Her Last Chance Cowboy

by Tina Radcliffe

  “I’m eight weeks.” Hannah placed a hand to her stomach. “I can barely zip up my jeans.”

  “You’re slim as can be.”

  A knock at the door interrupted the conversation and had all heads turning. “Come on in,” Rue called.

  Tripp opened the door and removed his hat. The lean cowboy stood in the threshold surrounded by the morning sunlight. The man had to be at least six foot five. An inch or so more and he’d hit his head on that low doorway. He ducked as he entered the kitchen. The man had a thick head full of toffee-colored hair, trimmed short and neat.

  When Tripp turned a bit more, Hannah noted that with his stubbled shadow and strong jawline, he was almost perfectly handsome. The scar running down his face only added to his rugged and dangerous appeal.

  Appeal in general, she corrected herself. Not appealing to her. Nope. Things only became complicated when there was a man in her life.

  She placed a protective hand on her abdomen when Tripp’s frosty blue eyes assessed Hannah with an expression she couldn’t define. It seemed the man was constantly sizing her up and each time she fell short.

  “Coffee, Tripp?” Rue asked.

  He held up a hand. “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Horses. Horses. Horses,” Clementine chanted. She jumped up from her chair.

  “Hold it right there,” Hannah said. “Clear your place setting and thank Miss Rue for breakfast.”

  “Thank you, Miss Rue.” Clementine put her silverware on her plate, turned to the sink and stopped. “I can’t reach the sink.”

  Before Hannah could even get out of her seat, Tripp had gently lifted the little girl to the stainless steel sink.

  “Thank you.” Clementine giggled.

  Tripp turned to Hannah as he lowered her daughter to the floor. “Ready to go?”

  “Yes. Let me get our sweaters.”

  “Does she have any other shoes besides sneakers?” Tripp asked.

  “Oh, I didn’t even think... Clemmie, go put on your cowboy boots.”

  Clementine nodded and raced from the room, happy to return wearing her scuffed Western boots. The pint-sized show-off did a little jig of a dance ending with a small, “Ta-da!”

  “You’re a real cowgirl, aren’t you?” Tripp said with a wide grin.

  Hannah nearly fell over at the smile that lifted the corners of the cranky cowboy’s mouth. It was a genuine smile that transformed the stone-etched face into swoon-worthy. For a fleeting moment, Hannah longed to make Tripp Walker smile again.

  Then she remembered that believing in white knights who came with happy endings was how she’d gotten derailed in the first place.

  Hannah followed Tripp and Clementine out the door. She couldn’t keep up with his long strides, but her daughter skipped and jumped across the yard to the stables, splashing in a few mud puddles on the way, with joy shining on her face.

  Tripp stood at the entrance of the big building, allowing them to enter the stables first. Hannah stopped and met his gaze. “Thank you for keeping your word. That’s a novelty in my world.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” His eyes skimmed over her. “You said you’re comfortable around horses, right?”

  “It’s been a long time, but yes.”

  “How long is a long time?”

  When she paused to think, a rope of melancholy tugged at her. There were very few things from her past that pulled at her heart. Her horse was one of those. But when she’d walked away from her grandmother, she’d walked away from everything her money could buy. “It’s been more than seven years. A beautiful mare named Sage.”

  “What happened?”

  “That’s a story for another day.” She stepped into the building, her boots echoing on the floor. The place was abuzz with activity. “Why are things so busy on a Saturday?”

  He shrugged. “The usual. Lessons are scheduled Monday through Saturday. Most of the kids and staff sign up for recreational rides, as well.”

  She offered a small nod.

  “I manage the equestrian center located on each ranch. We house over twenty ranch horses, plus those owned by the staff.”

  “That’s a lot of horses and a lot of work,” Hannah said. Her grandmother hired a team of grooms for her stables.

  “The kids muck and groom as part of their daily chores.”

  “I’m sure that’s helpful, but someone has to manage the entire program, including veterinarian visits, feed, supplies and the day-to-day issues.”

  He stared at her, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

  “I worked for the manager at an equine clinic long ago,” she admitted. “Which may come in handy as your assistant.”

  “So you said.” He paused. “That starts on Monday.” Tripp offered a dismissive nod, before he turned to her daughter. “Miss Clementine, would you like to ride today?”

  “Oh, yes, please, Mr. Tripp. I’ve never been on a real horse.” She cocked her head and pursed her mouth for a moment. “Do you have any pink horses?”

  “We don’t, but I have a nice horse named Grace who would like to be your friend.”

  “Okay.”

  Once again, Clementine’s short legs skipped to catch up to Tripp. Hannah’s jaw nearly dropped when her daughter put her little hand in Tripp’s and followed him. Clementine was friendly by nature, but this...this was unusual.

  As she followed, Hannah spotted the tack room next to an office with glass windows all around. The sign on the door read Tripp Walker, Manager. They stopped at the last stall on the left where a chalkboard on the outside of the stall had Grace printed in white letters.

  “Do you want to introduce yourself and Clementine to Grace while I grab some equipment?” Tripp asked.

  “Oh, yes. Sure,” Hannah returned.

  “Mommy,” Clementine whispered. “I’m really going to ride a horse?”

  “You are.” Hannah knelt down next to her daughter. “It’s very important that you follow all of Mr. Walker’s instructions today.”

  Clementine gave a solemn nod and then frowned. “His name is Mr. Tripp, Momma.”

  “Mr. Tripp.” Hannah barely resisted rolling her eyes. “I’m going to lift you up so you can pet the horse’s nose. Talk to her and say hello. Be very gentle.”

  Clementine reached toward Grace without hesitation. She stroked the animal’s chestnut nose, her fingers lingering on the white patch of her forehead. “Hi, Miss Grace. My name is Clementine,” she soothed, like an old pro.

  The animal gave a nicker and nudged at Clementine’s hand.

  Clementine’s eyes popped wide, and she giggled. “Momma, she likes me.”

  “Why wouldn’t she?” Tripp asked from behind them. He held a saddle, a blanket and a currycomb. “Come on, we’ll get Grace ready to ride and I’ll take you both for a little walk.”

  “Oh, I hate to take you away from your work,” Hannah said. “I can do that.”

  He looked at her and seemed to be searching for a response. “Sometimes, I like to be taken away from my work.”

  “We’ve already imposed,” Hannah protested.

  Tripp cleared his throat. “Ma’am, there’s a liability issue here.”

  “But I’m about to be an employee.” She paused. “At least temporarily.”

  “Monday. After you fill out the paperwork and such on Monday, you’ll be official and all.”

  Hannah swallowed and stepped back. “So I have to trust you with my daughter for now?”

  “Yes, ma’am. You can watch from outside the corral.”

  Could she trust Tripp Walker with that which was most precious to her? Clementine was the reason she’d been on the run for the past nearly seven years. Leaving Colorado, she knew that their running had come to an end and that eventually, she’d have to trust someone. Maybe Big Heart Ranch was the place to start. Af
ter all, this ranch was all about trust and second chances, wasn’t it?

  She met Tripp Walker’s steady gaze and nodded. “Okay.”

  Tripp lifted a grinning Clementine from the saddle and set her on the ground in the stables.

  “How’d the ride go?” Rue asked as she entered the building.

  “This little cowgirl is a natural,” he said.

  “I expected as much.” Rue turned to Hannah. “I’ve got some friends to visit over at the chicken coop. Mrs. Carmody and the rest of the girls. I thought Clementine might like to join me. Would that be all right with you, Hannah?”

  “I, um...” Hannah blinked, eyes wide, obviously caught off guard.

  “Oh, yes. Please, Momma. It will be all right. I’ll be good.” Clementine’s brown eyes begged as loud as her entreaty.

  Tripp narrowed his gaze. The single mother didn’t like to be separated from her baby. Had he misjudged her? Time would tell.

  Hannah nodded and offered Rue a shaky smile. “Sure, okay.”

  When Tripp led Grace to her stall, Hannah followed. She cleared her throat. “I’ll untack the horse. It’s the least I can do, and clearly, Grace is no threat.”

  He glanced from Grace to Hannah and nodded his approval. “Let me know if you need anything.” Tripp turned and headed to his office. “I’ve got to make a few calls.”

  Tripp settled into his desk chair and stared at his cell phone. He wrestled the merits of an idea brewing in the back of his mind and finally punched in the number.

  A moment later, the sound of boots pounding through the stables could be heard. Dutch Stevens planted himself outside Tripp’s office and knocked on the open door with his fist. The old cowboy pushed his ancient straw cowboy hat to the back of his head and stroked his gray mustache. “I need some help outside.”

  “Give me a minute.”

  “A minute? I don’t have a minute. I’ve got a mean horse you bought who’s trying to bust out of the trailer. What I need is another hand.”

  Though Tripp stood and kicked the office door closed with the toe of his boot, he could still hear Dutch griping through the glass as his cell connected.

  “Hello?” the raspy voice on the phone said into Tripp’s ear.

  “Slats, this is Walker over at Big Heart Ranch. I need a favor.”

  “Guess I owe you a few, don’t I?” Slats Milburn returned.

  “I need a discreet background check.”

  “I’m always discreet.”

  “Good to know.” He took a deep breath. “The name is Hannah Vincent.”

  Tripp swiveled his chair in time to see Hannah and Dutch talking outside Grace’s stall. His trouble radar began to sound when Hannah tossed her sweater onto a wall peg and followed Dutch outside.

  A moment later, a loud crash and bang of metal filled the stables, echoing over the noise of the riders and horses. Staff and children raced down the center aisle and poured into the sunlight to see what was going on.

  “I gotta go. I’ll text you the details.” Tripp dropped the phone on his desk and wove past people crowded in the stable doorway.

  Outside in the gravel parking area, Hannah Vincent lay on the ground with her posterior in a mud puddle while Dutch struggled to lead a rambunctious horse to the corral. Tripp stepped up to the horse, whose ears were snapped forward, his head up and the whites of his eyes bright as he whinnied in protest.

  “What happened?” Tripp demanded.

  Dutch grimaced. “Rowdy here kicked open the trailer same time I was opening the door. Horse exploded out of there. Door flew open and Miss Hannah went flying.”

  Hannah blinked and sat up. She shoved her dark hair from her eyes and brushed red dirt from her hands. “Sorry, I wasn’t much help, Dutch.”

  “Aw, not your fault.”

  Tripp moved to Hannah’s side, belatedly remembering that the woman was pregnant. When he did, it was a punch to his gut. “What were you thinking?” The words came out sharper than he intended.

  “I said I’m fine,” she answered.

  Tripp and Dutch stood over Hannah, each offering a hand and helping her to her feet.

  Dutch chuckled. “Never seen anyone go flying like that before.”

  “Yeah. We’ll talk about that later,” Tripp growled. He moved near the excited horse and spoke in soothing tones before he moved closer and started scratching and petting around the withers. As the horse stilled, Tripp rubbed him between the eyes. “It’s going to be okay, buddy.”

  Tripp handed the horse off to a wrangler and turned back to Hannah.

  “Got a few scratches on your arm, Hannah,” Dutch said. The old cowboy grimaced, his eyes filled with concern. “That’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

  She raised her arms and sure enough, gravel and dirt were embedded in scratches on the backside of her right forearm. Tripp cringed at the sight. She’d gotten hurt on his watch.

  “I’m okay,” Hannah repeated firmly. She slapped at her backside and straightened her blouse.

  “We’ll let Rue decide that,” Tripp said. “She’s the staff doctor. For now, we can clean it up and put on a little antiseptic ointment.” He gave a curt nod toward the stables.

  “Your concern is overwhelming,” Hannah murmured drily as she followed him.

  “Rinse your arm in the sink over there.” Tripp cocked his head to the right. “Then come into my office. I have a first aid kit.”

  Minutes later, Hannah sat in Tripp’s office staring at the wall as she held her arm up.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  He removed the cover from the antibiotic ointment and glanced up at the wall. She was staring at the poster for the 100-Day Mustang Challenge.

  “Just what it says. One hundred days to gentle, halter break, saddle train, and build trust with a horse.”

  “Do you get to keep the horse when you’re done?”

  “Nope. End of the hundred days there’s big grand finale competition and the animals are auctioned off by the Bureau of Land Management.”

  “So what’s the point?”

  “It’s for a good cause. Re-homing mustangs, raising money to start the process all over again.”

  “All good, but that’s it?” Hannah said.

  “Braggin’ rights. To say you’ve done it.”

  “And have you? Done it before?”

  “No time.” He shrugged. “Been on my bucket list for a while.”

  “What’s the prize money for something like that?” she asked.

  “This year, fifty grand.”

  Her eyes rounded. “That could buy a lot of buckets.”

  “Lift your arm,” he said.

  She complied, and he examined the abrasion. When he shifted his gaze sideways, he could see her long lashes resting on her flushed cheeks. Hannah’s full mouth was set in a tight line as he applied the ointment. Tripp worked to gentle his touch, reminding himself it didn’t matter how long her lashes were or how smooth her skin.

  Except, the truth was, something about Hannah Vincent made him think about and feel things he hadn’t considered in a long time. He quickly gave himself a reality check. Hannah’s character was still under question. If the woman had secrets, Slats would find out exactly what they were.

  Tripp’s gaze wandered to the sweet curve of Hannah’s neck. He glanced away, praying that Slats would be quick with his research.

  And what if Hannah is as innocent as she appears? Tripp shot back at the errant thought, telling himself that the truth was, beautiful women didn’t look twice at scarred men. They went for the pretty guys like Travis.

  He wrapped Hannah’s arm with gauze and taped the edges before stepping clear and putting plenty of space between them. “All done. Rue can check your arm when she and Clementine get back.”

  Hannah raised her arm and assessed his work. “Thank y
ou.”

  “No problem,” he said with a quick glance. Before he was able to look away, she met his gaze.

  “Why do you keep looking at me like I’m a particularly annoying bug on your windshield?” she asked quietly.

  “Didn’t notice that I was.” He sat down in his chair and put the ointment in the first aid kit, feigning nonchalance at her challenge.

  “I’m not planning to sue you for a little scratch on my arm, so you can relax.”

  He was silent, knowing that she was spoiling for a fight.

  “You’ve got something on your mind,” Hannah continued. “You have since I arrived.” She eyed him up and down. “You don’t look like someone who plays games, so maybe you should just spit it out.”

  Tripp leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He prided himself on being a man of few words, but the woman was a burr under his saddle and for the first time in a long time, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

  “I keep asking myself what was so important that you had to risk yourself and your daughter in a storm yesterday and how a smart woman like yourself ran out of gas.”

  “I bought the car in Denver. Turns out the gas gauge sticks at times. Usually at the wrong times. Like Friday.”

  He gave a slow, considering nod.

  “As for the other...do you have family?” She didn’t wait for a response but plowed right ahead. “I found out forty-eight hours ago that I might. That was enough to put me on I-70 at noon on a Thursday headed to Oklahoma. Believe it or not, and I imagine you will choose not to, I was unaware that I was in the path of a tornado.”

  Tripp didn’t know what to say to the outburst. But it didn’t matter because Hannah Vincent wasn’t done yet.

  “It’s clear you’re determined to think the worst of me, Mr. Walker. It’s a good thing I don’t answer to you.”

  “You will,” he murmured. “Come Monday.”

  When her face paled, remorse poked him in the chest. Now he’d gone and done it. Acted like a mule.

  Why was this particular woman so good at pushing buttons he didn’t even know he still had available to push? He stood and cleared his throat. “Excuse me. I’ve got work to do.” Tripp felt her gaze staring him down as he left the office, but he had to get out of there before he shoved both of his boots in his mouth and discovered a perfect fit.