Her Hill Country Cowboy

She could do this. With God’s help, she’d get back into life and once again stand on her own two feet.

* * *

By noon the next day, those feet Christina was so insistent on standing on hurt like crazy. She’d trekked from the main house to the storage building to cabin after cabin with Marie Peterson.

Marie’s first request, gently worded but firm, was that Gracie remain outside the guest cabins, the public rooms in the main house and the kitchen food-preparation area. “Well-groomed and obedient as Gracie is,” Marie stated, “we have to abide by health department regulations and can’t risk complaints about dog hair or allergy issues.”

Christina understood perfectly, and at each cabin she asked Gracie to stay outside by the door. It was enough to know the dog waited nearby.

Learning what her housekeeping duties consisted of, where supplies were kept and how to find her way around the ranch had taken most of the morning. And not once had she caught a glimpse of Seth Austin. Since his macho-looking maroon truck was nowhere to be seen either, Christina guessed he’d gone off somewhere with his children and was intentionally avoiding her.

“So the soiled sheets and towels go in this bin,” Marie said as they stood in the workroom behind the garage. “And then a service picks them up once or twice a week as needed and delivers a fresh batch.”

“Got it.” Jotting the instructions in her pocket-size notebook, Christina glanced longingly at a metal folding chair propped against the wall. “You said you aren’t expecting guests until the weekend, right?”

“They’ll start trickling in sometime tomorrow, but most won’t arrive till Friday afternoon. You’ll need to tidy their cabins each day while they’re at meals or out on excursions or whatever.”

Good, she needn’t worry about too many personal encounters, one huge reason why she’d initially thought this housekeeping position might be something she could handle.

What she hadn’t weighed into the equation was the amount of physical labor involved. Pushing a fully loaded maid’s cart from cabin to cabin would require the use of muscles Christina hadn’t called upon in longer than she cared to admit. At home, her parents paid for biweekly maid service, which had made it easy to grow lazy about everyday household chores. Mom’s hovering hadn’t helped, and she wouldn’t accept that babying Christina so much only prolonged her recovery.

Marie scanned her notes on a clipboard. “That about covers it. Ready for some lunch?”

“Starved!” Christina tucked away her notebook, already overflowing with the lists and reminders she relied upon daily, and fell in step with her employer on the path to the house. “I’m planning on picking up some groceries this afternoon, though.”

“No hurry. You’re welcome at our table anytime.”

“Thanks, but...” Christina’s voice faded as she caught sight of Seth leading a horse out of the barn. He moved with the same easy grace she’d observed yesterday when he’d carried the turtle across the road.

“Oh, good, Seth’s back.” Marie climbed the porch steps and yanked the cord of a big iron bell hanging from the eaves. The sharp clang made both Christina and Gracie jump. “Sorry,” Marie said with a chuckle. “Better get used to the sound of the dinner bell.”

Seth glanced their way and waved, but when he met Christina’s gaze, his smile stiffened and he abruptly turned away.

Following Marie inside, Christina said, “Maybe I should just take a sandwich back to my cabin.”

“Nonsense. We’re still getting acquainted.” Marie pointed through a door off the kitchen. “Powder room’s that way. Go wash up, and then you can help set the table.”

Clearly, no one argued with Marie Peterson. Besides, it was refreshing not to be pampered.

Hands washed, Christina returned to the kitchen with Gracie ambling alongside. Christina didn’t see Marie anywhere, but Seth stood at the counter, a jar of mayonnaise in one hand and a knife in the other.

A scuffling sound to Christina’s right alerted her to Seth’s little girl clambering up the farthest barstool. Stark terror widened Eva’s eyes as she stared at Gracie. “Daddy, the doggy’s in here!”

The look Seth shot Christina cut deeper than a knife ever could. “I told you to keep your dog away from my kids.”

“I—I’m sorry.” Hands trembling, she groped for Gracie’s collar, prepared to make a hasty exit.

Gracie had different ideas. The dog plopped down on her haunches and refused to budge.

“Come on, girl. Let’s go outside, okay?” Christina flicked a nervous glance at Seth.

He smirked. “I thought service dogs were supposed to be well trained.”

“She is. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Now the dog lay sprawled across the tile floor at the end of the bar. Her mouth opened wide in a yawn, then she rested her chin on her paws and her eyes drifted shut.

“Gracie! What are you doing?” Christina knelt and lifted the dog’s head. “Are you okay?”

Gracie responded by swiping her tongue across Christina’s nose. Nothing in those bright eyes suggested illness. In fact, Christina had the sudden suspicion that Gracie knew exactly what she was doing.

From the far side of the room came a tiny voice: “Daddy, is the doggy sick?”

“Not sure, sweetie.” Two scuffed boot toes appeared at Christina’s left. “What’s going on with your dog?”

“I don’t know. She’s never acted like this before.” Sitting on her heels, Christina looked up with a helpless shrug.

Marie returned through the door leading to the reception area. “Oh my, is your dog hurt?”

Just as quickly as she’d lain down, Gracie scrambled to her feet. Tail wagging, she trotted over and licked Marie’s hand.

Eva whimpered. “Omi, don’t let it bite you!”

“Oh, she’s fine, honey.” Marie gave the dog a scratch behind the ears. “Hey there, sweet thing. Are we friends now?”

Pushing up from the floor, Christina edged away from Seth, who looked ready to charge to his little girl’s defense. But Eva’s expression, though still fearful, now held a glimmer of curiosity.

Social worker instincts kicking in, Christina saw an opportunity. “Eva, I think Gracie may be a little bit scared, too.”

The child’s lower lip trembled. “Why?”

“Well, we’re both new here, and we both want very much to fit in. She’d be very sad if she thought you didn’t like her.” Christina scooted one of the barstools closer to Eva’s and climbed on so that they were both looking toward Gracie. The dog now sat quietly at Marie’s feet.

Marie cast Christina a knowing smile as she knelt and continued stroking Gracie’s head. “We like you just fine, Gracie, so don’t be scared. You’re a good dog, aren’t you?”

“But she’s so big.” Eva’s hand crept into Christina’s, and her voice fell to a quavering whisper. “I’m scared of big dogs.”

Such great fear in such a little girl—it broke Christina’s heart. Eva reminded her so much of another little girl, a child who had good reason to be terrified of her abusive father. A child Christina had tried so hard to protect.

And nearly failed.

The blast of a horn. Screeching brakes. The explosive crunch of metal against metal.

As calmly as she could, Christina slid off the barstool and prayed her legs would hold her. “Gracie, let’s go.” This time, her tone left no room for the dog’s disobedience. “Please excuse me. I—I’ll get something to eat later.”

Before anyone could stop her, she bolted for the back door and hoped she’d make it to her cabin before she completely fell apart.

* * *