The Second Chance Rancher

by Kate Pearce

  Maybe it was time for him to grow up and not be the impulsive bigmouthed fool Daisy had come to know and love. He corrected himself. Not love, tolerate. The only fool babbling about love was him, and even he didn’t have the nerve to serve that up to her right now.

  “So how’s it going with the start-up?” Jackson wiped his mouth with his napkin and sat back.

  “Good, I think.”

  “You don’t sound very sure.”

  She leaned back against the couch. They’d ended up sitting on the floor with their pizza, which suited him just fine, seeing as he didn’t want to look out the window.

  “Well, you know how I told you that I wanted out?”

  “Out of me, or out of Silicon Valley?” Jackson asked.

  She gave him a patient look. “How about we focus on the Silicon Valley end of things right now?”

  “Sure, go ahead.” He gestured with his empty bottle before tossing it toward the trash. It bounced off the side and he winced as it hit the carpet. “Sorry about that.” He retrieved the bottle and put it in the recycling bin.

  “Someone made me an offer to buy the business today.”

  “The whole thing?”

  “Yes.” She nodded, her hair falling over her face. “A good offer.”

  “And?”

  “Do you remember me telling you about that Clive guy?”

  “The dickhead?” Jackson got up to get them both another beer. “He wants to buy the company?” He turned back to her, the frosted bottles in his hand. “I hope you told him what to do with his offer.”

  Her silence as he resumed his position opposite her went on way too long.

  “You didn’t say yes, did you?”

  “Of course not, but . . .” Her voice trailed off. “It would mean I’d be free and clear in a maximum of two years, with loads of money in the bank.”

  “Two years working for the dickhead?” Jackson asked incredulously.

  “That’s the part that’s sticking in my craw,” Daisy said. “I really don’t—”

  “Then don’t,” Jackson spoke over her. “If you let him win again, he’ll make your life miserable.”

  “I know.” She tried to smile. “The thing is—we all agreed to talk over every offer, and I can’t guarantee that the others won’t leap at the chance to get out of debt. Ian has a huge mortgage, Casey has a sick kid who has long-term medical needs, and I wouldn’t say no to a chunk of money myself right now.”

  “For what?” Jackson asked.

  She blinked at his directness. “Family stuff.”

  “You want to buy the Cortez Ranch, don’t you?”

  “I want to buy it for Adam’s sake, and for our whole community. I want to help my dad, who’s perpetually short of money and shouldn’t have to be.” She leaned forward, her hands clasped together between her knees. “Don’t you think it would be a great thing to do?”

  “Not if it meant I had to put up with being humiliated by an asshole for two years.” He folded his arms over his chest. “What happened to you last time you stayed too long in Silicon Valley?”

  “I got burned out.” She met his gaze. “But I was much younger then. I’d deal with it better now.”

  “Didn’t you tell me all five of you have to agree to any proposal regarding the business?” Jackson asked.

  “That’s right, but if the other four all wanted to go ahead, I’d feel awful being the only holdout, especially when it was my pet project to begin with. I dragged them all into it and then walked away for almost three years. I owe them.”

  Jackson tried to consider her argument, which was hard when he didn’t give a rat’s ass for the other four dudes in the company. But he didn’t have the right to argue her case now, did he?

  “Okay, so are you going to talk it through with the others?”

  “Yes. I’m seeing them all for breakfast tomorrow.”

  “Then, great.” He nodded. “Do that.” If she could make an effort to be pleasant, he damn well could as well. “I hope it all works out for you.”

  “Thank you.” She was eyeing him like he was a stranger. “I’m fairly certain they won’t want to go ahead, but it’s always best to be prepared for the worst to happen, isn’t it?”

  “Sure.” Jackson agreed and finished his second beer way too fast. “Let me know how it goes, okay?” He rushed to clarify as he got to his feet, the pizza box in his hand. This being-friends stuff was hard work. “If you want to, that is.”

  “I will.” She stayed on the carpet, her gaze drifting out over the fantastic view of the city lights. “Thanks for listening.”

  He fussed around in the kitchen, cleaning the counters, loading the dishwasher, and stashed the remains of the pizza in the refrigerator. He should go to bed. He was exhausted, but he didn’t want to walk away from her.

  “Would you think badly of me if I caved and went along with what everyone else wanted?” Daisy asked.

  Jackson went still. “It’s not my place to tell you what to do, Daisy.”

  “I know, but would you think I was betraying Brody if I didn’t stick with what I’d promised myself I’d do? How would I feel if I handed the company over to someone, and they didn’t complete the project or misused the technology, and people like Brody didn’t get help?”

  Jackson abandoned his cleaning and came around to sit on the chair opposite her.

  “That’s between you and your conscience.”

  She sighed and pushed her hair behind her ear. “I know you’re trying to be all neutral, but for once, I’d really appreciate knowing what you think.”

  “I think Brody would be very proud of the woman you’ve become,” Jackson said gently.

  “That’s not an answer.”

  He smiled at her. “It’s the only one I’ve got for you right now, sweetheart.” He rose to his feet and headed for the bathroom. “I’m going to bed. Will I see you in the morning? Chase is going to drive me to the car rental place.”

  “Jackson . . .”

  He paused at the door, stupid hope rising in his chest. “Yeah?”

  “I really am a coward, aren’t I?”

  He looked back over his shoulder. “I’m hardly the best person to ask about that, am I?”

  Tears glinted in her eyes, and he kept on talking. “You’re a good person, Daisy, trying to do good things for the people you love. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “But I can’t make everyone happy, can I?”

  “No, you can’t.” He held her gaze. “So maybe this time, Daisy, you should think about yourself for a change. What do you want?”

  “I wish I knew.” Her laugh was a little wobbly and made his heart clench. “Thanks for everything, Jackson.”

  “It’s all good. Night, Daisy.”

  He didn’t dare kiss her good night because he’d be kneeling at her feet begging her to take him back, and she didn’t need that right now. She had enough shit to deal with. For the first time in his life, he was holding back and being an adult. He hurt, everything hurt, and he hated every second of it, but this time he needed to give Daisy the space to make her own decisions.

  * * *

  “You okay?” Chase glanced over at Jackson as they sat in traffic on the freeway. Jackson hadn’t slept well, knowing Daisy was five feet away from him and probably snoring away, oblivious to the world and his pathetic yearnings.

  “Yeah, I’m good.” Jackson drummed his fingers on the window. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, what’s up?”

  “You know what Daisy’s company is developing, right?”

  “Yeah. It’s an amazing concept, and what’s more important, they have the technical ability to execute their vision and make the product a huge success.”

  “So if you were Daisy, you wouldn’t sell out now?”

  “Hell no.” Chase squeezed into a gap in the next lane and then braked again. “I’d hang in there until the bitter end.”

  “Will you tell her that if she asks you for advi
ce?”

  Chase smiled. “She’s looking for funding. She’s probably not going to be asking for advice from me. Her current job is to sell me on the huge potential of the company so I’ll invest in it.”

  “Okay, but if she asks . . .”

  “I promise I’ll tell her.” Chase gave him a half glance. “What brought this on?”

  “Just something we were talking about last night,” Jackson said. “But don’t tell her I said anything.”

  “I’ll do my best. We’re meeting at the office today to decide on our future investments, so I might have news for her soon.”

  “Awesome,” Jackson said. “And I won’t tell her you told me that.”

  Chase chuckled. “If you can’t get the truck issue sorted out and you need a ride home, call me, and you can come on my company jet.”

  “You have a jet?” Jackson sat up straight. “How did I not know that?”

  Chase shrugged. “It makes life easier.”

  “Can I fly it sometime?”

  Chase turned to look at him. “I don’t know. Can you?”

  “Probably.” Jackson shrugged.

  “Good to know if I ever have pilot problems in Morgan Valley.” Chase was finally able to get up some speed, only to start indicating he was coming off the freeway again. “I mean that. Sometimes when the weather gets bad, no one can get out to me at the ranch.”

  “Consider me your backup plan,” Jackson said. “And if I need a ride tonight, I’ll text you. What time are you planning on leaving?”

  “Around nine.” Chase stopped at the lights at the bottom of the spiral ramp. “The car place is just over here. Call me if you need anything.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Jackson had only just finished up at the rental place when his phone rang. He checked the number and accepted the call.

  “Hey, Mr. Perkins. What’s up?”

  “What’s up? What on earth is a person supposed to say in reply to that, young man?” Mr. Perkins squawked.

  Jackson winced. “Sorry, I meant how are you?”

  “I’m in excellent health, thank you. I’ve finished my summary of the coins, and you may come to see me at noon to discuss their value and their future.”

  “That’s great.” Jackson checked the time. “I’ll be there at twelve.”

  “You’d better be, because I have a ballroom dancing class at two, and I can’t miss that.”

  “Of course you can’t. I’ll see you at noon, sir.” Jackson ended the call with a grin on his face and considered his options. He could go over to the East Bay, check up on his truck, and arrive at Mr. Perkins’s house in good time.

  He tapped the name of the place his truck had been towed to into his phone and got into his new vehicle, which was way fancier than his old one. It was a beautiful clear day in northern California, and he was going to do his best to put his misery over Daisy to one side and focus on the positive. He’d spoken to Cauy the night before to tell him about the truck, and had promised to let him know the final verdict on the coins.

  Mr. Perkins hadn’t sounded terribly excited, so it was possible all the other coins their father had collected were duds. Still, seventy-five thousand dollars wasn’t to be sniffed at.

  Jackson turned on the radio and hummed along as he headed for the Dumbarton Bridge, which would take him over the bay to the other less-well-known side, where the port of Oakland dominated the skyline, along with the ominous-looking Mount Diablo.

  At least he now knew there was room for both him and Daisy in Morgan Valley. They’d been polite to each other and caring, and he’d respected her boundaries even if it had killed him. But he still couldn’t let go of hope, and the quiet certainty she was the right woman for him—the only woman for him.

  Maybe in ten years, or when she returned from her years of servitude to that asshole Clive, she’d be glad to see him again, and let him woo her properly. But even if she didn’t, he’d made a friend who would stand by him, and vice versa.

  Eventually, he reached Mr. Perkins’s house after discovering his truck was indeed a write-off and not only would his insurance cover it, he stood to get a nice sum of money from the supermarket, the haulage company, and the mall for the distress caused him.

  “Come in, young man.” Mr. Perkins met him at the door. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please.” Jackson eased his way through the towering stacks of books into the kitchen and took his previous seat at the table. The coins were neatly laid out in plastic baggies with writing on them, the empty box by the side.

  “I did find one interesting coin among the rest of the collection.” Mr. Perkins sat opposite him and passed over a small plastic packet. “This is a 1927 D St. Gaudens double eagle.”

  Jackson peered at the golden coin. “That’s not very old.”

  “It’s not the age that counts, it’s the rarity, and this one, which has a face value of twenty dollars, doesn’t turn up very often.” Mr. Perkins took it out of the packet. “I’m fairly certain its genuine, but it’s not in good condition, which means the value comes down a bit.”

  “To what?” Jackson asked.

  “About twenty thousand dollars.”

  Jackson whistled. “That’s crazy!”

  “If it was in mint condition, it could fetch upward of two hundred and seventy thousand dollars.”

  Jackson just gawped at him. “So how much are we talking about now for the whole of Dad’s collection?”

  “Around a hundred thousand dollars.” Mr. Perkins allowed himself a small congratulatory smile. “Less my commission, obviously, and the vagaries of auctions.”

  “That’s . . . great.” Jackson picked up the metal box, which clanged. He opened it up and stared inside. “Did you hear that?”

  “It was probably just the clasp.” Mr. Perkins put on his glasses, found his folder, and opened it. “Are you happy for me to represent you in this matter?”

  “Sure, but it will be for me and my brother. We’re co-owners of the coins.” Jackson shook the box again, close to his ear. “There’s definitely something still in here.”

  He took the box over to the window to get more light, and searched around the seams. “There’s a fingernail opening here.” He tried to get in without success. “Do you have a screwdriver or something?”

  Mr. Perkins sighed, went into the kitchen, and returned with a small tool. “Try this.”

  Jackson carefully levered off the bottom of the box and discovered two thick brown paper pouches and the single penny that had been rattling around. He brought them out and handed them over to Mr. Perkins, who opened the first one and went very still.

  “Good Lord.”

  He examined the coin and then stared at Jackson. “If this is genuine—and it looks like it is—you and your brother are very lucky young men indeed.”

  “What is it?” Jackson asked.

  “It’s a 1901 Morgan silver dollar,” Mr. Perkins said reverentially. “I’ve only ever seen one other in such good condition.”

  “Did you say Morgan?” Jackson laughed out loud.

  “That’s probably why my dad hid it for all these years. He would’ve hated the Morgan name being associated with anything he owned.”

  It also explained the discrepancy in the accounting books Jackson had discovered if his father had turned his profits into coins.

  “And the second coin is an 1889 CC Morgan silver dollar, with a one-dollar face value. If it is genuine, it’s ninety percent silver.” Mr. Perkins turned the coin over. “They both look like they’ve never been in circulation, which is quite extraordinary, considering they were minted in Philadelphia and traveled right across the country.”

  “I have family in Philadelphia,” Jackson said. “I wonder if the coins came out with them?”

  “I doubt it.” Mr. Perkins looked up at Jackson. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but both these coins might be extremely valuable.”

  “Even more so than the twenty-thousand-dollar one?”

 
“Yes.” Mr. Perkins was suddenly all business. “I’ll need to make some calls, but if they are genuine, you could be looking at a small fortune.” He touched the brown-paper envelopes. “You also have provenance here, because these pouches have the name and date of the auction house where your father, or whoever purchased these coins, got them.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “That’s excellent.” Mr. Perkins made a shooing gesture. “Now go away and let me make some calls.”

  Jackson stood. “Don’t you have a ballroom dancing class at two?”

  Mr. Perkins looked at him over the top of his spectacles. “Sometimes in life, young man, one has to prioritize. The rumba can wait. I’ll call you when I have some numbers, which will probably be in the next day or so.”

  “Thanks,” Jackson said. “I appreciate this.”

  “When you see the size of my commission, you might change your mind.” Mr. Perkins winked at him, which was quite unnerving. “But I’ll treat you fairly, I can promise you that.”

  “You come with the highest recommendation from January Morgan, so I’ll agree with you. Call me when you’re done.”

  Jackson made his way out to his rented truck in something of a daze. If Mr. Perkins was correct, he and Cauy would have at least a hundred thousand dollars to share between them, possibly a lot more. He couldn’t quite wrap his brain around that.

  After checking the time, he decided to drive back home rather than take Chase up on his offer of a ride. His insurance company had told him to keep the truck until his settlement came through for the write-off. He needed time to think, and the long journey back to Morgan Valley might clear his head and reset his expectations. He sent a text to Chase, telling him he was leaving and wouldn’t need a ride, and another to Cauy to expect his return that evening.

  He hesitated over Daisy’s name in his contacts. He hadn’t told her about the coins, but she was still the person he wanted to share his excitement with. He sent her a text anyway.

  Heading back to Morgan Valley. Hope all went well with your biz partners. See you soon.