Her Western Heart_Seeing Ranch series Read online

  Instead of cajoling the calf like Gemma would have done, Nat went right up to the little animal and swooped it right into his arms. It kicked a bit, braying in indignation, but settled the moment Nat popped the bottle into its mouth. Its mood completely changed and it began to eagerly suck.

  “Adorable,” Gemma cooed, moving closer.

  Nat smiled. “You want to do it?”

  Gemma hesitated. So far, she’d had terrible luck with animals in Wyoming. She was learning things went best when she kept her distance from them.

  “Come on,” Nat encouraged her. “I’ll show you how to do it.”

  He placed the calf on the ground, but the baby didn’t go anywhere. There was still milk in the bottle and he was intent on getting every last drop. Unable to resist any longer, Gemma slowly made her way over to him.

  “The hard part is catching the little devil. Having him drink is the easy part. Here, take hold of the bottle.”

  Gemma stepped close to Nat and did as he said, grasping the glass bottle firmly. Nat let go and stepped back. The calf’s sucking noises became louder and rivulets of milk ran down its face.

  Gemma laughed. “How much does he drink?”

  Nat whistled. “Almost more than we can keep up with. I can’t wait till he’s weaned.”

  “I can.” She smiled at him. “I could feed him every day for the rest of my life.”

  “Aren’t you two looking cozy,” a gruff voice said from behind them.

  Mitchell stood on the other side of the fence, his brow furrowed. At the sight of him, Nat quickly took a step away from Gemma and the calf.

  “We-we were just feeding the calf,” Nat stammered.

  Gemma frowned. Why was Nat acting so ashamed?

  Mitchell’s eyes quickly flicked from Nat to Gemma. “Huh,” was all he said before turning away and going into the closest barn.

  Nat was nervously rubbing the back of his neck again. “Sorry about that.”

  The calf finished the last of the milk and Gemma stood up. “Sorry about what?”

  He shrugged. “Aw, nothing. Never mind. Thanks for helping me.” Taking the glass bottle with him, he climbed back over the fence and vanished around the side of the barn Mitchell had gone into.

  Gemma’s ears pounding, she made her way after Mitchell. She found him in the barn, coiling some rope around his arm.

  “We were not getting cozy.”

  He looked up calmly, not seeming surprised at all that she had followed him. “All right.”

  Gemma planted her fists on her hips and stared him down. “We weren’t.”

  But he wasn’t looking at her anymore. He’d turned to hang the rope back on the wall and was busying himself with digging through a toolbox. “I said all right.”

  Gemma’s whole chest burned. What had happened to the romantic man who had touched her cheek and told her there was no one else in the world like her? Where had he gone?

  “Nat was just showing me how to hold the bottle.”

  Pulling a hammer from the toolbox, he turned back around. “I understand. I’m just...” He shook his head. “My head’s not on straight right now.” He sighed. It was an exhale so long and tired that the sound of it destroyed all of Gemma’s anger.

  “Mitchell,” she whispered.

  He took a slow step toward her. “I know I’m likely to scare you away if I don’t watch it.”

  She sucked on her bottom lip and studied his face. He seemed so tired, so sad…

  “You are not scaring me away.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed and nodded. “I need to get back to the field.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, though she hated to see him go. It was the first time they had seen each other all day and it hadn’t gone well at all.

  “Walk along with me.”

  His words were string pulling Gemma’s heart back up. “I would love to.”

  Silently, they left the barn and walked for the big field behind the ranch hand cabins. The quiet between them felt comfortable and Gemma made no move to fill it with talk.

  Suddenly, Mitch stopped walking.

  “What is it?” Gemma asked. She followed his gaze to the field in front of them, where a cow lay on its side.

  Without answering, Mitchell ran the rest of the way to the cow and dropped down to inspect its face.

  “Is she dead?” Gemma asked once she’d huffed her way over to him.

  Mitchell ground his teeth. “No. She’s real sick, though.”

  “Mitch!” A ranch hand jogged up next to Gemma. “Something must be going around, because at least five of the cattle are sick as sin.”

  Mitchell’s face was flat and pale. “Symptoms?”

  “Looks like the flu.”

  Mitchell ran his palm over his face. “See if you can get them into the barn. This one here, too. Keep them away from the rest of the animals.”

  The hand nodded and ran off once more. Mitchell stayed where he was, his shoulders drooped and his face hiding underneath his hat.

  “Mitchell.” Gemma hesitantly stepped up to him.

  He gave her a smile, but it was weak and nothing but an imitation of real happiness.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, so low the words could barely be heard.

  “Why are you telling me that? It’s not your fault the cattle are sick.”

  “You deserve better than this.” He waved his hand around at the beautiful ranch like it was the most despicable place on Earth.

  “Don’t say that,” she argued. “Please don’t act like this isn’t good enough for me. You’ll figure everything out. I know you will.”

  He looked her straight in the eye. “First rustling, now this. This isn’t the kind of life you came out here for. You expected a man who can support you. You deserve that.”

  “You can support me!” Gemma took hold of his hand, surprising herself. She’d been brash before when she wanted to play games with a man, but she’d never grabbed someone’s hand in a moment of passion and anxiety.

  Mitchell gave her such a sad look, she nearly heard her heart break in two. “The ranch is going under, Gemma. We’ve been losing money for months.”

  Gemma struggled to take a fresh breath as she absorbed the news. “But you have so many heads.”

  “We used to have a lot more. Rustling and storms have been undermining everything.” He shook his head in disgust. “My Ma and Pa would be ashamed to see the ranch this way.”

  “No, they wouldn’t,” she fiercely said. “They would be proud.”

  He just frowned again. “Maybe you should be with Nat. Or any other man. You need a man you can count on. I’m sorry, Gemma, but I think that’s just not me.”

  Shaking his head to himself, he drew his hand out of Gemma’s and walked away, leaving her all alone.

  18

  18. Mitchell

  Chapter Eighteen

  The tin lantern swung in the wind, knocking against the doorway Mitch had hung it in and sending drops of yellow light swimming around the barn. Clearing the rest of the ladder with a jump, Mitch landed on the barn’s bottom floor.

  “Everything looks good up there,” he told Beau. “Just normal hay, from what I can tell.”

  Pulling a footstool away from the wall, Beau settled down onto it. “It could be the water.”

  “That looked fine as well.”

  “Some diseases you won’t see,” he pointed out.

  “Right, but all six cows have been drinking from different troughs. The creek and the ponds, too. And only those half-dozen are sick.”

  Beau rubbed his palms together and silently nodded. “It could be any number of things. The symptoms are just too common.”

  Closing his eyes, Mitch leaned against the wall. How had things gotten to this point? When he’d come west with his parents, not more than a few months past his eighteenth birthday, the land they’d found themselves on was a dream. As Winding Path Ranch grew up around them, things had only become better.

 
But now, so suddenly, Mitchell had woken up and found himself in the middle of a nightmare. The worst part was that everyone he cared for was in it with him. His ranch hands. Clara. Gemma.

  Gemma.

  He’d finally told her the truth, let her know the ranch was struggling. After revealing that to her, he probably didn’t have to worry about her leaving anymore. Likely, her bag was already packed.

  “It’s cursed,” he dumbly muttered. “That’s the only answer. This ranch is cursed.”

  Beau pursed his lips. “Ain’t such a thing.”

  “How else do you explain it, then?” Mitchell barked, his anger rising. Beau, like always, was staying calm, but Mitch couldn’t do that. He’d barely slept in weeks. And now, not only was he likely to lose his ranch, he was likely to lose Gemma, too.

  Beau took his sweet time answering. “The biggest truths can take a long time coming. Right now, we just need patience.”

  Mitch chewed on his tongue. He was done snapping for the day. He’d already been rude to Gemma and Nat. Adding his closest friend to the list made him feel even worse about himself.

  “Let’s get some sleep.” Beau stood up and took the tin lantern from its hook. “Jonathan and Huntley have it tonight.”

  Mitchell nodded. The fatigue in his body was the worst it had ever been, his lack of sleep mixing with his worries and making his very bones ache.

  Outside of the barn they split off, Beau going down the hill to the cabins and Mitchell standing where he was, watching the lantern’s light bob in the darkness. He needed to sleep as well, but it was still fairly early. There was a chance Gemma was awake.

  Mitch dragged his protesting body toward the main house, each step adding another rock to the heavy pile in his gut. Slowly, he pushed the front door open and looked around the hallway. Clara was likely already asleep, but there was a light coming from the main room. Stepping softly, he inched his way toward it.

  Gemma sat in the far chair, a closed book on her lap. Her fingers pressed to her mouth, she stared at the dark window. Mitch held his breath, not wanting to ruin the scene. She looked so perfect in his house, sitting near the hearth he’d enjoyed for years with his parents.

  He wanted to unload his worries on her, to sit down with her and tell her about the awful day, the awful year. But he couldn’t. He had to be strong for her and everyone else on Winding Path.

  So, he cleared his throat.

  Dropping her hand to her lap, Gemma turned around in her chair. Mitch stayed where he was, quietly looking back at her. When he could no longer take the silence, he entered the room—but only by a couple steps.

  “May I join you?”

  She gestured at the chair next to her. She still hadn’t said a word. She didn’t seem like Gemma at all, but the ghost of the lively young woman he’d first saved from a moose. He’d done this to her, stolen her spirit and hope. It was a realization too terrible to stomach.

  Mitch eased himself down into the chair, the old wood creaking beneath his weight. “The hay and water are likely fine, since all the cattle have been drinking and eating from the same spots.”

  “Do you think any more will fall sick?”

  “I hope not.”

  She nodded and folded her hands together in her lap. Looking at her stick-straight posture and calm composure, Mitchell was reminded again of the world she’d come from. He still hadn’t gotten the chance to properly ask about her life back home. It was unfortunate, as she soon might be headed back there.

  Mitch cleared his throat yet again. “Gemma… I know that Winding Path is nothing like you expected it to be.”

  She gave him a puzzled look. “It’s beautiful. I told you that.”

  “Yes, but… the other things… what I told you about our financial troubles...” Mitch couldn’t go on.

  Gemma sighed and looked down at her lap. “Yes. I must admit, that did take me by surprise. But I don’t care about that.”

  Hope stirred in Mitchell’s heart. Gemma wanted to stay with him regardless of how well-off he was or not.

  But maybe that was what she thought she wanted.

  “What was your home life like?” he asked.

  Her eyes widened a bit. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what does your father do? You said there weren’t any eligible men to be found in New York.”

  Gemma’s lips parted, but she paused, taking her time answering. “There are eligible men there,” she slowly said. “But none of them were appropriate… for me.”

  “I see.” Mitch studied his hands, so calloused, their lines filled with dirt from the day. They were the opposite of Gemma’s smooth and pale ones.

  “My father has his fingers in a number of businesses. None of them are very interesting.” Gemma smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

  “Would they be glad to have you back?”

  His question sat heavy in the empty room. Finally, Gemma nervously cleared her throat. “Why are you asking me that?”

  “I suggested earlier today that maybe you should be with Nat. That was out of line for me. I know you were just helping feed the calf. But the part I said about finding a man to take care of you, that’s true.” He looked into her eyes, which were growing wet. Telling her all of this was agony, but it had to be done.

  “You deserve better,” he went on. “A man who can give you everything you want.”

  “This is what I want,” she harshly whispered.

  “That’s what you think now, but what about when the ranch has to close down and I have to sell this land? What then? Are you willing to live in a tiny cabin with a man who can hardly get by?”

  Gemma’s jaw twitched. She didn’t have an answer. Or, if she did, she wasn’t sharing it.

  “I just want you to think about what I’ve said. I don’t expect an answer tonight. But let me know if you want to go back to New York. I’ll understand. I’ll buy you a ticket right away.”

  Her eyes were red at this point, full to the brim with tears. But they didn’t fall. She blinked them back, her hands folded in her lap and her back just as straight as it had been through the whole conversation. Only those deep brown eyes betrayed her pain, showing the damage Mitchell had inflicted.

  He’d hate himself forever for it. If Gemma did decide to go back to New York, he’d pray that she found happiness there, but he’d never forget her. And he’d never forgive himself for dragging her all the way out to Wyoming for nothing.

  “I didn’t come here for money.”

  It had been so long since she’d spoken, hearing her voice almost felt like a shock.

  “I know,” Mitch agreed. “And we wouldn’t starve if we lost the ranch. We’d still have the farm part to live off of, but times could get hard. What if we had children?”

  She chewed on her lip. “I don’t know,” she breathed.

  The conversation was becoming more painful with each word. Mitch had to end it before they both were hurt more. “Think about what I’ve said. And take your time. Just know that I… I’ve enjoyed your time here, Gemma. I know it’s been close to none, but what little time we’ve had has been special.”

  He couldn’t look at her as he said the last part, instead choosing to stand up and turn for the door. “Goodnight, Gemma.”

  “Goodnight, Mitchell,” came her pained gasp of an answer.

  An unchecked desire to turn around coursed through him, but he didn’t listen to it. Face forward, he headed for the door. He’d spoken his piece. What happened next was up to Gemma and God.

  19

  19. Gemma

  Chapter Nineteen

  Gemma sat for a long, long time, her eyes sealed shut. She’d managed to keep the tears at bay while Mitchell was in the room, but she wouldn’t be able to hold them back forever.

  How quickly everything had come crashing down around her. Just the night before, she’d gone to sleep with a smile on her face, sure that she had met the man who was destined to be hers. And now, here he was tonight, talking about s
ending her away.

  Gemma opened her eyes, but quickly wiped away the spilling tears. She didn’t know how long Mitchell had been gone for, but the house was absolutely silent. With great effort, she pulled herself from her chair and down the hall to her room. Mitchell’s usual room, across the hall from hers, called to her, but she dared not look at it. It was the space they were supposed to share together as man and wife. And now, she might never step foot in it again.