Signed Love

By Kathy Knull

A handwritten note has Colt Waycroft replacing Armani suits with denim for a return to the ranch where he grew-up. Powerful family bonds survived his fifteen year absence, but foul reactions from a certain ranch-hand are unexplainable. A tomboy from his past, now a green-eyed temptress, becomes a complicated distraction though. Her continuous attempts at avoiding him is mystifying, and the silent panic in her eyes rattles his judgement.

Years ago, Kallie Forrester thought Colt had taken her schoolgirl fantasies with him when he left for college. One look at him now and her knees weaken with an aged case of swooning teen syndrome. Past friends or not, she can't face him. Not now. Not after what had happened.

His persistence crumbles parameters for them both and passion flares, but is that enough? As Colt unknowingly steps into danger Kallie’s bravery places her in harm’s way. Lives are changed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kathy Knull
• Release date: Feb 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9780994977427

Kathy Knull

A woman stands before a window, staring outside. The rusty glow of a spectacular sunset adds highlights to her greying hair and accentuates laugh lines at the corners of her eye’s. Her thoughts are of how family, years of marriage, motherhood, and life’s circumstances have made her heart both soar with joy and ache with grief.Kathy’s destiny began when her sister’s boyfriend introduced horses into her life. Her oldest brother further contributed to making her who she is by giving Kathy a pony for her seventh birthday. These two important factors alone may conjure an inaccurate picture of her childhood though.Several years separate, the youngest of five, from her other siblings. The family lived in an older home in Alberta, Canada’s capital city, which meant stabling the pony. At times, coming up with extra cash strained her hardworking parents budget. Yet, rather than discourage their little girl’s dream of becoming a horsewoman, they always found a way to pay the monthly boarding cost.By age 10, Kathy competed at her first horse show and was hooked.With gained knowledge and experience the range and caliber of competitions this self-taught rider entered expanded.In her early teens, Kathy took an evening janitorial job to help fund her passion. When not in school or working, training and showing a new young Quarter Horse became her life.In 1978, she met a man who grew up on a farm and shared her love for horses. They married and started a family.Between them, they had three show horses boarded at a stable. Once, they could afford to they bought and made the practical move to the country where they raised their daughter, son, stepdaughter and an ever changing number of equines.Along with a home based business, showing and training horses and giving riding lessons became a way for Kathy to earn money while she stayed at home with the children.In 2009, her husband retired from his job in the city. With their 5th wheel RV, the two set off, east, across Canada, and returned via the historic Route 66 through the U.S.Back home in Alberta, the couple moved to their lake cottage. The laid-back lifestyle took adjusting to, but they learned to relax and enjoy days together.The move brought another significant change for Kathy, horses no longer were a day-to-day pleasure. A short drive to the daughters in the country is all it takes to get a renewed fix though.Kathy’s interests include visiting with family or friends, a wide range of crafts, woodworking, rowing or paddling in search of driftwood, boating, quilting, playing cards, traveling, and of course reading and writing.When the lake water freezes and snow covers the ground, she uses the increased downtime for a rekindled passion. One she developed long ago, with their young children in bed and her husband often traveling with his job. A time when she spent many star filled nights long-handing pages of fiction.Since living at the lake, she has fine-tuned her writing skills, revised old manuscripts, and created new ones. With a Contemporary Western Romance, titled, “Signed Love,” published so far.A love of family, life and experiencing both country and lake living inspires Kathy Knull’s fiction and her “Saddles to Shorelines, and Life as it Comes” blog which is on her website.

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Signed Love

A Novel

By

Kathy Knull

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and incidents are either the products of the Author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite retailer. Thank you for your support.

Cover By Kathy Knull

Published by Kathy Knull January 2016, Canada

http://www.kathyknull.wordpress.com

Smashwords Edition

This book is also available in print at online retailers.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Knull, Kathy, author

Signed Love / Kathy Knull.

Issued in print and electronic formats.

ISBN 978-0-9949774-0-3 (paperback).--ISBN 978-0-9949774-2-7 (ebook, Smashwords)

1. Title.

PS8621.N84S53 2016 C813’.6 C2016-900122-9

C2016-900123-7

Text and Illustrations-Copyright 2015 Kathy Knull

To my Mother.

Wish you were here to read this.

Acknowledgements

Years ago, I long-handed the first draft of this book. Therefore, I have to acknowledge our daughter and son who, at times, suffered with a distracted mother, even though I tried to limit writing to after their bedtime. With the children, who mean the world to me, grown, I brought this manuscript back to life, updated and prepared it for publishing.

I must thank my understanding husband who never grumbled on those days I wrote revisions more than I spoke. The man who called me for a tasty meal when I lost track of time, and the one who without I couldn’t write about love.

From family and friends, I learned about strong bonds, patience, and how to be there for each other. This inspired and helped me establish traits for the book’s characters.

Another person who needs thanks is Mentor, Avery Olive (Madison). A fellow author and writing seminar coach whose words of encouragement and advice pushed me to expand my knowledge and complete this novel’s modifications.

A special credit goes to my mother who gave me my love for books. I’m grateful she read one of my first drafts but she would love the evolvement the story took since then. I miss her and my father dearly.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

About The Author

CHAPTER 1

Colt Waycroft stood as if carved out of stone, his faint reflection visible in the wall of thick, tinted glass before him. His haunted eyes were cast downward, yet the bustling scene on the streets far below went unnoticed.

An unnerving quiet dominated the office. A lawyer just left after delivering news, which disturbed Colt, deeper than anything in years. Five life-changing words. Your father has passed away.

Waycroft heritage consisted of a long line of proud ranchers. Fifteen years ago, Colt left home for college in Vancouver. This devastated and disappointed his dad because one of his sons chose a career other than to follow family tradition. The air between father and son became strained and never recovered.

Colt’s phone calls dwindled over time, and he had not since leaving stepped foot on Waycroft soil. Now, the shortage of contact was a vivid reminder of how disjointed he and his family had become.

Fingers of one hand undid Colt’s Armani suit jacket, head bowed with grief his eyes narrowed on the crisp stationery he still held. He turned, snapped his wrist and sent the stapled pages spinning through the air toward his desk.

The ‘Will’ was pretty standard, but the attached note in his father’s distinctive handwriting was not. It stated, ‘I hope my sons know my love for them is equal. I always wished Colt, and I could work out our differences. That he would come to his senses and return to ranching. If this note is being read, it mustn’t have happened. No words can describe how much I missed his presence in my life since the dreadful day when he left. With that said, I hope if I pass before Billy turns twenty-five, Colt returns to help his brother. After that the boys can decide what the ranch’s future will hold. One more thing, with Billy, I was lucky enough to express, whenever I wanted, my joy and pride for the man he had become. Colt my bullheadedness prevented this with you, but over the years and in secret, I followed your accomplishments. Your successes never surprised me and made me very proud.’

A note which branded Colt’s soul forever, both painful to read yet somewhat gratifying to learn he had earned his father’s respect.

Drained, he sat with a thump, his body as heavy as his heart. He glared at the legal documents now perched precariously on a stack of files. In an attempt to scrape away anguish, he ran a hand over his face. His dad’s last wishes, needed attention.

A disturbing question invaded his thoughts, rocked him back in his chair. A few months ago, he had called Billy to wish him a happy twenty-fourth birthday. His brother made no mention of their father being ill in that conversation. Anger threatened to replace despair.

He stretched for the phone and punched out a number sequence as if he still used it every day.

The housekeeper’s gentle voice came on the line, Waycroft Ranch.

His body remained rigid, but his tone carried no wrath. Hello, Mabel. It’s Colt, is Billy there?

Oh my. Hello Colt. Her voice paused on a quiver. I sure wish you called days ago… Hold on, I’ll get him.

A distinctive click signaled she left before he could respond. The seconds dragged on then a deep greeting broke the silence.

Billy speaking.

By-passing pleasantries, Colt demanded, Damn it, Billy! Why wasn’t I notified about Dad? thick resentment tainted the comment.

What do you mean? Jake contacted you.

That stunned him enough for a brief pause. I never spoke to anyone! Aggravated he said, And who the hell is Jake?

Jake works here. With so much to do… His voice cracked. As a help to me, he offered to do phoning. He told me he’d left you a message.

Well, I never received such message. He drew out the comment and stressed the last word.

Billy let out a loud exhale. He said he did. I had no reason to think otherwise. When you didn’t call back, we presumed you were just too busy.

Too busy! roared Colt. What the hell made that even cross your mind? Outraged, he clamped his teeth, a muscle twitched in his jaw. The line went silent, not even a buzz of static.

Colt, put yourself in our place. Days went by from the time he said he contacted you and we never heard back.

Why with something this important and personal would you feel a message would suffice? There was a change in Billy’s breathing, a slight hitch.

He said all he ever got was a machine… Sorry… He muttered, I wanted to step up, phone you myself, but every time I tried I just couldn’t. With Mabel and Rusty so upset, I couldn’t ask them either so Jake volunteered.

Another stab to his heart from the pain in his brother’s confession. He took a deep steadying breath. No use arguing over details no one could change. He reined in frustration, Forget all that for now. In an unnatural roughness, he questioned, What happened… To dad?

I still can’t believe it, shock saturated his tone. Everything was fine, we were walking across the yard discussing plans for the day when bam! He crumbled to the ground, unresponsive, no pulse, nothing. I did CPR. He murmured, The doctor said it was a massive heart attack, it took him in an instant.

Colt’s eyes closed, as he absorbed the anguished explanation. I’ll be there this weekend, he assured in little more than a whisper.

What?

Did you see the ‘Will’ yet?

Yeah, I’ve read it!

Well, I should arrive late Saturday sometime, as dad requested.

What about your work?

Colt’s brow furrowed. Do you have a problem with me coming?

No. No, of course not. I’m surprised you can get away that fast is all.

It’s a perk of owning your own company. The conversation ended a couple of short comments later with simple cessations.

The day’s harsh start made him suspect it would also be long. Colt reached forward again and pushed a small phone panel button, the intercom to his secretary.

Yes, sir.

Has anyone from the ranch phoned here lately?

No sir, not for some time now.

Does the name Jake ring a bell?

No, sir, should it?

Never mind, I’ll check into it.

She hesitated then questioned, Is something wrong?

Yes. Something is very wrong.

Friday arrived, and Colt needed to pack. Garment after garment slid aside as he rummaged through the closet. Disgusted by the high-end designer labels, he found nothing proper for the journey. At last, shoved away as if outsiders, he located a lone, long sleeve western shirt, and a pair of Wrangler jeans. As he turned, his eyes swept the floor. There in a back corner peeked forgotten cowboy boots. He gripped the tops and lifted them from their resting place. With his palm, he brushed off a layer of fine dust. The feel of oil-softened leather brought on a touch of sweet nostalgia.

Colt maneuvered through slow morning traffic and breathed a sigh of relief when he left behind the congested city. Now, little more than British Columbia’s, infamous, Coquihalla highway pass stood between him and his destination.

This morning gray looming clouds, which reflected his mood, snagged on high mountain peaks. Mother Nature’s glorious splendor was his companion. For music, he chose the constant tire drone as he covered mile after mile of pavement.

Self-reflection lapped his solitude like ocean waves. It crept up, chilled him then receded until the next bout. Family meant everything to him, so why had he taken their physical existence for granted. Especially his father’s. A man whose integrity and ethics Colt looked up to and strived to match. Over the years there were short sporadic telephone conversations, one’s with caring and concern, but the Waycroft men did not express their love aloud as many people do. Why had he waited and let death rob him the chance for another of his father’s kind, robust hugs? Okay enough, scolded Colt. He stabbed the radio button on the steering wheel and scanned for a satellite comedy channel, no sad country songs today.

After climbing the long pass, the vehicle crested the summit and soon the skies cleared. His mood lightened along with the bright, warm sunshine’s influx.

He dropped the truck into a lower gear. The motor roared, preventing the vehicle from coasting too fast down the last big descent. If only it could contain his growing anxiety as well.

A rumble came from his stomach, so he took the off-ramp into Merritt, the closest city before arriving at the ranch. He pulled the truck into an angled parking spot in front of a quaint little mom and pop diner. Greeted with a seat yourself sign, he moved to an empty table by the windows.

Almost in an instant, a waitress with a warm smile took his order. Once she left, he gave the room and its occupants a casual survey. In a back corner, a figure commandeered his attention. There sat a lone woman, her head bent while she read a book. The angle obscured most of her face, yet in an instant what little he saw mesmerized him.

Since gaining an ex-fiancé, work replaced a love life. Nowadays he preferred the uncomplicated lifestyle of bachelorhood. A smile tweaked his lips because he still allowed himself to admire stunning creatures, therefore he savored the view of this one until a moment later when his food arrived.

The first few bites awakened taste buds to the wonderment of homemade flavor. He ate like a starved man. Taking a breather, an indescribable magnetic pull had his attention straying back to the woman a couple tables away.

His position allowed him to watch her undetected. She placed a bookmark in the crease, closed the paperback and tucked it into a bag. Shifting, she wrapped herself in a hug and gave a swift rub to her upper arms. Similar to what one does when chilled. A water glass rose to her lips while her gaze wandered the area. As she swallowed, he entered her line of sight. Her head jerked to a stop, eyes popped wide. The glass wobbled and dipped back to the table while a hand clamped over her mouth. She struggled not to choke on the sip she consumed. Blinking eyes snapped downward, but she regained her wind after a few coughs. With a paper napkin she dabbed watering eyes then searched in her purse, pulling out cash which she laid on the laminated surface.

As she stood, her glance skittered his way. The panic in it caused a hitch in his breathing.

With a sway, she gripped the chair back for a heartbeat then her eyes narrowed passed him and focused on the exit. Her pace was a stiff yet rather poised walk as she left the table.

If shock didn’t have him glued in place, he’d be tempted to block her passage. His glare followed her outside the diner where her speed increased as she crossed the street and disappeared from sight.

Colt laid his knife and fork on the plate and gulped down half a glass of ice water.

The drab, unflattering uniform shirt and slacks, hung loose on the woman’s tall slender frame, concealing any curves. Golden blonde hair, pulled back and pinned up in a basic old fashioned bun emphasized her features and a pair of remarkable green eyes. Ones he had seen many times. That had to be Kallie Forrester, a ranch neighbor, and friend.

The undeniable current which sizzled through him when their gazes had met still tingled his nerve endings. Recognition became evident on her face, but what the hell. Why had she not said hello? Why did she bolt like a frightened filly?

With a slight head shake, his attention returned to the now cold meal while an apparition of Kallie from the past formed. Years younger than Colt, his brother and she had become inseparable in kinder-garden. Every day she had gotten off the school-bus at their place and stayed until her mother arrived after work. At any age, she stood tall for a girl, thin as a rail, her gangly body always hidden in baggy boy clothes. One hundred percent tomboy, best explained her as an adolescent. A feisty one with a zest for life. Growing up, Colt and his sometimes annoying shadows spent many hours together, riding or just getting into trivial bouts of trouble.

Between Kallie’s disconcerting reaction and apprehension of returning home, Colt’s lunch sat heavy in his stomach as he now gave the truck’s ignition key a twist.

CHAPTER 2

A sturdy pole archway came into view. Colt signaled and eased off the gas pedal, decelerating to a crawl as he pulled from the highway.

The homestead stood nestled in British Columbia’s picturesque Nicola Valley. A sizeable chunk of farm and grazing land where prime livestock flourished. Generations of proud predecessors had worked hard to build and expand the ranch to its current status.

His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as Colt passed under a suspended sign with the words ‘Waycroft Ranch’ sandblasted into the wood. Home, sweet home, so the saying goes, he muttered.

Engulfed with familiarity, he proceeded down the lengthy gravel driveway. He watched green rooftops of distant buildings appear and disappear as he traversed gentle rolling terrain.

Cresting a hill, he spotted someone bent over working on a taut wire roadside fence. The crunch of rocks beneath the tires sounded his approach, making the person straighten and turn. A leather gloved hand on a hammer handle pushed up the brim of a weathered, straw cowboy hat.

Recognition had Colt easing the truck to a stop.

With an unhurried stride, the man advanced. The window tint hid all but Colt’s silhouette behind the steering wheel, so with a faint hum he lowered the darkened glass. That stopped the cowboy mid-step.

Hello Billy.

Billy stepped forward and stooped to rest his arm on the window opening. Hey Colt. You’re early.

Colt’s shoulders rose in a slight shrug. Roads were good through the mountains. You want a ride back?

Sure, the rest of this fence can wait, just give me a second to gather my gear.

The window remained open while he waited. A soft breeze brought in sweet smells of spring or was it a mere lack of smog and exhaust fumes he detected.

Billy stowed the tool pouch in the truck box with a clank. He slipped off work gloves and used them to slap his dusty jeans before he climbed in the crew-cab’s front passenger seat. A low appreciative whistle escaped his lips as he scanned the plush interior. I thought you were a lost stranger or a salesman. This impressive beast should have been a clue though. A good horse, a fine set of wheels, or gorgeous women, things that could always catch us Waycrofts’ attention. With a cocky grin, he wagged his eyebrows. That’s not the order of importance for me anymore though.

Billy may no longer be the spindly teen Colt remembered, but it was indeed, his light-hearted little brother who sat beside him.

You told me once your company’s doing well. If this truck is any indication, then I’d have to agree. Maybe you need a partner? he chuckled then teased, Where’s the fancy suit and sports car, though?

Ouch. Certain Billy had not meant it as a dig, the clothes and car reference stung. One thing his father often voiced, the uselessness and dislike of those exact possessions. Uncomfortable talking about himself, Colt made no comment.

In the yard, he parked beside the big house, one of three property residences. He had forgotten how impressive the whole setup was.

Go on in, suggested Billy. I’ll put my tools away and be right there.

For a moment, he sat and admired the two-story structure, letting it take him back in time. When he climbed the few steps to the landing it stirred an odd, fleeting tentativeness, of being a stranger in the house he grew-up in. He opened the screen door, and a pleasing country melody came from the kitchen radio. An off-key woman sang along, which meant Mabel worked nearby. Upon him entering the room she stood at the counter, her back to him. In rhythm with the music, she pressed her weight into a mound of dough, kneading it. Hello Mabel. he called, over the classic tune playing.

With a start, the woman spun. In an instant, a broad smile replaced alarm. The ball of dough dropped onto the floured surface with a thump. Her arms went wide, as she hurried forward and engulfed Colt in an endearing embrace.

She shuffled back and cradled his face in messy hands. Colt, Her eyes glistened with moisture. It’s so wonderful to have you home.

Touched and amused, he brushed powder residue from where the contact with her apron left traces of flour on his shirt. It’s good to see you too and be home. His tone expressed his adoration for the housekeeper who raised him and his brother since their mother died, soon after Billy’s birth.

She cranked down the radio volume, grabbed a clean towel, and wiped off smudges her hands left on his cheeks. We weren’t expecting you until later tonight. She pointed to the table. Sit, can I get you a drink, something to eat?

No thanks, I’m good.

Her features sobered. I’m very sorry about your father, dread vibrated the words. It was a terrible shock. Her eyes misted, and her gaze dropped to the towel she crumpled and wrung in her hands.

Thanks, soothed Colt. Their eyes met again. Mabel, I don’t know what you heard, but I never received word until the other day. It was important that she believed him, not the story of him being too busy to care.

The screen door creaked open and clicked closed. Billy joined them.

Even with the age difference between brothers they had grown up close. Since Colt had left for college, all communication transpired by phone. A result fueled by busy schedules, tenacity on Colt’s part, and Billy’s responsibilities and dedication to the ranch.

Hesitantly, Billy extended his hand. Welcome home.

He accepted the firm shake. They stood silent, face to face, hands still clasped. A rare smile of late appeared before he pulled Billy into a back pounding hug which evaporated the awkward tension.

So, do you want a grand tour of the place to refresh your memory?

Positive he could still negotiate the ranch layout with his eyes closed, he caught Billy’s obvious pride, and the youthful enthusiasm enticed him to agree.

Side by side they crossed the wide yard. Billy pointed and explained changes whether big or small. Colt responded a heartfelt, The place looks real good.

Their progress stopped when they reached a large corral. The men’s attention went to the couple of prized bulls as they ambled inside.

Footfalls sounded behind them and increased in intensity, in unison they turned.

Deep smile lines wrinkled the newcomer’s eyes at the corners. He grasped Colt’s hand and began a vigorous pump action. Well, I’ll be! The greeting became two-handed. It’s been too long, Colt. How the heck are you?

With his hand still sandwiched in the older man’s hearty squeeze, he replied, Hello Rusty. Yes, it has been far too long. I’m doing fine. He gave a polite once-over to Mabel’s husband, the ranch foreman. You’re looking good.

I’ve been holding my own. His smile faded, and he cleared his throat, Sure am sorry about your dad.

Genuine sadness tightened the man’s features. Thanks. I know how close you two were.

Rusty bowed his head, but when he looked up again, the visible pain had cleared. Hey Billy, the boys are still out checking the pastures but I can give you a hand with the horses.

Nah, that’s okay. You go ahead and feed the cows. Billy’s glance went from Rusty to Colt. I guess I’ll see you later at the house?

I didn’t come back to sit on my a– Colt didn’t complete the word because he heard his father reprimand him for being vulgar around elders. He scowled though. I doubt I have forgotten how to do chores.

Billy gave a flippant shrug. Hey, I won’t turn down free help. Are you sure your city boy hands are up for it?

Don’t worry yourself. I even remember where the extra gloves are kept.

Rusty’s lip twitched as he left muttering, It’s good to have you boys together again.

Billy slapped his brother’s shoulder. Come on then. Let’s see if you can still handle a pitchfork and bucket.

The moment Colt entered the barn, he lingered in the entrance, his senses in overdrive. Few people would understand the deep appreciative inhale in response, but the mixed scent of horses, leather, aromatic hay, and aged wood compounded and grounded him as nothing else could.

Although long ago, the hours of experience the brothers had working together made it easy to fall into an old routine, each doing duties with no need for directions.

Once they had the stalls bedded with feed in them they were ready for the occupants. Billy disappeared out the back door where anxious animals waited. Trained by habit, each horse entered the