Reunited With The Rancher. Brenda Minton

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      His son Andy would be five in six months and he was Maggie’s complete opposite. With Carson’s dark hair and gray eyes, he was the serious one, quiet, always watching, always thinking. Even now his gaze focused on the window, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed this new place.

      Carson pocketed the letter from his father and helped his son out of the SUV. In the arena a couple of horses and riders worked cattle with the late afternoon sun beating down on them. He could hear calves calling for their mamas and a horse whinnying somewhere in the distance. It was the sounds of Carson’s youth, and yet nothing appeared to be the same since when his mom had taken them away.

      Carson beat back his anger. He guessed that sentiment had been on low heat since he’d left Dallas that morning, heading north to Hope. What a ridiculous name for a washed-out resort town with tumbledown buildings, no stoplights and bad memories. Hope. There was no hope here.

      The only thing here was the past. And he’d come home to confront it, to confront his father.

      Carson, his brother Colt and little sister Daisy were all jacked up because of this place, the man who lived here and the past.

      “Hello?” He heard a soft voice from behind him.

      “Hi,” Maggie said as she peeked over his shoulder. She patted his arm to get his attention. “Daddy. Look.”

      Andy, ever unsure of strangers, had climbed out of the SUV and was holding tight to his leg. Carson did an awkward turn, holding one child in his arms while the other clung to his jeans like they were a lifeline. His gaze dropped to the woman who barely reached his shoulder. Light brown hair lifted in the breeze and drifted across her face.

      A Labrador puppy tumbled around her feet, nipping her ankles and pulling at the laces on her shoes.

      She was country pretty, with freckles sprinkled across her nose, no makeup, wide hazel eyes and a heart-deep smile.

      “Can I help you?” she said in a way that made him want to tell her everything. His secrets. Fears. Dreams. It unsettled him and made him a little angry. With her. That wasn’t logical and he liked logic.

      Besides, she belonged here. That automatically put her on the wrong side.

      “I’m here to see Jack.”

      “He’s in the barn. I can take you.” She started to turn away from him.

      “I think I can find him on my own.”

      “Of course you can.” She bit down on her lip as she studied him, then turned her attention to his children. A smile tugged the corners of her mouth. “Perhaps I should take them inside while you go find him.”

      He looked from the woman to his children. She was a stranger to them. It didn’t matter that she had sun-kissed highlights in her brown hair, and golden hazel eyes that danced with laughter. It didn’t matter that her expression changed as she studied Andy, who was now staring off at the horizon, tapping his fingers against his leg in time to music that couldn’t be heard.

      “Thank you for the offer but we’re only here for a few minutes. Long enough to talk to my...to Jack.” As he said it, he caught Andy’s expression as he focused on the puppy.

      It had been a long day, and the last few weeks had been difficult with the house selling so quickly and then packing all of their belongings. No, not everything. Packing had been a time of letting go. It hadn’t been easy to give Anna’s stuff to her sisters, to watch as they went through things, smiling and sharing memories. Thirty-two months had passed since her death. It had been time to let go. More than time.

      “I’ll walk with you,” the woman at his side said with a slight lift of her chin. “In case you change your mind.”

      Change his mind about what? Her help? Or talking to Jack?

      He took off his sunglasses and looked at her, trying to decide if he should know her. As they stood there, squared off and unmoving, Andy dropped to his knees and began to pet the puppy. Maggie squirmed to be free. They’d been in the car for hours. A twinge of guilt forced him to take a deep breath. He lowered Maggie to the ground and she giggled as the puppy immediately began to lick her face.

      “No, don’t.” He tried to stop the puppy and the little girl. Both ignored him.

      “They’re having fun. Maybe give them—and yourself—a minute. I’m sure you’re all about whatever it is you have to say to Jack, but it won’t hurt to count to ten.”

      “I’ve been counting to ten for a long time.”

      “Carson, I know this is what you think needs to be done. I really do understand.” She said it with compassion and a knowing sadness in her eyes.

      And then he realized she had called him by name, acting as if she knew something about his life. “Do we know one another?”

      She dimpled at the question. “Well, don’t I feel special? And here I believed it when you told me you would always love me.”

      He studied her, trying to picture a younger version of her. He had pushed memories of this town and this ranch to the back of his mind for so many years. He’d blocked bad memories and refused to think of the good ones. And now it seemed there was a memory he should have held on to.

      A sharp woof sent Andy scampering back with a startled cry. He grabbed Carson’s legs and held tight as Maggie giggled at the puppy who crouched, his tail wagging. Ever cautious, Andy reached his fingers toward the animal.

      “Don’t worry. Skip is a good puppy. He likes to play chase.” The still-nameless woman shifted her attention from him and knelt in front of Andy, grimacing as she did.

      Carson glanced from his children to the stable a short distance away. Over the years he’d learned patience. Patience had made him a top surgeon. Patience, and noticing things, noticing people. It was often more about what they didn’t say than what they did.

      Today he felt as if his patience might be in short supply.

      Next to him the woman struggled to rise to her feet. Without thinking, Carson held out a hand to help her. She hesitated, and he saw the spark of something in her gaze. Not distrust. Pride. He recognized it because he’d been there. For nearly three years he’d been giving that same look to anyone who offered him help. Her hand grasped his and he pulled her to her feet.

      He held on to her hand and she looked up. As he held it, his memories took him down back roads to quiet summer days when he was thirteen.

      “I want to see Jack and then I’m leaving. I’m not here for a family reunion.”

      She wiggled her hand free. “I understand. I just wanted to give your little boy a moment to catch his breath. I’m sure he’s had a long and overwhelming day.”

      “He has.” Carson left out the part about his son having a long and overwhelming three years. No, not quite three years. Thirty-two months. It had been thirty-two months since Anna said she had to run to the store. Thirty-two months since he’d been sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for her to come home as sirens sounded in the distance.

      Thirty-two months since the knock at the door telling him his pregnant wife had been taken to the hospital СКАЧАТЬ