Every Storm Runs Out of Rain

Chapter 17

Heather woke up early Sunday morning. The girls were still sleeping so she poured herself a cup of coffee and curled up on the couch with her Bible. Sean had read it diligently every morning and evening. Since he had died, she'd been on rocky ground with the Almighty. She still believed in Him. It just seemed like maybe he'd forgotten about the young widow with two darling daughters. This was the second morning she'd felt drawn to read and so she did. By the time the girls scrambled into the living room, she'd been reading for nearly an hour. They climbed up and snuggled next to her. She put her arms around both of them, and, for the first time since Sean's passing, she thanked her heavenly Father for something. And that was her sweet little daughters. Because Sean may have passed on. But her Creator had given her a legacy of love. And right now, that was more than enough

Heather had been acting cold since the moment she showed up and Stetson was about to blow a fuse. Did I do something wrong? Is she mad at me? As he watched Ringo, the pinto he'd placed Layla on, walk around the round pen, he realized he had to know. Or die trying.

"Dad. Could you take over for just a second." Stetson asked. Hank sent him a knowing look, which Stetson ignored, and grabbed the lead from him. Without bothering to hide his intentions, he bee-lined for Heather. She was over by the five-wire fence petting Drifter. He walked up beside her without saying a word. For some reason, he felt tongue-tied around her.

"I noticed Aiden wasn't out here. Is he working?" she finally asked. He was grateful because it ended the awkward silence.

"No. Cameron went into labor on Friday. He hasn't left her side since she had the baby." And he hadn't. Stetson had teased that he was like a magnet.

"Home birth?" Heather asked.

"Yeah. All of them have been. Cameron claims it's the best way to do it." Another awkward pause.

"Girl or boy?" She asked.

"Another little boy. Aaron Ezekiel Dalton. He weighed nine pounds and thirteen ounces."

"Big little guy then." Stetson couldn't stand the small talk any longer.

"Heather. Did I do something to upset you?" he demanded. She ignored his question completely and motioned to the horse in front of her.

"What's her name?" He looked at what he'd taken to calling his "problem child" and answered.

"His. He's a gelding. And his name is Drifter."

"How did he get that name?" she asked.

"I honestly don't know. I've kinda started to wonder if it's more of a nickname for his brain. If he has one." She looked at him and raised her eyebrows.

"What do you mean?"

"He's not exactly...all there. Or he is, and he's too stubborn to do a thing I say." Stetson grumbled.

"Maybe you aren't using the right approach."

"Heather, I've been training horses since I was twelve years old. I know when it's the horse and I know when it's the training. And this time, it's the horse." he insisted stubbornly.

"I think any horse can be tamed if you teach it to respect you first." she said sincerely.

"And that's coming from a woman that's only ridden a few times?" he asked. Heather ignored his jab. She didn't speak for a long while. Then she glanced over at the horizon where the sun wasn't even close to setting and spoke.

"I should probably get the girls back home. Thank you for teaching Layla. I know she loved it. And Amora loved the puppies." she added. Heather turned to go and, to Stetson, the moment seemed too final. He wanted to reach out and stop her but he couldn't. Something held him rooted in his place. He watched as she gathered up the girls and herded them towards her little car. He had to figure out what was wrong. Finally breaking from the stillness, he walked toward her car. She'd just finished buckling up both girls when he reached it.