The Rancher's Promise. Jillian Hart

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СКАЧАТЬ of what he’d come to think about her and women like her, he didn’t like that. Not at all.

      Blurry-eyed, Rori bounded through the early morning kitchen, eyes glued to the coffeemaker in the corner. Thank heavens it was chugging away. The smell of caffeine lured her straight to the counter.

      “Good mornin’, Pumpkin.” Gram’s voice startled her. There was a clang of a pot at the stove. “Aren’t you up early?”

      “This isn’t early. This is still technically nighttime.” Dawn was a light haze at the rim of the dark world. “Do you get up every morning like this?”

      “Early to bed, early to rise.”

      “That’s your secret to being healthy and wise.” She grabbed a cup from the cabinet. “I’m going to ride Copper over to the Grangers and leave you and Gramps with the truck.”

      “Oh, we were looking forward to running you over there.” Gram flipped sausage links in the fry pan. “Del is so pleased to have you back, he’s over the moon. I am, too. Your sweet face livens up our place.”

      “Not as much as yours does.” She brushed a kiss against her grandmother’s cheek. “I won’t be home until late.”

      “Should I keep a plate of supper warm for you?”

      “No, but leave the dishes. I have to make myself useful some way.” The sound of coffee pouring and the fragrant smell of the rising steam made her sigh. A few jolts of caffeine and maybe her brain would stop feeling heavy and foggy. She hadn’t slept so hard in ages. It was all the fresh air and country living. At least being forced to come back home had a few perks.

      “You know I can’t let dishes sit around in the sink. Goodness.” Gram laughed to herself. “The idea.”

      “Try it, would you?” Rori slid the carafe back onto the burner and reached for the sugar bowl. “I have to earn my keep, and I’ll be mad if you don’t.”

      “I don’t want you mad.” Gram slid a sausage from the pan onto a paper-toweled plate. “I want you stayin’ around as long as you can.”

      “Me, too.” Rori gave the coffee a stir and set the spoon in the sink. “There’s no place like home.”

      “You remember that when you start thinking about leaving us at summer’s end.” Tears prickled in her grandmother’s gentle blue eyes. “Not that I blame you, but I miss you and your sister when you’re not around.”

      “Ditto.” Rori squeezed her grandmother’s frail shoulder, unable to say how hard it had been to stay away. Visits home weren’t enough, and a part of her had been sorely missing. She loved her work at the private arts school where she taught piano and music theory, but it took coming home to remember how much she loved Wyoming’s peace and quiet, the restful stretch of rolling fields, hills and endless sky of this farm and the family she loved. Her grandparents had taken her in and her younger sister when their parents had been killed in a blizzard. “Give me a call if you need anything. I won’t be home until near dark.”

      “Have a good day, Pumpkin.” Gran whipped open the oven door and wrapped something in a paper towel. “Here. You need breakfast.”

      She took the scrambled egg-white sandwich with thanks and headed outside. Things were simple here. Balanced meals three times a day, no endless hurrying, no pressure to measure up, no feeling like a Wyoming girl out of place in her husband’s life.

      It was an odd feeling to grab the jingling bridle from the barn, whistle to Copper in the pasture and slip between the barbed-wire fencing as she did when she was younger. If only she could take an eraser and wipe away that chunk of time she’d spent in Dallas, then maybe she could find a way to be happy again. Erase her mistakes and find some peace. Wouldn’t that be a blessing?

      “Good morning, old friend.” She petted Copper’s nose when he came up to her. She laughed when he tried to get a hold of her sandwich. “That’s not for you. Sorry.”

      Copper gave her a sheepish look, as if he were saying he had to give it a try anyway. She slipped the bridle over his head, the bit into his mouth, and managed to get onto his back without spilling her coffee. They headed off through the fields surrounded by birdsong and the golden crown of the rising sun. Beauty surrounded her. The only shadow that loomed ahead of her was thoughts of Justin.

      He wanted to leave the past behind them. Water under the bridge. He apparently had no problem doing that. He had probably gotten over her in a flash. Men were built that way, she feared. They didn’t feel as deeply as women did. Love didn’t rope them in as much, nor did it sink beyond the heart to the soul.

      Justin had gotten hurt when she’d told him she couldn’t marry him and set aside her dreams for him. But he probably hadn’t shed a tear over it. He probably didn’t feel racked with regret regardless of the number of years that had passed. He just probably turned off his heart like a switch, and she was sorry for that.

      He would never know how much she had wanted to say yes. She took a bite of her sandwich and a sip of coffee. He would never know how afraid she’d been of living a life without having reached her biggest goals, ending up with nothing but a list of regrets. Losing her mom in junior high had affected her forever. Life was finite. You had to make it count.

      Ironically, she’d racked up more regrets by running toward her future. One thing was for sure, there would be only smart decisions and careful choices from here on out. As if in agreement, the sun peeked over the rolling hills, bringing light to the shadows.

      Justin heard the muffled clip of horseshoes on the hard-packed dirt outside the main horse barn. He stuck his head over the rail to see Rori riding in on a sunbeam. Dust motes danced in the soft yellow rays, hazing her like a dream.

      Or, he realized, like an answer to a quick prayer. Wildflower was standing next to him, skin flicking, head down, panting heavily. “Rori, can I ask you to race up to the house and call the vet?”

      “What’s wrong?”

      “My sister’s horse is having some trouble.” He kept his voice calm and authoritative, letting the mare know he was confident and in charge of her. That was the best way to comfort the frightened creature. “The number’s on the wall above the kitchen phone. Tell Nate it’s Wildflower and he needs to get over here pronto. Oh, and fetch my dad, too.”

      “You got it.” She wheeled the red horse around and with a touch of her heels, the gelding leaped into an all-out gallop. Head down, tail flying. It was good to see the old gelding still had his racing legs.

      Wildflower blew out her breath to get his attention. She watched him with unblinking liquid brown eyes, staring so hard it was as if she were trying to give him an important message. Good thing he spoke horse.

      “I hear you, girl.” He rubbed her muzzle. “Let’s try to walk you. Are you game?”

      She followed him into the aisle, head down, winded. First foals could be tough on a small mare. He and his dad had kept a close eye on her and they’d caught her trouble as early as they could, but she had a hard row ahead. He wished Cheyenne had been able to make it back home from vet school. He could really use her help right now. He didn’t want to be the one she blamed if things went wrong.

      “Just keep it slow and steady, girl. I’m right here with you.” He and Wildflower had made it СКАЧАТЬ