Her Last Chance Cowboy

by Tina Radcliffe

  She met his gaze.

  “Oh, it’s really happening, Tripp.”

  “Yeah. And the best part is that our place is right down the road from Big Heart Ranch.”

  Hannah nodded. Yes. She’d always be part of the ranch that gave her a second chance.

  “So what’s next?” she asked Tripp.

  “I’ll get you to sign the paperwork as co-owner of Walker Equine.”

  “Co-owner. I like that.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Me, too.”

  Hannah glanced at her watch. “We better head over to the chow hall. That meeting is in five minutes.”

  A small cry from baby Anne had their immediate attention.

  “Your daughter is awake,” Hannah said.

  “Do you want me to hold her?” he asked.

  “Yes, please. But let me warn you. She’s been a real squiggle bug today.”

  “That’s because she misses her daddy.”

  The five-month-old looked up at her father with adoring eyes. He took the baby from Hannah’s arms and cradled her against his chest like he’d been doing it all his life. He’d taken so quickly to fatherhood that Rue had dubbed him the baby whisperer.

  “What’s this meeting about?” Tripp asked.

  “It’s time to get ready for another year of events at Big Heart Ranch.”

  Clementine led the way to the chow hall. Just steps ahead of them, she skipped and sang a little song to herself.

  Tripp opened the big glass doors for them and then stepped inside where Lucy, Emma and Travis stood at the front of the room preparing for the meeting.

  Emma’s husband, Zach, walked back and forth, gently rocking five-month-old Zachary Steven Norman. His twin girls, Elizabeth and Rachel, followed him while chattering nonstop.

  Across the room, Jack Harris sat at a table feeding eighteen-month-old Daniel, while triplets Ann, Eva and Dub colored with crayons at the table.

  The double doors opened again, and AJ Maxwell walked in with Rue and Dutch. AJ carried little Barbara Ellin in her arms. The baby was now nine months old and, as predicted, with her golden curls and bright blue eyes, looked like she belonged on the cover of a parenting magazine.

  “Momma, may I go sit with Dub and his sisters?” Clementine asked.

  “Okay, but you have to be very quiet during the meeting.”

  “Yes, Momma.”

  Planning for another year at Big Heart Ranch included the staff Thanksgiving dinner, the Holiday Roundup, another summer of trail rides, vacation Bible school and the summer rodeo.

  All of this would be part of Hannah’s life for many years to come. Her children would grow up taking part in this ranch that healed so many hearts.

  It didn’t escape Hannah that Jake Maxwell had somehow managed to lead her to this place over thirty years ago by writing letters to her mother.

  Hannah sighed and reached for her husband’s hand.

  “I love you,” Tripp mouthed.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered. Her heart was full as she smiled at the cowboy she loved so very much.

  By the grace of God, she had been blessed with a second chance that took her to Timber, Oklahoma, and Big Heart Ranch. Home to the people who would be her forever family.

  Hannah had been wrong; love did heal all things.

  * * *

  If you loved this story, pick up the other books in the Big Heart Ranch series from beloved author Tina Radcliffe:

  Claiming Her Cowboy

  Falling for the Cowgirl

  Christmas with the Cowboy

  Available now from Love Inspired!

  Find more great reads at www.LoveInspired.com

  Keep reading for an excerpt from His Secret Daughter by Lisa Carter.

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  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for joining me for this final installment in the Big Heart Ranch series.

  Once again, we travel to Timber, Oklahoma, and the Maxwell family ranch for orphaned, abused and neglected children, where unconditional love and the good Lord reign.

  Tripp Walker and Hannah Vincent’s love story is perhaps one of my favorites as it represents the fears and insecurities we all battle.

  Writing this story was not without its challenges as I dug deep into their pasts to uncover the hurts and the dreams of two imperfect people made whole by God’s healing love as the Lord of second chances.

  I hope you enjoy this tender and romantic story and its wonderful and humorous supporting cast that includes the wise Rue Butterfield and hilariously cantankerous Dutch Stevens.

  Do drop me a note and let me know your thoughts. I can be reached through my website, www.tinaradcliffe.com, where you can also find Hannah and Tripp’s chili recipes. Additionally, Tripp was finally persuaded to share his secret carrot cake recipe.

  Enjoy!

  Sincerely,

  Tina Radcliffe

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired story.

  You believe hearts can heal. Love Inspired stories show that faith, forgiveness and hope have the power to lift spirits and change lives—always.

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  His Secret Daughter

  by Lisa Carter

  Chapter One

  Jake McAbee didn’t know much, but he did know when he was in the middle of nowhere.

  A place he’d been before. Many times, in fact. Like the derelict trailer park where he’d grown up. Or the jagged peaks of an Afghan mountain range. And today on a deserted road somewhere in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina.

  He slowed the truck, going as far as the pavement allowed on the dead-end road. Performing a U-turn, he cranked the wheel hard. If only getting free of his dead-end life was as easy as turning his truck around.

  Sighing, he palmed the wheel and headed out the way he’d come. He should’ve gone left at the fork. A mistake soon rectified. If only everything else wrong in his life was as easily fixed.

  Jake set his jaw. No more of that. The past needed to stay in the past. He was on his way to meet his baby girl for the first time. A child he’d learned about just a few months ago.

  Her mother had kept Maisie’s existence from him, a fact that opened a hollow place in his heart. He’d missed the first two and a half years of her life.

  But when Tiffany died—too young—of breast cancer, her best friend, Callie Jackson, had notified him that he had a daughter. He had been on a mission in a remote region of Afghanistan, so it had taken the army a while to get ahold of him.

  Gripping the wheel, he veered at the fork. He owed Callie big-time. Not only had she cared for his ex-wife during her illness, she’d also practically raised his daughter by herself in the last few months since Tiff’s death.

&n
bsp; He let out a breath, uncurling one hand. Flexing his fingers, he released his death grip on the steering wheel. Trying to relax. Trying to breathe.

  Even now, he could hardly believe he had a daughter. The thought filled him with both elation and fear. Fear that he’d fail Maisie as he’d failed her mother. But also joy for his precious daughter and the new beginning he was determined to make for them.

  A brand-new, wonderful life with his child.

  The towering peaks of the tree-studded Blue Ridge flashed by on either side of his truck. Descending into the valley, he emerged into slightly gentler terrain. The rolled hay bales of late summer dotted grassy meadows. Horses grazed in the pastures, and there was row after row of orchards. Callie had said the area was known for its apples.

  Per her directions, he skirted the town and its welcome marker proclaiming Truelove, North Carolina—Where True Love Awaits. But after his failed marriage—once burned, twice shy—the only true love he was interested in was the love of the daughter he had yet to meet.

  A couple of miles later he spotted the turnoff. Apple Valley Farm, a weathered sign read. He pulled off the main highway through the crossbars. Bypassing a rustic country store, he continued on the long gravel-covered road. The apple trees lining the driveway were heavy with ripening fruit. Queen Anne’s lace and purple wildflowers studded a nearby meadow.

  Overlooking the orchard, the tin roof of the two-story white farmhouse set high on a knoll gleamed in the afternoon sun and caused his breath to hitch. River stones lined the solid foundation and chimney. And at the heart of this home, a red-painted door bade a welcome to all.

  He braked on the incline, and dust swirled. An unfamiliar sensation burned in his chest. He’d never had a real home, certainly not one he was proud of. But if he’d ever imagined—dreamed—what home would look like, it might have resembled the Jackson farm.

  Jake’s stomach twisted. More than ever, he was glad Maisie had spent the first two years of her life here. One thing Tiffany had done right—coming to the orchard during her illness and then after her death leaving their daughter with the very capable Callie Jackson.

  Today he’d meet his daughter for the first time. But suppose Maisie didn’t like him? Suppose—

  Stop stalling, McAbee.

  He took a deep breath, easing his foot off the brake. He parked beside a blue Chevy sedan, a pink car seat strapped into the back seat. Thrusting open the truck door, he stepped out, his work boots crunching on the pebbled stone.

  A slim woman in a lavender shirt came out of the house onto the broad-planked porch. A year or two younger than his own twenty-eight years, she was tallish even in flats, perhaps five foot seven or so to his six-foot height. Masses of long auburn hair waved across her shoulders and framed her heart-shaped face.

  He recognized her from the photo in which she’d held his daughter. For the first time, he wondered who’d taken the picture. She’d never mentioned a husband. And before he could stop himself, his eyes darted to her left hand, clenched against her crisp jeans. Was she as nervous as he was?

  Jake shut the dinging truck door with a soft click. He didn’t move. Neither did Callie. But he waited for her to invite him over, as she’d invited him to come to Truelove and meet his daughter. Upon learning of his daughter’s existence and finishing his enlistment, he’d chosen not to re-up and had flown stateside.

  “Hi, Jake.” At the thready note in her voice, Callie cleared her throat. “Welcome to Apple Valley Farm.”

  Jake halted at the base of the steps. “Hi, Callie. And thank you.” His turn to swallow. “For everything.”

  She knotted her hands together. Her lovely brown eyes were red rimmed. She’d been crying.

  His heart banged against his rib cage. She’d been crying because of him. Because he’d come to claim his daughter, to take Maisie away forever.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, swiping a finger under her eye. “I’ve been trying not to let Maisie see me like this. It’s just so...” She bit her lip.

  “None of this is your fault, Callie.”

  She raised her tear-filled gaze to his, and his heart thudded. What was wrong with him? It wasn’t like Jake to get emotional.

  He’d learned the hard way—and early—never to get too attached. He must be tired. It had been a long drive from Fort Bragg to the mountains.

  She unknotted her hands, smoothing her shirt. “It’s not your fault, either, Jake.”

  He wasn’t sure that was entirely true. He’d spent years going over every detail of his short-lived union with Tiffany, but he’d never figured out what caused her to walk away from their marriage.

  Jake grimaced. “Tiffany should’ve never put you in this position. Maisie should’ve never been your responsibility.”

  “Maisie has never been a burden.” Callie lifted her chin. “She’s the joy of my life.”

  The front door creaked. An older man in his late fifties poked his head around the frame. “Maisie’s wondering where you are, honey.” He had the classic kind of blond attractiveness that aged well.

  Callie took a shuddery breath. “Jake, this is my father, Nash.” She gestured. “Dad, meet Jake McAbee, Maisie’s father.”

  Nash’s dark eyes took on a steely glint. “Takes more than biology to be a dad.”

  Callie gasped. “Daddy.”

  It was something Jake had learned firsthand from his own deadbeat dad.

  “Your father’s right.” He met Nash Jackson’s gaze head-on. “I didn’t know about Maisie before. But now...” He inhaled. “Now I intend to be not just her father, but her dad, too.”

  Callie motioned. “Come inside, Jake.”

  He followed her across the veranda. Boxes were stacked on the porch. A child-size suitcase. And what appeared to be a deconstructed crib.

  In the distance, he spied the smoky haze of the Blue Ridge vista. The wraparound porch allowed for incredible three-sixty views from every vantage point. Sunsets must be spectacular.

  She shouldered past her dad in the doorway. For a second he wondered if Nash would let him through, but her father stepped aside.

  “I’ll be out here.” Nash shoved off. “Loading Maisie’s things. Including the car seat.” He wasn’t talking to Callie. He was warning Jake.

  Behind the anger was also fear and hurt. Nash Jackson loved Maisie. It was Nash who’d given Jake’s child a safe, stable home.

  For that, Jake was grateful. And he was sorry for the pain his coming would bring the Jacksons, who’d done nothing but love his child.

  Stepping across the threshold, Jake found himself in a small foyer. Rooms bookended either side of the hall. Rigid with tension, Callie waited for him at the bottom of the staircase.

  “Cawee!” a little girl called from the back of the house.

  His heart went into overdrive. “Is that—” A lump formed in his throat.

  Callie tilted her head. “I told her she was going to meet her daddy today.”

  He had a hard time catching his breath.

  Callie motioned him down the hallway. “She’s playing in the family room.”

  The family room ran the length of the house. Windows lined the wall, spilling sunshine into the adjoining kitchen. And judging from the toys littering the pinewood floors, the room also served as a child’s playroom. But despite a quick scan, he failed to spot his daughter.

  A teasing look on her pretty features, Callie propped her hands on her hips. “Where, oh, where is Maisie Nicole McAbee?” she called in a singsong voice. “Where, oh, where can she be?”

  “Me here, Cawee.”

  A childish giggle erupted from behind the leather recliner, and a small child—all blond, bouncing curls—burst forth, her arms capturing Callie around the knees. His heart leaped in his chest.

  Callie kissed the top of the child’s—his child’s—head. “Someone’s he
re to see you, baby girl. Don’t be shy. Your daddy’s come a long way to meet you.”

  Slowly, the little girl raised her head. The photograph Callie sent hadn’t begun to capture the true essence of his daughter. With her finger stuck in the corner of her rosebud mouth, she contemplated her father with eyes so blue he feared he might drown in their azure depths.

  And, perhaps for the first time in his life, Jake McAbee truly fell hopelessly—helplessly—in love.

  * * *

  Callie watched the play of emotion across the ruggedly handsome soldier’s face. Was Jake McAbee a man who could be trusted with the well-being of the child she loved more than life itself?

  Maisie leaned against Callie while taking measure of her soldier father. Pain knifed through Callie’s heart. How could she bear to never see Maisie again? To not watch her grow up? To not be a part of her life?

  But the vulnerability and unconditional love in Jake McAbee’s face surprised Callie. In the photograph he’d sent of himself, he’d worn sand-colored combat fatigues, and an aloofness, too.

  A self-protective mechanism? A facade? If so, what had driven him to hide his real feelings?

  War? Or his failed relationship with his wife, Callie’s childhood friend, Tiff? Maybe both. Though Tiff had hinted that Jake’s remoteness predated her ever meeting the young soldier stationed in Fayetteville.

  No longer in uniform, he trembled slightly, swaying on the balls of his feet. Shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows revealed thickly corded forearms. His Adam’s apple bobbed above the open collar of his button-down, untucked shirt.

  A shirt as blue as his eyes. As blue as Maisie’s. She glanced from the child to the man. The two of them were locked in a silent, long-overdue perusal of each other.

  There could be no doubt Maisie belonged to Jake McAbee. The shape of her face. Underneath the bearded scruff on Jake’s jawline, a similar dimple in their chins. The nose.

  Or was she merely seeing what she wanted to see?

  She pushed aside her doubts about what Tiff had and hadn’t said. When Tiff had arrived at Apple Valley Farm she was already sick and pregnant. Callie had been by her side when Maisie was born. But in typical Tiff fashion, it had fallen to Callie to sort out the mess she’d left unfinished at her death a few months ago.