Second Chance Ranch (The Circle D series)

by Harders, Audra

  “Jennifer O’Reilly. Don’t go making fun of our Melanie. She’s uncomfortable enough as it is.” Grace lowered her voice and spoke into his shoulder. “Go on, Zac, sit with Jennifer. Melanie does take up a little more room than usual.”

  “Not to worry, Mom.” He tightened his arm to his side effectively holding Jen’s in place. “I want my sister-in-law as comfortable as possible.”

  Her fingers snagged his sleeve as she tugged him around. “Let’s go.”

  They filed into the sanctuary just as the music rang the final chord. Pastor Dave gave his greeting and the congregation turned to the first hymn of the day.

  Zac looked around the sanctuary. Ranchers he’d grown up to respect and admire over the years; pews filled with friends who’d remained in Hawk Ridge and started families; a variety of new faces that blended in well with the old. Even sitting in the pew with Jen brought back memories of when they’d attended Sunday services together in high school, sitting at the back of the sanctuary, and holding hands, their sides pressed together from shoulder to knee even though only a couple of other folks occupied the rest of the pew. He remembered holding her hand and marveling over how soft her skin as the light, fruity fragrance she wore teased his nose. He’d had a hard time concentrating on Pastor Dave’s message then; right now, he wasn’t having an easier time of it.

  “Grow up! Act like men!” Pastor Dave stood behind the pulpit, his gaze darting about the men of the congregation. “I know you look like adults - tall, strong, handsome. But age has nothing to do with it. Maturity makes the man, not age.”

  Zac shifted in his seat as if the pastor had glimpsed his thoughts and discovered Zac’s mind elsewhere.

  “Let me repeat again what First Corinthians 16:13 says: ‘Be on the alert, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong.’ Of these four commands we’re reflecting on today, only “act like a man” is mentioned once in the New Testament. Only once. This is God’s wake up call to us, He’s drilling His finger in our chests.”

  His mouth went dry as Zac stiffened. Where had this message come from? Why today of all days? Zac loved the Lord with all his heart, had been a faithful believer since he didn’t know when. But no message had ever hit him like this. He glanced around the congregation hoping to seeing others as taken aback as he. Nothing but calm showed on the faces of the men seated around him. He stole a glance at Jennifer and Doc O’Reilly. They sat still, absorbed in the moment.

  “Today’s culture is looking for scapegoats-a blame game of epic proportions.” Pastor Dave fell silent a moment. “Paul’s point isn’t any less sharp today as it was two thousand years ago. Isn’t it time you take responsibility for your own actions? When you do something wrong, own up to it. Did you cause a problem? Admit it. That’s what adults do, they take responsibility for their actions. Behave as men and women. Or better yet, act like ladies and gentlemen. If you give your word, keep it. Maturity. Be faithful and true.”

  Pastor went on to discuss the last command about being strong, but Zac cut bait on the sermon and stared out the wall of glass behind the altar. A field of wildflowers sloped out of sight with the backdrop of the Elk Mountain Range rising majestically beyond. There was power spoken from the pulpit, but it couldn’t match the majesty of the beauty beyond. Zac had given thanks uncountable times for incomparable reminders of God’s power and grace in the face of sunlight, storms and darkness. He hadn’t remembered giving thought to twilight, but that was obviously the gray area he swam in now.

  Be a man. Three simple, straightforward words. Words now burned into his heart. He had a daughter. And as painful as it was to admit, Jen hadn’t thought him responsible enough at the time to let him in on the secret. Yes, he’d been hurt when the blood test revealed the truth, but was it his heart that was hurt, or his pride? Or ego?

  He bowed his head and studied the crease in his jeans as he sat in the pew of the church where he’d given his heart to God. He and Jen had dedicated themselves to the Lord, along with the rest of their friends during the Youth Gathering when they were in Junior High School. They’d all said the words, and Zac knew deep in his heart, he meant them. How humbling to realize through his self-absorbed strive to succeed he’d let down not only his God, but his best friend and love.

  The pastor’s words continued to fill the air as Zac clasped Jen’s hand and interlaced their fingers. Her muscles jumped, but then she pressed her palm into his and rubbed her fingertip along his knuckle — just as she used to do. He looked into her trusting blue eyes and saw all the faith she’d ever had in him still glowing. Strands of her blonde hair brushed her cheek as the rest waved over her shoulders. A small grin pulled at his cheek as she stared at him with a curious tilt of her head.

  He tugged her closer. “Everything will be alright,” he whispered. The same fruity scent from long ago teased his nose.

  She squeezed his hand. “I know.”

  * * *

  As soon as Zac opened the door of Leon’s Hardware Store, the underlying smell of latex paint, kerosene and spare-parts metal snagged him back to his childhood and Saturday morning shopping at the hardware store with his dad. The old oak floor gleamed with polish, and hanging fluorescent fixtures offered the low buzz of energy that only lamps of that vintage could make. Nothing had changed about Leon’s other than an upgraded inventory and state-of-the-art electronics at check out.

  His steps echoed as he strolled down the main aisle, new displays of hunting gear catching his eye. A couple of men stood at the counter at the back wall looking at the selection of firearms housed behind locked glass doors. Already the middle of September. Deer and elk season was just around the corner. He needed to check out his own gear before too much longer.

  The place had changed just enough for him to search for the machinery parts. He swept past an electronic glass door leading to an outdoor patio. A banner stretched across the doors proclaiming Garden Center closed until February. A burst of pride tightened his chest. That was his sister-in-law’s doing. When she’d swept into Hawk Ridge two years earlier, she’d not only rearranged his brother’s life, but that of the rest of the town. Her bubbly personality had won over the church ladies and her experience with plants and horticulture had won over Elwood Leon. He’d created a position for her giving her a reason to stay in Hawk Ridge; Gabe proposed to her inviting her into the family. Zac didn’t know Melanie that well yet, but what he did know, he liked.

  “Hey, stranger, what are you doing back in town?” A cute blonde smiled at him as she pointed to his hair. “Looking all rugged and shaggy, no one would believe you’ve been a city guy for years.”

  Zac grinned at his old friend. “Shayna Leon, you running this store now, or is your dad still the top man?”

  “Are you kidding? Dad will always be the top man. And the name is Westin, not Leon. RJ and I got married.”

  “The cowboy at the Circle D?” Zac remembered reading the name a long time ago. “I thought he was temporary.”

  “Back then he was. But Gabe liked his work ethics and I liked him. So between the two of us, we convinced him to stay. He partners with Hank doing the stock.” She cocked her head. “I thought you knew that? Don’t you write the checks?”

  “No. Why’d you say that?”

  “Because Gabe is always saying you control the money. And you live in Denver. And we never see you.” Shayna shrugged her shoulders. “Even Melanie says all the tax stuff and financials need to be run by you.”

  He managed a lot of the Circle D assets, but writing checks wasn’t one of them. “Are you hedging for a raise for RJ?”

  “Well, now that you mentioned it,” — she patted her slightly rounded belly, — “with another baby on the way, some extra money could come in handy.”

  He laughed as Shayna gave him the thumbs’ up sign. “Afraid you’ll have to take that up with Gabe and Dad. I’ve never been part of the hiring or firing or negotiating of compensation. But if you want to start Gabe thinking along those lines, you better s
tart now. The bigger Melanie gets with those twins, the more distracted he becomes. He’s going to be a fruitcake by the time the girls make their debut.”

  “Isn’t it great?” Shayna said just as Zac spotted the parts section. He nonchalantly drew her along as she continued to talk. “Melanie is so excited, that’s all she talked about this summer. Well, babies and bugs. It’s almost spooky how much she knows about spiders.”

  “She’s an entomologist.”

  “I know, but she’s too pretty and nice to get that excited over creepy crawlies.” They stopped in front of the order desk for machinery parts. Shayna automatically went behind the counter. “What do you need?”

  A big sign behind the desk read Leon’s Hardware — If We Don’t Have It; You Don’t Need It. Zac grinned at the relic. He’d come into the store when he was just nine or ten and took that sign at its word. He and Jen had plopped a shoe box on the counter in front of Mr. Leon and told him they needed a house for the lizard they’d caught so it wouldn’t freeze over the winter. True to the motto, Mr. Leon found an old fish tank in the back of the store, filled it with play sand and taped a heat strip to the bottom of the tank before stacking rocks on it. He even started stocking live crickets in the bait section so Zac and Jen had food for the lizard through the winter.

  Jen liked lizards. That had been the coolest thing ever.

  He looked down at the part in his hand and shook away the memory. “I had a bolt go out on the baler. Can I hope you have one in stock?”

  Shayna took the part. “Give me a few minutes to look for this. We just got a shipment in middle of last week. If Ross has everything inventoried, it won’t be hard to find.” She turned and disappeared through a door marked “Employees Only.”

  Zac glanced over the display of rust preventative aerosol cans on the counter and the tower of motor oil stacked behind it. Jugs of anti-freeze lined the shelves along the wall running straight into a display of heavy duty batteries. Pennzoil and Quaker State signs decorated the wall obviously indicating where the motor oil was.

  “Zac Davidson?”

  Zac turned and found Frannie Pollard standing beside him. “Mrs. Pollard, nice to see you.”

  “Well, I can certainly say the same for you, young man. I saw you in church this morning, but the Lord frowns on folks discussing business in His house.”

  “That’s what I’ve always been told and taken to heart.” He searched her face for a hint, but all he saw was her studying him. “Are we in business?”

  “Oh, not you and me.” She stopped glaring and a smug smile dropped into place. She inched closer. “But I do have some interesting news for you.”

  Thoughts of her three daughters popped into his mind. Frannie Pollard had tried her hardest to get him interested in Peggy when they were in school. Peggy was cute and funny, but never went anywhere without her violin and Zac couldn’t hold a tune. They were doomed from the start. “How are the girls?”

  “This has nothing to do with the girls. It has to do with the Trails’ End Ranch.”

  A muscle twitched just below his eye. Mrs. Pollard had always had a flair for the dramatic which obviously hadn’t dimmed over time. “What about it?”

  “You know I work for the title company,” she stated as if the position ranked second to the mayor. “And I’ve been working on the paperwork for Jess Eklund’s sale. The secret caught me by surprise…I just found it Friday afternoon. I put a note in my calendar to call Jess, first thing Monday morning.” She glanced over her shoulder as if someone was watching them. Satisfied they were alone, she turned back to him and cleared her throat. “Technically - and legally - I should let Jess know about this first, seeing as it’s currently his ranch and all, but then you showed up at church today and left so quickly with that nice Jennifer O’Reilly.” Mrs. Pollard clicked her tongue as she winked at him. “Saw you sitting with her, too. Nice girl. Hard worker. She’s interested in buying this ranch. Did you know?”

  “Yes, I’d heard.” Dizzy from trying to follow her line of conversation, Zac needed Frannie Pollard back on track. “About the ranch?”

  “Like I said, I really should be telling Jess Eklund this first, but you two were always such close friends…and now you’re trying to buy the ranch, too…I see no harm in letting you know.”

  “Mrs. Pollard,” he said as evenly as possible. “I wouldn’t want you to do or say anything unlawful. I’m just waiting for Shayna to find a bolt —”

  As if Frannie hadn’t heard him, she clapped her hands together a couple of times and angled her chin toward him. “It’s the oddest thing. Everyone in Hawk Ridge knows about the poker game that won ol’ Efrain Eklund the Trails’ End. That story’s been spun around the block for years. Eklunds’ made a nice place of the ranch, worked it solid and grew good crops. Shame Jess didn’t want to stay in Hawk Ridge. But if he hadn’t started the process, we wouldn’t have ever found out.”

  The suspense was killing him. “I’m certain Jess knows all about his property.”

  “I don’t think so. No one knew.”

  His fingers dug into the polished finish of the parts counter. “Knew what?”

  “Well, the deed changed hands at the poker game, but Efrain Eklund never did anything with it. He didn’t file it, didn’t even change names on it.”

  Sound roared through Zac’s ears as his heart pounded. He didn’t want to guess what she had to say next.

  “Isaac, my boy.” She drew a breath for dramatics and offered a self-satisfied grin. “The Trails’ End still belongs to the Davidsons.”

  “It can’t.” The words stuttered out as his mind raced. “Arthur poured his soul into that place. He gave the ranch to his boys as inheritance.”

  “It’s like I said.” Frannie turned her palms up and shrugged her shoulders. “No one knew about the deed. Why would they? That poker game happened a couple of generations ago. Back then, the only paperwork they had was the bill of sale a man signed to sell his place to another. Jeb was angry over losing his ranch and Efrain was too busy moving in to think about making the change legal.” Frannie shook her head. “It took years before the two men spoke to each other again. Guess it’s a good thing we have title companies nowadays to cross the Ts and dot the Is.”

  The ramifications of the oversight from long ago rolled over Zac like a semi-truck of timber. “Jess bought out his brothers’ shares of the ranch to sell the property and finance an investment. A big opportunity for him.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “He was upset over the sale price being frozen for Jennifer to begin with…way below market. And now this?”

  Frannie studied him. Lines deepened at the corner of her eyes as she reached out and patted his shoulder. “I’m not the one to set the details of the sale. I’m just telling you what I discovered. Changes the whole game. But, like I said, I should’ve told Jess first — I have a call in to him.”

  The Trails’ End belonged to the Davidsons. Dazed, he stared at Frannie Pollard and her raised brows and pursed lips. How had that detail been overlooked? What was he supposed to do now?

  Shayna appeared through the doorway and walked up to the desk holding a part in her hand. She held it out. “You’re in luck, Zac. Here’s what you need.” She nudged his arm. “You okay?”

  He snapped back from the deluge of complications clouding his mind. “Yeah, thanks.” He accepted the part with numb fingers. Turning from the counter, he took a step and waved. “Put it on the Circle D tab. I gotta go.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The afternoon sun caught the potted herbs on the kitchen window sill creating long basil and oregano shadows across the oak table. Zac tapped his finger on the wood grain, trying once again to make his father understand. “Dad, the Trails’ End belongs to us.”

  Martin finished digging the meat out of a walnut shell and lifting the last morsel to his lips. Chewing, he raised an unruly brow. “How did you mange to seal the deal before Jennifer’s loan approval? What have you done, Son?”

  �
�I haven’t done anything. And apparently, Efrain Eklund didn’t do anything either.” Zac stopped short of slamming the heel of his hand on the table top. “The deed is still in the Davidson name.”

  “My word, Martin.” Grace Davidson sat down at the table beside her husband, her gray eyes sharp. “How can this be? We‘ve never paid a cent in taxes on the place.” She turned to Zac. “Are you certain Frannie said Davidson?”

  Zac nodded, relieved one of his parents grasped the situation. “Yes, ma’am. She made it plain that no one realized the confusion in ownership until she unearthed the title. She did a search on it to see if they’d filed a deed in any other county in Colorado, but nothing came up.” He dipped his chin, the words bitter on his tongue. “Looks like you’re the proud owners of the entire, original Circle D settlement.”

  Martin propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands. “No, we’re not, Isaac. You of all people should know what an accounting nightmare incorporating the Trails’ End back into the Circle D would be. We’d be digging up records so far back, a few of those years could’ve been written on scrolls.”

  “Dad--” Zac began.

  His gaze bore into Zac. “You know what I’m getting at. I want none of it. I was perfectly content with the way that gambling story ended and the Eklunds have been good to the place. But you’ve been on a crusade over that property ever since you heard the tale told ‘round the campfire. You romanticized Jeb Davidson gambling the place away, and have been scheming ever since to win it back.” He popped another piece of walnut in his mouth and chewed. “I thank the good Lord every day you turned your brain for numbers in a respectable direction instead of figuring a winning hand with aces high.”

  Martin sat back in his chair, his expression softening as he took a breath. “I remember you used to pester the daylights out of Arthur Eklund about the history of each building, or an estimate of how many fish were in the stream, or later, how many head of cattle he thought the pastures could sustain. Ol’ Arthur had the patience of a saint when it came to all you kids. Jennifer had latched on to him, too. Probably saw him as the grandfather she never remembered. Either way, for the hermit Arthur claimed to be, you’d never know it for the number of kids that traipsed on and off of his land.”