Patricia Johns - Her Cowboy's Twin Blessings

Ember lay between crisp sheets that night, listening to the soft sounds of a strange house, and she lifted her heart in prayer. She’d been so sure when she’d come out here—confident, excited. But somehow, she’d gone from completely in control to feeling entirely out of her depth.

Lord, I need Your help , she prayed. I don’t know how I got myself into this, but here I am...

Only God knew how she’d been struggling with memories of her own son lately. She’d naively thought that giving him up would allow her to move forward with her life. And in some ways, she had, but lately, memories of that traumatic day were coming back like punches to the gut. So she lay in bed not asking for God to help her sort out her emotions right now, because she knew better than to ask for that! A woman didn’t hop over her feelings; she waded through them. And wading would have to wait until she was finished with this task at hand. As ironic as it was for a therapist, she wanted God to help her put a lid on her feelings. For now, at least.

Ember slept remarkably well that night. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the adventures of her day, but she didn’t even stir until she awoke to the distant aroma of brewing coffee. Ember rubbed a hand over her face and reached for her watch, checking the time. It was just after six, and outside, the sky was awash in pink. She pushed back the covers and reached for her clothes. She’d come with a bag packed and had intended to stay in a local hotel for a few days, so she had a few necessities with her. Ten minutes later, she’d washed up, put on a little makeup and made herself presentable before leaving the bedroom for the kitchen.

Mr. Vern stood in front of the stove, a bowl of whisked eggs in one hand as he flung a pat of butter into a sizzling pan.

“Good morning,” he said without turning.

“Good morning.” She headed for the coffeepot. There were two mugs waiting, and she filled one. “Is this for me?”

“Sure is,” Mr. Vern said. “I’m just whipping up some eggs now, too.”

“You’re up early,” she said.

“I’ve already been out to check on some cattle,” he said with a low laugh. “I saw Casey down there, and he said to tell you that he’s got a ride planned toward Milk River today. He thought you might be interested.”

“Oh!” Ember brightened. “Yes, I am.”

“He says he’s planning on leaving about seven,” Mr. Vern said. “You’ll want to eat hearty before then. Have you ridden before?”

“No,” she confessed.

“Hmm.” Mr. Vern glanced back at her, a look in his eye like he was sizing her up. “It’s a good way to take a look at the land, but...”

“I’ll be fine,” she reassured him. “I’m assuming I’m in good hands with Casey Courtright?”

“The best.” Mr. Vern poured the egg mixture into the pan. “In fact, you’d do well to keep him on, Miss Reed. He knows this land better than I do at this point.”

“He’s already said that he’s not interested in working for me,” she admitted.

“Has he now?” Ember couldn’t see the older man’s face, but his tone sounded displeased. “That’s just pride. Give him time.”

Time for what? She didn’t want to be saddled down with an employee who didn’t want to be here. But this wasn’t the time to discuss that.

After breakfast, Mr. Vern drove her down the sloping gravel road, his radio playing a jangly gospel tune. Mr. Vern wore a dusty trucker’s hat, and he chewed on a toothpick as he drove.

“So left, we’ve got the cattle barns—you can see them, right? The big modern silver ones. Those are used for some calving, injured animals and the like. For the most part, the cattle spend their days in the field. I’ll bring you down there later if Casey hasn’t got the time.”

The older man followed the road right, heading away from the cattle barns and toward that picturesque red barn bathed in golden morning sunlight.

“There’s four hundred acres in total—that includes the forest as well as the pasture. I know you’re not interested in raising cattle, but the property includes about two hundred head that we’ve raised for market. So you’d have at least one market run. Casey would be able to fill you in on the finer details there, of course.”

“Where are we going?” Ember asked.

“To the horse barn,” Mr. Vern said. “We’ve got twenty-two horses at present. Our ranch hands use them when they check on herds and that sort of thing. Now, there are three horses that belong to Casey personally, and another two that I’m not willing to part with. But the other seventeen are included in the sale.”

“Are they good for trail rides?” she asked.

“About five are gentle enough for newbies, but the others need a more experienced hand,” he admitted. “I can sell off the others first, if you want. Just to save you the trouble later.”

“We’d have to talk about that,” she agreed with a nod.

“Some ranches like to use quads for checking the herd, but I’ve stuck to the tried and true. We’ve got a paddock, and since you mention trail riding, we’ve got some good trails, too.” They rattled over a pothole, and Mr. Vern shot her a grin. “If you do buy this land, miss, you’re going to need a solid truck. I’m a Ford man, myself.”

Ember could see the wisdom in those words. Her car had already shown that it would be jolted right apart on some of these roads. But as they crested a hill, her to-do list melted away at the sight.

Green field rolled out beneath them, fence posts running like lines of neat stitches across the verdant plains. Some horses were grazing—one tiny foal trailing close to its mother. The red barn stood out in comforting contrast to the rest of the scene, and Ember felt all that tension seep out of her body. They eased down the road toward the red barn, and as the truck came to a stop out front, a door opened and Casey looked out. He was dressed in a pair of jeans, a button-down shirt and a padded vest. He pushed his cowboy hat back on his head and raised a gloved hand in a wave.

“Have a good day,” Mr. Vern said. “If you have any questions, Casey’s the one to ask. Like I said, stubborn lout or not, that man is worth keeping around. Mark my words.”

Ember thanked him and hopped out of the truck. Casey waited for her at the door, holding it open for her. His dark gaze followed her as she approached, and she felt heat rise in her cheeks. It was different out here—on a ranch, away from the city. Everything seemed more basic, more pared down. And when a man’s gaze followed her like that, it was harder to ignore.

“Good morning,” he said. “Bert’s with the babies, so we’ve got some time.”

“Is he getting paid for that?” Ember asked, stepping past Casey’s broad chest and into the warm, fragrant barn. Dust motes danced in the air in front of her, and her nose tickled. High windows let in squares of morning sunlight, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust.

“Of course,” Casey said, slamming the door shut. “He’s getting overtime. Most expensive childcare ever. I asked if his wife might be interested, but she’s got her hands full with her elderly mother, so...”

Casey led the way down the center of the barn. Most of the stalls were empty. He paused at one stall and held a hand out toward a horse’s velvet nose. The horse nudged his hand and nickered.

“How much riding experience do you have?” Casey asked, glancing back at her. Again, that dark look trained on her face in that way that made her feel slightly self-conscious.

“None,” she admitted.

“Okay, so not Captain, then,” he said, moving on. “Captain is fast and strong, but he needs an experienced rider.”