Homeward Bound

Royce gripped the steering wheel until pains shot up his forearm. Five minutes on the road with Heather and he felt like kicking a fence post barefoot.

Without even trying, the woman lit his fuse. As if he’d stepped on a land mine, she scattered his emotions and shredded his common sense into useless fragments of illogic—and she’d accomplished all that without uttering a single word since getting in the truck!

While he’d waited for the bus to arrive, he’d had a long talk with himself. He’d decided that the only way to survive Heather this summer was to avoid her.

One way or another he had to resist the natural urge to run to her aid every time she got herself in a pickle. He figured it was only a matter of time before she hopped a bus back to College Station, or accepted another offer for the property.

While Heather was playing store, he had a whole list of things to keep him busy this summer. Aside from looking after his small herd of Angus cattle, he had plenty of ranch repairs that needed his attention and if he still had time on his hands, he’d paint the blasted house. Add the extra responsibilities of being a mayor and he doubted he’d run into Heather more than once or twice during the entire summer—if she lasted that long.

With a disgusted huff, he gave in to the urge to study her. He’d intended to focus on her face, but his gaze slipped past her dainty freckled nose and stubborn chin, then landed on her midriff. Hip-hugging jeans and a sleeveless crop top offered him an unfettered view of the dreaded belly ring. Heather sighed and the silver butterfly slipped below the waistband, then a moment later popped back into view, fluttering its wings.

“Royce!”

Jerking the steering wheel to the right, Royce swerved back into the proper lane. “Sorry,” he grumbled. Good thing the roads were deserted this time of day. He’d better drag his mind out of the gutter if he expected the two of them to arrive at the ranch in one piece.

He opened his mouth to ask if she’d planned to finish earning her degree next fall, but stopped himself. The subject of Heather dropping her summer classes would only end in an argument. Even though he believed quarreling was the safest path to take with Heather, she didn’t deserve to be provoked. “Luke will be happy to see you.” His foreman was a safe topic. The aging cowboy had always had a soft spot for Heather.

“How’s Luke doing?” Heather shifted against the seat, the movement sending a wave of honeysuckle-scented perfume his way.

“Ornery as ever. The arthritis is slowing him down some, so he doesn’t work the cattle anymore. But he watches over the horses and weeds the vegetable garden.”

She nibbled her lower lip, and he caught a glimpse of her crooked eyetooth. He’d always thought that tooth made her appear winsome when she smiled. She had pretty teeth. White and, except for the one tooth, remarkably straight for not having had braces.

“I’ve missed Luke, too.” She fingered the stack of mayor-mail sitting on the seat between them. “Your life must be pretty hectic…being the mayor and playing cowboy.”

He caught himself from blurting out that his life had become a lot less complicated the day she left for college. And a lot more lonely. “Do you remember the Wilkinson family?”

“The name sounds vaguely familiar.”

“Their eldest son, Kenny, is sixteen now. He gives Luke a hand a couple of days a week. And every fall I pay several high school seniors to brand the cattle and get them ready to ship to market.”

“What about the rest of the year?”

“I only run a few hundred head now. Most of the time, I manage fine on my own.”

“Sounds like a lot of work for one man.”

No argument there. By the end of the week he was exhausted. A year ago he’d thought about hiring another hand, but Luke had gotten all blustery and defensive and had insisted he could still lasso a cow. To prevent the old man from working himself into an early grave, Royce struggled along on his own and kept his mouth shut.

“Why did you decrease the size of your herd?”

“Beef prices aren’t what they used to be. The first year after you graduated from high school, we suffered a drought. Four years later, I lost a hay crop to blister beetles. Ended up spending more money on cattle feed than what I got for the animals at market.”

Heather’s delicately arched eyebrows rose. “But things are better now?” Was it his imagination or did he hear genuine concern behind the question?

“We’re back on our feet again.” Not living in luxury, but the last of the loans and bills got paid off this past Christmas.

“If things were so tight, you shouldn’t have sent me money.”

Not once during her years away at college had Heather phoned or written him for money. He’d sent checks in her birthday cards, and Christmas cards, but she hadn’t asked for a dime. “I wouldn’t have given you the money if I couldn’t have afforded to.”

He turned off the county road and drove under a rickety wooden arch with the name Full Moon Ranch burned into the wood.

“The place hasn’t changed much.” Heather lowered her window, then stuck her head out.

With a critical eye, Royce studied the land. For once, the ruggedly beautiful terrain did not soothe him. Since his accident three years ago, things had lost their rosy glow. As the truck reached the top of a small incline, the east border of the property, which butted up against the towering pines of Atlanta State Park, came into view. To the west and north, he owned a thousand acres.

Two corrals, three outbuildings and the stereotypical red barn dotted the ranch yard. From this distance the gray, two-story house stood majestically beneath several sugar maple trees. But up close, the home lacked a grand appearance. The exterior hadn’t been painted in twenty years and the sagging wraparound porch begged for tender, loving care. Except for new appliances and a television set for Luke’s bedroom, nothing inside had been updated since he’d landed on his aunt and uncle’s doorstep twenty-three years ago.

“Wow. Even the house is the same. Ever think about painting the place a different color? Maybe yellow with green shutters. Lots of Shasta daisies along the front and rosebushes by the steps would make the house more festive.”

Festive was Heather’s middle name. “If I have time this summer, I just might do that.”

“I could lend a hand.”

He conjured an image of Heather in cutoff jeans and a tank top, standing on a ladder, wielding a paintbrush. “You’ll be too busy with the store.”

As he pulled up to the house, he spotted Luke resting in the chair on the front porch, Bandit stretched out at his feet. Royce had lost count of the number of times he’d found the foreman and his useless dog snoozing away in the middle of the afternoon.

Aw, heck. He didn’t care if Luke slept the whole day. After ten years of helping Royce with the ranch for little more than minimum wage, a bed and free meals, the old codger had more than earned his retirement.

Before Royce had even shifted the truck to park, Heather opened her door and hopped out. “Hi, Luke! Hi, Bandit!”

“Well, if you ain’t the prettiest thing these ol’ eyes have seen in a long time,” Luke called as he shoved himself out of the chair and hobbled to the steps.

Heather met the foreman halfway.

With veiled envy, Royce watched Heather and Luke hug and laugh and smile at each other. Even the mangy dog got into the action, nudging Heather’s hand with his head. She went down on one knee and ruffled the fleabag’s fur as if they were long-lost friends. Her happiness at seeing Luke and his hound unsettled Royce. Three years ago she had wanted to spend the summer at his ranch, but his stubborn pride and aching heart had made sure she stayed away.