Seeing Daylight (2 page)

“Pleased to meet you, that's for sure. Brayton Metcalf.” With a wide grin, he held out a hand, strong and callused, what she expected from a rancher and not from a city man.

“Happy to meet you. And this, of course, is Adelaide. Howdy.” Rachel addressed the grumpy girl. “I'm Rachel.”

“How do you do,” the girl replied in a fairly polite way before sniping. “I hate that name. It's old fashioned. He”—she threw her dad a dirty look—“named me for his
grandmother
.”

Brayton shrugged, sun-browned cheekbones turning copper in embarrassment. “Gram Adelaide raised me.” Then he glared at his daughter. “Mind your manners, young lady.”

Rachel felt for him, keen to soothe the moment. “It's a nice name. My Grim-Gram was named Frieda Louise.” She grinned.

For a second, the girl's lips twitched. “Well, I like Addie better.”

“I like it, too. You have a choice then, classic or modern.”

Scott handed Adelaide the blue bucket of carrots. “Peachy's waiting for a snack. I'll see y'all later.”

With a two-finger tip of his hat, Scott left for the bridesmaids, and Addie took off to the corral, crooning to Peachy and holding out a flat palm studded with carrots. Rachel couldn't help noticing that Addie's posture appeared perfect, her gait secure, her back strong, and her feet sure as she scrambled away from her dad.

“Sorry about that.” Brayton's color had returned to normal, but his jaw tensed. “She and I don't get along very well. And it's been worse lately. We moved here last summer, and she wasn't crazy about leaving California.”

“It's OK.” Rachel laid a hand on his arm. “My mother raised three girls and five boys. Says if you don't get a girl at some point, you really haven't experienced parenthood.”

Brayton barked out a short laugh.

“And pre-teenage angst can be pretty bad. I dished out plenty in my day. Just ask Ma.” Rachel wanted to ease Brayton's embarrassment, but he raised bleak eyes to her. The toes of his boots rustled up some dust as his feet moved restlessly.

His jaw clenched. “It's more than that. She misses having a mother, and she blames me for the loss.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Her mother died in a plane crash. I was the pilot.”

 

 

 

 

2

 

What a
great
first impression. Brayton's jaw tightened harder. First time he'd seen Rachel from afar, a couple of lessons ago, he'd ached to meet her. After a decade mourning Marianne and eating guilt every day for breakfast, he was ready to move on. Finding out Rachel was single had been great inducement, and today's switching places with her brother had to be proof of God's providence.

Gram Adelaide had raised him in faith. Raised him that you might lose sight. And indeed he had, the ship of his faith having sailed off with Marianne's death. But as Gram said, you only stayed blind if you kept your heart shut. And he'd been swimming toward the heavenly high ground for some time now. The mixed metaphors didn't faze him.

“It was an accident,” he said.

“Well, I'm sure it wasn't your fault.” Rachel ended the weird moment as she shrugged, and shook her head. Gold-streaked brownish hair bounced on her shoulders from underneath a wide western brim. “Scott…mentioned you were a widower. Bad things happen to good people.”

Wasn't your fault.
He closed his eyes, heart halting. “Thanks kindly, but, well, ground inspection ten minutes earlier was spot on. Pilot error, had to be.” He opened his eyes to gauge her reaction. His nature was upfront, honest, take-no-prisoners. Characteristics that had helped him develop some of the most successful residential communities in the west. Might as well let the dirty secrets out. Other than treetops way too close, he didn't remember much else, probably a blessing, but what a dismal first conversation with a woman he was interested in. Dismay tightened his throat.

“I know all about errors and accidents,” Rachel said, sounding bitter for a quick second.

It struck him; he didn't know how she'd lost her husband. Divorce? Death? Seemed rude to question.

Then she tossed him a dazzling smile. “What a sorry discussion this is. It's a beautiful day. Let's get that girl of yours on a horse. Riding has a way of making things better.”

Brayton nodded. “It sure does. You two go enjoy yourself.”

“Come on, Addie.” Rachel called out and jogged from his side.

Tossing Rachel a smile he coveted, Addie joined Rachel in the training ring.

His daughter ignored him, but she walked straight, firm, and his heart gladdened anyway. With her growing like a weed, he was always on the prowl for scoliosis, her doctors for spinal tethering or anything else that might suggest more surgery. As a toddler, being flat-on-her back had been miserable. The thought of a bedridden preteen was nightmarish.

Rachel strapped a helmet over his daughter's long sandy hair, and guilt smacked him again when Addie gave Rachel another brilliant smile. Marianne's smile. Once in a while, Adelaide looked so like her mother everything came thudding back.

Brayton brushed away the past and slowed his pounding heart. Loud and hearty, he clapped his hands as Adelaide landed properly in her saddle from the mounting block. She tossed him something like a smile, and his spirit brightened for a smidge. Rachel led Peachy to the training ring, and he marveled at how well Adelaide sat a horse.

Addie.
He corrected himself. He laughed out loud. In March, she'd called herself
Apple.
Summer had seen
Angie.
Or maybe it had been
Allie
. Maybe both. Her brother had tried out “Laidie” to Adelaide's pout that she wasn't a collie dog. Maybe if Brayton started using her current chosen moniker, a little of the ice would melt. Up to now, he couldn't keep up.

But then and there, he promised to try.

The beautiful fall weather sent him a strange, bittersweet peace. It had been summertime when Marianne died, and he was usually glad when the season ended. This autumn, though, Nate had left for college, leaving him and Addie alone together. Ah, life.

Brayton scooted close to lean against the post. Admiration filled him. Rachel sure knew what she was doing. She easily coached Addie into good posture. The rhythmic movement of the horse helped enhance his daughter's coordination and balance and strengthened motor development, all things her past medical history required.

Her laughter at Rachel's instructions to change positions on the slow-moving horse thrilled his ears. Addie sat to the side, and then went prone across the horse, even prone lengthwise, knees bent. She was having the time of her life, but more than anything, he longed to be the source of her joy. He wanted her to find comfort in the daddy who loved her, not some gentle mare who performed the same for any kid.

He'd take the small miracles for now. To stretch his legs, he grabbed the blue bucket and headed to the corral where other horses hung their heads over the rail, waiting for carrots. He muttered to them as he fed them and knew they liked the sound.

He looked around at the well-tended barn and outbuildings. His small ranch, Red Hill, was nothing like the awesome, sprawling Hearts Crossing, unless you counted the rocky peaks and grassy hills surrounding his place. And of course, this was a working ranch. His, as he was teased, was a rich man's hobby. Nonetheless, leaving L.A. to start over in Colorado had worked wonders on him, brought back memories of his boyhood in southeast Idaho. But the onset of adolescence had stuck Addie in a bad place. She'd resisted the move and railed about not having a mom to confide in. Soon blame against him had set in, and his sweet little girl had cast him aside. Her brother-confidante departing for college had iced the unhappy little cake.

As for himself and Addie, well,
her neurologist, her physical therapist, and her psychologist had all three suggested a mutual interest to help heal their rift. Horses. With her spinal history, hippotherapy had been a good choice. Her taking a few therapy lessons would build confidence and balance before standard riding instruction. Addie had taken to the idea without much argument. She'd even laughed, asking if she was expected to ride a hippopotamus.
Nope
, Brayton had explained.
Hippotherapy means therapeutic horseback riding, or simply horse therapy
. In the long run, however, she'd resisted his company. Now with her brother, her usual chauffeur, off at school, she had no choice.

The half hour passed quickly. Too quickly if one considered his daughter's grim face when the lesson ended. Not quickly enough if one considered his racing heart. He felt like a teenager as the beauteous Rachel walked toward him, leading Peachy with Addie still astride. She wasn't tall, just tall enough, lithe with long denim-clad legs. Scuffed boots tossed up corral dust as she strode her native stomping grounds with confidence and poise. Like a woman who could take on the world and then some.

“Show your dad how well you dismount,” Rachel encouraged, and without meeting his eye, Addie did just that. She swung her right leg toward the ground then removed her left from the stirrup and hopped down. Of course Rachel was only inches away during the whole procedure.

“Good job. One of these days, you'll likely be ready for a horse all your own,” he told Addie, rewarded by the quick but real dash of approval in her eyes.

“Good lesson, Addie,” Rachel said, bringing to his side her scent of outdoors and…cinnamon. Nutmeg maybe. Autumn scents. “But if that's the case,” Rachel went on, “there's more to horseflesh than exercise. Let's see who needs grooming. Peachy has another lesson now. Tiffany?” She called out.

Another young woman, obviously pregnant, came from the barn. She tossed Brayton a perky grin. “Howdy. I'm Rachel's sister-in-law. Tiffany. Bragg's wife.”

Brayton nodded, having met the youngest Martin brother. But Addie surprised him.

“Hi Tiffany,” his daughter said, completely at home. “Need any help grooming Curiosity? I need to learn.”

“I was just about to ask. Come on.” Tiffany gave Addie a huge smile then addressed Brayton. “Can you give us a half hour or so? Curiosity sure likes to be brushed. Or longer, even? Joe Montana could sure use a horse massage. Sugarfoot, too.”

Seemed a golden opportunity. A vision of Rachel glowed in the corner of his eye. “Take your time.”

“Oh-uh.” Tiffany grinned. “She could be here for hours.”

“I'll be fine, Dad.” Beaming at everybody, himself included, Addie gave Rachel a tight hug and followed Tiffany inside.

“OK by me.” Brayton grinned.

“I hope you meant that,” Rachel teased him as Addie walked off toward the barn. “About getting your girl a horse. They can be a lot of work.”

“Daughters or horses?” He teased back, miffed somehow at Addie's ease and affection for the two Martin women. She'd known Rachel, what? Thirty minutes? And that warranted an enthusiastic hug? He rarely even got a sour air kiss.

Rachel's joyful laugh bounded on the crisp air. “Both. You're going to have to badger Addie like crazy sometimes. If I know pre-teen girls. And I do, being quite a bit older than my baby sister. And I was one myself.”

“I've got a small sideline breeding cutting horses. So Addie's been around the culture all summer. And she's started to love it. It might be a good idea to get her a saddle mount.” He smiled but his lips felt heavy. “You did a great job there. You all have got a good thing going.”

“Why, thanks kindly.” She did a little cowgirl drawl that fit somehow. “It was Scott's idea to start equine therapy here at Hearts Crossing. I'm pleased at all he's been able to accomplish.”

Brayton waved his hand as if to encompass the entire ranch. “I reckon you all do your share. And you have many tourist activities, too.”

She nodded. “Everybody has their role at the ranch. That's for sure. We're both a working ranch and a guest ranch. But at this time, Scott and I are the only ones with CETR certification to give lessons.”

Ah, yes. Children's Equine Therapy Riding, a nationwide program. Hearts Crossing Ranch was the closest specialized location. But he had other reasons for admiring the place. One of his developments, Woodside Meadows, had been built on former Hearts Crossing property. He'd fallen in love with pictures of the area during the land acquisition process several years ago. He'd even invested in one of the condos. It sat empty, and of late, Brayton had started to consider moving there. The Red Hill Ranch was stunning, but the area was quite remote for a young girl needing friends and schooling. His staff could easily handle the operation.

Since moving to Colorado, though, he'd kept it quiet that Tranquility Group was one of his companies. His project managers had headed all the work. His lawyers, all the legal mish-mash. With folks losing homes, jobs, acres during recessionary times, he didn't want to come across as greedy, especially since the new ranch and breeding enterprise had been bought on short sale from a struggling family. Rachel, the ranch attorney, had no doubt been the Martin his team had dealt with. He couldn't help a secret smile. Someday he'd let it out, and they'd no doubt laugh about it.

A ranch hand came to take Peachy back for a traditional lesson, and Rachel leaned against a corral post.

“Must be very rewarding,” Brayton offered, moving next to her. “Working with kids.”

“It is.” Rachel nodded but stared at her feet. Then her face crumpled, and his heart tweaked. “My...my ma raised all of us to think about doing something for somebody else. Said somebody else always has it worse.”

Brayton considered her words. “I guess you could be right.” And he guessed she was. For some reason, he'd been left alive, not orphaning the two kids. He'd had the financial means to try every treatment and surgery available to heal his daughter's injured spine.