The Rancher's Lullaby. Leigh Duncan
of baby talc.
Stepping back, Doris wiped her eyes on the corner of her apron. “I knew you’d come around. There were times when I wondered, but I knew in my heart you’d turn the corner.”
Garrett stared toward the house, praying neither his mother or anyone else ever found out how close he’d come to throwing it all away. “You say LJ’s down for the night?” he asked, eager to put his newfound resolution to be a better dad into action.
“Out like a light. But there is something you could do for him. For me, actually.”
Garrett scanned the face that had aged five years in recent months and knew he’d do whatever it took to make it up to his mom. “Name it.”
“I thought, if you were heading into town, to the jam at Pickin’ Strings, maybe you could stop at the Winn-Dixie and pick up a case of LJ’s formula on your way.”
“I wasn’t planning on going tonight, Mom.” Garrett glanced at the cloud-covered sky, frustration stirring deep in his belly. He was pretty sure driving into town on a stormy night qualified as the kind of unnecessary risk he’d sworn to avoid.
Concern etched its way deeper into his mother’s features. “I ran down to the corner market this afternoon. Everyone must’ve had the same idea as I did and stocked up ’cause they’d run out of bread, milk and baby formula. I might have enough to get us through tomorrow, but if the roads get washed out...”
Garrett rocked the feed pail back and forth. Responsibility for his baby boy had to win out over his desire to play it safe. Besides, he told himself, the trip into town would let him give Lisa Rose the apology he owed her after his gruff manners the other night. “I’ll go,” he said quietly.
He glanced down at his grass-stained Wranglers. A shower and a change of clothes were definitely called for, but he could still make it into town and back in a couple of hours, even with quick trips to the grocery store and Pickin’ Strings. “Best get movin’ then,” he said, shortening his long strides on the way to the house so his mother could walk beside him. “What’s the latest from the weatherman?”
The tension on his mother’s face faded. “We’ll have rain off and on this evening. They say the worst of it may pass to the north of us.”
But whatever game the weatherman was playing, he’d missed the target. By the time Garrett rolled a cart loaded with the necessary supplies out of the grocery store, rain slanted down in near-blinding sheets. Thankful he’d pulled a waterproof duster from the closet before leaving the Circle P, he turned the windshield wipers to high. Water splashed under his tires as he headed out of the parking lot.
Certain the weather would keep people from attending the jam at Pickin’ Strings, he eased to the curb outside the shop. He stared at the darkened storefront, a vague sense of dissatisfaction rippling through his chest. When Lisa had walked into the ranch house, he hadn’t been prepared for the wave of desire that had hit him in his gut. He’d gotten so used to feeling nothing that the sensation had practically knocked him off his feet. As a result, he’d been harsh, come down harder on her than he should have. He’d hoped to make it up to her tonight, but it looked as though his attempt to make amends would have to wait. He put the truck in gear and gave the store a last look. A light blazed on in the back.
Was she open after all?
Rain beat a steady tattoo against the roof of the truck cab, all but drowning out his thoughts. He’d just plunged one boot into the fast running water at the curb when thunder rolled overhead like giant bowling balls. Moving swiftly, he sloshed through several inches of water to the door. He reached the awning, where rain sluiced off his coat while he knocked. The lights came on in the front of the shop almost immediately. He spotted a tall figure making her way past the counters.
Lightning struck somewhere close enough nearby to make him wish she’d hurry, but instead of rushing to the door, the shop owner stilled. Her eyes widened. Afraid she’d leave him standing on her doorstep all night, Garrett rapped sharply on the thick glass. Whatever spell had held Lisa in its grasp broke. She hurried toward him.
“Garrett?” she asked as if she didn’t quite believe he was standing in her shop while water ran in rivulets off his coat and thudded dully onto a carpeted floor mat.
“I was in town. Thought I’d drop by to let you know I wouldn’t make the jam or our practice session. I guess you figured that out.” He gestured toward a circle of empty chairs near the cash register.
“The jam?” Sooty lashes slowly moved up and down as she blinked. “I’d almost forgotten. That was tonight, wasn’t it?”
Garrett took a good, long look at the woman who’d exuded poise and confidence during her visit to the Circle P. Hair the color of straw trailed in damp tendrils over her slim shoulders. Her shirt was wrinkled, her feet bare. His gut tightened as he forced his eyes up again, this time to a face that bore all the signs of someone who’d spent the afternoon in tears. He didn’t know this woman well—hardly at all—but whatever demons she faced, a protective urge to slay them stirred in his chest. “Lisa?” He touched her shoulder. “Is everything all right?”
The words penetrated the fog that had enveloped her. She gave herself a little shake and straightened marginally.
“I must look a sight.” Lifting the masses of sun-kissed hair, she shoved them over one shoulder. “Everything just caught up with me this afternoon. The move. The store. Everything.” She pulled a section of hair forward, her fingers braiding the thick strands.
“It’s okay,” Garrett said quietly, though her answer didn’t explain the puffy eyelids or the red blotches on her cheeks. “It looks like no one else wanted to brave the weather.”
“No.” She flinched visibly when another bolt of lightning lit the room. On its heels, thunder boomed. The uneasy look came back into Lisa’s eyes. “Sorry,” she said, her fingers plaiting faster. “I don’t like storms much.”
“This one’s a doozy,” Garrett acknowledged. He wasn’t overly fond of torrential downpours himself, though the rancher in him appreciated what they did for the land. A heavy rain cleared the air of pollutants, thickened the grass that fed his cattle. The accompanying wind would shake all the dead leaves and palm fronds loose, nature’s way of giving herself a good housecleaning.
Staring over his shoulder, Lisa chewed her lip. “Lightning struck the stage once when I was a kid. Knocked my dad flat on his rear and shorted out all our equipment. I’ve been leery of it ever since.”
Garrett cleared his throat. He guessed she had good reason to be scared. Every season, the Circle P lost a cow or two when a billion volts arced toward the highest object on a flat field. The results weren’t pretty.
“I was just about to fix myself a cup of tea.” Staring out the window, Lisa hesitated. “As long as you’re here, would you like some? Or coffee?”
Garrett eyed the rain that pelted down so hard on the sidewalk that the droplets bounced. Going back outside held all the appeal of getting tossed in the mud by a buckin’ horse. Besides, Lisa looked as if she could use a shoulder to lean on. Figuring there was no harm in lending her his for a bit, he ventured, “I don’t mind staying till there’s a break in the weather.”
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