Chapter 4

Chapter Four

A ngel woke in someone else’s pajamas, but they felt like her own. The bed had been comfortable, soft, and warm, piled with pillows just the way she liked. She had no idea what time it was, as the sun hadn’t quite risen yet, but the light coming in through the wide-slat blinds, which she’d closed last night, held more gray than gold.

It had to be getting close to morning. She kept her eyes closed as she rolled away from the window. A sigh passed through her body at the thought that she didn’t have to get up and get out to the stables to check on everyone today. She didn’t have any meetings. She didn’t have to go make sure Trevor could get the milk out of his fridge for his oatmeal. She didn’t have to go fry the eggs for her daddy. And she didn’t have to go sit by her mom’s bedside and tell her everything that had happened the day before.

Now, she had some great stories to tell her mama. Angel smiled to herself as she thought about telling her about her “date” with Henry last night.

Oh, it wasn’t a date , she reminded herself. But it so was—dinner and games, an amazing time talking and laughing with a man. It was definitely a date, even if she couldn’t define it as one. Even if she had to tell her mama a little white lie and say that she’d only gone out with a friend.

Henry wasn’t even a friend. She wasn’t even sure she liked him, though she was definitely attracted to him. Angel was still getting to know him as more than a farrier, more than a man who went out with a lot of women, and more than the man who kissed her last year for no reason.

He did have a reason , she reminded herself, and she decided a long time ago not to hold grudges against people. She had to, or she’d have a list a mile long to carry around with her. She thought of her granny and how she’d taught all her grandkids that whenever they had a problem with someone, they should write the person’s name on a slip of paper and put it in their shoe. Then, they could walk around all day on that person and feel like they had the upper hand over them.

Angel had heard similar advice when she took some business classes about interviewing. She was there as the person doing the interviewing, but the class had been more about those preparing for an interview. The instructor had said to wear something that nobody could see, something that only you knew about—your little secret. Like a special pair of underwear, a special necklace, or a ring, something that really meant something to you, so that you could have the confidence going into an interview and sitting across from someone that you really wanted a job from.

Angel had never done either of those things, because she didn’t believe she was better than anyone else. She didn’t believe Granny did either. Granny just held grudges, and eventually God would soften her heart. Granny would take the name out of her shoe, shred it up, and go make things right with that person.

Angel had seen her do it over and over. In fact, she’d witnessed her daddy doing the same thing. Maybe he didn’t wear names in his shoe, but he’d stomp around like an angry cat who’d been cornered, starved, and skinned. Then, when God finally got to his heart, it would be softened, and Daddy would come around.

She was a little bit like both of them, but she tried not to be. She really wanted her men at Lone Star to respect her and treat everyone with kindness. She wanted them to know that she cared about them individually, that they belonged to the same team, that they all needed to raise and care for the horses the best they could.

Horses meant the world to Angel, and she would not stand for any of them mistreated or uncared for. And none of the men who came to Lone Star stayed for long if they didn’t subscribe to her culture and her methods for how to treat horses—and that extended to the people who worked there.

Henry was an exemplar of both, and she really did like him. She could admit it to herself in the growing-lighter gray light of the bedroom that wasn’t hers.

The scent of coffee met her nose, and Angel decided she better get up. She rose early most mornings, and she hit the ground running. Today, she didn’t have to do that, so she stood slowly and stretched.

Last night, she hadn’t worried too much about the pajamas that Henry’s mother had laid out for her. Now, she glanced down and found they were a silky, light purple, one of her favorite colors.

She wasn’t sure she could just pad down the hall to get a cup of coffee in her pjs. At her house, she would have, and she had to believe that Henry and his family were just as casual in their own home as she would be in hers.

So she tiptoed over to the door and opened it. A light beamed down the hall from the kitchen, and she hitched her bravery in place, pulled her shoulders back, and stepped toward the kitchen.

When she arrived, she found the big room empty, which wasn’t that surprising. The clock on the stove said six-forty-four, and surprise stamped through her that she’d slept that long. Her alarm usually went off at five-thirty, but she’d silenced it last night when she’d finally made it to bed around eleven.

Henry’s momma had been up and waiting for them, and she’d given Angel another hug that had almost broken her. If she hadn’t gone to dinner with Henry, and then had such a great time with his friends at game night, Angel would’ve collapsed into sobs again.

But she was a little stronger last night, after having some of her own spirit fed. She’d made it all the way to the bedroom, she’d brushed her teeth with a brand-new toothbrush provided by Chelsea, and she’d changed into these pjs.

She’d noted the clothes Chelsea had gotten for her, and then she’d fallen into bed. And she’d slept all…night…long. Angel couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept that long, without tossing and turning, getting up to use the bathroom, or simply lying awake.

“What a blessing,” she murmured to herself.

She poured herself a cup of coffee, found the sugar and cream sitting on the counter, doctored up her caffeine the way she wanted, and went back to the bedroom to get her phone.

Henry had texted. I went out to feed the horses with my daddy. I should be back around 7:30 to make breakfast. If you’re starving before then, Momma put some cereal out on the counter.

No emojis, and she’d never gotten any from Henry. But as Angel re-read the text, she wondered what it would be like to have a heart sitting right after his last word.

I should be back around 7:30 to make breakfast. If you’re starving before then, Momma put some cereal out on the counter. 3

Yes, that heart would be amazing there.

She wanted someone to send her a heart emoji. She wanted to know that someone loved and cared about her .

Shaking away the negative feelings of loneliness and desperation, she took her phone and her coffee back into the kitchen. She sat at the little table that faced the back window and looked out over the ranch. From here, she could see fields for miles with horses dotting them, grazing already in the morning sunshine. Angel loved nothing more than this type of environment, and she could only imagine growing up here.

“Feels a lot like Lone Star,” she said, noting yet another similarity between her and Henry. For her daddy had built their house for her mama too, just like his had.

Another round of surprise marched through her when she realized neither her mama nor daddy had texted her. Daddy hadn’t asked who was going to run roll call. He hadn’t asked who was going to make his eggs. He hadn’t asked why she left and where she was going.

“Fascinating,” she whispered to herself. He did love Henry Marshall, and Angel figured that Daddy probably trusted him to take care of her wherever they were going. “Or,” she muttered to herself. “Perhaps Henry texted him and told him.”

That only made her curiosity brighten, but she didn’t get up. She wanted a slow start to the morning. She wanted to sip her coffee with nothing more to do.

She’d seen social media posts from people she’d known in high school. Some married now, maybe had children—women like Rory and Edith who had babies.

They got to do whatever they wanted all day long. They could go for a walk with their friends at eight-thirty in the morning if they wanted. They could go to lunch with their girlfriends.

They didn’t have to live and die by the clock. They didn’t have to run payroll. They didn’t have to live with over two dozen men, aging and disabled parents and siblings, and over two hundred horses who needed constant care.

Angel shoved the thoughts out and replaced them with ones of gratitude. “I love my life,” she whispered. “I have a very good life. It’s the life I want.”

And in so many ways, it was. She adored horses. She loved Lone Star. She loved her parents. She loved having fields like these here at Three Rivers.

She also wanted a family. She also wanted someone to take care of her. She wanted to break down into sobs and have someone who would take her in his arms and say, Shh, my angel. It’s okay.

Tears touched her eyes, and Angel sniffed and wiped one away quickly. She did not want to cry in the next two days. She wanted this to be a healing time for her. She wanted to smile and laugh. She wanted to walk through the sunlit fields, and she wanted to be with horses.

She couldn’t do any of that in her pajamas. So she got up, and as she turned to put her coffee cup in the sink, having only drunk half of it, she heard footsteps coming down the hall.

She arrived at the sink just as Chelsea entered the kitchen. “Oh, good morning, Angel,” Chelsea said with a bright smile. She had dark hair that hung down past her shoulders and almost olive skin, but that could have been a suntan as well.

“Good morning,” Angel said. “Thank you so much for everything. I really appreciate it.”

Chelsea looked at her with such knowing eyes, and Angel wasn’t sure what she saw. Angel was very good at hiding how she felt, and she simply waved back at Henry’s mom and said, “Henry said he’d be back at seven-thirty to make breakfast.”

“Yeah,” she said. “My husband always makes breakfast on Sunday morning.” Chelsea smiled as she poured herself a cup of coffee, her eyes trained down on the mug. “It’s a luxury I’ve gotten used to. He’s a much better cook than I am, and he taught all the boys.”

“How many boys do you have?” Angel asked.

“Four,” Chelsea said with obvious pride in her voice. “Henry is the second oldest. Paul is our oldest, and he works here at Courage Reins with Pete. Then we have John, who’s down at Baylor finishing up his senior year. He’ll graduate in a couple of months. And Rich, who just went to Amarillo with a few friends for college.” She threw a smile at Angel without truly looking at her and turned toward the island where she also put sugar and cream in her coffee. “What about you, dear?”

“I just have the one brother,” Angel said. “He’s seven years older than me, and he lives on the ranch with us.”

“That’s great,” Chelsea said. “Henry says you run the ranch.”

“Yeah.” Angel blew out her breath. “Yeah, I do.” She hugged herself and looked out the window. “Trevor fell off a horse five or six years ago, and he has a traumatic brain injury and limited use of his legs.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Chelsea said, lifting her eyes to meet Angel’s fully. “I—I—Henry didn’t tell us that. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Angel said, though she needed a second, stronger skin to keep all her emotions inside. “He’s real good with horses still.” She flashed Chelsea a smile. “Once we get him in the saddle, he can get ‘em to do whatever he wants. He trains cutting horses and sells them.”

“That’s fantastic,” Chelsea said. “A good cutting horse is hard to come by and worth his weight in gold.”

“That he is,” Angel agreed. “I think I’ll go get dressed and go out to the stables. Is that all right?”

“I’d wait until after breakfast,” Chelsea said. “Henry said he was going to take you over to the therapy stables and get the horses out there.”

“Yeah,” Angel said. “He said you guys might have clients this afternoon.”

“You could come to church too.”

Angel gave her a closed-mouth smile. “I’ll talk to Henry about it.”

Chelsea nodded, resignation flashing across her face. She obviously knew Henry wouldn’t go to church with them that morning. Angel wasn’t sure if it upset her or if his momma had just accepted it.

“What time will y’all be back?” Angel asked. “We could make lunch.”

Chelsea gaped at her. “Oh, honey, Henry doesn’t make lunch.”

Angel laughed lightly. “Well, he’s twenty-six-years-old and has managed to keep himself alive this long.”

Chelsea added her giggles to the conversation. “Yeah, he likes going to the grocery store and getting food from the bars there. He can put together eggs and bowls of cereal. But lunch for everyone?” She shook her head and laughed more fully. “Not one of his strong suits.”

“I organize and help prepare dinner three times a week for all of the men at Lone Star.” She swallowed and added, “I could do it.”

Chelsea started shaking her head before Angel even finished speaking. “Absolutely not. You’re our guest. You don’t need to make lunch for us.”

Angel didn’t want to argue because she also didn’t want to make lunch. She thought it polite to offer, and she would have done it. But Chelsea had said no, and Angel wasn’t going to push her on it.

“Okay,” she said.

“We’ll probably go eat with my brother and his family,” Chelsea said. “His daughter’s in town so that she can introduce her boyfriend to all of us.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Angel said. “Is this Libby, the woman whose clothes I’m wearing?”

Chelsea grinned and nodded. “That’s right.” She glanced down at Angel’s purple pajamas. “I’m glad they fit.”

“Me too,” Angel said. “Is it just Libby and her boyfriend?”

Chelsea took her first sip of coffee. “No, Finn and Edith will probably come. They want to meet Libby’s boyfriend too. Sammy lives here on the ranch. Mike’s away, and he didn’t come home. So there’ll be a small crowd. We’ll just wander over to the homestead and eat over there after church sometime. Kelly’s a real good cook.”

“That’s great,” Angel said, not sure she wanted to join that crowd.

“My mom owns the bakery in town,” Chelsea said. “So she’ll come out with her husband.” She flashed a tight smile and let her eyes dance away. “They’ll bring pastries and desserts. It’ll be fun.”

“Okay,” Angel said. “It does sound fun.” She glanced down the hall. “I guess I’ll go get dressed.”

Chelsea nodded her out of the room, and Angel quickly put on Libby’s jeans and a green floral tank top that was a little bit too bulky for her smaller chest.

Then she spied her wig lying discarded on her nightstand. Pure horror snaked through her as she realized she’d just had an entire face-to-face conversation with Henry’s mom without her hair.

She reached up with both hands and planted them on her scalp. She had so little hair, but a lot of it was on the top. Maybe Chelsea hadn’t noticed. Angel scoffed at her ridiculous thought.

“How could she not have noticed?” she asked out loud. Chelsea hadn’t said anything, but she’d definitely noticed. Angel snatched up the wig and moved over to the full-length mirror to put it into place.

At least Henry hadn’t seen her.

Angel hated her hair, and she hated how easily it went under the wig cap and how little of it she could see beneath the nylon. She fitted the wig over it and clipped the clasp in place. It pinched for one moment, and her head got hot for two seconds, and then it went back to normal.

This was her normal. She wore a wig every day. She wore it up in a ponytail when she worked outside in the hot Texas heat and down when she went to church.

She looked at the dress she’d worn here, folded neatly on the bed that she’d already made. She slipped her feet into the boots that Chelsea had provided for her. They fit pretty well. She went down the hall where she heard the sound of male voices.

That meant Henry and his daddy had returned. The hummingbird wings in Angel’s pulse picked up. She took a deep breath just before she exited the hallway and saw Henry with his parents, both of them standing at the counter, their backs to her as they faced him. He stirred something into his coffee.

“She’s just a friend, Momma.”

“Is she?” his mom challenged. “She’s really pretty, Henry.”

“Yeah, she is,” he said. “That doesn’t mean she’s my girlfriend.” He glanced up to his mother but didn’t look over to the mouth of the hallway.

Angel faded against the wall, pressing her back into the drywall behind her.

“Are you dating her?” his daddy asked.

“I just answered that question,” Henry said. “I told you in the stables as well. I’m not dating her. She’s not my girlfriend.” He heaved a heavy sigh, and Angel wished she stood beside him and could hold his hand and squeeze it to give him strength. “She needed help.”

Angel didn’t want to hear this. She did not want to hear what Henry thought of her. She did not want to know what he saw when she broke down in front of him. She didn’t want to know his opinion of her family, of her parents, of her brother. She thought it might break her further if it wasn’t exactly what she hoped to hear. And to be honest, she didn’t even know what she hoped to hear.

“What do you mean, help?” Chelsea asked.

“She carries a lot for Lone Star,” Henry said slowly, thoughtfully. Angel had heard him speak like this to other cowboys too, about horses and the schedule of their shoeing, and the different ways that they could take care of the equines that lived at Lone Star.

“I don’t know exact specifics,” he said. “I told her we didn’t have to talk about it this weekend, and we haven’t talked about it. But I knew she needed help. God told me she needed help, and so I invited her to come with me. I thought maybe a couple of days away from all of her heavy responsibilities would help her.”

Angel’s heart melted at his words, and she stepped back down the hall, making her steps really loud, then turned around and came back. She entered the kitchen, and all three of them looked at her.

“Hey,” she said as brightly as she could, everything on the inside wavering. She looked at Pete and then Chelsea and then Henry, where her gaze landed and locked. “I can help with breakfast.”

Henry moved toward her. “Not necessary,” he said. “Daddy never lets anyone in the kitchen to help him when he’s making breakfast on Sunday.”

He grinned at her, his eyes scanning down to her boots and back. “How are the boots?”

“Great,” she said. “Just fine.”

“Have you had coffee?”

“Yes,” she said at the same time his momma said, “She had coffee.”

Henry looked at his mother for a moment and then turned back to Angel. “Do you want to go out to the stables after breakfast?”

She nodded, not quite sure why she was so nervous with all of them watching her. “I don’t think you’ve met my daddy yet,” Henry said as he moved to her side instead of standing in front of her. “Daddy, this is Angel White. She’s my boss at Lone Star.” He said the last couple of words with plenty of heaviness in his voice.

“Angel,” Pete said with a smile as wide as the Texas sky and as bright as the Texas star. “So great to meet you. Welcome to our home.”

“It’s so lovely here.” She turned toward the blue door. Henry had said the sunlight would hit that door in the morning, and she’d be able to see the beautiful stained glass. She turned toward it fully. “The stained glass is amazing. I love it.”

She faced Henry and his family again, and she found Henry’s smile just as wide as his daddy’s. “Thank you,” Pete said. “We do love that door.” He put his arm around his wife. “Don’t we, hon?”

Chelsea smiled at him. Angel could see the pure love they had for each other, and she really wanted it for herself. Her mama and daddy looked at each other like this too, and her heart throbbed at the thought that perhaps she and Henry could have this kind of love one day.

“We can go sit out on the front porch,” Henry said. “Until breakfast is ready.” He didn’t touch her, but he looked at her with pure questions and desire in his eyes.

“Sure,” she said. “That’d be great.” She wanted to reach out and hold his hand, but she had just listened to him tell his parents that they were not dating, that she was not his girlfriend.

She didn’t think that would be a very “just friends” kind of thing to do. So she started toward the front door while Henry muttered something to his parents behind her.

When she made it to the front porch, she took a big, deep breath of the air here at Three Rivers Ranch, feeling it cleanse her lungs and fill her soul with more strength than she’d had in a long time.

“Thank you, Lord,” she whispered just as Henry stepped out onto the porch next to her. She turned to face him as he closed the door. She grabbed onto him and hugged him tightly against her. “Thank you, Henry,” she said, her voice wavering but not breaking.

He wrapped her up in a tight hug too, and Angel thought if she could just have one of these every day, or even every time she felt like she couldn’t go on for another moment, she would be okay.