Hopeful Cowboy: A Mulbury Boys Novel (Hope Eternal Ranch Romance Book 1)

by Elana Johnson

“You have his clothes?” Lawrence asked, approaching her.

  She blinked and ducked her head, glad for the distraction. “Yes.” She handed him the backpack, and he took it over to Nate.

  “Five minutes,” Lawrence said after Nate had taken the pack and Connor back through the door. “And then he’s all yours.” He turned back to the table and picked up a folder. “Here’s all the paperwork you need for him, as well as the first month’s check. The address for the funeral is in there, as well as all of his family contacts.” He looked at the other man who’d come in, and he too wore the uniform of a high-ranking officer at the facility. “Anything else?”

  “I don’t think so,” the man said. “We’ll say our good-byes out here. When he comes back in, he’ll be ready to go.”

  “Great.” Lawrence collected his bag and walked toward the door Ginger had come through at the same time the officer left through the one where Nate had disappeared.

  She turned in a full circle, one door closing right after the other and sealing her inside the room alone. Alone, to wait for Nate and Connor to come back.

  Then, they’d all leave together.

  Every time she did this, Ginger felt so surreal. After all, who in their right mind would let her take a prisoner back to the ranch? Didn’t they know she had no idea what to do for him, what to say, or how to help him?

  Her legs urged her to flee. She could drop off the folder at the front desk and say she’d made a mistake.

  Before she could move, the door opened and Nate walked through it, now wearing the dark suit, the black shiny shoes, and the blue and cranberry tie he’d requested for the funeral.

  And Ginger couldn’t move at all.

  Chapter Three

  Nate held onto Connor’s hand as if the small child could protect him from what was about to happen. He’d managed to carry his bag, the backpack Ginger had brought, and his nephew out of the facility.

  Ginger drove a nice truck, and they’d made good time from River Bay to White Lake, Connor on the bench seat between them. She kept the radio on low, and the tension between them had bled out after only a few minutes.

  Nate couldn’t get enough of the scenery, and he kept trying to see everything as it passed. The flat fields, full of crops and waving in the morning light. The water towers fascinated him. And when Ginger had pulled onto the coastal highway, he simply couldn’t get enough of the glinting water, the long stretch of tan the sand of the beach.

  The beach.

  The water.

  The sky.

  It was all different outside of the River Bay FCI, and Nate breathed in deeply through his nose, no fear of what he might smell.

  “Uncle Nate,” Connor said from on the seat beside him.

  “Yeah?” Nate looked down at the child, his eyes so much like Ward’s. Like, Nate’s too. Those deep, bright blue eyes came from their father, and Nate couldn’t find hardly any of Jane in her son.

  “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure.” Nate looked at Ginger, who’d already started to decelerate.

  “There’s a place right up here,” she said, easing one of her booted feet onto the brake. She made the turn and a couple of blocks down, she pulled into a fast food restaurant.

  Nate sat there, because he didn’t know if he could take Connor into the restroom alone. His heartbeat pulsed through his whole body, a pit of nervousness way down deep in his gut. He couldn’t just walk into this place, though the scent of breakfast hung in the air and tempted him to get a sausage and egg biscuit.

  “Come on,” Ginger said, finally opening her door. “Get out my side, buddy. We’ll meet your uncle inside.” She tossed him a look as she slid from the truck and turned back to help Connor out.

  The door slammed closed, and Nate flinched. He pressed his eyes closed and breathed through his nose again. He wasn’t wearing the prison blues and oranges. No one here would even know who he was, or that he’d been a free man—kind of—for less than two hours.

  He opened the door and got out of the truck, closing the door much softer than Ginger had. She’d taken Connor into the restaurant, and Nate followed, finding them standing in the short hallway that led to the bathrooms.

  He took Connor’s hand and went into the men’s room, wondering what Ginger was going to do. Probably just stand watch to make sure he didn’t try to run away with his nephew. He was pretty sure he could overpower her without even trying, but he had no desire to run.

  He had nowhere to go.

  He’d asked all kinds of questions on Wednesday night, but no one had known any of the answers. Finally, Warden Dickerson had said he’d find out everything he could—what Ward had done with the house, the bills, his money. Where his ex-wife was. Why his sister couldn’t take Connor, all of it—and Nate had been led to a comfortable enough room in Administrative Detention.

  He’d only gone back to Unit NF once to get his belongings. The officers had made everyone leave the dormitory, so Nate could have as much time as he needed to clean out his locker without having to answer a bunch of questions.

  Questions he didn’t have the answers to.

  The Warden had learned that Ward had left everything to Nate. Absolutely everything, and he’d left him a long letter too, explaining everything. The Warden didn’t have it and couldn’t get it until that morning, when Lawrence the lawyer showed up again.

  Nate had the letter now, but he needed complete privacy to study it again. He’d only had time to read it once, and he’d been sniffling when his Unit Manager had knocked and come inside.

  Greg’s last words to Nate still tickled in his ears. Don’t be the same man leaving as you were coming in.

  Nate didn’t feel like he was, and he’d taken the card Greg had given him. It was a professional business card, but Greg had put his personal number on the back. “Call anytime, Nate. Day or night.”

  They’d hugged, and Nate had walked out with Connor. Easy as that. Too bad no one told him every step would be like torture. No one had told him the guilt would threaten to drown him as he left River Bay—and all the friends he’d made inside.

  He’d left letters for Ted, Dallas, and Slate. The three men he was closest to. Ted had brought another man into their fold too, not long ago. Luke—not Lucas. That last bit was really important to the guy, and the reason he found himself in a low security facility with men who’d committed much worse crimes than assault with intent.

  His crew. His friends. The Mulbury Boys Greg had called them. His throat closed again, and Nate didn’t know how to deal with all the issues streaming through him. He’d thought he’d had problems before, but he now knew how simple prison had made his life.

  Nate blinked as Connor said, “Uncle Nate, my zipper’s stuck.”

  He stepped over to the boy and helped him with his fly before they approached the sink to wash up. He had no idea what to say to Connor. He knew how to get a zipper up, though, and he knew he had enough money to buy the boy breakfast. Everything else, he’d have to learn one thing at a time.

  Ward had told him to do exactly that.

  I know you’ll feel inadequate. Heaven knows I do on a daily and sometimes hourly basis. But Nate, just take it one thing at a time. Just like you did in River Bay. One day at a time.

  One hour. One minute.

  Nate dried his hands and stepped into the hall to find Ginger hadn’t moved. “All good?” she asked, her eyes skating down to Connor.

  “Yep.”

  “You hungry, Connor?” he asked.

  The boy looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “A little.”

  “Can we get a sandwich?” he asked Ginger, because he honestly didn’t know the rules at all.

  “Sure,” she said. “We won’t want to take long, though. The funeral.”

  He nodded and went around the corner to the line to order. No one looked at him. No one waved a book of tickets in his face and told him to keep his eyes forward or he’d get a citation. No one swore or jostled f
or a place or breathed threats if he didn’t give up his spot in line.

  These people had no idea how good their lives were.

  He ordered for all of them and got a bag of biscuits and muffins and hashbrowns a few minutes later. Back in the truck with everyone, he started handing things out.

  “Thank you,” Ginger said, and Connor echoed her.

  Nate took a moment before he bit into his bacon and egg biscuit to think back to the last time someone had thanked him. His friends did. Maybe Greg and Ellen had, in time.

  It felt nice.

  “Connor!” Another little boy came running down the hall toward Nate and Connor, who let go of Nate’s hand and ran toward him too.

  Nate’s step slowed, and not only from the unfamiliar child. Right around that corner sat his family. All of Ward’s friends and associates. He really didn’t want to be there, but there was no way Nate could skip his brother’s funeral.

  A woman came around the corner, her expression bordering on panic. “Milo,” she said. “Oh.” She came to a complete stop, and Nate did too.

  He drank in the sight of his sister. Bethany was seven years younger than him, but they’d been good enough friends growing up. She’d been engaged when he’d gone into River Bay, and she hadn’t come to visit him more than a handful of times. Usually on Christmas or his birthday, and that was all.

  He knew why. Her husband had suffered the loss of both of his legs in a motorcycle accident, and she had her hands full. She rushed toward him then, tears spilling down her face. “Nate,” she said, grabbing onto him and sobbing into his chest.

  Nate clenched everything he had in order to keep his own emotions inside, but it sure did feel good to have a hug from someone he loved. Someone who loved him. For so long there, Nate had wondered if his family would even want to speak to him again. Everyone, seemingly, had abandoned him.

  Except Ward.

  “He must belong to you,” Nate finally said as she stepped back. He wiped quickly at his own eyes before he looked to the two little boys. Her son showed Connor a toy car, and it was clear Connor wanted it.

  “Yes,” Bethany said. “My son Milo.”

  “And you have a daughter too,” Nate said, not sure if he should introduce himself to his nephew or not.

  “Yes,” his sister said again. “Ella just turned two.” She linked her arm through his. “Come on. Momma’s been asking about you for at least an hour.” She glanced at Ginger, who’d come into the church with them. She’d been wearing jeans and a blouse when she’d picked him up at the facility, and he’d been waiting for her outside the women’s restroom when Milo had come sprinting around the corner.

  She wore a denim skirt now, and she stepped forward to greet Bethany. “I’m Ginger Talbot.”

  “Of course,” Bethany said. “The—at Hope Eternal Ranch, right?”

  “That’s right.” Ginger smiled as if she and Nate were going to Disneyland instead of a ranch he knew nothing about. He’d never worked on a ranch, despite being a Texan, and a flutter of nerves stole through him.

  He told himself that before his incarceration, he’d never assisted in an office either. He’d never worked in a library. He’d never taught business or finance classes, and he’d never done suicide watch. And he’d managed to figure out how to do all of those things too.

  He could do whatever Ginger threw his way.

  But when she turned to him, that perfectly pretty smile still on those full lips, Nate’s whole world blacked out. She couldn’t smile at him like that, because he was suddenly thinking about things he shouldn’t be.

  He hadn’t kissed a woman in a very long time, though he didn’t have the exact number of days counted the way he did for how long he’d been behind bars. You won’t be kissing Ginger either, he thought, and he turned away from her stunning beauty.

  Nate was very good at following rules. Very, very good at it. He could handle his time at Hope Eternal Ranch. It was less than six months, and Nate knew he could do anything for less than six months.

  He let Bethany lead him around the corner and into the chapel. The funeral hadn’t started yet, and people sat in the rows, talking softly to one another. As he went by, though, all chatter ceased.

  “Momma,” Bethany whispered once they’d reached nearly the front row. “Nate’s here.”

  His mother moved as if in slow motion, her eyes lit from within. “Nathaniel.” She rose, using the bench in front of her to steady her.

  Nate stepped toward her and engulfed her in a hug, this one ten times better than the one he’d gotten from Bethany. “Momma.” He breathed in the soft, floral-powdery scent of her. At least that hadn’t changed.

  A murmur moved through the crowd, but Nate ignored it. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He just wanted to hug his father and sit down. Momma wept when she stepped back and traded places with Daddy.

  “Hey, Dad.” Nate hugged him too, hoping his father wasn’t too disappointed in him. Ward had said he wasn’t; that they’d all come to terms with the situation. His father held him tight. So tight, Nate started to believe what his older brother had told him, and he couldn’t quite contain his emotions.

  His eyes burned, and he closed them just as tightly as he held onto his father. They’d only come to visit him a few times. The drive was hard for them, and he’d kept his relationship going with them through emails and fifteen-minute phone calls and pictures Ward showed him.

  Ward.

  He sat down and looked up at the stained glass window. He couldn’t believe his brother was gone. What in the world was Nate going to do without him? He’d been the only solid thing in Nate’s life for the past fifteen hundred and eighty-two days, and he had no idea how to keep living without Ward only a message away.

  He hadn’t even realized he’d started to cry until a soft, chilly hand slipped into his. Ginger had calluses on her thumbs, and Nate sure did like that about her. It meant she worked hard around that ranch of hers, and Nate suddenly couldn’t wait to get there.

  He’d like to work outside if he could. Even though he hadn’t had a lot of restrictions on his outdoor time in prison, he had fences surrounding him all the time. He couldn’t wait to see the ranch and maybe, just maybe, scale the fence and stand on the other side. Just for a few minutes.

  “Uncle Nate,” Connor said, climbing into his lap. Nate had to let go of Ginger’s hand to hold the boy, but that was okay. He and Connor were all the other had now, and Nate pressed his lips to the child’s temple as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “I miss my daddy,” he said, snuggling deeper into Nate’s chest.

  “I know,” Nate whispered. “So do I, Connor. So do I.” Beside him, Ginger stood up, and Nate looked at her. She motioned for him to follow her, but he wasn’t sure why.

  Then his mother said, “Go on, Nate. We’re going into the other room for a family prayer, and then we’ll follow the casket in here.”

  Nate hadn’t gotten all the memos, clearly, so he hurried to stand with Connor in his arms. He went into the room behind the chapel, catching plenty of side-glances from cousins and aunts and uncles. He ignored them all and stayed right beside his mother and father, Connor glued to him as if the child was afraid Nate would leave him too.

  Please help me, he thought. He’d attended church services at River Bay, though he’d never been overly religious. Ward definitely was much more into worshipping, and Nate closed his eyes as the pastor started a beautiful prayer that was filled with warmth and comfort.

  But when he had to walk in the processional behind his brother’s casket, the panic that had been hovering just beyond Nate reared and roared and reverberated through his whole soul.

  He tried to breathe and couldn’t.

  He tried to hold back his tears and failed.

  He tried to find a solution—any solution—to his current situation, and saw…Ginger.

  Chapter Four

  Ginger had always bee
n quite observant, but it didn’t take much to see Nate begin to spiral. His face became the color of wet cement, and he’d stopped walking. With the crowd of family members still behind them, Ginger couldn’t just let him stand there.

  So she whispered, “Come here, sweetheart,” and took Connor from him. Their eyes met, and she tried to give him the fiercest look she possessed. Just a few more steps, she wanted to say.

  Nate somehow got the message, but Ginger still nudged him with her elbow as she passed, hoping he’d walk with her. He did, and she preceded him down the same row they’d briefly sat on earlier. She took the spot between him and his mother and settled Connor on her lap. Everyone around her was crying, and Ginger watched as the funeral director placed an enormous spray of red roses, bright pink carnations, and huge yellow sunflowers on the top of the closed casket.

  She didn’t know Ward Mulbury, but it was obvious the man was well-loved. To get distance from the sadness around her, she wondered who’d come to her funeral. Her friends and co-workers at the ranch, of course. Her parents. Her two sisters and one brother, none of whom were married. Aunts, uncles, cousins, friends.

  The same type of people who had come to Ward’s funeral.

  She turned to look at Nate and found tears streaming down his face. Her heart broke in that moment, but it was a new and different kind of crack she’d never experienced before. Sure, she’d had her heart broken by a man before, but not because he wasn’t afraid to show the world how he felt.

  In her lap, Connor started to cry too, and Nate reached for him. She passed the child to him, and Nate put their heads together and whispered to Connor things Ginger couldn’t hear. Connor twisted and pressed his back into Nate’s chest, and Nate wrapped him up in a big hug. Someone got up and started talking, and all Ginger could think about was providing Nate and Connor with the safest, happiest place on earth.

  She pulled out her phone during one of the hymns and texted Emma, the assistant on the ranch—and Ginger’s best friend. They’d been working at Hope Eternal together for a decade, and there was no one better than Emma at making someone feel loved and special.