The Rancher's Second Chance

by Davalynn Spencer

  By five fifty-five she had driven down the lane and parked in a turnout just off the main road.

  She leaned against the car, palms on the fender and stepped back, lunging on one leg and then the other. Her thigh muscles screamed in protest and she considered telling Mary she’d have to cancel.

  A disgustingly cheerful “Good morning!” squelched the idea.

  She looked up to see the woman a few yards away. Fresh and strong and healthy as an Olympic athlete. Laura wanted to throw up.

  Mary slowed to a walk and stopped at the car, concern on her face. “You sore?”

  “I went riding yesterday and I’m paying for it today.”

  “O-oh.” Mary stretched out the word and shook her head. “That’ll get you every time. How long since you rode a horse.”

  “Would you believe twelve years?”

  “Ouch.” Mary cupped one elbow, and pulled her upper body around in a side twist. “How about if we walk today? Sound good to you?”

  Embarrassed but grateful, Laura agreed. “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “Not at all. Just so I’m moving.” She did a few side bends and flexed her knees one at a time. “Besides, you don’t want to do any serious damage. Walking will be good for you. Work out the pain.”

  Laura struggled not to roll her eyes. “I hope so.”

  “Tell you what. Let’s walk to my place and I’ll fix you a cup of my special tea blend for sore muscles.”

  Laura glanced at her car. “Sure you wouldn’t rather ride?”

  Mary laughed and pulled her long braid over her shoulder. “No. You need to walk. Come on.” She started out. “It’s not that far. About a half mile.”

  Laura groaned inwardly but refused to wimp out on her neighbor’s kindness. “I’m right behind you.”

  Mary shortened her stride as they took to the paved road. “How many horses do you have?”

  “None. I went riding with Eli Hawthorne.”

  “I’ve never met the man, but what a gorgeous place he has. I hear he was a marine. Injured in Afghanistan, if I remember.”

  “Yeah. He lost an eye.” A sudden image of his steely-blue gaze flashed in her mind and she felt warm all over. “And his left foot and ankle.”

  “Oh, my.” Mary looked at her feet. “I can’t imagine what he must go through.”

  Laura smiled to herself. “He pretty much does everything he always did.”

  Redwing blackbirds and larks sang in the new light, and as morning stretched across the meadows, the pain in Laura’s legs eased from a sharp burn to a dull ache. Mary had been right. Walking helped.

  At the next bend in the road, a short lane cut off to the right and ended in a tangle of trees and shrubs. Laura hadn’t ventured this far north since her return, but she vaguely remembered a sprawling ranch-style home in this general vicinity. She followed Mary through a break in the overgrowth and discovered that it served as a privacy hedge. Clever.

  A breezeway split the low structure—a covered, tile-floored area that connected a two-car garage to the main house. Mary took a door to the left and they stepped into the kitchen where a large gray cat lounged on an antique dining table. From a short hallway ahead came the distinctive bay of a basset hound that steamrolled into the room.

  “Welcome to the circus,” Mary said, stroking the overweight tabby as she passed by the table. “Buford, say hello to our new neighbor, Laura Bell.”

  Buford complied and showered Laura’s legs with a slobbery shake of his jowls.

  “Have a seat,” Mary said as she filled a kettle with tap water. “Just push Theodore out of your way if he bothers you. I don’t know what it is about the table that he loves. The tile floor is just as cool as the oak tabletop. Cooler, I think.”

  Laura seated herself one chair over from Theodore’s silky mass, and ran her hand along his side. “Maybe he likes being up high where he can see what’s going on.”

  Buford planted his stubby self beneath the table’s edge, tilted his head back and dragged two, long barks from his throat.

  “Hush, Bu.”

  At Mary’s sharp rebuke, he looked once more at the cat and trotted back down the hallway and out of site.

  “He’s jealous.” Mary took two mugs from the cupboard and placed a tea bag in each one. “He thinks Theodore gets special treatment.”

  Laura chuckled and stroked the rotund feline. “I have two kittens. Hopefully, they’ll turn into good mousers.”

  A large window above the table revealed a grassy yard that sloped toward Campbell Creek. A fallen cottonwood, whitened with age, lay across the creek bed like an invitation.

  “You have a lovely place,” Laura said.

  Mary set a bright blue mug before her and took a seat across the table. “Yes, I’ve come to really enjoy it.” She looked out the window. “Deer often drink at the stream, but in the spring they also help themselves to the bulbs in my garden. I don’t enjoy that so much.”

  Laura sipped the hot tea, trying to detect the herbs in Mary’s sore-muscle remedy. “I don’t have any critter visitors, living on a hilltop like I do.” A sudden image of Ken Pennington flashed through her mind and she nearly corrected herself.

  Mary set her mug on the table and absently feathered her fingers through Theodore’s fur. “Did you know Eli when you were growing up?”

  Laura smiled at the memory. “Yes. We grew up together. At least for a few years—after my mother let me out of the house alone. I guess we spent five or six summers just being kids—swimming, fishing, climbing trees, riding calves.”

  Mary’s brows popped up. “Riding calves?”

  Laura laughed. “Once they were weaned, I’d help Eli corner a calf then he’d jump on its back and ride until he fell off.”

  “Did he ever enter the rodeo in Spring Valley?”

  “He finally talked his granddad into letting him enter the kid’s steer riding. Wanted to ride bulls, but Mr. Hawthorne wasn’t too crazy about that.” She took a longer sip, rolled it around in her mouth. “I don’t know if Eli ever convinced him, because I moved away right after my twelfth birthday.”

  Mary leaned back against the chair and cupped her hands around her mug. She regarded her guest with an easy, open acceptance, and Laura felt oddly comfortable. As if she could tell Mary anything and not be judged.

  “We’ve lived here almost as long as you’ve been gone,” Mary said. “Rich loves it, as I told you the other day, and it’s finally become home for me, too.” She sipped the tea. “So where were you living before you came back.”

  Laura turned her eyes to the window and her thoughts inward. “With my mother. My fiancé bought and furnished what was to be our new home—a condominium—and I was moving my few things in a piece at a time.”

  The throbbing began, but she pressed on, feeling safe with Mary.

  “On one of those occasions I surprised Derek.” She looked at her new friend who sat calmly listening and sipping.

  “With another woman.”

  Mary’s cup halted in midair and her eyes flickered.

  “I simply left. No big scene. Just took what I could carry and left everything else. Including his ring.”

  “Was it a total surprise or had you suspected something?”

  Mary’s question forced her to look at the truth. “I think I suspected. I think that’s why I didn’t tell him I was coming, just showed up.”

  The throbbing eased and she returned her gaze to the window and the fallen cottonwood. “When Mama died I brought her home, took our place off the market and decided to give myself a year to heal and start over.”

  Mary nodded. “I remember your purchases that first day at the store.”

  Laura swirled the tea in her mug and nodded. “The most fun I’d had in a year.”

  “Well I�
��m glad you picked our store.” Mary reached across the table and squeezed Laura’s hand. “I hate to break this up, but I need to get ready for work.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Laura scooted away from the table.

  “Not to worry. I just need to stick to my schedule or I’ll be late. We’ll have to do this again.” She smiled in her warm, accepting way, and Laura believed she meant what she said.

  Setting her cup in the sink, Laura thanked Mary for the tea. “Do you carry this brand at the store?”

  “And several other herbal varieties. Next time you’re in town stop by and I’ll show you.”

  With one final rub of Theodore’s more than ample torso, Laura let herself out the side door and headed for the main road. What a hideaway Mary had. As reclusive as her own hilltop.

  She took to the pavement and silently thanked God for bringing her home to a new life and a new friend.

  And to Eli.

  Her insides fluttered. An undeniable response to the mere thought of the man.

  * * *

  Laura parked beside the house and walked down to the corrals to check the water tank. She should have done that before letting Eli run those cows in.

  Weedy grass filled the pens, long vacant and unused, but when she turned the spigot, water gushed into the tank. She climbed over the pipe fencing and swung all the interior gates back against the rails. Hopefully her cows would mow out the pens.

  The corrals sat on a lesser hill that jutted out west of her house. From here she had a broader view of the county road that ribboned through the valley and past Mary’s place. She located the roof of Mary’s long rancher, the trees and shrubs that sheltered it from the road and several other homes built since she’d left. The hill country definitely had more houses than before. More change. But good change, she decided. What if everything remained the same? Wasn’t growth what life was all about?

  Splashing water told her she’d let the tank run over, and she hurried to shut off the spigot. She had chores now, and the thought pleased her. Animals depended on her to care for them—animals besides Pete and Re-Pete.

  What about people? Eli in particular. Would he ever need her?

  The flutter returned, and experience cautioned her to not get her hopes up. But he’d told her he was glad she’d come back. Wasn’t there hope in that?

  A black head bobbed over the crest of the hill, followed by four others. The cows crowded around the tank, slurping noisily and wiping their noses with long, slick tongues.

  She laughed out loud at the familiar scene she’d long forgotten. What else about ranch life had she let slip away?

  The question sent her to the shed that butted against the corrals—her dad’s storage area where he kept his tools and other supplies. The door opened easily and stretched cobwebs across the frame. She found an errant branch and cleared them as she stepped inside. Speckled light filtered into the dusty cavity and most of what had once been there was gone. She scanned the workbench, looking for traces of her former life, expecting to find little if anything.

  At the far end an old mailbox sat in rusted neglect with a piece of wood attached to the front flap. Laura gasped, remembering the bright yellow bell that distinguished their box from the others at the road. She rummaged among stray bolts and odd iron pieces until she found a discarded straight-edge screwdriver. With it she loosened the screw that held the wood to the box, and twisted a nut off the backside.

  A little sanding and a splash of fresh paint and the bell would be good as new.

  Chapter 14

  Eli helped Garcia load pipe and welding supplies into the stock trailer hitched to his pickup. He tossed a shovel in the pickup bed, lifted Goldie in, then slid behind the wheel.

  Garcia took the tractor with the auger attached to the back and opened the upper gate between the ranch and Bell property. He drove through and waited for Eli to bring the trailer around.

  Parking parallel to the sagging barbed wire, Eli estimated it would take thirty posts from his pipe fence to Laura’s driveway, about two hundred yards altogether. Pennington’s cattle watched from the other side, resting in the shade of an old oak.

  He lifted Goldie from the back, scoped the pasture for his—Laura’s—five head and found them trailing down from the corrals. Didn’t matter where the water lay, livestock could always find it. Smelled it, Pop had told him. The very thing that often caused stampedes on those long cattle drives in the 1800s. Cattle could smell water more than a mile away.

  Laura’s wave from the top caught his eye, and he returned the signal. His heart rate climbed a notch at the sight of her. Even from a distance she was beautiful.

  Goldie bedded down in the pickup’s shade while Eli and Garcia worked on the first section. By midday, ten steel posts sprouted along the old wire fence, and Garcia had a good start on the top rail. Eli pulled off his hat and wiped his shirt sleeve across his forehead as Garcia raised his welder’s mask.

  “Siesta,” Garcia said.

  Eli nodded, unhitched the trailer and cranked the jack foot down. Then he, Garcia and Goldie took the pickup back to the ranch house.

  After lunch and a gallon of iced tea, Eli relaxed at his desk, pulled up the feed store’s website and scrolled through for clothing. They didn’t have much, but he remembered seeing a boot display when he’d stopped in the other day. A good women’s work boot was all he needed. Nothing fancy. No bling.

  Laura would have to try them on. He reached for the phone and realized he didn’t know her number. No doubt she had a cell phone, so he couldn’t look it up. He hadn’t thought to ask her. Guess he’d have to drive up and ask her now.

  Hmm.

  Garcia had stretched out on the old leather sofa and Goldie occupied her favorite spot by the fireplace.

  “I’ll be back shortly,” Eli said from the doorway to the family room.

  A ceiling fan stirred the air and Garcia raised a hand. Goldie chased a goose.

  * * *

  Laura’s land bordered his, her house looked down from the first hill to the north, yet he had to drive all the way down his lane, out to the pavement and a mile up the road to get to her turnoff. He needed a shortcut.

  Slipping through the S-curve, he again recognized its danger. On the first half, the road crested. The northbound lane curved to the right, the southbound to its left. If a driver going either way failed to hold his lane and met oncoming traffic at the top, the resulting crash would be a dead center head-on. Eli’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.

  He rarely drove through the curve, but Laura did every time she went to town. Which from the number of times her sports car shot by, was plenty. When school started, she might be driving it even more.

  Topping the rise, he spotted Laura’s car parked off the road on the right. She stood across the pavement at the mailboxes attacking one with what looked like a screwdriver. He pulled in behind the convertible and watched.

  She glanced over her shoulder with a scowl and returned to her assault. As far as he could tell, the only thing she was accomplishing was improving the tan on her slender legs.

  “Want a hand?” he offered as he stepped from his truck. He crossed the road and took a closer look at her project.

  Laura pressed a yellow bell shape with a long screw against the front of her mailbox. Her other hand wielded an ancient screwdriver that was no doubt the source of her scowl.

  He frowned, forcing a spontaneous smile from his lips.

  “Let me see that.”

  She glared at him.

  “Please let me see that.” He extended his hand and hoped she wouldn’t shove the straight edge through his palm.

  With a huff she slapped the screwdriver in his hand and held out the yellow bell. “I found this in the shed this morning and took it off our old mailbox.”

&nb
sp; He caught the distinct odor of new paint.

  “If I took it off that one, why can’t I get it on this one? It’s not brain surgery.”

  His mouth quivered, jerked from a smile by military-strength resolve. “Your dad probably drilled a hole in the metal before he attached the bell. Was there a fastener on the backside?”

  Comprehension washed across her features and she dropped her head. “Yes. I have it right here.” She fingered a small rusted nut from a front pocket and held it up.

  “I’ve got a drill,” he said. “Wait here.”

  He turned and gave in to a soft chuckle, allowing his lips to relax in a smile. From his truck-bed toolbox he retrieved a cordless drill, and then reached deep for a solemn expression.

  “You’ve made a dent in it,” he said, looking closer on his return. “Is that where you want it?”

  “Yes.”

  He drilled a quick hole, she held the bell in place and he pushed the screw through and into the metal. She threaded the fastener on and finally stepped back looking relieved.

  “Thank you,” she said, fixing him with her dark eyes. “You have great timing.”

  He raised the power drill. “And the right tools.”

  She conceded with a grin. “Guess I need to go shopping again.”

  “That’s what I came to see you about.”

  She accompanied him to the truck. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I want to get you a pair of boots.” He returned the drill to his toolbox.

  Her cheeks flushed and she dipped her head a fraction as she looked away. “You don’t have to do that. I can afford boots.”

  He eyed her car. “I know you can. That’s not the issue. I’d like to repay you for all those groceries and for reminding us what good food tastes like.”

  She laughed under her breath.

  “As a matter of fact, Garcia thinks you should be so generous every night.”

  Her eyes flew to his as if looking for more.

  “I told him you had better things to do than feed a couple of busted-up cowboys.”