A Cowboy in Shepherd's Crossing

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “I’ve got a five-hundred-thousand-dollar budget earmarked for this. How much help can I get for five hundred thousand dollars?”

  Jace stopped dead.

  So did Melonie because that was some serious money.

  Jace stared at Gilda, then scanned the house, then looked at his grandmother again. “All I’m saying is that we could start over. Something more practical. We tear this down and build a well-constructed ranch house on the site. Everything would be bright and new and accessible.” He noted the cane with a glance. “That’s nothing to take lightly.”

  Melonie didn’t like Jace’s suggestion, but she understood his reasoning. An old woman in frail health—what was she doing here all these years, living amid the decay?

  She stood there, silent, letting the old woman make the choice as offered. And hoped she opted for a complete renovation.

  * * *

  Jace had to shoot fair and square, even with the rich eccentric who had shaken his world to the rafters the previous day. He’d handle that later. This was different.

  He didn’t pretend to like her as she gazed around the house, considering his words. Growing up in Shepherd’s Crossing, he’d heard all kinds of things, and he was pretty sure no one much liked her, but this wasn’t about emotion. It was about common sense. “We could have it done before winter.”

  A small, cozy rebuild made more sense. He knew it. And he was pretty sure the women knew it, too.

  He didn’t look at Melonie. She’d be disappointed because he could see her mental wheels spinning as she moved from room to room. But who in their right mind would put that kind of money into—

  “I appreciate your suggestion, young man. I know it makes sense and it’s an honest man that lays out the truth even if it doesn’t pay as well. But I need my home back.” Gilda Hardaway locked eyes with him, sorrow in her gaze. “From top to bottom.” She gripped her cane hard, and her hand shook with the pressure. “I messed up my time, but I can fix this if God gives me the days and if you’ll take the job. It’s not about money, son.”

  He wanted to take offense at the familial term, but he couldn’t because she looked too sad and alone to mean anything bad.

  “It’s about fixing what needs to be fixed. Can you do it?” She turned to include Melonie in the question. “Now that the first hay is in and the winter lambs are off to market?”

  She was ranch-savvy. She’d caught him at a good time. They’d have to hire roofers first, and that would give him a couple of weeks to renovate his house to make it safe for the twins. “I can do it.”

  “But will you?”

  There was the crux of the question.

  Could he handle this mammoth job, with help, and still make it to Sun Valley as planned? Because as grand as this job was, it was one job and now he had not one, but three mouths to feed. Two babies to raise. And he couldn’t even begin to think about the astronomical costs of day care in Sun Valley.

  Stop worrying about tomorrow. If the Lord sees fit to take care of the birds of the air and the lilies of the field, He’s got you. He’s got this.

  Jace wasn’t so sure, but when he brought his gaze back to Gilda’s, something in her eyes, her face...

  Something made him say yes.

  He was pretty sure he’d regret it. He already did, truth be told, and when Melonie began shooting pictures of each room, he realized something else.

  For the next few months they’d be working side by side.

  She’d lay out plans and expect him to follow them. Oh, he’d looked at her magazine that morning as research. She liked to plot intricate layouts, but that was for a two-dimensional magazine, where every shot was strategically perfect.

  Gutting a place like this was about as three-dimensional—and dirty—as it could get. And the silk-wearing Fitzgerald woman didn’t seem like the type to get her hands dirty. Or compromise. Which meant this could be the longest three months of his life.

  Then she turned. Met his gaze. Smiled at him.

  Something went soft inside him.

  He hardened it right back up. No way was he about to let a pretty smile get in his way. Melonie Fitzgerald had fancy written all over her. He’d sworn off fancy a few years ago when he showed up at the church...and his bride was nowhere to be found. That was a punch in the gut for any self-respecting cowboy.

  But when they got to the truck and Melonie turned toward him, excitement brightened those gray eyes to liquid silver. Distinctive eyes set in one of the sweetest faces he’d ever seen.

  Maintain your distance. You’ve been nailed by a woman with dreams of stardom once. Don’t be stupid a second time.

  He wouldn’t be stupid. Not again. But with her bright floral scent filling the cab of the truck, Jace didn’t fool himself that it would be easy.

  Chapter Four

  “We need to have a meeting.” Melonie scribbled notes into her tablet at a furious pace as Jace drove them back to Pine Ridge Ranch.

  “You’re here. I’m here. Let’s have a meeting.”

  She angled a wry look his way.

  His jaw quirked, just a little. So he might have a sense of humor hidden under layers of angst after all. Good. “Are you doing the roofs?”

  “No. Contracting them out. There’s a couple of great roofing companies between McCall and Council. I’ll get some estimates for the job. People around here are hungry for work, so we should be able to line up someone fairly quickly. How much of your designs are you running by Mrs. Hardaway?”

  “I want to put together a package and present it to her. My goal is to keep it true to the structure and history, but make it more modern. Less fuss, more open space, but still classic design.”

  “It must have been something in its time.”

  “Did people realize how bad it was getting?” she wondered. “Did they just ignore it?”

  “Well, it’s Gilda Hardaway, and you’ve met her. She’s always been rich and beyond eccentric since I’ve been old enough to know she existed. But you can’t see the house from the road, the weeds and brush are a turnoff and, other than a few old-timers, I don’t think she entertains visitors.”

  “So this is a huge step forward for her.”

  He didn’t answer.

  He stared straight ahead, his jaw tight and his hands firmly clenched on the steering wheel. She changed the subject. “I’ll come up with an exterior palette so we can pick roofing materials by the time we head up there tomorrow morning. And I’ll work on the design this evening. It won’t be quick.” The fact that she couldn’t redo a two-and-a-half-story house in a matter of hours made her feel like she should apologize. “I’ll need some time.”

  “We’ve got as much time as the roofing takes.”

  “That might not be enough, even if I don’t sleep. How about this, instead?” He glanced her way as they turned into the Pine Ridge Ranch driveway, and she had to remind herself that those big brown eyes were off-limits. This guy had “Welcome to Idaho” written all over him. She was headed south once her year was complete. He was staying. “I come up with a quick design for you to fix up your place, you focus on that, roofs get done, my design for Gilda gets done and we move forward in a couple of weeks.”

  He didn’t say anything right away, then he flexed his jaw. “It will have to work.”

  Have to work?

  She climbed out of her side of the truck and shut the door. “‘Thanks, Mel, that’s a great idea.’ ‘Glad to help, Jace. Great working with you.’”

  She started toward the stables, and it would have been a perfect stomp-off, but then she realized she needed to see his house. Like quickly.

  She turned.

  He was standing there, stock-still, arms folded, watching her. And a hinted smile softened his jaw and put a sparkle in his eyes. “Forgetting something?”

  “You are a particularly annoying person
.”

  “Nothing I haven’t heard before.” He indicated the house with a tip of his head. “Let’s grab sandwiches, head to my place and then you can march off indignantly. Okay?”

  “It’s not okay at all,” she grumbled as they climbed the steps. “It totally loses punch in the delay, so what sane woman wastes a great walk-off when it’s already been defeated. No.” She turned to face him at the door, and she wasn’t afraid to add a slight splash of Southern geniality to her tone. “I will save my stomping for moments of necessity. Right now, we have work to do. You. Me. And my design program.”

  “So I can expect the cold shoulder at a future time?”

  “Only as needed, Jace.”

  * * *

  Sassy. Saucy. And strong, despite her diminutive size. Did she know her stuff?

  The magazine pictures said yes, but while the pictures looked great, he worried. Did someone have to rein her in and explain bearing walls and structural integrity?

  “I smell something amazing.”

  “Cookie’s beef-and-onion soup.”

  “Be still my heart.” She set her bags onto the couch and inhaled deeply. “Who’d have thought soup would smell so amazing on a summer’s day?”

  “Cookie makes soup all year round, don’t you?” Jace asked as they entered the kitchen. “Are we too early?”

  “Give me fifteen,” answered the cook. “Bread’s in the oven. Nothing like hot beef-and-onion soup with fresh-baked bread. There’s sandwich makings in the fridge.”

  “I’m waiting on soup,” Melonie declared.

  “I’ll call the roofers, see who’s available to get on the job quickly.”

  “Because of the farm timing, right?”

  He turned slightly. “Because I’m scheduled to leave town by Labor Day and that’s already going to have to be delayed with this project.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Jobs have pretty much dried up around here. I have little choice.”

  Doubt clouded her features. “But you stand to make a year’s worth of money on this project. Correct?”

  “That will all depend on costs and labor, but we should both do all right.”

  “Then why leave now? Why not take the year God’s given you and see what happens?”

  Just what he needed, a stranger pointing out the flaws in his logic—logic that had worked until yesterday, when he discovered his whole life was a lie.

  “I don’t mean to interfere.”

  He was pretty sure that’s exactly what she meant.

  “But to become an instant father, tackle a huge project and have your moving time delayed until winter, why not put it on hold? Unless you’re precontracted there?”

  “I’m not.”

  She faced him, waiting, then she turned.

  He hated that she was right, but it did make sense. He’d have plenty to live on with Gilda’s project, and using that as a showcase in his portfolio would make sense during the next building season. “I’ll add the Realtor to my list of calls.”

  She grabbed a cookie from the old-fashioned cookie jar that had a place of honor on the counter. Then she paused, grabbed two more and handed them to him as she went back to the living room for her tablet. “Best appetizers ever.”

  He made the first calls and wasn’t sure what soothed him more, getting the roofers to meet him at Gilda’s place tomorrow, canceling the sale of his house, or the two macadamia-nut, white-chocolate-chip cookies.

  It almost didn’t even matter that she was right. He could relist the house if he regretted the decision, but renovating his house while prospective buyers were coming through would be a lost cause. He only wished he’d thought of it first.

  He called Rosie quickly. “How are the girls doing?”

  “Fine, as always, so adorable these two and getting busy! Ava is determined to walk, but, of course, that means falling.”

  “You let them fall?” Babies weren’t supposed to fall. Were they?

  “I blame this on gravity, Jace. Not ineptitude.”

  “No, of course, I didn’t mean...”

  She laughed. “I must go—Annie is crawling faster than her sister is walking along the sofa’s edge and she seems determined to trip her.”

  Sibling rivalry already?

  He put off the next roofing call to hop online and order three how-to-raise-your-child books. Then he called two more roofers for scheduled meetings at Hardaway Ranch. He might be in over his head when it came to raising babies, but he knew building and he knew ranching. And with three books slated to be here in two days’ time, he’d have a firm handle on raising children, too.

  “Soup’s on!” Cookie jangled the porch bell. Midday meals were casual. Cookie knew folks couldn’t just drop what they were doing and run to the house in the middle of the workday.

  Suppertime wasn’t formal, but it was more structured. At least it had been. With the arrival of the Fitzgerald sisters, new foals dropping, Annie and Ava staying in the big house temporarily and Rosie’s infant daughter, Jo Jo, the plethora of small people meant change. Flexibility. And a mountain of diapers, he’d realized yesterday.

  He went inside. And saw Melonie busily making notes into her device. She looked up when the door smacked shut behind him.

  She smiled.

  Those eyes...like mercury.

  Mercury’s poisonous, in case you’ve forgotten.

  He knew that, but there wasn’t one hint of poison in those pretty gray eyes. “Any luck on roofing estimates?” she asked.

  “Two can meet me tomorrow.”

  “Us?”

  “Sure, if you want to be there. But it’s roofing,” he continued. “Pretty cut-and-dried if you’re keeping the original lines.”

  “I’ll come anyway. I like being involved in every step of the process—it gives me the feel for the end product.”

  “Nine thirty and ten thirty. Then a third one in two days, if needed.”

  “Got it.” She jotted it into her online calendar and stood. “Food. Then your place.”

  Did she think bossy was cute? It wasn’t. But when he let her walk in front of him toward the kitchen, he realized she wasn’t just cute...she was beautiful. And curvy. And smelled great.

  Doomed.

  Except he couldn’t allow that to happen, so he focused on the delicious food as Melonie put a bit of the melted provolone onto the bread. “This is to die for, isn’t it?”

  It was but when she had a second helping, he was perplexed. “How can you eat all that?”

  She gazed down at the soup, then up at him. “I honestly don’t know. Trucker’s appetite. And I don’t sit around worrying about being a size zero because I like food. And exercise. And last I knew, women were supposed to have curves.”

  What was he supposed to say to that? “My sister was on a too-skinny kick for a while. It got better, then we lost Mom after Dad died and she slipped downhill again. I hate that she’s over in Seattle, where I can’t boss her around. Make her eat doughnuts.”

  “Weight and eating disorders are tough.” She sipped water, and frowned. “We humans are hard to figure out at times, aren’t we?”

  After what he’d found out yesterday? “Can’t argue that.”

  “How hard do you think that was for her?” She stood up to clear her dishes, and he appreciated the effort. Some folks thought Cookie was part maid and housekeeper. He wasn’t, but it was nice that she didn’t have to be schooled on ranch manners. “Your grandmother, I mean. To come here like that and tell you everything?”

  “Not as hard as it was on me hearing it.” He didn’t soften the bitter edge of his voice. He stood, too, then raised his hands. “Sorry. This isn’t your fight, and twenty-four hours isn’t enough time for me to be waving the peace flag.”

  “I wonder when it will be time?” she said softly,
and when she walked toward the kitchen, he realized she might not be talking about him. “Cookie, that was the best. Thank you so much for making it. I wouldn’t have thought hot soup would taste so good on a beautiful summer’s day.”

  “You’re welcome. Jace said you two are heading to his place to figure things out. You might want to grab a few of those.” He indicated the cookies with a glance. “His cupboards are pretty bare. He makes sure the horses have food. He doesn’t worry so much about himself.”

  “The few times I eat at home don’t require a lot of groceries.” Jace grabbed his cowboy hat from the wall of hooks just inside the back door. “Although if I’m up at Hardaway’s place and raising two little girls, I’ll have to change that up pretty quick.”

  “Truth.” Cookie liked to wear an old-style fishing cap in the house. He said it was to keep hair out of the food, but Jace figured the older man just liked wearing a hat. The cook raised one finger to the hat as they were leaving. “See you at supper.”

  Melonie grabbed her two bags. He held the screen door open for her and tried to ignore the sweet scent that came back to him as she went by.

  “You have horses?” she asked once they were settled in the truck.

  “Two,” he answered. “Sometimes I keep them at Pine Ridge. We used to take the sheep into the hills for browsing but we had to stop doing that.”

  She arched one really well-groomed eyebrow in silent question.

  “Government changed up the rules and took away grazing rights.”

  “Lizzie said something about that but we didn’t have time to go into detail. So now the sheep are pretty much being raised in the valley?”

  “With more hay, less exercise so less muscle mass.”

  “Oh, of course. That makes sense.”

  Now he was the questioner. “You get that?”

  “We had fresh-raised turkeys in Kentucky. It was a Fitzgerald thing. We only raised enough for family and friends or esteemed business acquaintances of my grandfather. It was a mark of acceptance to be given a Fitzgerald turkey in November.”

  “And this relates to sheep...how?”