Page 18 of The Cowboy and the Baby

The ugly algebra of Mom’s mental health issues and the way our emotions wrapped around her were an ugly tangle in themselves. I cleared my throat, eager to change the subject, but grateful to have my reporting done.

“In the meantime, I have a . . . situation added to the situation at the ranch.”

Cora brightened. “Oh?”

“Old man Morgan’s will confirmed what I thought—the ranch is mine.”

Cora’s eyes widened. True joy perfused them as she swiped her tears free.

“That’s wonderful, Cade!”

“It is for me.”

“But . . . what about his family?”

I snapped two fingers. “Bingo. His granddaughter, Noelle, and four-week-old great-granddaughter, Lily, flew out for the reading of the will. Noelle seemed . . . rather surprised that Bart didn’t inherit.”

“Who could blame her? Her family anticipated receiving it, right?”

“That they did. I don’t know what she’ll choose, but I’ve offered to let her stay, if she can help me oversee house repairs and renovations. The ranch house needs a lot of work. A lot of work. Which doesn’t cover updates to the barn and the equipment, and caring for the animals. I did my best the last several years, but Morgan made it hard to do more than keep everything afloat.”

“You’ll figure it out, Cade. You always do, and you always have.”

“Thanks.”

“Let me know if you need any help,” Hawk offered. “I’d be happy to come work with you.”

“Thanks. I need to make sure the furnace doesn’t stop first, then I’ll get a plan going.”

“My brother Noah is looking for a reason to hide in the mountains for a while, and he’d probably work for free in exchange for a place to stay. He lacks nothing; certainly not money, so let me know if you need another worker.”

“That is an offer I may take you up on.”

After we had stabilized heat, water, and plumbing, the greater picture would come together. Until I got that barn window replaced, I would be sleeping on a cold couch in the house and praying the heat stayed on.

8

NOELLE

Although exhausted, I set Lily down for a nap, made a second cup of coffee, and stole my way to the basement with it. Taking my own nap would be far wiser, because I had a hard time settling into Grandpa’s creaky room, but I couldn’t help my curiosity.

I slid down the complaining stairs, found a cord to pull the light on, and watched the dim bulb illuminate . . .

. . . junk.

With Cade gone, it would be easier to poke around down here, snooping into what remained of Grandma and Grandpa without feeling weird about it. Nostalgia had come in waves as I explored each room upstairs. I anticipated the over-cluttered basement would be the same, along with amusement and irritation.

Did Grandpa keep everything? Grandma used to putter around, clearing the clutter out of cupboards, drawers, closets. But she’d been gone for years, and all that excess built up everywhere.

Quite literally.

Downstairs, I found dusty clothes piled on old furniture. Fleece sweaters, some old turtlenecks, and durable one-piece winter clothing for when Grandpa had to plow during snowstorms. Old boots, garbage bags filled with shoes, and bins of paperwork. Paths cut through the floor, creating a trail toward the rooms at the back, which occupied either side of a cluttered hallway.

I had a sip of coffee, soothed by the heat hitting my stomach and the promise of caffeine. No wonder Cade was overwhelmed at the thought of overseeing this. This dimly lit living area alone had trinkets piled on junk piled on storage of more stuff. A wise person would grab a donation truck, park it at the back door, and start a line of people up the stairs. It might take days to empty this place, even with helpers.

Slurping again, I ventured in and out of rooms. The disorder spread into the bedrooms where Naomi and I used to sleep. In my old room, a metal doll lay across a stack of pillows. One eye shut, the other open, staring at a blank ceiling.

Shuddering, I moved on. My fingers scraped along a spot of old wallpaper replete with flowers surrounded by doily-like lace as I slipped into the far room, where Naomi used to sleep. Weak light emitted through the high, small window, which was too narrow and short to admit much. Snowpack kept the room dark. This area was big enough for a queen bed, but only housed a closet and accumulated junk.