And now Brooke would never be able to understand the life he’d been leading. So he turned and quietly walked out the door.
Chapter Two
Brooke stood beside the ruins of the old barn, arms crossed, her chin tucked down inside the wool lining of her coat. The firemen were gone, and she was alone, staring at the remains, which hissed and steamed, even as ice flowed down cooling wood beams like frozen waterfalls. A few blackened timbers rose out of the debris, fingers pointing up at the blue sky. Incongruous against one another, really, she thought, feeling almost distant with disbelief.
And then the parade of pickups came barreling down the road on the other side of the pasture. Black Angus cattle raised their heads to look, then dropped them again, searching for grass tufts free of snow. Their grunts and lowing were the sound track of Brooke’s life, always playing in the background. She could see Josh and her dad in one truck, Nate and his fiancée, Emily Murphy, in the other. Brooke smiled, relieved that Emily had come along, too. Something about her just . . . settled Nate. Nate had always been a genial workaholic, driven about the ranch, especially the business end of it, a man who helped everyone even when they thought they didn’t need it. That tendency had kept him away from long-term commitments until he met Emily. “Helping” her had become loving her, and though both Nate and Emily had resisted, they’d each decided that love was worth taking a risk.
Brooke envied them. Valentine Valley had worked its magic, bringing the two of them together although they’d fought it worse than a calf at branding time. Despite living in Valentine her whole life, there’d been no romantic magic for Brooke, not yet anyway.
Nate and Emily jumped out of their pickup first, followed by Scout, Nate’s herding dog with black-and-white patches across his coat. When they saw the barn, they reached for each other’s hand, their faces full of dismay. Scout gave a little whine and gingerly went forward to investigate the scent.
Nate was tall, with their mom’s black hair and his biological dad’s green eyes. Doug Thalberg had adopted him when he was only five years old after falling in love with his divorced mom, Sandy. Emily was much shorter than Nate, strawberry blond hair back in the ponytail she favored when she worked at Sugar and Spice, the bakery she owned.
Emily didn’t spend much time staring at the ruins—she ran to Brooke and hugged her, then pulled back and gripped Brooke’s upper arms. “Are you okay?” she asked, her gaze roaming her face as if searching for signs of injury. “Your clothes are covered in soot.”
Brooke looked down at herself. “I’m okay.” She wasn’t sure if the sudden realization that she could have died was making her weepy, but she gazed on Emily like the sister she’d never had, so grateful to have her in her life, to have her care.
Then her dad gave her a bear hug that almost crushed her rib cage.
“Oh, Brooke,” he whispered, the sound rough.
For the first time, she felt a sting of tears. But she was okay, she reminded herself, and so were the horses . . . because Adam had helped her. “I’m fine, Dad. I’m so sorry about the barn.”
He broke the hug and cleared his throat, not bothering to hide the dampness in his eyes as he scanned her face. “The barn? What do I care about the barn as long as you’re all right?”
Beneath his Stetson, Doug Thalberg’s hair was the same plain brown as hers and Josh’s, but his was graying, along with the full mustache above his lip. His eyes, usually twinkling as if he knew life’s hidden amusements, now studied her soberly. “I called Hal after talkin’ to you. He says you ran into the barn yourself and saved the horses. That was too dangerous, Cookie.”
Brooke felt a flush of warmth at her dad’s use of his childhood nickname for her. “Any of you’d a done the same thing,” she countered.
“Always said you were brave,” Josh said, his grin lopsided.
As usual, he was unshaven and sleepy-eyed, as if he’d just rolled out of bed. For some reason that escaped Brooke, women seemed to like that look.
She shrugged, suddenly feeling a bit too warm at the praise, although the winter wind continued to tug at her braid, and a few strands of hair danced in front of her eyes. To her surprise, Josh threw his arms around her for a quick squeeze, then passed her off to Nate, who almost lifted her off the ground.
“Okay, okay, I’m fine,” she said, hearing the quiver in her voice and hoping no one else noticed.
Keeping an arm around her, Nate looked back at the ruins, as if by staring he could make things better. “We hear you had help. A stranger driving by?”