A Cowboy In Shepherd's Crossing

“Do you think she’ll come back, Rosie?” Melonie asked. The thought of someone abandoning this sleeping baby gutted her, because parents weren’t supposed to abandon their children. Ever.

Uncertainty clouded Rosie’s eyes. “I do not know. She is not a maternal person, and yet I feel she loves these babies. In her own way.”

“Maybe loves them enough to give them up.” Mel kept her voice soft as Ava squirmed in her arms.

Jace turned her way. “Giving up children shows them love?” Disbelief marked his voice and his expression. “I don’t buy that. Caring for kids. Feeding them, clothing them, teaching them. That’s what love’s all about. Anyone can toss something away. It takes a real parent to go the distance.”

He knew nothing, Melonie decided. Because she’d been on the other side of that equation and he was wrong. So wrong.

She stood and handed Ava to Rosie. “I’ve got to get my stuff settled in the stable.”

She walked out, refusing to go toe-to-toe with him. The only reason she held back was because he’d been handed a rough reality a few hours before.

By Jace’s definition, her father had gone the distance.

Wrong.

He’d provided funds to raise her and her two sisters, he’d paid Corrie to mother them and he’d encouraged them to make the grade in good schools. The recent corporate bankruptcy had left her and Lizzie jobless at a time when print media was shrinking. Her father’s personal finances had left her and Charlotte with massive college loans to repay. Jobless with massive debt wasn’t how she’d expected to face the year, but her late uncle’s legacy would help.

As she crossed the sunlit lawn dividing the two arms of the horse stables, she was glad she’d kept silent inside. If tomorrow’s meeting went all right, she’d be working with Jace daily. She’d avoid arguments if she could, but she knew one thing for certain: it took a whole lot more than providing food and shelter to be a parent.

No way was he going to take on Gilda Hardaway’s job, Jace decided as he steered his truck toward the Payette forest the next afternoon.

He couldn’t bring himself to use the term grandmother. She’d gotten the title by circumstance only. It might be a biological truth, but it meant nothing to him. And saving her broken-down house meant even less. He was sticking with his plan, one hundred percent. Sell the house. Move to Sun Valley. Take the girls along with him. End of story.

“How’d your night go?” Melonie had been busying herself doing something in her electronic notebook. She looked up as they made a turn. “With the twins?”

“All right.”

She whistled softly. “That’s not what I heard.”

“Well. They’re babies. And I know nothing about babies, so let’s say it went all right, considering the circumstances.”

The twins hadn’t loved their new sleeping arrangements. They’d let that be known in full voice several times during the night. Corrie had jumped in to help him, which was a good thing because Jace would have crashed and burned by hour four. This way they both got some sleep. Just not much. The twins woke up babbling and smiling as if they’d gotten a full night’s slumber. But then, they got to take naps. Naps didn’t happen for grown-ups.

“Were you guys able to get the hay all in?”

“Harve Junior and Wick stayed out late to beat the rain. It’s done.”

The rain had held off until just after midnight, but it was coming down now. Not a massive storm. A steady gray drizzle, the kind of rain that benefited crops but thwarted farmers needing to access fields.

But the hay was safe. The girls were with Rosie and Corrie. Now, if he could get through this afternoon’s interview...

“And you spoke with your sister?”

Justine. He’d told her as gently as he could, but when she burst into tears, he half wanted to cry with her. He didn’t, because big brothers hang strong. Always. “She was shocked. Understandably.”

“I expect she was. Whoa.” Melonie stretched up in her seat as they took the weed-edged asphalt drive leading up to Hardaway Ranch. Tucked behind trees leading to the national forest, he’d never had a clear look at this house. He’d heard of it, of course. Small towns loved to talk about their eccentrics, and Gilda fit the bill.

But as they emerged from the final curve and the once-grandiose home rose up before them, he took a deep breath.

“Did you just get a horror-film vibe?” Melonie whispered. “Because I sure did.”

He couldn’t fault her comment because the large, moldy two-and-a-half-story structure would have done Stephen King proud. Surrounded by a yard in desperate need of a brush hog, the place sat like a haunted house on a hill, shrouded by three decades of shrub and tree growth. It was an absolute mess from top to bottom. So bad that he was almost tempted to take the job for the challenge it offered, but not stupid enough to do it. “Here we are.” He pulled up to vine-choked steps and stopped the truck. He studied the building, then Melonie. “We don’t have to get out. We can head right back to the road and go home.”

Genuine surprise made her look quizzical. “Not go in? Are you crazy? I just had to turn down a cable TV contract to come here, and that was tough. That makes this an amazing opportunity. I absolutely cannot wait to get inside. Come on.” She opened her door. “Let’s go.”

She wanted the job.

The anticipation in her voice was reflected in her eyes as she climbed out of the truck. That meant he had to climb out of the truck, too.

He did. Then he studied the house, the choked yard and the sprawling acres beyond it.

Somewhere within him he could almost imagine the beauty it had been thirty years ago. Before he was born, he realized.

He fought a sigh. He was all for getting back into the truck when Gilda’s voice called down to them. “I’m here. And I’m waiting. And there’s a few things folks my age don’t do well. Waiting’s one of them. Come on, come on, I’m not getting any younger.”

The old saying drew his attention. It struck a nerve or a memory or something... He kept quiet and followed Melonie up the stairs.

Full sensory overload.

Melonie cloaked her excitement as she walked into the big house. She paused inside the door to take in the ruination of what should have been a gracious old home. The classic, wide farmhouse stood as a shell of its former self. Moldings had been damaged by water leaks. Some were rotted straight through. Others had simply disintegrated. Plaster showed water damage in multiple rooms on the first floor, which meant the second floor wasn’t going to be too pretty because that water came from somewhere. The thought of reclaiming this wreck of a home and showing off her talents was a power boost for Melonie. Getting this job would keep her in Idaho, as required, but she’d be working away from the smell of the horses. Sheep she could deal with. She had no violent history with sheep.

Horses were another story altogether.

“You’re quiet. Both of you.” Gilda pressed her lips into a thin line. “I don’t like it when folks get quiet because that usually means they’re scared to say what they think.”

Melonie had been jotting a note in her tablet. She raised her eyes without raising her head. “This doesn’t scare me, Gilda.”

The old woman looked skeptical.

Melonie jotted something else before she continued. “It invigorates me. It’s rare that a designer gets the chance to walk in and lay out a fresh canvas.”

“What does that mean?”

Jace shifted his attention to her, too. She’d seen his initial reaction as he walked into the house. Horror...and interest. And something else. Regret, maybe. As if the decay made him sad.

She stopped making notes and faced them. “It means I’m mentally planning massive demolition and starting new. I think the bones of the house are great.”

“Bones?”

“The structure,” she explained. “The water leaks have done significant damage. The first order of business will be new roofs. Once that’s done we can begin the demo inside. No sense starting anything until we’ve got a solid roof in place.”

Jace stayed quiet. He’d brought a few simple tools with him. He poked walls for plaster rot and found plenty. The ceilings on the first floor were ruined, except in the front parlor. He noted that into his phone, then laser-measured the house dimensions. As they moved from room to room, the magnitude of what the elderly woman was asking became obvious.

“Mrs. Hardaway.” He slipped his phone into the leather pouch on his belt and rubbed a hand to his neck. “I’m going to be honest with you.”

“I am not paying for opinions,” she told him in a craggy voice. She’d been following them with a bright pink cane. She tapped that cane sharply against the water-stained floor.

“I beg to differ.” He kept his tone even. “That’s exactly what you asked, and I’m telling you that the cost of refurbishing this place is astronomical. Perhaps—”

“I’ve got a five-hundred-thousand-dollar budget earmarked for this. How much help can I get for five hundred thousand dollars?”

Jace stopped dead.

So did Melonie because that was some serious money.

Jace stared at Gilda, then scanned the house, then looked at his grandmother again. “All I’m saying is that we could start over. Something more practical. We tear this down and build a well-constructed ranch house on the site. Everything would be bright and new and accessible.” He noted the cane with a glance. “That’s nothing to take lightly.”

Melonie didn’t like Jace’s suggestion, but she understood his reasoning. An old woman in frail health—what was she doing here all these years, living amid the decay?

She stood there, silent, letting the old woman make the choice as offered. And hoped she opted for a complete renovation.

Jace had to shoot fair and square, even with the rich eccentric who had shaken his world to the rafters the previous day. He’d handle that later. This was different.

He didn’t pretend to like her as she gazed around the house, considering his words. Growing up in Shepherd’s Crossing, he’d heard all kinds of things, and he was pretty sure no one much liked her, but this wasn’t about emotion. It was about common sense. “We could have it done before winter.”

A small, cozy rebuild made more sense. He knew it. And he was pretty sure the women knew it, too.

He didn’t look at Melonie. She’d be disappointed because he could see her mental wheels spinning as she moved from room to room. But who in their right mind would put that kind of money into—

“I appreciate your suggestion, young man. I know it makes sense and it’s an honest man that lays out the truth even if it doesn’t pay as well. But I need my home back.” Gilda Hardaway locked eyes with him, sorrow in her gaze. “From top to bottom.” She gripped her cane hard, and her hand shook with the pressure. “I messed up my time, but I can fix this if God gives me the days and if you’ll take the job. It’s not about money, son.”

He wanted to take offense at the familial term, but he couldn’t because she looked too sad and alone to mean anything bad.

“It’s about fixing what needs to be fixed. Can you do it?” She turned to include Melonie in the question. “Now that the first hay is in and the winter lambs are off to market?”

She was ranch-savvy. She’d caught him at a good time. They’d have to hire roofers first, and that would give him a couple of weeks to renovate his house to make it safe for the twins. “I can do it.”

“But will you?”

There was the crux of the question.

Could he handle this mammoth job, with help, and still make it to Sun Valley as planned? Because as grand as this job was, it was one job and now he had not one, but three mouths to feed. Two babies to raise. And he couldn’t even begin to think about the astronomical costs of day care in Sun Valley.

Stop worrying about tomorrow. If the Lord sees fit to take care of the birds of the air and the lilies of the field, He’s got you. He’s got this.

Jace wasn’t so sure, but when he brought his gaze back to Gilda’s, something in her eyes, her face...

Something made him say yes.

He was pretty sure he’d regret it. He already did, truth be told, and when Melonie began shooting pictures of each room, he realized something else.

For the next few months they’d be working side by side.

She’d lay out plans and expect him to follow them. Oh, he’d looked at her magazine that morning as research. She liked to plot intricate layouts, but that was for a two-dimensional magazine, where every shot was strategically perfect.

Gutting a place like this was about as three-dimensional—and dirty—as it could get. And the silk-wearing Fitzgerald woman didn’t seem like the type to get her hands dirty. Or compromise. Which meant this could be the longest three months of his life.

Then she turned. Met his gaze. Smiled at him.

Something went soft inside him.

He hardened it right back up. No way was he about to let a pretty smile get in his way. Melonie Fitzgerald had fancy written all over her. He’d sworn off fancy a few years ago when he showed up at the church...and his bride was nowhere to be found. That was a punch in the gut for any self-respecting cowboy.

But when they got to the truck and Melonie turned toward him, excitement brightened those gray eyes to liquid silver. Distinctive eyes set in one of the sweetest faces he’d ever seen.

Maintain your distance. You’ve been nailed by a woman with dreams of stardom once. Don’t be stupid a second time.

He wouldn’t be stupid. Not again. But with her bright floral scent filling the cab of the truck, Jace didn’t fool himself that it would be easy.

Chapter Four

“We need to have a meeting.” Melonie scribbled notes into her tablet at a furious pace as Jace drove them back to Pine Ridge Ranch.

“You’re here. I’m here. Let’s have a meeting.”

She angled a wry look his way.

His jaw quirked, just a little. So he might have a sense of humor hidden under layers of angst after all. Good. “Are you doing the roofs?”

“No. Contracting them out. There’s a couple of great roofing companies between McCall and Council. I’ll get some estimates for the job. People around here are hungry for work, so we should be able to line up someone fairly quickly. How much of your designs are you running by Mrs. Hardaway?”

“I want to put together a package and present it to her. My goal is to keep it true to the structure and history, but make it more modern. Less fuss, more open space, but still classic design.”

“It must have been something in its time.”

“Did people realize how bad it was getting?” she wondered. “Did they just ignore it?”

“Well, it’s Gilda Hardaway, and you’ve met her. She’s always been rich and beyond eccentric since I’ve been old enough to know she existed. But you can’t see the house from the road, the weeds and brush are a turnoff and, other than a few old-timers, I don’t think she entertains visitors.”

“So this is a huge step forward for her.”

He didn’t answer.

He stared straight ahead, his jaw tight and his hands firmly clenched on the steering wheel. She changed the subject. “I’ll come up with an exterior palette so we can pick roofing materials by the time we head up there tomorrow morning. And I’ll work on the design this evening. It won’t be quick.” The fact that she couldn’t redo a two-and-a-half-story house in a matter of hours made her feel like she should apologize. “I’ll need some time.”

“We’ve got as much time as the roofing takes.”

“That might not be enough, even if I don’t sleep. How about this, instead?” He glanced her way as they turned into the Pine Ridge Ranch driveway, and she had to remind herself that those big brown eyes were off-limits. This guy had “Welcome to Idaho” written all over him. She was headed south once her year was complete. He was staying. “I come up with a quick design for you to fix up your place, you focus on that, roofs get done, my design for Gilda gets done and we move forward in a couple of weeks.”

He didn’t say anything right away, then he flexed his jaw. “It will have to work.”

Have to work?

She climbed out of her side of the truck and shut the door. “‘Thanks, Mel, that’s a great idea.’ ‘Glad to help, Jace. Great working with you.’”

She started toward the stables, and it would have been a perfect stomp-off, but then she realized she needed to see his house. Like quickly.

She turned.

He was standing there, stock-still, arms folded, watching her. And a hinted smile softened his jaw and put a sparkle in his eyes. “Forgetting something?”

“You are a particularly annoying person.”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before.” He indicated the house with a tip of his head. “Let’s grab sandwiches, head to my place and then you can march off indignantly. Okay?”

“It’s not okay at all,” she grumbled as they climbed the steps. “It totally loses punch in the delay, so what sane woman wastes a great walk-off when it’s already been defeated. No.” She turned to face him at the door, and she wasn’t afraid to add a slight splash of Southern geniality to her tone. “I will save my stomping for moments of necessity. Right now, we have work to do. You. Me. And my design program.”

“So I can expect the cold shoulder at a future time?”

“Only as needed, Jace.”

Sassy. Saucy. And strong, despite her diminutive size. Did she know her stuff?

The magazine pictures said yes, but while the pictures looked great, he worried. Did someone have to rein her in and explain bearing walls and structural integrity?

“I smell something amazing.”

“Cookie’s beef-and-onion soup.”

“Be still my heart.” She set her bags onto the couch and inhaled deeply. “Who’d have thought soup would smell so amazing on a summer’s day?”

“Cookie makes soup all year round, don’t you?” Jace asked as they entered the kitchen. “Are we too early?”

“Give me fifteen,” answered the cook. “Bread’s in the oven. Nothing like hot beef-and-onion soup with fresh-baked bread. There’s sandwich makings in the fridge.”

“I’m waiting on soup,” Melonie declared.

“I’ll call the roofers, see who’s available to get on the job quickly.”

“Because of the farm timing, right?”

He turned slightly. “Because I’m scheduled to leave town by Labor Day and that’s already going to have to be delayed with this project.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Jobs have pretty much dried up around here. I have little choice.”

Doubt clouded her features. “But you stand to make a year’s worth of money on this project. Correct?”

“That will all depend on costs and labor, but we should both do all right.”

“Then why leave now? Why not take the year God’s given you and see what happens?”

Just what he needed, a stranger pointing out the flaws in his logic—logic that had worked until yesterday, when he discovered his whole life was a lie.

“I don’t mean to interfere.”

He was pretty sure that’s exactly what she meant.

“But to become an instant father, tackle a huge project and have your moving time delayed until winter, why not put it on hold? Unless you’re precontracted there?”

“I’m not.”

She faced him, waiting, then she turned.

He hated that she was right, but it did make sense. He’d have plenty to live on with Gilda’s project, and using that as a showcase in his portfolio would make sense during the next building season. “I’ll add the Realtor to my list of calls.”

She grabbed a cookie from the old-fashioned cookie jar that had a place of honor on the counter. Then she paused, grabbed two more and handed them to him as she went back to the living room for her tablet. “Best appetizers ever.”

He made the first calls and wasn’t sure what soothed him more, getting the roofers to meet him at Gilda’s place tomorrow, canceling the sale of his house, or the two macadamia-nut, white-chocolate-chip cookies.

It almost didn’t even matter that she was right. He could relist the house if he regretted the decision, but renovating his house while prospective buyers were coming through would be a lost cause. He only wished he’d thought of it first.

He called Rosie quickly. “How are the girls doing?”

“Fine, as always, so adorable these two and getting busy! Ava is determined to walk, but, of course, that means falling.”

“You let them fall?” Babies weren’t supposed to fall. Were they?

“I blame this on gravity, Jace. Not ineptitude.”

“No, of course, I didn’t mean...”

She laughed. “I must go—Annie is crawling faster than her sister is walking along the sofa’s edge and she seems determined to trip her.”

Sibling rivalry already?

He put off the next roofing call to hop online and order three how-to-raise-your-child books. Then he called two more roofers for scheduled meetings at Hardaway Ranch. He might be in over his head when it came to raising babies, but he knew building and he knew ranching. And with three books slated to be here in two days’ time, he’d have a firm handle on raising children, too.

“Soup’s on!” Cookie jangled the porch bell. Midday meals were casual. Cookie knew folks couldn’t just drop what they were doing and run to the house in the middle of the workday.

Suppertime wasn’t formal, but it was more structured. At least it had been. With the arrival of the Fitzgerald sisters, new foals dropping, Annie and Ava staying in the big house temporarily and Rosie’s infant daughter, Jo Jo, the plethora of small people meant change. Flexibility. And a mountain of diapers, he’d realized yesterday.

He went inside. And saw Melonie busily making notes into her device. She looked up when the door smacked shut behind him.

She smiled.

Those eyes...like mercury.

Mercury’s poisonous, in case you’ve forgotten.

He knew that, but there wasn’t one hint of poison in those pretty gray eyes. “Any luck on roofing estimates?” she asked.

“Two can meet me tomorrow.”

“Us?”

“Sure, if you want to be there. But it’s roofing,” he continued. “Pretty cut-and-dried if you’re keeping the original lines.”

“I’ll come anyway. I like being involved in every step of the process—it gives me the feel for the end product.”

“Nine thirty and ten thirty. Then a third one in two days, if needed.”

“Got it.” She jotted it into her online calendar and stood. “Food. Then your place.”

Did she think bossy was cute? It wasn’t. But when he let her walk in front of him toward the kitchen, he realized she wasn’t just cute...she was beautiful. And curvy. And smelled great.

Doomed.

Except he couldn’t allow that to happen, so he focused on the delicious food as Melonie put a bit of the melted provolone onto the bread. “This is to die for, isn’t it?”

It was but when she had a second helping, he was perplexed. “How can you eat all that?”

She gazed down at the soup, then up at him. “I honestly don’t know. Trucker’s appetite. And I don’t sit around worrying about being a size zero because I like food. And exercise. And last I knew, women were supposed to have curves.”

What was he supposed to say to that? “My sister was on a too-skinny kick for a while. It got better, then we lost Mom after Dad died and she slipped downhill again. I hate that she’s over in Seattle, where I can’t boss her around. Make her eat doughnuts.”

“Weight and eating disorders are tough.” She sipped water, and frowned. “We humans are hard to figure out at times, aren’t we?”

After what he’d found out yesterday? “Can’t argue that.”

“How hard do you think that was for her?” She stood up to clear her dishes, and he appreciated the effort. Some folks thought Cookie was part maid and housekeeper. He wasn’t, but it was nice that she didn’t have to be schooled on ranch manners. “Your grandmother, I mean. To come here like that and tell you everything?”