The Rancher's Redemption

by Melinda Curtis

  Ben had assumed Lydia would be stylish with a bit of an attitude, like Jon’s first wife. Instead, Lydia was warm and welcoming. She had beer and wineglasses on the counter and appetizers on china plates. In short, Lydia was way too classy for Jon, and on impulse, Ben said so.

  Jon chewed on that for a second, and then he laughed and hugged Ben, an air-stealing, backslapping affair. “You’ve finally forgiven me.”

  Ben didn’t think that, but in a flurry of hugs that came his way from the two energetic little girls and Lydia, and finally Ethan and Grace, he had no time to belabor the point. Before he knew it, he was seated at the dining room table, listening to a recorded country music song by his little brother Chance and being served a slab of prime rib.

  The beef was delicious, as were the risotto and homemade rolls Lydia had prepared. She won Ben over. Not that it mattered. Jon and his daughters, Gen and Abby, had already accepted their former nanny as one of the family. Watching the girls and Lydia interact, it was clear to Ben Lydia’s love and affection for his nieces was genuine and vice versa.

  When the meal was over and the Blackwell boys had done the dishes, Jon led Ben and Ethan out to the porch. Ben explained about the meter reader and the threat of the water company.

  Jon took the grim news with a sigh and a change of subject. “It hasn’t rained for a few weeks. Hope it does soon.”

  Ben stared up at the cloudless blue sky. “Are any of the riverbanks eroding on your ranch, Jon?”

  “I saw one spot go in the spring. Erosion is a natural process. The exact flow of the river is constantly changing.” He paused and then said, “Why do you ask?”

  “There was a collapse over at the Double T.” Ben sat down on the top step. “A heifer came back across. I was just wondering if you’d had similar problems.”

  “Hang on.” Ethan came to sit opposite Ben on the step. “When were you on the Double T?”

  “This morning. I was out for a ride on Blackie—”

  “Blackie?” both his brothers said in unison.

  “The big black stallion in Big E’s barn?”

  “Nobody rides him.” Ethan grabbed Ben’s arm and lifted it. “Are you sure you don’t have any broken bones?”

  “Blackie is a kitten.” Ben resisted admitting he’d been thrown, even as he yanked his unbroken appendage back with enough intensity to send his sore muscles twinging.

  “I thought you said you didn’t bring any boots or blue jeans.” Jon crossed his arms over his chest and gave Ben his I’m-dead-serious look, the one he’d used when he’d tried to keep Ben and Ethan or their younger brothers, Tyler and Chance, in line.

  “I borrowed Ethan’s.” At their incredulous expressions, he added, “You know he’s always leaving his clothes lying around. I found some in the laundry room.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Ethan said. “You rode a half-million-dollar horse without permission onto Double T land, also without permission.”

  “I had permission to go on Double T land.”

  “No.” Ethan shook his head like he wasn’t going to quit shaking it.

  “I’m confused.” Jon’s expression hadn’t softened. “The Thompsons are suing us for water. Rachel will barely talk to me when I see her in town. When you say you had permission, is this lawyer doublespeak?”

  “I came across Rachel on my ride and we spotted the heifer she was looking for. We joined forces to put the heifer back where she belonged.” That wasn’t all they were joining forces on.

  Rachel may not have agreed yet, but she would.

  Ethan and Jon exchanged glances, and then they started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Ben demanded.

  “You didn’t just happen to stumble upon Rachel out in the midst of acres and acres of grassland.” Jon grinned.

  “You knew she’d be there and you took out the most expensive horse, hoping to impress her.” Ethan was grinning, too.

  “You two are so wrong.” Ben stood, subtly rolling the kinks out of his stiff back.

  “You always wanted the best, even as a kid,” Jon said. “To be above the rest.”

  “It’s why you went out with Zoe.” Ethan leaned lazily against a post and folded his arms over his chest as if the case was closed. “And now you’re going to romance those water rights out from under Rachel. It’s not what I would do, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

  “I don’t need desperate measures.” Ben ran a hand over his hair, thinking about the bull-for-land trade, their father and the compulsion to do what was right.

  “Little brother, Big E would be proud.” Jon nodded knowingly.

  Ben took the steps down to the front walk. He felt sick to his stomach. The prime rib had been too rich. “There’s nothing...underhanded going on.”

  The Rockies towered in the distance. There was nothing dishonest about those mountains. They were hard, but they were fair, treating everyone equally. His parents had been honest and fair. But somewhere along the line, Big E had bumped Ben’s sense of right and wrong out of the black and white, and into the land of the gray.

  He sucked in a breath, knowing it was true.

  I have to tell them the truth.

  Ben turned, facing his brothers, prepared to admit the truth and accept the consequences. “All the underhanded dealings went on five years ago. Big E has a scrap of paper that says the land over the aquifer was traded to the Double T in 1919.”

  “But that means...” Ethan looked like the prime rib had been too rich for him, too. “What does that mean?”

  “Big E seemed to think it meant nothing.” Ben couldn’t look at his brothers, especially Jon. “He argued that there’d been a trade that had either gone wrong or been fulfilled another way with lost documentation or no documentation.”

  “Big E argued,” Jon said solemnly. “Did you argue with him, Ben?”

  “Yes, of course.” Ben nodded. “I wanted to know if we owned the land free and clear.”

  “If we owned the water, you mean.” Jon’s mouth twisted, as if he’d tasted something bitter.

  Ben nodded again. He was used to cases where his clients hadn’t been the most honorable, but he couldn’t muster the passion to defend Big E. Or himself.

  “But...” Ethan was still trying to wrap his head around Ben’s news. “All this time...you said nothing.”

  “I’m sorry.” It seemed like he’d been saying that a lot since his return to Falcon Creek.

  “You lied,” Ethan surmised. “You lied to protect Big E.”

  “To protect water that didn’t belong to us.” The bitterness was in Jon’s voice now. He’d never have stooped so low.

  “I lied to protect you.” Ben’s composure cracked and the long-held resentment broke free. “I lied to protect the Blackwell heritage that everyone seems so proud of. I lied. I lied.” He had to say it twice.

  That was the when Ben had been looking for, the moment he’d crossed the line from honorable to dishonorable. That was where he stopped questioning fairness and began keeping tallies of courtroom wins. It had all started here, in Falcon Creek, with a man who was more interested in power than in principle, the man who’d made sure Ben had to do the same.

  “And then the next day...” Anger was choking Ben, wrapping strong fingers around his windpipe as if trying to reduce his words to monosyllabic cries of frustration. That anger. It lashed at his pride, at his soul, at his self-image, until the world blurred and darkened around him.

  He’d made a choice. Just one. And look what he’d become.

  Ben cleared his throat, because this needed to be on record. His brothers had to know the role they’d played. “The very next day...” his vision cleared, focused “...the very next day, the people I lied for... They all betrayed me.”

  Jon and Ethan drew back, knowing exactly which day Ben was talking about
. His wedding day.

  “That’s right,” Ben said as he saw recognition dawn in their eyes. “Big E left with my bride and you two—” Ben’s voice filled the air like rolling thunder “—put me on display like some bull destined for slaughter at the county fair. Yes, I lied. By omission. By my silence. But don’t you ever think that it came easy. That I’m like our grandfather. That I’m proud of who I am.”

  Ben had to look away, back to the mountains. Deep down he knew the truth. For five years, he’d been exactly like his grandfather and it had taken a stranger, a tiny orphaned baby his former law firm had wanted to short-change, to make that likeness unbearable.

  “I’m going to make this right,” Ben said softly. “The truth may not help the Blackwell Ranch. It may hurt Ethan’s plans to establish a practice and get out of debt.” An image of Grace and the baby she carried flashed before his eyes, followed by a quick stab of remorse. Her glowing face was replaced by Rachel’s worried one. Remorse deepened to guilt. “But I have to tell the truth. For both the Blackwells’ sake and the Thompsons’.”

  His brothers said nothing. They didn’t sustain his arguments. They didn’t object.

  That did it.

  “I vote we sell,” Ben whispered.

  Selling would mean someone else would have to stand up in court and admit the aquifer wasn’t owned by the Blackwells and hadn’t been for nearly a century. Someone else would have to deal with the Falcon Creek Water Company and fight to use water that was ranch-owned. Someone else would have to watch Rachel say goodbye to her heritage and cast aside her dreams for Poppy. But Ben’s involvement... Ben’s involvement would end here.

  Ben faced his brothers and repeated, “I vote we sell.”

  Rachel would land on her feet, hurt but wiser. Jon would be able to focus on his ranch and growing family. Ethan would take his share of the sales proceeds, get out of debt and buy a veterinary practice somewhere. He’d probably have enough money to buy Grace a house and those flowers she longed for.

  His brothers were silent.

  Ethan had paled.

  And then Jon gave a little whoop.

  Ben should have felt relief. He’d told the truth. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was one other person who needed to hear the story from him.

  Rachel.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “WHAT’S A MAN like you carrying a bridle like that for?” Pops Brewster greeted Ben as he came up the Brewster Ranch Supply steps on Sunday afternoon. The old man cocked a bushy white brow. “You gonna hang it on the wall of your fancy place in New York City?”

  Ben glanced at his mother’s silver-studded bridle. He supposed he deserved the ribbing, given he was wearing black slacks, leather loafers and a white dress shirt at a feed store. “The reins broke. I’m here to get them fixed.” His mother would want nothing less.

  Pops snatched the dangling reins in one age-spotted hand. “Go ahead and make your move, city boy. You won’t be calling checkmate today.”

  Ben studied the board. Whoever had been playing with Pops had moved a lot of pieces. “What’s in it for me?”

  “Ten percent off your repair.” The old man was cagey.

  “Pops, stop with the unauthorized discounts.” Mrs. Gardner, Grace’s mom, she of the tasty tamales, stood in the doorway, smiling at Ben and her misbehaving father. “I’ll give a discount to you, of course, Ben. You’re going to be family when Ethan marries Grace. But this old man needs another incentive to get people to play with him.”

  Ben moved a black bishop diagonally across the board. “Check.”

  “No.” Pops leaned forward, scratching the white stubble on his chin. “That can’t be.”

  “You might try checkers,” Ben recommended as he entered the feed store.

  It was Sunday, but the place was busy, filled with cowboys and ranchers of all shapes and sizes. Young ones stumbling around in their boots and too big hats. Older ones walking with more finesse, if slightly bowed legs from too many hours spent in the saddle.

  Ben supposed he should pick up a pair of jeans while he was here. He’d bet anything Ethan was going to raid the house for the rest of his clothes. He couldn’t ride Blackie in dress pants. Ben poked around the stacks of blue jeans on a display table, but he really didn’t want to buy any.

  “Ba-ba-ba-bahhh.”

  Ben turned as a woman wearing a baseball cap, a yellow-checked shirt and blue jeans passed him carrying a baby. “Poppy?”

  “Ba-ba-ba! Ba-bahhh!” Poppy reached for Ben. She’d been calling to him all along.

  “Hey, Rachel,” Ben said when opposing counsel stuttered to a halt. Clearly, she’d seen him and was trying to sneak past. He almost wished she had. And yet, he gathered Poppy from Rachel’s arms without thinking. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  Her cheeks a deep pink, Rachel held her arms out to take the baby back. “I need fence posts and barbed wire.”

  “You’re not going to set the fence alone, are you?” Ben frowned. “Barbed wire can be tricky.” It came in coils and if you weren’t careful, it could snap back and gouge you.

  “You think I can’t do it?” Rachel’s hands fell to her side. Her brown eyes turned colder than the morning chill that had nipped at Ben during his and Blackie’s ride.

  Ben hedged. “It’s a job for your foreman.”

  “Henry is semiretired.” The way she said it, Ben felt Henry was more like fully retired.

  “Don’t you have other ranch hands?”

  Don’t you see where this is going, boy? It’s not your problem.

  Ben was afraid that when he’d kissed Rachel yesterday, he’d taken on her problems as his own.

  “No more full-time help other than Henry. Not anymore.” She held out her hands to Poppy and tried to smile, although that smile looked more like a grimace.

  The impulse to come to her aid was strong. The kind of strong that called to a soul deep down. The kind of strong that made a man lean down in the saddle and kiss a woman.

  “Ma-ma-ma-mahh.” Poppy practically leaped from Ben’s arms to Rachel’s, saving Ben from making a fool of himself by saying he’d help her. But only temporarily. Somehow, his lips started moving of their own accord. “I can babysit while you build that fence.”

  Immediately, Ben wanted to issue a retraction, to make a formal apology and admit his offer had been made in error.

  “I have plenty of babysitters,” Rachel said coolly.

  “Ba-ba-ba-bahhh.” Poppy did her swan dive back toward Ben.

  Ben chaperoned her transfer and fit her on his hip. “This is a game for her?”

  “Yes. When she’s rested.” It was an unwelcome game if Rachel’s tone was any indication. She gave him a disapproving once-over. “Why are you wearing court clothes on a Sunday? You don’t go to church.”

  “I’m wearing court clothes because I’m a lawyer.” He lifted a dark pair of new blue jeans. “But I’m willing to morph into a ranch hand temporarily to help you build a fence. You can watch Poppy while I work. Don’t argue.” He hesitated, half hoping she would. He didn’t want to help her, but apparently the values his parents had instilled in him about being a good neighbor were resurfacing. Which was just another reason he needed to get out of Falcon Creek soon.

  Rachel stared at the blue jeans and said nothing, which was confirmation that her building that fence was possibly a mistake in her mind as well. But just in case she formulated an argument, he cut her off early. “Have you ever built a fence before? One with barbed wire?”

  That pert nose went in the air, which was where she tossed her gaze, too. “It’s not rocket science.”

  She hadn’t. “I have.” And Ben had a scar on his shoulder to prove it. “We can talk about water company strategy while we work.” Ben checked the label to make sure the jeans in his hand were the right size. “And about the term
s of the water agreement for Judge Edwards.”

  “Assuming I let you help me...” She glared at him. “I will not let you talk about water.”

  They were practically standing toe-to-toe, like prizefighters promoting a fight.

  They’d stood like that on his wedding day. Her, shocked by his refusal to talk water terms. Him, shocked by the revelation that his bride had eloped with someone else. An impasse. One where they both lost. This time, he’d try for an outcome that would be mutually beneficial.

  His gaze grazed her lips. If only he hadn’t kissed her.

  If only I could kiss her again.

  Ben sent that thought down the spiraling drain with his other bad ideas. “I was out of line yesterday morning when we... When I...” Ben wouldn’t admit much more than that. “You must hate me.”

  Her eyes widened. She fidgeted. Scuffing her boots, crossing her arms, looking away. And finally saying quietly, “I don’t hate you, Blackwell.”

  “Ma-ma-ma-mahhh!” Poppy tilted toward her mother.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he said gruffly, relinquishing the baby.

  “I hate what you did to my family,” Rachel said in a hard voice bringing her gaze back to his face, showing him the depth of pain in her eyes.

  Those eyes... He swallowed and forced himself not to waver.

  Rachel didn’t notice she was probing his weakness like a doctor examining infected cells under a microscope. She kept right on talking. “I hate that my dad worried night and day about how to water our cattle until he worried himself into his grave. I hate that I wasn’t a good enough lawyer back then to make you eat your lunch.”

  Now it was Ben who fidgeted, readjusting his stance until his feet felt firmly grounded. “You know the irony of being a lawyer?”

  She shook her head, eyes still on him, big brown pools of liquid emotion.

  He swallowed and stared at the toes of his loafers. “You have a reputation as not caring, when it’s exactly the opposite. You care very much.” He forced himself to look her in the eye. “You care so much it keeps your brain working when it should be turned off and sleeping. You go to work thinking you can’t get into the office fast enough. You need extra time to research precedent. An extra thirty minutes to polish that opening argument. An extra twenty to review points you need to object to. That’s all you need to beat someone and to protect your client. It has almost nothing to do with getting paid a sick amount of money an hour. It’s about shielding those who need it and fighting for justice.”