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She pulled a roast from the bottom freezer drawer and put it in the fridge for the following night, then tossed a couple pounds of ground beef into the microwave on Defrost.
She suddenly heard footsteps come up the stairs to the back porch and she turned to find Jess ushering the twins though the door.
She offered them a warm smile. “I’m so happy to see you girls again. How was school today?”
They silently stamped the snow from their feet and shrugged off their coats, hanging them up on a set of lower pegs in the entryway, and left their hats and mittens on a shelf above the pegs. Neither of them glanced her way.
“Hmm. I wonder if I have your names right.” She looked at Bella and playfully tilted her head. “You must be...Sophie.”
Instead of smiling, Bella turned away.
“And...you must be Bella,” she said to Sophie. “Am I right?”
With an almost imperceptible shake of her head, Sophie pulled off her sodden tennis shoes and trudged across the floor, her socks leaving a trail of wet footprints. Bella followed her, giving Abby a wide berth.
“Go put on dry socks or your slippers, Sophie,” Jess called after her as he hung up his own coat. “I’m afraid they were hoping their mom had arrived, after I told them someone new was here at the ranch.”
Abby could only imagine how hard it must have been for them to find their mother wasn’t here after all. “I’m afraid I’m an awfully big letdown.”
“They’ll come around. Suppers have been really basic since Betty fell, so I’m sure they’ll be happy to see something besides spaghetti, hamburgers and frozen dinners.”
Abby mentally readjusted her plans for dinner from spaghetti to meatloaf and baked potatoes, and lowered her voice. “Is there any chance you could adopt the twins?”
“From what I’ve read on the internet, they could be considered abandoned after no personal contact with their mother for six months. Now it’s been almost a year.”
“Is that what you’d like to do?”
Jess sighed. “I just want what’s best for them and for Lindsey—if only I knew what that was. If she’s still making a lot of bad decisions, they’re better off with me. But what if she’s in trouble somewhere? Injured? I want to help her, not break her heart.”
“It’s so ironic,” Abby said wistfully. “You’ve taken in these sweet girls, and care so much for them. I wanted kids but my husband didn’t. Alan was adamantly against it.”
She’d always loved kids. They were the reason she’d gone into teaching, and she’d never regretted it. But years of longing for a child of her own had left a scarred, empty place in her heart that had grown with every passing year.
At the sound of small footsteps approaching, Abby turned toward the sound of a child coming through the arched doorway into the kitchen.
Bella and Sophie paused in the entryway, as if hesitating about what to say.
“Can we see Gramma now?” Belle said finally. “We’ll be real good. Promise.”
He glanced at the clock. “You can go down and peek in her room. If she’s awakened from her nap, you can ask if you can come in. Okay? But don’t wake her up.”
The girls scampered away. “Gramma! You’re home,” they shouted as they ran down the hall.
Abby stifled a low laugh. “So much for Grandma’s nap.”
“I’d better get down there to referee.” He glanced around the kitchen, taking in the spotless countertops and the floor Abby had swept and mopped while he was gone picking up the girls. “I’ll always appreciate anything you do while you’re here, but remember that what I care about most are the twins and Betty. They are my number one priority. Always.” A flash of worry—or was it fear?—darted across his expression. “It takes only a blink of an eye for an accident to happen.”
Why was he so worried? But maybe this was what it was like, when you were a parent with kids who could move almost fast as you could.
Betty would be good company and no problem at all; Abby was sure of that—unless the feisty lady started trying to do too much and Abby had to gently rein her in. But the girls were a different story.
She’d seen their wariness and resentment toward her and glimpsed the pain in their eyes. Those wounds were deep.
Now she knew there were just three things she needed to accomplish here. She needed to reconnect with her father and make sure he was all right. Bella and Sophie were going to feel happy and secure by the time she left.
And she needed to guard her heart against the cascade of memories and old dreams that kept tumbling into her thoughts. Of Jess, this ranch and all that might have been.
* * *
By nine o’clock that night, Abby had finished loading the dishwasher, wiped down the counters and leaned one hip against the stove to survey the kitchen.
The day could have been worse, though not by much. The twins had refused to touch the meatloaf, baked potatoes and glazed carrots she’d cooked. They’d even refused the cherry pie and ice cream, despite Betty’s urging and the fact that Jess had wolfed down everything on his plate and asked for seconds.
They’d finally accepted the sandwiches Betty made before she limped back to her bedroom to turn in early.
And bath time wasn’t a success either. They refused Abby’s help entirely and Betty obviously couldn’t kneel by the tub to help them. So Abby finally just sat by the tub, gave them washcloths and bars of soap, and wrapped each of them in fluffy towels when they were done.
Right now, Jess was in their room reading them bedtime stories, probably wishing he hadn’t bothered hiring her.
She turned at the sound of heavy footsteps that could only be Jess’s. She took in the weary set of his shoulders and his jaw darkened by a five o’clock shadow as he entered the kitchen and headed for the coffeepot. “Are they all tucked in?”
He nodded. “I had a talk with them. They seem to understand that we need you here so I can get back to work and so Betty can get better.”
As kindergartners, they were old enough to understand, though she wasn’t going to expect full cooperation just yet. Not after the scowls and pouts she’d seen today. “We’ll be fine. Promise.”
At his doubtful expression, she smothered a laugh. “You forget—I worked as a substitute teacher for years. Often in middle schools, and we all know how tough kids that age can be with a sub. Do you remember those days?”
A flicker of a smile briefly touched his lean face, deepening the dimple in one cheek. Once upon a time, that smile had made her stomach flutter. It still hadn’t lost its power.
He poured a cup of coffee, pulled his cell phone from his pocket and tapped the screen. “I asked a neighbor to come over in the morning to help me drive the cattle home. Fred says he can get here around nine, though I’ve been tracking the local weather on my phone and it sounds like we might be getting some ice and snow again.”
“I saw that, too. Starting midmorning, if the forecasters are right. The local schools have already cancelled.” She tilted her head. “Maybe you should start without him.”
“There’s almost two hundred head of cattle up there.” He shot an impatient look at her over the rim of his coffee cup. “If I could do it on my own, I would’ve gone after them last week.”
“I could help.”
“And leave Betty alone with the girls?”
“Betty would be here in the house with them, and she could call our cell phones if there were any problems. How late do the girls sleep if there’s no school?”
He frowned. “Eight or nine. Maybe. But I still think—”
“They’re almost six years old, and they’ll listen to Betty. She wouldn’t need to do much—maybe give them cereal and toast.” Abby shrugged. “And how long would it take to go after the cattle?”
“Over six miles round trip—though rounding them up and moving such a large herd will make the return trip take a lot longer.”
“If we leave early enough we might even get back before the weather hits.”
He finished the last of his coffee. “Do you still know how to ride a horse?”
“If I’ve forgotten that, I don’t deserve to own a pair of boots,” she shot back with a grin as he headed out of the kitchen.
True, it had been a long time. But at the thought of saddling up and bringing in a herd of cattle tomorrow, she couldn’t contain her smile.
It would be just like the old days, a little voice whispered in her head. Her and Jess, moving cattle and working calves on the Langfords’ ranch, or back at her dad’s place. Trail riding up into the mountains. Heading off to the local horse shows. Sharing kisses and laughter in the moonlight during long rides after dark...
But it wouldn’t really be like the old days. Not at all. Because this was just a business arrangement, and nothing more.
Chapter Three (#u8a7c9191-ce7e-5e54-b98f-e661ed4311a1)
The house was dark and still when Jess got up at 5:00 a.m. and looked out the back door.
No snow yet. But the weather app on his cell phone promised sleet, then ten to twelve inches of snow followed by forty-mile-an-hour winds gusting to fifty and temps plunging into the minus-teens.
Just what he needed right now.
Blizzards could drive the cattle to seek a windbreak. They could end up crowded into a tight mass in a corner of the fence, tails to the wind, unable to move any farther. A lot of them might die from the extreme weather and crowding.
It had happened several years ago, and his livestock losses had been heavy.
He walked to the mudroom and started pulling on his down parka. At a sound behind him, he turned in surprise to find Abby behind him with a big grin on her face.
Suddenly, the years fell away and it felt as if they’ve never been apart. Except back then, he would have pulled her into an embrace. Dropped kisses on her cheeks and the tip of her freckled nose. And the teasing and laughter would have been nonstop.
“I was just going outside to saddle up.”
“Good. Did you talk to Betty last night about caring for the girls?” she asked as she reached for her own heavy down jacket.
He nodded as he pulled on his insulated boots, jammed heavy gloves into his pockets and donned his black Resistol. “I also texted Fred and said to check with me before he came over. I told him we were getting an earlier start, but if things didn’t go well, I might still need him later.”
“Blizzard coming. Two hundred cattle. What could possibly go wrong?” A brief, mischievous twinkle lit her eyes.
He’d discouraged Abby from helping him move the cattle this morning, but now he was relieved that she was this willing and ready to go.
“I didn’t think you’d actually want to do this,” he said ruefully. “It’s not what you signed up for.”
She swiftly pulled on her boots and gathered her gloves, scarf and hat. “This isn’t my first blizzard, you know. And just think. If you’d hired some city-girl housekeeper, you’d have to do this all on your own.”
She lifted a small, insulated duffel bag from a hook by the coats and grabbed two thermoses plus a stack of sandwiches in plastic bags from the counter behind her.
Surprised, he lifted a brow.
“Hot coffee and something to eat,” she said as she placed the food in the duffle. “Just in case we run into trouble. Now, if you’re ready, we’d better move. I have a feeling that weather is coming faster than we thought.”
They were going out in bad weather after a large and possibly unpredictable herd of cattle. Under any other circumstances it would have been the antithesis of fun. Yet he couldn’t help but love her take-charge attitude. Catch her sense of adventure. This was Abby, after all—the girl who had never backed down from a challenge and who had always been ready to try anything new.
For years, he had missed her. She’d carved such an empty place from his heart when she left. How was he ever going to keep from falling in love with her all over again—since he already knew she was going to leave?
* * *
The first faint blush of dawn had yet to edge above the eastern horizon as Jess and Abby jogged their horses through the knee-deep snow in one of the pastures behind the barns.
There was a heavy dampness in the air indicating that snow was heading their way, and his mare, Lucy, seemed to sense it, restlessly tossing her head and repeatedly breaking into an impatient sideways jog. Twice she tried to spin back toward the barn, but he corrected her and kept pushing on.
He’d put Abby on Bart, a solid cattle horse with years of experience, but the dropping barometer and bite in the air had Bart unsettled as well, and he’d thrown in a few feisty crowhops when they first left the barn.
He realized again just how much he’d missed her when Abby laughed and sat her bucking horse like he was an old easy chair, proof of her life growing up on a ranch.
She glanced over at him, her cheeks rosy, then nudged Bart into a slow lope, his hooves kicking up clouds of light snow, and Jess followed suit.
When the terrain grew more uneven and the pasture gate appeared up ahead, she slowed back to a jog. Twisting in her saddle, she braced a hand on the top of Bart’s rump and grinned. “It has been way too long since I’ve been on a horse. Thanks, Jess.”
He laughed. “Don’t be thanking me just yet. We’ve got a long, long ways to go.”
* * *
The wind started to pick up and light sleet was falling as they left the pasture and started down a mile of country road. Yesterday, the wind had sculpted monster snow drifts here, making it impossible to bring more hay out to the cattle.
Now the drifts had been blown about again, leveling off the highest mounds and leaving knee-high snow for the horses to trudge through. What this would be like once a heavy sheet of ice crusted the landscape and heavy snow followed on top of that, he could well imagine. If they didn’t succeed at bringing the cattle back today, he’d have to arrange for a helicopter to drop hay to them—an expensive proposition that might not even be possible if the winds stayed high.
“You doing all right?” he called out to Abby.
Her face muffled by a long woolen scarf wrapped around her neck, she nodded and gave him a thumbs-up.
She had to be getting cold. He was getting cold, with sleet coating his jeans and slithering down the collar of his parka. But the horses were laboring enough as it was to break through the snow. He wouldn’t push them to go faster.
Cloud-filtered daylight finally seeped across the landscape, turning the world into endless, blinding white, and he almost missed seeing the gate leading into the hayfield.
Abby rode up close to Lucy. “How far now?”
“About an hour to where the cattle are.” He lifted a hand to brush away the slushy sleet on her jacket. “I’m hoping they’re by the gate, waiting for their next hay delivery.”
Abby patted the saddlebags tied behind the cantle of her saddle, where she’d stowed the duffel. “Hungry? Thirsty?”
“I just want to get this done and get home before the weather gets any worse. You?”
“Agree.”
Jess moved his horse into a jog and then into a lope, and Abby followed in the trail he’d broken through the snow until they were through the hayfield and the terrain began to change, the land interrupted by stands of timber, with fallen trees to navigate and snow-mounded boulders strewn along the base of the rising hills.
Here the horses were cautious, heads low as they picked their way through the hazards.
Jess pulled to a stop and waited for Abby to come alongside him. “Still doing okay?”
“Fine.” She leaned forward to scrape some of the icy slush from Bart’s mane. “I’m just glad the temperature hasn’t started dropping yet. We should be fine.”
“The herd up here has been brought home for several spring calving seasons. Unless the changing weather has them nervous, they shouldn’t be much of a challenge for you.”
