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“Milk River goes up into Canada, you know,” he said. “I don’t have the maps for that.”
Then her eye landed on one creek name she hadn’t seen before that brought a hopeful smile to her lips. “Look at that one!” She pointed. “Harper Creek!”
“That’s familiar?” Casey asked with a frown.
“My mother’s last name was Harper. That’s the family name.”
“Hmm.” He nodded. “Okay.”
“What’s the matter?” Wyatt was getting heavy in her arm, and she shifted him to a new position.
“There are a lot of Harpers around here,” he said. “They might be relatives of yours, though.”
She’d never heard of them, if they were. It might be nothing more than a coincidence. Or a creek named much more recently—a random moniker slapped onto a tiny creek in honor of some locals.
“We aren’t Canadian. My mother always said that the family had settled exactly fifty miles from the mountains, and they’d been another forty miles from Victory. That’s right here. This land. Give or take.”
Casey nodded slowly. “Approximately, yes.”
“I know it’s a very rough estimate, but since this land came up for sale, I wanted to check it out,” she said.
“Well, we’ll have a look,” Casey said, but his expression was grim.
“You don’t want me to buy this land, I know,” she said.
“You’re right,” he agreed. “I don’t. This is prime ranching land, and cattle fuel this community. It’s our way of life, and I’ve worked this herd for fifteen years now. There’s something to be said for consistency. Also, there’s honor in feeding America’s families, and the beef we raise is top quality. That matters to me. To see this place turn into some therapy center—No offense, ma’am, but from my way of thinking, it would be a crying shame. The city folk might need their therapy and their chance to enjoy the wide outdoors, but we ranchers need pasture under our boots and cattle to drive. So what you’re suggesting isn’t going to help us at all. Again, no offense.”
“None taken,” she murmured.
“But that doesn’t mean I won’t treat you honestly,” Casey said.
“Can I be sure of that?” she asked.
“I’m a rancher, Miss Reed,” Casey said, his voice a low growl. “But I’m also a Christian. That one sits a little heavier. I believe in right and wrong, and I stand with the truth. So if I find out that this is the land you’ve been looking for, then I’ll tell you honestly, because I want God’s blessing more than I want my way. And God’s never yet blessed a lie.”
Ember regarded him thoughtfully.
“Are you a Christian, Miss Reed?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Then a handshake should be enough, wouldn’t you say?” he asked, holding out one hand toward her.
Ember took his rough hand in hers, and she felt the gentle pressure of those strong fingers. It was a muscular hand—veined and broad—and she realized anew just how attractive this stubborn cowboy was. She tugged her fingers free.
“Could you take the baby back?” she asked, slightly breathlessly.
Casey did as she asked and she slid the infant into Casey’s arms. Wyatt didn’t complain this time, and she exhaled a shaky sigh.
This was the right land—she could feel it. Everything had fallen into place in that way that God had where she could sense His fingerprints on all of it. From the sale of the swampland, down to this ranch popping up for sale just at the same time she’d pinpointed an approximate location of the Harper homestead.
Ember had felt drawn here, but looking at that lanky cowboy and the babies he was honor bound to care for, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was God’s doing for other reasons entirely—like forcing her to face her own issues. Ember wanted to belong somewhere—be someone other than the illegitimate child of a wealthy man. She wanted a connection so solid that her paternity wouldn’t be the most defining factor in her lineage any longer.
The sooner she could investigate this land and decide on her next move, the better.
Chapter Three (#u127ba0ee-e5af-5b0c-b34c-ba90b761a61f)
Mr. Vern, as it turned out, was perfectly happy to have Ember stay with him if she was helping out his ranch manager. Those babies had sunk into his heart, too, it seemed.
“They need loving,” Mr. Vern said. “That’s all. Just loving. But there’s two of them, and Casey’s got a big job. So I think we all appreciate you being willing to snuggle some babies. It’ll take a village with those boys.”
A village was the precise thing she hadn’t had on her side when she’d been pregnant with her son. If there’d been a village for her, she might have been able to keep her little boy, but she didn’t have any support. When she’d told her father about her pregnancy, he’d recommended an abortion, but said that if she insisted on having the baby, she’d have to give it up for adoption. He wasn’t interested in supporting her for the long term. He’d agreed to pay for her education, but his one stipulation to his support had been that she act like a Reed and not embarrass the family. Raising a baby on her own without a husband apparently violated that clause. Set aside the fact that she’d been fathered in an affair...but Alistair was the one with the money and she wasn’t in a position to argue with him about his morals. It had seemed hopeless then...
Ember lay between crisp sheets that night, listening to the soft sounds of a strange house, and she lifted her heart in prayer. She’d been so sure when she’d come out here—confident, excited. But somehow, she’d gone from completely in control to feeling entirely out of her depth.
Lord, I need Your help, she prayed. I don’t know how I got myself into this, but here I am...
Only God knew how she’d been struggling with memories of her own son lately. She’d naively thought that giving him up would allow her to move forward with her life. And in some ways, she had, but lately, memories of that traumatic day were coming back like punches to the gut. So she lay in bed not asking for God to help her sort out her emotions right now, because she knew better than to ask for that! A woman didn’t hop over her feelings; she waded through them. And wading would have to wait until she was finished with this task at hand. As ironic as it was for a therapist, she wanted God to help her put a lid on her feelings. For now, at least.
Ember slept remarkably well that night. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the adventures of her day, but she didn’t even stir until she awoke to the distant aroma of brewing coffee. Ember rubbed a hand over her face and reached for her watch, checking the time. It was just after six, and outside, the sky was awash in pink. She pushed back the covers and reached for her clothes. She’d come with a bag packed and had intended to stay in a local hotel for a few days, so she had a few necessities with her. Ten minutes later, she’d washed up, put on a little makeup and made herself presentable before leaving the bedroom for the kitchen.
Mr. Vern stood in front of the stove, a bowl of whisked eggs in one hand as he flung a pat of butter into a sizzling pan.
“Good morning,” he said without turning.
“Good morning.” She headed for the coffeepot. There were two mugs waiting, and she filled one. “Is this for me?”
“Sure is,” Mr. Vern said. “I’m just whipping up some eggs now, too.”
“You’re up early,” she said.
“I’ve already been out to check on some cattle,” he said with a low laugh. “I saw Casey down there, and he said to tell you that he’s got a ride planned toward Milk River today. He thought you might be interested.”
“Oh!” Ember brightened. “Yes, I am.”
“He says he’s planning on leaving about seven,” Mr. Vern said. “You’ll want to eat hearty before then. Have you ridden before?”
“No,” she confessed.
“Hmm.” Mr. Vern glanced back at her, a look in his eye like he was sizing her up. “It’s a good way to take a look at the land, but...”
“I’ll be fine,” she reassured him. “I’m assuming I’m in good hands with Casey Courtright?”
“The best.” Mr. Vern poured the egg mixture into the pan. “In fact, you’d do well to keep him on, Miss Reed. He knows this land better than I do at this point.”
“He’s already said that he’s not interested in working for me,” she admitted.
“Has he now?” Ember couldn’t see the older man’s face, but his tone sounded displeased. “That’s just pride. Give him time.”
Time for what? She didn’t want to be saddled down with an employee who didn’t want to be here. But this wasn’t the time to discuss that.
After breakfast, Mr. Vern drove her down the sloping gravel road, his radio playing a jangly gospel tune. Mr. Vern wore a dusty trucker’s hat, and he chewed on a toothpick as he drove.
“So left, we’ve got the cattle barns—you can see them, right? The big modern silver ones. Those are used for some calving, injured animals and the like. For the most part, the cattle spend their days in the field. I’ll bring you down there later if Casey hasn’t got the time.”
The older man followed the road right, heading away from the cattle barns and toward that picturesque red barn bathed in golden morning sunlight.
“There’s four hundred acres in total—that includes the forest as well as the pasture. I know you’re not interested in raising cattle, but the property includes about two hundred head that we’ve raised for market. So you’d have at least one market run. Casey would be able to fill you in on the finer details there, of course.”
“Where are we going?” Ember asked.
“To the horse barn,” Mr. Vern said. “We’ve got twenty-two horses at present. Our ranch hands use them when they check on herds and that sort of thing. Now, there are three horses that belong to Casey personally, and another two that I’m not willing to part with. But the other seventeen are included in the sale.”
“Are they good for trail rides?” she asked.
“About five are gentle enough for newbies, but the others need a more experienced hand,” he admitted. “I can sell off the others first, if you want. Just to save you the trouble later.”
“We’d have to talk about that,” she agreed with a nod.
“Some ranches like to use quads for checking the herd, but I’ve stuck to the tried and true. We’ve got a paddock, and since you mention trail riding, we’ve got some good trails, too.” They rattled over a pothole, and Mr. Vern shot her a grin. “If you do buy this land, miss, you’re going to need a solid truck. I’m a Ford man, myself.”
Ember could see the wisdom in those words. Her car had already shown that it would be jolted right apart on some of these roads. But as they crested a hill, her to-do list melted away at the sight.
Green field rolled out beneath them, fence posts running like lines of neat stitches across the verdant plains. Some horses were grazing—one tiny foal trailing close to its mother. The red barn stood out in comforting contrast to the rest of the scene, and Ember felt all that tension seep out of her body. They eased down the road toward the red barn, and as the truck came to a stop out front, a door opened and Casey looked out. He was dressed in a pair of jeans, a button-down shirt and a padded vest. He pushed his cowboy hat back on his head and raised a gloved hand in a wave.
“Have a good day,” Mr. Vern said. “If you have any questions, Casey’s the one to ask. Like I said, stubborn lout or not, that man is worth keeping around. Mark my words.”
Ember thanked him and hopped out of the truck. Casey waited for her at the door, holding it open for her. His dark gaze followed her as she approached, and she felt heat rise in her cheeks. It was different out here—on a ranch, away from the city. Everything seemed more basic, more pared down. And when a man’s gaze followed her like that, it was harder to ignore.
“Good morning,” he said. “Bert’s with the babies, so we’ve got some time.”
“Is he getting paid for that?” Ember asked, stepping past Casey’s broad chest and into the warm, fragrant barn. Dust motes danced in the air in front of her, and her nose tickled. High windows let in squares of morning sunlight, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust.
“Of course,” Casey said, slamming the door shut. “He’s getting overtime. Most expensive childcare ever. I asked if his wife might be interested, but she’s got her hands full with her elderly mother, so...”
Casey led the way down the center of the barn. Most of the stalls were empty. He paused at one stall and held a hand out toward a horse’s velvet nose. The horse nudged his hand and nickered.
“How much riding experience do you have?” Casey asked, glancing back at her. Again, that dark look trained on her face in that way that made her feel slightly self-conscious.
“None,” she admitted.
“Okay, so not Captain, then,” he said, moving on. “Captain is fast and strong, but he needs an experienced rider.”
“That’s not me,” she agreed. “Can’t we drive?”
“Drive?” Casey turned toward her again, his eyebrows raised. “Not where I’m headed. Why—you scared of horses or something?”
“No, I just thought—” She didn’t know what she was thinking. She’d rather feel more in control.
“You don’t have to come along, you know,” Casey said. “I’m going to check a gate latch out toward Milk River. You said you were interested in that area—”
“No, I want to come along,” she interrupted. “I’m fine. Let’s do this.”
“I’ll let you ride Patience here. She’s gentle.”
That sounded a little better, and Ember watched as Casey led a brown mare from her stall and stroked her glossy neck.
“Good morning, girl,” Casey murmured. “You up for a ride today?”
Ember leaned against a rail as she watched Casey saddle the horse. He worked quickly, all the while talking softly to the animal.
“Mr. Vern mentioned that five of the horses would be suited for trail rides with clients,” Ember said.
“Patience isn’t included in the sale. She’s mine,” Casey said when he’d finished. “I bought her myself about ten years ago.”
“Oh.” Ember nodded quickly. “Of course. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be presumptuous.”
“Never mind. Come around front. You can pet her and introduce yourself.”
Ember circled around to the front of the horse and looked up into those gentle, liquid eyes.
“Hello,” Ember said softly.
“Now, let me help you mount,” Casey said. “Here. Foot in this stirrup. Can you reach? Hold on.” He grabbed a wooden box and put it down next to the horse. “Stand on this. Now, foot in the stirrup.”
Ember did as he instructed.
“Hand on the pommel—There,” Casey coached. “Now, up and swing that leg over.”
It wasn’t exactly graceful, but a moment later, Ember was settled in the saddle, and Casey gave her a quick look over.
“Good. We’re ready,” he said, walking over to the far, rolling door. He pushed it open and whistled sharply. A tall, proud horse trotted up, already saddled, and Casey caught the reins. He took a rifle from a corner and slung the strap for it over his back, then put his boot in the stirrup.
Ember gave her horse a little kick in the sides, and nothing happened, save a slightly annoyed shuffle from the horse. Was she supposed to kick harder?
Casey swung up into his saddle effortlessly, and he turned to shoot her a smile. “You ready?”
“How do I get the horse to start moving?” she asked, heat rising in her cheeks. At least she’d warned him that she had no experience.
“Oh, you don’t,” Casey said with a low laugh. “Patience is my horse, and she’ll do what I tell her. You just hold on.”
So Ember was literally just along for the ride here... Great.
Casey made a clucking sound with his mouth, and Patience plodded forward toward him. The sensation was a strange one—feeling the movement of the muscles of this empathetic animal, and Ember sucked in a breath.
“I told you that I’d be giving you an honest tour of this ranch,” Casey said over his shoulder. “And I’m making good on that.”
* * *
