incredibly early, just after seven, but
the ranch was already buzzing with activity. Breakfast began at five for the
early risers and the wranglers and generally lasted until ten to ensure
everyone was accounted for. From the looks of it, her two guests had already
had breakfast. Or at least coffee, if the white foam cup in the man’s hand was
any sign.
From where Grace stood, she could hear the goats
announcing their good mornings from the barn, the horses neighing in the stable
one hundred or so yards away, the clank of dishes from the dining room behind
her, and the chatter of people as they made their way to and from the main
house.
She smiled, inhaling deeply. Living here, being a part
of such an incredible place… It was a dream come true. A way of life she’d been
born into, one that she could never imagine any other way. Grace loved this
place, every little nuance, every incredible detail. And each morning when she
awoke, she sent up a huge thank you for all that her family had been blessed
with. Things hadn’t always been that way, though. There had been a painful part
of her life when she’d cursed God for taking her mother away from her. But as
time had drifted forward, Grace had, too. Until eventually, now, she could be
grateful for all she did have while still missing her mother. The grief had
never gone away, but it had lessened somewhat over time.
Refusing to start the day off on a sour note, Grace
shook off the errant thoughts. “How are you today?” she asked, directing her
question at the little girl now hugging her father’s arm while bouncing on the
balls of her feet, shooting glances over her shoulder toward the main barn.
Grace followed her gaze, seeing that the barn had
already been readied for the morning, two of its oversized doors open to greet
the early-morning sun.
“Good,” the little girl chirped, clearly enthused.
Grace looked up at the man to see that his dark brown
eyes were shining brightly as he stared down at his daughter.
“What’s your name?” Grace asked the little girl. She
couldn’t have been more than five or six, and she looked adorable in her
overalls and her little pink boots, her dark hair, streaked with natural auburn
highlights, pulled up into pigtails, long ringlets hanging down past her
shoulders.
“Madison. Everyone calls me Maddie,” she replied, her
light brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight. The color was surprising, not a
standard shade of brown, more like gold.
“Well, my name’s Grace, but everyone calls me Gracie,”
she told her.
“Are you a real cowgirl?” Maddie asked, looking up at
Grace as though she were responsible for all of the exciting stuff at the
ranch.
“I guess you could say that. What do you think a real
cowgirl is?”
“One who wears boots and has a horse,” Maddie said excitedly.
Grace laughed as she eyeballed her feet, hefting one
booted foot up a little, then the other before lifting her gaze back up to meet
the little girl’s. “Well, I’ve definitely got boots.” Leaning down close to the
little girl’s ear, Grace lowered her voice to a mock whisper and said, “And
I’ve also got my own horse.”
Maddie, bless her cute little heart, squealed with
excitement.
Turning her attention to the little girl’s father,
holding her hand out for him to shake, Grace said, “And you must be Mr. Ruhl.”
The man gripped Grace’s hand gently but firmly.
“Technically, Mr. Ruhl would be my father. You can call me Ben.”
“Nice to meet you, Ben.” Grace smiled at the handsome
man, studying his face momentarily.
Although he looked content to be there, based on the
sidelong glances he would give Maddie, Grace sensed that something was
bothering him. As she spared him a full head-to-toe glance, purely to check out
his clothes, she came to the conclusion that his outfit wasn’t likely the
culprit.
He wasn’t quite as decked out in western gear as his
daughter, but he was sporting jeans and a polo, which was a
the ranch was already buzzing with activity. Breakfast began at five for the
early risers and the wranglers and generally lasted until ten to ensure
everyone was accounted for. From the looks of it, her two guests had already
had breakfast. Or at least coffee, if the white foam cup in the man’s hand was
any sign.
From where Grace stood, she could hear the goats
announcing their good mornings from the barn, the horses neighing in the stable
one hundred or so yards away, the clank of dishes from the dining room behind
her, and the chatter of people as they made their way to and from the main
house.
She smiled, inhaling deeply. Living here, being a part
of such an incredible place… It was a dream come true. A way of life she’d been
born into, one that she could never imagine any other way. Grace loved this
place, every little nuance, every incredible detail. And each morning when she
awoke, she sent up a huge thank you for all that her family had been blessed
with. Things hadn’t always been that way, though. There had been a painful part
of her life when she’d cursed God for taking her mother away from her. But as
time had drifted forward, Grace had, too. Until eventually, now, she could be
grateful for all she did have while still missing her mother. The grief had
never gone away, but it had lessened somewhat over time.
Refusing to start the day off on a sour note, Grace
shook off the errant thoughts. “How are you today?” she asked, directing her
question at the little girl now hugging her father’s arm while bouncing on the
balls of her feet, shooting glances over her shoulder toward the main barn.
Grace followed her gaze, seeing that the barn had
already been readied for the morning, two of its oversized doors open to greet
the early-morning sun.
“Good,” the little girl chirped, clearly enthused.
Grace looked up at the man to see that his dark brown
eyes were shining brightly as he stared down at his daughter.
“What’s your name?” Grace asked the little girl. She
couldn’t have been more than five or six, and she looked adorable in her
overalls and her little pink boots, her dark hair, streaked with natural auburn
highlights, pulled up into pigtails, long ringlets hanging down past her
shoulders.
“Madison. Everyone calls me Maddie,” she replied, her
light brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight. The color was surprising, not a
standard shade of brown, more like gold.
“Well, my name’s Grace, but everyone calls me Gracie,”
she told her.
“Are you a real cowgirl?” Maddie asked, looking up at
Grace as though she were responsible for all of the exciting stuff at the
ranch.
“I guess you could say that. What do you think a real
cowgirl is?”
“One who wears boots and has a horse,” Maddie said excitedly.
Grace laughed as she eyeballed her feet, hefting one
booted foot up a little, then the other before lifting her gaze back up to meet
the little girl’s. “Well, I’ve definitely got boots.” Leaning down close to the
little girl’s ear, Grace lowered her voice to a mock whisper and said, “And
I’ve also got my own horse.”
Maddie, bless her cute little heart, squealed with
excitement.
Turning her attention to the little girl’s father,
holding her hand out for him to shake, Grace said, “And you must be Mr. Ruhl.”
The man gripped Grace’s hand gently but firmly.
“Technically, Mr. Ruhl would be my father. You can call me Ben.”
“Nice to meet you, Ben.” Grace smiled at the handsome
man, studying his face momentarily.
Although he looked content to be there, based on the
sidelong glances he would give Maddie, Grace sensed that something was
bothering him. As she spared him a full head-to-toe glance, purely to check out
his clothes, she came to the conclusion that his outfit wasn’t likely the
culprit.
He wasn’t quite as decked out in western gear as his
daughter, but he was sporting jeans and a polo, which was a
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