Counting on the Cowboy

by Shannon Taylor Vannatter

  “You like her, don’t you?”

  Brock stiffened at his mom’s voice behind him. Definitely none of her business. He turned around, scowl firmly in place. “Who?”

  “Devree. She’s a sweet girl.”

  “Even if I did, she’s too city.”

  “Opposites attract. Like your father and me. We made a great team.”

  “Our memories don’t exactly line up. I remember you complaining about living on the ranch and causing arguments.”

  “All couples disagree sometimes.” She leaned her elbows against the goat pen. “Your father and I loved each other. I was young and didn’t appreciate this place then. But even with our issues, we were great together. You and Devree are too. I’ve watched you with her. You light up like a Texas sunrise when she’s around.”

  “So, you’re stalking me?”

  “You make it sound so ominous. I can’t help being drawn to my own flesh and blood.”

  He looked past her toward the barn. A cowhand turned away. Gossip traveled fast on a large ranch They were probably the hot topic at the moment.

  “Please come to the chapel with me. Just to talk. Just for a minute.”

  He sighed. Might as well escape prying eyes. And besides, he had a feeling his mom wouldn’t quit until he heard her out.

  Chapter Seven

  With the happy couple back on the road, Devree climbed up to the chapel loft carrying a box of glass bells.

  The loft brimmed with lace, tulle and every other embellishment she’d accumulated over the years. She plopped down on the floor crisscross style. As she rewrapped the fragile bells in packing paper, she heard the chapel door open, then two sets of footfalls before the door closed.

  Her hands stilled. Maybe someone had come to pray. The sanctuary was open at all times and she’d been instructed that if she was decorating and guests arrived, she should leave them in peace.

  But clambering down the ladder wouldn’t be very peaceful. Staying put and quiet was best.

  “We have nothing to talk about.” Brock’s words came out gruff.

  Devree’s jaw dropped.

  “Please, Brock, I just want to spend time with you,” Becca pleaded. “To get to know the man you’ve become.”

  “With no help from you.”

  Devree’s face steamed. She shouldn’t be hearing this. On the other side of the two rooms in the loft, a door led to an empty area with an open air window for pictures. Maybe she could bail without breaking a leg.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you were a child.” Becca’s voice broke. “When you needed me most. But I’m here now. Can’t we build a relationship?”

  “I’m not interested. As soon as Chase hires another handyman, I’m out of here.”

  He’d lost his father at the tender age of eight and had a falling out with his mother in the years since. His aloneness drew her to him. Made her hurt for him. The one thing she could always count on was family. How did people without that bond get through life’s hard knocks?

  Lord, help Brock and Becca repair their past hurts. Find their way back to each other. Thankfully, she’d repaired her relationship with God last Sunday. She knew for certain that He heard her now.

  “I didn’t come here to see you, and I’m not staying for you.” Brock’s angry tone jarred her from her prayer.

  “Please, can’t you forgive me?”

  Silence echoed. Tension swirled. Devree looked at the door that led to the loft window. Maybe she could make it. A broken leg would be better than this.

  “If you don’t keep your distance,” Brock growled, “I won’t keep your secret.”

  “That will only work for so long.” Becca sniffled. “I’m trying to work up the courage to tell Ron the truth. And eventually, I will. Until then, I’ll respect your wishes.”

  “You do that.”

  The door closed.

  Brock spewed out a sigh.

  Okay, leave now. Stop this torment. Knowing there was a secret. Things she shouldn’t know. And her right foot was going to sleep.

  There was a movement near her knee. The glass bell rolled a slow circle, rustling the tissue paper. It got close to the edge of the stairwell. Please stop! If she reached for it, there would be more tissue rustling. In slow motion the bell reached the edge, teetered. And fell.

  She closed her eyes in anticipation but there was no sound. No glass breaking. Impossible. She opened her eyes, leaned over to peer through the opening.

  A large hand held the bell. “What are you doing up there?” Brock snarled.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—Miranda asked to see the bells before they left. I was just putting them away when y’all came in.” She scooted closer.

  Stormy eyes as green as a prickly pear cactus met hers. “And decided to eavesdrop instead of letting us know you were there.”

  “I didn’t know who came in. I thought it might be someone coming to pray, so I decided to be quiet and not disturb them.” She stood, brushed the seat of her dress off. “I’ll leave you alone. I can do this later.” She descended the stairs, dreaded facing him.

  At the bottom, she kept her gaze averted, started to sidestep him.

  But he blocked her. Like a wall.

  She slowly met his glower. “Before I forget to tell you, I saw Jed in town as I was leaving the bakery. His grandson doesn’t know of anyone ever setting live traps at the landfill.”

  “For the record, I’m not blackmailing her.” He closed his eyes. “I have no intention of telling anyone anything. I just want her to leave me alone.”

  “This is none of my business.” She bit her lip. “But I’ve known Becca and Ron for a few years now. They’re good people. Kind. And very happy. I’d hate to see them get hurt. She’s your mother.”

  “A mother I haven’t seen since I was ten years old.”

  Ten. Devree’s eyes widened. What could sweet Becca have done to turn him against her?

  “Haven’t you ever needed a second chance?”

  He looked past her, off in the distance. “I didn’t know she was here.” His tone dripped sarcasm. “I didn’t come here to work through my mother-inflicted emotional baggage.”

  “Then what did you come for? And don’t tell me the job. You could get a job anywhere.”

  Turbulent eyes zeroed in on her. “Every memory I have of my dad is here.”

  “He and your mom had a good relationship?”

  “According to her. But I remember them arguing a lot about living here. My mom hated it—loved Dallas.”

  “Really?” She frowned. “Becca loves it here now. People change, you know.”

  “Sometimes for the worse.”

  “Sometimes for the better.” She hesitated. Had probably said enough. “How do you think your dad would feel about it?”

  He frowned. “About what?”

  “Would he want you to give your mom another chance?”

  His nostrils flared.

  Definitely said enough. “Just think about it.” She scurried for the door, bolted for the ranch house. Away from his anger.

  Two steps forward, five back where the brooding cowboy was concerned.

  * * *

  Something loomed just out of consciousness. It seared Brock’s nose. Burnt rubber mixed with acrid sulfur. He woke to...the stench of skunk. Really close and inescapable. He threw his covers back. If only he didn’t have to breathe. Was it in the barn?

  Minutes later, fully dressed, he stepped out of his quarters. The cloying odor was closer to the ranch house. Great, just what guests wanted to wake up to. The reek worsened as he neared the fishing cabin.

  Uptight voices sounded from the ranch house. Irate guests? Exactly what Chase and Landry didn’t need. He headed that way.

  “We can’t possibly stay here.” A snooty blonde aimed t
wo children toward the drive.

  “It’ll die down by evening.” Chase carried two suitcases. “You sure you don’t want to stay? Spend the day in town and by the time you get back—”

  “I don’t think so.” The woman shook her head.

  “I’m sorry.” An apologetic man, loaded with luggage, shrugged. “I grew up in the country, but the wife and kids, they’re not used to waking up to skunk spray.”

  “Well, I hope you enjoyed your stay. Up until now, anyway.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll be back.”

  The woman shot her husband a deadly look.

  Poor guy.

  Chase helped the man load the suitcases, still apologizing while the wife and children got in the car.

  “It’s not your fault.” The man got in and drove away.

  “Good news.” A nasally voice came from the front porch. Devree, holding her nose. Pretty in a purple blouse and gray slacks. “The rest of the guests are staying. And your mom and dad are serving them a free breakfast for putting up with this rancid smell.”

  “The closer I got to the fishing cabin, the more it smelled,” Brock reluctantly admitted.

  Chase grimaced. “I hope it didn’t have help finding its way in.”

  “I’ll let you check it out.” Devree went inside.

  “Landry’s upset.” Chase rubbed the back of his neck. “She figures that woman will gripe to all her pretentious friends and we’ll lose business.”

  “I think the lady failed to appreciate the charm of this place before the skunk ever sprayed. He just gave her a good excuse to get out of Dodge. I doubt she’d recommend the dude ranch to her friends, anyway.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “Go tend to Landry. I’ll see if our offender is still around.”

  “Thanks.” Chase headed inside.

  Brock rushed to the fishing cabin, dug the key from his pocket. The stink was definitely worse here. The lock clicked and he opened the door, expecting to catch Pepé Le Pew in the act. But nothing seemed amiss. The smell was so potent that his eyes watered. Yet it wasn’t inside. At least the striped suspect had moved on. Whoever their vandal was hadn’t gotten past the new lock.

  Devree had wanted to hang the final decor items today, and he still had two lighting fixtures to change out. But it would have to wait. If he couldn’t stomach working here, she certainly couldn’t. He’d report to Chase, see if there was anything else to do for the day. He locked up, then hurried to the ranch house.

  In the lobby, Devree paced, turned to face him when the door shut behind him. “The smell is nauseating Landry, and she’s upset the Dawson family left. I think Chase is taking her to an inn in town until the stink dies down.”

  She may be a city girl with designer clothes and a persnickety attitude to prove it, sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong, but she loved her sister. So, she couldn’t be all bad.

  “Chase will take good care of her. Don’t worry.”

  “You’re not mad at me anymore?”

  “I figure Chase needs us to work together.” He gave her a pointed look. “If you don’t pressure me about her again, we’ll be fine.”

  “Understood.” She restarted her pacing. “The skunk wasn’t in the fishing cabin, was it?”

  “No. But it definitely sprayed outside there. No mice, either. I think we need to start calling it honeymoon cottage A.”

  “Agreed. For now. Eventually, Landry and Chase will come up with cutesy names for each like the guest rooms have.”

  “I’m assuming the finishing touches we planned for the day are out. Anything I can do around here to ease Chase’s mind?”

  “I need to put up a few permanent decor items in the chapel. You can help with that, if you want.”

  “At your service.” He tipped his hat. Though he’d hoped the skunk would have allowed him to escape her for the day. He was better off mad at her. At least that way, she couldn’t reel him in. But with a truce, all bets were off as far as his heart was concerned.

  “The wall decor is in my car.”

  He followed her out and unloaded six stacked boxes from her back seat.

  “I can carry some of them.”

  “I’m good.” He bumped the car door shut with his hip.

  “The wedding party arrives in two days for the rehearsal. Do you think this smell will be gone before then?” She opened the chapel door, held it for him. “What if he has friends. Or he likes it here and decides to stick around. Is there anything we can do to keep skunks away?”

  “Maybe a dog. Or a cat.”

  “I’ll google it.” She swiped the screen on her phone, then tapped in her request. “Ugh. It says dog urine deters skunks. And orange peels. Interesting.”

  “Maybe we should check with Chase about a dog. And he already agreed to a cat to help with the mice. Initially, I think they were getting in on their own, so a cat would encourage them to hang out somewhere else.”

  “He’s supposed to call later once he gets Landry settled in town. I’ll mention it to him.” She opened one of the boxes, pulled out a chapel-window-shaped frame with decorative metal scrollwork in the center. The finish looked chipped and weathered, yet the surface was smooth.

  “There are three different designs. I want two matching ones at the front, framing the stage, one on each side in the center and two in the back, framing the door.”

  “Just tell me which ones where.”

  From building luxury cabins to interior decorating. Whatever it took to help Chase. But Devree made the whole thing too pleasant. How had she gotten to him with her city-slicker ways? She was everything he’d sworn off, everything he didn’t want.

  As soon as Landry had the baby, Devree would be gone. Back to her beloved Dallas. He had no business getting used to having her around. Yet being near her set his heart to a different rhythm.

  * * *

  In the loft, Devree organized her decor items, so she could quickly whip the chapel into shape. The skunk had complicated things. They were supposed to finish the cottage today. Now, they’d be busy with it tomorrow, cutting into her wedding decor time.

  Maybe she could put in some hours here after tonight’s Bible study to get back on schedule. Besides, the smell wasn’t as intense here as in the ranch house. Or was she getting used to it?

  A loud thwack. She jumped, hurried down the ladder, scanned the expanse of green beside the chapel. Brock putting up a fence post. Right in the middle of where the outdoor reception needed to be held. Right where she planned to set up for photos for the wedding. Chase had never wanted to host weddings here, but she’d thought he was on board.

  “What are you doing?” She stalked toward Brock, heels stabbing into the damp freshly sprinkled earth with each step.

  He raised up, adjusted his cowboy hat. Eyes so intense she wanted to look away. “Building a fence for the petting zoo.”

  “No. No. No. Not right here. This is where I’ll have outdoor receptions and photo sessions. I have an extremely important wedding in two days and I can’t have smelly animals fouling up everything.”

  “I reckon you’ll have to take it up with the boss man.” A stubborn glint in his eyes.

  At odds with the cowboy handyman. Again. “You don’t understand how important this wedding is. If I ace this ceremony, it could secure my nuptial-free future.”

  “How’s that?”

  “The bride’s father owns Brighton Electronics. If I impress him with a dream wedding for his daughter, he might hire me to plan his annual company retreat.”

  “So?”

  “So. Something like that could put me on the event-planning map. And I wouldn’t have to do weddings anymore. But not if Heidi the Heifer and Daisy the Donkey are stinking up everything.”

  Brock took off his hat, wiped his brow with the back of his gloved hand.
“Chase’s work order says to build it here so drive-by traffic can see it and kids will clamor to stop.”

  Hat head took nothing away from tall, dark and dimpled, even if he didn’t get her dilemma.

  “We need to postpone it. Until I can talk sense into Chase.”

  “So I reckon I need to pull this post up.”

  “Could you fill the hole too? And pack it hard enough, so no one breaks an ankle during the reception.”

  “Will do.” He pulled the post up, threw it aside, then grabbed the shovel and went to work scooping the dirt back into the hole.

  She hadn’t meant to cause him extra work. But nothing and no one would stand between her and one perfect ceremony. Besides, such decisions needed to revolve around the newly constructed chapel and the dude ranch’s future as a wedding venue. Even after she left.

  “I’m sorry, Brock.” She hoped he heard the sincerity in her tone. “Feel free to give me your best jab about women complicating everything.”

  “No worries. I’d rather it get built in the right place. And there’s no rush. With the cottage on hold, I figured it was a good time to work on the pens. It doesn’t even have to be done today.”

  Chase pulled his truck in the drive.

  She vaulted toward him as he got out of the cab. “Is Landry all right?”

  “The nausea stopped a few miles away. She’s safety tucked in and sleeping at the inn with Mom.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I was in such a rush to get her away from the smell, I didn’t pack a thing.”

  Devree’s heart tugged. Sweet Chase—so tender, caring and totally in love with her sister. One of those rare marriages that would last.

  If her sister could find lasting love, could she?

  “What’s going on by the chapel?”

  She sucked in a deep breath, blew it out and explained the situation, careful to keep her tone unflustered.

  “That can’t possibly work. I thought the petting zoo was going near the goat pens.”

  The pressure in Devree’s chest eased. “Good. I can assure you brides don’t want stinky animals involved when their guests arrive.”