The Rancher's Second Chance

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want to find her.”

“Why is it that I’m the one who wants to find her? Aren’t you the least bit curious? Wouldn’t Jake or Samantha like to know where she is and what’s happened to her?”

Duke directed his horse toward the pen where they’d managed to confine the young steers with the pinkeye outbreak. “Yeah, I guess we all go through periods when we wonder. But I’ve hired a PI.”

Brody caught up with his brother. “You did what?”

“I hired a private investigator. I think it’s time to close this chapter. Maybe finish the book and start a new one.”

“Poetic. But save it. I’m not interested.”

“Aren’t you?” Duke swung a leg over the saddle and slid the ground. He looked up at Brody. “I think it would do you a world of good to confront the lady.”

Brody didn’t know what to think exactly. “I think that I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I know.” Duke led his horse by the reins into the barn.

Brody took a little longer to dismount. He swung his leg over the horse’s rump and was careful to land on his right leg and not his left. It still took him a minute to cowboy up and not cry like a girl. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Next time we take four wheelers,” Duke said from behind him.

Brody opened his eyes to find his brother watching him. “Yeah, good idea. But I do miss being in the saddle.”

“So now that we’ve talked about your knee and our mother, let’s forge ahead and discuss the lovely Grace Thomas, barrel racing diva.”

Brody shook his head and walked past his brother, leading his horse. “No, I think not.”

“You might have to. I just saw a truck pull up out front and I’m pretty sure it’s Lincoln Carter.”

Brody almost swore. Almost. He tossed the reins of his horse to his brother and hurried through the barn. When he walked out the front door, Lincoln had already gotten out of his truck.

“Where is she?” Lincoln thundered, his face mottled from anger.

“She?”

“You know who I’m talking about. Where’s Grace?”

Brody shrugged. “Not a clue. Remember, she left me for you.”

“Is that how we’re going to play this?” Lincoln asked. “Do I have to put a fist to your face?”

Brody almost said something about Lincoln making a habit of that lately. He bit back the words, which would have given too much away. “No, I guess not. But you know what they’re saying about head trauma and moods. Seriously, you should get that checked. You’ve had more concussions than the average man.”

Brody hadn’t realized until then that he meant what he said. Not only was Lincoln a bull rider, he’d played high school and college football and taken some serious blows to the head. The giant shift in Lincoln’s personality suddenly made sense.

“There’s nothing wrong with me.” Lincoln insisted. “I just need to find Grace.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be found, Lincoln.”

“That’s too bad, because I’m going to find her.” Lincoln took a step toward him.

“Head on down the road, man. She isn’t on this ranch, and if she needs you, she’ll call.”

Lincoln looked around, then he shook his head. “I’m going to find her.”

“I’m sure you are.” Brody shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well, I have some cattle to treat, so I’ll say goodbye.”

“I miss you, Brody.”

“I miss you, too, Lincoln. But you’re going to have to get in your truck and head on down the road. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t come back.”

Lincoln pulled off his hat, ran a shaking hand through his hair, then smashed the hat back down on his head. “It isn’t my fault she left you.”

“I’m not having this conversation. She made her choice about us. And now it looks as if she’s made a choice about the two of you. I’d let it go if I were you.”

Lincoln made a move; his fist came back. Brody had figured he’d do something stupid, so he moved, letting Lincoln find nothing but air. Brody shook his head and turned to walk away. Lincoln came at him again, a booted foot to the back. Brody fell forward, catching himself against the barn wall and then turning, because a man didn’t take a hit to the back and walk away.

“You’re a coward, Lincoln,” Brody called out, knowing it would work.

Lincoln came at him again. Brody grabbed Lincoln by the arm. Lincoln pulled back his fist and Brody caught his hand in his own.

“I’m not going to hit you, Lincoln. It would be too easy, and you’re the only one around here who likes an easy target. I suggest you leave town before I have you picked up. I suggest you leave the state. That would be the best thing you could do.”

“I can’t leave.”

“You don’t have a choice. You either leave, or I escort you off the property.”

“Her running to you doesn’t mean she’s ready to wear your ring.”

“Since she isn’t here, it doesn’t matter.”

Lincoln shook free. “I’m leaving.”

Brody took a few deep breaths as he watched Lincoln take off in his truck, gravel flying.

“You think he’ll find her?” Duke stood behind him, holding the reins of both horses.

Brody reached for this horse. “I doubt it.”

“Aren’t you worried?” Duke headed for the barn with his big gray gelding.

“She’s fine.” He busied himself unsaddling the horse, aware that Duke watched him with that steady gaze that saw too much.

“Go check on her. I’ll finish up here.”

Brody faced his brother. “I’m taking care of my horse.”

“Right, but you’re tied up in knots worrying about her. You don’t have to get hooked up with her again, but you care. Nothing wrong with that.”

“I’ll check on her when we’re finished.”

“At least call and warn her that Lincoln is in town,” Duke suggested as he unsaddled his horse. “You don’t want something to happen to her.”

Brody’s hand went to the chain that hung from his neck. Beneath his T-shirt he felt the ring still in place next to the cross. He’d kept it since the night when he’d planned to propose to Grace. Before he’d had a chance to ask, she’d ended their relationship, telling him they were getting too serious and she wasn’t ready for that. He’d kept the ring.

It was a reminder—one he wouldn’t soon forget.

* * *

Clouds rolled on the southern horizon and the breeze had picked up. Grace stopped on the sidewalk in front of Oregon’s, unsure of which way she wanted to walk. She didn’t have a plan. She just knew she needed some fresh air. The wooden sign hanging from the overhang of the shop next door caught her attention. Mueller’s Christmas Shop. Grace told her about it earlier, about Lefty and his carved nativities and candlelit Christmas carousels.

She walked down the sidewalk to the store and reached for the doorknob. It was locked. That didn’t surprise her. Oregon had closed a short time ago. All of the shops in Martin’s Crossing probably closed early. Except Duke’s No Bar and Grill. It was still open.

Suddenly her phone rang. She reached into her pocket and answered the call from Brody.

“Are you at Oregon’s?” Brody asked.

“No, just window-shopping at Lefty’s.”

“Lincoln was here. I don’t think he’ll come to town looking for you, but you should be careful. Maybe stay inside.”

“Okay, but I’m fine.”

“I know you’re fine. Just be careful.”

As she hung up she heard a truck on the road. It probably wasn’t Lincoln, she consoled herself. He wasn’t going to risk showing up here when there could be witnesses. The coward in him only struck when no one could see. But she wouldn’t take a chance. She was too far from Oregon’s, so she went around the side of Lefty’s store.

As she ran along the back of the shop, a door opened. An older man stepped out. He waved her forward. “Come inside.”

“I’m sorry?” She hesitated and he reached for her arm. Grace froze, unsure. Her heart raced and fear kept her feet planted.

“Brody called me because he knew I’d be here and he wanted you safe. Come inside.”

She slipped through the door and it closed firmly behind her. Her legs shook as she stood there in the small living room, unsure of what to do next.

“I’m Lefty Mueller.”

“I’m Grace,” she said, flicking a quick look at the door, and taking a deep breath. “Grace Thomas.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Though not under these circumstances,” he winked as he said it.

She looked around the tiny living room with the Victorian furniture and heavy wood cabinets built into the walls. “Is Lefty your given name?”

At that the dapper man with thinning gray hair and a twinkle in his gray eyes smiled. “My given name is Matthias, but I’m left-handed. My father always wondered if I would be able to carve, being left-handed.” Lefty had moved to a small stove in the kitchen alcove of the apartment. He poured tea from a kettle and held out a cup. “Peppermint tea. Please, have a seat.”

She carried her cup to the sofa and sat. Mr. Mueller poured himself a cup of tea and sat across from her in a wing chair that seemed too large for his slight frame.

Humor teased away her nervousness as she considered her situation. She felt somewhat like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. Her entire world had changed—the people in it, her surroundings... Nothing felt familiar or safe anymore. Yet here she sat drinking peppermint tea with a wood-carver named Lefty, who spoke with a slight accent that said he’d been exposed to another language for a large part of his life.

“Would you like to see my shop?” he asked after they’d finished their tea.

“I’d love to.” Grace stood, feeling a little shaky as she followed him through the double doors and into his showroom.

As she stood in awe at the many hand-carved nativities and Christmas carousels, he lit candles in an extravagant, triple-tiered carousel in the center of the room. The windmill of the carousel heated and started to turn. The carousel with the nativity figurines began to spin.

“It’s lovely. I’ve seen them before but never like this.”

“Thank you, my dear. I enjoy making them. It makes me feel as if I celebrate our savior’s birth all year long. Some people light a carousel once a year and enjoy the nativity for one month. I enjoy them daily.”

It was obvious he loved his art, his job. The love he felt for it was in each piece he carved. Before she left Martin’s Crossing, she told him, she’d buy one to take home.

“You’re leaving?”

“I’m not sure,” she answered. She hadn’t really planned how long she would stay or where she’d go next.

“You have time to make plans. Don’t rush yourself.” He snuffed out the candles on the carousel and the figurines stopped spinning.

Before they left the store he picked up one of the carousels and held it out to her. “This one is for you. I’ll box it up tomorrow and bring it to you at Oregon’s.”

“I can buy it.”

“Nonsense. It’s my gift for you.”

She gave him a quick hug. “Thank you.”

A sudden pounding interrupted the peace and quiet inside the shop. Grace glanced around the room, her heart racing as she searched for a hiding place.

“You’re safe.” He pointed to the stool behind the counter. “Sit. I’ll check, but my guess is that it’s Brody Martin pounding my door down.”

He left her alone in the shop, her gaze shifting from the back door to the front door. She calculated how long it would take her to reach the back door and run to Duke’s No Bar and Grill.

The door between the shop and the apartment opened. She collapsed back on the stool, her legs suddenly weak. Brody pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his dark hair. His gaze took in the room and then settled back on her.

“I would have been here sooner but Lincoln stopped me on the steps of Duke’s, and I had to linger over an iced tea.”

“He’s gone?”

Brody nodded, but his attention fell on Lefty Mueller. “Thank you for taking her in.”

Lefty winked at her. “I’m glad you called me, Brody. We had a nice visit over a cup of tea.”

“I’ve had a cup or two of that tea myself, Lefty. I’m sure she enjoyed hanging out with you.” Brody settled his hat back on his head. “I’ll walk you back to Oregon’s.”

“I can walk myself, Brody.”

“I know you can, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you.”

The two of them stood there facing one another. Grace didn’t want this animosity between them. She’d come to him for help. It had been her choice. It had actually been her first thought, to go to Brody.

Lefty took the tea cup from her hand and she gave him a quick hug. “Thank you for taking me in and for the tea. I enjoyed seeing your shop and talking to you.”

“You’re very welcome, my dear. If you ever need anything, my door is open.” Mr. Mueller smiled at Brody. “And you, young man, take good care of her.”

“I’m not sure if she wants that, Lefty, but I’ll do my best.”

Brody took her by the arm and led her out the back door of the shop, over to the back door of Oregon’s All Things. She unlocked the door with the key Oregon had given her and stepped inside. Brody took off his hat and followed her across the threshold.

It suddenly dawned on her, what Lefty had said. She grinned as she looked at the big cowboy, hat in hand. “You drink peppermint tea with Lefty?”

He shot her a look that was none too pleased but cute, nonetheless. “Men can drink peppermint tea.”

“Of course they can.” She sat down on the overstuffed couch and pulled a pillow to her lap. “Have you eaten? I can make you a sandwich.”

“I thought I’d head over to Duke’s. What about you?”

“I had a sandwich earlier.”

He frowned at that. “That isn’t much of a meal. Why don’t you go to Duke’s with me.”

She sat there, the pillow on her lap, and Brody standing tall and awkward in the center of the small apartment. Finally she nodded, pushing aside fear and misgivings to accept the peace offering he’d extended.

“I think that would be good.”

She followed him out the door. They walked side by side down the sidewalk and across the street to Duke’s. They didn’t touch, not even by accident. They didn’t speak, not even to comment on the weather.

Peace was a fragile thing, she realized.

When they got to the diner, Brody went up the steps slowly, flinching each time he raised his leg to the next step. She wanted to help. But how did she do that without tackling his cowboy pride?

“Have you considered using the ramp?” she suggested, knowing immediately it had been the wrong thing to say.

Brody shot her a look. “I’m perfectly capable of using steps.”

“I know you are, but if it causes more wear and tear...”

He kept going, ignoring her.

When he got to the door he held it open for her. “After you.”

She stepped into Duke’s. The restaurant was long and low ceilinged with barn wood-paneled walls and a tin ceiling. The tables were rough wood. The booths along two walls were wood with rustic fabric-covered seats.

A woman came bustling out of the kitchen. She was nearly as tall as Brody. Her auburn hair, shot through with gray, was pulled back in a tight ponytail. She grinned big as she scooted past them with a tray of food.

“Sit anywhere, kids, and I’ll be back to take your order in a few.”

“Will do, Ned.” Brody led Grace to a table where a half dozen people sat together. There was an older couple that smiled as they continued to bicker over something, a couple of men drinking coffee and a younger couple with a little boy.

“Mind if we join you all?” Brody asked as he reached for a chair.

“Sure thing,” one of the older men said. “Have a seat, and introduce us to your friend, Brody.”

“Grace Thomas.” Brody pulled out a chair for her and took the seat next to it. “This is Ian Fisher and his brother, Bill. That’s their sister, Ava, and her husband, Chuck, and these are the Lansings.” He nodded toward the young family. “Sara and Carl and their son, Clay.”

She smiled and thanked them for letting her join them. They all laughed and made jokes about Brody not giving anyone a chance to say no.

He reddened at the joke and looked as though he might wish he’d taken a seat elsewhere. But this was Martin’s Crossing, and she imagined if they’d sat alone the rumors would have been rampant. Not that there wouldn’t be rumors anyway.

Ned headed their way after refilling coffee for a few diners.

She placed glasses of water in front of them and then pulled up a chair and sat down. “I’m about worn out.”

“Long day, Ned?” Brody asked as he picked up the glass of water.

“Long day, long week and longer year. Do you all know what you want to eat?”

“I’ll take the special.” Brody handed her back the menu.

“I’ll take the same.” Grace smiled and handed the waitress the menu.

“You got it, kids. Do you want something to drink other than water?” She held up the coffeepot she carried. “Or I can get you tea.”

They both declined and Ned pushed herself to her feet and headed for the kitchen. As she walked away, a slim, dark-haired girl came out of the kitchen, a big grin on her face. Grace knew immediately who the child had to be.

“Lilly, what are you up to today?” Brody asked, confirming her suspicions. She watched him change as the girl headed their way. His eyes lit up. He looked amused and protective all at once. The corner of his mouth tilted and revealed the dimple in his cheek.

“I have a horse to pay off, remember?” She sat down next to Grace and studied her long and hard. “So you’re the trouble...”

“Lilly.” Brody cut her off as he chuckled. “This is Grace.”

Grace held out her hand. “Better known as trouble.”

Lilly smirked. “Mom said you’re staying in the apartment.”

“Yes, I am.”

Lilly leaned back in her chair and Brody reached over, putting the chair back on four legs. “Down, killer.”

“I have to get back to work. Mom and Dad will be here soon.” She stood, her attention focused on Grace. “I’m sorry I didn’t meet you earlier. I came here right after school.”

“I’m sure we’ll have a chance to get to know each other,” Grace offered.

“Great,” Brody murmured. “Maybe we should get our food to go.”

“Why would we do that? This looks as if it might be entertaining,” Grace teased. It was easy to do when she knew how much Brody liked his privacy.

“We should leave before the whole family shows up,” he said, leaning in close. “You’re laughing at me now, Gracie, but you wait till you’re face-to-face with Jake, Duke and their women. And then there’s this bunch.”

He inclined his head, taking in the group at the table.

“I do like to see you squirm.”

He leaned back in his chair. “They’ll eat you alive.”

As if on cue, one of the older men turned his attention on Brody and Grace. He grinned as he settled his fishing hat on his head, the stiff bill shading his face but not hiding the teasing glint in his dark eyes.

“Brody, I’m just a wondering when you’re going to hang up your running shoes.”

“Running isn’t good for your knees, Brody.” Grace understood the double meaning but she jumped in anyway. Anything to see his face turn red.

“I haven’t been running, Grace.”

The other gentleman laughed at that. “Brody, as far as I can tell, you’ve been running for a year. Looks to me as if it finally caught up with you.”

Brody shot her an I-told-you-so look. She’d jumped in, thinking Brody would be the target. But it was suddenly clear that in Martin’s Crossing, no one got a break. For the next hour she took her share of teasing. When Brody’s brothers and their wives showed up, they made sure Brody took his fair share of ribbing. It felt good to be a part of that crowd, and to spend time laughing and not worrying.

When Brody walked her back to the apartment an hour later, Grace was exhausted but still amused. She’d learned a lot about Brody Martin in their time with his family and with old-timers who’d known him all his life.

“You really rode a bull through the school?” she asked as she unlocked the door.

Brody lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug and reached to push the door open. He flipped on the lights inside and stepped back for her to enter.

“A friend dared me.”

“Do you always take dares?” For reasons unknown even to her, Grace’s voice softened. She looked up and saw Brody watching her, his blue eyes intent.

She wanted to touch him. She wanted to brush her hands over the dark shadows on his cheeks. She wanted to lean in and inhale his scent.

Instead, she took a step back, knowing that they didn’t have a future. She’d broken his heart once. And Brody didn’t trust easily. She had a baby to think about. This was definitely not the time for distractions.

“Brody, thank you. For letting me stay here and for not being angry.”

“Oh, I’m still angry, Grace. That doesn’t mean I don’t care.” He kissed her cheek and walked away.

She drew in a deep breath as she locked the door behind him, then leaned against it. A tear slid down her cheek.

She brushed it away because crying did no good. She’d gotten herself into this mess and she’d survive. Somehow.

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