True Love at Silver Creek Ranch(89)
Chapter Twenty
The sun was already below the mountains, the sky an ominous gray after such a gorgeous day. Brooke finished closing up the barn for the night after calling in the couple riding horses that spent nights indoors. She petted horse noses and dog noses, then headed toward the house. She’d already checked the weather for the night—more snow. Great for the ski slopes as the tourism season truly began to kick in, but not so good for barrel-racing lessons. She’d already canceled her morning lesson with Steph, and it made her feel discouraged. Much as she wanted to teach, it would difficult through the winter.
She caught another glimpse of the ruined barn, black beams sticking up through the snow like an animal carcass.
And then she came to a stop and just stared at the piece of land that was waiting for a new purpose. They’d been having nightly conversations about what to do when they could clear the wreckage come spring. It had been all about building another barn closer to the house, or adding on to the one they already had.
That still left this land. Everyone had been behind her idea of giving riding lessons—what if they took the insurance money and built an indoor riding arena? She got a shiver of excitement that she quickly suppressed. She’d seen lots of different arenas, of course, from a covered pavilion to a fully enclosed building. She’d have to do her research before she even presented such an idea to the family. But the thought of being able to instruct students year-round, and even rent it out to other groups . . .
“Brooke?”
She gave a little jump of surprise and turned to find her dad coming toward her.
“You have snow buildin’ up on your hat,” he said, smiling as he shook his head. “Been woolgatherin’ out here a long time?”
She smiled, then decided she needed facts and figures before presenting her plan to her family, so she put her idea aside.
“Guess I’m just reliving the day,” she answered. “The teen outing went well, Dad. I really enjoyed myself, and I’m looking forward to working with kids more.”
He nodded but said nothing.
“I still feel strange that I sprung my riding instructor idea on you without warning,” she continued. “Each one of us kids has been coming up with new life goals that aren’t just about ranching. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I already told you what I think,” he said, his expression confused. Then he glanced at the ruined barn and gave a wince, as if it still startled him.
“I’ve been feeling that something in my life needed to change,” she said, her voice husky. “There’s a part of me that’s looking for some independence. I’ve even been thinking of moving into town. Would that bother you?”
“Cookie, I never thought you’d live at home forever. If I ever gave you that impression—”
“No, Dad, you didn’t.”
“—it only seems that way because I’ve been consumed with my worries about your mom. I know how well you two always get along, and if I showed any doubts about things you were sayin’, it’s because I’ve been worried about your mom’s reaction and how she depends on you.”
She took Doug’s gloved hands in her own. “I’ll be here all the time, Dad. Regardless of where I live, I’ll see Mom every single day and spend lots of time with her. She’s the one who’s been encouraging me to spread my wings a bit. Heck, she saw how I loved to work with kids before I did.”
He gave a heavy sigh and squeezed her hands firmly. “I sometimes forget how strong her mind and will are when I’m so worried about her health.”
“She wouldn’t want us to be that way. But it’s hard, I know. I won’t say anything about moving until I think the time is right. I haven’t even made up my mind yet. Em gave me until January to decide before she puts the apartment up for rent.”
He nodded. “It sounds like the perfect place for you.”
She slid her arms around his waist and hugged him tight. “It’s so difficult to make these decisions, Dad. You know how much I’ll miss being home in the evenings with you both.”
He lifted his head, then cupped her face. “But I’m the lucky parent, Cookie. I’ll get to see you every day.”
He kissed her cheek, and she pressed her face into his shoulder so he wouldn’t see her tears.
Saturday evening, Brooke walked toward her Jeep after a Christmas concert at the Royal Theater, the widows having gone home in their own car. She was parked a couple blocks away and passed a poster from Sylvester Galimi in a store window, asking townspeople to write their councilmen and -women, to take a stand against immorality and Leather and Lace. Every time she expressed anger at his ignorance, one of the widows assured her they had a plan for the next phase, and they’d let her in when it was time.