Chapter 5

Chapter Five

H enry could hold Angel in his arms for a good long time. He stood at least six or seven inches taller than her, which meant she could lay her cheek against his chest right where his heart beat, and he could fold his arms around her shoulders, enveloping her in his embrace. He did, and he’d gladly do it as many times as she wanted him to.

He wasn’t sure what he needed to be thanked for. It was his momma who’d done everything. But he didn’t mind. Angel wasn’t crying, which was a good sign, and she only clung to him for two more seconds before stepping back.

She drew in a deep breath and said, “I sure do like your ranch here, Henry.”

“I do too,” he said. “I mean, I left almost the moment I could, and I don’t want to take this place over, but it’s really nice to come home to when I need a breather.”

“Your parents are great,” she said as she moved over to the chairs. A little round table sat between two of them, and she sat down and started rocking back and forth.

Henry simply watched her because he’d seen his momma and daddy bring sweet tea and lemonade out here to this table and rock in the evening shade many times. He’d never thought that would be his reality because he’d never wanted to stay at Three Rivers Ranch.

He wasn’t the oldest, number one, and Paul was much more of a cowboy than Henry. He didn’t like crowds, he didn’t mind a long drive to town. He wanted peace and quiet, wanted to work outside, and wanted to look out every window in the house and see cows or horses.

Henry didn’t like cattle ranching nearly as much as anyone else, but he’d take a horse any day over any person. Maybe not Angel , his mind whispered, and Henry had never felt like that about a woman before.

“Are you going to sit down?” she asked.

Henry moved over and took his place in his daddy’s chair. It rocked back with his weight and then moved forward again. He hadn’t brought out his coffee, and he’d only had two sips, but he was keyed up enough to sit with Angel for the morning.

“Daddy’ll probably make pancakes,” he said. “He puts fruit in them. Is that going to bother you?”

“What kind of fruit?” she asked.

“Apples,” he said. “Sometimes he shreds them. Or blueberries. Depends on whatever Momma got at the store.”

“Did they plan it?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Henry said. “Maybe.”

“My parents did. Daddy would make a list for Mama to go to the store, and she’d get whatever he wanted. For the cowboy dinners, for our Saturday morning breakfast that we had growing up.”

“Did your daddy cook too?” Henry asked.

“No, it was usually Mama. Daddy did all the cowboy dinners,” she said. “Mama did all the family stuff.”

“I see,” Henry said.

“Your momma says you know how to cook,” Angel said.

He looked over to her. “My momma says?”

“Yeah, I talked to her for a couple of minutes this morning,” Angel said.

“Mm.” Henry drew in a breath, and he saw no reason to hide the fact that he actually could cook. “Daddy taught all of us how to take care of ourselves, how to make meals, how to clean up. He had four boys, and he wanted Momma to be taken care of when she got older. He wanted us to know how to take care of our wives.”

Henry didn’t know what else to say because he’d literally never seen himself with a wife before. He’d just barely started to settle down into himself and start thinking about a real future.

He’d been so focused on his farrier education that he hadn’t given much thought to almost anything else.

But now he heard the whisperings of the wind, and in them, maybe the low voice of the Lord telling him that he was ready. That it was time. That he could live in a cabin on a ranch just like Finn, with a wife and a baby, and maybe like Ollie and Rory, he could have three or four kids.

He didn’t know what to say next because the feelings streaming through him sounded loud in his head, drowning out his other thoughts. Angel may have said something to him, and he wouldn’t have heard it.

The silence between them felt nice. The silence on the ranch had always calmed Henry, for this place felt like a being of its own that stood wider than him, that had bigger wings than him. Here, he could lean his head against the pulse of God, and God would wrap him in His arms just the way he had Angel.

He let out a slow breath, everything in his life slowing down just the way he wanted it to be. “I thought after breakfast,” he said. “We could go over and play ball with one of the horses.”

“You keep saying that,” Angel said. “But I don’t know what it means.”

“Well, my daddy trains the therapy horses,” he said. “They play ball with some people. We roll them the ball; they kick it back. Sometimes we ride while they kick the ball. No matter what, the horses are meant to work with people wherever they are. To heal them—mind, body, and soul.”

“I’ve never done equine therapy,” Angel said.

“I like it,” Henry said. “I’ve done it several times. It’s best when paired with a real therapist, like a human therapist. I don’t always do that, but my daddy requires it of his patients.” He let a path of silence go by, and then he said, “I know how to train them. I think we’ll work with one of his new horses this morning.”

“What’s his name?” Angel asked.

Henry let out a low chuckle. “You’re gonna love this.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah,” he said. “She’s got a name a lot like you.”

“Did you name a horse Angel?” she asked dryly. “Haven’t heard that before.”

Henry laughed outright then. “My daddy usually acquires horses after they’re done working. Sometimes he buys them and trains them as therapy horses, but typically, they’re older horses who’ve served a good life on the ranch, and they’re ready for a slower pace of life. They’re good horses, easily trained, have great personalities, that kind of thing.”

“We have some horses like that at Lone Star,” Angel said.

“Sure do,” Henry said, nodding. “So most of the horses, as you can imagine, come to us with names already. My daddy didn’t name her.”

“Ah, I see.”

“This one’s name is Nevaeh. It’s heaven backward.”

Angel looked over to him, and Henry smiled, wondering what she saw on his face, wondering what ran through her head. The woman was an enigma, as she never let too much show. In fact, that was why Henry had been so alarmed when she’d buried her face in her hands and sobbed on his front porch. He’d never seen Angel do anything like that before. He’d never seen the woman cry. Anger, sure. Frustration, absolutely. Irritation—he seemed to irritate her just by being in her presence. Except for right now.

“Nevaeh,” she repeated. “I like that.”

Henry looked away, out into the yard, past the emerald grass to Bowman’s Breeds across the street, down to his aunt and uncle’s place. “I don’t hate it,” he said. “I’m not usually one for kitschy names.”

“Your horse is named Stormchaser,” she said.

“Yeah, it’s not kitschy,” he said. “She’s great. She chases storms, just like a storm cloud. Totally makes sense.”

“Well, Stormcloud would make more sense,” she quipped.

Henry could tease her about the horse names at Lone Star, but they usually came with their names as well. Angel had her own horse too, and she’d been named Starlight. Henry could probably make a joke about that, but he didn’t. And he kept his hands to himself too, though he really wanted to hold her hand.

The scent of bacon made his nose twitch and his stomach growl. “I’m gonna go see if Daddy needs any help.”

“Okay,” Angel said, making no move to get up and go with him.

Henry returned to the house and found his daddy tipping bacon out of the pan and onto a paper towel-covered plate. “Need any help?”

“Yes, you can warm up the syrup,” Daddy said.

Henry walked through the living room toward him, hoping all the awkward questions and conversations had been had. Then maybe he could enjoy today and tomorrow before heading back to work.

“I’ve got the griddle hot. When we put down the pancakes, we’ll want to be ready. Momma,” he called down the hall.

Daddy looked up and met Henry’s eyes. So much was said between them in that moment that Henry came to a stop. He’d been working so hard for his momma and daddy to be proud of him. They’d paid for a four-year college degree that Henry was never going to use, and guilt gutted him every time he thought about it. He’d paid his own way through farrier school, scrimping and saving to make ends meet, calling and texting and emailing anyone he had to for jobs.

His momma had sent him money over the years, but Henry wasn’t sure if Daddy knew about that or not.

Daddy was a questioner, and Henry hated answering his questions. Henry always wanted to have a good time growing up, and he had a lot of girlfriends. That made his parents worry. The older he got, the more he realized that they just wanted him to be safe. They wanted him to be kind. They wanted him to work hard.

They wanted him to be a good man. A good cowboy.

Henry got his feet moving again, and he picked up the stout syrup bottle and put it in the microwave. He set it for one minute, and turned to face his father, who’d gone back to whisking the pancake batter.

Momma hadn’t come back down the hall yet, and Henry should probably go get Angel from the porch. But instead, he moved to stand right next to his daddy. He leaned into him and said, “I love you, Daddy.”

His father stopped his breakfast prep, as he had many times over the years, to give Henry his full attention. “I love you too, son,” he said. “Momma and I are real proud of what you’re doin’ at Lone Star.”

“Thanks, Daddy.”

“What’s the next step for you?” Daddy asked.

“I don’t know. I’m a team lead there. My apprenticeship is up at the end of May. A lot of men stay on for another year or two. It’s a good place, with excellent master farriers.”

Daddy went back to the batter. “How much more do you think you can learn from them?”

“I don’t know,” Henry said again. “I mean, I don’t know what I don’t know, right?”

“Sure, right.” Daddy opened the drawer to get out a measuring cup. “Do you see yourself working for someone else your whole life? Shoeing their horses?”

“Yeah, Daddy. That’s what farriers do. They shoe someone else’s horses.”

“Yeah, you know what I’m asking,” Daddy said, a tight clip to his voice as he poured the first pancake onto the hot griddle. It sizzled, and Daddy was such an expert that he got twelve of them down before Henry could even say a word.

“I’ve thought about opening my own business,” Henry said. “It’s different than working somewhere like Lone Star. There, I have a job everyday. I have a place to live, and people who know me. People I like. People who can step in in an emergency. Horses I know, and horses I like.”

Part of him wanted to set his own hours, run his own life. But he also liked the stability somewhere like Lone Star provided.

“If I start my own business, there’s more travel. I have to find somewhere to live, and I have to drum up my own jobs.”

“Yep,” Daddy said, offering nothing else.

“So I don’t know,” Henry said. “My apprenticeship isn’t over yet. I don’t know what Lone Star will even offer. Sometimes they don’t let men stay on.”

“They’ll let you stay on,” Daddy said. “You moved to team lead within the second week you were there.”

“Yeah,” Henry said. “And I’ve haven’t moved up to captain yet.”

“Well, you might,” Daddy said. “There are other men in those positions who’ve been there longer than you.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

The front door opened, and Angel entered, drawing all of Henry’s attention the way she did every time she came close to him.

“Pancakes are down,” he called to her. “I was just comin’ to get you.”

“I can smell them,” she said. “Smells real good, Mister Marshall.” She wore a sunny smile on her face, and though the clothes didn’t quite fit her—Libby was a tiny bit bigger than her—she still shone with radiance and beauty.

“We’re gonna go work with Nevaeh after breakfast,” Henry said. “Is that okay?”

“Sounds perfect,” Daddy said, passing the spatula to Henry. “Henry, you flip these. I’m gonna go check on what Momma’s doing.”

Daddy left the room, and Henry stared at the griddle. He’d flipped pancakes before, but Angel came to his side, easily plucking the utensil from his hand.

“I’ll do it, cowboy,” she said. “You just gotta watch for the bubbles.”

He stood beside her while she flipped the pancakes, and he wasn’t sure why that was so hot and so sexy, but it was, and he felt himself falling for her, which so couldn’t happen. Not with the current rules at Lone Star.

He wasn’t going to ask her to change them. He told her he wouldn’t talk about it this weekend, and he wouldn’t.

He put it in his pocket for later. Maybe on the drive home. Maybe the next day. He wasn’t even sure when he’d see Angel once they got back to the boarding stable. He leaned in, inhaled the scent of her hair, her skin, her shoulder, and said, “I sure do like you, Angel.”

He stepped back because his parents came in, and Henry wasn’t going to say more than that.

“I can’t believe horses know how to do this,” Angel said. “Look at her just kick it back to me.”

Henry chuckled and watched as Angel reached down to receive the exercise ball. “Maybe it’s something we can offer to the cowboys on the ranch.”

She straightened, and even though Nevaeh kicked the ball back to her, she didn’t bend down to stop it. She just let it bounce against her knees softly. “Henry, we’re not an equine therapy unit.”

“I know that,” he said, something stinging in his chest at her tone. “But it’s one horse. I bet your mama would like it. Your daddy, maybe. Trevor would love it for sure.”

“I know Trevor would love it.” Angel’s expression hardened, and Henry wasn’t sure what he’d said wrong. “You don’t know my brother,” she said, turning away from both Henry and Nevaeh.

“Can we ride her?” she asked, her eyes sweeping the arena in front of them. Daddy had built a huge indoor arena where he did classes and horseback riding lessons, as well as the equine therapy.

“Outside or inside?” Henry asked.

“Outside,” she said. “Is there a path we could take that won’t take too long? We need to have her back on time. She needs to rest before the afternoon appointments.”

Henry gathered his courage and stepped over to Angel, not getting too close. She could definitely tell he was coming, and she glanced over to him, then quickly looked away.

“There’s a short path over to the river,” he said. “Nevaeh’s not working this afternoon anyway, so it doesn’t matter if we ride her.”

“Okay,” Angel said. “I’ll get her saddled.”

“I can do it,” Henry said.

“I can do it too, cowboy.” She trailed her fingers along the top of the ball, got it to bump along the dirt with her as she walked toward Nevaeh. “Come on, Nevaeh,” she said in a much more chipper voice. “Let’s get you saddled for a ride.”

Henry watched her go because he could saddle a horse in two seconds flat, and he knew Angel could too.

He wasn’t sure what he’d said wrong, but he wanted to make it right. So he let out a sigh and followed her, a silent prayer in his mind, in his heart, for God to give him the right words to say.

I need to bring her closer to me, not further away. She doesn’t have anyone. That thought struck through him like someone hitting a gong. She doesn’t have anyone.

The truth was, Angel was surrounded by people. Lots and lots of people. But no one took care of her. She took care of all of them. She took care of every cowboy. She took care of her mom and dad. She took care of Trevor. So if Henry could find a way to take care of her, he was going to do it.

He found her in the tack room, and he said, “This is her stuff right here,” handing her the saddle. He then moved to get some for Cinnamon, the horse he would ride.

Within five minutes, she swung up into the saddle, and Henry did the same next to her.

“I’ll just follow you,” she said.

“Okay,” he said, and he set off toward the south, toward the river.

It ran between this ranch and Finn’s place, and Henry thought that might be a talking point that they could get to when they finally got there.

Nevaeh and Cinnamon seemed to know their way, and Henry barely steered, barely held the reins, and barely held his thoughts back. After a few minutes, the overwhelming urge to apologize to her came into his mind. He pushed against it; he hadn’t done anything wrong. Henry had always pushed against apologizing and admitting something he’d done wrong, but in the end, he always did it.

So after another few minutes of the Lord needling him and needling him to the point of irritation, Henry looked over to Angel and said, “I’m real sorry about what I said about Trevor.”

She rode a step or two behind him, and he had to twist to look at her. “Okay?”

“Okay,” she said. “You didn’t say anything wrong.”

“You got upset,” he said.

“Upset’s the wrong word,” she said.

“Okay, then tell me what you got.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s just irritating. Nobody knows what it’s like to take care of Trevor except for me, because I’m the one who takes care of Trevor.”

“I know that,” Henry said. “That’s why I offered the equine therapy. Because then someone other than you could take care of Trevor.”

“You?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he shot back. “Me. What’s wrong with that?”

Angel looked like she might say something else, and then she clamped her mouth closed and pressed her lips together.

Yeah , he thought. Nothing’s wrong with that.

He faced forward again because he didn’t want to fight with Angel. He tipped his head back to absorb the sunlight, and he let Three Rivers wrap him in a hug and steal away all of his frustration, his irritation, his loneliness—anything that wasn’t good for him. He simply let it go and bled it out into the land in front of him. When he opened his eyes again, he said, “I really am sorry. I don’t want you to be upset with me, or irritated, or frustrated, or anything.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’m not.”

“Okay,” he said.

When they got to the river, Angel jumped down, threw the reins over a pole, and walked right to the edge of it.

“It runs fast in the spring,” he said. “Not so much right now.”

She didn’t respond but instead just gazed into the water. A little trickle ran through the stream bed that would get much bigger and faster in the spring. They didn’t get much snow in the Panhandle, but some, and it stayed up in the hills until it melted, usually in another month or so. Henry sidled up beside her, feeling reckless and brave, dangerous and strong all at the same time. He threaded his fingers through hers and held on tight. She wasn’t a limp noodle, and she held his hand back, just the way she’d kissed him back a year ago as well.

He wasn’t going to kiss her now, and he didn’t even look at her. Instead, he watched the water too, marveling at the way it moved when it wasn’t alive. “Would you come to Caroline and Dawson’s wedding with me?”

“Yeah,” Angel said without a pause at all. “That sounds real nice.”

Henry breathed out, realizing that he hadn’t truly been breathing on this first half of the ride. “Great.”

He released her hand and stepped away. Even when she looked at him, he didn’t look back at her. He wasn’t sure what life was going to be like when they returned to Lone Star. Out here in the wilds of Three Rivers, he could ask her out. She could say yes.

They could come to Three Rivers, and they could go on a date.

But when they got back to Lone Star, what would they do? How would that go over with Bard and with the other cowboys? To Henry’s knowledge, the no-dating rule at Lone Star had been in place for years, decades maybe.

No one asked Angel out. No one tried to break it. And here he came, doing exactly that.

What would people think of him?

His heartbeat stuttered at him because he wanted to have purpose in his life. He wanted the things he did to matter. And he wanted the people around him to like him. Angel and Bard had a strong culture of teamwork at Lone Star. There was no “I.” There was only “we.”

They had roll call every single morning for a half-hour. Angel led it now, but Bard had in the past, and sometimes some of his master farriers. They told stories about horses that they’d rescued. They inspired the men there to love and care about their jobs, the horses, and each other.

When she came back and picked up the reins for Nevaeh and got back in the saddle, he mounted Cinnamon again, and they started the journey back to the center of the ranch. He hoped that she would find peace here, that she would find strength she could take back with her.

And maybe then they could have a conversation—the hard conversation—about starting a real relationship that other people knew about.