Her Cowboy Reunion Read online

  He hauled Corrie’s things inside and up the main stairs. He set the duffel inside the first room, then repeated the trip with the smaller bags and boxes.

  His phone rang as he backed out of Corrie’s room. The name of a well-known Pacific Northwest grocery retailer flashed. He took the call, and by the time he’d finished a deal for four hundred fresh market lambs for wedding season, nearly a quarter hour had passed. That meant he’d left Lizzie to do all her own lifting and carrying.

  He hurried back outside because no matter how rough their past had been, he wasn’t normally a jerk. At least he hoped he wasn’t, but with Pine Ridge teetering on the brink, he might be testier than normal. It wasn’t fair to lay that at her door, but there wouldn’t be time to sugarcoat things, either.

  Lizzie wasn’t in his line of sight when he stepped outside. He started for the nearest stairs at the same time he heard his five-year-old son sigh out loud as he gazed out through the square, wooden spindles. “You’re so beautiful.”

  Heath turned in the direction his son was facing and swallowed hard, because Zeke was one hundred percent correct. Standing on the graveled yard below, Lizzie Fitzgerald was absolutely, positively drop-dead gorgeous in an all-American girl kind of way. That thick, long hair framed a heart-shaped face. A face he’d loved once, but he’d been young and headstrong then. Somewhere along the way, he’d grown up.

  “You’re quite handsome yourself.” Lizzie smiled up at Zeke, and despite Heath’s warnings about strangers, Zeke grinned back, then raced down the broad side steps.

  “Are you staying here?” He slid to a quick stop in front of Lizzie. There was no curtailing his excitement. “My dad said we’ve got people who are coming here to stay, so that must be you. Right?”

  “Correct.” She didn’t look at Heath and wonder about his dark-skinned son, and he gave her reluctant points for that. Zeke’s skin was a gift from his African American mother, but his gray-blue eyes were Caufield, through and through.

  Lizzie squatted to Zeke’s level and held his attention with a pretty smile. “My name’s Lizzie. My friend Corrie and I are living on the ranch with you. I hope that’s all right.”

  “Do you snore?”

  She paused as if considering the question. “Not to my knowledge. But then, I’m asleep, so how would I know?”

  “I do not snore,” declared Zeke. He shoved his hands into two little pockets, total cowboy. “But I have bad dreams sometimes and then Dad lets me come sleep with him.”

  “I’m glad he does.”

  “I know. Me, too.”

  Heath came down the stairs. Zeke smiled his way. “This is the first girl visitor we’ve ever had, Dad!”

  Lizzie raised her gaze to Heath’s. He thought she’d tease him, or play off the boy’s bold statement. There hadn’t ever been a woman visitor to the ranch house, except for the shepherds’ wives.

  She didn’t tease. Sympathy marked her expression, and the kindness in her eyes made his chest hurt.

  Maybe she’d grown up, too.

  Maybe she could handle life better now. That was all well and good, but he’d lost something a dozen years before. A part of his heart and a chunk of his soul had fallen by the wayside when she chose school over their unborn child.

  Guilt hit him, because he was four years older than Lizzie, and it took two to create a child. He’d let them both down back then, and the consequences of their actions haunted him still.

  “You’ve got your daddy’s eyes. And the look of him in some ways.”

  “And his mother.”

  He didn’t mean the words to come out curtly, but they did and there was no snatching them back. Lizzie stayed still, gazing down, then seemed to collect herself. “That’s the way of things, of course.”

  “Do you look like your mother?” Zeke asked as Lizzie stood up.

  “I don’t. I look more like my dad and my Uncle Sean. My two sisters look like my mother.”

  “Mister Sean was your uncle?” That fact surprised Zeke. “So we’re almost like family!”

  “Or at least very good friends.” She smiled down at him. “I think I’d like to be your friend, Zeke Caufield.”

  “And I will like being your friend, too, Miss Lizzie!”

  “Just Lizzie,” she told him. She reached out and palmed his head. No fancy nail polish gilded her nails. And from the looks of them, she still bit them when she got nervous. Was the move to the ranch making her nervous? Or was it him?

  “But Dad says I’m asposed to call people stuff like that,” Zeke explained in a matter-of-fact voice. “To be polite.”

  “I think if you say my name politely, then it is polite. Isn’t it?”

  “Yes!”

  She looked at Heath then.

  He tried to read her expression, but failed. What was she feeling, seeing his son? Did her mind go back to their past, like his did? Would this old ache ever come to some kind of peace between them? How could it?

  “Dad, I’m so starving!”

  “Hey, little man, lunch is ready inside.” Cookie, the ranch house manager, called to Zeke through the screen door. He saw Heath’s questioning look and waved toward the road. “Rosina had a doctor’s appointment, remember? So Zeke is hanging with me for a few hours.”

  He’d forgotten that, even though he’d made a note in his phone. What kind of father was he?

  “I’ll see to him, boss.” Cookie’s deep voice offered reassurance, but it wasn’t his job to watch Zeke, and keeping a five-year-old safe on a working ranch wasn’t a piece of cake. “No big deal.”

  It wasn’t a big deal to the cook because he had a good heart, but it was a huge deal to Heath. His first priority should be caring for his son, and since he’d lost his friend and mentor, Heath was pretty sure he’d fallen down on that. He’d add it to the list of necessary improvements, a list that seemed to be getting longer every day.

  “Maybe I can be with you?” Zeke had started for the stairs, but he paused and looked back at Lizzie. “Like while Dad’s working and Cookie’s busy. I won’t get in the way.” He shook his head in an earnest attempt to convince her. “I like almost never get in the way.”

  Cookie bit back a laugh.

  Heath didn’t. He slanted his gaze down. “Miss Lizzie will be busy. You stay here with Cookie. Got it?”

  Zeke peeked past him to Lizzie, then sighed. “Yes, sir.”

  “But for now we can have lunch together,” said Lizzie as she followed Zeke up the stairs.

  He couldn’t stop Zeke from eating with Lizzie, and the reality of having her here was a done deal. But he could set limits when it came to Zeke. He was his father, after all.

  But when Zeke aimed a grin up to Lizzie and she smiled right back down, another dose of reality hit him.

  He couldn’t enforce sanctions on emotions. And from the way his son was smiling up at Lizzie, then reaching for her hand...

  He swallowed a sigh and headed for the barn.

  Emotions and Lizzie were a whole other rodeo. One he knew too well.

  Chapter Two

  “Sean did something your father never seemed to understand,” Corrie said softly as she and Lizzie approached the stablemaster’s quarters after a quick lunch. She indicated the sprawling ranch around her and the pristine buildings, a trait for classic perfection that came straight from Lizzie’s grandfather. “He worked hard and made his own success.”

  In sheep...and now horses. Only he was gone too soon.

  Lizzie found the whole thing pretty unbelievable, even though she was a huge fan of great woolens made by pricey designers. Or had been, when she’d had money for such things.

  “Liz.”

  Oh, be still her heart, hearing Heath’s voice call her name. She’d hoped for that long ago. Prayed for it. It had never happened, but for one swift moment she longed to turn and run to him,
like she’d done long ago.

  She didn’t.

  She tucked the momentary surprise away. She stopped moving to let him catch up, but then another cowboy came their way on horseback. He drew up, dismounted and gestured toward the western hills.

  A deep furrow formed between Heath’s thick, dark brows.

  A long time ago she would have smoothed those furrows away. Not now. She’d learned a hard lesson back then, but one she carried with her still. Strength and independence had become her mainstay and they had gotten her this far.

  He turned back toward the long drive, then whistled lightly through his teeth. She used to call that his pressure cooker release valve, when they were young and in love. But that was a long time ago, too.

  “If you’ve got work, Heath, we can find our way around,” she told him. “We’ll take our own personal tour of the place.”

  He went all Clint Eastwood on her. He didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t roll his shoulders the way John Wayne would have. But then, she wasn’t exactly Maureen O’Hara, either.

  Then his expression darkened. “There’s a problem up top.” He pointed toward a far-off pasture dotted with hundreds of recently sheared sheep. “Some folks hiked in and thought they’d set up camp. Campers mean campfires, and if you’re green to these parts, you don’t always understand the dangers. And even though it’s still spring, we don’t encourage people to camp on the ranch. I’m going to head up and explain where the campgrounds are.”

  “He didn’t tell them to move on?” Lizzie motioned toward the cowboy moving toward the barn.

  “Jace did. They called him names and didn’t believe he had the authority to evict them.”

  “Called him names?” Lizzie stared after the retreating cowboy before bringing her attention back to Heath. “I don’t—”

  “Slurs,” said Corrie.

  The older woman lifted her chin and Lizzie finally understood. The trespassers had spurned Jace because they doubted a black man had the authority to send them packing. “Someone called him out because he’s dark-skinned? That’s some crazy, foolish nerve right there. Want help moving them off?” She raised her gaze to Heath’s and stood firm. “Give me a horse. One of the ranch ponies. I’m ready to ride.”

  “Whoa, girl.” Corrie put a hand on her arm. “I appreciate your willingness to stand up for truth, justice and the American way, but how about we unpack before you get yourself shot again?”

  “Again?” Heath looked shocked.

  “Grazed. No biggie. Part of the job, at least the one I had back then.”

  “What kind of a job allows shooting at women?”

  “I was overseeing the Mid-Central region, from Ohio to Indiana and all points south. A political story got too hot and I was with the investigative team when someone tried to scare them off. I got grazed by a bullet. It was long before the executive team decided that having a Fitzgerald on staff seemed imprudent while the company crashed and burned, taking a lot of people’s money with it. Bad press is bad press.”

  “They fired you because of your father?” His brows drew together again. “Who does that kind of thing? If we all got fired because we had lousy parents, there would be a lot of us out of a job. Including me.”

  “Publishing is different now,” said Corrie as Jace led a second mount out of the nearby barn. “It’s not like it was when I started with the Fitzgeralds and I don’t know that it will ever be that way again. There’s not a newspaper or news media corporation that can afford to risk their image for the dwindling advertising dollars.”

  “I understand taking care of the bottom line. That doesn’t make it right to punish someone for their parents’ mistakes.”

  “Lots of things in life aren’t fair,” said Lizzie as the other cowboy mounted his horse and came their way. “We cling to our faith and hold tight to the reins.”

  “And trust the good Lord to look after us, same as always,” added Corrie.

  “Jace, this is a family friend. Cora Lee Satterly. And Sean’s niece, Elizabeth Fitzgerald.”

  “A pleasure, ladies.” He looked toward Heath. “Are we good?”

  Heath nodded. “Let’s go.” He tipped his hat slightly toward Corrie. Just a touch to the brim. “I’ll see you later. Make yourselves at home.”

  He said nothing to Lizzie.

  She refused to let it get to her.

  She’d made mistakes. So had he. But faith and a solid work ethic had pulled her firmly into the present. She’d stayed the course, gotten her education, and now was at the helm of a teetering agricultural business worth a small fortune while he ran the large sheep ranch alongside.

  A horse stamped its foot, wanting attention. Another one followed suit.

  She walked to the barns, determined. She’d get to know the horses, then the finances, then the horses again. One way or another she’d do right by both.

  * * *

  Anger formed a burr deep in Heath’s chest and hadn’t let loose in the two hours it took for him and Jace Middleton to ride into the hills, ask the campers to leave, then keep watch while they did.

  By the time they’d packed their camp and pulled away in a huff, he was hungry, tired, annoyed and sore. There was only one prescription to cure all of that.

  His son.

  “I’ll tend the horses.” Jace took charge once they rode into the yard. “You go get Zeke.”

  “Thanks, Jace.” He texted Cookie, and when the cook replied that Rosina had picked up Zeke an hour before, he climbed into his Jeep and headed toward the clutch of four-room cabins between the sprawling sheep barns and the road. He pulled into Harve and Rosina Garcia’s driveway. Harve had been working sheep for Sean for nearly twenty years. He and his brother Aldo had emigrated from Peru to work the sheep through the customary annual hill drives. For the local Peruvian Americans, the drive was a part of life, a tradition dating back to earlier times. Government grazing restrictions had changed things, which meant Pine Ridge had to change, too. And at no small expense, adding to current concerns.

  Zeke had spotted his car from their backyard and raced his way before he came to a full stop. “Dad!”

  The old knot loosened the moment Zeke jumped into his arms.

  This was his reason for living, right here. This boy was his only connection to his beloved wife. And while he loved his son more than he could have ever imagined, if he’d known that Anna would be trading her life for Zeke’s, Heath would have found a different way to have a family. As he held his beautiful and precocious son in his arms, that thought made him feel like a lesser man.

  “Junior taught me the coolest things you’ve ever seen in your life!” Excitement exploded from the boy like fireworks in a night sky. “He thinks I might be the best cowboy to ever ride the Wild Wild West someday, but he says I gotta get some boots, Dad, and I told him I’ve been askin’ for boots for a long, long time.” Two hands smooshed Heath’s cheeks as Zeke leaned closer. “I told him I would ask you again, because it is so very, very important.” He pushed his face right up to his father’s, making his voice sound squished and slightly robotic. “Can I please have a pair of real cowboy boots like you and Harve and Junior and everybody else in the world?”

  Heath let his voice get all squishy, too. “I’ll think about it. Good boots are pricey, and your feet grow fast. In case you hadn’t noticed.” He deadpanned a look that made his little boy laugh out loud. “Let’s see if you were good for Rosie, okay?”

  “He’s always good!” Harve’s wife bustled out of the door, despite the bulk of a nearly nine-month pregnancy. “And he is such a help to me, Heath. I don’t bend so well right now, and Zeke is right there to get things for me when the twins need something. And a true hand with the chickens and the pigs.” She beamed down at him.

  “They smell.” Zeke screwed up his face as Harve Junior joined them. “But Junior says if I want to
be a cowboy, I’ve got to be a good helper and not worry about a little stink now and then.”

  “Junior’s right. And he’s a good hand on the ranch, so he knows what he’s talking about.”

  “A good hand who needs to spend more time with his studies.” Rosie leveled a firm look to her son. “Fewer sheep, more facts.”

  “A ranch hand doesn’t need college, Mom.”

  “While that’s true, a well-rounded ranch hand never stops learning,” offered Heath mildly. “There’s a big world out there, Junior.”

  “It’s pretty big right here, sir.” Frank admiration marked the teen’s gaze as he indicated the lush valley and the starker cliffs surrounding it. “There’s not too many things on the ranch I can’t fix, things I learned from my dad. Those are skills I can take with me wherever I go. Or if I stay here in Shepherd’s Crossing.” He jutted his chin toward the rugged mountains climbing high to the west. “I like taking sheep upland, then bringing them back down. There’s a sameness to it that suits me.”

  Except they wouldn’t be doing that anymore, and the new grazing regulations were changing the face of ranching across the West. Where would that leave the hardworking shepherds who’d given up their lives in Peru to work at Pine Ridge and other sheep farms? Heath wasn’t sure.

  “I send you to school for that very reason,” scolded Rosie lightly. “Because it is too easy for one to become entrenched in sameness. A rich mind entertains possibilities. And our town does not have much to offer these days,” she reminded young Harve. “A failing community offers few opportunities to youth. A wise mother encourages her child to have roots but to also grow wings, my son.”

  “Dad!” Zeke drew the attention off Junior with that single word. “I think I’m almost big enough to come with you and the sheep up the tallest hills. I’m this many.” He held up five little fingers. “And I’ve been practicing my riding on the fence rail over there.” He pointed to the split rail fencing along a nearby pasture. “I’m getting really good!”