Red Hot Rancher. Maureen Child

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       Two

      Absolutely nothing.

      For the next several days, those two words echoed in Emma’s brain. There was a lot to do around the ranch and yet she couldn’t shake Caden’s voice.

      “No surprise there,” she muttered as she shuffled equipment around in the tack room. Caden had never been far from her mind. Yes, she’d walked away from him, but she’d had to follow her heart, right? Fight for her dream or end up an old woman, eaten by regret.

      “You’d think he’d understand that,” she said tightly. “The man has a one-track mind when it comes to his dreams. What? I’m not allowed to chase mine? Is that it? I can only have the dreams that don’t inconvenience him?”

       Absolutely nothing.

      But it seemed he wanted something from Emma’s sister. Gracie had gone to Caden’s place nearly every day. Why? Jealousy bristled in her chest and twisted around her heart, giving it a hard squeeze. Was Gracie sleeping with him? Had he moved from one sister to another without missing a beat? Was Gracie the one sharing in Caden’s dreams now?

      She had no way of knowing since her sister hadn’t really spoken to her since that first day. The two of them passed each other in the house locked in a strained silence that their father was either not noticing or actively ignoring.

      Frank was completely in love with baby Molly, though, and every day, he seemed to return a bit more to the man that Emma remembered. His granddaughter had given him a new lease on life, he claimed, and that worried Emma, too. There was simply too much going on. Too many things to feel. To think. To be anxious over.

      Why had she ever thought that coming home would be easy?

      She grabbed two shovels and slammed them into the corner. This whole ranch was a mess. The barn, the stable, the house. Oh, it was all still standing, but it looked to Emma like no one had been paying attention to what needed doing. Except Caden, apparently. A couple of men from his ranch had been over two days ago, to repaint the corral fences, and when she had told them they didn’t need his help, they’d ignored her, too. Said that they took orders from Caden and if she had a problem with it, she should take it up with him.

      As if she could.

      So now the fences had been painted, but the grass was too high, and the railing on the wraparound porch was wobbly. And the tack room was in shambles. “There are shelves for God’s sake. Why aren’t they using them?”

      Anger guided Emma as she picked up saddle soap, cloths and a million other little supplies that were tossed around. One by one, she straightened them out, lining them up on the shelves and giving it all a nod of satisfaction when she was finished. For a soul as organized as Emma, this place was torture.

      “And why is there an old saddle on the desk?” she asked no one.

      “It’s waiting to be repaired.”

      Emma spun around to see her younger sister standing in the doorway. “How long’s it been waiting?”

      Gracie shrugged. “A few months I guess.”

      “Months?” Emma shook her head, exasperated at the mess and her sister’s nonchalant attitude. “Why hasn’t Buck fixed it?”

      “Buck quit six months ago.”

      “What?” Buck Simpson had worked for them since Emma was a girl. He was a master at saddlery and had kept the ranch equipment in tip-top shape. “Why?”

      Gracie shrugged again and leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb. “He said he was getting too old to deal with ranching in winter. He went to live with his daughter and her husband on their ranch outside Billings. It still snows, but he doesn’t have to get out and work in it every day.”

      Another change she hadn’t known about and she didn’t like it. “Why didn’t you tell me? You could’ve emailed or something.”

      “Yeah, because we’ve been so close.”

      Emma sighed, shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and looked at the little sister who used to follow her around like a puppy. “You know, I tried to stay close. I left the ranch, I didn’t leave the family. I wrote to you, Gracie. I called. You never did.”

      “What was I supposed to say?” Gracie countered, pushing off the doorjamb. “Happy trails? Good luck with your perfect life while I’m here trying to hold a ranch together?”

      God. She would have laughed at that if she hadn’t felt like screeching.

      “Perfect? You think my life was perfect?” Emma actually felt her eyes roll. “Going to auditions and never getting the part? Being told that if you sleep with the producer, he’ll consider hiring you?

      “Being on your feet for a twelve-hour shift at a restaurant because the landlord just jacked your rent higher? Again? Having your ass patted by an old man when you bring his lunch order?”

      “Wait,” Gracie said, holding up one hand and looking around the room for effect. “Let me find a tissue.”

      “God, you’re a bitch.”

      “Said the queen bitch of the universe.”

      Frustration rippled through her. She kept trying and kept getting shut down. Her life in Hollywood hadn’t been anyone’s idea of a dream and there was plenty more that she wasn’t telling Gracie. Dark, hard things that she’d never told anyone and wouldn’t use to get a glimmer of sympathy now.

      “What the hell, Gracie?” Emma threw her hands up, faced her sister and demanded, “What is going on with you? This isn’t all about me moving to California. You can’t be this mad about me being gone for a few years. There’s something else going on.”

      Gracie’s features tightened, then went deliberately blank. “You don’t know me, Emma. Not anymore. And just so you know? Everything else is fine. Just stop expecting me to be happy to have you home.”

      “You didn’t want me leaving and now you don’t want me here.” Emma shook her head, then tossed her hair back behind her shoulders. “What the hell do you want?”

      For just a split second, something flashed in Gracie’s eyes, but it was gone an instant later. Emma had the distinct feeling she’d almost reached the real Gracie. The little sister she’d missed for so long.

      “Nothing,” Gracie said. “Look. I only came out here to tell you your daughter woke up. She’s crying.”

      Emma drew her head back as if she’d been slapped. “And you couldn’t pick her up?”

      For a second, her sister’s eyes shone with shame, but it didn’t last long. Defiant, she lifted her chin. “I’m not your babysitter, Em. And neither is Dad.”