The Rancher's City Girl

“I didn’t know much. My mother told me I wasn’t to bother about him.”

“Did you ever want to contact him?” she inquired.

Cory used to lie in bed at night as a boy, painting mental pictures of some sort of superman who would swoop into his life with a terrific excuse for his lengthy absence. He smiled sadly. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Fathers always matter,” she replied.

The old man sat limply in his wheelchair, sunken eyes regarding him with trepidation. Cory smiled his thanks to the pretty nurse and met the old man’s wary gaze.

“Did you ever think about me?” he asked.

His father was silent.

“Did you know when I was born?”

“Your mother sent me a card. At the office. You were born February twelfth.”

“So you knew you had a son.”

He nodded. “I knew.” He licked his dry lips with a pasty tongue. “Of course I thought about you. You can’t just forget something like that.”

“But you never contacted me.”

His father shook his head. “It was for the best.”

For the best. Cory dropped his gaze. How it could possibly be in his best interest, he couldn’t tell. Unless the old man was referring to his own interests.

“You didn’t pay any child support, either,” he pointed out. “My mother could have used the extra money.”

“And you want that money now?” the old man asked.

“I’m not asking for anything from you.” Cory squeezed his hat between his hands, anger rising like a salve to cover that old aching wound inside of him. “I’m the sole owner of a large chunk of property, and I can assure you that I’m not sniffing around for cash.”

His father’s shoulders slumped and he leaned back in his chair with a wheeze. His lids drooped. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m tired.”

The old man didn’t seem to be addressing anyone in particular, but Eloise rose from her seat and bent down next to him.

“Would you like to go back to bed?” she asked quietly.

“No, I want to just sit there in the sun.”

She released the locks on his wheels and eased his chair toward a pool of sunlight by a window. She bent and spoke to him in low tones. Cory stood and moved toward the door, watching the young woman as she conversed with his father. Her expression remained respectful, and after a few moments, she pulled a blanket over his knees and came back to the door where Cory waited for her.

“He doesn’t have a lot of strength left,” she explained softly.

“I doubt he’d have responded much differently if he were well,” Cory replied.

She shrugged. “Maybe not. I’m sorry about all this.”

Cory opened the front door. “Care to walk me out, ma’am?”

She chuckled at his formality.

“Mr. Bessler, I’ll be back in just a moment,” she said and stepped outside.

Once in the warm summer sunlight, Cory inhaled the fresh air in relief. Inside the house smelled of sickness and medicine, and as he stepped out, he longed to get back to the wide-open spaces of pasture and farmland—back to his more immediate problem of a medic who quit without notice, leaving the ranch without any medical care. He turned his attention to the petite nurse.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “You risked a lot to make that happen.”

She arched her eyebrows at him quizzically. “I did?”

“Your job.”

“Oh, that.” Color rose in her cheeks. “Don’t worry, Cory. I’ve still got a job. He and I have a bit of a complicated relationship, but it works.”

“That’s a relief.” He shot her a wry grin. “I don’t like to see a lady treated that way.”

“He’s dying.” She paused, silent for a moment. “He’s scared.”

“You still made a conversation with him possible,” he said. “I’m grateful.”

“You’re very welcome. Are you coming back?”

“I can’t stay.” His mind flooded with things he had to do. He’d driven out to Haggerston at the worst time possible.

Eloise blinked in surprise. “That’s too bad. I’d hoped you two might have more time together.”

“We’re calving.” He expected those words to suffice, but she didn’t react with the knowing nod he expected.

“Oh.” The look on her face told him she didn’t understand.

“It’s busy,” he explained. “Calving is delicate—sometimes the cows need help, sometimes not.” He waved it off. “Suffice it to say, I can’t leave that kind of work to my partner. It’s twenty-four-hour mayhem for the next little while. Not to mention, our medic quit just before I left. I have to get back.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” Eloise gave him an apologetic smile. “Thanks for making the trip, even for a short stay.”

A short conversation didn’t even begin to answer all the questions he’d been storing up, but he couldn’t stay longer. Maybe if his father weren’t dying he wouldn’t have felt the urgency, but it was now or never.

“I...uh—” Cory cleared his throat. “I know my father probably won’t agree to this, but I thought I might invite the two of you to come back with me for a couple of weeks.”

“To the ranch?”

“I own about eight hundred acres in Blaine County—Milk River runs right through it. It’s the best that Montana has to offer.” He slapped his hat against his leg, searching for the right words. “I really want to get to know my father better, and I still have all these questions. I mean, not that I could remember them in there.” He looked away for a moment, toward the ill-kept yard. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’d like more time with my father, but I can’t stay away from the ranch any longer. If you’d come back with me, maybe that could still happen. Besides, you know him better than I do. You can get him to talk where I can’t.”

Cory also wanted a chance to get to know this pretty nurse a little better, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud. Eloise regarded him with a thoughtful gaze.

“I feel responsible for how this turned out.” She blushed. “This is all pretty much my fault, you know.”

“Oh, absolutely.” He shot her a wry grin. “But in the best way possible, of course.”

She laughed softly. “I can ask if he’d be willing to visit—”

Cory’s phone blipped and he pulled it out of his pocket and glanced down at a text from his partner. He clenched his teeth in frustration.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Another injury. One of the cowboys got his arm caught in the bridle of a spooked horse. They’ll have to take him to the next ranch over to get treated by their medic—”

“Does this sort of thing happen often?” Eloise asked, frowning.

“You wouldn’t...” He paused, uncertain if he should even voice the idea. “Look, I know this is a bit forward, but if you and my father came to the ranch for a visit, would you consider a little extra work?”

“Replacing your medic?” she asked.

“For a couple of weeks, until we can hire someone. I’d be eternally grateful on both counts, if you’re interested.”

“I’ll have to talk to your father and his doctor first, of course. If they agree, I’d be happy to lend a hand. You sound like you’re in a bind.”

He nodded. “Let me know. I’ll have to head back tomorrow.”

Cory dropped his hat onto his head and looked back at the house. Robert Bessler was nothing like what he’d expected, yet the chance to understand the miserable old man snagged at that boyhood longing.

Not to mention Eloise. She was beautiful, brave, confident—and the only person who actually knew his elderly father right now, and he had a feeling that her insights would be invaluable.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I can,” she promised and offered a smile. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” He held out his hand and took her slender hand in his. “Take care.”

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, reluctantly releasing her. She fluttered her fingers in a wave and turned back toward the door. As he trotted down the steps and strode to his pickup truck, Cory sighed.

Lord, he prayed silently, I hope this isn’t a mistake.

Chapter Two

The rest of the day, Cory shopped for items needed at the ranch. He bought two massive bags of dry dog food, about ten packs of socks for the ranch hands and a few cases of canned food. A trip into town couldn’t be wasted. By late afternoon, with errands completed, he found himself in a produce store, staring at the seasonal fruit.

He hoped that Eloise would take him up on his offer and come with his father out to the ranch. As much as he wanted time with his dad, though, his mind kept moving back to the pretty redhead. He found himself wondering about her as a woman. What did she do when she wasn’t working? Did she have anyone special in her life right now? He hadn’t noticed a wedding ring, but then that wasn’t the surefire signal it used to be.

Cory chose several peaches from a pyramid of fragrant clingstones and dropped them into a bag. He fumbled with the bag as he tied it shut, then moved on to the next bin—plums.

Lord, this visit to see my dad didn’t turn out the way I expected. I thought he’d care more, somehow. But you know him, Father. Open doors here. We don’t have a lot of time.

As he headed to the counter to pay, a flash of red curls caught his eye, and he turned in surprise. Eloise shot him a smile.

“Hi, stranger,” she said. She still wore the same jeans from earlier, her embroidered top revealing the barest hint of her collarbone.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

She hoisted a bag of apples. “I’m making a pie tonight after the house cools off.”

“Sounds good.” Cory put his purchases on the counter and nodded to hers. “My treat.”

Eloise smiled shyly and she put her bag down with his while he paid. The cashier’s bracelets jangled as she weighed the fruit. She gave Cory his change and he and Eloise moved toward the door together.

“The doctor gave us the go-ahead to come to your ranch,” Eloise said. “If there is anything your father wants to do, this is the time to do it.”

“That’s great.” Cory inwardly winced. That came out wrong. There didn’t seem to be any right way to say things when it included someone facing death. Eloise didn’t seem to notice.

“Mr. Bessler hasn’t made his decision yet...” She gave him a sympathetic smile.

“I do have to head back tomorrow.”

“I’ll talk to him when I get back and give you a call.”

“Does that mean he’s alone right now?” he asked.

“No, an agency sends hospice volunteers to spend time with him. It gives me some time to myself.”

The door to the grocery store shut behind them and they stepped into the glare of the afternoon sun. The scent of petunias from hanging planters mingled comfortably with the warm summer air. Shops on Main Street had kept their doors propped open and a local talk-radio show filtered out from the open door of a stationery shop, the DJ chatting away about Meagher County weather and an upcoming heat wave. Montana would serve up a hot, satisfying summer.

“I’m getting in the way of that time on your own, aren’t I?” Cory tipped back his hat and grinned.

“Not at all. It’s nice to have some company.”

“What were you going to do with your time off?”

Eloise paused, shrugged. “I hadn’t decided yet. Just go where the day takes me.”

He felt a smile come to his lips. “Would you care for a walk?”

“Sure.”

Cory put the bags of fruit in his truck on the way past, and they ambled up the street together. The clunk of his boots interspersed with the soft slap of her delicate sandals.

“It mustn’t have been easy to hear about your parents.” Eloise’s voice was so quiet that he almost didn’t catch her words.

“I guess there are two sides to every story,” he said. “I don’t know what I expected. My mother always held on to him, somehow. Wouldn’t say a bad word about him. He was my father and that counted for something. To her, at least.”

“He cares. He just doesn’t know how to say that.”

“I didn’t know he was married when they—” Cory cleared his throat.

“Maybe your mother didn’t know, either,” she suggested.

He nodded. He hoped that was the case, at least. It was too late to ask his mother now, but the idea that she’d been involved in someone else’s marriage tarnished something for him.

“His version doesn’t jibe with what I was told all my life,” Cory said finally. “My mother told me that my father had swept her off her feet. He was kind, knowledgeable. She said that ultimately the age difference had been too much. But that he was a good man, and she wished things had been different—for all of us.”

“But she didn’t want you to contact him?”

“She said it was better to give him his space. I accepted that. Looking back on it now, I can’t help wondering if she wanted to avoid facing his wife. Maybe she was ashamed.”

Eloise didn’t answer, and she looked down, her hair, now loose in the gentle breeze, obscuring his view of her face.

“Regardless, she loved him,” Cory said with a shrug.

Eloise looked up, pulling her hair back with a sweep of one hand. “You resent that, don’t you?”

“What was the use?” he asked. “He didn’t love her back. She spent a lifetime still caring about that man, and for what? He was married to someone else and saw her as nothing but an error in judgment.”

Eloise’s brow furrowed, and when the breeze shifted some curls away from her face, he thought he detected sadness in those green eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low.

“Fine.” A smile flickered to her lips and she turned her attention in his direction.

“Liar.” The smile hadn’t reached her eyes.

Eloise sighed, and she didn’t seem inclined to answer at first. After a moment of silence, she said, “My husband left me for his mistress.”

A rush of regret hit Cory like a blow to the gut. Here he’d been, trying to untie the knot of his parents’ affair, and this poor woman was the collateral damage of another affair. He winced. “I’m sorry. I’m being really callous.”

“No, not at all.” Eloise waved it off. “These things happen, I guess.”

“No, they don’t.” Cory caught the bitterness in his own tone. “People don’t just accidentally cheat on a spouse. It’s not like a lightning strike or a tsunami.”

Eloise’s voice was soft. “Good point. But my situation isn’t your father’s, and I don’t want to mix in my personal baggage.”

“If it helps, I think your ex-husband must be an idiot,” he said.

“It kind of does.” She laughed quietly.

“So, what do you normally do on your days off?”

“I paint.”

Cory raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Houses?”

“No, artistically. Pictures.” She laughed and shook her head. “It’s therapeutic. I’ve loved painting ever since I was a child, but I didn’t take it very seriously until Philip left.”

“Did it help you deal with all of that?” he asked.

Eloise nodded. “I realized that I’d done a lot for Philip in our marriage, and not a lot for myself. That needed to change. It’s only been a couple of years, but at least I’m honoring my gifts now.”

“Where’s your ex-husband?”

“He has a law practice in Billings. He’s remarried. They have a two-year-old daughter.”

He squinted in the afternoon sunlight—the math not lost on him. “He left you for the pregnant girlfriend?”

Eloise nodded. “Afraid so. Maybe it was the right choice. At least his daughter will grow up with a father.”

“And you’re alone.”

“Not entirely. I have God, friends, family. I’m not married, but I do have a full life.”

“I didn’t mean to imply—”

She shrugged. “I know, it’s okay.” She touched his arm, her cool fingers lingering on his wrist for a moment. “You’re a good guy, Cory. I can tell.”

He felt a glow of warmth at her words. He found his gaze traveling her face. Her fair complexion betrayed every passing emotion, her auburn lashes entranced him. How her husband could ever have stopped looking at her, he had no idea.

“What about you?” Eloise glanced up and he looked quickly away, not wanting to be caught staring. “What do you do on your downtime?”

“What downtime?” he joked, then grew more serious. “It’s all work and no play, but I love all of it. I guess the best part is riding. Have you ridden a horse before?”

She shook her head. “I never have. Shocking for a Montana girl, I know.”

“You should try it.” Cory smiled. “There’s no feeling like galloping across a field—pure freedom.”

“One day,” she agreed. “I need someone to teach me.”

“I could volunteer. You’d have ample opportunity if you came out to my ranch.”

“That’s up to my patient at the moment.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“It would be very fun, though. I could take some time to paint.” She paused in her stride and looked up into his face. “I like the lines around your eyes.”

“Oh?”

“Here.” She raised her hand as if to touch him, then pulled back before making contact. “The lines—they speak of laughter, but also worry. And when the sun is at this angle—” She stopped, laughed uncomfortably. “I’m sorry.”

“You were thinking about painting me, weren’t you?”

“Just your eyes. Eyes really are the window to the soul.”

They stopped as they reached another street. Beyond the intersection, houses lined the road. A little girl crouched over a driveway with a piece of chalk, and a boy sat in the grass, watching her with a bored look on his face. Somewhere in the distance, the tinkle of an ice cream truck surfed the breeze, and both children perked up immediately, then dashed toward the house, shouting for money.

“Should we head back?” Cory asked.

She nodded. “Sure.”

They turned around, their pace relaxed. They moved over as a young couple walked past them down the sidewalk, hands in each other’s back pockets. What was it about high school students? They seemed younger with each passing year.

“You probably know my dad better than anyone right now. I was hoping you might be able to give me some insight,” Cory said.

“Maybe in time spent with him,” she agreed. “But you’ll know him better in other ways—the things you share.”

“We don’t share much,” he muttered. They looked nothing alike physically—not to his eye anyway. They obviously felt differently about his mother, and their outlooks on life couldn’t be more opposed. If his father hadn’t confirmed that Cory was indeed his son, he might have questioned the fact.

“You share more than you think,” she replied. “You’re father and son. You share DNA.”

“There are a lot of things I’d rather not share with him. No offense, but he’s not exactly a role model to emulate.”

Eloise didn’t answer, but he could see in her expression that she understood. They quickly approached his truck in front of the produce store, and he felt a drop of disappointment that he had no excuse to spend more time with her. He slowed his pace.

“Do you want a ride somewhere?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, thanks. I like the exercise.”

He took the two bags of fruit from the back of his truck and handed them to her. She looked questioningly at the extra bag.

“Maybe you could give it to my dad. I thought—” He stopped, unwilling to articulate his frustration.

She held out her hand and he took it in a gentle handshake.

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. You really are a good guy, Cory Stone.”

“I’ll see you,” he said, then released her slender hand.

She smiled, her green eyes sparkling. “I’ll give you a call when he gives me an answer.”

As Eloise walked away, the bags of fruit swinging at her side and her slim, beaded sandals slapping cheerfully against the sidewalk, one thought remained uppermost in Cory’s mind: as gorgeous as she was, as sweet, as interesting...

Nothing could ever develop between them. She was a tempting city girl, but a city girl nonetheless. It took a special kind of woman to fit into a ranch, and no amount of wishful thinking could change it.

* * *

Mr. Bessler sank back onto his bed. His eyes fluttered shut, then open again and he licked his dry lips. The late-afternoon sunlight glowed from behind the closed curtains, one ray of light slipping past the thick fabric and illuminating the dance of dust motes.

“How are you feeling?” Eloise asked as she counted his pills into a little paper cup.

“I need those.”

“How is the pain, on a scale of one to ten?”

“Forty-two,” he rasped. “I think I’m getting addicted to those pills—not that it matters at this point.”

“They help with the pain, and that’s what matters most.”

Mr. Bessler propped himself up on an elbow to take the pills with a cup of water, then sank back onto his pillow.

“Mr. Bessler, you haven’t told me yet if you want to go to your son’s ranch.”

“The doctor will never agree to it,” he muttered.

“Actually, I talked to him and he said that now is the time to do these things.”

“Forget it. I don’t want to.”

“Mr. Bessler, if that’s your decision, then I’ll support you, but I have to point something out.”

He raised an eyebrow quizzically.

“If you push away Cory, who will you have left?”

“You, Red,” he replied, then sighed. “That’s sad, isn’t it?”

“I’m great company, Mr. Bessler,” she said with a wry smile. “But I’m not family.”

He nodded, his eyelids drooping as the medication began to take effect. He lay silently for a couple of minutes while Eloise busied herself with tidying the small bedroom. His wife had died before him. Eloise’s husband hadn’t died, but his absence left a gaping hole in her life. She’d done her best to fill that gap, but she felt it. Finding someone to care about wasn’t the hardest part. Trusting again after betrayal—that was the challenge, and she suspected that she and her patient had more in common than she liked to admit.

Eloise paused at Mr. Bessler’s side and pressed a hand against his forehead.

“How is the pain now?” she asked. “On a scale of one to ten.”

“Three.”

“Much better.” She adjusted a light blanket over his shoulders. “You should be able to rest now.”

Eloise closed the curtains past that last ray of sunlight, dimming the room. The old man looked smaller in his bed, so frail and pale against the white sheets and blanket. Outside, children’s laughter and chatter mingled with the roll of skateboard wheels. When Eloise first began working with Mr. Bessler, he’d complain about the noisy children, but he no longer mentioned them. Perhaps he’d learned to enjoy their youthful enthusiasm.

“Do you need anything else, sir?” she asked quietly.

“No...” His voice was thin and soft. From the other room, the phone rang.

Eloise looked back at her patient to find his eyes shut. She adjusted the fan so that it would reach Mr. Bessler, then slipped out the door. Eloise looked at her watch and headed toward the living room. They didn’t get phone calls often. She picked it up on the fourth ring.

“Hello, Mr. Bessler’s residence. This is Eloise, how may I help you?”

“Is this Robert Bessler’s house?” a female voice asked.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I thought he was a widower. Do I have the wrong number?”

“I’m his nurse.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” The woman laughed uncomfortably. “Is he there?”

“He’s resting right now. Could I take a message?”

“This is Melissa Wright. I’m his cousin’s daughter. We heard he wasn’t doing too well.”

“Who did you hear from?” she asked cautiously.

“The pastor at his church. My father used to live in Haggerston years ago. We were trying to find him to tell him about a family reunion, and the pastor told us about his situation.” The woman laughed nervously. “I wish I’d gotten to know him before—before—” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, maybe I could talk to him later.”

“I’ll let him know that you called.”

From the other room, Mr. Bessler’s voice broke the stillness. “Who is that, Red?”