Roxanne Rustand - High Country Homecoming

She’d already seen how he favored his weak right arm and shoulder, while handling that heavy pan of ham and scalloped potatoes. And when she’d heard the sound of gunfire down in the shooting range this afternoon, she’d walked up the hill and briefly watched him struggle to hit the targets.

At sixteen he wouldn’t have missed a single shot. But even from the top of the hill, she’d seen his rifle barrel wobble. Not wanting to embarrass him, she’d slipped away before he noticed she was there, but the problem was clear enough. How was he was going to manage doing chores?

Maybe he wasn’t warm and friendly, and he certainly wouldn’t ever be a pal. But she just couldn’t ignore someone in need, even if he wished she would disappear.

“Hey, Devlin—if you need any help, just holler,” she called out. “You’ve got my cell number, now.”

He didn’t respond.

She stared at the door closing behind him, feeling an old, familiar wave of compassion and frustration.

He hadn’t wanted help or sympathy years ago, and he clearly didn’t want it now. Which was fine. She already had a lot on her plate without trying to get past his prickly defenses.

Still, a warm sense of hope and purpose spread through her. She’d volunteered at the local no-kill animal shelter over the past few years and had rehabbed many foster animals in her little rental house. Wounded birds. Abused dogs. Feral cats. With love and care, she’d been able to send all of them back to the shelter when they were ready to find good forever homes.

Granted, a man like Devlin was a lot more complex than, say, a Corgi, but could she help him ?

As a cheerleader and a compassionate listener, maybe she could tactfully help him somehow...or push him to find the services and support he needed. If only he would let her.

She re-taped the box she’d just opened, set it aside and sliced the shipping tape on a box marked Linens. This one was stuffed with sweaters. She sat back in her heels with a sigh.

Obviously her hasty departure from Minneapolis hadn’t been conducive to good organization, but she’d been so careful otherwise.

She’d avoided mentioning her moving plans to the few friends she had left. Canceled her newspaper and magazine subscriptions. Switched her bills to online payments. And then she’d arranged a three-month disappearance at a private Montana ranch, where she would pay for everything in cash.

Escaping that one persistent reporter—who had continued to paint her in his series of articles as a greedy, conniving Jezebel angling for a wealthy, married man—had been her first priority, and speed had been her greater concern.

Even after she’d been exonerated, the reporter had refused to let the story go. Since then she had applied for several jobs. Every time, the interviewer had looked at her name, then looked up at her face with dawning recognition. And that job possibility had ended.

But now she was far away. Starting her life over. And hopefully he’d find no trail to follow.

* * *

Devlin groaned as he watched the twins’ pony hightail it out of the front of the barn. For an animal that fat and lazy, Lollipops showed surprising speed now that he was free.

He’d turned his back on the beast for a split second while dropping hay into the corner manger of the pony’s stall, never expecting that Lollipops would move a muscle except to head toward his grain and hay. He’d seen the twins riding in the arena, trying to get the pony into a lope, and a truck with an empty gas tank moved faster.

Muttering under his breath, he grabbed a bucket of pellets, plus a halter and lead rope, and jogged outside to the parking area.

The pony was nowhere in sight.

Not by the pasture fence to the east of the barn, where a couple dozen broodmares close to their foaling dates could be seen standing slant-hipped around three round bale feeders, whiling away their time until being brought in for the night.

Not along the fence on the other side of the barn, where a dozen mares and their new foals were out on forty acres of pasture.

And not along the fence line perpendicular to the broodmare pasture, farther to the west, where a herd of heavily pregnant cows were lined up along the long feed bunk.

That meant the pony could be heading down the long gravel lane toward the highway, which would be a remarkably bad idea given the semitrucks that blew by a good twenty miles an hour over the speed limit. Or, if he’d thundered past the broodmare pasture, he might have turned into the dirt lane leading up to the summer range pastures. Though unlikely that he’d leave close proximity to the other horses, he could end up lost forever if he skirted the fences and kept going.

Devlin needed help, and Chloe was the last person he’d want to call, but she was also the only other person here. So be it. She could always say no. He reached for his phone—and realized he’d left it in his cabin when he’d gone back for some more Tylenol.

At the abrupt sound of the pup barking excitedly, Devlin heaved a sigh of relief and jogged up to the main house. Bingo.

Repeatedly jumping up against the chain-link fence surrounding the yard, Poofy wagged his tail furiously when Devlin came into view. Then he ran to the far corner and began barking anew, his attention fixed on the trail leading to the cabins.

Which wasn’t exactly good news, either.

The final cabin sat atop the hill, looking over a series of rising foothills that led up into the mountains and the unfenced government land that abutted a corner of the Langford ranch.

Devlin weighed the options of going back to saddle a horse, grabbing a four-wheeler from the machine shed or just continuing on foot to the top of the hill. His cabin overlooked a grassy meadow on the other side of the hill, already green with tender spring grass. Surely the greedy little beast wouldn’t go farther than that.

What on earth would he say to the girls if he’d lost their pony forever? Mountain lions, bears and even the occasional wolf were all possible out here. And all would consider a chubby, elderly pony easy prey.

He hesitated, then knocked on Chloe’s door, softly first, then louder. From inside he could hear a radio. Was she just ignoring him? Putting him in his place? Swallowing his pride for the sake of the twins and their beloved pony, he banged on the door louder.

No answer.

So be it. He headed back up the trail, hoping Lollipops didn’t prove to be too cagey for one person to catch.

Just past his cabin, Devlin shielded the sun from his eyes with his hand and muttered a rusty prayer as he searched the makeshift rifle range in the meadow and the surrounding timber. Nothing.

Wait...

At the far side of the meadow, something was rustling through the underbrush. A moment later the vagabond pony stepped out of the shadows with a slender figure at his side.

Chloe.

Relief and gratitude flooded through him. Thank you, Lord.

His boots sent pebbles skittering down the rocky slope as he descended the steep hill to meet them. Sunlight filtering through the pine branches turned the palomino pony’s coat to molten gold, and picked out the gold and ruby highlights of Chloe’s auburn hair. If he had any artistic abilities, he would’ve wanted to capture the beauty of the scene on canvas.

Her arrival at the ranch had been the last thing he’d expected. He’d resolved to keep his distance from her. But right now he couldn’t think of a more welcome sight.

“Looking for someone?” Chloe called out as they met in the middle of the grassy meadow. She was holding on to a narrow leather belt she’d buckled around the pony’s neck. “He was really trucking when he ran past my cabin, but he wasn’t hard to catch once I caught up with him.”