Claiming Her Cowboy

Travis stuck his head in the door. “That new volunteer is here, asking for you, Lucy.” He offered her a conspiratorial wink.

“Thanks, Travis. I’ll be right out.”

“What was that all about?” Emma asked. “And who’s this new volunteer?”

“Jackson Harris.”

“Who is Jackson Harris?”

“Meredith’s nephew and her new attorney.”

“What?”

“Perfect timing, isn’t it? He’ll replace Leo.”

“No one can replace Leo. He did the work of three ranch hands.” Emma stood and walked to the window.

“All the same, we should be grateful to have the help for the summer.”

“I’m confused. Why would Meredith’s nephew agree to volunteer on the ranch when it sounds like he’s opposed to giving us the funding?”

“His aunt is very persuasive.” She turned to Emma. “No one is to know that he’s from the Brisbane Foundation.”

“Why does Travis know?”

“He was here last night when the call came through from Meredith.”

“Why the secrecy?”

“Mr. Harris is vetting us. I want his experience here to be positive. He needs to know we have nothing to hide. It’s the only chance we have that he’ll change his mind.”

“Is that him?” Emma asked.

Lucy peeked over her sister’s shoulder at the tall attorney whose back was to them as he talked to Travis.

“Yes. That’s Jackson Harris.”

Emma chuckled. “Look at him, all shiny and new in his designer jeans, Italian leather shoes and that dry-cleaner-starched shirt. Lucy, why would you take on a city slicker?”

“I’m not in a position to be choosy.”

“Can he even ride a horse?”

“Meredith says he can.”

Lucy edged closer to the window. When Jackson Harris turned around, she caught her breath.

“Oh, my,” Emma said, her face lighting up. “Well, I suppose you could do worse.”

Lucy turned to her sister. “What do you mean, I could do worse?”

“The man is mighty fine-looking, that’s for sure. And you’ll be working closely with him all summer, dear sister.”

“Don’t get any ideas. If I was looking for a man in my life, it certainly would not be another temporary cowboy.” She shook her head. “I have most definitely already been there and done that. And I have an empty house in the woods to prove it.”

“Just remember that sometimes the Lord brings us what we need, not what we want.”

Lucy tossed the muffin liner in the trash and dusted off her hands. “This discussion is over.”

* * *

“Six weeks!” Jack Harris stood outside a log-cabin-style bunkhouse next to Lucy Maxwell, trying to digest her words. “Where did you get the idea I was here for six weeks?”

“Your aunt,” Lucy said. “She called me last night and said you want the Big Heart Ranch experience, and that you’d be filling our ranch hand position for the summer.”

Stunned, Jack rubbed a hand over his chin and closed his mouth when he realized it was hanging open.

“Do you want me to call her?” she asked.

“No.” He shook his head. “Look, between you and me, my aunt isn’t as strong as she used to be. She thinks she is, but those cancer treatments have taken a toll on her overall health.”

“Apparently, she’s well enough to pull one over on you,” Lucy murmured. Her lips twitched as she concentrated on the ground, creating a line in the dirt with the toe of her boot.

Jack’s gaze followed. She wore the red boots, this time with jeans and a bright red T-shirt with the Big Heart Ranch logo on the front and the word Staff on the back. Once again, she reminded him of a bright flower. This time a poppy. He averted his gaze and considered her words.

Lucy had assessed the situation correctly. He’d been bamboozled by his seventy-year-old aunt. Aunt Meri was right about one thing: Jack had been away from Oklahoma for a very long time. Long enough to forget how stubborn his aunt could be once she got a bone between her teeth.

“For some reason, she’s convinced I’ll change my mind if I see the ranch up close and personal,” he muttered.

“Why is it you constantly think the worst of Big Heart Ranch?”

“This isn’t personal. I have a job to do as the foundation’s counsel. And I happen to love my aunt. I’m simply trying to protect both interests.”

Lucy stared at him, obviously biting her lip. The dark eyes glittered with unsaid words. It was clear he’d pushed her buttons and she was working hard to control her temper.

“You seem to think we’ve committed an offense,” she said. “If so, what happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one on the defense here?” he asked. “First, you fingerprint me like a criminal. Then you make me sign a release for a complete background check. Now you’re telling me I’m stuck here for six weeks.” He shook his head. “The kicker is that I get to do it while living with two other guys. I mean, come on. You must be kidding.”

“You’ll be living like all the other volunteers. Think of this as summer camp for grown-ups.” Lucy looked him up and down. “As for the other, we’re entrusting you to care for our children. Children who have already suffered more in their short lives than you can even comprehend. These are children who have been abandoned, neglected and even abused. This isn’t kiddie rehab, Mr. Harris. They don’t come here to be fixed. They come here to live a normal life. We are their life. We are their family. Forever.” She paused. “Makes your trivial complaints seem insignificant, wouldn’t you say?”

“Believe it or not, I did my homework, Ms. Maxwell. I understand the ranch mission statement.”

She raised her brows.

“First Corinthians thirteen. Faith, hope and love. Faith in God, hope for tomorrow, and unconditional love.”

When her lips tilted into a huge smile, the effect nearly knocked him over. A guy could get addicted to a smile like that if he wasn’t careful.

“You memorized our mission statement.” The words were a hushed whisper. “I’m impressed.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” he muttered.

“A lot of prayer and thought went into that mission statement, so yes. I am impressed.”

He offered a short nod.

She handed him papers from the clipboard in her hands. “A list of recommended gear you’ll need for the summer. Oh, and the schedule and a map of the boys’ ranch, girls’ ranch and important facilities. Phone numbers are listed, as well.”

Jack glanced down at the form on top of the papers. “What’s this? Yet another form?”

“Waiver of liability. If you choose to ride our horses without the recommended safety helmet, we need this signed.”

“Do you wear a helmet?”

“It depends on the situation.” She met his gaze. “Oh, and by the way, other than me, only Travis and Lucy are aware you’re from the Brisbane Foundation. You are simply a summer volunteer, as far as everyone else is concerned.”

“So I’m undercover? Why the big secret?”

“I don’t want anyone to panic, and actually, Mr. Harris, it’s to your advantage.”

“How’s that?”

“If everyone believes you’re part of the team, they’ll be open and transparent while you’re here.”

“If you say so,” he replied.

“I do.” Lucy pulled out a key and opened the bunkhouse door before dropping it into his hand. “Welcome to your new home. This is bunkhouse number one. It has all the amenities you should need—coffeemaker, microwave. If you need something more, let us know. We’ll vote on it at the next budget meeting. Of course, that won’t be until after the foundation makes their funding decisions.”

A smiling Travis greeted them at the door. “Hey, Jack. You’re bunking with us? Great.” He held open the screen. “Come on in.”

Jack folded the papers from Lucy and put them in his back pocket as he moved into the living quarters. “You live here?”

“Only during the summer,” Travis said. “It’s easier than driving home after a twelve-hour day, so I moved my stuff over today.” Travis tossed his black Stetson on a bunk and winked at Lucy. “Besides, it keeps the boss happy, because if the boss isn’t happy, nobody is happy.”

“Keep it up, little brother,” Lucy muttered.

“Who...” Jack waved a hand at the other bunk.

“Tripp Walker,” Travis said. “The horse whisperer. Doesn’t talk much. If it involves horses, though, Tripp is your point of contact.”

Jack nodded.

Travis looked from Lucy to Jack. “Madame Director giving you a hard time?”

“One might conclude that.”

“Her bark is worse than her bite,” Travis returned, as though she wasn’t in the room.

Lucy offered her brother a slow nod, obviously letting him know he could expect payback for his comments. Jack couldn’t help but smile at the affectionate sibling interaction. A part of him was envious at their bond. Would he and Daniel have been like Lucy and Travis? He brushed the thought away.

Travis turned to Lucy. “I just got a call. Beau is loose. We’re on lockdown.”

Lucy released a breath. “Of course he is. Any sightings?”

“Not yet.”

“Did you drive the Ute over, Trav?” Lucy asked.

“Yeah. It’s parked behind out back, on the street.”

“Mind if I borrow it to take Mr. Harris on a little tour?”

“No problem.” He tossed her the keys.

“Ute?” Jack asked as he followed Lucy out the back door and down a gravel walk.

“Utility vehicle. Like if a Jeep and a golf cart had a child.”

Jack smiled when he saw the black vehicle with the ranch logo emblazoned on the hood. “That’s a fitting description,” he said as he slid into the doorless passenger side.

“What was Travis talking about? Beau?”

“The boys’ ranch mascot. Beau is literally an old goat. He’s nearly blind, mostly hard of hearing, yet somehow, he manages to get out of his corral now and then.”

“A goat?”

She nodded. “You better fasten your seat belt, Mr. Harris. Around here you never can tell what might be waiting down the road.”

He stretched the seat belt across himself and connected it with a click. “Couldn’t you call me Jack or Jackson? Mr. Harris seems a little formal.”

Lucy shrugged. “That’s fine. However, our children will be calling you Mr. Jack. Those are the rules.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“What about me?” Lucy put a hand on the gearshift knob.

“What do they call you?”

“Miss Lucy works.” She paused. “I mean for the kids. You may call me Lucy.”

“Thanks, Lucy.”

She shot him a sidelong glance.

“Can you tell me about the ranch?” he asked.

Lucy turned in her seat. “I’m sure you had us investigated. Exactly what is it that was left out of your report?”

“Your family’s qualifications for running this operation.”

“I’m an orphan.” The words were a flat admission. “Obviously, my brother and sister, as well. We cycled through the foster care system until we were adopted out.” She shrugged and started the Ute. “More than you probably care to know.”

Jack paused. He understood and cared far more than Lucy Maxwell would ever know. When his brother died, he too had been orphaned. His mother had taken off and his father had checked out.

Aunt Meri had saved him. He needed to remember that. His aunt was the only reason he was giving Big Heart Ranch a second chance.

She steered the Ute toward the main ranch road. “I have a master’s degree in business management from Spears College of Business Management. Travis majored in animal sciences and graduated from the Oklahoma State University College of Agriculture and Natural Sciences. Emma also attended OSU and is a licensed social worker with a master’s degree.”

“How did three orphans manage that?”

Lucy’s head jerked back at his question and she inhaled sharply. Slowing the Ute to a stop, she shifted into Neutral to look at him. “Excuse me?”

He raised a palm. “Don’t read something into my words I didn’t intend. My questions are simply part of my due diligence.”

Silence reigned for moments, as she stared straight out the windshield of the Ute. When she turned to him once again, her eyes were shuttered.

“In addition to scholarships, we sold snake oil on Saturdays to fund our education.”

Jack met her gaze. She didn’t give him time to respond.

“As I stated, we were in the foster care system for several years. A cousin of our mother tracked us down and adopted all of us. I was ten, Travis was eight, Emma five. At the time, we were living in separate homes with monthly visitation.”

“Separated from your siblings? That had to be tough.”

“I’m not looking for pity.”

“I wasn’t offering pity.”

She nodded and said nothing for several moments.

“You inherited the ranch?” Jack asked.

“Yes. Our property is bordered by that hewn wood fence,” Lucy said as she pointed to a fence in the distance.

Fingers tight on the wheel, she turned the Ute left and drove down a shady, tree-lined street. The redbuds and maples were thick with green foliage. The aroma of freshly mown grass rode on the slight breeze.

“These are the boys’ homes.” Lucy pointed to the redbrick, two-story, Colonial-style houses, each spaced two lots apart, occupying the right side of the street. The left side was fenced, and horses grazed in the pasture.

A group of helmeted cyclists rode by, all young girls with arms extended to offer enthusiastic waves. “Hi, Miss Lucy!” they called in unison.

Lucy raised a hand out the vehicle in greeting.

“Why aren’t they in school?”

“It’s summer, Mr.— Uh, Jack.”

He turned to look at the pasture on the right. “Cattle? That seems ambitious.”

“That’s us, and why not? Travis has graduated from the OSU Master Cattleman Program. He’s worked several area ranches over the years.”

“He’s an impressive guy.”

“There’s not a person on the ranch who isn’t impressive. We function with a staff of qualified professionals and volunteers. We need and value everyone. I hope you’ll note that when you review our funding.”

Jack stared out the window as they passed horses nibbling on grass and clover, their tails swishing at flies in the summer heat. The ranch was beautiful, he’d give her that. A part of him longed to walk through the fields spread before him, like he had as a child, when he hadn’t had any cares. He and Daniel would lie on their backs in his aunt’s pasture, finding shapes in the fluffy clouds that slowly moved across the endless blue Oklahoma summer sky.

A drop of sweat rolled down the back of his shirt, bringing him back to reality. Jack shifted uncomfortably. “I’d forgotten about how hot it is here in July.”

Lucy shrugged. “You’ll get used to the weather. The nice thing about the Oklahoma humidity is that it makes everything grow. You should see our vegetable garden.”

He turned to her and raised a brow. “Vegetable garden, as well?”

“Yes. I hope you’re sensing a pattern.” Lucy offered a proud smile. “We want to be as self-sustaining as possible. Growing things also gives our children an appreciation for everything the Lord provides. We don’t ever want to take that for granted. The more we do for ourselves, the better stewards we can be of the financial blessings we receive.”

Jack said nothing to the obvious jibe.

“Look over there. Through the trees,” Lucy said. “Girls’ ranch. You’ll actually get a close-up of everything after you receive your chore assignment.”

“Chore assignment?”

“Everyone at the ranch has chores.”

Jack wrapped his mind around that bit of information and stared out the window. A moment later, Lucy hit the brakes hard. He lurched forward, thrusting a hand to the dashboard in protection as the vehicle suddenly came to a complete halt.

“Sorry,” Lucy said. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Is this how you usually drive?”

“No. Look to your right.”

Jack glanced out in the field. “More cows.”

“Our missing goat is out there, too.”

“What’s that?” Jack pointed to a black hen that strutted along the right side of the road, her black tail feathers raised regally.

“Mrs. Carmody got out, too!”

“You lose animals often here at the ranch?”

“They must have heard you were coming. However, to be fair, Beau and Mrs. Carmody escape every chance they can.”

“You name all your chickens?”

“We do. Come on, let’s go get her.”

Jack blinked. “What?”

“You walk toward her and I’ll circle around behind.”

“What about the goat?”

“He’ll be easy. I told you he’s got vision and hearing issues. As for Mrs. C., she’s an old hen and doesn’t move very fast. She’ll be easy, too.”

“How’d she get out anyhow?”

“I don’t know. Let’s catch her and then I’ll be sure to ask.”

Jack frowned at the response and stepped from the Ute.

“You walk toward her and I’ll circle behind.”

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

“No. I’m not sure of anything,” she said with a grin. “If you have a better idea, I’m open to suggestions.”

Jack moved toward the chicken.

“Flap your arms,” Lucy said.

“Flap my arms?”

“Why?”

“Let her know you’re friendly.” She cocked her head. “You don’t have any medical conditions that preclude you from flapping, do you?”

“No. But I try not to look like a fool on principle.”

Lucy began to laugh.

He paused for a moment at the sound of her laughter bubbling over. Then, despite his better judgment, Jack tucked his hands under and moved his arms up and down.

The chicken wasn’t impressed. She slowly scratched at the ground and then began to run toward him on wobbly claws. “Why is she charging me?” Jack yelled.

“This is Mrs. Carmody and she doesn’t follow the fowl rules.”

Jack’s eyes rounded when the bird attempted liftoff, her black wings flapping furiously. Could chickens fly?

This one managed a small liftoff before landing on her backside. Regrouping, the beady-eyed bird targeted him, one step at a time. Suddenly she picked up speed.

“Old and not very fast, huh? That bird is going to attack!”

Jack turned and ran, straight into a pile of something soft and wet. “Oomph!” His feet slid out from under him, and he landed on his back in the sweet grass.

“Good thing that grass hasn’t been mowed yet,” Lucy observed.

He opened his eyes. Mrs. Carmody was tucked neatly against Lucy, who stroked her feathers with her other hand. The chicken squawked and fussed for a moment, but Lucy held firm.

He had to give the ranch director credit; she’d grabbed the bird and was now doing an admirable job of trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, good thing,” he returned as a black feather danced through the air and landed on him.

“Why did she run at me?” Jack asked.

“She was running to you. Big difference. I think she mistook you for Travis. You’re both about the same size and coloring. Travis always brings Mrs. Carmody treats.”

“So you’re saying that I ran for nothing.”

She glanced away, lips twitching. “Um, yes.”

“And the flapping?”

“To get you into the moment.”

Lucy held out a hand, and he grasped her palm, heaving himself to a standing position. Their eyes met and he froze for a moment, lost in her gaze. Then he glanced down at his once spotless shoes, lifting one and then the other to inspect the soles. A pungent odor drifted to his nose and he cringed. “Manure? Is that what I slipped on?”

She nodded and sniffed the air. “Horse, I’d say. Fresh.”

“Do you know how much these shoes cost?” Jack rubbed his feet back and forth on the long blades of grass.

“My guess is enough to feed one of our kids for a year.”

Jack only grumbled in response, and then he stopped what he was doing and stared at Lucy.

“What?” she asked.

“Could you have caught Mrs. Carmody on your own?”

“Probably.” She said the word slowly.

“That’s what I thought. So you were having fun with the city guy.”

“I’d like to think of it as breaking the ice. You and I have a whole summer to work together. We need to get along. Besides, if it’s any consolation, you passed chicken flapping with an A plus.”

Jack couldn’t help himself. He started laughing, and when he stopped, his gaze met Lucy’s.

Her lips parted sweetly, and he realized they had at least reached détente. In that moment he became aware that his obligation to remain objective while he investigated the ranch for the Brisbane Foundation would be compromised every time Lucy smiled at him.

“What about your goat?” he asked.

“You hold Mrs. Carmody and I’ll go grab Beau.”

He stepped back and held up his hands. “Ah, no thank you. Why don’t I get the goat?”

“You’re okay with that?”

“I’m okay with pretty much anything if it means not holding a chicken.”

This time Lucy laughed as well, and her eyes were bright with amusement. “You know that chickens are on your chore list, right?”

“Not seriously?”

She nodded.

“So, how do I get Beau?”

“He’s docile. Gently grasp the rope around his neck and lead him to the Ute.”

“What about the cows?”

“Nary a bull in sight. You’ll be fine.”

Jack started across the field. He grimaced and shook his head as he skirted around a cow patty. Day one on Big Heart Ranch, and already he’d gotten up close and personal with a chicken and was about to bring home a lost goat.

Yeah, it was going to be an interesting summer.

Chapter Three

Jack checked his watch as he tugged his shirttail free from his jeans. He’d made it through day one and would be off duty soon. All he had to do was get his final chore assignment of the day completed. Then he’d be on his way to T-town, a little shopping and a nice steak. Free until the alarm sounded tomorrow at 5:00 a.m.

He pulled the paper Lucy had given him from his pocket and checked the dates. No chicken assignment until after the trail ride and camping trip were complete. If things went in his favor, Mrs. Carmody would release all the birds before then. He’d even pay the bird to stage a coop-break.

For a moment, he simply smiled, thinking about the whole chicken incident. Lately, women had been getting one over on him left and right. Feathered females included.

At least the goat had cooperated.

He shook his head and turned the paper in his hand over. Stables, straight ahead. Or equestrian center, as Lucy Maxwell called the building. He’d been assigned his own horse. That thought alone made him smile.

It had been a long time since he’d been responsible for a horse. Twenty-five years ago, Aunt Meredith’s horses had been his saving grace. His aunt worked him so hard the summer Daniel died that he didn’t have time to blame himself for his little brother’s death. He’d mucked stalls, fed and exercised a stable full of horses from sunrise until bedtime. Then he fell into a hard sleep, too exhausted for the nightmares.

There was no denying the thrum of excitement that accompanied Jack as he entered the equestrian building. Except for the soft whinny of horses, it was quiet.

Jack smiled. He’d forgotten how good quiet was. The lights were on as he took his time walking down the center of the stables, his left hand reaching out to touch the gates of each stall he passed, like he was a kid again. He let the smells of horse sweat and hay nudge his memories while he searched for the sorrel mare he was about to groom.

Spotless. The boys’ ranch stables were spotless, no strong urine odors to indicate the stalls were anything but clean. A chalkboard on the outside of the very last stall on the left had “Grace” printed in white chalk in a childish scrawl. He looked around and found the tack room, situated next to an office, whose door was shut, lights off. The sign on the door read Tripp Walker, Manager.

The familiar scent of new leather drifted to Jack’s nostrils as he entered the tack room and grabbed supplies. He juggled a currycomb and soft brush in the air and caught them easily. His steps were light as he opened the latch to Grace’s stall.