Weston's Trouble (Saddles & Second Chances Book 3)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  “Who’s the lucky lady?”

  “Her name is Brie. Maybe you’ll get to meet her.”

  Or maybe not because if he had his way, this would be the last time he saw her. A woman who treated him like yesterday’s news back when he cared—no, loved her—didn’t deserve a second chance. Not that she was looking for one.

  He heaved a relieved sigh when they pulled onto Tanner Ranch. He still had work to do and none of them included meandering down a path with a dead end. “Here you are. Home sweet home. If you need anything just give me a call.” Fuck! Why didn’t he keep his mouth shut?

  Her hand was on the door handle. “That’s not necessary. I’m sure I can take care of everything. You’ve helped enough.”

  “Okay, then. You take care of yourself, you hear?”

  “Sure thing.” She closed the door, grabbed her suitcase from the back and started for the overgrown walkway.

  He jammed the truck into drive and pulled away, but not before he caught a glimpse of Sam in the rearview mirror. She was standing and staring at the house as if she was about to cross into another world.

  Tearing his eyes away to the road ahead, he reminded himself a cowboy always needed to keep his attention on the present and future, not the past. The less he saw of the beautiful brunette, the less he had to face the questions he had filed away.

  *****

  The sun seemed to shine brighter here in Colton. And earlier.

  Grabbing her pillow, she covered her eyes, trying to fall back asleep, but it wasn’t happening. Reaching for her cell, Sammie glanced at the time and sighed. Six A.M... After tossing and turning most of the night, she was lucky if she’d managed to get three hours of sleep.

  Dressing and piling her hair in a bun, she headed downstairs. Stepping off the last rung of the stairs was like taking a trip in a time machine. The framed pictures of her hanging on the wall ranged from kindergarten to her college graduation. The antler chandelier, table and mahogany wooden floors were polished, telling her that her father still had Bessie coming in to help clean and cook. To her right, she peered into the living room, also clean and nothing out of order, and her heart squeezed, making it difficult to catch her breath. Her mother’s window seat that overlooked the flower garden was filled with overstuffed pillows. She’d sit for hours reading her paperback novels. Her mother loved a good romance. The flowered sofa and chair bracketed the fireplace, and a thick green throw tossed over the arm of the couch. The last few months of her mother’s life had been spent covered in that very blanket.

  A few steps took her into the large dining room where her mother’s elegant mahogany table and buffet were polished to a sheen. A vase filled with fresh flowers, certainly not placed there by her dad, stood in the center of the table, and behind the glass panels of the hutch she could see her mother’s prized antique china that had been handed down several generations. Sammie could count on one hand how many times they’d used the dishes, and the dining room used on special occasions. Her mother, who had been down to earth and spent most of her time with stained hands from working in the garden, liked having one fancy room to welcome special guests.

  Down the hall, she stepped into the kitchen and found her dad standing at the stove cooking bacon.

  Their reunion had gone smoothly so far, but at any second she expected them to butt heads. He glanced up. “Hungry?”

  “I don’t eat meat, remember?”

  “Still?”

  “Still. But I will take coffee. Where’s Bessie?” She poured herself a large cup and searched in the fridge for almond milk, knowing it was a long shot. Instead, she found a gallon of whole milk. She made herself a mental note to go into town later to grab a few groceries, that was if she could use the old beat up truck in the driveway. She’d called the rental office to make arrangements for a new rental, but customer service wasn’t a bit helpful. They wouldn’t have anything available for two days. If luck was on her side, she wouldn’t be there more than two days.

  “Bessie had an appointment and she’ll be here tomorrow. I don’t have any of those yogurts in the fancy packaging or oatmeal full of dried fruit,” he murmured.

  “That’s okay. I don’t eat breakfast.”

  With her black coffee in hand, she took a seat at the table and looked across the marks on the wood, each having a story to tell, she was sure. He joined her with a pile of bacon on his plate, a steaming cup of coffee, and a scowl. Once upon a time they ate breakfast together every morning. After her mother died, things never did quite make it back to normal.

  “Weston Jericho called you. Didn’t he?” Lucas asked around a bite of bacon.

  “Yeah, he did. He said you needed me.” She took a sip of the hot coffee and had to admit that her daddy could make a good brew. “Glad to see that hand isn’t infected. I’m going to have to hide the needle and thread.”

  “Wes should have kept his nose where it belonged,” he grumbled and bit off a piece of bacon. “I told him I was fine.”

  “Calling me was the right thing to do, daddy. Whether you like it or not, I’m your daughter. Your only child.”

  “Not like you want to be here. How long has it been?” He snorted.

  “I have a job. I invited you to Chicago.” She tapped her short nail against the rim of her cup. “It would have been nice if you would have taken some interest in where I live, what I’m doing.”

  “I ain’t no city folk, girl.”

  “Yeah, I got that message loud and clear by all the returned plane tickets.”

  “No one asked you to send them.” He sighed.

  “Let’s not do this, okay? I’m here now and I want to help. What about the land? How are things going? Wes told me Braise is still foreman, that’s a good thing. Yet, I did see that one of the fences lining the lane is looking rundown. Maybe we need a new one?”

  “It’s all fine, girl. I’ve got it handled. Fences can be mended.”

  “Like the stitches on your hand? It’s healing, yes, but you can’t be your own physician.”

  He shrugged. “Ahh…this old body can take a licking and keep on ticking.”

  From her standpoint, he seemed okay. As full of vinegar as ever. Yet, she wasn’t wanting to make any impulsive conclusions. She still had to check out the ranch. Not getting a chance to take much of a look yesterday, what she did see made her suspicious.

  “Do you still go out onto the land, daddy?”

  “When my hips will allow me to.”

  “I want to see things for myself. Even check out the books and the suppliers. See where Tanner Ranch is at.”

  Surprise crossed his weathered features before it quickly disappeared. “No need for that. I already told you things are fine. Are you hard of hearing or just thick headed?”

  “Don’t be grumpy. It’s probably all that fat and grease from the bacon.” She hid her smile behind her cup.

  “And don’t talk to your father in that tone. You could use a little fat and grease. It’s good for the brain and makes us stronger.”

  She groaned and buried her forehead into her palm to gather her limited patience. Finally looking up she pushed her frustration aside. She loved him, she really did, but Wes had been right. He was more stubborn than ever. “Would you like to go out with me? Fill me in on things?”

  “I’m busy. You want to stick your nose in my business, then you go alone. You don’t need my help.” He grunted, stood, dropped his remaining food into the trashcan, and started for the hall a little slower than he wanted.

  “Great we could talk, daddy,” she whispered once he was out of ear shot. She’d known this wouldn’t be easy. A man as stubborn and willful as Lucas Tanner didn’t like anyone, not even his flesh and blood, coming in and asking questions. He’d see she was looking out for his best interests. What she didn’t expect was the sudden rush of memories. Being here, sitting in the kitchen where her momma cooked up delicious meals while singing, made Sammie want to climb back into bed and cry. That couldn’t happen. She ha
d a job to do and, by golly, if she had to scream the roof off, she was going to get it done.

  Finishing her coffee, she pushed her way through the squeaky screen door and onto to the squeakier porch. From the top step she scanned the property, taking it all in, surveying the differences from the last time she stood here. Things didn’t seem well-kempt, not like how she knew her daddy liked things. He ran his ranch like a captain ran his ship. The wood on the fencing was rotten. The barns hadn’t seen a paintbrush in decades. The grass was a little tall and she couldn’t hear any sounds of equipment running in the distance. Where were the tractors? The low humming of mowers? Delivery trucks dropping off bales of hay and feed? Where were the hands? By this hour there should have been a hustling and bustling of activity before the day grew hot.

  Strolling a bit away from the house, she turned and examined the two-story that once was grand and lovely with pristine white clapboard siding, red tin roof, and lush gardens. Several shutters were hanging by a nail or two and needed a coat of paint. The flower beds were in sad shape, filled with more weeds than blooming flowers. One rocking chair was broken and the others looked shabby. Although the clay pots in assorted sizes still lined the porch and hanging baskets hung from hooks, they were dusty and empty. Hannah Tanner would be appalled. At least the inside of the house was taken care of, but no doubt Bessie deserved credit for that.

  Swiveling on her boots, the old pair she found in the back of her closet along with all her old clothes, she faced the large stretch of land and inhaled sharply. The scent of cattle, hay and open space tickled her nostrils. Although she never thought much on coming back, here she was and she guessed it wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. She liked the peace and quiet—liked feeling refreshed.

  Seeing the old tire swing across the yard made her chest tighten. And the shabby treehouse that still stood in the ancient tree was missing its walls. She’d taken a fall out of that death trap once, but the very next day she had climbed back up, more in protest than for fun. Her daddy planned to tear it down after she was hurt, but she refused to let him. So many memories that filled her heart with goodness.

  She loved this place, never wanted to leave. Her plans were crushed by a bastard in the barn. Those particular memories didn’t feel so good. Although she’d come to grips with that night, sought the help of a therapist, and realized she’d done nothing wrong, a woman couldn’t forget completely. She had to exchange the fear with strength, and now she could be mistaken for Wonder Woman she was so dang strong, but that was a disadvantage at times. She kept her heart closed off, ignoring the desire to let someone in—really in. Thinking back on how naïve she had been, she had no clue how evil people could be lurking around every corner. An abundance of self-protection and boxing classes under her belt taught her how to feed a man his balls if he dared cross an uninvited line. Age had made her wiser. However, as tough as she proclaimed she was, Wes certainly found his way past a few ice caps yesterday. Seeing him again had blasted right through her safety walls. He was still the cowboy she remembered. Kind. Handsome. Caring. And lethal…she couldn’t forget that quality.

  With new courage in her step and a desire to get to work, she continued the path to the stables where she found Braise, the very man she wanted to speak to.

  When he saw her, a smile brought his thin lips up and he came over to give her a tight hug. “Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Sammie Tanner. This place ain’t the same without your shenanigans, young lady.” He pulled back and gave her a once over. “Whatever happened to that little girl who would sit on bales of hay eating crab apples? The one who could barely hold herself up in a saddle, but swore she’d ride like the wind.”

  “Long gone, Braise.”

  “Oh, but you’ve grown into a beauty. It’s good to have you home. This place needs a flower among the rough.”

  “I’m only here temporarily.” She felt the need to clarify her intentions. “I’m helping daddy get things in order and you’re just the man I needed to see. Nothing goes on around here that you’re not aware of. You got a minute or two?”

  “For you, I have all day. What do you want to know?”

  “Gut instinct tells me I’m in for a head spin.”

  He scrubbed his whiskered chin with a wrinkled, weathered hand. “Then let’s have a seat down at the quarters and I’ll fill you in. Might be a while I’m afraid.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The sky was low and dark as the shadows of evening slashed the sky with its signature. The ominous clouds promised rain and the slivers of pink against the backdrop of denim blue reminded Weston of the paintings his daughter had painted and placed on the refrigerator.

  He rocked back and forth in the chair on the porch, listening to the birds chirping from a nearby tree and sipping from his cup of strong coffee. He’d been up since the crack-ass of dawn building the new fence in the east pasture with his brothers, and he was tired, but he felt good…accomplished. Nothing like seeing something completed. The job had taken a good part of the month, and to call it finished made Weston’s shoulders a lot lighter. He could use a long hot shower because rinsing off with the water hose only washed a few layers of dirt off, but for now, he liked sitting here watching the physical changes of the day announcing the storm that was brewing.

  His back ached as he shifted his body, maybe because he’d pushed himself to the limits the last two days. Anything to beat the stress. Stretching his legs to prop his booted feet on the upside-down crate which was showing the signs of being used as his footstool and Brie’s stepstool. She’d even colored it with rainbows and butterflies. Everything around here had a feminine touch and he didn’t mind.

  It was nice having a moment to gain his bearings and list the day’s goings-on outside of just fence building. He’d finally hired a new nanny for his little girl. She needed someone who could offer stability for her after school and until he came in off the land. Mrs. Figglestein, an elderly woman who sang in the choir at church, had seemed excited to take on the job as sitter. Mother of four adult kids, grandmother of a dozen, she seemed a perfect fit. Weston certainly hoped it was a good fit because he’d interviewed a handful of candidates he didn’t trust. Mrs. Figglestein was a Godsend.

  Because his brothers, Roman and Penn, were preoccupied these days, Weston had also hired two new hands, twin brothers, to help with the livestock. The twenty-something men were full of energy and seemed to know their way around a ranch without any guidance, which pleased Weston. He needed to plan ahead since he couldn’t expect Ro and Penn to spend as much time working now that they had women in their lives. In fact, once Ro and Pippa’s baby was born, they’d be off the grid for a while. Penn and Harley were technically still on their honeymoon. Things were certainly changing on the Second Chances Ranch. Hell, change wasn’t bad, but Weston didn’t like the feeling of being left behind.

  His axis had tilted two days ago when he’d come up on an old memory standing alongside the road. Sweet Sammie Tanner. The first woman to throw him for a loop. The first—only—woman to break his heart.

  He shook his head. She wouldn’t do it again. Hell no. He could want her, need her, and have wet dreams about her, but as far as romance…shit no! He’d go down a very lonely man first.

  And he meant it!

  Although he wouldn’t go out of his way to avoid her, he’d have to prepare himself for coincidental run-ins. Colton wasn’t big enough to be a coward or a runner. Why should he go out of his way? She left him, not the other way around. This was his town, his home, and her being here wouldn’t last.

  A dust cloud appeared on the lane leading to his house. Less than a minute later, Harley parked and climbed out of the driver’s side, one arm full of books and the other carrying a stack of foil-covered plates. Her long hair was pulled back into a bun and she had her large, black glasses on.

  “Evening, Harley. I didn’t expect to see you again today,” Weston said as she stepped onto the porch.

  “You might hate me, but
I received the books I ordered for Brie and wanted to give them to her before I headed home.” She tilted her chin toward the stack.

  “Why would I hate you?”

  “Because these are chapter books and she still needs you reading them to her. No worries though. Her reading has improved immensely. To make up for it…” She handed him the plates. “Penn grilled steaks and I brought you a couple over along with some ears of corn. Fresh from the farmer’s market.”

  He stood, took the food, and as if in thank you, his stomach growled. “You know you don’t have to feed me and Brie. Did she complain again?”

  There was a short hesitation. “She only said she was tired of mac and cheese.”

  Weston set the plates on the small glass table. “Let me take the other load.” Harley handed the books over. “She’ll be happy, but she’s taking a nap. All that reading she did at your bookstore today wore her plum out.”

  Harley smiled. “How’s the search going for a nanny?”

  “I finally found one.” He blew out a long breath.

  “Well, shoot. I had a friend who was interested and planned to drop out here. I’ll tell her the position was filled. You make sure you tell Brie there’s more where that came from. Books and food. I had better get going. I have a plate for Pippa and Roman too. She’s been a little under the weather and immobile with that baby getting bigger.”

  He smiled. “You’re the best sister in law.”

  She smiled. “I’m going to tell Pippa you said that, Wes.” She winked.

  “You know you’re both the best. I love her too.”

  “I don’t care that you tell us both that, just don’t stop.” She kissed him on the cheek and hurried to her truck. He didn’t have a free hand to wave as she backed out, then he went inside to place the new books on the foyer table and the loaded plates on the counter just as he heard a loud thump followed by a scream from upstairs.

  He went to the bottom of the back stairs. “Brie?”