He hadn’t come home to Mule Hollow to hang around anyone. He’d come home for the solitude the ranch offered him. “Well, I guess I’ll be drifting on out of here then.” He tipped his hat and turned to go. It took all his considerable willpower not to offer once more to help…but considering that she wasn’t even going to thank him for coming by, he decided keeping his mouth shut was the right option.
He was almost around the corner of the house when she called his name. Her voice was soft and there was a hesitancy to it that touched a chord inside him.
“Chance,” she called again when he didn’t immediately halt and look back. When he turned she hadn’t moved.
“Thanks for stopping by. And…” She raked a hand over her hair. In the morning sunlight it gleamed like the blue-black coat on a raven. “…And thanks for understanding.”
He nodded, then got out of there. She had not asked for his help and hadn’t looked as if she had any plans to do so. The lady had simply said thank you.
It should have been the easy out he was hoping for. He’d taken the easy out with Randy and the bull rider had come up dead. This wasn’t the same and he knew it, but that didn’t stop him from thinking about Lynn all the way back to the ranch. One thing was certain. He’d come here for peace and solitude. He’d come here to get away from God and everyone else.
Except God wasn’t having any of it.
But then Chance already knew that it didn’t matter whether a person was mad at God, or stumbling in the dark. God was always there waiting. Calling His own back to Him.
It was Chance who wasn’t ready to let go. He felt as if he’d helped kill a man—some would say he was crazy for thinking such a thing. But that was how he felt. Randy might have gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd and avoided Chance in the last few weeks before his death, but Chance knew in his heart that despite the bad feeling he’d had about Randy, he’d not heeded God’s nudge to seek Randy out. He had not gone the extra mile to help the young cowboy, who was clearly in a danger zone. It wasn’t something Chance could forget or for give. And no matter who said he wasn’t responsible, in his heart of hearts he felt like God was holding him accountable. He felt like he’d failed Randy and God at the same time.
Emotionally and mentally Chance was not in a place to entertain thoughts of the single mother of two. But no matter what he did, Lynn continued to enter his head.
The heavy scent of rich, dark chocolate filled the can dy shop. Lynn added sugar to the commercial-size pot and stirred. “No, I didn’t accept the offer. Come on, don’t you two give me a hard time.”
Stacy bit her lip as Lynn and Nive Abbot squared off across the counter. Lynn didn’t miss the way Stacy tensed at the very idea of her friends having words. Though she was wrong—Nive and Lynn weren’t having words. They were simply having an excitable conversation.
“I’m not pushing in that way,” Nive said, holding her plastic-gloved hands up in surrender. “I understand you aren’t looking for a man but some help around the house from a man of God…that sounds like a plan to me. You know, I never thought about marrying a preacher but, hey, have you looked at that guy? Whoa! He has dreamy green eyes.”
Lynn prayed for patience. “I’m not interested in his help, but I’m not dead. Who wouldn’t notice his eyes?”
“They are nice,” Stacy interjected, slicing the fudge in front of her.
Stacy already had cold feet about getting married. That was the only way Lynn could describe her reluctance to hire a preacher to come marry them. Yes, she was crazy in love with Emmett in her gentle, timid way, but she had spoken of recurring doubts that plagued her. The fact that Lynn was so against letting a man into her life wasn’t helping matters. Lynn had noticed a change the instant she’d walked into the candy store that morning. She felt horrible that her decision was having a detrimental effect on the future of Stacy and Emmett. She hoped Nive would get the hint and clam up.
“I saw him watching you,” Stacy added, pausing in her steady slicing. She smiled timidly. “A lot.”
Her softly spoken words startled Lynn. “Watching me?” she asked. She’d noticed it herself but thought it was just because she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off him.
Stacy nodded her paper-cap-covered head and began slicing again. “He kept glancing your way over and over again. I think he looks sad.”
“Me, too,” Nive said. “I saw it in his yummy eyes. When he wasn’t looking totally perplexed by his cousins teasing him. I heard something bad happened at one of the rodeos he was at. I think a bull rider was killed during his ride.”
Lynn concentrated on stirring the chocolate mixture. Burning the bonbons wouldn’t be good but her thoughts were not on her job. “I heard something similar—it was terrible. I meant to ask Norma Sue but too much other stuff was going on. I don’t understand why cowboys want to get on the back of one of those killers. And my boys talk about becoming bull riders. I hate it.” She cringed at the thought of her babies growing up and climbing on one of those huge monsters.
“It’s a wonder more of them aren’t killed,” Stacy said.
“I know they know the risk they’re taking but I just can’t stand it. It would have to be hard on someone like Chance who was working with them.” A mental picture of Chance witnessing to the riders week after week popped into her mind. It was easy to see that he would be a caring and compassionate preacher. And yet he had said he wasn’t preaching right now. Whatever had happened had affected him deeply. She’d glimpsed sadness when he’d followed her to her car. It was there, along with the kindness she’d seen in the depths of his lush green eyes.
Okay, so maybe thinking of his eyes as lush wasn’t the best way to put the man out of her head. But they were. The color didn’t make her think of hard green stones but tall grass swaying gently in the breeze. As a little girl she’d always begged her mother to pull over when she saw a field of high grass tossed in the wind. It had looked like the perfect, safe place to run to. A perfect place to find peace. Funny how she hadn’t thought of that in a very long time.
The Lord makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul. The passage from Psalms echoed through her like a gentle whisper that lifted her spirit. God had brought her a long way from that childhood innocence. He’d carried her through darkness and into the light. She wondered if Chance was struggling in the darkness right now?
Men of God struggled. It was foolish to think they never had pain…but that was none of her concern. He had family and friends here who she was quite certain were helping him with any problem he might be having. He didn’t need her worrying over it.
“I wonder if Chance would marry me and Emmett?” Stacy asked.
It was the same thought that Lynn had had when she’d first met Chance outside the church.
“That would be a great idea,” Nive said excitedly, pausing in the midst of wrapping the freshly sliced fudge in colorful cellophane. It would be decorated with ribbon in preparation for the gift shops they supplied all across several counties.
Lynn removed the pot from the heat but kept stirring. “Actually, I asked him about that and he said he wasn’t preaching right now.”
Stacy turned hopeful blue eyes to her and it was easy to see her disappointment. She had hoped to wait until a preacher took over the pulpit who would mean something in their lives through the years. She didn’t want to have a stranger marry her. When she wasn’t having moments of cold feet, this marriage meant the world to Stacy. “This is my new beginning. My fresh and beautiful union that I desperately want God to be a part of…” Her voice trembled and she went back to work. “I just don’t understand. I want God involved in my wedding and that starts with the pastor who recites our vows. Why do I keep coming up against closed doors?”
Lynn couldn’t stand the frustration in Stacy’s voice. She closed her eyes and asked God to help her make this happen for Stacy. Opening her eyes she met Stacy’s gaze and, despite her need to back away
, Lynn knew what she had to do.
She was going to ask Chance Turner once more.
Chapter Seven
The sun had just peeked over the distant treetops when Chance saddled Ink and rode out of the barn. They’d ridden for a good hour, checking fence line, looking at the cattle and simply riding. Ink’s ears had been back and he’d been jumpy at first, but now the black gelding had relaxed. Chance had, too, feeling the tension ease from him as he rode across the plains on the Turner ranch. Hauling from one rodeo to the next could wear on horse and man. Being at peace and roaming the wide-open space was good for both of them.
He’d awakened bound in his sheets and sweating bullets with Randy on his mind again. He couldn’t stop thinking about that last ride. He had witnessed to Randy, told him that no one knows what the future holds, and he’d asked Randy once more to commit his life to the Lord. But it had been a no-go. Instead, Randy had wrapped his gloved hand with the bull rope, gripped it tightly and then grinned. “Not today,” he’d said. “This is gonna be a good ride.”
Chance saw his unfocused eyes in that instant and got the uneasy feeling that tragedy was in the making. But the gate opened and it was too late.
How many times he’d replayed in his mind yanking Randy out of that box and stopping that ride.
Bull riders at the top of their game were athletes. They trained hard and respected their bodies and clear minds. You didn’t ride against the toughest bulls—bulls with bigger reputations than the cowboys in many ways—without being prepared. Bull riders died all the time. It was a risk they accepted and they knew not being sharp upped their risk of death. But injuries caused problems. Ever since his shoulder injury two months earlier, Randy had come around more, asking questions. Chance had sensed a need in Randy to change his life. And yet he hadn’t done it. Instead he’d continued hanging with a rough crowd to play with a lifestyle that Chance knew from his personal experience led only to dead ends and heartache. Why hadn’t he done more for Randy? Why?
Chance was heading home, as unsatisfied as when he’d headed out, when he saw a car approaching the stage coach house. He recognized Lynn Perry’s aging auto as it drew closer. The vehicle had seen better days, but he figured Lynn was probably doing her best raising two boys on her own and putting a roof over their heads. There was much about Lynn to admire. He’d thought about that yesterday when he’d stopped to stare at the moon before calling it a night. She seemed very level-headed and in forward motion. He liked that about her. She was cautious about giving the wrong impression to men. And with reason. She’d been hurt before and now he’d seen it in her eyes—she didn’t plan on being hurt again. He also figured she was looking out for her kids. A person didn’t take all the risks involved in fleeing an abusive husband only to jump right back into a relationship. Not when she’d been trying to protect her kids in the first place.
So why was she here? He urged his horse forward across the space separating them. By the time he made it into the yard she’d gotten out of her car. She shielded her eyes from the glare of morning sun and watched him ride in.
She was beautiful standing there, and his heart lifted looking at her, beating out a bongo rhythm despite everything he knew about her and everything he’d come here to escape.
She gave him a terse smile as he approached. Clearly she was disturbed about being here.
“Hi.” He dismounted as he spoke. As soon as his boots hit the ground he tipped his hat and couldn’t help smiling at her. He suddenly felt the weight on his shoulders ease up. “I’m a little surprised to see you way out here. But I have to say I’m glad to see you.”
“I’m surprised to be here, too,” she said, unsmiling.
“But obviously not happy about it.” He couldn’t help teasing her.
She tugged the collar of her jacket closer around her chin and continued to look ill at ease. He waited for her to continue. The edge of her dark hair lifted from her cheek in the chilly breeze and she sucked in a breath. Serious eyes watched him.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“No. I’m sorry. I’m just…not sure how to do this.”
His lips lifted and he gave her his best smile. She wasn’t the easily flustered type and yet she was now. The idea that she was flustered just being around him set his heart to pounding all over again. In your dreams, Turner. “I promise not to bite. Say what’s on your mind.”
She nodded and took a breath. “Gavin smashed his finger this morning when I was getting ready for work.”
“Is he all right?”
“Yes, but…” She rubbed her temple and looked away momentarily. “But I feel horrible.”
“Little boys like working on tree houses. There are hard lessons sometimes, but you have two very creative little boys who clearly want to learn. He’ll be all right, that one.”
He had no doubt about it. Her boys were determined little tykes. He’d thought his words would reassure her but they didn’t. She shifted from one foot to the other and looked more distressed.
“He wasn’t working on the tree house. He and Jack had moved that old ladder we found in the barn from the tree to the house. I don’t know how they managed to get it standing against the house but they did.”
This was going south quickly. “He didn’t?”
“Gavin climbed the thing to the eaves and was trying to hang Christmas lights.” Distress sounded loud and clear in her voice. “It’s a wonder he hadn’t fallen and hurt himself. He’s only four—well, more five than four, but still. He could have been hurt because I’m so stubborn and want to do everything my way.”
Chance stepped closer to her and had the urge to tug her into his arms and comfort her. Instead he smiled, hoping to ease her anxiety, though he was more concerned about the situation than she could know. “God took care of him, it seems. So don’t beat yourself up over it.”
“Easier said than done.” Her lip curved slightly. “I seem to have made a mess of things. They wanted lights on our house for our first Christmas, but I got sidetracked trying to help them build a tree house—which is a disaster. By the time I figured out that I stink at carpentry it was too late to hang the lights. I haven’t had time since to get them up. This is what happens when they decide they need to do things themselves.”
She was upset. No two ways about it. She was a moth er alone with a lot riding on her shoulders. Not only raising her two boys and providing for them but also overcoming whatever had sent her to the women’s shelter. Chance wondered again what kind of heartache she’d gone through. And what kind of effects lingered from the past. “Come on, let’s go sit down and let me get you a glass of tea.” When she didn’t move he took her arm. “Come on.”
She took a deep breath and let him lead her to the porch. He opened the door and led her inside. The stagecoach house had a long, wide hall from front to back, its walls lined with old photos, some dating all the way back to the eighteen hundreds. He led the way into the living room, which was connected to the kitchen and separated by a large wooden table that had been here, as far as they knew, from the beginning. He liked the place. Its rustic stone fireplace and scuffed wooden floors were right up his alley. Their link to the past made it more special. “What can I do?” he asked as he pulled a chair out for her, then got a glass and filled it with ice from the automatic ice dispenser—there were a few modern conveniences that he enjoyed.
Relief and a mixture of embarrassment, if he was reading her expression correctly, washed over her. “I was wondering if that offer of your services was still open.”
He pulled a pitcher of tea from the icebox as excitement hummed through him at the idea. He filled the glass and set it in front of her. “Yes, ma’am, it is.” He sat down across from her. “And even if it had time limitations I’d be honored to help out you and your boys.”
It was the truth. He and God might be having a difference of opinion right now, but that didn’t matter when it came to down-home decency. This was the right thing to do. It was
easy to see she was still struggling. Was it the idea that she needed help at all that was bothering her?
“Thank you so much,” she said, taking a sip of her tea. “I’m sorry I lost it. I’m not usually so upset, but all the way out here I kept thinking about what a close call Gavin and Jack had. Gavin dropped his hammer and it al most hit Jack. My stomach keeps getting sick thinking about it.”
He automatically covered her hand with his. “I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.” Her hand was soft and he was tempted to keep holding it but drew his back. He sure liked the touch of her though.
“The boys will be ecstatic,” she said, tucking her hands into her lap. “And despite all my efforts, your family, my friends and the matchmakers seem to be brewing up ideas about us with every passing moment. It worries me.”
He hadn’t mixed up any signals from Lynn, but his manly pride was getting a bit defensive that she’d easily dismissed the idea of being set up with the likes of him.
“As far as I’m concerned they can brew all they want. If I’m not interested in becoming involved in a relationship, I won’t get involved. No matter who’s doing the pushing.” Was that a flicker of feminine prickle he saw in her eyes at the notion that he’d so blatantly refused involvement? If so she hid it well, because the next instant her lip crooked upward.
“Good. We’re on the same page. What day will be best for you to come out?”
“I guess since you’ve got four-year-olds trying to scale your roof I’d better start as soon as possible. How’s today?”
“Today—I’m sure you had something planned for to day, penning cows or working them or something. Honestly, I’m not much of a cattle woman so I’m not really sure what all you do to them, but whatever you had planned I hate to take you away from it.”
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