Ruth Herne - Her Cowboy Reunion

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.”