Claiming Her Cowboy

by Tina Radcliffe

  Emma peeked her head in, and Lucy put her hand over the receiver.

  “Lucy, I’m leaving for court,” she whispered. “The judge requested my presence. There’s a juvenile that they’d like to place at the ranch. I gave Iris my phone number in case something comes up.”

  Lucy nodded and returned her attention to the phone call. “Yes. Mr. Harris is with us. I’m pulling up his schedule right now. Please bear with me. Ah, yes, he’s with Mrs. Carmody right now.”

  “Oh, I don’t want to take him away from a client. Could you have him return my call as soon as possible? We’re hoping to get him out to New York immediately.”

  “I will give him the message.”

  “Off the record, Ms. Maxwell, we’ve heard some very good things about his activities in the nonprofit sector. Could you comment, as his employer this summer?”

  “Mr. Morgan, you know that employment law forbids me from confirming or denying anything, except to say that Mr. Harris is indeed here at Big Heart Ranch for the summer.”

  He chuckled. “Right. Forget I even asked.”

  “Forgotten. I’ll have Mr. Harris call you back immediately.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lucy put the phone down and stared at the calendar in stunned silence as the conversation she’d just had sank in.

  “Oklahoma has grown on him, huh?” she said aloud. She should have known he’d last about as long as his worthless promise to volunteer through the end of summer.

  What did she expect? The silly thing was that she should have seen this one coming in a Brooks Brothers suit, and a mile away, too, despite his kisses.

  Or maybe she meant in spite of them.

  Lucy swallowed and bowed her head. Every single red flag was there. Yet she’d let herself believe that Jack Harris really did care about her. That his kisses meant something.

  What about Dub and the ranch? Did he care about them?

  “This isn’t personal, Lucy,” she whispered. “Jack Harris is a temporary cowboy here on an assignment for the Brisbane Foundation. That’s what he said, and that’s exactly what he’s doing.”

  If she’d been fooled, it was her own fault.

  “Lucy? Am I interrupting?”

  When she looked up, Iris stood hesitantly on the threshold of Lucy’s office.

  “I was talking to myself. I should have warned you about that.”

  Iris hesitated.

  “Come on in. I know it looks terrifying in here, but really, it’s harmless.”

  “Um, your sister called to ask if you authorized a moving truck.”

  “A truck?”

  “Roscoe from USA Rentals. He was apparently lost and she directed him to the lodge.”

  “The lodge?” Lucy blinked, a knot forming in her stomach. “You’re sure he went to the lodge?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Lucy stood. “I’m going to check on this. I’ll need you to listen for the front door and take messages if anyone stops by. Don’t worry about the phones.” She paused and offered a grimace. “Can you handle all that? This is your first day, and I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

  “Ma’am, I’ve got everything under control.”

  “Control,” Lucy murmured. “Control is a good thing.” She headed out the door of her office and backtracked. “The forms! Could you please get this paperwork mailed to the Department of Human Services? It needs to be taken directly to the post office and overnighted.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, Iris. When I get back, we’ll work on that ma’am stuff. It makes me feel like your grandmother.”

  “Yes...okay, Lucy.”

  Lucy got into the Honda and turned the key. The car sputtered and coughed but refused to turn over. She put a gentle hand on the dashboard. “You’re upset because I looked at that pickup truck, aren’t you? I’m sorry.”

  She tried the ignition again. Not even a click this time. With a groan, she got out of the car and headed to the stables.

  Riding to the lodge was the only solution. Lucy picked up speed, finally breaking into a run until she reached the open doors of the stables. Catching her breath, she checked the schedule.

  Blaze was free. After a hurried tack up, she offered the gelding feed before they took off. “Blaze, we’re going to take a shortcut through the woods. I’m going to need you to cooperate.”

  The moving truck pulled up to the turnoff to the lodge just as Lucy cleared the woods. Her eyes widened with surprise at the professional sign at the entrance to the lodge. Though she sat on Blaze, positioned at an angle, she could still see the lettering on the sign.

  Big Heart Ranch Retreat Center had been burned into its wooden archway. The truck barely cleared the sign as it chugged slowly up to the log cabin house.

  Lucy clicked her tongue and nudged Blaze forward, as well. She slid off the gelding’s back and tied the reins in a clove hitch around the horse post outside the stables.

  All the while, her gaze was focused on the lodge. She walked toward the log cabin house with measured steps. The change took her breath away. It was as she had imagined a lifetime ago when she’d bought the place.

  The windows held boxes that overflowed with red and white geraniums. Huge clay pots stood guard at either side of the front door and were filled with more flowers and elephant ear plants. The porch held hanging pots of massive Boston ferns.

  Red Adirondack chairs and footstools had been placed casually on the porch and under the willow tree and welcomed a seat in the shade.

  Almost ready for his presentation? That’s what he’d said. She hitched a breath and swallowed hard.

  “I need your signature.”

  Lucy whirled around. “Excuse me?”

  “I need your signature on this load.” A stout man pulled a pen from his uniform pocket and tapped on his clipboard.

  “No, I’m afraid I don’t know anything about a load.”

  “Jack Harris around? He was supposed to meet me here.”

  “Then I’m sure he’ll be along.”

  She strode toward the house.

  “Lady, time is money.”

  “I’m sure it is, Roscoe, and you can bill Mr. Harris. This is his problem. Not mine.”

  Keys. She’d given Jack her keys. Then she remembered the emergency key in a fake rock under the massive redbud in the front yard. Three years ago she had put that key in the rock and buried it.

  On her knees, she searched the base of the tree until she located the spot. After three years, the rock had sunk into the red clay and was now practically embedded into the ground. She used her car key to dig it up. At least Old Yeller was still good for something. Sitting on her haunches, Lucy pulled the rock from the ground and opened the shell case.

  She grinned and held up the key.

  The mat outside the front door had been engraved with the words Welcome to Big Heart Ranch Retreat Center.

  “All the personal touches, right, Jack? No wonder this took you so long. You weren’t planning a presentation—you planned a done deal. So much for working together. For partnerships.” She released a groan of frustration.

  Lucy stood at the threshold, a hand on the knob and the key in the lock, though her feet seemed unable to move. Overwhelmed, she closed her eyes and slowly inhaled.

  Last night she’d tossed and turned thinking about Jack Harris and his kisses. She realized with stunning wonder that she was falling in love. Not with the attorney, but with the volunteer who had replaced Leo and stolen her heart. And she actually liked the idea. A lot.

  But that was last night. This was now.

  Fear paralyzed her for a few moments. Finally, she turned the knob and pushed the door open.

  A small and elegant reception desk faced the door, surrounded by baskets of overflowing ferns and ivy. On the desk, another baske
t held menus to local eateries that delivered. Yet another held mints with the ranch name and number on black-and-gold wrappers.

  The once-empty main living room behind the desk had been converted into a stylish cross between a hotel lobby and a real lodge. Cozy seating arrangements were placed around the room, along with an internet charging table. Jack had brought high-speed internet to the lodge. Of course—if it could be done, Jack was the man to do it. No amenities had been spared.

  The fireplace had stacks of wood on either side. Over the mantel, a reproduction of a Bob Timberlake painting that depicted a ranch in winter hung. Mesmerized, she stared at the painting.

  Lucy wandered into the kitchen next. Shiny pots and pans hung over the center island. Unable to resist, she opened cupboards and drawers. Dishes, silver and even thick kitchen towels filled the drawers.

  Her suspicions were verified. Jack Harris had never planned to propose a facility at the lodge. He’d forged ahead and created something beyond her imagination. The place was amazing. He was not a man of half measures. The evolution of this house from empty to visionary revealed the real Jackson Harris. A man who went after what he wanted, no matter the cost.

  How had she not seen this coming?

  Her closet.

  Lucy willed her heart to stop pounding so hard. She stared at the pantry closet for moments, grappling with her emotions. Her hands trembled as she remembered sharing the painful secrets with Jack in there. The memory burned, and she held her hands to her flushed face.

  Twisting the knob, she realized the pantry was unlocked. Lucy slowly opened the door and turned on the light. Nothing had been touched. It remained as it was the last time she was there. With Jack.

  Lucy put a hand on her heart and realized it was beating overtime, and her breath was coming in shallow pants. Hyperventilating again. She leaned over, hands on her knees, and willed herself to relax.

  From the other room, the sound of the front door opening and footsteps echoing on the pine floor filled the silence. She turned her head in time to see Jack step into the kitchen with a smile on his face.

  Their gazes connected, and the smile faded.

  “Lucy, what are you doing here? I didn’t see Old Yeller.”

  “I rode Blaze.”

  “This was supposed to be a surprise.”

  She sucked in a shaky breath. “Surprise!”

  He stepped closer. “I can explain.”

  The time for explanations was long past. About four weeks too long. Lucy struggled to keep her voice calm.

  “What’s in the moving truck, Jack?”

  “More furniture.”

  “More?” She nodded, thoughtfully considering that one word.

  “For the upstairs rooms.”

  “You bought furniture, too?”

  “No. My aunt had furniture in the stables. I figured upcycling was a good thing.”

  “That’s green of you.”

  The awkward silence was broken when Roscoe came in carrying a rocking chair.

  “Where do you want this stuff?”

  “Put everything in the bedrooms upstairs,” Jack directed.

  “There was a call for you,” Lucy said when Roscoe left the room. “Asa Morgan with Morgan and Masters in Manhattan. He’s very impressed with what he’s heard about your nonprofit work.”

  She stared at him, trying to figure out who Jack Harris really was. How had she been so easily duped?

  “Is that all we are at Big Heart Ranch, Jack? An opportunity for you to build your résumé, sharpen your skill set?”

  “What do you want me to say, Lucy?”

  “I want you to say that you really do care about Dub. That you believe our ranch is the real thing, and that the last few weeks haven’t been simply a chance for you to explore your entrepreneurial side at our expense before you head back to New York.”

  “They’re courting me. I didn’t reach out to them. Summer is almost over. The fact is, I have to make some hard decisions soon.”

  She bowed her head.

  “Whatever you think I’ve done, you’re wrong.” He shrugged. “But you’ve already convicted me. Right, Lucy?”

  “Why did you lead me to believe you were busy drawing up plans and proposals all this time?”

  “I had to work around the fact that you keep your expectations low. That you weren’t ready to move on.”

  Lucy met his gaze. “What does that mean?”

  “It means that you can’t let go of the past long enough to see the future. Telling you about the future wasn’t going to work. I knew I had to show it to you. Show you possibilities, or you’d continue to define this house as your epic failure.”

  “It is my failure.”

  He shook his head. “Lucy, you’ve taught me so much about second chances. About leaving the past behind. Why is it you give everyone a second chance but yourself? This house is not a failure. It’s a possibility, just like your kids. Maybe even like us.”

  “Us? There is no us. You lied to me.”

  “I didn’t lie. I dodged the truth. If I’m guilty of anything, it’s caring too much. I suggested working together, but you wouldn’t even hear that option. I made a decision to work around you, in an effort to get through to you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “My aunt tried to warn me that this wasn’t the right approach. I didn’t listen to her.”

  “How did you fund...” She waved an arm around the room. “All of this?”

  “Consider it a donation from a private donor. Me. Not my aunt.”

  “Thank you for not touching my closet,” she murmured.

  “You’re the only one who can empty that closet.”

  A phone began to ring, and Lucy reached into her back pocket and pulled it out. “Sure, Iris. I’ll be right there.” Lucy headed for the door.

  “Where does this leave us, Lucy?” Jack asked.

  “The same place we were five weeks ago. I represent the children of Big Heart Ranch and implore you to approve the donation funds.”

  “What about us?” he pressed.

  “Seriously, Jack? Relationships are messy and complicated, and they take time and dedication. You can’t plan them out on one of your spreadsheets. Your money can’t buy love.” She turned away. “I’m sorry you don’t get that.”

  * * *

  Jack blinked, his eyes gritty from lack of sleep. He led Zeus from his stall out to the pen. The horse offered an agitated whinny on principle.

  “Don’t you start on me, too.” Jack grabbed the shovel. The cowboy’s cure for insomnia. He started mucking with a vengeance. Stall by stall, and in under a few hours the stables were cleaner than even the amazing Leo could have produced.

  Leo. Maybe he should give the guy a call and see if he’d consider a raise to return to Big Heart Ranch. He felt guilty leaving the ranch in the lurch. Jack pulled off a glove and made a note on his phone.

  “Jack, just the man I want to see.”

  He raised his head and narrowed his eyes at General Rue Butterfield, who stood in the middle of the stables.

  “Normally those are exactly the words I want to hear. Today, not so much.”

  “What happened between you and Lucy?”

  “Nothing. A big fat nothing.”

  Rue sighed and put her arms on top of the stall gate. “Jack, I never figured you for a coward.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Let’s pretend for a moment that those words are true.”

  Jack raised a brow.

  “What about the ranch funding?” she asked.

  “Signed on Friday, General. The certified check should be on the director’s desk...” He glanced at his watch. “What day is it? Time flies when you spend your time banging your head against a wall.”

  “Wednesday.”

  “I met with the accountant ye
sterday. It will be on Miss Maxwell’s desk tomorrow afternoon.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  He couldn’t think of a single satisfying response, so he pulled on his glove and stabbed at the straw with the pitchfork.

  “Less than two weeks left. You’re staying until the end of summer?” Rue asked.

  “I always keep my word.”

  “Good to know. What about the gala?”

  “That’s my aunt’s department. I’d rather get tossed off Zeus than attend another party.”

  “What will you do once the summer is over?”

  “I couldn’t tell you.”

  “You’re going to walk away?”

  “I’ve examined this situation carefully. I don’t see that I have any choice.”

  “Let me get this straight. You’d rather walk away from the possibility of everything and jump straight into a future that holds nothing than fight for what you want.”

  He looked at her. “Admittedly, when you say it like that, it doesn’t sound too smart.”

  Rue laughed. “At least your sense of humor is still intact.”

  “Always.”

  “Mr. Jack?” Dub stuck his head around the corner. “Are we having lessons this week?”

  “Yeah. Right on schedule, tomorrow afternoon at three.”

  Dub pulled a shiny quarter from his pocket and held it out to the general.

  “What’s that you have, Dub?” she asked.

  “A quarter. Mr. Jack said I can keep it.” Dub cocked his head and watched Jack. “You okay, Mr. Jack? You’re not getting sick, are you?”

  “I’m good, Dub.”

  Dub turned and walked out of the barn, tossing the quarter in the air and catching it again as he went.

  Jack winced. He was getting sick all right. The thought of leaving Dub behind turned his stomach.

  “He’s in tune to you, Jack.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means he knows something is up.” Rue shook her head. “Sadly, Dub is the one who’s going to suffer when you walk away.”

  “There’s nothing I can do to fix things. Lucy’s happy to see me leave. She thinks I’m heavy-handed and dishonest.”

  “Are you?”