Second-Chance Cowboy

by Carolyne Aarsen

  “Happier than I’ve seen him in a long time,” Boyce continued.

  His comment hung between them, rife with expectation and question.

  “I’m happier too,” she said finally.

  “I can see that and I’m glad,” Boyce said. “You deserve some happiness in your life. So does Morgan. He told me what Nathan said to you. About his mother and what she told the boy. It was hard for Morgan to hear but it’s helped him understand his son better. He wouldn’t have found that out without you.”

  “Nathan seems to have formed an attachment to me,” she said with a wry smile.

  “Like father, like son.”

  Tabitha’s face grew warm as she set another jar in the box.

  “I always liked you,” he added, his words making her flush even more. “Always thought it was too bad that you and Morgan broke up.”

  What was she supposed to say to that? We broke up because your wife didn’t like me?

  “And now you’re back together again.” Boyce’s voice held a faint question, as if checking in with her.

  She didn’t reply to his unspoken query. “Together” made it sound like there was a commitment between them.

  Wasn’t there?

  I’ve kissed him more than once. I’m spending more and more time with him.

  Boyce sat back in the chair, giving up all pretense of helping her. “Cedar Ridge is a good place,” he said, the subtext in his words not very “sub.” “I think you’ll find many of the people here quite forgiving.”

  “Some have long memories,” she said, thinking back to her exchange about her father with Lorn Talbot at the shoe store. It showed her that her father’s legacy was still alive and well in this town.

  “You don’t need to take on your dad’s burdens and try to fix what he broke.”

  Tabitha looked down at the old tin can she held, brushing at the rust with one gloved finger. “When something is hanging over your head, it’s hard to dismiss it.”

  “Like the money your father owes me?”

  Tabitha gave him a wary look. “What do you mean?”

  Boyce held her glance. “You don’t have to leave because of it.”

  Tabitha’s heart wouldn’t stop pounding in her chest. She glanced toward Morgan and thought of Nathan. Thought of what Boyce had said.

  Did she really want to leave?

  She wasn’t sure how to answer that question anymore.

  * * *

  “Can you turn the tap on?” Morgan asked from his position stretched out under Tabitha’s sink. “I want to make sure there aren’t any leaks in the water line.”

  When Morgan had come back from work late this afternoon, he noticed the boxes from the hardware store sitting in the back of her truck. She had picked them up yesterday, when everyone was here.

  As soon as he found out they were materials to fix her kitchen, he had made plans to help her finish that. Thankfully Cord and Ella were willing to watch Nathan again.

  He saw Tabitha’s feet come close, heard her turn on the tap as he bit his lip, hoping, praying the line wouldn’t leak.

  He released a sigh of relief when all was clear.

  “Looks good,” he said, wriggling out from under the cabinet, almost bumping his head as he sat up. “I think we’re done.”

  “I can’t thank you enough for doing this,” Tabitha said, bending down to help him gather up the tools he’d used to install her faucets. “Made things a lot easier.”

  “I know you probably could have done it yourself,” Morgan said, a teasing note in his voice. “But think how much time I saved you.”

  “I would have had to jump up and down under the sink like a rabbit, checking and double-checking everything. Would have taken me more than twice as long.” She gave him a shy smile. “Thanks again.”

  He wanted to kiss her, but he felt grubby and wanted to clean everything, then wash up.

  “Kitchen looks great,” he said as he dropped the plumbing tools into the metal box, then washed his hands. “These cabinets look brand-new now that you’ve painted them. And the flooring is amazing. You’re a woman of many talents.”

  Tabitha shrugged away his compliments. He knew she wasn’t comfortable with them but that didn’t stop him from handing them out. He sensed she could do with as much building up as he could give out.

  “So, you’re almost done in the house. What’s next?”

  “Talk to Irene Burgess. The real-estate agent. She said she had a lead on someone who might be interested.” Tabitha rinsed the sink, her back still to him. “The tap works great. Thanks again for helping.”

  Morgan stood there a moment, torn between avoiding the topic of Irene or sticking his neck out and bringing up the future.

  “So what would that mean? If you sold the place?”

  Tabitha stopped moving, still not facing him, then drew in a long, slow breath. “It would mean I can finally get rid of my obligations.”

  “Your father’s obligations, you mean,” he clarified.

  “Maybe so, but I can’t act as if they’re not there.”

  Morgan rested his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. “And once you get rid of those obligations?”

  “I don’t know what I would do. I can’t work full-time for Dr. Waters, and there’s not many places around here that will hire me.”

  “Well, what would you have done for work in another place?”

  “Work at a vet clinic using my equine sciences degree as well as my vet assistant certificate. Something Dr. Waters never wanted to acknowledge.”

  Morgan felt a flush of sympathy for her. “Look, I know Dr. Waters is hard to deal with. I’m certainly having my own issues with him—” Morgan stopped there. He wasn’t sure he was ready to talk to Tabitha about his plans yet. In spite of how things were moving between them, he still sensed a hesitancy to change her plans.

  “I’m sure you could find another way to use your skills here. You could do more horse training. Horse therapy. Working with problem horses.”

  “I need to establish a name for myself.”

  “It would take time—”

  “I have the wrong last name for Cedar Ridge,” she said, a bitter note entering her voice.

  “You could change it,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood. But as soon as he spoke, he realized how she might interpret what he said.

  “I’d still be Floyd Rennie’s daughter,” she returned. “People’s memories aren’t that short.”

  “But you’re already changing people’s minds. Not everyone thinks you are like your dad.”

  Tabitha nodded slowly, trying to absorb what he was saying.

  “You’re a hardworking girl,” he said, hoping to encourage her. “Very unlike your father. Give Cedar Ridge another chance. It’s a good place with good people. I think you can make a home here.”

  He stopped there. More than anything, he hoped she would take what he said to heart.

  Please, Lord, he prayed. Help her to see her own value.

  Right now, it seemed that praying was all he could do.

  * * *

  “So just one pill a day for the next week, and if things don’t change, bring Sparkles in again.” Morgan handed Mrs. Fisher the bag holding the medication and petted the calico cat on the head.

  “Thanks so much, Dr. Walsh,” Carmen Fisher said, scooping up her cat and cuddling her close. “And Sparkles thanks you too.”

  “I’m sure she does.” Morgan tucked his hands into the pockets of his lab coat, smiling as his latest client walked out of the door.

  “Busy afternoon.” Dr. Waters joined him in the front office, bending over a computer to enter information on his most recent client as well. Then he straightened and checked the clock. “I’ve got to run over
to the Jacobses’ ranch. Check out some problems they’ve been having with calf scours. Mrs. Vriend will be coming in an hour or so with her dog. It needs stitches taken out. Can you deal with it?”

  Morgan inwardly sighed. Really? Stitches?

  “You know, Dr. Waters, I was thinking. I don’t know why you won’t give Tabitha full-time work here,” he said. “We could use the help.”

  Dr. Waters frowned and shook his head. “We’re managing.”

  “Actually, we’re not,” he said, his frustration finally spilling out. “Cass is run ragged and Tabitha could use the work.”

  As soon as he saw the stubborn look on Dr. Waters’s face, Morgan knew he had pushed too far. Maybe even made things worse for Tabitha.

  “When you own your own vet clinic, maybe you’ll understand what I’m dealing with,” Dr. Waters snapped.

  “Mrs. Vriend will have to wait,” Morgan said, firmly. “I’ve got to go to Uncle George’s place in half an hour. He needs me to see about a stallion he wants to geld and a mare that needs her teeth floated.”

  “That didn’t show up on the roster.” Dr. Waters glowered at him. All work had to be routed through Jenny the secretary, who was currently out on a quick errand.

  “He called me last week. I said I would do it for him.”

  “I don’t know about this. Can’t have you taking on any job you want. We need order here.”

  Or complete control, Morgan thought.

  “I promised Mrs. Vriend you would be available to take care of her dog,” Dr. Waters continued.

  “I put George’s appointment into the computer.” Morgan felt petty but he had to show Dr. Waters that he had followed procedure. He opened the screen to the appointments and showed his boss. “Here. I put it in Monday morning.”

  Dr. Waters harrumphed, then adjusted his glasses. “Okay. But you still should have run it by me.”

  “I thought that was why we had a secretary. To keep appointments organized.”

  Dr. Waters shot him another angry look and Morgan knew he had crossed yet another boundary. “I don’t like being contradicted,” he sputtered. “I’ll call Mrs. Vriend and tell her to reschedule.”

  Morgan would have preferred to do that himself. Who knew what reason Dr. Waters would give her for not being able to see her dog. But he let it rest.

  Dr. Waters left on another call, and when Jenny came back a couple of minutes later, Morgan was finally free to go.

  As he drove away, he found himself second-guessing his decision to work for Dr. Waters. The man was getting harder and harder to deal with.

  Should he go out on his own? And what about Nathan? Things were slowly, slowly getting better with him. Did he dare risk it? He wasn’t much of a risk taker.

  The conversation he’d had a while back with Tabitha came back to him. How she’d challenged him.

  Well, maybe it was time he took a few risks. Step out on his own. Stop thinking other people had to take care of things for him. Tabitha certainly didn’t wait for things to work out exactly right.

  He got to Uncle George’s place and drove down the hill to the ranch. A truck was racing toward him, dust billowing out from behind it. It stopped as it came alongside him, the back tires slewing sideways on the graveled driveway. Morgan recognized Devin Alexis, one of George’s hired hands. The driver’s window slid down.

  “Didja hear?” Devin said, breathless, his hat sitting crooked on his long, dark hair. “About Tabitha’s place?”

  “No. What?”

  “It’s burning. We got the call. I’m on the volunteer fire brigade. I gotta get there. Recognized your truck coming. Thought you should know.”

  Then Devin spun away, spewing gravel in his haste to leave.

  Morgan was frozen in his tracks, staring unseeing out the windshield of his truck as he absorbed this horrible news.

  Then he made a sudden decision, reversed the truck and headed up the road, spinning his wheels as well.

  Uncle George and his horses would have to wait. He needed to help Tabitha.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Let me go. Please, let me go.” Tabitha pushed at Owen Herne as he grabbed her arms again.

  “You can’t go in there. There’s nothing to save,” he grunted, pulling her back.

  Tabitha could only stare at the flames licking at one side of the house, her heart hammering like thunder in her chest, voices screaming in her head all saying one thing.

  No! No!

  This couldn’t be. All her work. Everything going up in smoke.

  She pulled at Owen again, sobs of anger, frustration and sorrow clawing up her throat as she pulled and tugged.

  “I got her.”

  A familiar voice. Familiar arms. Morgan was holding her tight. But she couldn’t look away from her house or tear her eyes from the flames now roaring as they grew in intensity, throwing out waves of heat.

  “Where’s Nathan?” he asked.

  “At your father’s,” she managed to sob. “We were in town—” She stopped as the flames crackled loudly, growing.

  “We need to step back,” Morgan murmured.

  Tabitha couldn’t move. Her legs wouldn’t obey. Everything she had done for the past few years was now being eaten up in minutes.

  The firemen were finally able to pump water on the fire again, sucking water from a dugout across the road, but it was too late. Nothing could save the house now.

  They heard the whinny of a horse.

  “Stormy,” Tabitha cried out.

  “Look, someone is leading her away,” Morgan said. “She’ll be okay.”

  Tabitha was torn between the house and the horse, but it seemed that, for now, Stormy was okay.

  “Everything is in there,” she cried, clutching Morgan’s arms, her fingers digging into his shirt. “Everything I own.” Her clothes, any mementos left from her mother, the few photographs she had. The hungry flames were devouring the only precious remnants of a gypsy life as they roared and grew. She fought him once again, and then, realizing that nothing could be done or saved, she collapsed against him.

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry.” Morgan held her up, supporting her. He stroked her hair, then turned her head into his chest so she couldn’t see the destruction of everything she owned.

  Despair washed over her and the sobs she’d been holding back finally released. She clung to Morgan, her grief and sorrow washing over her in waves of torment and hopelessness. She couldn’t think, couldn’t process as the heat almost seared her.

  Morgan drew her back, his arms holding her up as she staggered alongside him. He fitted his arms under her legs and, ignoring her protests, scooped her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her face buried in his as she gave way to her grief.

  She didn’t know what happened after that. It was a wave of noise, bodies bustling about, the hiss of water hitting the fire and the sickening smell of smoke.

  “I’m taking you to my place,” Morgan said as he set her down by his truck.

  “What about Stormy?”

  “I’ll call Cord. He can take care of her.”

  “But I need to stay here.” Tabitha raised her head, looking past him to the fire that now engulfed her entire home, black clouds of greasy smoke roiling above the hungry flames.

  “There’s nothing you can do.”

  “I know that,” she said, her hands clutching his shirtfront as she looked into his eyes, his face blurry from the tears filling hers. “But I just... I need to see it to the end.”

  Morgan shook his head, then gave her a tight hug. “Okay. But I’m staying with you.”

  “Don’t you have to work?” The thought came sideways at her, a random plucking at something, anything other than the destruction of all her worldly goods.

 
“Doesn’t matter. I need to be here. For you.”

  His words settled and eased some of her pain. With Morgan holding her, she watched the inferno, the heat pushing at her, her emotions drained.

  Cord came with a stock trailer and Morgan helped him load the horse, but he was back right away, standing beside her.

  An hour later it was over. Remnants of the brick chimney still stood defiantly above the rubble, the hulking mass of the cast-iron woodstove in front of it, but everything else had been reduced to a blackened and smoking rubble.

  “Do you think anything survived?” Tabitha asked, her voice sounding far away to her.

  Morgan was quiet, which gave Tabitha her answer.

  No.

  The fire chief, someone she didn’t recognize, walked over to her. He pulled off his helmet, his face blackened by soot and streaked with sweat, then gave her a tight nod as behind him, acrid and harsh smoke still swirled and eddied, and ash and soot drifted down. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t do anything. It was too late by the time we got here.”

  Tabitha nodded. She’d been in town when she got the desperate text from her sister.

  “When did you find out?” Morgan asked, his voice pitched low, his mouth close to her head.

  “Leanne texted me,” Tabitha said. “She had come to the house to drop off a recipe book I had asked her for. I wanted to make a cake. To celebrate finishing the house,” she said, her mind latching on to the basic, simple concept of a shared recipe. “It’s a good recipe. Our mom used to make it. I gave Leanne the recipe book when she got married.” She released a humorless laugh. “At least we’ll still have that.”

  Morgan tightened his arms around her.

  She wished she could tell him how much she appreciated his support. Him being there. But she was still trying to absorb what had happened.

  Slowly reality washed over her like a chilly rain.

  She had precious little left to sell to pay back the debt. The acreage wouldn’t be worth as much without the house. Her truck was worthless and she had no savings. Every penny she had made had been poured into the house.

  Closing her eyes, she rested her head against Morgan’s chest, trying to shut off the voices in her head.