potluck over at the Grange Hall next Saturday night. I was hopin’ you might go with me.”
She couldn’t help herself. She looked toward Ian. Had he thought to ask her? Had Ty beat him to it?
“You ought to go, Shayla.” Ian held out the platter of sandwiches. “You’d meet plenty of your neighbors. Even more than you did on Sunday. Folks always have a good time at the Grange. Good food. Great music. Chad Friday plays a mean fiddle, and Pastor Barnett on the drums is something nobody should miss.”
His words told her he didn’t mind that Ty had asked her to the potluck. The knowledge caused sharp disappointment to pierce through her.
“What d’ya say?” Ty persisted. “Will you go with me, Shayla?”
“Yes,” she answered, turning toward the blond-haired cowboy. “I’d like to go. Thanks for asking.”
Since Ian was a small boy, he’d liked sitting on the wide, wraparound porch on summer evenings, watching as sunset settled over the earth, the sinking sun gilding the grasslands in shades of gold and orange before giving over to the pewter tones of nightfall. This hour of the day, more often than not, brought with it a breeze to sway the tall pines that towered above the house, a hundred feet and more, rolling them in huge arcs, enough to make a man dizzy if he stared upward for too long.
It was a silent part of Ian’s day. His year-round ranch hands, Ty Sheffield and Mick Janssen, had returned to their homes to be with their families. The livestock had been fed and watered, and thoseanimals that required it were in stalls in the barn. Dinner was over, the dishes washed and put away.
Now it was just him and his dogs, the sunset and the evening breeze. Bonny lay beside his wooden rocking chair. Coira sat closer to him, her muzzle resting on his thigh. Belle was down on the lawn with her remaining three pups.
Ian wondered if Shayla would get more sleep tonight or if Honey Girl would continue to cry for her lost mama. He had a feeling she’d take that puppy into her bed before the week was out. She seemed the sort.
He turned his eyes to the west, toward the Erickson cabin. Or should he call it the Vincent cabin now?
“Nothing ever happens here!” Joanne’s complaint rang in his ears, as strong now as it had been when she first said it. “We might as well be living in a cave. I’m tired of being snowbound in the winter. I want to do something! I want to go somewhere!”
He’d be wise to go on thinking of that place as the Erickson cabin. When the heavy snows came and the temperature plummeted to below zero and the power lines snapped or the phones went dead, Shayla would pack her clothes and computer into that noisy little car of hers and hightail it back to Portland.
“Best place for her, too. Flatlanders ought to stay where they belong.”
Coira slapped a paw onto his thigh, drawing his gaze. The dog watched him with big, sad eyes.
“She won’t last,” he told the collie. “She seemsreal nice, and I hope she has a good time at the Grange with Ty. But I also hope that boy doesn’t get his tail in a knot over her, ’cause she won’t stay.” He stroked the dog’s head. “You and I both know that, don’t we, girl?”
And yet, even as he spoke, there was a part of him, deep in a corner of his heart, that wished he’d asked her to the potluck before Ty, because…
Because what if she did last through the winter?
Chapter Five
S hayla didn’t see much of Ian over the next three days. Although he greeted her warmly enough when she arrived each morning he would then head for the barn, saddle up one of his horses and ride off, not to be seen again for the remainder of the day.
Ty Sheffield was another story. The young cowboy found a reason at least once each day to return to the ranch house, and when he did, he took a few minutes to visit with Shayla. She discovered she enjoyed his company. Besides being charming and well mannered, he had a fun sense of humor and an
She couldn’t help herself. She looked toward Ian. Had he thought to ask her? Had Ty beat him to it?
“You ought to go, Shayla.” Ian held out the platter of sandwiches. “You’d meet plenty of your neighbors. Even more than you did on Sunday. Folks always have a good time at the Grange. Good food. Great music. Chad Friday plays a mean fiddle, and Pastor Barnett on the drums is something nobody should miss.”
His words told her he didn’t mind that Ty had asked her to the potluck. The knowledge caused sharp disappointment to pierce through her.
“What d’ya say?” Ty persisted. “Will you go with me, Shayla?”
“Yes,” she answered, turning toward the blond-haired cowboy. “I’d like to go. Thanks for asking.”
Since Ian was a small boy, he’d liked sitting on the wide, wraparound porch on summer evenings, watching as sunset settled over the earth, the sinking sun gilding the grasslands in shades of gold and orange before giving over to the pewter tones of nightfall. This hour of the day, more often than not, brought with it a breeze to sway the tall pines that towered above the house, a hundred feet and more, rolling them in huge arcs, enough to make a man dizzy if he stared upward for too long.
It was a silent part of Ian’s day. His year-round ranch hands, Ty Sheffield and Mick Janssen, had returned to their homes to be with their families. The livestock had been fed and watered, and thoseanimals that required it were in stalls in the barn. Dinner was over, the dishes washed and put away.
Now it was just him and his dogs, the sunset and the evening breeze. Bonny lay beside his wooden rocking chair. Coira sat closer to him, her muzzle resting on his thigh. Belle was down on the lawn with her remaining three pups.
Ian wondered if Shayla would get more sleep tonight or if Honey Girl would continue to cry for her lost mama. He had a feeling she’d take that puppy into her bed before the week was out. She seemed the sort.
He turned his eyes to the west, toward the Erickson cabin. Or should he call it the Vincent cabin now?
“Nothing ever happens here!” Joanne’s complaint rang in his ears, as strong now as it had been when she first said it. “We might as well be living in a cave. I’m tired of being snowbound in the winter. I want to do something! I want to go somewhere!”
He’d be wise to go on thinking of that place as the Erickson cabin. When the heavy snows came and the temperature plummeted to below zero and the power lines snapped or the phones went dead, Shayla would pack her clothes and computer into that noisy little car of hers and hightail it back to Portland.
“Best place for her, too. Flatlanders ought to stay where they belong.”
Coira slapped a paw onto his thigh, drawing his gaze. The dog watched him with big, sad eyes.
“She won’t last,” he told the collie. “She seemsreal nice, and I hope she has a good time at the Grange with Ty. But I also hope that boy doesn’t get his tail in a knot over her, ’cause she won’t stay.” He stroked the dog’s head. “You and I both know that, don’t we, girl?”
And yet, even as he spoke, there was a part of him, deep in a corner of his heart, that wished he’d asked her to the potluck before Ty, because…
Because what if she did last through the winter?
Chapter Five
S hayla didn’t see much of Ian over the next three days. Although he greeted her warmly enough when she arrived each morning he would then head for the barn, saddle up one of his horses and ride off, not to be seen again for the remainder of the day.
Ty Sheffield was another story. The young cowboy found a reason at least once each day to return to the ranch house, and when he did, he took a few minutes to visit with Shayla. She discovered she enjoyed his company. Besides being charming and well mannered, he had a fun sense of humor and an
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