Chance's Joy. Patricia Thayer

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СКАЧАТЬ after him, wishing she hadn’t just lost the only friend she’d made in town.

      Chance parked his truck next to the barn, got out and slammed the door. His mood hadn’t improved in the slightest during the twenty-minute drive home from the hospital. He marched across the gravel drive to the yard, then up the walk to the back porch of the large, two-story house he’d lived in for the past twenty-plus years.

      That sure as hell didn’t go well, he thought about his talk with Joy Spencer. She’d rejected his offer fast. He couldn’t help but wonder why. He didn’t buy her story about the ranch being a family home. As far as he knew, she’d never once visited Lillian Kirby.

      He thought back to his recent talk with Mrs. Spencer, remembering her elusive sapphire eyes. She had a secret. He couldn’t hold that against her. People had a right to start over without everyone nosing into their business.

      But there was no law that said he couldn’t try again to buy her land. And he wasn’t giving up. He jerked open the screen door and stepped into the utility room, jammed his hat on the peg and walked into the kitchen. The sunny yellow walls and biscuit-colored tile kept the room bright even at night. He glanced toward the double-door refrigerator. Hank was staring inside.

      “What you lookin’ for?” Chance asked.

      “Something I’ll never find as long as Ella works here. A decent meal.”

      In spite of his mood, Chance found himself smiling. The feud between Hank and the housekeeper had been going on for years. “Why don’t you just fire her?” he asked for the hundredth time.

      The older man stretched to his full six feet in height. Even in his mid sixties, Hank’s back was ramrod straight, and his white hair was thick and wavy. Although his face was lined from years in the sun and showed his age, Hank Barrett could still outwork most men. He was a gruff man, but underneath he had a kind heart. How many men would have taken in three boys and given them a home?

      “Who’d hire her?” he said. “She’s too old to start over. Besides, I guess I’m used to her ways. How long before she gets back from her sister’s anyway?”

      “Tomorrow,” Chance answered. “You should have gotten a temporary cook in here to help. The hands haven’t been too crazy about cooking their own meals.”

      “Well, dagnabbit,” Hank said as he slammed the refrigerator door. “You’d think at least one of the men I hired could throw together a decent supper.”

      Chance grinned. “I take it it’s your turn to feed us tonight.”

      Hank made a rude comment.

      “Hey, we used to get into trouble for that kind of language.” Chance couldn’t help but think back to his adolescent days when he thought cursing made him seem tough. “You used to make me muck out stalls every time you caught me swearing, and I had to muck out more when Cade and Travis cursed.”

      “It was only fair, they learned that nasty talk from you.”

      Hank exchanged a sad glance with him. No doubt he was thinking about the two absent boys. “Sure would be nice if we got to see them once in awhile.”

      “Yeah, that would be nice.” Chance would like to have them closer to home, but he couldn’t ask Cade and Travis to give up the lives they’d made for themselves elsewhere. His brothers hadn’t chosen ranching and that was all Chance had ever wanted to do.

      From the time he had set foot on the Circle B at fourteen, he’d known he’d do anything to stay. He’d ended up helping his younger brothers with their chores just so Hank wouldn’t turn them over to child services. He’d do whatever he had to so the Randell boys wouldn’t be separated. Funny, but years later that’s how it had turned out—Cade was in Chicago and Travis was in Houston.

      “Maybe they’ll surprise us and come for a visit this summer,” Chance said.

      “Sure. But I won’t hold my breath.” Hank walked to the pantry, then came out with three large cans of chili.

      Chance thought that he should call Cade and Travis and see if he could coax them home to surprise Hank.

      “How did your talk with Lil’s niece go?” Hank asked as he worked the can opener.

      Chance muffled a groan thinking about another night of heartburn. He went to the refrigerator and pulled out bacon and eggs. “Not good. She hasn’t changed her mind. She’s determined to move in.”

      The older man raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like she’s inherited a little of Lil’s stubbornness.”

      Chance didn’t like the comparison. “It’s foolhardy to move with a new baby into a place that’s been deserted for nearly a year.”

      “Look, son, I know you’re disappointed not to get the place, but the woman has a right to—”

      Chance held up a hand. He didn’t want to hear about right. “It’s just a temporary setback. Joy Spencer will change her mind. She’ll never survive.”

      “That’s out of our hands. Besides, when Ella returns tomorrow and gets wind of the new neighbor, she’ll be over there with her broom and bucket, cleaning. Maybe you should go over first and check out the place. Clear out anything that might have taken up residence.”

      Chance pulled out a skillet and set it on the front burner of the stainless-steel stove. He would do it, but he didn’t have to like it. How was he supposed to feel, seeing her move into his place? All at once he remembered the tiny baby he’d seen in the nursery and knew he would make an effort. He’d had a taste of what it was like to be homeless.

      “There isn’t any rain in the forecast for the next week. I’ll make sure all the windows get opened, and the place airs out. All that dust wouldn’t be good for a baby.”

      “That little one got to ya, huh?” Hank’s expression turned sad. “They used to get to Mae, too.” Chance had never known Hank’s wife; she’d died a few years before he and his brothers came to live at the ranch. But he remembered how lonely Hank looked whenever he talked about his Mae.

      Chance placed strips of bacon in the cast-iron skillet. “I’m tryin’ to do the right thing. She’s gonna be our neighbor.” He hoped it wouldn’t be for too long, because he was also going to do everything possible to convince her to sell out to him.

      The old man had a sober look on his face. “You say this woman is widowed?”

      Chance nodded. “Says she has no family, just her daughter.”

      “By all means, you should do the right thing.”

      Chance ignored Hank’s comment, telling himself he’d do as much for any neighbor. “I plan to.”

      Hank’s tired hazel eyes lit up. “Hey, you think this Joy Spencer can cook?”

      Two days later, Joy was more than ready to leave the hospital. On her tight budget she couldn’t afford to stay any longer. She didn’t have health insurance. There was the life insurance money she’d received after Blake’s death, but that was all she had until she got on her feet and made a living off the ranch.

      “Looks like СКАЧАТЬ