Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Ugh, it’s hot.
Today’s navy blue tee proclaimed, “Lead Me Not Into Temptation… Oh, Hell, Follow Me, I Know A Shortcut.” It’d been one of his favorites.
Behind her, the ranch’s prize sire nickered impatiently for Sage to let him out of his stall and lead him to the pasture. Last night’s wind and torrential rain had forced her ranch foreman to bring the horses in for safekeeping. Unfortunately, it had done nothing to cool the high temperatures.
“I’m coming, Gino. You know your pregnant girlfriend has to get some fresh hay and feed first.”
The horse nickered again, obviously not impressed that he had to wait a few more seconds so Sage could finish caring for Diamond Lil.
The one-hundred-fifty-acre Heaven’s Pastures was an Appaloosa breeding ranch, currently home to two stallions and fourteen mares.
Ten had given birth in January, and their foals were now being weaned for summer sales, while the other four mares were due toward the end of June.
Two older quarter horses rounded out the herd and were used for riding around the ranch.
A dozen sheep, six llamas, eight chickens, two barn cats, and one very active border collie rounded out the rest of the ranch's animals.
The land had been in Mark’s family for seven generations, beginning as a small cattle ranch before his great-grandfather switched to breeding Appaloosas.
Over the decades, the Hammonds had built a respected bloodline, and every registered horse bred on the ranch carried the family’s farm prefix.
That history and reputation made their horses sought after by buyers, and Mark had been immensely proud of it.
Five years ago, he and Sage added llamas, which were sheared for their wool, like sheep.
A strong market for the fiber provided extra income.
Mark’s great-grandmother had dubbed the ranch Heaven’s Pastures because of the family cemetery at the north end of the property. Sage’s son and daughter would hopefully one day continue the family business—if she could hold on to it that long.
After finishing with the horses’ feed and water, Sage fed the rest of the animals and then collected the eggs from the chicken coop.
Her cook and housekeeper, Maddie, would need them for her baking tomorrow.
The next day was Sunday, and their church was having a bake sale to help raise money for the choir to attend a statewide competition in July.
Maddie Tanner and her husband, Evan, had worked for the Hammond family since Mark had been a boy. Childless, they’d lived in a small cottage on the property for close to thirty years, and Sage didn’t know what she would have done without the couple since Mark’s death.
Striding to the rear entrance of her two-story house, she heard Benji, their dog, barking out front. As she climbed the steps to the porch, the door swung open, and eight-year-old Matthew announced, “Mom, someone is walking up the driveway.”
That was odd. The ranch was six miles from town, and her nearest neighbors were two miles away. No one just walked to their place.
She handed her son the basket of eggs. “Take these to Maddie, then go wash up for breakfast, and I’ll see who it is.”
The screen door slammed shut behind her as she walked through the house to the front door.
Sure enough, a man was coming up the long, dirt driveway, carrying a military duffel bag over his shoulder.
She didn’t recognize him, but he appeared to be in his late thirties.
Dressed in worn jeans, hiking boots, and a gray T-shirt, he was about six-foot-three and physically fit.
A baseball cap covered his hair and shaded his face.
While there was nothing about his posture that made her uneasy, the fact that he was a stranger had her hurrying into her bedroom.
She retrieved Mark’s Smith & Wesson 9mm and its belt holster from the safe in her closet and clipped it to her jeans at the small of her back before returning to the front door.
She swung it open, went to the top of the steps, and waited for the man to approach.
Benji still barked as he joined her on the porch.
When the man got within twenty feet of the house, the dog ran down the steps, and his bark morphed into a growl. Sage stiffened, but the man stopped dead in his tracks. He stood perfectly still as the dog took a few cautious steps forward, sniffing the air.
“Hey, boy. Come check me out. I’m not here to hurt you or your family.”
He squatted down and let the protective dog sniff his hand. Sage’s shoulders relaxed slightly when Benji’s tail wagged furiously, and he licked the stranger’s hand. The dog had always been a great judge of character.
When Benji rolled over onto his back, the man scratched the proffered stomach, then lifted his gaze to Sage. “Hi. Sorry for the unannounced visit. I’m looking for Sage Hammond.”
Crossing her arms, she stared into his soft brown eyes. There was nothing but kindness in them—well, maybe a bit of sadness and loneliness. She recognized it because that’s what she saw reflecting in her mirror most mornings. “I’m Sage. Who are you, and how do you know my name?”
Standing again, he removed his cap, wiped the sweat on his brow with his forearm, and then set the cap back atop his dark-blond head.
“My name is Adam Westfield. I spoke with Reverend Stevens this morning, and he said you were looking for someone to help around the ranch. I’d like to apply for the job if it’s still available. ”
It was true. She desperately needed help on the ranch.
The last two men she’d hired had both up and left with no notice.
One after two weeks, the other after only a few days.
She knew ranching was hard work and not for everyone, but the least they could have done was tell her why they’d left. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
He chuckled. “No, ma’am, I’m not. My New York accent gives me away every time, doesn’t it?”
Her mouth tilted up in a small smile. “It was pretty much my first clue.”
“Well, please don’t hold it against me. I’m a hard worker and a fast learner.”
“Is that so?” Even though Benji had approved of him, she still didn’t know the man.
But Lord, she hoped he was the answer to her prayers.
So much work needed to be done, and the heavier stuff was getting too much for Evan and her.
“Tell me more about yourself, Mr. Westfield. Why is a New York drifter in our little town of Rosewood, Oklahoma, looking for a job that pays very little besides room and board?”
He shrugged and grinned, two dimples appearing on his tanned cheeks.
“Why not? Everyone’s got to work somewhere, right?
” When she didn’t respond, he dropped his duffel at his feet and held his hands out to the side.
His smile faded. “Okay. Here’s the deal.
I was released from prison several months ago, and I’m looking for a way to start my life over again. ”
“Prison?” Her shoulders tensed again at his confession as a shiver of fear coursed through her.
She hoped she wouldn't have to pull out her gun.
While she wasn't thrilled about his incarceration, she did give him kudos for revealing it upfront instead of hiding it from her. She didn’t know many people who would admit that to someone they had just met, especially when looking for a job. “Why were you in prison?”
“Prison? That’s so cool!”
She swung around to see her son had been watching and listening from inside the screen door. “Matthew! Go back to the kitchen!”
“Aww, Moooom.”
“Now!”
Pouting, he spun on his heel and stomped through the house. Sage faced the stranger again, who hadn’t moved. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Westfield, but an ex-con is not someone I want around my children. I’m sorry you made the trip out here for nothing.”
A look of compassion descended across his handsome face. “No worries, ma’am. I understand completely.” He tilted his head toward the old well in her front yard. “Do you mind if I take a drink before I head out?”
It was the least she could do. It was a six-mile walk from town unless someone had been nice enough to give him a lift. “No, I don’t mind. Just crank up the bucket. The water is fresh.”
He tipped the brim of his ball cap. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Picking up his duffel, he swung it over his shoulder again and ambled over to the stone well with Benji on his heels.
Adam dropped his bag by the well and grabbed the crank handle.
Someone had oiled it recently, and it turned easily as he hauled the bucket up and set the brake.
He removed the bucket from the hook and rested it on the stone wall, then dipped his cupped hands into the water and drank.
The cool water felt wonderful in his parched mouth and throat.
After he’d had his fill, he splashed some over his face.
Reverend Stevens had been nice enough to let him shower at the rectory, but the walk from town in the heat and humidity had already left him sweaty and grimy again.
After replacing the bucket and sending it back to the bottom of the well, he grabbed his foster father’s old army duffel and hefted it onto his shoulder.
Reverend Stevens had suggested there might also be another rancher not much farther down the road who’d be willing to take him on for some menial work.
Adam had hitchhiked across several states for the last three months, taking temporary jobs wherever he found them.
Then, after collecting his pay, whether it’d been for a few hours or days, he moved on.
Several of the people he’d worked for had begged him to stay on—he hadn’t lied about being a hard worker and fast learner—but something inside him had urged him to leave each time.
He didn’t know his destination, but he felt something more awaited him somewhere.
Until he found it, he would continue roaming the highways and back-country roads.