7

Chelsea had ached to sit close, to touch his hand all during the ride. At their destination Old Joe’s Hole, Dutton helped her from the wagon even though she’d jumped down a million times all by herself. After all, he’d delegated himself to be Sir Walter Raleigh for all the other ladies. She wasn’t about to be left out of the fun.

Of course, she wangled it so she was last to debark. And oh, she loved his touch, felt it down every inch of her spine. Everybody hustled off ahead of her, so she had the chance to tighten her fingers through his, linger against his chest as she stepped down.

“Howdy. That was quite a ride,” he muttered as he drew her so close her hat, tied with a leather strap, bounced against her back.

“Too long of a ride,” she murmured back. “I’ve been wanting this all day.” Too many onlookers.

“Same here. At the same time, I liked watching you drive the wagon. Such a pretty little cowgirl controlling that thundering team and mighty wagon.”

She laughed at his drawl and his nonsense, delighted in his nearness, but pulled away. Too many onlookers again. “Thanks for the compliment, but not to douse your high opinion of me, Hooper taught me to drive a wagon when I was eleven.” She winked at her brother who didn’t notice, busy as he was corralling the trail horses. “Let’s see if he’s as agreeable with his own daughter.”

“Good heavens, you drove one of these when you were a little girl?” Dutton’s awe widened his sun-squinted eyes.

“Oh, no. He just showed me how, that’s all. I think I drove about fifty feet. Just saying.”

“What’s next up?”

Several of the wranglers unhitched the team while she and Dutton spent that lovely minute all goo-goo-eyed, so she actually was free, at least until suppertime. At breakfast, Norma Kramer had insisted she and Edmund would help Snowy set out the fixin’s for Chuck Wagon Salad, a version of chef’s salad, with chopped veggies fresh from the ranch’s kitchen garden and Hearts Crossing’s own homemade HC Ranch dressing. The Kramers were also on board to help make lunch’s Dutch oven jalapeño corn bread and to learn how to prepare the homemade root beer which was the upcoming highlight for supper.

“I do have a little break. And this is the place to take it.” She took Dutton’s hand, the simple gesture stopping her heart and sending her blood screaming. They walked down the path to the lovely little lake with its small dock and rowboats, and trees hung with hammocks and a tire-swing. Kids were already screaming to their moms for their swim clothes.

Dutton’s shook his head as he took in the sight. “Awesome.”

“And this from a man who’s been to Lake Baikal and, what, Lake Tanganyika,” she teased.

“For one thing...” He pretended umbrage. “Those trips were under duress. Mom’s idea of spring break. Second of all, I did not have you at my side.”

“All righty. You have some choices to make. You can fish.” She pointed to Bragg who was already doling out poles and gear.

“Nope. Too slimy.” Dutton batted his eyelashes.

“Tire swing or swim?” She pointed to the shore already teeming with kids.

“Too noisy.”

“Might be a good time for a bath. No shower facilities.” She grinned.

“Brought my wet wipes. Unless that’s a way of saying I stink.”

Oh, he didn’t. The scent of him, hardworking man mixed with pine and cloud, was something she wished she could bottle.

“No indeed.” She flirted, wrinkling her nose. “Just saying…”

His smoldering look seared her bones. The last three years without him seemed a desert wasteland. He belonged with her; she could feel it in those same bones. Melding with the landscape, handling horses like he’d been born here, mixing with her brothers—and John—like long-lost friends. How good was God?

She finally managed her tongue. “Or a trail ride to the other side of the lake. A rowboat?”

His Adam’s apple displayed a hard swallow, as if he shared and understood all she was feeling. If God’s Hand had truly touched Dutton as it so seemed last night, they had everything bright ahead of them.

“A boat ride it is.” His voice shook a little, and she couldn’t hold back a smidge of triumph. He loved her, and he believed. All was right in her world.

But would it be, back in the real time when the trail ride was over? For a flash, she was certain his jaw tensed. As if something else was bothering him deeper down than he’d let on. Around Old Joe’s Hole, mountains stretched tall behind cuddling hills spiked with pine trees, and the sky turned a color most folks never saw.

“The sky looks brighter here or something,” Dutton whispered almost in awe, as if reading her mind. “I can’t explain it. And last night? All those stars? There are layers and layers and layers, and then some.”

“I know. It gets to you here. I never understood how people doubt a Creator, you know? I think one of my life’s greatest blessings is having gotten to be raised here.” The satisfied tone of her voice horrified her. Dutton’s upbringing had been nothing but tumult and discord. “Oh, Dutton. I’m sorry.”

“No worries. We play the cards we’re dealt. If I hadn’t been sent back and forth between ‘family,’ especially when they were too busy for me, I’d never have grown up independent. Never tried things on my own. Like surfing. Or even Brighton.” He took her hand. “And I wouldn’t have met you.” He brought her palm to his mouth. “And if my mom hadn’t liked the Beatles, I might have picked any other country in the world. So it’s all good.”

The sensation of his lips caused tiny explosions all the way to her toes. “It’s all God.” Her voice came out on a breath.

“Yeah. I truly know that now. It happened last night. I asked God into my life.”

“Oh, Dutton.” She read the truth in his eyes.

“For real, Chels. Forever. The other times, I wanted it all my way. I didn’t want to wait for His guidance. This time...” His eyes brightened. “I do.”

She kissed his hands, no air in her lungs. “I’m so glad.” She managed with barely any sound. Joy at his newfound truth washed over her. “Do you know how to row?”

“I guess.” His voice shook a little. “If you count the rowing machine at the gym or maneuvering an outrigger.”

“That’ll do.” She realized he was teasing, to normalize the profound moment. Joy covered her as warm as sunshine. “I’m pretty sure anybody who can ride a wave can guide a rowboat.”

“Come on. It’s another new thing for me.”

“For us.” But not the last.

At the dock, they climbed into a rustic little boat, and Dutton’s masterful muscles had them sliding across the mirrored surface so peacefully they might have been the only two people in the world. Well, in her world, they were. As he beached the boat and helped her out on the opposite shore, air full of pine and birdsong brushed her skin. But Dutton’s flesh against hers as their hands met thrilled every sinew in her body.

“This is beautiful country, you know.” Dutton’s tone held a longing she hadn’t heard before, not even in those ominous hours in England when she’d explained they had no future.

“I do know. My ancestor Josephus Martin passed through these parts prospecting. 1854. Liked it so much he staked a claim later on.” She leaned into him a little closer. “Along the way, his last descendent, a female, inherited the land and insisted her husband take her name. That would be my mother.”

Dutton burst into laughter, but once again, she noticed his jaw not quite in line with his eyes. As they headed up the wooded path, the wind drifting through the shadows seemed to sound a warning.

She had to lighten the weird moment. If Dutton had been led to the Lord, that’s all that mattered. Their love in bloom would be as fresh dogwood blossoms in the spring.

Oak and aspen and ponderosa surrounded them, and soon the path burst into the lovely grotto the ranch used for destination weddings. Posy’s Grove.

“Yeah, for years this place was called Posy’s Grave. It’s said Old Joe buried his beloved mule there. That’s supposedly her headstone.” She pointed to the large white boulder now used as an altar for weddings.

“His mule?”

“His best friend. She not only brought him over the Rockies, but once, while prospecting, he had an accident and she rummaged through his ‘possibles’ and found a rope. Dropped him one end and held the other in her teeth and dragged him to safety.”

“Aw, come on. I know you guys are in the hospitality business and your brother Kenn rocks at spinning tall tales.”

Chelsea shrugged. As they entered the gentle space, she truly felt the love of the Lord. Around the boulder, an edgework of smaller rocks just might have been arranged by a man mourning a devoted animal. A spear of sunlight flashed through the treetops, and a tiny creek sang happily as it rolled to the lake. In addition to Posy, the grotto had seen much family history. She couldn’t help but recall family weddings, Hooper and Mallie’s, her mother and Doyle’s double ceremony with Rachel and Brayton. This was also the place where the family scattered the ashes of precious pets to symbolize that death is just as much a part of life as is love. She breathed in the sweet clean air and breathed out contentment.

“Why wouldn’t she help Old Joe?” She looked up at Dutton. “You know, animals are pretty intuitive—and loyal.”

His smile stole her breath. Rustic but comfy rough-hewn benches supplied seating for guests, and Chelsea led Dutton to one now.

“Sure,” he said. “I mean, when was the last time your dog lied to you?”

“We can be helpful right back.”

“I get that.” Dutton stretched his legs in front of him.

“Uh.I need to tell you about Ezra.”

Dutton’s smile was sweet but a little wary, too. “And you’re right. You better tell me about my competition.”

“Competition? He’s a wounded miniature horse I rescued.”

“Now that sounds like my girl. But Ezra? That’s quite a moniker. Even for a critter.”

“The name just fits somehow. You know, a return from exile.” She grinned back at him. “It’s a book of the Bible. I found him, lost and broken.” She told the story for the second time in just days, and her nerves relaxed. Recalling John’s words, his reassurance that her brothers were good-hearted men, she would reveal Ezra soon. She had been wrong to keep him secret until he was well. Her family’s bond was strong, and they helped each other through thick and thin. Maybe all her worries had been for naught.

Well, she chided herself. My worries are for naught. God is in charge.

“I can’t imagine any place better for a wounded horse than Hearts Crossing.” Dutton’s gentle voice in her ears and warm fingers on her neck convinced her. “You’ve got a family that supports you no matter what. How could you ever have doubted that?”

“I don’t know. And you’re right. Looking back, I realize I should have asked for help before now. As the baby of a big family, I’ve been teased my whole life long. I guess I wanted to do something on my own.”

Dutton looked away. “I was always doing something on my own. Your family’s way is a lot better. You need to let them know. To give them the chance.”

“I know.” She nodded. “I think deep down, I’ve always known. But today I made up my mind.” She didn’t mention that John had helped her decision. “I’ll tell Hooper today.”

“You need to. And you did do something all by yourself. You saved Ezra. You followed your heart.”

“Like you followed your heart to come back to me?” Chelsea asked, hoping her eyes were full of happy dreams he could see.

****

Her eyes told him everything he needed to know, and guilt washed over him.

Dutton’s heart both hammered and halted, each beat stretching into what felt like a full second. Time slowed. Of course she’d been part of his journey to Hearts Crossing. The main part. But not the whole part. He’d been keeping secrets, too. Now was the time. He had to tell her right now.

Right now.

“Chelsea.” His words slowed; he didn’t have enough air. “Chels, like I said there was another reason, too. That I’m in Colorado, I mean.”

“I know. You’re going to check out your land. But I have to be glad. It brought you here. To me.”

“I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t think you’ll be glad.”

“What do you mean?” Her face paled. “Is it someone? Oh goodness, Dutton.” Her lids clamped tight over those robin’s egg eyes. Then her hands covered them. “Oh, someone else? It is, isn’t it? Someone you’re comparing me to?”

His gut twisted at the agony on her face. Her eyes opened, and he saw his wretched face in them. “No. Chels, no, no! There’s never been anybody else. No matter how I tried.” He wanted to manage a wry grin, but her face grew paler yet.

“Then whatever it is, you better tell me now.” Cold desperation clogged her voice, but not as cold as the sudden wind tunneling down the mountains.

He reached for her hand, but her fingers had grown cold, too. “I…you know that land I told you about? Well, my grandfather’s ruined. The insurance won’t cover anything else. I’m the only hope my grandfather has to save him.”

“What do you mean? What could you do, Dutton?” Her tone chilled, like her fingers. “To help him, I mean.”

Dismay swamped him. This was a woman who’d rescued a damaged horse against all odds and cherished the environment. Could he expect her to accept the intentions of a man who wanted to drill a pristine wildland? And not just any wildland, but Colorado. Her birthright. He forced air from his gullet and willed it to form words. He forced his gaze to meet hers head on. “After the wagon train, I’ve got an appointment with a geophysicist to see about horizontal drilling on my land. Preliminary inspection indicates…” He didn’t need to share anything else. She got it.

White and still as a marble statue of Greek antiquity. “So you weren’t even interested in winter recreation? That’s at least manageable.”

He nodded. “I was. I am. I haven’t made up my mind yet. I need to help out my grandfather. He’s my family.”

“But that explosion, the damages? How can you go back to that business?”

“It was terrible. I can’t put into words how terrible. But whatever is done now, will be done responsibly. With care. You’d have my word.”

“But the risks!”

He touched her cheek, somehow encouraged when she didn’t shrink away. “Chelsea, there’re always risks. And we both know there’s a lot of controversy about ranching and its effects on the environment. It’s not exactly natural, but I know your family does it with care and as much responsibility as possible. Not to go down a tit-for-tat road.”

She turned away. “And you thought I’d be OK with this?”

“Chelsea, I love you. I’ve never stopped. Not for one hour.”

“But we’re so far apart on this.”

He trod carefully, fingers hovering over hers. “Could you compromise your thoughts a little? I mean, you drive a car. And use electricity. That oil comes from somewhere.”

She had the grace to flush, fingers meeting his. “But, a wildland? Wilderness? Virgin territory? The animals disrupted?”

“You have my word. My solemn vow. It would be done responsibly.” She had to believe him, didn’t she? It wasn’t the only solemn vow he wanted to give her.

“Just what does that mean? Like that rig in Rio.” She stood. “I need some time to think. A walk will help clear my head. There’s a trail around the lake back to camp. You don’t mind taking the boat back, do you?”

Without giving him a chance to reply, she turned from him and hiked away.

He should have told her sooner, right away. It had been a dual purpose errand, he couldn’t deny, never had. But she’d been the biggest part of it. The most vital part. Knowing she was joined to his land by a couple hundred miles of highway gave them a commonality. It wasn’t coincidence, him owning a piece of Colorado. It just wasn’t. Everything had a purpose, and that land bringing him back to her was the most important goal he’d had. No way would he end up like Gramps and his mother, dependent on the world, not God, for happiness. He loved them, true, but love should bring people together. Unconditional love.

The kind he felt for Chelsea. The kind God had for him. He knew now life didn’t always give him his way, but instead of whining, he needed to pray and trust to find the peace he needed every single day. Chelsea had been witnessing to him all along.

He headed to the altarpiece under which the faithful mule supposedly slept and knelt in front of it.

God, he prayed silently. It’s time to trust in You all the way. I know what to do with Your Creation. Respect it. If oil drilling on my land can be done responsibly, maybe I’d go for it. But not if it keeps me away from the woman I love.This woman helped me find You. Together, with Your help, she and I can find a good purpose for that land. A purpose that will make us both content and bless Your world.

At peace, Dutton rose from a nest of pebbles and pine needles. He had only one choice now, and God had helped him find it. Grabbing his cell phone, he poked around for his contact list. The call went straight to voicemail.

“Gramps.” He felt a bit out of place, speaking out loud into the symbol of modern opulence in the grove special to a humble prospector. “I know you’ll be disappointed, but I don’t feel that drilling is the way to go. I’m going to keep the meeting. But I want to make sure that we do the right thing. And while I’m not sure what the purpose of that land is, I’m going to trust God to guide me.” He smiled, wondered if Gramps across the miles could hear his facial muscles move. Hear his peace, his faith. “It’s beautiful here. When I get back to civilization, we’ll talk. OK? I promise we’ll find the right way.”

Of course, he’d rather a face to face, and he’d arrange one soon as he could.

As Dutton walked back to the rowboat, he turned upward and saw those hills, those mountains, so full of help. He knew he’d decided right, spoken right. Now he just had to convince Chelsea.