A Rancher to Trust

by Laurel Blount

  It wasn’t just the store. She’d been feeling restless for about a year now, ever since bookstore owner Anna Delaney had married Hoyt Bradley. Since then, Anna and Hoyt had welcomed their first baby together. Another friend, pastor’s wife Natalie Stone, was expecting her second child in a few months. And Emily Whitlock had not one but two sets of twins to take care of, in addition to managing the local coffee shop.

  Bailey was over-the-moon happy for them all, but lately she’d felt her usual zest for life ebbing a bit. Okay. A lot. It was just that, compared to all the exciting and meaningful stuff going on with her friends, Bailey’s life had seemed a little...

  Boring.

  Well, not anymore. Not since she’d gone to that informational meeting about foster parenting hosted by Anna’s bookstore, Turn the Page.

  Bailey had only gone to help Anna with the refreshments and to support Jillian Marshall, the local social worker who was giving the presentation. Bailey had never expected to walk out of there with a packet of paperwork clutched in her hand and a new dream burning in her heart.

  But she had. The pictures of those little faces had stirred up a dream she’d given up on a long time ago. As the “surprise” only child of older parents, Bailey had longed for brothers and sisters. She’d promised herself that someday she’d raise a big, rambunctious family of her own—preferably on a farm with plenty of animals and homegrown vegetables.

  At the time, of course, she’d assumed she’d share that life with...somebody special.

  That part hadn’t worked out the way she’d hoped. But according to Jillian, single women could be foster moms. That nugget of information was a game changer. Bailey could build her dream family all by herself by giving a loving home to kids who needed one.

  And since she couldn’t do that in a cramped apartment, Bailey’s first order of business had been sinking all her savings into a down payment on the biggest house with the largest acreage she could afford. Which also happened to be a really old house that needed an awful lot of work.

  Jillian had shaken her head when Bailey had given her a tour. “Honey, I hate to tell you, but this place is going to have to be overhauled from top to bottom if you want to pass the home-study safety inspection.”

  Bailey hadn’t flinched, even though her bank account was anemic now. “No problem. Just tell me what I need to do, and I’ll find a way to do it.”

  “Well, for starters, you’re going to have to put a fence around that pond there. Bodies of water have to be fenced off. It’s a rule.”

  When Abel had heard about that, he’d trucked over some extra fencing material he’d had on hand. Bailey had argued, but all she’d gotten was a lecture on looking gift horses in their mouths.

  So fencing was today’s project. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going well, even without the impromptu calf chases. So far, she’d gotten exactly three fence posts in, and she’d been at it for an hour and a half. She definitely had her work cut out for her.

  But first she had to catch that ridiculous calf. The question was, how?

  As she walked by the barn, an idea struck her. She ducked inside and scooped a small amount of grain into a bucket.

  When she rounded the side of the house, she saw Lucy standing in the front yard, nosing the water bottle along the ground. When the calf heard Bailey approaching, the animal picked up her stolen toy and tensed, ready to scamper off again.

  “See what I have?” Bailey rattled the bucket.

  The calf took three curious steps in her direction and halted. Bailey shook the grain again. That did it. Lucy dropped the bottle and trotted in Bailey’s direction. Bailey backed up slowly, leading the calf toward the barn and jiggling her bucket enticingly with every step.

  Five minutes later, Bailey was latching the big wooden doors behind her and dusting off her hands.

  One problem solved, fifty bazillion to go. And she had no idea how she was going to manage most of them.

  But, she reminded herself, Jacob Stone’s last sermon had been all about how God often called ill-equipped people to do His work. “If you feel like what you’re being called to do is impossible but is something the world needs, you’re probably on the right track,” the minister had said. “Just focus on doing what you can and trust Him for the rest of it. And always be prepared for Him to work things out differently than you might expect.”

  Well, Bailey couldn’t wait to see what God was going to do with her situation, and if He wanted to tuck some surprises in along the way, that was fine by her. After a year of feeling purposeless and bored, this excitement was a welcome change.

  On her way across the yard, she stooped and picked up Lucy’s discarded plastic bottle. Returning to her fence, she stashed the slobbery container next to the last post she’d managed to get in and pulled on her work gloves. She hefted up her new post-hole diggers and focused on the spot she’d marked for the next post. Raising the heavy diggers as high as she could, she rammed them downward, biting into the soft brown soil.

  She’d clamped out three more skimpy scoops of dirt when she heard the sound of a vehicle crunching up her rutted driveway. She turned to see a silver Ford pickup nosing its way toward her.

  Just what she didn’t need right now. Company. Oh well. Maybe it was a friend she could draft into helping her get this fence up while they visited.

  Bailey’s eyes narrowed as she got a better look at the truck. She knew pretty much everybody’s vehicle around here, but she didn’t recognize this one. It was a newer model, but it had the dings and scrapes of a work truck. She squinted, but the afternoon sun was glaring off the windshield. All she could tell about the driver was that he was wearing a cowboy hat.

  Definitely not from around here, then.

  Curious now, she studied the approaching vehicle, stripping off her canvas gloves and dropping them on the ground. Who could this cowboy be, and what was he doing way out here?

  Only one way to find out. The truck rolled to a stop, and Bailey headed toward it. The driver unfolded himself from the cab when she was about half the way across the yard. He was tall and lean, but there was a muscular set to his shoulders. Too bad she didn’t know him. This guy could probably set a fence post in no time.

  “Hey, there,” she called in a friendly voice. “You lost?”

  The man had been scanning her place, but he turned his head toward her when she spoke. When he did, more than fifteen years of Bailey’s life crumbled away, leaving her face-to-face with a part of her past she’d tried very hard to forget.

  Dan Whitlock.

  Bailey stumbled to a halt, not quite believing her eyes. But it was true. After all these years, Dan was standing in her driveway.

  For the past couple of days, ever since she’d dialed the Wyoming number she’d found on the internet, Bailey had been jumping every time her phone rang. She’d wondered if Dan would even call her back—and how she’d handle it if he did.

  But he hadn’t called her back. He’d shown up in person.

  She had absolutely no idea what to do right now.

  He touched the brim of his hat. “Ma’am.” The voice was definitely Dan’s, but the gentle drawl of the deep South had been melded with something else, something stronger and brisker. “I’m sorry to trouble you, but a fellow back in town told me I might find a girl named Bailey Quinn up this way. Would you happen to know where she lives?”

  Bailey had to swallow twice before she could speak. “It’s me,” she managed finally. “Dan, it’s me.”

  “Bailey?” As Dan moved toward her, she saw that his voice wasn’t the only thing that had changed. He walked with the rolling gait of a man accustomed to spending a good portion of his day on horseback, and he limped a little on his left leg.

  As he came close, he pulled the hat off his head. Not everything about him had changed. His hair was still the same dark mahogany, its waves pressed flat against h
is head. The same greenish-brown eyes skimmed over her, head to toe, before meeting her own.

  He looked every bit as dumbfounded as she felt.

  “It is you! Man, I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you at first. You look so...different.” His eyes dropped to the teeth that had endured five long years of belated braces to correct her overbite.

  Now that he was standing right in front of her, the memories Dan had jarred loose felt even more overwhelming. Her heart was thudding so hard it actually hurt.

  Bailey took a deep breath. Settle down, she told herself firmly. You can handle this.

  She could. She didn’t just look different. She was different. The night Dan had left her had marked the lowest point in her life. But after a few weeks of wallowing in self-pity, she’d washed her tear-splotched face and decided enough was enough.

  Over the next few months, she’d toned up, given up sugar, ditched her glasses for contacts and straightened her crooked teeth. And while everybody else raved over how different she looked, Bailey knew the really important changes had happened on the inside.

  She stood on her own two feet now, and she trusted her head a lot more than she trusted her heart. She’d learned those lessons the hard way, and she couldn’t afford to forget them, no matter who pulled up in her driveway.

  She forced a shrug. “It’s been a long time, Dan. People change.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “I guess they do.”

  An awkward silence fell between them. Finally, Bailey raised an eyebrow. “Well, now that the pleasantries are out of the way, I guess we can move on to the main event. Why are you here, Dan?”

  “You called me.”

  “I called you,” Bailey repeated. He made it sound so simple, as if the two of them facing each other after all this time wasn’t the most complicated thing that had ever happened in her entire life. Her jangled nerves found that ridiculously funny. She tried her best to swallow her laugh, but it just came out through her nose in a strangled snort. “And instead of—I don’t know—calling me back, you decided to drive all the way here from Wyoming?”

  “I wasn’t in Wyoming. I was in Oklahoma tending to some business. Not that it would have mattered.” He drew in a long breath. “I’d have driven here from Alaska, if that’s where I’d been. You and I both know that I owe you that much. At least.”

  “Maybe you do.” Bailey saw no point in skirting the truth. “But I gave up on collecting that debt a long time ago.”

  He didn’t flinch. “I figured. That’s how I knew this had to be about something important. You’d never have called me otherwise. It’s true, what you said a minute ago. People do change. I’ve changed. I don’t expect you to take my word on that, but it’s why I’m here. So just tell me what you need from me. If there’s any way I can give it to you, it’s yours. No questions asked.”

  Bailey’s knees had started wobbling, and that irritated her. The unfairness of this whole situation irritated her. She wasn’t supposed to be standing two feet away from Dan while they had this conversation. All of this was supposed to happen over the phone, and that would have been plenty tough enough, thank you very much.

  She wasn’t prepared for this.

  But she should have been. She, of all people, should have known that Dan Whitlock had a knack for sending a person’s well-crafted plans spinning sideways.

  She clamped her hands together, digging her short fingernails into her palms. “I’m glad to hear you say that, Dan. Because the truth is, you’re right. There is something I need from you.”

  “Okay.” His eyes never left hers. “Name it.”

  “A divorce.”

  Chapter Two

  He couldn’t have heard that right. “A what?”

  “A divorce,” Bailey repeated.

  “But we’re not still...” He stalled out, searching her face. “I mean, didn’t you...?” He watched as a flush heated Bailey’s cheeks. “Bailey, are you telling me we’re still married?”

  “Yes.” There was a little muscle twitching in her cheek, but she held her ground. “I don’t know why you’re acting so surprised. You were there.”

  “But that was years ago.” He stopped and shook his head. “I figured you’d have dealt with it, had it annulled or whatever people do. In fact, I was pretty sure that was the first thing you’d have done after I...left.”

  The flush in Bailey’s cheeks deepened. “Better late than never.”

  Dan searched his mind for something to say, but he came up with nothing. “Maybe I was a little quick on the trigger with that no-questions-asked thing. Is there someplace we could sit down while we talk this over?”

  Bailey hesitated then nodded reluctantly. “We can sit on the porch if you want, but there’s really not much to talk about. The whole thing should be very straightforward.”

  Straightforward wasn’t the word Dan would have picked. He’d been trampled by bulls and walked away feeling more clearheaded than he felt right now.

  All these years, he’d been married to Bailey Quinn? It was more than he could take in. The feelings he’d kept corralled in the deepest part of his heart were stampeding in fifty different directions. The dust was going to have to settle some before he could make sense of all of this.

  He hadn’t even wrapped his mind around the fact that the woman standing in front of him was really Bailey. She looked so different from the girl he remembered.

  Back in high school she’d carried a few extra pounds that softened her figure, and her front teeth had been a little crooked. She’d always worn a pair of dark-rimmed glasses that had slid to the end of her nose about every five minutes. She was forever pushing them back up with an impatient finger, and he was forever plucking them off so that he could steal a kiss.

  All those things had just made Bailey cuter.

  He could think of a lot of words to describe Bailey now, but cute wasn’t one of them. This new Bailey was lean and fit, with perfectly straight teeth and a don’t-mess-with-me way of looking straight at you.

  She was beautiful, sure. No man alive would dispute that. But it was a whole different kind of beauty than he remembered.

  Now this woman he barely recognized was telling him she was his wife?

  The man he’d spoken to back in town had told him Bailey had just bought this place. The closer Dan and Bailey got to the farmhouse, the more he wondered why. Bailey had her work cut out for her, all right. The house had good bones, but it needed lot of repairs.

  There were no chairs on the porch, so he settled carefully on the splintered steps. After an awkward pause, Bailey joined him. She positioned herself against the sagging wooden handrail, leaving a generous space between them. The shadow of the overhanging roof blocked the thin warmth of the January sun, but the sudden chill Dan felt had little to do with the weather.

  In the old days Bailey would have cuddled close to him, settling her head in the gap between his shoulder and his neck. He could still remember exactly how that had made him feel at nineteen. Fiercely protective and defiantly happy, at a time in his life when happiness had been pretty hard to come by.

  Now the very same girl was treating him like a stranger. He’d earned the coolness in those beautiful brown eyes, every bit of it.

  But, man, oh man. The pain of seeing it there was almost more than he could stand.

  Dan cleared his throat. “Okay. First off, how is this even possible?”

  Bailey cocked her eyebrows. “We eloped, Dan. To Tennessee, remember?”

  Yeah, he remembered. He’d just gotten dinged by the county sheriff for underage drinking again, and Bailey’s long-suffering parents had handed down an ultimatum. If he wanted to attend church with them, fine. That much they’d allow, although they didn’t sound too enthusiastic about the idea. But they made it clear that their daughter wasn’t to spend any more time alone with him. He wouldn’t be allo
wed to drive Bailey anywhere or take her out to dinner. It was plain enough that Mr. and Mrs. Quinn were more than ready to put a stop to a relationship they’d never really approved of in the first place.

  The idea of being separated from Bailey had sent Dan into a tailspin. She was the one good thing in his out-of-control life, the only person in the whole town who hadn’t heard his last name and shied away from him. But her parents, along with everybody else in Pine Valley, seemed sure that he and Abel would turn out to be drunks and thieves, just like their dad and uncles had been, and their granddad before that.

  And deep down, he’d been scared that—in his case, anyway—they were dead right. At nineteen, his drinking was already starting to get away from him, and he’d tangled with the law a few times. Nothing big, not yet. But without Bailey in his life...well, he’d known exactly what that would mean for him.

  He’d self-destruct fast.

  The fear had made him desperate and angry—and selfish. So selfish that one moonlit June night, he’d sweet-talked the eighteen-year-old girl he loved into leaving her parents’ tidy brick home and running away with him.

  He’d never forgive himself for that.

  Bailey was still waiting for his answer. He swallowed. “I know we were married. But we haven’t laid eyes on each other in years.”

  Bailey gave a frustrated laugh. “A marriage certificate doesn’t have an expiration date, Dan. It’s not a jug of milk.”

  “Well, no. But after I...” He stopped short.

  “Ran off and left me at that awful motel in Kentucky?” Bailey’s eyes hardened as she finished his sentence. “You thought that made the marriage evaporate? Well, it didn’t.”

  He winced. “You’ve got every right to be mad, Bailey. I deserve that for talking you into the whole elopement idea and then leaving you to clean up the mess all by yourself. I knew you’d have to do things. Fill out papers and all that. I’d always assumed that’s what you did.”

  “Trust me, I wish I had taken care of it back then, but I didn’t. So we have to deal with it now. Let’s stay focused on that.”