The Rancher's Second Chance (Martin's Crossing Book 3) (3 page)

Grace’s throat tightened with emotion and tears stung her eyes.

Oregon gave her another quick hug. “It gets easier. And harder. Better. And worse.”

Grace laughed through her tears at that bit of honesty. “Thanks. I think.”

“I won’t lie. It won’t be the easiest thing you’ve ever done. But you’ll have friends. If you stay here, I’ll help you any way that I can.”

Grace tried to find words to respond to this unexpected offer of friendship. She drew in a breath, felt a little stronger. “Thank you. I know I can do this. The past few months have been rough. But it has to get easier.”

“Of course it will. Now let’s have a sandwich and then I’ll show you my store.” Oregon stood and held out a hand to pull Grace to her feet. “If we’re lucky we’ll get a little peace and quiet before one of the Martin men comes storming in to...”

As if on cue the outside door opened. Brody stepped in, his gaze shooting from Oregon to Grace. “I thought I’d check on you before I head out to the ranch. I’ve been rounding up a few supplies for Jake.”

“I’m good,” Grace assured him, standing next to Oregon. “We were just going to get lunch.”

“Yeah, you should eat. I don’t think you kept any of your breakfast down.” His suntanned cheeks turn a little pink. His blue eyes skirted the room, looking at everything but her. “Anyway, if you need anything, Oregon has my number.”

“Brody, you don’t have to...”

“I know that, Grace. But you came here, and I’m not going to turn my back on you.”

“Thanks.”

Oregon touched her arm and left them alone.

He glanced away, but not before she saw the hurt in his eyes. She started to take a step toward him but stopped, because it did a cowboy no good to think he was getting sympathy when that was the last thing he wanted. He didn’t want her hugs or her apologies. He wanted to get on with his life.

He’d help her. She knew that. But she also knew that Brody wouldn’t let her back into his life, not after the way she’d hurt him. That was for the best. She was having a baby. That had to be her focus now.

“Well, I’ve got to run before Jake comes after me. I doubt I’ll be back this evening. If you need anything the store is next door. Put anything you need on my account, and I’ll settle up with them at the end of the week. Or you can run over to Duke’s.”

“Brody, I can take care of myself.”

He looked at her, really looked at her, then gave a curt nod. He adjusted that beat-up white cowboy hat he wouldn’t replace and reached for the door. “Yeah, I know you can.”

With that he walked out the door. Grace was left standing in the center of the small apartment, lost somewhere between needing him to come back and knowing she could do this on her own.

She walked through the door that connected the apartment to the shop and found Oregon arranging paints and brushes on a worktable. Grace entered the room, slightly mesmerized by the merchandise.

“You made all of this?” Grace asked.

Oregon stepped out from behind the worktable. “I did. And you’re the reason Brody came home angry, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t said with malice, just curiosity.

Grace touched a Christmas ornament with a pretty manger scene painted on the front of the glass bulb. “Yes, I’m the reason. I never meant to hurt him. I just wasn’t ready and he was so serious.”

“People seldom do mean to hurt each other.”

At that, Grace touched her bruised cheek. “Oh, some people mean it.”

“Yes, some do. But if you weren’t ready it would have been wrong to lead him on. That would have been another kind of hurt.”

Grace walked away from Oregon and the discomfort of the conversation. She sifted through a rack of handmade skirts, then stopped, her hand hovering as she turned to look at Oregon.

“You’re right. It would have been wrong.”

So why had she come to Martin’s Crossing, to Brody, when she could have gone anywhere? Would she hurt him all over again, being here, needing his help?

Because hurting him was the last thing she wanted to do.

Chapter Three

B
rody’s knees ached, but it felt good to be in the saddle. The big gelding underneath him moved a bit to the right, ears pricked forward as he watched the cattle they were moving. The day had started out gray and rainy but had cleared, and the air soon turned muggy as the sun heated things up. Their mission was to move close to a hundred head of cattle to a field that hadn’t been grazed down.

The beef moved slowly, sometimes stopping to munch at grass, sometimes trying to zigzag away from the herd and take off to greener pastures. Brody kept a steady hand on the reins, trying to keep the gelding he rode from bolting. He could handle riding, but a sudden jerk felt like fire going through his leg. That was what happened when wear and tear dissolved the cartilage in a knee.

After the lunch rush, Duke had left the diner in the capable hands of Ned and joined in to help. As they moved the animals through an open gate, Duke rode up beside Brody.

“You doing okay?” Duke asked in his typical big-brother tone that got under Brody’s skin.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Could you stop being defensive for one second and just be honest?”

“I’m honest. Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

“Well, you’ve had your leg out of the stirrup more than in. And on top of that, a pregnant woman showed up this morning and it’s clear the two of you are more than just friends.”

“We’re not even friends. And it isn’t my baby, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“No, I wasn’t thinking that. What I’m thinking is that you don’t like to share anything with your family, and that makes it kind of hard to help you.”

“I’m not a little boy. I don’t need your help or your advice. If I do, I’ll ask.”

“Right-o, brother. But you did need a place to put that woman to keep her safe.”

“Yeah, I did. And thank you for that. I’m not sure how long she’ll stay, but at least she’s safe for now.”

“Brody, you have to let go of the past.”

“I didn’t know I was hanging on to it.”

Duke rode up to the gate and swung it closed, leaning from his horse to wrap the chain around the post. Brody rubbed his knee, moving it from the stirrup and then putting his foot back in before Duke could catch him. A shot of fear tugged at him, because he knew what arthritis and joint damage could mean for a guy who made his living on the back of a horse. He already knew what it meant to a bull-riding career. He knew what it meant when, late at night, he could barely stand up and walk from one room to another.

The gate secure, Duke turned back to Brody. “You might pretend nothing bothers you, but you’re so uptight I’m surprised you don’t crack when you walk.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.”

Duke’s attention shot to the knee Brody rubbed without thinking. “Not too surprised. Can they do surgery?”

“I’ve had surgery. Last year before I came home.”

“Then, why is it still bothering you?”

“I’m actually working on finding out. So if that’s all you want to know, let’s get back to the barn and treat that other bunch for pinkeye before it spreads.”

They rode in blessed silence for a few minutes. Brody started to mention a horse he’d like to look at, but thought if he said anything Duke would feel the need to talk more about the past, about Grace or about his health. Sometimes they forgot he was almost twenty-seven. He had a double degree in special education and counseling. He’d been on the dean’s list every year. Stupid, he was not.

“Would it help you to find Sylvia?”

At the mention of their mother’s name, Brody pulled back on the reins, surprising the gelding, who sidestepped a few times and shook his head to protest the rough treatment. Brody whispered an apology to the animal and brushed a hand down the horse’s dark neck.

“Why bring her up now?”

Duke shrugged and kept riding. “Because everything comes back to her. She abandoned you.”

“She abandoned
us
.” He didn’t like to talk about it. The only person who knew his feelings about Sylvia was Grace. He’d told Grace all about how his world had fallen apart as a little kid. Now, as an adult, he realized it had never been too secure of a world to start with. Sylvia had always been a mess. Their dad had been pretty okay until she’d left.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want to find her.”

“Why is it that
I’m
the one who wants to find her? Aren’t you the least bit curious? Wouldn’t Jake or Samantha like to know where she is and what’s happened to her?”

Duke directed his horse toward the pen where they’d managed to confine the young steers with the pinkeye outbreak. “Yeah, I guess we all go through periods when we wonder. But I’ve hired a PI.”

Brody caught up with his brother. “You did what?”

“I hired a private investigator. I think it’s time to close this chapter. Maybe finish the book and start a new one.”

“Poetic. But save it. I’m not interested.”

“Aren’t you?” Duke swung a leg over the saddle and slid the ground. He looked up at Brody. “I think it would do you a world of good to confront the lady.”

Brody didn’t know what to think exactly. “I think that I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I know.” Duke led his horse by the reins into the barn.

Brody took a little longer to dismount. He swung his leg over the horse’s rump and was careful to land on his right leg and not his left. It still took him a minute to cowboy up and not cry like a girl. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Next time we take four wheelers,” Duke said from behind him.

Brody opened his eyes to find his brother watching him. “Yeah, good idea. But I do miss being in the saddle.”

“So now that we’ve talked about your knee and our mother, let’s forge ahead and discuss the lovely Grace Thomas, barrel racing diva.”

Brody shook his head and walked past his brother, leading his horse. “No, I think not.”

“You might have to. I just saw a truck pull up out front and I’m pretty sure it’s Lincoln Carter.”

Brody almost swore. Almost. He tossed the reins of his horse to his brother and hurried through the barn. When he walked out the front door, Lincoln had already gotten out of his truck.

“Where is she?” Lincoln thundered, his face mottled from anger.

“She?”

“You know who I’m talking about. Where’s Grace?”

Brody shrugged. “Not a clue. Remember, she left me for you.”

“Is that how we’re going to play this?” Lincoln asked. “Do I have to put a fist to your face?”

Brody almost said something about Lincoln making a habit of that lately. He bit back the words, which would have given too much away. “No, I guess not. But you know what they’re saying about head trauma and moods. Seriously, you should get that checked. You’ve had more concussions than the average man.”

Brody hadn’t realized until then that he meant what he said. Not only was Lincoln a bull rider, he’d played high school and college football and taken some serious blows to the head. The giant shift in Lincoln’s personality suddenly made sense.

“There’s nothing wrong with me.” Lincoln insisted. “I just need to find Grace.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be found, Lincoln.”

“That’s too bad, because I’m going to find her.” Lincoln took a step toward him.

“Head on down the road, man. She isn’t on this ranch, and if she needs you, she’ll call.”

Lincoln looked around, then he shook his head. “I’m going to find her.”

“I’m sure you are.” Brody shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well, I have some cattle to treat, so I’ll say goodbye.”

“I miss you, Brody.”

“I miss you, too, Lincoln. But you’re going to have to get in your truck and head on down the road. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t come back.”

Lincoln pulled off his hat, ran a shaking hand through his hair, then smashed the hat back down on his head. “It isn’t my fault she left you.”

“I’m not having this conversation. She made her choice about us. And now it looks as if she’s made a choice about the two of you. I’d let it go if I were you.”

Lincoln made a move; his fist came back. Brody had figured he’d do something stupid, so he moved, letting Lincoln find nothing but air. Brody shook his head and turned to walk away. Lincoln came at him again, a booted foot to the back. Brody fell forward, catching himself against the barn wall and then turning, because a man didn’t take a hit to the back and walk away.

“You’re a coward, Lincoln,” Brody called out, knowing it would work.

Lincoln came at him again. Brody grabbed Lincoln by the arm. Lincoln pulled back his fist and Brody caught his hand in his own.

“I’m not going to hit you, Lincoln. It would be too easy, and you’re the only one around here who likes an easy target. I suggest you leave town before I have you picked up. I suggest you leave the state. That would be the best thing you could do.”

“I can’t leave.”

“You don’t have a choice. You either leave, or I escort you off the property.”

“Her running to you doesn’t mean she’s ready to wear your ring.”

“Since she isn’t here, it doesn’t matter.”

Lincoln shook free. “I’m leaving.”

Brody took a few deep breaths as he watched Lincoln take off in his truck, gravel flying.

“You think he’ll find her?” Duke stood behind him, holding the reins of both horses.

Brody reached for this horse. “I doubt it.”

“Aren’t you worried?” Duke headed for the barn with his big gray gelding.

“She’s fine.” He busied himself unsaddling the horse, aware that Duke watched him with that steady gaze that saw too much.

“Go check on her. I’ll finish up here.”

Brody faced his brother. “I’m taking care of my horse.”

“Right, but you’re tied up in knots worrying about her. You don’t have to get hooked up with her again, but you care. Nothing wrong with that.”

“I’ll check on her when we’re finished.”

“At least call and warn her that Lincoln is in town,” Duke suggested as he unsaddled his horse. “You don’t want something to happen to her.”

Brody’s hand went to the chain that hung from his neck. Beneath his T-shirt he felt the ring still in place next to the cross. He’d kept it since the night when he’d planned to propose to Grace. Before he’d had a chance to ask, she’d ended their relationship, telling him they were getting too serious and she wasn’t ready for that. He’d kept the ring.

It was a reminder—one he wouldn’t soon forget.

* * *

Clouds rolled on the southern horizon and the breeze had picked up. Grace stopped on the sidewalk in front of Oregon’s, unsure of which way she wanted to walk. She didn’t have a plan. She just knew she needed some fresh air. The wooden sign hanging from the overhang of the shop next door caught her attention. Mueller’s Christmas Shop. Grace told her about it earlier, about Lefty and his carved nativities and candlelit Christmas carousels.

She walked down the sidewalk to the store and reached for the doorknob. It was locked. That didn’t surprise her. Oregon had closed a short time ago. All of the shops in Martin’s Crossing probably closed early. Except Duke’s No Bar and Grill. It was still open.

Suddenly her phone rang. She reached into her pocket and answered the call from Brody.

“Are you at Oregon’s?” Brody asked.

“No, just window-shopping at Lefty’s.”

“Lincoln was here. I don’t think he’ll come to town looking for you, but you should be careful. Maybe stay inside.”

“Okay, but I’m fine.”

“I know you’re fine. Just be careful.”

As she hung up she heard a truck on the road. It probably wasn’t Lincoln, she consoled herself. He wasn’t going to risk showing up here when there could be witnesses. The coward in him only struck when no one could see. But she wouldn’t take a chance. She was too far from Oregon’s, so she went around the side of Lefty’s store.

As she ran along the back of the shop, a door opened. An older man stepped out. He waved her forward. “Come inside.”

“I’m sorry?” She hesitated and he reached for her arm. Grace froze, unsure. Her heart raced and fear kept her feet planted.

“Brody called me because he knew I’d be here and he wanted you safe. Come inside.”

She slipped through the door and it closed firmly behind her. Her legs shook as she stood there in the small living room, unsure of what to do next.

“I’m Lefty Mueller.”

“I’m Grace,” she said, flicking a quick look at the door, and taking a deep breath. “Grace Thomas.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Though not under these circumstances,” he winked as he said it.

She looked around the tiny living room with the Victorian furniture and heavy wood cabinets built into the walls. “Is Lefty your given name?”

At that the dapper man with thinning gray hair and a twinkle in his gray eyes smiled. “My given name is Matthias, but I’m left-handed. My father always wondered if I would be able to carve, being left-handed.” Lefty had moved to a small stove in the kitchen alcove of the apartment. He poured tea from a kettle and held out a cup. “Peppermint tea. Please, have a seat.”

She carried her cup to the sofa and sat. Mr. Mueller poured himself a cup of tea and sat across from her in a wing chair that seemed too large for his slight frame.

Humor teased away her nervousness as she considered her situation. She felt somewhat like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. Her entire world had changed—the people in it, her surroundings... Nothing felt familiar or safe anymore. Yet here she sat drinking peppermint tea with a wood-carver named Lefty, who spoke with a slight accent that said he’d been exposed to another language for a large part of his life.

“Would you like to see my shop?” he asked after they’d finished their tea.

“I’d love to.” Grace stood, feeling a little shaky as she followed him through the double doors and into his showroom.

As she stood in awe at the many hand-carved nativities and Christmas carousels, he lit candles in an extravagant, triple-tiered carousel in the center of the room. The windmill of the carousel heated and started to turn. The carousel with the nativity figurines began to spin.

“It’s lovely. I’ve seen them before but never like this.”

“Thank you, my dear. I enjoy making them. It makes me feel as if I celebrate our savior’s birth all year long. Some people light a carousel once a year and enjoy the nativity for one month. I enjoy them daily.”