Second-Chance Cowboy

by Carolyne Aarsen

  As she walked down the street to her truck, she fought down her anger at Sepp’s unreasoning dislike of her, and at a father who had let her and her sister down so badly.

  She checked the time and hurried her steps. She made quick work of getting to the clinic and slipping inside.

  “Anything happen while I was gone?” she called out to Jenny as she pulled on her lab coat.

  “Nope. Pretty quiet. Morgan went out. He got a call from the school about Nathan acting up,” Jenny said as Tabitha joined her in the front office. “Asked me not to tell Dr. Waters, so I’m hoping he stays away on his call long enough for Morgan to come back.” She tut-tutted her disapproval. “Dr. Waters has already made a lot of concessions for him. Only the second day on the job and already—”

  She stopped talking as the front door opened and Morgan stepped inside, looking harried.

  “Everything okay?” Tabitha asked.

  His eyes looked at her, then looked away. “Yeah. Fine.”

  The curt tone in his voice told her that, clearly, everything was not fine. So did the frown on his face.

  Don’t engage, she told herself. He clearly doesn’t want my help.

  “You don’t look fine,” Jenny pressed. “Everything go okay with Nathan?”

  Morgan shook his head, the look of concern on his face making Tabitha feel bad for him. “He’s been having a hard time at school,” he said. “I knew it would be a difficult transition for him, but he seemed excited about it at the time. He’s just having trouble settling in.”

  “Moving to a new school is tough,” Tabitha added. “I feel sorry for the little guy.”

  “I’m sure you would know what he’s dealing with,” Morgan said.

  His admission and the faint smile accompanying it startled her. It was the first hint of softness she’d received from him. For a moment she longed to explain to him what had happened all those years ago, but she quashed that. It was so long ago it hardly mattered anymore. Besides, even if she did tell him, that didn’t change the fact of what her father had done to his father. That couldn’t be explained away. She could only fix things by staying on the course she had set for herself.

  Then his cell phone rang and Morgan looked at the call display. “Sorry, gotta take this.” He answered the phone as he walked away.

  Jenny watched him go, then sighed. “That poor man. He’s got a lot to deal with. Must be rough being a single parent. Too bad there’s not some single girl for him.” She looked over at Tabitha. “Actually, I heard a rumor the other day that you two used to date.”

  Date was hardly the word for the deep and abiding feelings she had felt for Morgan, she thought with a touch of melancholy.

  They had made plans to get married. Move away from Cedar Ridge. Start a new life away from the expectations of his mother and the reputation of her father.

  “That was a long time ago,” Tabitha said. “It was just a high school fling.”

  No sooner had she spoken the words than Morgan stepped into the room. From his expression, she guessed he had heard her.

  Then the door flew open and a woman rushed in. “My cat got attacked by a dog.” Tabitha recognized Selena Rodriguez, an older woman who owned the Shop Easy. She looked around, eyes wide, her long graying hair damp but pulled up in a clip.

  Morgan hurried over, pulling a pair of latex gloves out of his pocket, and did a cursory exam of the cat. “I’ll take him,” he said and glanced over at Tabitha. Cass, the other vet assistant, had left on a job with Dr. Waters, so it was on her to help.

  She knew it would happen sooner or later that she would have to work closely with Morgan, and she thought she was prepared for it.

  But when she stood across from him at the exam table, their faces covered with masks with only their eyes visible, she felt a momentary discomfort. She was close enough to see the fan of wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. Smell his aftershave. He smelled different, took up space in a different way. His shoulders were broader, his hair longer.

  Regret washed through her. What if she hadn’t listened to his mother all those years ago? What if she’d had enough confidence in her feelings for Morgan?

  But she hadn’t and she didn’t, and she couldn’t spend her life living with regret over might-have-beens.

  Then her training took over and she pushed her own emotions aside. He’s not for you. There’s too much between you, she told herself.

  Then together they started an IV to anesthetize the cat, then intubated him. As they fell into a routine, and she began prepping the sites, she looked at him as just another vet stitching up some cuts on a cat.

  * * *

  “Looks like we got done on time.” Cord dropped his hammer into the hook on his pouch as a dually pickup pulling a stock trailer roared onto the yard. “Here comes your horse.”

  It was Tuesday evening, and Morgan and his brother had just finished fixing up a makeshift corral to hold Gillian’s horse, Stormy, until Morgan could figure out what to do with it. Cord had offered to board it at the ranch, but Nathan had protested loudly. He wanted Stormy on the yard.

  So for now, he would keep it here and feed it hay. Not the best solution, but his bigger concern was for Nathan more than the horse.

  “I sure hope those old posts hold,” Cord said as they watched as Ernest, who drove the truck, turned and backed up to the gate.

  Morgan gave his brother a look. “You were the one who assured me they would be strong enough.”

  Cord punched him lightly on the arm with one gloved fist. “I’m just bugging you. Relax.”

  “Don’t know how to do that anymore,” Morgan muttered, looking over at his son, who stood by the fence fairly vibrating with excitement. It was the happiest Morgan had seen him since he got here.

  “How are you two getting along?” Cord questioned.

  Morgan thought of the boxes the boy still hadn’t unpacked. The phone calls with the teachers this afternoon. They had found Nathan in the bathroom, huddled in a stall, crying.

  Morgan had been in the middle of a C-section on a cow and couldn’t come to school, and Nathan wouldn’t talk to him on the phone. So Morgan had called his father, who lived in town. After Boyce picked him up, he called to tell him that everything was okay. He and Nathan were having cookies and milk, and another crisis had been averted.

  “Step by step” was all he could say, something that applied to his job, it seemed, as well as to his relationship with his son. “I don’t suppose you know anyone who could work as a nanny.”

  Cord just laughed. “I had my own struggles and then Ella came into our lives.” He grinned at him. “So that’s your solution. You need to find a wife.”

  “No, thanks. Already had one and you saw how well that worked out. Besides, Nathan is my priority and I’m having a hard enough time connecting with him.”

  Cord looked at the boy leaning against the fence, watching everything with interest. “Give it time. He’s been through a lot and he’s probably confused. Plus he’s still grieving for his mother.”

  Morgan nodded. But there was no more time for conversation. The trailer had backed up and the truck engine turned off.

  Ernest came around to the back of the trailer, hitching up his baggy pants, his eyes bright under unkempt eyebrows. “Well, she’s a feisty one,” he said with a grin. “Took two guys to get her haltered and loaded. Watch out for her hooves when you go inside.”

  “Maybe let me unload her,” Cord said, holding up his hand to stop Morgan.

  Morgan looked at Nathan, who was intently watching the proceedings.

  “No. I need to do this,” he said, yanking on the door’s latch, slipping it up and pulling open the sliding door. Nathan needed to see him leading the horse.

  As soon as he stepped inside, Stormy whinnied, her eyes wide, ears pinned back
, her back foot striking hard at the wall of the trailer.

  “Easy, girl,” Morgan said, walking slowly toward her, pushing down his own trepidation. A horse like this could be unpredictable and therefore dangerous in such a small space.

  Stormy stepped back, trembling now, head up and ears still back as he came closer.

  He saw Cord peering in the side of the trailer and, in spite of his concern, he had to grin. Big brother watching out for him.

  “It’s okay, girl. I’m going to untie you and lead you out of this trailer.” He pitched his voice low. Quiet. Hoping it would settle the horse down.

  He carefully untied the rope. She jerked back, the rope slipped in his hands, and then, before he knew what was happening, she landed on her front feet and hit his shoulder as she shot past him out of the trailer and into the corral.

  “You okay?” he heard Cord call out.

  “Yeah. I’m fine.” His pride was hurt more than his shoulder.

  He stepped out in time to see Stormy charging around the corral, rope trailing behind her as Cord rushed to close the gate. Appropriate name, Morgan thought, rubbing his shoulder. Before anyone could stop him, Ernest jumped over the corral fence and snagged the halter rope. Stormy pulled away, Ernest pulled back, and then the horse was suddenly still.

  Nathan, unaware of what was going on, laughed, clapping his hands at the sight as he watched through the railing.

  “Looks like this horse will need some training,” Cord said.

  “Grandpa Boyce said that Miss Tabitha knows how to train horses,” Nathan put in. “He said my dad should ask her but she said she was busy and my dad said we would find someone else.”

  Morgan had to stifle a beat of frustration with his father. He knew about his previous relationship with Tabitha. Why did he keep pushing?

  Then Ernest joined them, leaning one elbow on the rail, tugging on his mustache. “She’s a good horse. Good feet. Good conformation. She’s jumpy, though.”

  “I want to ride her,” Nathan said, watching Stormy as she now stood, her sides heaving with exertion.

  “You won’t be riding her for a while,” Ernest warned, shaking his head. “That horse needs a firm but gentle hand and a lot of training.”

  “And you can’t do it?” Morgan asked. Ernest had trained a number of horses. Though he hadn’t for some time, Morgan thought it was worth asking.

  Ernest pulled in a breath, then gave Morgan a look tinged with regret. “No. That’s a young man’s game and I don’t have it in me anymore. Have you asked Tabitha? I helped train her. She’s a natural, though she hasn’t done much of it since she moved back here.”

  Again with Tabitha?

  “Not an option” was all Morgan would say.

  “Will I never be able to ride my mom’s horse?” Nathan said, his chin now trembling. He looked up at Morgan, who was disconcerted by the tears in the boy’s eyes.

  “We’ll figure something out, Nathan,” Morgan said, kneeling down and catching his son by his narrow shoulders. “Don’t worry. You’ll be able to ride her. Just not right away.”

  “So Miss Tabitha will train her?” Nathan asked, wiping his tears away with the back of one dusty hand.

  “I said we’ll figure something out” was all he said. Though he didn’t like the way the conversation was going, at least Nathan was talking to him. That was a plus.

  Nathan nodded, seemingly satisfied with this answer.

  “I better clean out that trailer and get on my way,” Ernest said, pushing away from the fence. “Nathan, you want to help me?”

  “Sure.” Nathan scooted past Morgan looking happier than he had in a while.

  Morgan waited until he was out of earshot, then turned to his brother.

  “So what do you think I should do?” he asked. “That horse isn’t rideable and Nathan seems to think it might happen.”

  “A horse you can’t ride is taking up space and eating valuable hay,” Cord said, ever the practical rancher.

  “But Nathan seems attached to the beast because it belonged to Gillian.” Morgan sighed, resting his arms on the rail, watching the horse going round and round the pen. “He’s the most enthusiastic when he talks about that horse. Nice change from the slightly depressed kid I usually see. But I can’t find anyone to train it except, it seems, for Tabitha.” He sighed again. “And I’m not sure I want to go down that road. Bad enough I have to work with her. At least at the clinic there are boundaries.”

  “If she is training this horse, she’ll need to be working with Nathan.”

  Morgan sighed. “I know, but truth is, I don’t think she has the time. She’s working two jobs and renovating her house.”

  “Probably just as well.” Cord held his brother’s gaze as he released a hard breath. “She broke your heart once before. Word on the street is that she’s only in town long enough to fix up that place her dad left to her and sell it. She’ll take the money and move on, just like her dad. You’ve got a kid now. He’s what you have to think about. Keep Tabitha in the past, where she belongs.”

  “I think I can handle myself with Tabitha,” Morgan returned, feeling a surge of frustration that his brother seemed to think one look into those blue-green eyes would turn him into a mindless lunatic.

  Cord nodded, as if he didn’t believe his brother’s protests.

  “I’ll get the rest of the fencing stuff” was all Cord said.

  But as his brother walked away, Morgan pondered Cord’s words. Worst of it was, even in spite of his tough talk, he knew his brother was right.

  Fool me once, he thought, heading over to where his son was chatting with Ernest.

  He couldn’t afford to trust so blindly again.

  Chapter Four

  Sepp looked up from scraping the deep fryer, glowering at Tabitha as she dropped a couple of mugs by the dishwasher. “Kind of dead this afternoon.” His voice was accusatory. As if it was her fault.

  “For a Wednesday afternoon it sure is,” Tabitha agreed, reminding herself to stay pleasant.

  “You may as well go home.” Sepp looked back at what he was doing. “No sense paying you to hang around if there’s so few customers.”

  “Things might pick up,” she said, trying not to sound too desperate. Any tip she might get, any dollar she made, brought her that much closer to getting her kitchen finished.

  “If they haven’t by now, they won’t in half an hour,” he snapped. She wanted to argue but she knew better than to contradict Sepp and cross him when he was in an ornery mood.

  Instead she pulled off her apron and set it in the laundry bin, then took her backpack off the hook at the back of the kitchen. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then.”

  Sepp stood back from the fryer. “You don’t need to sound so testy.”

  Tabitha pulled in a slow breath, seeing the banked anger in Sepp’s eyes. The past few days he’d been sniping and griping at her even more than usual.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just tired.” She worked on the house until late last night again, putting in the last of the casings and baseboards to finish up the bedroom.

  “Tired from hanging around with Morgan Walsh?”

  She tried not to roll her eyes, but as she looked at him, she realized maybe that was his problem. He was jealous of Morgan.

  “Morgan is the last person I want to be with on purpose.” That wasn’t entirely true. She had already spent a week working with Morgan, and each time she saw him it became harder to maintain her distance.

  “So, you’re not seeing him?”

  Tabitha blew out a sigh. “No. I’m not.”

  He nodded. “So then, are you free Friday night?”

  Tabitha could only stare, not sure which of his questions disturbed her more. The one about Morgan or the one asking her out.
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br />   “I’m busy. I’ll always be busy for you.” Too late she realized that she had overstepped a boundary she kept scrupulously in place. She had always been evasive with Sepp, cautiously refusing his advances. But she had never been this rude with him.

  “Okay. Well, then maybe you don’t need to bother coming in for a while.”

  Tabitha stared at him, suddenly tired of his machinations, his threats and his borderline obsession with her. As long as she kept turning him down it would never end. He would cut her hours back and back. And she was sick of it.

  “Well, I won’t bother coming in at all, then. I quit.” She wished she hadn’t already taken her apron off. It would have given her the perfect dramatic exit. Pull off apron. Toss it aside. Turn and storm away without a backward glance.

  Instead she shifted her backpack on her shoulder and strode away.

  But as soon as the back door of the café slapped shut behind her, dread flooded through her. What had she just done? Quit the job that paid her the most money?

  How was she supposed to pay for the rest of her house renovations now?

  She leaned against the exterior of the café, the stucco digging into her skin through her shirt. Now what was she going to do?

  * * *

  “I’m sorry, but I’m wondering if it’s in Nathan’s best interests to be in school right now. It’s almost the end of the school year, so he won’t miss much.” The Grade Two teacher, Miss Abrams, gave Morgan a gentle smile, as if to soften her words. She glanced over at Nathan, who sat hunched on the cot in the school nurse’s office, his arms wrapped around his legs, staring out the window. “He’s had a lot to deal with the past few months. He’s a smart boy. In my opinion he might be better off to spend time with you at home.”

  She sounded so reasonable and Morgan could hardly fault her for her advice. But how was he supposed to do that?

  Morgan looked over at Nathan, who wasn’t looking at him. He wasn’t crying now but had been an hour ago. Morgan had been out of cell range, working in a farmer’s back field on a sow that had farrowed, and she and her newborn piglets had been attacked by a coyote.