Page 48 of Knox
A main ranch house was situated at the foot of a hill studded with lodgepole pine. The craggy hill fell to a groomed front yard cordoned off with pale, faded hitching rail fencing. In the middle of the yard at the apex of a curved drive, sat a dark log-sided, two-story home with a stone front porch, complete with rocking chairs, of course, and a dark red door. A basket of flowers sat on a bench near the door.
Charming.
“My grandfather built the house. Hand-sawed the logs, cleaned, and stripped them. The house was just a simple box until my dad added on the wing with the kitchen and great room in the back. You should see the fireplace. We hauled in those stones one at a time.”
He pulled up in front of a four-stall garage. To the right, a gambrel roof barn painted green completed the aura of ranch life. She very much expected a cowboy to walk out of those big wide doors.
Probably one that looked a lot like Knox Marshall. Tall, ruddy brown hair, a cowboy hat. Maybe even wearing chaps and leading a horse named Silver.
Yeah, okay, so she’d built him up a little in her mind. It didn’t mean she wanted to see him. To have to apologize in person.
Frankly, she was too afraid to ask if Knox might be here. Too afraid that she might just climb into her back bunk and pull the curtain.
Refuse to come out.
In truth, she almost didn’t move when Tate opened the door, got up, and reached out his hand. Helping her up, maybe, but she had a sneakin’ suspicion he remembered what she’d said to him nearly two weeks ago.
I’m sorry, Tate. I don’t want to see him. But tell him thank you.
Jerk.
She ignored his hand and stepped past him, out of the bus.
The glorious scent of pine and aspen, of wide-open spaces, and yeah, a working cattle ranch, swept through her.
She took another sniff and wanted to cry, a crazy lump filling her chest.
Glo landed behind her. “Oh my gosh, this is amazing.” She grabbed Kelsey’s hand, gave it a squeeze. “Listen to all that…nothing.”
Nothing was right. No traffic, no honky-tonk band in the background, no buzz of parking lot lights.
It felt almost empty. As if, without the buzz, she might actually hear herself.
See, she should have said no, dug her feet into the safety of the rich Nebraska soil.
Tate led them around the bus, and Glo didn’t release Kelsey’s hand, holding her hostage as she dragged her after Tate.
A woman had come out to stand on the porch. She wore her brown hair back in a headband, a curly mess springing out like it was trying to escape, a brown flannel shirt, a pair of cargo pants, a green T-shirt, and gardening gloves, which she now took off and set on the bench by the door. Only then did Kelsey notice the pots, the bags of dirt, and the geraniums in baskets, ready to be repotted for summer.
“Tate? Are you kidding me?” The woman came off the stone porch, arms open, and practically flew down a worn stone path to the dirt drive.
She dove into Tate’s arms, and he swung her around, and it did something crazy in Kelsey’s chest to see a grown man love on his mother. The woman let him go, but cupped his face, grinning, a glisten in her eyes.
Sweet.
He kissed her forehead, then put his arm around her as he turned her. “Ma, this is Kelsey and Glo. They’re with the Yankee Belles. We need a little…timeout from touring.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful.” She grinned at them, her eyes so warm Kelsey had to look away, out into the jagged horizon where the snowcapped mountains burred the skyline.
“I’m Gerri,” she said and didn’t stop to ask permission before she gathered Glo into a hug. Glo grinned at Kelsey over her shoulder, waggling her eyebrows.
Kelsey submitted to a hug, too, and then Tate’s explanation of their band and how they lived through the attack in Texas.
“I’ve been watching the news on that. Terrible, terrible. I’m so glad you’re all putting it behind you.”
Or, trying.
“Let’s get your stuff. We have plenty of room.”