A Rancher to Trust Read online

  “That sounds good. Thanks.” He smiled his slow smile, and Bailey’s pulse thumped its standard response.

  As she headed up the creaking staircase, she practiced taking deep, calming breaths. If Dan was going to be hanging around, she couldn’t keep going all jittery every time the man looked at her.

  She switched to a pair of scuffed leather hiking boots and clumped back down the stairs to find Dan waiting in the living room, holding a coffee mug.

  “You good to go?”

  When she nodded, he opened the door with his free hand, gesturing for her to step through. She walked into the bracing January air.

  “Chilly today,” she remarked as they headed for the garden area.

  His laugh puffed into a coffee-scented mist. “If you say so.”

  “I do.” Bailey made a face at him. “But I guess you’re all toughened up from living in the frozen north.”

  “Not so north and not so frozen, just a lot colder than this. More open, too.” He glanced at the pines around them. “I forgot how many trees there are around here. And the smell of them—of these particular pines, I mean—takes me back.”

  Judging by the tone of his voice, the place that piney scent took him wasn’t someplace he wanted to go. Bailey felt a little stung. “Your time in Georgia wasn’t all bad, Dan. Was it?”

  He glanced at her, and their eyes met. And for a second there, the memories that glimmered between them in the frosty air seemed almost as visible as the clouds of their breath.

  “No,” he finally said, softly. “Not all bad.”

  Bailey felt her lips tipping upward, and her internal alarm system pinged. What was she doing? They hadn’t even made it to the fence line yet, and she was already bringing up the past, dabbling her toes in dangerous waters. It was going to take them at least fifteen minutes to walk around the little area she needed enclosed. Who knew what they’d end up talking about?

  She needed a distraction.

  Abruptly she broke away and headed for the barn. “Wait here a second,” she called over her shoulder.

  Once in the barn, she went for Lucy Ball’s stall. The gate leading into the small back pasture was open, but the long-legged calf was still inside finishing her breakfast. She looked up curiously as Bailey approached, crumbs of grain clinging to her damp black nose.

  “Feel like a walk, Lucy?” It was a rhetorical question. Lucy always felt like a walk when it meant she got to kick up her hooves on the wrong side of her fence. Bailey unlatched the gate, and the calf gamboled past her and out into the sunshine.

  Dan was drinking his coffee, his head angled toward the sun peeking through the fringes of the dark green pine needles. When he saw the calf trotting in his direction, he lifted an eyebrow.

  “Got an escapee?”

  “This is Lucy Ball. She likes to go for walks.”

  “You mean, like a dog?” Dan shook his head ruefully. He held out one hand, and the inquisitive calf came up slowly. He wiggled a finger, and she licked it with her wide pink tongue. “She’s a nice-looking calf. One of Abel’s?”

  “Yes, she was a farm-warming gift. Did they tell you?”

  Dan laughed. “I’ve been working on a ranch for ten years, Bailey. I may not know much else, but cattle I know. This one has the same lines as that old milk cow out at Goosefeather.”

  Lucy pranced off toward the pond, and Bailey and Dan fell in step behind her. “This ranch you keep talking about. You like working there?”

  Dan hesitated before answering. “I like the work. It’s simple. Clear cut.” He chuckled. “Hard. I came to it when I needed that kind of life, and it made a big difference for me. Well, that and the people I met there. Gordon McAllister owned the ranch, and his grandson, Colt, worked on it during the summers. They got to be like family to me.”

  “Oh?” Bailey kicked at a small stone. It skittered through the frosted grass, making Lucy Ball shy to the side. So Dan had found himself a new family out west. As if he hadn’t had anybody back home waiting for him. Worrying about what might have happened to him. “How’d you meet them?”

  “I hired on as a seasonal hand when I was at a pretty low point. My drinking was out of control by then, and it wasn’t long before it caught up with me. I totaled one of the ranch trucks driving drunk. Instead of firing me like I expected, Gordon bailed me out on his own dime. He gave me a chewing out I deserved and a second chance I didn’t. It came with conditions, like going to AA and attending church with him every Sunday. I slipped up a couple more times, but Gordon never gave up on me. He believed I had the makings of a decent human being, and finally I decided maybe he was right.”

  His use of the past tense and the sadness in his voice clued Bailey in. “He’s not...with you anymore?”

  “Gordon passed on about a year ago.” Dan inhaled deeply. “Colt and his wife, Angie, run the Bar M now.”

  “I’m sorry, Dan. Both my parents are gone now, too. When you lose people who’ve meant that much to you, it’s really hard.”

  “Yeah. It is.”

  “But you still work on the ranch?”

  He shot her a quick sideways glance. “For now. So, you’ll want the fence to turn here and cut in front of the tree line?”

  “Yes.” She waited as Dan broke off a branch and rammed it into the ground. For the next few minutes, they crunched along on the fragrant pine needles without talking.

  When they reached the third turn, Dan stuck in another branch one-handed. Then he took a last swallow of coffee before dumping the dregs out on the ground. He stood for a minute, looking over the scene in front of them.

  The small round pond glittered under the blue sky, and in the distance the dilapidated farmhouse nestled among its overgrown azalea bushes. Those were still winter bare, but an optimistic forsythia bush was putting out tiny glowing buds of bright yellow beside the front porch. If it didn’t freeze in the next cold snap, at least she’d have one pretty thing to look at until spring got here.

  Bailey darted a quick look up into Dan’s face. “Go ahead and say it. The place looks awful.”

  He shrugged. “It needs fixing, that’s all. Other than that, it’s nice. Some houses just look like houses. But this place looks like it could be a home.”

  Funny. That was exactly what she’d said when the real estate agent had brought her here. It looks like home. “Yeah, but it’ll take a lot of work.”

  “Anything worth having takes work.” He met her eyes and winked. “Another thing ranching taught me, I guess.”

  “How big is the ranch you work on?” she asked as they resumed their trek around the fence line.

  “The Bar M? A shade over twelve hundred acres.”

  Bailey’s mouth dropped open. “I thought this place was huge, and it’s only twenty-six acres including the house lot!” She shook her head slowly. “Twelve hundred acres!”

  “Size isn’t everything. I’m just the foreman at the Bar M, but this place is all yours, Bailey. That counts for a lot. Besides—” his greenish-brown eyes twinkled “—you wouldn’t want to buy fencing for a twelve-hundred-acre spread, would you?”

  “No, I guess not. Speaking of fencing—” Bailey gestured toward the heap of fencing materials piled close to the house. “That’s what I have to work with. Abel had some leftover wire and posts, and he let me have them. You’ll have to set the wire close enough that a child couldn’t slip through. I hope it’ll be enough to go around.”

  Dan’s eyes skimmed the stack. “Should be. You know, it’s a really great thing you’re doing, Bailey, taking in kids who need a home. Not that I’m surprised. You’re a good person. Even back in high school, you were always looking for somebody to help.”

  Her heart swelled at his praise, and she tried to hide her reaction by taking a sip of her cold coffee before replying. “You’re the one helping me right now, Dan, and I appreciate it. I want
you to know that.”

  “I’m glad to do it.” Dan looked down at her, and the gentleness in his eyes hit her with the forceful jolt of a bittersweet memory. He’d always looked at her like that. But only her. He’d viewed pretty much everybody else with a chilly suspicion that had come across as a sullen defiance. But whenever he’d turned those hard eyes in her direction, they had instantly softened. It had made her feel... “Special,” he was saying, and for a second, she was afraid she’d spoken her thoughts aloud.

  “Wh-what?”

  “You’re special to me. I know our past has its black marks, believe me, but I just want you to know, even after the divorce is final—if you ever need me, all you have to do is call.”

  “That’s nice of you.”

  Their eyes held, and the moment stretched out a fraction of a second too long.

  Bailey could feel the heat rising into her cheeks. She dropped her gaze and looked at her watch.

  “I’d better get to work. I’m leaving the house unlocked for you. Bathroom’s the third door on the left down the hall, and there’s a water dispenser in the fridge.”

  “All right.” He nodded at Lucy, who was licking one of the wooden fence posts. “I’ll put your calf-puppy back in her pasture, and I’ll see you when you get back.”

  “Thanks!” Bailey started toward the house. She needed to grab her keys and her purse and get on the road. “But you’ll probably be gone by the time I get home. I have that appointment with the lawyer after work, so I’ll be late.”

  “I’ll be here,” he called after her. “Until the light goes, anyway.”

  Bailey nodded. She glanced down at her wristwatch again as she went up the steps, but the late hour wasn’t actually her biggest problem anymore.

  That unmistakable little thrill of joy she’d felt at Dan’s words was way more worrisome.

  I’ll be here.

  * * *

  At half past twelve, Dan set down the post-hole diggers and stretched his back. He was just over midway around the perimeter of the fence line. It had been a while since he’d set fence by hand, and he’d forgotten what hard, sweaty work it was.

  And Bailey had figured on doing this job all on her own. He had a lot more upper-body strength and experience, and it was still tough going. He didn’t see how she could have managed it, but he was impressed by her gumption.

  He fished a slightly squashed sandwich out of his toolbox and glanced toward the house. Bailey had said she’d left it open. He could go inside. It would give him a chance to sit down for a few minutes, maybe drink a cold glass of water.

  It would also give him a chance to take a closer look at the nest Bailey was making for herself—and get a better idea of the repairs that needed doing.

  Dan shed his dirty boots on the front porch and padded sock-footed into the empty house. The place was shabby enough to be an eyesore, but he kind of liked it anyway. It felt peaceful. Something tightly wound inside him uncurled a little.

  In a strange way, it reminded him of the ranch house at the Bar M, although the two looked nothing alike. The McAllister home was a sprawling place, well kept and built to handle all the extremes the Wyoming weather would throw at it. And this...well, this place was about two steps up from a dump. But somehow the houses had a similar feel. Maybe because they were both old enough to have their own personalities, like a pair of jeans that were worn enough to fit you just right.

  This one needed a ton of work, but that didn’t scare him any more than it had scared Bailey. In fact, if things had been different, if he and Bailey had been house hunting together like a regular married couple, he’d have been completely on board with buying this place, warts and all.

  He wouldn’t have told her that at first, though. He’d have teased her about the place’s flaws while she praised its good points. He’d have drawn the argument out, just for the sheer fun of it, but in the end he’d have laughed and picked her up and twirled her right through that big, heavy old front door and—

  He broke off the daydream midtwirl. No point going any farther. Might-have-beens were dead ends.

  He looked around. The living room was furnished with a comfortable rust-red love seat and an overstuffed chair with a chubby footstool in front of it. The colors had some spark, and nothing looked too spindly to actually sit on. Really pretty but not persnickety.

  Just like Bailey. No wonder he liked it.

  It had some major issues, though. The walls were horizontal unplastered boards layered with peeling paint, and there was a drop cloth in one corner where Bailey had scraped through at least five colors. There was a suspicious dark splotch on the ceiling that probably led to a leaky spot in the roof, while the second window down the side of the room had a spiderwebbing crack in it.

  Making mental notes about the material he’d need to make the repairs, Dan carried his sandwich into the kitchen.

  This room needed even more work. The cabinets and flooring were throwbacks to another age. The appliances were new, though. The stove that hunkered in one corner was every bit as massive as the one at the Bar M, but from the look of its control panel, it sported even more bells and whistles.

  Bailey had always loved to cook, and she’d always done a bang-up job of it, too. He had a sudden image of her busy at that stove, her face flushed with warmth. He’d be standing by with the intention of helping her out, but he’d probably just get in her way—and get swatted when he tried to sneak a taste too soon.

  He shook his head to clear the appealing picture. He shouldn’t have come inside. This place was getting to him. He saw Bailey everywhere he looked.

  Maybe she hadn’t lived here very long, but her touches were all over the place. The little streaks of paint she’d dabbed onto the old cabinets, testing out the colors. The pot of narcissus blooming in the window, shaking its fist at the winter. They all said Bailey to him.

  But he hadn’t come in here to moon around dreaming silly daydreams. He needed to eat his lunch and get back to work.

  He opened one of the sagging cabinets and discovered a cache of clean glasses, neatly upended on clean paper. He grabbed one and headed for the ice dispenser on the fridge.

  He stuck it in the little niche, pressing the lever, and as the ice clanked into the glass, his eye was caught by an index card stuck on the front of the appliance.

  He squinted and read the words aloud. “‘I will lift up mine eyes to the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.’”

  The verse echoed in the stillness of the kitchen. Underneath it she’d written, “The Lord will send me the help I need. Nothing is impossible with God.”

  A sudden clattering sound woke him up. “Whoa!” He’d forgotten about the ice and his glass had overflowed, bits of ice hitting the peeling linoleum and skittering around. He spent the next minute collecting the frozen shards and tossing them into the chipped porcelain sink, thinking hard.

  When he’d cleaned up the mess, he filled his glass carefully with water and settled down at the table with his sandwich in front of him.

  He hesitated. He’d come a long way in his faith over the past years, but praying was something that he still found hard sometimes. Finally, he glanced up toward the old-fashioned, grooved board ceiling.

  “God? I figured You brought me back here for a reason, but that verse there just clinched it. Looks like Bailey’s been praying for some help, and if it’s all the same to You, I’d like to ask for the job. The whole job. Not just the fencing.” He paused, looking around the shabby room. “Doing the work won’t be much of a problem, but talking Bailey into it is going to be a whole different ball game. I’d sure appreciate Your help with that part. Thank You, and amen.”

  Then he unwrapped his sandwich and took a big bite. He needed to make a trip to town, and he didn’t have any time to waste.

  Chapter Five
r />   At Banks Building Supply, Dan waited while Myron Banks, the elderly owner, totaled up the cost of the supplies on a chittering adding machine.

  “This is a passel of stuff,” the old man mumbled, punching keys with gnarled fingers. “Gonna come up to a fair amount.” He shot Dan a look from under his bushy white eyebrows. “You sure you got the green to pay for all this, son?”

  “Yeah, I can cover it.” Dan pulled his wallet out of his jeans pocket. Thumbing through, he lifted out his personal credit card.

  Bailey wasn’t going to be too happy about him paying for the stuff he needed to get started on the house repairs. But according to the deal he’d just struck, that fell on God’s end of things. Dan would focus on doing his part, which meant getting Bailey’s place fixed up as best he could in the time he had.

  “There.” Myron ripped off a strip of curling paper and pushed in Dan’s direction. “Told you it was going to be steep, but I gave you a discount ’cause you’re buying so much.”

  “I appreciate that.” When Dan offered his credit card, an alarmed look spread over the old man’s face.

  “Sorry, I got a policy. I don’t do no credit cards.” He indicated a hand-lettered sign on the back wall—No Credit or Debit Cards. “I don’t fool with all that computerized stuff. Folks’ll steal you blind, you go putting your money on the internet.”

  “No problem.” Smothering a smile, Dan tucked the card back into his wallet. “I’ll write you a check. You got any policies against those?”

  The old man looked cautious. “Well now, that depends. What’s your name, son?”

  Dan pulled out the blank check he always kept in his wallet for emergencies and picked up a pen from the chipped mug on the counter. “Dan Whitlock.”

  “Whitlock, did you say?”

  The change in the man’s voice made Dan’s spine stiffen. He looked up. Then he dropped the pen back into the mug. He wouldn’t be writing any checks in this store.

  “That’s right.”