that the “me” was a brave insertion. Even still, it wasn’t a date, not with a couple dozen other people around.

“Sure,” she said, true. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

****

She had no need for an alarm clock, not when sharing a room with Matty. The early morning sun peeked through the red gingham curtains as he stirred. Before he bounced up on her bed, she had time to relive the previous evening. The hayride, close by Brayton’s side. His warmth during the campfire sing-along. The touch of his hand on a crisp moon-lit walk.

She had, however, held off his kiss, had read the hurt in his eyes soon replaced by patience. His company was delicious, but she had enough baggage of her own to unpack before she latched onto somebody with his own load. After all, he’d had ten years to figure things out. She hadn’t even earned two. Still, an evening with Brayton had blown up into a night full of tosses and turns with him full on in her mind. At least she hadn’t had a nightmare. That was something.

She groaned into the covers. Brayton as close as the guest bunkhouse set her trembling. He had even promised to go to church with her this morning when she’d stumbled into an invitation. What had she been thinking? Nobody skipped church on Ma’s watch.

“Mama, get up!” Matty scampered monkeylike up on her mountain of blankets.

“I will.” They hugged. It would be good for them to have their own place, their own spaces. “Let me get your church clothes.” She buttoned him in a tiny suit passed down from Tiffany’s nephew. “Now you play while I get dressed.”

What to wear... knowing Brayton would see her. Something other than faded jeans and dusty riding boots.

“OK.” Matty settled with his jumble of miniature cars while she dug through the closet. Soon the room filled with his vocal motor sounds, the oral screech of brakes. She had to grin. The noises must be inborn in males.

Then her smile faded as she paused over a pink dress. Mountainview Community Church held memories of so much family history. Baptisms. Weddings. Funerals. Matty’s baptism. Her wedding.

Heart thudded, but she had to go on.

Nick’s funeral.

She swallowed the pain, tried to grab onto remembered joy. Indeed, she loved and admired Pastor Jim Hale, and more often than not, his messages made her feel better, even if only temporarily. And he’d comforted her plenty after Nick’s…funeral. Some of his counsel had taken. She’d never forsaken Jesus as her Savior; she just had issues why she’d had to lose Nick. It wasn’t fair.

And now, there might be someone else, but she wasn’t ready.

Church, a weekly event made different today because Brayton Metcalf was coming along. She couldn’t say worse, couldn’t say better. Just different.

Yes indeed. Brayton Metcalf. No doubt he’d sit with her at breakfast just like he had at supper. At the campfire. On the hayride. The scent of hay and horse, moonlight, Brayton’s shearling jacket and whatever soap he used had thrilled her even in her dreams during the night. Her heart pounded again, and she admitted she liked it.

Liked his ease with her son, his friendliness to the family. She couldn’t stop seeing the look in his eyes when he’d said his “forever” remark, the same warm gaze when he promised not to ask for too much. Oh heavens, she liked these looks, these looks that inspired feelings deep down she liked way too much.

Even if she did want a man in her life, she’d need one with a lighter load.

From downstairs, she heard the triangle clang for breakfast, the Wild West ambience Ma added when the ranch had guests. “Come on, little dude. We better hustle,” she told her son.

“Hustle and bustle?”

“Bustle, too.” She hugged her sweet boy so hard he groaned. Ma served breakfast buffet style, so there was no hurry. She always led grace to start with, but that was something Rachel and Matty could do on their own. And did she want to hustle, to hurry?

Did she want to see Brayton? Of course...not? If she hadn’t been ready yesterday, what could possibly have changed in her sleep? Despite the conflicts warring deep down, some instinct had Rachel take her time over makeup, hair, dressy black jeans today, and a teal silk blouse. Rather than her denim jacket, she grabbed a black wool blazer, plenty sturdy enough against a chill morning when all she had to do was walk to and from cars in a parking lot.

Ten minutes later, her heart thudded all the way down the stairs, for she could hear Brayton’s voice over the bridesmaids’ chitchat and the male guffawing of the Boy Scouts. In the big front room all around her, folks sat every which way, plates balanced on knees, TV trays, or end tables. Matty ran shrieking to one of his uncles, giving her no chance to sneak unnoticed into the kitchen. She’d die if she saw Brayton. She’d die twice if she didn’t.

What on earth was wrong with her?

Instincts and sense all gone awry, Rachel urged herself not to look, but the sight of him was too blasted beautiful. The giant fireplace blazed warmth, and he sat in front of it, completely at home. At least the bridesmaids fawning over him were all already attached even if little Cricket announced her doubt. Nonetheless, Rachel’s belly twisted with jealousy.

She pooh-poohed her reactions. Her stomach was empty. Brayton was handsome and charming. She was lonely. That was all.

That was enough. Nothing wrong with temporary flirtation. A temporary tweak to her ego whenever he appeared for Addie’s lessons. That was all.

“Hi Rachel.”

Even above the din, she heard him and only him. Saw him and only him. At her approach, he’d sat forward in the leather armchair, expectantly, and in her mind’s eye, they were the only two people in the room. It was a vision she needed to squelch even in its deliciousness. Half of her wanted to dash to his side. The other half, to run screaming up the stairs.

Instead, she controlled both trembling lips and pounding heart and tossed him a casual smile. Then she acted as though she’d forgotten something and headed back toward the dining room where the breakfast buffet was set.

Ma was fast on her heels. “What’s up, Rachel?”

Getting followed was annoying. “Ma, I’m just after some coffee. Now go entertain our guests.” She wanted to be snarky about the Metcalfs’ unexpected stay, but deep down, she had to admit she liked Brayton not all that far away. But still. Her hands shook as she worked the coffee urn.

Ma turned bright, intense eyes to her. “I can see something happening between you and Brayton. There’s chemistry there.”

Harrumph. “So that’s why you invited him to stay over.”

“It was Mr. Ruggs’s fine suggestion first. I just affirmed it.” Ma’s nose rose.

“You would have gotten the Metcalfs to stay somehow, with or without Mr. Ruggs. And you know it. ” Rachel knew her mother well. It was time to let loose, to let Ma know for sure. “Listen, Ma. I know you’ve lost a spouse, too. But you’ve never taken on another. As for your romance with Doyle, well, even you say marriage is a logistical nightmare. All but impossible.”

Ma rolled her eyes, setting her hands on the buffet. “My situation with Doyle is different. We both head up large ranching enterprises. And mine’s a birthright I can’t leave. You admit you’re slowing down your practice for more time with Matty. Doyle and I are done raising kids. You, my dear, are young enough to have more children.”

Rachel’s temper flared as she tipped the creamer to her cup. “Ma, that’s enough. It hasn’t even been a year and a half.”

“You’ve got a biological clock.” Ma’s lips pursed.

“It was a miracle getting Matty, for one thing.” As if her mother hadn’t spoken, Rachel went on insistently. “For another, you talk like Brayton has asked for my hand. He’s charming and I like him, but remember, he lost a spouse, too. And he’s not found anybody in ten years.” Her spoon tornadoed cream through her coffee. “I spent enough energy trying to fix what went wrong with Nick and me. I don’t have the strength to fix what might be wrong in Brayton’s life.”

“Well, just like you said, it’s been ten years. I think he’s on the mend.” Ma gave a firm nod.

Rachel wasn’t. Not yet anyway. She tried a courtroom glare. “Well, it hasn’t been ten years for me. Are we done here?”

From the big front room, she heard somebody say the words “Woodside Chapel” and she knew how her morning ordeal could ease. While most folks hereabouts attended Mountainview Church in town or St. Anthony’s in Promise a few miles farther, Pastor Hale’s vicar held a prayer service first Sunday of the month for the residents of the pretty development of Woodside Meadows. She’d attend there and appease Ma. Oh, she loved the friends and neighbors at Mountainview Church, no doubt about it, but this once, she wouldn’t have to endure all the sympathetic stares or relive difficult memories. Besides, since she was growing serious about moving to one of the condos there, helping build up a new little congregation might be a wonderful goal.

“I think I’ll go to Woodside Chapel this morning. I doubt Vicar Wegner gets a big turnout with the summer renters back home.”

Ma’s eyes were shrewd, but she nodded. “All right. You want Matty to go with me? There’ll be a Bible story going on in the nursery.”

Rachel nodded. She knew well the chapel didn’t have any such facility. “That’d be nice. I’ll be getting back here before you all, so I can get Sunday dinner started.”

Ma removed a big white apron, showing off a new forest green pantsuit. “Bragg’s already got brisket on that big smoker of his. And I’ve got the chili beans slow-cooking. If you can grate up the cheese for the macaroni, we’ll be in good shape.” She waggled a finger. “There’s six kinds of cheese, remember.”

Rachel couldn’t help a smile. Ma’s mac and cheese was legendary, and one never dared to skimp on the Velveeta, smoked gouda, extra-sharp and Vermont cheddar, pepper jack, and a smatter of Swiss.

“Now, go get some grub and keep our guests company.” Ma talked to her like she was six years old and headed out.

Keep our guests company. Rachel knew precisely what Ma meant. Keep Brayton company. Her blood began a torrent through every inch of vein and artery.