Home on the Ranch. Allison Leigh

calls breakfasts like this ‘sticks and weeds.’”

      At that, Belle laughed softly. “Well, these sticks and weeds are a lot better for you than just a frozen waffle out of a box. It’s a bran mix. And the strawberries on top are plenty sweet already without adding cream or sugar. But I could fix you eggs if you’d rather.” She refused to wonder what Cage had eaten.

      Lucy’s perfectly shaped nose wrinkled. “Eggs. Gross.”

      “Yeah,” Belle agreed. “I used to think so, too. But they’re good for you, and there are lots of ways to fix them. So, what’ll it be?”

      Lucy eyed the table for a moment. Then she shrugged, and started to wheel forward. Belle casually stepped in her path and held out her hands expectantly.

      And she waited.

      And waited.

      Finally, Lucy put her hands in Belle’s. And she stood, her weight fully concentrated on her uninjured leg.

      Belle winked cheerfully. Lucy wasn’t the first patient she’d ever had, and certainly not the first who was leery of leaving the safety net, no matter how much they wanted to. But there was absolutely no reason why Lucy should still be depending entirely on the chair. “Stiff?”

      Lucy nodded. There was a white line around her tight lips. Belle supported her as she twisted around and sat at the table. Then she tucked the wheelchair out of the way and sat down across from Lucy.

      “Aren’t you having any twigs?”

      “Ate earlier. Not everyone sleeps in until noon.”

      Lucy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.” She picked up the spoon and jabbed at her food. Gave an experimental taste. When the girl gave a surprised “hmm” and took another taste, Belle busied herself by filling a few water bottles and putting away the dishes they’d used and washed the night before as well as the stack that had already been there. She refused to feel guilty about it, either. It wasn’t as if she was stealing the Buchanan family silver. She was just washing some crockery.

      Lucy was nearly finished with her breakfast before she spoke again. “Did you see my dad this morning?”

      “Yes, for a few minutes.” Belle folded the dish towel and left it on the counter next to the sink. “He was heading out to fix a water tank.”

      “Oh.” Lucy passed over her dishes.

      Belle took them and set them in the sink. She flipped on the faucet to rinse them and glanced at Lucy. “Were you hoping for something different?”

      Lucy shrugged but couldn’t quite hide her diffidence. “He works the Lazy-B mostly by himself, you know.”

      Belle did know. She also knew that he hired on hands as needed, and that he usually didn’t much want to admit to needing anything.

      The man gave loner new meaning.

      “I know.” She smiled gently and moved the chair back around for Lucy. “Come on. It’s beautiful outside. Let’s go for a little walk.”

      “No exercises yet?”

      Lucy looked so hopeful that Belle had to smile as she helped the girl back into her chair. She crouched in front of her. “I’ll tell you a secret,” she confided lightly. “Exercise comes in all sorts of forms. Sometimes you don’t even know you’re doing it.” She grazed her fingertips over Lucy’s injured leg. “So. What do you say? A walk?”

      Lucy nodded. Satisfied, Belle rose and handed Lucy a bottle of water, took one for herself and they headed out the front of the house, where Lucy’s ramp was located.

      Before long, Belle had to push the chair for Lucy because of the soft ground. The morning was delightfully quiet, broken only by the song of birds flirting in the tall cottonwoods that circled the house.

      They walked all the way down the road to the gate then headed back again. “Do you like living on a ranch?”

      Lucy lifted her shoulder, her fingers trailing up and down her braid. “It’s okay, I guess. I used to spend part of the week in town. During the school year. Dad pays my friend Anya Johannson’s mom for my board for part of the week. She teaches me piano and takes me to my dance lessons after school and stuff. Well, that’s what we used to do.” She tossed her braid behind her back.

      They were within sight of the large red barn before Lucy spoke again. “You grew up in Cheyenne. Right?”

      “Yup. Until I took the job at your school last year, and when I went away to school, I’d always lived in Cheyenne. My sister, Nikki, still does. And my mother’s been living at the Double-C Ranch since she married Squire Clay a while back.”

      “Were your parents divorced?”

      “No. My dad died just before Nikki and I turned sixteen.”

      “Does she look like you? Nikki?”

      Belle grinned. “Nah. She’s the pretty one. Likes to shop for real clothes, not just jeans and workout gear. She looks like our mom. Auburn hair, an actual figure.”

      Lucy made a face, looking down at herself. She plucked the loose fabric of her pink T-shirt. “Yeah, well, I’m never gonna get…you know…boobs, either.” Lucy’s pale cheeks turned red. “Not that you don’t, uh—”

      Belle laughed. “It’s okay. I do. But believe me, my sister got the larger helping in the chest department. And you’re only twelve. You’ve got oodles of time yet.”

      “I’m gonna be thirteen next month.”

      Belle renewed her grasp on the handles of the chair, pushing it harder over the gravel road. “Why sound so glum about it? Are you going to have a party?”

      “And do what?” Lucy thumped her hands on her chair.

      “Who needs to do anything? You’re going to be thirteen. I remember when Nik and I turned thirteen. We sat around with our friends and talked boys and makeup and music, and ate pizza and popcorn and had a blast.”

      “Doesn’t matter. Dad’s not going to let me have a party, anyway.”

      “Has he said that?” She would be upbeat if it killed her. “It never hurts to just ask. What’s the worst that could happen? That he’d say no? You’ve already decided that, anyway. And he might surprise you.” Whatever she’d seen or heard about Cage, the man was admittedly doing back flips for his daughter. What was one small party?

      “He doesn’t want me to do anything,” Lucy insisted flatly. “Ever since my accident, he’s been—” she shook her head, and fell silent.

      “Worried about you, perhaps?” Belle maneuvered Lucy’s chair through the opened barn door.

      Lucy didn’t respond to that. But she did respond to the changes Belle had made inside the barn. Most particularly the portable sound system she immediately flicked on. Banging music sounded out and Belle looked past Lucy’s slack jaw as she handed her a sizable stack of CDs. “Hope there’s something you like in there. I brought a little of everything.”

      Lucy flipped through the cases. Pulled one out. “Dad would like this.”

      Belle glanced over. Beatles. Drat. Her own personal favorite. “Anything you like?”

      “Classics.” Lucy shrugged diffidently. “Weird, huh?”

      She felt as if she’d hit a treasure chest when she leaned over to flip down several more CDs in Lucy’s lap and the girl laughed delightedly. “Beethoven. Pachelbel. Rachmaninoff. A little of everything.”

      Belle took the stack and set it on a crate next to the portable boom box. She slid in a CD and the strains of Mozart soared right up to the rafters.

      Cage could hear the music a mile away. It was loud enough to scare his prized heifers out of breeding for another two seasons, and certainly loud enough