Stranded with the Rancher

Overhead, heavy gray clouds loomed ominously, while the wind chased them over an endless white vista.

As the minutes passed, Beth dared to relax, leaning back a tad to take in the snowy blur of the Colorado landscape. The air was crisp with the scent of pine and fresh snow. A small buzz of exhilaration thrummed through her as the wind rushed past, whipping her long hair into a frenzy.

Dan was right. Beth had lived all over, but “all over” looked like the same medical clinic and temporary housing in an endless stream of different cities.

Today’s adventure had made one thing clear. She hadn’t really experienced life at all.

Finally, the engine slowed and Dan signaled a left turn with his arm. Beth peeked around his shoulder, scanning the snowy horizon. The tension eased from her grip when she saw the hazy glow of lights ahead. Like a muted lighthouse beacon, they beckoned winter travelers up a long conifer-lined drive. Wherever they were, they had obviously arrived.

As they pulled up in front of a charming, two-story brick-and-clapboard house, Dan turned off the engine.

“We’re home,” he called over his shoulder.

Home? Beth released a nervous breath, along with a tiny smile of anticipation.

* * *

Thank You, Lord, for leading us home again to Gallagher Ranch.

Dan stared at the house for a moment, allowing the tension of the white-knuckle drive through the storm to slip from his body. The hundred-year-old farmhouse had weathered every storm the Sangre de Cristo Mountains had tossed its way. This particular system would be no exception. He came from a long line of Colorado pioneers and they had bred the same can-do spirit into him.

They knew how to handle winter in the mountains. There were backup generators, wood for the fireplace and enough canned goods to see them through six storms. Yeah, it was good to be home.

He got off the snowmobile and offered Beth a hand, easing her off the backseat.

Though her grip on his waist had been viselike, it was definitely not unpleasant to have her riding tandem. He’d expected the city girl would be a diva, but so far, well, she’d definitely proved him wrong.

Raising his arms overhead, Dan stretched his spine and then rotated his neck. “I’m going to open the garage,” he said. “Be right back.”

The echoing crunch of his boots as he crossed the yard filled the silence. Snow continued to fall like crystals into the night, but the pink glow of the mercury lights on the oversize storage building that served as a garage guided his way. He pulled open the big double doors, and they creaked in response. Inside, his mother’s mini pickup was parked next to his brother’s beat-up utility truck and the ranch ATV. Joe’s personal truck was in the corner, covered with a tarp, waiting for his return.

Dan maneuvered the snowmobile in, then grabbed Beth’s tote and the defibrillator. He plugged in the defibrillator to charge the machine before closing the garage door. Walking to Beth, he nodded toward the house.

The front walkway and the wooden porch steps had recently been shoveled and sprinkled with snow melt, though the precipitation was quickly re-accumulating. On the porch a battered red shovel stood neatly next to the door, along with his daughter’s small pink plastic shovel. Such an insignificant thing, but little Amy’s imprint on his life never failed to make Dan smile.

He turned to Beth, and placed a finger to his lips before slowly opening the screen, then the front door. The loud, discordant plunking and banging of a piano greeted them.

Dan pulled off his helmet and goggles. Beth did the same.

She whispered to him, “May I use your restroom? I need to change into dry pants.”

He pointed straight ahead. “First door on your left.”

“Why are we whispering?” she asked.

“I don’t want Millie to know we’re home.”

“Your daughter?”

“No, my dog.”

Her eyes rounded. “Oh.”

Beth slipped off her boots and put her helmet and goggles on the bright multicolored rag rug in front of the door. Taking her tote bag from Dan, she tiptoed down the hall.

He set his helmet next to hers and shut the door. The piano had stopped and the click of the door closing sounded in the room.

As if it had been a starting line gunshot, he prepared for the chaos to ensue. Barking erupted as Millie rushed from the back of the house to the front hall like a locomotive. Dan heard her well before he saw her. The lean black lab raced into the room, her nails clicking on the hardwood floor a minute before she leaped into the air and accosted him. Dan staggered back as the dog alternated between enthusiastic slobbering and mad barking.

“Down, Millie.” He rubbed the good-natured animal’s head and backside briskly. “Yeah, I missed you, too, girl.”

Millie released a loud whine in dogspeak as she moved her paws to the floor and pranced in joyous circles at her master’s return.

“Daddy, can we build a snowman?”

His six-year-old daughter waved a ruler through the air. Her round, gray eyes were serious as she peered up at him through oversize, red-framed plastic glasses minus the lenses. She’d been giving imaginary piano lessons to her dolls again.

“Not today, Pumpkin.” Dan tweaked an inky black braid and gently tossed it over her shoulder. “You’d get buried in this storm.”

“Tomorrow?”

“We’ll see.”

Amy didn’t miss a beat, launching into her next request. “Can I watch TV?”

“May I.” Elsie Gallagher bustled into the front entry, a basket of laundry in her arms. Her short black curls were peppered with gray and she wore her usual jeans and the sweatshirt du jour. Today’s boasted a large bumblebee and the words Bee Cool. His mother the trendsetter.

“May I?” Amy repeated. “I already did my spelling.”

“Joe called. He’s stuck in Denver,” Elsie continued. “He wants to be sure you’re keeping a close eye on those cows. Says they might calve early.”

“Big brother Joe thinks I’m a rookie. I already moved the cattle this morning. I’ll check on them again after I eat. Mom, I should tell you I—”

His explanation was cut off by the sound of a door closing. All heads turned to look behind them as Elizabeth Rogers walked down the hall.

Beth had fixed her helmet hair, and her caramel-colored tresses tumbled around her shoulders from a side part, framing her heart-shaped face. Her skin glowed from the outdoors. Objectively speaking, the woman was a complete knockout.

His mother’s jaw slackened, before she grinned as though she was privy to a huge secret.

And then Millie charged. “Whoa, whoa, Millie. No.” Dan barely managed to latch his hands onto the lab’s collar and hold her back. “Sit.”

Beth froze, blue eyes wide as Millie wriggled in a hearty attempt to properly greet their guest.

“Who are you?” Amy asked, her voice hushed and wondrous, as if she’d just stumbled upon a princess.

Dan couldn’t resist a smile. He’d have to agree with his daughter. Beth Rogers did look like a princess. She was the prettiest thing to walk in their front door in a very long time.

Confusion crossed Beth’s face as her gaze met his. “I’m Beth.”