Chapter 30
S avannah Calloway watched the cowboy with the deep red roses leave the flower shop, torn between running after him to thank him and staying in the shop until he’d driven away. She patted Gallery’s back, her heart now melting butter after her daughter had apologized.
But really, she’d asked the girls to stop touching things over an hour ago, when they were at the grocery store. She’d told them they could each have one thing, and if they asked for a second, she’d put back the first.
For the most part, the twins were well-behaved, but every time she got them back from her ex-husband, she had to re-acclimate them to her rules, her expectations, and her values.
Savannah tore her eyes from the closed shop door, and her gaze landed on the older woman at the end of the aisle. “Sorry,” she said, that word one of the first that always left her mouth.
With two busy, curious, bright five-year-olds, Savannah often had to apologize for something they’d gotten into they shouldn’t have.
The woman smiled. “It’s fine. Can I help you find something?”
Savannah blinked around the floral shop, trying to remember why she’d come inside. Maybe just because the wind had kicked up, and Gal threw a fit if any air blew in her eyes. Turned out, she threw a fit when Savannah told her no to buying a little tin doggy too.
“No, I’m just looking,” she said, and she herded the girls toward the woman. “Who was that?” She held up the rose. “The one who gave me this.”
The handsome cowboy hadn’t given it to her, Savannah knew, and she’d give the flower to Gal as soon as she could do so without making it seem like a reward for melting down in public.
The woman smiled. “Wilder Glover.” She said his name like everyone in town knew him. Well, Savannah didn’t know him—and she didn’t live in Three Rivers either.
“Thank you,” she said.
“He’s from Shiloh Ridge Ranch,” the woman said almost over the top of her. “A wonderful young man.”
Savannah gave her a tight smile, because she’d married a “wonderful young man” once. “Thanks,” she said, and she guided the girls out the door. Once free of the shop, she told the twins, “Let’s get in the car and head home.”
Thankfully, that happened without incident, and Savannah went through a drive-through to get the girls their favorite chicken nuggets and French fries for lunch. With any luck, they’d both take a cat nap on the way back to Pampa.
She normally didn’t mind the drive to Three Rivers for supplies, as the traffic wasn’t bad, and it gave her a chance to get caught up with her sister or listen to an audiobook.
The twins had always loved a good road trip, and Three Rivers had the best organic grocery store and the largest IFA store in the area.
So, with her SUV fully loaded with the groceries they needed for the next few weeks—including an intimate Christmas Day lunch with just her, the girls, and her mother—and plenty of extra feed for her chickens, as well as the beet pulp and cracked corn she liked to give the llamas in the winter, she headed south.
She’d had a load of hay grass delivered yesterday, and her llama farm should continue to thrive with her wintertime preparations.
Savannah kept the volume on the radio low as she drove, and it only took about twenty minutes for the twins to eat and then drift to sleep.
A sense of relief washed over Savannah, and while she hadn’t ever imagined herself to be married, a mother of two, and then divorced before her thirtieth birthday, that was where she now stood.
She’d lost twenty-five pounds due to the “divorce diet,” and she’d never experienced such stress in her life.
Now that she was free from that awful, abusive situation, the freedom she experienced in quiet moments like this reminded her of a loving Father in Heaven who didn’t want His children to suffer.
She’d be forever tied to Jack, of course, as he lived in their family home only forty minutes south of Pampa, and she had to take the girls to him twice every month.
But she’d managed to get the llama farm with the help of her mother, and Savannah had found a safe haven there she wouldn’t trade for anything.
“Not even for a handsome man who gives your girls roses,” she muttered to herself. She glanced in her rearview mirror, a habit of driving, and then focused out the windshield again.
She’d driven this road many times since the divorce a little over eighteen months ago, and she’d seen the various road signs and ranches. They’d become as familiar as breathing, but today, as the big, blue sign that read SHILOH RIDGE RANCH approached, her heartbeat blipped in a strange way.
“Shiloh Ridge Ranch,” she said aloud, looking to the right, where the sign pointed. “Wilder Glover.”
A beautiful farm stood near the road, with two or three large houses, with smaller cabins and barns surrounding them. A dirt road cut right through the middle of those and continued through farmland and up into the hills, where Savannah lost sight of it.
“Which house do you live in, cowboy?”
Not that Savannah cared all that much. She’d lived in this area for almost six years, and she’d never run into anyone with the name of Glover. She had no reason to think she’d ever see Wilder again.
But if she did, she’d tell him Gal had straightened right up, and she’d given her the beautiful red rose that currently rode in the passenger seat of Savannah’s SUV.
And that would be that.
A half-hour after passing Shiloh Ridge Ranch, Savannah put on her blinker and made the right turn onto her llama farm—Llama Mamas. The cartoon-like sign made her smile, and she veered to the left to go down the family lane to her house, while the agritourism side of the farm went to the right.
She gave tours to schools, held education days twice a year for people to learn about the benefits of having llamas on a farm or ranch, and four craft workshops per year to show and teach others about creating yarns and fibers from llamas and alpacas.
She had both here at Llama Mamas, and she sheared them once a year, spun her own yarn and thread, and sold that too.
It was a simple life, full of simple goodness.
She generated enough income from the agritourism to pay for the farm and keep the girls supplied with clothing and shoes.
She also used her llamas as livestock guards for a herd of sheep and goats, which she used to generate additional income in the form of wool and milk.
In fact, she’d stopped by Wilde & Organic today to talk to the owner about carrying her organic goat cheese, which Savannah made in small, artisanal batches. Clara Jean Walker had been kind and enthusiastic, and she’d scheduled a visit to Llama Mamas for the second week of January.
She parked and got out, only to open the back door and gently rouse Sequoia with, “Hey, sweetheart, it’s time to wake up.” She started to unbuckle the girl as she came to full consciousness.
She blinked and smiled at Savannah. “Mama.”
“Hey, darling.” She leaned down and kissed the girl, then lifted her out of the car. “Remember, you promised to feed the ducks after we got home.” She set her daughter on the ground, half-expecting a fight.
“Yep.” Sequoia skipped away, already singing to herself.
Savannah grinned after her, because of the two, Sequoia was definitely the more agreeable. She was older by five and a half minutes, and she often stuck up for Gallery—just like she had in the floral shop.
Savannah peered across the bench seat to Gal, who still slumbered. Honestly, she wanted to let her sleep, because a happy-Gal always had enough to eat and enough sleep, and Savannah didn’t think she got either at her father’s.
She rounded the SUV and opened Gal’s door. “Come on, baby,” she whispered. “Let’s go see if Grandma made butterscotch chip cookies while we were gone.”
Gal whimpered as Savannah unbuckled her and lifted her into her arms. She groaned and stumbled under the weight of her five-year-old. “You’ve gotten so big, my love.”
Gal lifted her head then, still a bit sleepy in her eyes. “I can walk, Mama.”
Savannah set the little girl on her feet.
“Come on, then,” she said. “We have to take in the groceries, and you can help.” She changed course and moved to the back of the SUV, lifted the tailgate, and picked out a bag with only a carton of eggs in it for Gal.
“Take that inside, then come get something else.”
Gal ran away, the eggs in the bag swinging, and Savannah tore her eyes away. If she didn’t see the dozen eggs get dropped, then it didn’t happen. Her mother would help Gal once she got inside anyway.
Savannah hunkered down into her jacket as she loaded up with groceries, but she took an extra moment to breathe the fresh air and look up into the heavenly sky.
Clouds covered Texas today, but Savannah didn’t mind.
She got to spend the hours in her day how she wanted, and she counted every one as a blessing.
Once she got all the groceries in, had checked in with her mother, and then unloaded all the animal feed over in the llama barns, Savannah returned home and parked in her garage.
She always did a sweep of the car, because the girls could leave chunks of cheese, boxes of chicken nuggets, or old milkshakes in the car, and those stunk.
Savannah’s eyes landed on the red rose on the passenger seat, and her heart stopped. She could clearly see Wilder’s face in her mind’s eye as she reverently reached for the long stem.
Be careful of the thorns , he’d told Sequoia. You can pinch it right here, so you won’t get stuck.
She lifted the rose to her nose and took a long breath, somehow getting a hint of cowboy cologne with the deep floral scent. A smile came to her face, and Savannah took the rose into the house to gift to Gal for all her help with carrying in the groceries.
As she did that, she couldn’t help hoping that she might run into Wilder Glover again one day.