cramps. That’s all.”
“This isn’t the first time this has happened, though, is it?” Zach stood face-to-face with his boss, noticing the frequency with which Mr. Harris swallowed, as though fighting off another bout of nausea. “If there’s something more going on with your health than what I’ve noticed up to now—”
“There’s been nothing to notice,” Mr. Harris defended in a nonnegotiable kind of way as he stuffed his hat back on his head. “Listen … if I thought it was something to be worried about I’d be the first one to let you know. Do you think I’d keep something like that from my foreman?”
Zach contemplated, snagging Mr. Harris’s pain-pinched gaze. “I’m worried. If you’re feeling—”
“Snap off that worrying branch, Zach! It brings out the worst in me.” Fishing in his back pocket, he pulled out a wrinkled white handkerchief. “It always has.”
“Maybe you need to let someone worry over you now and then,” Zach encouraged, not at all surprised at the way the man drew his shoulders back in a stubborn show of pride.
Just like a certain young woman, cut of the same cloth.
“It’d be a good thing to have Ben come out and check you over, don’t you think?” He braced himself for a fight.
“Absolutely not. It’d be a waste of Ben’s time.” Mr. Harris jammed his hands at his hips and peered at Zach. “And just in case you already sent for him, I’ll tell you right now that he won’t be looking me over. You can have Violet send him home with a healthy dose of dessert for his trouble.”
With an uncharacteristically wobbly hand, the man drew the cloth over his forehead and neck. When he gave an abrasive cough then wiped his mouth, Zach noticed a small splotch of red.
His concern kicked up several notches. “Mr. Harris, is that blood?”
His boss glanced down at the cloth then stuffed it into his pocket. “I must’ve bit my lip.”
Zach studied the man. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” his boss roared, taking Zach aback.
“All right.” He held up his hands as though surrendering. Silently, however, he vowed to keep a much closer eye on the man’s health—especially with Ivy being here now.
Zach’s chest tightened at the thought of her.
“I’ll decide when someone should worry.” Mr. Harris clenched his jaw. Gave the slightest wince. “Besides, Violet—as good as that woman is—is about to drive me half mad with the way she flutters about like I’m knocking on death’s door.”
“She obviously cares about you.”
“Well, Violet cares too much, then,” Mr. Harris dismissed,
as he straightened the worn suede collar of his dungaree jacket.
If his boss had a problem with Violet pampering him and fussing over him then surely he’d be mad as a snake that Ivy was back in town … and all because of his health.
“Now, tell me where things are with the stock,” his boss said, strategically shifting to another topic. “We need to make sure we put away plenty of feed and hay before winter comes nipping at our toes.”
“It’s done,” Zach assured, wondering how that monumental task had escaped the man’s keen attention. “We put the last of it away yesterday.”
“Good man.” He clapped Zach on the shoulder and stood a little straighter, his coloring still uncharacteristically pale.
“In fact, with the banner hay crop we brought in this year, we’ll have more than we’ll need.” Zach nodded up above at the sturdy loft floorboards where hundreds and hundreds of bales of dried hay had been stacked. “Unless it’s a long hard winter, that is.”
“Hopefully, we’ll be sitting just fine to help out if other ranchers run low.” Mr. Harris exited the stall and started down the long corridor in that purposeful, albeit slower, stride of his that closed a conversation.
“Mr. Harris,” Zach called, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stepped into the aisle. Zach felt it only right to tell the man about Ivy’s arrival. If there was tension in their relationship, then having some forewarning might help ease the shock.
The man turned around. “What is it, Zach?”
“I thought I better inform you … there’s someone who’ll be joining you for dinner tonight.” His heart beat a little faster just thinking about the young woman.
Mr. Harris reached out and grasped a thick beam as though to steady himself. “It’s not a good night for company, Zach. Tell them to come around another evening.”
A silence fell between them, and for some unexpected, hair-raising reason, Zach just knew that Ivy being here now was every bit as much providential design as it was Violet Stoddard’s.
“It’s not that easy,” he began, searching for the right words as he caught movement coming from near the center of the barn.
Mr. Harris’s jaw ticked. “Why in the world not? Who is it?”
“Father …” Ivy called, willing the tremor from her voice. She hugged Shakespeare tightly as she peered around the corner down the west-facing row of stalls.
When she spotted her father, halfway down the corridor, she had to will one shiny, booted foot in front of the other in his direction. She’d known it would be difficult returning home, but she’d had no idea just how unnerved she could be at the sight of her very own father.
Violet had tried to ease her distress minutes ago, but there was no dispelling Ivy’s apprehension. The day she’d left for the east coast six years ago had been a bitter taste of life, indeed.
He’d not so much as offered her a goodbye hug.
He turned to face her, his long legs braced in that familiar way that had always made Ivy think that he was ready to ride at any moment. His thick shoulders were every bit as broad as she remembered—and yet his dungaree coat seemed to hang bigger than usual.
Violet had hurried her through a hot bath and had laid out a fresh shirtwaist and silk taffeta skirt from one of Ivy’s valises. Though Ivy’s hair was still damp and her skin still pink from scrubbing, the woman had all but shooed her outside, as though she was a small child again, to surprise her father.
Well, he didn’t look surprised—at least not in the way that made a heart glad.
One look at the taut expression on his face and her heart sank.
She should’ve stayed put in New York where she belonged. Her mama had wanted her to spread her wings in the big city, where culture and opportunity hung like big ornate doorways into another world, and Ivy had promised she would do just that. There were so many reasons why she should’ve stayed.
But her father …
“Ivy?” He yanked his black hat from his head as she neared. Six years of life had scattered
