The Cowboy's Second Chance

by Jean Oram

  Carly knew some guidance could add efficiency to her current plan, but she didn’t quite have the courage to ask him, worried he’d think she was expecting more than he was willing to give.

  “I’ll likely start with some sell-direct locally grown veggies. Maybe some organic goat's milk and free-range eggs. Casual, small orders to deal with the unpredictable supply in the first few years as I figure things out.”

  “Well?” April asked, her voice rising with authority, her hands settling on her rounded hips in a way that reminded Carly of Maria Wylder. “Are you going to help her or what?” She was gazing at Ryan, who lifted his head at her tone.

  “With what?” he asked.

  “You learned all about permaculture.” She turned to Carly. “That’s where you plant the right things and then those plants all help each other grow without the aid of fertilizers or something like that, right?”

  Carly nodded.

  “It sounds like the stuff you’re going to do,” April said.

  “You don’t need me interfering.” Ryan scratched his ear as he stepped out of the stall, looking mildly uncomfortable. “You have your own plan.”

  “Yes, and Henry Wylder pointed out a few pitfalls. Now I’m unsure what else I may have overlooked,” she said, before she could catch herself.

  “Ugh. Henry,” April said with an eye roll. “Is he over there tonight?” She pointed toward the neighboring ranch.

  “Don’t think so. At least not yet,” Brant said, guiding April back toward his truck where, giggling, Kurt was letting Sergeant Riggs lick his face.

  “Only twelve places were set,” Ryan said. “I don’t think he’s coming.”

  “Speaking of dinner,” Brant said, “we should head back. You two want a ride?”

  “I’m going to stay another five,” Ryan said, from in front of Blackberry’s stall.

  “She’ll be fine, Ryan,” his brother assured him. “See you over there?”

  Carly nodded, feeling as though she’d just revealed her worst fears for the farm to April and then left them hanging in the air. But she knew she could do this. And yeah, sometimes she was scared, but she already had a few things sprouting in her little garden and Brant would give her ideas about her goats and milk. It would all work out, and the day this place fed her an entire meal would feel amazing.

  April called from the door, “Ryan, help her figure out a plan. A woman can’t do everything on her own, even though we say we can. And let her give you some advice on this ragtag herd of rejects you’ve collected.”

  Carly hid her laugh before Ryan turned her way, saying, “I’m sure you have everything under control around here.”

  “Uh, sure. Just like I’m certain you have everything under control every moment of every day with your horses.”

  Hearing the amusement in her voice, he gave her a questioning look.

  “It’s fine, really,” she said. “I was just venting. This start-a-farm thing is difficult, but I’ll get there.”

  “It takes time.”

  “I happen to be an impatient woman.”

  He laughed, turning to his horse. “Yeah, I sensed that.”

  Carly stood beside him, patting Blackberry’s nose when she stuck her head over the gate to see what food they might have to offer. “It’s probably why we get along so well. I don’t see you as the type to sit around and wait for life to reach you, either.”

  He gave a small nod of agreement.

  “And sure, sometimes I wonder why I think spending fourteen hours a day collecting eggs, milking goats and weeding vegetable gardens just to keep my head above water is wise. But then the sun sets and I hear my goats bleat and it feels good. It’s mine.”

  Ryan was watching her from under the brim of his hat. “Exactly.”

  “Exactly,” she echoed, dusting her hands together as though settling something.

  “This is where most people give up,” he murmured.

  “Because they’re smart,” she answered with a laugh, reaching over to give him a nudge. “The doubt gets big, doesn’t it?”

  He let out a long breath, pushing his cowboy hat farther back on his forehead. They were both facing the horse they’d just helped to cure. Carly was used to being able to read Ryan’s expression, but this was one she couldn’t quite figure out.

  Maybe his horse-training plan was as fraught with potential hazards as her farm plan was. The red roan in the end pen had potential, based on his build, though he seemed to be a heavy eater who resisted exercise. The young quarter horse might be good for cutting, but he needed to be trained soon. And this sweet animal in front of them was kind and gentle, reminding her of Ryan’s softer side. Carly didn’t doubt he’d bought the mare because she had walked up to him, fluttered her long lashes, given him a nuzzle and promised to always be there with unconditional acceptance and support. A man like Ryan needed that, even though he’d never admit it.

  But would Blackberry make a good barrel racer? Carly wasn’t sure. She’d seen Lucinda working with her and there was potential, but maybe not enough for what Ryan was looking for.

  “You still going to go for supper?” she asked, taking a few steps toward the still-open stable doors.

  Ryan continued watching his mare. “Are you certain she’s okay?”

  “She’s fine.”

  “Maybe I should have Brant send a scope down to make sure her throat’s okay.”

  Carly remained silent as Ryan reached over the stall door, stroking the horse’s long white nose stripe. There was something in his quiet expression that made her shiver.

  “What if my gut’s wrong?” he said, his voice even and low. He had an intense look when he turned to her, his bright blue eyes alight with questions. They stared at each other for a long moment, tension arcing like a live wire between them.

  How much did they dare become entangled in each other’s lives? How much were they willing to risk?

  Carly swallowed, taking a step closer. “What if your gut is right?”

  They closed the distance between them, and he twisted one of her curls around his index finger in a move that was beginning to feel as familiar as his kisses.

  “I thought you were a team of one,” she whispered, taking a risk with her words.

  “Maybe we both are, and that’s why we’re so good together.” He lowered his lips for a soft, tender kiss.

  6

  As Ryan walked back to Sweet Meadows Ranch with Carly in the deepening dusk, he grew quiet, trying to sort out his tangle of thoughts. He knew what he wanted in life and he had a plan. No detours. No pit stops. Full speed ahead. Alone.

  But when he took inventory of his current rules for living, his thoughts and plans somehow seemed less important than they once had.

  What if he and Carly tried being a team of two? Nothing big, just two teams of one working together. What could be the harm in that?

  “Do you want help with your plans for the farm?”

  Carly tensed, her normally fluid movements tightening, just like his quarterback Hernandez’s out on the field, when he got caught playing favorites.

  “I’m sure you’re busy with other things,” Carly said. “You don’t need to take this on.”

  He paused at her words. “I don’t want to take it on. I want to help. Help you.”

  Her lips twisted in a skeptical frown. “Men have an inborn need for control though. They take over. I wouldn’t be calling the shots for very long if I involved you.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Is it unfair?” She stopped on the path through the tall grass they had taken earlier as they’d herded the chickens—a path no doubt initially created by her wandering goats. Carly’s dark eyes were flashing, analyzing him as she stood with her arms crossed, hip out.

  “Darn right it’s unfair. We’re both independent and—”

  “Exactly! We’re independent. You won’t want to answer to me. Your idea or approach will become The Plan. My thoughts on how to run my farm will be disca
rded.” She swung an arm through the air with a flourish.

  Ryan caught her elbow, trying to calm the storm he’d inadvertently created. “Hey, I think you’re forgetting something important here. It’ll always be your farm. It’s your name on the deed.”

  There was still anger in the set of her jaw.

  “Do you really think I could march in here and tell your independent bossy side what to do?” He let out a laugh at the thought, but could see she wasn’t convinced. “What did you do the first time you saw me and thought I was interfering with your farm?”

  Her anger ebbed and she almost giggled. “I threatened to shoot you.”

  “See? And what did you do when I brought my horses over before I’d officially paid the rent?”

  “I threatened you? I can’t recall the details.”

  “You’re strong enough to handle me, Carly. You won’t let me run you over.” He paused to let that sink in, and for her to believe it. “If you want help and advice, I can provide that. Yes, I’m opinionated, but so are you. We’ll have some good fights, and you’ll decide what’s right for you and your farm. I have faith in that.”

  She gave a slow nod, letting him know she’d heard him.

  “Do you have faith in yourself?” he asked.

  The earlier tension returned full force. Her defiant fighter side wanted to say yes. But, for whatever reason, she wasn’t there yet, and that broke his heart. She reminded him of his students, not yet confident in their strength and ability. But for Carly it wasn’t because of inexperience, and he’d hazard a bet it was experience that had her doubting herself.

  “You’re amazing, Carly Clarke.”

  She rolled her eyes with impatience.

  “Seriously. You know how many women I’ve kissed lately?”

  She shifted away from him, that tension building in her graceful, strong spine, her eyes like daggers once again. “I told you I’m a one-at-a-time kind of woman.”

  “You,” he said, before she could assume the worst. “Just you. That whole Devil’s Horn lookout thing my brothers joke about? I have never taken a woman up there. That’s my spot. I tell them I’m taking a lady up there so they’ll leave me alone with my thoughts.”

  Carly was watching him out of the corner of her eye and he grasped her left hand, toying with her wedding band for a moment. “If you want my help, you have it. Just say the word.”

  “Okay.”

  Was that an okay to the offer of help? Or an okay meaning she’d heard him? He got the impression she didn’t want to be someone in need of help. She wanted to be a capable lone ranger.

  So did he. But he also knew he needed her, just like she needed him.

  “I honestly want you to come to the rest of the season’s games and help me with the team as a stats keeper.”

  “So this is tit for tat?” she asked. “I’m helping you, so now you have to even things out by helping me?”

  “No.”

  She stared at him for a moment that stretched out to the point of discomfort. He was recalling several of the reasons he preferred to fly solo.

  “Fine.” She began walking again, crossing the spot where the remnants of an old fence marked the property line between the two ranches. “Yes to helping with stats. Yes to help with the farm.” Before he could say anything her voice rose. “I’ll be there at tomorrow night’s game, but you need to know there’s a very good chance I won’t be able to make all of them.”

  “Okay.”

  “Stop interrupting me.” She had grown agitated, a fear coming off her he wasn’t sure how to alleviate. “And I want to tell you that when my business went under—”

  “Carly, it’s fine. I don’t need to know the details. This farm is a fresh start, right? We’ll come up with a plan that’s as flawless as possible, and I promise that every decision will be yours to make.”

  She didn’t need to relive the embarrassment and shame from her past. He got it. Mistakes were made. No need to dwell or talk it out. Live, learn, move on.

  “I feel you should know the details if we’re going to work together.”

  “Carly, I trust you. We’ve both lived, learned, and moved on with life. We are who we are, right here, right now.” His tone was firm. “Let’s talk about your farm.”

  She wrinkled her nose as though fighting with herself, and he waited for her to argue, to insist that they bond by sharing their past slip-ups with each other.

  “I know what I want to accomplish with the farm,” she said finally. “But getting there will take a long time, and I’m not sure my plans are as efficient as they could be.”

  “What are your plans? Do you have something written down?”

  She shook her head as they passed Carmichael’s small house, where a string of lights hanging from the trees lit the way to the main ranch house. Those were new. Ryan wondered who’d put them up. Likely Levi, looking out for their grandfather.

  “It might help you focus on what needs to happen to get your farm certified organic. As you work toward that you can start spreading the word and line up future orders.”

  “But I’m not certified, and my first garden has barely sprouted.”

  “So?”

  “I’m going to run my business by the book.”

  “Leave room for life to happen, Carly. You’ll get certified and your garden will grow. Get the word out now so you’re ready.”

  “You want me to lie? Mislead my future customers?”

  “Is there something you feel will prevent you from getting certification?”

  Carly slowed her steps, and not because they were heading through the narrow break in the holly hedge. He could see she was deep in thought, arguing with him in her head.

  She was thinking too linearly. She needed to shoot threads out ahead so things would be lined up when she got there. You didn’t grow a garden, then try to find customers once it was harvested.

  “Working inside the box is going to take longer. You’ll suffer a lot of waste.”

  “Yeah, but I might still have a business by the end. I don’t need some grand financial adventure. I want a simple life, to be independent and save a bit for retirement.” A shadow crossed her face.

  “Farming might not be the easiest way to do that,” he said with a chuckle. “You’re at the mercy of Mother Nature so much of the time.”

  “I can control everything else. I can learn all aspects of this business.” Her voice was firm, illustrating her determination. “I can choose which crops, plan what I put on them to help them grow organically, do my own accounting, watch my cash flow.”

  There were plenty of other businesses that were less fraught with risk. “Why did you buy a ranch?”

  She inhaled audibly. “It’s a long story.”

  They had stopped walking and Ryan stooped to pet his brothers’ dogs, Lupe, Buckey and Dodge, as they wound their way around him to see what was happening. The string of bright lights ended here, with the yard light illuminating the rest of the way.

  “I have time for long stories,” he said.

  Just then, the dinner bell rang, no doubt by Maria who would be leaning out the patio door off the kitchen.

  “Well, maybe not a ton of time.” They began moving toward the house again.

  “The quick version was that I wanted out of the city,” Carly said, “and a way to be independent. Self-sufficient. Not relying on someone else for anything. So a farm like the ones I grew up on seemed like a good idea.”

  Ryan gave her an appraising look. There were a lot of reasons to love this woman, and what she’d stated was another thing to add to the growing list.

  “I can respect that,” he said, as they climbed the steps to the porch.

  “What’s your story?” she asked, stopping at the door, gaze pinned on him.

  “Nothing exciting.” He reached to open it but she stepped in front of him.

  “You’re so full of it.”

  He felt his eyebrows jump in surprise. “Okay, fine. I don’t wa
nt to rely on others, either. I like being independent. Although maybe that makes little sense, seeing as I’m a coach who depends on his players, and I work in a school and depend on a school district. Plus I’m part owner in this ranch and depend on my brothers to take care of the bulk of its problems.”

  “So? I depend on seed suppliers and buyers.”

  “Is there a way to be entirely independent?”

  “I’m sure there is. It’s just a lot of work.” She leaned her head to the side, studying him. “Why are you so intent on training some fat horses for rodeo?”

  There was a hint of amusement in her tone and Ryan narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to make fun of the idea. She didn’t.

  “The roan will get in shape.”

  She was silent, waiting for him to tell her more.

  “I believe in financial diversification. I’m also part owner in a local brewery.” As well as a few other things.

  “Building your retirement fund?”

  The walls went up. He didn’t want to talk about money. That was a swift way to make yourself a target. And even though Carly seemed more interested in him than in his finances, he’d also believed that about Priscilla.

  “I made a poor investment once,” he said. “I have some rebuilding to do.” Her lips parted, and he assured her, “Don’t worry. I’ll never make that mistake again.” He shifted, hoping she’d move from in front of the door so they could go inside.

  “Obviously,” Carly said with an air of authority, “she wasn’t worth your affection.”

  His gaze snapped to hers. “How do you know that?”

  At his harsh tone, Carly backed into the closed door and lifted her hands to show she was unarmed. “It’s easy to see,” she whispered, “based on the way you talk and act.”

  He rolled his eyes upward in frustration. There was that connection between them that kept popping up, bringing them closer, revealing things he didn’t want to have seen. He wasn’t ready for this. He liked having her at a distance.

  “Nobody else has figured that out,” he said.

  Had he been leaving hints for ages, hoping someone would do so? See his pain, then come fix him? He didn’t think so. He’d successfully kept the truth about Priscilla to himself for many long years. And as far as he knew, nobody had noticed, nobody cared that he carried that giant chip on his shoulder or where it had come from. Go figure that Carly had spotted it and was taking aim with her sledgehammer.