Book 7: Micah (Seven Sons Ranch in Three Rivers Romance™)

Simone Foster left her cabin, glad she’d put a jacket on this morning. She took a long, deep breath of the February air as she walked past the row of country cabins that housed the ranch’s cowboys and cowgirls. She usually made the quick trek from her cabin to her she-shed, where she had fifteen hundred air conditioned square feet of antiques, varnishes, shelving, pottery, upholstery, power tools, and ideas.

She loved her job with everything inside her, even if it had grown a bit stale in the past year or so. Another couch to be reupholstered. Another dresser to sand, paint, and repurpose. Another sideboard she could turn into a cabinet that would go right over a toilet and house all necessary bathroom supplies.

To keep things interesting, Simone had started buying brand new notions and adding them to the old items to make a blend of past and present. Her prices had gone up because of this, but she hadn’t had any problem selling her inventory. People seemed to love her creations, and she couldn’t keep her online store stocked for very long. She got daily messages about when more pictures would be available, and if she had another of those burnt orange settees….

Honestly, the weight of her business accompanied her around almost all the time. She fought the urge to work fourteen hours a day, because she didn’t want to be a robot that churned out “modern antiques for every Texas home,” even if that was her shop’s motto.

She wanted to be human too. She wanted to spend time with her sisters, their husbands, her father and grandmother…and Micah Walker.

Her step lightened as she reached the yard of the homestead where her sister, Callie, lived with her husband Liam, and their two children, Denise and Ginger. Her heart didn’t feel like a lump in her chest either. She’d made a bold move over the summer by stopping by Micah’s house and telling him she didn’t like the silence and distance between them.

But he’d been dating someone else, and it wasn’t until several months later when he’d shown up at her community theater auditions that something new had started between them.

Simone couldn’t help wondering if they had what it took to make a relationship work. Not them, she amended in her head. You. Just you, Simone.

“There she is,” Callie said, opening the back door. “Go on and be sure to say thank you.”

A little girl said, “I will, Mama,” and burst out of the door, already running toward Simone. She grinned at Denise as she got closer and closer, finally lifting her up and into her arms as the girl threw herself at “Auntie Simone!”

“Heya, Deni,” she said, giggling with the girl. “You got your jacket?”

The girl had just turned five, and she’d be starting kindergarten in the fall. Callie and Liam had enrolled her in some reading classes already, as well as a playgroup, as she’d come from a language-poor background and had been quite stunted in her verbal and written language when they’d gotten her, over a year ago.

Denise puffed out her chest. “It’s pink.”

“I can see that,” Simone said, setting her niece down on the ground and taking her hand. “Now, you have to stay right by me today.”

“I will,” she said solemnly.

“You can’t touch anything without asking me first.”

“I won’t.”

“You can’t ask her to buy you stuff,” Callie called from the doorway, where she stood with her two-year-old clinging to one of her legs. Ginger had been born addicted to drugs, but the toddler didn’t seem to have any problems now. Liam and Callie had been the best parents, and Simone could admit that she loved being the favorite aunt, and she babysat whenever either of her sisters asked her to.

She also wanted a family of her own, and while she would turn forty at the end of the year, she held out hope that she could be a mother. Maybe if she and Micah could make this fourth attempt at a relationship work for them.

“And you can pick where we go for lunch,” Simone said with a smile. She waved to her oldest sister, who waved back and closed the back door. Simone continued around to the side of the house, where she parked her delivery truck. “Get in, Tiny.” She helped Denise climb into the truck, and she went around to the other side. “Seatbelts.”

She put hers on and took a moment to orient herself to the bigger vehicle. She took it on all of her scouting expeditions, because she could load two queen-sized mattresses in the back and still have room for a bookcase if it wasn’t too wide. The pull-down door in the back locked, and she could drive through wind, rain, and sleet and nothing would get damaged.

Yes, this delivery truck was the best thing Simone had ever purchased for her business. Her favorite thing was the pottery wheel and kiln she’d added to her collection a year or so ago. And her first love would always be taking a piece of furniture that had been carved for a particular purpose, used lovingly for many years, and then transforming it into something completely different. She loved breathing new life into something old, something someone wanted to throw away, something that didn’t get used anymore.

It was like giving a table a second chance to become a bench in someone’s flower garden, and Simone thought everyone—and everything—deserved a second chance.

“Do you like dogs?” Denise asked, and Simone glanced over at her.

“Yes,” she said.

“Daddy says I’m too little to take care of one, but I think I could do it.”

“Oh, I see.” Simone smiled at Denise. “What does your mama say about the dog?”

“She says nothin’,” Denise said. “Maybe I could keep the dog at your house.”

Simone laughed, because she’d often thought about getting a dog. A little one, not one of the big ones Jeremiah had next door, or the cattle dog Skyler Walker and his wife Mal had.

No, Simone wanted a lap dog. One that would curl up right next to her—or on her—and keep her company at night. At the same time, she couldn’t put together more than a couple of her waking hours where she was home. She worked in the shed, or helped Callie at the homestead, fed the donkeys at the ranch, or went to her theater classes and practices.

She liked being busy, that was for sure. An idle Simone wasn’t a happy Simone, which was why she and Denise were driving an hour south of Three Rivers today, to a small town that had a huge swap meet every weekend in January, February, and March.

Simone went every year, sometimes more than once. After all, she needed old things to make into new treasures, and while the residents of Three Rivers held plenty of yard sales, she didn’t want to simply recycle their things back into the community.

Of course, her online commerce had far surpassed her in-person sales at festivals and fairs for a couple of years now, and she’d had to learn about shipping costs, timelines, and ways to ensure her hard work didn’t get ruined on a truck from Three Rivers to Lexington.

Her brain felt stuffed with useless information, and she let Denise talk about dogs and cats and rabbits while she hummed along or asked simple questions like, “What do rabbits even eat?”

The little girl sure seemed to know all about it, and Simone sure did love having her along, at least for the drive.

They arrived at the swap meet, and Simone wasn’t surprised to find many, many cars in the huge field they were using as a parking lot. “Tell me the rules again,” Simone said. She’d never brought anyone with her on her finding endeavors. She knew the hours could slip away like smoke—for her—and she hoped the little girl wouldn’t be too bored.

“Stay by you. Don’t touch….um.”

“Those are good,” Simone said. “Your mom didn’t want you to beg me to buy you something. But if you see something really good….” Simone shrugged with a smile. “Let’s go.”

Denise struggled to open the door, and Simone had to do it for her. She helped her down and took her hand. “Okay, so I’m looking for anything that can be transformed into something amazing.”

She realized that wasn’t a good description of what to look for, even for an adult. But Simone would just know what she should get when she saw it. “There’s a lot of walking,” she said. “Should we get a drink first?”

She’d been to this swap meet at least a dozen times, and she knew the best entrance to access the meet. It had bathrooms and concessions right inside, and she paused. “Do you need to use the restroom?”

“Nope,” Denise said, and Simone remembered how Callie had told her that Denise would always say no to that question.

“Let’s go anyway,” Simone said, leading the girl into the bathroom. Afterward, she bought Denise a lemonade while Simone opted for water, and they set off down the outer circle of the swap meet.

Simone almost always stuck to the outer circle, because the further in she went, the less desirable the items were until she was literally looking at someone selling power tools from their garage or groceries at a deep discount.

She liked potato chips that were practically free as well as the next person, but they were not the reason she’d made the drive today.

“Let’s see what treasures we can find,” she said, eyeing a booth several down that she’d bought from before. “Maybe Bill will have something new.” And he’d load it up for her for free, always a plus in Simone’s book.

She walked slowly, scanning the booths on both sides. But she didn’t want jewelry or handmade vases. No, she was looking for something old she could make new.

“Look at that,” Denise said, and Simone looked to see where she was pointing. Inside the booth, which sold barn wood that had always interested Simone, Denise seemed to be pointing to a mirror.

“Do you see yourself?” Simone asked, detouring under the tent of the booth.

“No, that barrel,” Denise said, looking from it to Simone. “Do you need something like that, Auntie Simone?”

“Hmm,” Simone said, taking a step around the old barrel. She’d never done anything with a barrel before, because she saw them every day. Most people did too.

In Texas, she told herself. And not all of her customers lived in Texas these days.

“We have ‘em all over the ranch,” Denise said. “Maybe you could just use one of those.”

“What would you use it for?” Simone asked, trying to see what the child could. She put her fingers on the wood, and it was old, sure. For some reason, the barrel did speak to her creative soul.

“Daddy puts me on the barrel to eat lunch.”

“Like a table,” Simone mused. She looked up to find the booth master. “Do you have more of these?” She indicated the barrel, and he looked from it to her. The idea forming in her mind to make a counter-height table with the barrels at the ends, split in half height-wise and all this barn wood for the top. She could sand it, fit all the little pieces together, stain it…. “And how long is the longest piece of barn wood that you have?”

“How many barrels do you need?”

“Just two,” she said. “They come from a real ranch?”

“The oldest one in the county,” the man said. “The owners—my family—are doing a major renovation, with all new everything. I can probably get you twenty barrels.”

Simone had never made a table the size of what she was currently envisioning. “Let’s start with four,” she said. “And how far is the ranch? Could I come pick out the wood?” She reached into her hip pack and pulled out a card. “I’m Simone Foster, and I create household furniture from old items. I’d love to feature your ranch on my listings.”

The man took the card and smiled. Simone had been using a different design until very recently, when Micah and Whitney had helped her photograph her best pieces and make new cards that were more like a postcard than a business card.

“I’m Easton,” he said. “And the ranch is only about twenty minutes from here.” He looked at her and added, “We’d love to have someone like you out.”

Simone stood in the booth and bought the two barrels, as well as enough barn lumber to make the two tables. She chatted easily with Easton, and they made arrangements for her to come visit his ranch later the next week.

She had no idea how much time had gone by before she’d finished, and this was only the first booth, only feet from the entrance.

Denise had been patient, but she’d soon spied a dog behind the table in the back of the booth, and Easton hadn’t minded if the little girl played with his dog.

“All right, Deni,” Simone said, her stomach growling. Was it lunch already? “Let’s go.” She took the girls’ hand, and they merged back into the flow of traffic outside the booth.

“Ma’am,” someone said, and she turned. “I think you’ve stolen my niece.”

“Uncle Micah!” Denise shouted only a moment before the sexy cowboy scooped her into his arms, nearly wrenching Simone’s arm as he did.

Warmth and surprise filled her as she watched him hug Denise. The fact that the little girl had rightfully called him “Uncle Micah” wasn’t lost on Simone. He was her uncle. She was her aunt.

It was weird.

Simone wished it wasn’t, but for her, it still was.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Denise said, pulling back and looking into Micah’s handsome face. “What are you doin’ here?”

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “I really love reading about all the Walker's, I couldn't figure out who I liked best either, and just a really good series and I hate for it to end. Thank you Liz Isaacson.” ~Pat

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “I can't praise you enough for taking me on such a beautiful journey. I will treasure these stories forever and I'm actually going to read the entire series again because I'm not ready to move on, I shall miss them. I love every character and, like you, it would be difficult to choose a favorite. I cried so many happy tears. I felt sorrow and exhilaration! I admire the beautiful way you create these storylines and the depth of each character. I'm sure you are treasured among your family and friends. So, from my heart I thank you for the joyous experience you created. <3” ~Carol A.