Chapter 55

The sun rose over the endless British Columbia pine forest. Its dawning light spread over the horses grazing in the field, the roans and the singular black stallion. It washed over the sparkling creek, shimmered on the quiet pond and played luminescent notes over the fields. Played hide and seek with the cattle and the calves bellowing at their sides. All of Dawson Ridges glowed in the pinkish hue of another new day.

Cole Dawson snuck upstairs to the third floor of the rambling ranch house, tread carefully past the group of dogs sleeping together, smack in the middle of the hallway. Even though they always tried to usher them elsewhere at night and it never worked, he couldn’t help but crack a smile.

There was Baxter, their little pug, in his standard world domination position, limbs solidly over the others. John QT, their long, lanky wolfhound was stretched out beside him, putting up with Baxter’s tanned butt on his neck, dangerously close to his half-open mouth. Roger, their furry Heinz 57 dog was on the other side, with Baxy’s back feet on his snout. The adorable new addition to their family, Westheimer, Krys' dachshund, had the privilege of Baxy’s front paws and his scrapey claws on his middle. They were all tangled together.

Fortunately none of them woke, or if they did, simply didn’t care what he was up to. Though Westheimer did open a tiny eye, then apparently choosing to stick with his buddies, closed it again.

All clear. He didn’t want company for what he was planning right now. None at all.

Thank goodness Mom and Dad were closeted in their room, still enjoying their extended reunion after Dad’s cardiac issues and his time away. He still had to be careful and also had to make dietary changes, but Jack Elbert Dawson was back. Oh, so back. Cole felt the pride and the wonderful feeling that all was right with the world again, with Dad home.

He really was an institution, not only for Dawson Ridges, but for the whole community and district. He was back, weighing in on things, directing matters. Even when he was simply relaxing, the place felt more solid.

And truth be told? When he’d placed his big hand on Cole’s shoulder last night, after everyone else had cleared from the porch, he’d looked at him with those vibrant green eyes, and spoken to him in a low tone. Serious.

“You had some hard choices to make the last while, Son. Tough ones, enough to rip a man in two.” His father had gazed deep into Cole’s eyes. “I’m not sure I would have made the decisions as well as you did. The depression thing—many a good man, and woman, deals with it. Got to be determined, when you’ve got that poking around, and you never know when it’ll strike. The ranch bit was a messy business—and an uncommon one. But you know what?”

Cole had waited with bated breath. No matter he was thirty-five years old and a man in his own right, after all the things he’d been through.

Afghanistan. The fallout after. Dawson Ridges’ own spate of hell. The depression that had swallowed him whole. The fiasco he’d just weathered, with all its crazy facets. All that was behind him, yet none of it made any difference.

He was still this man’s son, and his approval meant all. It was a fire in his belly, a truth that couldn’t be denied.

He’d never forget the old man’s words.

“You did exactly right, Son. In everything. I am damn proud of you.” The senior Dawson had smiled at him. “And not the least, in your choice of filly. She’s a rare one, Son. About as rare as my Molly, your sainted mother. All of it, you did exactly right. I’m so proud, there aren’t words.”

His heart had almost bust from pride. Being pronounced good by a man as shrewd as his father? It was like the whole world had been handed to him on a gilded platter, wrapped up in a huge bow.

Now? He needed her. His woman. He needed Tabitha Logan…soon to be Tabby Dawson. He hoped.

More crazy happiness in his heart.

He hurried down the hallway, past the sleeping dogs—yep, letting them lie, he chuckled to himself—to their private area upstairs, with the tray of coffee and fresh croissants. Dax had taken to making fresh pastries for Tabby at least once a week.

Fresh, damn croissants, he thought. How the hell had she swung that?

And Buttercup, who was crazy about Tabby—he swore she mooed differently after Tabby played, petted and talked with her, and Tabby did that more than a couple of times a week—was giving crazy amounts of milk and the highest quality cream she ever had.

That woman?

Oh, but she had a way. If it was up to him, he’d be snagging her not just for the next little while, but for a lifetime. He hadn’t asked her officially yet, because he wanted to do it exactly right. Special. And there always seemed to be too much going on.

His mind ran through his many responsibilities today.

Call Dane. Mason was getting discharged, within the month. He’d had a non-committal text from Jared saying he might be coming home soon, too—thank God, him, not Lucas. The day Lucas walked in the door…

Either way, looked like Dawson Ridges might be full soon, with two of the Dawson Ridges men home.

What would the ranch look like, with them back? Even one would change things, and things would slide differently. Jared wasn’t as bad as Lucas, though he could be a hell-raiser. If Jared was the first one making it back, things could be unsteady for a while, too.

Cole pushed all the worries from his mind. This moment? He wanted it just for the two of them.

Today, he was going to surprise Tabby with breakfast in bed. He'd already done a couple of hours of chores. He'd also had a shower, and was squeaky clean. He was really hoping for some quality time and a little bit of…

He pushed the door open to their bedroom with his foot, balancing the tray with the steaming coffee, and the four, golden brown, freshly baked croissants sliding a wee bit. “Hey, Beautiful. I’m…”

The bed was empty. The pale covers were tossed back. Tabby loved white on white, and he, a ranch CEO who lived with muck and practically ate it for breakfast, had obliged her. Every damn thing was white, or as she called it, cream.

Or vanilla, ecru, eggshell. Moonshine, off-white and pale unfurled daisy petals, for crap’s sake. The woman was nuts.

Except for one side chair she’d put in the bedroom for him. Large, brown, with fuzzy, matted fabric, a yard-sale reject and one she’d personally reupholstered specifically for him, in the awful fabric he'd chosen.

His mark. Always present, by God.

Except even there was Sheba, laying on her back on the spacious seat, commanding a big chunk of it, sprawled tummy upward in a shaft of warming sun.

On his chair.

It did crazy, good stuff to his heart. The little alley-cat now had the most luxurious life. He tossed a glance at the tiny alcove, tucked behind the wood stove that warmed this room beautifully in the winter, to the series of dishes on the floor.

Tabby had gone to a rural arts and craft sale, and bought little bowls specially made, artfully painted and fired by one of the local women, as dishware. One held kibble. Hell, he’d laughed, as he’d read the bag description. Organic, vitamin-packed, flavorful fare. Expensive, of course.

Sheba loved it.

The rest was a various concoction of different items. Organic wet food, yes. But beside that was whatever Tabby snuck up for the kitty and honestly? Whatever Dax pressed into her hand after supper that he’d saved for the tiny, once ragged, dark calico. Or if she wandered downstairs, Dax fed her himself. She was still tiny, but filled out, her fur sleek and shiny, her little nose pink and moist. Those eyes, so alert. All-seeing, he called them.

Aggie, Krys and the others collectively called her the Mistress of the Hearth, because that’s where she chose to lay, especially in the cooling weather. And there were many hearths, and many fireplaces, in this ranch house.

Most heart-warming of all though, it was on his discarded clothes Sheba chose to sleep, in their suite, most of the time. After their bed. She loved his jeans, his tossed shirts, and by God, his boxers. That’s where Sheba lay.

He shook his head. His family. A bit crazy.

But he loved them. Desperately.

There, too, was the scarlet teddy, Tabby’s always present lingerie. This one was a new one she’d bought recently, and it was draped, currently, over… his chair.

Then he heard it. Tap tap tap.

Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap.

The fool woman was up and at work. Crazy early. Again.

He sighed. So much for the surprise, and the lazy morning in bed he’d wanted to give her. And good luck rousting her from her project, he told himself.

Try again tonight, Dawson. When he did get her attention, whoa. It was all that and a…

He went into the little closet area of the room that they’d set up to serve as Tabby’s writing nook and office. With a good size window that looked out on the fields and work area of the ranch, they were never far from each other, even when he was working. One look up, and he’d see her and Sheba in the window.

“Hey you,” he called. “Breakfast is here. A Dax special. Do you want to…”

“Oh, set it over there, will you?” She was hunched over her laptop, eyes fixed on her screen. Her mug was beside her, as was the old tin vase he’d rescued for her from the barn, full of the purple salvia he brought her every couple of days to refresh the simple arrangement, along, of course, with an errant daisy or stalk of grass.

She never minded.

“I’ve got a new project offer, Cole. Another place in B.C. is asking for their ranch’s history to be told, and I emailed them I’d check with you, as there’s traveling involved. But you’ll be a dear and be okay with it, right? I’ve actually been in touch with Jaclyn too, and she says she sees a series in the offing. I think she’d be great to have working with me on this, right? She might actually come out for a bit and visit. Work from here. We could set up one of the spare bedrooms for her on the second floor and….”

She was at it again. Planning, but also, what she planned she’d get done. She’d create something glorious, and it would work.

Kind of like their ranch. Dawson Ridges, had all worked out, too. His moods? Mostly under control. Damn depression still got ahold of him at times, but he had the shrink, and strategies. Lord. Strategies on how to think, medication to fill the gap. Supplements too, that Tabby had researched, that the doc had allowed.

Even with all that, they were still figuring it out. And Tabby too. She was still looking into treatments for her face, but not quite as into it as she’d been before. Whatever she wanted was fine with him, and he’d support her.

“We’ll talk, but it’s sounding fine, sweetheart. About Jaclyn, no problem. Just got to check with Ma and make sure that…” 

“Oh, that would be amazing, if your Ma or family has nothing else going on. And. About Rachel…”

“That poor nurse. I’m shocked she deigned to come to the build when she had the interesting job of taking care of you in the hospital.” He kept his face straight.

Tabby’s eyes grew large, then she grinned. “Ha ha. Yeah, yeah. I’ll zing you with one later. But yeah, she’s the sweetest thing going. We’ve been chatting, and she said if I ever want company, she’d take a couple weeks of vacation and head out, if we have room. What do you think? I’m good to toss the royalties I got to Dax on the sly, for food, and stuff. It’s only right.” 

His woman. She’d invite the whole world out here and take care of each one of them, personally. Oh, she talked about being tough and a new person, but that heart.

And it struck him, or rather, Dax had pointed out to him one day while pressing a care package for Sheba into his palm…they were, at their base, two peas in a pod.

Though she was way prettier than a pea. Or a pod. Or any other damn thing on God’s green earth.

“I’ll talk to Ma. Why not? Maybe in the Fall. Just don’t go inviting too many people, for a bit, okay?

“Okay. Only…one more. And he can stay in the bunkhouse, with the hands.”

His brow lifted. “He?”

Her forehead furrowed. “I talked to Dare this morning, got his sorry ass out of bed.” She grimaced. “He’s going downhill, Cole. I poked at him, asked some questions, and near as I can figure out, he hasn’t been out of his place for days.”

Cole had seen the darkness in Dare’s eyes during the build, and had been worried for his old Delta North teammate. But days? This wasn’t good news. “The break-up?”

Tabby nodded. “They’re still apart. I tried to call Abby—we got along great on the Hawaii vacation—but her phone’s disconnected and I don’t have her new number. Dare says she’s gone to New York, got a great photography internship. He’s convinced she’s going to be a big success, and all, without him. It’s killing him.”

“What happened? I thought they were solid.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. He misses her, but he says she’s better off without him, and he doesn’t blame her. Says it’s his fault.” She eyed Cole. “He’s going dark.”

“He was like that here too, during the build. I couldn’t get two words out of him. He threw his all into the work, and did good for us. But when I told him he was welcome to stay for a while, he took off like the law was after him. Didn’t spend one extra night.”

“What the hell is going on with my family, Cole? He won’t take my help. Says I’m his little sister, and he wants me happy, in the lap of luxury, and not to worry.”

She looked around the cramped bedsitter, let her gaze rest on their rumpled bed, the unpainted wooden window frames, and the errant British Columbia fly that had gotten in, still buzzing in the corner. Sheba was watching the bug too, eyes wide and feline body alert, waiting for her shot.

Tabby turned to him, eyes suddenly warm. “At least that he’s got right.”

But she sighed. “He says he’s got a work gig possibility, one that could get him started again with a bang. Working an industry shoot for a McMaster, on a tropical island. He says Chandelle is uninhabited, out in the middle of the Pacific, and it’s just what he needs to sort himself out.” Her eyes turned fierce. “Without Abby.”

“Maybe he’s…”

She shook her head, almost violently. “Nonsense. They need each other. I’ve got to get him sorted. Can we do something about it?”

Her hand reached for his, and he grasped it, loving the feel of her. Of being a team. Together.

His miracle.

Between them, they’d take care of the whole world, on this crazy ranch, if they could. And any who came? Would get better. He hadn’t told her his dream, yet. He had a deep, pressing one too.

Clay and Barney and Crazy Janie. His buddies, his platoon. Others, too. From that terrible night in Afghanistan, when he’d made that awful mistake.

He owed them. He wanted them all here, if he could find them. Recuperating. Getting them on the road to being whole, once again. So much had gone right for him since, but he still awoke in dreams, in fits and starts, frantic about them. Calling their names.

Could he ever be whole again, with that not set right? Even with Tabby in his life. Was it even possible?

But there was his woman, watching him, querying him with that open look. So different from when he met her. Ballsy, determined to get an answer when she needed one. And she definitely wanted one now. 

His heart swelled. He bent and hugged her, lay his cheek against hers. How she could write her hot books, contribute to the ranch, do her genealogy stuff, plus keep him going? He had no idea, but she did.

He whispered to her. “As long as you’re in my life, we can do anything we want. Don’t worry, Babe. We’ll talk it over tonight, at dinner, and see what we can do, to help him. There’s a few others I’d like to talk to you about, too. Because that’s what we Dawsons do. Always have. Right?”

“Sounds good, Cole.” She gave him a look. “Only thing is, officially, I’m not really a…”

Well. He’d been wondering how to ask her, for a while now. How to get the moonlight, their moods and everything just so. The perfect proposal.

Had the moment revealed itself, finally to him?

Yes. “If you allow it, Tabby? I’d like to do something about…”

The door of their bedsitter slammed open. Krys and Aggie tumbled in, practically falling over themselves. Dax’s voice sounded, yelling on the staircase, behind them, unusually frantic.

“No! Don’t disturb them! We’ll tell them soon enough. Let them have a few minutes in peace, first. At least, knock!”

“Cole.” Krys’s pale eyes were violent, a storm flying in them. “He’s coming. Jared is on his way.” She paused, then delivered the pronouncement. “I heard in town he’s bringing big news. That Dawson Ridges will never be the same.” She glared the demand at him. “Haven’t we been through enough? What are you going to do about it?”

Seemed another period of fire could be on its way. Of the unexpected. Did they ever end?

He met his sister’s blaze with a steady gaze. With calm.

“We’ll meet him where he is, Krys. He’s a Dawson, fair and square. And then…we’ll do what needs doing.”

He gazed at the sisters he loved, as his fingers tightened around his love’s fingers. As their beloved kitchen manager still blustered on the stairs, and their little alley-cat stretched long, let her back paws graze his legs. He looked at those he loved, the truth solid and sure in his heart.

“Like we do, Sis. Like we always do.”