The Rancher's Redemption

by Melinda Curtis

  “Although I appreciate you staying after five,” Ben had said to Darcy one night. “I need you to work, not take care of your child.” It’d been a heartless thing to say, but Ben had been trained by the firm to sacrifice his heart for the sake of a case.

  “She’s a baby,” Darcy had snapped, handing her over to Ben. “She’s just been fed. She’ll bounce and kick and blow bubbles. And then before you know it, she’ll pass out.”

  Ben had held Annabelle away from him and stared from her to her mother, thinking about all that needed to be done in the next two hours and all the effort it took to fire and hire a new assistant. “But...”

  “Bring her in close to your body.” Darcy had blown out a frustrated breath and shown him how to hold her child. “Do a circuit in your office. I hear you complaining about sitting all day long. Go log some steps while I get this work done.”

  Like Rachel, Darcy was a single mom in her thirties. She was good at her job, able to manage her boss, but more importantly, she’d been a good mom.

  Rachel was a good mom, too.

  “Give her fifteen minutes or so,” Ben said. “She’ll be exhausted, and you can eat in peace.” And then Ben could broach the topic of water rights and see if he could settle this out of court quickly. And then he’d tell Rachel about the bull-for-land trade. And then he bet that would be the end of Rachel smiling at him with forever in her eyes.

  The way Rachel was looking at him now, he’d be lucky if she stayed through the pot pies they’d ordered.

  “No,” Poppy said louder, waving a hand toward her mother. The little imp clutched the small packet of crackers Ben had opened and swung around to look at him, spilling crumbs over Ben’s dark wool slacks. Her thick-soled sneakers ground the bits into his thighs.

  “People are looking.” Rachel reached across the table for her baby. “Come on, honey.”

  A quick survey of the sparsely populated café discounted her statement. “People are smiling, Rachel. Except for the people who hate the Blackwells, who are frowning at me.”

  In actuality, there was only one person frowning at him. Pops Brewster. He’d abandoned his chess game over at the feed store and was nursing a cup of coffee while watching Rachel and Ben. Chances were, the old man’s eyesight was so poor that squinting was more likely making him frown more than any disapproval of Poppy’s restaurant etiquette.

  Poppy fell back against Ben’s chest. “Ba-ba.” She patted his cheek with her wet crackery fingers. “Ba-ba.”

  He wanted to hold Poppy close in one arm and Rachel close in the other, the way he’d done in her office after Ted left. He wanted Rachel to give him that dreamy look that said she’d enjoyed his kiss, thank you very much, and wouldn’t mind another. He wanted to hear Rachel’s burst of laughter and laugh himself when they teased each other. He wanted Rachel and Poppy to fill the silence at the ranch house, out in the pasture and in his apartment in New York.

  Ben smiled. He didn’t mean to. He wasn’t even sure why he couldn’t stop his lips from curling upward. It was just... Rachel made him smile more than any woman had in a long time, maybe more than any woman ever had. Including Zoe.

  With a sigh, Poppy sank into his lap and reached for the pacifier. It hadn’t been fifteen minutes. It might have only been ten.

  Ben’s smile broadened.

  “Stop smiling like that,” Rachel ordered quietly. “I’m taking you to court. Don’t be nice to me. I’m not going to be nice to you.”

  “There’s no one here to see me smile, Thompson.” When had his voice turned that low and soft? “Not Judge Edwards. Not your grandmother. Not Zoe. No one but you.” And Pops Brewster, who probably couldn’t see this far away. “Your daughter is about to fall asleep on the bench seat over here. I think I’ve earned the right to smile at you.” He wiped cracker crumbs from his cheek.

  Rachel swallowed, looking about their table as if she couldn’t find the salt and needed it desperately. And then she brought her chin up and her gaze to his. “Why were you fired?”

  Ben hadn’t thought Rachel could say anything to make his smile fall. He was wrong. It fell so far it felt like it might not return. “It doesn’t have anything to do with our dispute.” He shifted Poppy until she lay on her side with her back against the bench seat. “And I signed a nondisclosure agreement.”

  “In theory, you could confide in your lawyer.”

  “Which you are not.” He wished there was a window closer, one he could look out of. He should have chosen a booth by the door; at least then he could have stalled the conversation by saying hello to Sarah Ashley before she went to sit with her grandfather, Pops Brewster.

  “In an alternative universe, you and I could have been partners in a law firm,” Rachel said with bomb-dropping calm. She stared at him in complete seriousness.

  This was interesting. And scary. Ben’s heart beat faster. He’d see her bet and raise the stakes. “In an alternative universe, we could have dated in high school.” Yeah, he went there. And if that wasn’t a sign that his feelings for Rachel were getting in the way of his role as the Blackwell attorney, he didn’t know what was.

  Without missing a beat, she leaned forward. “Let’s say we did. Let’s say you and I married, but we stayed here in Falcon Creek. Would you have been happy?”

  “No.” He’d wanted the status and challenge of practicing in New York.

  “So this—” she gestured between them “—whatever this is... It would only work in Falcon Creek.”

  “Correct.” He was answering like a well-trained witness. Short. To the point. Trying to remain calm under duress. Which this was. He loosened his tie.

  Rachel continued her cross-examination. “Which makes this a sort of...an alternative universe.”

  He saw where she was going. “The one where we end up together, practicing law in a creaky shack?”

  “Correct.” She sat back and raised her eyebrows over a small but triumphant smile.

  “Objection.” He hated to disillusion her. “Your family, your best friend... They wouldn’t let you partner with me, much less marry me.” He slipped that last part in, testing the waters.

  All of this was a test between them. A mock trial. Like those debate competitions she used to enter where she’d present the best arguments and win. But winning now didn’t change anything.

  “This is my alternative universe,” she countered, without objecting to the M word. “And in it, there are no obstacles to either pairing.” Her gaze might have dropped to his lips, but it returned immediately to his eyes. “You and me. No secrets. No lies. No betrayals.”

  He knew what she was saying. She wanted to know everything. And when she did, she’d snatch up Poppy and shut him out of her life forever.

  So, it made no sense that he’d waste time and risk his heart with a twist on her alternate universe. Ben ran a hand over his hair the way his father used to. “In my alternate universe, we’d have spent time in New York, honing our legal skills.”

  “Only until my father died and...” She hesitated, twisting around to look toward the kitchen. “Where are those pot pies?”

  He was losing her. It was only a matter of time before Rachel bolted. And if she left, he might not ever again work up the courage to tell her the truth.

  “Maybe we’d have returned here to retire to a slower practice.” Ben had no choice but to enter her alternate universe. “To have kids and settle back into our roots.” Maybe she’d have kept Ben grounded in New York. “But first, I might have come home from work one night and told you about a case I’d been working on.”

  Rachel whipped around so fast, her blond hair flew over her shoulder.

  “This is all in an alternative universe, of course,” Ben said, watching Sarah Ashley hug her grandfather with clear affection.

  “Because none of it happened.” Rachel was subdued, still. “A discussion about an al
ternative universe is like a hypothetical.”

  Ben nodded. “In this alt-universe, you’d know that I worked at a firm specializing in public utilities representation. You’d know that there’d been a gas leak in a suburban neighborhood resulting in losses, both homes and life.” His skin felt too tight, as if it was trying to keep his secrets in. But it was too late. They were spilling out. “There were many casualties, including a father of two.” He passed his hand over Poppy’s blond curls.

  “In this...hypothetical, I’d know these kinds of cases were common for you.”

  Ben agreed, although he was unable to look at Rachel and the contempt he expected to see in her eyes. “We have a calculation we perform to determine the settlement with the client’s insurance. The income of the deceased times the number of years we estimate he would have worked, with a factor added for raises and cost of living increases. And kids... There’s a calculation for that.” It sounded so cold. He sounded cold.

  “Pain and suffering?”

  “On a case-by-case basis.” Ben stroked Poppy’s hair. “You’d know I don’t usually meet with those impacted by these accidents. Everything is handled through their lawyer.” Everything was designed to be impersonal and avoid involving the courts.

  “But this case was different.” Rachel reached across the table, her hand palm up. She was offering to comfort him?

  Her gaze held no contempt.

  Ben took hold of her warm hand. Why wouldn’t he? They were playing a game, one where they were married, where touch and comfort were freely given. “Opposing counsel showed up with the widow and her children.”

  Innocent, big brown eyes that would never know what it was like to see her father’s smile, or register the expression on her father’s face as pride.

  “It sounds like a tactic you’d employ,” Rachel said.

  “Because it works.” Ben’s voice was thick with regret. “I couldn’t negotiate with babies in the room.”

  She squeezed his hand. “In that scenario, the suit would move to trial and you’d work your magic.”

  Ben nodded. “Hypothetically, my client wouldn’t take kindly to me pointing out in the pretrial hearing that this was the fifth such accident in three years. Call me a dreamer, but if you supply a flammable product to consumers, you should be maintaining your pipelines and be responsible if you aren’t. They have insurance for settlements, but no one should lose a loved one because a certain number of accidents are forecast in some company’s ten-year plan.” His voice shook. He couldn’t help it. “No amount of money will replace your parents.” He should know.

  “And so you were fired, with charges of misconduct filed.” Rachel brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. “You know what I think?”

  “No,” Ben said in a voice strangled with surprise.

  “I think you learned what you needed to in the big city. I think you should stay in Falcon Creek.” Her brown eyes settled something deep inside him. “Grant the Double T the water rights we deserve. Help my family and yours defend our right to use water in ways that will allow the ranches to grow and prosper.” She made no mention of the personal side of the fairy tale.

  Ben swallowed, staring at their joined hands. “Is this still an alternate universe?”

  “Ben.” Ben, not Blackwell. She didn’t let go of his hand. “Maybe it’s time to retire.”

  To Falcon Creek, she meant. To continue this charade that there was something good and lasting between them. His heart swelled around the thought that he had something to build on here besides the ashes of family loyalty. He had Rachel and Poppy. He had tentative relationships with Jon and Ethan. Zoe would be out of the picture, at least as far as Big E was concerned.

  But there was one more secret to tell.

  “About the water...”

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to fight me on priority position.” Rachel released his hands. “I know you’ve been researching deeds and titles and probably property lines.” Somehow, an edge had slipped into her tone. “What dastardly deed do you have planned, Blackwell?”

  Big E had been right. A title search in this remote place could never be secret.

  “I have a document signed in 1919,” Ben said slowly, reluctant to make things more adversarial between them but having no choice now. “A bull was traded for a small parcel of land.”

  “You aren’t getting an inch of Double T property, Blackwell.” She moved to the end of the booth, readying to stand.

  “You’ve got it all wrong.” Ben drew a deep breath. “It was a Thompson bull. The Double T’s acreage expanded.”

  Rachel held herself very still, one hand on the straps of her diaper bag and purse. “We have more land? We...” She grimaced and rubbed one side of her neck. “Tell me it’s the land you’ve been irrigating. The pasture with that bull you’re so fond of.”

  He shook his head. “It’s the road. The road to the river.”

  “The road...” Her slender brows drew together and then blossomed apart. “The aquifer?”

  Ben nodded. “But before you get excited, you should know that the trade was never recorded and the Blackwells have been paying taxes on that land for nearly a hundred years.”

  “I don’t care.” Rachel leaned forward, not to comfort but in a posture of strength. “The water is mine. Aquifer water can’t be regulated by the state.”

  Poppy stirred, perhaps roused by the anger in her mother’s voice.

  “Wait.” Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “If the trade wasn’t recorded, how did you find this document? You’ve spent two days with the county recorder and probably as many at the library.” Understanding dawned. Her eyes opened wider. “How long have you known about this?”

  “It’s not that simple.” It was a weak attempt to soften the blow, to keep the alternate universe alive.

  Rachel stood. “When? When did you find that document?”

  “Big E—”

  “Don’t you blame this on your grandfather.” Rachel’s voice was hard, but there were tears in her eyes.

  Poppy pushed herself up, blinking sleepily.

  “Give me my daughter.” Her voice was as hard as the steel girders holding up the Freedom Tower. “Give me my daughter and tell me the truth.”

  “Big E had it five years ago.” There. He’d said it. But he hadn’t said enough.

  “You mean you had it five years ago.”

  “Yes.” His cheek stung as if she’d slapped him, but it wasn’t breaking, like his heart.

  A tear tracked down her cheek. Her eyes were wide with shock. “I should have known. I should have known you’d cheat.”

  He gathered Poppy into his arms. “Rachel, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t.” She shook a trembling finger in his face. Her features wavered between a meltdown and fury. “You always apologize and I’m just now realizing why. You feel guilty for everything you’ve done. And you should. You have no honor. You steal water from hardworking ranchers and you penny-pinch settlements for grieving widows. I hate you. I hate you.” Another tear spilled over her cheek. She let it fall and snatched Poppy from him, grabbing the handles of her purse and diaper bag.

  Poppy whimpered but was still half-asleep as Rachel ran out of the diner.

  Everyone was staring at Ben.

  He slid down in the booth until his neck rested on top of the seat back, and ran both hands over his hair.

  She’d confirmed what Ben already knew. He’d crossed a line professionally five years ago and his meager attempt to make things right for a widow and her children a few weeks back wouldn’t make up for who he’d become.

  A sellout. A liar. A thief.

  The waitress slid two steaming chicken pot pies on the table and quietly left him alone.

  Ben poked at the pastry with his fork, releasing steam. He wished he could do the same. His emotions felt bottled
up inside of him. Telling the truth hadn’t solved anything.

  Ben took a bite of the pot pie. It didn’t taste as good as he remembered.

  This must be why Big E never looked back.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “YOU SHOULD DROP me off here.” Zoe clung to the truck’s windowsill as they passed the turn for the Blackwell Ranch. She’d changed into blue jeans and an off-the-shoulder red blouse. “I can search Big E’s office for that paper Ben was talking about.”

  Ben.

  Rachel felt the same gut-wrenching disappointment she had five years ago. Except this time, there was also the heartbreaking feeling of the loss of something that might have been special. Her body ached with it. “As your attorney, I refuse to condone breaking and entering.”

  “I put my heart into that place.” Zoe’s blond hair whipped in the wind. “I studied ranches that were doing well in other parts of the country. At first, I wanted to branch out into alligator farming, but Big E wouldn’t have it.”

  Big E might be a sneaky old man, but he knew what he was doing when it came to ranching in Montana.

  “I’m not sure alligators would have liked the climate,” Rachel said patiently. Not to mention they might have eaten the other livestock.

  “But the guest ranch... That works with or without snow.” Zoe stared straight ahead. The tears in her eyes threatened to dislodge her false eyelashes. “I hope the guests are having a good time. I hope...I hope Big E remembers his meds and to stay away from fatty foods. He can be so stubborn.”

  Rachel chose not to comment. She turned down the Double T’s driveway, parked and got out, picking up the baby and her diaper bag. After the most embarrassing time of her life with Ben this afternoon, she’d changed into comfortable old jeans and a plain blue T-shirt. She’d texted her mother and asked her to make macaroni and cheese.

  But no amount of cheesy pasta was going to mend her broken heart.

  Henry walked between the old homestead and the barn, carrying a shotgun. He nodded Rachel’s way and kept walking.

  “That’s not normal.” Rachel transferred Poppy and the diaper bag to Zoe, who held the baby in extended arms as if she had poopy pants, which she did not. “Take her inside. I need to check on Henry.” Rachel hurried around the corner of the barn, calling the foreman’s name.