All for a Cowboy

by Jeannie Watt

“You know I do.” He put his hat on the table, then took a seat on the sofa while Shae went to the fridge.

  “Is Black Butte okay?” she called. She had two bottles left and once those were gone, yet another reminder of her three-year relationship with Reed would be history. After that she never wanted to see another bottle of Black Butte Porter again.

  “Fine,” he called. She popped the top on the beer, poured herself a glass of chardonnay—although at this point in the day she could have easily chugged from the bottle—and brought both out into the living room. Brant took the beer from her, lifting it in a salute as he always did when they drank together. Shae did the same, glad that he didn’t feel the need to toast anything in particular. What could she toast right now? Here’s to all the sucky things that are happening?

  “Want to talk?” her brother asked.

  “No,” she said candidly. “But I will.” She took a sip of wine, which was sweeter than she liked, but adequate for helping her through yet another recital of how her life had gone so terribly wrong. “I got dumped and lost my job.”

  Brant looked at her over the top of the bottle. “Anything else?”

  “I can’t find another job?” She sank back farther into the sofa cushions, staring across the room. “Bills I’d forgotten I had are starting to pile up?”

  “What happened with your old job?”

  “Reduction in force.”

  “I didn’t think you were lowest in seniority.”

  “I’m not sure how they picked who got canned.”

  She shot him a sideways glance and could tell that he didn’t believe her, but he let it pass. “So how’s the...wedding canceling going?” he asked.

  “Not good. I’ve lost all of the deposits. Reed paid for his half, though.” Brant nodded over his beer and there was something in the way he was studying her that seemed...off. “Vivian is really upset, as you can imagine. She’s put a lot into this.”

  “Yes, she has,” Brant said slowly, and Shae’s radar kicked up a notch.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  Brant met her gaze dead-on, his expression solemn. “Don’t take any money from Vivian and Dad, okay?”

  “What?” Shae asked, startled at the unexpected request.

  “If you need money to tide you over, come to me, but not them. I know they’ll offer—it’s the way they are—but don’t take it.”

  Shae closed her eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t take their money.” She thought of the check from her dad that was nestled in the bottom of her purse, the godsend she’d hoped to live on while she found a decent job, because the way things were looking, eight weeks of severance wasn’t going to cut it. Not if she was going to keep making her car payment.

  “Shae...you always land on your feet. You know you will this time, too. I’ll help.”

  Her eyes snapped open and for a moment she simply stared at him, stunned. Really? He thought it was that easy? She’d just jump to her feet, dust herself off and carry on?

  “I know no such thing.”

  “Tell me a time you haven’t.”

  “Brant...maybe you don’t quite get what is going on here. My fiancé walked out on me six weeks before the wedding I’ve been planning for almost two years. Then my boss fired me—”

  “I’m here for you, honestly I am. But Shae...I don’t know if you realize how much you depend on other people to bail you out of your problems.”

  Again she stared at him, a slow burn starting deep inside of her. “First Mel and now you. Why are you adding fuel to the fire?”

  “What?”

  “Mel stopped by the day I was fired to tell me it was my fault, and now...” She didn’t finish because there was no need. He knew where she was going with this. “Why are you doing this?”

  Brant considered for a moment, then said, “Because it’s something that needs to be said. And it’s time.”

  “It’s time. Now while I’m down is the time to give me another swift kick?”

  “No. I’m not trying to kick you while you’re down.” He set down the beer and slid across the sofa to sit next to her, his voice earnest as he said, “If you need a loan, I’m happy to give it to you. Just...don’t take anything more from Vivian and Dad, okay? They’ve dipped into their retirement for your wedding and they don’t need to be dipping again.”

  Shae’s head was starting to throb. “I’ll pay them back,” she muttered, putting a hand to her forehead. “They insisted that I take it. I told Dad that Reed and I were paying for everything, but he insisted on helping with my half. He said it was his duty as a father.”

  “And maybe,” Brant said softly, “Since you knew they were trying to save for retirement, it was your duty as a daughter to say no.”

  She set her wineglass down abruptly, sloshing chardonnay over the glass tabletop. “I care about my family,” she said.

  “Yeah, I know, Shae. But do you think about us?”

  “Yes.” Shae pressed a hand to her forehead. “Yes, I do. I’ve just... The wedding... Crap!”

  Brant reached out to pull her hand away from her head and held on for a moment. “Like I said, Shae, I’m here for you. It’s a rough time. If you need to depend on someone, depend on me.”

  Shae pulled her hand out of her brother’s and reached for her wine. “Thank you. I appreciate the offer.” But at that moment she was pretty damned sure that she wasn’t going to depend on anyone to bail her out of her problems.

  Brant hung around long enough to finish his beer and reiterate his offer of help, then took off to meet his girlfriend, Sara, for dinner.

  Shae waited only a few minutes after he left to get on the phone and call Wallace—at home—and request a face-to-face meeting.

  “I need closure,” she said.

  “Closure?”

  “And to talk.”

  “Shae...”

  “Please? I can come in early before anyone gets there. Or I could meet you at a coffee shop.” She swallowed drily. Begging was so not her thing, but neither was feeling this desperate. She picked up a Macy’s bill—the one she’d been afraid to open—then dropped it back down on the counter. “Ten minutes. I’ve gone the extra mile for you, Wallace. Please.”

  “You haven’t gone the extra mile during the last year, but...” Shae bit her lip, held her breath. “Ten minutes. At the coffee shop across the street.”

  “Thank you.”

  Shae hung up, feeling as if she might have a toehold. Wallace had always had a soft spot for her. Maybe...just maybe...

  * * *

  “I’M NOT GIVING you your job back, Shae.” At the last minute Wallace had called and asked her to meet him at the office after hours, which had made Shae hopeful that perhaps he was reconsidering. He was, after all, allowing her back on the premises, and he’d seemed more human than the last time she’d spoken to him.

  Now that he’d made his proclamation, Shae wasn’t feeling one bit hopeful, but she had him there and she wasn’t giving up this easily.

  “Not even in a probationary capacity?” Wallace picked up the pencil lying on top of a pile of spreadsheets, looked at it instead of at her. “It was Miranda who made the decision to let you go. I went over the performance evaluations with her, but it was obvious from the beginning that she’d already decided you were the one going.”

  That stung. “I don’t understand. Why me? It isn’t like I was slacking off while she was around, and you gave me a satisfactory evaluation.”

  “That,” Wallace said pointedly, “was a gift. And—” he tapped the pencil again “—she didn’t need to be at the office to see you.”

  “Meaning?”

  “The cameras.”

  Shae’s heart jumped. “She’s using them?” The cameras had come with the building when the company had first move
d in four years ago and as far as she—or anyone she worked with—knew, they’d never been turned on. Well, guess again.

  “I did my job,” she said stiffly.

  “And a lot of other stuff.”

  “I didn’t think a phone call here and there would matter.”

  “It did, and it was more than a few phone calls, Shae. Miranda’s not happy, and she’s making an example of you.”

  Shae let her head fall back. “A little warning would have been nice.”

  “I dropped some hints.”

  “When?” Shae asked, perplexed. Wallace pressed his fingers to his forehead as if staving off a headache and she abandoned the topic. “What about the good things I’ve done? Before the wedding plans,” she added quickly. “What about the Tuscan Canyon Ranch? I put most of that purchase agreement together. I found the property, which wasn’t even for sale, if you remember right, and matched it to the perfect client. We made a great commission and then we got the management contract on top of that!”

  “You’re good, Shae, when you focus.”

  “And I will focus. The wedding... I let it get out of hand.” It was finally starting to sink in just how far out of hand she’d allowed it to go.

  “But what if something else comes up?”

  “I’ve learned my lesson.”

  Wallace gave her a doubtful look. “I’m not certain that would reassure Miranda.”

  Shae leaned forward, placing her palm flat on the desk. “I made a mistake. I can change. I need a job.”

  “Then you should have taken care with the one you had.”

  “And that’s that?” she asked softly.

  “Afraid so, Shae.”

  It can’t end this way.

  “Sorry,” Wallace said.

  “Yeah.” Shae got to her feet, gave him a faint smile mustered from the need to hold on to a few shreds of her dignity, then turned to go, her stomach so tight she felt as if she was going to throw up. She was almost to the door when she glanced at the aerial map on the wall, then stopped. She slowly turned back, wondering if Wallace had indeed shrunk back in his seat as he met her speculative gaze or if she’d imagined it. “What about this?” she asked, pointing at the faded fluorescent-pink circle drawn around a mountain property.

  “What about it?” Wallace asked slowly.

  “Remember how Miranda was slated to sell it, but found out she couldn’t?”

  “Vividly,” Wallace said. The sale had fallen through after she’d discovered she was not the sole heir to the place and apparently had been unable to hammer out a deal with her stepson, the other heir.

  Shae was not surprised. Her own dealings with Jordan Bryan, brief as they’d been, had not gone well, either.

  “But what if it made her some money while it was sitting there?”

  “How so?” Wallace asked, his pale eyes narrowing, but Shae saw a spark of interest there.

  “What if I could shape it into a guest ranch? Miranda has the operating rights.” A fact she’d gleaned from office gossip and speculation after the sale fell through. “Why not use them?”

  “Have you seen the place, Shae?”

  “Mel and I went there once during college to collect a horse she’d bought from Miranda’s husband. So yes, I’ve seen it.”

  “And how did it strike you?”

  “Isolated. Run-down.” Shae had excitement in her voice as she said, “But there were cabins there that the family had rented to miners during the gold strikes. Think how cool it would be if those could be refurbished. And there were quite a few other buildings, if I recall.”

  Wallace looked over his shoulder, as if checking for a camera or perhaps a recording device, before leaning across his desk to say in a low voice, “If it had any moneymaking potential, don’t you think she would have thought about that?”

  “Not if it’s isolated and run-down.” Shae pointed to the map. “Look—it’s surrounded by Forest Service land. Perfect for riding. Fishing. But in a more—” she smiled slightly as a thought struck her “—manly environment than at Miranda’s other two ranches.” Both of which were sprawling properties with rich histories as working cattle ranches. Lots of little niceties included in the vacation package. Spas, babysitting, crafts classes for kids, riding lessons.

  “Manly.”

  Shae walked back to his desk, plans already taking shape in her head. “Yes, manly. A more rugged experience. Not for sissies, that kind of marketing. Kind of a one-percenter ranch.”

  Wallace shook his head. She could see he was intrigued, but didn’t want to admit it, so she gave one more small push.

  “Come on...it’s a great idea. Run it by Miranda.”

  “It’s not bad,” he agreed grudgingly. “She’ll probably give the project to someone else if I pass it along—like, say, someone who works here?”

  “I’ll contract the job for eighty percent of my previous salary,” Shae said, “for three months. I’ll evaluate the property, make recommendations for renovations, handle any permitting nightmares. I’d hand her a finished product for less salary than she’d pay a regular employee.”

  “And if you succeed...?”

  “It would put me in a position to discuss getting my old job back. I heard that Risa’s not doing as well as hoped.”

  Wallace fiddled with the pencil he held, then exhaled slowly, his breath fluttering the spreadsheets in front of him. “I’ll run it by her. No promises.”

  “None asked,” Shae said feeling a faint welling of confidence. If she could get this second chance, it meant she could stay on her career path. And more than that, maybe she could prove she wasn’t the loser that everyone apparently thought she was. Rebuild one or two of those bridges she’d obliviously burned.

  * * *

  WHEN JORDAN LEFT home to join the military, he’d told himself he wasn’t coming back—at least not as long as Miranda was in the picture—and the Subaru was doing its best to help him keep his promise. He’d ended up staying three nights in Miles City just after crossing the Montana border, waiting for yet another repair part. And even though he was in Montana and had a deep appreciation for the rolling hills in this part of the state, it wasn’t his part of the state. In some ways he felt as foreign here as he had in Virginia.

  Maybe that was why he spent all of his time in the motel, leaving only to walk Clyde or to get a cheap meal. Or maybe he’d hidden out because he was still raw when it came to people staring at him, studying the burns and what remained of the fingers of his left hand. He’d never liked being the center of attention and now people couldn’t help but notice him.

  He’d gone one night without taking a pill and had been slammed with another nightmare. After that he’d taken the pills every night. He had enough for three more weeks and he hoped that once he was at the High Camp, he’d be able to work his way past the dreams again...and past the cavernous emptiness that seemed to be enveloping him.

  Was he ever going to get a grip?

  Once upon a time he’d thought he was. The PTSD therapy had worked so well that Jordan had come to believe that his principal scars were the physical ones. Now he wasn’t so sure...and it scared him.

  He’d put all that time and effort into therapy, gone through the accompanying emotional trauma, and what had it gotten him? A six-month reprieve. No—make that four months. For the last two he’d been fighting against the insidious backslide.

  The thing that scared him most was that he had no idea what had triggered the backslide, the feelings of emptiness and uselessness. One day he was doing fine and the next...the next he felt overwhelmed. Trapped, yet at the same time drifting.

  So now he was following his gut and doing therapy his way. He was going home.

  * * *

  DRIVING THE AUDI to the High Camp had been a mistake. It was a stu
rdy car, but parts of the road leading to the mountain ranch were rougher than Shae had anticipated. She carefully maneuvered her baby through a long stretch of six-inch-deep ruts, wincing at the sound of branches scraping the sides of the car, before easing back into the center of the track when the road once again smoothed out.

  Shae let out a breath and loosened her death grip on the steering wheel. Scratches on the Audi were not the end of the world—she could afford to have them buffed out when she completed this contract.

  A small smile played on her lips. This contract. She had a contract. Her impromptu proposal had worked. Almost as soon as Wallace ran her idea past Miranda, the ball had started rolling. Early Friday morning she’d been summoned back to the office to meet with Miranda herself.

  Shae went into the meeting determined to prove herself and thirty minutes later the deal had been struck—a two-month contract at 70 percent of her former salary, instead of the 80 percent she’d suggested. At the end of that time, she was to have a complete proposal worked up, ready to put into place the next spring. If Miranda approved the proposal, then she’d oversee renovations and implement small-group beta test runs of all activities. After that...no promises.

  Typical Miranda. But Shae had left feeling good—about the job ahead of her and about Miranda, who’d explained quite candidly why she’d let Shae go. Shae had to admit that given the same circumstances, she might have done the same thing. The job, whatever it might be, came first now, and, as Mel had pointed out when Shae called her with the good news, if she could get this project up and running, it would be gold on a résumé. She could see the presentation portfolio in her head—before and after pictures of the ranch she was about to rehabilitate on a shoestring budget. Smiling guests with big fish. A guy holding the horns of a trophy buck. A big campfire with manly men sitting around it laughing.

  Good stuff.

  But first she had to make it happen.

  First she had to get there.

  Shae rolled to a stop at the windfall tree across the road. Excellent. Getting out of the car, she walked to the tree, nudging it with the toe of her boot. Sturdy as a rock. There was no way she was going to move it.