Her Cowboy's Twin Blessings

“Milk River goes up into Canada, you know,” he said. “I don’t have the maps for that.”

Then her eye landed on one creek name she hadn’t seen before that brought a hopeful smile to her lips. “Look at that one!” She pointed. “Harper Creek!”

“That’s familiar?” Casey asked with a frown.

“My mother’s last name was Harper. That’s the family name.”

“Hmm.” He nodded. “Okay.”

“What’s the matter?” Wyatt was getting heavy in her arm, and she shifted him to a new position.

“There are a lot of Harpers around here,” he said. “They might be relatives of yours, though.”

She’d never heard of them, if they were. It might be nothing more than a coincidence. Or a creek named much more recently—a random moniker slapped onto a tiny creek in honor of some locals.

“We aren’t Canadian. My mother always said that the family had settled exactly fifty miles from the mountains, and they’d been another forty miles from Victory. That’s right here. This land. Give or take.”

Casey nodded slowly. “Approximately, yes.”

“I know it’s a very rough estimate, but since this land came up for sale, I wanted to check it out,” she said.

“Well, we’ll have a look,” Casey said, but his expression was grim.

“You don’t want me to buy this land, I know,” she said.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “I don’t. This is prime ranching land, and cattle fuel this community. It’s our way of life, and I’ve worked this herd for fifteen years now. There’s something to be said for consistency. Also, there’s honor in feeding America’s families, and the beef we raise is top quality. That matters to me. To see this place turn into some therapy center—No offense, ma’am, but from my way of thinking, it would be a crying shame. The city folk might need their therapy and their chance to enjoy the wide outdoors, but we ranchers need pasture under our boots and cattle to drive. So what you’re suggesting isn’t going to help us at all. Again, no offense.”

“None taken,” she murmured.

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t treat you honestly,” Casey said.

“Can I be sure of that?” she asked.

“I’m a rancher, Miss Reed,” Casey said, his voice a low growl. “But I’m also a Christian. That one sits a little heavier. I believe in right and wrong, and I stand with the truth. So if I find out that this is the land you’ve been looking for, then I’ll tell you honestly, because I want God’s blessing more than I want my way. And God’s never yet blessed a lie.”

Ember regarded him thoughtfully.

“Are you a Christian, Miss Reed?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“Then a handshake should be enough, wouldn’t you say?” he asked, holding out one hand toward her.

Ember took his rough hand in hers, and she felt the gentle pressure of those strong fingers. It was a muscular hand—veined and broad—and she realized anew just how attractive this stubborn cowboy was. She tugged her fingers free.

“Could you take the baby back?” she asked, slightly breathlessly.

Casey did as she asked and she slid the infant into Casey’s arms. Wyatt didn’t complain this time, and she exhaled a shaky sigh.

This was the right land—she could feel it. Everything had fallen into place in that way that God had where she could sense His fingerprints on all of it. From the sale of the swampland, down to this ranch popping up for sale just at the same time she’d pinpointed an approximate location of the Harper homestead.

Ember had felt drawn here, but looking at that lanky cowboy and the babies he was honor bound to care for, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was God’s doing for other reasons entirely—like forcing her to face her own issues. Ember wanted to belong somewhere—be someone other than the illegitimate child of a wealthy man. She wanted a connection so solid that her paternity wouldn’t be the most defining factor in her lineage any longer.

The sooner she could investigate this land and decide on her next move, the better.

Chapter Three (#u127ba0ee-e5af-5b0c-b34c-ba90b761a61f)

Mr. Vern, as it turned out, was perfectly happy to have Ember stay with him if she was helping out his ranch manager. Those babies had sunk into his heart, too, it seemed.

“They need loving,” Mr. Vern said. “That’s all. Just loving. But there’s two of them, and Casey’s got a big job. So I think we all appreciate you being willing to snuggle some babies. It’ll take a village with those boys.”

A village was the precise thing she hadn’t had on her side when she’d been pregnant with her son. If there’d been a village for her, she might have been able to keep her little boy, but she didn’t have any support. When she’d told her father about her pregnancy, he’d recommended an abortion, but said that if she insisted on having the baby, she’d have to give it up for adoption. He wasn’t interested in supporting her for the long term. He’d agreed to pay for her education, but his one stipulation to his support had been that she act like a Reed and not embarrass the family. Raising a baby on her own without a husband apparently violated that clause. Set aside the fact that she’d been fathered in an affair...but Alistair was the one with the money and she wasn’t in a position to argue with him about his morals. It had seemed hopeless then...

Ember lay between crisp sheets that night, listening to the soft sounds of a strange house, and she lifted her heart in prayer. She’d been so sure when she’d come out here—confident, excited. But somehow, she’d gone from completely in control to feeling entirely out of her depth.

Lord, I need Your help, she prayed. I don’t know how I got myself into this, but here I am...

Only God knew how she’d been struggling with memories of her own son lately. She’d naively thought that giving him up would allow her to move forward with her life. And in some ways, she had, but lately, memories of that traumatic day were coming back like punches to the gut. So she lay in bed not asking for God to help her sort out her emotions right now, because she knew better than to ask for that! A woman didn’t hop over her feelings; she waded through them. And wading would have to wait until she was finished with this task at hand. As ironic as it was for a therapist, she wanted God to help her put a lid on her feelings. For now, at least.

Ember slept remarkably well that night. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the adventures of her day, but she didn’t even stir until she awoke to the distant aroma of brewing coffee. Ember rubbed a hand over her face and reached for her watch, checking the time. It was just after six, and outside, the sky was awash in pink. She pushed back the covers and reached for her clothes. She’d come with a bag packed and had intended to stay in a local hotel for a few days, so she had a few necessities with her. Ten minutes later, she’d washed up, put on a little makeup and made herself presentable before leaving the bedroom for the kitchen.

Mr. Vern stood in front of the stove, a bowl of whisked eggs in one hand as he flung a pat of butter into a sizzling pan.

“Good morning,” he said without turning.

“Good morning.” She headed for the coffeepot. There were two mugs waiting, and she filled one. “Is this for me?”

“Sure is,” Mr. Vern said. “I’m just whipping up some eggs now, too.”

“You’re up early,” she said.

“I’ve already been out to check on some cattle,” he said with a low laugh. “I saw Casey down there, and he said to tell you that he’s got a ride planned toward Milk River today. He thought you might be interested.”

“Oh!” Ember brightened. “Yes, I am.”

“He says he’s planning on leaving about seven,” Mr. Vern said. “You’ll want to eat hearty before then. Have you ridden before?”

“No,” she confessed.

“Hmm.” Mr. Vern glanced back at her, a look in his eye like he was sizing her up. “It’s a good way to take a look at the land, but...”

“I’ll be fine,” she reassured him. “I’m assuming I’m in good hands with Casey Courtright?”

“The best.” Mr. Vern poured the egg mixture into the pan. “In fact, you’d do well to keep him on, Miss Reed. He knows this land better than I do at this point.”

“He’s already said that he’s not interested in working for me,” she admitted.

“Has he now?” Ember couldn’t see the older man’s face, but his tone sounded displeased. “That’s just pride. Give him time.”