Her Cowboy Reunion

A new life...an old love

Can she risk loving him again in Shepherd’s Crossing?

With her family in disgrace, Lizzie Fitzgerald never imagined she’d end up at an Idaho ranch. Fortunately, she’s working with horses she loves—even if it means dealing with her old sweetheart Heath Caufield. The widowed father of an adorable boy, Heath hasn’t forgiven Lizzie for their past. But even a stubborn cowboy can’t stop the heart’s ability to forgive...or love again.

Multipublished bestselling author RUTH LOGAN HERNE loves God, her country, her family, dogs, chocolate and coffee! Married to a very patient man, she lives in an old farmhouse in upstate New York and thinks possums should leave the cat food alone and snakes should always live outside. There are no exceptions to either rule! Visit Ruth at ruthloganherne.com.

Also By Ruth Logan Herne

Love Inspired

Shepherd’s Crossing

Her Cowboy Reunion

Grace Haven

An Unexpected Groom

Her Unexpected Family

Their Surprise Daddy

The Lawman’s Yuletide Baby

Her Secret Daughter

Kirkwood Lake

The Lawman’s Second Chance

Falling for the Lawman

The Lawman’s Holiday Wish

Loving the Lawman

Her Holiday Family

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Her Cowboy Reunion

Ruth Logan Herne

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08552-6

HER COWBOY REUNION

© 2018 Ruth M. Blodgett

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

“I’m going to bunk here so I can keep an eye on things...”

Lizzie was going to sleep in the stable? On the floor?

It felt wrong to leave her there, which was silly because Heath had spent many a night in the lambing barns. But this wasn’t him. It was Lizzie. And when she stuck a ridiculously small pillow behind her head, he wanted to snatch it, send her to bed and say he’d watch the horse.

She gazed up at him, looking so much like the girl she’d been twelve years before. But different, too.

“It’s my job, Heath.” She kept her voice quiet. Matter-of-fact. And quite professional. “People don’t inherit a quarter share of a ranch worth millions without putting in some time. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She was right. He knew that.

But walking away from her—moving through the door into the cold spring night—was one of the toughest things he’d done in a long time.

He did it because it was the right thing to do. But he hated every minute of it.

And above all these things put on charity, which is the bond of perfectness. And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to the which also ye are called in one body; and be ye thankful.

—Colossians 3:14–15

Dear Reader,

I loved writing this story. I loved writing it because it gave me a chance to explore the two sides of forgiveness, and how our choices combine with our faith to make or break our paths in this world. Lizzie went through a tragic time at the age of eighteen. She should have had the best of everything by society’s standards, and yet it all came crumbling down around her and she took the challenge and lived her faith. Moving on. Moving forward. Forgiving even though she could never forget.

But Heath carried his anger like a hankie in a back pocket. He believed without question and let anger eat at him for years.

Grudges are dreadful things. There are a lot of grudge holders in my family. I guess there are grudge holders in lots of families, but what a sadness that is, to be angry and then stay angry...for how long? Too long.

Forgiveness isn’t just a Biblical reminder. It’s sound advice. It’s the basis for so much good in the world. That doesn’t make it easy, I know...but it makes it worthwhile. A true heart is a forgiving heart.

I hope you loved this story! Thank you for reading it, and you know I love to hear from readers, so feel free to email me at loganherne@gmail.com or friend me on Facebook where I love to play and pray with readers, family and friends. And if you’re wondering what’s happening, visit my website ruthloganherne.com or follow me @RuthLoganHerne on Twitter.

May you and yours be blessed in every way possible!

Ruthy

This book is dedicated to Casey...

I was blessed to help raise you and I’m absolutely delighted with the wonderful young woman you’ve become. You are a part of us...and always will be. You can’t get rid of me easily!!! Love you, kid.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Bible Verse

Dear Reader

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

This is the chance you’ve been waiting for. Hoping for. Praying for. Don’t blow it.

Lizzie Fitzgerald climbed out of an SUV more suited to her rich past than her impoverished present.

Her late uncle’s Western Idaho ranch splayed around her like an old-fashioned wagon wheel, spreading wide from the farmhouse hub. Straight south lay sheep barns forming a huge letter T. The sound of sheep and dogs rose up from beyond the barns where woolly creatures dotted rolling fields like white sprinkles on a kelly green cake.

On her left the long, curving graveled drive wound past a copse of newly leafed trees to the two-lane country road above. Behind her was a classic Western home. Two stories, wrapped in honey-brown cedar and a porch that extended across the front and down both sides. Two swings and a variety of rockers decked the porch.

“No doubt I will spend my share of time on that porch as the weather warms,” said Corrie as she stepped from the other side of the car. “What a pretty place this is, Lizzie-Beth! But I can see your attention is drawn to what brought us here.” She dipped her chin toward Lizzie’s right. “Your uncle’s passing and his love for horses. A family trait. Or downfall,” she added softly.

“It won’t be this time.” Lizzie strode toward the freshly built stables. “Not with someone willing to put in the effort. It wasn’t horses that brought down Claremorris,” she reminded Corrie, the stout African American woman who had raised Lizzie and her two sisters at the stately Kentucky horse farm. “It was greed and dishonesty. This will be different, Corrie. You’ll see.”

“I’ll pray it different, right beside you,” Corrie declared. “Then we’ll see, Sugar. You explore your new place. I’m going to see if there’s a restroom close by.”

Lizzie walked toward the classic U-shaped stable configuration while Corrie disappeared into the house. Two equine wings stretched from opposite ends of the central barn. A row of stable doors faced the groomed square of grass that was surrounded by a hoof-friendly walking area. Six windows lined the face of the central barn, facing the equine courtyard. Curtains in the upper windows suggested living quarters, much like they’d had in their Kentucky stable. The whole concept was modeled after the Celtic horse farms her great-grandparents had known in Ireland. Uncle Sean might not have liked the newspaper publishing business that made the family’s fortune, but he clearly appreciated their Irish roots.

A horse nickered from its stall. Another answered softly.

Then quiet stretched as if wondering about her. Testing her.

Footsteps approached across the gravel. She turned.

A cowboy strode her way, looking just as classic as the ranch around him. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Narrow-hipped. And...familiar. As if—

Lizzie pushed that thought aside. She’d loved a cowboy once, with all the sweet intensity of first love, but that was a dozen years and a lot of heartache past. And yet—

The cowboy drew closer.

He raised his head and looked at her, as if throwing down a challenge. And she knew why.

Heath Caufield. Her first love, with his coal-black hair and gray-blue eyes. Eyes that seemed to see right through her and found her wanting.

Her heart went slow, then sped up.

Adrenaline buzzed through her. She stared at him, and he stared right back. Then he said two simple words. “You came.”

“You’re here.”

“I live here.”

“You worked for my uncle?” None of this made any sense. Her uncle Sean hadn’t had contact with Lizzie’s lying, scheming father in decades. He’d purposely gone off on his own after serving in the Marines, as far from the Fitzgerald News Company as he could get. He’d spurned the newspaper empire, took his inheritance from Grandpa Ralph and gone west. And that was all she knew because that was all Corrie had ever told her. So how’d he hire Heath?

“I’ve been here twelve years. Been manager for three.”

She flushed.

He didn’t seem to notice her higher color. Or he simply ignored it. “I came here the same time you went off to Yale to get your fancy degree in journalism like your daddy and grandpa. How’s that working out for you, by the way?”

He looked mad and sounded madder, as if the demise of her family business, horse farm and estate was somehow her fault. It wasn’t, and she didn’t owe Heath any explanations. In her book, it was the other way around, but she’d put the past behind her years ago. She had to. He’d be wise to do the same. “Journalism with an MBA on the side. From Wharton. And enough expertise with horses and business to handle this, I expect.”

Her words and Ivy League degrees didn’t seem to impress him, but she wasn’t here to impress anyone. She was here to do a job, a job assigned to her by her dying uncle. If she and her sisters put in a year working the equine side of Pine Ridge Ranch and brought it out of the red and into the black, his estate would be split four ways, according to the lawyer’s formal letter. Her, her two sisters, and the current farm manager, who appeared to be Heath Caufield.

His look went from her to the stunning barn behind her, then back. “Twenty-eight horses, with eight of them bred to championship lines. And you show up on your own. Where are Charlotte and Melonie?”

His attitude caused a hint of anger to fire up inside her. Should she snap back?

No. There was nothing to be achieved in that. She kept her face and her voice even. “They’ll be along. They had things to finish up. And while they’ll be living here, don’t expect them to take on major horse work. Char just finished her veterinary degree and Melonie doesn’t do well in a barn.”

“She’ll adjust.”

The lick of anger burned a little brighter. “I believe Uncle Sean’s will said that Charlotte, Melonie and I had to live here for at least a year to earn our bequests. And that we needed to focus on getting the horse breeding business up and running or sell it off. Correct?”

He held her gaze with hard eyes and nodded. Slowly.

“Trust us to disburse the jobs as we see fit. They’ll do their share, but make no mistake about it, Heath.” She folded her arms and braced her legs because if there was one thing she was sure about, it was her ability to run horse from every aspect of the business. “I’ll be the one putting in the time in this stable. With whatever help you have available.”

“Help’s tight at the moment. We’ve got one last herd of sheep going into the hills since the government reneged on our grazing rights, and that leaves us short down here. For the next six weeks at least.”

“Then we’ll have to figure things out,” she told him. “Because the girls won’t be here for a few weeks, either.” She didn’t tell him why she was available at a moment’s notice, how the illustrious corporation her great-grandfather began had fired her as soon as the Feds indicted her father on multiple charges of embezzlement and money laundering. No publisher in today’s struggling print economy wanted their name connected to Tim Fitzgerald’s misdeeds. She was guilty by association. End of story.

Not out here. Not on this ranch. Or so she’d thought until she came face-to-face with Heath again. Who’d have thought her road less traveled would lead to this?

Not her. But that was okay because she’d grown up since then, and this ranch, those beautiful horses...

This job was made for her. She knew it. She was pretty sure Heath knew it, too. And if they both stayed calm, cool and collected, maybe they could make it work. As long as they both stayed on their own side of the ranch.

* * *

She’d come.

Heath hadn’t wanted her to. He’d have been fine leaving the past in the past, but now it rose up to meet him, and all because his friend and mentor’s life had been cut short...with a herd of pricey horses to comb, curry, exercise and tend. And not one lick of time to do it.

Sean’s cancer did this. He’d invested a crazy amount of money to begin a horse breeding enterprise, the kind of horses that required substantial bankroll, then took their own sweet time about paying it back.

Beautiful horse flesh, the kind that ranchers and rodeo riders alike loved. With Sean’s death, they had no one to oversee the million-dollar industry. No one except Lizzie and her sisters, straight off a pretentious Southern horse farm that had been seized by the government. Sean had called it God’s timing.

Heath considered it more like cruel fate. Either way, she was here, and if he was honest with himself, she was even more beautiful than she’d been a dozen years before. Long chestnut-toned hair, pulled back. Cinnamon eyes that almost matched the hair, and skin as fair and freckled as he remembered.

“Heath Caufield.”

He turned swiftly toward an old, friendly voice. “Corrie?”

She hugged him, laughed, then hugged him again as Lizzie began to retrieve bags from their vehicle.

“You came all the way up here? I can’t believe this.”

“Did you think I’d send any one of my babies on alone?” She stared at him as if aghast. “Not on your life! My girls will begin this new adventure with me by their sides. Caring for horses does not come easy and it’s a night-and-day enterprise. But that’s something you already know.”

He sure did. He’d spent seven years working their grandfather’s horse farm before he’d been banished.

Corrie offered him a frank look, a look that made him wonder how much she knew. And then it was gone. “Do you expect there’s room in the kitchen for one more? I don’t want to step on any toes.”

“There aren’t any paid positions open right now, Corrie.” He didn’t want to say money was tight on a ranch valued in the millions of dollars. But it was.

She shrugged. “I put some money by over the years, and followed some investing advice. Money’s not what I’m after. A roof over our heads, and food to eat—that’s not a bad day, is it? I’m not handy with horses, but I’d like to learn my way around sheep. Such docile creatures. And the lambs, so small, like a painting from the Good Book.” She indicated the size of a newborn lamb with her hands. “And of course, I am good in the garden. Always was, and fresh-grown food is a blessing.” She gave him a quiet scan. “You look good, Heath. Older. And wiser.”

“Smarter, for sure.” He didn’t look at Liz. He didn’t have to look at Liz to remember the strength and urgency of young love. How could one forget the unforgettable? He couldn’t, but a smart man put it all in perspective. “Steadier.”

“Steady is good.” She put a hand on his arm. “You’re married.”

She’d dropped her gaze to his left hand where his plain gold band glimmered. “I was.” A rogue cloud passed between them and the sun at that moment, chilling the spring air as it dulled the light. “She died from complications after having our little boy. Now it’s me and Zeke. My son. We do all right.”

Corrie did what she’d always done.

She prayed.

Right then and there, her hand on his arm, head bowed, she whispered a prayer for him and his child.

Then she stared up at him, and he couldn’t bear to see the pain in her eyes, in anyone’s eyes, because he’d moved on. He had no choice because he might have lost Anna but he still had his son, Ezekiel Sean Caufield. And Zeke came first now. In everything.

Lizzie had drawn close. He wanted to avoid her, especially now, remembering the birth of his son. His wife had risked her life and lost, but she’d been willing to go the distance for their child.

That set the two women a long ways apart. One who was willing to sacrifice for a child, one who couldn’t be bothered.

He had no time to dwell. He had work to do and a son waiting for him. A spunky little boy, waiting to play with his dad.

He started to turn. Lizzie turned at the same moment, and there they were, face-to-face.

Anger bubbled up from somewhere so deep it should have stayed buried, but Corrie’s words about his wedding ring had opened it like a fresh-dug grave.

Lizzie started to speak, then didn’t.

Just as well. They had nothing to say to one another.

He reached out and hoisted two duffel-style bags, then moved toward the porch.

“Where are you going?”

“Inside?” he said, because it was fairly obvious.

She hooked a thumb toward the stable. “Who’s living in the barn apartment?”

“No one.”

“Well, there is now.” She grabbed a rolling bag by the handle. “Leave the right-hand duffel here, please, but go ahead and take Corrie’s into the house. First rule of horse is to have someone close by that knows how to rule the horse.”

“You’re going to live in a barn?” He looked back at Corrie. She remained quiet, just out of the way, watching their back-and-forth.

“At least until I get a feel for the place.” She kept walking toward the barn. “Is it furnished?”

It wasn’t because Sean had cared for the horses until he got too sick, and he’d lived in the house. “No.”

“Wi-Fi?”

Sean had the equine offices built on the first floor purposely, facing the pasture. If he was throwing down a major equine business deal, he didn’t want the walk back to the house to interrupt. The vision of pricey mares and geldings in the rich, green grass added enticement to the deal. “Yes. There’s a full office set up with all the records. Hard copy and online. I can show you all that.”

“Corrie, I’ll see you once you’re settled.” Liz motioned toward the house. “The sooner I get set up, the quicker I can grab some furniture off Craigslist.”

Used furniture?

Living in the barn? Was she serious?

One look at her face confirmed that she was. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe she understood the stakes. Maybe she had what it would take to help make things right.

He hauled Corrie’s things inside and up the main stairs. He set the duffel inside the first room, then repeated the trip with the smaller bags and boxes.

His phone rang as he backed out of Corrie’s room. The name of a well-known Pacific Northwest grocery retailer flashed. He took the call, and by the time he’d finished a deal for four hundred fresh market lambs for wedding season, nearly a quarter hour had passed. That meant he’d left Lizzie to do all her own lifting and carrying.

He hurried back outside because no matter how rough their past had been, he wasn’t normally a jerk. At least he hoped he wasn’t, but with Pine Ridge teetering on the brink, he might be testier than normal. It wasn’t fair to lay that at her door, but there wouldn’t be time to sugarcoat things, either.

Lizzie wasn’t in his line of sight when he stepped outside. He started for the nearest stairs at the same time he heard his five-year-old son sigh out loud as he gazed out through the square, wooden spindles. “You’re so beautiful.”

Heath turned in the direction his son was facing and swallowed hard, because Zeke was one hundred percent correct. Standing on the graveled yard below, Lizzie Fitzgerald was absolutely, positively drop-dead gorgeous in an all-American girl kind of way. That thick, long hair framed a heart-shaped face. A face he’d loved once, but he’d been young and headstrong then. Somewhere along the way, he’d grown up.

“You’re quite handsome yourself.” Lizzie smiled up at Zeke, and despite Heath’s warnings about strangers, Zeke grinned back, then raced down the broad side steps.

“Are you staying here?” He slid to a quick stop in front of Lizzie. There was no curtailing his excitement. “My dad said we’ve got people who are coming here to stay, so that must be you. Right?”

“Correct.” She didn’t look at Heath and wonder about his dark-skinned son, and he gave her reluctant points for that. Zeke’s skin was a gift from his African American mother, but his gray-blue eyes were Caufield, through and through.

Lizzie squatted to Zeke’s level and held his attention with a pretty smile. “My name’s Lizzie. My friend Corrie and I are living on the ranch with you. I hope that’s all right.”