The Rancher's Promise. Jillian HartЧитать онлайн книгу.
Frank ambled into sight, drying his hands and forearms on a fluffy blue towel. He tossed it over the top of an empty stall gate. “You’re not so good at forgiveness, son.”
“I don’t want to be you. No offense.” Wildflower lowered her head, heaving, her knees buckling.
“Let’s get her on her side.” Frank jumped to help. He had worked with animals all of his life, and it showed in the skill and comfort his touch seemed to bring Wildflower. The mare leaned her neck into his hands.
One day he wanted to be as good a man as his dad. The trouble was, he didn’t want to be as gullible. Their mom had left Dad twice. Both times Dad had wrestled with a shattered heart, later accepted her apologies and let her back into their lives. Then he’d taken care of her when liver disease set in.
No one in their right mind would ever call Frank Granger a fool, but he did have a big heart. Too big.
That was something Justin would make sure he would never have. No way did he intend to let any woman tread on his dignity like Dad had allowed Mom to. At the time, Dad had young kids who missed their mom and wanted her back, too, but a man could only take so much. Justin had already reached that limit.
“Sounds like Nate’s here.” Frank stopped to listen. “Yep, tires in the gravel. Help has arrived.”
Justin ran his hand down the mare’s nose, murmuring low to comfort her, and forced his thoughts away from Rori.
But it didn’t work.
“Need a hand?” Autumn swaggered through the mudroom and popped her head into the kitchen.
“No, I’m managing just fine.” Rori slapped the last omelet onto the last plate and turned off the burner. “How is Wildflower?”
“A brand-new mama.” There was a thunk, thunk, presumably Autumn kicking off her boots before she strode into the room with two large thermoses. “She made it through just fine once they got things heading out straight. She has the cutest little filly. All long legs, bottlebrush mane and the biggest brown eyes. Cheyenne is going to flip when she gets home.”
“Glad there’s good news. I could tell your dad was worried. He was totally frowning. I didn’t know he was capable of it.” She rescued the platter of bacon and sausage patties from the warm oven and walked down the counter, filling plates. “I’ll get you all some more coffee and tea in a jiffy. I was going to bring breakfast out to the barn.”
“Sounds like a good idea. Dad was up half the night checking on the mare as it is, and you know Justin, grumbling about being behind with the morning chores.” Autumn set the thermoses on the counter and rolled her eyes. Her light auburn hair tumbled loose around her shoulders. At first glance, no one would peg her as a tomboy, not with her china-doll complexion, deep hazel eyes and leggy stature, but Rori knew no one could outride her. She’d tried many times. “How is Bella?”
“Still the best horse in the history of the world.” Autumn uncapped the thermoses. “I had to stop and say hi to Copper. He’s looking good for his age. Your grandfather is pampering him.”
“Gramps can’t help himself. Once a horse lover, always a horse lover.”
“That’s the truth. It’s the way God made us.” Autumn yanked the coffee carafe from the machine and upended it over a thermos. “It has to be weird being back. You’ve been away for so long.”
“I hadn’t realized how much I’ve missed this pokey little town. Not one thing happens there.” She did her best not to remember the past and the impatient girl she’d been. And how eager to experience something more exciting than dinky Wild Horse, Wyoming. “It used to drive me crazy, but I’m thankful for it now. It’s reassuring when home always stays the same.”
“Speaking of things that haven’t changed. Clem’s—now The Greasy Spoon—still makes the best burgers around.” Autumn screwed the cap on the thermos and reached for the hot-water carafe. “Have any plans, say, middle of the week?”
“Are you thinking horse ride?”
“Just like old times.” There was a quiet question hanging in the air between them, but Autumn didn’t ask it. Instead she finished pouring the water. “I’ll run this outside. Need me to take anything?”
“How about the muffins?” The sausage platter was empty and she set it aside to snatch the cloth-covered basket from the edge of the kitchen table.
“Yum. Smells good.” Autumn hugged the thermoses and took the basket into the crook of her arm. “Hate to rain on your parade, but guess who’s listening at the door?”
“I’m not listening,” a man grumbled from the mudroom. “I’m getting some clean towels for the barn.”
Justin. Rori’s palms went damp, and she wiped them on her jeans. Great. Why hadn’t she noticed he was there? How much had he overheard?
“Yeah, right.” Autumn chuckled as she strolled out the door. “You could have asked me to bring back the towels.”
“Didn’t think of it.” Justin sounded easygoing as he spoke with his sister. “Did anyone think to call Cheyenne?”
“I’ll do it,” Autumn called out a split second before the screen door slapped shut.
Rori set the plates on a tray she’d found in one of the bottom cupboards and covered the steaming food. With every movement she made, she was infinitely aware of Justin in the next room, the faint shuffle of his boots on the tile floor, the muted squeak of a cabinet door closing and the rustle of fabric as he paced to the kitchen door.
“Need any help?” Hard to tell if he was being friendly or just helpful, as he might be to any hired hand.
“Nope, but thanks. I’ve got it.”
“You could make us trudge into the kitchen to eat, you know. You don’t have to bring food to us.”
“I don’t mind. You’ve all had a busy morning and it’s not even six o’clock.” She opened the drawer and began counting out flatware. This is just conversation, she told herself. Justin had meant what he said about letting bygones be. He was making an effort, and it mattered. She could, too. “Since you’re standing there with a free hand, you could grab the juice on the counter.”
“Good. I like to make myself useful.” A faint hint of his dimples carved into either side of his mouth. He ambled into the kitchen, shrinking the room with his size and presence. He casually scooped up the pitcher and the stacked plastic glasses without complaint. “You need to come see the new filly.”
“Autumn said she was the cutest thing.”
“Foals usually are.” He held the door for her, and somehow the morning seemed brighter as they headed down the steps and along the path together. “You were calm under pressure, Rori. You helped a lot.”
“I did nothing. I called the vet. I walked the horse.” She shrugged. “Anyone could have done the same.”
“Not anyone. I was afraid you had turned into a city slicker, but I can see you’ve still got some Wyoming girl in you. I’m glad you’re working here. It’s a big responsibility running this place, and it will be a burden off Dad’s mind to know he’s got someone in the house he can rely on. Someone to feed us and the hired men when we get hungry.”
“I’m glad you think I’m a help.” She held the tray steady, flatware and dishes clattering with each step, and squinted against the low slant of the morning sun. She’d forgotten her ball cap. Grass slapped against her shins, crunched beneath her shoes and barely hid a jackrabbit who startled away into the field as they approached.
“Rori.” Frank hurried out of the barn to take the heavy tray from her and shot his son a telling glance. “That’s too heavy for you to carry all this way.”
“No problem. I’m stronger than I look.”
“Oh,