The Rancher's Redemption

by Myra Johnson

  But now, with her job at the gift shop starting tomorrow, plus the excitement she’d felt at sharing her cabin redecorating ideas with the Austins, was this finally her chance to reclaim the dream she’d once set aside?

  On their way out of church, Christina asked if she could take Erin up on her offer to go shopping together. “I know you’re starting at Wanda’s tomorrow. What are your hours?”

  “I’ll be working weekdays, nine to one. We could meet afterward and then shop until the kids get out of school.”

  “Perfect. Would tomorrow afternoon work for you?”

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  Then on Monday morning, when Erin backed down the driveway to take Avery to school, she found the wooden post supporting her mailbox had splintered.

  “Just call Mr. Ritter, Mommy,” Avery said from the back seat. “He can fix it.”

  This was getting to be an uncomfortable habit. And since when had Avery decided she didn’t have to run interference between Erin and Kent?

  Saturday, of course, when he’d wormed his way into the little girl’s heart with an introduction to his horses.

  Erin couldn’t exactly do without a mailbox, so after dropping Avery at school, she had just enough time to stop at the hardware store before heading downtown. Finding Kent on duty, she didn’t know whether to be thankful or disappear quickly and come back another time. He’d already seen her, though, and she browsed a few minutes while he finished arranging a display of paint supplies near the entrance. There was no denying how incredible he looked in faded jeans and a navy Zipp’s Hardware polo shirt, his muscled arms tanned from working outdoors.

  Striding over, he greeted her with a questioning smile. “That shelf didn’t collapse on you again, I hope.”

  “No, your repairs are holding up fine.” She blew out through pursed lips. “But now my mailbox post is broken.”

  Kent nodded. “Probably rotted off in the ground. I can fix it, no problem. Will you be home around noon?”

  “I’m starting my new job today. I don’t get off until one.” Shifting her shoulder bag to the other arm, Erin bit back a discouraged groan. “I was supposed to meet a friend to go shopping afterward, but I guess we can reschedule.”

  “No need. I’ll have it all done by the time you get home.”

  “Um, how much will it cost?”

  “A plain wood post won’t be more than twenty bucks.”

  Another expense Erin hadn’t counted on, but not as bad as she’d feared. “And your labor?”

  “On the house.”

  “Kent...you’ve got to stop doing this. I feel indebted enough already.” Tears threatened. Erin blinked several times and glanced away.

  In the next moment, she felt Kent’s hand on her arm, and, though after years of living with Payne her instinct was to jerk free, she sensed no threat from this man. She willed a steadying breath into her lungs.

  “It isn’t about payback, Erin. It’s about helping out a friend.” He continued softly, almost as if to himself, “Everybody needs a little help from time to time.”

  “Even you?” she asked with a doubtful smirk. “The guy who apparently can fix anything?”

  He glanced away, jaw tensing as he muttered, “Not everything.”

  Worried she’d brought up an unpleasant memory, she opened her mouth to apologize but decided instead to try a little humor. “Yes, I see it now. You’re not so good at fixing your own lunch.”

  The light in his eyes returned as laughter burst from his throat. “You nailed me. If it doesn’t come frozen, boxed or in a can, it isn’t happening.”

  “Cooking can be fun, though. Ever thought of taking lessons?”

  Kent wiggled his brows. “You offering?”

  She quickly shook her head. “Even if I wanted to, my plate is full—excuse the pun. And,” she said, checking her watch, “I need to be on my way before my new boss fires me on my very first day. Maybe you could say a few prayers...” Her words trailed into awkward silence.

  With a tight smile, Kent replied, “Pretty sure God’s written me off, but I’ll keep a good thought for you.” He started for the checkout counter. “Let me ring up your mailbox post, and I’ll head over to install it after I finish my shift.”

  Hurrying to catch up, she fished her checkbook from her purse. “Maybe you’ll let me thank you by making you a home-cooked dinner sometime?”

  “Wouldn’t turn it down.”

  As she wrote a check, she questioned her own judgment in allowing Kent into her life. Hadn’t her mistake marrying Payne taught her anything? He’d never even pretended to be a believer, but she’d stupidly hoped she could change him.

  It was a mistake she couldn’t afford to make again.

  * * *

  Approaching the front door of the gift shop a minute before nine, Erin spotted a plump raven-haired woman watching for her. “Hi, are you Wanda?”

  “Wanda Flynn, at your service. And I’d know you anywhere from your brother’s description. Come on in, Erin.” Wanda’s colorful maxi dress swayed as she stepped aside. “We don’t open until ten, but there’s plenty of prep work to do each morning. Today you can fill out employment forms, and then I’ll show you around and explain your job duties.”

  With a nervous swallow, Erin hugged her purse to her abdomen. “My brother did inform you I don’t have any retail sales experience?”

  “Nothin’ to it, honey. Besides, Greg said you always wanted to be an interior decorator, so that’s pretty much what you’ll be doing here, helping our customers choose special items to enhance their spaces.”

  Wanda’s Wonders definitely carried a plethora of unique gifts and home decor. As Wanda took her on a tour of the various displays, she gazed in admiration and hoped she’d eventually earn enough to afford a few of the decorative pieces that caught her eye.

  The tour ended with a lesson in operating the cash register, which sent waves of panic through Erin. When she flubbed a practice sales entry for the fourth time, she blew out an exasperated breath. “Sorry, I never was much good with computers.”

  “Mmm-hmm, I can see that.” Wanda gave a solemn nod. “There are plenty of other things you can do around here, honey. Don’t worry, we’ll find your niche.”

  Grateful not to have gotten herself fired after only forty-five minutes on the job, Erin paid even closer attention to her other duties. Shadowing Wanda throughout the morning, she quickly picked up on reading customers’ nonverbal cues as to whether they just wanted to browse or might welcome some assistance and advice. And while she might be all thumbs with the cash register, she found inventory management much easier to grasp.

  When one o’clock rolled around, she was both exhausted and exhilarated. It felt good to be productive again, and even though she might still be a long way from an interior design career, sharing decorating tips as she helped customers find just what they were looking for brought its own kind of fulfillment. It made her even more excited about meeting with Christina to shop for the guest ranch cabins.

  Then her cell phone rang as she strode out to her car. Christina’s name appeared on the display.

  “I hate to cancel at the last minute,” she said, sounding frazzled, “but one of the twins is running a fever. Can we try again another day?”

  “Of course. I hope your baby feels better soon.” Saying goodbye, Erin tried to shake off her disappointment.

  On the other hand, as stressful as the day had started out, she could use a couple of hours to kick back before picking up Avery at school. Besides, her stomach loudly informed her it was an hour past her usual lunchtime.

  When she turned onto her street, she glimpsed a tan pickup parked in front of her house, and next to it, Kent had just attached her mailbox to a new white post. She’d almost forgotten he’d be coming by, and as she pulled into the driveway, her heart gave an unexpec
ted lift.

  “Hi,” she called, stepping from her car. “How’s it going?”

  “Just finishing up.”

  “It looks great!” Erin stepped partway into the street for a better look. “Have you had lunch yet?”

  “Uh, no. But I thought you had a shopping date.”

  “Christina’s baby is sick.”

  Kent latched his toolbox and started toward his pickup. “Christina Austin, from Serenity Hills?”

  “Yes, she asked if I’d give her some suggestions for redecorating their guest cabins.”

  He peered over his shoulder with a thoughtful frown. “You do that kind of thing? I mean, professionally?”

  “No, not really.” Not yet anyway. She heaved a shrug. “It’s always been an interest of mine, and like you keep saying, it’s just friends helping friends.”

  Setting his toolbox in the pickup, Kent gave a noncommittal grunt. It was obvious he had something on his mind.

  Erin edged closer. “I was serious about lunch. Want to come in for a sandwich?”

  * * *

  Until a couple of days ago, one day in Kent’s life was pretty much like the next. He thrived on the seasonal routines of cattle ranching combined with the structure of working at the hardware store. Even when the occasional problem arose, there was a level of predictability, exactly the way he liked it.

  Then two things had happened. He’d learned the Juniper Bluff Historical Society wanted to include his tumbledown old house on the sesquicentennial tour, and Erin Dearborn had stepped into his life.

  He wasn’t sure which had him more shook-up.

  He should have said no to the sandwich and headed on home. But his voice didn’t cooperate, and the next thing he knew, he was sitting at Erin’s elegantly set table. Again.

  She brought over two plates. “I made ham sandwiches. Hope that’s okay.”

  “Better ’n okay.” He noted a few more pictures and artsy things decorating walls and surfaces. “Starting to look like home around here.”

  “I’d hoped to be further along before starting work today.” Erin’s shoulders rose and fell in a tired sigh. “Iced tea okay?”

  “Fine. So how’d your first day go?”

  “It was fun, actually—although I’ve been banned from ringing up purchases.” A weak laugh escaped. “I do well to manage a personal email account and keep up with my brothers on Facebook. Anything requiring more computer literacy than that and I’m lost.”

  Admiring the artful lines of the fruit basket, Kent shook his head. “You should ask Wanda to carry your baskets at the shop. Bet they’d sell fast.”

  “My baskets? Oh, no, that’s just something I do for myself.” Erin set the tea glasses on the table and took her seat. She paused and started to bow her head but then seemed to change her mind—no doubt on his account. After laying her napkin in her lap, she picked up her sandwich.

  Annoyed with himself that he’d kept her from saying grace, he filled the silence with a question. “How’d you learn to make such pretty baskets?”

  “A college course piqued my interest. Then a few years ago, I took a class at a community center, something to do for fun. For me.” Her blue eyes turned smoky, and she glanced away. “My little hobby only made things worse, unfortunately.”

  Kent wondered what kind of man wouldn’t want his wife doing something that made her so happy, something she had a genuine talent for—but he sensed Erin wasn’t ready to share more details. And besides, how close did he really want to get to this woman?

  A lot closer.

  “So tell me more about yourself,” Erin said, interrupting his thoughts. “It must be so rewarding to be able to fix things.”

  “Learned most of it from my dad. He’s what you’d call a tinkerer. Always has a little project going in his garage workshop.” Chewing a bite of sandwich, Kent suffered a moment of wistfulness. It had been too long since he and his dad had worked on a project together. But then, that was mostly Kent’s fault for moving so far away. “Unfortunately, I haven’t spent a lot of time fixing up my own house, as you probably noticed.”

  Erin offered a wry smile. “I did wonder about that.”

  With a rough cough, he decided to brave the subject he’d been avoiding ever since the letter from the historical society had arrived. “Look, I know you’re busy with your daughter and the new job and all, but I’m kind of up a creek about a situation I recently found out about.”

  She shot him an uneasy glance. “What kind of situation, exactly?”

  “Seems my house might qualify as a local historical site.” He explained about the Juniper Bluff sesquicentennial celebration. “If I agree to let them put it on the tour, I’m gonna have to do a lot of sprucing up. I’m good with repairs and painting and such, but the inside stuff? Wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  “Oh. Are you asking for my help?”

  “Yeah, I guess I am. But we’ve got plenty of time. The big event is more than a year away.”

  Erin pushed her empty plate aside and fingered her napkin. “I’ve never even contemplated redoing a historical home. Wouldn’t there be certain requirements about recreating the original appearance?”

  “Got me. I’ll try to find out. In the meantime, would you at least think about it? And I fully intend to pay you for your expertise,” he added quickly.

  She shook her head firmly. “I couldn’t accept money. Not after how you’ve traded repairs at my house for nothing more than lunch.” Her smile brightened. “Besides, weren’t we just talking about friends helping friends?”

  “That we were.” Kent pushed away from the table. “And lunch was great—thanks again.”

  “And thank you for coming to my rescue again.” Erin walked him out to his pickup. “Diana Willoughby was right.”

  His brows shot up. “Is Diana spreading rumors about me?”

  “She just said you’re a really nice guy to have as a handyman...” Cheeks reddening, Erin glanced away. “And as a friend.”

  An unexpected burst of elation swelled beneath Kent’s breastbone. He climbed in behind the wheel, and with the door still open, he started the engine. “Anytime you need a hand around here, all you have to do is ask.” He chuckled. “Especially if there’s a meal involved.”

  She smiled and stepped closer. “I mean it, thank you.”

  Tipping his hat, he pulled the door closed. Had he really just suggested spending even more time with this woman? Man, he must be losing it. Because if any woman had half a chance of luring him out of his bachelor ways, it was Erin Dearborn.

  Chapter Five

  Three afternoons later, Kent rode out to check on his pregnant cows. Disappointment struck again—no chance he’d have nearly enough calves to take to market next fall to make it worth his while. All the more reason he needed to buy the bull he’d had his eye on and build up his herd.

  Afterward, as he released Jasmine into her pasture, his cell phone rang. By now, he had Erin’s name and number in his contacts. Seeing the call was from her, he got a little hitch in his breath.

  “Erin. What’s up?”

  “Hi, Kent.” She hesitated. “Am I interrupting anything important?”

  He sensed the I’m sorry lingering at the edges of her question. Striving for a light tone, he answered, “No problem. Just taking care of some ranch chores. Wait—do you have a problem?”

  “Actually, yes. Who knew an older home would have so many issues?”

  “Hey, try living in a hundred-and-fifty-year-old farmhouse.”

  Her laughter warmed him through and through. “Then I guess you might know something about leaky pipes. When I got home from picking up Avery from school, we found water coming out from under the refrigerator.”

  “Sounds like the ice-maker connection.” Already making a mental list of items to pick up at the hardware store, he headed t
oward his truck. “I can be there in half an hour.”

  “Thank you.” Relief flooded Erin’s tone. “And for zis evening’s menu,” she added with a fake French accent, “ze chef is preparing an exquisite chicken casserole.”

  Kent belted out a laugh. “Did I say half an hour? Let’s make it twenty minutes.”

  The repair turned out to be exactly what he’d predicted—replacing an older pipe fitting and shutoff valve. He dreaded the moment he finished, knowing it meant more haggling with Erin about paying him.

  “I’m telling you,” he said as he cleaned up behind the refrigerator, “if that chicken casserole tastes as good as it smells, that’s all I need.”

  She took the wet paper towels he handed her. “But the parts weren’t free. You have to tell me how much.”

  “Okay, okay.” With the fridge back in place, Kent added up what he’d paid for the parts, which reflected his employee discount, and Erin wrote him a check.

  He washed up while Erin got supper on the table, then suffered a different kind of awkwardness when Avery asked if they could sing her favorite table blessing.

  Erin cast a quick glance at Kent. “Maybe we should just pray silently this time, honey.”

  “No, please, go ahead,” he said with an uneasy smile. “I’d love to hear y’all sing.”

  “You have to sing with us,” Avery insisted. “It’s a round. I start, then Mommy starts, then you start. And then you finish last.”

  Before either he or Erin could protest, Avery burst out with the opening lines. “God our Father, God our Father...”

  With a resigned shrug, Erin chimed in with her soft soprano, and when it was Kent’s turn, Avery tapped his arm. He choked out a husky “God our Father” and mumbled what he could remember of the rest of the verse but faded out as Erin sang her last lilting amens.

  “That’s okay.” Avery gave a condescending nod. “Next time, you’ll know all the words.”