by Judy Duarte
...a right to live his own life...
I think you’d agree...
Blake knew what his uncle was getting at. Years ago, before college, Blake had harbored a dream to live and work in Texas. He’d gone on to law school at his maternal grandmother’s urging, had studied hard and excelled. Once he’d taken the bar exam in Texas and was awaiting the results, she’d insisted he study for the California bar, something he’d been reluctant to do. But she’d paid for him to take a special course for out of state attorneys who wanted to practice in multiple states, insisting it would pay off big for him.
When he passed that exam, too, which hadn’t been an easy task, she’d called in a few favors and managed to get him an internship at her investment attorney’s firm in Beverly Hills. That position had really opened doors for him, especially since the firm had planned to open an office in Dallas. And now Blake had a successful career, an impressive stock portfolio, a beach house in Malibu and a luxury car with personalized plates.
But there were times when he wished for a quieter life.
“I see your wheels turning,” Sam said. “So what have you decided?”
“You have a point,” Blake conceded. “Rex does have a right to make his own decisions—at least, while he’s still sharp and somewhat healthy. Does he have any significant savings or investments?”
“It always boils down to money for you, doesn’t it?” Sam clicked his tongue and scowled. “What does his financial situation have to do with it? Are you planning to charge him for your services?”
This time, it was Blake’s turn to bristle. “Of course not. He’s your friend. It’s just that I wondered if his family was more concerned about his health or his bank account.”
“He’s got enough to pay for his keep here on the Rocking Chair Ranch.”
But was that amount big enough for his greedy relatives to covet?
Blake specialized in estate planning and probate. In the years since he began his practice, he’d seen some pretty nasty family fights over wills. And he knew how death—or one that was imminent—could bring out the worst in people.
That was another reason he worried about his uncle being swept off his feet by a con artist and why he wanted him to move to California. The fact that he was Sam’s only living heir had nothing to do with it. He loved that man and would do anything for him.
Blake placed a hand on his uncle’s shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “I’ll talk to Rex tomorrow, okay? I’ll also do whatever I can to make sure his family understands his wishes.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate that. And while you’re at it, try to understand my wishes, too.”
Sam was clearly talking about his plan to stay in Texas and to marry another woman.
It would be far more truthful for Blake to say he’d try to understand, but he said, “I will.”
Sam cast him a smile, gave a slight nod then headed into the house.
Only trouble was, Blake wasn’t sure he could follow up on his part of the bargain.
Some wishes weren’t meant to come true.
Chapter Six
Blake had assumed the morning sun would awaken him in time to join everyone else at the big house for breakfast, but that hadn’t been the case. He just hoped that, when he reached the kitchen, he’d still find some coffee left and maybe a muffin or two.
It had rained hard all night, the thunder and lightning making it difficult to sleep. Fortunately, it had eventually slowed to a drizzle, and he’d finally been able to doze off about an hour before dawn.
Now it was nine o’clock, which was late by ranch standards. So, apparently, he’d been more tired than he’d thought.
As he crossed the yard, he avoided the mud puddles along the pathway by walking on the sopping-wet grass. The sky, which was now dotted with silver-lined clouds, was an amazing shade of blue, something that was rare to see in his smog-ridden big city. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with clean, fresh air. Maybe, if the ground dried out, he’d go for an afternoon run.
When he reached the back porch, he scraped the mud from his boots. After wiping them on the mat, he let himself into the house and made his way into the empty kitchen where the aroma of fresh-perked coffee and fried bacon still lingered, long after the last cowboy had eaten breakfast.
The stove and countertops were clean and the breakfast dishes had already been washed and put away. There was no one in sight, but the coffee pot was plugged in and the carafe was half full.
Blake reached into the cupboard, removed a mug and filled it to the brim. He had to admit that Joy was not only an impressive cook, but she also brewed a good pot of java.
He savored several sips before going in search of his uncle’s old buddy. He found Rex in the living room, his walker parked nearby. He wore a pair of glasses and was reading a book, the lamp next to him bathing the words in light.
“Hey, there,” Blake said. “Is this a good time for us to talk?”
“As good a time as any.” The old cowboy dog-eared the page he’d been reading, removed his glasses and set them and the novel on the small oak table beside him. “Sam told me you were a sharp lawyer and that you’d be able to help me.”
“I can try.” Blake spotted a wooden chair by the hearth and, taking care not to spill the coffee from his mug, carried it closer to Rex and took a seat. “Why don’t you start by telling me what’s going on?”
“All-righty.” Rex sat back in his easy chair and rested his liver-spotted hands on the armrests, his fingers folding over the edge. “I’ll be eighty-three years old in December. I’ve had a good life, but I’m not in the best of health, so I know which way the wind is blowing. I’m not going to live forever, which is okay by me. All I want to do is die with my boots on and be buried in the Twin Falls Cemetery, next to my sweet wife—God rest her soul. Is that too much to ask?”
“No,” Blake said. “That sounds reasonable.”
“Good. Then I’d like for you to use all of your legal jargon to tell that to the misguided do-gooders in my family. I want them to stop butting in to my life and trying to force their beliefs and opinions on me.”
“How are they ‘butting in’ and pressuring you?” Blake asked.
“They plan to haul my ass to Arkansas and put me in that same damn convalescent hospital where my brother was left to rot until the day he died.”
“And you’re afraid they’ll just leave you there until you pass?”
Rex snorted. “Worse than that. They’d do their best to keep me breathing, even at the cost of my dignity.”
“I’m not sure I’m following you,” Blake said.
Rex leaned forward and narrowed a tired but feisty gaze at Blake. “They kept my poor brother hooked up on machines for the last four miserable years of his existence.” Rex lifted a gnarled finger and gave it a threatening shake. “And I ain’t gonna just roll over and let them do the same to me. Besides, I’m a cowboy. I belong here—on a ranch and in Texas. And this is where I intend to stay.”
“Just for the record,” Blake said, “you can get a medical directive that puts your feelings in writing.”
“Yeah, well what if that paperwork gets lost—or hidden? I don’t trust them do-gooders.”
“If it’s in your file at the Rocking C, it will follow you to the hospital.”
“You sure about that?”
Blake nodded. The problem was that someday Rex might require long-term medical treatment in a hospital setting. And he wasn’t going to like that, whether he was living in Texas or Arkansas. Especially if he didn’t have the right paperwork in place to protect his interests.
“For the record,” Blake said, “I can understand why you’d prefer to stay on the Rocking Chair Ranch.”
Rex eyed him carefully, as if gauging his sincerity.
“The food they serve here is pretty damn good,” Blake added, hoping to convince the oldster that he was on his side—at least, somewhat. “And from what I hear, the nursing care is excellent.”
Rex grinned. “You got that right. Since Doc convinced me that I shouldn’t live alone anymore, this is the next best place to be. I might not be able to rope and ride like I used to, but I can still sit out on the porch and spin yarns with my old friends. And I can advise those young cowhands Sam hired, which sure beats the hell out of parking my scrawny butt on a bench in some hospital rose garden and hoping the pigeons don’t crap on me.”
Blake couldn’t help but grin. No wonder Shannon liked Rex. He might be crotchety, but he was full of life, that was for sure.
“On top of that,” Rex said, “the folks who live and work on the Rocking C are a hell of a lot more like family to me than the ones I have.”
That said a lot. Blake just hoped the old cowboy’s health would hold up and he wouldn’t have to move at all.
“And how ’bout that head nurse?” Rex asked, his tired brown eyes sparking with mirth. “She’s a pretty one—and as kind and sweet as they come, although I ’spect she could really get riled up if someone pushed her.”
“I ’spect you’re right,” Blake said, falling right back into the cowboy vernacular he’d loved listening to when he was a kid.
“She’s got a heart for the sick and wounded, and while I have no idea what we’d do without her, I know that she’d much rather have a position at the hospital in town. Her skills would probably be a whole lot more useful there, but as a favor to Chloe, the woman who owns this place, she’s filling in temporarily.”
Shannon had said as much to Blake. So it appeared that he’d been wrong about her intending to take advantage of the cowboys.
“She also managed to get Joy a job working here,” Rex added, “and that turned out to be a win-win for everyone. Boy, howdy, that gal can cook.”
“You’re right. She sure whips up some mighty fine grub.” There he went again, talking like one of the ranch hands, but it was hard not to when he’d been living with them for the past few days.
“It’s too bad what happened to her,” Rex said.
“To who? Joy?”
“Yep. Her first husband set her up nicely, leaving her a tidy little nest egg and house in a Dallas suburb that was fully paid for. But after he up and died on her, she remarried a louse of a man who talked her into refinancing her home and taking out all the equity. Before she knew it, that no-good son of a bitch spent it all and drained her savings account, too, and the property went into foreclosure. Then he ran off with another grieving widow, leaving Joy not only dead broke, but with no place to live. Fortunately, her job here provides her with room and board.”
Blake hadn’t realized Joy had been homeless and destitute before coming to the Rocking C. Had he been right all along? Had she turned her charms on Sam to save herself from a desperate situation?
“But Joy’s walkin’ in tall cotton now,” Rex said.
Blake tensed. “How so?”
“Who would have guessed that a romance would spark between her and Sam?” Rex chuckled. “That lucky dog.”
Blake didn’t think Sam was lucky. Dammit, the situation was worse than he’d thought.
“What’s the matter?” Rex asked. “You look like a little kid who’s just had his bicycle snatched by a bully. Don’t tell me your uncle’s new romance is bothering you.”
Was it that obvious?
“I’d think that you’d be happy about his new lease on life,” Rex said, “especially since he pert near died in that so-called skilled nursing facility six months ago. You saw what happened to him there. He sank into a depression and lost about thirty pounds. Even his doctor had been about to quit on him and turn him over to those hospice folks.”
“Yes, I know.” Blake had to admit that going back to work on the Rocking C had helped Sam make a full recovery, although who knew how long a man nearing eighty years old could continue running a ranch, especially one that was struggling financially.
“Chloe used to work at that hospital,” Rex added, “and thanks to her care and friendship, your uncle began to perk up and come around. Then, after he got here and settled in, Joy showed up. Her smile and cooking soon turned the tide.”
Blake was happy to see Sam doing well. It was just that he didn’t want to see him hurt—emotionally, mentally or financially. “I’m glad Sam isn’t drowning in his grief anymore. It’s just that he loved my aunt and seems to have forgotten her already.”
She’s gone, son, Sam had told him. And I was heartsick when she passed. But don’t I deserve to be happy again?
Yes, he did. But Blake had made the mistake of proposing to Melissa without really getting to know her first. And he soon learned that she valued the things he could buy her more than she valued him.
“Sam hasn’t forgotten your aunt,” Rex said. “I can guarantee that. Heck, I still dream of the days when my Jenny was alive, when we were young and still had a lot of good years ahead of us. Some men aren’t fortunate enough to ever find that kind of love. But Sam’s found it twice.”
Blake hoped Rex was right, but he wasn’t convinced, especially now that he knew Joy had been broke and homeless before she hooked up with Sam.
“You look doubtful.” Rex chuckled. “I ’spect that’s because you haven’t found your own true love yet. Don’t worry about your uncle. He’ll be fine. And whether my family knows it or not, I will be, too. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s for people to think a man’s not worth his salt because he’s beyond his prime. They’d just as soon put us all out to pasture, but if my Arkansas kin want to do that to me, I’ll go down swinging.”
Blake didn’t doubt that.
“If you take anything away from our little chitchat,” Rex said, “wrap your head around this: Sam hasn’t forgotten Nellie at all. He only forgot the ache of losing her.”
Blake hoped that was true.
“Oh, and one more thing.” A glimmer in the old man’s eyes shaved a couple of years off his craggy face. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll start scouting around for a good woman, one like Jenny, Nellie or Joy.”
Blake might consider that—assuming there was one out there for him. Without any effort on his part, his thoughts drifted to Shannon, just as her voice sounded behind him.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said.
Blake turned to the pretty RN, who was wearing a pair of sky blue scrubs and a smile. She was also carrying a tray with a glass of water and a small paper cup that probably held medication.
Her bright eyes tugged at something deep inside of Blake, setting off a tingling sensation that swept through his belly like a swarm of butterflies in flight.
As if unaware of any effect she’d had on him, she turned her focus on Rex. “It’s good to see you out and about again. And I’m glad you’re using that walker instead of your cane.”
Blake watched and listened to her cajole Rex into taking his pills. Afterward, she took his blood pressure and listened to his heart. All the while, she was sweet and gentle, and her smile never faded. It was actually something to watch her dole out a little TLC that the old man surely needed.
Shannon was not only a pleasure on the eyes, she appeared to be a good-hearted woman, the kind of woman his uncle said Blake would find one day.
He actually found himself hoping she was, although time would tell—time he was limited to when it came to his stay in Texas.
* * *
By afternoon, dark clouds had moved in to cover the blue sky that had amazed Blake earlier. Still, he’d gone for a long, hard run. When he returned to the small outbuilding in which he’d been staying, he called the office, using the landline since his cell didn’t always work.
Carol gave him a rundown of the status of his pending cases, as well as the motions that had been served. Everything seemed to be going okay, at least so far.
“So how’s your uncle doing?” she asked.
“He looks good,” Blake admitted. “But I’m still worried about him.” He went on to explain why and was glad she didn’t quiz him furth
er. Carol was aware of his initial concern, so he didn’t need to go on about it too much.
“Are you enjoying your time away from the office?” she asked.
“Surprisingly, yes. It’s been peaceful, so I’ve gotten some much-needed rest. I even had a good run today.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Are you ready for me to book your return flight?”
When he’d first arrived at the ranch, he’d been eager to talk some sense into Sam and to quickly take him back to LA. But convincing Sam to leave wasn’t going to be easy now. And thanks to that talk he’d had with Rex earlier, Blake wasn’t entirely sure that he ought to even try.
Of course, that didn’t mean he wanted to see that romance continue, especially if Sam suffered a breakup like the one Blake had with Melissa.
“No,” he told Carol. “I’m not ready to book any flights—unless you think I’m needed back at the office.”
“I won’t lie to you,” the administrative assistant said. “Your absence has added to everyone’s workload. But they all understand.”
Two weeks ago, before he’d received those legal documents from Sam’s Texas attorney, he wouldn’t have considered leaving the office in a lurch. And while his conscience wasn’t feeling too keen about it now, he wasn’t going to rush back.
“Thanks for laying it on the line,” he told Carol. “I’ll get back to you in a day or so once I know my plans.”
After the call ended, Blake headed to the big house. It would be mealtime soon, and he’d eaten a light lunch because of his planned run.
When he entered the mudroom, he spotted his uncle speaking to Joy while she stood at the counter, cutting out biscuits and lining them on a baking pan.
“If it isn’t raining in the morning,” Sam was saying to her, “let’s drive into Brighton Valley after breakfast and talk to Ralph Nettles.”
At least Sam hadn’t referred to the guy as “Pastor Ralph,” so it didn’t sound as if they were planning a wedding or attending pre-marital counseling. Still, his curiosity was piqued. “Who’s Ralph Nettles?”
