Chapter Twenty
Miles had thought the Baylors went all out on the Christmas decorations—he’d spent a lot of this morning helping do just that, hanging lights, wreaths, and other seasonal décor—but the Raffertys had them beat.
Even the barn had colorful lights strung along the eaves and the doors.
At least, that’s what it had looked like, but when Kaitlyn the photographer came out, with a lean, quick-moving man with longish dark hair and a bit of stubble, beside her—he’d look great on camera Miles thought—he realized it was a living quarters.
And artist studio? Because this had to be Rylan Rafferty.
But it was the petite older woman before him now that he needed to focus on.
He’d carefully put the note, along with a printed photo of his painting, in a plastic protector before he’d slipped it into his backpack, not wanting to trust it to his checked bag that could possibly get lost. Now he gave it to Maggie Rafferty first, because it just seemed right.
He watched as she read it. Saw the sheen come into her eyes, then felt a trembling hand grip his arm just as a tear traced its way down the older woman’s cheek.
He realized the touch was Riley, who had come back to his side after a quiet chat with Keller’s wife, the business whiz.
He glanced at Riley in time to see her blinking rapidly as well.
Clearly this family was important to her.
But then from what he’d seen and been told, Maggie Rafferty was important to everyone in Last Stand.
However tough life was these days for independent family ranchers—and from what he’d heard, it was tough—this woman was a bulwark for any one of them who needed it.
The Rafferty matriarch looked up at him then, and her voice was tight with an emotion that matched the tears.
“I cannot thank you enough for showing us this. Kyle usually only sold paintings to locals, who already knew his story. To see this, to know that he felt whoever bought this painting needed to understand…”
She handed the note to the tall, powerful man she had introduced as her son Keller, the one who had stepped up to help hold the family together after their father was KIA.
Even his eyes took on that sheen. All the brothers in turn, the man with the dogs, the tech whiz, and in particular the one who had clearly inherited this particular talent of his father’s, took a look.
And they all reacted so strongly Miles knew this had been very much the right thing to do.
When the note worked its way back to Maggie, she cradled it gently in her fingers for a long moment, reading it again. And then, after drawing a deep, steadying breath, she looked at Miles.
“There are no words to thank you for showing us this.”
Miles had expected the Raffertys to be interested, and probably moved.
He hadn’t expected them to be so darn thankful to him.
She held the note out to him. He immediately shook his head. “No. No, it’s yours. I kept a copy, but the one he wrote…the one he touched…it should be here, with you.”
The whole room seemed to go still. And then, after a moment, with even more emotion echoing in her voice, Maggie said, “I’m going to have to re-evaluate my entire opinion of your world, Mr. Flint, if you’re a typical example.”
Before he could speak, Riley did. “He’s not typical, Maggie. He’s very special, in that world or any other.”
For an instant Miles forgot how to breathe. He didn’t dare look at her, for fear that what he was thinking—and feeling—would be blatantly obvious. In fact, he didn’t dare look at any of them, and instead stared at the very large painting on the wall, recognizing the by now familiar hand and style.
When he thought he could, he looked back at the widow of the genius behind that vast vista, and the one that had so influenced him and had engendered that note.
“I’m lucky to have a small piece of his talent to savor every day. It’s both peace and inspiration to me. Since I can’t thank him, this is the best I can do.”
“That will do quite well, young man,” Maggie said, briskly now. “Just remember that should you ever need anything the Raffertys can provide, you’ll have it.”
“Well,” Riley said later as they got back in Nic’s truck to leave, full from the luscious lunch Maggie had insisted they join them for, “now you’ve done it.”
His mind was still reeling after all the bits of chatter he’d heard around that huge table. Ten people who all clearly knew each other well and liked each other. A big family who had welcomed Riley as one of their own. And now him. Because he knew Maggie Rafferty had meant every word she’d said.
“What did I do now?” he asked, bemused by it all.
“You’ve got Maggie Rafferty vouching for you, which gives you free rein anywhere in Last Stand.”
“She really is that big a deal?”
“She is.”
He could feel her looking at him as he negotiated the long driveway out to the main road. When they got to the gate he stopped the truck and turned to look back at her.
“I appreciate what she said. But I appreciate what you said even more.”
She lowered her gaze. “I meant it.”
Her voice was barely above a whisper. She was staring down at her hands.
A rancher’s hands. No fancy fingernails here, and even though she wore gloves a lot, those hands were tough, strong.
And in that moment, more than he’d ever wanted anything, he wanted to feel those hands on him. In every and any way he could think of.
The sensation was so fierce it left him a little shaky inside. He turned his gaze forward again, afraid that if she looked at him, she’d read his thoughts in his eyes, his expression. She was that perceptive.
He made himself think about driving, mapping out in his mind the route back to her place.
For this city boy it was a challenge, looking for landmarks instead of street signs, but he managed to get them back to the gate to the Garrett ranch with only one wrong turn.
Which, he’d noticed, she hadn’t mentioned.
“Decided to let me fumble around?” he had asked.
She’d shrugged. “Best way to learn and remember is make a mistake or two.”
And now as they pulled off the road onto the long driveway, she smiled at him. His stomach took that tumble again. “See? You found your own way, and—”
She broke off as her phone chimed a signal. She pulled it out in a rush. “Dad,” she said, as if that explained all, which Miles supposed it did. She listened for a brief moment, then said only, “We’re at the gate now. Be there in two minutes. Don’t you rush over there.”
She shoved the phone back in her jacket pocket. “Foal’s coming. A little hurry-up would be good.”
He’d heard her back at the Rafferty place, thanking the blond brother for a camera monitor he’d set up for them, and Miles assumed this was why. Clever, really, especially with her father not as mobile as he usually was.
“Where?”
“Far end of the big barn,” she said.
He hit the gas, a bit harder than he was comfortable with.
He remembered there were three barns within sight of the house.
One, she’d told him, had been converted into housing and facilities for the hands, one was for storage and the occasional stallion they had on hand, the big one for the rest, horses she had in training, her father’s and the foreman’s preferred mounts, and her own precious King.
He made it through the arc in the driveway without skidding, although he kicked up a lot of dirt.
She never even looked—her gaze was fastened on the destination.
He got as close as he could and began to slow.
And long before he would have felt safe with her doing it, she was out of the still-moving truck and running for the barn.
He was out himself and about to follow when he saw her father trying to maneuver the front porch steps with his crutches.
When he saw the man wobble rather frighteningly, he changed direction.
When he got there Mr. Garrett had regained his balance, but had two more steps to go.
Miles steadied him the rest of the way, which earned him a rather fiercely intent look when they got on level ground.
“I’ve been there,” he said. “Broke my ankle a few years ago. It sucked.”
“Does it still?”
He grinned. “Nah. Now it’s kind of cool to have a couple of aftermarket parts.” At the man’s look, he explained. “They had to put in a couple of pins. Enough to be interesting, but not so much it sets off metal detectors.”
Riley’s father laughed, and that made Miles feel oddly good. “You go on,” the man said. “I’ll be fine now, and Riley may need some help. You never know how these things are going to go.”
He hesitated, but her father nodded toward the barn, so he went. He thought every step of the way that he knew exactly nothing about this, and he’d be more likely to get in the way than help. But he kept going, even as he thought moral support was going to be the best he could do.
He heard her the instant he stepped into the barn. Her voice, low, soft, loving, almost stopped him in his tracks. A sudden scenario slammed through his mind, of that same voice, in that same tone…aimed at him.
It took him a moment and a deep breath to get moving again.
He followed that voice to the stall to his right, the bigger one he’d noticed when they were doing the feeding yesterday.
It had been empty then, and she’d told him the pregnant occupant was out getting some December sunshine, while it was here.
The door was ajar, some straw spilling out into the barn aisle. Inside a mare that looked a bit like Jackson’s Sorry lay flat on the thick bedding, breathing hard. Riley knelt by her head, stroking, talking softly to her.
“Your dad’s working his way here. Is she all right?”
“She’s just fine,” Riley said in that same luscious croon. “Just a bit longer, I think. Everything’s proceeding normally, the foal’s oriented properly as far as I can tell, so we should be fine.”
He seized on the only thing he could think of to ask. “Oriented?”
“They’re normally born head and front feet first,” she said, never looking away from the mare. “Should start any minute now—her water broke right after I got here.”
Only then did he notice exactly that. Curiosity hit him and he took a step that way. Then stopped and looked at Riley. “Is it okay if I…?”
She flashed him a smile that had that crazy, breath-stealing effect on him. Again.
“Go ahead. She’s not shy.”
In a moment he was crouching behind the mare, watching something he’d never seen in his life.
“A hoof,” he said suddenly when he saw the protrusion. “I see a hoof…”
“The other front hoof should be close behind, then a nose,” she said, still stroking the mare, whose sides were contracting rather fiercely now. Actively pushing he realized.
He continued to watch, fascinated. Riley gave the horse a final pat then got up and came to crouch beside him, pulling on a pair of latex gloves as she did.
He edged to one side, giving her room. She was the one who knew what she was doing, after all.
The only thing he could do was watch, since he doubted he, a total stranger to the mare, could do much to soothe her as Riley had been doing.
Suddenly things started to happen fast. Riley laughed as the foal’s front legs and muzzle emerged. “Oh, you’re going to get this done nice and slick, aren’t you, girl? Barely ten minutes and here we go.”
Miles knew only the basics of the process, but even he could see Riley was right.
The tiny horse slid out in what seemed like one big rush after the head and shoulders—withers, he thought—were out.
He saw Riley reach for a cloth from a box he hadn’t noticed before, and she was wiping at the nostrils and eyes.
The wet little one gave a tiny snort, and she laughed with delight.
“And here comes the production equipment,” she said then, and he laughed when he realized she meant the placenta and cord. “Nice and quick with that, too. You are a wonder, m’girl.”
The whole thing was a wonder to him. Not only the small miracle of new life he’d just witnessed, but Riley’s obvious joy in it.
He watched as she did some cleanup, but then she leaned back and sat in the straw, watching the newborn who was already upright, looking around in what he supposed had to be the equine version of wonder.
He knew they got up on their feet fast, usually, but for now the wonder of the new world was apparently enough. It was certainly enough for Riley, who looked beyond delighted. So delighted that when he laughed, in pleasure at her expression, she leaned over and kissed him.
He nearly jumped. True, it was only on his closest cheek, but the feel of her lips on his skin was still enough to send a jolt rocketing through him.
And he couldn’t help wondering if the foal was the only new life that had just come into being here.