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Second Chance Christmas
Pamela Tracy


A Holiday for HealingAs December dawns in the Superstition Mountains, Cooper Smith is resigned to spending another Christmas alone. With his dad gone, his mom ailing and his younger brother in trouble, Cooper's only wish for the holidays is to keep his father's outfitting store going. But when his former high school sweetheart, Elise Hubrecht, unexpectedly returns to her family's ranch, Cooper puts one more item on his to-do list. If he can get Elise to face the tragedy that made her leave Apache Creek, he may get the chance of a lifetime: a second chance at lasting love.







A Holiday for Healing

As December dawns in the Superstition Mountains, Cooper Smith is resigned to spending another Christmas alone. With his dad gone, his mom ailing and his younger brother in trouble, Cooper’s only wish for the holidays is to keep his father’s outfitting store going. But when his former high school sweetheart, Elise Hubrecht, unexpectedly returns to her family’s ranch, Cooper puts one more item on his to-do list. If he can get Elise to face the tragedy that made her leave Apache Creek, he may get the chance of a lifetime: a second chance at lasting love.


“Back in town so soon?” Cooper asked.

“I got laid off, so I’m moving back home and taking that job at the high school,” Elise replied.

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Sorry to hear I got laid off or sorry to hear I’m moving back home?”

“Laid off. It’s not easy making a change. Up until a year ago, I worked in Moab, Utah. I was just beginning to make a life for myself.”

“You came because your family needed you,” Elise pointed out.

“Didn’t make it any easier.”

“You’re right. But there is no other work. I spent the last month checking out the job market.”

“So, Apache Creek High School is your only option?”

The wind picked up, blowing her hair across her face. “It’s the option I’m accepting.” Cooper tried not to let it bother him that Apache Creek was a last resort. The Elise he knew had loved it here. It was wrong that Elise didn’t feel excited about moving back home.

Just as much as it had been wrong for her to walk away from him, from the life they’d planned.


PAMELA TRACY is a USA TODAY bestselling author who lives with her husband (the inspiration for most of her heroes) and son (the interference for most of her writing time). Since 1999, she has published more than twenty-five books and sold more than a million copies. She’s a past RITA® Award finalist and past winner of the American Christian Fiction Writers’ Book of the Year Award.


Second Chance

Christmas

Pamela Tracy






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


The heart of man plans his way,

but the Lord establishes his steps.

—Proverbs 16:9


To my niece Shannon Leutkenhaus,

a champion team roper, who is living the dream and has the saddles and buckles to prove it. Shannon, you rock!


Contents

Cover (#u6e35f080-d8f7-565d-932b-422664eed472)

Back Cover Text (#u3a34cd69-9c0d-549f-ac86-730fc0033327)

Introduction (#ueff4f345-fdd9-579d-bd25-60e99ae8dcb5)

About the Author (#u725c99b3-582e-5b37-96da-5fd718398478)

Title Page (#uf821f458-0642-5700-a254-8704e71ea3cd)

Bible Verse (#u9d525ede-6ffc-5591-b765-a2d7e2ca3b93)

Dedication (#ufbaf6165-1545-5649-9608-7e9c9624e0f6)

Chapter One (#ulink_11b0323c-6209-52b5-8846-ff7c5d481353)

Chapter Two (#ulink_ad59dc72-5cd5-5308-9add-d23dfe1d1d10)

Chapter Three (#ulink_4ae994c9-be56-5e5c-8332-9a1a3ca8db87)

Chapter Four (#ulink_548e31a3-ba51-5b35-a8cb-af41ecd95b1b)

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)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_cf2583bf-a24c-5a90-9cab-53301dcc1314)

Storm clouds rolled in the Arizona sky, a black-and-gray blanket that sank lower even as Cooper Smith watched. One drop hit his forehead. He whooped, then turned and headed inside his store, AJ’s Outfitters. His cell phone was out and in his hand before he made it to the counter. He had five regulars who went gold-panning with him on the Superstition after every rain. Plus, this trip, he had three other numbers to call: tourists who had come into his store to buy expedition gear and had shown an interest in going panning. That meant paying customers.

Something AJ’s sorely needed.

He’d gotten hold of all but two when an incoming call interrupted him.

It wasn’t someone wanting to go panning tomorrow. Instead a deep voice, one he recognized well, said, “I just saw your brother doing doughnuts in your truck in the parking lot of the Apache Creek fairgrounds.”

Cooper closed his eyes. Lately, it was one thing after another with his little brother and each and every incident landed at Cooper’s feet. “You sure it was him?”

It was a stupid question, and Cooper didn’t even bother to pray that Jacob Hubrecht was wrong. Still, there was nothing quite like having an elder of the church, and your ex-girlfriend’s father, phone you right after you switched the Closed sign to Open.

Cooper’s little brother, just turned eighteen and ten years younger but an inch taller, was skipping school again. Just six months to go and the kid would graduate. Maybe.

“Nothing wrong with my vision,” Jacob answered. “Even in the rain.”

There was nothing wrong with Cooper’s, either. He opened his eyes and looked around the store. Only three customers, one family really, and only the four-year-old appeared to be the potential sale. He held a fool’s gold necklace in hand. Cost: five dollars.

Business was down, and Cooper was still learning how to manage the storekeeping part of his responsibility instead of just the guide part. Going panning tomorrow meant Garrett had to work the store. Cooper would bring in three hundred dollars from the three tourists. That might just double their Saturday total.

Cooper didn’t know what more he could do except pray. Lately, he’d not said any prayers for himself until after amen. Sometimes, before falling into an exhausted sleep, he added an addendum, a simple plea: Help me, God.

Last time he’d prayed this much was a good ten months ago.

Mitch Smith, his father, had left a big hole to fill when he’d passed away in February, and the hole looked to be getting deeper as the first Christmas without him loomed less than five weeks away.

“I’m sure it was Garrett,” Jacob said. “And, it gets worse.”

Worse than skipping school and abusing a 1962 classic Ford F-100, four-by-four, V8, four-speed transmission in the rain? Cooper had had a customer offer him five thousand for it two weeks ago, and Cooper had turned him down. They didn’t need the money that badly.

Yet.

Cooper didn’t want to know how worse his brother was making it. Each passing day just proved to him that he couldn’t fill his father’s shoes.

Jacob interrupted Cooper’s meandering thoughts by sharing, “He had three other teens in the truck with him.”

“Great,” Cooper muttered. “One is probably David Cagnalia, right?”

“Pretty sure,” Jacob agreed. “Plus, two girls I didn’t recognize.”

Girls? Oh, please no.

“Thanks, Jacob. I appreciate the call. You wouldn’t by any chance have some advice on how I should deal with this, would you?”

Jacob Hubrecht had brought up three girls, pretty much on his own, and they’d all turned out perfect. Especially his middle daughter, Elise, who Cooper had been in love with from fourth grade until... Well, Cooper couldn’t rightly say that he’d fallen out of love with Elise; it was more as if they’d fallen apart, literally and figuratively.

“Do what you’re doing. Keep letting him know you’re there. Also, when he decides to talk, listen.”

“I’ve been doing that.” Cooper watched his three customers leave the store without the five-dollar fool’s gold necklace. They ran to their car, looking at the sky as if amazed at the Arizona rain. Some storekeeper he was, on the phone the whole time.

“Go fetch Garrett now,” Jacob said, grabbing Cooper’s attention again. “Get him to school. He’ll only be two hours late. Wait to talk to him until tonight when you’re not so mad. Better yet, let your mother do the talking.”

“I don’t know,” Cooper said slowly, even as he was thinking how much easier it would be on him if he could let his mother deal with Garrett. “She’s not feeling well.”

She hadn’t felt well since the funeral nine months ago.

“I’ll ask Elise if she has any ideas,” Jacob said.

Cooper opened his mouth to say “Not necessary”, but Jacob wasn’t finished. Quickly and proudly, he announced, “She’s interviewing today at the high school for some kind of social worker position.”

Elise was coming home.

After a decade.

Home.

But not to him.

“No, thanks,” Cooper said. “I’ll handle it on my own.”

* * *

Elise Hubrecht had never been a fan of the term last resort. Unfortunately, she wasn’t a fan of the word unemployed, either. Just the thought of it gave her an upset stomach. She had a school loan, more than one credit card and daily bills. If she moved back to Apache Creek, she could live at the ranch for a while, maybe pay off the credit cards and buy a new truck—new to her, anyways. The way things were going, her old truck wouldn’t last much longer. It hadn’t started this morning, so she was in one of her dad’s Lost Dutchman Ranch trucks, which had brought back memories of high school. All her best memories were here, in Apache Creek, Arizona.

And her worst memories, too. Those were why she had left, ten years ago. And why she hadn’t planned to return.

Her father, who claimed he didn’t have an emotional side, had all but killed the fatted calf when she’d told him she was coming home for a job interview. She had an eleven o’clock appointment with Principal Beecher and a few school board members who made up the hiring committee. Checking her watch, she figured she’d be a good twenty minutes early. For no other reason than curiosity, she turned left when she should have turned right, and headed down the rural road to AJ’s Outfitters.

She passed the weathered white brick building with its dark blue roof. Odd, there was a Closed sign on the door. It was a Friday morning, late November. Perfect weather and the busy season for the Arizona outdoorsmen.

None of her business. She pressed on the gas and drove toward the street that eventually lead to the high school. She cracked the window and took a deep breath of the eighty-degree Arizona winter.

Just two blocks from the school, she caught sight of a red truck moving fast off-road, to her left, and bumping crazily on terrain never meant for tires. Then it abruptly turned and traveled down a fairly steep embankment.

Elise blinked. She recognized the vehicle.

The driver didn’t even hesitate when he swerved in front of her truck, skidding slightly on the pavement, and finally straightening. Then the driver hit the gas and turned down the road that led right toward her family’s ranch.

The Cooper she remembered drove slower than her great-uncle and never broke the law. Couldn’t be him. Besides, the momentary glance she’d managed into the front seat of the red truck highlighted what looked like four teenagers, all laughing, maybe screaming, but definitely younger than Cooper and his friends.

More the age of Cooper’s much younger brother. She’d seen Garrett briefly at his father’s funeral back in February. Elise made a snap decision, turned to follow, all the while knowing she was getting involved and that would only make her even more desirable to the school board that so desperately wanted to hire her.

If only Mike Hamm, her favorite minister and now apparently a member of the school board, hadn’t seen her résumé posted on a job-hunting website and called her with an offer. It was the only job available for five hundred miles. She knew this. But coming home felt like such a step back—from everything she’d accomplished in her current home of Two Mules, Arizona, and everything she’d hoped to achieve there in the next few years.

She’d just been starting to make headway with some of the local teens. Her work there was supposed to make up for her failures in the past. She couldn’t walk away now. Especially not to come back here—the site of those painful failures.

What she really couldn’t seem to do was stop following Cooper’s truck even as it veered from one side of the road to the other. It was an accident waiting to happen and she the only witness. Where was everyone?

The truck in front of her turned again, Elise on its tail. She’d be late for her interview, that was for sure, but clearly the teens in front of her needed a reality check.

The truck careened across the dirt road and into the remnants of Karl Wilcox’s cotton field. When she was a teen, Mr. Wilcox owned a shotgun, which he filled with buckshot and was quite willing to use on anyone who messed with his land. She doubted that had changed in the years since then.

Elise honked her horn, trying to get the teens to pull over. It took a good five minutes, time Elise spent with her cell phone aimed out the window taking a video. She knew a picture was worth a thousand words, especially when parents wanted denial more than truth. Finally Elise cornered them when a dirt road they’d turned on dead-ended. She stepped out of her vehicle and waited, noting that a rainbow had already formed above the Superstition Mountains that towered over the landscape.

A tall brown-haired boy stepped from the vehicle. Her breath caught. Cooper ten years ago.

“Garrett,” she said. “I just took a video of your little adventure with my cell phone.”

He blinked as recognition set in. “Does Cooper know you’re here?”

“No, but we can talk about that later. I’m on my way to speak with Principal Beecher about a job opening. That makes it very convenient to just follow you four to school. That’s where you were heading, right?”

She worded it carefully, hoping they’d realize that a Yes answer might mean fewer consequences. From where Elise stood, she could see relief on the girls’ faces. The boy standing by the red truck never changed his angry expression. As for Garrett, he merely nodded his head, lips pressed together, and then marched back to his truck.

“Get in,” he told his friends. After a deliberate few seconds making a point, they crawled in the front seat.

Later, slightly late and a little damp from the rain, Elise sat at a conference table and studied the three men sitting across from her. The principal of Apache Creek High, David Beecher, still looked annoyed. Not at her, but at the four seniors who’d showed up right behind her late to school and with an escort. They were now with the vice principal.

She hoped that on their own the teens owned up to their responsibility, not just about ditching school but about where they’d been and what they’d done. Wilcox’s cotton field was pretty much destroyed.

She hadn’t shared with the principal the lack of respect shown by the two boys when she’d mentioned showing her video to their families. Not without knowing more about the situation.

Of the four teens, she only knew the background of one, and she remembered him at age seven or eight, building a tree house in the backyard, a place where he and his friends could play their handheld electronics without being disturbed. He’d had a slight crush on her, and oh how big brother Cooper liked to tease. She wanted to believe that sweet kid was still there inside that surly teen.

“Tell me again what you saw,” Mike Hamm asked.

“I recognized the trunk and knew Cooper wasn’t driving. It was easy enough to figure out they weren’t on their way to school,” Elise said. “I followed, managed to get them to pull over, and suggested a tardy would be better than an absence.”

“Good thinking. I hope there’s someone like you around when my children get to high school.” Mike had two children, both under the age of three. He had a while before he needed to worry. She, however, knew what he was doing. He was letting her know how very much she was needed here.

She knew she was right when he leaned forward, hands folded in front of him, a sincere expression on his face. “Situations like these are why we petitioned for funding to hire a guidance counselor.”

“We have a school counselor,” Beecher said, “but quite honestly, she knows more about getting kids on track for college than on getting them back on track for life.”

“Miss Sadie’s still here?” Elise asked.

“For three more years.” The principal smiled as if he’d heard the threat before. Miss Sadie had been advising students of future opportunities since Elise’s mom had been a student.

“Once the funding came through for a school counselor, Mike found your résumé online and we read about what you’ve been doing up in Two Mules.” This came from an imposing man who sat on Mike’s left, and the only one Elise didn’t know from her years growing up in the area. Mike had introduced him as the new chief of police, Ethan Fisher.

The principal nodded before adding, “Three new teen programs in under a year.”

That I’m still developing, she thought but didn’t say.

“Your résumé is impressive,” Mike said. “But we didn’t think we were looking for a social worker. Then we started looking at the successes happening where schools employ one.”

“Of course, those schools are a lot bigger and have more tax dollars and such. We would need you to wear a couple of hats,” Principal Beecher said. “You’d not only be a social worker dealing with crisis intervention within the school walls but also working outside the school with families and the communities.”

In Two Mules she’d had to make time for academic emphasis. Apache Creek was dictating the emphasis. On the table before her was her dream job. But why did it have to happen now, when her work in Two Mules—the work that was supposed to make up for her past—was still unfinished?

Principal Beecher opened a manila folder and withdrew some papers. “We’ve changed the job description a bit since Mike spoke to you. And we were able to raise the pay so it matches what you make now.”

Almost as if they were bidden, her fingers slid across the table and took the papers. She still wanted to say no—but her justifications were melting away. Yes, she’d be two hours away from Two Mules, but she could live at the Lost Dutchman and save on rent. She’d easily be able to afford gas back and forth to visit often. Once a week, she could manage that. She’d find the time. That had been her mantra since Cindy died. To always make time for someone who needed her.

“Jasmine Taylor ran away just over a month ago,” Principal Beecher said. “Three months into the school semester. It’s all the seniors can talk about. I hear from parents almost daily. They’re all worried that their sons and daughters might run away, too.”

Elise remembered Jasmine as a seven-year-old brown-haired girl who hated it when her big sister babysat. Elise had been over there a time or two, riding horses in their back field and playing. Jasmine would be sixteen or seventeen now. Close to Garrett’s age. She wasn’t one of the teens Elise had so diligently mentored in Two Mules...but she was still a girl in trouble. A girl Elise might be able to help. “Any word from her at all?” Elise asked. She tried to settle back in her black, hard plastic chair and looked at the photos and certificates on the wall. A college diploma or two. Photos of winning football teams, debate teams and cheerleaders. She recognized Cooper, bent on one knee, in the front row of the football photo just over the principal’s head.

Mike answered, “No, no sightings, no cryptic messages to her parents.”

Mike Hamm touched the screen of his iPad. “Also, David Cagnalia shoplifted at a convenience store near the interstate a month ago. They caught him on the outskirts of town.”

“Sounds like a call for help.” Elise rubbed her temples. She’d been told that David was the other young man in Garrett’s truck.

Above the principal’s head and slightly to the left was a photo of her and Cooper taken after they’d become the first Apache Creek students to win the Arizona High School Rodeo Team Roping Competition. “You still sending students to the rodeo competition?” Elise asked.

“Not since your little sister graduated and your dad no longer ran the program. There’s no one with time and rodeo experience to spearhead an after-school program now.”

Elise’s father had started the program when Elise’s older sister, Eva, was a freshman, hoping to get her involved and overcome her fear of horses. By the time he realized his ploy wasn’t going to work, he had twenty students counting on him. When Elise started her freshman year, Apache Creek High School was making a name for itself in the competition arena. When baby sister Emily entered, parents were filling out vouchers and driving their kids fifty miles to attend a school out of district just so they could be under her father’s tutelage. The saddle came easy to Emily but it wasn’t her calling. Still, she boasted a few buckles herself.

“The last three years the number of incidents involving teenagers in Apache Creek has increased two hundred percent,” Ethan Fisher said.

“It’s an epidemic, kids running away and skipping school, girls getting pregnant before they graduate, and boys,” the principal choked up, “boys making decisions that will go on their record. David is a senior, and he’s nineteen.”

It was the catch in the principal’s voice, the look in the police chief’s eyes and Mike Hamm’s hands folded in prayer that spurred Elise to say words she couldn’t possibly mean.

No way could she return to Apache Creek to live.

No way.

“I’ll know by next week if my job in Two Mules has been eliminated. Are you willing to wait that long?”

“That would be fine,” Principal Beecher said. “We can get busy with the paperwork.” The men talked a bit longer, about pay and hours and benefits.

Elise stared at the photo of her and Cooper on the wall, remembering a past that warred with the present and colored the future.


Chapter Two (#ulink_5228a51d-27e0-5bd0-b08d-066e19112bd6)

After she’d shaken hands with the chief of police and principal for the second time, she followed Mike out the door and into the hallway. It was almost Thanksgiving, but backpacks still looked new, maybe because no one took books home; jeans still looked purposely old, maybe because kids bought them that way; and no one looked exhausted. The hallway pulsed with teenage angst and smelled like a combination cafeteria and gym with a hint of perfume.

“You need to come home.” Mike led the way down the stairs to the exit and to the parking lot. Apache Creek High School hadn’t changed much since Elise had graduated, except maybe to be a bit smaller.

When they got to her truck, Elise closed her eyes as she leaned against the hood. “Mike, I appreciate you reaching out to me, but—”

“Think of it as a plea for help. You can make a difference, more than anyone I know.”

“I don’t think I’m strong enough,” Elise whispered.

“You’re stronger than any girl I know,” Mike said. “I know you don’t like talking about Cindy, but from the time you two were in kindergarten, you were a person that she always wanted to be with. You made a difference with her, just like you’ll do with the kids here at the high school. Believe me, I know how her death hurt you. But you couldn’t have prevented it. Don’t let it keep you from coming home. Apache Creek needs you.”

She’d successfully blocked the request to move back home a hundred times the last ten years. She had great reasons, too. The fact that maybe she could have prevented Cindy’s death being the main roadblock. She’d always thought she’d come back someday—a far off someday when she wasn’t weighed down by guilt; when she’d helped enough teens to feel like she’d made amends for not being there for her friend. That “someday” hadn’t come yet.

“In many ways,” Mike continued, “you’re an answer to our prayers.”

She’d had a hard time praying lately, for years really. Early on, right after Cindy’s funeral, Elise had prayed for forgiveness. It hadn’t, in her opinion, come. Maybe she didn’t deserve it.

She hadn’t done enough to help Cindy, hadn’t reacted fast enough to save her. Now, though, she was saving others. Just last month she’d found a local rancher in Two Mules who was willing to let kids come to his place and take riding lessons. Her goal was to get them into competitions, give them something to aim for. She was going to train them the way her father had trained her. She’d show them one walk, trot, canter at a time that they were important and they could shape their future, by taking charge of it.

When she didn’t say anything, he implored, “We sure need some help.”

Apache Creek needs you.

“The people of Two Mules need me, too,” she mentioned casually.

“I hear,” Mike said, “that the natural gas pipeline has been completed. You know what the Bible says, in Proverbs.”

Trust Mike to have a scripture.

“The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.”

Elise frowned. How did he do that? Just pull a scripture from memory, one that was impossible to argue with. And it just figured he knew about the change in the economy. Two Mules, when she’d started working there, had enough money and cases to keep three social workers busy. Now that the pipeline workers and their families were moving on, Two Mules’s newly decreased budget barely had funds for two social workers although it still had a client list that called for four.

Fewer people did not equate to less need.

But the budget would win.

If Elise were let go, her coworkers could keep their jobs. Both were natives of Two Mules. Both had families: kids in school and grandparents to care for. Both were good at their jobs, dedicated, but neither focused on the needs of teens. They were mostly dealing with parolees, destitute families, and self-help programs.

Everything she’d worked for, finally coming to fruition this last year, could fade to nothingness. Even if she went back weekly to visit, would it be enough?

“Sometimes,” Mike said gently, “you’re most needed in the place that defined you.”

He, she knew, felt that way. Ten years ago, he’d been finishing med school. The only one from his family of ten kids to go to college. She’d been a high school senior talking to colleges about a rodeo scholarship. Cooper was doing the exact same thing.

Then Cindy, Mike’s little sister and Elise’s best friend, died in a car crash caused by Cindy’s drunken boyfriend.

Mike had transferred to a Bible college.

Elise had changed her dreams.

* * *

A royal blue truck with the Lost Dutchman Ranch logo drove by AJ’s Outfitters, slowed down, and then sped up. Cooper Smith stopped listening to the sales pitch coming from his cell phone and watched the truck. He wondered if it were Jacob Hubrecht wanting to stop by and see how Garrett was getting along, if this were a good time.

There was no such thing as a good time anymore. His mother had had a hard time rousing herself from bed to come in this morning to watch the store while Cooper was out looking for his brother.

Luckily, just an hour into the search, the school had called. They were handling it. Garrett wasn’t getting suspended. The vice-principal used words like intervention and group meetings during the phone call, but he hadn’t been willing to share anything concrete about the school’s disciplinary plans. Cooper wasn’t the parent and privacy laws were more stringent than during Cooper’s tenure at Apache Creek High School.

There’d be a parent meeting next week. His mom needed to call the man back. He hoped she’d feel up to it.

He turned his attention back to the phone. “Really?” Cooper said. “You do realize that I’m located in Apache Creek, Arizona. We do have tourists, but honestly we cater to a more serious crowd.”

He truly questioned the knowledge of this particular supplier who had called with an offer.

A lame offer.

“Keep in mind,” the supplier said, “tourists like to take souvenirs back, and they want something affordable and easy to transport.”

“I just don’t think practice panning gravel is something that will go over well with my clients.” Cooper’s biggest complaint about being a storekeeper, aside from it taking time away from his being a guide, was dealing with frivolous details. “No, thanks.”

Before the man could continue, Cooper ended the call. Outdoors he could see the shrubs, cacti and an occasional Joshua tree or two that peppered the landscape. In the distance were the Superstition Mountains, looking regal and daring and glistening from the rain.

It seldom rained in November. But this was proving to be the wettest that Cooper could remember. The newspaper claimed Apache Creek was going through a ten-year cycle.

Cooper wanted to be outdoors!

His mother came from the back, slowly opening and closing the fingers of her right hand. “Who was that on the phone?”

He hadn’t told her about the call from school. He knew he’d have to eventually—she still needed to set up that parent meeting. But something about the pinched look on her face made him want to protect her for a little while longer. “Just a salesman trying to convince me we needed something we didn’t need. Did you hurt your hand?”

“Just some pain in the joints. I dropped a box I was trying to put away.”

His mother’s hands did look a little swollen and red. She’d been complaining that they felt stiff.

“You need to go to the doctor, Mom. Figure out what’s going on.”

“It’s just age. Speaking of which, I think I’ll go home and lie down for a while. We’re not busy.”

He watched as she headed out of the store and got in her car. She’d come in thirty minutes after he’d reopened the store.

“Excuse me, do you have a book that’s like a biography of someone who spent time mining in the Superstition Mountains?” It wasn’t the first time Cooper had heard this request. The man wanted to read about Jacob Waltz, the Lost Dutchman, who’d started the whole “There’s a treasure in them hills” mentality.

“Not really.”

The customer’s face fell. He spent a few minutes going through the books Cooper did have on display and then left, but not before saying, “You need to put out some Christmas decorations or something.”

Christmas?

Every time the holiday knocked on Cooper’s mind, he refused to open the door. Too busy.

Looking around the shop, he realized the customer was right. Cooper needed to start putting out his yuletide decorations. Dad had always claimed that Santa was a gold panner. He’d needed money to fund his shop and pay the elves, right? And, the North Pole had to have gold. It was in Alaska! Now that would be a reality show. Santa and his elves maneuvering an excavator and suffering make-or-break decisions.

Yes, Thanksgiving might be next week, but turkeys didn’t help sales much. But he knew that Christmas trumped every holiday, and the store needed to increase sales so that Cooper’s first year as co-owner wasn’t his last.

Somehow, he also needed to get Garrett through high school and into college. And then when he’d done all that, maybe he’d cure cancer or institute world peace. Those tasks couldn’t seem any more difficult than the ones ahead of him now.

Putting his phone in his shirt pocket, Cooper went back to work. He’d had goals for today before Garrett interrupted them. He started counting his supply of metal detectors. His most expensive kit was over two thousand; his cheapest came in at two hundred. That was on sale.

He hadn’t sold one in over two weeks. How many customers had he missed while out looking for Garrett?

He checked his list for tomorrow’s outing. He had eight; he needed ten; he could handle fifteen. Five of the people signed up were teenagers from his church. He didn’t charge them. The three tourists would be a boost, but he wished there were more of them.

Outside, gravel crunched as another customer pulled into the parking lot. Cooper paused, metal detector in hand, almost like a weapon. It was back, the Lost Dutchman’s royal blue Ford truck.

The sight of one—and old Jacob Hubrecht probably owned four—always made Cooper Smith want to run out the front door and shout, “Wait for me!” Ten years ago, he hadn’t run fast enough, shouted loud enough, and Elise Hubrecht had driven away without a backward glance or goodbye, taking his heart with her.

Since that day, the sight of a blue Lost Dutchman truck in his parking lot meant one of Elise’s sisters or her dad. Today, judging by the brown-haired boy scrambling out of the passenger-side door, he’d be dealing with Eva, Elise’s big sister, and Eva’s stepson, Timmy.

“Hey, Cooper.” Timmy smiled as he set off the large brass bell that announced customers entering AJ’s Outfitters. The bell was old and annoying, but his father had installed it and Cooper didn’t have the heart to replace it.

“What are you doing out and about on a school day?” Cooper asked.

“I had to go to the dentist, and I was so good that Eva said I could sign up for one of your tours up the mountain. I’ve been askin’ and askin’ and it’s raining so the perfect time. That’s what Grandpa said. Did you know that? He says I ride better than most grown-ups and that you’d help me find gold. Can I go tomorrow? Please.”

Cooper stared around Timmy, waiting for Eva to finally exit the truck. She’d always been the most organized of the Hubrecht sisters, the thinker and nurturer of the set. She’d been the one who made sure all supplies were packed, who made reminder calls, and who checked the final scoring numbers.

The baby of the family, Emily, didn’t care. She knew her big sisters would take care of her. She merely kept track of what was going on, often filming it to post online, and writing about it on some blog or Facebook page she’d started.

Cooper’s ex-girlfriend, middle daughter Elise, had been the risk-taker of the sisters. She did the numbers in her head and always knew her rank and position. She thought the fewer supplies the better, and if they happened to forget something, then obviously they’d not needed it. Back then, at least when it counted, he’d been the only thing she needed.

In the end, he’d not been enough.

“Is Eva going to enroll with you or will it be your dad?” Cooper grinned. Eva, everyone knew, was afraid of horses. He’d heard she was doing better, but he doubted she’d be willing to do the ups and downs of the Superstition Mountains. He emphasized Only Experienced, Confident Riders for tomorrow’s tour. He’d still get a few tenderfoots. Now Timmy’s dad, Jesse, was such a good rider that he could probably lead the tour. But Jesse wouldn’t know how to talk gold panning.

Eva came through the door, letting a slight breeze in with her. “Jesse says he’ll go along. He’ll stay once he delivers the horses.”

Cooper’s family owned five horses and two mules. After his dad died, he’d started boarding all but his quarter horse Percy Jackson at the Lost Dutchman. It was for the best. His mom hadn’t ridden in years and Cooper could never convince Garrett to go for a ride anymore. On the other hand, Cooper managed to get at least an hour a day—make that evening—in on PJ. Sometimes he thought the time spent on the back of his horse was all that kept him sane.

That and prayers.

“When are you going to try, Eva?” he queried. “Jesse says you go for a ride with him at least once a week.”

“At the rate I’m improving, I’ll be ready to ride the mountain when I turn eighty-six.”

He’d been about to mention that Elise had done the mountain when she was six. But then the bell rang as the front door opened and Elise stood there.

A small smile curved the lips he’d once called his own. Her hair was longer, caught in a braid. She’d always gone for vibrant colors, but today wore a royal blue two-piece suit and sensible shoes. He preferred her in button-down shirts that tucked into jeans hugging the legs that had chased him across the football field and tackled him.

It was her eyes that made him step back, bump into the shelf holding bucket survival kits. When they looked into his, they didn’t light up.

After all these years, why did he still expect it?

“Hey,” he said, keeping his tone even. Instinctively, he knew not to head toward her and try to give her the type of hug old friends exchange. It hadn’t been a good breakup.

“Hi, Cooper,” Elise said.

As if they were merely acquaintances meeting again after a long time.

“Don’t tell me,” Eva exclaimed, hurrying across the store and giving her a hug. “You took the job!”

“I...” Elise apparently didn’t have an answer. Funny, she’d always been as quick-tongued as she was sure-footed. Cooper watched as the two sisters squared off, suddenly certain that life was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

Eva stepped out of the hug, crossed her arms, and encouraged, “You know you’re perfect for it.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s perfect for me,” Elise finally managed.

Silence, reminding him much of the silence between him and his brother, reigned.

“Hi, Aunt Elise,” Timmy jumped in, rescuing them from an awkward moment. “It’s raining, so I’m signing up for tomorrow’s horseback ride. I’m going to find gold. You should come with us. Eva says you’re the best rider in the world.”

“The world’s a pretty big place.” Elise walked the rest of the way into the store and bent down so she was eye level with the boy. “I’m sure there are a few better riders. Cooper here is pretty good, or so I’m told.”

Eva laughed. “That’s putting it mildly. So, really how did the interview go?”

“I...”

There she went again with the “I...” instead of just spitting out whatever it was.

“What brings you to AJ’s Outfitters?” Cooper asked, as if she hadn’t been in the store a million times. “You need some mining gear? Must need something special to drive in all the way from Two Mules.”

“I’m here for a job interview. I was just at the high school,” Elise admitted. “They’re thinking about hiring a social worker, and—”

“—you took the job?” Eva was nothing if not persistent.

Elise shot Eva a dirty look. “No, I told them I’d think about it.” To Cooper, she said, “It’s just that Two Mules will be laying off one of us, and—”

“If you take the job—” Eva got excited all over again “—we’ll get to see you more than a few times a year?”

Elise had been in his store over two minutes and not once had acted like he was anything but a storekeeper.

“If you came home, you might have to get close to people again,” he commented, working hard to keep his tone casual.

“I’m close to people.” She didn’t exactly snap at him, but her words had bite. “I’m just committed elsewhere.”

Cooper didn’t bother to tell her what he thought about her using the word committed. At one time, she’d known the meaning of the word. If she’d stayed true to it, they’d have been married four or five years, maybe have a kid or two. Come to think of it. Committed had two meanings. Cooper needed to be committed for still harboring feelings for her.

“It would be awesome if you came back home,” Eva gushed. “The ranch could use the help. We’re busier than ever. And, if you worked at the high school just think of all the good you could do for those kids.”

Wisely, Cooper didn’t contribute to this train of thought. Maybe Eva was right. He sure knew those kids at the high school needed all the help they could get. But he really wished some other knight—knightess?—in shining armor was showing up. Elise had not been there when Cooper needed her most. He couldn’t trust her to be there for Garrett.

Maybe he should look into getting counseling for Garrett. Cooper couldn’t imagine going through the trials of being a high school student without his dad being there.

Mitch Smith had been his anchor after Elise left. He’d dogged Cooper, getting him to work more, attend church functions even without Elise on his arm, and finally talked Cooper into putting away the engagement ring and going to college on the rodeo scholarship, only as a solo instead of a pair.

“Best thing you can do,” Mitch had advised all those years ago, “is remain a ship in the ocean she’ll return to.”

His dad had sayings for every occasion.

Cooper’s ship had sunk, risen, been attacked a few times, and now sported a couple of holes. But he was still sailing. Unfortunately, he was now so used to being solo he wasn’t sure he wanted the condition to change.

One thing for sure, he couldn’t accept Elise as anything but a deserter.

“Hmph.” Clearly, Eva wasn’t impressed with her sister’s evasive responses. “We can talk more tonight.”

“I might head back to Two Mules tonight. I’ve got the dogs to think of, plus I really need—”

“Your next-door neighbors love your dogs. You know they’ll take care of them.”

Eva turned to Cooper. “If you’ll just let me sign Timmy and Jesse up for tomorrow’s ride, we’ll get going.” Turning to Elise, she said, “I’m thinking there’s a reason why you’re here to see Cooper.”

To Cooper’s surprise, Elise didn’t protest.

“We’re having fried chicken,” Timmy said. “You’ll like it, especially if you use ketchup.”

Cooper winked at Timmy and took care of their registration. A moment later, the pair left and he faced Elise alone. If anything, she’d improved with age, more beautiful now than she’d been at sixteen when he’d gotten the courage to ask her out for a real date. Then, he’d had to bolster up the courage to ask her father’s permission.

“What can I do for you?” His words broke the silence, and he sounded very much older, detached, businesslike. Good. That’s the way he needed to keep it. She clearly didn’t want to stay in Apache Creek, which meant she didn’t miss the town or him.

“I’m sorry about your dad.”

He blinked. Not what he was expecting. She’d come to the funeral, sat in the back, shook his hand and gave him a hug that cold February day. He’d been so numb that he’d let her pretend to be just a distant friend of the family paying tribute.

There was nothing “just” about Elise Hubrecht when it came to Cooper Smith’s feelings.

“Thank you, we miss him, but we’re doing fine.”

He’d always been able to read her—and right now, he could see her skepticism. She didn’t exactly raise an eyebrow, but he could tell she wanted to. He kept waiting for her to move. She kept those glittering black eyes that missed nothing fixed on him and asked, “Garrett doing fine?”

“He’s having a bit of a hard time,” Cooper admitted, “but he’s in high school. Not a good time to lose your dad.”

He expected her to say there’s never a good time. She’d lost her mother when she was in elementary school. Her father found himself raising three girls alone. Many a night Cooper had heard his parents talking about how hard it must be for a man who was used to roping horses to switch to corralling daughters.

Cooper hadn’t understood. Now he did, as he watched his brother Garrett turn from a mostly easy-going teen with a typical know-it-all attitude to a teen with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove.

Just what, Cooper hadn’t a clue.

“I don’t think my news is going to make you happy, but you need to see this, all the same.” She came to the counter and set her purse down before digging into its depths. Soon, an iPhone appeared in her hand. It took her only a second to find what she wanted, a video, and then she handed him her phone. He tapped the start arrow and watched as his truck came zooming down a fairly steep incline—where no road existed—and then sped crazily across terrain never meant for tires.

Cooper didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he watched the footage of his truck destroying a portion of Karl Wilcox’s cotton crop. Dimly, Cooper remembered Jacob on the phone saying, “It gets worse.” Karl was a legend in the area for not practicing the Love Thy Neighbor mantra. He didn’t forgive or forget, at least not during Cooper’s lifetime.

“I was on my way to the school for the interview when I came across your brother and his friends.”

“And you chased them down and filmed them?”

“I did, and I convinced them to go to school.”

“I’m surprised the vice-principal didn’t mention that Garrett engaged in a little destruction of property when he was supposed to be in school.”

“I didn’t share this with any of the school officials.” Elise fingered a club advertisement on the counter.

“Why not?”

“I recognized Garrett. I figured maybe you could talk to parents of the other teens in the truck and then visit Mr. Wilcox on your own. I didn’t know at the time that David Cagnalia had already been in trouble.”

Cooper very much wanted to ban his brother from the likes of David Cagnalia, but one thing held him back. He wasn’t sure who the bad influence was: David or Garrett? When David misbehaved, he always got caught. Garrett, however, knew how to be sly. At least with David, Garrett would always get busted.

“What would you recommend I do to Garrett, if, say, you were the school social worker?”

She hesitated. Her eyes sought out his, focusing in, and pulling him in the way she had all those years ago. He could still see the old Elise, buried under a sadness he didn’t know how to penetrate.

“First, he needs to work in Wilcox’s field, putting it back to rights along with the others. Then get him involved in group activities. What’s happening at the church?”

“No youth minister now. Parents are taking turns organizing events, but everyone’s busy. I don’t think we’ve done anything except a game night and that was on the fly. Garrett didn’t want to go. I made him.”

“School? Does he play football, ride, anything like that?”

“Coach Nelson retired two years ago and Garrett used that as an excuse to drop out of football. He went to one or two basketball practices but then stopped. We’ve not had a rodeo team since Emily graduated and your dad stepped down. I wish more than anything that Garrett had something like we had.”

She didn’t even blink.

Maybe she no longer remembered. Maybe she didn’t care. But Cooper did. He wished Garrett had a girlfriend who liked to chase him through the fields, only to crash down beside him on the soft grass. Someone to show him that love came in a compact package with long black hair, glittering eyes and a soft touch.

But then again, maybe that wasn’t what Garrett needed after all. His brother had already been in a world of hurt for the past year. If he found love, there was a chance it could turn sour on him. And the last thing Garrett needed on top of everything else was a broken heart like Cooper’s.


Chapter Three (#ulink_2ea239ee-1f2e-55f2-bb5a-c0414f12e844)

Breakfast at the Lost Dutchman was huge, designed for the many guests staying at the dude ranch, as was supper. Lunch, however, was on your own or a pre-packaged sandwich-chips-apple combination. It was well past lunchtime, but Fridays usually meant guests arriving after the noon hour, so Cook always had boxed lunches available for sale: her father’s idea.

He sat across from her, talking on his cell phone, not so much barking orders as giving advice. He was good at both. Elise listened as her dad advised someone who obviously knew little about ranching to not spend all their money on upgrades.

Her dad did have a certain “either do it yourself or pay it all off before the next venture” kind of attitude.

Her senior year, they’d planned out her college career. If she’d followed his advice, she’d be nearly debt-free by now. But that plan had gone out the window when she’d given up her rodeo scholarship and set out in a whole new direction with her life.

Finally, Dad ended the call and handed her the boxed lunch he’d brought in. “If you want something else, Cook will make it. He’s always had a soft spot for you.”

She’d already stopped in the kitchen and gotten her hug.

She pushed the box back toward him. “I’m not really hungry.”

As if to prove her wrong, Cook hurried from the kitchen. Slightly stooped, more than chubby, with dark tufts of hair on either side of his head and then a swatch of baldness across the top, he looked exactly the way she remembered him. Cook’s real name was David Cook. Thus, he liked being called Cook. He was a great buddy of her father’s and traveled the rodeo circuit with him. Back then his nickname had been Tumble.

“I remembered your favorite,” he bragged. He plopped the plate in front of her. Two peanut butter, honey and raisin sandwiches, no crust. A few chips spilled from the sides. The only thing missing from her childhood was—

“Would you like a glass of milk?”

“I’d like that very much, Cook.”

He nodded, and hurried off.

Her father cleared his throat. “We’re always glad when you stop by to visit.”

He was trying. She knew that. A man accustomed to being in charge, he hadn’t taken it well when she’d broken away from his plans for her. When she’d first moved away, he’d ordered her back. When that didn’t work, he’d threatened. And, when that didn’t work, he’d cajoled. By that time she was enrolled in school and doing well. He’d admitted defeat, but not gracefully.

“How did the job interview go today?” He leaned back, a toothpick in his mouth and an attitude of good-ole-boy that worked with everyone but her.

“It went well. If I want the job, it’s mine. They gave me a week to decide.”

“Any chance Two Mules won’t lay you off?”

“No, it’s a small office. I figure it’s a matter of days, minutes even.”

“Will it really be so bad, coming back here to work?”

She thought about it, swallowed and slowly shook her head. How many times had she told a client that the best way to battle the past was to face it? She’d always felt guilty that she was giving advice she didn’t follow.

“It’s just that I was finally getting more activities for the teenagers. I had the local library doing tutoring and study groups. And—” she looked up at her dad, smiling “—I had a rancher willing to help kids get ready for rodeo competitions.” Her dad already knew this. She’d called him a dozen times asking for advice. She continued, “I just know that if the teens had something productive and active to do with their time, they’d not get in so much trouble.”

Her dad nodded. “No reason you can’t do the same here.” Elise didn’t answer. Instead, she took a big bite of her sandwich and tried to tame the turmoil in her heart.

“What if I get it started and before fruition, I’m let go? Apache Creek isn’t that big. Budget cuts could happen here, too.”

“That’s not what’s keeping you from taking the job.” Her father knew her too well. Sitting across from him now, she thought about the years he’d guided her, always giving her a safe place to land. Too many of her kids, her clients, didn’t have such a place, let alone a father.

Jacob Hubrecht still had a full head of hair, light brown and brushed to the side. His eyebrows were bushy, his mouth wide. Age had given him wrinkles, very defined. Age had also, finally, given him patience. He’d always been the bomb going off in a room, setting people scrambling to please him. Now he knew to hold the match, hold off on lighting the fuse, see what might happen.

Elise finished one sandwich and moved on to the next. Across from her, her father was already finished. Some days, he’d finish a box lunch and ask for a second or third. Other times, he grazed all day. She was the same way. It drove Eva nuts. Her big sister, the one who managed the guest services at the Lost Dutchman, was all about rules and schedules: breakfast at eight, lunch available eleven to one, dinner at six. Snacks could be bananas or crackers or something.

“It’s part of it,” Elise said. “Did you know so many kids are getting in trouble here in Apache Creek? Did you tell them to call me?”

She should have suspected his part before now. He and Mike Hamm were tight.

Dad, however, shook his head. “They called me to see if I thought you’d be willing to move back. I said they should talk to you. Even if you weren’t interested in the job, I said they should see exactly what you’re doing to find out if we could try it here. I know they’ve tossed around ideas, everything from hiring a security guard to walk the halls all the way up to instigating some sort of Scared Straight program. Every idea gets shot down.”

“Why?”

“At first, it was a money issue. Now, though, I think everyone’s willing to find money in the budget. But what’s the solution? No one’s sure. I don’t remember it being this bad when you kids were in school.”

“How bad is it?

“Jasmine Taylor ran away. She’s only seventeen. Her parents are worried sick, and no one seems to know where she is or why she ran.”

Elise said the first thing that came to mind. “Maybe she got pregnant and is afraid to tell her parents.”

“She didn’t have a boyfriend that they can figure out. She’s as shy as a mouse. Her parents say she spent more time on her horse than she did with friends. The police took the family computer and figured out that she did an internet search on running away. Her parents think she both saved and stole about three hundred dollars. She wrote them a note.”

“So they wouldn’t think she was kidnapped or murdered,” Elise murmured as she cleaned the last of the chips from her plate. Jasmine appeared to come from a nice home, plenty of food and money. But appearances could be deceiving. A nice home, plenty of food, and money were tangible entities. Emotional abuse knew how to hide in such an environment.

“And then there’s David Cagnalia,” her father continued. “His mother called me last week. She wants me to let him work here, free, so he’d get some guidance.”

“Did you agree?”

“I did. I’ve always had a soft spot for him and his little brothers. Last year, Jesse gave the younger ones riding lessons. Guess I’d better get them back here, too. It’s hard on Margaret Cagnalia, being a single mother of three boys.”

“You were a single father of three girls,” Elise pointed out.

“Don’t be getting all Brady Bunch on me.” Her dad shook his toothpick at her.

“And don’t call me Alice!” Cook shouted from the kitchen.

“We weren’t hurting financially when your mother passed on,” her father said. “I was able to hire help when I needed it. Plus, I worked where we lived. I was always available to you girls. If not me, then Cook or Harold,” he pointed out, referring to the ranch’s longtime foreman.

It was the opening Elise needed to change the subject. “I think I’ll head down to the stables. I’d like to see how Pistol’s doing, maybe visit a minute or two with Harold.” Back when she was in high school, she’d ridden Pistol every day, training for the rodeo. It was strange to think how long she’d been out of the saddle now.

“Harold would love to see you. He’s got some ideas about Pistol. You might be interested.”

“He’s not thinking about retiring and taking Pistol with him, is he?” Elise joked. There were days she’d thought about renting a stall, bringing Pistol to Two Mules. In reality, though, she usually left her trailer at six in the morning and returned at eight at night. She’d be lucky to get one ride in a week. And Pistol, a brown bay with black mane, was lively. High impulsion, her father always said. If Pistol wasn’t exercised regularly, he developed an attitude.

“That man will retire after I do,” her father said.

A few minutes later, walking down to the stables in a light rain, Elise thought about her father’s words. Jacob Hubrecht never spoke about retiring, ever. Now that Jesse, Eva’s husband, was helping more, maybe retirement was a possibility. But Jesse Campbell could never love the Lost Dutchman the way Jacob did.

The way Elise did.

She turned around, facing the main house and stared at it, soaking it in, fusing it to her memory.

It was a brown/yellow/orange mixture of color that matched the desert surrounding it and boasted a combination of Santa Fe style and Old West relic. The front porch jutted out and had what looked like tree trunks holding it up. A replica of a Conestoga wagon was to the left of the porch; a modern playground was to the right, complete with a bright blue jungle gym. The rocking chairs on the porch were new. Only the cacti looked exactly the same as they had during her childhood: hot and dry.

Her father had built most of it.

More than once, she’d heard the spiel he gave guests. “She started life as a one-room cabin. Man I bought her from had added two rooms, but neither was up to code. I added electricity, running water and furniture. A few years later, when my wife got pregnant with Eva, she insisted on a bigger house. I completed this beauty when she had my third daughter, Emily.”

Elise closed her eyes. She could remember her mother. Naomi Hubrecht had been a slender woman, brown-skinned and strong. Just like Elise. Naomi had ridden many a trail with her husband, and Jacob liked to say she was the only woman who could keep up with him.

“Until you,” he’d add, meaning Elise. On that note, Elise turned and continued down the path to the stable. With every step, she saw her past. She’d played amidst the green plants and cacti that flanked the road. Every few yards there was a swing with a canopy. She and Cooper had spent many a night looking at the stars and planning their future. The last thing she passed was a one-room schoolhouse. Judging by the laughter echoing through its walls and to her ears, Patti de la Rosa—the ranch’s secretary—was inside, doing crafts with some of the guests’ children.

A snort, the horse kind and not the human kind, welcomed her to the stable. Hay crackled a bit under her shoes. Molasses, manure and leather combined together. The sweet smell of home.

Harry Potter, one of the trail horses, was in a stall with a white bandage around his back left ankle. To this day, Elise was amazed that her father let Emily the bookworm name so many of the horses. There had been a moment when Pistol was in danger of being called Wimpy Kid.

Elise smiled. It felt good. As did the entrance to the stable that had at one time been her favorite spot.

Harold Mull looked at her when she entered, half smiled and went back to talking to Harry Potter. “Now, boy, easy does it. You’re always getting hurt. Why’d you step into the fence? And, once you stepped in, why did you keep moving until you were hurt? You could have snapped a bone.”

“He going to be all right?”

“Harry Potter,” Harold predicted, “will be fine.” Once Harold finally seemed satisfied with the horse’s bandage, he came around the front and exited the stall. Soon, Elise was in a hug that reminded her of the stable: warm, filled with the scent of molasses and leather. Harold’s hair was silver, thick, and fit his head like an upside-down bowl. His face was permanently tanned, lined and partly obscured by a full mustache. He looked intimidating and had a gruff attitude to match. In all her days, she’d never seen him hug anyone else. Just her.

The first time it had happened, she’d been eight and in Cinderella’s stall crying. She didn’t want to be in the main house. Mama wasn’t coming home, or so everyone said. The stable was much safer. Nothing had changed down here.

Harold had settled right down beside her and just sat for a while. Then he’d tried singing. There was a reason he was a wrangler and not a country music star. Finally, he’d pulled her in his lap, wrapped his arms around her and rocked. She’d fallen asleep, and he’d carried her home.

They’d been close ever since.

“Pistol needs his exercise,” Harold mentioned. “Harry Potter’s kept me busy all morning.”

Elise looked out the stable door and to her truck. Then she looked out the back of the stable, to the arena, and saw Pistol tied to the fence, waiting his turn. If she went for a ride, she’d wind up staying the night. She’d stayed the night for Eva’s wedding. That would be two nights this year. Zero nights for the previous nine.

You’re needed in Apache Creek.

“I’ll do it. Let me go change clothes and tell Dad I’m staying.”

“Good girl,” Harold said, in exactly the same tone that he used for the horses.

Twenty minutes later, Elise had on her rain gear and opened the gate to the arena. Pistol stood still for a few moments. Then he started pounding the ground with his left front hoof. His body pressed into the fence as he tried to turn.

“You never forget me. Do you, boy?”

The quick ride turned into three hours. Something about the rainbow, about the small streams forming in the ground, and the way the air smelled, kept her going. When Elise returned to the stable, she removed his tack, groomed him and put him in his stall before heading to the main house just in time for supper.

Eva would be pleased.

Elise, the tension gone from her shoulders, and feeling a good sort of tired, was pleased, too. The warm feeling carried her through supper and through an hour of family time in the Arizona room—where everyone was careful not to make too much of Elise’s staying the night.

“Where’s Jesse?” Elise asked after Dad finished sharing Emily’s latest endeavor. As part of an honor’s project, she was working for the Grand Canyon Trust to build homes for Native Americans. She lived farther away from the Lost Dutchman than Elise, but she made it home every few months and every school vacation.

“He’s looking into buying a horse from Sunshine Stables over in Queen Creek. The truck broke down near a couple of hours ago. He’s getting it fixed. Guess it’s pouring there.” Dad checked his watch.

From her spot kneeling in front of the loom, Eva said, “I thought he’d be back by now. I’ve called twice and texted once.”

“He’s probably by a mountain,” Timmy said, sounding just like Jacob, and at six already a well-informed cell phone user. When Elise went to bed just after ten, Jesse still wasn’t home. This visit, since the Lost Dutchman was sold out, she was sleeping in Eva’s old room. Eva and Jesse were building a home on the west side of the property. Dad had given them the master bedroom until it was finished. He was using the apartment over the stable that had been Jesse and Timmy’s when they first moved to the ranch because Eva’s bedroom was “too plumb small!” Even smaller was Emily’s old bedroom—now converted into a bedroom for Timmy, just as Elise’s old room had been turned into an office.

After what felt like just a few hours of sleep, someone rapped on the door. The sound was soft, polite, at first. Then it got louder, a heavy knocking on the door until she muttered, “Come in.”

Timmy opened the door, stuck his head in and then tiptoed over. “It’s five in the morning. You’re going to miss breakfast.”

Elise doubted that’s what had him here, waking her up, sounding so much like her dad.

“Thanks.” She closed her eyes and turned over.

Timmy didn’t leave. Neither did his puppy, Goober, who jumped on the bed and landed next to Elise, his head on the pillow next to hers. Timmy cleared his throat. “Daddy got home an hour ago. He’s sleeping. Grandpa says we’re full up, and he can’t get away. Eva said to ask you.”

“Ask me what?” Elise mumbled into her pillow, figuring her one attempt at sleeping late had just ended.

“If you’ll take me on the gold-panning ride this morning.” Then his words came tumbling out. “If you do, I’ll never ask you for anything again, and I’ll forgive you for not getting me a present last Christmas.”

“I got you a present,” she protested, still talking to her pillow.

“A whole week after Christmas!”

“I’m going back to Two Mules today, honey. I can’t.”

In the hallway came Eva’s voice, soft but firm. “Can’t or won’t?”

“I’ve got things to do.” Elise rolled over and stared at the ceiling, wide awake now and trying to think fast.

“More important than your nephew?”

“You know that’s not the case.”

“You’re right.” Eva stepped to the door. “What has you the most scared is going on a ride with Cooper. Stepping into your old life. Helping out the family. We’ve got three horses in a trailer needing to be delivered to him. Guess the ride’s full. Say the word and we’ll load Pistol as well as Timmy’s horse.”

“I’m riding Harry Potter. He can really fly,” Timmy bragged.

This is why I don’t come home.

“I’m not scared of anything.” Now, Elise realized, she sounded very much like a middle child who always rose to the occasion when Eva baited her. Timmy’s head ping-ponged as he watched the sisters. Goober ignored them all and jumped on Elise’s stomach as if saying “You might as well get up.” Elise’s dogs often did the same thing.

“Prove it,” Eva said.

“I don’t have to prove anything.”

“Tell me, then, one thing you have on your appointment calendar that absolutely has to get done today or the world will end. I’ll add you to the church prayer list. You’ll receive a hundred cards. Then you’ll get phone calls.”

Elise threw off the blanket.

“Please, Aunt Elise, I need you to say yes. I want to go.”

Apache Creek needs you.

Looked as if she’d be going on a ride.

As the early morning fuzz cleared from her head and she looked out the window at the Arizona sunshine, she could only wonder about the power of prayer.

She knew for a fact that her father had prayed she’d stay the whole weekend.

Funny how this was working out.


Chapter Four (#ulink_a61fa2f0-c78f-5755-86bb-2c384d1c2281)

The Last Water parking area already boasted a dozen vehicles. Some with horse trailers, some not. Cooper parked his horse trailer near a corner slot and went around to let PJ out.

The AJ’s Outfitters horses and pack mules would be meeting them via Jesse Campbell and the Lost Dutchman Ranch horse trailer, in a few minutes. Jesse would unload the horses while their clients admired the majestic view in front of them and Cooper assigned mounts.

Before Cooper had time to check his watch—something he did more and more now that he was in charge—the horse trailer from the Lost Dutchman Ranch turned onto the dirt road. Cooper watched as it entered the parking area, edged toward the side and then backed into an open area for unloading.

Behind it came Garrett in his old truck with a small horse trailer attached. He’d picked up John Stanford, a teen involved in the Apache Creek Church’s youth group who Cooper wished was still Garrett’s best friend. John and four of his friends were panning enthusiasts. John had called this morning bemoaning his dad needing the family truck. Cooper had volunteered Garrett to give him a lift.

Garrett parked, stepped out of his truck, and made a face at the Lost Dutchman trailer before coming over to stand next to Cooper and noting, “That’s their old one.”

They were the first civil words Cooper had gotten from his brother this morning. Eighteen-year-olds didn’t take well to being grounded for skipping school.

Cooper frowned. It had only taken the Lost Dutchman truck and trailer but a minute to maneuver into the spot. Usually Jesse was a “slow turn, careful back-up and three attempts to get it perfect” kind of guy. Cooper figured it took more than the year Jesse had been working for the Lost Dutchman to get used to hauling several horses in a gooseneck trailer that made it feel as if you were in charge of a semi.

Elise stepped down from the driver’s side. She wore an emerald green button-down shirt that he was certain was Eva’s and form-fitting jeans. The boots were hers, well-worn. She gave him a slow wave, said something to the passenger in the truck, and then started to unload the Lost Dutchman’s horses as if she’d never been gone.

Garrett muttered something about “needing to get back to the store.”

Cooper wondered what was wrong this time. Yesterday, she’d been there to let him know his brother was again causing trouble. Today couldn’t possibly be something she wanted to do: not in Apache Creek and certainly not with him.

Elise worked slowly, walking into the trailer, standing at the first horse’s shoulder, cueing him to move backward. Giving that horse a gentle pat and a good word once he was out, she moved on to the next. He’d ordered three, knowing he’d get five because Timmy and Jesse would bring their own.

“Where’s Jesse?” He kept his voice even. No matter what, she was a potential customer.

“Tire blew out last night and now we’ve a trailer with a bent axle.”

“Everyone all right?”

“Yes, it just meant that he got in very late.” Her face was a little pale and her lips were together in a thin line that he recognized as consternation. Nope, she didn’t want to be here.

“Somehow,” she said, “I became the go-to person to bring Timmy for his ride.”

“Aunt Elise is nice.” Timmy came around the trailer and hugged her legs even while she tried to lead horses over to the fence and loop their ropes over the top rung. After a moment, she gave up, lifted Timmy into the air, and swung him in a circle. The smile was real. Too bad it didn’t go all the way to her eyes.

Usually, Cooper would have motioned Garrett over to help, but Garrett was just as angry with Elise as he was with Cooper. She’d busted him and tattled. That made her public enemy number one.

Elise finally let go of Timmy. The boy pretended to be dizzy and fell to the ground.

“It’ll be fine. I still ride on occasion. Your brother coming?” She looked over at Garret.

“No, Garrett’s in charge of the store. Come Monday, per your suggestion, he’ll be going over to Karl Wilcox’s place and repairing the damage done by the truck.”

“The other kids, too?”

“Not the girls. They’ve convinced their parents that they thought they were only going for a quick ride before school and were terrified when it turned into off-road and extreme trucking.”

“And David?”

“I’m not sure. His mom hasn’t returned my call.”

Honestly, Cooper hoped not. Right now Garrett wasn’t strong enough to be a good influence on David. The two just seemed to lead each other into more trouble.

“My dad’s been talking to his mother. Looks like he’ll be volunteering at our place.” She started to walk away, then stilled. Turning around, she looked at Cooper’s horse. “You’re riding Percy Jackson?”

He’d allowed her little sister to name his horse, all to impress Elise.

“I trained him all through the summer before college. By the time I hit junior year, he turned into the best roping horse I’ve ever had.”

She looked as if she wanted to say something. Instead, she turned to her trailer and started unlatching the doors. Pistol was the last horse Elise led out and clearly unhappy with his position. He bumped into Cooper, a little like Garrett, personally making body contact in a you’re-not-my-boss kind of attitude.

“Whoa, boy,” Cooper said.

His mother drove up then in their open-air mini-bus with “AJ’s Trolley” painted on the side. He’d gotten the logo idea from the Lost Dutchman work trucks. Any advertisement was good advertisement.

Other than his mother, the only female on board was a curly-haired redhead, who smacked gum and had a forty-five-year-old body wedged into a twenty-five-year-old’s outfit.

The hair wasn’t real, either.

When Cooper had signed her up over the phone, she claimed she could ride. Soon they’d find out if she was telling the truth.

The teens were off the bus in a shot. Others moved more slowly, sipping the last of their coffee; some were taking pictures and talking excitedly. Taking a breath, Cooper said, “Now that the horses are ready, I’ll match you to a mount and we’ll get going.”

“I wouldn’t mind that one,” the redhead said, looking at Pistol.

“He belongs to the wrangler from the Lost Dutchman,” Cooper said without hesitating. Elise neither smiled nor frowned at her description; she just kept working.

He put the redhead on a speckled gray mare.

“Flea-bitten,” the redhead complained. Meaning, either the woman was knowledgable about horses or she didn’t mind being derogatory without knowing what she was talking about.

Elise spoke up. “He’s part Arabian and offers a good seat.”

The woman nudged the horse into a slow walk, then into a trot, making it look easy.

“You’ve got a lot of teenagers,” Elise said in a low voice to Cooper. “Is that typical?”

“They go to my church. We’ve formed a sort of gold-panning club.”

“Garrett a member?”

Cooper checked to see what his brother was doing. Garrett, however, was nowhere about. “No, I wish he were.” Almost for emphasis, Cooper looked at his watch. “It’s time to go.”

The driver’s door to the AJ’s Outfitters bus slowly opened and Karen Smith gingerly stepped out. Another not-so-good day. He kept thinking his mom would rebound, soon, but Dad’s death had changed her. “Elise Hubrecht! Is that you?”

She left the door open. She usually hurried back to the store, especially if Garrett was in charge. Instead, now she somewhat limped across the lot and took Elise into her arms. “We have missed you. If I’d known you were along for the ride, I’d have saddled up to come, too.”

Leaving Garrett alone to manage the store. Cooper didn’t think so. “Mom, Elise is in town for the weekend.”

“I heard you might be taking a job at the high school,” Karen said.

“Slim possibility.”

Cooper raised an eyebrow. He’d heard she’d be out of work in a week and had plenty of bills to cover.

“I need some help here,” someone called. At first Cooper attributed the high-pitched voice to the redhead, but instead it was a middle-aged man who was tagging along with a younger man. Both looked to be businessmen. They were probably on a quest to escape their overburdened desks.

Cooper had to hurry because Timmy was heading their way, and in Cooper’s experience, businessmen usually didn’t take kindly to six-year-olds telling them what to do, especially if the six-year-old was better at it than they were.

“So, how’d you wind up going on this ride?” he heard his mother ask from behind him.

Cooper helped the businessman while Elise explained about her brother-in-law’s misadventures. “He’s still asleep. Not to mention, he managed to cut up his hand trying to get the spare on.”

“We think the world of Jesse. He’s been talking to our youth about his experience going to prison—how he found faith while he was inside and turned his life around, taking the job at Lost Dutchman when he got out and committing to his fresh start. I think the single girls still get a kick out of him. They, whether teen or not, show up every time to hear his message about avoiding trouble, rising above your raising, and forgiving self. I just wish more listened.”

“Jesse’s spoken at the high school in Two Mules, too.”

Cooper wasn’t surprised.

“He’s a blessing,” Karen said. “The kids admire him, but Garrett’s not quite getting the message. He summed it up one night with an ‘I don’t like when people tell me not to do what they did. Obviously, to them, at one time, it looked like a whole lotta fun. I want to make my own mistakes.’”

“Did you point out that Jesse had to spend five years in prison paying for his mistakes?”

“Yes, but it didn’t seem to impress Garrett. His ‘not gonna happen to me’ stance remained firm.” Karen looked over at the dust blowing up from the road as Garrett drove away. “Thank you for corralling him yesterday morning. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. We all miss his dad, but this behavior...”

Looking over at Elise as she leaned in to hear his mother’s words, Cooper wondered if she could help. If she was willing to stay. Problem was, she ran when the going got tough. Always had. At first, it had been on Pistol’s back and through Lost Dutchman property, never far. Then, when everyone needed her, when he needed her, she’d run away to the big city, never planning to return.

Cooper didn’t dare trust Garrett to a woman who couldn’t stay. Not so close to their father’s departure.

With that thought, he stepped away from the young businessman he’d just shown how to mount. Looked as if the redhead wasn’t the one he needed to worry about, so he decided to treat her just like everyone else; except, he didn’t need to spend three minutes telling her what kind of horse she was on.

He waved goodbye to his mother and then swung onto the back of Percy Jackson and led the pack. The redhead, whose name turned out to be Jilly Greenhouse, fell in love with the speckled gray ten minutes out.

“This is great.”

Cooper soon realized that if Jilly just knew when to stop talking, she’d be perfect on the trail. She took Timmy under her wing. He was the only other person chewing gum. Strange thing to bond over, but friendships had been formed by less.

The horses knew their way, so Cooper dropped back, checking on his charges. The two businessmen were from New York. It turned out they were father and son. The father grew up riding and now regretted not giving his son the same upbringing. The son looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. Jilly scooted her horse over to the young businessman and soon her chattering distracted him.

As if knowing her job, Elise took the end. Only the pack mules were behind her, the panning equipment they carried making its presence known with every step. The five teenagers were in front of her. Judging by their backward glances, they wished she were in front of them.

They were the same age, Cooper and Elise, both of them twenty-eight. She didn’t look it. She still looked the same as she did the last time he kissed her.

When everyone seemed comfortable, Cooper launched into his desert drawl. “We’re heading up a trail on the Superstition Mountains. You can also consider this the Tonto National Forest. No matter, this is wilderness. Today is approximately sixty-eight degrees. We sun-dwellers call this winter.”

The businessmen chuckled appreciatively. One of the teenagers offered Elise his jacket and told her she rode a horse well. Cooper realized that when he’d been doing introductions, she’d been off doing something to one of the horses. The kid would be all kinds of embarrassed when he found out that Elise was Jacob Hubrecht’s middle daughter, the one with all the rodeo trophies.

Hiding a smile, Cooper continued his monologue. “We’ll be heading to an area known for after-rain puddles and streams. Hopefully, the rain has moved some gold out of caves and down the side. On a good day, you can make up to fifty dollars.”

“And on a bad day?” Jilly asked.

“You’ll have fifty insect bites.”

He earned a few chuckles before he continued, “We’ll be riding amidst boulders and both saguaro and barrel cactus.”

Two riders coming down the trail stopped and cautioned Cooper about a bobcat they’d seen a short way up.

About the time Cooper was going to mention the jumping-cholla cacti, Timmy squealed, like only a six-year-old could do. “Aunt Elise, there’s something sticking me, by my ankle.”

“The dreaded teddy bear cholla.” Elise easily slid from Pistol and went to the boy, adding, “Nothing cuddly about it.” In a few moments, she’d taken her pocket knife, removed the culprit before its hollow stems could do much damage, and had Timmy calm and ready to move forward, although now on the lookout for pods that would aim their painful oval balls of needles at him.




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