Her Cowboy Hero

“The marine.” He met her gaze, understanding the relief he saw there. She was glad he already knew, sparing her any awkward explanations. “I heard about him in town.”

According to Colin’s waitress, Michael had been killed before his son was born. Hannah’s late husband had never seen Evan drag his green blanket across the dusty floor or heard his son ask when he would be big enough to ride a horse all by himself. At least I had two years with Danny before he was ripped away. But in some ways, wasn’t that worse? There were still nights Colin woke from dreams of the past with the sound of his toddler’s surprisingly deep belly laugh echoing in his ears.

“Last month, I watched Ninja circle up the cows with the youngest of the herd in the center,” Hannah continued. “I never got a look at what they were reacting to—”

“Coyotes, probably.”

She nodded. “The incident gave me a new appreciation for donkeys as unexpected heroes.”

There was that word again. She’d called him a hero earlier, and he’d bristled, resenting the implied expectations that came with such lofty praise. But if she was comfortable using the same terminology when describing a donkey, maybe Colin should relax and get over himself.

It was a radical thought.

While Hannah and Evan stepped outside to see if they could find the Big Dipper, Colin tried to recall the last time he’d been relaxed. In the weeks following his brother’s engagement Colin had figuratively held his breath, afraid that Justin—notorious for being unable to commit—would somehow screw up the best thing that had ever happened to him. Though Colin didn’t spend much time in Cielo Peak these days, the habit of worrying after his siblings was tough to break. He should have been at ease during his last few ranch jobs, doing work he enjoyed, but circumstances such as Delia McCoy’s unwanted interest had prevented that from happening.

Well, you won’t find contentment here. Not with Evan looking for opportunities to talk his ear off and the losing battle of trying to help Hannah turn the run-down house into a tourist destination. Yet even as Colin reminded himself of the reasons he wasn’t staying, he had to admit that right now, in this quiet stable, he was experiencing the closest thing to peace he’d felt in longer than he could remember. And he was in no hurry to give that up.

Chapter Five

“So you’re the fella lookin’ to replace me?” The grizzled man slammed his truck door, and Scarlett ran down the steps to greet him, woofing happily.

Colin set down the hammer and rose, deciding this must be Henry White. The man wore a battered straw cowboy hat that looked a lot like the one atop Colin’s own head. “Not sure what you heard, sir, but I’m not replacing anyone. Are you Henry White?”

“Yup.” The man’s demeanor was so territorial, Colin was surprised it had taken him until Saturday to come size up the perceived competition. “Been working this ranch since before you were born.”

As Colin understood it, that was part of the problem. But he had a lot of respect for what could be learned from previous generations. “I’m Colin Cade. Just passing through Bingham Pass and lending Hannah a hand while I’m here.”

The man nudged back the brim of his hat. “Lotta people seem eager to help Hannah. Gideon Loomis, for one.”

Was he trying to warn Colin away, let him know Hannah was spoken for? She deserves better. “Met Loomis. Wasn’t impressed.”

Henry’s craggy, sun-leathered face split into a grin. “Me, neither. His parents may run a successful operation, but their spoiled only child doesn’t have the sense God gave a goose.”

So Colin had passed a test of sorts. The approval was oddly satisfying, and he found himself returning the old-timer’s smile.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” Hannah called from inside the house. “I—” She stepped onto the porch, then froze, gaping at Colin. She looked so feminine in the white lacy sundress, a dramatic contrast to her shining black hair, that it wouldn’t have been a hardship to stand there staring back at her. Over the past couple of days, he’d gotten used to seeing her in jeans and periodically dotted with flour or melted chocolate.

“Something wrong?” He glanced over his shoulder, trying to see if he’d overlooked a glaring mistake. None of the local stores carried the exact decorative spirals that were part of the porch railing, so after consulting the budget with Hannah yesterday morning, they’d decided to alternate. He’d found reasonably priced, complementary balusters and was installing the new ones in a pattern, salvaging as many of the former ones as possible. He was almost ready to paint.

“N-no. Nothing’s wrong. I just...You were smiling. I didn’t think that was possible,” she said under her breath.

The observation left him self-conscious. I smile. Occasionally.

“I see you’ve met Henry,” she said. “He’s going to watch Evan while Annette and I visit an estate sale I’ve had on my calendar. I’m really optimistic about finding some furniture for the bunkhouse!”

As far as he could tell, “really optimistic” was her default setting. But today her enthusiasm was contagious.

“Best of luck,” he said. He even threw in another smile for good measure.

She blinked, but then collected herself. Her dimples flashed in a mischievous smirk. “Warn me next time you’re going to do that so I can put on my sunglasses.”

He chuckled at that, the sound rusty even to his ears.

Then they were both distracted by Evan joining them on the porch. Hannah explained that the boy was in the middle of lunch and there was plenty of leftover spaghetti in the pot if Henry or Colin wanted some. Colin was always grateful when she brought him food outside, but so far he’d managed to avoid joining her and Evan for meals. Henry, however, had no such reservations about pulling up a chair at the kitchen table.

“I came hungry,” he said. “I know better than to eat before setting foot in your house. God knows I love Kitty, but her cooking can’t hold a candle to yours. Don’t ever tell her I said that,” he added, looking suddenly alarmed.

Hannah mimed crossing her heart. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Evan was bored with the discussion of spaghetti. As he threw his slim arms around Henry’s legs in a welcoming hug, he demanded, “Are we going fishing today?”

“That depends on how good you are and whether Henry feels up to it,” Hannah said sternly. “Don’t pester him about it. And if the two of you do go, you have to exit through the back door. This area will probably be covered with wet paint.”

He’d done a few boards in the garage last night so that they’d be dry and people could have a pathway through the front door, but he didn’t trust the four-year-old to stick to the path. After blowing his mother a kiss goodbye, Evan led Henry inside, talking a mile a minute about the size of the fish he was going to catch.

Hannah watched them go, laughing softly. “Our pond is stocked with trout, but to hear him talk, you’d think we had marlin in there. Henry is good with him—with any luck, you won’t even notice they’re here. But if you need anything, my cell number is on the fridge. So is Kitty’s. She and Henry live just down the road, so she can be here in a matter of minutes. A lot faster than me.”

Especially if Hannah ended up with a flat tire or some other roadside emergency. “You’re taking the truck?” he asked.

“It has a lot more cargo space than Annette’s car and pulls the trailer better. I figured it was best to plan for a big haul. Power of positive thinking and all that.”

He opened his mouth to comment, then thought better, shaking his head.

“What?” Her hazel eyes narrowed. “Were you about to make some snide comment about my truck?”

“About you. Not snide,” he backpedaled. “I was just wondering if this is something you were born with or a learned behavior—your sunny disposition, I mean. Does everyone in your family see the world in such a rose-colored view?”

She jerked her head away abruptly, reaching into her purse and pulling out the sunglasses she’d mentioned. When she turned to face him again, the dark-tinted frames obscured her expression. “I was an orphan, actually.”

They’d both lost their parents? The revelation of more common ground threw him for a loop. He and Hannah Shaw were polar opposites. He wouldn’t have guessed that their backgrounds shared many similarities.

“Your parents are dead?” he heard himself ask.

“I honestly have no idea. Never met them,” she said matter-of-factly. “I was abandoned as a newborn and grew up mostly in foster care. But to answer your question, the ‘sunny disposition’ was self-taught. I suppose I could moan and sulk my way through life, being bitter about anything that went wrong, but what kind of example would that be for my son?”

Her words had an edge to them. Because the topic was upsetting for her, or because she’d taken his question as criticism?

Or was she perhaps criticizing him? Colin may not have been flashing smiles left and right for the past three days, but he sure as hell wasn’t sulking.

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