by Myra Johnson
With still so much she wanted to do before Wednesday, when Jenny Thomas and her fiancé had scheduled their photographer at the ranch, Lindsey got straight to work that afternoon. During one of her horseback rides with Audra to tend the cattle, she’d come upon an ancient live oak she remembered climbing on as a kid. The tree had grown even taller, its small, elongated leaves still green this time of year and the branches stretching wide to form a graceful canopy. Lindsey could easily picture the bride-to-be and her handsome fiancé embracing beneath the boughs.
It would be advantageous to have various locations around the ranch that she could suggest for photography settings. Loading tools into the back of the Mule, she planned to do some scouting on her way out to clean up around the oak tree.
Amazing how her attitude had changed since yesterday after her father’s sudden decision to sign over his share of the ranch. It had been one thing to cosign a consolidation loan to help Audra dig out from under her debts. Going forward, they’d be equal partners in any ranching decisions, and the thought both terrified and exhilarated her.
At least they shared a common goal—to keep the ranch in the family and make it profitable again. Combining Audra’s knowledge of cattle and land management with Lindsey’s business sense—and, she hoped, with some event planning and catering assistance from Holly and Joella—how could they fail?
While clearing brush from beneath the oak tree, she made a mental note to contact her friends again and plant a bug in their ears about the possibility of moving to Gabriel Bend. Holly’s little boy would have a blast exploring the ranch, and Austin wasn’t that far away for when Davey needed specialty medical care. Getting out of the corporate rat race would be so good for Joella, too. She’d sounded more than a little jaded the last time Lindsey had talked to her.
It was nearing five o’clock by the time she finished and headed back. On her way to the house after putting her tools away, she glimpsed Spencer walking Cinnamon and Ash into the barn for the night.
“Hi,” she called, hurrying over. “Can I help?”
He eyed her up and down as he passed her Cinnamon’s lead rope. “Looks like you’ve already been hard at work this afternoon.”
“Hmm, not sure how to take that.” Grinning, she flicked a tangled strand off her forehead.
Once the horses were secured in their stalls with fresh feed and water, Lindsey’s fatigue caught up with her. She plopped onto a tack trunk, leaned back and stretched out both legs.
Spencer sat down beside her and drew her hand into his lap, weaving his fingers through hers. “Still excited to be half owner of the McClement ranch?”
“I am. I’ll be even more excited when the paperwork is filed to make it official.”
“You don’t think your dad will change his mind, do you?”
She shrugged. “It’s possible, I guess. But I get the feeling Dad’s ready to wash his hands of it all.” Tilting her head so she could read Spencer’s expression, she asked, “How about you? Any more fallout at your house since yesterday?”
“I’ve purposely kept my distance from Tito.” He grimaced. “Don’t trust myself not to let him have it with both barrels.”
“I’m so sorry, Spencer. I hate that all this is coming between you and your family.”
His fingers tightened around hers. “Same with you. I felt awful for you the summer your dad left. Makes me sick now to know my grandfather was part of the reason why.”
“Don’t. We aren’t responsible for their choices. Anyway,” she said, bumping shoulders with him, “if my father had married your aunt, I wouldn’t be me.”
He gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Or worse, you’d be my pesky first cousin.”
“Yikes!” She faked a shudder. Then, with a dreamy sigh, she rested her cheek in the hollow of Spencer’s chest. “So...despite all the problems our forebears have caused us, guess there’s a silver lining after all.”
* * *
Spencer wanted to believe in silver linings. He wanted to believe what he and Lindsey shared was real and lasting, impervious to any pressure their families might exert. But he couldn’t easily shake off what she’d told him about her father and his aunt. It had to be nearly forty years in the past—Aunt Alicia had been married to David Caldwell almost that long—yet Lindsey’s father had apparently never released his grudge. Both sets of grandparents likely deserved blame for keeping the couple apart, but with Lindsey’s grandparents no longer living, how could Tito continue to allow this feud to destroy more lives?
And even though Spencer had promised Lindsey he’d pray before taking any action, his anger had festered to the point of making his time with God less a two-way conversation than a one-sided rant. For the present, at least, it was easier to avoid his grandfather as much as possible, or else risk the temptation to lash out with all his pent-up accusations and unanswered questions.
The next couple of days kept him busy working with the quarter horses and seeing to his rescues. On Tuesday afternoon the Foxes came to take Cinnamon home. Spencer would miss the sweet little horse, but the joy on Timothy’s face helped to ease the goodbye. Lindsey came out as the family was leaving and shed a tear or two as she and Spencer watched the pickup and horse trailer head down the driveway.
Lindsey’s hand crept into his. “At least we still have Ash.”
“He’ll eventually go to a new home, too, you know.” Her affection for the horses tugged at his heart. “But don’t worry, more are coming. Deputy Miller called this morning to ask if I could foster a couple of older mares a farmer’s relinquishing. They’re in good health, but he’s too broke to keep feeding them.”
She pulled a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. “I used to think I’d like to be a foster parent, but I’m realizing I’m no good at goodbyes.”
“Would you want kids of your own...someday?” It was a question best saved for the woman he hoped to marry—and it seemed she was standing right next to him.
“Yeah,” she said, her tone turning wistful. “When the time is right, I want to be a mom.” Inhaling deeply, she turned in a slow circle. “And what better place to raise kids than right here?” She was obviously still basking in the satisfaction of signing the papers that made her co-owner of the McClement ranch.
He was happy for her but couldn’t help wondering what her increased stake in the ranch would mean for the two of them. It hurt to feel so torn inside—his growing feelings for Lindsey pitted against the loyalty he should have for his family heritage.
He roughly cleared his throat. “I should get home. Got plenty more to do while it’s still daylight.”
“Same here. I have a couple of odd jobs to finish before Jenny and Zach come out with their photographer tomorrow.”
“What time are you expecting them?”
“Late afternoon, maybe three thirty or four.” Lindsey shrugged. “Supposedly that’s when the light’s the best.”
“Should be nice weather for it. Deputy Miller mentioned bringing the mares over tomorrow, but I’ll ask him to come plenty early so we aren’t in the way.”
“Thanks.” Backing up, she tucked her fingers into her jeans pockets. “Well, see you later.”
“Yeah. Later.”
Funny how they could be so comfortable around each other at times, then go back to the awkwardness. Or was it the lingering shadow of the feud that made everything seem so uncertain?
On his way across the field toward home, he called Deputy Miller and explained the situation with Lindsey. “So if you can be here and gone by three o’clock, I’d appreciate it.”
“Got it. Should be able to make it by noon.”
That settled, Spencer wrapped up his evening tasks and headed inside to clean up for supper.
In the kitchen, he looked at the table, then at his mother. “Only three places?”
She frowned. “Arturo’s in his room. Said
he didn’t feel like eating.”
Not that Spencer minded a less tension-filled supper with only his parents, but this had been happening more and more often. “Has Dad gotten him to see the doctor yet?”
“He’s tried, but you know how stubborn your grandfather is.” She set a bowl of buttered peas next to the platter of pork chops. “Honestly, the way he’s been carrying on about the McClements, I’m surprised he hasn’t given himself a heart attack already.”
Spencer couldn’t disagree, but it only made him sadder about the feud and angrier with Tito for letting it run his life.
The old man seemed to be feeling fine at breakfast the next morning, though, talking a blue streak about “those McClements” and how their event venue plans were sure to wreak havoc for the Navarro horses. Spencer closed his ears to the tirade and didn’t stick around any longer than it took to wolf down a bowl of cereal and fill a travel mug with coffee.
The farrier was coming out to trim hooves and replace shoes on several of the horses, a job that would take the better part of the day, and Spencer needed to be on hand to assist. He also hoped the farrier would have time to look at Ash’s hooves. The old horse hadn’t shown any obvious signs yet, but laminitis remained a concern.
Helping a stable hand move horses back and forth between their pastures and the farrier’s trailer, Spencer soon lost track of time. He only realized it was past noon when his mother brought him a sandwich, which he gulped down while watching the farrier file the hoof of one of the less fidgety young fillies.
Sometime later, he became vaguely aware of vehicle sounds and the crunch of tires on gravel next door. Must be about time for the photo shoot. Which meant—
The deputy should have already brought the mares over. Had he missed a call or text? He yanked his cell phone from his pocket only to find a black screen and a dead battery. Guess he’d been too preoccupied last night to put it on the charger.
He’d just brought in another horse and handed off the lead rope to the stable hand. “Be right back. Gotta make a quick call.”
On his way to the house, he glimpsed the sheriff’s department vehicle and horse trailer turning into the McClement driveway—right behind Jenny Thomas’s SUV and trailer. Great. Exactly what he’d hoped to avoid. Nothing to do now except hurry over and hope to unload the two new rescues with as little commotion as possible.
First, though, he needed to let his father know so he could take over with the farrier. He found him in Tito’s office. Hanging up the phone, Tito turned with a self-satisfied smirk. Dad stood unmoving, his nostrils flared and jaw clenched. His gaze connected with Spencer’s in a look of silent apology.
Belly tensing, Spencer backed away. “What’s going on here?”
“You’ll know soon enough,” Tito said. Still grinning, he strode past Spencer toward the front of the house.
“Dad?”
“I tried, son, but I couldn’t talk him out of this. This is still his ranch. He has the final say.”
“What did—”
The distant wail of a siren cut short his question. Heart hammering, he spun around and ran to the living room, joining Tito at the front windows. As he watched, a sheriff’s car with lights flashing turned up the McClement driveway.
Spencer moved in front of his grandfather. Suspecting he already knew the answer, he looked Tito in the eyes. “What have you done?”
* * *
“Lindsey?” Audra’s anxious tone echoed off the entryway ceiling. “You’d better come out here.”
“Be right there.” She grabbed the invoice she’d printed, so proud of how professional it looked with the logo Joella had designed.
Their first official client—exciting! A few minutes ago, Jenny had driven around back with her horse trailer, followed by a silver compact SUV, probably the photographer. Lindsey had intended to be outside to greet them as they drove up, but the printer had jammed and it had taken three tries before it spit out a clean, unwrinkled copy of the invoice.
By then, the livestock deputy had driven up. Lindsey couldn’t deal with him now and hoped Spencer was on his way over. What happened to delivering the rescue horses early enough not to interfere with the photo shoot?
Smoothing back a flyaway curl, she found Audra standing in the open front door. “What’s going on? Did I hear sirens?”
“Afraid so. Seems we have some unexpected company.”
Brow furrowed, Lindsey looked out at the sheriff’s department vehicle parked at the base of the porch steps.
A grim-faced deputy emerged and marched up to the porch. He consulted an official-looking paper. “Are you ladies Audra Forrester and Lindsey McClement?”
“Yes, I’m Mrs. Forrester. This is Lindsey, my niece.” Arms crossed, Audra stepped forward. “What’s this about, please?”
“Ma’am, we’ve had a complaint resulting in a judge’s order for you to cease and desist any and all activities on this property conducted by River Bend Events and Wedding Chapel.”
Momentarily speechless, Lindsey wagged her head. They’d barely gotten their business registration filed and hadn’t even done any real advertising yet. Who could possibly know—
The Navarros. And who besides Spencer’s grandfather had enough clout in this county to sway a judge to issue such an order? If he couldn’t persuade Audra to sell outright, he’d do whatever was necessary to push her further into bankruptcy.
A motion at the fence line caught her eye. Spencer had vaulted the barbed wire and was jogging across the field. Breathless, he tromped up to the porch. “Lindsey, I’m sorry,” he said between gasps. “I didn’t know.”
Jenny and Zach appeared from the other direction. “Um, hi,” Jenny said. “We were wondering if we could get started?”
Lips parted, Lindsey looked from Jenny to the deputy to Spencer and back again. “I, uh...” She crumpled the invoice in her left fist. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to cancel.”
Audra pulled herself together enough to give Jenny and her fiancé a more gracious explanation and apology while walking them back to where they’d parked. Before the deputy left, Lindsey vaguely heard him say they could file an appeal, but of course that would take time, not to mention attorney’s fees they couldn’t spare. Spencer reluctantly excused himself to help unload the rescues, and even though none of this was his fault, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
Alone on the porch, she sank onto the top step and buried her face in her hands. Why, God? Just when things seemed to be moving in the right direction, You pull the rug out from under me.
Hearing vehicles starting up behind the house, she shoved to her feet and hurried inside. From behind the living room curtains, she watched first Jenny’s SUV and horse trailer drive away, then the photographer’s car. A few minutes later, the livestock deputy left.
Audra came in through the kitchen. Finding Lindsey in a heap of misery on the sofa, she wrapped her in a tender hug. “Oh, sweetie, don’t cry. We’ll fight this. We’ll—”
“How can we? Arturo will only come back at us harder than ever.” She lifted her head to cast her aunt a despairing frown. “I’m so, so sorry. I thought I could save the ranch for you—for both of us. I was wrong. I’ve failed you, and now things are even worse than when I came.”
“Don’t say that.” Audra shifted to grip Lindsey’s shoulders. “You could not fail me if you tried. I love you, and I’m so proud of you. And even if God does show us it’s time to let this place go, I’ve told you before, land and cattle will never be more important than family. Wherever God places us, we will survive—and thrive.”
Lindsey knew her aunt was doing her best to hold on to hope, but right now, those were meaningless words. “I can’t even think—”
A knock sounded on the back door.
“I’m sure that’s Spencer.” Audra rose and started for the kitchen.
Too late and too softly for her aunt to hear, Lindsey murmured, “I don’t want to see him.” Ever.
Then he was standing right in front of her, hat in hand. “Linds—”
“Don’t.” She lifted both hands, palms outward. “Just...don’t.” Pushing up from the sofa, she scooted around him and crossed the room, turning her back to him. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Your family and mine—there’ll never be peace between us, and it was ludicrous for us to hope otherwise.”
“You don’t mean that. Lindsey, please—”
She silenced him with an upraised hand. “You can stable your rescues here for now. But I’d appreciate it if you’d start looking for another location as soon as possible. It would be a conflict of interest for us to keep—to continue seeing—” She shuddered. “I—I can’t keep doing this. Just go.”
For long moments, all she heard was the ragged, desperate sound of his breathing. His boot heels thudded softly upon the hardwood floor of the entryway. The front door whispered open...then clicked shut.
Except for the inconsolable throb of a broken heart, utter silence reigned.
Chapter Thirteen
Spencer burst through the back door, startling his mother as she folded clothes in the laundry room. “Where’s Dad? I have to talk to him right now.”
“He said he’d be working in the barn office. Hey, did you hear those sirens earlier? Any idea what’s—”
He didn’t give her a chance to finish. Bolting out again, he tore across to the barn. “Dad!”
“Right here, son.” Wearing a resigned frown, his father appeared in the office doorway. “What happened with the sheriff?”
“What happened? He shut Lindsey down, that’s what!” Spencer shoved past his father and sank into one of the leather armchairs in front of the desk. With all the racing back and forth he’d done in the past hour, his lungs felt like their stallion Concho had kicked him in the chest.