A Cowboy’s Second Chance

The last person cowboy Joe Gallagher thought he’d see on his ranch was high school sweetheart Rebecca Anshaw Simpson. Twelve years after she married another man, she’s back as his physical therapist. But healing his body is nothing compared to guarding his heart from the woman he never forgot. There’s much the single mom would rather forget, but Becca won’t let regret and a surly rancher get in the way of her job and the chance to start over with her little girl. She has only a few weeks to make peace with her past. But Becca never expected she’d fall all over again for her first love.

He’d never forgotten her…

But now he had to walk away.

After he cleaned the cut on her hand, he handed her a roll of gauze with his prosthetic hand, making sure to keep his distance.

“You’ll have to hold it in place while I wrap,” Becca said.

He noted the irony in the situation. They were both handicapped now.

Joe held the gauze against her skin, refusing to consider how long it had been since he’d touched her. A lifetime ago. But the memories were as vivid now as then.

When she finished and raised her head, their eyes met…and she froze. He stepped back but she stopped him.

“Joe.” She said it softly, barely a whisper as it slid over him. “I’m so sorry.” Her eyes pleaded with him.

Sorry? She was twelve years too late for sorry. As he turned and walked out of the barn, his head cautioned him. Don’t make the same mistake twice.

So why did his heart want a second chance?

Dear Reader,

Thank you for coming along with me on another journey to Paradise, Colorado. Paradise is a fictional town set in the vicinity of Del Norte, Colorado, west of Denver.

I have to admit that I fell a little bit in love with Joe Gallagher when he appeared in his brother Dan Gallagher’s book, Stranded in Paradise. I knew then that he had a story to tell, and that he deserved a very special heroine. Rebecca is that woman.

Rebecca and Joe learn, as we must, that looking forward when the events of our past are painful, and even tragic, is never easy. This story holds the familiar threads of forgiveness. Forgiving ourselves, and others. When we are obedient to forgive, eventually the past becomes simply a story that is told, and somehow the Lord enables us to move forward unencumbered by those things that would hold us prisoner. He also provides a future that unfolds in wonderful ways we never could have imagined. Thank You, Lord!

Drop me a line and let me know what you think about this story. I can be reached at tina@tinaradcliffe.com.

Thank you so much.

Tina Radcliffe

TINA RADCLIFFE has been dreaming and scribbling for years. Originally from Western New York, she left home for a tour of duty with the Army Security Agency stationed in Augsburg, Germany, and ended up in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Her past careers include certified oncology RN and library cataloger. She recently moved from Denver, Colorado, to the Phoenix, Arizona, area, where she writes heartwarming and fun inspirational romance.

Rocky Mountain Cowboy

Tina Radcliffe

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Do not remember the former things, nor consider

the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing,

now it shall spring forth; shall you not know it?

I will even make a road in the wilderness

and rivers in the desert.

—Isaiah 43:18–19

This book is dedicated to the heroes in my life, my husband, Tom, and my dad, Joe.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to beta readers Nancy Connally and Vince Mooney. They took the time to help me saddle the horse and get this story off on the right path.

Thank you to the people who assisted me with the research on this story. All errors are wholly mine.

To real-life Nebraska rancher Ivan Connealy and his author wife, Mary Connealy, thank you for your time, insights and information on cattle and hay. Thanks to Missy Tippens for that calf-roping assistance!

Thank you to Rob Dodson, CPO, FAAOP clinical manager with Advanced Arm Dynamics, who connected me with the amazing Barry Landry. Barry is a transradial amputee who utilizes the Michelangelo myoelectric prosthesis and happens to be an amateur rodeo cowboy. Not only does Barry ride horses, but he ropes cattle. Thank you, Barry, for taking time to answer all my questions. You can find out more about Advanced Arm Dynamics and the Michelangelo at www.armdynamics.com.

A final thank-you to my editor, Giselle Regus, for her endless patience with a slow writer, and insightful editing on this book.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

It had been a good many years since Rebecca Anshaw Simpson had inhaled the earthy combination of cattle, horse and hay that was home. As the scents wove their way in through the vents of her car, it seemed like only yesterday that she was a kid, riding like a swift rush of wind through the valley of Paradise, Colorado. Life was simple then. So blessedly simple.

Rebecca yawned and rolled down her window to fully appreciate the enticing perfume of home. As she stretched, her aching neck protested. The muscles were stiff because she’d fallen asleep inside the ancient compact Honda.

When an almost icy spring breeze moved through the car, Rebecca pulled her down-filled vest closer.

A horse and rider appeared in the distance. Silhouetted against the horizon and the rising sun’s orange glow, the man in the dark Stetson approached at a rapid clip, with two dogs racing alongside.

She’d know that profile anywhere.

Joe Gallagher.

Tension crept along her shoulders. She’d had serious reservations about taking this job because of Joe. They’d dated all through high school, even though she was two years younger than him. Joe was her first love. Until she’d dumped him.

Young and naive, she’d been swept off her feet at the end of her sophomore year of college, and eloped with Nick Simpson.

What a trusting fool she’d been. For a lingering moment, Rebecca allowed herself to contemplate what life would have been like if she’d stuck with the homeboy.

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered.

None of it did. All that mattered was today. Life as she’d known it had been stolen from her two years ago. She had returned to Paradise to begin again.

What irony that she should be returning home to the man she had scorned. Forced to face him again, after so many years. The Lord surely had a sense of humor opening the door to this assignment. OrthoBorne Technology had not only given her a job, but it had dangled a huge bonus, like a proverbial carrot on a stick. She’d taken the bait and was determined to make the most of this chance.

When the man on the horse was close enough for her to see his midnight-black hair peeking out from under his hat and the shadow of a beard on his face, Rebecca inhaled a sharp breath. Joe Gallagher had changed. He’d become ruggedly handsome in the years since they’d parted.

“Becca?” Joe slid off his horse and approached the gate. His deep voice reflected stunned surprise, and the underlying tone was anything but welcoming.

Tired of craning her neck, she opened the car door and stepped out, stretching her stiff legs while discreetly pulling down the sleeves of her sweater. She still had to look up to meet his gaze. Joe was taller than she remembered, with that same dangerous loner aura.

He rested his gloved left hand on the top of the gate, while his other hand, the prosthetic one, according to her notes, remained tucked away inside the pocket of his fleece-lined denim jacket. For a long minute he simply stared. It was as though he was looking through her, to the past.

The lean black-and-white cattle dogs at his feet barked and raced in energetic circles, eager to be part of the conversation.

“Sit,” Joe commanded, his voice steely.

The animals instantly obeyed.

“Been a long time,” he finally said, his gaze returning to hers.

Rebecca tried to gauge what he was thinking, but his expression was unreadable. Apparently he still held everything deep inside.

“It has been, hasn’t it? A very long time,” she murmured. “I heard you joined the army after college.”

“Yeah. When my dad died, I went ahead and took an early discharge.”

“I’m so sorry about your father,” she said, immediately regretting her words. “I, um, I know how close you two were.”

He gave a quick nod of acknowledgment. “What about you?” he asked. “Home for a visit? Is your husband with you?”

At Joe’s question, everything around Rebecca slowed down and began to blur. The world came to a stunning halt as the words slipped from her mouth.

“Nick is dead.”

Joe jerked back slightly, eyes widening a fraction. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Unmoving, she stared at him. The surprise on his face seemed genuine enough. Could Joe Gallagher be the only person in Paradise, in Colorado for that matter, who didn’t know about the accident? The trial? Hadn’t it been splashed in every newspaper? The grandson of one of the founding families of Paradise Valley had been taken from this world far too soon.

Apparently Joe didn’t know her life had been on hold for the last twenty-four months as she awaited the results of the jury trial.

“You okay?” Joe asked when she didn’t answer.

“Yes. Yes. Sorry.” Rebecca leaned against the Honda and massaged her arm. Glancing down, she realized what she was doing and stopped. “Long drive from Denver. I started out Friday afternoon. It was so late that I just slept in the car.”

His eyes rounded. “You spent the night in your car? Why didn’t you drive to your mom’s house?”

“No. That’s not what I meant. I didn’t spend the night in the car. Two hours. A nap.”

Joe raised a brow.

Rebecca shrugged. “There was a huge accident on I-25 outside the Springs, and then I ran into issues with the starter when I hit Alamosa.”

“Why are you parked here?”

She nodded to the sign on the gate. “I thought this was still the main entrance to the ranch. Until I saw the sign.”

Joe grimaced as he, too, glanced at the sign.

“Do not cross this pasture unless you can do it in nine seconds, because the bull can do it in ten. Please close the gate.”

“That would be my mother’s handiwork.”

“Why not put a padlock on the gate?”

“It’s the ingress for emergency vehicles. If I put a padlock on it, then I have to remember where the key is.” He paused and looked at her, eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. Why are you at Gallagher Ranch?”

“Since I have to drive out here to see you anyhow, I thought I’d do a dry run. By the time I finally arrived, I was a little more tired than I realized.” She lifted a hand. “Thus the nap.”

“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.” When he suddenly straightened and raised a hand, the black horse behind him whinnied and stepped back several paces, causing the dogs to bark.

Joe laid a comforting hand on the animal and silenced the dogs again. “Let’s start over here. Did you say you’re here to see me?”

Rebecca glanced at her watch. “Yes. Our meeting is scheduled for Monday morning.”

“Things have been pretty hectic around here, but I don’t forget appointments. And I’m even less likely to have forgotten an appointment with...”

Rebecca swallowed when his words trailed off. What had he been about to say? With someone who had treated him so callously? The girl who dumped him.

Joe pulled the glove off his right hand and then tugged the matching one off his left hand using his teeth, before taking out his phone. The skin tone silicone cover of the myoelectric prosthesis made his right hand appear nearly identical to his left. She couldn’t help assess that he really didn’t use the prosthesis, apparently utilizing the device simply as a placeholder.

After fiddling with the phone for a moment, he paused and slowly met her gaze. Complete shock was reflected in his eyes. “Are you...”

“I’m the therapist who’s been assigned to complete the certification for your prosthesis.”

“You’re a therapist?”

She nodded.

“I thought they were sending someone from Denver. They told me it was someone who would help with those media people who are coming, as well.”

His voice was edged with irritation, and Rebecca held her breath and stepped back from him.

“They are. They did. I am.”

Joe Gallagher’s face looked like he’d just been struck with a cattle prod.

She crossed her arms and stated the obvious. “This is going to be a problem.”

He took off his Stetson and then slapped it back on so that it rested at the back of his head, revealing more of his jet-black hair. She could clearly see that his moss-green eyes were troubled.

“Joe?”

“I guess it better not be, because the way I see things, I don’t have much choice. Do I?”

“You tell me.” She looked him straight in the eye. “Is our history going to get in the way?”

“History? Is that the politically correct term these days?” He offered a bitter chuckle.

She studied him once again. His face was a mask, his gaze shuttered.

“No, Becca,” he finally continued. “You don’t have to worry. Even this Colorado cowboy realizes that was a long time ago. We were kids. This is business. More important, the future of Gallagher Ranch depends on me completing the requirements of my contract with OrthoBorne. I cut a deal to pay off this fourteen-karat-gold myoelectric arm.” His eyes pinned her. “And I always keep my word.”

Joe turned his head to glance out at the land, and she realized she’d been dismissed. The knowledge burned.

“So Monday, then?” she asked quietly.

“That’s fine. I’m past the main house. A bit farther up the road. Two-story log cabin.”

She nodded.

He turned to her. “When do your friends arrive?”

“They aren’t my friends.” Rebecca bristled. “I don’t even know who was contracted for this job, except that there’s a videographer and a copywriter.”

“When will they finish?”

“That is wholly dependent upon you and the weather.”

He offered a slow shake of his head that said her answer wasn’t nearly satisfactory enough. “What about certification? How long do you think that will take?”

“Once again, everything depends on you. I don’t anticipate more than four weeks reviewing your ADLs.”

He straightened, jaw tense, and his face was almost thunderous. “Four weeks! Four weeks? I have a ranch to run.”

“Joe, that’s exactly why it will take that long. In fact, knowing how a ranch runs, I asked for extra time so our sessions don’t interfere with what you have to do at the ranch or with the media crew.”

“And what’s an ADL?”

“Activities of daily living.”

He sucked in a breath but said nothing.

“Look, that doesn’t mean we can’t get everything done earlier than scheduled. I’ll accompany you on your routine chores, schedule one-on-one sessions related to your ranch work. Then I’ll assist you to incorporate the prosthesis into your daily life that isn’t ranch related.”

“Can you still ride?”

“What?” She shook her head, certain she’d heard the terse question incorrectly.

“Ride. Do you ride?”

Rebecca frowned. “I was born in a saddle, like you were. Cowgirls don’t forget how to ride.”

The tension in Joe’s shoulders eased a bit. “That’ll help, because, no offense, Becca, but I plan to graduate way ahead of schedule.”

“While it’s my job to treat you the same as all my clients, there is no doubt in my mind that you’ll beat all records getting this done. Then I’ll be gone, and you can go back to your life.”

Rebecca looked up at him, standing tall and proud, profiled against the land. For a brief moment she imagined she saw a glimpse of something familiar from years ago and the closeness they once shared.

That was crazy because yesterday was long gone. Once again Rebecca reminded herself that it was high time to start looking forward instead of behind.

* * *

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Simpson, but it’s no longer available.”

“How can that be? I called before I left Denver to make sure everything was set.”

Joe turned at the sound of Becca’s voice.

He’d sidestepped the woman for twelve years, and now he managed to run into her twice in the space of a few hours?

She stood on the sidewalk of downtown Paradise, and was obviously doing her best to get her point across to a wiry guy as they stood outside the real-estate office.

How little the years had changed her. He’d been stunned to see her at the fence this morning. The years had tumbled back, and he realized with painful clarity that the tall, lean beauty who’d stolen his heart at sixteen apparently could still tie him in knots.

The difference was that this time he had a strong rope anchored to his heart, holding down those once generous emotions of his. Only a fool gets burned twice.

He’d made more than his share of mistakes in his life, and he liked to believe he’d learned from every single one of them. Joe glanced down at his prosthesis, remembering the farm accident that had taken his limb. He pushed the memory away and focused on the here and now.

Joe glanced back down the street. From a distance, he could feel the tension in the air. He tucked himself back into the doorway of a shop, grateful he stood well behind Becca’s line of sight.

She pushed strands of dark hair away from her face as she dug in her purse to pull out neatly folded papers. “You took my deposit and my credit-card information. Why, you even mailed me a receipt. I have the paperwork right here.”

Confusion laced Becca’s voice. To her credit, she maintained her composure, though her hands were clenched tightly around her purse.

The Realtor adjusted his tie, swallowed and shrugged, obviously avoiding eye contact with her. “I’ve reversed the charges, ma’am. No worries.”

“No worries?” She blinked and began to gesture with her hands. “No worries?”

Joe found himself unable to resist listening to the conversation, and at the same time fighting the urge to come to her defense. Why should he? Becca had made it clear a long time ago that she didn’t want him in her life. No, he reminded himself, her return to Paradise and whatever was going on here was none of his business.

“Are you kidding me?” Becca continued, her voice louder and tight with frustration. “Couldn’t you go inside and check your files again?”

“No need,” the man returned, his voice low and upbeat in an effort to defuse the situation. “That’s why I stepped outside. I saw you coming, and I thought I’d save you some time.”

“Okay, so if that rental isn’t available, do you mind telling me what is?”

“Ma’am, I don’t have anything for you right at the moment. Maybe you could try some of those new condos down by Paradise Lake.”

“I can’t afford those.”

“I’m real sorry, Mrs. Simpson. It’s just one of those things.”

“One of what things?”

The young man squirmed while gesturing helplessly.

“Look, I rented the house a month ago. Not only that, but your ad today in the Paradise Gazette says you have at least five summer rentals still available in the area. Now you’re claiming that you have none?”

“Ma’am, I’m real sorry.”

Shoulders slumped, Becca shook her head. “This is unbelievable,” she murmured.

An ache he couldn’t explain gnawed at Joe. Without thinking, he strode down the sidewalk, zigzagging around people, oblivious to a sudden flurry of shoppers creating obstacles in his path, and stepped up to Becca and the real-estate agent.

“Everything okay here, Becca?”

Startled, her brown eyes popped open and she looked up at him. “I... I have this under control, Joe.”

“Doesn’t sound like it to me,” he returned, purposely shooting the other man a scowl.

“Joe.”

He met Becca’s gaze.

“You need to stay out of this. Besides, my business is done here.” She turned on her heel and walked away, her face shielded by a curtain of chocolate-brown waves.

Behind him, Joe heard the sound of bells as the real-estate agent disappeared into the storefront.

Joe quickly yanked open the door, setting the bells into a wicked frenzy. The guy behind the desk had a solicitous smile on his face when he turned around.

Then he saw Joe.

He straightened and inched back farther behind the desk. “May I help you?”

“I sure hope so...” Joe glanced at the man’s name tag. “Jason.”

Jason came out from behind the desk and thrust a hand in greeting. Apparently his plan was to pretend that the incident outside moments before had never happened. “Have we met?” he asked.

“No, we haven’t. Joe Gallagher. Gallagher Ranch.” Joe looked the other man up and down before offering his prosthetic hand.

Jason’s eyes widened, and he dropped his own hand.

“New to town?” Joe asked.

“Yes, I am. How may I help you, sir?”

“I want to rent a house.”

“I’m sure we can fix you up. Anything in particular you’re looking for?”

“I’d like the one that you were supposed to lease to Rebecca Simpson.”

Jason’s face paled and he stepped backward, once again effectively putting the desk between him and Joe. “Sir, I don’t recommend that you get involved in that situation.” Tiny beads of perspiration popped out along his upper lip.

“What situation is that, Jason?”

The man swallowed hard before darting to the front door and switching the sign from Open to Closed. “Sir, if you’ll excuse me, I’m closed for the day.”

Joe followed him, getting squarely in the man’s personal space, towering over him with as much intimidation as he could muster. “Off the record, Jason, tell me what’s going on.”

Jason swallowed again as if he was desperate for a glass of water and a way to get rid of Joe.

“Can you tell me why you just turned down a paying customer?”

“I... I...”

Joe shook his head and growled, “I don’t like this, Jason.”

“I don’t much like it either, but I have a wife and a new baby to think about.”

Joe turned on his boot heel and left the office. Though he did his best not to slam the door, the bells were once again ringing a dissonant tune behind him as he put distance between himself and a sour situation.

It was time for a little chat with the sheriff of Paradise. Joe started toward his truck and then changed his mind. Walking was just what he needed. He headed in the other direction, cutting through the park in the center of town and past the gazebo toward the office of Sam Lawson, where he pulled open the heavy wooden door.

This wasn’t about Becca, he reassured himself. It was the principle of the thing. No one should be treated unfairly. Especially in Paradise.

Bitsy Harmony MacLaughlin, the administrative assistant, sat at a huge battered desk, guarding the entrance to Sam’s office like a geriatric bouncer.

“Sam available?” he asked.

Bitsy stood and realigned the silver braided knot on the top of her head. “The sheriff is on the phone. Give him five minutes.”

Joe nodded. He wasn’t eager to lose the momentum of his purpose by chitchatting with Bitsy, so he turned to examine the bulletin board.

“Cup of coffee, Joe? It’s fresh.”

He eyed the pot and sniffed the air. “What do you have brewing?”

“Vanilla caramel pecan.”

He did his best not to grimace. “Um, no. I’m going to pass. Thank you very much, ma’am.”

Bitsy poured herself a mugful from the carafe, all the while shooting him inquisitive glances. “I heard you’ve got some Hollywood people coming out to your ranch next week to film a movie.”

His eyes widened with surprise. “Hollywood? A movie? Where did you hear that?”

“Here and there.”

Joe met her gaze. “I never told anyone they were coming.”

“They did.” Bitsy’s blue eyes were unwavering. “Made reservations at the Paradise Bed and Breakfast and chatted with the clerk. She mentioned it to me.”

“I see.” He nodded. “Except your source got it wrong. It’s not a movie. They’re coming out to film ranch life and take a few pictures. In and out. No big deal.”

“They don’t need any extras?”

“Extra? Extra what?”

“You know. Like actors. Walk-on parts.” She offered him a knowing smile. “I had high hopes of becoming an actress myself, once upon a time.”

Joe ran a hand over his face. “Bitsy, I’m telling you, it’s not a movie.”

“If you say so, Joe.” She glanced down at the lights on the desk phone. “He’s done. Let me buzz him.” She picked up the receiver. “Joe Gallagher here to see you, boss.”

Moments later, Sam Lawson came out of his office and crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t call me ‘boss’ anymore.”

Bitsy shrugged. “Coffee’s fresh.”

The sheriff’s expression made no effort to conceal what he thought about the coffee. Joe nearly burst out laughing.

“No, thanks,” Sam finally said. He looked to Joe. “Come on in.”

The two men walked into his office. Sam shut the door and took a deep breath. “The woman would try a saint. No doubt she’s listening at the door right now,” he muttered.

“I figured as much.”

Sam turned on the tower fan in the corner.

“You’re warm?” Joe asked.

“White noise. She can’t hear us when the fan is on.”

“Ever thought about replacing her?”

“Only about three dozen times a day, for the last four years.” His eyes narrowed. “But that’s for cowards. I am no coward. My plan is to wait her out. She has to retire eventually.” Sam sat down behind his desk and took a deep breath. “What can I do for you?”

“Rebecca Simpson is back in town,” Joe said as he eased into the banged-up oak chair.

“The woman who was in all the newspapers? I heard she was found innocent.”

Joe’s head jerked up. “What are you talking about?”

“Rebecca Simpson. Isn’t that who we’re discussing? I’ve never met her, but I read about it in the Denver Post.”

“Read about what?” Joe asked, becoming as agitated as he was confused.

“The accident.”

“What accident?”

“Are you telling me you don’t know?” Sam rubbed his chin. “Rebecca Simpson was arrested for vehicular manslaughter. She was driving in the rain when the vehicle skidded, ran off the road and overturned. Her husband Nick wasn’t wearing a seat belt. The news said he was killed on impact.”

The air whooshed from Joe’s lungs and he froze, unable to speak for moments. Finally he cleared his throat. “That doesn’t sound like vehicular manslaughter to me.”

“Exactly what the jury decided. Her father-in-law, Judge Nicholas Brown, was the one who insisted she be charged.”

He shook his head. “How did I miss this?”

“Two-and-a-half years ago, you were in Afghanistan. Then your dad died.” He nodded toward Joe’s prosthesis. “Your arm. I don’t suppose reading the Denver paper was on your radar, although by then they were probably onto something else.”

“Hard to believe my mother didn’t mention anything.”

“Maybe she thought you had enough on your plate.”

Joe released a breath. “I guess.”

“Did you know Nick Simpson?” Sam asked.

“No. Though it was hard to avoid the gossip when he and Becca eloped. His parents have a summer home near Four Forks. He went to boarding school out East. I hear he spent most of his summers doing whatever it is that rich kids do in the summer. Never saw him in Paradise.”

“How’d she meet him?”

“College. Becca had a full ride to Colorado College. I went local. We ranch boys like to stay close to home, so we can smell the loam in our own backyard.”

“Is that how it works? Didn’t someone tell me you two used to be an item?”

“We were kids. Too long ago to even remember.” Joe shifted in his seat. “So what do you think about the accident?”

“I don’t know what to think, Joe. Why wasn’t a smart guy like that wearing his seat belt was my first question.”

Joe shook his head, thinking.

Sam shrugged. “Truth is, I can’t tell you anything that wasn’t in the news or on the television. I remember thinking at the time that the whole situation seemed sensationalized to sell more papers.”

The only sound for moments was the hum of the fan as Joe considered the information Sam had shared, while trying to piece it all together.

“Funny how one moment can define the course of your entire life,” Sam finally said.

“Tell me about it.” Joe stood. “Thanks for your time.”

“Sure. I can’t say I’ve told you anything everyone else doesn’t already know. You can probably read the newspaper account at the library.” Sam stood as well and came around his desk.

Joe nodded.

“Any idea if she’s here to stay?” Sam asked.

“To stay? No idea. She’s doing the certification on my prosthesis. That’s all I know.”

“Is there a problem?”

“I thought there was. The real-estate agent refused to rent her a house.”

“You think Judge Brown could be behind that?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Do you want me to investigate?” Sam asked.

“No. But thanks, Sam. After what you told me, I’m sort of looking forward to figuring this one out myself.”

Chapter Two

“Momma!” Casey Simpson raced across the lawn, her dark braids bouncing as she moved. When she got close, she launched herself into her mother’s arms.

Rebecca buried her face in her daughter’s neck, breathing in the sweet scent.

“I’ve missed you so much, Momma.”

“I’ve missed you, too, baby.”

“Grandma’s in the house. I’ll get her.”

A moment later, the front screen creaked open, then closed with a bang, causing Rebecca to look up. Joan Anshaw stood on the front porch of the gray clapboard house. “I thought you’d never get here.”

“I was starting to feel the same way. That old Honda is on its last legs.”

Her mother pushed back a strand of her short dark bob, and took off her glasses to wipe the moisture from her eyes. “Oh, Mom, don’t cry.” Rebecca moved quickly to the porch, wrapping her mother in a warm embrace.

“I’m not crying.”

“You’re not?” Rebecca peered down into the face of the woman who had been her rock for the last twenty-four months.

“No. Cowgirls don’t cry. Remember? Your daddy always said that.”

Ah, her father. Rebecca smiled at the memory. Her dad, Jackson Anshaw, had spent most of his life as foreman for Hollis Elliott Ranch Holdings.

“Daddy only said that so I’d stop whining about all the chores he gave me.”

Joan laughed. “It worked, didn’t it?” She sniffed before slipping her glasses back on.

“Yes, it did.” She pressed a kiss to her mother’s cheek. “We’re in the homestretch now, Mom. Let’s not forget that.” She smiled. “I am so grateful for OrthoBorne Technology for giving me my job back and this opportunity. Just the fact that we don’t live four hours from each other is a blessing.”

“Does that mean you’re here in Paradise to stay?”

“One step at a time. I have custody of my daughter again. I have a job, and I’m here until Joe Gallagher finishes certification.” Rebecca smiled, savoring the thought of being in the same place as her mother and her daughter for a while.

“What then?” her mother asked.

“Then the company will decide if I can be promoted to full-time senior case manager. With that position, I can work from home. I’d touch base with the Denver offices once a week.”

“Oh, Bec, that would be wonderful. Casey wouldn’t have to change schools again.”

“I know. There’s a lot riding on this assignment, not to mention a fat bonus check.”

Joan sank onto one of the rocking chairs on the porch. She tucked her slim, denim-clad legs beneath her. “So what’s the plan?”

Rebecca leaned back against the porch railing. “I start at Gallagher Ranch on Monday.”

“Wonderful.”

“Yes. And I’m still looking for a place for the summer.”

“I thought you had a rental.”

“That fell through.”

“Fell through? That’s odd. You don’t think Nick’s grandfather had something to do with it, do you?”

“Let’s not go there.” Rebecca shook her head. She refused to let Judge Brown put a cloud on all the good things that were happening. “I’ll be making a few calls on Monday. Something will open up.”

“You know you can stay with me,” her mother said. “Casey will be here after school and during the day in the summer anyhow.”

“I appreciate all you’re doing, but it’s really important for me to establish a home for myself and Casey.” She pushed her hair back. “You’ve raised her the last two years while we’ve been waiting for the case to go to trial.”

“I was glad to be able to help.”

“And I’m grateful, but I don’t want her to forget I’m her mother. Besides, you deserve a little time for yourself. You’ve given up everything for me, and the least I can do is give you your life back. It’s time for you to just enjoy being a grandmother.”

“Grandma?”

Rebecca and her mother turned to see Casey standing inside the house, her face pressed against the door screen looking out at them. “May I go next door to see if the twins can come out to play?”

Joan opened her mouth and then paused. She looked to Rebecca. “Honey, you need to ask your mother.”

Casey looked back and forth between the two adults, her brows knit. “Momma?”

“Who are the twins?”

“My best friends. We go to school together.”

“Well, then, sure. Go ahead,” Rebecca said.

“Thank you, Momma.” Casey pushed open the door and then raced down the stairs.

Rebecca turned to her mother. “Thank you.”

“I suppose it is confusing for her. I hadn’t considered that.”

“It’s all going to work out.”

Her mother met her gaze. “Rebecca, do you really think this is finally behind you?”

She stepped forward and knelt next to her mother’s chair, reaching out to wrap her hands around her mom’s. “I have made a commitment to the Lord to stop looking at how far I have to go. I need focus on how far I’ve come instead.”

Joan nodded slowly. “You’re absolutely right.”

“I want you to do the same. Promise me, Mom.”

“I will, but you know it’s hard. Casey is your baby, and you’ll always be mine. I hurt when you hurt.” She reached up to gently place her hands on either side of her daughter’s face. “Even though you were far away in Denver, don’t think I haven’t read between the lines these past years. I always suspected there was a problem. I should have pushed harder, even when you denied anything was wrong.”

Rebecca bit her lip, her eyes shuttering closed for a brief moment, all the while rhythmically rubbing her right arm, as her mother continued. Yes, she could recall the too many times that she visited her mother, all the while disguising the bruises and scars on her arm with long sleeves. Or answering a phone call while holding back tears and pretending everything was perfectly fine when it wasn’t.

“All I knew to do was to get down on my knees and pray,” Joan continued.

“Oh, Mom.” Rebecca’s voice cracked, and she paused to swallow hard. “I thank God every single day that I have a mother like you.”

* * *

Joe glanced at the clock. Nearly nine a.m. He’d finished his Monday morning chores in record time before heading back to the house to shower and wait for Becca.

Reaching in his drawer for a clean white undershirt, his hand touched a box in the back of the bureau. Joe pulled it out. The ring. Twelve years ago he’d withdrawn everything out of savings to purchase the silver band with the solitaire diamond. His plan was to propose after college graduation, in the spring, his favorite time of year. He’d be working full-time at the ranch again, and he’d hoped Becca would transfer to a college close by.

Yeah, that was the idea.

Only Becca had married Nick Simpson.

He should have sold the ring right then and there. Bought a car maybe. Except he couldn’t do it. Instead he kept it to remind himself that he didn’t know a thing about women back then, and he sure hadn’t learned anything since.

Shoving the box out of sight, Joe yanked an undershirt and a sweatshirt from the open drawer.

A glance in the mirror confirmed that he wore a permanent frown on his face, but there wasn’t a thing he could do at the moment to change that. It wasn’t just the weather souring his disposition. He’d hardly slept last night knowing that Becca would be back today. That meant that he’d have to show her his arm.

Why was he nervous? No big deal, right? After all, she worked for the prosthesis company. Seeing amputees and amputations was part of her job on a daily basis. Only this wasn’t just another day in Paradise for him. His stomach churned at the thought of being fully exposed, figuratively, as well as literally. No one had seen his arm since the accident, except medical professionals. He’d made sure of that. Yeah, she was a medical professional, except this was different. It was Becca.

Would she be as repulsed as he was at the sight of his misshapen flesh? The residual limb was a shameful, daily reminder of his mistake and all he’d lost.

Joe groaned as he rubbed the taut muscles at the base of his neck. He needed coffee. Lots of coffee and he needed it now. Java might soothe the beast rumbling inside him. He headed to the kitchen where the coffeepot’s spitting noises indicated the brew was nearly ready.

The doorbell rang. Without thinking, he reached for the glass carafe with his left hand. He fumbled, causing the hot, dark liquid to slosh over the lip of the container onto the counter. In seconds it became a moving stream that raced to the tile floor.

It took an effort to bite back angry words. Shoving the carafe back into place, Joe tossed a towel onto the dark puddle on the floor and headed out of the room, nearly tripping over his brother’s black lab, Millie, on the way.

He swung open the front door. As his gaze met Becca’s through the screen, the building irritation that stalked him diffused. She wore a crisp blue shirt with OrthoBorne stitched on the pocket, and dark slacks, with a rolling briefcase at her side. Her long hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. Dressed like a professional, and she was bright-eyed and chipper to boot.

“Hey, Becca.”

“Joe.”

“Find the place all right?” He folded his arms across his chest. The residual limb remained hidden in the folds of his long-sleeve shirt, just the way he liked.

Becca cleared her throat and nodded. “Yes. I did. Thank you.”

Joe held open the door and nodded an invitation into the house. He was grateful the cleaning lady had been by on Friday. Everything still sparkled. High oak-beamed ceilings and polished oak floors made the interior appear huge. The décor had a Southwest theme, but the place was minimalist, like him.

“Beautiful room.”

“Thanks,” he muttered.

She turned her head and smiled. “Who do we have here?”

Joe followed her gaze. Dan’s dog padded into the room. The animal looked at them with baleful eyes.

“This is Millie.”

Millie whined, nudging Becca’s leg until she reached down to rub her ears. “Oh, goodness, isn’t she sweet?”

“She’s neurotic.”

“Excuse me?”

“Separation anxiety. She’s been like this since Dan and my mother left. The dog is driving me crazy.”

Becca tilted her head, and her ponytail swayed with the movement as she assessed Joe. “You do seem a little out of sorts. Do you want to reschedule?”

“No. Let’s get this over with.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “This way.”

Becca grabbed her briefcase handle and followed him down a short hall to a spacious kitchen, the wheels clicking on the tile floor.

“Coffee?” he asked.

“No, thank you.” She stopped, her gaze drawn to the mess on the floor. “What happened?”

“I got into a little argument with the coffeemaker.”

“I hate when that happens.”

Before he realized it, she had reached for a roll of paper towels on the counter. Joe insinuated himself between her and the spilled coffee.

“I don’t need help.”

“Sorry,” she murmured.

Joe carefully mopped up the counter, then the floor before pouring coffee into his travel mug and sealing the lid. “Would it be okay to work at the kitchen table? I have the prosthesis charging there.”

“Sure.” Becca glanced at the table and then the room.

Joe glanced around, as well. He was proud of the place. The same oak beams overhead dominated the room and held an oak ceiling fan with rows of recessed lights. The kitchen itself was oak, with stainless-steel appliances and black granite countertops. The room lacked clutter, and that was exactly the way he liked things.

“You built this place?”

Joe shrugged. “Can’t say I built anything. My job was to nod a lot. Somehow I ended up with this.” He walked to the table and set down his mug. When he lifted his gaze, Becca was intently watching him. “What?”

“Nothing. I didn’t expect...”

“Didn’t expect a poor cowboy to have a place like this?”

“That’s not what I meant, Joe.” She took a deep breath, then opened her briefcase and placed a thick file on the table along with her tablet computer. “Do you mind if I take a look at your residual limb?”

“Have at it.” Joe pulled off his sweatshirt and offered her his right upper extremity. He held his breath for moments, but she didn’t flinch or grimace as he’d expected.

Becca’s hands were soft and cool upon his skin as she examined first the biceps, then the triceps of the limb before moving to the slightly puckered, scarred incision line and the skin on either side of the amputation. She dappled her fingers along the entire surface, her gaze intent. Finally she looked up.

“Sensitivity?”

Joe shook his head in denial because he’d been just fine a minute ago. Until she touched him.

When she began to type notes in her tablet, Joe was unable to look away. He found himself assessing her concentrated effort as she worked. The ponytail shifted, exposing her neck and the curve of her face.

Becca raised her eyes, and her pupils widened as she caught him staring. With a flip of her fingers, she moved a wayward lock of hair behind her ear, then cleared her throat.

“Pain or phantom pain?”

“Nothing a couple ibuprofen won’t fix.”

“You’ve been doing your exercises and taking very good care of the area. The muscles are in excellent shape, and the skin tone and the incision line are very healthy. All in all, it looks beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” The tension in him eased. “Is that a medical term?”

“Would you prefer, ‘incision line healed, edges well approximated, clean and free of exudate, swelling or edema’?”

“Beautiful it is.”

“Obviously you followed your surgeon’s instructions to a T.”

“I’m pretty good at following orders. The army will do that to you.”

“The army? Right. I forgot about the army. Though, your upper body strength is indicative of more than following instructions.”

“I have a small gym set up in one of the bedrooms. I can’t afford any further setbacks.”

“Any other learning-curve issues with the left hand?”

“Yeah. A few. Roping cows. Brushing my teeth. Shaving with a razor remains an interesting experience. I had a beard for a long time, just to keep me from bleeding all over the place.”

“Too bad I didn’t come out here sooner. I could have saved you a couple pints of blood.” She smiled. “Anything else?”

“Still have the occasional clumsy episode, as you can see.” He nodded toward the spilled coffee.

“We all have the occasional clumsy episode in the morning, Joe.” She picked up the two pieces of his prosthesis he had ready on the table and inspected them. “Do you want to go ahead and don this?”

He massaged antiseptic lubricant into the area and examined the cosmetic silicone glove for damage. Then he disconnected the charger from his myoelectric prosthesis, snapped together the hand and forearm and applied the device to what remained of his right arm.

He held it up for her review. “There you go. Bionic man reporting for duty.”

“Are you always this hard on yourself?” she murmured.

“I deserve to be hard on myself. I messed up. I should have asked for help, as everyone keeps reminding me. If I had, I wouldn’t have this. I’d be normal. A normal rancher.”

Her jaw sagged slightly as she stared at him. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“What’s there to say? I’m not the guy I used to be.”

“That’s not true, and believe me, normal is highly overrated.”

“Becca, I’m sure most people appreciate platitudes, but I deal in reality and I’m sorry, but you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She stiffened. “Joe, your arm doesn’t define you.”

“Sure it does.”

“You’re wrong. You’re a person who happens to be an amputee. That integral person inside is what people imprint in their minds when they define who you are.” She stared past him. “No matter how hard something else tries to change a person’s core, it generally doesn’t change.”

“What exactly is my core, Becca?”

When she met his gaze, she reached out to lay a hand on his arm.

Joe moved from her touch.

The rebuff only seemed to make her more determined to make her point, and she leaned closer.

“You’re an intelligent, kind, godly man.”

“Are you sure you’re not confusing me with someone else? God and I haven’t been buddies for some time, and I’m not as kind as you like to think.” He shook his head. “Sometimes our mind blocks out the not-so-memorable things about people we haven’t seen in a long time. We tend to remember people in a skewed positive light. I’m not that boy from high school.”

“Trust me. I don’t have that problem. I’m cynical enough to remember everything from the past.” Becca chuckled softly. “I’m absolutely certain you haven’t changed as much as you’d like to believe.” She refused to give him eye contact; instead, she reached for her tablet, her fingers sliding across the keys on the screen once again.

“It’s been over a year since your accident. You began prosthesis fittings and training six months ago. Why didn’t you complete certification then?”

“It’s taken me a while to actually commit to the whole prosthesis thing. After the accident and a couple of surgeries and rehab and all, I’d already been going back and forth to Denver so many times for preprosthetic therapy, and interim prosthetic therapy, that my head was spinning. I admit I didn’t adhere to the usual patient guidelines.”

“You aren’t exactly the usual patient,” she said.

“Bingo.” He took a deep breath. “Dan ran the ranch and my mother helped. I needed to take that load from them as soon as possible.”

“Is your mother still living in the main house?”

“Yeah. She and my niece just left for California. They’ve gone to visit my sisters, then meet up with Dan and his wife.”

“Dan’s married?”

“Yeah. Sort of a newlywed, too. He postponed his honeymoon for me.”

“That’s a great brother.” She paused, thinking. “Family is everything, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Sometimes it’s the only thing that gets me through the day.”

“And faith,” she said softly, her eyes averted.

“Truthfully, I’m not sure what faith is anymore.” Joe cleared his throat. “No disrespect. I know you’ve been through a lot, and if your faith is what helped you, then good for you.”

“Good for me?” She offered a scoffing laugh. When she met his gaze, her eyes were hard and unflinching. “But we’re not here to talk about me, are we?”

He nodded. “Understood.”

“I need you to fill out this paperwork.”

Joe groaned. “More paperwork? OrthoBorne is big on it, aren’t they?” He glanced at the clock. “Could we save that for another session? I’m getting behind on my day.”

“I promise this is the last of it.”

He looked her in the eye. “You know what’s been the most difficult part of this transition?”

“What’s that?”

“Learning to write with my left hand. I’ll do anything to get out of paper shuffling.”

Becca paused. “We are in the field. I’m willing to compromise. We can skip that and go straight to shadowing. However, don’t be surprised if I come up with some unique teaching sessions while I’m shadowing you.”

“Deal.” He looked at her. “What do you mean by shadowing?”

“That means that I show up tomorrow and follow you around for a couple of days, asking you the questions. I basically need to document the tasks that make up the majority of your workday so I can create a plan of care for your specific occupational therapy.”

“I get up at four thirty, and I’m ready to start the day at five.

“Seriously?”

“Too early for you?”

“No. I meant you’re okay with me following you around from dawn to dusk for a few days?”

“I’ll do anything to avoid wasting my time—” he glanced with distaste at the paperwork “—checking little boxes and writing answers to inane questions. But five seems a little early for someone who isn’t punching a clock.”

“I understand my job, thank you. This is all about getting to know your world. So if you start your day at five, so do I, at least to start with.”

“Fair enough. I’ll meet you at the barn.” He glanced at her outfit. “You do have boots, right?”

“Yes. Several pairs, in fact.”

“Ranch boots. We’re not talking city girl, fancy boots.”

“Yes, ranch boots. You seem to forget that I worked on a ranch with my father practically my whole life.”

“I didn’t forget.” He paused. “But people change.”

“I’m still the same ranch girl I was twelve years ago.”

“I guess we’ll see,” Joe murmured.

“I guess we will,” Becca answered without missing a beat. She closed the cover on her tablet.

“What time does your crew arrive?”

“Nine thirty.”

“They’re late,” he observed with a glance at the big stainless-steel clock on the wall.

“I don’t want to keep you from your chores.” She began to pack up her briefcase. “I’ll wait outside for them.”

“You’re welcome to wait in the house.”

“Oh, no. I’ll wait outside.”

“Your call.” He reached for his keys, with his left hand, and fumbled. The keys clattered to the oak floor.

An awkward silence ensued as they both stared at the ground between them.

“I got ’em.” Joe scooped up the keys with his other hand and shoved them in his pocket.

“Do you mind if I give you a little impromptu lesson?” Becca asked.

“Okay,” he said slowly.

“You’re using the myoelectric hand statically.”

“Pardon me?”

“Static. Like a placeholder. I’ve observed your hand mostly in the relaxed position. You have quite a few positions available. Utilize them. The more you do, the more it will be automatic. Like the lateral pinch. You could have picked up the keys that way.” She demonstrated, putting her own keys on the table. “See how much more accurate?”

He nodded. “I’ll, ah, give it a try.”

“I hope you will. Why not maximize the technology? After all, it’s yours, and the photographer will want to see you taking advantage of their product.”

Becca was right. He might not be paying for the prosthesis in cash, but he was paying for it by agreeing to OrthoBorne’s offer. And he had been pretty much ignoring the technology, thinking maybe if he did, maybe he could ignore the fact that he was an amputee.

All he’d really wanted was for life to go back to the way it was before the accident. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe his way wasn’t working. Maybe the Lord had other plans despite the fact that he’d been ignoring Him, as well.

But was he ready for what was in store?

Chapter Three

Rebecca leaned against her Honda. She checked her watch and then focused her gaze on the main road. Late was an understatement. Joe had been gone two hours. Her stomach growled, and she wondered what the day’s special was at Patti Jo’s Café and Bakery in downtown Paradise.

Things with Joe had gone better than she expected. He wasn’t nearly as surly this morning as he’d been on Saturday at their unexpected reunion. She pushed away the worrisome thoughts that hovered nearby. This was going to work out. It had to.

That was, if the team would show up. She pulled her cell from her pocket to call the OrthoBorne offices in Denver. When she looked up, a big white pickup truck, with rooftop bar lights and the logo of the Paradise Sheriff’s Department, appeared on the road to the ranch, moving to the arched entrance. Behind it was a black SUV, kicking up a cloud of dust on the gravel road.

A police escort to the ranch?

She hurried to the drive and met the sheriff’s vehicle as it pulled up.

The uniformed officer unfolded his tall form and stepped out and placed a tan Stetson on his head. “I’m Sam Lawson.” He reached out to grasp her hand in a strong handshake. “You must be Rebecca Simpson.” His eyes were warm with welcome.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“Joe mentioned you.” He nodded toward the car pulling in behind his truck. “These folks say they’re from OrthoBorne Technology in Denver. Sound right to you?”

“Yes. They’re Joe’s media team.”

“I found them driving through town. After the third pass through, I decided to take pity on them. According to the driver, they were here an hour ago, at another gate, but couldn’t find the road.”

“Thanks for bringing them here, Sheriff.”

“Better not thank me. This crew is greener than the grass, and I’m feeling guilty for delivering them to the ranch. In fact, maybe you could not mention to Joe that I brought them.”

She laughed.

“Oh, sure, you’re laughing now, but you won’t be when you figure out that I’m right.” He waved as he left.

A tall man in his midforties got out of the SUV. He shook his head and released a breath. “Gallagher Ranch, I hope.”

“It is, and I’m Rebecca Simpson.”

“Our liaison, right?”

“Yes. I’m also doing the certification.”

“Great. I’m Rod, photographer and videographer.” He stepped forward to offer a grin of relief, along with a brisk handshake.

She took his hand while returning the smile.

“Looks like we’re all in the family. OrthoBorne family, that is. Sorry we’re so late. The GPS on the rental went wacky once we hit the outskirts of town. We thought we were here once, but there was no road beyond the gate. For all I know, we were on another ranch somewhere around here.”

“No worries,” Rebecca said. “The good news is after the first time, you won’t forget your way to the ranch. It’s pretty easy. There’s only one paved road in and out of Paradise. Take it until you come to the arched entrance.” She pointed to the wrought-iron archway with the large entwined letters G and R.

“Easy. Yeah, that’s what I said until the third or fourth time we passed Patti Jo’s Café and Bakery, and I realized I was driving in circles.” He turned to the vehicle, giving a wave for the other occupants to join him. “I brought Julian, our intern, and Abigail, one of our staff copywriters.”

“Mr. Gallagher didn’t mention three of you.”

“Julian was a last-minute addition,” Rod said. “He’ll assist with shoots.”

The front passenger door of the vehicle swung open, and a tall, thin, young man with long shaggy hair, a minuscule beard and wire-rim glasses rolled out. Earphones were propped on his head. When he glanced around, enthusiasm brightened his eyes. “Wow. This is great. I’ve never been west of the mountains.”

The only female of the group came around the truck to assess the situation. With one hand, she shoved back her shoulder-length cascade of strawberry-blond hair and with the other she pushed an oversized black leather tote over her shoulder.

“I knew we were in Paradise the minute I laid eyes on the good sheriff.” The woman smiled and stepped forward, offering a handshake in greeting. Her nails were short and unpolished, no-nonsense like the woman herself, who was dressed in tan khakis and a taupe sweater. “Abigail Warren. Call me Abi.”

“Rebecca Simpson.”

“Yes,” Abi said quietly. “I’ve read about you.”

“Don’t believe everything you read,” Rebecca murmured in response.

“Never. I’m a writer. I recognize fiction when I see it.”

When Abi winked, Rebecca knew she’d found an ally.

Overhead the sky rumbled. “Uh-oh.” Julian tugged the earphones from his head to listen closely. “Thunder? That can’t be good.”

“Let’s move over to the horse barn. It’s the closest shelter.” Rebecca pointed to the large red building. “The log cabin to your left is Mr. Gallagher’s, and that two-story colonial on your right is the main house.”

When the sky thundered again, the crew picked up their pace, following Rebecca. Along the way, their curious gazes took in the details of the Gallagher ranch, the barn, the fenced-in corral and the utility garage.

“Is that a windmill?” Abi asked, pointing to the teetering, metal structure standing out in the distance.

“It is.”

“What do they use them for?” she asked.

“They used to be utilized to bring water from the aquifers to the cattle. Most ranches use pump irrigation now.”

“When will we meet our client?” Rod asked.

“That depends on when he comes back from the pasture.”

“Horses,” Julian said when Rebecca pulled open one of the large barn doors. Wonderment laced his voice. He turned around to observe the stalls.

“That’s probably why she called it a horse barn,” Abi noted.

“This is Julian’s first big on-location assignment,” Rod said. “His life is usually spent working with computer software in the office. Generally his idea of nature is the Denver Zoo.”

Julian shrugged. “I’d deny it, except it’s absolutely true.”

“Great, then you’ll appreciate that we’re going to tour the ranch first thing tomorrow.”

“It’s starting to rain.” Julian observed the fat drops beginning to touch the ground.

“Rain doesn’t stop life on the ranch,” Rebecca said.

She scrutinized their clothing, from Abi’s open-toe sandals to Julian’s flip-flops and realized that it was actually a very good thing that Joe wasn’t here.

“Let’s talk about your schedule, and then I’ll let you get back to town to check in at the Paradise Bed and Breakfast and do some shopping.”

“Shopping?” Abi perked up.

“Yes.” Rebecca smiled. “First, I’d like to take this opportunity to make a few safety recommendations.” She stared pointedly at Julian. “Leave your earphones and earbuds in your suitcase. While you are working on the ranch, it’s important to listen and be in tune with your surroundings. You’ll want to hear the nuances of the land, including the weather. There are potential dangers, as well.”

“Dangers?” Julian asked.

“Dangerous wildlife, or even a ranch animal in distress.”

Rod nodded as the others focused on her words.

“You need boots. Cowboy boots, hiking boots or sturdy rubber boots with safety toes. Whatever you prefer. They’ll protect your feet and ankles from things like horse hooves, cow patties, insects, or even snakebites. Besides boots, you’ll want to dress in layers. It’s cold in the morning, warm in the afternoon.”

“I’d really like a cowboy hat,” Abi said.

Rebecca chuckled. “You do need some sort of hat. A cowboy hat is perfect. Gloves, sunscreen. All a necessity. Our altitude is higher than Denver’s. You can get burned faster here than in the city.”

“Anything else?” Rod asked.

“Tomorrow we’ll start by driving around the ranch, so bring your gear and water bottles. Keep in mind that there are no restrooms out in the pasture.”

“Any place to charge a cell phone?” Julian asked as he held his phone aloft in various positions, searching for reception.

Rebecca blinked. “I imagine we’ll be using a ranch truck, or utility vehicle, and usually ranch vehicles are of the ancient variety. It probably doesn’t have an adapter.” She paused. “I can’t even guarantee one bar out here. Most days in the warm months, yes. But you never know. It all depends on Mother Nature and where you happen to be standing.”

“You’re on the wild prairie,” Rod said with a chuckle.

“Your priority needs to be hydration. We’re at nearly nine thousand feet above sea level, which beats the 5,280 of the Mile-High City. If you aren’t sufficiently hydrated, you’ll get headaches, feel faint and possibly pass out. You’re Coloradans. You know the drill.”

Julian took another swig from his water bottle.

“Try not to get between Mr. Gallagher and his chores. I can’t emphasize that enough. This is a working ranch. One that he manages pretty much solo.”

“We’re going to want to follow Gallagher around for at least a full day,” Rod said. “Then we can go back later to set up some specific shoots.”

“I figured you’d want to shadow him.”

“What time should we be out here?” Rod asked.

“Five a.m. is the time he gave me. Sunrise is at five thirty.”

“In the morning?” Julian squeaked.

“The last time I was up at five in the morning I was pulling all-nighters in college,” Abi murmured.

“Yeah, but think of the sunrise shots we can get. I imagine the sky is endless out here that time of day.”

“Yes. You’re right, Rod. Though tomorrow you get a break. I’ll be shadowing Mr. Gallagher until eight a.m. I’ll meet you in front of the barn at eight thirty, and we can do our tour of the ranch. Keep in mind that it’s another twenty minutes from town to the ranch. You’ll actually have to be up earlier to get here in time.”

“I’m exhausted just thinking about our schedule,” Julian said.

Rebecca chuckled. “Welcome to Paradise, folks.”

Thunder cracked, and they all jumped, turning in time to see the darkened sky light up with a brilliant flash.

“This cannot be a good sign,” Julian murmured.

“They have rain slickers at the tack shop in town,” Rebecca offered.

Abi’s eyes rounded and she looked past Rebecca, mesmerized. “Who’s that?”

Rebecca turned around. From the west, a lone figure rode toward them. A black Stetson on his head, he sat tall and formidable in the saddle.

“That would be Joe Gallagher?” Abi asked.

“My model?” Rod asked with a wide grin on his face.

“It is,” Rebecca said.

“And here I thought I was going to be photographing a grizzled old rancher.”

“Well done, OrthoBorne,” Abi said.

Two dogs appeared, not far behind, racing toward the corrals. As Joe got closer, he raised his left hand to tip the Stetson to the back of his head and narrowed his eyes to assess the strangers on his ranch.

“Uh-oh. Your model doesn’t look happy,” Abi murmured.

Joe reined in the horse a short distance away and dismounted easily from the saddle. Steely-eyed, he crossed his arms on his broad chest and faced them.

“We have a problem,” he said to Rebecca. The words were a slow accusation delivered with a tone that brooked no argument.

“A problem?” She swallowed.

“The paddock and north gate were left open.”

“Oops,” Julian murmured.

Rod and Abi turned to glare at Julian.

“So it was your ranch,” Abi said.

“We took a few cow pictures when we were lost,” Rod said.

“Bull.”

Rod jerked back, his eyes rounding. “Excuse me?”

“That’s a bull, not a cow,” Joe returned.

“Yes, sir,” Rod said with a nod.

Joe narrowed his gaze and looked slowly from Julian, to Rod and then Abi. “You know the first rule of the ranch?”

“Do no harm?” Julian asked.

“That’s doctors,” Rod said drily.

“Leave everything the way you find it.” Joe moved into the barn with his horse.

“Seriously?” Julian said. “I would have never guessed that in a million years.”

“Pay attention, Julian. I suspect Mr. Gallagher is trying to tell us something,” Rod muttered.

Rebecca raised a hand, indicating for the crew to stay put as she followed Joe into the barn. “Your bull is loose?”

“Was. Rowdy crossed the road and knocked down my neighbor’s garden fence and trampled his wife’s tomato plants. It would have been worse except he’s old, and all that exercise wore him out.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Already done. Gil and Wishbone helped me herd him back, which put me an hour behind on my chores, not including the fence I still need to repair.” He ran a hand over his face. “I’ll need to go into town for tomato plants. Oh, and I’ll need to add those fancy frost guards to my list. Good old Rowdy smashed those, as well.” He let out a weary breath.

“Joe, I’m sorry. I’ll have the crew go into town for the plants if that will help.”

“This is my ranch. I’ll handle it.” He met her gaze. “I can tell you what will help. Getting them in and out fast. The longer they’re on Gallagher Ranch, the greater the chances are I’m going to lose my temper.”

“Yes. Yes. Of course. I’ll monitor them more closely and we’ll get this done quickly.”

“The clock starts ticking now, Becca.”

Rebecca offered a solemn nod. He was absolutely right, and she was completely certain that she was going to need some serious prayer time in order to pull off this assignment.

* * *

“I’ll be back in the morning.”

“What?” At the sound of Becca’s voice, Joe turned from brushing his horse and stared at her. She stood in the doorway of the barn, hesitation on her face.

“To shadow you.” She rubbed her right arm for a moment, then stopped, as if realizing what she was doing, and slipped her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

Joe put the curry comb on the shelf. He glanced at his watch, a decision already made in his mind. “Come on, then. I only have a few minutes.”

“A few minutes?”

“Lunch and a trip into town are next on my list.”

Becca followed him as he left the barn. Overhead the sky continued to spit, and dark clouds rumbled. He moved to the gravel drive.

“I don’t follow. A few minutes for what?”

“The truck.” Joe nodded toward the used-to-be-black, muddy farm truck. He unlocked and opened the passenger door for her before getting in on his side.

“Yes. But where are we going?”

He didn’t answer but continued down a well-worn dirt road to the south, right behind the barn. Less than two minutes later, he pulled up in front of a small cottage with a simple rail porch. Large weathered terra-cotta pots had been placed along the brick walkway that led to the porch steps. They were ready for planting.

“What’s this?” Becca asked.

Joe played with the leather cover on the steering wheel, avoiding her eyes. “It’ll be easier to monitor what’s going on if you stay at the ranch.”

“What?” She looked from the house and back to him.

He gave a nod of affirmation.

“Oh, no, I could never impose.” The words came quickly as she shook her head.

He focused straight ahead at the mud-spattered windshield, now blurred with drops of rain. “You wouldn’t be imposing. No one is using this place. It’s been empty since last September.”

“Whose house is it?”

“Dan lived here with his daughter before he got married. The place is furnished, too.”

“But—”

“This is strictly a business agreement. I need to complete certification, and having you close by will ensure that will happen as quickly as you’ve promised. Especially since you have to babysit greenhorns, who seem to have a knack for stepping in cow patties everywhere they go.”

She paused, considering his words. “What about Casey?”

“Who’s Casey?”

“My daughter.”

Joe’s jaw sagged. “You have a daughter?”

“I do. She’s six.”

“Yeah. Of course your daughter is welcome.”

Becca stared at him for moments, confusion on her face. Then her eyes widened. “Is this about the rental deal falling through?” She released a small gasp. “You overheard the entire conversation, didn’t you?”

“I heard enough. Doesn’t change the facts.”

She turned away. “Of course it does.”

“Why? I told you, this is business.”

When she didn’t say anything, he muttered a short expression under his breath. Stubborn. He’d forgotten how stubborn the woman could be when her back was against the wall.

“Becca, don’t let your pride stand in the way.”

“It’s not my pride. I’m used to that being shredded.” She met his gaze for a moment, then shifted her attention out the window. “I...don’t think you understand what’s going on here, Joe.”

“Going on? What do you mean?”

“Letting me stay on your ranch may put you right in the center of the bull’s-eye.” She gestured with her hands.

“You aren’t making any sense.”

“Why do you think I didn’t get that rental house?” Rebecca asked.

“I have a few ideas.”

“So do I. Nick’s grandfather. I’m sure of it. Judge Nicholas Brown used his considerable influence to sway the courts to bring what was simply a horrible car accident to a jury trial.”

Joe opened his mouth and closed it again, his lips forming a thin line.

“My bail was set so high that my mother was left scrambling to raise the money. I sat in jail for two weeks. Two weeks. Do you know what it’s like to be in jail, Joe?” She swallowed. “Do you have any idea?”

Hands tightening on the steering wheel, Joe’s head jerked back as though he’d been hit.

She took a steadying breath. “When Hollis Elliott heard about it, he put up the bond money.”

“I don’t get it. You were found innocent.”

“Judge Brown continues to punish me for Nick’s death.”

“Why, if it was an accident?”

“Not in his mind.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “I think he’s aiming for custody of my daughter.”

“He has no grounds for that.”

“Rich people live in a different world than you and me. He’s a prominent citizen in the valley. He owns a lot of property in Four Forks. He’ll claim he can better provide for Casey.” She released a breath. “The truth is that he can.”

“You’re her mother. You’re employed, and now you have a place to call home.”

Rebecca shook her head as she gazed with longing at the little house. “You don’t know the judge,” she murmured. Her hands trembled as she met his gaze yet again. “If I stay here, he might very well retaliate against you. Against Gallagher Ranch, as well. You need to know that up front.”

“I’m not concerned about Judge Brown.”

“You also need to know that I’m not looking for someone to rescue me. The Lord and I have been working together for some time now.”

He shook his head. “Not applying for the job. This offer is all about me. I’ve given a crew of city slickers carte blanche to roam my ranch. All I’m trying to do is protect my interests. I can’t do that without your help. Living closer makes sense.”

“Just so we know where we stand.”

He held out the keys to the little cottage with his left hand. “I know where I stand. Do you?”

She nodded, then slowly, ever so slowly, reached up and took the keys, her fingers brushing his.

Joe let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

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