Outside, the rain began to pound on the metal roof of the barn, rat-a-tat-tat, like a stranger demanding to be let in.
“Thunder and lightning have stopped,” Jack observed. “But the rain is really picking up.”
“I suggest you take cover, as well. Head for the house,” Lucy said.
“What about you?”
“I’m going to do a visual check of all the horses first, and then I’ll be in.”
“I’ll help you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Lucy, how am I going to fill Leo’s shoes if you keep turning down my help?”
“Okay, fine.” She ran her fingers through the wet tangles of her hair.
Weariness seemed to have settled on her like a heavy blanket, and he found himself longing to ease her burden. Despite their differences, he had to admire the woman. She was always first on the job and last to leave. Her work ethic rivaled any he’d ever seen.
Lucy released a breath and tucked her shoulders back, as if rallying for a second round. “I’m going to inspect the horses. You check the stalls to be sure every horse has sufficient feed and enough water for the night.”
“I thought someone did that already.”
“We do it again at night check. Those are the rules.”
“Seems repetitive, if you ask me.”
A smile twitched at her lips. “Ah, yes, but I didn’t ask you.”
“Touché, Madame Director.”
Chapter Seven
“Ouch,” Lucy murmured as Rue dabbed antibiotic ointment on her chin.
“Sorry, dear.” Rue stepped back and assessed Lucy’s face. “You’ve had quite a week. A near concussion, cut lip and chin, and now the poison ivy!”
“Yes, but that home run was worth every last scrape and bruise. Did you see Jack’s eyes bug out of his head when I knocked that ball to the moon? I’ll be savoring that for a long time.”
Rue chuckled as she placed the tube of medication on the kitchen counter. She sniffed the air and stepped back. “What is that on your shirt, Lucy?”
Lucy looked down. “Blaze spit up on me.”
“I trust you’re going to shower tonight?”
“As soon as the hot water tank recovers.”
“That may be a while.” Rue shook her head. “You look exhausted, dear.”
“I’ll be fine.” As she said the words, her body begged for rest from this very long day. Soon. Very soon.
“Yes. Fine as always,” Rue returned with an arched brow. “Now, let’s see those rashes.”
Lucy slipped off her lightweight, zip-front sweatshirt and stretched out her arms. “So far everything is mild. Thank you for the cortisone cream.”
“You’re welcome. We’re headed back in the morning, right?”
“Late morning. Cook is making Belgian waffles outside with the portable stove before we go.”
“Despite the fact that this trip has been a comedy of errors, we certainly have eaten well.”
“True that,” Lucy said.
The older woman smiled. “You know, if we hadn’t had a rainout, I do believe your team might have come close to winning the game.”
“Rue. We did win.”
“Oh, no, dear, you called the game, and we weren’t even close to the fourth inning. We call that a scratch. We’ll have to have a rematch.”
Lucy groaned. “Scratch? That’s not a regulation softball term, Rue.”
“Nonetheless—”
Jack popped his head into the kitchen. “Sorry to interrupt this sports discussion, ladies.”
“Ah, our catcher. Just in time. You agree with me, right, Jack? That game was a scratch.”
“I’ll get back to you on that, General.” He turned to Lucy. “They’ve cleaned us out of every last s’more, and it was suggested that I find you to signal the official bedtime roundup.”
Lucy pulled her silver whistle from around her neck and held it out to him, her arm limp.
His eyes widened and he stepped back. “The whistle? You want me to take the official whistle?”
“You’ve certainly earned the privilege, after today,” Lucy said.
“I don’t know. I’m only a stand-in for Leo,” he returned with a wink to Rue, who chuckled.
On impulse, Lucy stepped close and placed the whistle in his hand, then closed his fingers around the shiny metal. “You can do this. I have faith in you, Jack.”
Jack’s mouth tilted upward. “Thank you, Lucy,” he murmured, his other hand closing over hers, his gaze intense, as though they were alone in the room.
Lucy nodded and swallowed, her heart thumping in her chest. She slipped her hand from his and turned to the sink.
“My, my, my,” Rue said quietly.
“What?” Lucy overturned a stack of paper cups, righted them and fumbled with the faucet until the water cooperated.
“I had no idea.”
“No idea what?” She filled the cup and chugged back the water, nearly choking in the process.
“Nothing, dear. Nothing.” Rue gathered the supplies spread over the counter into her medical bag, snapped the brass closure in place and smiled. “Sleep tight.”
Even after a shower, sleep remained oddly elusive. Lucy paced back and forth across the wide first-floor porch while the rain continued to patter against the eaves and drip from the gutters, splashing inches away from her feet.
Turning back to one of the two large rockers on the porch, she picked up her blanket and cocooned herself before sinking into the chair’s deep seat.
Maybe it was the incident with Jack earlier. But which one? That moment in the woods or the one in the kitchen? What had she been thinking, taking his hand? Lucy Maxwell didn’t do impulsive things like that. Hadn’t she learned long ago to avoid situations where failure was not an option?
The screen door creaked, and Jack Harris stepped outside while pulling a dark sweatshirt over jeans and a white T-shirt. “May I join you?”
“Jack,” she murmured. Just what she didn’t need right now.
“Was that a yes?” he asked.
“Sure,” she murmured. With the blanket draped around her, Lucy stood and moved to the far end of the porch. “Insomnia?” she asked as she peered into the darkness, working hard to remain nonchalant.
“I suppose so. It’s always difficult to sleep when it’s raining. Seems like I should be awake and enjoying the sounds.”
“That’s an interesting way to look at the weather. Where does that come from?”
When he leaned against the rail and rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, her gaze was irresistibly drawn to him.
“My aunt, I guess. Wow, long time ago.” He paused and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, as though struggling to recall distant memories. “I had nightmares often as a kid, and one night they were especially bad. A thunderstorm contributed to the issue, I suppose. Aunt Meri opened the French doors and we sat beneath the eaves, just like this, for hours. Aunt Meri said the storm was a private show from God, just for us.” A small smile touched his lips.
“Your aunt is an amazing woman.”
Jack nodded and offered a weary smile.
“Why the nightmares?” Lucy asked.
He shrugged and crossed his arms, dismissing the subject. “This is a great house, you know.”
Lucy studied his strong profile as he stared out into the night. There were plenty of secrets hidden inside Jack Harris. That was the only thing she knew for certain after a week with the man.
“You’re missing a great opportunity here,” he mused.
“What opportunity is that?”
Jack turned to face her. “Your lodge is an untapped gold mine that could single-handedly keep your ranch afloat.”
“What are you talking about?” Lucy asked, knowing that
she probably shouldn’t ask questions she didn’t want the answer to. An uneasy shiver ran over her when he assessed the house before once again pinning her with his gaze.
“You were going on about cattle and vegetables and a self-sustaining vision for the ranch and all, correct?”
“Your point?”
“A little tweaking and you can rent this place out. Vacation rentals are big right now. Then there’s weddings and retreats and small group programs. You know, if you add a few horses you have—”
“A dude ranch!” Lucy said, horror lacing her voice.
“They don’t call them dude ranches anymore. Guest ranch is the term. Tourists really love that stuff.”
She stiffened with indignation. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“Do you know how many guest ranches there are in the state of Oklahoma?”
“Come on, you were the one who said that people pay a small fortune for this kind of outdoor experience.”
Lucy sank down into the nearest chair and gripped the wooden arms of the rocker. “I need to keep my big mouth shut.”
“Visualize the chuck wagon in front of the house. Add picnic tables, and you’ve got more authentic Oklahoma experiences for very little overhead.” He gestured with a hand, excitement simmering in his voice. “You were right, Lucy. Camping. Trail rides. Outdoor meals. Rustic adventure. They eat it up, and you’ve got the perfect place sitting empty, waiting for you to tap into.”
“They can eat it up somewhere else,” she grumbled.
“Are you against making money?”
“No.”
“All the profits would go directly back into the organization. Even your accountant would approve.”
“Is everything about money with you, Harris?”
“Some people think that’s a good thing. And who knows? If this takes off, you don’t have to be as dependent on my aunt’s donation. On anyone’s donation.”
“We are not dependent on your aunt’s money. We are dependent on God.”
He cocked his head. “Then why am I the new Leo?”
“We...we can’t finalize our budget until we know what our estimated donations will be.”
“With this idea, you never have to worry.”
Lucy bit back the response on the end of her tongue and silently counted to five. “We don’t worry. Big Heart Ranch belongs to God.”
“Great, because I can’t see God disapproving of using your resources for the kids. You said you want to be good stewards of the finances.”
“But...but...” She struggled with the words, her mouth suddenly dry. “I thought you were here to approve the ranch for the donation.”
“I’m here to get an understanding of what you do at the ranch. How the funds are allocated.”
“How’s that going for you?”
“Lucy, I’m not saying I will or will not approve of the funds. This is apples and oranges. But you should at least think about what I’m saying. My aunt isn’t going to be around forever. I’m offering you a way to ensure the ranch will be, and you’re telling me that you aren’t interested.”
“You’re twisting my words around. What I said is that I have no interest in any commercial venture that would include this house, Jack.”
“What if your sister and Travis are interested?”
Lucy opened her mouth and closed it again. Her stomach dipped, and a queasy, unrestful feeling settled in the pit. It was her house. She longed to stamp her feet. If she had her way, she’d simply knock the place down. Raze it until it was gone, along with any evidence of how naive she’d been. And how her heart and her dreams had been broken into a zillion little pieces. The log house represented a happily-ever-after she’d never have.
“Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll make this easy. Let me do the legwork. This is the sort of thing I’m good at. I’ll present you with my findings and we can go from there.”
She frowned, growing more and more annoyed.
“Do we have a deal?”
“Fine. But I do not want a dude ranch here. I can’t risk an unsavory presence on the property.”
“We can find a way to make this work and keep the two entities separate.”
“Can we?” She rubbed absently at the rash on her arms. The skin burned beneath her shirt.
“Sure. Where’s your spirit of adventure?” He paused and pinned her with his gaze. “Why weren’t you a Girl Scout anyhow?”
Lucy shook her head and looked at him. “You might consider refraining from prying into people’s personal lives, Harris.”
He offered a distracted nod at her words. “You know, it just occurred to me that maybe your childhood snuffed out any opportunity for being adventurous.”
She stiffened. “I’m as adventurous as the next gal.”
“So why no Girl Scouts? You sounded sort of bitter when you mentioned it earlier.”
“No one shells out money to fosters for frivolous things like Girl Scouts.”
“Fosters, huh?” He shook his head. “What happened to your parents, Lucy?” Jack asked quietly.
Around them, the rain had slowed to an almost intimate rhythmic patter. Lucy shivered as a cool breeze slid past. She pulled the blanket closer and stared out into the night.
“They died together in a motor vehicle accident. We were driving through the mountains in Colorado. A boulder broke loose. They said it was the result of a heavy spring runoff. It crashed the front of the car. Travis and Emma and I were trapped in the back.”
Jack inhaled sharply. “I’m so sorry, Lucy.”
“Stuff happens.” She swallowed hard, focusing on a tiny chip of paint on the arm of the chair.
“Yeah, it does.”
“Their deaths were just as painful as being separated from Travis and Emma. That’s why this ranch is so important. I got a second chance. Giving kids a second chance is what we’re called to do. It’s a huge responsibility that I can’t afford to mess up.”
“Lucy, believe it or not, I do get that. I’m not immune to what you’re trying to do, and believe it or not, I understand second chances.”
She nodded slowly, wanting to believe him.
Jack tucked his hands in his pockets. “So, the house. You never did explain where it came from.
“The house is not part of Big Heart Ranch.”
“Is there something you’re hiding?”
“Not at all.” She released a breath. “I was engaged. We built this house. The engagement didn’t work out, and I bought my portion of the house from him.” There. Now he had it. Her pitiful story.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
“It was a long time ago.”
He frowned and looked at her. “You’re still emotionally attached to the property, aren’t you? Maybe you have hopes for reconciliation.”
“Hardly,” she scoffed. “He’s moved on. Married a woman who doesn’t come with baggage and sixty children.” Lucy paused, realizing that her words were true. She had moved on. The pain that usually clawed at her chest when she thought of her former fiancé was gone.
When had that happened? How had she not noticed?
“The ranch? That was the problem?”
“Come on, Jack. Not many men want to marry a woman with a houseful of kids. Or in my case, a ranch-full.”
“You do bring new meaning to the terms baggage and married to the job.” He chuckled.
“I’m glad you find my pain so amusing.”
“Aw, come on. If you don’t laugh, what else can you do? Trust me, you aren’t the only one who’s been dumped.”
“Not you? Big New York attorney?” She paused. “Let me guess. Supermodel?”
He straightened, looking almost offended. “How’d you know that?”
She laughed. “Because you’re Captain
Obvious.”
“I like to think of myself as an open book.”
Lucy choked on a laugh. “So why did you split up? Her ego was bigger than yours?”
“No. My bank account wasn’t big enough.”
“Ouch. That had to hurt.”
“Surprisingly, not as much as I would have thought. We’d been lingering in the nowhere zone for so long, I didn’t realize the relationship was dead until she’d been gone for two weeks and I hadn’t even noticed.”
Lucy looked up at Jack. She would have never guessed that his heart had suffered the same pain as hers. That didn’t make them kindred spirits, though, she reminded herself.
Jack had buried his heartache, looking for all the world unscathed as he put on his lawyer face each day.
If only she could be so emotionless.
She shifted and tucked her feet beneath her. “Okay, this is getting far too maudlin for me. Can we change the subject?”
“Sure. How about food? I’m hungry.”
“Didn’t you eat s’mores?”
“Are you kidding? Those kids scarfed them down so fast, I would have lost fingers if I got between them and their appetites.”
“The cook locks everything up at night.”
“There isn’t a single snack in this place?”
Lucy hesitated. “Well...” She met his gaze. “I do have my own personal locked closet downstairs in the pantry. I’m sure there’s something in there. Whether it’s edible or not is the real question.”
He smiled. “Got the key with you?”
“I do.” She folded up her blanket and stood, moving to the door. “Come on. But be quiet.”
Jack held the door and followed Lucy through the entry and down the hall to the kitchen. He nearly knocked her over when she stopped in the middle of the room.
“Jack!” she hissed as he stumbled. “You’re supposed to be quiet.”
“I’m sorry. Why did you stop?”
“Because this is the closet.” Lucy nodded to a tall door and pulled keys from her pocket. After fitting one into the lock, she turned to him. “I can’t turn on the light until the door is closed. No one must see the inside of this closet.”
Claiming Her Cowboy Page 9
