Chapter 45

Back at the ranch, Cole watched Tabby carefully. He was worried. Had she recovered from that crazy incident? She’d stopped shaking, but how was she, deep inside?

“Word with you?” He unloaded supplies off the back of his beat up truck, made a stack at its rear.

“Sure. Only Aggie said there are sandwiches in the kitchen. Something about Dax’s epicurean tastes. Beef with a smear of apricot jam or something?” She winced.

Cole put a box down, laughed. “Sis is putting you on, Tabs. Sure, he tries that shit around us the odd time but we set him straight.”

Tabby grinned. “Thank goodness. So I don’t have to worry?”

That smile eased him so much. She'd been so tense on tour. This was better.

But it was mattering too much to him, how she felt. That she be good.

“No, you definitely don’t.” He laid the last box down, surveyed the pile. He nodded to one of the hands. “Needs to go to Stable One. Thanks.” He hesitated, but need won out. “Listen, why don’t I get us the sandwiches—they’ll just be beef, thank you—and meet you at your cabin?”

She tilted her head, gave him a look. “I’ve got work to start on.”

“Won't take long. Just want to check in with you on something. And I can make my way around Dax quicker.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “Sure.” She smiled at him. “Meet me there.“

Less than 20 minutes later, he was on his way. His boots crunched on the rich soil of their spread, then padded soundlessly on the pine-needle covered floor of their forest. A pseudo picnic basket in hand—okay, it was a paper bag from one of Dax’s shopping trips to Dawson—but his heart was warring against him something fierce.

Don’t do this. Stay away. You know she wants her space.

Just twenty minutes. We haven’t talked, without others around, in days. Just twenty minutes. I can emphasize to her what we’ve got here. How it can benefit her, be a place to rest for a bit, get her bearings. Maybe even…

But no. He didn’t dare tell her what he could offer her, as a Dawson, as a key member of the community. What she could have if…

That bit had to be about him. Her, and him, alone. Not the ranch, the stunning spread that came with him. Though, he told himself, he and the ranch, what it stood for and what he stood for—were one.

Aw, hell. That’s all too heavy. He forced his mind away from it.

She’s here, he reminded himself. She’s here. That’s got to be enough, for now.

Suddenly, he was at the cabin. But Tabby was nowhere to be found. There was a note, on the table.

At the creek.

He grinned. She was making herself at home. That was good.

He made his way to the tiny slough, the one he’d played cops and robbers at when he was five. Pirates and navy corporals with Jared and Dane when he’d been seven, and Dane had always one-upped him. Jared had always snuck off to get into other mischief.

Where now, he wanted to play all kinds of other games.

The creek looked like it always had, the memory a part of him. Sheltered by huge trees, dense woodland surrounding it, it was a tiny little offering of nature; of cool, clean water. Nourishing the land, it was a home for the fish of their area. The cutthroat trout, rainbow trout, and little tadpoles winding their way through the glass-like water. It furnished life-giving sustenance for the animals that came to partake, that went away sated. Their little creek made sure the myriad of animals were ready to live another day, do well.

It was all paramount to what was flapping around in his soul.

Tabby was there, sitting on the bank. Patting something?

Oh yeah. He’d been supplanted, quite nicely, it seemed, by a handsome beast, on all fours.

“John QT. What are you doing so far from home?” The canine lifted his gaze to him, then, as any dog would when he had a better offer—roundly ignored him.

"Didn't I tell you?" Tabby asked Cole as she ruffled the dog’s neck. The wolfhound leaned into her touch as if this was a long, well-established routine. Moaned. “We got a thang. People are talking.”

A pang of desire speared through Cole, harsh.

I know how he feels.

At least…hell and damnation…I’d like to.

“He comes here regularly. Morning and night. We’re already in a routine. I love it.” Her complete delight at hanging out with a dog—such a simple thing—moved him. She really did take delight in small things.

It again made him wonder what kind of a life she’d led that she clung to those things so fiercely, whenever they presented.

He had to get this going, but he still stood there. He was full of all the things he wanted to say to her but shouldn’t. Couldn’t. It could hurt his chances, ruin them, if he did.

Don’t think. He dropped down beside her. Plunked the big brown paper bag ceremoniously between them. Wordlessly.

And, playing along with the sudden game, she raised her brows. Cautiously, carefully unwrapped the folded top of the bag. Stuck her nose in it. “Mmm. This smells heavenly.” She gave him an amazing smile. “You weren't kidding you can make your way around Dax.”

“I’m his favorite.” It came out as a bit of a pronouncement. He didn’t know what made him say it, but basking in her praise, even offered in jest–well, it did crazy things to him.

Probably reverted him to the psyche of a five year old boy.

Not good for what I’ve got on my mind.

But if she thought something was off, she didn't indicate it. Just smiled. “I bet.” They spent the next few minutes diving into the expertly packed lunch. Three fat, rough-cut, home-made bread sandwiches plied with roast beef, cut in half. Home-made mustard the man made by playing with vinaigrettes, and grinding his own seeds. Just for a bit of a break, you know. The tart, yet sweet and earthy taste was second to none, and they both moaned, then laughed abruptly.

A salad created from greens harvested from their table garden was next. And a thick wedge of chocolate and vanilla kugloaf with dried apricots on the side, along with roasted almonds.

“I had no idea you guys ate this well.” Tabby shook her head in reverence.

Cole shrugged, as he finished his third half. “It's ranch fare. Good hearty food, and lots of it. Basic stuff. But every once in a while, Dax misses his creative days, and goes on a bender. We benefit. Mostly."

“Well, it's damn nice." Finished, she leaned back on the grass, propping herself up on her elbows. John QT, the affable wolfhound, had sprawled out, still by her side, chest rising and falling with his contented breathing, the tip of his snout on her foot. “Was there something you wanted, Cowboy?"

He didn't know why his palate suddenly felt like he'd been eating a hearty, huge salad made of dry sand. And a few big rocks, to boot.

This is stupid. She’s just a girl. And I’m just a guy. It’s either gonna fly, or it ain’t.

His eyes rose to a tiny spot in the distance where the trees thinned, broke, and the full beauty of the ranch’s wide spread was obvious. It was that that saved him.

“Tabby, do you like it here?”

She blinked at the question. "I've only been here a few days, Cole.”

He stretched out his jean-clad legs, stifled the urge to lay back and join her. Too intimate. Also, once he went there, he wouldn’t be reined in easily. That would be disastrous.

Instead, he focused on something else just as important, and something that was never far below the surface: his love for his ranch. The love he’d always had for this land, and how it filled his heart. Kept him going, given him a purpose. And sometimes, with the many things he’d been through—Afghanistan, his brothers leaving one by one, then Dad’s illness and all the recent mess he hadn’t quite been able to figure out how to control yet—he’d needed that. Desperately. That simple love, that cleaving to.

The land. Home.

Even when he’d served his country, knowing it was waiting there, like family, for him to come back to it and shepherd it, had kept him focused. He might otherwise have lost his way from all the shocks, the grief. The bad.

It was that he let slip, now. To this woman who’d captured his heart.

“There's something about knowing this has been Dawson land for six generations—land that my grandfather, great-grandfather, and his grandfather before him walked, tended, and cared for, that makes me— aw hell, I don’t know. Feel connected to it somehow, I suppose. I feel I have a sacred duty to tend this place. Make sure no one ever hurts or damages it, or its inhabitants. Ruins it.”

He leaned back, surveyed everything laid out before them. “This creek, the forest. Beyond, the Rockies, watching on. There’s a crazy sense of eternity here.” He stopped abruptly, embarrassed. Knew he needed to finish quickly, with those big, brown eyes watching him, so thoughtfully. “It’s our home. It’s Dawson land.”

Tabby broke the gaze, turned away abruptly. But he could tell by her bearing that she was listening intently. It was one of the things he'd grown to want, so bad. Need was too strong a word, so he shoved that one away.

But he wanted that care. That attention. From her. Heaven help him.

She spoke. “I can see that. The Logans don’t have a long history in any one place. We ended up in Jack’s Bay, and it's funny. The more time I spend here, the more I realize what Jack’s Bay gave to me. To our whole family. Suddenly, I'm hankering to go back. Not right away,” she added hastily. “But I'm looking forward to it now, and I think I’ll see it with new eyes. I am already. But I get what you mean. I can’t imagine having something, let alone such a beautiful piece of land in our family, for so many generations. It’s special. And quite a stewardship.”

Warmth eddied in him. She got it. But there was more he needed to tell her.

“You’re right. It is special. And a stewardship. I’m not sure if the Dawsons were chosen or if we chose it for ourselves. But my granddad always said those to whom much is given, much will be demanded from them. When you have all this—a gorgeous, fertile hunk of land that serves as a home for those who work it with us, and for our animals and our family—you think. And there's plenty of time for that. Early mornings. Late at night. Through the nights when you can't sleep, and there's that all pervading quiet, you realize there's more.”

Now she did look at him, once again. Maybe it was the afternoon light glinting off the creek in diamond flashes, but her eyes looked different. Alive. Vivid. Bright.

He looked away quickly, emotion crowding his spirit, and he didn’t know why. He dug deep so he could tell her what was in there, what he realized he needed her to know. To understand.

“You realize you’ve got to use what you have to care for others, to be a force for good. Like a beacon. Hell, I know it sounds corny, but you want to stand for what's right. Sure, we mess up. We all take a swing at another man in a fight, or drink too much. Shit like that happens. But you want to stand for good stuff. Like truth. Treating your neighbours, those less fortunate or those more fortunate too—with decency. Someone needs you, you help. You just do. If you can make someone's life better with a simple act, you take it.”

His gaze darkened at the thought of what Quinn was doing. Running, screaming, away from these western ranch ideals Cole loved so much and tried to live by. “Out here you learn that without the help of others, you die. Simple as that. And these days, even if things have been eased with social services and what not, it’s still critical. You might get food and sustenance, but a man, or a woman, can still waste away from lack of attention and care, just as much as without food and water. You've got to do your best to make sure that never happens.”

She couldn't take her eyes off him at the moment, and it did something to his heart.

It made him brave.

When something really matters, that's when it's the hardest to make a move.

He leaned back, carefully, until he was in line with her, resting on one elbow. He reached over, touched her face, ever so lightly, with the back of his knuckles.

Her eyes were big and wide. Warm. Misty.

He swallowed. “On another note, Miss Grey. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Oh, yeah?” she murmured. “I thought you were just into your ranch.”

A surprise grin escaped him. “That’s just a way to tell a lady I’m deep and solid, just before I tell her—once again—how I can’t stop thinking about her.”

A tiny smile flitted about her mouth. “Well. Maybe stop thinking and do something.”