Love Inspired June 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: The Cowboy's Homecoming\The Amish Widow's Secret\Safe in the Fireman's Arms (8 page)

Lee stopped there, thinking back over the history of the ranch that his father would, from time to time, expound on. “I have to confess, I never paid a lot of attention to the whole history of the place when my parents were telling me. My mind was always somewhere else, thinking of all the places I'd sooner be than spending the rest of my life living in the basin and chasing cows.”

“And now?” Abby's question underlined his own shifting state of mind.

“I don't know.” His response came out reluctantly, but truthfully.

“You like the work that you're doing now?”

Lee didn't answer right away, thinking of the long, hard days he put in at his job as a driller in the oil patch. The boring evenings staying in camps watching television, playing cards. Going to bed and doing it all over again the next day.

“It's work” was all he said.

Abby took a few more pictures, then pulled out a notebook.

“I understand your father runs Angus cows?” she asked, jotting some notes in her book.

Lee gladly switched to a safer topic of conversation. “Dad made the switch to black and red Angus cows when he took over the ranch from his father, against Grandpa Lee's protests. It was a smart move. Angus calves are thrifty and the cows are great mothers. They're not as large at weaning as your Simmentals or Charolais, but much easier to handle.”

“You sound as though you speak from experience.”

Lee nodded and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, exposing a long scar that ran down his forearm. “Got this when we were trying to load the last of the Charolais Grandpa Lee was so crazy about. We couldn't get them on the truck and then, all of a sudden, one turned and ran straight at me. I had to jump the fence but got my arm caught up on a nail.” He winced at the memory. “So, suffice it to say, me and my sisters weren't sad to see the last of them heading down the road.”

“Did you and your sisters help out a lot on the ranch?” Abby asked, looking up from her notebook.

“Though we always had a hired hand or two, helping was part and parcel of being a Bannister. Even Heather, who came to live here when she was ten, was expected to pitch in. She would yammer and complain, but when it was calving season, or time for shots or time to move cows, we all had to saddle up and cowboy up.” He let a smile spread across his lips as his mind slipped back to those times. “Mind you, I wasn't always the most willing participant when I was older. I much preferred spending my time whooping it up with my friends.”

“Mitch and David?” Abby asked, her voice quiet as if she was hesitant to mention the names of the orangutans he hung out with.

“Yeah. Those two.” He shook his head, remembering, with some shame, his times with his so-called friends. They had been with him at the party that sent his and Abby's father's lives into a downward spiral.

“Well, those two were nothing but trouble in high school. Not the nicest guys.”

“And their behavior just grew worse after high school,” Lee murmured.

“What do you mean?” Abby asked, furrowing her brow.

Lee's horse whickered lightly; Bonny bobbed her head as if in reply. Lee fought the urge to move the horses on, as if to leave the past—and his no-good friends—at this place.

“Those aren't my secrets to tell,” he said curtly, thinking of the physical and mental abuse Mitch, Heather's ex-husband, had heaped on Heather while they were married. David, as well, had his dark history. At a party that had gotten out of control, he had forced himself on Keira. The backlash of those actions had reverberated through Keira's life and had almost cost her her relationship with Tanner, David's brother.

“But you look angry.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why is that?

Turning away, he ran the ends of the horse's reins through one hand, thinking what to say and how much to tell Abby. She was a reporter, after all.

“All I'll say is both those guys created huge trauma for my sisters.” His mouth hardened into a tight line and then he sighed. “I struggle with thinking I could have prevented that as well if I had quit hanging around with them like my parents always pleaded with me to do. And I shudder to think what I would have turned out like had I stuck around here in Saddlebank.”

Silence followed that admission.

“Then maybe it's a good thing you ended up in jail.”

Lee swung his gaze back to Abby, but she wasn't joking. Her expression was dead serious.

And as her words settled between them, he wondered if maybe she wasn't right.

Chapter Six

A
bby restrained a gasp, wondering how she dared to speak those words aloud.

And from Lee's inscrutable expression, she wished she could take them back.

“I'm sorry,” she said, but even as she spoke, she felt as if her apology undermined her own father's pain.

Lee held up one hand as if to stop her. “No. You had every right to speak your mind.” He gave her a half smile. “I deserved what happened to me, but it helped me turn my life around. I started attending the church services and the pastor helped me with my faith journey. I guess I was in a place where I had no choice but to listen, so I finally did.”

“Well, that's good, I guess” was all she could say.

“I know it wasn't a good thing for you and your family, but it made a difference for me, so it's a mixed bag.” He looked away from her again and Abby's reaction shifted and tangled. Pictures of her father, memories of the fights her parents had all melded, fueling the resentment she always felt whenever she thought of Lee. “I can't change what happened,” he continued, “but there isn't a day that I don't regret what I did. That I wish I could fix it somehow.”

It was the sincerity in his voice that caught her attention.

Away from Lee she could make him out to be whatever monster she wanted him to be. But hearing what he said about her father, hearing the regrets he carried, banked the anger that had powered her emotions since the accident.

She knew she should forgive him, but she still struggled with a sense that she was betraying her family.

But the weariness clinging to her the past few years whispered at her to let go. Keeping the fires of injustice against her family stoked and burning took a lot of energy. Maybe forgiving him was what she needed to do for her own peace of mind. She had hoped to find some type of closure by doing this piece. Could this be the first step?

“Forgive as I have forgiven you.”

The remnant of a Bible passage flittered into her mind, and she let it settle. It couldn't hurt to consider forgiving him. Her own life wasn't perfect and Lee seemed to be wrestling with his own regrets. He hadn't come out of this unscathed in spite of his family's money.

Is that what matters? That the scales are balanced? That you find out that he suffered, as well?

“I appreciate what you said,” she finally replied. “It's been hard, but like you said at the beginning of my visit, we need to find a way to move on. You've given me lots to think about.”

“That's all I can ask for,” he said gruffly.

She had planned to simply acknowledge his comment, then look away.

But when his dark eyes locked on hers, she saw pain in their depths.

Her heart twisted with sympathy for him, and feelings from a simpler time in their lives were resurrected. For the space of a few, heavy heartbeats, he was the young man she had had such a crazy crush on. The strappingly handsome man who had danced with her at the prom, had held her close. Had told her she was beautiful. The first man who had made her feel breathless with just one look.

That same breath now slowed and she felt her hand rise, as if to comfort him. Just in time she caught herself and dragged her gaze away from his, feeling as if she were coming up for air.

She felt suddenly off balance.

Silly, foolish romantic
, she chastised herself, frustrated that all it took was a soulful look from those deep brown eyes and she was back in high school.
You can't let that girlish crush influence your decisions.

“Glad that's out of the way,” she said, struggling to find some levity. “Onward and upward.” She slipped the camera back in her bag. “Where to next, cowboy?”

Lee looked at her as if surprised at her response. Then he handed her Bonny's reins. “I thought we could go a bit farther to the back pasture. You can get a better view.”

“Of the extensive Bannister estate?” she said with a wry tone.

“Of the ranch,” he said, a glower showing her that he didn't fully appreciate her comment.

She knew she was being flippant, but it was the only defense she had against him.

And the way he was making her feel, she knew she would need everything she could use to keep him at arm's length.

Lifting her chin, Abby slipped her knapsack over her shoulders, looped Bonny's reins around her hand, then carefully mounted her. The cut on her ankle didn't bother her as much, but she still preferred to err on the side of caution. Once she was up in the saddle, Lee clucked to his horse and with a nudge got him walking along the edge of the basin.

Abby couldn't help a glimmer of admiration as Lee rode away from her. His movements easily matched Bandit's, his hands light on the reins, his hips moving in sync with his horse's walk. The angle of the sun highlighted horse and rider, now silhouetted against the mountains beyond the basin, and she had to stop herself from pulling out her camera and taking a picture.

She had enough photos of Lee, and if she took any more, she was venturing too far into the same place that had gotten her into trouble when she was taking photos of Lee for the yearbook and Mitch and David had found out.

She pushed that thought down, focusing instead on the land around her, looking for camera angles, light and shadows.

After twenty minutes of riding, they turned a corner and were looking over another cow-dotted pasture. A fence line snaked down the side of the hill toward the creek spooling out well below them.

“Did you want some pictures?” he asked, stopping.

“I'd love to get some of those calves,” Abby said, pointing to a group of calves, tails up, racing across the pasture like a group of teenagers without curfew.

Lee nodded then dismounted with an easy movement. Abby knew she wouldn't be able to get off as smoothly. She could feel the muscles in her leg starting to hurt and her ankle was getting sore.

Obviously Lee had noticed her discomfort as well and headed over, leading Bandit.

“You okay?” he asked as he tied his horse to the tree.

“Just a bit stiff.”

“We can go home after this.”

“Yeah. Might be a good idea,” she admitted, feeling foolish. Lee was probably just getting warmed up. He certainly didn't look as though the hour ride was causing him any pain.

Abby set up her tripod, deciding to try some telephoto shots this time. She changed lenses, then took out her notebook and scribbled down some of the things Lee had told her before they left her scattered brain.

“So, what's easier for you, the picture taking or the writing?” he asked curiously.

“Pictures. For sure,” she returned.

“Well, they say a picture is worth a thousand words.”

“Yeah, but they take up a thousand times the memory on my computer,” she returned as she put her notebook back in her knapsack. “Especially once I start editing them.”

“Do you do a lot of photo editing?”

She was pleasantly surprised at his interest. “Depends on the picture,” she said, giving him a quick look before leaning forward to look through her lens. “Sometimes, if I've used a filter on the camera, not as much. But mostly I spend about twenty minutes or so per photo enhancing the light, tweaking the contrast, bumping up the color, sometimes adding some blur. Again, depends on what effect I'm trying to achieve.”

“And the writing part. Will you be showing my father what you do before it goes to your editor?”

Abby shook her head as she adjusted the tripod. “I don't think so. I'm writing the piece from my point of view, and if I know that your father or someone else attached to the ranch could have input, it won't be a true piece.”

“Truth can be twisted around depending on your point of view,” Lee said.

Was she being overly sensitive or had his tone sounded as sharp as she thought?

Don't overreact. Ask questions first.

Maddie's advice filtered into her mind just as Abby was about to protest. “What do you mean by that?” she asked.

He frowned at her, then shook his head. “Nothing. Just...thinking out loud.”

“I get the feeling there is more to it than that,” she countered. “Is this connected to what happened here in Saddlebank? After the accident?”

For some reason she wasn't ready to analyze why she wanted to understand his side of the story.
It's just what a good journalist does
, she reminded herself.

“The media outlets that covered the whole event, both local and statewide, made me out to be some kind of spoiled rich kid whose parents let him run wild without supervision. It made for better press than simply a story of some kid making a horrible mistake.” Jaw tightening, Lee squatted down, squinting at the view below them. “My parents were good people who did the right thing. All the mistakes were mine. The choices were mine and the consequences were mine.”

He stopped himself there and gave his head a shake, as if to stop any further revelations, then glanced up at her. “Sorry. I suppose I don't appreciate what my parents had to deal with either.”

Abby held his steady gaze, letting his words settle into her own thoughts. She knew she was guilty of the same conclusion, and hearing him give voice to her own perceptions made her feel contrite, as well.

“I'm not going to editorialize, if that helps,” she said. “I'm simply writing a piece about the ranch. You and your family can see the final draft when it's done, but it's only about the legacy of this ranch. Nothing more.”

Abby sensed he was still unsure, but he simply gave her a curt nod. Abby felt annoyed, wondering what right he had to mistrust her. If anyone had grounds to feel that way, it was her.

Not him.

She looked through the camera again, rotating it around, then aimed it toward the pasture. A group of calves raced past again, but as they did, something else caught her attention and she zoomed in, focusing. A calf stood by itself, looking toward a clump of bushes.

Puzzled, Abby turned her camera, then saw what the calf was looking at. A cow, lying on its side. It wasn't moving.

“I think there's something wrong with that cow,” she murmured, looking up at Lee. “You should have a look.”

Lee glanced at her, took his Stetson off, then bent over, looking through the camera's viewfinder. He straightened, looked over the camera, then through it again.

Then he strode over to his horse.

“What's wrong?” Abby asked as Lee untied him.

“That cow is dead,” Lee said. “I'll have to rescue that calf.”

Abby grabbed her knapsack. “I'm coming with you.”

“Just stay here,” Lee warned.

But Abby knew this would add some drama to the piece. She left her other camera on the tripod, snatched another one out of the backpack, looped it around her neck.

All stiffness forgotten, she clambered into the saddle and followed Lee down the hill toward where the calf still stood.

* * *

Lee glanced back, frustrated that Abby had followed him down here. Calves born out on pasture tended to be more skittish. The more people around, the more flighty this one would be. He held up his hand as they got closer, signaling to Abby to stay back. He stopped Bandit and slowly dismounted, but as he came nearer, he could see the calf was swaying on its feet, its sides hollow. It gave another weak bleat toward its mother and then, as Lee slowly approached it, it wobbled and lay down.

Lee slipped his fingers inside its mouth. Instead of a good hard suck with its rough tongue, the calf swiped feebly at his fingers. Its mouth was cool, which meant the calf had probably not drunk yet.

A quick look at the cow showed him it was, indeed, dead. The afterbirth was already dry. Who knew how long ago this calf had been born? It had probably not even had its first drink yet. Lee bent over, fitted his arms under the calf's front and back legs, then slowly stood up. He turned to see Abby off her horse, snapping pictures of him. Again.

He couldn't be bothered to be annoyed.

“Can you help me?” he called out. “I need to get this calf back to the ranch.”

“Is the mother really dead?”

“Yes.” He didn't mean to sound brusque, but he was feeling the pressure of time running out. If they didn't get some warm milk or, hopefully, colostrum into this calf, it would die.

Abby was off her horse and walking toward him. “What can I do?”

“I'll need some help getting this calf up on my horse. Push up on the back end while I try to lift up the front.”

She seemed to figure out what he wanted, and in a surprising few minutes, Lee had the calf draped over the front of his saddle.

“Hold Bandit's reins while I get on,” he directed.

Again, Abby was quick to respond and a few seconds later, Lee was up on the saddle, the calf lying across his lap.

“I'm heading back to the ranch,” he said. “Can you catch up?”

Abby nodded, then hurried back to Bonny and quickly got on. Lee kept Bandit to a slow trot, hoping the calf wouldn't get too jostled. They passed the spot where Abby still had her other camera up on the tripod. He glanced back as he passed it. Abby was already out of the saddle and quickly packing up.

“If you don't see me, don't worry,” he called out. “Bonny will find her way back to the ranch. Just trust her lead.”

Abby nodded again, as she made quick work of collapsing her tripod. Lee looked ahead, feeling guilty for leaving her behind, but right now his priority was this calf.

“Just stay alive, little guy,” he said, holding it steady with one hand while he managed the reins with the other. The calf's hair was sticking up in stiff spikes, showing Lee that the mother hadn't even licked it off after it was born.

His concern grew when he heard the calf's labored breathing. He slowed down a couple of times, but then the state of the calf would urge him on.

He glanced back, but he couldn't see Abby. Once again, he was torn between concern for the calf and concern for Abby. He knew Bonny would find her way home, but it was hard not to worry. Then the sound of hooves behind him made him turn in time to see Bonny trotting his way, Abby bobbing awkwardly up and down on his back. Poor girl had no style, but she seemed to have lots of grit. She was hanging on to the pommel of the saddle with one hand, her backpack bouncing behind her.