Her Cowboy Reunion

“Neither,” Corrie declared. “It’s human foolishness. Your grandfather stepped on a lot of toes to build that publishing empire, and I’ve heard people say his father did that, too, before him. And then your daddy did the same, but he didn’t have ambition. He wanted the world handed to him.”

“And if it didn’t happen, he stole.”

“Good or bad, it all comes down to free will,” Corrie said. “You see the beauty Sean created here. That’s the side of the family you take for, Lizzie. The hardworking trait, passed down. All three of my girls can say that and be proud.”

“Well, life’s got a way of keeping us humble, so pride’s not a real big deal right now. And I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me in the morning. There are twenty-eight horses to learn about, I need to find a herd stallion, and I’ve got three emails from potential foal buyers so I need to brush up on lineage so I know what I’m talking about.” She stood and straightened her shirt.

In a gesture of respect, all the men stood up as well.

Cowboy code... Respect. Honor. Honesty.

She’d loved that about Heath when they were young. His strong focus, his work ethic, the way he put the animals and others first. That sharpened the disappointment when he’d never looked back to see how she’d fared. After.

He’d gone on with his life.

She’d gone on with hers.

Now here they were, working side by side. Two goals, one ranch, and a lot at stake. More than she’d thought possible until she’d faced those stables and the cowboy running them.

“I’m going to stay a bit. Chat with the men.” Corrie waved her off. “Good night, darlin’ girl.”

“Good night.” She crossed the graveled area, moved by the rugged beauty surrounding her. She hurried inside, grabbed her camera, and came back out, snapping evening pics of the men, the campfire, and Corrie’s sweet face set against a Western backdrop of hills, barns and land. She’d create a photo journal of this new path, something to share or to keep for herself. Either way, she could chronicle this new opportunity in pictures.

Then she saw him, standing alone now that Zeke was tucked into bed, braced against the top rail of a fence. Heath, in profile, backlit by a full moon, a Western cover shot if ever there was one.

She took a handful of pictures, knowing the sophisticated camera would adjust for light and distance.

Then she stood there, quiet, watching him through the camera’s lens. Strong, rugged, determined, and looking so lonely and lost it made her heart ache.

She lowered the camera and moved toward the door. She didn’t want him to catch her studying him. Wondering about him. But when she got to the thick oak door she turned one last time.

He’d turned, too. Their eyes met. Held.

She didn’t know how to break the connection. For just a moment, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

But then she did. She’d learned a few lessons over the years. To forgive, to never hold a grudge, and to make it on her own.

She didn’t hate men for letting her down. Men like her father. Her grandfather. Heath. But she wasn’t foolish enough to trust one again, either. A movement outside caught her eye as she crossed to the stairs leading to her rooms. Furtive and low, something skulked outside, moving toward the pasture beyond.

Too small for a wolf. Maybe too small for a coyote, too, the creature slipped through the night, but the low profile and the stealthy manner put her on alert.

Foals could be damaged by rogue wild animals. And worried mares might have less milk for their growing babies. She couldn’t afford to risk either, so she’d figure out what this was and how to handle it because she didn’t need reminders about what was at stake within these barn walls.

She’d seen the spreadsheets. No sneaking creature of the night was going to ruin this for her, for the ranch or for those beautiful mares. She’d see to it.

* * *

Heath couldn’t get into the busyness of lambing fast enough, if having Lizzie around messed with his head this much. There was nothing like delivering hundreds of tiny creatures to keep your mind occupied, but tonight images flooded him.

Lizzie, in the kitchen, engaging the men in conversation. Or on the porch, her long, russet hair splayed across her shoulders, smiling at his son. At the campfire, her lyrical voice and the flickering flames taking him back in time.

Heath didn’t have the luxury of lingering in the past. Fatherhood required him to be fully present in today, but that reality had changed when he’d come face-to-face with Lizzie that morning.

The other reality was the massive amount of work that they’d have on their hands after Ben, Aldo and Brad headed into the hills for the last time ever.

He pushed off the rail to return to the house, and there she was, backlit by the stable lights. She stood quiet and still, with a beauty he remembered like it was yesterday. Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman that feareth the Lord shall be praised...

He used to care what the Bible said. He used to pray with his heart and soul.

Now he only went to church because he believed Zeke needed that structure, but the old verse washed over him as they locked eyes. He stood there, unable to shift his gaze while years melted away.

She broke the connection first and kept walking toward the stables.

In a weird reversal of roles, he moved toward the house. It had been different in Kentucky. She’d lived in the grand house and he’d bunked with his drunken father in the upper part of the horse barn, but he couldn’t find any pleasure in the change. It felt wrong on so many levels. Lizzie Fitzgerald shouldn’t be sleeping in a barn. Not now. Not ever.

And yet she was.

He cut around to the back door and slipped inside. He kicked off his shoes and moved into the bedroom he shared with his son.

Anna had made the ultimate sacrifice five and a half years before. She’d understood the dangers to herself, but refused to terminate the pregnancy. And when the resulting heart damage from the previously undiagnosed condition proved too much for her body to bear, she’d kissed him and the perfect baby boy goodbye. And then she was gone. No pain. No suffering. Just wave upon wave of immeasurable sadness.

Zeke rolled over. He brought his hand toward his mouth, an old habit from when he used to suck his thumb, but then his small brown hand relaxed against the white-cased pillow.

Heath kissed the boy’s cheek. Then he went to bed, listening to the sound of his son’s breathing, like balm on a wound. But when he couldn’t get Lizzie’s russet-toned eyes out of his mind, he realized that shrugging some things off was much harder than others.

Chapter Four (#u29fe8c63-17b9-51bb-9be1-f130d86df8b4)

Determined. Troublemaker. Big Red. Night Shadow. Red Moon Rising.

Lizzie stared at the impressive list of stallion names, refusing to be overwhelmed.

Getting eight mares bred to top quarter horse stallions had set her uncle back a cool hundred grand. And based on their lineage, the healthy foals could pay back three times that without a single credential to their record.

That meant each one better hit the ground running, healthy and sound.

You are now responsible for a million dollars in marketable goods. She stood and faced the broad window overlooking the verdant pasture as Heath walked toward the stable the next morning. And your goods aren’t static. They’re impulsive babies who run and jump and cavort. Your job is to keep them alive and unblemished.

Her business major had prepared her for the financial scenario, but she’d assumed she’d be working with publishing spreadsheets and corporate executives, not living creatures. Despite all she knew about horses, she’d never felt less prepared in her life.

“Sticker shock?” asked Heath when he paused at the office door.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Don’t get me wrong.” Heath came through the door. “Sean knew what he was doing. He didn’t play to lose. Ever. And his goal was to bring Saddle Up blood onto the farm one way or another, so three of those mares are bred to Saddle Up stallions. Speaking of which, this just came through the fax.”

He handed her a picture of a magnificent red roan quarter horse. Red Moon Rising, with an offer of sale attached from Rising Star Ranch.

She sighed, staring. “He’s gorgeous.” She noted the western Nebraska ranch named in the corner of the fax. “I have a note here from Uncle Sean saying this was his top choice, and pretty sure they’d never sell. And yet—” She raised the spec sheet higher. “Here we are. How did this happen?”