The Rancher's Lullaby (Glades County Cowboys) (15 page)

Chapter Twelve

Josh’s lariat missed the bull calf the ranch hand had separated from the rest of the herd. Bawling, the three-month-old raced across the open field toward its mother. Garrett swept his hat from his head and slapped it on his thigh. At the rate they were going, it’d be winter by the time the men rounded up the last of the late-season calves, tagged their ears and gave them all the required vaccinations.

“Josh, get your head out of the clouds and focus,” Garrett said. “We don’t have all week to get these calves tagged.” Actually, they did, but that was beside the point.

The young man’s posture stiffened. Instead of wheeling his horse and heading for the herd the way Garrett expected him to, Josh draped his reins over Dusty’s neck. He sat, nothing but the straight line of firmly set lips exposed beneath the low brim of a worn Stetson. He lingered long enough to make his point before, mumbling something Garrett felt sure it was best he didn’t hear, Josh headed after the calf.

Garrett sighed. The cowhand didn’t deserve a tongue-lashing any more than the rest of the men did. Even the most experienced wranglers had trouble parting the squalling babies from their protective mamas. This little bull, in particular, had been dodging the ranch hands all morning.

“Sorry,” he grumbled loud enough for Josh and the others to hear. He shifted in his saddle. Days like today brought out every frustrating bone in his body.

But, to tell the truth, he’d had a succession of bad days. Starting with the night he’d left Lisa in a cloud of dust and ridden out of the campsite. He brushed a bothersome hank of hair off his face and clamped his hat on his head. He would not think about the baby she carried.
His
baby. The mere thought turned his insides to jelly. He resettled his hat and deliberately focused his thoughts elsewhere.

“Good job,” he called when Josh returned, trailing the stubborn calf in his wake.

With a creak of leather and a jangle of tack, he climbed down from Gold. He grabbed the tag applicator from his saddle bag and inserted a new pin while two of the men wrestled the baby to the ground. A quick alcohol swab, a pinch and the job was done.

“You put up a lot of fuss for a little bit of nothing,” Garrett whispered in the calf’s ear. He lifted the rope from the baby’s neck. Still bellyaching, the little bull scrambled to its feet.

“Hard to believe he’s the future of the herd.” Josh leaned on his pommel, staring after the youngster, who wasted no time in his rush to his mama’s side.

“Isn’t it, though.” More often than not, however, loud-mouthed crybabies like the calf found their centers and grew into the alpha bulls of tomorrow. Garrett swabbed the tag applicator with alcohol. He checked his watch. “That’s it for today. Let’s head on in for supper.”

For a solid week, he’d worked the men later than usual. Tonight they’d have to step lively in order to feed and water the horses before the dinner bell rang. But that’s the way he’d planned it, wasn’t it? Long days in the saddle. Keeping a tight grip on his tongue throughout dinner lest anyone accuse him of badgering the men. Watching over LJ and settling the little guy down for the night. Then tackling the accounting books and logging information on every head of cattle the Circle P owned until his eyes blurred and the numbers swam across the pages. Only then would he collapse onto his bed and into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

Except his nights weren’t exactly the blank slate he’d hoped for. Not when images of a long, lean woman haunted them. Much as he ordered her to go, Lisa simply refused to fade from his dreams. His thoughts, either, for that matter. Tossing a saddle on Gold brought back memories of taking the slender blonde on her first horseback ride, the trust she’d placed in him to keep her safe. He couldn’t pick up his guitar without thinking of how much he’d learned from her. Whenever he cradled LJ to his chest, he had her to thank for helping him form a deeper bond with his son.

Only LJ had the power to distract him from his misery, but not even the tiny tyke could scrub Lisa from his thoughts entirely. This week, while Garrett had waited with open arms, the boy had taken his first tentative steps. Garrett had actually glanced over his shoulder, fully expecting Lisa to be there, cheering for his son. When she wasn’t, the pain of losing her had crushed him all over again.

At the barn, he saw to Gold’s needs while the men went about their chores. Once he’d washed up for supper, he took his meal outside to the picnic table, where he could be alone to think. The first stars appeared in the night sky while he toyed with food that had lost its flavor. Going through the motions was no way to live. He’d learned that much after Arlene died. Yet here he was, doing the same thing all over again. But what choice did he have? He could either block out the pain of not having Lisa in his life, or have a heart attack every time he thought about her pregnancy. He cupped his face in his hands. Neither choice was any good.

That night, after settling LJ into his crib, he grabbed the guitar he’d propped in the corner of the boy’s room. Hoping to get lost in the music for a while, he finger-picked the familiar notes of his lullaby. All too soon, though, LJ’s even breaths filled the quiet. Afraid he’d wake the boy, Garrett strummed a final chord. With a sigh, he stood. Resigned to another night of staring at ledgers, he waited a minute for his nerves to settle before he quietly closed the door behind him.

“That was the song you and Lisa wrote, wasn’t it?” His mom pushed away from the wall as Garrett reached the top of the stairs. “Haven’t seen her around here for the better part of a week. You and she have a fight?”

Lisa
. At the name he’d worked so hard to keep from saying, Garrett squared his shoulders. He supposed the time had come to let everyone know it had ended between them. “We decided to call things off.”

Instead of lending him a sympathetic shoulder, Doris propped her hands on ample hips. “Because she’s pregnant?”

Garrett gulped. “How’d you— Who told you?”

“It doesn’t take a medical degree to know when a woman’s gotten herself in a family way.” She eyed him, her expression wary. “There’s no chance it could be yours, is there?”

Garrett’s heart, what was left of it, sank. He studied the floorboards. “It’s mine.” There hadn’t been anyone else. Of that he was certain.

Doris sucked in a breath so sharp it whistled over her teeth. “That certainly puts a different spin on things.”

Garrett held up a hand. “Don’t start, Mom. I can’t go through all that again. I can’t.”

“And yet—” his mother paused “—there’s a baby on the way. Your baby.
My
grandchild.”

His mom’s voice shook, and he winced. Doris had always had a knack for hacking away the thick outer layers of a palm to reach the tender center. He should have known she’d cut straight to the heart of the problem. He struggled to explain how he felt. “Putting another woman’s life at risk—well, it’s the last thing I ever wanted. I’m not handling it very well.”

“Oh, Garrett,” Doris whispered. She blotted her eyes, her round shoulders straightening. “I’m as sorry as I can be at what happened with Arlene. But women have babies all the time. There’s no reason to believe Lisa’ll have any problems with this pregnancy.”

The firm hand on his arm steadied his thoughts. He nodded. “She said practically the same thing. My head knows you’re both right. My heart, though, it’s having some trouble getting the message.”

“Seems to me, son, that this baby is coming whether you’re ready for it or not. Do you love Lisa?”

Did he?
If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be so afraid of losing her, would he? “Yeah,” he admitted.

“She feels the same way about you?”

“Yeah.” Garrett caught himself in mid-nod. “At least, she did. Until I walked away from her the last night of the roundup. Now, I don’t know for sure. I think...I think I really screwed things up between us.” Trying to keep his emotions under wraps, he swallowed.

“Sounds like you need to figure out where you stand with her. And you’d better do it quick. Lisa’s a good person. But she won’t wait forever.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right.” He leaned down for a hug. “Thanks, Mom. Guess I have some thinking to do,” he said.

Downstairs in the kitchen, he grabbed his Stetson from the rack and headed for the barn. Mucking stalls always helped him clear his head. Even though the horses were bedded down for the night, he was pretty sure they wouldn’t object to his company.

By daylight, his eyes felt grainy and thick. Every muscle in his body cried out for relief. But every stall in the Circle P’s barn had been thoroughly cleaned. The horses had been fed and watered for the day, and he grinned, imagining the surprised looks on the ranch hands’ faces when they showed up, only to find someone had beaten them to the daily chores.

Best of all, he had the beginnings of a plan. Setting the pitchfork into its place on the rack, Garrett headed for the house, coffee and a shower. A busy day lay ahead. By the end of it, he hoped to win the heart of the woman he loved.

* * *

L
ISA
WASN
’
T
SURE
how she’d survived the week following the break-up. With a heavy heart, she’d caught the first ride to the ranch house on Sunday morning. She’d checked her phone for messages the minute she’d walked into her apartment. When the only voice mail had come from a student who wanted to cancel a music lesson on Tuesday, she’d thrust her fingers through her hair in frustration. Certain Garrett would call, she’d charged her cell phone, tested the doorbell hourly to make sure it still worked, tripped down the stairs to see if he had left a note, a package, flowers on the steps. He hadn’t and, by late afternoon, she had plaited and replaited her braid so many times her fingers had gone numb. Thinking of the new life she carried, she’d kept up a brave front. But she couldn’t hide from the truth at night and, when she’d woken Monday morning, tears had dried on her pillow. When another day had passed and the rancher’s tall frame hadn’t filled her doorway, when her phone hadn’t rung, she’d forced herself to face facts.

He couldn’t deal with the pregnancy. He’d fallen out of love with her. All her dreams of the family they’d make—Garrett and LJ, her and the new baby—they were all gone.

Her heart had broken then, and her tears had fallen. But by Wednesday, she’d cried herself dry. That afternoon, after giving herself a stern talking to, she’d wiped her eyes and stashed the tissue box under the counter. Clearly the time had come to make plans for a future that didn’t include the man she’d loved and lost.

For a while she’d considered selling Pickin’ Strings, cutting her ties and leaving town. One glance at the store she’d invested so much of herself in had stopped her. A hard look at the books had confirmed that her efforts were paying off. Between the uptick in internet orders and the gig on the Circle P, any danger of losing her shirt on the business had passed.

Deciding to stay put, she’d spent Thursday bracing for the next time she bumped into Garrett. Whenever or wherever it happened, she had to be ready. Because she would see the rancher again. Of that there was no doubt. The Circle P might be thirty miles outside of Okeechobee, but she couldn’t expect Garrett to drive into Fort Pierce whenever he needed a gallon of milk or LJ ran out of diapers. Not when that town was more than two hours away.

By Friday, she’d come up with a plan for raising her child, alone. For living her life, alone. For carrying on, alone. By working the store on her own during the busy winter, she’d save enough to hire a salesperson next spring when she’d need to be home...with the baby. She’d turn the break room into a nursery when she was ready to come back to work.

She tapped one finger against her chin. Her plan wasn’t perfect. Perfection was a symphony called
family
. Without Garrett, his mom, his brothers and all the relatives in his warm, loving, extended family, she was left with a simple, two-part harmony. Just her and her child. But for the baby’s sake, she refused to wallow in grief for what might have been.

So on Saturday, determined to put her plan in action, she rose early, ate a good breakfast at The Clock Restaurant and opened the store right on time. Tourist season was just around the corner. Now more than ever, she wanted to be ready for it. In the lull between customers, she cleared space for new merchandise. Her arms full of items she planned to discount, she tossed out a cheery “Be right with you” when the bell over the door jingled after lunch. She settled a box onto the crowded table in the break room. Dusting her hands, she turned to aim a bright smile at her latest visitor.

A smile that faltered the least little bit when she caught sight of Garrett striding down the aisle between the racks of sheet music and a display of guitar straps. All broad shoulders and long legs, he wore his Sunday Stetson and a pair of Wranglers that she’d bet her last nickel had never seen the inside of a cow pen.

Despite all her preparations, her heart lurched. She couldn’t think of one good reason for him to stop by Pickin’ Strings on a Saturday afternoon. Yet here he was. The man of her dreams in the flesh. One week,
one solid week
after he’d abandoned her. She allowed herself a single dismayed sigh before she clamped her trembling lips closed.

“Hey,” he said simply. “I reckon we need to talk.”

Talk.

He hadn’t come to sweep her off her feet, whisk her away to a castle in the clouds or ride off into the sunset with her. He didn’t drop to one knee or beg for forgiveness. Instead, he wanted to talk. Breathtaking disappointment lanced through her, and she sucked in air.

“What about?” She refused to cry and blinked back tears. There’d be time enough for those later.

“I owe you an apology for the way I acted last time we saw each other.”

“You think?” She folded her arms across her chest and waited.

Without saying a word, he just stood there, looking impossibly handsome with his hat tipped back, one dark curl falling forward on his forehead. Steady as the tide and not at all like a man who’d spent the last week nursing a broken heart...the way she had. Her composure crumpled. Her voice shrilled.