He hadn’t slept in three nights and he didn’t doubt he’d be forced up sometime before dawn this morning. Spring was always a busy time at the ranch.
“I swear those damn cows are deliberately stupid,” he muttered as he swung down from his saddle. “The way I see it, they know when they’re gonna have trouble giving birth and they find the most difficult place to hide, then dare me to find them.”
Hank lifted his hat and scratched his nearly bald head. “I don’t think they’re out to get you, boss. It just happens.”
Caleb grimaced. “You’re wrong. They talk about it. One of them finds a new canyon or gully and spreads the word.”
Hank’s dark eyes narrowed in concern. “You need some rest.”
“I know. But until they’re done dropping their calves, none of us is going to get it.” He led his horse into the barn, handing him over to Tully. “Everyone in?” he asked the fifteen-year-old boy who had started work at the ranch the previous fall.
Tully had hair the color of fire and enough freckles to share with every person in the state of Montana. He was short, had a stammer and looked skinny enough to blow away in a good wind. But there was magic in his touch. In all his thirty-one years, Caleb had never seen anyone so good with horses.
“All the m-men are b-back,” he said. “Zeke brought back c-company.”
Caleb scowled. “Who? A boy from town?”
Just what he needed right now. Some stray kid for him to look after. Dammit, they were in the middle of calving. Zeke knew better than to—
“No. A w-woman.”
Caleb stared in surprise. Hank raised his bushy eyebrows. “Looks like your boy done found you a new wife.”
Caleb didn’t even bother responding to that outrageous statement. Instead he glanced in the direction Tully pointed and saw a small black gelding with a white star between its eyes. The creature looked dainty, but Caleb knew it was a strong, sturdy horse. Dependable. Familiar.
He’d sold that horse to John Whitefeather nearly five years before. John had wanted the animal for his sister to use when she visited sick folks in the area.
Caleb felt as if he’d been poleaxed. The pain inside was white-hot and unrelenting.
“Ruth,” he said, barely able to speak her name.
“Yes, s-sir,” Tully stuttered. “S-she’s up at the h-house.”
Ruth. Here. He didn’t know what to think. It had been long enough that her being here shouldn’t matter. But it did. Because once, she’d been all he’d wanted. Once he’d thought they would get married and have half a dozen children together. He’d imagined the Kincaid ranch becoming a dynasty—something he could be proud of.
But as much as he’d wanted her, she hadn’t wanted him. Instead she’d walked away. And he’d married Marie.
He cursed his own rule of not keeping liquor in the barn, then turned his back on Tully and Hank and headed for the house. He was halfway there when he realized his foreman hadn’t said a word about Ruth being here. Hank had been around for nearly fifteen years. He knew what had happened the last time she’d visited. He’d been the one who’d suggested Caleb needed to get away when he’d lost the only woman he’d ever loved.
The house loomed in front of him. Bright lights spilled out the kitchen windows, but the pulled curtains kept him from seeing more than shadows. He felt weary beyond feeling, yet oddly alert. Why was she here?
It couldn’t be because of Marie’s death. His wife had been gone nearly five months, so it was a little late for condolences. No one was sick. Tully would have mentioned Zeke being injured. So why now?
He climbed the single step that led to the mud room and quietly opened the door. Voices came from the kitchen. Voices and a sound Caleb hadn’t heard in too long. Zeke’s laughter. Caleb stepped through the doorway and stared into the kitchen.
In the second it took him to find Ruth, he saw the mess he hadn’t had time to notice before now. Once sparkling floors were scratched and dirty. Filthy dishes had been stacked on counters and in the sink. Once white curtains had turned gray with grime. If he wasn’t careful, the mail-order housekeeper he’d sent for would turn tail and run as soon as she saw the place.
When he could no longer avoid the inevitable, he turned his attention on the woman and the boy. They sat together at the big kitchen table. Ruth sat with her back to him. He saw her crisp white blouse tucked into a dark skirt. Her long hair had been pulled back in a thick braid. Something hot coiled in his belly as he recalled what it had felt like to unfasten that braid and run his hands through her silky hair.
She sat straight and proud—still slender. She hadn’t turned to face him, but he knew she was beautiful. Eyes the color of chocolate. Honey-colored skin. A full mouth so tempting it had taken every bit of willpower not to kiss her the first time he’d seen her.
Zeke knelt on the chair next to hers, watching intently as she spooned biscuits onto a pan. There was trust in the way the boy leaned close. Trust and an ease he’d never had around Marie.
This is what he’d wanted, Caleb thought as pain filled his chest. This is what he could never have.
Suddenly there was anger. Anger that she’d left and anger that she’d dared to return. He didn’t need her pity or her gentle ways. She’d said she didn’t want to live in his world. So what the hell was she doing here now?
ZEKE SHIFTED in his seat, then grinned and jumped to his feet. “Pa!”
Ruth felt herself stiffen as once again she found it impossible to breathe. Caleb. She started to turn in her chair, then stopped—frozen by fear. What would she see on his face and in his eyes? How could she have simply shown up in his house after all this time?
“This is Ruth,” Zeke was saying. “She’s a Cheyenne, at least half Cheyenne. I was there today and she’s real nice. She came back with me when I told her that you didn’t make very good biscuits and John—that’s her brother—said she would stay until the new housekeeper arrived.”
As the boy spoke, she gathered together her shreds of courage. She had survived much in her twenty-eight years of life…surely she could survive seeing Caleb again.
She rose and turned to face father and son. Even as Zeke continued to chatter, Caleb’s steady gaze settled on her. His gray-blue eyes were still the color of a winter storm. The lines around his mouth had deepened. He was a tall, strong man—honed by the hard land and the difficult task of raising cattle. She saw the changes in him. The wariness in his expression, the ease with which he drew his son to him. She saw the things that were the same. The hint of a dimple, even though he wasn’t smiling and the heat of desire long denied but still alive within him.
She’d thought he might yell, telling her that she had no right to be here. Not after she’d refused him all those years ago. Instead, he simply spoke her name.
“Hello, Ruth.”
“Caleb.”
Her lips barely formed the words. There were only a few feet between them, yet she felt as if they were on opposite ends of the world. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she found herself wishing he would open his arms to her and draw her close. She needed the comfort that only he could give. Yet he didn’t offer and, of course, she didn’t ask.
He glanced around the kitchen. “You shouldn’t have to see the ranch house like this. You remember it being nicer.”
She nodded. “But I know you haven’t had a housekeeper out here in several months.”
“Sarah