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“My dad loves ’tatoes, too.” Zeke leaned against her leg, keeping back from the fire. The boy’s warmth felt good against the cooling air. “I do a little bit, but mostly I like everything.”
“A boy with a healthy appetite is a wonderful thing.” Corrie smiled at him. “Your daddy had a great appetite when he was younger, and look how big and strong he got. I think you’ll do all right, Zeke Caufield.”
“You knew my dad when he was little? Like me?”
Corrie shook her head. “Not that little, but young enough. Your dad and your grandpa worked with me a long time ago.”
Heath stood quickly. He motioned to Zeke, ignoring Corrie’s statement. “Bedtime.”
“But I’m not even a little bit tired.” Zeke braced his legs and met Heath’s gaze across the fire, looking like a miniature version of the strong man facing him down. “Can I stay up with Miss Lizzie and Miss Corrie for just a little bit? Pleeease?”
Heath said nothing.
He didn’t argue. He didn’t get bossy. He simply met the boy’s gaze. In less than half a minute, the boy trudged around the fire and thrust his hand into Heath’s.
“Say good-night.”
“Night, everybody.” Chin down, the little cowpoke walked away. He didn’t fuss and didn’t fight. He obeyed his dad, as if trusting him to make the right call even though he disagreed.
It felt good, watching them. And different. Their branch of the Fitzgeralds didn’t win any parenting awards. If it hadn’t been for Corrie’s love and dedication… Lizzie leaned over and kissed Corrie’s round, brown cheek. “I love you, Corrie.”
Corrie kept her gaze forward, on the fire and on Heath and his son. “I love you, too. And no matter what happens here, it is good to break away from the past, Lizzie-Beth. To forge ahead.”
“An Idaho ranch wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” she whispered back when a handful of bleats broke the night air. “But a stable full of horses is more of a dream come true than a punishment right now.” She studied the flames for drawn-out seconds. “It’s an unexpected twist in a winding road, that’s for sure.”
“What we’ve got in mind and what the good Lord’s got planned don’t always agree, but that’s what makes life interesting. Sometimes it’s a collision course. Other times it’s a wide, beautiful curve.”
“I think our family has more experience with the collisions.” A smallish log had rolled off the fire’s edge. She leaned down and prodded it back into place. “Is that our destiny or our curse?”
“Neither,” Corrie declared. “It’s human foolishness. Your grandfather stepped on a lot of toes to build that publishing empire, and I’ve heard people say his father did that, too, before him. And then your daddy did the same, but he didn’t have ambition. He wanted the world handed to him.”
“And if it didn’t happen, he stole.”
“Good or bad, it all comes down to free will,” Corrie said. “You see the beauty Sean created here. That’s the side of the family you take for, Lizzie. The hardworking trait, passed down. All three of my girls can say that and be proud.”
“Well, life’s got a way of keeping us humble, so pride’s not a real big deal right now. And I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me in the morning. There are twenty-eight horses to learn about, I need to find a herd stallion, and I’ve got three emails from potential foal buyers so I need to brush up on lineage so I know what I’m talking about.” She stood and straightened her shirt.
In a gesture of respect, all the men stood up as well.
Cowboy code… Respect. Honor. Honesty.
She’d loved that about Heath when they were young. His strong focus, his work ethic, the way he put the animals and others first. That sharpened the disappointment when he’d never looked back to see how she’d fared. After.
He’d gone on with his life.
She’d gone on with hers.
Now here they were, working side by side. Two goals, one ranch, and a lot at stake. More than she’d thought possible until she’d faced those stables and the cowboy running them.
“I’m going to stay a bit. Chat with the men.” Corrie waved her off. “Good night, darlin’ girl.”
“Good night.” She crossed the graveled area, moved by the rugged beauty surrounding her. She hurried inside, grabbed her camera, and came back out, snapping evening pics of the men, the campfire, and Corrie’s sweet face set against a Western backdrop of hills, barns and land. She’d create a photo journal of this new path, something to share or to keep for herself. Either way, she could chronicle this new opportunity in pictures.
