Her Secret Alaskan Family (Home To Owl Creek Book 1) Page 19

  When she finished, she wrapped the leg in gauze, then fluffy white sheet cotton, followed by stretchy Vetrap to thoroughly stabilize the dressing.

  After she’d administered an injection of IM antibiotics, she stowed her gear back into the satchel and pulled off her vinyl gloves. “Stall rest only. I need to see this horse in three or four days, and then a week or two after that. Will someone be around, say, on Thursday morning around eleven?”

  “Sure. Just give me a call if anything changes.” He slowly led the injured gelding into a stall and unbuckled his halter, then stepped out and slid the door shut.

  A wave of memories washed over her as she breathed in the familiar scents of sawdust bedding and good mixed alfalfa and grass hay. “I was...surprised to be called out here. Has anyone lived here since my aunt and uncle lost the place?” She’d tried to still the edge in her voice but apparently hadn’t succeeded, because she saw a flash of sympathy in Tate’s eyes.

  “I’d left for college and then the rodeo circuit before that, but by the looks of the house, I don’t think anyone has lived here in years. So what happened to your aunt and uncle?”

  “Years of drought, low livestock prices. Mounting medical bills for Millie’s cancer. They took out loans against the ranch to try to hang on, but they ended up sinking in debt they couldn’t repay.” She dredged up a weak smile. “Yet they still kept sending me a little money every month to help with my rent. I was away at college and they never said a word about how bad things were. They didn’t want me to worry. When I learned the truth it just about broke my heart.”

  “Sounds like there was no hope of recovering.”

  “Warren was sure they could’ve rallied if only they’d had just a few more months. But the bank abruptly called in their loans and wouldn’t even talk about an extension. And your dad—” She bit back the sharp words on her lips.

  She would never believe there hadn’t been something fishy going on between the bank president and Gus Langford to precipitate that sudden foreclosure and sale. But there was no going back. Gus was dead and the whole situation was past history.

  And none of it was Tate’s fault.

  “Some folks said Dad was like a vulture. He never missed a chance to grab what he wanted.” A faint, sad smile touched a corner of Tate’s mouth. “Where are your aunt and uncle now?”

  “After the foreclosure they had just enough equity to pay off their legal fees, settle their debts, and scrape together the money for a small, remote cabin. They live in town now, though.”

  She gave Tate a cool nod of farewell, but he followed her out to her truck anyway and opened the door for her, then stepped back as she lifted the satchel onto the front seat and climbed behind the steering wheel.

  He closed the door for her. “Thanks, Sara. I appreciate you coming by so quickly.”

  “No problem.” She glanced over at him through the open window and their eyes locked for a moment too long before she jerked her gaze away and started the engine.

  He’d changed a lot since she’d last seen him at high school graduation. He was much taller, his shoulders had broadened. His voice was deeper.

  He still had those trademark Langford eyes, though. The dark, sweeping eyebrows and stunning silver-blue eyes with long dark lashes. With that black hair and an easy, lopsided grin that deepened the slash of a dimple in his left cheek, he could probably charm any woman with a pulse from nine to ninety.

  Every one of the brothers was perfect material for the cover of GQ magazine, though their saving grace was that none of them had ever seemed to realize it.

  She’d fallen under his spell in high school, but that was long over. Even if she felt the smallest twinge of attraction now, the Langfords had destroyed the two people who loved her most. And after that, empty charm and stunning good looks didn’t matter—not to her. There’d be no point at any rate. Tate intended to leave town.

  But Pine Bend was now her permanent home, and she never would.

  * * *

  Jess tossed another bale of hay off of the hayrack hitched to his truck and grinned down at Tate. “So the new vet in town is your old girlfriend, right? Did she ask you out on a date?”

  Tate hefted the bale and carried it into the horse barn. “Not my old girlfriend,” he called over his shoulder. “It was a class of thirty. We all knew each other.”

  “Not how I remember it.” Jess threw off another bale. “Seems to me you two dated for a while, your senior year. I remember, because I’d already left for college but I was a tad jealous when I heard about it. A pretty girl like that—a guy like you—it sure didn’t make sense to me. And she was a doctor’s daughter, to boot. High-class. How did you manage it, anyway?”

  Ignoring him, Tate hauled the bale into the barn and tossed it up to Devlin, who was standing on top of the stack in the rapidly filling hay stall just inside the door.

  Devlin leveled a cocky look down at him. “I’m real curious too. Of course, back then you hadn’t gone off to rodeo just yet. You didn’t hobble around like Methuselah.”

  “Like you?” Tate retorted, then immediately wished he could call his teasing words back.

  Devlin had been through countless surgeries and rounds of physical therapy before receiving a medical discharge from the Marines. Even if they were all just taunting each other right now, Dev deserved only respect for all he’d been through.

  But Dev just grinned back at him. “So, she’s coming back this morning to check on that injured gelding. Right? Will we get to see romantic sparks fly? Hey, Jess, look—Tate’s blushing.”

  “Am not,” Tate shot back. “With luck, you’ll both be gone by then. You’re gonna embarrass that poor woman to death.”

  “Us?” Jess tossed two more bales off the truck and melodramatically flapped a hand against his chest. “We don’t want to kid around with her—we want to make sure she has good intentions toward our baby brother.”

  “Yep,” Dev concurred gravely. “You’re still not married at thirty-two, so you obviously need our help.”

  Tate snickered. “Maybe you two needed mine. Jess didn’t get married till last June, and you didn’t even get engaged till that same weekend. You two weren’t exactly speedy, either.”

  Twenty more bales flew off the hayrack in rapid succession, a brief pause, then the final ten. Jess climbed off the empty rack and helped Tate toss the rest of the bales up to Devlin.

  When the job was done, Tate stood back, took off his leather gloves and slapped them against his thigh to knock off the hay dust. The hay stall was full. Up in the hayloft, there wasn’t room for another bale, and outside, rows of big round bales of hay were stored for the cows.

  “Thanks, guys. I’d forgotten about what a good feeling it is to have a barn full of hay.”

  “Now we just need to get you to stay for good,” Jess said dryly. “What are the chances of you changing your mind?”

  “Still pretty much zero.” He’d once been a top money earner, but ten years of rodeo injuries had taken a relentless physical toll and his days of competing were over. “I still plan to buy that rodeo stock contractor’s company at his dispersal sale on May 2nd. Livestock, equipment and all. It has one of the best reputations in the country, so I could step in and get right back to following the rodeo circuit. I miss that life.”

  Devlin lifted an eyebrow. “You were a competitor, sure. But what do you know about producing rodeos?”

  “I’m not interested in producing the whole event. Just contracting to supply all of the livestock they need, then hauling it to the various rodeo grounds.”

  “If you care for cattle that much, you have plenty of livestock right here.”

  Tate snorted. “Beef cattle and bucking bulls aren’t the same.”

  “On what planet? They all moo.” The corner of Devlin’s mouth quirked up in a grin at his own lame joke. “And here you’ve got a
fine house to live in, on a spread with a stellar view of the Rockies...an old girlfriend coming to call...”

  “Have you looked in that house? It’s been an adventure, from the first day I moved in.”

  “No, but...”

  “Jess?”

  “Uh...no. Not since I came back to Montana to help dad out. A couple years, now. With a broom and a little dusting...”

  “Oh, I cleaned it up the best I could when I moved in. But please, let me give you a tour.” Tate led them across the wide parking area to the tumbledown picket fence surrounding the yard, then to the rickety wooden steps leading up to the sagging wraparound covered porch. “Watch your step. Some of these boards are—”

  One of the porch floorboards splintered under Devlin’s boot and he nimbly stepped to one side. “Challenging?”

  “Dangerous.” Tate opened the back screen door and ushered them into the large country kitchen, with its yellowed linoleum flooring curling at the edges and Harvest Gold appliances dating back to the 1970s. “The fridge runs at around fifty degrees and two of the stove burners don’t work. The furnace is so old that I try to avoid starting it, so thank goodness the fireplace checked out all right.”

  “Nice and cozy, then.”

  “Sheer practicality. I had to turn the water back on when I moved in, so when the outside temp drops into the thirties I have to light a fire to keep the pipes from freezing.”

  Jess looked at the faded, peeling wallpaper and cleared his throat. “A month or two of work and—”

  “No, really. Just keep going.” Tate waved them on toward the living room, where an open staircase led up to the bedrooms. “You haven’t experienced this place until you’ve seen the water damage on the ceilings upstairs. Some are actually bowing downward. Oh, and the breeze whistles right through those window frames. It’s mighty chilly.”

  Upstairs, the brothers roamed through the three bedrooms and the solitary bathroom, where the squeaky floor hinted at rotting floorboards beneath a shabby avocado shag carpet. The house was a disaster—Tate couldn’t deny it. Yet, as he glanced around, he imagined Sara living here with her loving aunt and uncle. Conversation around the dinner table. Christmas celebrations. The kind of warm family life he’d longed for after his mother died. How could he let it all go to ruin?

  “I get the drift,” Devlin muttered. “The place is a wreck. Apparently Dad didn’t figure the place was worth saving.”

  “But it is,” Tate countered. “The house has good bones. It just needs work. Though if the problems aren’t dealt with soon, it will be nothing but a pile of firewood.”

  “Exactly.” Devlin prodded at the musty carpeting with the toe of his boot. “I vote for demolition.”

  Jess studied the stained ceiling above the top of the stairs. “Tate?”

  “Hiring a remodeling company would cost a fortune. You probably couldn’t even find one willing to come out this far.” Tate rested a hand on the wobbly staircase banister and gave it a light shake. “The rodeo contractor’s dispersal sale is the beginning of May, so I won’t be here long enough to get everything done. But, Jess, you gave up the career you wanted, to take over the ranch. And, Dev, you came back too. I owe you guys, and I want to do all I can to help. I haven’t been around to do my share.”

  Jess started down the stairs. “So what do you propose?”

  “I can pull together some numbers on what has to be done, the materials and how much it will cost. If you two agree, I’ll tackle as much as I can while I’m here. For some of the labor I might need extra hands, if one of you can spare the time.”

  “Both of us can, but Dev is handier than I am. Since coming home, he renovated two of the three cabins over at the home place.” A sly grin lifted a corner of Jess’s mouth. “And who knows? Dev thought he was just gonna stay awhile, then move on. Now he’s running the adjoining Cavanaugh spread that Dad bought years ago. You might end up staying too. Maybe even here on the Branson place.”

  Tate laughed at the suggestion, though it brought the past slamming into his thoughts. The last place he’d ever want to live was on a part of the Langford Ranch, where bad memories were lurking at every corner, and his old guilt and anger could resurface without warning.

  How did Jess and Devlin cope? Had they somehow buried the past too deeply to even notice anymore?

  That seemed impossible.

  “Say you do manage to buy that company and its bucking stock.” Jess pursed his lips as he surveyed the living room before moving on to the kitchen. “You’ll still need time to develop your business plan, advertise and start to schedule rodeo dates for next year. Maybe you’ll need to stay here longer than you think—at least until you get on your feet.”

  “What about the livestock semitrailers you’ll need for going cross-country to rodeos?” Devlin interjected.

  Tate snorted. “I appreciate all of the fatherly advice, but I have it covered. The guy holding the dispersal sale is selling his trailers, and he’s willing to work with the winning bidder as a salaried manager for the first year to ensure an easy transition.”

  Jess rocked back on his heels. “You do know this won’t be cheap.”

  “I found a good broker early on, and invested my rodeo winnings for years. I’ll also qualify for business loans.” Tate shrugged. “I’ve always known I couldn’t compete forever, so this has been my plan for a long time.”

  Jess tipped his head toward a window facing the barns. “At least you’ll have this—a place to keep the livestock.”

  “Actually, I’ll be looking for something more central—close to Denver, probably.”

  From outside came the sound of tires crunching across the gravel parking area, then pulling to a stop.

  Devlin skated a sidelong look at Tate and raised an eyebrow. “I guess we’re in luck. Now that we’ve sorted out your new career, we can all go out to greet the vet and see if you have any chance with her at all.”

  “Maybe we can even help,” Jess added with a laugh. “You’ll probably need it.”

  Tate stifled a groan as his childhood memories flooded back.

  Jess and Dev had always been bigger, stronger and fiercely competitive with each other. He’d idolized them. Shadowed them. In turn, they’d relentlessly teased him as only older brothers could, and they’d become experts at it.

  He didn’t need that now.

  Even if seeing Sara again had reawakened a glimmer of feelings he’d buried long ago, he had no intention of pursuing her. There was no point, given her career in town and his plans to hit the road.

  But both Jess and Dev could make the next few months more than awkward if they decided to make overblown declarations about unrequited love...and embarrassed Sara or gave her the wrong impression.

  Hopefully they’d matured beyond the teenage taunts and teasing that all three of them had shared, but he wouldn’t put it past them, either.

  Still, he had to give them credit.

  They’d each found an amazing woman to settle down with, and from what he could see, they’d both found hope and inspiration in their faith. He couldn’t lay claim to any of that. The years had made him more cynical.

  God hadn’t listened to him years ago, when Heather and Mom died, or after his rodeo buddy Jace was injured in a horrific rodeo accident. A good, kind man and a devout Christian, Jace died anyway, leaving a distraught wife and two little kids. Where was God then?

  After that it hadn’t seemed worth the effort, no matter what Grandma Betty said about God always answering prayers. It had been a while since he’d stepped inside a church. But maybe God would be willing to handle something small.

  Listening to his brothers’ laughter as they sauntered toward the barn, he glanced heavenward, then briefly closed his eyes and prayed.

  Copyright © 2019 by Roxanne Rustand

  ISBN-13: 9781488059926

  H
er Secret Alaskan Family

  Copyright © 2019 by Sandra Calhoune

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