by Jeannie Watt
“Did you get the job at Brandt?” Pat growled.
Jason rolled his eyes heavenward. One of those calls—the angry calls he used to get whenever Pat OD’d on self-pity or drank too much. Pat sounded dead sober today.
“No, I did not.”
“I heard you applied there.”
Jason didn’t ask how. “I didn’t make the cut.”
Pat snorted. “You don’t want to work for those elitist bastards anyway.” Translation—Pat didn’t want his protégé working for a place where he hadn’t been able to get a job.
“I did,” Jason said. He wasn’t going to lie and he didn’t want to discuss his job search. Pat had helped him with the game and his head and even his women problems, but talking work was not going to help either one of them. “I’m looking elsewhere now. How are you doing?”
Always a loaded question, but Jason found that all general questions were loaded when Pat was in this kind of mood. So if he were going to take flack, he was going to do so for a question that he wanted an answer to.
“Well, I don’t have a job.”
Because you refuse to train for anything. They’d been over that ground before. Jason wasn’t treading it again. His friend had issues and Jason didn’t know how to deal with them. He felt helpless—the victim of Pat’s anger. Pat had been his hero, then his on-field mentor, then his friend. The guy had been amazing—all-star three times. He’d expected his postfootball career to be amazing, too, and it hadn’t been. Pat had been stunned to discover that people forget rapidly. It had almost killed him. Literally.
“Anything new?”
“Still in the wheelchair.”
“You know, you could shoot a text every now and then, let me know what’s going on.”
“Yeah. If anything happens, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Did you only call to make certain that I didn’t go to work for Brandt?”
“I called to touch base.”
Bull. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything about a job. I’ve got to go.” He paused for a split second, but when his friend remained silent, he ended the call, then set the phone on the tailgate next to his water bottle.
Guilt. Survivor’s guilt, just as Allie had said.
And this was guilt that he brought on himself. He couldn’t help it if Pat hadn’t been able to deal with leaving football. That he’d wanted to be a rock star when in reality he should have looked at being a roadie.
“Is everything all right?” The grudgingly spoken words held an edge of concern and Jason looked up at Zach, who was sitting on the tailgate opposite him.
“Yeah. Old friend. He’s having some issues adapting to his new reality.”
“How so?”
Reasonable question. “He’s in a wheelchair.”
“Sucks.”
“Yeah.” In many ways, the biggest of which was that he wasn’t trying to change. “Let’s get back at it. I need to leave early. My dad went to the doctor today and I have a feeling my sister will have had enough of him by the time they get back.”
Jason spent the rest of the workday putting his back and his frustrations into swinging a hammer and then prying stones out of concrete. At the moment they were simply demolishing. Eventually they’d have to move the material out of the field. And in the meantime, Jason was breaking those rocks. Even Zach, as self-absorbed as he’d been that day, seemed to notice. But he didn’t say anything. Jason didn’t blame him.
* * *
LIZ ARRIVED TO pick up Zach an hour earlier than usual. Jason was good with that. He was feeling low after Pat’s call and appreciated the solitude before heading home to deal with whatever Max was going to hit him with. Sometimes they had good evenings and sometimes he had to wrestle the chips and beer out of his father’s hands.
Despite Pat’s lack of communication, until this call Jason had allowed himself to believe the I’m-fine text. He’d told himself innumerable times that the bitterness would fade as Pat healed.
The bitterness wasn’t fading and he was torn as to whether to persevere in the face of adversity, or to simply let go of his connection with his former mentor.
He was stacking smaller rocks in the wheelbarrow when he heard the sounds of straining nearby and walked out into the pasture far enough to see a cow down by the barn. Allie was due home anytime now, and he hoped she got there soon in case the cow had problems.
She didn’t. The calf was born with seemingly little difficulty, but afterward, it barely moved. Jason felt a wash of helplessness. He had no idea what to do. He was scrolling through an online search on his phone when he heard Allie’s car on the drive and jogged over to flag her down.
“New calf, but it’s not moving.”
“Right. Was it the cow with the blue tag?”
“Yeah.”
“Figures.” Allie opened the gate and Jason followed her through. She picked up a short pole that had been leaning against the fence. “I need something to brandish in case Mama gets protective.” She looked him up and down. “Maybe you’d better stay here. She doesn’t know you.”
“So I’m just going to stand by while you head out into the bovine danger zone.”
“Yes,” she said shortly.
Her ranch. Her rules.
Jason didn’t like it, but he stayed put near the gate while Allie started across the field in her flat dress shoes and floral skirt, carrying the brandishing pole in one hand. She stopped several yards away from the cow, who put her head up high and moved so that the calf was on the opposite side of her from Allie. The calf then struggled up off its side and the mother turned back to it and began licking vigorously.
That was apparently good enough for Allie. She took a few backward steps, and then turned and headed toward the gate, glancing over her shoulder every now and again as if worried about being attacked from behind.
Jason felt better when the mama cow took her baby and headed toward the creek. Allie dropped the brandishing stick close to the gate, which Jason held open for her.
“Okay. Only a few more to go.”
“What’s the deal there?”
“No idea, but it’s moving now, so I’ll monitor until it gets dark.”
“I don’t want you going out there when I’m gone.”
“All right. I won’t.”
He narrowed his eyes at her and Allie smiled at him, touching his face briefly with the palm of her hand. “Honest. If I sense something’s wrong, I’ll call the vet.”
“I’ve never seen you give in so easily.” Jason started walking with her toward her car, which was still running.
“Long day. How’s Zach?”
“Pissed off, but all right. Liz picked him up about an hour ago.”
“She’s making him see the counselor.”
“Might help...if he feels like listening.”
Allie opened her door. “Yeah. That.”
She started to get into the car when Jason asked, “Is your ex still bothering you?”
“I think he’s finally starting to figure out that I’m not going to answer my phone.”
“Good,” Jason said. “Stay strong.”
“Will do.” She closed the door and rolled down the window. “You guys only have another day or two.”
“At the most.”
She stared through the windshield, then looked back up at him. “I may have to come up with more for Zach to do.”
Jason gave a nod. “That’d be a good thing for both of you. And Allie?” He waited until she met his eyes again and then said, “Please leave that cow alone.”
* * *
IT WAS HARD not to be touched by the fact that Jason was worried about her. Allie was just damned glad that he hadn’t ventured near Bahama Mama to see if he could help the calf.
> Bahama was not a friendly cow. Allie would have gotten rid of her long ago if she hadn’t always thrown such beautiful heifer calves. And sure enough, when Allie checked later that evening, the cow had a perfect little girl by her side. The herd of keepers had increased by one. Jolie would be happy when she got the news.
After feeding, Allie went back to the house and got out the sketches she’d made of Jason, laying them out side by side. The nose was off in one, the mouth in another. She’d nailed the eyes every single time, though. And by putting the three sketches together, she’d have the basis for a painting.
For the first time in forever, she felt a stir of anticipation.
Most of her acrylic paints were beyond saving, so she’d work in oil. She was more comfortable with a water-based medium, but it was time to push her comfort zone. To stop staying with the tried and true. She set a frozen dinner in the oven and then went upstairs to get the box of paints she’d left there and to see if she could find a blank canvas.
She found not one, but three blank canvases—two small and one larger. She was going to start on the large canvas. Go big or go home.
She primed the canvases and then leaned them against the wall to dry, marveling at the fact that even now, with Kyle long gone out of her life, she felt the familiar twist of guilt at doing something just for herself.
Damn it, Kyle.
No...she was to blame. She’d allowed herself to believe his bunk.
Allie sighed and headed out the door to check her garden spot. She’d planted kale, kohlrabi and spinach. Next week she’d put in beets, peas and radishes. Her area of Montana always had late frosts, so she steered clear of anything susceptible to an unexpected cold snap. She leaned down and pulled a weed. Garden started. Canvases primed. She was moving forward. Finally.
So, if she could reclaim the two things that had seen her through hard times, why couldn’t she learn to love the Lightning Creek?
Because bad things happened there.
She didn’t trust the ranch. Not one little bit. While she’d lived there, she’d woken up every morning with a rush of anxiety, wondering what was going to go wrong that day. What repair would be needed, which animal would get sick? What financial crisis would rear its ugly head?
She had good memories of the ranch, but they weren’t strong enough to supplant the bad, to quell the anxiety.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ZACH SEEMED A touch friendlier when he arrived at the ranch, actually giving his mom a quick wave before she drove away. Maybe it was because he was no longer hung over, or maybe because he’d come to terms with the fact that drinking too much wasn’t going to heal the broken bond with his dad. Whatever the cause, Jason took pains to not alienate the kid.
Most of the foundation was in pieces and instead of bringing in a loader, Zach and Jason put the rocks into wheelbarrows and transported them to a ditch on the other side of the driveway that Allie wanted filled. One of his favorite things about the ranch was that there was always something that needed done, a plan to be made, a goal to achieve.
When they settled on their respective tailgates for lunch, Jason mopped his brow before opening his lunch box. It was getting unseasonably hot and dry for mid-May.
“I’ve got to leave early today,” Zach said. “Meeting with the judge.”
“That works for me, too. I’m about to counter a counteroffer on some acreage and I want to look at it one more time.” Zach appeared interested, so Jason said, “It was a working ranch once. I’m thinking of hiring a manager and turning it into a working ranch again.”
“Which property?”
“The Bella Ridge Ranch.”
“That will take a shitload...a whole bunch of money.”
Jason stopped unwrapping his sandwich. “How so?”
“They lost their wells about ten years ago. They drilled another, but it was dry.”
“Ah.” And didn’t he feel stupid for not knowing that? Or that it was even something he should have asked about.
“You didn’t look into that?” Zach asked curiously.
“I wasn’t thinking of that aspect of the place when I talked to the real estate agent.”
“Then you probably shouldn’t be buying a ranch.” Zach took a bite of a cold burrito. The kid had a stomach of steel.
“I like the lifestyle.”
Zach laughed. “Well, it won’t make you rich, so you gotta love the lifestyle.” The less-than-friendly look returned to his face. “Although, I guess you don’t have to worry about the rich part, huh?”
“Not if I manage my business as it should be.”
“Must be nice.”
Echoes of Allie. “I worked for it.”
Zach took another bite. “Not saying you didn’t.”
“If it makes you feel better, I’ve been trying to get a job with my former university and not having any luck.”
“Why would that make me feel better?”
A smile spread across Jason’s face. “Good answer.”
Zach shrugged and went back to eating.
They worked in silence for the next hour. How could he, who paid attention to details, have missed the fact that the ranch had lost its wells? He assumed Zach meant irrigation wells, since the house had a water supply—although, he might want to look in to that, too.
He looked up at Zach. “What do I need to know about wells?”
The kid shrugged. “I’d start with gallons per minute.”
“All right.”
“You might find out how deep it is. When it was drilled. Who drilled it.”
Jason tilted back his hat. “You seem to know a lot.”
“Naw. I’m just making it up.” He smiled a little as he shot Jason a sidelong look. Jason frowned at him and the smile widened.
“You’re cruising for some retribution,” Jason said sternly.
“Yeah?” he answered on a disbelieving note.
“No. Really.”
Zach fought it, but his smile broke through again. He shook his head. “About this ranch thing... I’d steer clear of the Bella Ridge if you want to actually have a ranch. And before you settle on something, you need to have an expert look at it. It wouldn’t hurt to check local gossip, too. Ask questions and don’t just trust the real estate guy.”
Jason shook his head. Schooled by a seventeen-year-old and schooled good.
* * *
ALLIE PASSED LIZ’S car on the way home. She’d run errands and shopped for groceries, which meant she was late getting home, which meant not as much time to work on the portrait.
Liz waved, and to Allie’s surprise, Zach waved, too—an unsmiling two-finger salute, but a wave all the same. Maybe the day had gone better. She hoped so for Liz’s sake. Jason was waiting by his truck when she drove by the work site, so she stopped and turned off the engine.
“Wow,” she said. “You’re all but done.”
“And the ditch is all but full.” He nodded at the tractor with the loader parked next to the arena. “I assume that runs.”
“I sure hope so. It ran when Jolie and Dylan left.”
“Zach wants to use it to fill the remainder of the ditch and he said something about cleaning corrals for the material.”
“I’m good with that.”
Jason shifted his weight and Allie instantly said, “What?”
“What happened yesterday has been weighing on me.”
Allie frowned, having no idea what he was talking about.
“You had to arm yourself to check the calf? Remember? I hate the thought of you doing things like that when no one’s here.”
“These are not usual circumstances,” Allie said. “Usually there’s more than one person living on the ranch.”
“Yet you’re living alone.”
>
“Like I said, circumstances.”
“If there were someone living here full time, then the circumstances would be different.”
Allie’s heart jumped. “Did you get kicked out of the house again?”
“Not yet. But I was thinking of Zach.”
“I can’t share my house with a teenage boy,” Allie blurted. “And the bunkhouse is in no shape for anyone to move in.” Although he did have a valid point. One that she’d downplayed when her sisters expressed concern. Mel had been injured by that cranky mother cow, and she’d been the hardest of the three to convince.
“I thought maybe I could get him a trailer to live in—”
“No.”
He cocked an eyebrow, as if to say, “Really, Allie?” Instead he said, “My dad has construction trailers. Some are ready to be decommissioned. It wouldn’t cost anyone anything and once your sisters come back, it can go back to the site or be sold or whatever.”
She looked down at the ground, lips pressed together. She hated getting hit with ideas that seemed reasonable, yet not. Yes, it was safer to have someone on the place with her, and she wouldn’t even mind some company. But a teenage kid?
“I don’t know about having a kid here alone all day. Even if he is almost eighteen and a ranch kid.”
“This is where part B of my plan comes into play. I was thinking of volunteering my time.”
“Volunteering how?”
“I want to learn the rudiments of ranching and I thought that maybe I could be Zach’s intern—at least until I get another job.”
“So...you’d keep coming here, like you are now, and work with Zach.”
“Until either Zach or I get a job elsewhere.” He waited for the idea to sink in, then said, “It makes sense. You know it does.”
“You’re starting to convince me,” Allie said slowly. “I might call Liz tonight and see what she thinks about it.”
“Call Zach.”
“He’s a minor.”
“He’s the one you’re hiring.”
“You’re right.” She pulled in a long breath. “Guess I’ll see about doing that.”