The Rancher's Return. Carolyne Aarsen

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      “It’s so awesome,” the boy said, his breathless young voice battering away at Carter’s defenses.

      Carter’s heart stuttered. He even sounded like Harry. Coming back to the place where his son died had been hard enough. Meeting a child the same age Harry was when he died made this even more difficult.

      He forced his attention back to the woman. A light breeze picked up a strand of her long, brown hair, and as she tucked it behind her ear he caught sight of her bare left hand. No rings.

      She saw him looking at her hand and lifted her chin in the faintest movement of defiance. Then she put her hand on the boy’s shoulder, drawing him to her side, as if ready to defend him against anything Carter might have to say. She looked like a protective mare standing guard over her precious colt.

      Carter held her gaze and for a moment, as their eyes locked, an indefinable emotion arced between them.

      “My name is Carter Beck,” he said quietly.

      The woman’s eyes widened, and he saw recognition in her expression. He caught a trace of sorrow in the softening of her features, in the gentle parting of her lips.

      “I imagine you’ve come to see Nana … Mrs. Beck.”

      He frowned at her lapse. This unknown woman called his grandmother Nana?

      “And you are?” he asked.

      “Sorry again,” she said, transferring the reins and holding out her hand. “I’m Emma Minton. This is my son, Adam. I help Wade on the ranch here. I work with the horses as well as help him with the cows and anything else that needs doing. But I’m sure you know that,” she said with a light laugh that held a note of self-conscious humor.

      “Nice to meet you, Emma,” he said as he reluctantly took her hand. “Wade did tell me a while back he was hiring a new ranch hand. I didn’t expect …”

      “A woman?” Emma lifted her shoulders in a light shrug. “I worked on a ranch all my life. I know my way around horses and cows and fences and haying equipment.”

      “I’m sure you do. Otherwise, Wade wouldn’t have hired you.”

      Emma angled her head to one side, as if wondering if he was being sarcastic. Then she gave him a quick nod, accepting his answer.

      Carter glanced around the yard. “Where is Wade?”

      “He and Miranda went to town. She had a doctor’s appointment.”

      “Right. Of course.” The last time he’d talked to Wade, his ranch foreman had told him his wife was expecting.

      Emma’s horse stamped impatiently, and she reached up and stroked his neck. “I should put the horses away. Good to meet you, and I’m sure we’ll be seeing you around.” Then without a second glance, she turned the horses around, her son trotting alongside her.

      “Was that man Mr. Beck? The man who owns the ranch?” Adam’s young voice floated back to him.

      “Yup. That’s who it was,” Emma replied.

      “So he’s the one we have to ask about the acreage?” Adam asked.

      Acreage? What acreage? He wanted to call after her to find out what she was talking about. But he was sure his grandmother heard his motorbike come into the yard and would be expecting him.

      As he turned toward the house where his grandmother lived, his gaze traced over the land beyond the ranch yard. The hay fields were greener than he had ever seen them.

      Beyond them he heard the water of Morrisey River splashing over the rocks, heading toward the Elk River. The river kept flowing, a steady source of water for the ranch and a constant reminder of the timelessness of the place.

      Five generations of Becks had lived along this river and before that who knows how many generations of his great-great-grandmother Kamiskahk’s tribe.

      He felt a surprising smile pull at his mouth as other, older memories soothed away the stark ones he’d been outrunning the past two years.

      Then, as he walked toward his grandmother’s house, he passed the corral. He wasn’t going to look, but his eyes, as if they had a will of their own, shifted to the place where the horse waterer had been. The place where his son had drowned.

      His heart tripped in his chest and he pushed the memories away, the reminder of his son’s death stiffening his resolve to leave this place as soon as he could.

      He looked older than the picture Nana Beck had on her mantel, Emma thought, watching Carter stride away. He wore his hair longer, and his eyes were slate-blue instead of gray.

      Emma had heard so much about Nana Beck’s grandchild, that she felt she knew him personally.

      But the tall man with the sad eyes and grim mouth didn’t fit with the stories Nana had told her. The man in Nana Beck’s stories laughed a lot, smiled all the time and loved his life. This man looked as if he carried the burden of the world on his shoulders. Of course, given what he had lost, Emma wasn’t surprised. She felt her own heart quiver at the thought of losing Adam like Carter lost his son.

      “Can I feed the other horses some of the carrots?” Adam was asking, breaking into her dark thoughts.

      Emma pulled her attention away from Carter.

      “Sure you can. Just make sure you don’t pull out too many. We have to pick some to bring to Nana Beck.” She opened the corral gate and led her horses, Diamond and Dusty, inside, Adam right behind her.

      “Are we having supper there?”

      Emma shook her head as she tied the horses up. “Nope. Shannon … Miss Beck said she was coming.” Since Nana Beck’s heart attack, Nana Beck’s granddaughter, Shannon, Miranda, the foreman’s wife, and Emma all took turns cooking for Nana, making sure she was eating. Today it was Shannon’s turn.

      “Are you going to talk to that Carter man about the acreage?”

      “He just got here, honey. I think I’ll give him a day or two.” Emma loosened the cinches on Diamond’s saddle and eased it off his back. She frowned at the cracking on the skirt of the saddle. She’d have to oil it up again, though she really should buy a new one.

      And Adam needed new boots and she needed a new winter coat and she should buy a spare tire for her horse trailer. But she was saving as much as possible to add to what she had left from the sale of her father’s ranch.

      “Do you think he’ll let us have our place?”

      Emma frowned, pulling her attention away from the constant nagging concerns and plans of everyday life and back to her son.

      “It’s not our place, honey.” Emma pulled off the saddle blankets, as anticipation flickered through her at her and Adam’s plans. “But I do hope to talk to him about it.”

      Wade Klauer, the foreman, had told her about the old yard site. How it had been a part of another ranch Carter had bought just before his son died. When Wade told her Carter was returning, she’d seen this as her chance to ask СКАЧАТЬ