Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Second-Chance Cowboy

Second-Chance Cowboy
Carolyne Aarsen
Rancher DaddyMorgan Walsh will do just about anything to connect with the son who continues to keep him at arm’s length. Even ask a favor of ex-fiancé Tabitha Rennie. And what young Nathan desperately wants is for Tabitha to train his late mother’s horse. But Tabitha is also determined to keep her distance. As soon as she’s paid off her father’s debts, she’ll leave town and the painful memories of the real reason she abruptly left Morgan all those years ago. Yet spending time together with Morgan and his son is sparking dreams they can’t deny: of family, fresh starts, and first loves that last a lifetime.


Rancher Daddy
Morgan Walsh will do just about anything to connect with the son who continues to keep him at arm’s length. Even ask a favor of ex-fiancée Tabitha Rennie. And what young Nathan desperately wants is for Tabitha to train his late mother’s horse. But Tabitha is also determined to keep her distance. As soon as she’s paid off her father’s debts, she’ll leave town and the painful memories of the real reason she abruptly left Morgan all those years ago. Yet spending time with Morgan and his son is sparking dreams she can’t deny: of family, fresh starts and first loves that last a lifetime.
Tabitha laid a gentle hand on Morgan’s shoulder.
It was only supposed to be a show of comfort. But then he looked over at her, and as his eyes met hers, a quiver of attraction grew deep in her soul.
She didn’t want to break the connection. In fact, she wanted to put her other hand on his other shoulder, like she used to. Tease him. Like she used to.
Her breath caught and it wasn’t until they were jostled by someone wanting to get past them that the moment was over.
He looked momentarily taken aback as he broke her hold. Then he strode away.
Tabitha struggled with the confusion of her emotions. What was she doing? She had to stay in charge. It wasn’t fair to Morgan.
She’d had her chance with him and she’d made her choice.
What if you told him what actually happened and why?
She held that thought as she made her way out the door.
Morgan was gone, and Tabitha knew there was no way she would be able to tell him what really happened. She was on her own.
Dear Reader (#u248486d8-9204-5429-abaf-ca38b9cc86af),
Tabitha struggled all her life with feelings of self-worth brought on by her father’s actions and her own difficulty with reading. Both come together to create a situation where she feels she has to make up for what her father did in order to hold her head up. In the process of the story, she learns that her worth is in Christ, and not in doing things to fix what her father did.
I think there are times in each of our lives that we feel we have no value. No worth. It’s not a good place to be because, as the Bible verse I quoted at the beginning of this book tells us, in God’s eyes we are valuable and loved.
I pray that you may feel God’s love and care and that you may place your worth in Him.


P.S. I love to hear from my readers. Drop me a line at caarsen@xplornet.com and tell me what you liked about my book. Or you can go to my website at carolyneaarsen.com (http://www.carolyneaarsen.com). If you sign up for my newsletter you’ll get a free book.
CAROLYNE AARSEN and her husband, Richard, live on a small ranch in northern Alberta, where they have raised four children and numerous foster children and are still raising cattle. Carolyne crafts her stories in an office with a large west-facing window, through which she can watch the changing seasons while struggling to make her words obey. Visit her website at carolyneaarsen.com (http://www.carolyneaarsen.com).
Second-Chance Cowboy
Carolyne Aarsen


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
So don’t be afraid;
you are worth more than many sparrows.
—Matthew 10:31
To my nieces Amber and Chelsey who inspire me with their loving devotion to their parents.
And with thanks to my nephew Daniel Aarsen who helped me with the vet stuff.
Family is everything!
Contents
Cover (#uf0beda03-1803-5c8f-8b49-d54a32881795)
Back Cover Text (#u0f541cff-4a9d-5d5a-90e7-5ca463ba5e43)
Introduction (#ud4e114c2-3f54-533b-89be-1825b553238b)
Dear Reader (#u47f0c37f-5b6e-5b11-8356-808247ca582a)
About the Author (#u7640eb56-4ce7-5639-bb2c-f5e44cfb530b)
Title Page (#u9d6de711-fce3-5cde-9ec0-174a24c6acc4)
Bible Verse (#u43fdee48-5975-53cd-b548-3d885bca6d79)
Dedication (#ufe2aae75-dd6e-5118-b980-d0da6c370e7f)
Chapter One (#uefe7cddb-35a8-584a-b2f9-dc9d60e348cd)
Chapter Two (#uf5b8949e-fd82-5dda-bfde-c602b6ff5512)
Chapter Three (#ua3332a7e-872a-5ee4-83c7-b2f4c9fd57d9)
Chapter Four (#ua43bbf33-4b2e-5a3b-930c-20b7c4950ac8)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u248486d8-9204-5429-abaf-ca38b9cc86af)
She was late for work. And not a sorry I’m late apology she could toss off while breezing into the café, flashing a contrite smile to her boss as the clock showed a few minutes past.
No, this was a serious, half an hour, Sepp is going to fire me late. She knew explaining to him that she was busy laying down flooring in her house until midnight wouldn’t cut it. Nor would it help her case to tell him that she had to make a trip to return the nailer she had borrowed from Owen Herne.
Tabitha eased off on her truck’s accelerator to make the turn, gearing down as the dust cloud following her seeped into the cab. The engine protested the sudden shift.
Please, Lord, don’t let it break down, she prayed, as she shifted down again.
Her phone dinged, signaling an incoming call, then slid out of her purse and onto the floor.
Tabitha glared at the phone, then dragged her attention back to the road. No way was she hitting the ditch for the sake of a phone call.
In spite of being late, Tabitha eased off the accelerator as she turned the corner heading past the old Henry place. No one had lived in that house since Boyce and Cord Walsh bought it three years ago, but she always slowed when she drove by.
She used to dream of living there, pretending the top bedroom with its bay windows was hers and she could look out over the valley to the mountains. She had often imagined herself wandering through the many flower beds, picking lilies, daisies, lupines or lilacs to put in vases in the house. The flower beds were overgrown now, but she could still see the potential.
She preferred that dream to the reality of her place close to town. Work on the house she inherited from her father had taken up every spare moment of her time the past couple of years, and the yard was so messy and filled with junk that even thinking about it was too overwhelming.
Suddenly a large dog bounded across the road in front of her and right behind it ran a little boy.
Her foot slammed on the brakes. She wrenched on the wheel to turn the truck, her backpack falling off the seat. Her phone slid over the floor as her truck crashed into the ditch.
Her ribs hit the steering wheel with a sickening thud and her neck snapped forward. Dazed, she sat a moment, pain shooting through her ribs, radiating up her back.
She sat back, massaging her chest to make sure she hadn’t broken anything. All seemed okay.
Then panic clutched her as she looked around to see what happened to the boy or the dog.
Where had they come from? She didn’t know people had moved into the house.
Relief surged through her when she saw the boy standing in the middle of the road, eyes wide, staring at her as her own heart pounded in reaction to the close call.
Then the dog jumped out of the trees and joined the boy, its tail waving joyfully as he ran in a circle around him.
Okay. Boy was fine. Dog was fine.
Tabitha took a few seconds to gather herself, then got out, pain stabbing her chest as she did.
“You okay?” she called out to the kid.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice a feeble sound that showed her how afraid he was.
Then the door of the house opened and a man charged out.
“Nathan. What are you doing on the road?” he called, sounding panicked.
Then Tabitha’s heart pounded in earnest as she recognized the man dropping to his knees in front of the little boy, running his hands over his face, his shoulders.
Morgan Walsh.
Her ex-fiancé, and the man who still held a large portion of her heart.
As soon as Dr. Waters told her Morgan would be working at the vet clinic, where Tabitha worked part-time as well, she had prepared herself. Had a speech all figured out.
Nice to see you. Hope you enjoy working here.
She’d even decided how she’d look. She’d be wearing her lab coat, making her look all professional and educated, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, her makeup perfectly done.
But at the last minute she had chickened out, telling Dr. Waters that she needed the morning off. Truth was she needed a couple more days to adjust to the idea of working with her ex-fiancé.
Morgan was part of her most painful memories. Walking away from him all those years ago was the hardest thing she had ever done. But she had broken up with him for his sake. Now here he was. A veterinarian.
So the sacrifice was worth it. And though she knew she would come face-to-face with him sometime soon, she hadn’t figured on it being like this.
With her at the wheel of a truck in the ditch, her hair a tumbled disaster, her ribs aching with every quickened breath.
She gathered her wits, bending over to pick up her phone that, of course, started ringing again. She glanced at the call display. Her sister.
Tabitha tucked it in her pocket, letting it ring as she gingerly made her way through the thick grass of the ditch around the back of the truck, grimacing in pain.
Taking another deep breath, she lifted her chin and walked over to where Morgan still knelt by his son, talking to him.
“You sure you’re okay?” Morgan asked again, his hands resting on the boy’s thin shoulders.
“I’m fine.” The boy wasn’t looking at Morgan; instead he was watching Tabitha as she joined them.
Yeah, I know. I probably look like the bad side of a train wreck, she thought, delicately testing her cheekbone to see if there was any blood.
Then Morgan sensed her presence and turned, his hand resting on his son’s shoulder in a protective motion. Stubble shaded his cheeks. His brown hair, as thick as ever, curled over his forehead. His blue T-shirt stretched over broad shoulders tucked into blue jeans hanging low on his hips.
He still wore cowboy boots, but the deep furrow between his eyebrows was new as was the length of his hair. He used to wear it military short. But now it hung over his collar.
He had grown more handsome over time, and in spite of her steady self-talk, Tabitha’s heart twisted at the sight of his familiar, and once-loved, face.
She knew the second he recognized her. His steel-gray eyes grew cold as ice and he clenched his jaw.
“Hey, Tabitha.” His voice was curt. Harsh.
The anger in his expression hurt her more than she thought it could.
“Hey, Morgan.” She didn’t add “good to see you” because it wasn’t that good to see him.
“You almost hit my son.”
He ground out the words, his voice gruff. Well, nothing like getting directly to the point, which shouldn’t surprise her. She knew seeing him again wouldn’t be a happy reunion of old high school friends.
The last time she’d talked to him was on the phone when she told him she was breaking up with him. He’d asked for a reason. All she would tell him was that she was over him, even as her heart and soul cried out a protest at the lies she spun.
Sure, their relationship had been a high school romance, but their feelings for each other had been deep and strong enough that they’d made plans for their wedding.
But on that horrible day she had to push all that aside. Had to prove to him that she wasn’t the girl for him and that she had changed her mind about the two of them.
He tried reasoning with her but she wouldn’t budge. And she couldn’t tell him why. It was for his sake, she had told herself. She was doing it for him.
Then packed up and left town.
They hadn’t spoken to or seen each other since.
Tabitha’s phone rang again. She pulled it out and hit Decline. She’d have to call Leanne once she got to town to find out what her sister needed so badly.
“Were you talking on your phone while you were driving?” His words held the sting of accusation.
Tabitha shook her head. Mistake. Her cheek throbbed and she lifted her hand to touch it. It felt warm. It was probably already changing color.
“No.” She left it at that. She’d learned too many times in her life that the more she talked, the more trouble she got into.
Case in point: Morgan’s mother, who had been her high school teacher and who thought Tabitha was an unsuitable match for her vet-school-headed son. Who had warned lowly Tabitha Rennie, high school dropout, away from Morgan Walsh. He was too good for her, Mrs. Walsh had told her, and Tabitha knew it was true.
Tabitha held Morgan’s gaze, then shifted her scrutiny to his son, who watched her with interest.
“You sure you’re okay?” she asked Nathan.
He nodded, staring at her as if trying to figure out who she was.
“Good. And your dog is okay?”
Nathan nodded.
“Also good. Glad we don’t have to bring you to the hospital or the dog to the vet. Though your dad is a vet, so maybe he could fix it himself. I usually work at the vet clinic, but not today.” She caught herself, blaming her chatter on nerves. She was tempted to ask Morgan why he hadn’t started work today, like she had been told, but figured that was none of her business.
So she gave the boy a semblance of a smile, then took a step back.
“Do you need a hand getting your truck out?” he asked.
Frankly, given his attitude toward her, she was surprised he offered. But country manners always took precedence over personal feelings when you lived in the ranching country of Southern Alberta. Houses were far apart and people depended on each other for help.
“No. I should be okay,” she said with more bravado than she felt.
She got into her truck and waited until Morgan and his son walked away from the road, but they didn’t go directly into the house. Instead Morgan stayed by the driveway, watching.
Please, Lord, let me get out of here in one go.
Then she twisted the key in the ignition.
Her truck wasn’t its usual temperamental self and the engine turned over only twice before it caught.
She prayed the whole time she had her foot on the gas, her back tires spinning, tossing mud onto the road and spitting it out beside her. Her pride was on the line and she could use a win.
Finally, her tires caught the gravel, spun again, and then with a lurch she was out. She slammed on the brakes and the truck rocked to a halt.
Thanks for that, Lord, she prayed, feeling foolish that she wasted the Lord’s time with such trivial things.
But it was important to her to not look bad in front of Morgan. A man who once held her heart. A man she had been forced to toss aside.
She put the truck into first gear and drove past Morgan and his son at a sedate speed.
Both of them were still watching her. One with interest, the other with a frown.
Life had just become much more complicated, Tabitha thought as she stepped on the gas and shifted into second. Hopefully she wouldn’t lose her job at the café.
Again.
* * *
So, that was over and done with.
Morgan watched as Tabitha’s truck drove down the road, a plume of dust roiling in its wake. Since he decided to come back to Cedar Ridge, he knew meeting Tabitha was inevitable. When Dr. Waters told him that Tabitha worked as a vet assistant in the clinic some mornings, he had almost not taken the job.
It was only when he heard she was planning on selling her place and moving eventually that he agreed. He would only have to put up with her for a short while.
“Why were you so mad at that lady?” Nathan asked, watching Tabitha leave as well.
“I wasn’t mad,” he said, his voice quiet, controlled as he fought down a beat of disgust at his reaction to Tabitha. Since she broke up with him all those years ago, leaving him with an engagement ring and a broken heart, he had moved on. He’d got married to Gillian. Got a degree and a son, whom his wife had kept away from him.
Three weeks ago he buried his wife and got custody of his estranged son.
A lot of changes in his life that had taken up a lot of emotions.
Yet all it took was one glimpse into those aquamarine eyes, one flip of Tabitha’s copper-colored hair, one crooked smile from those soft lips for the old flame to reignite.
He had to keep his guard up if they would be working together at the clinic.
“I was scared for you,” he said to Nathan, giving him a lopsided smile. “You shouldn’t go running out into the road like that.”
“I thought Brandy would get run over.” Nathan glanced around, looking for the dog that had disappeared again. “Where did she go?”
As if on cue the dog reappeared, bounding over to Nathan, jumping around him, tongue out, tail wagging with glee.
Nathan tried to pet her but the golden retriever wouldn’t stand still. His grandmother had given Brandy to Nathan as a puppy but the dog had never been properly disciplined.
Which had made the long drive here from Arizona, where Nathan’s grandmother lived, even more tedious.
“That lady sure was pretty,” Nathan said in a matter-of-fact voice as he picked up a stick for Brandy to fetch.
“Yeah. She was.” That much he could admit.
He had a ton of things to do and to occupy his mind. Getting his son settled in and dealing with the new complication his mother-in-law had thrown at him this morning.
Gillian’s mother, Donna, couldn’t keep Gillian’s other horse, the one she was training when she died, at her place. Could Morgan please help her out?
He would have preferred that Donna simply sell the horse, but when she asked to talk to Nathan, she’d told him about his mother’s horse. And suddenly Nathan insisted that Stormy come to live with them at the ranch.
Now he had to find a way to make that happen.
“So should we start unpacking the boxes we put in your room?” he asked.
Nathan tossed the stick and Brandy took off after it. “I guess so,” he said, his voice holding little enthusiasm.
“We can finish decorating your room if you want,” Morgan said with a hopeful tone. “Hang up some pictures.”
This got him a lackadaisical nod as Nathan watched Brandy return.
“Drop it, Brandy,” Nathan commanded, but the dog wouldn’t relinquish the stick.
“I think we should tie Brandy up again while we unpack,” he suggested as he caught the dog by the collar. The dog immediately sat down.
“She doesn’t like being tied up,” Nathan protested. In fact, he had untied her a few moments ago, which was the cause of Brandy’s sudden flight across the road.
“Probably not, but until she gets used to this place, it might be a good idea. You don’t want her to get run over.” Brandy tugged at Morgan’s restraint, but he was used to handling uncooperative dogs and kept a steady pressure on the collar. “Sit,” he said, and once again, she did as she was told.
“Can I untie her when I’m done?”
“If you make sure you stay in the yard with her.”
Nathan stared at the dog and heaved out a long-suffering sigh. “My mom never made me tie her up.”
This didn’t surprise Morgan. Gillian had always prided herself on being free-spirited.
Which was probably why she never told Morgan that Nathan was his son until the boy was two years old.
“I know, but we live on a road and we don’t want anything to happen to her.” Morgan kept his tone even as he told Brandy to heel and led her back to the rope attached to the veranda and tied her up.
Nathan didn’t reply but followed Morgan into the house. He trudged up the stairs behind him, his footfalls heavy. Morgan knew he shouldn’t expect more enthusiasm from the boy over the situation. Thanks to Gillian, the kid barely knew him.
Morgan and Gillian had met during his first year of vet school. She was in town to compete in a rodeo. They fell hard for each other, got married quickly, and then, after a year, she left him, claiming that she didn’t want to be tied down.
Gillian moved back to her mother’s place in Idaho and returned to the life she’d lived when she and Morgan had met. Driving around the country, pulling her horse trailer behind her, entering any rodeo she could.
Two years after she left Morgan, he found out, via her mother, that he and Gillian had a son. A five-year-long battle for visitation rights followed soon after.
For some reason, Gillian kept Nathan away from him with her constant movement, chasing her dream of being a champion barrel racer. Gillian’s mother had no explanation either since she had become as estranged from her daughter and grandson as he was.
Then, this spring, as Gillian was competing in a rodeo up in Grande Prairie, her horse’s feet went out from under him around the second barrel. Gillian fell beneath him and, in a freak accident, was crushed and in a coma. Gillian’s mother, Donna, had flown in from Idaho to be at her daughter’s bedside and was with her when she died hours later. Donna had also arrived with Nathan.
Thus it was at the hospital, at his wife’s bedside, for the first time in the seven years Nathan had been alive, Morgan finally met his son.
They were complete strangers to each other. It was a horrible time. Nathan was withdrawn and grieving and clung to his grandmother, the only other person he was familiar with.
While Morgan was tempted to leave Nathan with Donna, he also knew the sooner he could take care of his son, the sooner they would bond.
And he also knew he needed to come back to a place where he had family and community.
Cedar Ridge.
So he contacted Dr. Waters, the local vet, about a job and managed to snag a commitment. He was supposed to start today but he’d asked if he could begin tomorrow instead.
He and Nathan had moved back to Cedar Ridge only yesterday and were barely unpacked. He wanted to spend one more day with Nathan before he went to school. Though it would be a scant three weeks before school was out, Morgan wanted to get Nathan used to the kids he would be attending school with. That way September wouldn’t be as much of a shock.
Thankfully Morgan’s father lived in Cedar Ridge and was willing to let Nathan come to his place after school. Cord and Ella, his brother and his fiancée, had also offered assistance as needed.
It was a patchwork support system but it would do for now.
He hoped by the time summer vacation began that he would have found a nanny or someone to help out.
“So, it’s a good thing that Uncle Cord and Auntie Ella came to help us get the house organized yesterday,” Morgan said to Nathan with forced joviality. “I’m sure you’ll get to be good friends with your cousins Paul and Suzy.”
“I never met them before.” Nathan’s tone indicated that he didn’t care if he ever met them again. He flopped on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if the conversation was now over.
“But you’ll get to know them better,” Morgan replied, struggling once again with a sense of sorrow. Ever since he met Nathan, the boy had been prickly and angry and rejected every advance Morgan made.
He knew Nathan was grieving and confused and upset, and that it would take time. Morgan tried hard to understand but each rebuff was like a blow.
“When do I get to see Gramma again?” Nathan asked.
“In a couple of weeks.” Donna had asked if Morgan would be willing to drive down to Idaho for her fiftieth birthday and he had agreed. The counselor he talked to had underlined the importance of maintaining contact with the one constant in Nathan’s life. “But for now, let’s see about making this room cozier.” Morgan pulled out his jackknife to cut the tape on one of the few boxes of personal items Nathan had.
Nathan charged to life and yanked the box away from Morgan. “Don’t touch my stuff,” he cried.
“I was trying to help,” Morgan said.
“Don’t need your help.” Nathan pushed the box under his bed, grabbed the other two larger ones and pulled them closer.
Morgan was too taken aback at the fury in his son’s voice to reprimand him.
“Okay. You can put what you want in the dresser. There are hangers in the closet for your other clothes. Any toys you have can go in the toy box.”
“Toys are for babies” was all Nathan said, shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned away from him.
His rejection was like a hit to the stomach. Morgan waited but Nathan didn’t turn around.
So he left, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the wall, dragged his hand over his face and uttered a prayer for strength and patience. He simply had to give him time.
For now, Morgan had his own unpacking to do.
He was fortunate that his father owned this house, giving Morgan a place to stay. The house had been part of a ranch that Boyce and Cord had purchased a few years ago and his father was willing to subdivide the acreage and sell it to him.
And thanks to his share of Gillian’s life insurance policy and his own savings, he had a down payment to put on the place. The irony of it all hadn’t escaped him. Gillian had given him more in death than she had in life.
Morgan pushed away from the wall and headed down the hall to finish setting up his bedroom. The bed, dresser and the bedside table his father and Cord had picked up at a yard sale were the only pieces of furniture in a room that looked like it could house a small family.
While he worked, Morgan listened for any sounds coming from Nathan’s room.
Nothing.
He was finished putting his own clothes away when his cell phone rang. It was his father.
“So, does the place feel like home yet?” Boyce Walsh asked.
Morgan looked around the bare room and chuckled. “Let’s just say I’m unpacked.”
“It’s a start. Do you want to go out for supper?” his father asked. “I don’t feel like cooking and I’m sure you don’t either. We could meet at the Brand and Grill.”
He hesitated. “What about the pizza place?” He wasn’t so sure he wanted to meet in the same place he knew Tabitha worked.
“I hate pizza. Ate too much of that in my bull-riding days.”
Morgan had to smile. His father often used his bull-riding days as a convenient excuse.
“Isn’t there another place we could go?” Morgan said.
“We could do Angelo’s but it’s too quiet.”
“Guess it’s the Brand and Grill, then.”
His father was quiet as if acknowledging how difficult going there could be for him.
“May as well get it over with,” Boyce said. “You’re going to run into Tabitha sooner or later.”
“I suppose.”
“Good. I’ll see you and Nathan then.” His father hung up and Morgan tucked his phone into his pocket, blowing out a sigh.
He certainly hadn’t figured on seeing Tabitha twice in one day.
He would see her at the clinic tomorrow as well. Maybe the more often he saw her, the quicker he would get used to seeing her around.
And the quicker he could relegate any feelings he still had for her to the past, where they belonged.
Chapter Two (#u248486d8-9204-5429-abaf-ca38b9cc86af)
There they were again.
Tabitha hung back, hiding behind the wall of the kitchen as she watched Boyce, Morgan and Morgan’s son, Nathan, walk into the café.
Seriously? Twice in one day?
She rolled her eyes heavenward as if asking God what He was trying to tell her.
“You going to just stand here daydreaming?” Sepp Muraski growled at her. “We got customers and supper rush is starting.”
Tabitha gave her boss a forced smile. Sepp glared back at her, his dark eyebrows pulled tight together, a few curls of brown hair slipping out from under the chef’s hat he wore over his hairnet.
Some might consider him good-looking. Tabitha didn’t, and she suspected that was the reason he was always so grouchy with her. She had turned him down twice and he hadn’t seemed to have forgiven her.
“On it,” she said, straightening her shoulders and sending up a quick prayer for strength, the right words and attitude.
She would need all that and more after her encounter with Morgan and his son this afternoon.
The Walsh men were already seated when she approached them, coffeepot in one hand, menus in the other.
“Coffee?” she asked as she set the menus down in front of them.
“I’d love a cup,” Boyce said with a grin, pushing his cup her way. “Pretty quiet in here,” he said, making casual conversation.
Boyce stopped in at the Brand and Grill from time to time, as did Cord, Morgan’s brother, so Tabitha was accustomed to seeing Walshes around. But she still had to fight a sense of shame every time she saw Boyce. She felt like she had a huge L written on her forehead because of the money her father had cheated Boyce out of.
I’m working on repaying it, she reminded herself, thinking of the renovations she was doing to the house she’d inherited from her father. Each new cabinet, each piece of flooring, each lick of paint made the house more sellable, which would mean more money to give to Boyce to repay him for what her father had done.
Then she could tackle the yard, a job that seemed so daunting she avoided thinking of it most of the time.
“It will get busier,” Tabitha said as she turned to Morgan. “Coffee?”
He just nodded, looking at the menu.
Okay. She could do the avoiding thing too. She glanced over at Nathan, who was looking at her. “Can I get you anything?” she asked him.
“You’re the lady that almost ran over Brandy,” Nathan said, his tone faintly accusing.
“Not quite,” she said, her ribs still sore from hitting the steering wheel of her truck. “How is your dog?” she asked.
“She’s fine.” Nathan just held her gaze. “I got the dog from my gramma and soon I’m getting a horse too.” His eyes brightened for a moment.
That was some generous gramma, Tabitha thought.
“What horse is this?” Boyce asked as Tabitha poured Morgan his coffee.
“Gillian’s horse,” Morgan put in. “She was training it before...” He paused, glancing over at Nathan.
She quickly spoke up with forced cheer. “So, Nathan, we have chocolate milk, orange juice and pop. What can I get you to drink?”
“Chocolate milk,” he said, looking down at the menu again.
“Be right back.” She scurried off to take care of that. She snagged a coloring book and a pack of crayons, wondering if he was too old for that, but she figured it was worth a try.
When she came back, Boyce and Morgan appeared to still be talking about the horse Nathan was expecting.
“You could get the horse trained?” Boyce said.
“But who could do it?” Morgan asked.
“My mommy was training it already.” As he spoke Nathan looked more animated than he had in the past few minutes. “She loved that horse. Said it would be a real goer.”
“Here’s your chocolate milk,” Tabitha said to Nathan. “And I thought you might enjoy this.”
She set the crayons and coloring book in front of him. To her surprise, he grabbed them and opened up the book.
“Tabitha knows about horses and horse training,” Boyce said suddenly, looking up at her. “She could help you out.”
Tabitha shot him a horrified look. What was he trying to do? Surely he knew the history between her and his son?
“Would you be able to train my mom’s horse?” Nathan chimed in, looking suddenly eager as he leaned past his father. “I so want to be able to ride Stormy.”
Tabitha felt distinctly put on the spot. And from the glower on Morgan’s face, she suspected he felt the same.
“I’m pretty busy,” Tabitha said, and that wasn’t too much of a stretch to say. “Two jobs, and I’m renovating the house.”
“We can find someone else,” Morgan said, giving his father a knowing look.
“Tabitha is capable.”
“She said she was busy.”
Morgan’s dismissive tone shouldn’t bother her. It was better for everyone if they kept their distance. Though his mother, with her relentless disapproval of Tabitha, had passed away many years ago, the shame of what her father had done to his hadn’t.
When Floyd Rennie left town three years ago, he had also left a number of citizens of Cedar Ridge high and dry when he decamped with money they had invested with him for the building of a new arena. It was all part of Cedar Ridge’s great hope to become part of the Milk River Rodeo Association circuit, thereby raising the profile of their local rodeo.
The arena was only half completed when her father left, taking the investors’ money with him.
The most prominent of whom was Boyce Walsh. Morgan’s father.
Her father died a year later, leaving Tabitha the house she was working on now. She had hoped to sell it but the real-estate agent said she could get double for it if she fixed it up.
So she began working on it in her off-hours. But it was taking much longer than she’d hoped.
“There’s not many people close by who can do horse training,” Boyce put in, clearly unwilling to let either Morgan or Tabitha off the hook.
“Amber could,” Morgan said.
“And you know your twin sister is busy with her own life,” Boyce said. “Nor is she living in Cedar Ridge.”
“So, are you ready to order?” Tabitha said, pulling a pad of paper and pen out of her apron. She really needed to change the topic of conversation. Morgan clearly didn’t want her around and she had no intention of spending more time with any member of the Walsh family than she needed to.
They gave her their orders and she hurried off to give them to Sepp.
“You sure were hanging around that table a long time,” he grumbled. “We got other customers, you know.”
She ignored him as she set up the coffeemaker to make a fresh pot of coffee. She knew well enough not to engage with Sepp.
“I don’t pay you to hang around and bug the customers.” He had to get one more jab in before she left.
She wished she could quit, she thought as she cleared a table, trying not to take her anger out on the hapless dishes. She wished she could walk away from Cedar Ridge. Leave it and everything it represented behind her.
But she needed the job to pay for her house renovations. She was going to finish what she had started, and she knew she couldn’t leave town with her father’s debt hanging over her head.
She shot a glance over at the Walsh table just as she caught Morgan looking at her. She flushed and spun away carrying the dirty dishes back to the kitchen. Adana had finally shown up and she was flirting with Sepp, who didn’t seem to be in any rush to get the Walshes’ orders done.
“My last order ready yet?” she asked.
“It’s ready when it’s ready” was all he said. “Scared I’m going to make you look bad in front of your old boyfriend?”
She knew not to say anything more. Sepp was the most passive-aggressive person she knew and the more she pushed him, the worse he would get.
A few more customers came in and Adana took their orders. Finally Sepp was done with Boyce and Morgan and Nathan’s food.
“Service is getting kind of slow around here,” Boyce said as she set their food on the table.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, knowing she couldn’t shift the blame.
“I’d say Sepp needs to hire more waitresses but I know he already has enough,” Boyce continued.
Again, she could only nod as she put Nathan’s burger and fries in front of him.
“Is there anything else I can get you? More coffee? Chocolate milk?”
She looked over at Nathan, who was staring at her. “Grandpa Boyce says that there’s not too many people who can train horses here and that you can. Are you sure you can’t?”
Were they still on that topic?
Tabitha’s resolve wavered as the boy’s eyes pleaded silently with her.
“Miss Rennie has other things she’s busy with,” Morgan said, looking at Nathan, his voice gentle. But she heard a warning in the words.
Stay away from my son.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she said, giving him a look of regret. “Working here and at the clinic and fixing up my house keeps me very busy.”
Then she walked away. She couldn’t get involved though she felt very sorry for the little boy. She only knew snippets of the boy’s story. His mother spent most of her time chasing her rodeo dreams and dragged him along. He didn’t seem connected to Morgan, which made her wonder what had happened between Morgan and his wife.
Not that it mattered to her. Morgan was part of her past. She had her own plans for the future. And they didn’t include sticking around a town that was such a source of pain and humiliation to her.
She couldn’t afford any distractions and Morgan and his son were a huge one.
* * *
“Will you be okay?” Morgan knelt in front of Nathan on the floor of the school’s hallway, handing him the backpack he had painstakingly packed this morning. Young kids ran past them, calling out to each other, their voices echoing in the busy hallway, bumping them in their rush to get to their own classes.
Yesterday morning he and Nathan had visited the school to see about enrolling him for the last few weeks of Grade Two. Though he still had his concerns, he had to think of what the counselor had told them after Gillian’s death. That it was important that Morgan and Nathan find their new normal as soon as possible.
Thankfully Nathan hadn’t objected to going to school, and if Morgan was honest with himself, it gave both of them a break from each other. Taking care of a seven-year-old was way out of his comfort zone. Especially a sullen young boy who rejected any advances Morgan made to him.
“This is a good school,” Morgan said, injecting a bright note of enthusiasm in his voice. “I used to go here when I was a kid.”
Nathan took the backpack without looking at Morgan, saying nothing.
Morgan reached out to lay his hand on his son’s shoulder but Nathan pulled away, then walked into the schoolroom and went directly to his designated locker.
“You can come in with him, if you like,” the perky young woman encouraged with a bright smile. “I know it’s his first day here.”
Just then Morgan caught Nathan looking at him, eyes wide, shaking his head a vehement “No.”
Really? He couldn’t even do this for his son?
He wished it didn’t hurt so much.
“I think I’ll stay here to see him settle in,” Morgan said.
“Of course.” He could tell the teacher was puzzled, but he was fairly sure she dealt with a variety of parents, so he tried not to take Nathan’s clear-cut rejection to heart.
He watched a few more moments as Nathan trudged to his desk, then sat down, holding his pencil case that they had bought yesterday, looking down.
Morgan’s heart broke at the sight but he felt stuck. Nathan didn’t want to spend time with him, and Morgan wanted to get started at the vet clinic as soon as possible.
Wednesday, at the Brand and Grill, was the last time he’d seen Nathan act with any kind of animation when he was talking to Tabitha. Which made him nervous, especially because ever since then, the only thing Nathan would actually talk with him about was training his mother’s horse so he could ride it.
And getting Tabitha to do it.
There was no way he could allow that. He didn’t think he could be around Tabitha that much and, more important for his son, he didn’t want him to build a connection to someone who was leaving soon.
As he drove to the clinic he found himself praying. Again. Something he’d been doing a lot lately.
Gillian’s death, gaining custody of Nathan, moving back here had all taken a toll on him. Never mind working with his ex-girlfriend, whom he would be seeing again in a few minutes.
Help me to stay focused on what I need to, he prayed. I need to be emotionally available for Nathan and protect him.
As for his own heart, he could take care of that. The grief he had felt after Tabitha broke up with him had morphed into fury, which had settled into a dull resignation. Then Gillian came into his life and things took an entirely different twist.
His heart would be okay, he told himself. It had to be.
He checked his watch, once again thankful that Dr. Waters kept such strange hours. 9:30 seemed late to open a vet clinic but he wasn’t complaining. It meant he could bring Nathan to school and still arrive on time at work. And maybe cover the occasional emergency that came up before opening hours.
He turned the corner to the vet clinic and saw Tabitha’s truck parked out front.
When Dr. Waters gave him the key to the clinic yesterday, he had planned to come early. Though Dr. Waters had assured him that Tabitha, Cass and Jenny mostly manned the front desk and took care of dispensing, Morgan preferred to know where everything was himself.
He had also planned to establish his territory, so to speak, before Tabitha came in. Make the clinic his.
And now here she was already.
He sighed, sent up another prayer and headed to the back door. It was locked, so he used the key Dr. Waters had given him. He stepped inside the large open room where they worked on horses and cows. It smelled like disinfectant, and though the metal dividers for the various pens were rusted, he could see they were clean.
The rubber floor matting was also hosed down, water still trickling into the floor drain.
His footsteps echoed in the large empty space as he made his way down the concrete hallway and then through another door into the clinic proper.
He paused in the hallway, getting his bearings, then heard humming coming from one of the rooms farther down.
Tabitha, he guessed, feeling an unwelcome tightening in his chest.
He was surprised at the flicker of annoyance her obvious good mood created. Clearly she was in a good place in her life. Why that bothered him he didn’t want to analyze.
She was the one who walked away from you, he reminded himself. Of course she wouldn’t pine after me.
Like you are for her?
Not likely. She had taught him a hard lesson. He had to take care of himself and those who belonged to him.
Like Nathan.
The thought of his son was a good reminder of where his priorities now lay. And sending up another prayer for strength, he strode down the hallway.
Tabitha was working in the supply room, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, the early-morning sun from the window behind it creating a halo of light around her head. She was making notes on a clipboard, her lips pursed, her forehead wrinkled in a frown.
He wanted to make a joke but found himself momentarily tongue-tied, which, in turn, created a low-level frustration. Even after all these years and after all his tough self-talk, why did she still have this effect on him?
She turned around and saw him. The humming stopped as her mouth fell open and her hand clutched her chest.
“My goodness. You scared me,” she gasped. “I wasn’t expecting anyone this early.”
“I thought...” His voice faltered and he cleared his throat. “I thought I would come in early. Get myself acquainted with the place.”
“Sure. Of course. I understand.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m doing some inventory.”
“Okay. That’s good.” He wanted to say “carry on,” but that would sound patronizing.
“Would you like me to show you around?” she asked, her gaze flicking from her clipboard to him.
“I guess that would be helpful.”
“I can bring you up to speed on some of the animals we have staying here. Let you know what kind of work we do. In case some of it might be new to you.” She stopped there, flushing.
“Sure.”
She nodded and he waited, an awkward silence falling over them. “Right. I should do that now,” she finally said, dropping her clipboard onto the counter in front of her. It fell and she bent over to pick it up exactly the same time he did. Their heads hit and pain jolted through him.
“Sorry,” she muttered, rubbing her head just as he rubbed his.
Morgan sighed as she carefully set the clipboard on the shelf. This was getting more and more awkward. He was about to say something but she was already swishing past him, her lab coat flaring out behind her.
“The treatment rooms are here and here,” she said, pointing left and right, like a flight attendant indicating escape routes, as she scurried down the hall ahead of him. “There’s only two. We should have more but Dr. Waters is thrifty. Supply room you’ve already seen. And here’s where we house the animals we’ve treated.” Tabitha opened the door to the large back room and stepped back.
Morgan frowned as he stepped inside the dark room with its crates stacked one on top of the other.
“Looks kind of depressing.” Morgan couldn’t believe that there wasn’t even a window or a skylight.
And it didn’t smell very good.
“Do the cages get cleaned?” he asked, stopping by one of the crates, which held a Labrador pup with a plastic cone on its head. The puppy was asleep and Morgan reached between the bars and laid his hand on the dog’s stomach. It was not overly warm and breathing properly.
“Of course they do. Every day.”
From the defensive tone of Tabitha’s voice, Morgan guessed she was the one who did the cleaning.
“The building is old and the smell tends to linger,” she continued.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re neglectful.” He looked back at Tabitha, who stood in the doorway, her arms folded over her chest, her chin up, gaze challenging.
“So what’s with this little guy?” he asked, pointing to the Lab.
“Hernia operation. He’s due to go back today.”
“And this one?” He pointed to a cat who lay on its side, one leg extended out in front of it, bandaged.
“Severed tendon on his foreleg. Got on the wrong side of a grain auger. He’s lucky to be alive.”
“How much small-animal work does Dr. Waters do?” Morgan glanced around the rest of the crates but they were all empty.
“Not as much as he’d like. He prefers the small animals to the large ones. I guess that’s why he hired you.”
Morgan nodded, remembering the conversation he and Dr. Waters had had. “And what’s the large-animal patients consist of?”
“It used to be mainly cattle, but with more people moving in and more acreages sprouting up around town and people getting horses, he’s doing more equine. That’s my specialty but he prefers to do that on his own.”
Her comment puzzled him as did the faintly bitter tone in her voice. “What do you mean, your specialty?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m just the vet assistant,” she said, with a bright smile as if trying to show him she was making a joke. “We don’t have specialties.”
“But clearly you do,” he said. He found himself suddenly curious. The last he’d heard, she had quit high school. When he found out she was working at the clinic, he had assumed it was only as a general helper.
“I went back to school a few years after I dropped out of high school. Got my high school diploma, then went to college and graduated as a veterinary assistant and equine specialist. I’m not such a dummy.” She flashed a bright smile, but behind it he sensed an air of defensiveness.
“I never said you were,” he returned, holding his hands up.
“Not all of us can get into vet school, but some of us can make something of ourselves.”
Her tone puzzled him and he found himself wanting to ask why she’d quit school.
What he really wanted was to ask her why she’d dumped him so casually.
He pushed that last thought back into the dusty recesses of his mind. Clearly he had to do more work to let go of the past and the hurt Tabitha had caused him.
One step at a time, he told himself.
“Well, I’m glad you did. Never could figure out why you dropped out in the first place.”
She looked like she was about to say something. But then the back door opened and Dr. Waters’s and Jenny’s voices broke into the conversation and signaled the beginning of the workday.
Tabitha spun around, striding back down the hallway, leaving Morgan confused and upset. How was he supposed to make a new start in this town when the harshest memories of his past were right here in the form of Tabitha Rennie?
Okay, Lord, You brought me here. You’ll have to help me out.
His prayer was raw and rough. But it came directly from his heart. Because without God’s help, he didn’t think he would be able to do what he needed to do.
And that was keeping his focus on his son. He had been given a second chance with Nathan and he wasn’t going to mess it up.
Not even for Tabitha.
Chapter Three (#u248486d8-9204-5429-abaf-ca38b9cc86af)
“C’mon, Tony. Since when did you need money up front from me?” Tabitha leaned on the counter, flashing a teasing grin at the young man behind the counter of Walsh’s Hardware Store. “You know I’m good for it.”
It was Monday morning and Tabitha had sneaked out on her coffee break to order her kitchen sink.
Morgan hadn’t looked pleased at her departure, but since he’d started working at the clinic, that seemed to be his default emotion.
She knew he was stressed. Moving back home, trying to deal with a kid he barely knew. That had to be hard.
Plus, he didn’t seem too happy with the fact that they had to work together. Until her house was finished, there was nothing she could do about it either.
She had kept herself busy on Saturday after working in the clinic, putting the final coat of paint on the spare room of the house, which had been her father’s old room. On Sunday she stifled her guilt and put in some of the casings and baseboards, electing to stay busy and away from church. That was the trouble with a small community like Cedar Ridge. There were too many opportunities to run into people you wanted to avoid, and right now she wanted to avoid Morgan.
Besides, the sooner she got this house done, the sooner she could sell it and move on. Being around Morgan was harder than she’d thought it would be and she didn’t need that extra stress in her life.
Tony nervously rearranged the ball cap he perpetually wore on his head, looking over his shoulder as if to see if the owner, George Walsh, might have made a surprise visit.
“Yeah. I know. It’s just...well...your last check bounced.”
“I told you why. Sepp didn’t pay me on time. That’s hardly my fault and I need this sink to finish the renovations on my kitchen.” It had taken her a few late nights on Pinterest and home reno sites to figure out exactly which sink would fit in her kitchen. All she needed now was to order it, but Tony was being troublesome and she couldn’t charm him out of it.
“I know.” Tony tugged on the bill of his cap again. “Trouble is, the owner found out about the check and told my boss, Mrs. Fisher, that any more orders from you need to be prepaid.”
“How did George find out?”
“He was going over the books with Mrs. Fisher and saw it. That’s when he told her and she told me.”
And there it was again. The ever-present Walsh influence pushing, once again, at the Rennie fecklessness.
I’m not my father, she reminded herself, stifling a far-too-familiar flush of shame. And I’m trying desperately to fix what he broke.
She knew it would take more than the sale of the land and the house to make up for the thousands of dollars her father had stolen from people. But it was all she could do at this moment. And she was determined to do it right.
But if she didn’t get the sink ordered, she couldn’t finish her kitchen, which meant she couldn’t sell the house.
Despair threatened to wash over her, and she struggled to push it back. One step at a time. And the way things were going, she wasn’t sure when she could get more money. Sepp kept cutting back her hours because he claimed Adana needed them more.
She wanted to yell at him but she had no other options. Dr. Waters had made it very clear that now that Morgan was working at the clinic, the possibility of full-time work was gone.
No one seemed to need her.
“Well, I guess when you own the store, you can do what you want,” Tabitha said with forced humor.
Tony shrugged.
“I’d still like to put in the order for the sink, and when I get enough together to pay for it, I’d like you to put it through,” she said with more confidence than she felt.
“You don’t have to pay it all,” Tony said. “Just half.”
Which she didn’t have either.
“Just give me the total amount so I know how much I’ll need.” Brave talk, she thought as she gave him a cautious smile, then left. She knew exactly how much the sink, tiles and countertop would cost and how many shifts it would take her to earn that.
Too many. And now that Sepp had cut her hours back, she wasn’t sure how she was going to ever catch up. Her wages at the Brand and Grill and the vet clinic covered her daily expenses. She depended heavily on her tips for the extras.
As she walked down the street to her truck, she fought down her anger at Sepp’s unreasoning dislike of her, and at a father who had let her and her sister down so badly.
She checked the time and hurried her steps. She made quick work of getting to the clinic and slipping inside.
“Anything happen while I was gone?” she called out to Jenny as she pulled on her lab coat.
“Nope. Pretty quiet. Morgan went out. He got a call from the school about Nathan acting up,” Jenny said as Tabitha joined her in the front office. “Asked me not to tell Dr. Waters, so I’m hoping he stays away on his call long enough for Morgan to come back.” She tut-tutted her disapproval. “Dr. Waters has already made a lot of concessions for him. Only the second day on the job and already—”
She stopped talking as the front door opened and Morgan stepped inside, looking harried.
“Everything okay?” Tabitha asked.
His eyes looked at her, then looked away. “Yeah. Fine.”
The curt tone in his voice told her that, clearly, everything was not fine. So did the frown on his face.
Don’t engage, she told herself. He clearly doesn’t want my help.
“You don’t look fine,” Jenny pressed. “Everything go okay with Nathan?”
Morgan shook his head, the look of concern on his face making Tabitha feel bad for him. “He’s been having a hard time at school,” he said. “I knew it would be a difficult transition for him, but he seemed excited about it at the time. He’s just having trouble settling in.”
“Moving to a new school is tough,” Tabitha added. “I feel sorry for the little guy.”
“I’m sure you would know what he’s dealing with,” Morgan said.
His admission and the faint smile accompanying it startled her. It was the first hint of softness she’d received from him. For a moment she longed to explain to him what had happened all those years ago, but she quashed that. It was so long ago it hardly mattered anymore. Besides, even if she did tell him, that didn’t change the fact of what her father had done to his father. That couldn’t be explained away. She could only fix things by staying on the course she had set for herself.
Then his cell phone rang and Morgan looked at the call display. “Sorry, gotta take this.” He answered the phone as he walked away.
Jenny watched him go, then sighed. “That poor man. He’s got a lot to deal with. Must be rough being a single parent. Too bad there’s not some single girl for him.” She looked over at Tabitha. “Actually, I heard a rumor the other day that you two used to date.”
Date was hardly the word for the deep and abiding feelings she had felt for Morgan, she thought with a touch of melancholy.
They had made plans to get married. Move away from Cedar Ridge. Start a new life away from the expectations of his mother and the reputation of her father.
“That was a long time ago,” Tabitha said. “It was just a high school fling.”
No sooner had she spoken the words than Morgan stepped into the room. From his expression, she guessed he had heard her.
Then the door flew open and a woman rushed in. “My cat got attacked by a dog.” Tabitha recognized Selena Rodriguez, an older woman who owned the Shop Easy. She looked around, eyes wide, her long graying hair damp but pulled up in a clip.
Morgan hurried over, pulling a pair of latex gloves out of his pocket, and did a cursory exam of the cat. “I’ll take him,” he said and glanced over at Tabitha. Cass, the other vet assistant, had left on a job with Dr. Waters, so it was on her to help.
She knew it would happen sooner or later that she would have to work closely with Morgan, and she thought she was prepared for it.
But when she stood across from him at the exam table, their faces covered with masks with only their eyes visible, she felt a momentary discomfort. She was close enough to see the fan of wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. Smell his aftershave. He smelled different, took up space in a different way. His shoulders were broader, his hair longer.
Regret washed through her. What if she hadn’t listened to his mother all those years ago? What if she’d had enough confidence in her feelings for Morgan?
But she hadn’t and she didn’t, and she couldn’t spend her life living with regret over might-have-beens.
Then her training took over and she pushed her own emotions aside. He’s not for you. There’s too much between you, she told herself.
Then together they started an IV to anesthetize the cat, then intubated him. As they fell into a routine, and she began prepping the sites, she looked at him as just another vet stitching up some cuts on a cat.
* * *
“Looks like we got done on time.” Cord dropped his hammer into the hook on his pouch as a dually pickup pulling a stock trailer roared onto the yard. “Here comes your horse.”
It was Tuesday evening, and Morgan and his brother had just finished fixing up a makeshift corral to hold Gillian’s horse, Stormy, until Morgan could figure out what to do with it. Cord had offered to board it at the ranch, but Nathan had protested loudly. He wanted Stormy on the yard.
So for now, he would keep it here and feed it hay. Not the best solution, but his bigger concern was for Nathan more than the horse.
“I sure hope those old posts hold,” Cord said as they watched as Ernest, who drove the truck, turned and backed up to the gate.
Morgan gave his brother a look. “You were the one who assured me they would be strong enough.”
Cord punched him lightly on the arm with one gloved fist. “I’m just bugging you. Relax.”
“Don’t know how to do that anymore,” Morgan muttered, looking over at his son, who stood by the fence fairly vibrating with excitement. It was the happiest Morgan had seen him since he got here.
“How are you two getting along?” Cord questioned.
Morgan thought of the boxes the boy still hadn’t unpacked. The phone calls with the teachers this afternoon. They had found Nathan in the bathroom, huddled in a stall, crying.
Morgan had been in the middle of a C-section on a cow and couldn’t come to school, and Nathan wouldn’t talk to him on the phone. So Morgan had called his father, who lived in town. After Boyce picked him up, he called to tell him that everything was okay. He and Nathan were having cookies and milk, and another crisis had been averted.
“Step by step” was all he could say, something that applied to his job, it seemed, as well as to his relationship with his son. “I don’t suppose you know anyone who could work as a nanny.”
Cord just laughed. “I had my own struggles and then Ella came into our lives.” He grinned at him. “So that’s your solution. You need to find a wife.”
“No, thanks. Already had one and you saw how well that worked out. Besides, Nathan is my priority and I’m having a hard enough time connecting with him.”
Cord looked at the boy leaning against the fence, watching everything with interest. “Give it time. He’s been through a lot and he’s probably confused. Plus he’s still grieving for his mother.”
Morgan nodded. But there was no more time for conversation. The trailer had backed up and the truck engine turned off.
Ernest came around to the back of the trailer, hitching up his baggy pants, his eyes bright under unkempt eyebrows. “Well, she’s a feisty one,” he said with a grin. “Took two guys to get her haltered and loaded. Watch out for her hooves when you go inside.”
“Maybe let me unload her,” Cord said, holding up his hand to stop Morgan.
Morgan looked at Nathan, who was intently watching the proceedings.
“No. I need to do this,” he said, yanking on the door’s latch, slipping it up and pulling open the sliding door. Nathan needed to see him leading the horse.
As soon as he stepped inside, Stormy whinnied, her eyes wide, ears pinned back, her back foot striking hard at the wall of the trailer.
“Easy, girl,” Morgan said, walking slowly toward her, pushing down his own trepidation. A horse like this could be unpredictable and therefore dangerous in such a small space.
Stormy stepped back, trembling now, head up and ears still back as he came closer.
He saw Cord peering in the side of the trailer and, in spite of his concern, he had to grin. Big brother watching out for him.
“It’s okay, girl. I’m going to untie you and lead you out of this trailer.” He pitched his voice low. Quiet. Hoping it would settle the horse down.
He carefully untied the rope. She jerked back, the rope slipped in his hands, and then, before he knew what was happening, she landed on her front feet and hit his shoulder as she shot past him out of the trailer and into the corral.
“You okay?” he heard Cord call out.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” His pride was hurt more than his shoulder.
He stepped out in time to see Stormy charging around the corral, rope trailing behind her as Cord rushed to close the gate. Appropriate name, Morgan thought, rubbing his shoulder. Before anyone could stop him, Ernest jumped over the corral fence and snagged the halter rope. Stormy pulled away, Ernest pulled back, and then the horse was suddenly still.
Nathan, unaware of what was going on, laughed, clapping his hands at the sight as he watched through the railing.
“Looks like this horse will need some training,” Cord said.
“Grandpa Boyce said that Miss Tabitha knows how to train horses,” Nathan put in. “He said my dad should ask her but she said she was busy and my dad said we would find someone else.”
Morgan had to stifle a beat of frustration with his father. He knew about his previous relationship with Tabitha. Why did he keep pushing?
Then Ernest joined them, leaning one elbow on the rail, tugging on his mustache. “She’s a good horse. Good feet. Good conformation. She’s jumpy, though.”
“I want to ride her,” Nathan said, watching Stormy as she now stood, her sides heaving with exertion.
“You won’t be riding her for a while,” Ernest warned, shaking his head. “That horse needs a firm but gentle hand and a lot of training.”
“And you can’t do it?” Morgan asked. Ernest had trained a number of horses. Though he hadn’t for some time, Morgan thought it was worth asking.
Ernest pulled in a breath, then gave Morgan a look tinged with regret. “No. That’s a young man’s game and I don’t have it in me anymore. Have you asked Tabitha? I helped train her. She’s a natural, though she hasn’t done much of it since she moved back here.”
Again with Tabitha?
“Not an option” was all Morgan would say.
“Will I never be able to ride my mom’s horse?” Nathan said, his chin now trembling. He looked up at Morgan, who was disconcerted by the tears in the boy’s eyes.
“We’ll figure something out, Nathan,” Morgan said, kneeling down and catching his son by his narrow shoulders. “Don’t worry. You’ll be able to ride her. Just not right away.”
“So Miss Tabitha will train her?” Nathan asked, wiping his tears away with the back of one dusty hand.
“I said we’ll figure something out” was all he said. Though he didn’t like the way the conversation was going, at least Nathan was talking to him. That was a plus.
Nathan nodded, seemingly satisfied with this answer.
“I better clean out that trailer and get on my way,” Ernest said, pushing away from the fence. “Nathan, you want to help me?”
“Sure.” Nathan scooted past Morgan looking happier than he had in a while.
Morgan waited until he was out of earshot, then turned to his brother.
“So what do you think I should do?” he asked. “That horse isn’t rideable and Nathan seems to think it might happen.”
“A horse you can’t ride is taking up space and eating valuable hay,” Cord said, ever the practical rancher.
“But Nathan seems attached to the beast because it belonged to Gillian.” Morgan sighed, resting his arms on the rail, watching the horse going round and round the pen. “He’s the most enthusiastic when he talks about that horse. Nice change from the slightly depressed kid I usually see. But I can’t find anyone to train it except, it seems, for Tabitha.” He sighed again. “And I’m not sure I want to go down that road. Bad enough I have to work with her. At least at the clinic there are boundaries.”
“If she is training this horse, she’ll need to be working with Nathan.”
Morgan sighed. “I know, but truth is, I don’t think she has the time. She’s working two jobs and renovating her house.”
“Probably just as well.” Cord held his brother’s gaze as he released a hard breath. “She broke your heart once before. Word on the street is that she’s only in town long enough to fix up that place her dad left to her and sell it. She’ll take the money and move on, just like her dad. You’ve got a kid now. He’s what you have to think about. Keep Tabitha in the past, where she belongs.”
“I think I can handle myself with Tabitha,” Morgan returned, feeling a surge of frustration that his brother seemed to think one look into those blue-green eyes would turn him into a mindless lunatic.
Cord nodded, as if he didn’t believe his brother’s protests.
“I’ll get the rest of the fencing stuff” was all Cord said.
But as his brother walked away, Morgan pondered Cord’s words. Worst of it was, even in spite of his tough talk, he knew his brother was right.
Fool me once, he thought, heading over to where his son was chatting with Ernest.
He couldn’t afford to trust so blindly again.
Chapter Four (#u248486d8-9204-5429-abaf-ca38b9cc86af)
Sepp looked up from scraping the deep fryer, glowering at Tabitha as she dropped a couple of mugs by the dishwasher. “Kind of dead this afternoon.” His voice was accusatory. As if it was her fault.
“For a Wednesday afternoon it sure is,” Tabitha agreed, reminding herself to stay pleasant.
“You may as well go home.” Sepp looked back at what he was doing. “No sense paying you to hang around if there’s so few customers.”
“Things might pick up,” she said, trying not to sound too desperate. Any tip she might get, any dollar she made, brought her that much closer to getting her kitchen finished.
“If they haven’t by now, they won’t in half an hour,” he snapped. She wanted to argue but she knew better than to contradict Sepp and cross him when he was in an ornery mood.
Instead she pulled off her apron and set it in the laundry bin, then took her backpack off the hook at the back of the kitchen. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then.”
Sepp stood back from the fryer. “You don’t need to sound so testy.”
Tabitha pulled in a slow breath, seeing the banked anger in Sepp’s eyes. The past few days he’d been sniping and griping at her even more than usual.
“I’m sorry. I’m just tired.” She worked on the house until late last night again, putting in the last of the casings and baseboards to finish up the bedroom.
“Tired from hanging around with Morgan Walsh?”
She tried not to roll her eyes, but as she looked at him, she realized maybe that was his problem. He was jealous of Morgan.
“Morgan is the last person I want to be with on purpose.” That wasn’t entirely true. She had already spent a week working with Morgan, and each time she saw him it became harder to maintain her distance.
“So, you’re not seeing him?”
Tabitha blew out a sigh. “No. I’m not.”
He nodded. “So then, are you free Friday night?”
Tabitha could only stare, not sure which of his questions disturbed her more. The one about Morgan or the one asking her out.
“I’m busy. I’ll always be busy for you.” Too late she realized that she had overstepped a boundary she kept scrupulously in place. She had always been evasive with Sepp, cautiously refusing his advances. But she had never been this rude with him.
“Okay. Well, then maybe you don’t need to bother coming in for a while.”
Tabitha stared at him, suddenly tired of his machinations, his threats and his borderline obsession with her. As long as she kept turning him down it would never end. He would cut her hours back and back. And she was sick of it.
“Well, I won’t bother coming in at all, then. I quit.” She wished she hadn’t already taken her apron off. It would have given her the perfect dramatic exit. Pull off apron. Toss it aside. Turn and storm away without a backward glance.
Instead she shifted her backpack on her shoulder and strode away.
But as soon as the back door of the café slapped shut behind her, dread flooded through her. What had she just done? Quit the job that paid her the most money?
How was she supposed to pay for the rest of her house renovations now?
She leaned against the exterior of the café, the stucco digging into her skin through her shirt. Now what was she going to do?
* * *
“I’m sorry, but I’m wondering if it’s in Nathan’s best interests to be in school right now. It’s almost the end of the school year, so he won’t miss much.” The Grade Two teacher, Miss Abrams, gave Morgan a gentle smile, as if to soften her words. She glanced over at Nathan, who sat hunched on the cot in the school nurse’s office, his arms wrapped around his legs, staring out the window. “He’s had a lot to deal with the past few months. He’s a smart boy. In my opinion he might be better off to spend time with you at home.”
She sounded so reasonable and Morgan could hardly fault her for her advice. But how was he supposed to do that?
Morgan looked over at Nathan, who wasn’t looking at him. He wasn’t crying now but had been an hour ago. Morgan had been out of cell range, working in a farmer’s back field on a sow that had farrowed, and she and her newborn piglets had been attacked by a coyote.
By the time they got the sow fixed up and carted on a trailer with her piglets back to the farmer’s yard, he was back in service. Then his cell phone dinged steadily with messages from the school. He tried to call his father but he wasn’t around. Neither were Cord or Ella. So he told Dr. Waters he had to go to the elementary school, earning him a scowl and a slight reprimand.
He knew it didn’t look good. Barely a week on the job at the vet clinic and things were falling apart for him at home. But what else could he do?
“If that’s what you think should happen,” Morgan said.
“I do,” Miss Abrams said. “I know it’s not an easy solution, but Nathan needs some time with you more than he needs school right now.”
Morgan stifled another sigh. Part of him knew she was right, but he wasn’t sure how this was going to work.
“I’ll take him home,” Morgan said. He put his hand on his son’s shoulder and, to his surprise, the boy didn’t flinch away. He looked up at Morgan, looking so bereft Morgan knelt and pulled him into his arms.
Nathan stayed there a moment, resting his head against Morgan’s neck. His son, he thought, a rush of pure joy flowing through him.
But then Nathan pulled back, withdrawn again.
“We’re going back home,” Morgan told him.
“Which one?”
The question hit Morgan like a blow. He knew Gillian had moved around a lot. Had his son no sense of which place was home?
“We’re going to the ranch. Where Stormy is.”
His face lit up at that. “I really want to see Stormy again. I think she misses me when I’m in school.”
“Maybe she does.”
He picked up Nathan’s backpack and held out his hand, but Nathan jumped off the cot and hurried ahead of him toward the door.
Morgan thanked Miss Abrams and, as they walked back to the truck, Nathan smiled. “I’m excited to ride my mom’s horse,” he said, looking ahead as if imagining himself doing so.
“I’m sure you are,” Morgan said. The school counselor he had spoken to before he picked Nathan up had mentioned that the only time Nathan seemed to show any life was when he talked about his mother’s horse. She suggested that Morgan let Nathan fantasize about the horse and riding it. Affirming his comments, she said. Morgan wasn’t entirely sure how to go about that, so he figured he would treat Nathan’s suggestions like he had his twin sister Amber’s when they were growing up. Agree and nod and smile.
“But I can’t until Stormy is trained,” Nathan said.
“That’s true.”
Nathan said nothing. Instead he stared out the window.
“I have to stop by at the clinic for a minute,” Morgan said. He had forgotten to write down the billable hours for the call he did this morning.
Nathan just nodded. At least he wasn’t crying.
Morgan pulled up to the clinic, dismayed to see Tabitha’s truck parked there. What was she doing back here? He thought she worked at the café in the afternoon.
“Isn’t that the truck of the lady who almost ran over Brandy?” Nathan asked.
“Yes. It is,” Morgan said.
“Her name is Miss Tabitha, isn’t it? And she works at the café? She gave me a coloring book and crayons even though I’m not a little boy. But it was nice. And Grandpa Boyce says she’s the lady that trains horses.”
“Yes. Miss Tabitha does train horses,” Morgan answered. “But she’s very busy working for Dr. Waters and Mr. Sepp at the café.” Morgan hoped he got the hint as he helped him out of the truck.
Nathan walked ahead of Morgan, skipping a little, looking a lot happier than he had in a while. Guess sending him to school hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Guess he wasn’t much of a father for not knowing that.
Morgan opened the door and, as always, his eyes had to adjust from the bright summer sun to the windowless back room with its pens and gates. He wondered why Dr. Waters hadn’t at least put a skylight in here. Or replaced some of the penning. One of these days some animal was going to lose it in here and bust one of the rusted posts.
“Wow. What do you do here?” Nathan asked.
“This is where we work with cows and horses and bigger animals like that.”
Nathan nodded as he followed Morgan through another door and down the hall to the front office, checking out the posters of dogs and cats and various other animals lining the walls between rooms.
In the office, Tabitha stood by the desk, talking to Jenny, her one hand pressed to her cheek, her other clutching her elbow. She looked like she’d been crying.
“I doubt Dr. Waters will give you more hours,” Jenny was saying.
“Why should he? He barely gives Morgan enough. Dr. Waters is running around like a fool himself, losing business because he can’t keep up. Makes me wonder why he hired Morgan in the first place.”
“Are you kidding? Who in Cedar Ridge would ever say no to a Walsh?”
“And who would say yes to a Rennie? We both know what my father’s reputation has done for my sister and me. Now that I quit the café, how am I ever going to pay off my bills and finish that wretched house? And I still have a ton of cleaning up to do.” She stifled another sob, pressing her hand to her mouth.
Morgan held back, realizing he had stumbled into a very personal but potentially disturbing conversation. He gathered that Tabitha had lost her job at the café. But what surprised him more was his reaction to her tears. He wanted to rush into the room and pull her into his arms. Comfort her like he used to whenever she was upset.
He was about to back away and wait until those impulses passed, but Nathan had finally caught up to him. He saw Tabitha and went running past Morgan into the room.
“Hi! You’re Miss Tabitha, aren’t you?” he said, smiling up at her.
Tabitha’s reddened eyes grew wide as she looked from him to Morgan, who now stood in the doorway. She spun away, swiping at her face.
Morgan shot a warning frown at Jenny, who wasn’t looking at him either. He guessed she wasn’t too proud of her “he’s a Walsh” comment.
Nor should she be. Morgan liked to think that his high GPA, his stellar reputation at his previous vet clinic and his strict work ethic had been the reason Dr. Waters hired him.
Not his last name.
“Why is Miss Tabitha crying?” Nathan said, turning to Morgan. “Why is she sad?”
“I’m okay.” Tabitha sniffed, then turned back to Nathan.
“I was crying too,” Nathan said, looking back at Tabitha. “I miss my mommy and I want to ride her horse but I can’t.”
Tabitha gave him a wavery smile and touched his head lightly. “I’m sorry you can’t.” Then she looked puzzled. “And why aren’t you in school?”
He shrugged, suddenly very interested in the hem of his worn T-shirt. “School makes me sad,” he said, twisting it around his hand. He managed to poke a hole in it and wiggled his finger through it, making it bigger. “So my daddy says I don’t have to go anymore.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/carolyne-aarsen/second-chance-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.