“On a ranch you bring in the harvest and you take the cows to market.”
“That’s not exactly what I meant when I said going to the ball.”
“I know, which is why ranch life is referred to as a calling. Because it keeps calling you back.”
Abi offered a flat laugh. “You can say that again. In fact, you can say it a couple dozen times. I have new respect for Joe Gallagher. For you, too, for that matter. This home-on-the-range life is not for the faint-hearted.” She ran her hands through her hair, releasing a flurry of straw.
“Tell me about it. However, it does beat doing paperwork all day long,” Rebecca said.
“Are you trying to talk yourself out of your upcoming bonus and promotion?”
“Shh.” Once again Rebecca felt the need to glance around to be certain they weren’t overheard. “That is definitely not a done deal.”
“Once you deliver the Gallagher goods it is. And they are all but delivered. Do you want to be promoted and work from home, or not?” Abi asked.
“I do. I really do. It means more money and job security. I’m excited at the possibility of staying in Paradise with my family. The thing I hadn’t considered is that as a senior case manager I’ll have significantly less direct patient care and double the paperwork.”
“Maybe you should rethink your career track. It’s obvious that you were born to be a rancher. Anyone can see that. Why you’re playing around doing anything else is a mystery to me, Rebecca. This is clearly what you’re meant to be doing.”
“I’d have to have a ranch for that to happen, Abi.”
“Like that will be tough. Look around you. Have I mentioned I know a rancher?” Abi stomped her feet, knocking off as much debris as possible. “Come on. We can decide what we want to be when we grow up, later. I want food.”
As they walked out, Joe and Rod met them in the yard. Joe stopped walking and his eyes rounded as he assessed first Abi and then Rebecca, his gaze taking in their disheveled and dirty clothes.
Rod sniffed the air. “Ewww. Which one of you two smells like eau de horse? No offense ladies, but you can’t come to the table smelling like that.”
“It’s me, and I’m proud of it,” Abi said. “You know, someone has to do the dirty work around here while you guys are out there with those other macho men, playing on those funny looking tractor thingies and that fancy Old MacDonald Bobcat.”
“Hey, I resemble that remark,” Rod said with a grin. “Did you see me on that baler? The good news is, we can consider the hay officially harvested.”
“Really?” Rebecca looked to Joe for confirmation.
Joe took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a cotton bandanna. “Yeah. Never could have done it this fast without Rod’s help. Hollis Elliott’s guys went to town, as well. I can finish pulling the bales off the field tomorrow. But you folks may consider yourself done.”
Abi and Rod offered up a loud cheer and exchanged high fives.
“That’s great, isn’t it?” Rebecca asked Joe.
“Yeah. For sure.” Joe twitched his nose and sneezed. “Abi, I’m going to need you to stand ten paces back.”
“I get the hint,” Abi said.
“That wasn’t exactly a hint,” Rod said. “Come on. There’s a hose over there. I’ll hose down your boots.”
“Okay, but let’s hurry. My stomach is rumbling,” Abi said, racing ahead.
Rebecca smiled and fell into step beside Joe as they walked toward the cottage where Julian had dinner waiting.
“Things have worked out well, haven’t they?” she asked him.
“They have, and you never even said ‘I told you so.’”
“I’m not an ‘I told you so’ kind of gal,” Rebecca replied.
They walked around Rod’s rental SUV, her Honda and the farm truck to cross the gravel drive. As they approached the little house, Rebecca looked up and stopped in her tracks.
The large terra-cotta pots in front of the cottage overflowed with tall crimson geraniums. The deep green foliage was ripe with buds.
“What’s this? Who planted the pots?” she asked, turning to Joe.
“Technically, Julian did.”
“Technically?”
“He needed something to do between meals, and I sure wasn’t going to let him loose on the ranch. I sent him to town for flowers and potting soil. He planted some on the back porch, too.” Joe nodded as he examined the pots. “Did a nice job, didn’t he?”
“Why would you have him plant flowers?”
“Maybe I like flowers.”
“Do you?”
“I’m not opposed to them. Truth is, they’re for you. I know you’ve been too busy to plant and I...well, I wanted to say thank you.”
“For what? My time here has been a comedy of errors.”
“That’s not true.”
“Excuse me, but as I recall, it was so bad that you kicked us off the ranch last week.” She chuckled.
“That may have been a knee-jerk reaction on my part.”
Rebecca smiled. “That’s one way to look at it.”
He cleared his throat and glanced at her and then away. “Becca?”
“Yes?”
“I am indebted to you for talking to Mr. Elliott. You saved the day.” He offered a sheepish smile. “I know I talk a good game, but you recognized that I really needed assistance even though I didn’t want to admit it. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. Glad I could help.”
Rebecca knelt to examine the flowers. Stroking a velvet petal with a finger, she took a deep breath. “I’m not going to be here long enough to enjoy these blooms.”
“Is there a rush? You said you have more certification stuff to check off.”
“Just that paperwork you’ve avoided and the manufacturer DVD. We’ve covered everything else.” She looked up at him. “Except for your grumbling, you’ve been an exemplary patient. A quick study, as well. Just as you promised you would be.”
“Maybe we could talk about that.”
“Talk about what? Your grumbling?”
“No. For that I can only apologize.”
“Apology accepted.”
Joe nodded. “Look Becca, we’ve come a long way, don’t you think? I mean, well, it seems to me that things have changed lately. Gotten back to where we can trust each other again.” He looked at the ground before slowly, hesitantly, meeting her gaze.
“I hope so, Joe.” She rubbed her arm, a nervous gesture she still hadn’t overcome.
“How’s the incision?” he asked.
She pushed up her sleeve and let him see the clean line of stitches. “They’re healing nicely. I’ve got an appointment to have the sutures removed tomorrow.”
When Joe gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist to examine the wound, she stilled at his touch.
“It’s healing.” He met her gaze, his eyes tender with emotion. “Like you and me. We’ve reconciled the past. Maybe it’s time to talk about where we go from here.” His words were a soft murmur.
“Oh?” Rebecca swallowed.
The front door burst open and Julian stood on the porch, hands on hips and a spatula in his hand. “The boeuf bourguignon is getting cold, people.”
“We’ll talk later,” he said, releasing her arm.
Rebecca nodded and followed him up the steps to the cottage.
Something she hadn’t felt in a long time began to bubble up inside her. Hope. Had Joe truly forgiven her for the past? Did she dare to hope that he wanted to consider the future?
* * *
The sound of voices drifted to Joe as he passed by the side of the cottage on his way home after evening chores were completed. Though he knew he shouldn’t, he slowed his steps. Nothing good
ever came from eavesdropping, yet he couldn’t help himself. He grinned. He’d blame his mother. It was no doubt genetic.
“So what do you think, Abi?” Julian’s voice rang out.
“What are you babbling on about, Julian?”
“He’s waxing philosophical now that he’s headed back to the big city,” Rod said. “He’s been doing it since he served dessert tonight.”
“What do you think about Paradise and this ranch life?” Julian continued, ignoring Rod’s jab.
“That’s a no-brainer. Paradise is a wonderful town. This ranch is terrific, and Rebecca is one blessed woman.”
“Awe, come on, Abi. That’s a little over the top. Especially for you. I count on you to be a realist,” Julian returned.
“I am being a realist.”
“Okay, then maybe you can shed some insight into what’s going on with Rebecca and Joe.”
“That’s none of our business,” she said.
“Oh, you’re no fun. We’re just talking.”
“Gossiping is more like it.”
“Whatever.”
Joe could envision Julian shrugging his bony shoulders about now.
“I’m simply speculating. Do you think Rebecca’s going to give up everything for a cowboy who runs a little ranch in the middle of Nowhereville?”
“That’s none of our business, either,” Abi retorted. “But for the record, Nowhereville is her hometown, and she and the cowboy have history. Personally, I’d take that package if it was offered to me.”
“I was wondering about that myself, Abi,” Rod chimed in. “She’s got a chunk of change coming to her for this project. Do you think she’s planning to stay in Paradise or go back to Denver?”
“You aren’t supposed to know about the bonus,” Abi snapped.
“It’s common grapevine knowledge,” Rod said. “If she brings the completed Joe Gallagher assignment to OrthoBorne on deadline, she’s got a promotion and a mega-huge bonus in her pocket.”
Joe swallowed, trying to digest what he was hearing.
Rod continued. “I can’t believe Julian nearly blew it for her.”
“What? You’ve never messed up before?” Julian asked, indignation in his voice.
“Plenty of times. But Rebecca has a twelve-inch souvenir down her arm thanks to you,” Rod returned.
“It was an accident. What else can I do to make it up to her?”
“Stay out of trouble.”
“Only twelve more hours, Julian,” Abi warned. “And I agree, Rod. Rebecca deserves whatever she earned on this project.”
“We haven’t ever talked about it,” Rod said. “But it’s no secret that she’s had a rough couple of years. She really deserves a chance to start over.”
“Is that fresh off the grapevine, too?” Abi asked.
“Denver Post, Abi. I read the paper. Everyone in the office is aware. How could they not be?”
“Still, it’s not right for us to talk about Rebecca when she’s not here. Who has the keys? I suggest we head for town to pack up our stuff. We leave early tomorrow.”
“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it. You know I care about Rebecca, the same as you,” Rod said.
“I know.” She sighed. “I just feel bad. She’s a good person, and she deserves the best.”
“Absolutely,” Rod said.
“The best,” Joe whispered as he shoved off the wall, his gut burning. Yeah, Becca deserved the best. He changed direction and walked behind the cottage and through the trees to the corral so as not to be seen.
The sound of a car starting indicated that the OrthoBorne group was indeed headed back to town.
Joe slammed the palm of his left hand against the top rail of the corral, causing the entire fence to vibrate. He’d nearly made a fool of himself. Again. Nearly put his heart on the line for the second time with this woman.
Hadn’t he learned anything in twelve years? The first time he was a naive kid. At thirty-three, he should know better. He’d let down his defenses only to discover that Becca was stringing him along until she had a grasp on something better.
Joe Gallagher was an assignment. A means to an end. Nothing more.
He stared out at the slow-setting pink of sunset. Had she really been playing him all along?
“Joe?” Becca’s cheerful voice called out.
He stiffened but didn’t turn, willing himself to stay strong. One glance at her and his resolve would be shot to pieces.
“Did you want to talk?” She slid a booted foot on the bottom rail and relaxed her arms over the top one.
“No. I’m headed to the house. I’ve got to get up early and get those bales off the field in case it decides to rain.”
“I’ll help.”
“That’s not necessary. This is my job, and I can do it, thanks to you and OrthoBorne.”
“Are you sure? I can ride the tractor while you—”
Joe held up a hand. “Becca, you’re here to get me certified. It’s never been part of your job description to be a ranch hand.”
He refused to meet her gaze.
“I like working on the ranch,” she said.
“Sure you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Annoyance now laced her voice.
He feigned interest in the sunset. Overhead the halogen lights, set on timers, sizzled to life.
“It means you’ve been very flexible. You’ve gone above and beyond to get this project completed. I’m very appreciative. Gallagher Ranch is appreciative. But your job is done.”
“Terrific. Back to doing it all by yourself, I see. Good for you, Mr. Gallagher.”
He clenched his jaw and struggled for control. “Look, I’m saying thank you. Everything has gone according to plan. The team has completed its assignment, the hay is harvested and you can tell OrthoBorne that you brought Joe Gallagher in on schedule.”
He heard her soft gasp.
Silence stretched between them. In the barn a horse whinnied.
“Your certification?” she asked.
“I’ll have that paperwork all filled out by morning. I can watch the DVD tonight.”
“All right,” she murmured.
He held up his myoelectric arm toward the sky and offered a bitter laugh. “I’m paid for. Doesn’t get any better than that, does it?”
“No, I guess not.”
He heard her footfalls on the dirt and gravel as she turned away. Then she stopped. “Have I done something wrong?” The softly spoken question drifted to him.
“Not a thing.” Joe swallowed, determined to see this through. “You can hide the key under the mat when you leave. No rush. But I know you have things to do. Places to be.”
Now Joe did turn from the fence. Becca’s face was void of emotion. She stared through him for a moment, out into the deep darkness, before she turned and walked toward the house, her back ramrod straight.
Maybe if she stayed their paths would cross in town, then and again, but that was all. They’d go back to being strangers.
Julian was right. Becca deserved more than this little ranch in Nowhereville, which was about all he could ever hope to offer her.
Funny thing was when he really thought about it, he didn’t blame her. She had a child to consider this time around. It didn’t seem necessary to do much praying on the matter. No, it was clear that once again this cowboy bit the dust.
* * *
He’d dismissed her.
Rebecca barely resisted slamming the door of the cottage. She paced the floor, grateful Casey was at her grandmother’s. Mind made up, she headed to the laundry-room closet where cardboard boxes had been carefully broken down and stored. Yanking them out, Rebecca grabbed the packing tape from the shelf and savagely ripped strips of ta
pe from the dispenser, slapping them on the boxes. When one was put together, she tossed it into the hall and started on another.
Energized by her anger, she began to shove laundry supplies into the same boxes, then sealed them with more tape.
Like an out of control tornado, releasing years of anger she moved to the kitchen. Slamming pots and pans, she tossed them into boxes, as well.
How dare he? How dare Joe Gallagher shut her out?
Opening another cupboard, her gaze landed on the refrigerator where a souvenir from the Fourth of July barbecue at Elliott Ranch was held in place by a flower magnet.
A photo of Casey and Joe. What would she tell her little girl? Casey had fallen in love with Joe, just like her momma.
Rebecca hitched a breath and a sob escaped.
Her knees buckled, and she slid against the cupboards down to the floor. Closing her eyes, she fought the tears that threatened.
“No. I am not going to cry.” She swiped at her face with the back of her hand and then sat up straight, stirring up as much anger and indignation as she could muster. “No crying. I’ve come too far. I’ve endured much worse than this. I will not waste my tears on Joe Gallagher.”
She licked away a drop of moisture from her lips.
How had this happened? This was a job. An assignment. A bunch of ordinary manila folders with patient-care plans. Assessment, intervention and goals. Period. It wasn’t supposed to get personal.
Falling in love with Joe Gallagher hadn’t been part of the plan.
Rebecca covered her face with her hands and allowed her shoulders to sag under the weight of her despair.
She hadn’t imagined things, had she? They were growing closer and closer.
So what had changed? What did she do wrong? Whatever it was, the walls were up and Joe wasn’t going to talk.
And figuring it out wasn’t her priority. She had a daughter to think of. Casey was what really mattered.
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