Lois Richer - Heaven's Kiss

“What is it? Is there something wrong?”

He shook his head. “Not wrong, exactly. It’s simply that I believe your father wanted you to take over the ranch when you came home. Dermot didn’t know when that would be, he certainly didn’t expect that he wouldn’t be here, but he often spoke of his intentions. I can’t believe he would have wanted you to part with the land he loved so much, unless there was no other way.”

“But there is no other way. Is there?”

“You could work it yourself. Cut back to the bare bones, run as tight a ship as you can while we try to find a way to appease the bank. Bankruptcy isn’t in their best interest either, don’t forget.”

“Work it…myself?” She blinked. “But—”

“From the day he arrived in Blessing, Dermot was my friend. He loved that land all his life. I know he raised you to love it too. Don’t you owe him and yourself a chance to see if you can make a go of it? You did say you weren’t going back to college.” He raised one bushy eyebrow, and when she didn’t respond, he continued. “Why not spend some time out there, think things over, decide what your heart wants?”

It struck her as odd to hear Ephraim speaking about her heart’s desire, but over the years Dani had occasionally caught glimpses of the lawyer’s softer side. And he had cared deeply for Dermot.

“Maybe you’re right. Everything’s mixed up, confused. I’m a little shocked by his death—and now this. Maybe time will help me make a decision.” She stood, thrust out her hand. “Thank you very much. If there’s no rush to make an immediate decision, I think I’ll do as you say and think it over.”

“And pray about it. Don’t forget to pray.”

She smiled.

“Yes, I’ll pray, too. Maybe God will send a miracle.”

A wisp of a smile twitched the corner of his mouth.

“Someone once told me that God’s miracles are that He uses time and circumstance to teach us more about Himself. Think of this as a learning curve, Dani. Steep, maybe, but we learn best when we’re in the valley.”

Dani shook his hand gratefully.

“I’ve been away a while,” she told him. “But not long enough to forget Winifred Blessing. I’m sure she’s your source for that advice.”

Ephraim Thornbush only smiled. “Feel free to drop by whenever you wish. I’ll help however I can.”

“Thank you.”

Dani walked through the office and outside to the brisk breeze of a February evening in Colorado. Winter still clung to the land, though a recent chinook had diminished its effects. Now darkness shrouded the little town in the foothills of the Rockies.

Blessing, Colorado. Home.

She strode over to her father’s truck, climbed in and started the engine. Not many minutes later the heater blasted out gloriously warm air. But Dani’s attention strayed to the church across the town square.

“This is our home, Dani. DeWitt roots are here, dug deep and strong into this soil. The Double D is our future. Yours and mine. Together we’ll make it shine.”

She’d been what, five? Old enough to snuggle into his arms and feel safe when a coyote yipped in the distance. She remembered how the sound had jarred her father from his contemplation of the land he loved, how he’d turned his horse toward home, holding her tightly in the circle of his arms.

Dermot was a fighter. He’d never given up on anyone or anything.

Neither would she. Not until she’d exhausted every last possibility.

Dermot DeWitt’s name would not be smirched by bankruptcy.

Not if Dani could help it.

W asn’t home supposed to be the place you ran to when things got tough? So why did she want to run away from the only home she’d ever known?

“It just doesn’t feel the same anymore, Duke.”

Dani curled her fingers in the horse’s thick black mane and surveyed the acres of ranch land that legally bore her name. The warm April winds had nudged the grass into a rich green, encouraged the wildflowers to bloom, melted the tufts of snow that tried to cling to the shadowed clefts of the hills. She could be a thousand miles away and picture this scene, and yet still it didn’t feel right.

“The Double D isn’t home. Not without Daddy.”

Maybe it was the denim-striped overalls her father had wrapped up every year for Christmas, no matter how old she was. Maybe it was growing up on a ranch without a mother to curb her tomboy ways. Maybe it was because her best friend had always been a horse. Whatever the reason, most folks in Blessing had always accepted that Dani belonged on the Double D as much as syrup belonged on flapjacks.

Once, Dani would have agreed.

From her earliest years she’d ridden the perimeter of the ranch while chilly spring blazed into summer. She’d endured blizzard winters when going to town was impossible, and scorching summers when water became more precious than gold. She’d watched new colts wobble to their feet, spent hours waiting for the sun to turn bloodred before it slipped off the horizon. During all those years, Dani reveled in being in exactly the right place.

Until now.

Was it just because she’d been away at college for four years that she was only now realizing what a lonely life they’d led? Was that why Dermot had mortgaged his beloved land for her, so she’d know a different world than that of the Double D? Did it matter why? She was in hock up to her eyebrows and she had to get out.

“Stop whining, girl!” she ordered herself out loud. She didn’t need anyone’s shoulder to bawl on. She’d manage just fine on her own. Daddy would have expected that.

“We’ve got to stop thinking about what was, don’t we, Duke.”

Duke snorted as if to remind her that the past was hard to forget when the bank statements kept arriving.

“I have to put it out of my mind for tonight, though. There’s that meeting at church about the dinner theater, and I’m in charge.”

She’d agreed to help, believing that something other than the ranch and its debt baggage would be a relief to think about. Instead she’d encountered even more problems—when the director left town.

“Can I tell you a secret, Duke? I wish someone else would have volunteered to direct. I’m so tired of being in charge.”

Reality check. There was no one else. Not for the Double D and apparently not for the dinner theater. The onus fell on her.

A whisper touch to his flanks sent Duke galloping across the tufted spring grass of her Colorado pasture as if chased by a pack of yapping dogs. Dani leaned over his neck and felt the wind whipping her hair as Duke galloped toward home—home for as long as she could hang onto it, at least.

At the barn she took her time brushing the big horse down, added a scoop of oats to his feed, ensured his water was topped up. For herself, a quick wash in hot, soapy water, a tug of the brush through her mop of black shiny curls and a change in jeans was enough. Funny how those jeans always made her feel taller, especially when she put her boots on. And goodness knows Dani could use a boost in height. She just hated being short, and no matter how tall your boots were, five foot three was short.

A routine check of the reflection in the mirror made her shrug. She’d do. Her lashes were thick enough to fringe her green eyes—“cat eyes,” Daddy had called them. Not that she’d bothered with mascara since coming home. Life was too short and there were too many things to do on the ranch to fuss about makeup. Besides, her lipstick never stayed on longer than it took to smudge, and she’d never mastered the art of powder or foundation.

Dani stuck her tongue out at herself and giggled. Who cared what she looked like anyway? She was alone most of the time. Tonight she simply had a job to do.