Grace

by Chris Keniston

  Eileen was not wasting her breath on this argument. That dog, stray, wild, whatever you want to call it, had picked the perfect match for her boys and she wasn't getting on any marital bandwagon for Grace without that animal's blessing. Period.

  "Well,” Dorothy folded her cards and set them face down, "I've got bupkis."

  Over Dorothy's shoulder, Eileen caught a glimpse of a movement low to the ground coming toward her. Lifting her gaze to focus out the window, she saw Gray trotting up the street from the direction of the feed store. An overwhelming urge to grin as wide as the Red River struck her. Glancing down at her cards, she realized she held a full house. Kings and Aces.

  Smiling like a fool, Eileen set her cards down. "Looks like I'm going to win."

  ****

  Only two things were possible. Insanity ran in the Farraday family or the rancher had a damn strange sense of humor. Either way, nothing in all of Chase's diverse background had trained him for how to respond to such a blatant…what? Set up?

  Grace shook her head. A very pretty head. "Ignore these two buffoons. They've been hit in the head too many times." Turning an icy glare on them, she slowly enunciated. "By me."

  Despite the ludicrous pronouncement, Chase found himself grinning too. The sister had a bit of a temper and something about it struck him as entertaining.

  "What are you laughing at?" The icy glare turned on him.

  Snapping his mouth shut, he swallowed his smile and stuck out his hand. "Nothing. Nice to meet you."

  For a few seconds she stared at his hand as though it were a trap, or perhaps would merely give her the bubonic plague, before blowing out a sigh and accepting it. "Welcome to Tuckers Bluff."

  He nodded. "And I am sorry about the dog. Are you okay?" It was a stupid question, considering she looked perfectly fine. Better than fine. But he was willing to bet his latest investment that anything else he could say would only get him into trouble.

  "Yes. Thank you." Straightening her shoulders, she spun to face her brothers, a graceful turn proving the hard landing had not been the action of a klutz. "The social club is calling it an early day. I tried calling you to let you know I'm going to stay for dinner tonight at Becky's with Joanna. Aunt Eileen is going to need a ride back to the ranch."

  Frowning, Finn slid his cell out of his pocket, tapped at the phone and pressed the side. "Damn phone is acting crazy. The ringer is turned off."

  "That can be a sign your battery is on its last leg," Chase offered, taking a step toward Grace and setting the upended display on its feet again. "You may want to replace it sooner than later."

  Finn nodded. "Will do. I have to stop in at Sisters to check on something Joanna ordered." He turned to Grace. "I'll be a little bit longer. Want to wait for a ride to the café?"

  "I haven't lived in the city that long. I can walk up the street."

  "I can give you a lift," DJ offered, leaning over and picking up a few packets of seeds by his feet.

  "Thanks, but I really can walk."

  DJ handed off the seed packages to Chase. "Then I'd best get moving. Told Esther I'd only be a minute." He followed his brother out the door, leaving their sister standing in front of Chase with seed packets in each hand.

  "Thanks." Chase accepted the fallen items and stuffed them quickly onto the display.

  "You should sort them. No one likes grabbing a stack of marigolds only to find a rogue flower."

  "Yeah, well, I'll reorganize later."

  She yanked the seeds out of his hand. "It's easier to do as you go. Why stack the shelves twice?"

  He glanced at the Point of Sale display and back at her. The woman had a point. The way she sorted, stacked, and shifted, he had the distinct feeling she'd done this before. Having scooped up the last of the stray packets strewn across the floor, Chase handed her one and stepped back. Not only had she helped fill the shelves, she'd readjusted the placement of the entire display. Not much. Just a few inches and the angle, but it worked better, was still in plain sight but not in the way. "Looks good."

  Brushing her hands together, Grace nodded with satisfaction and glanced at the stack of ropes he'd piled on the opposite wall. "What are you doing with those?"

  "They were too disorganized. I'm going to hang them back on the wall in better sequence."

  Brows arching nicely over pretty blue eyes, dipped together. "Better how?"

  "Color for one thing."

  "Color?" Her brows lifted high on her forehead and for a split-second Chase was convinced he read awe in her gaze, and not in a good way.

  "Is there a problem with sorting by color?"

  "That works great for a filing system, but no so much for cattle ropes."

  Curious, Chase crossed his arms. "Oh, why is that?"

  She pointed at the green rope on top. "That's a head rope." Her finger lowered pointing to another rope underneath in a similar shade. "That's a heel rope."

  Head? Heel? The single day old man Thomas had actually shown up to give Chase the promised hands-on training, the guy hadn't said a word about head or heel ropes.

  "The orange ones are ranch ropes," she added. "Those you could sort by length. Mr. Thomas stocks mostly 50 or 100 foot lengths."

  At least sorting the orange by color worked. He debated how foolish he wanted to look asking questions and decided if color-coding wouldn't work for rope, he couldn't look any more incompetent. "I'm going to take a risk here and assume head rope is for a cow's head and heel rope for their feet?"

  Grace nodded. "Head rope is also softer and shorter. Heel rope for the hind legs is sturdier and three feet longer. Though some ranchers use it working cattle, it's mostly for rodeo events and the like."

  He'd ask what the like was another time. "So put it back the way it was?"

  With a shrug, Grace held her hands out, palms up. "Most ranchers place orders for pick up, but if someone does come in and shop, they're probably used to head ropes to the left and heel ropes to the right."

  It made sense. When he'd stepped out on a limb and bought this place, Chase knew there'd be a learning curve. But he'd expected more of a helping hand from the former owner, especially with the owner financing agreement they'd made.

  "Where's Andy?" Grace looked past the open doorway to the storage and office areas.

  "Andy?"

  "The clerk?"

  Chase shook his head. "I was told Mr. Thomas' son and his wife ran this place on their own."

  Those active eyebrows shot up again. "Really?"

  "Not true?"

  "Mr. Thomas' son hasn't been running the store for quite a few months. Andy is the funeral director, but he would work here part time when business was slow. Marge, the other full time clerk, left when Jake the younger took over. Though that might explain why they had such a hard time of it. When things get busy it can be overwhelming for only two people."

  "And you know all this how?"

  That brow arched again. "This is a small town. If you have any secrets, you'd better bury them deeper or reveal them now because it won't take long for the whole town to know what time your alarm goes off and the expiration date on that carton of milk in your fridge."

  Where everyone else in town he'd had the pleasure to visit with had warned him of pretty much the same thing, the earlier notices had come with a loving hint of pride in their community. Grace's words had come out with the disdain of a teen caught necking in a car by the town gossip. "I don't have any secrets." Not really.

  "Bully for you." Grace ran her hands down her jeans, and shook her head. "Sorry. I'm not being very gracious."

  "Considering you took a dive in my store due to my failure to restrain a stray animal, I'd say not suing me is gracious enough." A hint of a smile crossed her lips and Chase found himself wishing he could see her face light up with laughter.

  "I've been away from home for a lot of years now."

  Chase considered that. A lawyer, her brothers had warned him.

  "Keeping up with the comings and goings of f
olks doesn’t take much more than a Sunday supper, but in all fairness," she teased him with a little more smile, "in high school I worked here part time."

  "I see."

  "But I should warn you, any rancher will tell you the difference between a head rope and a heel rope and it will have nothing to do with colors." This time a full-fledged grin bloomed and Chase decided small town living definitely had a great deal to offer.

  ***

  "Tell me something." Grace shifted her weight and studied the handsome man in front of her. The short hair, polo shirt, khakis, even with the fresh-out-of-the-box-shiny cowboy boots, screamed big city businessman. "Why a feed store?"

  Dang, this character had one hell of a nice smile. He'd done it more than once and Grace wasn't liking the fuzzy feelings bouncing around inside her. The first guy in a hell of a long time to make her feel all girly, and it had to be a delusional businessman planting roots in West Texas.

  "Why not?"

  "It doesn't take an FBI profiler to figure out you know nothing about farming, ranching, or life in general in rural West Texas."

  "I'm a fast learner."

  Ignoring the evasive answer, she took a second to glance around the old feed store. Rearranging the ropes hadn't been the new owner's only effort. Fresh displays had been set up in key places, including the flower seeds she'd sent flying. "What's going over there?" She pointed to an empty end cap at what used to be the joint and vitamins aisle.

  "New halter and lead rope stock coming in." He crossed his arms. "Nylon." The corners of his mouth tipped north. "Colorful."

  Maybe the guy wasn't as daft as she thought. For years folks had wanted old man Thomas to expand his line from the standard rancher leather and boring brown. She herself had ordered tack online in different colors for different horses. "Have you ever even been to a ranch? A working ranch," she added quickly, in case the guy had done a hayride at a party ranch.

  "Not many ranches in suburban New York City."

  Grace tried not to wince as visions of the city slickers on horseback from every western comedy since her childhood flashed through her mind. "I'm surprised my aunt hasn't already invited you out to the ranch yet, but we'd be pleased to show you around if you join us for supper on Sunday."

  Mr. City Slicker's eyes creased with deep-set laugh lines. "Thank you, but you're right, your aunt is expecting me for dinner tomorrow."

  "Good." Shoving the offer to stay and help with the ropes out of the way, she nodded and took a step toward the front door. "Call Andy. He's always needed a little extra work between…clients. If you haven't cleaned out the desk already, the phone numbers are taped to the top of the pullout shelf on the old oak desk in the main office."

  Chase nodded. "I'll take a look. Thank you."

  She could see the windmills of his mind spinning and churning. Probably calculating how to afford extra help. Poor guy was probably going to lose his shirt on this deal. Even if her brothers could show him around the ranch, no way the city slicker could pick up on the needs of a working cattle ranch fast enough to make a go of the feed store. Too bad. She liked his smile.

  Chapter Three

  "Maybe we should have eloped." Becky blew out a sigh and scrubbed at her face with so much vigor Grace could feel her childhood friend's frustration. "The dress was supposed to be here last week."

  "And they promised it would be at the boutique on Monday." Grace spoke especially softly in an effort to add a bit of calm to the conversation.

  "I should have just bought one of the samples off the rack."

  "And you would have looked lovely, but you looked amazing in the dress that's arriving on Monday."

  Becky leaned back and grinned. "I did, didn't I?"

  "DJ is going to swallow his tongue when he sees you coming down the aisle."

  "I've been around long enough to know," Joanna handed the bride-to-be a glass of wine, "DJ would swallow his tongue if you came down the aisle in a potato sack. The guy is totally over the moon for you."

  Grace accepted the glass Joanna handed her. There was a lot of that lovesick gazing going on at the ranch. Every time Grace turned around it was like she'd fallen into a book of fairytales. Each one with a beautiful princess and her handsome prince.

  Becky took a slow sip of wine and blew out an equally long slow breath. "I could say the same about Finn."

  "I hope so." Joanna lifted her glass to Becky and, grinning like a besotted teen invited to the prom by the captain of the football team, took a sip of her wine. "This stuff is really good. Where'd you get this?"

  "Local winery." Grace set her glass on the table.

  "Here?" Joanna swallowed hard.

  "We're in the high plains. Apparently it's good for growing grapes. One of the Bradys started the vineyard five or six years ago. Things are finally starting to come around for them."

  "West Texas is just full of surprises." Joanna leaned back. "So, the plan is we all drive to Dallas Monday if the dress doesn't come?"

  "It will come. I think I put the fear of God and the Supreme Court into her if it's not." Grace shrugged. "Besides, I checked the tracking information and it should be crossing the Texas border any minute now."

  "For someone who doesn't want to actually practice law," Becky kicked her shoes off, "you sure do threaten to sue a lot of people."

  "I thought you were home for the wedding and to study for the bar exam?" Joanna asked.

  "I am."

  "But you're not planning on practicing law?"

  "That's right." Grace held her arm up, looking at the pretty coating on the inside of the glass. Most people thought her nuts for going to law school without a plan for practicing law, but most folks didn't know that a good MBA program cost about the same as her law degree and she'd bypassed MBA and gone straight to the Doctoral pay level. "If I don't take the exam all future employers will think I'm stupid or failed or some combination of both."

  "And studying in earnest begins the day after my wedding." Becky grinned at her friend, the few sips of wine she'd had already mellowing her out. She always was a lightweight. "Shall we go over the checklist?"

  "Sweetie," Grace set her glass on the coffee table and leaned forward, "nothing has changed since girls' night last night. There are enough people working on this wedding to form the best wedding planning company west of the Mississippi. Relax and enjoy the movie."

  There was a time when Grace wanted what Becky had—a good man, a good job, and comfortable shoes. They'd planned their weddings and dreamed up their pretend princes. By the time high school had come and gone, Becky was deep in the dream of white picket fences and two point five children with a litter of puppies. Grace, though, had grown restless, watching her brothers leave the ranch one by one. She'd soaked in all the stories of places far away, things beside ranching, and life in the fast lane. Life had more to offer than West Texas, and her newly bestowed degrees were going to make sure she got to enjoy every minute.

  ***

  Rolling his neck from side to side, Chase stretched his arms, then slammed the lid shut on his laptop. "I can't thank you enough for all the help."

  "Considering your background doesn't have a lick of merchandising or animal sciences, you've got a pretty good handle on the situation."

  Chase shrugged. "Some merchandising." Marketing, merchandising, advertising, microeconomics, macroeconomics, statistics and a laundry list of other business classes had floated around ungrounded in his head for years. It was more fun than he'd expected pulling tidbits of information from the files of his mind and giving them real life application. "But even the best of MBAs doesn't prepare a person for evaluating the differences in equine joint meds or vitamins for cattle."

  Smiling, Adam scratched at his head. "Yeah, I'm going to guess fly repellant wasn't a top priority in business school either."

  "No," Chase chuckled, "I may have skipped that session."

  "You gentlemen done talking veterinary medicine?" Meg carried a wooden tray and set it on the massi
ve table in front of her husband and Chase.

  Chase sniffed at the air. "Man, that smells good."

  "That's because it is." Adam smiled up at Meg and scooted over so she could sit beside him on the comfortable sofa.

  Meg gently patted her husband's knee. "It doesn't hurt that I'm not the one who baked it."

  "There is that," Adam teased, stabbing the warm cinnamon cake with a fork.

  "Does it help that I sprinkled the cinnamon on top of the icing?" Meg offered her husband a toothy grin.

  "Absolutely," Chase muttered through a mouthful. "Sorry," he swallowed, "this really is fantastic." He was seriously going to have to order gym equipment if he stayed on here much longer.

  "Was my husband able to help you?"

  "Definitely." Chase took a sip of the coffee. "I could tell by the expiration dates that the previous owner was overstocked, but getting a handle on when and where Mr. Thomas lost control of supply and demand has been more challenging than I'd hoped. I've chatted with some of the ranchers as orders have come in, but I needed more of a crash course."

  "Visiting the ranch tomorrow should help too." Adam stabbed at his own cake.

  "It was very nice of your aunt to invite me over."

  Adam shrugged. "I'd think by now most of the folks would have given an invite of some kind."

  "I'm not sure how many most is, but I've taken rain checks with the sisters. By the way," Chase set down his fork, "what are their names?"

  Laughter rumbled from deep in Adam’s chest.

  "I know!" Meg waved her hands high. "It's crazy."

  "I think most of us didn't realize we didn't know their Christian names until folks new to town started asking. It seemed perfectly normal to be Sister and Sissy."

  Normal? Okay. He supposed, if he and his father never questioned why Deputy Barney Fife didn't have a gun and Otis always slept off his drunk in an unlocked cell, Chase could accept Sister and Sissy without question. "I've also passed on an invite to the Rankin’s and the Bradys."

  "Which Brady?"

  "There's more than one rancher named Brady?"