The Cowboy's Return Page 7

  He’d rediscovered adolescence. Too bad he couldn’t enjoy it.

  Chapter Seven

  Red Valley got more than its share of wind on any given day, but the next morning it whipped like crazy, blowing dust that cut through fabric, testing the limits of the high tunnel. Mitch stood in the yard, his eyes watering from the wind as he examined everything within sight.

  “We’ve been through this before, many times,” Annie said, coming up beside him, her hair whipping around her head. “There’s always some damage, but I’ve been able to fix it.”

  “This isn’t a good time to haul the trash.” He had to shout to be heard.

  “I agree. You can just stay inside when Mr. Ryder gets here. Make sure you don’t have anything personal out, since I’ll have to invite him in out of the wind.”

  “All right.”

  “Do you want Austin to stay in his room, too?”

  A loud cracking sound had them turning their heads. The shed door had blown open, revealing his truck. They raced to it and together shut the door and bolted it, the latch too loose for Mitch’s comfort. He couldn’t do anything about it now, however, as some of her strawberry boxes upturned. They weren’t finished righting them when a truck turned into the driveway.

  Mitch jogged into the house, grabbed Austin by the hand, pulled him to his bedroom and told him to stay quiet and stay put until he was called. Then Mitch went to his own room, leaving the door ajar to allow him to eavesdrop.

  A minute later wind whipped through the house as the front door opened and closed.

  “I’m surprised you ventured out,” Annie said. “It’s not like this was a meeting that couldn’t have been put off.”

  “I like to stick to my schedule.”

  Mitch heard his father’s voice for the first time in three years. He leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes.

  “Have you met my son Vaughn?” Jim asked.

  Mitch came to attention. Vaughn was two years older than Mitch, the firstborn. And he was the ranch’s attorney.

  “You do look familiar,” Annie said.

  Hell, yeah, he looked familiar, Mitch thought. While they didn’t look like twins, the resemblance between them was strong.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” Vaughn said. “I’d remember, I’m sure.”

  Smooth-talking Vaughn. Mitch smiled. He’d missed his brother, all his siblings.

  “Please, have a seat,” Annie said.

  Mitch could hear the tightness in her voice, could picture her stiff, defensive posture.

  “First,” his father said, “I want you to know I admire what you’re trying to do. I’d be the same, unwilling to give up without the biggest fight of my life. I’ve been thinking a lot about you and your situation, and I’m thinking we could help each other. Vaughn?”

  “We’d like to lease the acreage behind your farm. It would provide you with an income and give us room for more grazing land.”

  “I’m sorry you came out here for that,” Annie said. “I have plans for that land.”

  “May I ask what they are?” his father said.

  “I’m not ready to answer that.”

  “Perhaps we could combine forces.”

  “No, thank you. I think the legalities of that would be problematic for me. Again, I’m sorry you came out on a day like this.”

  “We only live twenty miles from here. It wasn’t a hardship. Well, thanks for your time, Ms. Barnard. If you change your mind, please don’t let pride stand in the way of getting in touch with me,” his father said. “The offer doesn’t have an end date. Yet.”

  “Feel free to consult an attorney of your own,” Vaughn added. “Here’s our offer in writing.”

  “That’s not an expense in my budget.”

  “You choose the lawyer,” Jim said. “We’ll pay for it. We want you to feel comfortable.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mitch hadn’t known Annie for long, but he knew what her tone of voice meant—go away. He’d bet she was standing tall and still, her hands folded in front of her, her expression steely.

  He wondered what it would take for her to give up on her dream? Bankruptcy? She probably didn’t have a mortgage, since Barney would’ve inherited the place from his father. But even with all that equity, Mitch didn’t think a bank would give her a loan, not while she wasn’t bringing in enough income to repay a loan and still get by.

  On the other hand, maybe the bank would, figuring they could recoup their money easily. His father and Morgan would be first in line to buy.

  He felt sorry for her, having these two powerful men badgering her with their offers, trying to dazzle her with what must seem like a lot of money in her current position. She would like to offer Austin a better life, but “better” didn’t have much to do with money, in her eyes. As far as she was concerned, they were already living a better life than ever before.

  It was hard to entice someone when they didn’t feel deprived.

  Out of his bedroom window he saw his father and brother drive off, then he made his way to the living room.

  “You heard?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  She passed him a sheet of paper, which he skimmed.

  “I’d like your opinion, Mitch.”

  “I don’t think you’re ready to accept his offer.” He couldn’t comment on the price they were willing to pay, not without doing some research.

  “I’m right, aren’t I? I can do this.”

  He wasn’t about to destroy her dream with his own speculation. “I know you need to try.”

  Mitch glanced out the window and spotted the shed door open, his truck visible. “When did that open?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

  She joined him. “I don’t know. I heard a noise a few minutes ago. Maybe then? Do you think they saw it? Would they recognize it?”

  “Hardly a soul around here wouldn’t.” But did they see it or had they been focused on getting to their truck in the wind? From the porch it stood out like a beacon.

  “Austin, you can come out now,” Annie shouted down the hall.

  “In a minute. I’m on level four,” he called back.

  “Oh, to be so easily distracted,” she said, smiling, then she laid a hand on Mitch’s arm. “Are you worried?”

  “Fate will decide.” He smiled to put her at ease. He hadn’t intended to involve her in his problems. “It’s too windy to work outside. Let’s all play a game. It’ll be like a ditch day from school.”

  They were in the second hour of a heated game of Monopoly when the wind died. They surveyed the property, cleaning as they went, tossing broken branches, righting tipped containers, making sure the high tunnel hadn’t sustained damage, especially tears in the plastic film. Because she was using so many tall boxes for her strawberry plants in order to make picking easier for her customers, there was a lot of damage to them. If only they’d had time to move them into the greenhouse....

  “We can salvage them,” Annie said, coming up beside him. “This has happened before. And it wasn’t bad for the table flowers. Blew all the stuff away that accumulates in the leaves. When we pick them on Sunday, they’ll look great.”

  “Why Sunday?”

  “I’ll be taking as many bouquets as I can manage to the farmer’s market on Monday. The flowers will survive in water for an extra day, but I like to wait until the last minute to pick the vegetables.”

  The chickens had ventured out of their coop, where they’d gone on their own to wait out the windstorm. They pecked the ground, finding new delights.

  “Next year I’ll stake tomatoes down the middle of the greenhouse. I want to specialize in heirlooms. They’re harder to grow, but it’ll go well with the organic appeal for the customer. I’ll grow a lot of Roma tomat
oes, too, since they’re so good for canning.”

  “Do you have a master plan?”

  She grinned. “Which one? I have a sketch pad full. I’ve been refining and refining after doing a lot of research and talking to other growers. I guess I’ve boiled it down to something workable for next year. That rectangular garden right inside the front gate? That’s all pumpkins, my U-pick crop for the fall.”

  He studied her face as she looked over her land, seeing something he couldn’t—the end result. “There are a lot of risks involved, aren’t there?”

  “Most of them out of my control. I think table flowers will eventually be my best bet, but it’s going to take some trial and error to find the right flowers to sell.” She dusted off her hands. “Break’s over.”

  Bo chased a chicken, then two chased him, and everything was back to normal.

  After a long afternoon of cleanup, they ate dinner and finished the Monopoly game. When Austin got in the shower, Mitch logged on to the computer to see if the parts he’d ordered for his truck had been shipped, but there was no email from the supplier. He scrolled through the rest of the messages, then just as he was about to log off, a new email arrived.

  So close, yet so far away. Your mother misses you, son.

  Of all the things his father could’ve said, that was the most effective. No threat. No questioning what he was doing, why he was at Annie’s. Just that his mother missed him.

  I’ll be home tomorrow, he wrote back before he could overthink it. He logged off. “I’m done,” he said to Annie so that she could use the computer herself, then he went outside.

  He’d known today after hearing his father’s and brother’s voices that he couldn’t stay away any longer. The familial bond might have been tested while he was gone, but it hadn’t broken, was never in danger of breaking. He’d decided to see his father as the enemy so that he could justify staying away, but he’d never been the enemy, just a roadblock.

  Mitch wandered over to the shed, pulled on the overhead light. Parts were scattered on shelves in an order only he would make sense of. If the new parts arrived on Monday, he could wrap it up and move on. Move home. He would’ve been at Annie’s for almost a week at that point. All the heavy jobs would be done, provided he worked up the nerve to climb the ladder to fix the barn roof. A raging bull caused him less trepidation.

  “Hey, Mitch!” Austin called from the porch. “Good night.”

  “Night, buddy. Sleep well.”

  Austin hesitated. Was he waiting for a hug? He probably was barefoot and not allowed to walk across the yard right before getting into bed.

  His shoulders slumped, he turned around.

  “Hold on,” Mitch said, then jogged over to him and up the stairs. He gave the boy a hug. Austin clung for an extra few seconds, then he rushed into the house.

  Mitch rubbed his face with his hands. He hadn’t known anyone could bond with a child that quickly, not someone else’s child, anyway. His decision to pretend to be the handyman Annie had hired was weighing heavily now. Secrets were building upon secrets, attachments forming where they shouldn’t.

  The potential for hurt was increasing—that got to Mitch the most.

  Annie came outside. The sun was just setting. “My favorite time of day,” she said. “Except for dawn.”

  He didn’t say anything, still lost in his own thoughts, but aware she was there.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “I’d like to borrow your truck tomorrow, if I may. There’s someone I need to see.”

  “That’s fine.” She cocked her head. “You’re awfully subdued.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It was an observation, nothing needing an apology.”

  “I won’t be here much longer, Annie.”

  “I’m prepared for that.”

  Am I? he wondered. Once he saw his father tomorrow, there would be no turning back. He’d be expected to rejoin the ranch crew.

  “Just one thing,” Annie said. “When you leave, does that mean you’ll be leaving here or leaving the area?”

  “Here.”

  “And your identity will no longer be a secret from me?”

  “Yes.” Although she wouldn’t want to see him when she learned his last name was Ryder. Mitch was sure of that. Why hadn’t he just taken her into his confidence from the beginning? Or when she’d told him his father had put some pressure on to buy her property?

  His own selfishness had gotten in the way of good sense.

  “So you’re done drifting?” she asked.

  “For now.” He smiled at her, wanting to lighten the mood. What he really wanted was to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless, not just to stop the conversation but to start something else. He couldn’t, however. They couldn’t.

  The phone rang, ending the torture. From what he could overhear, he decided it was her ex.

  “He’s in bed, Rick.” She used the same tone of voice she had with Mitch’s father. “No, I’m not going to wake him up. You need to call earlier in the evening, you know that....Are you positive this time?...No, actually I don’t have faith in you....School starts August 20, so how about the fifth? Then he’d have a week at home to get ready....I’ve told you before. You’ll have to come get him and bring him home. He’s too young to fly on his own, especially with a layover. Whether you fly or drive is up to you....Yes, I know it’s a twelve-hour drive from where you live....I swear, Rick, if you disappoint him again—”

  She had come to the screen door so that her back was to the house and her voice less likely to carry back to Austin’s room, Mitch guessed. The phone cord stretched to accommodate her.

  “You’ve seen him once in the past year. I think you can do this much for your son. I can get him to the Medford Airport....You do that. But please don’t change your mind. He’s expecting to see you. He’s excited about it.”

  She hung up the phone then returned.

  “Was he trying to back out?” Mitch asked.

  “No. He loves Austin, I have no doubt about that. But he doesn’t like being inconvenienced. It’s a long trip—twice. I get that. But if the situation were reversed, I would do it. Every month, even. Of course, I wouldn’t have moved away from my son in the first place.”

  Mitch couldn’t offer words to her—it wasn’t his place to comment on Austin’s father—but he could offer comfort. He put his arms around her and held her. She relaxed before long, nestling closer, sighing. He didn’t take it further than that, although he was tempted.

  “Thank you,” she said, pushing away, leaving in a hurry. “I’ll go take my shower. Good night.”

  “Night.”

  “Oh. What time will you be leaving tomorrow?”

  “Early. Right after breakfast.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “Depends on a lot of things.” Will it be a pleasant visit? A difficult one? Will his father demand something of him he wasn’t prepared to give? Would his mother exert her own influence? “My cell phone should work somewhere along the way. I’ll try to let you know, but don’t worry if you don’t hear from me. It won’t mean anything in particular.”

  “All right.”

  The sky had darkened considerably, and his mood with it. He was anxious for tomorrow to come. He had a life he needed to start living.

  Chapter Eight

  Mitch forced himself to look around, to absorb all the sights of Ryder Ranch as he approached it then turned onto the long driveway to the property itself. His house was on the right, not visible, but shaded by a grove of oaks, mostly. Each Ryder child had been gifted a piece of property on their twenty-first birthday. Mitch had picked his spot when he was Austin’s age. Although Vaughn was the oldest, he hadn’t built until recently, when he’d decided to leave his law practice in San
Francisco and come home again, his wife and daughter with him. Now he was a single dad with a happy grandma nearby to babysit.

  Acres of grazing land surrounded the compound, although this wasn’t the only Ryder property used for grazing. They owned many properties in the area and elsewhere in California, transferring cattle by truck to new ones frequently. This time of year they were grass-fed, which was ideal.

  Because he was driving Annie’s truck, he wasn’t recognized when he pulled up to the main complex. He’d passed his parents’ home on the left, a sprawling eight-bedroom house in which only his mother and father lived now. His youngest sister, Jenny, was a senior in college. Most of the rest of the siblings were scattered on the property. His brothers Adam and Brody were living in Mitch’s house, since they hadn’t built their own homes yet. He had to make a decision about letting them stay on with him or taking it back for himself.

  He jumped down from the truck, excited and anxious. Everyone would be busy this time of day. There was always overnight business to tend to—fences needing repair, water troughs to maintain, strays to round up, endless chores done by rote after years of working the property.

  No one came out to see who’d pulled up. He decided to walk to the family home in search of his mother. He’d taken only a few steps when he spotted her on the porch waving—and he was struck by how cruel he’d been to be gone so long, even though he would have been hell to live with had he stayed.

  He ran to her, leaped up the stairs, picked her up and squeezed the life out of her. She was laughing and crying. He was swallowing hard. Dori Ryder was tall and willowy and very strong, in body and spirit. She was a rancher’s wife, and a lot was expected of her.

  “You’ve gone blond and sassy,” he said, stepping back.

  She finger-combed the short hairdo. “I’ve always been sassy.”

  “Yes, ma’am, you have.”

  She put her hands on his face. “I’ve missed you so much, Mitchell.”

  “I’ve missed you, too, Mom. I didn’t even know how much until I started down the drive.”

  “Are you hungry? Can I fix you steak and eggs?” They walked into the house, where nothing had changed. Home.