Page 29

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Maxwell spoke from beside her as Paisley and Weston took the lead.

“It really is. There are so many shades of fall colors. They’re so vibrant.”

“I love the smell of the forest, too. The fir trees and spruce.”

Eryn sniffed. “And… vanilla?”

Maxwell brightened. “That’s the sweetgrass the ranch is named for. It grows in low-lying areas like over there near the lake.” He pointed left of the trail.

“I’ve heard of it. It grows in parts of Kansas, too, but not near Gilead that I know of.”

“It blooms in spring, and the fragrance is strongest after rains. Now it’s drying on the stem, and that has its own aroma. The indigenous peoples used it for medicinal and ceremonial purposes.”

“It smells lovely. I can see where it got its name.” Eryn mulled it for a moment. “Is it protected?”

“Protected?” Maxwell shifted in his saddle as he looked at her. “You mean like endangered? Not at all. It’s hardy and grows everywhere. Why?”

“I was just wondering.” Should she tell him her idea? He could only agree or laugh, right? “I thought it might make nice sachets for linen closets.”

“Smart thought!” He looked at her with admiration. “We could sell them in the gift shop.”

“There’s a gift shop?” She’d noticed a sign inside the lodge, but no evidence one actually existed.

“It’s closed over the winter. We’ve never really gotten it going well, though. A local potter has some items there, but honestly, it’s mostly full of leftover trinkets from the ranch’s previous owners.”

“There’s a lot you could do with the Sweet River name. It would just take some brainstorming and creativity.”

He chuckled. “Do I hear a volunteer? Because no one has been inspired thus far.”

Eryn stared at him until he turned to look at her again.

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

“Volunteer?”

He shook his head slightly, clearly not understanding. “We pay a manager, of course, but even that hasn’t been a great fit. You want the job? Tell Tate about your ideas. He’d probably let you run with it.”

“You said volunteer.” She’d probably be too busy working in the kitchen to take on unpaid projects, but that was only part-time for the winter.

“I meant some of our staff kind of pick the area they’d like to work. I didn’t mean it would be gratis on top of your regular job.”

“But I was hired for the kitchen.”

“That’s part-time only and, uh…” Maxwell scratched the back of his neck.

“And what?” she asked suspiciously.

“Aunt Nadine doesn’t really need help, though she’s happy to have it.”

Eryn’s gut clenched. “You hired me for a nonexistent job?”

He grimaced. “Not that exactly. There will be plenty to do, but don’t feel like you need to stay in the kitchen unless you love it there.”

Clarity formed. “You offered me a job because you wanted my dad to come.”

“Well, yes, at first, but?—”

Eryn kneed Mirage’s sides, and the mare shifted into a trot. Eryn clung to the saddle horn at the horse’s jolting stride.