Ivy’s brow furrowed. “I’m out on all counts.”
Shane turned to Mack, who grimaced. “I have too much on my plate right now. I don’t have time to load your deck, Shane. Sorry.”
“Or we could dig around for another idea.” Shane sat back in his chair. “One that proves the importance of the town in the state’s history.”
They groaned and Shane tightened his grip on his patience.
“Next item on the agenda,” Ivy said, to change the subject, and fixed Shane with a firm stare. “How’s that search for the town doctor going?”
Shane suppressed a groan of his own. He’d been very close to getting a doctor to accept the position. Twice. You’d think with all his hiring experience he could have found someone to agree to the job in the two months he’d been looking, although he might have fared better if Cousin Holden hadn’t decided to try and date Dr. Carlisle. “Can’t I pass the ball back to Mitch?” He’d started the search in the first place.
Mitch shook his head. “My fiancée’s having twins.”
“The last doctor we almost hired—” Ivy’s gaze caught on the out-of-town ladies, who were digging in their purses “—said the clinic was extremely out-of-date. Shouldn’t we modernize it?”
Shane waited a beat for someone to volunteer to take on that responsibility. “And I suppose you want the Monroes to pay for it.”
They all nodded.
“It is your town, after all.” Ivy slid out of the booth, her attention tuned to her customers.
“Perfect.” Mitch made note of it. “Assignment for Shane.”
“What about the history assignment?” Shane got to his feet. As usual, he’d come up against a wall, given what he, versus the council, considered a priority.
Just like Franny Clark had come up against a wall with her father.
“That boy back there is missing a hand.” One of the women from Montana craned her neck, peering toward the children. She hurried over for a better look at Davey Clark.
Stranger danger.
Without thinking twice, Shane followed the nosy woman.
“You poor dear.” The woman stopped next to Davey. “What else is wrong with you?” And then she reached for him.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Shane had so much experience with drunks and disorderly guests in Vegas that he didn’t hesitate to jump in. Besides, he’d met Davey a time or two and really liked the kid. He gently pried the woman’s fingers free from Davey’s shoulder and marched her back to her table. “Haven’t you heard? Touching someone else’s child is a crime.”
“I can help.” The woman’s expression was sincere. “If you’d only let me. I once knew a boy who—”
“Permission denied,” Shane said firmly.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Ivy’s face was ashen. Shane knew that wasn’t the norm. Ivy was almost always smiling. She enjoyed having the children attend school in her diner, where she could keep her eye on her own two kids.
The woman’s mouth gaped open. “But—but—”
“No buts,” Shane said before the woman could form what was certain to be a lengthy story. “Or we’ll have to contact the authorities.”
A few awkward minutes later and the two women were gone.
“This is why I don’t want the town to grow.” Ivy’s voice was rock-hard, but her face looked like she was about to break down in tears.
Shane sympathized. “You need to put up a sign back there. Private Party or Reserved Section.” Or Keep Out. Shane was going to have to find a place for the schoolkids to meet that was safe and Ivy-approved. His list of fixes and repairs was constantly growing. Too bad all that refurbishing wasn’t going to translate into substantial change.
Feeling like someone had sat on his chest, Shane walked back to Davey, who was listening to his teacher, Eli. “Can I talk to Davey alone for a second?” Shane was also experienced in comforting employees who’d been mistreated by hotel guests. He drew Davey into a booth and sat down next to him. “Well, that sucked.”
Davey had his left wrist tucked into his side. His face was scrunched, as if he was trying not to cry.
Two boys on the brink of tears in one morning? This was not the way Shane had seen his day going.
“She meant well,” Shane began diplomatically. “I mean, she wanted to help you, but she went about it all wrong. Knowing the right way to handle things, which men like you and I are aware of, can make all the difference to a person.”
Davey slid Shane a sideways glance, facial scrunch loosening. “Yeah?”
“Have you met my cousin Laurel?”
Davey shook his head.
“My cousin Laurel is an identical twin.” He nudged Davey with his arm. “Twins run in the Monroe family. Anyway, she looks exactly like her sister, who started acting on TV when she was five or six. People would come up to Laurel and insist she was her sister, Ashley. It was the most annoying thing I ever saw.”
Davey nodded blankly.
“Now, Laurel... She could have dressed in camouflage and tried to fade into the background. But she didn’t. She wore bright, shiny colors. She decided if she was going to stand out, she was going to stand out in her own way.”
Davey nodded, again blankly.
“The point is...” Shane leaned in, not quite looking Davey in the eye. “When you stand out, you’ve got to own it. You’ve got to expect that butthead people are going to cluelessly rain on your parade.”
“Shane,” Ivy chastised from behind the counter.
“Let him run with it,” Mitch said. Mitch was engaged to Laurel. He knew Shane wasn’t feeding the kid a line.
“You’ve got to shrug those people off, because they don’t matter in your life.” Voice of experience. Shane rubbed his thumb over the scar on his chin. “You’ve got to remember every morning while you’re brushing your teeth that if you step off the ranch, someone is going to notice you. And because you’re one of a kind, they might not know the right way to talk to you.”
The kid’s frown deepened. At least it wasn’t a scrunch.
“If you practice what to say in the bathroom mirror, next time you won’t be caught off guard when someone comes up to you.”
Davey turned sideways in the booth. He had his mother’s eyes. “What should I have said?” The scrunch had returned.
Shane held up a hand. “What’s past is past. That woman’s not coming back. You’re not getting a second shot at telling her to get her hands off you.”
Davey drew a shuddering breath.
“Let’s go over some things you can say in the future.” Shane purposely laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Imagine. Here comes well-meaning, yet clueless person number one.” He cleared his throat. “‘Oh, look, Davey. You’re missing a hand,’” Shane said in a high-pitched voice. “‘Did you know you were missing a hand?’”
Behind them, the schoolkids giggled.
Davey started to smile.
Shane leaned in and whispered, “Go on. Give me a shove back.”
“I’m not looking for a new hand.” Davey took Shane’s advice and built on it. He lifted Shane’s hand off his shoulder. “But thanks for offering to loan me yours.”
The boy had sass. Shane narrowed his eyes. “I’m thinking you watch a good bit of television.”
Davey grinned.
The weight on Shane’s chest eased. This kid was going to be all right. “Let’s try another one. ‘Hey, kid.’” Shane pitched his voice in the silly zone once more. “‘What happened to your hand?’”
“The boogeyman ate it when I wasn’t looking.” Davey turned toward his classmates. “Watch out! There he is!”
Shane laughed. Their audience whooped and applauded in appreciation.
“You’re good at this,” Shane said in a low voice. The kid was a lot better at deflecting bullies t
han Shane had been at his age.
“I went to a camp for kids like me where we learned stuff. And...” Davey’s eyes watered and his voice lost its confident tone. “And my dad used to practice with me. He gave me the boogeyman line.”
Not only did the kid not have a hand, but he also didn’t have a dad anymore.
Shane’s throat threatened to close. “The boogeyman is a truly excellent response. Your dad would be proud of you.” His mom, too.
“Thanks.” Davey leaned in. “I should get back to my math test or the kids are gonna think this is weird.”
“Right.” Shane backed out of the booth, feeling drained, as well as oddly nostalgic for his grandfather, who’d excelled at talking to Shane, his siblings and cousins. Hard talks and pep talks had been his grandfather’s specialties.
After Davey returned to his classmates, Mitch came to stand beside Shane. “You just keep on surprising me.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” And yet, Shane was no closer to helping the town find its way to prosperity or safeguarding his grandfather’s reputation.
CHAPTER FIVE
“DO YOU KNOW how to saddle a horse, Uncle Shane?” Alex gave Shane the kind of assessment only an almost five-year-old could. He scratched the cowlick at his crown and squinted at him. “You don’t look like you do.”
A day after coming to Davey Clark’s rescue, Shane stood in the breezeway of the barn at the Bucking Bull Ranch, flanked by his twin nephews. The Clark boys were behind him, clustered around their great-grandmother Gertie, who sat on her walker. He’d led one of his nephews’ ponies out of her stall and had tied her lead rope to a ring on the wall. And now everyone was waiting for him to do something else in the barn, the same way his Monroe siblings and cousins were waiting for him to do something else with Second Chance.
In the barn, it was a question of how. How did he saddle a horse? In Second Chance, it was a question of what. What could he do to lift the town’s economic status without changing the tenor of the place?
“Uncle Shane?” Alex prompted.
“I’ve saddled horses,” Shane answered. Maybe five times, but that had been fifteen to twenty years ago, when he’d tried out for his high-school polo team on a bet. A bet he’d lost, by the way. “It was just so long ago.”
The Clark boys laughed like Shane was putting on the greatest show they’d ever seen.
“Hurry up and remember, Uncle Shane.” Andy pressed his cheek against his pony’s neck. “I want to ride Stormy.”
“Mom says you have to be able to saddle your own horse if you want to ride.” That was Davey, not giving Shane any leeway for the save yesterday in the Bent Nickel.
“That’s a Clark rule,” Gertie Clark called out in a half-scolding voice. “For Clarks only. Do you need help, Shane?”
“No—no. We’ve got it.” Shane took out his cell phone and searched for a how-to video. How hard could saddling a pony be? “Here you go.” He started the video on silent mode. “Step one is to brush down your mount.”
Alex’s eyes lit up. “I know where the brushes are.” He ran to a room at the end of the row of stalls and disappeared inside.
“And I know where her blanket and saddle are.” Andy scampered after his twin.
“Do you need help carrying anything?” Shane called after him.
“No.” Andy banged into the tack-room doorway. “Ow.” He disappeared inside.
Ten minutes later and Stormy had a saddle on her back, but based on the laughter meter from the Clarks, Shane had done something wrong. He rested his hands on the saddle and ran through the video again.
The sound of pounding hooves diverted attention from Shane.
“It’s Mom.” Little Adam Clark wasn’t much older than Shane’s nephews. “And Aunty Em!”
“The boys aren’t supposed to be in the barn unsupervised.” Franny brought her horse to a halt just outside the barn door and flung herself to the ground with the grace of a born horsewoman. She wore faded blue jeans, scuffed cowboy boots and a blue hoodie emblazoned with the word Mom, with a bright red heart where the o should be. Her cowboy hat was a richer brown than her hair, pulled low over gray eyes that flashed with annoyance.
“They’re not unsupervised.” Old Gertie had her back up. “I’m here.” Sitting in her walker. She turned to Shane. “You’ve got to pull that girth strap tighter, Shane.”
Advice? He’d take it.
“Here?” Shane fumbled underneath the stirrup with one hand.
“No” came a chorus from Clarks of all ages and sizes.
Grinning, Emily stayed on her horse, looking content to avoid what was about to come.
“What’s going on here?” Franny stomped toward her trio of laughing boys, bringing quiet with each booted step. Her big black horse followed her like a loyal dog. “We have rules on the ranch. The boys can’t be outside unsupervised.” Dark looks all around. “And Shane isn’t qualified to handle stock.”
Shane wasn’t going to argue.
Gertie was. “I’m in charge.” She tapped her chest, raising her thin voice. She wore boots, blue jeans, a blouse and a lightweight jacket that probably did nothing to keep her warm in the cool spring breeze. “It’s okay.”
Thunder rumbled on the slopes above them. The sky was growing dark.
It wasn’t exactly blue skies in the barn, either.
“It’s okay,” Gertie said again.
“It’s not okay,” Franny snapped, stumbling forward as her horse bumped her from behind in his haste to reach Gertie.
“There’s my handsome boy.” Gertie handed the black horse a carrot. She then raised her eyebrows at her granddaughter-in-law.
Scowling, Franny pulled the brim of her cowboy hat down low. “I swear, Danger likes you better than he likes me.”
“You’re Buttercup’s favorite.” The old woman gestured toward a stall decorated with plaques and trophies.
The tension in the air was thicker than the gathering humidity.
“I don’t mind the extra supervision.” Shane pulled a smile from his arsenal that he reserved for difficult high rollers. “In fact, I could use a little help here. I’m becoming the poster boy for saddling don’ts.”
The Clark boys chortled some more, earning another stern stare from their mother. That same cold stare bounced off Emily, who’d perhaps foolishly decided it was safe to dismount and enter the barn. Finally, Franny swiveled her no-nonsense gaze at Shane.
This is a woman used to being in charge.
And yet, there was a note of resignation in her eyes, as if she knew no matter how fast she rode, she wouldn’t win the race.
“I throw myself on the mercy of the Clarks.” Shane held out his hands. “I’m just a favorite uncle who brought his nephews to visit their ponies.” It had seemed a good idea at the time. He hadn’t realized this wasn’t a full-service outing.
“Stormy bloats.” Franny handed Davey her reins and marched toward Shane.
“I was going to tell him that,” Gertie groused.
Franny seemed weary as she explained. “You need to give Stormy a nudge when you cinch her up. Otherwise, when she stops holding her breath, that saddle and whoever’s in it will swing down to her belly.” She came up to Shane. Her frown was deeper than ever.
Shane didn’t feel the impact of her frown, though. His brain was short-circuiting. That had only happened once before. Also on a visit to the Bucking Bull. Also when Franny had come near him. Her eyes... They were a soft gray. The gray of baby rabbits, chubby ponies and funeral melancholy.
That was what always drew him up short when he looked into her eyes. Franny had weathered life’s disappointments and was still standing, although not defiantly. No. She endured. She was the kind of woman a powerful man wanted at his side because she wouldn’t break. And yet, those eyes...
She was breakable.<
br />
Deep down, where she didn’t want anyone to see.
“What’s this?” Franny pointed to the phone in Shane’s hand, which was paused on that how-to-saddle video.
Davey couldn’t resist. “He was teaching himself how to saddle a horse.”
The Clark boys were beside themselves with laughter now.
Not immune to the ridiculousness of the situation, Shane’s nephews, Gertie and Emily joined in the chuckle-fest.
Shane might have laughed, too, if not for the look of exasperation on Franny’s face.
He didn’t want her to be frustrated with him. He didn’t want to be another encumbrance that a ranch owner with a large family had to deal with.
His mouth opened and a defense rattled out. “Gabby, back at the inn, always says you can learn how to do anything on the internet.” Great. Now he was quoting a twelve-year-old. He had to get back to Vegas.
“Videos,” Franny mumbled, the word punctuated with a weary sigh. She confiscated Shane’s phone and handed it to one of his nephews. “There’ll be no more of that. Now, look. You’ve threaded the strap right. You just need to give her a nudge...” She kneed Stormy in the flank.
The gray pony exhaled, long and slow.
“And then you tug.” She yanked the end of the girth strap firmly. “Now she’s ready to ride. In the arena. Not the pasture.” Her gaze drifted toward the door and the trees beyond the ranch house. “Never the pasture.”
“Thank you.” Andy hugged his pony, extending his small arms as far around his pony’s neck as they’d go.
“What about me?” Alex asked, a whimper building in his voice.
“We’re doing your pony next,” Shane promised, looking around for a stall containing another pony.
“As amusing as this has been—” Emily walked her horse into the barn “—I’ve got to get cleaned up for work in town. Davey, can you put my horse up?”
Davey nodded. He may have been lacking a hand, but he was more skilled than Shane, and probably many others, with horses. He tied up both horses before Emily left the barn.
Lassoed by the Would-Be Rancher--A Clean Romance Page 5