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According to the article Greer had read in the one newspaper her mom had sent, some residents resisted Miranda’s plan, calling it stupid. If not for that article, which had caught Greer’s interest, she would never have checked out the land deal. Personally she was thankful, although she had received a couple of unsigned letters suggesting she look at parcels other than the Farley ranch. The mayor said to pay them no mind. Despite the resistance of some residents, similar plans had been successful in repopulating dying communities in other states.
The idea made sense to Greer. The town’s treasury purchased abandoned farms, ranches and homes for unpaid back taxes. Parcels were then offered to entice people to relocate. For people like her, who’d never otherwise be able to scrape together a down payment, low-cost loans could be obtained in exchange for agreeing to live on the land for a year. At times, Greer had to pinch herself to believe she might actually realize her dream of owning her own guest ranch.
As she set their groceries on the counter, Greer checked around for Father Kelley. Presumably he’d taken off.
Ed Tanner talked nonstop as he scanned and bagged her groceries. “So you haven’t seen the Farley place? Jase didn’t leave the Dragging F in very good shape. Did I hear right, you’re planning to open a dude ranch by Thanksgiving?”
“I prefer the term guest ranch. But yes. I’ve been the assistant manager at a similar spread in Colorado, and my boss there thinks I’m capable of running my own place. I intend it to be a working ranch. One that lets city folks experience a bit of the real West.” She made room on the counter for the milk. “I should probably research a brand. I can’t imagine people would be in any rush to pay money to stay at a ranch called the Dragging F.” Greer rolled her eyes at Shelby and the two giggled.
Ed laughed, too, as he handed Greer her change and offered to help tote her purchases to the car. “Farley lost a bundle of cash in that failed consortium, just like Nate Cantrell, Zeb Ritter, your dad and others. Jase’s mistake was in mortgaging the Dragging F to the hilt in order to buy in. When they went belly-up, he lost it all. Everyone lost their savings, some more than others. At least your pa had his farm to fall back on.”
Hating to admit she didn’t know what Ed was talking about—that she hadn’t known her dad was involved in a consortium—Greer murmured a response and made a mental note to find out more. Jointly owned ranches were common in Colorado.
At the Blazer, she unlocked and opened the back. “Thanks for carrying the heavy stuff out for us, Ed.”
He stepped aside to let her shut the door. “Good luck, Greer. And take care. You’re gonna live on the outskirts of civilization, wedged between the river and Clint Gallagher’s back forty. Eight or nine years ago, a developer said Homestead could be the next boomtown. He threw up a couple of spec ranchettes, but then there was a drought and a downturn in the economy, followed by foreclosures. His grandiose plans went straight to…well, you fill in the blank,” Ed said, eyeing Shelby.
That information was more than Greer had heard, too. Now the decline of Homestead made sense—droughts were the bane of a rancher’s existence. “Thanks again, Ed. We’d better head out, since we have a ways to drive.”
“Next time you’re in town, maybe my wife’ll be working and I can introduce you. Lorrie and I met at college. She’s from Big Springs. My folks retired five years ago, and my brothers moved to Dallas, wanting bigger and better things. I like it here, and I’m grateful that Tanner’s is still the easiest place to shop. Oh, there’s a Wal-Mart on the road to San Antonio, and some like the variety they offer and are willing to make the drive. Most aren’t.” Ed reached the sidewalk and gave a half wave.
Greer held the door for Shelby. “I won’t pretend the lack of progress makes me as ecstatic as it does you. Frankly, I’d hoped to buy supplies closer to my ranch.”
“Your next investment should probably be a good commercial freezer. And if there isn’t one, add a storage pantry. Jase catered to hunters, but he wasn’t much on amenities.”
“I barely remember Mr. Farley.” Pursing her lips, Greer slid under the steering wheel. She saw major dollar signs flashing before her eyes. She had some savings and a line of credit. Big-ticket items could kill her budget if she wasn’t careful.
Shelby bounced up and down in her seat, trying to see everything as Greer drove out of town. “Mama, when will our horses and sheep be delivered? Back home, Luke Sanderson had a dog of his very own. Can I have one, too?”
“I’m not taking delivery of any stock until I assess the condition of our barn and corrals. As for a dog, Shelby, we’ll need to discuss that later.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll be in school, and I’ll have my hands full seeing to guests. Let’s talk about this next summer when you’re home to feed and train a dog.”
“Summer?” Shelby flung herself back against the seat. “That’s so far away, Mama. It was just summer. It’s gonna be a long time till we have another one.”
Saying nothing, Greer veered left down a gravel road. Until Ed Tanner brought it up, she hadn’t given much thought as to how far from town her ranch was. And she’d expected houses to have sprung up along the Farm-to-Market road. Clearly they had not.
Braking at the end of a long gravel driveway, she drew Shelby’s attention to a lopsided sign hanging from a post—a sign announcing they were about to enter the Dragging F. Excitement inside the Blazer was palpable. Maybe that was why Greer felt so let down when she stopped in front of a less-than-stellar ranch.
Shelby was the first to utter a sentiment Greer shared. “Ugh, I hope this isn’t our new home. It looks…well, awful.”
With a trembling foot, Greer set her emergency brake before switching off the Blazer’s engine. “We knew it needed work,” she ventured, attempting a cheery tone.
Shelby joined Greer outside the Blazer and the two clung together. “Listen, so it’s seen better days, Shel. There’s nothing a scrubbing and a few coats of paint won’t fix. Let’s look around.” Greer pulled out a key Miranda had mailed her. Clearly none was needed. The front door had a hole where a lock mechanism should have been.
Their exploration was cut short when an older, dark-green sedan pulled in. The driver parked behind the Blazer and Greer reeled as her mother stepped out. Rollicking emotions ranging from anxiety to joy set Greer’s heart banging like a tambourine. Loretta had aged. Oh, she was still lithe, trim and neatly turned out, but deep lines etched her face and neck. And her once-vibrant red hair had gone brassy.
“Is that the mayor?” a curious Shelby inquired.
Greer’s throat had closed and tears hampered her ability to respond. All she could do was shake her head. No, no, no, galloped through her brain. She couldn’t handle one more disappointment today. Not on top of seeing the town, meeting Holden Kelley’s son, then finding her and Shelby’s dream home so decrepit.
Loretta Bell quickly removed a mop, bucket and broom from her back seat. She slowly approached the duo standing on the porch. Suddenly, with a small cry of delight, she dropped everything and went down on one knee in front of the granddaughter she’d only seen via yearly photographs.
Uncharacteristically shy all at once, Shelby edged closer to Greer and looked up at her mother for instructions on how she should react.
Through a haze of tears, Greer noticed that Loretta had held out her arms, but then let them fall. In that one brief moment, Greer realized that it took guts for Loretta to show up unannounced, since she had no idea how she’d be received.
Releasing a sob, Greer hastily mumbled introductions. Bridging the gap, taking the initiative, she gathered her mom and her daughter into a trembling hug. Three generations of Bell women sank down on a sagging porch step. They all talked at the same time and alternately laughed and cried together until Loretta jumped up and collected her cleaning tools.
In a voice still husky from tears, she said, “I took time off work to help you make this place livable.” She let a worried gaze rest momentarily on Greer. “Your father is…uh…busy cutting hay.” She quickly turned aside. “The truth is, Greer,” she said in an unsteady voice, “He’s too stubborn to let bygones be bygones. Yet, everything that’s happened has taken its toll on Robert’s health. He splits his days between the farm and church work.” Raising a slender wrist, Loretta checked her watch. “He’ll expect lunch on the table at noon as always, so I can only stay a couple of hours. As much as I’d like to sit and talk, we need to dig in.”
A stab of sadness affected Greer’s breathing. She ought to have suspected that her parents still cared first and foremost for each other. Then came their devotion to church, jobs, and last to their only child. A mother herself now, Greer didn’t think she’d ever subscribe to that concept. She’d never let Shelby take a back seat to anyone or anything. If ever she met a man she’d consider marrying, he’d have to understand going in that her love would be divided equally. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been such a shock that her parents had shipped her off to live with a stern, rigid aunt. Greer had always been a tagalong in her parents’ lives.
Following Loretta and Shelby as they chatted about inconsequential things throughout a depressing tour of the house, cottages, bunkhouse and a barn that had no door at all, Greer wondered if in coming home she’d made the second mistake of a lifetime. Had she idealized this opportunity? Was she crazy to think it spelled a future for Shelby?
True, the mayor had been a huge cheerleader for her program, but truer still, Greer had latched on to the deal with gusto.
Over the next hour as the trio worked together, her worries began to fade. Her mom’s chatter spurred Greer over her disappointment with the dilapidated place.
“I have a bolt of cloth at home guaranteed to brighten this kitchen,” Loretta said. “Greer, come help me measure these windows. Tonight I’ll sew up red-and-white-checked valances and curtains. Add a coat of white enamel to these cupboards, and your guests will gravitate to this room.”
Greer accepted one end of the tape measure. As she did so, a blue GMC pickup pulled in. Within seconds, Homestead’s mayor bore down on the house, swinging a galvanized bucket swathed in a bright red ribbon in one hand; in the other she carried a steaming pie plate. Shelby ran to open the door.
A tall woman who could be called statuesque, Miranda Wright wore jeans with panache. Her mink-brown ponytail swept her shoulders as she thrust the bucket into Greer’s hands. “Welcome to Homestead. I could’ve brought you a plant, but you’ll get more use out of a hammer, nails, screwdriver, paintbrushes, gloves and assorted tools. The dried-peach pie is courtesy of my mother, Nan. Oh, Loretta, hi. You know how Mom loves to bake. I assume my able escort is none other than Shelby?” A yellow Lab trotting at Miranda’s heels claimed Shelby’s attention. “That’s Dusty,” Miranda said, then asked a question about school. As Shelby petted the dog, they discussed the local elementary. Miranda said, “How cool is it that your grandma teaches math at the high school across the street from where you’ll be going?”
“I didn’t know that.” Shelby’s hand hovered over the dog. “So maybe I won’t feel so bad not knowing any kids. At the store in town, Mama met a man who invited us to church. He said I’d meet kids my age. But Mama said we can’t go, ’cause we’ve got so much work here.”
Miranda, who noticed Greer staring at something outside the kitchen window, stepped over to have a look. “Ah, I wondered what was so engaging. Looks good, huh? That’s Noah Kelley, exercising one of his horses by the river. Is he the man Shelby meant? Did he mention he bought one of the two mini-ranches bordering the eastern edge of your property?”
“What?” Greer spun around, wearing a frown.
Miranda just grinned. “Yeah, I know his mom’s on the Home Free committee, but the ranchettes aren’t part of our package. Anyway, he didn’t want to displace his folks from the rectory, since they’ve lived there for probably forty years. Neither did he want to move home, which I’m sure you can understand.”
Feeling confused, Greer slipped out to the back porch, where she was able to identify that the rider was indeed Father Kelley. “I thought you said my property butted up against Clint Gallagher’s grassland,” she muttered.
Miranda pointed in the opposite direction. “Yes, and you’ll probably need to rebuild those buckled fence sections. The senator opposed our land giveaway. Another thing—I know the guy you worked for in Colorado recommended you run sheep instead of cattle, but old-time cattlemen are never comfortable having sheep move in. Clint rents deer leases, too. I’m sure you realize hunting season’s right around the corner.”
“Gr…eat!” Greer blew her bangs out of her eyes. She’d rather fence off Noah Kelley, who was actually trespassing. However, if she did that, she’d cut her stock off from water. What had made this ranch so appealing was its proximity to the Clear River.
Her attention remained focused on Noah, who sat the pinto like a seasoned cowboy. Her insides curled, and Greer almost missed her mom calling from inside the kitchen that she had to leave. Hurrying to walk Loretta out, Greer saw Noah’s home, visible through a stand of weeping cypress nearer the river. A long-ball pitcher could, without much effort, smack his brick chimney, which gleamed in the nearly noontime sun. Miranda whistled for Dusty, announcing that she had to leave, too, and Greer thanked both women for stopping by. As they turned their vehicles around, she wondered what had possessed her to think Homestead could be her utopia. Every bit of her old baggage, plus some that was new, had already begun piling up on her doorstep.
But Father Kelley did indeed look good….
CHAPTER TWO
GREER’S VISITORS exited her lane, headed toward Homestead and soon disappeared. Rotating her neck a few times to ease a growing tension, Greer glanced back at her ranch and sighed. Outside, the house looked no different, but somehow felt lonelier.
“When’s our furniture going to get here, Mama?” Shelby skipped alongside Greer as they again climbed the steps to the wraparound porch.
“The company estimated late afternoon, honeybun. We have time to get a lot of work done before they show up with our things.”
“Dontcha think this is the perfect spot to hang the porch swing the Sandersons gave us? It’s in the Blazer. We can hang it now, can’t we?”
“That’s a great idea, Shelby. It’ll put our mark on this place and make it feel homey. I’ll fetch the swing. See if you can locate that package of screws Miranda brought. Then I’ll grab the ladder I saw when we toured the bunkhouse.”
The task of hanging the swing proved to be anything but easy. Greer had worked up a sweat by the time she got the last screw into the knotty pine planking someone had installed as a porch ceiling. But, once she’d succeeded in wrestling the slatted swing onto its chain hangers, the effect was wonderfully inviting. She and Shelby ran into the yard to admire their handiwork, all the while grinning at each other.
“I get to try it out first,” Shelby shouted. She charged up the steps, then suddenly stopped short to stare into the distance at the horse and rider, once again visible by the river. “I sure do wish Mr. Kelley would ride up here to see us. That’s a pretty horse he has. Do you think he’d give me a ride?”
“Shelby, you need to call him Father Kelley, not mister.”
“He’s not my father.” The girl pouted a little.
“No. The title Father is like saying Doctor. It shows respect.”
“Does it mean I can’t ask to ride his horse?”
Greer reluctantly looked over at Noah Kelley. He’d dismounted and was letting the animal drink from a shallow spot. “It’s not as if he’s a friend. Even if he rides out our way, I’d rather you didn’t ask him for favors. Anyway, remember the sooner we make progress getting our home livable, the quicker we’ll bring in our horses. How about if I let you decide what room we start cleaning next?”
“Cleaning’s no fun,” Shelby grumbled. “Grandma said before she left that we need to wash all the windows. Especially the ones in the kitchen so that when she brings the curtains tomorrow we can hang them.”
“Are you sure you want to wash windows? I’m going to put white vinegar in the water to cut through the grime built up on the glass. I know you hate the way vinegar smells.”
Shelby wrinkled her nose. Trooper that she was, she reached for the second bucket.
“Let’s do the inside first, Shel. Then I’ll change the water and we can start outside. I’ll tackle the taller windows that require a ladder. You wash whatever you can reach from the porch.”
“Okay.” Shelby ripped open a pack of sponges and plopped a green one in her bucket and a pink one in her mother’s. “Grandma’s nice,” she remarked out of the blue, and followed with a question Greer had been dreading. “I don’t understand why Grandpa couldn’t come with her. Is he mean?”
Greer dropped her wet sponge, then hurriedly bent to retrieve it. “I wouldn’t call him mean. Do you remember Mr. Greenfield the man who rented that cabin next to ours at Whippoorwill Ranch every summer? The artist?”
Shelby nodded. “Yeah, he was real grumpy.”
Using a dry rag, Greer carefully polished the window she’d finished washing. “He did tend to growl, and he wasn’t a very good neighbor. Cal said the man was estranged from his son. They’d argued. Well—” she took a deep breath “—a long time ago, before you were born, my dad got really upset with me. You know how I tell you we have to talk out our differences and not go to bed mad because it only gets harder to make up? My dad and I didn’t talk. We’ve let ten years worth of nights go by without making up. That’s why he didn’t come today. I don’t want you to think the way he acts has anything to do with you, Shel. It doesn’t.”
“If my teacher was around, she would’ve sat you guys down and made you talk. She’d say, get over it! ’Cause that’s what she did when kids argued at recess.”
Smiling, Greer moved to a new window. “That works with kids. Dad and I weren’t kids. Adults can be stubborn and pig-headed a lot longer.”
“I wish one of you would just say you’re sorry, so then maybe I could ask Grandma if I can ride to church on Sunday with her and Grandpa.” Shelby shoved her bucket over and started on the window in the kitchen door.
Greer’s fingers stilled, then tightened on the sponge, and she scrubbed so hard she was in danger of breaking the pane of glass. Explaining this was going to be much more difficult than she’d ever imagined. Yes, Shelby had gone to church with Luke Sanderson, but their views were liberal. St. Mark’s was ultraconservative. Coming here was probably a bad plan. What had she been thinking?
“Shelby, hon, chores go by faster with music. Will you run and get the portable CD player from the Blazer? And bring the CD case from under the front seat.” Greer knew that would redirect her daughter. There were few things Shelby loved as much as listening to music.
Over the next hour or so, they sang along with the CDs and managed to finish the inside windows. Greer filled the buckets with fresh water. She placed Shelby’s under the living room window and carried hers around the corner, calling, “I’ll set up the ladder and do the side windows. Wow, it looks like all but the front one will be too high for you. So, when you finish it, hon, empty your bucket and take a break. You’ve worked hard today. I’m proud of you.”
Reacting to the compliment, Shelby gave her mom a hug before dancing away.
Sparkling windows and a gently swaying swing made a huge difference to the appearance of the house, Greer thought as she opened the ladder and climbed up with the bucket. She’d dried the last pane and had closed the ladder to carry it around front when she heard the clippity-clop of an approaching horse. Afraid she knew who to expect as she rounded the house, Greer saw something she didn’t expect. Her daughter stood on a wobbly porch railing, stretched full length, scrubbing a window too far out of reach.
Greer opened her mouth to shout. She might even have called out to Shelby, but her warning came too late. There was a loud crack as the rail separated from the house. Greer’s yelp of distress mingled with Shelby’s scream of fear as the girl fell to the ground below, tangled in wood spindles and broken boards.
Dropping the ladder, stumbling over it, Greer lost precious seconds in her attempt to reach Shelby. The girl’s sobs sent fear hammering through Greer’s heart. “Honey, lie still. Let me move the boards and see how badly you’re hurt.” She discovered that Shelby had somehow ended up beneath the four-by-four top rail. Greer was in such a state, it took extra moments before she realized a second, larger pair of hands had brushed hers aside and were even now removing the heaviest debris.
“Oh, Father Kelley, it’s you!” Wild-eyed, Greer stared blankly up. Just as fast, she sank to her knees and attempted to drag her sobbing child into her arms.
“Take it easy, Greer. She’s suffered a nasty fracture of her left forearm.”
The minute he made the observation, Greer’s eyes were drawn to a V-shaped indentation five inches above Shelby’s wrist. Merely seeing it sent bile rolling from Greer’s stomach to her throat. She swayed unsteadily. But looking at the terrible break also steadied her cartwheeling emotions. “We need a doctor. I don’t know who’s in town. Is there anyone? I used to see a doctor in Llano. He was old, so I’m sure by now he’s retired or dead. Wait! There’s Hill Country Memorial hospital in Fredericksburg. But it’s quite a drive,” she added worriedly.
Noah ignored her babble, calming Shelby by asking pertinent questions about pain, all the while carefully checking her for neck, back and leg injuries. “Greer,” he said at last, “outside of the arm she mostly has superficial scrapes and bruises. Homestead has a clinic now. It’s staffed by a competent physician’s assistant. Kristin Cantrell—er, that was her name. She recently got married. Dr. Louise Hernandez comes every Wednesday to check on cases.”
“You think I should take Shelby to a P.A.?”
“Yes. Will you see if you can find a magazine? It’s the best I can think of at the moment to manufacture a splint. Meanwhile, I’ll phone the clinic and make sure Kristin’s in. On Friday afternoon if it’s slow, she takes calls from her house.”
Keeping a soothing hand curved over Shelby’s shoulder to ensure she lay still, Noah unclipped his cell phone and punched in a number one-handed.
Glad to have a specific chore, Greer dashed off. If only her moving van had come, she would’ve had magazines readily available. At first she thought finding anything suitable was a lost cause, but then she saw that her mother had left a stack of old newspapers in the box with gloves and paintbrushes. Layering several together, Greer ran back with them as Noah clicked off his phone.
“We’re in luck,” he said, shooting her a confident smile. “I caught Kristin as she was ready to walk out the door. She’ll meet you at the clinic.” Relieving Greer of the papers, he fashioned a splint using several thicknesses. As he peered around for something to secure the splint, Noah noticed that Greer wore laced sneakers. He had on boots and Shelby’s sneakers closed with Velcro. Greer jerked her foot back as he untied and began pulling out her right shoelace.
Once she realized what he intended, she tried to help. Only her hands shook too much to deal effectively with the knot on her left shoe. She gave up and let him do it. Greer leaned over and brushed a kiss on Shelby’s forehead, whispering to her softly.
While Noah worked to stabilize the broken arm, he attempted to explain the clinic’s location to Greer. “You know what?” He broke off, gazing at her with a perplexed frown. “You’re in no condition to drive anywhere.” Tying the second lace, he leaped agilely to his feet. “Just give me a minute to unsaddle Jasper and turn him out in your corral. I’ll carry Shelby to your SUV. You and she can sit in the backseat. I’ll drive you to town.”