Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Yuletide Cowboy

Yuletide Cowboy
Debra Clopton
After three years in Mule Hollow's women's shelter, single mother Lynn Perry is finally spending the holidays in her own house. And then the town's matchmakers send over a hunky cowboy to hang Christmas lights…Lynn hopes there's no mistletoe around. With her painful past, how can she trust another man? Especially former bull rider and current pastor Chance Turner, who isn't planning on sticking around–or ever preaching again. Unless Lynn, twin boys and the matchmakers help her yuletide cowboy see he's the answer to a family's–and a town's–Christmas prayers.



“So what do you think?” Chance asked.
He’d hung several strands of Christmas lights, and Lynn’s old house was looking great. He was standing close to her and she could feel the warmth from his body through the down vest he wore. She’d helped him for the past hour and he’d been wonderful with her boys. And okay, the man smelled wonderful.
“Momma, don’t ya got yor ears on? What do you think?” Jack asked, tugging on her arm. It was what she always asked him and Gavin when they weren’t listening to her.
Boy, where had she been? “Ear one and ear two are both on and ready to do their jobs,” she said lightly.
She hoped Chance hadn’t noticed her embarrassing lapse. She stole a glance at him. He caught her looking and the wink he gave her said he’d noticed plenty.

DEBRA CLOPTON
was a 2004 Golden Heart finalist in the inspirational category, a 2006 Inspirational Readers’ Choice Award winner, a 2007 Golden Quill award winner and a finalist for the 2007 American Christian Fiction Writers Book of the Year Award. She praises the Lord each time someone votes for one of her books, and takes it as an affirmation that she is exactly where God wants her to be.
Debra is a hopeless romantic and loves to create stories with lively heroines and the strong heroes who fall in love with them. But most important, she loves showing her characters living their faith, seeking God’s will in their lives one day at a time. Her goal is to give her readers an entertaining story that will make them smile, hopefully laugh and always feel God’s goodness as they read her books. She has found the perfect home for her stories, writing for the Love Inspired line, and still has to pinch herself just to see if she really is awake and living her dream.
When she isn’t writing, she enjoys taking road trips, reading and spending time with her two sons, Chase and Kris. She loves hearing from readers and can be reached through her website, www.debraclopton.com, or by mail at P.O. Box 1125, Madisonville, Texas 77864.

Yuletide Cowboy
Debra Clopton

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
When I am afraid, I will trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not be afraid. What can mortal man do to me?
—Psalms 56: 3, 4
This book is dedicated to my home church: Cowboy Church of Leon County. Thank you all so much for your huge hearts! You are changing lives…mine included!
A special thank-you and dedication to our pastor, Tuffy Lofton—you are a cowboy preacher with a true heart for God.

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion

Chapter One
Chance Turner stepped from his truck as country singer Craig Morgan crooned “Small Town USA” on the radio. He was home in Mule Hollow, Texas, which definitely fit the song’s positive image of small-town life in the USA. A smile tugging at his lips, he reached into the truck bed for the large box his sister-in-law had instructed him to deliver to the church.
Colorful strings of Christmas lights overflowed from the box. Melody was late for work, she’d said, and didn’t have time to deliver the lights to the church secretary. That had been her pretense anyway, but Chance had no illusions about why she’d asked him to run the errand for her. It was the church.
She wanted him to be as near the church as possible. She had hopes that being here would fix “his problem”…if only it were that easy. He could have told her that seeing the church, being on the premises, wouldn’t help him. In stead he’d done as Melody asked—it was easier that way. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about his problem.
And he didn’t want to think about it either.
Pushing the dark thoughts aside he focused on delivering the lights. He’d get this done, then he’d head back to the ranch, back to the solitude he’d come home to find. Just him and his horse, and the land that had been in his family for six generations. He wasn’t the first Turner to contemplate the state of his life riding in the sanctuary of the vast Turner family ranch. Sanctuary—not exactly something he deserved. Not when he couldn’t see past the guilt eating at him.
Still, right now he needed what the solitude of the ranch offered him.
He wanted to ride across the pasture, just him and his horse…but, before he could saddle up, he had lights to deliver.
Hefting the box into his arms he strode toward the quaint white church he’d attended off and on for the better part of his youth. His boots crunched on the white rock and his spurs jangled as he headed down the side walk toward the office. The squeals of kids’ laughter, shrill with excitement, rode the chilly November wind. Chance had just reached the door when, like bulls out of the chute, two small boys pounded around the edge of the building. Trailing behind them was a monster of a dog.
He tried to sidestep the first kid but he was already on a collision course, and the rest was a blur. One-two-three he was hit by the first kid, fighting for balance as the second kid tangled up with them, and the horse of a dog launched himself at the box of lights in Chance’s arms. That was the kicker.
Boots up, head back, Chance sailed straight to the ground, landing like a hundred-and-eighty-pound sack of bad luck!

“Oh, my goodness,” Lynn Perry gasped when she opened the door of the church office to find her twins and a long-legged cowboy sprawled on the grass. Rushing forward she grabbed Gavin by his belt and hauled him off Chance, setting him to the side where he stood giggling as she reached for Jack. The poor cowboy was on his own with Tiny, though. The big dog was all over him like butter on toast.
“Tiny, get off of him.” Lynn grabbed the dog by his collar and tugged. Nothing happened. “Move, Tiny, you big bag of rocks. Come…on.” The beautiful, slate-gray Catahoula had a pale buff face outlined in rich chestnut. The giant blinked his silver-blue eyes at her, clueless as to what he was doing wrong. After all, he was simply having a great time sitting on top of the new cowboy play-toy.
Looking less than pleased, Chance scowled as he pushed the dog off him.
“Are you all right?” Lynn asked, holding Tiny back when he flopped his tongue out and made a last-ditch effort to swipe the cowboy’s face. “I’m so sorry,” she said. The last thing she’d expected to find when she’d heard her kids squealing was Chance Turner, rodeo preach er, beneath the pileup of her twin boys and their dog. Poor man was covered in Christmas lights, too.
In the two years that she’d lived in Mule Hollow the handsome preacher had come home only recently to per form his cousin’s wedding. But here he sat sprawled on the sidewalk, his serious green eyes looking through the curtain of Christmas lights hanging from his cowboy hat. Thankfully, those gorgeous eyes were crinkling around the edges as his lips turned up in a smile.
“We had a bit of a wreck,” he drawled, instantly sending butterflies into flight in her chest.
Startled, she ignored the response. “A wreck?”
“Yeah, Momma,” Gavin offered, grinning like an opossum. “We done run him down. Tiny didn’t mean to do it.”
Jack looked intently up at her. “It was an accident.”
She had to smile and Chance did, too. His lips hitched to one side in that signature Turner grin he shared with his three cousins, a bit crooked with a hint of mischief. Her pulse skittered crazily when his eyes met hers in shared humor.
“Well.” She swallowed hard, pushing Tiny out of the way and the frog in her throat, too. “I’m certainly glad it was intentional.”
He wore a tan insulated jacket, cowboy-cut at the hips. Tall and lean with dark good looks and a strong jawline, he looked especially cute as he tugged the lights off him. At her words he cocked a dark brow.
“I mean, it wasn’t intentional,” she protested.
He chuckled as he rose to his feet in a smooth motion.
“I know. I just got in their way when they came around the corner.” He shook his head and lights slid to his shoulders—the boys giggled.
Mortified, she went into action and reached for the lights. “Here, let me help.” She began untangling the strings of lights, without much success. “I still don’t understand. How a big man like you ended up on the ground? I mean, they’re little—” Her mouth was saying things her brain was trying to stop.
“Yup, I do tend to be clumsy. My momma used to say the Lord gave me two left feet when He passed them out.”
“Oh, dear, I didn’t mean to say that.” If the man had a clumsy bone in his body her name was Reba Mc Entire!
He chuckled and the sound made her feel all warm and happy, like drinking hot cocoa—where in the world had her brain gone?
Gavin stepped up. “We just come around the corner, Momma, and boom, there he was.” He used exuberant hand gestures to help explain the situation.
“We didn’t mean to knock him down.” Jack shook his dark head, his big blue eyes looking suddenly worried.
“You all right, mister? Tiny’s sorry.”
Tiny was waltzing about them happily.
“I’m fine. But you two sure pack a punch. Are y’all football players? Or maybe your dog is.” That won him a round of giggles.
A crimson tide of humiliation crept warmly up her cheeks when Chance’s gaze locked with hers.
“I’m so sorry. I can’t believe they knocked you off your feet. As big as you are—I mean. Well, you are a man.” Most definitely a man, no doubt about that.
His eyes crimped around the edges and it seemed almost as though he could read her thoughts. Her crazy-unable-to-understand-them-herself thoughts! No mistake about it, despite not wanting to be, she was attracted to Chance Turner. Heart-thumpingly, breathlessly attracted. Okay, so she wasn’t dead.
“Last time I looked in the mirror I was a man. But you’ve got two dynamos here. They took me out like pros with the help of their linebacker there.”
Tiny sat on his haunches and cocked his big head as if he knew they were speaking about him.
She scanned the cowboy for damage. Though he was a bit rumpled there were no tears in his long-sleeved shirt, no rips in his jeans. “Are you hurt?” she asked anyway.
“My pride is stomped on, but I don’t have any broken bones.”
Lynn laughed with a mixture of relief and nervousness. “I guess for a former bull rider like you that is a little hard to swallow.”
“You’re a bull rider?” both boys gushed in unison. They loved bull riders. Something she wasn’t thrilled about in the least. To Lynn, riding a bull was right up there with swimming in a shark tank.
“I was a bull rider,” he said to the boys, then cocked his head slightly toward her. “Have we met?”
Lynn realized her mistake. “No, not exactly. I’m Lynn Perry. I saw you at Wyatt and Amanda’s wedding but we weren’t introduced. I heard though that you used to be a bull rider before you became a preacher. They need all the prayers they can get,” she added, and realized she’d probably stepped on his toes a bit as he stiffened be fore taking the hand she held out to him.
She was instantly hit by the strength in his large hand as he wrapped it around hers. Warm pinpoints of awareness prickled across her skin at the touch of his calloused palm. In his eyes she saw a spark of recognition—as if he felt the same sensation—she pulled her hand from his as her pulse kicked up a notch.
“It’s nice to meet you, Lynn. I’m Chance, but you already know that.” If he was startled by her reaction, he hid it well, tugging a strand of lights from his shoulder as if he didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. “I guess these lights are for the church? Melody, my sister-in-law, said I was to bring them here and give them to the secretary. Is that you?”
“That’s me.” Had Melody meant them for her? They hadn’t discussed lights. “I didn’t know we were expecting them though.”
“Are they ours?” Gavin’s eyes widened as he looked up at Chance in awe.
“We need some lights, for our house,” Jack piped up, beaming at the assortment. “We don’t got none do we, Momma?”
Any other time she would have corrected his English but not now. It had been a hard month getting moved from the shelter to the house she was renting. Settling in and making it a home had cost more than she’d planned, and with Christmas right around the corner money was tighter than ever. She’d been saving every penny she could over the last two years while they lived at No Place Like Home, the women’s shelter from abuse. Most of her savings had gone toward rent, deposit and getting all the utilities turned on. Christmas lights hadn’t been in the budget and yet the boys talked about them all the time. Trying not to dwell on what she couldn’t give the boys, she focused on what she had accomplished and quickly moved past the tug of feeling sorry for herself. She refused to give in to those types of feelings when they snuck up on her. Instead she smiled at the boys.
“Let’s pick them up. We’ll put them inside the office until I talk to Melody and find out what they’re for.”
Gavin and Jack whispered to each other, then stared up at Chance.
“You’re a preacher?” Jack asked.
Chance hesitated before answering, which seemed odd to Lynn.
“I’m taking a break, but yes, I’m a rodeo preacher.” Chance knelt and began rolling up one of the strands of lights into a ball.
Lynn did the same and each boy grabbed a strand of his own, imitating exactly the way Chance was coiling his.
“You boys are doing a great job.” Chance flipped the overturned box upright and laid his coiled lights inside. The boys followed suit. They were all grins and eyes full of awe…she understood it. Despite her misgivings, she was attracted to this handsome cowboy. She dropped her lights into the box and gave herself a talking-to—she had no interest in men. Not yet. She’d come a long way since she’d escaped with her sons to the shelter over two years ago, but she hadn’t come far enough along to think about bringing a man into the mix. She was building a life with her boys and that was all she cared about doing.
That was what she needed.
Gavin dropped another messy coil into the box, then put his hands on his hips and looked Chance straight in the eyes. “If you’re a preacher we need one.”
Jack nodded. “In the worstest of ways.”
Lynn smiled at his word choice. Jack had heard Applegate Thornton, one of the more colorful older men, saying that at church on Sunday.
“Yeah, the worst,” Gavin repeated. “Are you going to fill the puppet?”
Chance laughed in a rich baritone. “No, I’m not preaching right now. I’m taking some time off.” The box was full and he picked it up. “Where would you like me to put this?”
She was startled by his answer. “In here.” She led the way into the office and he followed her inside as the boys trailed in behind him. She couldn’t remember them being so taken by a man before.
He set the box on the table and looked around the office. It was a cozy room with a dark oak desk that gleamed from the polish she applied to it every week. The double bookshelves were full of reference books for a new pastor, who would call this his office when he showed up.
She wondered what Chance thought about the room. He didn’t quite fit here. He was too rugged, too masculine—not that a pastor couldn’t be both those things. It was simply that rodeo pastor fit Chance Turner. “Thank you for bringing the Christmas lights to town,” she said, not sure what else to say.
He swept his hat from his head, revealing jet-black hair with a hint of wave. “You’re welcome.” His gaze was strong and steady as it took her in, causing her pulse to drum faster—despite her will. There was a charge in the room between them that left her breathless. He broke the moment by letting his gaze drift about the office again.
Gathering her wits she took a deep, shaky breath. “It’s a bit sad to me.” She felt disconcerted by him but tried to seem unaffected. “It just seems wrong for this office not to belong to someone. Ever since Pastor Allen retired we’ve had a problem finding a pastor who feels called to fill our pulpit.”
“That’s what I’ve heard. The right man will come, though,” he said, then added, “in God’s time.”
“Why cain’t a rodeo preacher preach here?” Gavin asked, moving to stand right beside Chance so he could look straight up at him.
“They can if they aren’t preaching a rodeo,” Chance explained.
“Are you preaching a rodeo this week?” Jack asked. For nearly five he and his brother were pretty smart.
She didn’t miss the troubled look that shadowed Chance’s blue eyes. He shifted uncomfortably as if biding time while he searched for answers. Odd.
She decided to help him out. “Hey, guys, why don’t y’all go back outside and play. I’ll be out in just a minute. And don’t run over any more visitors.”
“Okay, Momma,” Jack said solemnly. “You want ta come swing with us?” The question was his way of making up to Chance for knocking him down. A child’s innocence.
Chance looked surprised and a little pleased. “I’ll come watch you before I leave. First I need to talk to your mom.”
Jack nodded. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
Gavin stopped at the door, holding it open for his twin. “We’ll be waitin’. Remember you promised.”
Chance smiled at her as they stampeded off but their singsong voices told her how much a promise meant to them.
“You’ve got good boys,” he said the minute the door closed.
“I think so. Rambunctious, but then that’s just boys. So, I know you said you weren’t preaching right now. But are you doing weddings? I know you did Wyatt and Amanda’s. And my friend is really needing a preacher right now.”
He shook his head almost too quickly. “No. I’m not doing any pastoral duties right now.”
“I guess I didn’t think about a pastor taking a vacation,” Lynn murmured, not exactly sure how to handle the information. “From what I’ve heard you’re a dedicated man of the Lord. It’s just one wedding and it would mean so much to her.”
“I’m sorry but I’m taking time off.”
He didn’t say the words unkindly, but still the man act ed as if she’d just asked him to stand in front of an oncoming train. “Maybe if you met Stacy and Emmett. They are—”
“I’m sorry, I really am, but I’m taking time off right now,” he said and his tone firmly shut the door on that discussion.
Baffled, she was at a loss for words. The man wasn’t thirty yet and he’d been a rodeo pastor for about four years—at least that was what she’d heard someone say down at the diner. And he’d seemed so content when she’d watched him at Wyatt’s wedding. Maybe he just needed a rest. Pastors took time off, didn’t they? She didn’t know what else to say so she just waved a hand to ward the lights. “Then, I guess that’s a wrap. Thanks for bringing this by. I’ll give Melody a call and find out who they’re for.” She picked up her purse and strode to the door. The man had a right to do what he wanted, but his refusal, without even hearing Stacy’s story, irritated her. Really fried her bacon, and that didn’t happen often. After all, this was sweet Stacy she was talking about.
“Look, I’m sorry.”
She couldn’t help hiking a brow at him. “I’m sure you are. Don’t let it bother you. I’m sorry my boys accosted you.”
“They didn’t mean to. I should have been watching out. It was a hard shot to my pride, that’s for certain.” He held the door for her and she walked past him, more than a little aware of him as she went.
“I can lock up. You go ahead.”
He pulled his hat from his head and met her gaze full on. “Is it all right for me to go watch the boys swing for a minute like I promised?”
“Sure.” Some of her irritation at him eased as she watched him saunter off in the direction of the boys’ shouts of laughter. Chance Turner might not want to pastor right now, but he’d promised her boys he’d watch them swing and he was doing just that.
Such a promise was worth more than most people could even fathom to a pair of boys who’d never had that from their dad.
Lynn didn’t want to think about that though. She took a deep breath, walked to the side of the building and watched the looks on their little faces as Chance strode their way. When their eyes lit up she had to fight the lump in her throat and a sudden flood of tears from a past that she had no intention of revisiting.
When the women’s shelter in L.A. had burned she’d been thrilled that it had relocated to the sleepy ranching town of Mule Hollow, Texas. Here the cowboys and small-town folks had rallied around them and made a safe haven like nothing she’d ever dreamed of. Her little boys had been too young to remember the life they’d been living before she’d gotten them out. Here in Mule Hollow they had role model after role model of what real men were supposed to be like. Here her sons had the chance to grow up with loving, loyal, honest men and women surrounding them.
What they didn’t have was a father. And they wouldn’t. Lynn had already come to understand that falling in love wasn’t an option she was willing to explore. The safest way to give her boys a good life was to keep it uncomplicated. Besides, she didn’t have what it took to cross that line and start looking for love. To love meant to trust and trust wasn’t in her anymore. Not trusting with her heart anyway.
But…Chance Turner was intriguing still.
Lynn’s heart fluttered as her boys squealed in delight when he said something to them. The flutter just proved that she was still a woman who could appreciate a good-looking, nice man when she saw him. And Chance Turner was a nice man. He’d be nicer if he hadn’t refused to perform Stacy’s wedding.
Intriguing or not, he was just one more friendly cowboy that her boys could look up to. He was no different than Sheriff Brady Cannon or Deputy Zane Cantrell. Or Dan Dawson or any of the wonderful, Christian men of the community who’d stepped up to be father figures for the kids at the women’s shelter.
He spread his legs shoulder-width apart and locked his arms across his chest, watching Gavin and Jack. Why was he not preaching? The question niggled at the back of her mind. None of her business though, right?
Right!
“Okay, boys, it’s time to hit the road,” she called. No use making Chance watch them swing for too long and no reason for her to stand here contemplating issues that had nothing to do with her…except she wished he would consider marrying Stacy and Emmett. It’s none of your business, Lynn.
“But, Momma—”
“No buts, young man,” she said to Gavin. “It’s time to head home.” She suddenly wanted to grab the boys and hurry away before she opened her mouth and butted in where she shouldn’t. The man had a right to preach or not preach. Besides, this was a traditional small-town church. Chance was a rodeo preacher. He moved along with the rodeo circuit, preaching and mentoring the cow boys who couldn’t make it to church because of the rodeo’s schedule. It was an honorable calling. She liked the idea of what he did…still, while he was here, couldn’t he do one wedding?
What could that hurt?
Give it up, Lynn, the man made it clear he was taking time off. Mouth shut, she headed toward her car. She had to bite her tongue again as Chance reached his truck and tipped his hat at her after telling her boys to have a great day.
“Momma, we like him,” Jack said the minute he climbed into the seat and buckled his seat belt.
“Yeah,” Gavin added, meeting her gaze in the rearview. “Maybe he can teach me how to bull ride.”
“There won’t be any bull riding for you, mister.”
“Aw, Momma. I ain’t gonna git myself kilt or anything. Chance ain’t dead and neither is Bob or Trace.”
Bob Jacobs had been a bull fighter and Trace Crawford had ridden bulls, too. Both men had survived and many other cowboys around town had, too. Still the thought of her little boys growing up to be bull riders didn’t sit well with her. “You concentrate on being a little boy and leave the bull riding to the men.”
“Aw, Momma, you ain’t got to worry. Don’tcha know I’m gonna be the best there ever was.”
The hair at the back of her neck prickled but she decided the best thing for now was to let it go. The less said on this subject the better. At least she prayed that was so.
“Well, sugar baby, I think you’re the best there ever was already.”
“What about me, Momma?” Jack asked.
She turned in her seat. “You know I’m talking about you, too. God must have thought I was pretty special to have blessed me with the two best boys in all of the world.”

Chapter Two
“So how are you? Did you get settled into the stagecoach house all right?” Wyatt asked.
Chance hadn’t wasted any time getting back to the ranch after his meeting with Lynn Perry and her twins. He’d just climbed into the saddle when Wyatt rode into the yard.
“I’m fine. And yes, I’m settled. How are you? You’re looking good. And I’m happy to see you in the saddle again.”
Wyatt had insisted on saddling a horse and riding with him. Wyatt sitting in the saddle was a good thing to see, since less than six months ago after his plane crash he’d been relegated to a wheelchair.
Wyatt’s lip hitched as he urged his horse forward. “I have the best physical therapist in the world.”
Wyatt’s wife was his PT. They’d met when she’d come to help him recover. Chance had performed their wedding just a few months earlier and had never expected to be here now. “You don’t look like you’re doing all right,” Wyatt said, shooting Chance one of his penetrating looks. “So don’t tell me you’re fine. Look, Chance, I know you feel responsible somehow for that bull rider’s death but you know as well as I do that it’s a profession full of risks.”
Perspiration beaded beneath the brim of his hat and his fingers clenched the reins too tightly. Willing himself to relax, Chance studied the flat pasture and welcomed the cold wind on his cheeks and the sting in his eyes. It gave him a barrier to the bitter chill that ran through him each time he thought of Randy. How could he sweat bullets and feel cold to the bone at the same time? Guilt, that’s how. Gut-wrenching, soul-shredding guilt could make him sick as a dog it tore him up so bad.
“Talk to me, Chance.”
“I let him die. Nothing you can say will convince me that I didn’t do what I should have done.” I’m just not ready, had been Randy’s last words to Chance before he’d climbed over the rail and settled onto the bull’s back. For the last five years Chance had held services every Sunday morning before a rodeo and then he’d stood on the platform with any cowboy who asked. Randy had wanted him there until a few weeks before his death. He’d stopped attending services and avoided him for weeks prior to his last ride. Instead of seeking Randy out, Chance had let other things distract him from going to Randy and showing his concern. Chance knew he was hanging with a rough crowd. He’d known Randy was in danger and yet he hadn’t gone the extra mile to try and help him.
“Randy didn’t give his life to the Lord. Never accepted the gift of salvation that Jesus offers every person.” Wyatt listened intently. “It haunts me.” Chance lowered his head for a minute with the weight of the guilt. “I didn’t step up when he needed me the most.”
“But you were there on his last ride.”
He jerked his head up. “Yeah, I was. But he still wasn’t ready to commit. I don’t know why he asked me that night. It’s like he knew in his gut that his time was running out but he couldn’t do it. I don’t know, Wyatt. I have been over it and over it a thousand times in my mind and I can’t figure out what I did wrong. I presented him with every verse and concept about salvation that I could come up with. And I always come up empty…and he always comes up dead. I can’t shake knowing that I should have done more. At least stopped him from getting on that bull when I knew he might be doing drugs. It—”
“You can’t hold yourself accountable for that.”
But he did, and the assortment of prescription drugs that had been found in Randy’s gear only made it worse.
“I should have stepped in. Rumor had it that it he’d got ten hooked on painkillers after his shoulder injury. His eyes were glazed when I looked at him the moment be fore the gate opened. And I didn’t say anything.”
Saying the words was hard for him. Chance knew that logically Randy’s death wasn’t his fault but that didn’t change the way he felt.
“What could you have said? The ride was already in motion. You have to let it go, Chance. I’m telling you it’s not your fault.” Wyatt’s expression was etched with determination. That was Wyatt, always wanting to charge in and save the day. But not this time.
Chance gave a short shake of his head and stared into the distant horizon. He’d messed up. There was no way to wash Randy’s blood from his hands. “By omission I let that kid die both physically and spiritually. How am I supposed to live with that?”
“That isn’t true,” Wyatt snapped, his eyes flashing.
“It isn’t. You aren’t a superhero. The kid was on drugs and he was avoiding you. I get that you hold yourself up to a higher standard, but come on, Chance, let it go.”
“I can’t, Wyatt. And until I can come to terms with it, there’s no way I can stand up in front of a bunch of cowboys or a congregation feeling the way I do. Knowing what I’ve done.”

“Lynn, you need to bid on a bachelor tomorrow night.”
Lynn looked up from the centerpiece she was arranging for one of the many tables set up in rows in the community center. Several ladies were scattered about decorating the room for tomorrow night’s fundraiser for the women’s shelter.
“I’m helping with the benefit, Norma Sue, but I’m not taking part. I’ve already told you that.”
Norma Sue Jenkins hooked her thumb around the strap of her ample overalls, tilted her kinky gray head to the side and grunted, “Hogwash.”
“Now, Norma, none of that,” Adela Ledbetter-Green admonished in a gentle voice that always made Lynn think of the sugar and spice and everything nice that little girls were made of. God’s goodness and grace just radiated from her with a sincerity that made everyone around her feel happier just by being there. It was that loving, sweet spirit that could be misleading to some at times. Because within the elegant, almost fragile-looking form of Adela beat the strong heart of a woman of wisdom, unafraid to speak her mind and give advice and direction whenever she felt the need. Obviously she felt the need, and for that Lynn was grateful.
“Thank you,” Lynn said, more than glad to have her support.
Adela smiled and studied her with vibrant peacock-blue eyes. “Well, dear, I didn’t say I didn’t agree with Norma Sue. I do. I simply think she should be more tempered in her encouragement.”
And here Lynn had been thinking all these good thoughts about her!
“Honey, don’t look at me so surprised. We just love you to death and want you to be happy.”
“I am happy. I just don’t want to be pushed.” Not even by these ladies she loved so much. And she knew how they could push when they got it in their heads that a woman needed to be matched up and married off.
“There will be plenty of women here for y’all to mix and match without me.”
“But what about your boys?” Esther Mae Wilcox, their third partner in crime, huffed as she scooted from the table on the other side of Norma Sue. She wore a red velour warm-up suit that clashed totally with her bright, reddish-orange hair. “Don’t you think it’s time to at least go on one date?” At her impatient tone she glanced Adela’s way. “Yes, I know I’m pushing when we said we were going to go at this nice and easy. But Adela, I just can’t.” She hit Lynn with her green eyes.
“You were the strongest woman who climbed off that bus two years ago. You have jumped into life here in town with ease and have given your moral support and encouragement to all the other women who have passed through the doors of No Place Like Home. You are al ways working to help others move forward with their lives and yet you don’t.”
Lynn couldn’t deny any of this. It was true. She’d at tended every class at the shelter on overcoming being a battered wife. Every class on coping. Every class under any name, anything that would help her be the woman she needed to be for her boys. She could tell others how to do it and she could help her friends when they needed her. Outwardly she seemed to have her act together and so everyone assumed she did. “Esther Mae, I just moved my boys into their very own home. That’s moving forward. I’m happy. I’m content and I’m not bidding on a bachelor.”
“Did I hear you say you weren’t bidding?” Lacy Brown Matlock asked, coming up behind Lynn. The hugely pregnant hair stylist pulled out a chair beside Lynn and eased down into it. “I’m telling y’all that the doc says this little gal of mine is coming no sooner than two weeks out, but mark my word it’ll be sooner rather than later. This baby has a mind of her own and is trying to kick her way out right now!”
Relieved to have someone else join in the conversation, Lynn chuckled. “She’s independent like her mom ma.” And they didn’t come any more independent than Lacy. She’d moved to Mule Hollow after reading the matchmakers’ ad in the newspaper. Just like that, the spunky blonde had followed her heart, determined that if women answered the ad for wives they would not only need their hair and nails done to catch their men, but also they just might need the Lord. Lynn had arrived at the shelter, spirit verging on broken, and gained much inspiration from Lacy. She also knew that Lacy was as much a cupid as the other three ladies. “Independent is the truth,” Norma Sue echoed. “I have a feeling Lacy’s baby girl is going to hit the ground running.”
Esther Mae grinned. “None of us will be able to keep up with the live wire she’s destined to be.”
“Lacy will,” Adela added, reaching across to pat Lacy’s arm. “You do look tired though.”
She did. Lynn could see fatigue in the high-octane blue of Lacy’s eyes. She was glad for the distraction from the subject of Chance, but she wished Lacy didn’t look so weary. “Are you sleeping?”
Lacy waved a cherry-pink-tipped hand. “Sleep, what’s that? I gave that up weeks ago.” She laughed good-naturedly. “Clint says the baby is taking after me with its impetuous nature. We never know when she’s going to settle down and when she’s not. If I knew, then maybe I’d get some sleep. But when I lay down—at night or even for a little nap—she starts kicking.”
“How’s Clint holding up?” Lynn liked Clint. The hard-working cattleman sometimes looked at a loss for the things his wife came up with, but there was always a glowing admiration and love in his eyes…even though she’d seen a time or two when he was exasperated. Lacy tended to do that to people though. She got so caught up in what she envisioned for couples that she often acted before thinking things through. Despite that, he loved her…or actually, from what Lynn observed, he loved her because of it. Lynn wouldn’t know what that was like. In her marriage she’d learned, slowly, not to voice her opinion, much less make an impulsive move. It had happened over time, practically sneaking up on her. The mental abuse started long before the beatings had occurred.
“Lynn, so you aren’t going to bid?”
Lacy’s words pelted through the fog of memory like buckshot. “No. I’m not.” She braced herself for Lacy to jump on the bandwagon.
“Too bad. I’ve been praying God would lead the right man to town for you and your boys.” Lacy rubbed her extended belly and took a long breath.
“Lacy, you look really tired,” Lynn said, concerned.
“Why don’t you call it a night?” Norma Sue called out. “You’re standing on your feet too much.”
Lacy gave a smile—not her normally exuberant one but a smile nonetheless. “You’ve been talking to Sheri! I sit down when I need to—”
“Ha!” Sheri exclaimed from her perch on a ladder across the room. She cocked her spiky brown head to the side and looked down from where she’d been tacking up red-and-blue bandanna decorations. “You lie, Lacy Matlock! You don’t sit down nearly as much as you should. If it were up to me I’d hog-tie you to a couch and make you stay there till our baby comes.”
Lacy laughed. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’ve promised Clint that I’m going to start taking it easy so y’all relax and let me talk to Lynn.” Lacy’s eyes twinkled like they usually did when she was inspired. “You should bid on Chance. If not for yourself then for him. The man could use some distraction, I think. And you and your sweet boys might just be what the doc upstairs has in mind for him.”
Inwardly Lynn groaned as all eyes returned to her. Lacy, the sneak, was trying to turn the tables on her. “I’m not bidding on Chance or anyone else…”

Chance pulled into a parking space in front of Sam’s Diner and got out of the truck. There was no way he could come home and not drop by for breakfast at Sam’s. His cousins’ trucks were lined up along the plank sidewalk and he knew he was running late. Hurrying, he pushed open the diner’s heavy swinging door to find Lynn Perry standing on the other side. She was carrying a stack of carryout boxes and coffee in a paper cup. When she saw him she stopped in her tracks.
For a little while the day before, he’d rolled over their meeting in his head, and for the life of him he couldn’t stop thinking about her. There was something about her that had edged under his collar and wouldn’t let go. She was pretty, with her dark hair and shimmering midnight eyes, but he’d sensed a tough girl underneath her soft image. A tough girl determined to make it for herself and her boys. He liked that.
But she had a keep-your-distance wall erected around her and it was firmly in place right now, even though she was smiling at him.
He tipped his hat and gave her his best smile. “How are you this morning?”
“Great. How are you? I hope you didn’t have any lingering aches and pains from yesterday. The boys really didn’t mean to lay you out like that.”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I’ve been thrown from horses and bulls that make being taken out by two pint-sized four-year-olds a piece of cake.”
She flinched prettily. “It still had to hurt, but I’m glad to see you aren’t limping.”
“Like I said before, only my pride was hurt.”
“Yes, well, that’s good—I mean it’s good that’s all that was hurt.”
She sidestepped him to go out the door. “Here, let me,” he said, pressing his back to the swinging door and opening it. She edged past him and he got the sweet scent of chocolate as she passed. He couldn’t help but lean her way—just his luck, she turned and caught him. “You, ahhh—” What? “You smell good. Is that choc o late?” Slick, Turner. Way to stick a boot in your mouth.
She colored rose-pink and he could tell he’d flustered her. He’d flustered himself! He could flirt with the best of them but it had been a while since he’d done it. He was about as rusty as a bucket of wet nails.
“I’ve been mixing chocolate bars since seven.”
“Sweet. I mean, sweet job.”
He figured she was probably ready to toss her coffee on him but she chuckled instead and walked off without another word. She probably thought he was a lost cause. Come to think of it, maybe he was. He watched her cross the street and push open the door to the candy store.
“You jest gonna stand thar and stare all day or ya gonna come in and have a bite to eat?”
He should have known Applegate Thornton would be sitting at his usual seat by the window. The old coot’s booming voice probably could be heard across the street at the candy store. But at least it had Chance moving back inside and not standing halfway out on the side walk.
Ignoring the laughter from the table in the center of the room where his cousins were sitting, he strode to the window table to see App and his buddy Stanley Orr. “It’s good to see you two are still holding down the fort. How’s it going?”
Applegate grinned. “We ain’t doin’ nearly as good as you, son. Lynn was lookin’ mighty sweet at you. Stanley, you ever seen Lynn lookin’ at anybody like that?”
Stanley was slightly balding, plump and about the easiest-going man Chance had ever been around. “Nope, can’t say I have. You got a ticket to the steak dinner tomorrow night?”
“Yes, he has a ticket,” Cole called from the table where he, Wyatt and Seth were watching Chance like hawks.
“I didn’t buy a ticket.”
“The ranch bought it for you,” Seth said.
He took the fourth cane-backed chair at the table and sank into it. “I don’t remember saying I wanted to at tend a steak dinner.”
“It’s for a good cause,” Seth said, taking a drink of his coffee, just as Sam, the owner of the diner, came striding toward their table with coffeepot in hand.
Small and wiry, with a quick step, Sam gave a hearty smile. “It’s good ta see ya, son!” He set a coffee mug in front of Chance then shook his hand fiercely. “I was sure sorry ta hear about that bull rider. A cry’n shame is what that was.” Shaking his head he poured coffee into the mug.
Chance wrapped his hands around the warm cup and felt the stab of deep regret. “Yeah, it was.” All eyes were on him right now. He didn’t want to discuss this.
“All you could be was there fer them if they needed you.”
Chance met Sam’s wise, gray eyes. How could he say that he hadn’t been there for Randy? That in his heart of hearts he felt—
“Yor taken his death pretty hard, ain’t ya?”
“Yes, he is,” Cole answered for him.
Chance met his gaze across the table. His cousin had been running hard from his past for years after his fiancée’s death. He was settled and happy now, thanks to a beautiful country vet named Susan. Cole was more content than he’d ever been and he and Susan were planning on starting a family soon. He’d been through a lot and found solace in helping disaster victims rebuild their homes during the time that he lost his way. Chance stared into the black coffee and wondered if that was what he’d done…lost his way. Ever since that horrible night he just couldn’t think of himself as a pastor. It ate at him.
“That’s what makes you good at what you do, Chance,” Cole continued. “You care. You can’t be a pastor, a shepherd to your sheep, and not care.”
He felt as far away from being a shepherd as he could possibly get. Talk about a gulf…
“So don’t keep beating yourself up with things that were out of your control,” Seth, the control freak of the Turners, added. Chance looked at him in disbelief. Seth grinned. “Yeah, you heard right. That coming from me. I’ve been learning to let God handle things more. Not that it’s been a bed of roses. Old habits are hard to break. But I’m working on it.”
Chance had been handing out advice right and left, thinking he was making sense. Funny how it all seemed out of focus to him right now. “Can we talk about something else?” He didn’t want to be rude but he felt like he was swinging zeros.
Sam squeezed his shoulder. “You were reckless but you always was one to take the world on yor shoulders. You got a big heart, Chance, even after all you went through. I gotta git back ta work, but you listen ta these boys and pull yourself out of this spot yor in. My eggs and bacon’ll help ya. That all right by y’all?”
Everyone gave hearty agreement and Sam strode off on his bowlegs. Chance knew Sam had been referring to Chance’s childhood…he’d long ago come to terms with the fact that his dad had had better things to do than raise his son. Chance had been hard to deal with at an early age and his mother hadn’t known what to do with him. He’d spent many summers here in Mule Hollow with his cousins. Their dad had loved him and treated him like his own, worked him hard and given him as much direction and love as he gave his own sons. But in his early teens Chance had rebelled against his dad’s lack of interest and he’d hit the road…it had been a hard time. Too heavy for him to think about right now.
“Look, Chance, take it from my experience.” Seth glanced around the table at his brothers. “God is in control even when we don’t understand or don’t agree. You’ve given us all that advice at some point in time.”
“Yeah, I was pretty liberal handing it out, wasn’t I?” He grunted, his mood taking a downhill turn and picking up speed.
Wyatt frowned. “You hand out great advice. I owe you and there’s no two ways about it. God sent you to me with the advice I needed to hear just when I needed to hear it. I was about as low as a man can get and you helped me see what I needed to do to help Amanda. You just have to heed your own good advice and give this over to the Lord. We’ve all been where you’re at, and it’s not a fun place to be.”
Applegate and Stanley had been pretending like they were engrossed in their morning checkers game—why they were even pretending was a mystery to Chance. For two men who couldn’t hear they heard everything. It was a miracle beyond understanding, which made Chance smile—some much-needed relief from the downturn of this conversation. App spat a sunflower seed into the brass spittoon at his feet and Stanley did the same. Both hit the opening in the conversation dead-on.
“Sounds ta me like that steak dinner is jest the place you need ta be. Don’t you thank so, Stanley?”
“Yup. Ain’t nothin’ like a good steak and the company of pretty women ta pull a man out of the dumps.”
“A woman is the last thing I need to be thinking about.”
“It ain’t us that caused Lynn ta blush,” App grunted.
“You got a free ticket and a woebegone attitude that needs sprucing up. Put on some starched jeans and a crisp shirt, slap on a little smell-good and join the festivities.”
Sam came out of the kitchen loaded down with plates. Chance had never been so glad to see a plate of eggs in all his life. Maybe putting food in their stomachs would get them off him.
“And speaking of other thangs,” App drawled, his lean face cascading into a dour look. “We need a preacher. No two ways about it. I been thankin’ that thar is the reason the good Lord brought you home.” App had made it clear at Wyatt’s wedding that he thought Chance should come home to Mule Hollow and become the past or of the church. Chance had told him then that he didn’t feel called to preach in a local church. That should have ended the discussion, but App wasn’t known for letting go of things and it looked like he hadn’t let this go either. “So what do ya say?”
Chance looked at the steaming breakfast plate and took a long, slow breath. So much for thinking the food was going to get him off the hot seat.

Chapter Three
The morning after Chance had flustered her by telling her she smelled sweet, Lynn dreamed about him! Oh yeah, but thankfully she was awakened from dreaming about the hunky, dark-haired bachelor by her horse of a dog, Tiny. Her unlikely hero bounded onto her bed and pounced on her with all four of his huge paws! The power of the attack knocked the wind and the dream right out of her.
“Thank you,” she gasped, trying to get her breath back as she stared into Tiny’s pale face. His excited are-you-ready-to-play eyes danced as he gaped at her. She relaxed, relieved to be awake…it wasn’t unusual for her to have nightmares. Though they had slowly become less frequent and they were always about her ex-husband…Dreaming about Chance Turner was disturbing on an entirely different level. Thank goodness for Tiny.
“What are you doing in the house?” she asked, making certain not to scold. The boys sometimes tried to sneak the giant animal into the house, or when they went out side they forgot to close the door and Tiny would sneak into the house by himself. On those occasions there was never any telling what he was going to get into. And if you scolded him he tended to leave puddles—and that wasn’t a good thing.
The sound of erratic hammering filled the air outside her window. She glanced at the bedside clock—seven o’clock. Tiny danced on top of her, tail wagging, breath huffing, eyes twinkling, he barked excitedly and looked toward the window.
“Okay, okay. I get it.” Gently pushing the oversize pup off her, she padded to the window and pulled aside the curtain.
Before going to help decorate for the auction—and getting attacked by her friends—she had worked a full day at the candy store. Her boys had spent the day at Amanda Turner’s place. Amanda couldn’t have children of her own and since marrying Chance’s cousin, Wyatt, she often enjoyed having Gavin and Jack over to play when Lynn needed a babysitter. She and Wyatt were in the process of trying to adopt, and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that any baby would be blessed to have her and Wyatt as parents.
Just after Lynn had told everyone that she was not bid ding on a bachelor, Amanda and her two sisters-in-law, Susan and Melody, had arrived with the kids.
Melody had asked about the lights and the boys had immediately told everyone about how they’d caused Chance to fall and dump the lights all over himself. Everyone got a good laugh and she’d seen the spark of excitement burn brighter in the three matchmaking buddies’ mischievous eyes. That was all it had taken for them to be off and running with stories about Chance when he was growing up—Chance Turner had been a handful. Of course, her boys had jumped right into the fray, giggling at stories of the things Chance and his cousins had gotten into.
She had also been informed by Melody that the Christmas lights he’d brought up to the church were for her, and that they were to be used to decorate her new house. Lynn had been touched by the gift and told Melody so. All their questions about Chance and what she thought of him had taken her by surprise and left her suspicious. Mule Hollow was known for its matchmaking, after all.
She and the boys had been late getting home and they’d all been tired. The last thing she expected to see when she looked out the window this morning was Gavin and Jack outside attacking the large oak tree in the backyard with hammers.
“What are they doing?” she asked, looking down at Tiny.
The dog placed his paws on the windowsill and whined as he studied them. His tail wagged impatiently, signaling that he wanted to be out there with his boys. “Come on, let’s go.” That was all it took. The dog shot out of her bedroom like a flash. Lynn grabbed her housecoat off the bed as she passed. It was chilly in the house and she stopped to turn the thermostat up a notch or two. She put on her leather slides beside the back door, which was cracked open but not enough for the dog to escape. Lynn guessed that he’d snuck inside when the boys left it ajar and then the draft must have sucked it shut, trapping him.
Tiny wiggled with anticipation and the instant she pulled the door open he shot outside and was gone. Lynn agreed with him—life was never dull with Gavin and Jack around. She trailed him.
Jack had both hands wrapped around the middle of a hammer that was as long as his arm. Gavin held a twelve-inch piece of old barn wood against the tree. Both of them looked up at her as she approached. Tiny stuck his nose into the mix and Gavin pushed it away.
“What are you two little mischief makers doing?”
“Workin’, Mom,” Jack answered, slamming the head of the hammer at the nail protruding at an angle from the piece of wood. He missed.
“We’re gonna build a tree house.” Gavin nodded to ward the old shed at the back of the yard. “There’s a whole bunch of wood in there we can use.” His high-pitched voice was shrill with excitement.
Jack again whacked the nail, which bent over and smashed against the wood. She cringed—better the wood than his finger. His shoulders slumped and his face fell as he let the hammer drop to his side. He looked so dejected it was all Lynn could do not to scoop him up and hug him tight.
Gavin scrunched his brows together looking at him. “That’s okay, Jack. I didn’t do no better.”
Her little men, her heart tugged. “Building a tree house sounds like a great plan, guys. But let’s put the hammer up for now. It’s time to get ready for church. When we get home I’ll come out here and we’ll take a look at what’s in the shed and see what we can do.” Like she could actually build something! Who was she kidding?
“But you’re a girl, Momma.”
Oh, the challenge of it. “Yes, Jack, I am. But girls can build tree houses, too.” She was sure some girls could. Whether or not she could was yet to be seen.
“You sure?” Gavin asked, looking as skeptical as she felt.
“Yes, Gavin, I am. Now come inside and let’s get dressed for church.”
“Momma, I bet Chance can build a tree house.”
Not again. Her boys had been around Chance for only a short time and for some reason they were fascinated by everything about the man. “Gavin, I’ve already told you he’s Mr. Turner to both of you. And he probably is very good at building things,” she admitted as she opened the door for them. “Wipe your boots off.” They made extravagant swipes of their boots on the rug and then hurried off to their rooms. Tiny tried to follow but Lynn grabbed him. “Oh, no you don’t, buster.” She pulled him outside, patted his head and then firmly closed the door.
She walked to the sink and stared out the window at the tree with the board attached and the hammers leaning against it. Chance probably could build a tree house her boys would be proud of. The man looked like he could do anything. There was just something about him that gave off that vibe. She felt it, and that had to be what her boys were sensing even though they were too young to realize it.
“Mom! Jack won’t give me my shirt,” Gavin yelled from the back room.
“It’s my shirt,” Jack yelled back.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. Her boys got along for the most part, but brothers would be brothers…Pushing thoughts of Chance from her mind she went to see what was going on. She was so happy to have the small house of her own that even the sounds of her boys fussing made the place seem homey. It was wonderful to know that she was providing a roof over her sons’ heads in this peaceful ranching community.
The other women who had arrived with her in the van from L.A. were also moving on with their lives, slowly but surely, just like Esther Mae had said. Lynn had helped many of them in some way. Rose, the only mother with a teenage son, had been the first to move out of the shelter and had married not too long after that. Nive was still at the shelter, and so was Stacy, who was about to get married. All of them had come a long way since arriving here in Mule Hollow. And there were others after them who came, too. Some had used the facility as a temporary stopping point before finding a permanent shelter elsewhere, but for the original four Mule Hollow was now home. It was a great place to raise boys. The country life suited them and it suited Lynn, too. “It’s mine—”
“No. It’s mine—”
She found them having a tug-of-war over a blue shirt.
“Guys, what’s going on here?”
“It’s my shirt,” Jack said.
Gavin shook his head. “It’s mine.”
Lynn looked at the shirt. “You both have this same ex act shirt… Let’s take a look at them.” Getting dressed for church was not always an easy process. Raising boys was challenging, but she wouldn’t give it up for anything. Sometimes, though, she worried about the future and not having a man in their lives to help guide the boys. Should she start looking for a man to fill the blank spot their dad had left? The thought hit her at times like this. When things like the tree house cropped up. It made her feel guilty that she wasn’t ready.
The ladies pressuring her about the bachelor auction didn’t help either. They didn’t understand—how could they know how she felt when she’d never told them? All her life she’d lived in turmoil where men were concerned—until now.
No one knew exactly how bad her life had been prior to escaping to the shelter. She wanted it to stay that way, too. Hiding her emotions had worn her down, but for the first time in years she was living life contentedly.
With no man in the picture there was no danger. No broken trust, no risk of being hurt…it was easier. Safer.
Both physically and emotionally. It had taken the love and fear for her sons to drive her from the cycle of abuse. Knowing that if not for them she might still be there undermined her self-respect and scared her.
No. It was better this way. Better feeling strong and content that her boys were her life. They were safe and happy as they were. And no matter how guilty she might feel because they didn’t have a father in their lives, she wasn’t ready to change that, not even for them.

Church had started when Chance slid into the back pew. He felt awkward arriving late but he hadn’t planned on coming at all. At the last minute the Lord, or habit, had him heading to the church. Normally his church was a dusty or waterlogged arena prior to a competition’s start.
Miss Adela had been playing the piano for the Mule Hollow Church of Faith all of Chance’s life. She had just finished playing the welcoming hymn “When We All Get to Heaven” as he slipped into the pew beside Applegate.
“This back pew’s not the place fer you, Chance Turner,” App leaned in and whispered loudly.
So much for thinking he’d gotten his point across yesterday. “Good morning to you, too, App.”
Applegate hiked a bushy brow. “What’s good about it? We’re at church and the only preacher we’ve got is sittin’ in the back row with me.”
Several people turned at his words. Since App was hard of hearing and talked loud enough to be heard in the choir loft it was a wonder the entire congregation didn’t turn and look at him. Well, okay, so most of them did. Chance had known this would happen but here he was anyway. It was like the Lord wasn’t going to let him go even when He knew Chance was struggling. “App, sir,” he whispered, “now isn’t the time for me to be up there.”
App crossed his arms and grunted just as Brady Cannon stepped up to the podium. The sheriff taught the singles’ Sunday school class, and he and his wife, Dottie, had turned his ranch into a shelter for abused women. Chance respected them both very much. Dottie ran a candy store on Main Street where she taught the women how to run their own business. Being self-sufficient was a goal of the shelter along with helping the families overcome their abusive pasts.
Wyatt had told him that Lynn, the woman he’d met yesterday, had recently moved from the shelter into her own place with her two sons. He wondered about Lynn. He’d hated to hear she’d had a hard time in her life. How a man could hurt a woman was beyond him…but how he could vow before God to love and cherish her and then strike and abuse her was even more incomprehensible.
“As most of you know I’m a sheriff, not a preacher,” Brady began to speak. “I’m just the best you’ve got this morning. Or at least that’s what the elders tell me. I’m pretty certain there’s some of you out there who could do a much better job than me of preaching this morning. I hope whoever you are that you’ll step up and fill the need.”
App shot Chance a sharp look, and he felt eyes on him from everywhere else, too. Looking to the right he saw two small heads, one dark and one blond, turned his way. Gavin and Jack were barely able to see him over the back of the pew but they were watching him. Their mother sat beside them with her gaze focused straight ahead on Brady. When the boys saw Chance looking, the blonde raised his hand and waved. The dark-headed one followed suit. Lynn caught their movement out of the corner of her eye and automatically turned. Her midnight eyes locked with Chance’s and unexpectedly his mouth went dry and his pulse tripped all over itself, pounding erratically.
Something in that look hadn’t been there before. Some thing in the way her eyes blazed into his hadn’t seared into him like that yesterday. The moment lasted less than a second before she let her gaze drop to her boys, tapping them each on the head and telling them, with the swirl of her finger, to turn around. Less than a second but he was hung up…
App elbowed him. “Like I said yesterday, she don’t look at jest anybody like that. If you was in the pulpit you wouldn’t have ta be lookin’ at the back of her pretty head right now.”
The woman in front of him almost choked on her laughter as she tried to hide that she’d heard what App had said. Why hide it? Everyone would have heard him, but they were all listening intently to Brady. Chance knew there was no way they hadn’t heard App, but they were doing a good job not disturbing the service any more than it already had been.
“App, cut it out,” he growled.
Thankfully, App decided he’d said enough. He crossed his arms and stared straight ahead for the remainder of Brady’s lesson.
The sheriff did a good job over the next twenty minutes. His words were about being a good steward of the talents God had given each church member, something Chance had thought he was doing until Randy’s death.
Though Chance listened, his heart was closed off to any emotional response. It had been that way ever since Randy had fallen beneath the hooves of that bull and Chance had realized he probably wasn’t coming out alive. App could push all he wanted but Chance wasn’t up to being in that pulpit right now. And honestly, he wasn’t sure when or if he’d be ready. He felt as if a heavy horse blanket had been thrown around his heart, smothering out all the light.
Everyone kept saying he needed time. That was why he’d come home. Time could heal most everything.
Chance hoped it was true.
He’d given many a cowboy a similar sermon at different times of trial in their lives. Now he was seeing how much easier it was to spout the words when you were giving advice to someone else. It was different when you were the one in the midst of the storm.
He let his gaze slide toward Lynn once more. Something was bothering her, too. He saw it in her eyes just now, and it cut him to the core.

Chapter Four
“Hey, mister. Mr. Chance, hold up.”
“Yeah, hold up!”
Chance had cut out the second the prayer was over. He wanted to keep right on walking but no way could he ignore the small voices hailing him. He’d made straight for the parking lot and was almost to the edge of the grass, almost to the white rock and fifteen feet from his truck… He’d almost made it.
App’s grumbling during the sermon had convinced Chance that if he hung around he’d never hear the end of it. But no way could he ignore Gavin and Jack.
Feeling roped and tied he turned on his heel to find both boys charging after him. Lynn followed at a slow, reluctant pace. And he groaned at the sight of the Mule Hollow posse behind her! Norma Sue Jenkins and Esther Mae Wilcox were two of the older ladies who kept Mule Hollow running smoothly. They, along with their buddy Adela, had saved the tiny town with their matchmaking antics.
They’d come up with the idea a couple of years earlier to advertise for wives for all the lonesome cowboys who lived and worked the ranching area. Despite the disbelief of everyone around them, lo and behold, women read the ads and had begun to come to town. Since then the ladies were always coming up with special events that would draw women to the town. Like dinner theater with the cowboys singing and serving, or festivals where the cowboys and ladies would meet up. So far it had worked well. He appreciated the three women, but they were also among the ones who were adamant about him coming home to preach.
Watching their approach he prepared himself for a lecture.
“Boys,” Lynn called, coming to a halt behind the two little dudes.
He couldn’t help but wonder what was bothering her so…why she looked pensive and almost frightened. Was she scared of him?
“Mr. Turner was leaving. You don’t need to bother him.”
“We ain’t, Momma.” Gavin batted big eyes at her and then at him. “We was just wonderin’ if you know how to make a tree house?”
“Yeah,” Jack drew the word out dismally as he wagged his dark head back and forth. “We got a mess at our house. A pure mess.”
“Boys!” Lynn exclaimed, turning red as a poinsettia, her big dark eyes widening like she’d just been prodded with an electric cattle prod.
Esther Mae and Norma Sue came to a halt, catching the end of Jack’s declaration. Chance had a feeling Lynn was just as reluctant in their presence as he was. Match-makers. Scary stuff for people who wanted nothing to do with the subject.
“Y’all are building a tree house—how fun!” Esther Mae exclaimed. Her red hair almost matched the color on Lynn’s cheeks as they flamed up even brighter.
“We—well, the boys—started one this morning.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Norma Sue boomed. “You boys probably do need a man to help you get that tree house up and working.”
Chance didn’t miss the flash of alarm in Lynn’s eyes when Norma Sue spoke. He understood. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to build a tree house. He wanted to be alone right now. To go back out to the stagecoach house where he was staying to contemplate the state of his life. Alone. And he could see that was what she wanted, too.
But Jack and Gavin were looking up at him with adoring eyes! Adoring—what exactly had he done to de serve the look in those eyes?
He met Lynn’s now fiery gaze and his mouth went dry for the second time that day. She was struggling to hold her temper. It was obvious she didn’t want his help. He told himself this had to do with her background. This was wariness or maybe distrust that he was feeling from her. He didn’t like what he saw in the depths of her eyes and his own hackles went up at the idea she’d been mistreated. How bad had her abuse been? The question dug in like spurs.
“I could help if you need me.” What else could he say? The boys yelled jubilantly and began jumping around with happiness.
Lynn pressed her shoulders back and shook her head. “Thank you,” she said, stiffly, “but we don’t need help building our tree house.”
“I don’t mind.” Chance, what are you saying?
“He don’t mind, Momma.”
“Gavin, you’re showing very bad manners. Again, thank you but we’re fine,” she said firmly. “Come on, boys, we need to go.”
“But, Momma—”
“Jack, we need to go home. Remember we have Christmas lights to put up, too.”
Both boys looked reluctantly at him but obediently headed off to the car. Lynn didn’t meet his gaze as she said goodbye to Norma Sue and Esther Mae. He thought she was just going to walk off but then she paused. “I’m sorry. Thanks for the offer though,” she said, then strode away.
What had she been through?
Chance’s cousins walked up. “What was that all about?” Wyatt asked.
“That was Lynn being stubborn,” Norma Sue offered.
“Gavin and Jack were trying to get Chance to help them build a tree house, but Lynn is Miss Independent and having none of that.”
Esther Mae harrumphed. “She needs to get over that.”
Wyatt got a thoughtful gleam in his eye. “Really.”
Cole grinned. He was the youngest brother, about Chance’s age and his former partner in crime. “Did you tell them you were a master tree house builder?”
“I think we can both swing a hammer better than we could back then.” Chance chuckled. He and Cole had tried to build a tree house when they were about eight years old. “We were stubborn back then though. We re fused help from everyone.”
“Until Dad stepped in,” Wyatt added. “Y’all had the biggest mess. Dad finally had to insist on making it safe for y’all to use.”
“Thank goodness.” Seth gave a laugh that was more of a grunt. “Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you Melody said thanks for taking those lights up to the church for her.”
Esther Mae beamed. “Lynn told us about that last night when we were decorating for the fundraiser. What a cute way to meet,” she gushed. “Are you coming to the fundraiser tonight?”
Chance had already told Wyatt and all the guys the day before that he was going to pass. Wyatt hadn’t liked it and had told him that being around people would be good for him, but he understood. Now, looking at Esther Mae and Norma Sue, Chance wasn’t sure what to say. They had worked hard on this fundraiser, evidently, and it was for a good cause. His conscience pricked at him. He was startled that they hadn’t yet mentioned his preaching. He was relieved by the reprieve. “I’m not sure—”
“Sure you are.” Norma Sue looked serious. “Chance, we just heard what a hard time you’re having dealing with the loss of this young man. The best thing is for you to get involved with your family…and we are your family. I expect to see you there.” She shot Wyatt a firm look. “See to it.”
Wyatt gave a slow grin. “Yes, ma’am. You heard the lady, Chance.”
He was dug in deep for patience.
Esther Mae dipped her chin, causing the yellow daffodils on her hat to bend forward as if they, too, were watching Chance. “I’m expecting you there, too. So don’t disappoint me. I know you’ll enjoy it. And it will be good for you. Lynn will be there, too.”
Great, just what he needed. Chance wondered what Lynn would think if she knew what was going on.
“And you’ll enjoy the auction, too,” Cole drawled.
“What auction? I haven’t heard anything about that.”
Seth hiked a shoulder. “Aw, it’s just stuff for the la dies.”
“But you’ll still enjoy seeing them bid,” Norma Sue added quickly, and Esther Mae grinned and nodded.
Everyone was acting strange. He knew they cared for him and maybe they were right. “I might be there,” he offered.
Chance thought about Norma Sue’s words all the way back to the stagecoach house. As he drove down the gravel road to the house that had been in the Turner family for almost two hundred years, he felt a small semblance of peace. His home was basically on the road, but when he needed time out this was where he came—always had been. All the memories he had from his years spent visiting and living at the ranch were the good times. Yes, he’d come home for much-needed solitude and time to think. But as he pulled up in front of the stagecoach house and got out of the truck he knew at six o’clock he’d be getting back in the truck and heading back to town.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/debra-clopton/yuletide-cowboy/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.