Grace

by Chris Keniston

  Meg nodded. "There's a slew of them. Big ranching family way back but now they're divvied up in different things."

  "Got it. The invitation came from Sam."

  "Yep. He has the biggest of the Brady spreads. The younger folks have less land, but most of them aren't into ranching anymore."

  "So why did you take a rain check on all the others and not Aunt Eileen's?"

  "I'm pretty sure I tried, but by the time I got off the phone, I was committed to following Mr. Farraday after church."

  "She did it to me too," Meg chuckled. "Amazing gift of…persuasion."

  Chase shrugged. "I'm glad. I've been burying my head in cleaning out the old stock, learning the customers, bringing the store up to the new millennium, and not coming up for air."

  "Sounds like you can take the boy out of the city, but you can't take the city out of the boy." Meg took a sip from the teacup she held in two hands.

  "Works the other way around too." Adam squeezed his wife's knee and nodded at Chase. "Can't be easy giving up the pace of life in New York City for our little town."

  From where Chase sat, he could see a hint of more serious thoughts tumbling around behind the smiling eyes. "New York is a different world in so many ways."

  "Damn fun too." Meg set her cup on the saucer. "In college we'd take the train down to the city, see a show with the half-price tickets, eat a hot dog from a street vendor, or in winter walk Fifth Avenue looking at all the store windows and eating warm chestnuts."

  Adam smiled. "Ah, the famed chestnuts roasting on an open fire."

  "Yep. So good." The way Meg ran her tongue across her lips was almost enough to make Chase put a trip home this winter on his to-do list.

  Some of the best parts of where he grew up were the things the tourists did. Having access to Broadway shows, the skating rink at Rockefeller Center, or the Circle Line on the Hudson any day of the week if the spirit moved you was a definite perk. Of course the problem for most locals wasn't access but time. Hard to ride up the river and eat a lobster roll, or enjoy center orchestra seating, when the work week is eighty hours long for six or seven days a week.

  When he'd finally come up for air it wasn't live theater, or roasting chestnuts, or ferry boat rides he craved. Chase was not going to work himself to death in a concrete jungle. He would enjoy homemade pie, slow walks down an empty street, friendly neighbors, town gossips, and Sundays where family dinners mattered more than the bottom line. No matter how long it took or how much it cost him, he was going to make his new life in Tuckers Bluff work or die trying.

  Chapter Four

  "How's that hand holding up?" Sean Farraday stood at the hood of his massive pickup truck, an amused twinkle in his eyes.

  Flexing the fingers of his right hand as he approached the family patriarch, Chase couldn't help but smile back. Today had been his first visit to the white clapboard country church and he'd shook hands with more people than a bridegroom in a receiving line. "I may have to start lifting weights or something."

  Sean tipped his head back and laughed. "Gotta watch out for Mabel Berkner. She's got one helluva grip."

  Shaking his hand, Chase nodded. "That would have to be short, big smile, bright floral dress, and tall, skinny dude at her side."

  "That's the one." Still grinning, Sean escorted him inside.

  Driving under the scrolling F, behind the parade of trucks and SUVs making their way home for the weekly Sunday supper, Chase had come close to letting go of the wheel and pinching himself. Surrounded by bubbly and friendly people in a town the size of a postage stamp compared to Manhattan, he could almost convince himself he lived in any small town anywhere in the United States. Maybe even Mayberry. But out here there was no denying he was definitely in Texas.

  The matriarch, Aunt Eileen, had been the first to leap out of a truck and hurry into the house. Big hats and bustling people flowed from the cars and into the house. A few women carried covered dishes. Like a good host, Sean had waited for Chase before going inside. He might just pinch himself anyway.

  "You look a little shell shocked." Sean chuckled as they crossed the threshold into the large living room. "Take a seat. How about a cool beer to treat what ails you?"

  Chase nodded. "That would hit the spot."

  "Beer coming up," a deep voice called from the kitchen.

  He spotted one of the brothers in a nearby doorway, swinging an arm back then forward. Chase prepared to catch a launched bottle.

  "Connor, don't you dare," sounded loud and clear from the kitchen.

  The guy let out a howling laugh and walked up to Chase. "Teasing my aunt is always so much fun."

  "You'd better watch it." Sean shook his head. "One of these days she might tan your hide. Again."

  The fatherly threat only made the younger man smile even wider. "Sorry I haven't had time to come into town and say a proper hello. Things at my place have been going a little crazy."

  Chase ran through his study session last night with Adam and his wife. Connor would be the one with the horse ranch at the property next door. "No apologies necessary."

  "Aunt Eileen has you scheduled out."

  "Excuse me?"

  "You're going to do the ranch tour before supper and then after dessert, I'm to take you over and show you my operation."

  A low chuckle escaped before he could stop himself.

  "Did I miss something?" Sean cast a perplexed glance from one man to the other.

  Shaking his head, Chase smiled. "If anyone had told me a year ago I would have gotten a jolt of excitement at the prospect of checking out a horse ranch, I would have driven them straight to Bellevue Mental hospital for evaluation."

  Connor tipped his beer bottle at him. "Wait. The smell of horses and fresh hay gets in your blood."

  "Just don't step in any manure." Grace circled the sofa and sat beside her brother. "I've been sent by Aunt Eileen to make sure you don't fill his mind with useless malarkey."

  Connor's eyebrows inched up at his sister.

  "Hey," she raised a hand, palm open, "complain to the woman in charge. Those are her words, not mine."

  A pretty, light-haired brunette walked in and sat in the chair opposite Chase. "Apparently until I'm officially a Farraday, I'm not allowed in the kitchen." If he remembered correctly, this woman was engaged to the youngest brother.

  "That makes two of us." Another attractive young woman, this one with long blonde hair, sat in the other chair.

  If Chase was going to start guessing, he'd say the blonde had lived in this part of the country longer. Her boots were clean but well broken in and her church clothes looked more like afternoon picnic attire, while the first woman had on comfortable loafers and leaned toward business casual. Grace, on the other hand, was an interesting blend. She wore boots, but they didn't look like anything she'd be mucking stalls in. Rather than a skirt and blouse, she sported a tan dress with just a pop of country color. Definitely country chic.

  "I've been kicked out too." DJ came in and pulled a nearby chair up next to the pretty blonde. Yep. The hometown girl who captured the wrong brother's heart. Meg had told him the story on one of his first nights in town.

  One by one the men made their way into the room. Chase listened eagerly as the conversation shifted from pasture rotation, to horses throwing a shoe, to progress on the new fences, to updates on DJ and Becky's wedding in less than two weeks.

  "You'll come of course," Becky beamed.

  "I'd be honored." From what he'd gleaned of the plans, DJ and Becky were to have a huge blowout celebration and it sounded like not only the entire town was on the guest list, but possibly the whole county.

  Chatter picked up again. One of Finn's bulls had to be separated from the herd. If Chase understood correctly, the animal tried to breed a cow across a fence and actually broke his pecker. Who knew?

  DJ pushed to his feet and pointed at Chase's empty bottle. "Another beer?"

  "No, thanks. One is more than enough at this time of day."
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  "In that case, ready for a tour?" Connor stood.

  "Absolutely." Eager for a better perspective, Chase was on his feet and following Connor in a flash.

  "We'll start in the house, then Finn will take you around the barn. You ever been on a horse?"

  "A real one?"

  Connor laughed and shook his head as he walked across the foyer. "I'll take that as a no. Let me show you the study and what were the original parts of the house, then I'll pass you off. I don't know that Finn's going to want to put you on a horse today. Aunt Eileen has a lot for us to show you."

  Following on Connor's heels, Chase nodded and listened as his host explained in great detail how his several times great grandfather had built the smaller original house for his new bride and how through the generations the house had been added onto until very little resembled the old Farraday homestead.

  "Ours is one of the few ranches in this part that still has some original structure. Most of the ranches just built new nearby and eventually let the old homesteads succumb to Mother Nature." Doubling back around, Connor stopped in a doorway just off the foyer. "This is my father's haven. Though Finn uses it as much, if not more, now."

  Chase stepped into the large room splattered with comfortable leather furniture, book-filled sturdy wood shelving to one side, and a massive oak partners desk tucked in the only corner of the room to reflect modern technology. "Except for the computer in the middle of the desk, the rest of the room reminds me more of a gentleman's club than an office."

  "In many ways it is. Grace and Aunt Eileen have free reign, but it was us boys who spent time in here with Dad. Whether talking cattle and ranching, woman trouble, or merely seeking solace from the madness of the outside world."

  A simple nod of the head conveyed his understanding. Not that Chase knew exactly what Connor referred to, but he did have a pretty damn good idea how cruel the world could be. Though he was pretty sure the dark curtain that had drawn on Connor's eyes had little to do with the cutthroat business world, and every thing to do with things Chase could only reluctantly imagine. Turning to exit, he spotted the glass-covered shelves on the opposite side of the wall—shelf after shelf of trophies and belt buckles the size of hubcaps. Without thinking to ask, he edged over and took a look. Everything had something to do with horses or rodeos.

  Connor appeared at his side. "Most of those seem a lifetime ago."

  His gaze went from one shelf to another. The majority seemed to be for barrel racing. "This is a world away from my friends and me. For me, captain of the hockey team was a big deal. But this. I'm not sure which is more frightening, facing a wall of two hundred pound linemen or one pissed-off bull."

  "The bull," Connor chuckled.

  Chase spun about and looked at the relaxed way Connor leaned against one of the cabinets, arms crossed, a knowing grin on his face. "You were captain of the football team?"

  "Only after Brooks graduated."

  "I should have known." He returned his gaze to the trophies. "Who was the barrel racer?"

  "That would be Grace."

  "Holy…" That was not what he'd expected. Something in his city-born-and-bred brain didn't compute a lawyer with a rodeo championship. More than one.

  "There's a lot more to my sister than meets the eye." Connor opened another cabinet door and pulled out a similar trophy. "She came by it honestly."

  This one had some weight to it, the silver toned silhouette most likely made of real metal. Almost thirty years ago.

  "Our mother. One and only time she ever competed. Did it to surprise Dad." He replaced the trophy in its proper place. "Shocked the hell out of him was more like it. Dad said she was a natural. Easily could have been world champ. Of course he did give some credit to the horse." The guy chuckled again. "But even the best of horses needs a rider who can almost become one with their ride."

  "I bet." Chase didn't have to be a championship horseman to get that. He'd actually watched a bunch of rodeo shows on TV once he got the harebrained idea to follow up on the ad. Watching the rider corner the barrels and then fly out of the arena had been a favorite event. His mind tried to picture the attractive woman in the other room on a horse racing around the barrels. The image simply didn't register. On the other hand, he was having an equally hard time envisioning the boot-clad woman in a city courthouse. Connor had certainly gotten one thing right. There had to be more to Grace Farraday than met the eye.

  ***

  "Sweetie, go see if the men have fallen down a drain pipe." Aunt Eileen leaned to her left, glancing down the main hall. "I'd like Chase to get a chance to look around outside as long as he wants before supper time."

  "Sure." Not that she'd admit it out loud, but Grace was wondering why the brief tour was taking so long. At the foot of the hall, she could make out the male voices coming from her dad's office. As a little girl she'd loved curling up on the big leather chair to do her homework while her father pored over the record keeping. Everything was so simple then. Hand on the doorjamb, she spun into the room the same way she would have when she was only eight years old and eager to spend an evening with her father.

  The sight of the two men at the trophy cabinets drew her to a sudden stop. It was bad enough that her father insisted on keeping those blasted trophies on display. Chase was eyeing the oldest one and a familiar pang pinched in her chest. All grown up and moved away, and she still missed her mother. From the time she was first old enough to truly understand Aunt Eileen wasn't her mother, and no matter how many stories or pictures she listened to or stared at, it hurt knowing she'd never have memories of her own to keep alive.

  Connor returned the award to its proper place and Grace swallowed hard, her feet unexpectedly heavy. Plastering on the same happy grin she had every time anyone in the family pulled that favored memory of their mother, she threw her shoulders back and sailed into the room. "Whatever my brother has said, don't believe a word."

  Their handsome visitor turned his attention to her. "All right."

  "That was too easy." Grace came to a stop beside her brother. "Did he tell you about the bull who threw him in Abilene after only two seconds and spent the next five minutes chasing him around the clown can?"

  Chase shook his head.

  "Then Connor didn't mention when he thought is was a great idea to try to bulldog the neighbor’s longhorn, not realizing that the horns were just a little too long to flip and he ended up with a butt full of cactus for Aunt Eileen to pick out."

  Another shake.

  "He's here to learn about ranching and the supplies we need," Connor rolled his eyes at his little sister, "not about the rare misstep any of us may have taken."

  "Misstep huh?" She adored teasing her perfect brothers. Connor and Brooks were the best targets. Adam and Finn let her efforts roll off like water on a duck, but DJ and Ethan fired back as good as they got.

  "Did you pop by just for this walk down memory lane?"

  "Aunt Eileen wants Chase to have time to hit the barns."

  "Right." Chase stepped back from the cases.

  "Knock-knock." Connor's wife appeared in the doorway. "Sorry to interrupt. Stacey has a tummy ache and I want to get her home before she shares."

  "How bad a tummy ache?" Immediately, Connor crossed the room to his wife. Grace loved watching her brothers as daddies. At times it was harder to process than others, but overall she adored seeing them so happy. Not that they’d ever been unhappy, at least not that she knew. But this was something surreal. She didn’t quite get it, but if all went as she hoped, soon she’d be far away and happy as the proverbial clam.

  Chapter Five

  Stepping into the living room, the complete shift in mood was palpable. Where everyone had been friendly and playful mere minutes ago, the movement in the kitchen had slowed, and the family sat in silence. Chase didn't have to be an expert on family relations to know something considerably more serious than a grandchild with a possible stomach virus was going on.

  Immediately DJ j
umped up from his seat and bolted toward his sister. The tight press of his lips and sliver of sorrow in his eyes confirmed Chase's assumption. Something big had happened. He dared a glance at Grace, inching up at his side. Standing stiffly beside him, the tension in her shoulders and the wideness in her gaze reflected the apprehension building inside Chase. He had no reason to be affected by whatever news was coming, and yet, already his heart ached for Grace.

  "Sis." DJ's voice came out low and strained.

  Grace's hand shot to her right and grabbed onto Chase's. Instinctively his fingers curled with hers and he squeezed. He had no idea what was about to go down, but at this moment he felt as responsible for her as her brothers looming around the room. Her hand held so tightly onto his, he'd have sworn on the Bible he could feel the pounding of her pulse.

  "What happened?" Her gaze shifted around the room. "Is it Ethan?" Her eyes flew open even wider, fear and concern replaced with horror. "Not Brittany?"

  "No." DJ reached out, gently laying a hand on her shoulder. "It's Dale."

  Grace swallowed hard and Chase wondered if she too was engaged and somehow that was the one tidbit none of the locals had clued him in on.

  "There's been an accident—"

  "He cancelled dinner last month. Said it had been a difficult week." Grace still hung on to Chase's hand despite the nearness of her brother.

  DJ nodded. "He was the first responder on a domestic disturbance call a couple of months ago. The family was dead before he even arrived. Not a thing he could have done differently. I tried to talk him into taking some vacation time. Coming to the ranch."

  "I don't understand. What does that have to do with the accident?"

  Running his hand heavily across the back of his neck, DJ blew out a heavy sigh. "Sometimes it's hard to forget. Memories come whether you want them to or not."

  "What happened?" Her voice grew stronger, almost angry.

  "Single car accident. He was driving too fast. His blood alcohol level was—"

  "Is he—?"