Wedding on the Rocks
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Rose Ross Zediker
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Chapter 1
The sweat-soaked silk fabric of Jennifer Edwards’s blouse stuck to her back. The tremors in her arms and legs became full-fledged shakes.
“Hold steady!” Eldon, their ranch foreman, commanded.
“I’m trying.” The rattle of the chain mocked her efforts to assist with pulling a calf. She lifted her right foot and stepped back. The baggy leg of her dad’s coveralls, which she’d slipped on to protect her designer suit, fell catching the fabric between her spiked boot heel and the barn floor. There was no way she’d hold her footing now. Her ankle boots, the perfect accessory to her designer suit in Chicago, weren’t cut out for ranch work in South Dakota.
She should have kicked them off when Eldon met her at the rental car shouting, “We have a cow in trouble! We need to pull her calf.” She wished her dad was here to help. Sadness washed through her. He might never have the ability to do ranch work again.
Please God, don’t let our efforts fail. The prayer from her youth automatically popped into her mind. Through the years she’d played nursemaid to several orphaned calves whose moms had given their lives for their babies.
Just like yours. Jennifer’s heart twisted in her chest. She swallowed hard. Thirty years old and the hurt still sucked at her heart. No matter how hard she fought it, the pain’s pull devoured her being like quicksand captured a victim.
“Where is that vet?” Jennifer bent her knees deeper in hopes of relieving some of the stress on her revolting muscles.
The purr of an ATV engine sounded in the distance. No wonder it had taken the vet so long. How fast could an ATV go? Forty? Forty-five? The reverberations grew louder and finally stopped by the barn door.
Jennifer waited until the vet cut the engine. “Hurry!” she shouted then drew a deep breath. Would oxygen help steady her muscles? Knees bent, she angled back, thinking her body weight would help hold the chain steady. Instead the force proved too much for the skinny spiked heel of her free foot. It buckled.
She angled her foot in an effort to keep her footing, but the slick sole slid on the wooden floor pushing her toes full force into the cramped pointed toe of her boot. Pain shot up her foot as her toes pinched together, and her leg flew out from under her.
“Eldon, I’m sorry.” Her apology puffed out while her body tumbled sideways. Her bottom thumped to the floor. Her trapped foot turned sideways. She closed her eyes, biting her upper lip to keep her cry of pain inside. She braced for the backward fall when the chain slackened. Instead her body jerked forward, remaining in a precarious sitting position.
What was going on? Had Eldon grabbed hold of her chain with one hand? Impossible. She opened her eyes and looked directly into the knee creases on denim jeans. The vet. He must have grabbed the grip on the chain. She drew in a deep breath. The calf might survive.
Slowly, Jennifer straightened her bent leg, ignoring the throbbing in her left hip, which had taken the brunt of her fall. Any fast movement could disrupt the pull of the chain. With gritted teeth, she rolled so her weight was evenly distributed on her bottom.
“Am I glad to see you.” Eldon’s deep exhale indicated he’d feared the worst for the cow and calf. “Give another pull.”
Jennifer used her hands to scoot back out of the way of the high lace-up work boots that were backing toward her.
“Finally. What took you so long, Doc?” Eldon asked.
“Two bull buffalo jumped a fence and are standing in the highway.” The deep baritone of Doc Kane’s voice came from behind them.
Jennifer looked over her shoulder at the man who was just arriving. If the vet was behind her, then who was in front of her? She started at the bottom of the worn leather boots, letting her eyes travel upward. Leather mid-calf lace-up boots. Blue jeans. Gauzy white shirt. Brown fedora. Young Indy? Couldn’t be. Could it?
Her gaze roamed over the stranger before her. The Brett Lange she grew up with was only an inch or two taller than her and stick-thin. Football players would envy this guy’s broad square shoulders. He was easily six feet tall. No, it couldn’t be Brett Lange.
“Whose buffalo? Which highway?” Eldon’s voice broke through Jennifer’s confusion.
“Matthew’s and two-twelve.” Doc Kane moved to the cow, studying the progress of the birth.
Jennifer jerked her head toward Eldon. “Buffalo? Dad has buffalo? Since when?”
“Brett, give me a good strong pull on that chain to get the right shoulder out.”
“Eldon?” Jennifer wanted an answer. It was bad enough she had to deal with cattle. She didn’t know a thing about buffalo.
“Now is not the time.” Eldon furrowed his brow. Her dad’s best friend’s brown eyes sent a silent message: You would’ve known that if your visits had been more frequent than a couple of days every other holiday.
“Slip out of that loop. You’re in Brett’s way.” Eldon turned his attention back to Doc. “They gonna make it?”
“Looks good so far. Jennifer, I didn’t realize that was you. What are you doing down there on the floor?”
Jennifer started to respond but caught the sly smile forming on Eldon’s lips.
“Citified shoes.” Eldon didn’t even try to muffle his chuckle.
Anger bubbled Jennifer’s blood. She pushed to her feet, balancing on the toe of her right foot, and wiggled free of the chain. She limped around the man standing before her. It was Brett Lange all grown up. She’d know those brown eyes anywhere.
She placed her hands on her hips. “I don’t see what’s so funny about me falling.”
“Nothing.” Brett cleared his throat, but the corner of his mouth turned up into a cocky grin and his brown eyes reflected merriment, his words and expression definitely not in agreement.
Jennifer snorted. “What are you doing here anyway?”
Doc cleared his throat. “Although it’s good to see you, Jennifer, we’re kind of busy here. Think you could rustle us up some coffee?”
A gentle dismissal. That was Doc, and he was right. Losing a cow or calf or both wasn’t the way she wanted to start her promise to her dad.
Jennifer turned on her good heel and, holding her right heel high to keep it even with her booted foot, she walked toward the side entry and slipped through the single barn door. Holding it open a crack, she rested her head on the rough exterior of the barn.
It’d been a long, stressful day full of surprises. She’d made a promise that she might not be able to keep. Her taxed muscles throbbed. She’d make the coffee in a minute. She needed to know the outcome of this last surprise. Please, Lord, let it be good.
“Eldon, give me a strong pull to get that other shoulder out. Looking good, boys.” Doc’s instruments clinked while he worked. “Almost got it. Why was Jennifer dressed like that to pull a calf?”
“She’s not a country girl anymore, Doc. Since she moved away she’s become all citified.” Eldon didn’t disguise his disgust.
Brett’s laughter erupted in the barn.
Anger made Jennifer’s muscles tremble. She’d had enough of Eldon’s digs at her lifestyle. She slapped the barn door shut, hoping the men inside would know that she heard their comments.
She turned and took a step, forgetting the broken heel of her boot, and stumbled. Trying to regain her balance, the toe of her boot caught in the long fabric of the coveralls. She waved her arms in a fight to remain upright. Her formfitting jacket ripped and she went crashing to the hard ground, her hands and knees smacking into the cool spring soil.
Jennifer moaned and tears formed in her eyes. She never should have promised to run the ranch. But how could she say no to her Dad when he lay in the hospital partially paralyzed from a stroke and worried about his livelihood? She hoped he’d recover after a couple of weeks of rehabilitation. If he didn’t, she’d be out of vacation time.
She wiped the back of her gloved hands over her eyes and pushed herself up to one knee.
“Are you all right?”
A strong arm looped around her waist. She leaned into Brett’s solid body as he lifted her to her feet.
Jennifer stood for a few moments until she realized that Brett’s arms were still holding her secure. She threw his hand off of her shoulder. “I don’t need your help.” Jennifer swiped her hands over the dirt on the knees of the coveralls.
“Really? Seems to me I’m always rescuing you.”
Not only did the cocky grin appear but Brett taunted her with raised eyebrows. He’d crossed his arms in front of his chest and his brown eyes dared her to disagree.
Jennifer unzipped the coveralls and slipped her arms out. Gravity pulled the heavy denim to the ground. Gingerly, she stepped out of them. She wasn’t going to fall again, at least not in front of Faith, South Dakota’s own Indiana Jones wannabe.
The memory turned the corners of Jennifer’s lips into a sly smile. The nickname she’d bestowed upon Brett had caused him a lot of torment growing up. Well-deserved torment in her opinion. What senior girl wanted to be pestered by a sophomore? Although his tagalong nature came in handy once.
“Really.” She’d met his challenge. Jennifer lifted her right leg to unzip the broken boot. She teetered on the remaining spiked heel that inched its way into the damp spring soil but managed to free herself from her broken footwear without toppling over.
“See?” Jennifer held up her trophy. She surveyed the damage. The four-inch heel had snapped in two. She’d have to make a trip to the shoe repair shop when she went back to Chicago. “Now don’t start pestering me. Let’s not repeat the past.”
“Pestering you?” Brett put a hand to his heart. “That hurts. I idolized you. The girl with everything.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “You only say that because the ranch is filled with rock crags and dirt.” Jennifer lowered her eyes. Brett had everything she longed to have—a mother—and he knew it. She always enjoyed Mrs. Lange’s company, but Brett’s jealous bone showed when his mother paid attention to someone else’s child.
She rested her left leg on her right knee to remove the other boot. It was much easier to balance on a flat stocking foot. The cold, damp earth soaked through her socks, soothing the ache of her fashion-abused feet. She dropped the boots on the coveralls.
Brett held his palms up and shrugged. “What more does a person need? Besides—” Brett nodded his head toward her boot and pointed to her jacket back “—they last longer than superficial items.”
Her shoulders sagged. She’d forgotten that her jacket had ripped. Although she’d purchased the expensive suit in a consignment boutique, Brett didn’t need to know that. Add tailor shop to her Chicago to-do list.
“Since when are shoes and clothes in the superficial category? I believe they are necessities.” Same old Brett, picking at her clothes, shoes and makeup choices.
“Practical clothes and shoes are necessities. Those—” Brett waved a hand up and down through the air “—are just window dressing to hide behind.”
Jennifer ripped the Velcro tab free on the work gloves, slipped them off and watched them land on the growing mound of clothes. She surveyed her French manicure. Her nails had made it through this test.
She turned her attention back to Brett and narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to provoke me?” If so, it was working. She took a deep breath before removing her jacket and dropped it on top of the stack on the ground. He might not have changed, but she had and this was her opportunity to prove it.
“Obviously, my outfit is impractical for ranch work in Faith, South Dakota, but it’s the standard dress code for a columnist in Chicago, Illinois.”
Jennifer flashed Brett her practiced business smile. “You should get out and see more of the world. See for yourself that fashion consists of more than copying a movie hero’s costumes.” Okay, maybe she hadn’t changed that much.
“Do you consider that an insult? Do you know how much money those movies grossed? That’s not counting the television series.” Brett moved close, his shadow shading Jennifer from the afternoon sun.
She shivered. certain it was from the cool spring air seeping through her damp silk blouse. Slowly she tilted her head up. He had grown.
His fingers glided up her neck leaving a trail of tingles on her skin. Stopping under her chin, he gently pushed her jaw, closing her gaping mouth.
He searched her face. Appreciation flickered through his eyes. “Just so you know, I studied abroad, and this is the standard dress code for a professor of archeology when he’s on a dig. You don’t have the market cornered on following your dream.”
Jennifer licked her lips, expecting that at any moment his might descend upon hers.
Her simple gesture sparked amusement in his eyes, punctuated by a cocky smile. He pulled back. “Pestering, huh? I don’t think so.”
He chuckled and stepped back. “In case you’re wondering, the calf and cow both made it, and eavesdropping is rude.” He turned and walked toward the ATV.
He straddled the seat and turned back to Jennifer. “If I were you I’d get changed. Rounding up buffalo isn’t an occupation that requires a silk-and-tweed outfit.” His chuckles turned into guffaws.
The roar of the all-terrain’s engine covered up Brett’s taunting laughter. Humiliation surged through Jennifer. Why had she thought he’d kiss her? Had she wanted him to? She pursed her traitorous lips. She did not want Brett Lange to kiss her, not twelve years ago and certainly not now.
She kicked at the pile of clothes before bending and scooping them up into her arms. She walked to her rental car, which sat beside the ranch house. The square two-story turn-of-the-century home appeared withered; its white paint cracked and peeling away from the siding, gave it a worn-out look.
Jennifer surveyed her attire. The same could be said of her. Why had she promised to take care of the ranch? Her mind flashed to the image of her dad’s pleading eyes. His struggle to voice his thoughts through stroke-induced partial paralysis. That’s why. She wanted him to relax and get better, so she’d made a promise that might end up idle if her promotion at work came through. She hoped she could stay until he recovered. She watched a dirt cloud form behind the departing ATV. But she wasn’t staying one day more.
