Wrangling The Cowboy's Heart. Carolyne Aarsen

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       Chapter Three

      Jodie stepped into the house, déjà vu washing over her as the faintest scent of onions and bacon, her father’s favorite foods, wafted past her. Vague evidence that he had been here only a week ago.

      Pain clenched her heart. Pain and regret, coupled with a wish that Lauren could have come with her to the Rocking M.

      Her sister had had to leave early this morning to catch a plane, so last night they’d stayed in Saddlebank’s only motel, then gone their separate ways at dawn.

      Jodie toed off her boots and put them on the shelf under the coatrack. She set her suitcase on the old wooden bench, as she and her sisters always did the day they arrived at the ranch. For a fraction of a moment loneliness nudged her at the sight of her lone suitcase. There should be two more.

      She paused, listening, but the only sounds in the stillness were the ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room and the hum of the refrigerator in the rear.

      Hugging herself, she walked through the house to the kitchen. A breakfast bar bisected the space, separating the cooking area from the rest of the room. She and her sisters had spent a lot of time there, laughing as they created unique meals using the minimal ingredients available to them. Their father had never been big on shopping.

      A large room took up the far end of the house, the ceiling soaring two stories high. The dining room table with its five mismatched chairs filled one side, while couches and a couple recliners huddled around the stone fireplace on the far wall, flanked by two large bay windows.

      A baby grand piano, covered with a flowered sheet, took up the far corner of the room. Jodie was surprised her dad still had it. It was an older one from her aunt Laura, who used to teach piano.

      Jodie’s smile faded as she looked toward the closed door of her father’s office.

      How many times had he pulled her into that room, ordered her to sit in the chair and listen? How many lectures had she endured, with him pounding his fist on the desk, telling her she was a disgrace to his good name? It didn’t take much to resurrect his angry voice berating her, the sting of his hand on her cheek.

      She spun away from the office, striding toward the living room as if outrunning the hurtful memories. She stopped at the window overlooking the yard. From there she saw the wooden fences of the corrals edging the rolling green pastures. Beyond them stood the mountains, snow still clinging to the peaks even in summer.

      During the days of stifling heat in Knoxville, she’d definitely missed the mountains and the open spaces of this ranch. She fingered the curtain, leaning her forehead against the cool glass of the window, the usual daydreams assaulting her. Travel, moving, being in charge of where she went instead of working around other people’s plans for her life. She had spent most of her childhood going where others told her to go, being who others told her to be. Now she was stuck here for a couple months, once again, her situation being dictated by her father.

      She could leave. She knew that. Forfeit her right to a portion of the ranch. But she also knew the reality of her situation. Any money she got from selling the ranch would be a huge benefit. Touring wouldn’t be the financial hardship it usually was.

      And what would Dad think of that?

      She pushed aside the guilt and mixed feelings that had been her steady companions since her father died, then walked over to the piano and pulled the sheet off, sneezing at the dust cloud she created. Lifting the lid, she propped it open, raised the fallboard covering the keys and sat down at the bench.

      She ran a few scales, the notes echoing in the emptiness. Surprisingly, the piano was still reasonably in tune.

      Her fingers unerringly found the notes of “Für Elise,” one of the first pieces she had ever performed, and its haunting melody filled the silence as memories assailed her.

      Sitting at this same piano, her pudgy fingers plinking СКАЧАТЬ