what her core values were. The first and only time she had lost sight of those fundamentals had been catastrophic. Never again would she so egregiously disregard her responsibilities—no matter how tempting the vice.
No matter how heavily that choice weighed on her heart.
Stepping from the stable, she popped an antacid and watched Jenna direct one of the two families staying at the inn into corny poses for a picture with Tulip, Amy’s flower-adorned pet cow. Dang. She nearly gagged, thinking the words. Who in their right mind domesticated a heifer? Only Amy would come up with such a ridiculous idea.
Of course, the farm’s guests ate it up. Jenna had posted Tulip’s photos on the Heritage Farm Web site, and she and Amy had changed the farm’s logo to include the cow’s silhouette.
Most of the time, Rachel was fine with this new path their family home had taken, but it felt like a scam, advertising their farm as a place for families to get a taste of authentic farm life when each day’s guest activities included playing dress-up with the livestock, sleeping in until ten, and lazing around all day.
“There you are,” Jenna said as soon as she saw Rachel. “Billy and April, this is our farm’s number one cowgirl, my sister Rachel.”
Oh, joy. Time for the cowgirl act. She tipped the brim of her hat at them and kept moving toward the house, hoping to avoid getting sucked in to a conversation.
“Wow,” said a boy who looked a year or so older than Tommy. “You’re a real cowgirl.”
No dice. She stopped walking and turned around, smiling like she meant it. Wasn’t the kid’s fault she was having a rough week. “Sure am. And you look like a cowboy with that bandana and those shiny red boots.”
He puffed out his chest. “I am.”
Jenna crowded close to her and whispered, “You should be resting.”
Rachel shrugged. “Yeah, so?”
Jenna rolled her eyes. “So, Amy had Kellan running all over the place in his truck looking for you.”
“He didn’t need to do that. It’s not like I’m in danger of getting lost on my own ranch.” Jenna got that mothering look in her eye, like she was winding up for a lecture. Time for a topic change. She gestured to catch the visiting kids’ attention. “Did Jenna here tell y’all about Tulip’s favorite treat?”
The two children vigorously shook their heads. “What’s her favorite treat?” asked the youngest, a little blond girl of maybe three or four.
Rachel knelt next to the girl. “What do you think it is?”
“Cookies? That’s my favorite.”
Rachel nodded. “Good guess. Tulip doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but she loves carrots. Jenna, why don’t you help these cowpokes feed Tulip some carrots?”
Judging by the raise of Jenna’s eyebrows, she knew she was getting played. Rachel smiled sweetly and inched away from the scene.
Pushing through the kitchen door, she was greeted by the aroma of baking sweets.
Amy’s head shot up. She slammed her knife onto the cutting board. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”
Rachel surveyed the telltale mound of diced celery on the counter, Amy’s favorite form of stress relief. “Yep. Pretty good idea. Sorry about that.”
“Where have you been?”
She sat on the bench near the door and took off her boots. “I tried to leave flowers where Lincoln died.”
That stopped her “Oh. You tried? Does that mean you didn’t?”
Rachel buzzed by the table, where two trays of scones sat cooling, and snagged one. “Couldn’t. It’s a crime scene. The sheriff turned me away.”
“It’s just as well. You shouldn’t have been out riding in the first place.”
She bit into the scone. “I told you, I needed fresh air.”
Amy dumped the celery in a bowl with a bit more zeal than necessary. “We’ve got fresh air right outside this door. There’s no need for you to saddle a horse and go riding over the countryside to find it.”
Quarreling was her and Amy’s natural state of
No matter how heavily that choice weighed on her heart.
Stepping from the stable, she popped an antacid and watched Jenna direct one of the two families staying at the inn into corny poses for a picture with Tulip, Amy’s flower-adorned pet cow. Dang. She nearly gagged, thinking the words. Who in their right mind domesticated a heifer? Only Amy would come up with such a ridiculous idea.
Of course, the farm’s guests ate it up. Jenna had posted Tulip’s photos on the Heritage Farm Web site, and she and Amy had changed the farm’s logo to include the cow’s silhouette.
Most of the time, Rachel was fine with this new path their family home had taken, but it felt like a scam, advertising their farm as a place for families to get a taste of authentic farm life when each day’s guest activities included playing dress-up with the livestock, sleeping in until ten, and lazing around all day.
“There you are,” Jenna said as soon as she saw Rachel. “Billy and April, this is our farm’s number one cowgirl, my sister Rachel.”
Oh, joy. Time for the cowgirl act. She tipped the brim of her hat at them and kept moving toward the house, hoping to avoid getting sucked in to a conversation.
“Wow,” said a boy who looked a year or so older than Tommy. “You’re a real cowgirl.”
No dice. She stopped walking and turned around, smiling like she meant it. Wasn’t the kid’s fault she was having a rough week. “Sure am. And you look like a cowboy with that bandana and those shiny red boots.”
He puffed out his chest. “I am.”
Jenna crowded close to her and whispered, “You should be resting.”
Rachel shrugged. “Yeah, so?”
Jenna rolled her eyes. “So, Amy had Kellan running all over the place in his truck looking for you.”
“He didn’t need to do that. It’s not like I’m in danger of getting lost on my own ranch.” Jenna got that mothering look in her eye, like she was winding up for a lecture. Time for a topic change. She gestured to catch the visiting kids’ attention. “Did Jenna here tell y’all about Tulip’s favorite treat?”
The two children vigorously shook their heads. “What’s her favorite treat?” asked the youngest, a little blond girl of maybe three or four.
Rachel knelt next to the girl. “What do you think it is?”
“Cookies? That’s my favorite.”
Rachel nodded. “Good guess. Tulip doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but she loves carrots. Jenna, why don’t you help these cowpokes feed Tulip some carrots?”
Judging by the raise of Jenna’s eyebrows, she knew she was getting played. Rachel smiled sweetly and inched away from the scene.
Pushing through the kitchen door, she was greeted by the aroma of baking sweets.
Amy’s head shot up. She slammed her knife onto the cutting board. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”
Rachel surveyed the telltale mound of diced celery on the counter, Amy’s favorite form of stress relief. “Yep. Pretty good idea. Sorry about that.”
“Where have you been?”
She sat on the bench near the door and took off her boots. “I tried to leave flowers where Lincoln died.”
That stopped her “Oh. You tried? Does that mean you didn’t?”
Rachel buzzed by the table, where two trays of scones sat cooling, and snagged one. “Couldn’t. It’s a crime scene. The sheriff turned me away.”
“It’s just as well. You shouldn’t have been out riding in the first place.”
She bit into the scone. “I told you, I needed fresh air.”
Amy dumped the celery in a bowl with a bit more zeal than necessary. “We’ve got fresh air right outside this door. There’s no need for you to saddle a horse and go riding over the countryside to find it.”
Quarreling was her and Amy’s natural state of
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