Page 51

We pull off to the side of the road, where a makeshift dirt parking lot can fit Luke’s truck and maybe one other. He’s outfitted me in cowboy boots that sort of fit, and I've rolled up my jeans a few inches to keep them sort of clean. As usual, Luke is wearing dark jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and his Stetson. As usual, cowboy hot.

We tromp through the grassy pasture where one cow stands away from the herd. I know from Luke’s explanation of his morning schedule that the other cows had already gone in for their first milking and had come out to graze again. “Is that her?”

“Yeah. Coop, my farm hand, has been with her all morning. When they tried to move the calf, she bellowed and pawed at the ground. They knew enough to stand clear, especially after what happened to Ryan. She’s a sweet girl, but she only trusts me.”

Coop waves as we approach and gives the cow a wide berth. Luke steps closer and talks softly to the cow, reaching to pet her nose and ears. She grunts and whines, and he nods. “I know, big girl. You did real good with that calf. Let’s take a look.”

I give them plenty of room, but also take the opportunity to snap photos of the adorable newborn, zooming in and out to highlight the open land and rolling hills beyond. Even if this isn’t Loveland Ranch, I want to promote the idea of this area.

“She’s behaving normally. The calf already nursed, but she won’t stand up for long.”

While Coop tentatively puts a hand on the mother, Luke bends to inspect the calf. She’s just a damp little wobbly thing, and I want to reach out and wrap her in my arms. The same way I sometimes want to wrap up Luke. The calf has the same vulnerability wrapped in toughness.

“She seems alert and healthy,” Luke says. “I’ll move them to the maternity pen.”

“You want to carry her yourself?”

“She’s a Jersey and a female. Probably sixty pounds, maybe more.” Luke surveys the mother and baby, then turns to me. “Callie, come talk to the mama.”

“Talk to her?”

“Yes. Use that gentle voice you have that makes people want to do what you ask.”

“I-I’m not sure I have that kind of voice.” My whole life, people have been telling me to talk more quietly. To be…less. Less impulsive, less chatty, less irresponsible.

“You do.”

Two little words, but somehow they convey the kind of faith in me that people don’t seem to have. Maybe it’s just because he needs my help, but I nevertheless feel grateful to Luke for believing I can do this.

I walk over to the cow and tentatively reach out a hand. She blinks at me but doesn’t move. I show her my hand and run it over the side of her face. “Good girl. You had a rough night. And look what you did. You’re amazing,” I coo. She lowers her head and allows me to pet the crown.

When I look over at Luke for approval, I almost topple over. There it is, that prize I’ve been seeking since I met him. He has a beautiful smile.

I don’t say a word. This moment is better in the silent glow of pure magic.

While I continue talking to the mama cow, Luke unfurls a blanket he’s been carrying over his shoulder. He bends down, and with Coop’s help, he slips an arm under the calf’s chest and supports the hind legs with his other arm.

“You got her?” Coop asks.

Luke pulls the calf tight against his chest, but she’s so floppy and new that I can tell she’s not helping the situation. “Yeah.”

The mama cow lets out a bellowing cry, and I keep talking to her as Coop coaxes her along behind Luke. She bellows once more, but then she follows close. I don’t blame her one bit. “If there’s anyone you can trust with your baby, it’s this guy,” I tell her, walking right near her head and petting her. After a few more paces, her cries subside, and she puffs a breath out of her nostrils, never widening the distance from Luke and her calf.

We walk down a pasture road toward the main barn on Luke’s property. It’s not a short walk, but he doesn’t complain about the weight he’s carrying.

Eventually, we reach the maternity pen. “They’ll be together while the calf nurses and gets stronger. I don’t believe in separating babies from their moms.”

His words carry more weight in light of the custody battle, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing. That if Elizabeth hadn’t left, he’d have raised Scout with her and stayed married even though he was miserable. Probably. And we’d never have met.

CHAPTER 18

Luke

“Give her a tug on the reins with your right hand, just a hint, and she’ll respond.” I look over my shoulder and coax Callie to guide her horse, Cotton, to the path that leads to a trail up a mountain. She looks comfortable sitting tall in the saddle, not at all awkward. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you already knew how to ride a horse.”

The truth is that she doesn’t need to know much. Her horse will follow mine, but it’s good practice for her to learn how to hold the reins and signal what she wants Cotton to do.

“Fitz has horses, so I’ve been out on a couple of rides. But I didn’t need to do much. So what I know is how to sit on a horse, basically.”