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Grabbing the egg basket from a peg by the door, she stepped onto the back porch, pausing to let the evening breeze caress her cheeks. The sounds of the approaching night enfolded her and she relaxed into its embrace. Here and there, a cricket chirped. Soon, the night would be filled with their loud chorus, but for now, the sound was calm. Peaceful. Almost like a promise of better things to come.
She closed her eyes, wallowing in the remnant of a promise that enfolded her like the memory of her mother’s hug. Lord, she hoped things were going to be better. She’d never been so scared or gambled so high as when she’d walked into Dell’s and asked Asa Macintyre to marry her. She still couldn’t believe she’d done it, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
The only consolation was that, unlike Brent who’d lied and hidden his true personality behind a polite facade of manly attributes, Asa was the real thing. Whatever else he turned out to be, she knew he had the ability to run this ranch. Asa MacIntyre had the heart, the determination, and the reputation to take the Rocking C back into prosperity. At least, she hoped so.
Doubt swirled from its hiding place deep inside, sneaking up on her blind side. For a second, every decision she’d made came back to haunt her, swamping her in insecurity, until, with a relentless maneuver born from long practice, she shoved it back down. She opened her eyes and surveyed the yard and outbuildings. This was her home. The place her mother had called her sanctuary. The place where she, Elizabeth Ann Coyote, had been born.
On this porch, she’d stood as a small child with her mother, holding hands, staring at the small oak sapling, and listened with wide-eyed wonder to the story of how, with love and nurturing, it would grow into a tree capable of protecting them and guiding them. Her father had said it was going to die and that they were wasting time babying it along, but her mother had merely leaned down and whispered in her ear to believe. She’d watered that tree every day from then on, wanting to do just that. And it had grown. Year after year, a living testament to love and determination.
She ran fond eyes over the oak’s silhouette, remembering and smiling. As a child, she’d been frustrated with its slow progress. As an adult, she’d been in awe of what its steady determination to thrive had accomplished. Today, it stood a good thirty feet, and where it had once thrown dappled shadows, it now delivered full shade.
Whenever life got complicated, she remembered her mother and that tree. Both had faced the odds and made a place for themselves. So had she, and it wasn’t back East or in a fancy town. Her roots were firmly sunk in the Rocking C with its wide-open spaces, constant challenges, and relentless demands. Like that tree, she thrived here.
And she was going to stay. She was determined. Marrying Asa had been the right thing to do. She knew it in her gut. All she needed to do to succeed was to believe her course was right, and to be strong enough and determined enough to see it through. She looked at the basket clenched tightly in her hand. That strength and determination included getting eggs from the hen house so she’d have something to offer her husband for a wedding breakfast.
Peace faded to unease. She searched the yard again. It appeared empty. Still, she hesitated. Ever since her father had died, the ranch foreman had been playing with her like a cat with a mouse. Cornering her when no one else was around, taking liberties, each time going further than the last. At first, she’d thought she could handle it, but he’d gotten worse. She’d thought of complaining, but removing Jimmy wouldn’t remove the threat. A woman alone, unfortunately more often than not, was seen as a target, so she’d done the sensible thing. She’d stepped up her search for a husband.
Her haste, however, had cost her. By not questioning Brent close enough, she’d created a bigger disaster by buying into his pack of lies. Hopefully, she’d cleaned up that mess because, if not, her goose was truly cooked. No one, she thought, as she peered into the darkness under the tree, was going to quietly sit back and watch her pluck a third husband from the scanty pile of eligible men passing through town.
She nearly dropped her basket when she thought she saw a shadow move beneath the spreading arms of the huge oak. The hairs on her nape leapt to attention. She took a breath to still the butterflies in her stomach as she carefully scrutinized the area. Nothing moved except the leaves swaying with the light breeze. About the time her lungs threatened to burst, she decided she’d confused the motion of the wind with the malevolent mannerisms of the ranch foreman.
