Heart of Grace (Return to Grace Trilogy #1) (3 page)

Cole watched her walk up the stairs. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t
thought of her as the years passed. In fact, he thought of her
quite a bit, wondering where life had taken her. But they were
cursory thoughts, as people often have when remembering
those who had passed through their lives.

He hadn’t recognized her at first, but the moment she had
stepped into his house she had dropped the hoity-toity act and
let the sadness in. It was the haunted eyes and the freckles
across her nose that gave her away.

Shame swept over him as he walked through the house,
toward the back door. It surprised him to realize he had been
holding onto the guilt after all these years. He had rejected her
as so many others had, making it a game to tease the awkward
little girl who wore a permanent frown and never cried a single
tear. He now knew all too well that her frowns and the tearless
eyes had really been the worn and vaguely wise expression of a
child who had known too much.

He stepped onto the back porch, letting the screen door
slam. Taking long strides across the pasture, he reached the
stables and opened the door with more force than was
necessary. It bounced back against the structure and sent up a
cloud of dust.

The vet popped his head into the isle at the commotion.
When he saw Cole he waved and stepped out of the stall.
“Dakota jumped a full two feet with that ruckus. What are you
all about?”

“Nothing.” He jutted his chin toward the filly in the stall.
“How is she?”
“She’s a strong one!” The vet smiled. “Almost kicked me
lame, just to avoid that shot. I almost didn’t give it to her.
Thought of waiting for you to hold her down, but I managed.
She’ll make you a lot of money, I’m guessing.”
Cole slapped a companionable hand on the vet’s back.
“That’s good, Jack.”
“So how long ya back for this time?” A sparkle flashed in
Jack’s eyes. “Maybe for good this time? Settle your roots a bit?”
Cole shook his head at the man who had cared for his
father’s horses, just as he now cared for Cole’s. “My roots are
already settled. Ever try to move a granddaddy oak? You can
pluck off its leaves, saw off the branches, but the stump won’t
budge. Those roots run deep. And so do mine.”
“Sure, but you gotta tend to those roots, give ‘em
something to feast on. You keep leaving. I hope you’ll stay
awhile this time. Even after the healing’s done.”
Cole cringed, sensing the beginning of a familiar argument.
To head it off, he stepped into the filly’s stall and bent to run
his hand along her rough mane.
“Now Cole,” Jack continued, “when I heard you got
injured again, I’ll say I was worried. But now I’m thinking it’ll
do you good. Town’s got a bunch of gals just ripe for the
pickin’.”
Cole chuckled, turning to look up at Jack. The older man
looked down at him, his gray hair peaking around the edges of
a faded blue baseball cap, his wrinkle-framed eyes filled with
wisdom.
“You’re serious? Shoot.” Cole sighed and stood, taking the
holster down from the peg on the wall to secure around
Dakota’s head. “I’m a changed man, Jack, you know that.”
“Just ‘cause you ain’t playing around no more don’t mean
you shouldn’t be looking. It ain’t healthy to be alone. You
should be looking for a wife. Settle down. What about Ella
Lou? Now, that gal-”
“Come off it, Jack!” Cole guided the horse out of the stall
and into the outer corral. Jack trailed at their heels. “Did you
know I caught her talking to Maisy Markey over at that dress
shop of hers? We hadn’t been on but three dates. By that
afternoon the whole town was talking like we were already
engaged.”
“Would that have been so bad?”
“Yes.” Cole let the horse free and secured the gate.
“Ella Lou isn’t like Jenna.”
Cole shook his head and steeled his jaw. “I’ll agree with
you on that account. Jenna was one of a kind.” He adjusted his
hat and glanced toward the house. Nadine was taking laundry
down from the line.
He left Jack standing outside the pasture gate and hurried
to Nadine. He helped her carry in the laundry and charmed her
into cooking Angie some supper.
****
“Looks like the storm’s gonna blow through soon.”
Nadine, Cole’s matronly housemaid, tossed a dishtowel over
her shoulder and scraped chopped carrots into the stewpot on
the stove. She turned back to the kitchen peninsula, where
Angela sat.
“Was it alright?” Nadine asked, gesturing to Angela’s halfeaten sandwich. “I’ll save some stew for you, if you’d rather
have that. Just didn’t think you’d appreciate waiting to eat after
almost fainting. You can bet Cole would’ve rung my neck if I
let you go ahead and faint. And you don’t want to eat with a
bunch of smelly ranch hands, anyway.”
Nadine giggled and fussed with the braids wound on top
of her head. The rest of her long gray her hair fell freely down
her back. “Goodness me, those boys get younger and smellier
every year. But handsomer, too.” She winked and giggled again.
“I’ll just save you a bowl, so you can-”
“No, it’s fine.” Angela spoke quickly to get the words in
amidst Nadine’s chatter. “Really, the sandwich is delicious, I’m
just-”
“Wanting to find Cole?” Nadine smiled knowingly. “Of
course you do, so go on. He’s probably in the west pasture this
time of day.”
Angela smiled and slid off the bar stool, thinking that
Nadine had probably said the same words to Angela two
decades earlier, while Angela had sat on that same stool.
“You know,” Nadine called out as Angela walked toward
the back door, “I like having another lady around, especially
one whose scraped knees I used to mend. Been lonely these
past few years, especially since his daddy died. And Lord knows
his mama’s been gone to heaven a long time now. I miss her
more every day. You’ll come back, won’t you?”
Angela nodded – a fickle promise.
Happy tears filled the old woman’s eyes. “It’s good to have
you here, Angie. Now hurry on. And mind the storm. It’s
gonna be a bad one.”
Angela
hurried outside
and started toward the west
pasture, the last desperate rays of sunlight streaking through
heavy clouds. She was grateful to have an excuse to go outside,
to take a deep breath and to reason things out. She was past
the days of childhood, but as she walked along the grazing
pastures, she couldn’t help but remember those days. The
fence had come all the way up to her shoulders, the horses so
monstrous. And Doug Jordan, larger than life in his Stetson
and Wranglers, would walk beside her, his kind eyes soothing;
his smile easy and welcoming.
She had grieved when she’d heard that he died. Standing
there now, in the middle of his legacy, she grieved anew,
sighing a little over her wistfulness. Was it so foolish to wish
that he were still alive, to know in her heart that coming back
would have been less painful if he were?
He had eased her troubles for a time, although he had
never known about them. She had been too afraid to tell him
what home was like, and too scared he would stop loving her
if he knew.
Angela wondered what he would say to her now about her
predicament in New York. She imagined sitting with him on
the porch swing, swaying idly.
“
Seems to me,”
Doug would say, his words keeping pace with
the creak of the swing,
“that Jeffrey did you a favor. Why would you
want a man who refused to love you? And why’d you wanna work for
him, anyway?”
Doug had always had a simplistic way of looking at things.
“Angie.”
She stopped and turned, surprised to realize she had been
meandering and her thoughts had wandered so far. She reigned
them in and watched Cole in the dull, stormy light. He might
have been mistaken for his father with that same confident
smile. But Cole’s eyes were different from Doug’s. Same color,
perhaps, but different; wilder.
He looked at home here, against the backdrop of rugged
mountains, which pierced a sky that could, at times, be
impossibly blue. But there was little blue in the sky today, and
Cole’s eyes were as untamed as the whip of the wind that swept
out of those fat gray clouds.
He stopped in front of her, and Angela leaned against the
fencepost. “Nadine said I’d find you here. You’re working.”
Cole shrugged. “Yeah, but I could use a break.”
“Looks like you’ve already had one.” Angela pushed away
from the post and gestured to his injured arm. “What
happened?”
“My relief wasn’t where they were supposed to be. But
even if they were, they probably wouldn’t’ve got to me in time.
Bad luck. Shattered elbow, three fractures”
“So you’re really a rodeo cowboy.” She looked up at the
sky, then back at him. “That explains a lot.”
“What needed explaining?” Cole removed his hat and
riffled his hand through sweat soaked hair.
“You didn’t want to come back to Grace any more than I
did.”
“Grace is my home,” he said offhandedly, refusing to meet
her eyes. They took step together alongside the fence.
“How long are you back for?” she asked.
“As long as it takes to heal and to get the doc to clear me,”
Cole answered dryly. “Two months, maybe three.”
They fell silent. Other sounds filled the void – feet
shuffling on the grass, wind rustling through trees, a voice in
the distance, and the flutter of wings as birds raced for shelter
from the coming storm.
Angela
gathered her wind-whipped hair back
into a
ponytail, and then released it to flitter back into the wind. She
glanced at Cole. He stared straight ahead as they walked, his
eyes fixed on a spot the distance. There were so many things
to discuss. She was tempted to let it slide.
She took a breath and let it out slowly, sternly reminding
herself that she had come there to talk business. She opened
her mouth to speak, but he slipped his hand around the crook
of her elbow and veered her off course, down a sloping
meadow.
“Might want to take those shoes off,” he said when her
heels sunk into the moist ground and she stumbled.
“I’m fine.” And to prove it, she pulled out of his grip and
dislodged her feet from the soil. “Where are we going?”
“I want you to meet my girls.”
Angela stopped suddenly, further upsetting her balance.
She decided it wasn’t such a bad idea to remove her shoes, and
did so quickly. He had continued on without her. She caught
up with him at the bottom of the hill.
It never occurred to her that he might have children, a wife.
Nadine certainly hadn’t mentioned it. “Your girls?”
“Yep. Born this year. Came from my best stud.”
Of course, his horses!
Her heart fluttered with relief. It
reminded her of the time she’d managed to get him alone at
the arena. She had used the excuse of needing his help with
tacking a horse. She’d stood close to him as he had set the
saddle and reins, desperately wishing he would kiss her. When
he had turned to her, she had entertained herself with the
notion that he just might.
Realizing she stood too close to him now, Angela angled
away. As he had done back then, he just kept on walking,
having no knowledge of the things he was doing to her heart.
Angela breathed in deeply and looked heavenward.
They’d come to a small fenced area just outside the main
stables, separate from the larger grazing field beyond. Cole
stopped by the gate and rested his good arm on the aging
wood. Over his shoulder two baby horses pranced excitedly.
Two full-grown horses that she presumed were their mothers,
stood close by.
The older filly, her shoulders barely reaching the middle
fence rung, saw Cole and walked to him. She bowed her head
in hope that he would give her a rub. Cole obliged, stroking his
hand up her long nose, between her eyes.
“Dakota’s going to be easy to break,” he said
conversationally. “She took to me right from the start. Now,
Rosie’s a little tougher. I haven’t started training her yet, but
she hasn’t moved more than fivefeet from her mama.”
“Can you tell that early?” Angela asked. “Wouldn’t all
horses want their mothers that young?”
“Not always. They’re like people. You know right away the
ones that’ll be more approachable.” Cole gave the horse a light
slap on the flank and she wandered off. “Dakota walked to me
the first time I came to her with the halter.”
“Maybe she knows she’s meant to be broken.” Angela
hadn’t meant to say the words, but they were out before she
could stop them. She leaned on the fence and watched
Dakota’s white mane wisp over her spotted coat. Cole sighed
and Angela closed her eyes, knowing he had picked up on her
embittered tone.
“I won’t say I’m sorry your dad died,” Cole said quietly, his
eyes fixed on the horses. “Mostly, I’m sorry Henry lived.”
“Why’d you work for him, then?”
The first drops of rain pelted them.
“Came a bit earlier than I thought it would,” he said easily.
“Go on inside and I’ll be along in a few minutes.”
Irritated that he had brushed her off, Angela did not go
inside. She stood at the corral gate and watched him direct the
horses into the stables. In the field beyond were a few others
that paid no heed to the rain. Cole jogged out to them,
whistling so they would follow him in.
Once he secured all his horses, and made a last check of
the stable guards, he took Angela’s arm. They hurried to the
house, making it through the back door seconds before the
rain dumped from the sky in a torrent.
She dropped her shoes onto the floor.
Three young men came in behind them and filed into the
adjoining dining room. Raucous laughter broke out. A moment
later, Nadine came out of the room carrying the large, now
empty, stewpot against her bosom. The pot was almost as big
as she was.
“I set aside a bit of stew for you both. Will you be having
it in the nook?” Nadine grinned at Cole and Angela, each in
turn.
“No.” Cole smirked and took the pot from her to place it
on the stove. “We’ll be eating with the crew.”
“Cole…” Angela pleaded.
Not discouraged by her protest, he winked, took her hand
and pulled her into the dining room.
The voices faded away one by one as she and Cole walked
through the arched entryway and toward the table. Eight pairs
of eyes stared at her, spoonfuls of stew stopping halfway to
gaping mouths. Cole pulled a chair out for Angela, between a
boy of about seventeen and a man in his twenties or thirties. It
was hard to judge his actual age, as a full beard covered most
of his face. All eyes followed her to the chair.
She thought of every board room she had stood in and all
the business men and women she had addressed. None of
them were nearly as intimidating as this group of work-wary
men. Taking her seat, she became much too aware of her
expensive Chanel suit, and of how useless it was now.
Cole took his seat at the head of the table.
Nadine had not been exaggerating about the smell. Angela
looked at the eight worn men, all jeans and flannel and scruffy
faces.
The maid came back in to serve Angela and Cole. She
mouthed “sorry” at Angela, and placed Cole’s bowl in front of
him with a flick of her wrist.
As she shuffled out of the room Angela thought she heard
the old woman mutter “no way to treat a lady.”
Angela met Cole’s gaze from across the table. He smiled at
her, but she couldn’t decide if was in challenge or
companionship.
“Angie,” he said, “meet Jeremy, Josh, Nathan, Andrew,
Kevin, Steve, Matt and Allen.”