Rocky Mountain Cowboy

by Tina Radcliffe

  Rebecca nodded. “I told him how awesome you are. Come to think of it, he may be a little scared you won’t like him.”

  Her daughter’s small mouth formed a perfect little circle of astonishment.

  “We better get moving, Case. We have a lot of work to do.” Rebecca glanced at the backseat. “Why don’t you start by grabbing your suitcase? Then you can work on those smaller boxes with your name on them. Take them right to your room. Okay?”

  “Okay, Momma, but, how do I know which room is mine?”

  “Yours is the pink one, of course.”

  “I have a pink room?” She beamed, pleasure lighting up her face.

  “That’s what Mr. Gallagher told me.” Rebecca opened her car door and popped the trunk. “We can move all the boxes in before we begin to unpack.”

  Joe moved down the steps toward them. “I thought you might need some help.”

  “How did you know we were here?”

  “I was on my way over to make sure everything was turned on.”

  “Thank you. We don’t want to take you away from your work.”

  “Paperwork today. It can wait.”

  She nodded and narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t suppose you happen to know how to smile?”

  “Excuse me?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Casey thinks you’re mad at her.”

  “Me?” He blinked with surprise. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m very serious. You look a little intimidating with that expression on your face and that black getup.”

  “What are you talking about?” He glanced down at his black jeans and black shirt.

  “You’re making a six-year-old nervous.”

  “Are you messing with me?” He took off his black ball cap and slapped it back on. “I have a niece, and she’s not afraid of me. Kids usually like me.”

  “Casey isn’t like most kids.”

  He hesitated for a moment. “Did you tell her about my arm? Maybe that’s what’s scaring her.”

  Rebecca glanced at his arm. “Why would I?” she returned. “And she distinctly asked why you were mad. She doesn’t care about your prosthesis.”

  “I don’t know...” His chin was set as he uttered the words.

  “Joe, you are not defined by your residual limb. No one cares. It’s not as big a deal to everyone else as it is to you.”

  He gave a slow nod as though considering her words. Then he strode over to the car and held the back door for Casey, who struggled with a suitcase.

  “May I help you with that, ma’am?”

  Startled, Casey jumped. She looked him up and down. “Okay,” she said softly.

  “I’m Joe.”

  “I’m Casey.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he said.

  She glanced from his face to his prosthesis and then nodded. “Cool arm.”

  “Uh, thanks.”

  Rebecca passed by him with a box tucked under her chin. “Told you so,” she murmured.

  Joe put the suitcase on the front walk, shook his head and went back to the trunk for another box.

  “Is this all you have?” he asked as he followed Rebecca into the house.

  “There’s two more boxes in the front seat.”

  “That’s not much. Where’s all your other stuff? No U-Haul or anything?”

  “There is no other stuff.” She chuckled. “I am probably the only woman you will ever meet with a lot of baggage but without a lot of stuff.”

  He opened his mouth, then pressed his lips together, brows knit.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Not a thing.” He raised a palm in defense.

  “You know you want to ask, so I may as well tell you.” She glanced around to be sure Casey was out of earshot. “I sold pretty much everything I owned to pay for the attorney fees and court costs, and to keep us solvent when I wasn’t employed.”

  “You were fired, too?”

  “Not at all. OrthoBorne held my job when I took a leave of absence. It was difficult to work when the accident and the trial were regularly in the news. Of course, it didn’t take long to burn through my vacation and sick time, either.”

  “Didn’t Nick have a life insurance policy or savings account or something?”

  “He sure did. Life insurance policy, as well as a hefty savings account. I was unable to access either of them until I was cleared of all charges.”

  Rebecca put her box down on the floor in the living room, and Joe followed suit.

  “The legal system frowns on handing out money to murderers. By the time I had access to any resources, it was much too late. I used those funds to pay my attorney and the staggering list of bills I had accumulated. The leftover is in the bank for Casey’s college education.”

  Joe ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that, Becca. You lost everything, even though you were innocent.”

  She shrugged. “God’s taking care of us.”

  “How can you be so blasé about what they did to you?”

  “Not they. Judge Brown. Yet I am certain that holding on to bitter feelings would only make me exactly like him, so I take it to the Lord when I’m tempted to be resentful. Which, on a bad day, can be often. He said he’d never leave me. He hasn’t.”

  “You think not?” Joe asked.

  “I know not.” She cocked her head and looked at him. “The old Joe Gallagher wouldn’t have doubted Him.”

  “The old Joe Gallagher. I have no idea who he is, let alone how God fits into things,” Joe muttered.

  “You’ll find Him again, eventually. When you least expect it.” She glanced around. “So are you going to give me the tour?” Rebecca asked, glad to change the subject.

  “Sure. Sure. Of course.”

  He moved into the cozy living room where a leather sofa and two leather chairs were positioned in front of a stone fireplace.

  Rebecca ran a hand over the back of the couch, imagining a relaxing evening with the fire blazing in the hearth, a quilt on her lap and a book in her hand.

  “There are two fireplaces,” Joe said. “The other one is in the master bedroom. Firewood is on the back porch. As you may remember, we never know what the weather is going to do in the valley, no matter what month the calendar says it is. We have to be prepared.”

  “Why did Dan leave this lovely place?”

  “Dan and Beth want a big family. They built a larger house near town. She works at the Paradise Hospital, and he’s either at the pharmacy in town or at the clinic. It only made sense to live closer to downtown.”

  Joe moved through the kitchen. “Furnace is in this closet. Instructions are taped on the wall inside.” He kept walking and tapped his knuckles on the entrance to a small room near the back of the house. “Washing machine, dryer and hot-water tank are in here.” Then he pulled open the back door to reveal a screened-in porch with two red rocking chairs, parked beside a stack of empty terra-cotta planters.

  Rebecca released a small gasp as she took in the view. “I can see straight to the mountains.”

  Joe turned to follow her gaze to the west. “Pretty spectacular. I guess I take it for granted. It’s good to see my world through someone else eyes.”

  “There’s still snow on the Sangre de Christos.”

  “Yeah, it’s been a chilly spring.”

  “A garden patch.” She peered through the screen into the yard. The grass was freshly mowed, the garden recently tilled. Neat rows of soil begged for planting. Beyond the garden, the lawn stretched to a grouping of conifers on the right, and behind them, a fence indicated the border of Gallagher Ranch.

  “Yeah, I guess so. Small one. Beth, Dan’s wife, grew vegetables. I forgot about that.”

  Rebecca l
owered herself to one of the rocking chairs and set it to a slow rhythmic motion with her foot. Planting a garden would be like setting down roots. But where would she be when it was harvest time? It seemed almost cruel to tempt her with the thought. She probably wasn’t even going to have time to plant the flowers in those big pots and planters, the way things were moving along.

  Suddenly realization hit her. She stopped the movement of the rocker and looked up at Joe. “I need to give you a deposit.”

  “Huh?”

  “A deposit. On the cottage.”

  “No.”

  “Let me know what day you prefer that I turn in the rent. I know we haven’t discussed this, but I’m hoping you charge about the same as the house I was going to lease. I’m happy to pay you weekly, since I don’t know how long I’ll be here.”

  “I’m not charging rent.” The words were flat, laced with the usual Joe Gallagher high and mighty annoyance.

  Rebecca stood. “Give me a good reason why not.”

  Joe leaned against the doorjamb, his arms crossed in a take-no-prisoners stance. “First of all, my mother would kill me if she found out. Second, you’re going to help me with the media crew. And third, it’s not my house. When Dan gave me the keys, he told me to use it if I get a ranch hand.”

  “Then I shouldn’t be staying here.” She shook her head. “And you shouldn’t be offering the place.”

  “If I get a ranch hand, it’ll only be for a week or so during the hay harvest. He can stay at my place. That’s the way we’ve always done things in the past.”

  “I don’t do charity.” She met his gaze. “Period.”

  “This isn’t charity. Charity is what they do down at the Paradise Valley Church. If you want to throw money at me, well, I suggest that you put it in the offering plate instead.”

  Rebecca rubbed the bridge of her nose. Clearly the man was even more stubborn than she was.

  “Wednesday evening service is at six,” he continued. “Sunday morning services are at eight, nine thirty and eleven. Bit of advice. Avoid the eleven o’clock service. While it is the shortest service of the three since Pastor likes to be out for lunch so he can watch the Broncos games, it’s also the one Judge Brown attends.”

  “You sure know a lot about church services for a man who’s turned his back on God.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re only here to handle my prosthesis, not my soul,” he shot back.

  “Whatever, Joe. I don’t want to argue.”

  Silence stretched for a moment, until Rebecca couldn’t stifle a yawn.

  “Tired, huh? Good news is you made it through the week.”

  “And no one was more surprised than you, right?”

  “I didn’t say that.” His words were a little less sharp this time. “But since you mentioned it, you did surprise me. There’s no hiding the fact that you were born to ranch life. Your daddy would be proud.”

  “Thank you.” Embarrassed by his praise, Rebecca shifted to professional mode. “Now that I’ve got a complete understanding of your ADLs, we’re going to have to carve out time to work on some techniques I think may help you fully utilize your prosthesis on the ranch.”

  “Does that mean I might graduate early?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “A guy can dream.”

  “I’ll be out of your hair before you know it, Joe. I promise.”

  “I wasn’t trying to get rid of you,” he said.

  “No?” She glanced up at him.

  “No. I think you and I work well together.”

  Rebecca opened her mouth and then closed it again. Before she could answer, he had turned and walked away. She stared at his retreating form, confused and a little terrified. Joe had every reason to be hard and unforgiving with her, given their past. However, this unexpected crack in the formidable cowboy, well, it was much more than she was ready to handle.

  “Don’t be nice to me, Joe,” she whispered. “I don’t deserve it.”

  * * *

  Joe walked past Casey’s room on his way out of the cottage. He stopped and paused in the doorway, giving a small knock on the door frame.

  “Is the bedroom okay?” he asked.

  Casey whirled around, her dark braids flying. “Oh, yes. I can’t believe it’s really mine.” Her eyes were bright with pleasure as she assessed the canopy bed and small vanity with its matching mirror and chair.

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “Are there...are there any kids around here?” Casey asked, her voice so soft that Joe had to move closer to hear.

  “My niece Amy is on the ranch quite a bit of the time, with her grandmother. Right now she’s in California.”

  When Joe reached for the cord and pulled open the blinds, Casey quickly crossed the room. With her nose nearly pressed against the glass, she anxiously peered out.

  “See that big house?” Joe asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “That’s Amy’s grandma’s house.”

  “Is Amy’s last name the same as yours?” she asked.

  “Yes. That’s right. Amy Gallagher. Do you know her?”

  “She’s in my Sunday-school class. Amy is a year older than me.”

  “I see.”

  Casey was silent for moments as she continued to take in the view.

  “I like the ranch. It’s nice here,” she finally breathed.

  Joe followed her gaze, once again seeing his home through different eyes. The horses grazed in the yard outside their pavilion, tails swishing back and forth, the slight breeze lifting their manes. Gil and Wishbone slept on the grass, bellies up toward the late-afternoon sun.

  “Yeah, it is,” he answered.

  “Can I ride a horse?”

  His eyes widened at the question. “Sure. If your mom says it’s okay.”

  “She will. She rides horses, too, you know.”

  “Yeah. I heard that.”

  Casey smiled up at him. “Thanks for letting us stay in your house.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I prayed for you.”

  “Excuse me?” Joe cocked his head. She had his full attention now.

  “I prayed for God to bring a friend for my momma. Someone nice, like you, to make her smile again.”

  Joe swallowed. He was more than touched by Casey’s honest admission. There were no words to say in response to the pureness of heart that shone in her dark eyes.

  “Do you have anything else in the car?” he asked.

  “Two boxes. Kind of small ones.”

  “Come on. Let’s grab them and get you unpacked, so we can see about a horse.”

  When Casey took his prosthetic hand in her small one and led him out of the pink bedroom, he found himself speechless yet again.

  Minutes later, Joe located Becca in the kitchen putting away the few groceries she’d brought with her.

  She turned at the sound of his boots on the hardwood floor. A grin lit up her face. “The first thing I’m going to do is bake a chocolate cake.”

  “Okay.” He said the word slowly, his mind tripping back in time. Chocolate cake and blue ribbons from the fair. He used to drive her to the fair in Monte Vista and Alamosa every year.

  “I’m sorry.” Her face reddened as though she was remembering the same thing.

  The moment was awkward, and he found himself irritated for no good reason. “You apologize a lot,” Joe said, more gruffly than he intended.

  “The way I see it, I have a lot to be sorry for.” The words tripped from her tongue easily and without guile. She cleared her throat. “Was there something you need?”

  “Your daughter would like to ride a horse.”

  “What?” Her head jerked back, and her brown eyes rounded. “Really?�
�� Her voice rose with a tremor of excitement. “Did she tell you that she wants to ride? My Casey wants to ride?”

  “Hold on a minute there.” He stopped her, confused by what he was hearing. “Are you telling me that Casey has never ridden...at all?”

  “No. Never.”

  “Why, that’s plain shameful, especially when she’s the granddaughter of a ranch man.”

  “I have no excuse. You’re completely right,” Becca murmured, her eyes downcast. “Casey’s been shuttled back and forth so much between Paradise and Denver. Sometimes I feel like her entire childhood has been on hold since the accident.”

  “Well, we can sure take care of that. Right now, in fact.”

  “Now?”

  “Sure. How about if she rides double with you? We can take a short ride down to where the cows are grazing.”

  “I don’t want to inconvenience you. I’m sure you have things to do.”

  “Not at the moment.”

  Becca clasped her hands together and grinned. “Thank you, then. Casey will love that.”

  “I’ll meet you at the barn.”

  “Yes. Yes. I’ll get Casey into some blue jeans.”

  Joe nodded. He turned and tucked his head away from her, before she could see him smiling. Why would it be that making Becca and Casey happy warmed his heart? Maybe he shouldn’t overthink this, but simply enjoy the moment.

  Chapter Seven

  “I’m going to ride a real horse,” Casey repeated the words for the umpteenth time as she twirled around the living room.

  “Come on, little cowgirl,” Rebecca called as she held open the door.

  “I’m going to ride a real horse.”

  “You’re going to ride with me,” Rebecca said.

  “When can I ride by myself?”

  “I don’t know. These are Mr. Gallagher’s horses and—”

  “Joe. He said to call him Joe.”

  “Joe. Yes. Okay. Well, Case, these are Joe’s horses and we are here on his ranch. My job comes before riding horses.” Rebecca pointed to the barn. “This way.”

  “Are you doing therapy with Joe?”

  “Yes, I am, but remember what I told you. That’s confidential. We do not discuss Momma’s clients. Ever.”