Rodeo Rancher

Lost in memories, he didn’t realize he was staring at the box, immobile until a light touch warmed his arm.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “It was my wife’s tea.”

“Is she—? Did she—?”

“She’s gone.” He hated uttering the word dead. Every time he did, it made it real all over again.

Samantha didn’t ask questions, but said, “You don’t have to give me her tea.”

But he did. Lillian had been generous to everyone. She would have liked nothing better than to sit down with Samantha and talk about their kids or anything under the sun that caught her fancy.

She would have wanted Samantha to enjoy what was left of the tea now.

“Let me make you a cup. I want to.”

She nodded and stepped away.

They settled in the living room, her on the sofa and Michael keeping his distance in the armchair.

He didn’t know what to say.

Apparently, neither did she.

She wasn’t rushing to fill the void even though her fingers moved constantly. Why was she so nervous? Sure, he was a stranger, but he thought he’d shown he was trustworthy. He wasn’t going to jump her. Maybe if he told her the truth about Lillian, she wouldn’t be afraid to be alone with him.

“My wife didn’t leave us,” he blurted. “She died.”

She gasped. “I’m sorry for your loss.” She looked it. “It must be hard for you and the children.”

The unspoken question hung in the air until he answered it. “Cancer.”

“So...not sudden.”

“No. Might have been better if it had been.” Okay, enough. He couldn’t talk about it. It hurt. He didn’t often haul out his intestines without anesthesia and put them on display.

A log popped on the fire and she startled.

“The boys’ father?” he asked to change the subject. “Is he around?”

“We’re divorced. Last I heard, he was in the Himalayas somewhere.”

He raised his brows, but she didn’t expand.

Her expressive face had gone blank. Was she angry? Sad? Glad?

“How could he leave his children behind?” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but anger had surged through him. Lillian hadn’t had a choice, but if she had, she would have stayed. It sounded like Sammy’s husband had run out on her. He would be angry. He would seethe.

“That’s a good question,” she answered. “I’ve wondered that many times.” Yes. There was the anger.

“Must be hard on the boys.” He echoed her earlier sentiment, because it was true. All of this was difficult enough for the two of them as adults, but what were children equipped to handle?

“Yes, it has been hard. Jason felt abandoned when his dad left. He’s my little protector. He thinks he needs to be the man of the family. I wish he could relax and just have fun like Colt does.”

Michael nodded. He’d already noticed Jason’s love for his mother. The boy had stood up to him, a big strapping adult, to defend her from implied criticism.

Gutsy kid.

“He wants to come out with me in the morning to see the animals. I said yes. That okay with you?”

She seemed to ponder the implications...a man alone with her child. She must have sensed his honesty.

She nodded. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Trying to keep our children safe?”

“Yeah. It is.” And he didn’t always get it right. Some people in town thought he kept his children too isolated, but how could he not?

What if something happened to one of them? It was his job to make sure they reached adulthood unscathed. He hadn’t been able to save Lillian, but he could save his children.

* * *

SAMANTHA AWOKE IN the middle of the night to tapping on her forehead.

For a minute, she thought there was a drip from the ceiling, but the tapping was dry.

A hand!

She startled awake and took in a lungful of air, ready to scream. No! Not here. Not in rural Montana where she and her sons were supposed to be safe.

Prepared to protect her children, she opened her eyes.

The person hovering over her in the darkness was tiny. A child.

Sammy’s disorientation cleared and she remembered where she was.

Her breath whooshed out of her. She glanced to her right. Both of her boys slept soundly. Who was patting her hair?

She mumbled, “What is it?”

“I’m cold,” Lily whispered not an inch from Sammy’s face.

Oh! Michael’s little girl.

Sammy realized she was cold, too. The house had lost its heat pretty quickly. No wonder. The storm still raged outside.

Good thing Michael had lent her his sweat suit. She’d be chilled without the fleece.

Without further thought, she said, “Climb in. We’ll cuddle together. Okay?”