Twenty minutes later, she pulled into the long dirt driveway that was a brute to clear in the winter, but that actually looked picturesque in the summer. Driving up the path, Melody parked behind the old farmhouse she’d lived at her entire life and her daddy had lived at and his dad had lived at. Four generations of Steels had lived in that home. She was so close to losing it.
There she was, unable to keep it longer than a week or so after her dad died.
Parking the truck, she didn’t go into the house. Instead, she headed into the barn. The big old red building with its peeling paint and quiet air. They hadn’t had horses in years.
Opening the door, she didn’t bother closing it as she approached the covered old Corvette in its own stall. Her dad had parked the ‘Vette in an oversized horse stall, covered it with a car cover and closed the stall door. He hadn’t taken the car out in years, but he always worked on it, started it, made sure it was running well and shiny.
He’d loved that car more than the land, more than anything except alcohol. Certainly, more than Melody.
If Melody sold the ‘Vette… she could keep the house and the land. She could eat something more substantial than twenty-cent bags of ramen. Maybe she could hold her head up a bit until she got another job – not a real possibility in Two Rides, but she could hope.
Peeling back the soft car cover enough to open the driver’s door and leave the windshield uncovered, Melody slid into the bucket seat and gripped the smooth, cool steering wheel.
Leaning her head back, she stared into the quiet, dim lighting. She had to choose and that was obvious. Time was running out.
But she couldn’t focus. Her head was a mess and her heart was screaming for answers.
Why was Stryder back? What had he meant when he’d offered to help her? How did he know what to do to help? Why did Stryder have to come back and see her at her lowest?
Melody wiped the tears from her face that she’d sworn she wouldn’t cry anymore. Too bad pain came on unexpectedly or she wouldn’t cry as much as she did.
If she planned on hurting, maybe things wouldn’t hurt as much. Or maybe, instead of keeping the house, she should pack up her things and drive off into the sunset in the old car.
Regardless… She’d have to choose soon. What she wouldn’t give to have someone tell her what to do.
Because, honestly? She had no idea what she was doing and what was the right choice.
Chapter 6
Stryder
Stryder watched the entire thing from the safety of his booth, unsure what had just happened. One second Melody had taken his order and stormed off, the next the cook was delivering his food and passing out the tickets to the regulars. Where had Melody gone?
A couple of the men at the table behind Stryder yelled at the cook, calling him Tom. They’d asked what he’d done to scare Melody off. Tom had waved his hand over his shoulder and returned to the kitchen area. About twenty minutes later a red headed woman showed up looking harried and stressed as she threw on a pink apron and got to work.
Had Melody been fired or had she quit? Neither would be good since she had no money. Or maybe she did. Maybe Clint had finally gotten life insurance. That’d be the first unselfish thing he’d done in his life. Everything else that man had done had been wrapped up in his own wants and desires. Not those of his daughter, or his wife, or anyone else. Stryder was living proof of that fact.
Stryder had never respected the man, but when he’d done what he’d done to Stryder and Melody, Stryder hadn’t been able to think straight about the man again.
Initially, Stryder planned on staying at the small Red Top, the only motel in Two Rides, but when he got into his rented BMW that looked like it had been peppered with BBs from a machine gun, Stryder couldn’t make himself drive deeper into town. Not that Main Street was deep downtown or anything. You could see from one end to the other without moving much.
Something called him out of town, away from the buildings planted too close together, and the cement sidewalks that felt a little too much like California cities. Nah, he headed out of town, about twenty minutes. Pulling onto a dirt road with overgrown grass and bushes on either side and in between the tire ruts, Stryder took a deep breath. His windows were down and he’d never felt more out of place than in that small sports car in the big wide openness of Montana.
Grass that had gone to seed with long fluffy heads brushed the bottom of the BMW and Stryder came to a stop after a couple hundred yards from the road in front of an old Craftsman-style home with a wraparound porch and boarded windows. It didn’t look too worse for wear considering he hadn’t been there in years.
Climbing from the car, Stryder stared at his childhood home. Faded siding and chipped paint gave the place a grayed out and used up look. Behind the building stood his daddy’s old mink shed that had only ever had mink in it for a couple weeks until Stryder’s mama had decided she didn’t like how vicious the creatures could be. They’d sold them all and the shed had become more of a storage building than anything. Even chickens preferred not being in the long tin-roofed outbuilding.
Stryder closed the car door. The whisper of his patent leather dress shoes under the hem of his fourteen-hundred-dollar slacks sounded all wrong as he crossed the drive. First thing he’d have to do is find some boots and jeans. He could feel the Stryder he’d become fading away as the Stryder he used to be scoffed at his prissy clothes and lack of a hat. He climbed creaky steps to get to the porch and his footsteps echoed as he slowly walked around the old home.
A few slats on the porch were cracked, but overall the boarding job had worked and the house looked fairly intact. Long strides carried him around the entire home and something ached inside him. He knew what it was, but it took a lot of pride not to ignore it – his need to be home.
Back in front, he slowly lowered himself onto the old porch swing his daddy had made for his mama. Still sturdy, the old swing had an Adirondack look to it while it was made with lodgepoles. The chainsaw mill had been one of the few extravagances his dad had living out there. They’d gone from poor to poorer, but they’d never been in danger of losing their home.
As the morning sun lit up the land and trees as far as the eye could see, Stryder let himself breathe in the Montana air. He leaned his head back, pushing his toe on the warped wood of the deck and set himself to swinging forward and back.
That’s what he’d been missing. The clean air that left you feeling as if anything was possible. Like he could actually take a moment and just be. When you lived in a place that was all about comparison and making the next million, you tended to forget your roots calling for you. He’d missed the unrepentance of the jagged mountain peaks in the distance and the whisper of home in the breeze.
He’d missed that over the years. Oh, how he’d missed that.
Stryder didn’t feel the need to drink, to keep a glass in his hand like security blanket. While he had responsibilities, lots of them, he didn’t feel like they were out of reach. Instead, he could feel his attitude changing as he sat there and absorbed the can-do greatness of the Montana ambience.
He needed to capture that again for himself. His love of life and helping others.
Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, Stryder pulled out his cell phone and called his assistant. He tapped his finger on his mid-thigh, waiting for the call to connect.
After the second ring, Feeney answered. “Sir?”
“Feeney, tell the guys I’m relocating to Two Rides. I need everything moved here in the next seventy-two hours. Office items first. Can you handle that?” Stryder didn’t need to confirm Feeney’s abilities. He just wanted – more or less – to hear that it could be done so he could push away any doubts that might rear their ugly heads in the coming days.
“I’ll need a few additional crews to the normal requirements with the office move. Is this a standard takeover, sir?” What Feeney wasn’t saying was that Stryder didn’t usually move to the towns he bought and revived.
“Of course, sir. I’ll get it done. Master Trevor has been calling. I’ll patch him through the next time he calls.” Feeney never reacted to the things Stryder did or said. He was the epitome of discretion and no matter how hard Stryder had tried, Feeney’s professionalism kept their relationship strictly business. They ended the call.
Stryder had no doubt Feeney would get things done, even from the shores of California. Feeney was one of the best assistants in the business. If it couldn’t be done, Feeney would find a way to do it. There was no can’t with the man. One of the reasons Stryder paid him the high salary he did.
He’d take a page out of Feeney’s book and employ more of the anything is possible attitude. He had billions. Anything was possible.
The first place he would apply his newfound can would be with Melody.
He glanced to the east of his home, toward the line of trees that rose in the distance. The top of the Steel home could just barely be seen. When night fell, Stryder would be able to see the lights through the leaves and branches, but during the day, there was too much in the way. When did he go over and introduce himself to his neighbor?
Did he take a plate of brownies or a bag of money? The biggest question, he really wanted to ask her, had nothing to do with being neighborly, and everything to do with making things up to her.
Did he have a chance to fix anything with her? Or had she moved on completely from everything they’d been to each other? Stryder needed boots. He could feel his Montana side unwilling to approach Melody without more confidence in his stride. There was nothing confident in a suit in the Montana sun.
He needed all the confidence he could get.
Chapter 7
Melody
Melody had to figure out how to avoid her empty house since leaving the diner job a few days before.
Staying inside wasn’t an option when the days were so warm. Plus, Melody’s dad’s depression seemed to permeate the walls. Years of sadness spurred alcoholism were hard to escape just because he was dead. Plus, everywhere she looked bills seemed to taunt her. She needed a break from the mistake of leaving her job and the lack of money and food she had.
Melody gripped the rope of the tire swing, pumping her legs to move back and forth over the creek from the bent angle of the large willow tree. The tree had been there longer than she could remember and her daddy had put in the swing when she was about six years old. She’d swung on it ever since.
From the raised knoll above the creek, she could sit on the swing and see for miles around. In one direction, the old Flint home sat with an abandoned air that… wait a minute.
Melody stretched her leg down to stop the swing from gently swaying and she narrowed her eyes in the direction of the home in the afternoon light.
Over the years, she’d grown accustomed to staring at the home, taking in the details of abandonment. When Stryder’s parents had died, someone had come to board up the windows and that had made the home look like a painting in the distance with no real depth. Shadows on the wraparound porch gave it angles and a three-dimensional feel, but the windows boarded up had left it feeling soulless.
But now, the glass was back, reflecting the brilliant blue sky and the dark shadows of the porch. Had Stryder come back to sell his place?
Dust rose from the dirt drive as semi-trucks lumbered up the to the house. From that distance, the men moving in and out could have been ants or they could have been figments of Melody’s imagination.
She hoped it was the latter. The former meant someone was moving in and Melody didn’t want to dwell on who it would be. She shook her head. No, Stryder wasn’t moving back. He’d been at the diner in his business suit, Montana wouldn’t offer anything for who he had become.
She’d spent the last couple of days hoping he was just passing through, maybe selling his place, or something else less about her and more about moving on with his life.
In all honesty, Stryder hadn’t come to her place and that had hurt more than she wanted to admit.
Busying herself with looking through the two or three want-ads that had nothing to do with jobs and everything to do with people looking for work, Melody hadn’t even found a seller for the stuff she had to sell. She had branched out, using online selling sites and posted some things, but still hadn’t heard anything.
She needed money now. Immediately.
There were no jobs in Two Rides. Not that she could get. She could probably get a job at the granary, but that meant more exposure to Brock and the rest of the Stidwell family. If she was going to do that, she would have to admit that her pride was worthless and why not just marry into the controlling family? She had nothing else to lose at that point.
What was she going to do? The notices had stopped coming to the house in the mail. She’d disconnected the landline and her cell phone wasn’t attached to any of the accounts they owed on. If she wasn’t getting bills, where were they going? Had the bank done something about her mail? That scared Melody more than collectors showing up on her doorstep.
When they stopped contacting her was when they were going to court or going to a harder acting collections agency. She didn’t need a meaner company telling her she owed money. She knew she was in debt. What she needed was a break. Maybe a really great paying job that paid her far more than she was worth. She could do with that.
Sun reflecting off the gurgling water of the creek caught her attention and brought her back to the moment. The creek, with its grassy shores and brightly colored river rocks had been a place of so many moments growing up, moments she’d mostly shared with Stryder. Instead of making her feel centered, a memory flooded her senses.
A rock plopped into the water and Melody looked up from the reflection of the clouds in the happy creek. The ripples hadn’t lasted with the fast moving water, but it had ruined the image enough to catch her attention.
A boy probably two years older than her stood on the opposite side of the creek. He had brown eyes like hers but darker brown hair. Blue jeans and a t-shirt didn’t make him seem any different from the other boys at school and Melody watched him.
His voice and the way he spoke to her made him stand out. “I’m Stryder Flint. I live over there.” He pointed down the slight incline toward the beautiful estate that hadn’t been able to stay in anyone’s family for long over the years. Melody’s mama said it was haunted but Melody knew the home just needed love.
Happy to have a new friend living in the home, Melody smiled and waved. “I’m Melody Steel. I live over there.” She pointed toward her house, another couple hundred yards in the opposite direction past golden fields and splotches of green where the water had been recently. She looked back at the boy, chewing on her lower lip. Would he want to play with her?
Stryder’s eyes lit up. “Hey! Flint and Steel. Did you know you can use those two things to start a fire?” He started talking, explaining the process. And as if it were natural, he’d crossed a fallen tree to the other side of the water and approached Melody, still talking about flint and steel.
He reached her, his smile easy and his eyes bright. He gave her a push on the swing, talking about whatever and Melody had listened, loving the feel of his hands on her back and the wind in her hair.
From then on they’d met there almost every day, especially when they were upset or they’d had good news or just wanted to see each other. Climbing trees, splashing in the water, and swinging had been only a few of the things they’d done together over the years.
As they’d gotten older, Stryder had held Melody on the grassy shores and told her over and over how much he loved her. He’d filled her entire world with the things they could do together – b
uild a family, travel the world. He’d promised her forever and left without looking back.
Melody clenched her jaw at the memory. Her heart couldn’t take any more disappointment. She couldn’t handle how much he’d ruined her place of contentment and happiness. She couldn’t go to the creek without feeling and remembering the way he’d made her feel.
Even as those memories made her sad, they also reminded her of what it was like to be loved and she couldn’t stop going to the creek. The feelings were addicting and she went there more because she needed it than because she wanted it.
Since she’d seen him at the diner, she couldn’t stop thinking about him – had she ever really stopped? No, he was always there in the back of her mind. When would he come back? Would he come back to her? And then finally, she didn’t want him to come back. She’d been hurt too much and she wasn’t sure she could ever recover from being abandoned by him, especially after he knew she’d been left by her mom. He knew what he would do to her by leaving and not coming back without an explanation. He knew… and still he’d done it.
Why was Stryder back? Had he finally come to Two Rides to do his magic investing and turn the town around?
She’d left her phone at the house so she couldn’t call Jesse right then to tell her that someone had bought the old Flint estate. Even as she thought it, though, she wasn’t stupid. No one had bought that place. She wanted Jesse to tell her someone had bought it because the only other alternative was too much for Melody to handle.
Stryder was back.
Melody wasn’t sure it was a good thing. Not for her heart and not for her home.
Chapter 8
Stryder
The old tire swung Melody around and around as the tree bent out over the knoll and the creek. Branches stretched further into the sky, reminding Stryder that he might have left, but nothing had frozen in time there. Everything had continued growing and aging and he’d missed it all.
Stryder: The Second Chance Billionaire (The Billionaire Cowboys of Clearwater County Book 1) Page 4