He hoped that wouldn’t be the case for Emma.
Wade Porter, a rough-and-tumble cowboy in his early thirties was there, as well, fussing over Polly like he always did. Wade had leased Polly’s grazing land for his horses and had kept an eye on things while renters were living in the ranch house and then during the years the house was empty. The dude seemed to attract women of all ages no matter where he went, and so far, Joel had no use for the guy and had taken an immediate disliking to him. Wade was too nice, too accommodating and much too helpful. Joel suspected there was some other motive running through him rather than pure friendliness...but so far, Joel couldn’t make out what that other motive might be.
“If they’ll let you, sure,” Joel told Emma, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.
Being this close to farm animals was new to Joel and his five-year-old daughter. He’d grown up in a city and had rarely wandered into the country. The closest he’d ever come to a farm animal was at the county fair when he’d walk through some of the tents, and even then, the calves, pigs and rabbit were either in a pen of some kind or locked inside a cage.
Besides, he never had an interest in those kinds of animals. He was more of a dog kind of guy, a husky or a retriever.
Emma, on the other hand, seemed to be all about baby goats and bunnies, especially the long-eared type of bunnies. There were two on the float—one was a deep orange color while the other was a dappled black-and-white. One ear of the dappled one was black along with one eye, and the rest of its body was mostly white with some speckled black. Joel had to admit, these little guys were possibly the cutest creatures he’d ever seen. Emma approached the boy holding the black-and-white bunny.
Other kids who had watched the parade had gathered around a white goat on a leash and a baby pig that tried its best to wiggle out of the arms of one of the young boys who was trying his best to hold on to the small creature.
“Oh, Daddy, she’s so soft,” Emma said as she cautiously ran her hand over the bunny’s fat, round body. The boy, around ten or twelve, held the bunny as it rested in his arms, the bunny looking about as content as a kitten in the sun.
“His name is Wheezy. He’s five months old and we’ve been training him to hop over hurdles,” the boy told Emma. “He loves to jump, and he loves to be petted and played with.”
“Do you play with him a lot?”
The boy nodded. “Whenever I can. He has four brothers and three sisters so sometimes it’s hard to get to all of them.”
“I don’t have any bunnies. My daddy likes dogs, but I like bunnies.”
“We have a dog, too, and chickens, and a lot of horses.”
“We have horses, but I’d rather have a bunny.” Emma couldn’t seem to stop loving Wheezy, and as time passed she became more confident petting him. Until this moment, Joel hadn’t considered that Emma might want a pet of her own. Yet another example of how woefully remiss he’d been in raising his daughter. The guilt would sometimes overwhelm him, but he’d learned how to pull himself back from the self-pity pit by making sure he was now 100 percent engaged in his current life...which was something he was still working on.
Emma glanced back at Joel, beaming, looking for his approval, which he gave with a hearty smile and nod.
Joel’s heart swelled as he watched Emma ease in closer to the bunny, giving it long, gentle strokes. The boy holding the bunny kept chatting with Emma, asking her name and talking about the furry creature. Normally, his Emma barely spoke to other children, but for some reason, as she stroked the soft animal, she chatted up a storm. The boy, Buddy Granger, told Emma all about Wheezy, the medium-sized Holland lop, and the rest of the animals on his family’s ranch, which was also some sort of riding school. Emma stood riveted to every word.
Ever since they had moved to the Double S Ranch, his daughter’s entire demeanor had changed. Little by little, she was coming out of her shell, and the animals were helping. Aunt Polly had already brought in a couple horses, and two stray tabby cats had taken up residency inside the barn. Plus, he’d been thinking about adding a puppy to the mix soon, and now that he knew his daughter liked bunnies, he might consider building a bunny hutch to the vast array of projects that required his attention.
He knew living on a ranch was going to be a challenge, but he never dreamed it would be an endless string of physical work. Callaghan hadn’t talked much about ranching or her Miss Russet title when they were dating...too tangled up with school activities, he supposed. Back then their days seemed to be consumed with class, homework, school activities and sex...lots of sex, until everything changed on the turn of a dime.
He cautiously looked around trying to spot Callaghan in the crowd, and so far the coast seemed clear. Although in a small town like this, he felt as though everyone already knew all about the sordid details of their breakup in college...and he was most certainly the bad guy in their version.
Which, to some extent, he was, but he refused to think about any of that now. At the moment, his total focus was centered on his daughter and her happiness. Every choice he made was entirely for her benefit, and if that included having to openly take the fall for what happened between him and Callaghan back in college so the citizens of Briggs would accept him and his daughter, then so be it.
He was out of options.
This was his last stop. He had to make it work no matter what he had to do to appease his ex. Briggs, Idaho, was her hometown. Her family and friends lived here, and despite everything that had happened, he would find a way to make peace with the girl he still cared about.
“That’s him,” Callie told her older sister Coco. The two women tried to hide behind a cluster of aspen trees. The parade had long since ended, the floats dismantled and stored in the old potato processing plant that had been converted several years ago to an open warehouse now used mostly for storing floats and other parade items.
Callie had made her apologies to her neighbors who’d bounced off the potato float, to the kids in the marching band she’d disrupted, to Mr. Harwood—their director—and to everyone and anyone who she thought might need an apology. She was sure there would be a write-up in the local paper about her fiasco, but that was nothing new to her. She’d been in the local paper several times in her life for mainly the same type of disorderly thing, except, of course, when she was crowned Miss Russet. Then it was all praise all the time.
Fickle townsfolk...how soon they forget.
The regional rodeo had already begun to gear up at the fairgrounds where Callie would once again be joined by the other Idaho Misses to open the festivities the following night. But tonight it was all about the carnival, great food provided by local and some out-of-town restaurants, and the fireworks, which were sometimes better than the Fourth of July celebration.
Piping hot baked potatoes were free tonight, courtesy of the surrounding farmers and ranchers, and everyone in town seemed to be enjoying the perk. The spuds were individually wrapped in parchment paper and cracked open for convenience. Condiments such as butter and other enhancers were provided. However, most residents preferred their spud plain and treated it like a fine wine, savoring the natural flavors. Callie was more into sour cream and chives on her baker, but she usually relegated that controversial fact to her meals at home.
She had been anxious to share the news of Joel’s appearance with her sister, who was the voice of reason, for the most part.
“Who exactly am I spying on again? And by the way, he’s one fine cowboy.”
“Joel Darwood. The Joel Darwood who broke my heart, then poured gasoline on it and set it on fire...and he’s about as far away from being a cowboy as I’m a rock star.”
Coco