To Trust a Rancher

by Debbi Rawlins

  Becca pulled a smile from somewhere and could only hope the overwhelming sadness of what she knew and couldn’t say didn’t show in her eyes.

  “Welcome back, sweetheart,” Gail said, pulling her into another hug. “I’ve missed you so.”

  “Me, too,” Becca said, an inconvenient lump making her voice thick while she struggled to swallow.

  The moment Gail turned her attention to Noah, her blue eyes sparkled. “And how are you, Noah?”

  “Thanks for inviting us, Mrs. Mitchell,” he said, racing to get it all out. Mitchell ended up more of a mumble than a word right before he blurted out, “I have to pee.”

  Gail laughed. Hard. And that’s when Becca saw Ryder. He wasn’t looking at her. Couldn’t be. Not with that kind of a smile.

  Putting a hand on his mother’s shoulder, he gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s been too long since I’ve heard that sound.”

  Gail patted his hand. “Why don’t you show our young guest here to the bathroom while Becca and I go see about lunch.”

  Ryder finally leveled his gaze at Becca, dropping his smile in favor of a look that said it all: I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. I don’t want you here. But I’ll tolerate you for my mother’s sake.

  It only lasted for a few seconds, but it felt as if she’d been scalded.

  “Come on, Noah.” Ryder held out his hand. “Let’s get you taken care of so we can go out to the stable.”

  Noah hopped up and down, his eyes wild with excitement. “Horses, horses, horses. Now!”

  “Oh, please don’t do that,” Becca said, horrified that he’d have an accident right there on the porch. She caught hold of his arm. “Thanks for the offer,” she said, glancing at Ryder, “but I think for the first time in a strange house, I should take him.”

  “Oh, goodness, of course you should,” Gail said, stepping back to give them room. “It’s been some time since I’ve had little ones around.”

  Noah shook away her hand. “No.”

  “Noah? What did we talk about?” Becca narrowed her eyes in warning. “You and I will go together so I can help you,” she said and when he stuck out his lower lip, she crouched beside him. “This bathroom might not look like the one at home. Remember how we stopped at the gas station and it was a little scary?”

  Noah’s frown hadn’t eased.

  “I’m sorry,” Becca said, feeling self-conscious and glancing up. It struck her then that Noah, with his small arms folded, was mimicking Ryder.

  “Look,” Ryder said, “I’m sure I can manage to help him out if need be.”

  “Okay.” Becca shrugged and stood up. “If you don’t mind a blow-by-blow account of what’s happening while he sits on the john.”

  The crease between Ryder’s brows deepened as he thought about it. Now, his frown matched Noah’s.

  Gail let out a laugh. “I forgot about those days. Ryder was so funny. He used to—”

  “All right. That’s enough.” Ryder rubbed his jaw. Underneath his tanned skin, Becca thought he’d flushed a bit. “Come on, buddy. Go with your mom, then after, we can go see the horses.”

  “Yay! Horses!” Noah was all smiles again.

  Becca tried not to resent how easily Uncle Ryder had turned Noah’s mood around.

  Having her hand tugged reminded Becca that she’d better hurry. “Down the hallway, first door on the right?”

  Gail nodded, looking pleased. “You remember.”

  “Well, I was here practically every day.”

  “Mommy. Come on.” Noah tugged harder and she almost bumped into Ryder.

  He didn’t move, just stood there, tall and broad in a snug T-shirt, muscled arms crossed over his chest.

  Ignoring him, she let Noah pull her along, hoping he didn’t have an accident on the way. He didn’t very often, but when he was this excited, he sometimes waited too long.

  Even in their rush, Becca couldn’t help but notice the house had changed. The furnishings were more streamlined, definitely lighter. Gail had always admired the Shaker approach, and it showed in the simple but perfect antiques that were artfully placed in the large living room. The hallway, what little she could see before they reached the bathroom, had been made into a picture wall.

  “Mommy?” Noah looked up at her, his hand on the doorknob. “I can go by myself, but stay right here if I call you.”

  “You sure?”

  He nodded.

  “Don’t close the door all the way.”

  “Okay.”

  Becca’s gaze drifted back to the wall. The photo closest to her was of Amy at about thirteen, striking a pose. She’d always played to the camera. Such a ham. Next to that one was a picture of Mr. Mitchell sitting atop Tonto, a roan gelding that had been a favorite of his. Odd that Becca had remembered the horse’s name.

  Or maybe not. She really had spent half her childhood at the Sundowner, listening to music with Amy in her room or eating dinner with the family or pestering whoever had been in the stable at the time.

  Peering closer at Mr. Mitchell, she wondered when the photo had been taken. With his endless patience, he’d taught her more about horses than anyone else, except for Ryder.

  Yet she hadn’t come back for his funeral. She hadn’t said goodbye. Instead, she’d let herself believe everything Amy had told her. If the lies were the reason Amy hadn’t called her yet, that would hurt just as much. Didn’t Amy realize Becca would end up forgiving her in time?

  Becca felt the sting of tears and breathed in deeply. Not now.

  God, please, not now.

  She exhaled slowly. Blinked away an errant tear. Dabbed at her cheek just in case.

  Moving closer to the bathroom door, she listened for a moment. “Noah? You okay?”

  “Yes, Mommy.”

  When she turned back to the photos, she saw Ryder standing at the end of the hall, watching her.

  Chapter Seven

  Just as Ryder walked out of the house, he realized he should’ve grabbed a jacket. He’d known the air was chilly but he’d been too distracted.

  Logic told him that hanging on to his bitterness toward Becca didn’t serve his purpose. So far, that hadn’t stopped him from resenting the hell out of her. And she could get choked up looking at photos all she wanted; it didn’t mean he’d feel any sympathy for her.

  The bottom line, though, was that he’d asked her to come to the Sundowner for the sake of his mom, and that was what he needed to remember. He just wished she’d stayed in the kitchen instead of following him and Noah to the stable as if she was afraid to have the kid out of her sight for one lousy second. What did she think he was going to do to the boy?

  “Noah, wait for us before you go inside that stable.” She walked just ahead of Ryder, while Noah ran as fast as his little legs could carry him.

  Becca hurried to reach him, her hips swaying subtly in those tight worn jeans. She sure had come a long way from being that thin, awkward teenager who’d followed him around, hoping he’d let her go for a horseback ride.

  “The stable’s different,” she said, turning to face Ryder. When she realized he’d been trailing her by only a couple feet, she stepped back.

  “We had some problems with the roof on the old stable, and it was too small. So we built this one.”

  “I noticed the changes in the house as well. I can see that it’s easier for your mom to maneuver with the walker.”

  “Yeah. She uses the cane most of the time. But some days are worse than others.”

  “I still can’t believe she had a stroke. She’s too young. It must have been devastating.”

  Ryder slowed. “It would have been better if her daughter had been here.” He waited, not sure what he was hoping for.

  “Uncle Ryder, hurry!”

  “Hold your horses,” he said, as he picked up the pace.
/>   “Hold a horse?” The boy was jumping again. Was it a Noah thing, or just a four-year-old thing? He’d been around kids, but not a lot of them and not for long stretches. For his mom’s sake, he planned on seeing that this one stayed around as long as possible.

  He just wished Noah didn’t come with all that baggage. But remembering how his mom’s face had brightened at the sight of the boy, Ryder was willing to forget a lot.

  Noah stopped at the entrance to the stable. Ryder had figured the lure of what was inside would tempt the boy to disobey, but Noah had stuck to the rules.

  “Now,” Ryder said, crouching down beside Noah. The rich smell of fresh hay mingled with the less fragrant scents of the animals behind him. “Horses are pretty big, but they’re real friendly, as long as there’s not a lot of jumping and loud noise. That can make a horse nervous. You think you can remember that while we go meet them?”

  Noah aborted his next jump halfway through and curled his hands into fists as he stood perfectly still. “Yes.”

  “Good. I’ll let you know when you can pet them, okay?”

  The boy nodded and stayed calm until they were in the stable proper where he got a load of all the stalls. From there, he could see just how big the horses were. Being four, that had to be intimidating. Noah started to twitch.

  Becca slid into position beside her son. She ran her fingers up into his straight brown hair, scratching lightly with her neat beige nails. Noah relaxed inch by inch. His shoulders first, fists last.

  It made the hair on the back of Ryder’s neck stand up. For a second, it had felt as if she was doing that to him, running those fingers from his nape to his crown. Which was crazy. He’d had women’s fingers in his hair before. From casual dates to his ex-wife. None of them had made him—“So, you ready to go meet the horses?”

  Noah’s “Yes!” was louder than Ryder had expected. He was sure none of the horses were spooked, but he’d jerked a bit.

  “Inside voice, Noah.” Becca stepped back, letting Ryder take the lead.

  They walked over to the first stall. “This big guy is named Maverick. He’s twelve years old and he really likes carrots.”

  Noah’s mouth was open and his eyes went wide. “He’s way big.”

  “Yep.” Ryder ran his hand down Maverick’s neck. “He’s gentle as can be, and if you want, you can pet him.”

  Noah stepped closer to his mom. “I can’t reach.”

  “We can fix that.” Ryder scooped him up, his knuckles accidentally brushing Becca’s hip.

  She barely reacted, just stepped to the side as he held Noah up high enough to touch Maverick’s neck. “Here,” she said, moving closer now. “Stroke gently like this.”

  Ryder fixed his gaze on her small, slim hand as she ran it down the side of the horse’s neck. Noah’s tiny fingers followed his mom’s lead. Maverick was one happy camper.

  Ryder, on the other hand...

  “Okay,” he said, setting Noah down. “Why don’t we go meet your mother’s favorite horse?”

  At his abruptness, Becca frowned.

  Noah blinked, then stared at his mother as if she’d been hiding a treasure. “You got a horse?”

  * * *

  BECCA’S GAZE WENT from Noah to Ryder and back again. “Not exactly,” she said, stunned that Ryder had remembered her infatuation with Miss Kitty, the only palomino on the ranch back then. “I used to come here a lot when Aunt Amy and I were kids, and Miss Kitty and I became friends, too.”

  “Did you hold him?”

  “Miss Kitty’s a girl horse. I got to ride her sometimes and I used to feed her apples.”

  “No carrots?”

  “Those, too.” Warmed by the pleasant memories, Becca walked over to the fourth stall where Miss Kitty whinnied, the same way she always had when Becca used to come by.

  “Your mom also learned how to take care of Miss Kitty,” Ryder said. “She brushed her and gave her baths.”

  Noah stared at Becca in awe. “Can we give her a bath?”

  “She looks pretty clean to me,” Becca said.

  Noah’s nose scrunched. “Can I see the bathtub?”

  Ryder laughed, and the sound of it was enough to send her back in time. When she’d been a tween and a teenager, Ryder had laughed a lot—a low deep chuckle that had made her silly heart flutter. And then he’d smile. Like right now. As much as he despised her, he’d gone out of his way to make Noah feel welcome.

  The tense feeling in her chest wasn’t new. Ever since she and Amy had left Blackfoot Falls, she’d felt that squeeze to her soul. Which was one of the reasons why coming here today had been such a bad decision. Not just because of the whole mess with Amy and Noah, but because this attitude from Ryder was like being body slammed over and over again. They’d always gotten along. He’d never made fun of her, never treated her like an idiot, even when she’d done idiotic things.

  Ryder leaned toward Noah, then stage-whispered, “She used to paint Miss Kitty’s hooves with nail polish.”

  “What color?” Noah asked, turning to face Becca.

  “I can’t believe you remember that,” she said, shaking her head at Ryder before addressing Noah. “Pink, usually. And different colors for the holidays.”

  “Can we do that?”

  “I’m afraid not,” she said, the same second Ryder said, “Sure.”

  Noah looked delighted. He loved pulling fast ones on Isabella, usually about cookies. Becca supposed she should be happy he hadn’t yet learned to be cynical.

  But she was still stuck on the fact that Ryder had remembered Miss Kitty was her favorite. And told her son.

  Her son. Her heart.

  His nephew.

  * * *

  AT A QUARTER to five, Becca was dicing the last potato near the kitchen sink while Gail browned the ground beef for the shepherd’s pie. It was one of Becca’s favorite meals, and Gail making it was no accident. Tonight’s menu was Gail’s way of asking Becca and Noah to stay longer. Somehow Amy’s mother had discovered that chocolate cake was Noah’s most favorite, aside from cookies, and two round cake pans were now cooling on the countertop.

  “I wish I could understand why she stopped calling.” Gail’s voice cracked on the last word. “Amy and I mostly got along. Same with her dad and Ryder. She wasn’t like some of the girls at that high school. You know the ones I mean.”

  Becca nodded as her thoughts swung back to the past. As was probably the case at most schools, there were the rebels, the outcasts and the troublemakers, along with the jocks and the prom queens. Not that Becca would ever admit it, but Amy was more of a troublemaker than Gail had known. Amy’s gift was her knack for never getting caught.

  Becca’s hands stilled. She hoped that was still true. That Amy was somewhere in hiding, not daring to phone until the coast was completely clear. Although the odds of that were diminishing by the day.

  “She never complained about home,” Becca said, and that had been true, until she’d “poured her heart out” to her best friend and lied through her teeth.

  “I know she hated living out here in the boonies,” Gail said. “I’m not shocked that she wanted to go to Los Angeles, but she promised to keep in touch. To come back for holidays and special occasions.”

  Becca knew she should say something, she just didn’t know what. “She misses you. We talk about you a lot,” she said finally, only to realize a split second later that she’d just opened a can of worms. So she rushed on, “But living in a big city kind of caught us both off guard. It was so expensive. At least she’s done well bartending. It sure pays more than I made as a waitress.”

  “I worry, though. As far as I know, she never used to drink and now...” Gail sighed. “Please, forgive me. I promised myself I wouldn’t put you in a difficult situation. Let’s change the subject.”

  Becca didn’t argue. She’d expect
ed to be asked tricky questions, and she’d dreaded them more than anything. Even worse, they made her think about Amy and what Derek might’ve done—

  Her throat threatened to close up on her, which couldn’t happen. Quickly, she dumped the potatoes in a pot of water and put them on to boil. “Mrs. M—Gail, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go check on Noah.”

  “Yes, of course, I’d hate for him to wake up in a strange bedroom alone. Go. I can finish up.” Gail got busy with seasonings, and Becca stopped to take the peas and carrots out of the freezer, grateful she had an excuse to go and pull herself together.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, touching Gail’s arm as she left the big, airy kitchen. With the exception of the new stainless steel appliances, it hadn’t changed much. Still yellow and white, the pantry and the fridge always full and open to whatever experiments two young girls could make a mess of.

  The large garden window over the sink was, as always, covered with little pots of herbs Gail managed to keep going all year long. Becca remembered how Grams had tried to pry Gail’s secret out of her, but all she’d say was that it took a little water and lots of love.

  Grams’s response had been, “Like hell.” Becca grinned at the memory. It was the first and only time she’d heard Grams cuss.

  Huh.

  She slowed her step.

  It was nice, thinking about Grams without feeling depressingly sad. Becca had thought staying at the Sundowner would have the opposite effect. But mostly, this house held a lot of happy memories...before they all had come crashing down under the weight of Amy’s lies.

  After the shock of her written confession had worn off, the fond memories had started trickling in again. A good deal of them had come during the long drive to Montana.

  One in particular had stuck out. Ryder had loved his country music back when he was a teenager, and the memory of him teaching her how to line dance was something she’d thought of several times over the years. He’d taught Amy, too, and they’d laughed themselves silly.

  Nice that she could now remember those snippets of her past without feeling guilty. Without having to quash them because of the violence she’d believed he’d done to Amy. Becca used to hang out here all the time...she knew the whole family. How could she have fallen for Amy’s lies? That mystery was going to haunt her for a while.