A new life...an old love

Can she risk loving him again in Shepherd’s Crossing?

With her family in disgrace, Lizzie Fitzgerald never imagined she’d end up at an Idaho ranch. Fortunately, she’s working with horses she loves—even if it means dealing with her old sweetheart Heath Caufield. The widowed father of an adorable boy, Heath hasn’t forgiven Lizzie for their past. But even a stubborn cowboy can’t stop the heart’s ability to forgive...or love again.

Multipublished bestselling author RUTH LOGAN HERNE loves God, her country, her family, dogs, chocolate and coffee! Married to a very patient man, she lives in an old farmhouse in upstate New York and thinks possums should leave the cat food alone and snakes should always live outside. There are no exceptions to either rule! Visit Ruth at ruthloganherne.com.

Also By Ruth Logan Herne

Love Inspired

Shepherd’s Crossing

Her Cowboy Reunion

Grace Haven

An Unexpected Groom

Her Unexpected Family

Their Surprise Daddy

The Lawman’s Yuletide Baby

Her Secret Daughter

Kirkwood Lake

The Lawman’s Second Chance

Falling for the Lawman

The Lawman’s Holiday Wish

Loving the Lawman

Her Holiday Family

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Her Cowboy Reunion

Ruth Logan Herne

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08552-6

HER COWBOY REUNION

© 2018 Ruth M. Blodgett

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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“I’m going to bunk here so I can keep an eye on things...”

Lizzie was going to sleep in the stable? On the floor?

It felt wrong to leave her there, which was silly because Heath had spent many a night in the lambing barns. But this wasn’t him. It was Lizzie. And when she stuck a ridiculously small pillow behind her head, he wanted to snatch it, send her to bed and say he’d watch the horse.

She gazed up at him, looking so much like the girl she’d been twelve years before. But different, too.

“It’s my job, Heath.” She kept her voice quiet. Matter-of-fact. And quite professional. “People don’t inherit a quarter share of a ranch worth millions without putting in some time. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She was right. He knew that.

But walking away from her—moving through the door into the cold spring night—was one of the toughest things he’d done in a long time.

He did it because it was the right thing to do. But he hated every minute of it.

And above all these things put on charity, which is the bond of perfectness. And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to the which also ye are called in one body; and be ye thankful.

—Colossians 3:14–15

Dear Reader,

I loved writing this story. I loved writing it because it gave me a chance to explore the two sides of forgiveness, and how our choices combine with our faith to make or break our paths in this world. Lizzie went through a tragic time at the age of eighteen. She should have had the best of everything by society’s standards, and yet it all came crumbling down around her and she took the challenge and lived her faith. Moving on. Moving forward. Forgiving even though she could never forget.

But Heath carried his anger like a hankie in a back pocket. He believed without question and let anger eat at him for years.

Grudges are dreadful things. There are a lot of grudge holders in my family. I guess there are grudge holders in lots of families, but what a sadness that is, to be angry and then stay angry...for how long? Too long.

Forgiveness isn’t just a Biblical reminder. It’s sound advice. It’s the basis for so much good in the world. That doesn’t make it easy, I know...but it makes it worthwhile. A true heart is a forgiving heart.

I hope you loved this story! Thank you for reading it, and you know I love to hear from readers, so feel free to email me at loganherne@gmail.com or friend me on Facebook where I love to play and pray with readers, family and friends. And if you’re wondering what’s happening, visit my website ruthloganherne.com or follow me @RuthLoganHerne on Twitter.

May you and yours be blessed in every way possible!

Ruthy

This book is dedicated to Casey...

I was blessed to help raise you and I’m absolutely delighted with the wonderful young woman you’ve become. You are a part of us...and always will be. You can’t get rid of me easily!!! Love you, kid.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Bible Verse

Dear Reader

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

This is the chance you’ve been waiting for. Hoping for. Praying for. Don’t blow it.

Lizzie Fitzgerald climbed out of an SUV more suited to her rich past than her impoverished present.

Her late uncle’s Western Idaho ranch splayed around her like an old-fashioned wagon wheel, spreading wide from the farmhouse hub. Straight south lay sheep barns forming a huge letter T. The sound of sheep and dogs rose up from beyond the barns where woolly creatures dotted rolling fields like white sprinkles on a kelly green cake.

On her left the long, curving graveled drive wound past a copse of newly leafed trees to the two-lane country road above. Behind her was a classic Western home. Two stories, wrapped in honey-brown cedar and a porch that extended across the front and down both sides. Two swings and a variety of rockers decked the porch.

“No doubt I will spend my share of time on that porch as the weather warms,” said Corrie as she stepped from the other side of the car. “What a pretty place this is, Lizzie-Beth! But I can see your attention is drawn to what brought us here.” She dipped her chin toward Lizzie’s right. “Your uncle’s passing and his love for horses. A family trait. Or downfall,” she added softly.

“It won’t be this time.” Lizzie strode toward the freshly built stables. “Not with someone willing to put in the effort. It wasn’t horses that brought down Claremorris,” she reminded Corrie, the stout African American woman who had raised Lizzie and her two sisters at the stately Kentucky horse farm. “It was greed and dishonesty. This will be different, Corrie. You’ll see.”

“I’ll pray it different, right beside you,” Corrie declared. “Then we’ll see, Sugar. You explore your new place. I’m going to see if there’s a restroom close by.”

Lizzie walked toward the classic U-shaped stable configuration while Corrie disappeared into the house. Two equine wings stretched from opposite ends of the central barn. A row of stable doors faced the groomed square of grass that was surrounded by a hoof-friendly walking area. Six windows lined the face of the central barn, facing the equine courtyard. Curtains in the upper windows suggested living quarters, much like they’d had in their Kentucky stable. The whole concept was modeled after the Celtic horse farms her great-grandparents had known in Ireland. Uncle Sean might not have liked the newspaper publishing business that made the family’s fortune, but he clearly appreciated their Irish roots.

A horse nickered from its stall. Another answered softly.

Then quiet stretched as if wondering about her. Testing her.

Footsteps approached across the gravel. She turned.

A cowboy strode her way, looking just as classic as the ranch around him. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Narrow-hipped. And...familiar. As if—

Lizzie pushed that thought aside. She’d loved a cowboy once, with all the sweet intensity of first love, but that was a dozen years and a lot of heartache past. And yet—

The cowboy drew closer.

He raised his head and looked at her, as if throwing down a challenge. And she knew why.

Heath Caufield. Her first love, with his coal-black hair and gray-blue eyes. Eyes that seemed to see right through her and found her wanting.

Her heart went slow, then sped up.

Adrenaline buzzed through her. She stared at him, and he stared right back. Then he said two simple words. “You came.”

“You’re here.”

“I live here.”

“You worked for my uncle?” None of this made any sense. Her uncle Sean hadn’t had contact with Lizzie’s lying, scheming father in decades. He’d purposely gone off on his own after serving in the Marines, as far from the Fitzgerald News Company as he could get. He’d spurned the newspaper empire, took his inheritance from Grandpa Ralph and gone west. And that was all she knew because that was all Corrie had ever told her. So how’d he hire Heath?

“I’ve been here twelve years. Been manager for three.”

She flushed.

He didn’t seem to notice her higher color. Or he simply ignored it. “I came here the same time you went off to Yale to get your fancy degree in journalism like your daddy and grandpa. How’s that working out for you, by the way?”

He looked mad and sounded madder, as if the demise of her family business, horse farm and estate was somehow her fault. It wasn’t, and she didn’t owe Heath any explanations. In her book, it was the other way around, but she’d put the past behind her years ago. She had to. He’d be wise to do the same. “Journalism with an MBA on the side. From Wharton. And enough expertise with horses and business to handle this, I expect.”

Her words and Ivy League degrees didn’t seem to impress him, but she wasn’t here to impress anyone. She was here to do a job, a job assigned to her by her dying uncle. If she and her sisters put in a year working the equine side of Pine Ridge Ranch and brought it out of the red and into the black, his estate would be split four ways, according to the lawyer’s formal letter. Her, her two sisters, and the current farm manager, who appeared to be Heath Caufield.

His look went from her to the stunning barn behind her, then back. “Twenty-eight horses, with eight of them bred to championship lines. And you show up on your own. Where are Charlotte and Melonie?”

His attitude caused a hint of anger to fire up inside her. Should she snap back?

No. There was nothing to be achieved in that. She kept her face and her voice even. “They’ll be along. They had things to finish up. And while they’ll be living here, don’t expect them to take on major horse work. Char just finished her veterinary degree and Melonie doesn’t do well in a barn.”

“She’ll adjust.”

The lick of anger burned a little brighter. “I believe Uncle Sean’s will said that Charlotte, Melonie and I had to live here for at least a year to earn our bequests. And that we needed to focus on getting the horse breeding business up and running or sell it off. Correct?”

He held her gaze with hard eyes and nodded. Slowly.

“Trust us to disburse the jobs as we see fit. They’ll do their share, but make no mistake about it, Heath.” She folded her arms and braced her legs because if there was one thing she was sure about, it was her ability to run horse from every aspect of the business. “I’ll be the one putting in the time in this stable. With whatever help you have available.”

“Help’s tight at the moment. We’ve got one last herd of sheep going into the hills since the government reneged on our grazing rights, and that leaves us short down here. For the next six weeks at least.”

“Then we’ll have to figure things out,” she told him. “Because the girls won’t be here for a few weeks, either.” She didn’t tell him why she was available at a moment’s notice, how the illustrious corporation her great-grandfather began had fired her as soon as the Feds indicted her father on multiple charges of embezzlement and money laundering. No publisher in today’s struggling print economy wanted their name connected to Tim Fitzgerald’s misdeeds. She was guilty by association. End of story.

Not out here. Not on this ranch. Or so she’d thought until she came face-to-face with Heath again. Who’d have thought her road less traveled would lead to this?

Not her. But that was okay because she’d grown up since then, and this ranch, those beautiful horses...

This job was made for her. She knew it. She was pretty sure Heath knew it, too. And if they both stayed calm, cool and collected, maybe they could make it work. As long as they both stayed on their own side of the ranch.

* * *

She’d come.

Heath hadn’t wanted her to. He’d have been fine leaving the past in the past, but now it rose up to meet him, and all because his friend and mentor’s life had been cut short...with a herd of pricey horses to comb, curry, exercise and tend. And not one lick of time to do it.

Sean’s cancer did this. He’d invested a crazy amount of money to begin a horse breeding enterprise, the kind of horses that required substantial bankroll, then took their own sweet time about paying it back.

Beautiful horse flesh, the kind that ranchers and rodeo riders alike loved. With Sean’s death, they had no one to oversee the million-dollar industry. No one except Lizzie and her sisters, straight off a pretentious Southern horse farm that had been seized by the government. Sean had called it God’s timing.

Heath considered it more like cruel fate. Either way, she was here, and if he was honest with himself, she was even more beautiful than she’d been a dozen years before. Long chestnut-toned hair, pulled back. Cinnamon eyes that almost matched the hair, and skin as fair and freckled as he remembered.

“Heath Caufield.”

He turned swiftly toward an old, friendly voice. “Corrie?”

She hugged him, laughed, then hugged him again as Lizzie began to retrieve bags from their vehicle.

“You came all the way up here? I can’t believe this.”

“Did you think I’d send any one of my babies on alone?” She stared at him as if aghast. “Not on your life! My girls will begin this new adventure with me by their sides. Caring for horses does not come easy and it’s a night-and-day enterprise. But that’s something you already know.”

He sure did. He’d spent seven years working their grandfather’s horse farm before he’d been banished.

Corrie offered him a frank look, a look that made him wonder how much she knew. And then it was gone. “Do you expect there’s room in the kitchen for one more? I don’t want to step on any toes.”

“There aren’t any paid positions open right now, Corrie.” He didn’t want to say money was tight on a ranch valued in the millions of dollars. But it was.

She shrugged. “I put some money by over the years, and followed some investing advice. Money’s not what I’m after. A roof over our heads, and food to eat—that’s not a bad day, is it? I’m not handy with horses, but I’d like to learn my way around sheep. Such docile creatures. And the lambs, so small, like a painting from the Good Book.” She indicated the size of a newborn lamb with her hands. “And of course, I am good in the garden. Always was, and fresh-grown food is a blessing.” She gave him a quiet scan. “You look good, Heath. Older. And wiser.”

“Smarter, for sure.” He didn’t look at Liz. He didn’t have to look at Liz to remember the strength and urgency of young love. How could one forget the unforgettable? He couldn’t, but a smart man put it all in perspective. “Steadier.”

“Steady is good.” She put a hand on his arm. “You’re married.”

She’d dropped her gaze to his left hand where his plain gold band glimmered. “I was.” A rogue cloud passed between them and the sun at that moment, chilling the spring air as it dulled the light. “She died from complications after having our little boy. Now it’s me and Zeke. My son. We do all right.”

Corrie did what she’d always done.

She prayed.

Right then and there, her hand on his arm, head bowed, she whispered a prayer for him and his child.

Then she stared up at him, and he couldn’t bear to see the pain in her eyes, in anyone’s eyes, because he’d moved on. He had no choice because he might have lost Anna but he still had his son, Ezekiel Sean Caufield. And Zeke came first now. In everything.

Lizzie had drawn close. He wanted to avoid her, especially now, remembering the birth of his son. His wife had risked her life and lost, but she’d been willing to go the distance for their child.

That set the two women a long ways apart. One who was willing to sacrifice for a child, one who couldn’t be bothered.

He had no time to dwell. He had work to do and a son waiting for him. A spunky little boy, waiting to play with his dad.

He started to turn. Lizzie turned at the same moment, and there they were, face-to-face.

Anger bubbled up from somewhere so deep it should have stayed buried, but Corrie’s words about his wedding ring had opened it like a fresh-dug grave.

Lizzie started to speak, then didn’t.

Just as well. They had nothing to say to one another.

He reached out and hoisted two duffel-style bags, then moved toward the porch.

“Where are you going?”

“Inside?” he said, because it was fairly obvious.

She hooked a thumb toward the stable. “Who’s living in the barn apartment?”

“No one.”

“Well, there is now.” She grabbed a rolling bag by the handle. “Leave the right-hand duffel here, please, but go ahead and take Corrie’s into the house. First rule of horse is to have someone close by that knows how to rule the horse.”

“You’re going to live in a barn?” He looked back at Corrie. She remained quiet, just out of the way, watching their back-and-forth.

“At least until I get a feel for the place.” She kept walking toward the barn. “Is it furnished?”

It wasn’t because Sean had cared for the horses until he got too sick, and he’d lived in the house. “No.”

“Wi-Fi?”

Sean had the equine offices built on the first floor purposely, facing the pasture. If he was throwing down a major equine business deal, he didn’t want the walk back to the house to interrupt. The vision of pricey mares and geldings in the rich, green grass added enticement to the deal. “Yes. There’s a full office set up with all the records. Hard copy and online. I can show you all that.”

“Corrie, I’ll see you once you’re settled.” Liz motioned toward the house. “The sooner I get set up, the quicker I can grab some furniture off Craigslist.”

Used furniture?

Living in the barn? Was she serious?

One look at her face confirmed that she was. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe she understood the stakes. Maybe she had what it would take to help make things right.

He hauled Corrie’s things inside and up the main stairs. He set the duffel inside the first room, then repeated the trip with the smaller bags and boxes.

His phone rang as he backed out of Corrie’s room. The name of a well-known Pacific Northwest grocery retailer flashed. He took the call, and by the time he’d finished a deal for four hundred fresh market lambs for wedding season, nearly a quarter hour had passed. That meant he’d left Lizzie to do all her own lifting and carrying.

He hurried back outside because no matter how rough their past had been, he wasn’t normally a jerk. At least he hoped he wasn’t, but with Pine Ridge teetering on the brink, he might be testier than normal. It wasn’t fair to lay that at her door, but there wouldn’t be time to sugarcoat things, either.

Lizzie wasn’t in his line of sight when he stepped outside. He started for the nearest stairs at the same time he heard his five-year-old son sigh out loud as he gazed out through the square, wooden spindles. “You’re so beautiful.”

Heath turned in the direction his son was facing and swallowed hard, because Zeke was one hundred percent correct. Standing on the graveled yard below, Lizzie Fitzgerald was absolutely, positively drop-dead gorgeous in an all-American girl kind of way. That thick, long hair framed a heart-shaped face. A face he’d loved once, but he’d been young and headstrong then. Somewhere along the way, he’d grown up.

“You’re quite handsome yourself.” Lizzie smiled up at Zeke, and despite Heath’s warnings about strangers, Zeke grinned back, then raced down the broad side steps.

“Are you staying here?” He slid to a quick stop in front of Lizzie. There was no curtailing his excitement. “My dad said we’ve got people who are coming here to stay, so that must be you. Right?”

“Correct.” She didn’t look at Heath and wonder about his dark-skinned son, and he gave her reluctant points for that. Zeke’s skin was a gift from his African American mother, but his gray-blue eyes were Caufield, through and through.

Lizzie squatted to Zeke’s level and held his attention with a pretty smile. “My name’s Lizzie. My friend Corrie and I are living on the ranch with you. I hope that’s all right.”

“Do you snore?”

She paused as if considering the question. “Not to my knowledge. But then, I’m asleep, so how would I know?”

“I do not snore,” declared Zeke. He shoved his hands into two little pockets, total cowboy. “But I have bad dreams sometimes and then Dad lets me come sleep with him.”

“I’m glad he does.”

“I know. Me, too.”

Heath came down the stairs. Zeke smiled his way. “This is the first girl visitor we’ve ever had, Dad!”

Lizzie raised her gaze to Heath’s. He thought she’d tease him, or play off the boy’s bold statement. There hadn’t ever been a woman visitor to the ranch house, except for the shepherds’ wives.

She didn’t tease. Sympathy marked her expression, and the kindness in her eyes made his chest hurt.

Maybe she’d grown up, too.

Maybe she could handle life better now. That was all well and good, but he’d lost something a dozen years before. A part of his heart and a chunk of his soul had fallen by the wayside when she chose school over their unborn child.

Guilt hit him, because he was four years older than Lizzie, and it took two to create a child. He’d let them both down back then, and the consequences of their actions haunted him still.

“You’ve got your daddy’s eyes. And the look of him in some ways.”

“And his mother.”

He didn’t mean the words to come out curtly, but they did and there was no snatching them back. Lizzie stayed still, gazing down, then seemed to collect herself. “That’s the way of things, of course.”

“Do you look like your mother?” Zeke asked as Lizzie stood up.

“I don’t. I look more like my dad and my Uncle Sean. My two sisters look like my mother.”

“Mister Sean was your uncle?” That fact surprised Zeke. “So we’re almost like family!”

“Or at least very good friends.” She smiled down at him. “I think I’d like to be your friend, Zeke Caufield.”

“And I will like being your friend, too, Miss Lizzie!”

“Just Lizzie,” she told him. She reached out and palmed his head. No fancy nail polish gilded her nails. And from the looks of them, she still bit them when she got nervous. Was the move to the ranch making her nervous? Or was it him?

“But Dad says I’m asposed to call people stuff like that,” Zeke explained in a matter-of-fact voice. “To be polite.”

“I think if you say my name politely, then it is polite. Isn’t it?”

“Yes!”

She looked at Heath then.

He tried to read her expression, but failed. What was she feeling, seeing his son? Did her mind go back to their past, like his did? Would this old ache ever come to some kind of peace between them? How could it?

“Dad, I’m so starving!”

“Hey, little man, lunch is ready inside.” Cookie, the ranch house manager, called to Zeke through the screen door. He saw Heath’s questioning look and waved toward the road. “Rosina had a doctor’s appointment, remember? So Zeke is hanging with me for a few hours.”

He’d forgotten that, even though he’d made a note in his phone. What kind of father was he?

“I’ll see to him, boss.” Cookie’s deep voice offered reassurance, but it wasn’t his job to watch Zeke, and keeping a five-year-old safe on a working ranch wasn’t a piece of cake. “No big deal.”

It wasn’t a big deal to the cook because he had a good heart, but it was a huge deal to Heath. His first priority should be caring for his son, and since he’d lost his friend and mentor, Heath was pretty sure he’d fallen down on that. He’d add it to the list of necessary improvements, a list that seemed to be getting longer every day.

“Maybe I can be with you?” Zeke had started for the stairs, but he paused and looked back at Lizzie. “Like while Dad’s working and Cookie’s busy. I won’t get in the way.” He shook his head in an earnest attempt to convince her. “I like almost never get in the way.”

Cookie bit back a laugh.

Heath didn’t. He slanted his gaze down. “Miss Lizzie will be busy. You stay here with Cookie. Got it?”

Zeke peeked past him to Lizzie, then sighed. “Yes, sir.”

“But for now we can have lunch together,” said Lizzie as she followed Zeke up the stairs.

He couldn’t stop Zeke from eating with Lizzie, and the reality of having her here was a done deal. But he could set limits when it came to Zeke. He was his father, after all.

But when Zeke aimed a grin up to Lizzie and she smiled right back down, another dose of reality hit him.

He couldn’t enforce sanctions on emotions. And from the way his son was smiling up at Lizzie, then reaching for her hand...

He swallowed a sigh and headed for the barn.

Emotions and Lizzie were a whole other rodeo. One he knew too well.

Chapter Two

“Sean did something your father never seemed to understand,” Corrie said softly as she and Lizzie approached the stablemaster’s quarters after a quick lunch. She indicated the sprawling ranch around her and the pristine buildings, a trait for classic perfection that came straight from Lizzie’s grandfather. “He worked hard and made his own success.”

In sheep...and now horses. Only he was gone too soon.

Lizzie found the whole thing pretty unbelievable, even though she was a huge fan of great woolens made by pricey designers. Or had been, when she’d had money for such things.

“Liz.”

Oh, be still her heart, hearing Heath’s voice call her name. She’d hoped for that long ago. Prayed for it. It had never happened, but for one swift moment she longed to turn and run to him, like she’d done long ago.

She didn’t.

She tucked the momentary surprise away. She stopped moving to let him catch up, but then another cowboy came their way on horseback. He drew up, dismounted and gestured toward the western hills.

A deep furrow formed between Heath’s thick, dark brows.

A long time ago she would have smoothed those furrows away. Not now. She’d learned a hard lesson back then, but one she carried with her still. Strength and independence had become her mainstay and they had gotten her this far.

He turned back toward the long drive, then whistled lightly through his teeth. She used to call that his pressure cooker release valve, when they were young and in love. But that was a long time ago, too.

“If you’ve got work, Heath, we can find our way around,” she told him. “We’ll take our own personal tour of the place.”

He went all Clint Eastwood on her. He didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t roll his shoulders the way John Wayne would have. But then, she wasn’t exactly Maureen O’Hara, either.

Then his expression darkened. “There’s a problem up top.” He pointed toward a far-off pasture dotted with hundreds of recently sheared sheep. “Some folks hiked in and thought they’d set up camp. Campers mean campfires, and if you’re green to these parts, you don’t always understand the dangers. And even though it’s still spring, we don’t encourage people to camp on the ranch. I’m going to head up and explain where the campgrounds are.”

“He didn’t tell them to move on?” Lizzie motioned toward the cowboy moving toward the barn.

“Jace did. They called him names and didn’t believe he had the authority to evict them.”

“Called him names?” Lizzie stared after the retreating cowboy before bringing her attention back to Heath. “I don’t—”

“Slurs,” said Corrie.

The older woman lifted her chin and Lizzie finally understood. The trespassers had spurned Jace because they doubted a black man had the authority to send them packing. “Someone called him out because he’s dark-skinned? That’s some crazy, foolish nerve right there. Want help moving them off?” She raised her gaze to Heath’s and stood firm. “Give me a horse. One of the ranch ponies. I’m ready to ride.”

“Whoa, girl.” Corrie put a hand on her arm. “I appreciate your willingness to stand up for truth, justice and the American way, but how about we unpack before you get yourself shot again?”

“Again?” Heath looked shocked.

“Grazed. No biggie. Part of the job, at least the one I had back then.”

“What kind of a job allows shooting at women?”

“I was overseeing the Mid-Central region, from Ohio to Indiana and all points south. A political story got too hot and I was with the investigative team when someone tried to scare them off. I got grazed by a bullet. It was long before the executive team decided that having a Fitzgerald on staff seemed imprudent while the company crashed and burned, taking a lot of people’s money with it. Bad press is bad press.”

“They fired you because of your father?” His brows drew together again. “Who does that kind of thing? If we all got fired because we had lousy parents, there would be a lot of us out of a job. Including me.”

“Publishing is different now,” said Corrie as Jace led a second mount out of the nearby barn. “It’s not like it was when I started with the Fitzgeralds and I don’t know that it will ever be that way again. There’s not a newspaper or news media corporation that can afford to risk their image for the dwindling advertising dollars.”

“I understand taking care of the bottom line. That doesn’t make it right to punish someone for their parents’ mistakes.”

“Lots of things in life aren’t fair,” said Lizzie as the other cowboy mounted his horse and came their way. “We cling to our faith and hold tight to the reins.”

“And trust the good Lord to look after us, same as always,” added Corrie.

“Jace, this is a family friend. Cora Lee Satterly. And Sean’s niece, Elizabeth Fitzgerald.”

“A pleasure, ladies.” He looked toward Heath. “Are we good?”

Heath nodded. “Let’s go.” He tipped his hat slightly toward Corrie. Just a touch to the brim. “I’ll see you later. Make yourselves at home.”

He said nothing to Lizzie.

She refused to let it get to her.

She’d made mistakes. So had he. But faith and a solid work ethic had pulled her firmly into the present. She’d stayed the course, gotten her education, and now was at the helm of a teetering agricultural business worth a small fortune while he ran the large sheep ranch alongside.

A horse stamped its foot, wanting attention. Another one followed suit.

She walked to the barns, determined. She’d get to know the horses, then the finances, then the horses again. One way or another she’d do right by both.

* * *

Anger formed a burr deep in Heath’s chest and hadn’t let loose in the two hours it took for him and Jace Middleton to ride into the hills, ask the campers to leave, then keep watch while they did.

By the time they’d packed their camp and pulled away in a huff, he was hungry, tired, annoyed and sore. There was only one prescription to cure all of that.

His son.

“I’ll tend the horses.” Jace took charge once they rode into the yard. “You go get Zeke.”

“Thanks, Jace.” He texted Cookie, and when the cook replied that Rosina had picked up Zeke an hour before, he climbed into his Jeep and headed toward the clutch of four-room cabins between the sprawling sheep barns and the road. He pulled into Harve and Rosina Garcia’s driveway. Harve had been working sheep for Sean for nearly twenty years. He and his brother Aldo had emigrated from Peru to work the sheep through the customary annual hill drives. For the local Peruvian Americans, the drive was a part of life, a tradition dating back to earlier times. Government grazing restrictions had changed things, which meant Pine Ridge had to change, too. And at no small expense, adding to current concerns.

Zeke had spotted his car from their backyard and raced his way before he came to a full stop. “Dad!”

The old knot loosened the moment Zeke jumped into his arms.

This was his reason for living, right here. This boy was his only connection to his beloved wife. And while he loved his son more than he could have ever imagined, if he’d known that Anna would be trading her life for Zeke’s, Heath would have found a different way to have a family. As he held his beautiful and precocious son in his arms, that thought made him feel like a lesser man.

“Junior taught me the coolest things you’ve ever seen in your life!” Excitement exploded from the boy like fireworks in a night sky. “He thinks I might be the best cowboy to ever ride the Wild Wild West someday, but he says I gotta get some boots, Dad, and I told him I’ve been askin’ for boots for a long, long time.” Two hands smooshed Heath’s cheeks as Zeke leaned closer. “I told him I would ask you again, because it is so very, very important.” He pushed his face right up to his father’s, making his voice sound squished and slightly robotic. “Can I please have a pair of real cowboy boots like you and Harve and Junior and everybody else in the world?”

Heath let his voice get all squishy, too. “I’ll think about it. Good boots are pricey, and your feet grow fast. In case you hadn’t noticed.” He deadpanned a look that made his little boy laugh out loud. “Let’s see if you were good for Rosie, okay?”

“He’s always good!” Harve’s wife bustled out of the door, despite the bulk of a nearly nine-month pregnancy. “And he is such a help to me, Heath. I don’t bend so well right now, and Zeke is right there to get things for me when the twins need something. And a true hand with the chickens and the pigs.” She beamed down at him.

“They smell.” Zeke screwed up his face as Harve Junior joined them. “But Junior says if I want to be a cowboy, I’ve got to be a good helper and not worry about a little stink now and then.”

“Junior’s right. And he’s a good hand on the ranch, so he knows what he’s talking about.”

“A good hand who needs to spend more time with his studies.” Rosie leveled a firm look to her son. “Fewer sheep, more facts.”

“A ranch hand doesn’t need college, Mom.”

“While that’s true, a well-rounded ranch hand never stops learning,” offered Heath mildly. “There’s a big world out there, Junior.”

“It’s pretty big right here, sir.” Frank admiration marked the teen’s gaze as he indicated the lush valley and the starker cliffs surrounding it. “There’s not too many things on the ranch I can’t fix, things I learned from my dad. Those are skills I can take with me wherever I go. Or if I stay here in Shepherd’s Crossing.” He jutted his chin toward the rugged mountains climbing high to the west. “I like taking sheep upland, then bringing them back down. There’s a sameness to it that suits me.”

Except they wouldn’t be doing that anymore, and the new grazing regulations were changing the face of ranching across the West. Where would that leave the hardworking shepherds who’d given up their lives in Peru to work at Pine Ridge and other sheep farms? Heath wasn’t sure.

“I send you to school for that very reason,” scolded Rosie lightly. “Because it is too easy for one to become entrenched in sameness. A rich mind entertains possibilities. And our town does not have much to offer these days,” she reminded young Harve. “A failing community offers few opportunities to youth. A wise mother encourages her child to have roots but to also grow wings, my son.”

“Dad!” Zeke drew the attention off Junior with that single word. “I think I’m almost big enough to come with you and the sheep up the tallest hills. I’m this many.” He held up five little fingers. “And I’ve been practicing my riding on the fence rail over there.” He pointed to the split rail fencing along a nearby pasture. “I’m getting really good!”

“Not yet, son.” When Zeke scowled, Heath lifted him higher in his arms. “And that face won’t get you anywhere. You need to be bigger to handle the sheep and the dogs and the horses. That’s all there is to it. It will all happen in its own time.”

He ignored Zeke’s pout as he set the boy down and hooked a thumb toward the Jeep. “Car. Seat belt. Let’s roll.”

“Okay! Bye, Rosie-Posie!” The boy hugged Rosina but not too hard. “I can’t wait to see the baby!”

“It is a feeling I share,” Rosie assured him, laughing. “I’ll see you next week, God willing. And after that?” She shrugged lightly. “Who knows?”

“I’ll bring my dinosaurs!”

“And we’ll create a habitat for them, a perfect spot for them to roam, beneath the old cottonwood tree.”

“Okay!”

Zeke scrambled into his booster seat, adjusted his belt, then got down to the important matters of the day. “What’s for supper?”

“Whatever Cookie came up with, but I thought I smelled beef and potatoes cooking.”

“Stew?” Eyes wide, the boy wriggled in excitement. “I love stew, Dad! And cake. And ice cream. And sometimes hot dogs.”

“A well-balanced diet is a boy’s best friend,” Heath teased as he drew closer to the main house again.

“And I get to have supper with our new company!” Zeke aimed a heart-melting grin at him through the rearview mirror. “That will be the most fun of all!”

From the boy’s vantage point, maybe. Heath held a different view, but that was his problem. Not Zeke’s.

“You sure do.” He pulled the car around to the back parking area, and climbed out. He was just about to remind Zeke about the basic rules of behavior around women...simple things, like wiping your face, washing your hands, no barreling through the house like a young elephant, and flushing the toilet, thank you very much...

But Zeke had spotted Lizzie coming their way across the square of grass. He raced toward her like a flash. “Hey! Hey!” He skidded to a stop along the dirt walk, spattering her jeans with fine brown dust. “Oops. Sorry!”

“I’ve been dirty before. I expect it will happen again, my friend.”

That voice. The drawl. Softened by years of education, but still enough to draw a man in, which meant he’d have to watch his step because the drawl and the beautiful woman were far too familiar.

She’d bent to talk to Zeke at his level, then looked up at Heath, smiling.

The smile gut-punched him. Was that his fault? Or hers?

She turned those rusty brown eyes on him and all he wanted was to go on listening as she spoke. Meet her gaze above that pretty smile. Since those were the last things he could do, he put the trip down memory lane on hold.

The kitchen gong sounded, the perfect segue into something else. Anything else. Anything that didn’t remind him of old losses and broken hearts. He’d made a grievous mistake by taking things too far. Yes, they’d been young. And in love.

But he should have known better.

“There’s my young helper.” Cookie grinned when they walked into the kitchen, and the hulking Latino’s face lit up a room when he smiled. “Where you been, little fellow? Usually you’re in here, pestering me for cookies we don’t mention to your father when it gets this close to supper time.”

“He is a bottomless pit these days,” Heath acknowledged. “And you’re mighty good to him, Cookie.”

“We’re good to each other,” the cook teased. Then he spotted Lizzie coming through the door and his grin widened. “And this young woman might have come to help with horses, but she brought reinforcements which only endears her to me more.” His grin indicated Lizzie had won his heart as well. “A man can deal with a whole lotta crazy on a spread like this, but some extra help in the kitchen is appreciated. And Miz Corrie mentioned something about Kentucky ribs that made me even happier,” Cookie added. “We’re gonna try those right soon.”

“The best way to survive on a ranch is by being nice to the cook.” Lizzie gave Cookie one of those utterly sincere smiles she’d practiced on Heath years before, but this time he noticed a difference in the smile. It was older. Wiser. Not jaded, and that was a surprise. But he’d be blind not to see the touch of sadness in her gaze, which made him wonder what had put it there.

She turned toward Cookie. “Do you mind if I take a plate out back? I don’t want to offend, but I want to study some things while I eat.”

“We like ambition in these parts,” the cook assured her. “Miz Corrie told me the same thing. And don’t you be worrying about cooking for yourself in those empty rooms.” He pointed a fork toward the premier horse stables. “You grab food here as needed. It don’t much matter where you lay your head, the food bag’s on for all.”

“Thank you.” Sincerity marked her voice and her gaze. “Corrie and I will appreciate that a lot. I’ll go get her now.” She went up the front stairs just before Jace and four other hungry stockmen strode in.

“Hey, guys!” Zeke high-fived each one, walking down the row of men with a mighty cute swagger.

“You goin’ to the front of the line, little man?” asked Ben, one of the older hands. “No one here minds if you do.”

“Naw.” Zeke faced him, chin up. “Front of the line’s for workers. My dad told me that.”

“Your dad’s a good man. I respect that.” Ben shifted his attention to Heath. “You know I’ll take your place and guide that last group into the northwest hills. I’ve got enough gumption in me yet.”

One of the younger cowboys snort-laughed, making them all grin, but Heath focused on the older man. “It’s not that you can’t do it, Ben. It’s that I should.”

“Ain’t no law sayin’ that, Heath,” Ben reminded him. “Things changed back in March.”

March was when they’d scattered the ashes of Sean Fitzgerald across the land he’d nurtured and loved for over three decades.

“And you should be here, keeping watch. There’s a lot at stake with that next clutch of sheep ready to drop. We’ve got to pick our battles. If we need to divide and conquer when the odds are against us, then that’s what we do.”

Heath started to reply as Corrie and Lizzie came down the stairs. He paused because the sight of two women in the main house lassoed the men’s collective attention, and Heath was pretty sure they wouldn’t hear a word he said until the shock wore off. “Guys, this is Sean’s niece, Elizabeth Fitzgerald. She’s here to take over the equine operation.”

Two of the men looked from him to Lizzie and back, surprised. Jace gave a nod of approval, Wick snapped his fingers the way old guys do, and Ben Fister moved forward. “You’ve got the look of your uncle about you, lass.”

His term inspired Lizzie’s smile. “My grandfather called me that. My mother’s father,” she added. “Not the Fitzgerald side.”

Heath knew that firsthand.

Ian Fitzgerald had never been good with children. He’d expected blue-ribbon equestrianship and top-notch grades from the girls. Other than that, the man had barely acknowledged his granddaughters during Heath’s years at Claremorris. He hadn’t thought much of it then. The older man was bent on building an empire, and did just that, and Heath had been a little awestruck by him.

Now Heath was a father. He saw things differently, which might be why the current state of the ranch hit him hard. He wanted Pine Ridge to succeed, and he appreciated Sean’s bequest, but everything had changed at the worst possible time... Could he be the father he needed to be and keep the ranch in the black when they were short on help?

“I knew Ralph Crawford, back in the day.” Appreciation marked Ben’s voice. “Before Sean moved north. He was a good man that never let the thought of money go to his head. A rare breed. Sean might have gotten his business savvy from Ian but his heart was all Crawford.”

“Not a bad combination,” said Corrie, and Heath put a hand on her shoulder.

“And this is a family friend, Cora Lee Satterly.”

“I’m Wick.” The man leaned forward and shook hands with both women. “Wick Williams, that is. I knowed Sean from the get-go, when he just got here and put money down on a chunk of land before anyone thought too much of it. He done all right for himself in these hills, ladies. I hope you will, too. And I’d like to say I’m sorry for your loss even though not much was said back and forth through the years.”

“To have built up such an amazing business with sheep is surprising, isn’t it?” Corrie asked. “It seems Sean was in the right place at the right time and everything fell into place.”

“Well, it weren’t sheep that built his fortune, but he liked to say that shepherding was good for the soul,” Ben told her.

“If not sheep, then what?” Lizzie asked the question of Heath, but Ben answered.

“Technology stocks. Investments. Sean got in on Silicon Valley’s ground floor back when everything we take for granted today seemed like science fiction. When Ralph passed away, Sean invested his inheritance. So the ranch was built on a foundation of stock options. Not stock. But the stock’s been paying the way for a good fifteen years now. Until—” Ben shifted his gaze to the equine barns. “Which puts a lot on your plate, Lizzie Fitzgerald. Something tells me you’re not as cowed by the whole notion as I thought you’d be, and I can’t tell you what that does for this old heart. Welcome to Pine Ridge. It’ll be mighty nice to have a couple of fine women on the ranch,” he added. “We’ve been mostly men until now, so you’re a welcome addition.”

“And when her sisters arrive, we’ll be four women strong,” said Corrie. “Although Charlotte and Melonie aren’t as ranch-savvy as our Lizzie. But they’re coming to help in whatever way they can.”

Not because they wanted to. Heath knew that. They needed the ranch, or at least their financial share, as much as the ranch needed hands-on help right now. Sean’s will had opened a window of opportunity when their father had shoveled millions of corporate dollars into offshore accounts, leaving the three girls broke and in debt.

Pine Ridge would be co-owned by the four of them. Heath, Lizzie, Melonie and Charlotte, as long as the women put in a year working on the ranch. Sean had done it because he’d felt sorry for the massive change in their finances caused by their father’s actions. But with the large outlay of cash for the equine start-up and the loss of government grazing lands, their solid financial foundation had been temporarily downgraded. If they blew it right now, the only option would be liquidation. And selling everything off would mean he’d failed his friend and mentor. That meant he couldn’t fail.

“Four women in the house?” Ben scratched the back of his head, grinning. “That will be a change in these parts.”

Unless they all ran screaming when they realized the hills of Idaho weren’t exactly the lap of luxury they’d become accustomed to, thought Heath.

He glanced at Lizzie.

She was watching him. Studying his reactions. Reading him, and not looking all that impressed with what she saw.

“Dad! Isn’t this like the best surprise ever?” Zeke grinned up at Lizzie, then Corrie. “And Miss Corrie says she knows how to make real good stuff and that maybe she can teach me like she did for Miss Lizzie, if she doesn’t get in Cookie’s way.”

“I’ll make way for cooking lessons,” said the cook with a grin. “I might learn a thing or two myself, having a genteel Southern woman in the kitchen.”

It wasn’t the best surprise, but it was also out of Heath’s hands. Ben saved him by addressing Zeke’s comment. “It’s a grand surprise, all right, and real nice to have family here. Brad,” he said to one of the younger ranch hands, “are you going to fill your plate so the line moves along? You’ve got some hungry folks waitin’.”

“Ladies first.” The young cowboy indicated the food dishes. “My mama wouldn’t take kindly to me going ahead of ladies.”

“That’s a kindness, for certain, and one I’m willing to accept.” Corrie moved forward. “Thank you, Brad.”

Lizzie followed her.

The men took their plates outdoors. Heath was tempted to follow them, but Zeke had other ideas. “Can we eat in here, Dad? With Lizzie and her friend?”

“Miss Lizzie. And Miss Corrie.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes, but didn’t correct him. His son. His rules. And manners mattered. Sean Fitzgerald might have worked a roughed-up patch of old farmland into a celebrated ranch, but he’d always expected manners from everyone. Heath followed his example.

“We were going to eat in the stable office,” Lizzie began, but when Zeke’s mouth downturned, she moved toward the big table. “But I’d like to get to know you better, too, and supper is the best time for that. Don’t you think?” She sat down and smiled his way.

She’d taken the seat Zeke usually used.

The boy didn’t fuss. He sat down to her right as Heath took the seat at the foot of the table. Corrie sat to his left, opposite Lizzie.

And then Zeke reached for Lizzie’s hand for grace. She gripped his little hand while Corrie reached out for his right hand. That left him and Lizzie unlinked.

He was absolutely, positively not going to hold Lizzie’s hand.

Lizzie seemed just as reluctant, and the only thing that saved them from a full-blown standoff was his beautiful boy. Zeke squeezed Lizzie’s hand and tipped that sweet face up to her. “You’ve got to hold Dad’s hand, okay? Just while we pray,” he added, as if assuring her that she could let go soon. “Like for a minute. All right?” He gazed up for affirmation, looking not only hard but impossible to resist.

Lizzie raised her hand slightly.

He raised his, just as slowly.

And then their fingers touched.

She didn’t look at him.

He didn’t look at her.

But his hand wrapped around hers like it had all those years ago, feeling both right and wrong. Maybe more right than wrong, and that took him by surprise.

It might have been the quickest grace he’d ever said. Anna would have scolded him. She’d believed that taking a few minutes to thank the Lord wasn’t something to be rushed, but savored.

Not tonight.

Not with Lizzie’s soft, long, slim fingers tucked in his, churning up memories he’d tried so hard to forget. Tried—and failed. Because all it took was the touch of her hand and that warm, sweet smile to bring it roaring back to life once more.

Chapter Three

“Dad!” Zeke clapped a hand to his forehead as they finished Cookie’s meal of thick, robust stew and fresh, warm bread. “Is it campfire night tonight? Remember? You promised.”

“I did say that, yes. Wick cleaned out the fire pit earlier. So we’re ready to go.”

“Then this is like the best day ever!” Zeke turned Lizzie’s way. “We couldn’t have campfires when the weather was really bad.” Wide eyes stressed the word really and his voice did the same. “But now we can!”

The last thing Lizzie wanted to do was elongate an already impossibly long day by going to the first campfire of the season, but when Zeke sent her an imploring look, she caved.

She and Corrie crossed the yard about an hour later, heading toward the warm, inviting glow of the wood fire. Corrie had brought a shawl, because the spring evening had taken a chill. “I haven’t been to a campfire since you gals were in that equestrian group back in the day.”

Neither had Lizzie. Heath Caufield and campfires hadn’t been on her radar a dozen hours ago. Now they were. “I should be working. There’s a lot to learn.”

“Although there is much to be said for getting to know those we’ll be working with,” suggested Corrie. She pulled the woven shawl tighter as they approached the fire pit tucked on a broad graveled spot below the house.

Brad and Jace stood and relinquished their seats on the bench the moment they spotted the women. Lizzie started to wave them back. Grabbing a spot on the thick log would be fine for her, but Heath caught her eye.

He shook his head slightly.

Just that gentle warning to accept the offered gesture, so she did.

Zeke rounded the fire and came her way. “You came!”

“It was a hard invitation to resist, Zeke.”

His grin was reward enough, but he made things even better by proffering a small brown paper bag. “Cookie brought stuff for s’mores, but I don’t like them so he gave me cookies instead. Do you like cookies?” He was quick to include Corrie in his generosity as he held the bag open. “I didn’t like grab them with my hands or anything so they’re pretty clean.”

“A pretty clean cookie sounds like the best offer I’ve had all day, Zeke.” Lizzie had spent two days sitting in a car, driving cross-country, and she’d been studying the horse financial records for hours. The last thing she should do was add empty calories to her already messed-up daily fitness plan, but looking around the ranch, she figured her step tracker was about to get a serious daily workout. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” He smiled up at her, eyes shining, as if sharing a cookie around the campfire was the best thing ever. When she bit into the broad double chocolate chip cookie, she couldn’t disagree.

“You made a wonderful campfire even better, my friend.” He giggled as he handed a cookie to Corrie, too. When she fussed over how good it was, the boy’s grin grew wider.

Endearing. Joyous. Carefree.

A dear boy, a delightful child. Gazing at him, she wondered what their little boy would have been like. Would he have gotten her eyes? Heath’s hair? Would he have had Heath’s inner strength and the Fitzgerald writing skills? His grandmother’s fine heart and gentle spirit?

Corrie laid a hand against her arm and pressed closer to whisper in Lizzie’s ear. “You are wearing your heart all over your face, darlin’.”

She couldn’t help it. Not at this moment. And then Zeke patted her knee. “If you like Cookie’s chocolate cookies, wait ’til you try the peanut butter ones with the most special chocolate frosting ever.”

“They can’t be as good as these.” She made a face of doubt and the boy wriggled.

“I think they are!”

So sweet. So bright. Innocence and hope, a perfect blend. She met his gaze. “I do love chocolate the most.”

“And potatoes.”

Heath’s voice brought her attention around. Three people sat between them, creating a good distance. Enough, she’d thought.

But it could never be enough, she realized when he lifted his eyes to hers. She read the pain in his expression. For his lost wife? For his motherless child? Or was it her presence causing that angst? “I still love potatoes. I blame my Irish heritage. They haven’t come up with a potato I don’t enjoy.” The reply was for Heath, but she kept her attention on his son.

“My dad loves ’tatoes, too.” Zeke leaned against her leg, keeping back from the fire. The boy’s warmth felt good against the cooling air. “I do a little bit, but mostly I like everything.”

“A boy with a healthy appetite is a wonderful thing.” Corrie smiled at him. “Your daddy had a great appetite when he was younger, and look how big and strong he got. I think you’ll do all right, Zeke Caufield.”

“You knew my dad when he was little? Like me?”

Corrie shook her head. “Not that little, but young enough. Your dad and your grandpa worked with me a long time ago.”

Heath stood quickly. He motioned to Zeke, ignoring Corrie’s statement. “Bedtime.”

“But I’m not even a little bit tired.” Zeke braced his legs and met Heath’s gaze across the fire, looking like a miniature version of the strong man facing him down. “Can I stay up with Miss Lizzie and Miss Corrie for just a little bit? Pleeease?”

Heath said nothing.

He didn’t argue. He didn’t get bossy. He simply met the boy’s gaze. In less than half a minute, the boy trudged around the fire and thrust his hand into Heath’s.

“Say good-night.”

“Night, everybody.” Chin down, the little cowpoke walked away. He didn’t fuss and didn’t fight. He obeyed his dad, as if trusting him to make the right call even though he disagreed.

It felt good, watching them. And different. Their branch of the Fitzgeralds didn’t win any parenting awards. If it hadn’t been for Corrie’s love and dedication... Lizzie leaned over and kissed Corrie’s round, brown cheek. “I love you, Corrie.”

Corrie kept her gaze forward, on the fire and on Heath and his son. “I love you, too. And no matter what happens here, it is good to break away from the past, Lizzie-Beth. To forge ahead.”

“An Idaho ranch wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” she whispered back when a handful of bleats broke the night air. “But a stable full of horses is more of a dream come true than a punishment right now.” She studied the flames for drawn-out seconds. “It’s an unexpected twist in a winding road, that’s for sure.”

“What we’ve got in mind and what the good Lord’s got planned don’t always agree, but that’s what makes life interesting. Sometimes it’s a collision course. Other times it’s a wide, beautiful curve.”

“I think our family has more experience with the collisions.” A smallish log had rolled off the fire’s edge. She leaned down and prodded it back into place. “Is that our destiny or our curse?”

“Neither,” Corrie declared. “It’s human foolishness. Your grandfather stepped on a lot of toes to build that publishing empire, and I’ve heard people say his father did that, too, before him. And then your daddy did the same, but he didn’t have ambition. He wanted the world handed to him.”

“And if it didn’t happen, he stole.”

“Good or bad, it all comes down to free will,” Corrie said. “You see the beauty Sean created here. That’s the side of the family you take for, Lizzie. The hardworking trait, passed down. All three of my girls can say that and be proud.”

“Well, life’s got a way of keeping us humble, so pride’s not a real big deal right now. And I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me in the morning. There are twenty-eight horses to learn about, I need to find a herd stallion, and I’ve got three emails from potential foal buyers so I need to brush up on lineage so I know what I’m talking about.” She stood and straightened her shirt.

In a gesture of respect, all the men stood up as well.

Cowboy code... Respect. Honor. Honesty.

She’d loved that about Heath when they were young. His strong focus, his work ethic, the way he put the animals and others first. That sharpened the disappointment when he’d never looked back to see how she’d fared. After.

He’d gone on with his life.

She’d gone on with hers.

Now here they were, working side by side. Two goals, one ranch, and a lot at stake. More than she’d thought possible until she’d faced those stables and the cowboy running them.

“I’m going to stay a bit. Chat with the men.” Corrie waved her off. “Good night, darlin’ girl.”

“Good night.” She crossed the graveled area, moved by the rugged beauty surrounding her. She hurried inside, grabbed her camera, and came back out, snapping evening pics of the men, the campfire, and Corrie’s sweet face set against a Western backdrop of hills, barns and land. She’d create a photo journal of this new path, something to share or to keep for herself. Either way, she could chronicle this new opportunity in pictures.

Then she saw him, standing alone now that Zeke was tucked into bed, braced against the top rail of a fence. Heath, in profile, backlit by a full moon, a Western cover shot if ever there was one.

She took a handful of pictures, knowing the sophisticated camera would adjust for light and distance.

Then she stood there, quiet, watching him through the camera’s lens. Strong, rugged, determined, and looking so lonely and lost it made her heart ache.

She lowered the camera and moved toward the door. She didn’t want him to catch her studying him. Wondering about him. But when she got to the thick oak door she turned one last time.

He’d turned, too. Their eyes met. Held.

She didn’t know how to break the connection. For just a moment, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

But then she did. She’d learned a few lessons over the years. To forgive, to never hold a grudge, and to make it on her own.

She didn’t hate men for letting her down. Men like her father. Her grandfather. Heath. But she wasn’t foolish enough to trust one again, either. A movement outside caught her eye as she crossed to the stairs leading to her rooms. Furtive and low, something skulked outside, moving toward the pasture beyond.

Too small for a wolf. Maybe too small for a coyote, too, the creature slipped through the night, but the low profile and the stealthy manner put her on alert.

Foals could be damaged by rogue wild animals. And worried mares might have less milk for their growing babies. She couldn’t afford to risk either, so she’d figure out what this was and how to handle it because she didn’t need reminders about what was at stake within these barn walls.

She’d seen the spreadsheets. No sneaking creature of the night was going to ruin this for her, for the ranch or for those beautiful mares. She’d see to it.

* * *

Heath couldn’t get into the busyness of lambing fast enough, if having Lizzie around messed with his head this much. There was nothing like delivering hundreds of tiny creatures to keep your mind occupied, but tonight images flooded him.

Lizzie, in the kitchen, engaging the men in conversation. Or on the porch, her long, russet hair splayed across her shoulders, smiling at his son. At the campfire, her lyrical voice and the flickering flames taking him back in time.

Heath didn’t have the luxury of lingering in the past. Fatherhood required him to be fully present in today, but that reality had changed when he’d come face-to-face with Lizzie that morning.

The other reality was the massive amount of work that they’d have on their hands after Ben, Aldo and Brad headed into the hills for the last time ever.

He pushed off the rail to return to the house, and there she was, backlit by the stable lights. She stood quiet and still, with a beauty he remembered like it was yesterday. Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman that feareth the Lord shall be praised...

He used to care what the Bible said. He used to pray with his heart and soul.

Now he only went to church because he believed Zeke needed that structure, but the old verse washed over him as they locked eyes. He stood there, unable to shift his gaze while years melted away.

She broke the connection first and kept walking toward the stables.

In a weird reversal of roles, he moved toward the house. It had been different in Kentucky. She’d lived in the grand house and he’d bunked with his drunken father in the upper part of the horse barn, but he couldn’t find any pleasure in the change. It felt wrong on so many levels. Lizzie Fitzgerald shouldn’t be sleeping in a barn. Not now. Not ever.

And yet she was.

He cut around to the back door and slipped inside. He kicked off his shoes and moved into the bedroom he shared with his son.

Anna had made the ultimate sacrifice five and a half years before. She’d understood the dangers to herself, but refused to terminate the pregnancy. And when the resulting heart damage from the previously undiagnosed condition proved too much for her body to bear, she’d kissed him and the perfect baby boy goodbye. And then she was gone. No pain. No suffering. Just wave upon wave of immeasurable sadness.

Zeke rolled over. He brought his hand toward his mouth, an old habit from when he used to suck his thumb, but then his small brown hand relaxed against the white-cased pillow.

Heath kissed the boy’s cheek. Then he went to bed, listening to the sound of his son’s breathing, like balm on a wound. But when he couldn’t get Lizzie’s russet-toned eyes out of his mind, he realized that shrugging some things off was much harder than others.

Chapter Four

Determined. Troublemaker. Big Red. Night Shadow. Red Moon Rising.

Lizzie stared at the impressive list of stallion names, refusing to be overwhelmed.

Getting eight mares bred to top quarter horse stallions had set her uncle back a cool hundred grand. And based on their lineage, the healthy foals could pay back three times that without a single credential to their record.

That meant each one better hit the ground running, healthy and sound.

You are now responsible for a million dollars in marketable goods. She stood and faced the broad window overlooking the verdant pasture as Heath walked toward the stable the next morning. And your goods aren’t static. They’re impulsive babies who run and jump and cavort. Your job is to keep them alive and unblemished.

Her business major had prepared her for the financial scenario, but she’d assumed she’d be working with publishing spreadsheets and corporate executives, not living creatures. Despite all she knew about horses, she’d never felt less prepared in her life.

“Sticker shock?” asked Heath when he paused at the office door.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Don’t get me wrong.” Heath came through the door. “Sean knew what he was doing. He didn’t play to lose. Ever. And his goal was to bring Saddle Up blood onto the farm one way or another, so three of those mares are bred to Saddle Up stallions. Speaking of which, this just came through the fax.”

He handed her a picture of a magnificent red roan quarter horse. Red Moon Rising, with an offer of sale attached from Rising Star Ranch.

She sighed, staring. “He’s gorgeous.” She noted the western Nebraska ranch named in the corner of the fax. “I have a note here from Uncle Sean saying this was his top choice, and pretty sure they’d never sell. And yet—” She raised the spec sheet higher. “Here we are. How did this happen?”

“I don’t know. Sean approached them over a year ago and got nowhere. Then this appears, out of the blue. Do we want him?”

The perfectly formed horse stood tall and proud, the way a stallion should. But he had a gentleness in his eye, too, an important factor on a working farm. “That’s not even a question. Of course we do. But I thought we were short on money.”

“Short on cash, temporarily. At least until we get things squared away with all the changes. But we’re long on assets,” he told her. “And since this is something Sean tried to do before he died, I think we need to follow the plan.” He tapped the printed sheet in her hand. “I’m glad they decided to share. Sean could be mighty convincing when he needed to be. When it came to horses, he knew what he wanted and where to get it. I don’t have the knack,” he went on. “Sheep, yes. Horses, no. But Sean did. And he thought you did, too.”

“Being an accomplished rider doesn’t make me a breeder.” She clutched the sale offer and gazed at the mares in the near pasture. “And there’s no big name vet on hand to offer advice and testing like other places have. And one groomer to help me, a guy who doesn’t speak horse.”

“Not everyone’s a whisperer, Liz.”

He used to tease her about that when they were young, about her ability to work well with the horses, to understand what they wanted. Needed. “It’s not whispering. It’s just instinct.”

“It’s a gift and not everyone has it. Eric Carrington is expanding his place a little further south in the valley. He’s looking at expanding his cattle breeding operation into horses. He and Sean talked about a partnership, but then—”

“Angus cattle, black and red.” She pointed to the laptop computer. “His name came up in my searches. We passed his pastures on the drive in, didn’t we?”

“Yes. And if you decide to cut the deal for Red Moon Rising, I’ll transfer the money to the equine account. That’s a mighty fine-looking horse right there. And there are three stallion stalls sitting empty at the moment. He’d pay for himself in stud fee savings in a year.”

She tapped the open page with one finger, thinking, then looked up. “A part of me feels vastly unqualified to make this call.”

He waited.

“The other part feels like someone just handed me the best opportunity in the world. To make my living working with horses. Who’d have thought?” She lifted her shoulders lightly because when the bankruptcy rulings swept in, the horses, the tack, the trailers, the food...everything disappeared. And there wasn’t a thing the girls could do about it.

“Then the hesitant side will tug the reins on the other side so you don’t go hog wild.” He glanced behind her and whistled lightly when he saw the big calendar she’d mounted on the wall. “All the auction dates for next year. You didn’t waste any time.”

“No time to waste if we’ve got foals due all summer. We want mama and baby teams to socialize together the first six months, so if I’m going to make this call, I need to get on it now.”

“I’ll leave you to it. Call my cell if you need anything. I’ll be in the newer lambing barn up front, but I can get back here quickly.” And just when she thought he was extending an olive branch, his face tightened. “Whether I like it or not, what happens in this barn can make or break thirty years of hard work and investment. And that’s nothing I take lightly.”

She met his gaze and kept her face flat on purpose.

She didn’t punch him.

She gave herself extra points on that, because she really wanted to.

“Nor should you. Thanks for stopping by.” She sat down, dropped her eyes and reached for the phone, effectively dismissing him.

He hesitated.

She didn’t look up.

And then he left, heading toward the house.

She tried not to notice how good he looked as he strode away. She tried to ignore the breadth of his shoulders in that long-sleeved blue T-shirt and how easily he moved in the faded denim jeans. He wasn’t wearing fancy Western boots. He walked off in well-made, waterproof farm boots, perfect for working stock animals.

As the Rising Star Farm phone began ringing, she saw Zeke rush out of the house to meet his dad. Heath scooped him up, noogied his head, then hugged him close.

An old ache nudged her heart with a feeling of loss, but then someone at Rising Star answered the phone. She brought her attention back to the present. She hauled in a breath and introduced herself to the person on the other end, and by the time she was through her day, she’d cut a deal on an impressive stallion and set up an appointment with Carrington’s ranch manager to see two mares the next day.

They might not be what she was looking for. Until she got here and met Sean’s herd, she didn’t know what she’d be looking for.

Now she’d had a firsthand look, and if Sean was willing to put his trust in a woman he didn’t know, Heath better be all right with doing the same.

He’d said that Sean played to win. She did, too. And the only time she lost was when the outcome was taken totally out of her hands. But life went that way sometimes, and that meant you needed to straighten up, keep your chin up and pray your way through it. She’d had to do that more than once in her life, and when needed...she’d do it again.

* * *

Heath transferred farm equity funds into the equine account, and by the time he got showered and dressed for supper, the funds were out of the account. “You cut the deal with Rising Star that quickly?” he asked when Lizzie crossed the green square separating the stables a quarter hour later.

“Yes.” She tipped a smile over his shoulder when Zeke spotted her and came racing their way. “I read Uncle Sean’s notes on possible stallions, and he was over the moon about this one. No pun intended,” she added. “If he felt that strongly about Red Moon Rising, I didn’t want to take a chance they might renege on the deal. Hey, bud.” She laughed when Zeke skidded to a stop and grabbed her hand. He looked up at her, she looked down at him and when they shared a smile, an old flicker of something warm and good ignited within Heath.

“They’ll deliver him Thursday with all the appropriate testing and paperwork attached. He’s already in the money with his foal lines, so unless something unexpected happens to him, we’ve got a perfect match for those next broodmares.”

Zeke tugged her arm. “What is that?” he asked when she looked back down.

She made a face of question. “What is what, sweet thing?”

His smile deepened again as he tightened the grip on Lizzie’s hand. “A brood thing.”

“Ah.” She squatted to his level, and Zeke’s eyes lit up. “It’s a horse who’s going to have a baby. A foal. Some of the horses are pregnant and that’s what we call them. Broodmares.”

He clapped his other hand to his forehead, astonished. “We’re going to have baby horses?”

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