The Rancher's Rescue

by Cari Lynn Webb

  Unfortunately, the Blackwell Ranch hadn’t booked any more rooms of the lodge and he hadn’t found any money to hire more staff or even discovered the magic key to turn a profit. So far, he’d failed.

  That stopped this morning. Right now.

  He started his truck and headed toward the JB Bar Ranch. He’d convince Jon to meet with Judge Edwards. Then he’d call the Billings Bank and Trust to request an extension at least until after Jon’s meeting with Judge Edwards next week. If they gained access to the account, at least he’d bring the credit line current. One problem solved.

  That’s how he’d do things; he’d take one problem at a time. Then leave to handle his own personal employment issues. And leave Grace. That thought bothered him like an unseen puncture in a horse’s sole, that by the time it was discovered, the horse had developed an abscess that could cause severe damage and even death. Surely, he could leave Falcon Creek and Grace without suffering any serious fallout.

  After all, his heart was never an issue. The only strings that were attached to him when he departed would be a child that he’d vowed to help take care of. Ethan turned up the volume on the radio and ignored the groans of his old truck and the slow roll of uncertainty through him.

  He had everything under control.

  After one too many country songs about love lost or the comfort of family, Ethan finally parked in his brother’s driveway.

  He walked in on breakfast, not the quiet, staid routine he went through each morning alone in his studio apartment back in Colorado, or the rushed, stuffing a bagel in the mouth while walking that Katie always seemed to prefer. Rather a boisterous, laughter-infused family affair with chocolate-chip-pancake-scented air, perfectly brewed coffee, and Jon and Lydia stealing a kiss behind the open refrigerator door.

  Ethan rubbed his forehead, feeling like he’d stumbled into a private moment. He would’ve sneaked back outside if his nieces hadn’t squealed his name and rushed to hug him with syrup-stained fingers and cheeks.

  Lydia greeted him with a wide smile and pointed her spatula toward the empty chair at the kitchen table and ordered him to sit and eat.

  The girls returned to their seats and exploded into conversation, their questions running into their story retelling. Did he know that two of Gordy’s daughters, Rosie and Francie, were friends with Abby and Gen? They said he’d saved their dogs. Did he know Lucky was the only baby left ’cause the other puppies had to go to become angels?

  Did he know Gen hurt her elbow when she fell off the porch swing? There was even a sparkly pink Band-Aid to prove it.

  Did he like chocolate chip pancakes? Because those were their favorites. And if he asked Lydia real nice, she might even make his pancakes into barn animals too. That launched a debate over the best barn animals to choose and whether a barn owl could be considered a real barn animal.

  Too soon, pancake-loaded plates arrived and the girls only managed a smattering of giggles and chopped sentences between bites. Plates empty, the girls sprinted off to wash up and get ready for their day.

  Ethan finished off his pancakes, declared Lydia’s bunny-shaped chocolate chip pancake the best he’d ever had and poured himself another cup of coffee. “Sorry to interrupt the morning, Jon, but we need to talk.”

  Lydia touched Ethan’s shoulder and carried his plate to the sink. “Family is always welcome and never a disruption.”

  “Don’t tell him that.” Jon yanked the coffeepot away from Ethan and refilled his mug. “He’ll be here every morning. He can hardly make toast and coffee.”

  “I’ve mastered Zoe’s expensive coffee machine.” And if he were honest, he was becoming partial to it and the special bean grinder too. “I haven’t tackled the waffle iron or special hot plate for the stove yet.”

  “I’m sure there are instruction manuals,” Jon offered, his voice mild and helpful.

  He wouldn’t be here that long that he’d need to learn. And any instruction manual he picked up would be about babies and what not to do. Ethan toasted his brother with his mug. “I don’t like to read manuals. I think I’ll just come over here instead.”

  “Look what you started.” Jon frowned at Lydia, but the laughter in his gaze ruined the effect. “Now he’ll be here every morning and evening.” Jon tried to look put out, but his daughters cheered before racing each other outside. Lydia followed, calling for the girls to put on jackets.

  Ethan slapped his brother’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ve been pretty lucky with dinners thanks to Alice Gardner, so I’ll only stop in every morning.”

  Jon sipped his coffee and considered Ethan with the same look he’d used when trying to find the weak link between Ethan and his twin, Ben. Ben had always run interference for Ethan, since he’d been a fast-talker even as a child and always stalled Jon long enough for Ethan to attempt their latest stunt. And the twins had an endless stunt list. Ethan should’ve returned the favor for Ben and blocked Ben from being the first Blackwell to get engaged to Zoe Petit.

  Ethan looked away from his brother, but never broke his silence.

  Jon said, “Alice Gardner’s cooking explains why you haven’t been over in the evenings.”

  That and Ethan had been spending most of his evenings with Grace. Not that his brother needed to know that. “Katie keeps expanding the fix-it list hourly. It’s never-ending.”

  “Don’t you remember Big E telling us that we lived ranch work. You didn’t just do it eight hours a day and then call it quits.” Jon looked at Ethan as if he’d forgotten where he’d grown up. As if Ethan had forgotten his roots.

  Ethan remembered, but he’d never really listened. He’d been too busy rescuing one animal or another. Or taking care of the horses in the barn. His body was listening now. Each twinge and displaced joint hollered at him every morning when he snapped his spine back into place to get ready for the day. He didn’t mind the physical labor. He minded that nothing ever seemed to result in bringing in more money for the ranch. “Even if I worked twenty hours a day, there would be more to do the next morning. We need help.”

  “You found money to hire people?” Jon leaned forward, looking both relieved and wary.

  “Sort of.” Ethan cradled his mug and reviewed his strategy. None of the brothers had welcomed Myrna Edwards as their new step-grandma. But Jon was the only one who’d stayed in town and still may have interacted with Judge Edwards. Surely Jon would see Ethan’s logic. “If we get signing authority on the second account, we can access the money.”

  “There’s money in this account?” The caution in Jon’s voice overtook his earlier relief.

  “Possibly enough to cover several weeks of pay for the ranch hands until more bookings come in.” And it should bring the credit line payments close to current. Ethan nodded as if that would bolster his brother’s confidence.

  “Great.” Jon sat back and tipped his hat up to better see Ethan. “What’s the holdup?”

  Ethan looked anywhere but at his brother. “There’s a small hitch, but it shouldn’t be too big of a deal.”

  “What is it?” Jon’s fingers drummed a slow beat on the kitchen table as if he’d sit there all day waiting for Ethan to explain.

  Ethan dropped his elbows on the table and met his brother’s stare. His words tumbled out. “You have to go before Judge Edwards to ask for signing authority in Big E’s absence.”

  Jon’s head shook, and his voice came out in succinct syllables as if he were teaching a preschooler to read. “Judge Myrna Edwards?”

  “Yes.” Ethan sat back and tried to smile at his brother, but even his lips refused to pretend a meeting with Judge Edwards was something to grin about.

  “Why me?” Jon asked.

  “You’re the oldest. You’re the most responsible.” Ethan threw his hands up as if he’d scored a touchdown with his final argument. “You’re a full-time resident of Falcon Creek.” Unlike Ethan. H
e had no need to have singing authority on Big E’s accounts. That would be like a string attaching him to Big E and the Blackwell Ranch. He’d cut those ties when he’d gone to college without Big E’s blessing or assistance.

  His brother drummed his fingers faster on the kitchen table and stared at him. “You’re essentially running the Blackwell Ranch right now. You should appeal to Judge Edwards.”

  But Ethan wasn’t permanent on the ranch. Or in Falcon Creek. Jon lived and worked, and now raised his family, in Falcon Creek. His brother had so many ties to the town there would be no cutting him loose anytime soon. Jon should have signing authority on their grandfather’s account. “You make the most sense.”

  “I’m not appealing to Judge Edwards for anything.” Jon crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze narrowed and his mouth set into a firm line. This was the brother that never bent.

  Ethan needed Ben. His twin would’ve already won this argument. “Why not?”

  There were any number of reasons none of the Blackwell brothers wanted to approach Judge Myrna Edwards for anything. But out of the five boys, Jon had the cleanest slate from Myrna’s point of view.

  “She still refers to me as Day One whenever and wherever I see her.” Distaste coated his tone as if Jon had bit into Ethan’s first and only attempt at making Shepherd’s pie. “I won’t go into her courtroom, so she can call me Day One with her usual disdain and disapproval.”

  “You weren’t the one who’d hit her tires.” Ethan jumped up from his chair and paced the kitchen. She’d imploded on Ethan as the others had watched from the safety of the hayloft.

  Ethan had been polite and had even given her a quick but awkward hug on Day One. Day Two, he’d lost his manners and any hint of affection when Myrna had confiscated his bow and arrows.

  He’d aimed at her car tires rather than the hay barrels after Ben had told him he’d never successfully flatten the tire. Ethan was the worst shot in the family according to Ben. Ethan had flattened two tires on Myrna’s car before Ben had admitted his brother deserved top billing with a bow and arrow.

  Myrna hadn’t agreed and grounded Ethan as if she were his mother. As if she’d suddenly earned the right to parent him. As if the Blackwell name on a signature line had given her control.

  Then, believing there was no alternative vehicle, she’d climbed onto the tractor and driven off into town. Ethan might’ve escaped with only a lecture if Myrna hadn’t turned around and witnessed him doubled over with laughter. He’d still swear that twin horns had sprouted from her head in that instant.

  He’d been known as Day Two ever since. His pancakes flipped over in his stomach like cast iron plates, no longer comforting. “You’re not seriously going to make me stand before Judge Edwards alone?”

  “Absolutely.” Jon nodded and laughed. “Maybe you can sweet-talk her with your special cookies.”

  He’d tried to put himself into Myrna’s good graces and earn back his bow and arrows that same evening. He’d made cookies with nuts and chocolate chips. Myrna Edwards had an as-yet-undiagnosed nut allergy that had sent her back into town on the tractor. “This is serious, Jon.”

  His brother sobered. “I know. And I won’t win anything with Myrna Edwards either. We have a mutual dislike of each other.”

  “It can’t be that bad.” Ethan had made Myrna Edwards break out in hives from her face to her shins.

  “Judge Edwards presided over my divorce, which might’ve happened in less time if she hadn’t added in several arbitrary delays and extensions.”

  That wasn’t good. Jon’s slate was apparently as scratched up as those of the rest of the brothers. Ethan rubbed his hands over his face, grabbed his empty coffee mug from the table and dropped it in the sink.

  Jon tapped the table. “You could call in reinforcements. Ben has been trained to handle all sorts of difficult clients and judges.”

  “Ben won’t answer my calls.” Ethan stared out the kitchen window at his nieces chasing each other around the yard. Growing up, Ben and Ethan had been like the girls, spending every hour together, building forts, hunting or riding.

  Ben was not only his twin but his best friend, until Ethan had stood at the altar beside Ben while Ben’s bride-to-be, Zoe Petit, had eloped with their grandfather.

  Ethan had known what was happening, but hadn’t stopped Big E and Zoe, or told Ben, until after it was too late. “This seems way below Ben’s pay grade,” he told Jon. “I’m sure he has paralegals to appeal for signing authority on a simple bank account.”

  “It’s worth calling him,” Jon said. “It’s been over five years. He has to forgive us sometime.”

  Ethan turned around and looked at his older brother. Jon had handled so much after their parents had died. Ethan could do this now. “I’ll deal with Judge Edwards and get signing authority.”

  Besides, Ethan wasn’t as convinced as Jon that Ben would forgive them. He’d saved Ben back then, even if his brother still hadn’t realized it yet. Ethan wasn’t about to apologize to his twin. Or beg for Ben’s forgiveness. He still stood behind his decision all those years ago. “I’m stepping back after we get the ranch stabilized.”

  “Got a job offer?” Jon asked.

  “I have several phone interviews scheduled for next week,” Ethan hedged. He hadn’t admitted the dire condition of his own finances to anyone, not even Jon. He hadn’t admitted that his poor credit prevented him from being accepted into most veterinary clinics.

  “You should have offers before the end of the month.” Jon rinsed his coffee cup in the sink and smiled at his girls giggling outside.

  “That’s the goal.” Ethan studied his brother, who was suddenly frowning. “What’s the problem?”

  Jon shrugged. “I won’t deny that it’s been good to have you back and not just to tackle the extra workload. From what I’ve heard in town, there’s quite a few people, and their pets, who’re happy to have you home.”

  He didn’t want to discuss his moonlighting. Those house calls to treat various pets were for old neighbors and longtime friends. Or visits Grace had coerced him into. He’d always been a sucker for an animal in need, especially in Falcon Creek.

  Ethan moved away from the counter and his brother and his growing uncertainty about wanting a local patient list. “You know I’ve been applying in Kentucky and Colorado. That’s where I need to be to build my career.”

  “So you’ve told me.” Jon turned and leaned against the counter, his focus on Ethan. “But it isn’t only about your career, is it?”

  Yes, it was very much only about his career. How was Ethan supposed to support a child without a stable job and regular paycheck? “I’ve been working toward this since I was a kid. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

  “Well, just promise me that you won’t forget your family in your race to conquer the equestrian world.” Jon smiled and shoved away from the counter to squeeze Ethan’s shoulder. “Get the signing authority on the account, make the new hires and I’ll see to things on this end with Katie until Big E returns, or we sell the place.”

  “You’re freeing me to head off to my future then?” Ethan could set up some of those in-person interviews finally.

  “As free as a falcon.”

  Doubt stuttered through him at Jon’s quick promise. Or perhaps those were Ethan’s own doubts about leaving. But he shook that off. He had to go. To build his life outside Falcon Creek, where he had more lucrative opportunities.

  He now had a child to consider. He wanted to share the news with his big brother, but...

  Lydia walked in and kissed Jon’s cheek on her way back outside with different coats for the girls. His brother’s grin was as wide as the Montana sky. Ethan was very glad Jon and Lydia had found happiness and were building a life together. Ranch life suited them.

  Could Ethan build a life with Grace? Asking her to leave Falcon Creek, leave her
family and friends, was impossible. If he remained in Falcon Creek, he’d have nothing to offer her but debt, and a barely solvent ranch that he only owned a portion of. No one would want that. Period.

  Unlike Lydia and Jon, a future together for Grace and Ethan seemed as improbable as winning over Judge Edwards.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ETHAN DROVE ALONG Front Street, spotted Mrs. Hatfield standing outside Maple Bear Bakery and waved. At the single stoplight in town, he rolled down his window and called out to Mr. Jacobson to ask about their puppy—the one he’d treated last week after the German shepherd had overindulged in brownies.

  Just as he was about to step on the gas, Randy, the postman, shouted his name. Randy walked up to Ethan’s window and handed him the mail for the Blackwell Ranch. “Sure nice to have you home and around town. Delivering the mail this way lets me get to the boys’ baseball practice on time.”

  “Glad I could help.” Ethan tossed the mail on the passenger seat, waited until Randy stepped back onto the sidewalk and headed toward Brewster’s.

  Ethan pulled into the store’s parking lot and stared out the windshield. He’d been sincere with Randy. He liked knowing that he could help. But Ethan hadn’t considered the Blackwell Ranch to be home in years. He’d moved on like he’d wanted to. He rolled his shoulders and forced himself to swallow around his tight throat. Surely, he hadn’t discovered some misplaced sentiment for the Blackwell Ranch and Falcon Creek.

  He’d told his brother not an hour ago that he intended to leave. That hadn’t changed on his short drive through town.

  After two quick moves on the chessboard to put the black in position to take Pops’s queen, Ethan strode around the back of Brewster’s. He had a task to complete before he handed in his get-out-of-Falcon-Creek card to his brother.

  Sarah Ashley sat cross-legged on the porch, painting supplies scattered all around her. Her canvas: one of the milk can stools from the porch where Pops played his continuous chess game. She’d piled her hair into a messy bun on top of her head, skipped her usual full makeup and wore more practical than fashion-friendly work boots paired with a Brewster’s flannel. He preferred her like this. Sarah Ashley would always be beautiful, but now she looked approachable.