The Rancher's Promise

“No, I’m managing just fine.” Rori slapped the last omelet onto the last plate and turned off the burner. “How is Wildflower?”

“A brand-new mama.” There was a thunk, thunk, presumably Autumn kicking off her boots before she strode into the room with two large thermoses. “She made it through just fine once they got things heading out straight. She has the cutest little filly. All long legs, bottlebrush mane and the biggest brown eyes. Cheyenne is going to flip when she gets home.”

“Glad there’s good news. I could tell your dad was worried. He was totally frowning. I didn’t know he was capable of it.” She rescued the platter of bacon and sausage patties from the warm oven and walked down the counter, filling plates. “I’ll get you all some more coffee and tea in a jiffy. I was going to bring breakfast out to the barn.”

“Sounds like a good idea. Dad was up half the night checking on the mare as it is, and you know Justin, grumbling about being behind with the morning chores.” Autumn set the thermoses on the counter and rolled her eyes. Her light auburn hair tumbled loose around her shoulders. At first glance, no one would peg her as a tomboy, not with her china-doll complexion, deep hazel eyes and leggy stature, but Rori knew no one could outride her. She’d tried many times. “How is Bella?”

“Still the best horse in the history of the world.” Autumn uncapped the thermoses. “I had to stop and say hi to Copper. He’s looking good for his age. Your grandfather is pampering him.”

“Gramps can’t help himself. Once a horse lover, always a horse lover.”

“That’s the truth. It’s the way God made us.” Autumn yanked the coffee carafe from the machine and upended it over a thermos. “It has to be weird being back. You’ve been away for so long.”

“I hadn’t realized how much I’ve missed this pokey little town. Not one thing happens there.” She did her best not to remember the past and the impatient girl she’d been. And how eager to experience something more exciting than dinky Wild Horse, Wyoming. “It used to drive me crazy, but I’m thankful for it now. It’s reassuring when home always stays the same.”

“Speaking of things that haven’t changed. Clem’s—now The Greasy Spoon—still makes the best burgers around.” Autumn screwed the cap on the thermos and reached for the hot-water carafe. “Have any plans, say, middle of the week?”

“Are you thinking horse ride?”

“Just like old times.” There was a quiet question hanging in the air between them, but Autumn didn’t ask it. Instead she finished pouring the water. “I’ll run this outside. Need me to take anything?”

“How about the muffins?” The sausage platter was empty and she set it aside to snatch the cloth-covered basket from the edge of the kitchen table.

“Yum. Smells good.” Autumn hugged the thermoses and took the basket into the crook of her arm. “Hate to rain on your parade, but guess who’s listening at the door?”

“I’m not listening,” a man grumbled from the mudroom. “I’m getting some clean towels for the barn.”

Justin. Rori’s palms went damp, and she wiped them on her jeans. Great. Why hadn’t she noticed he was there? How much had he overheard?

“Yeah, right.” Autumn chuckled as she strolled out the door. “You could have asked me to bring back the towels.”

“Didn’t think of it.” Justin sounded easygoing as he spoke with his sister. “Did anyone think to call Cheyenne?”

“I’ll do it,” Autumn called out a split second before the screen door slapped shut.

Rori set the plates on a tray she’d found in one of the bottom cupboards and covered the steaming food. With every movement she made, she was infinitely aware of Justin in the next room, the faint shuffle of his boots on the tile floor, the muted squeak of a cabinet door closing and the rustle of fabric as he paced to the kitchen door.

“Need any help?” Hard to tell if he was being friendly or just helpful, as he might be to any hired hand.

“Nope, but thanks. I’ve got it.”

“You could make us trudge into the kitchen to eat, you know. You don’t have to bring food to us.”

“I don’t mind. You’ve all had a busy morning and it’s not even six o’clock.” She opened the drawer and began counting out flatware. This is just conversation, she told herself. Justin had meant what he said about letting bygones be. He was making an effort, and it mattered. She could, too. “Since you’re standing there with a free hand, you could grab the juice on the counter.”

“Good. I like to make myself useful.” A faint hint of his dimples carved into either side of his mouth. He ambled into the kitchen, shrinking the room with his size and presence. He casually scooped up the pitcher and the stacked plastic glasses without complaint. “You need to come see the new filly.”

“Autumn said she was the cutest thing.”

“Foals usually are.” He held the door for her, and somehow the morning seemed brighter as they headed down the steps and along the path together. “You were calm under pressure, Rori. You helped a lot.”

“I did nothing. I called the vet. I walked the horse.” She shrugged. “Anyone could have done the same.”

“Not anyone. I was afraid you had turned into a city slicker, but I can see you’ve still got some Wyoming girl in you. I’m glad you’re working here. It’s a big responsibility running this place, and it will be a burden off Dad’s mind to know he’s got someone in the house he can rely on. Someone to feed us and the hired men when we get hungry.”

“I’m glad you think I’m a help.” She held the tray steady, flatware and dishes clattering with each step, and squinted against the low slant of the morning sun. She’d forgotten her ball cap. Grass slapped against her shins, crunched beneath her shoes and barely hid a jackrabbit who startled away into the field as they approached.

“Rori.” Frank hurried out of the barn to take the heavy tray from her and shot his son a telling glance. “That’s too heavy for you to carry all this way.”

“No problem. I’m stronger than I look.”

“Oh, the problem wasn’t with you. I thought I raised my son better than that.”

“I offered, but she turned me down.” Justin put the pitcher and cups down on top of a barrel.

“I did. I wouldn’t have given up the tray if he’d tried to wrestle it away from me.” She followed Mr. Granger and the tray to a walled-off room next to the tack room, where a sink and counter, microwave and small refrigerator sat as neat and as clean as any kitchen. A small battered dinette set huddled in the center of the area. Frank slid the tray onto the faded pink Formica top and the rest of the Grangers plus the vet descended on the table.

“Want to come see her?” Justin’s voice rang low, but even with the clang of dishes, rise of voices and cheerful conversation it was the only thing she heard.

“I’d love to.” She floated after him, excitement tingling through her. It had been ages since she’d seen a newborn foal. She loped down the aisle, the stalls empty this time of year, and felt the fingers of the past trying to grab hold of her. She was at home with the warm scent of horseflesh and grain in the air and the concrete beneath her feet. Maybe she’d never realized how much she loved country life.

“Hey, there, Wildflower.” Tender-toned, Justin knelt down at the stall bars. “We just want to get a good look at your baby.”

“Your beautiful baby,” Rori corrected, wrapping her hand around the rail and kneeling beside him. Wildflower nickered low in her throat, a proud mama who turned to lick at her little filly’s dainty ear.

Nothing could be sweeter than the little gold-and-white bundle curled up in the soft clean hay. The newborn stared at them with a surprised expression, as if she didn’t know what to think about the strange faces staring in at her. She blinked her long eyelashes and stretched toward them as far as her neck would allow.

“That’s a pretty girl,” Justin soothed, holding out his hand, palm up, his motions slow.

The filly gave his fingers a swipe with her tongue and drew back, as if her own boldness startled her. Wildflower nickered gently to her baby and, as if encouraged, the little one’s head bobbed down as she scrambled to get up on her spindly legs and point them in the correct direction.

Sunshine tumbled through the open top half of the stall door, gleaming on the mare and foal’s velvet coats. Wildflower rubbed her chin on her daughter’s shoulder, a congratulatory pat, and nickered proudly. The tiny filly wobbled on her thin, impossibly long legs and flicked her bob of a tail joyfully. She took a few proud steps. Her front knees gave out and she landed in the soft hay.

“Poor baby.” Rori reached through the rails instinctively, making sure the newborn was all right. The foal looked up at her with big, wondrous eyes, and Rori felt her chest catch. Hard not to fall in love with the wee one. She couldn’t help brushing her fingers across the soft velvet nose. “You will get the hang of it. I promise. Keep at it.”

The foal’s eyes drifted shut, as if she liked the gentle stroke.

“You still have a way with animals.” Justin’s low voice moved her like the brush of the summer air and the peace of the morning. Familiar, and it was what she’d missed over the years.

“I do all right.” She didn’t have a gift, just love for creatures large and small. “Not the way you do.”

“I got it all from my dad.” No way to hide the affection in his voice. “I learned a lot growing up at his knee. One day, I might be good enough to take over the place when he retires.”

“Word is that he’s cutting back, handing over a lot of the responsibilities of the ranch to you and Autumn.”

“Your gramps was talking about me, huh?” He paused as the filly opened her eyes, set her chin with determination and positioned her front hooves for another go at walking. “Dad wants to retire, but truth is, he loves the work. It’s not like he has anything else to do. He’s single, and he’s done raising all of us.”

“It’s good that you’re close. You must spend a lot of time with him.”