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Chasing Her Dream
by Jennifer Slattery
Chapter One
Rheanna sat staring at the Literary Sweet Spot while her car engine quietly ticked. “What if we made a mistake, Ivy?”
Her friend clutched her binder to her chest. “Adding paleo options? I know we might not get many sales among Sage Creek’s meat-eating ranchers. But I have no doubt coffee shops and naturopathic stores in Austin will be all over these things.”
“I’m not talking about your health food business.”
“Our business. We’re in this together.”
Only because Ivy had nagged and cajoled Rheanna into saying yes to the venture. And because Rheanna had lacked the courage to move her and her daughter to Sage Creek, to run a ranch of all things, by herself. Besides, Ivy had stood beside her during some really tough times. When Rheanna learned of her husband’s affair, Ivy had been a rock through that heartbreak and the subsequent divorce.
Still, Rheanna’s primary goal was to save the ranch. Everything else came second. “I’m talking about the horses. What do we know about managing stock and boarders?” Clearly not near enough, considering their stalls were over half-empty, their foal sales were pathetic and they couldn’t seem to keep reliable staff.
“That, my friend, is why we’re here.” Ivy grabbed the job posting flyers from the back seat and handed them to Rheanna. “I’m certain there’s at least one strong, capable cowboy needing work in this town. Besides, that’s why we need to pour our energy into our protein bars. Once our health food business takes off, it’ll more than compensate for all our financial concerns.” Loaded down with samples and promotional material, she got out with a grin.
Rheanna stepped out from her vehicle and into the midsummer, Texas humidity. In this heat, thinking about all the chores waiting for them back at the ranch made Ivy’s suggestion to focus more on the health food project and less on the horse business appealing.
They hurried into the busy, air-conditioned café and waited for Leslie, the new owner, to finish with a string of customers. Then, while Leslie and Ivy met back in her office, Rheanna found an empty table near a magazine rack to sip her chai latte.
She had a sinking feeling her and Ivy’s plans were way too complicated. Two women running two different businesses from the same location and using, in many ways, the same funds, often robbing one business to pay the other business’s expenses.
“Hey, little lady.” Mr. Farmer, an older man who lived ten miles outside town, came up beside her. “Saw your flyers. You’re looking for more help?”
She sighed. “New help.”
“What kind?”
“We need a riding instructor.” Preferably one who also knew how to train foals or could supervise those who did.
“What happened with Geoffrey?”
She suppressed a snort. “He got in another bar fight and the other guy pressed charges.”
“Sure wish he’d get his act together soon.” He pulled a toothpick from his shirt pocket and placed it in his mouth. “If I hear of anyone horse-handy in need of a job, I’ll send them your way.”
If she had a dollar for every time someone had said that to her, she’d have enough for that stable roof repair she needed. Were all the cowboys happily employed, or had the ranch’s reputation scared everyone off? Unfortunately, she suspected the latter, a reality not helped by the fact that her great-uncle, whom she’d inherited it from, had been such a crude crab apple.
She would cut her losses and sell the place, if she and Ivy hadn’t banked everything on making this work. And Rheanna had uprooted her six-year-old daughter, an act that caused a good deal of tears. She couldn’t disrupt her world again.
The door behind her chimed, and she turned to see a much-too-familiar-looking cowboy walk in. Her pulse hiked a notch when his light brown eyes met hers.
Bearing a striking resemblance to Chris Evans, Dave Brewster stood maybe six foot three inch, and his frame, which had always been on the muscular side, had filled out considerably. A dusting of sable-colored whiskers covered his square jaw. Based on the way his eyebrows shot up when his gaze met hers, he was shocked to see her, as well.
She stood, immediately transported to her sixteenth year and her cancer diagnosis. She hadn’t heard of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma before. Her mind had struggled to make sense of it all—the long battle that lay ahead, the lifetime of follow-up appointments, the ongoing risk of secondary cancers. In a moment, her entire world had shifted. Oh, how she’d longed for someone to stand beside her, someone to lean on. She’d felt so very alone.
Dave had abandoned her, with little more than a goodbye, when she’d needed him most.
“Rheanna. It’s been a spell, huh?” He wore faded jeans, a snug T-shirt and a cowboy hat.
“Yeah.” She swallowed, fighting back feelings of rejection that surged as fresh as the day he’d left. “How have you been?”
He studied her for a moment, as if debating how to answer. He gave a slight shrug. “I’m hanging in there.”
“I… Are you… I thought you moved? Are you back?”
Another pause. “I’m here for the Mooney wedding.”
He and Will had stayed in touch? Her stomach soured to think he’d maintained contact with someone he’d barely considered a friend, but not her, whom he’d once claimed to care deeply for. Yet more confirmation that she’d truly meant nothing to him.
“Where are you living now?” Why was she engaging him in conversation? To prove she no longer cared? That she was unaffected by his presence? That his leaving hadn’t completely devastated her?
“Cheyenne, Wyoming.”
“The Cowboy State.” Sheriff Unice, who seemed to have an ear in every conversation, gave a low whistle from where he stood by the display counter. “I hear y’all are pretty waterlogged.” He picked up a newspaper and tucked it under his arm. “Least, that area was a few months ago. All that flood mess receded yet?”
“In some places.” Sorrow clouded Dave’s eyes.
“Those poor ranchers.” Unice shook his head. “Don’t know how they’ll bounce back after such a loss. I doubt many of them have insurance to cover it.” He meandered off to read his paper, leaving Dave and Rheanna to their painful and awkward reunion. At least it was for her. Dave, on the other hand, appeared as confident and unaffected as ever.
“You here visiting your uncle?” His voice held a bite on the last word, resurrecting questions she’d long since forgotten, the biggest of which was—why had he and his family really left, all those years ago?
One day, they were living on the ranch, renting land from Rheanna’s uncle; the next, they were gone.
“My uncle died just under a year ago. Alzheimer’s.” Technically, from aspiration pneumonia, a complication caused by his disease. She tried to avoid questions related to him, whenever possible. Too many awkward conversations followed. A lot of people had made it quite clear how they felt about the man, and by association, the ranch.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
She couldn’t gauge the sincerity of his words, nor should she care. He might’ve been the first to leave, but he wasn’t the only one that had moved on.
“Hey, Rheanna?” The sheriff strode back toward her, his expression tense. “What’s the biggest trailer you got?”
“Five horse.”
“Think you can bring it out to Larry Hart’s property? We’ve got an emergency rescue situation and need all hands, and vehicles, on deck.”
“I’m
not familiar with that location.”
“I know where it is,” Dave said.
The sheriff gave one quick nod. “Mind going with her? Showing her the way?”
Rheanna’s stomach tumbled, and her gaze shot to Dave. Talking with him here, briefly, and in a public place, she could handle. Sitting in a vehicle with him, driving down some quiet country road, would trigger too many memories. Old emotions she had no intention of allowing.
Dave’s golden eyes remained fixed on her. “Sure.”
“Perfect.” The sheriff clamped a hand on Dave’s shoulder. “I’ll round up a few more guys and will see you out there in a few.”
A jittery sensation swept through her midsection, suggesting her heart was in danger. Only she wasn’t a naive high school girl anymore, nor could she be fooled by Dave Brewster’s disarming, boyish grin. He’d hurt her once. Deeply. She would not allow him to do so again.
Dave swallowed, gaze locked on Rheanna’s deep, espresso-colored eyes. He’d known, coming back, there was a chance he’d see her. Figured she might return for the Mooney wedding, as well. But standing here now caused the ache of losing her to burn afresh.
Soon, she’d be riding in his truck, like old times, only with way too much history between them.
At nearly a foot shorter than his six-foot-three self and weighing maybe a buck twenty, she’d filled out in all the right places. She wore her hair long. Her curls framed her oval face in loose waves, the dark brown matching her eyes. The woman was as beautiful as ever, if not more so.
Did she ever think of him? Wonder what might have been, had her uncle not betrayed Dave’s dad? Did she even care about how he and his family had been treated? Or had her lying uncle convinced her they deserved it?
Such questions wouldn’t do him, or the horses they needed to rescue, any good. He scratched his jaw. “You ready?”
“I came with my roommate.” She scraped her teeth across her bottom lip and scanned first the café then the book area extending beyond it. “I’ll be right back.”
She darted off to talk with an older woman, who sat in a paisley armchair near the magazines. They spoke briefly, then the woman glanced his way and nodded.
Rheanna returned. “Okay. We can go.”
He beat her to the truck, hurried to clear junk off the passenger seat and opened her door for her, like he always used to. Back in the day, she’d responded to his chivalry with a shy vulnerability tinged with trust that he’d found endearing.
Now she hesitated and visibly tensed beneath her formal smile. “Thank you.”
Her response stung, though he knew it shouldn’t matter. They both needed to leave the past right there, in the past, and focus on the task ahead. Then they could return to their respective lives, him to his fight to save the ranch and her to whatever occupied her time.
With a deep breath, he rounded the vehicle and slid behind the wheel.
Her perfume, fruitier than he remembered, filled the cab and temporarily stalled his senses. She’d always had that effect on him, from the first day he’d met her.
It’d taken him years to get over her, longer before he even considered dating again.
She buckled her seat belt. “You remember how to get to my place?”
“Your place?” He eased onto Main Street and followed a yellow two-door out of town.
“I inherited my uncle’s ranch.”
His eyebrows shot up.
She laughed. “Don’t look so surprised.”
“Just figure that’s a lot to handle is all.”
She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something but then shrugged and gazed out her side window.
Was she thinking about any of the letters he’d sent, of his declarations of love and promises of their future? Had she even kept them?
He suspected not. Like her uncle had said the day Dave came to the house to tell her goodbye—girls like Rheanna didn’t end up with guys like Dave. The fact that he’d spent the better part of a decade turning his life around wouldn’t change that. Especially since he was back in Sage Creek much like he’d arrived the first time, broke. All his hard work, saving every dime to build a ranch, steed by steed, wiped out by Wyoming’s spring floods. Worse, he couldn’t do anything until the waters receded.
Rebuilding would be akin to starting over, only harder, considering all the cleanup that lay ahead.
What if he couldn’t? If the expense and devastation were too much?
That simply wasn’t an option. Not after all his dad had invested, sacrificed, to help Dave buy the ranch in the first place. He wouldn’t let his father down, no matter how many storms, literal or figurative, came at him.
As they neared the Green ranch, the place he’d sworn he’d never set foot on again, he tensed. The sign hanging from the arch over the entrance was weatherworn and lopsided, its protective stain long gone, as were the flowers that once surrounded the posts. He turned onto the former gravel road, now a long stretch of dirt dotted by deep potholes.
The once lush pastureland on either side now stood dry and overgrazed, with maybe a quarter of the horses he would’ve expected to see. The fences were in dire need of repair. The house paint was peeling and many of the roof shingles were buckling. Clearly, the old man’s business had taken a turn for the worse. Considering how he’d treated Dave’s family, served him right.
Only this place belonged to Rheanna now. Regardless of how much she’d hurt him, she deserved better than this.
“Can you stop here a minute?” She rotated toward the house, hand on her door. “I need to check on my daughter. Make sure my friend Lucy is okay watching her a bit longer.”
Daughter? His gaze shot to her bare ring finger. Was the kid’s father still in the picture?
He shifted to Park. “Sure.”
She got out, hurried up the porch steps and disappeared into the house.
What was her daughter like? Did she resemble her mama? How old was she? How did she and Rheanna act around each other?
Rheanna’s mother hadn’t been the best role model. He couldn’t count all the times and ways that woman had hurt her and pushed her aside for her latest in a long string of boyfriends. All the times Rheanna had cried on his shoulder and the protective urge that had stirred within him.
He’d promised he’d never hurt her like that, only he had.
An image from what felt like a lifetime ago came to mind, unbidden. It was of her, riding across the pasture on Bella, her palomino. She’d looked so happy, as if nothing existed except her and the mare.
The horse she’d loved and lost, because of him.
The door to the house opened, and Rheanna reappeared wearing mud boots and a cowgirl hat, hair back into a ponytail. Her flushed cheeks, likely from hustling about in the midday heat, only added to her beauty.
She climbed into the truck and shut her door behind her. “Sorry about that.”
“No biggie.” He wanted to ask her about her daughter, to understand just how much Rheanna had changed and who she was now. But in knowing, he’d risk falling in love all over again.
“The trailer’s back by the east stables.” She pointed.
He nodded and continued past a fork in the road leading to the ranch hand cabins similar to the one he and his folks used to live in, past the indoor arena, another stretch of pasture and an old tractor partially overgrown with weeds.
Unfortunately, the trailer had a flat tire. By the time he got it changed and the rig hooked to his truck, he wondered if maybe the rescue operation would be over.
“How long you been back?” Rheanna adjusted her visor to block the low-riding sun.
He turned onto the main road leading toward San Marcos. “Just got in today.”
“Quite the homecoming, huh? Getting wrangled into a rescue operation.”
“Not sure I’d call this a homecom
ing.” Dave veered onto the shoulder to let a fast approaching car pass. “Last I remember, you were trying to talk your mom into letting you get into show jumping. Anything come of that?”
She gave a soft chuckle. “Not really.”
“How come?” He’d promised to help teach her and had even started creating something of a course, using wood and other materials he found lying around. He’d been looking forward to the excuse to spend more time with her. Her uncle had given his family the boot less than a week later.
“I guess I sort of lost interest.”
That didn’t sound like her. He’d always admired her quiet determination and strength. Though she’d been as sweet as apple butter, when push came to shove, her shove pushed back. With how often she’d talked about wanting to compete in horse shows, he couldn’t imagine her simply getting bored with the idea. Then again, he thought her interest in him would last, was something real, too. She’d sure seemed to move on quick enough.
“What have you been up to?”
“Ranching, riding, training.”
“For a living?”
He nodded.
“Wow. That’s impressive.”
The fact that her admiration meant so much, even now, frustrated him. If he wasn’t careful, his heart would dive back into emotions he’d worked long and hard to kill.
“How’s your mom handling the winters? From what I remember, she wasn’t a fan of the cold. She used to wear gloves to church whenever air-conditioning season hit.”
“My folks stayed in Texas. Bought a grocery store about thirty minutes northeast. What about your mom? Did she ever—” Marry that guy she was always shoving you off for. Not a question he should be asking, not unless he wanted to prick old wounds. “Where’d she end up?”
Lost and Found Faith Page 20