Angel Child Read online

  “Ah well. Some fairytales don’t come true.” She had to keep things light. “Grant and I aren’t together anymore. But we have a son who’s almost ten. My dad’s not in good health, so last summer, we moved back from Michigan. When I heard about the reunion picnic, well, I couldn’t resist.”

  There. That was true and informative and noncommittal. She’d watched Scott’s fingers clench when she talked about the reunion, though. That day at the picnic, she had told him she was single, had quietly mentioned Grant and having a son. Scott’s asking her out after learning about such baggage had more than flattered her. It had thrilled her. But it didn’t matter, not then. Not now. Her own husband hadn’t wanted an imperfect son. Why would any other man?

  “Oh,” Kenn offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry to bring that up. I didn’t think before I spoke.”

  Let him think it was the divorce that made her sad and not worry about her son. Over the years, she’d “dated” two men quite seriously, and each had quickly said adios upon meeting Creighton for the first time. Never would she bring a man into her son’s life again. Because none of them ever stuck around.

  It was simply better this way.

  “I’ll make y’all some coffee.” Kenn’s mother stood. “Then you and Kenn can get to work. And Scott can get to his computer. Your pa live around here, Mary Grace? I don’t recall him.”

  At mention of Scott, Mary Grace’s skin grew warm, and she hoped her cheeks didn’t flame. Oh, it would have been nice. Just a simple burger with a hunky cowboy. But… “No. My folks live in Lost Canyon.”

  “Lost Canyon?” Elaine Martin halted mid-stride, hands on ample hips. “You intend making that drive back and forth every day, for a week or more? We’re due for an early snow.”

  Both Scott and Kenn wore worried foreheads. “That is one monster drive, Mary Grace.” Kenn used a stern schoolteacher tone.

  “It’s not so bad.” She steeled herself. Like a treacherous drive would keep her from the job. She needed the job.

  Mrs. Martin wasn’t going to let it go, however. Her lips pursed tight, and her fingers fiddling with the zipper of the turquoise jacket that matched her pants. “That pass at Eagle Ridge isn’t a good place even in the best of times.”

  Mary Grace held off a shiver. She knew all this; her folks did, too. But God had sent her this job. About that she had no doubts or qualms at all. She’d prayed and this was the answer.

  “I need the job,” she said simply. Not just for money. She also needed to build up her résumé. She hadn’t taught one single day since leaving Mountain Cove to marry Grant. After he left, well, the pre-nup hadn’t been generous, especially when Creighton’s experimental treatments had taken the two of them to clinics all over Europe and Asia. These days, every cent of child support went toward insurance payments and residential therapy. Simply put, Creighton was big for his age, and her folks didn’t have the stamina to handle him physically. They’d realized it during the summer months. And now with Creighton in good hands, Mary Grace needed to resurrect her career, to fill her days with something she was good at. To prepare for a future on her own.

  Grief still tore at her even though the decision was a sound one. She might sob into her pillow each night at the painful separation, but Sosa’s Souls, the group home outside Denver, was proving to be the answer to prayer.

  When all was said, done, and paid for, Mary Grace needed a way to support herself. She needed to build her life back. Of course she’d let her attorney hit up Grant for additional child support when required, but she was done with him. She’d accept his help with Creighton, but she could take care of herself. And would make it on her own.

  “It’ll be all right,” she insisted even as her fingers tightened around the edge of her sweater. “I’m a Colorado girl by birth. I know the ropes.”

  She couldn’t resist a little preen, however, at the concern etching Scott’s face. He was still lean as a willow switch, every inch toned with innate strength, dark curls almost black and eyes a mix of brown and green. In a better place and time, they might have had a chance. But no hot young cowboy of twenty seven, maybe twenty eight, needed the complication of romancing a thirty-four-year-old divorcee with a special needs child.

  The flirtation at the picnic had been fun at the time, and seemed right. Had piqued her interest, fed her ego, and started her heart purring. But four months later, nothing could be more unwise. Disappointment swamped her, and she turned her face when she realized he’d caught her staring at him.

  “Nope. I can’t allow it.” Mrs. Martin stated, her sons silent but giving each other knowing nods.

  “Can’t allow what?” Mary Grace had to ask into the continuing quiet.

  “I can’t allow you to put yourself in danger just because you’re helping out my son.” She eyed Mary Grace shrewdly. “Your folks capable of tending your boy?”

  She gulped. No, but he was already in Broken Bow. “Um, yeah.”

  “He’s nine, going on ten? You two ever been apart? Vacations and what not?”

  The words had Mary Grace nearly choke. Of course. Hospitals and tests and now, Sosa’s Souls. They’d never had normal togetherness. All she could do was nod.

  “All righty then. Scott’s got that computer-stream gizmo, right?” She gestured at her son, then looked back at Mary Grace. “You can be in touch with your boy twice a day, morning and night. Before school and after. So you’ll stay right here at Hearts Crossing.”

  “What?” Mary Grace gasped and thought Scott did the same.

  “You avoid that horrendous drive, besides which you and Kenn can consult each night about school. Keep him updated.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t want to leave her boy,” Scott tossed in and Mary Grace read his reluctance at having her anywhere within fifty miles.

  Mary Grace bit her lip. Deep down, she knew Mrs. Martin’s invitation had merit. Creighton had already left. Weekly visits were going well; they were building up to more frequent contact. Settling him back to his routine was a struggle for him.

  Her heart panged another time. Although best for Creighton, and a decision she hadn’t made lightly nor without many professional recommendations, the situation tore her apart every day.

  Kenn smiled at her, brightening her mood. Then he grimaced in pain when he changed positions. “It could work, Mary Grace. If your boy doesn’t mind.”

  Creighton wouldn’t mind. Would never even realize it. The goodness of the Martins filled the room, but she had to tease Kenn and keep things light to keep the tears away.

  “Aha, I get it,” she said. “Kenn, you just don’t want to chance me not getting here if the weather should turn. But you know...” She smiled at Mrs. Martin. The invitation wasn’t a half-bad idea. “Let me chew on it for a bit, OK?”

  “You could stay right here in the house. Our guest bunkhouse is out of bounds right now. Plumbing renovations. But we’ve got plenty of guestrooms upstairs.” Mrs. Martin tapped her finger against her cheek. “The ‘Huckleberry Holliday’ guest suite is just the thing. And Kenn, he’s tied up right here while his wife’s out of town for a few days. It’s the perfect solution.”

  Relief flooded Mary Grace as Scott’s mom nodded firmly now. A bonafide domicile meant for guests anyway, Creighton in good hands…How could Mary Grace argue with this plan?

  “Of course, I’d pay room and board.” She meant to, really, but Elaine Martin just glared at first, then split a grin.

  “Our hospitality is on the house. You’re taking such a load off Kenn’s mind.”

  “Oh, I just couldn’t.”

  “You could. And you will.”

  Scott reached a tanned, callused hand to squeeze the back of his neck, a sure sign of tension. In no way did Mary Grace seek willfully to add to his consternation, but for once, she wanted to think of herself. It wasn’t selfishness at all, was it? To want the best of the situation offered to her? A job. A close-by place to stay? The teacher she was filling in for close at hand for any unforeseen need
s?

  Throughout her head and heart, the message throbbed. God had provided. She couldn’t care what Scott thought or felt. Of course she might run into him on the stairs or at meals, find her heart crashing against her ribs every time she did, but he couldn’t be allowed to matter. This time was hers, to set herself straight. Get on with her life. Take advantage of something good going on. Carve the path God was laying at her feet. Mrs. Martin’s invitation was sincere, full of good faith, and meant to be. Mary Grace knew it with certainty.

  “Yes, Mrs. Martin. I’d love to stay. You’re the answer to a prayer.”

  2

  With a polite, wordless nod, Scott excused himself, dying for fresh air on his face. Needing to escape walls closing in around him. Outside, he calmed himself as he walked toward the corral. He was used to strangers on the ranch, in and out of everywhere. Truth was, many beautiful young women came to Hearts Crossing for any number of activities, and he’d been known to flirt. Some had responded well; others hadn’t. Mary Grace was no different.

  Although his gut told him she was. She was somebody special, and her rejection still hurt. Then confusion gushed around his belly. It didn’t seem to tear her up much, five nights and days away from her son. His brother Hooper had had watery eyes the whole four days his six-year-old Ella had gone to California to visit her step-grandparents. And big sis Rachel, an attorney, did as much work from home as she could so as not to leave year-old Matty.

  Ah well. Mary Grace’s son was almost ten. Maybe things were different the older kids got. Split-home, too. All he knew now was, every single morning she was here, he’d be up earlier than ever to get stock fed and chores done and his horse ridden so they didn’t run into each other.

  And Kenn was strong, resilient. Never before had a tumble from a horse kept him down for long. Likely he’d be back in the schoolroom-saddle faster than anybody predicted. That way Mary Grace would get on back where she belonged.

  Peeking around for Space Cowboy, he headed toward the tack room for his saddle. He could almost hear Mrs. Clark again, saying it was just her and Heather all the time. Mary Grace’s deal rankled a tad, her seeming indifference to her child. Ah well. Maybe women weren’t all like his Ma and Mrs. Clark, needing their kids around them. To each her own, Scott reckoned. None of his mix.

  Right now he ached to stretch his legs into his stirrups and get a firm breeze rushing through his hair to clear away cobwebs of thoughts he didn’t need to think. Although he’d taken a herd of Cub Scouts on a trail ride earlier, he could get some riding in all by his lonesome long before feeding time.

  Or would have, if he hadn’t heard his brother Pike hailing from his pickup truck. “I got the UPS delivery. Come on. Help me unload.”

  Scott groaned. UPS didn’t deliver this far out, so whoever ran errands in town had the job of carting parcels back home. This time, all the Christmas inventory for the gift shop. So instead of wind under his brim and stirrups under his feet, Scott would be spending the next hour or two unpacking. He snorted in disappointment but didn’t mean it entirely. All part of his job description. Running the online store, shipping the orders, and keeping track of the inventory for the gift shop.

  “All righty.” No need to be bummed. Everybody did their share around here.

  He and Pike hoisted two big boxes and three small ones to the gift shop just west of the big house.

  “Set ‘em down. I don’t have my key.”

  “Already unlocked it.” Pike stood straight up, leaned against the weathered wall of the shop, voice so full of joy Scott had to stare at him. Lugging crates of Western trinkets wasn’t all that much cause for delight.

  “What’s up?” Scott faced him, watching pride wash over his brother. A large animal vet, no doubt he’d just had some kind of medical success.

  “Don’t breathe a word. I mean it.” Pike whispered even though nobody was around. Scott understood. Their ma had ears ten thousand times more sensitive than most humans. Most dogs, too. No matter, she was inside the house and thirty feet away.

  “I mean it.” Pike said with tight jaw.

  “OK. I got it.”

  “I gotta tell somebody, or I’ll explode.”

  “Yeah?” Scott snorted. “This better be good.”

  “Better than good. Daisy’s pregnant.”

  Well, whisper or not, and all things considered, Scott let out a whoop so loud a wreath made of acorns inside the display window moved a little.

  “That’s faaaaaaantastic.” He thumped his brother hard on the back three or four times. “Congratulations. But Ma’ll kill you if you don’t tell her.”

  “I know. I know. Daisy just took the test this morning. But she wants to wait until Christy’s back from her landscape convention. Tell everybody at the same time. Saturday likely.”

  Scott narrowed his eyes. “Her folks, too?”

  “Yep. Everybody. You’re the only one who knows. Daisy’s planning some kind of wingding welcome back party. You know, celebrating Christy’s award. So the timing’s perfect.”

  “Well, it’s a pretty deadly secret to keep.” Scott indeed felt his brother’s joy and indeed understood the secrecy. Could already hear Ma’s shrieks of happiness as well as her rebukes at being kept in the dark. “And Daisy better steer clear. Ma can see right through most anything.”

  Pike, face aglow, wove his fingers together then stretched his palms inside out. “I know. But Ma herself always says one’s spouse comes first. That’s what makes a marriage strong. So I can just use her advice back at her. It’s what Daisy wants.”

  Scott grinned. “I already know what Daisy wants, she gets. How’s the baby gonna work out with her teaching?”

  “She’ll finish out the school year, for sure. We’ll work it out if she wants to continue teaching. But we can make it financially if she doesn’t. However…” A big grin split his face. “I think her helping out as chuck-cook on the wagon train adventures next summer is a done deal, though.”

  “Well, I just think it’s all swell,” Scott said.

  After a brotherly hug, Pike stepped back. “How’d it go today? The therapy ride with Daisy’s student?”

  “Great. I just plunked her on a saddle, strapped her in a bit and walked her a few laps. She was happy as could be.”

  “Nice little girl, and Daisy says the mom’s a dear.” Pike’s voice changed. “The pa walked out when he found out his girl could never get well. Never be normal.”

  Scott’s lower jaw fell toward his chest, and the audacity of such abandonment got him riled. “I don’t get it. Things get tough and he bails?”

  “I guess.” Pike shook his head. “Me, that little wisp inside my wife is already my son. My daughter. From now until forever. No matter what.”

  “You’re not thinking…” Scott’s belly tumbled. “…something could be wrong?”

  Pike groaned. “No. I meant I can’t believe how in love with my baby I already am. How protective I feel. And I know that’s going to multiply to infinity when I hold him or her in my arms.”

  “I’m thinking…” Scott said.

  Pike’s eyebrows rose.

  “It was a good idea Daisy had. Bringing Heather here. Mrs. Clark said the nearest therapy center is too far to get to. Maybe, you know. Maybe we should research setting up something here at Hearts Crossing.”

  “It could work. You’re our resident computer geek. Why not look it up?”

  “All right. After I unpack.” Scott rolled his eyes as Pike chuckled with a “bye-now” and left for his chores.

  Inside the little storeroom, Scott unloaded the Christmas stock, couldn’t help admiring what he saw. Little wooden covered wagon ornaments with “Hearts Crossing Ranch” and the brand imprinted on the cotton. Silver earrings shaped like Western boots, cowboy hat lockets where the crown opened for a picture. T-shirts gussied up with beaded Native American designs. Cowgirl lingerie, socks decorated with horseshoes at the toes. Ma had good taste, though mostly Daisy’s mother ran the gift shop.


  He shook his head as he recalled Daisy’s secret. Wondered if Karen Densmore knew. Somehow Ma would sniff it out before Christy’s return, he was sure. That woman had something like a seventh sense where her brood was concerned.

  The last box held baby gear. Tiny pink infant onesies saying “I’m the buckaroo’s baby sister” or miniature blue T-shirts saying “I’m the little cowgirl’s big brother.” And everything gender-reversed. That had him thinking. Babies. Pike already in love with his. Some other dad leaving his little girl in the lurch because, well, because she wasn’t up to his standards? True love wasn’t like that. Scott knew that much.

  He’d never much thought about kids himself, though. And having his own, never. He got all the sugar he needed from his niece and nephew, and he’d gotten close to Daisy’s little nephew and brother Bragg’s nephew-to-be. They’d both carry ring pillows when Bragg married Tiffany next month, Saturday after Thanksgiving.

  Yes, indeed, Miss Right was a long way off, whoever she might be. He shoved Mary Grace’s face back into a dark corner of his mind as he piled a stack of socks. Not wanting to recall the sight of her blonde hair tossing in the summer wind.

  Not wanting to recall the hitch of his breath.

  Something he hadn’t felt or done since Lori…

  Fortunately, Space Cowboy’s whining at the door and scratching against the post caught Scott’s attention. The dog streaked inside.

  Scott ruffled the furry head. “Done with your rambles now, are ya? That little Heather, she was sure a sweetheart, wasn’t she?”

  The Cowboy cocked his head like he truly understood, whining in response like he truly heard.