The Rancher’s Second Chance Read online

  “Okay, buddy!” Cole waved, feeling more awkward than he had at his first middle school dance. “So…uh…I'll be back!” He smiled as wide as he could, aware of the workers' eyes on him. Shouldn't Devon be crying? Did the fact that his son wasn't pitching a fit mean he was a bad dad?

  “Hey there, Daddy.” An older woman with a tight cap of dark curls approached him with a smile. “Don't be nervous. He's doing great.” She put out her hand and glanced fondly at Devon as he paged through the board books. “I'm Tina. Looks like you're doing a great job with him.”

  “Yeah?” Cole swallowed around the tightness in his throat.

  Tina nodded. “He's secure and happy. Go.” She shooed at him with her hands. “We'll have a full report for you when you pick him up at the end of the day.”

  Cole bent and kissed his son's head. “Love you, bud.”

  “Bye, Dada!” Devon chirped, waving a chubby hand.

  With drop-off done, Cole felt like he'd avoided one catastrophe. But at County Court, he'd be walking right into another one.

  None of the printouts in Sammie's stack told him how to handle returning to the scene of his crimes.

  When she'd told him about the stack of violations she'd unearthed, he'd half expected her to tell him she gave up. After all, when he'd tried to tell her his plans for the future of the ranch, she'd barely said anything before running away. Literally.

  So when she didn't give up—when she'd balled her fists at her side and lifted her chin defiantly to proclaim she'd already made an appointment with the presiding judge to beg for an extension, he'd blurted out the first thing he could think of.

  “I'm coming, too.”

  She looked surprised. “This isn't your problem.”

  “It is, though.” He looked her square in the eye. “This ranch is my home too, Sammie. So yeah, this is definitely my problem.” He smiled grimly and flexed his fingers again. “And don't forget, I've got my own beef with that cousin of yours.”

  Because that was who was behind all this. Sleazy Pete. “He played the same kind of dirty pool with my folks,” Cole told her as he flicked the crumpled summons. “Anonymous complaints about environmental violations, sending the tax assessor after us, all these new, expensive OSHA requirements that made no damn sense.” Cole felt his neck heating up as he recalled how his parents lost everything. He'd never wanted to be part of the family business, but he also didn't want them to lose it. “He bankrupted them on purpose. Fucked over the business they'd spent their whole lives building. Just so he could steal the land it sat on. Yeah, when it comes to fighting ole Petey-boy, you're gonna have to let me have a piece.”

  Last night he'd knocked back of couple of bourbons and been spoiling for a fight. The feeling hadn’t faded by morning.

  Though he was a lot less confident about his odds.

  “Hi, I'm looking for Judge Watkins's chambers?” The lobby's air conditioning was turned down to meat-locker levels, but Cole still felt the pinpricks of perspiration along his hairline.

  Because the security guard's eyes were widening in recognition.

  “Cole! You're back!” the uniformed guard boomed.

  Cole wracked his brain. Big guy, chipped tooth, a booming laugh Cole had last heard while setting off fireworks in an abandoned lot. “Uh, Seth?”

  “Yeah! Look at me! I'm a cop now!” Seth laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “You've cleaned up, right? I'd hate to be the one called in on you, man. 'Specially given our history.” Seth winked.

  Cole pressed his lips together. “Nah, I'm past that. Four years in the Army knocked my head straight. Plus, I've got a kid now.”

  “You as a dad?!” Seth laughed as if that was the funniest thing in the world. “Man, a hellraiser like you on the straight and narrow. Never would have thought it.”

  “Me neither, I guess.” Cole shifted around Seth and gathered up his wallet and keys from the metal detector tray. “Well man, good to see you. I have to…uh…do a thing.”

  Seth's eyes narrowed, but there was no time to explain that he wasn't here because of something he'd done. I'm just here to help out a friend. Right. How lame would that sound? And then he'd have to explain which friend he was talking about, and that was a road Cole definitely did not want to go down.

  He hurried away without saying goodbye. The walk to the judge's chambers seemed to take forever, and Cole could feel Seth's eyes on him the entire way.

  He breathed a sigh of relief when he turned the corner and got out of Seth's sightline.

  His relief lasted the span of exactly one heartbeat and was replaced with a wash of déjà vu as he passed the main courtroom.

  Seven years ago, he'd fiddled with his too-tight necktie and tried not to let his voice crack as a prosecutor interrogated him about the night that left Jameson in a wheelchair. It had felt like every single person in Hope Springs was there, watching him with narrowed, judgmental eyes. And the harder he'd tried to stop the shaking, the harder his hands had shook.

  It looked exactly the same. He still felt the same.

  His mouth went dry and for a second he wanted to turn and run out of here. Run to his truck and drive away. And keep driving out of Hope Springs until it—along with his past—was out of sight. What was he thinking? Coming back here and trying to make a home in the place that had decided long ago he wasn't welcome?

  “Cole!” Sammie's strangled whisper floated down the hall. “Down here!”

  He looked up. She waved and eagerly beckoned him over. He cast one more look at the courtroom.

  He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to tell her what it did for him to have her call him over right then. To have her call him away from that black despair. To know that someone was happy and grateful he'd come back. He wasn't even sure he'd be able to explain it to himself.

  Maybe it wasn't something he could put into words. It was just a feeling, a reorganizing of his inner self so that it aligned to her. It was that same loyalty and duty he'd had in the Army, but all wrapped up in one person.

  Her fight was his fight now.

  They were a team.

  He swallowed hard, straightened his tie, and then moved to Sammie's side. “Hey.”

  She looked up at him. Her face was beautiful but cold under all that makeup, and the set of her mouth was grim. “Thanks again for coming.”

  Cole nodded, unsure of how steady his voice would be if he spoke.

  Thankfully, Judge Watkins's chambers were nothing like the cool, marbled grandeur of the courtroom. They entered a small room paneled in dark wood. A wilted ficus tree slumped in one corner, and the stained drop ceiling called to mind his old dentist's office rather than his past crimes.

  The judge sat behind a wall of teetering files. From his vantage point, Cole could only see his gleaming bald head and the arm of his wire-rim glasses.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Your Honor,” Sammie said.

  Judge Watkins cleared his throat. “Ms. Jensen. Please sit down.” He shook the paper in front of him. “This is quite a list.”

  Sammie took her seat and cleared her throat. “Yes, Your Honor. I know. I know it's no excuse, but I'm not here to plead guilty or innocent. I'm pleading ignorance.”

  The judge raised an eyebrow. “You're ignorant of the leaky roof in the bunkhouse?”

  Sammie looked to Cole. He nodded and spoke up. “Your Honor, no. And we have an order in to fix it, as well as a mold mitigation service under contract. What Sam—Ms. Jensen is saying is we were ignorant of the inspection.”

  “You're ignorant of the downed fence?”

  “No, Your Honor, but we were ignorant of the incident where the cattle got onto our neighbor's property.”

  “And that the police were involved,” Cole added, squeezing his hands together and imagining Peter's neck between them.

  “The downed trees on the power lines?”

  Cole could feel Sammie's panic rising off her and cleared his throat. “Yes, Your Honor, we were
ignorant of that until we—until Ms. Jensen located the summons. But it's an easy fix, don't you think?”

  “I didn't come back until recently,” Sammie added. “The house was empty, the hands...well, my cousin hired most of the hands away.”

  “Your cousin...” The judge flicked the paper. “Peter Jensen.”

  Sammie hissed through her gritted teeth. “Yes, Your Honor. The complainant.”

  “Hmm.” The judge pulled out a pair of reading glasses. In the silence that followed, Cole tried not to lose it. Watching the judge made him too nervous, so he watched Sammie instead.

  Sammie glanced quickly at him and looked away just as quickly. The muscle at her jawline tightened, but that was the only indication she gave of her nervousness.

  “Son?” Cole jerked with surprise that the judge would speak right to him. “You're here in the capacity of ranch foreman, is that correct?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “I hired him very recently. And we're looking to hire on more. These are highly skilled, highly paid jobs, and they'll be available very soon,” Sammie added brightly.

  But Judge Watkins kept his eyes fixed on Cole. Cole swallowed and tried not to squirm in his chair. “Cole Baker,” the judge drawled slowly, rolling Cole's name around in his mouth as if it tasted funny.

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “You're back in town again?”

  Cole nodded. “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “You've grown since I last saw you.”

  “Oh,” was all Cole could manage to say. How could he have forgotten? The prosecutor's face was forever etched in his memory, but it wasn't until this very moment that he remembered the face of the judge that had presided over Jameson's case. Judge Daniel Patrick Watkins.

  Cole wanted to leave. He needed to leave. To run. He was bracing himself to leap from his chair and do just that when Sammie broke in again.

  “Your Honor, he's served admirably in the military.” Cole gaped as Sammie's clear voice rang out in support of him. “He's an experienced ranch hand and a widowed father raising a beautiful two-year-old boy. He has all the capabilities necessary to turn this ranch around, and I have the will and the resources to make it happen.” She steadied her hands on her knees and declared. “I just need time.”

  The judge steepled his fingers and finally turned away from Cole. His expression softened. “How are you doing, Ms. Jensen?”

  Sammie's icy composure thawed. Only a little, but Cole caught it. “Your Honor?”

  “You've been dealt a rough hand. I'm so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.”

  “I was good friends with your granddaddy, you know. Back when I was a young buck, he took a chance on an untried law student. I owe him a debt of thanks.” He leaned back and squinted at Sammie, who was so pale Cole worried she would faint. “It was good of you to come back and take on the ranch like you did. For your granddaddy's sake, I'm willing to grant an extension.”

  Sammie let out a rush of breath. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

  The judge glanced at Cole. “Young man, since you're in charge of overseeing these repairs, how much time do you need?”

  Cole squared his shoulders. “Six months, Your Honor.”

  “You can do better than that.”

  “Three months?”

  “Make it two,” the judge snapped.

  After a flurry of signatures and rubber-stamping, Cole and Sammie staggered back out into the long marble hallway.

  Cole blinked, then turned to Sammie. “You did it.”

  She looked shell-shocked. “Cole...” Then her head snapped up, and all the worry drained out of her face and was replaced with pure, unadulterated loathing.

  Cole turned to face where she was glaring. He swore under his breath. “Can I kill him?” he whispered to Sammie.

  Sammie stepped around to his side. “Me first,” she whispered back then raised her voice. “Peter! What a lovely surprise!”

  Peter Jensen's expensive shoes squeaked against the marble floor as he stumbled in surprise, but he recovered quickly. Tucking a stack of file folders under his arm, he moved to embrace Sammie, who fended him off by grabbing his hand and shaking it. “Hey cuz!” he boomed. “What brings you to—” He glanced at the nameplate on the door, and his expression hardened. “What brings you here?” he amended.

  “I think you know the answer to that question,” Cole growled. “Given that your name was the one on the papers.”

  Peter dropped Sammie's hand and turned to Cole with a smug grin. “Cole Baker? It's been a while. I'd say I barely recognized you, but you look right at home here.” He let his words land heavily before adding, “In the courthouse.”

  Cole rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you know me. Got a cot set up in a janitor's closet down that way.”

  Peter looked disappointed that his insult hadn't ruffled Cole and turned back to Sammie. “Have you thought about my offer?”

  She tossed her head. “My answer is the same, Peter. No.”

  “You really think you can run a ranch by yourself, Sammie?”

  “I'm not running it by myself. I've already hired on a new foreman.”

  “Who?” Peter scoffed. He looked between the two of them, head bouncing in exaggerated disbelief before pointing at Cole. “Him?”

  Cole had had enough. “Yes. Me.”

  “Heard you've got a little one now, Cole.”

  Cole's fingers itched. “You got something to say, Peter?”

  “Oh no, no, congratulations and all that. Just wondering how fatherhood is treating you.”

  Cole was used to people in Hope Springs thinking he was a bad person. But like hell he was going to let someone get away with saying he was a bad father. “Just fine, actually.” He seethed. Punching Peter in the face would have given him immense satisfaction. Except he knew he was being baited. Letting Peter rile him until he took a swing right here in front of all these security guards would play right into the sleazy little twerp's hands. With great effort, Cole forced himself to relax and smile. “Devon is a wonderful little boy and it's an honor to be his father.”

  Sammie's little finger brushed his. “Cole's a great dad,” she added. “And he's really turning the ranch around.”

  Peter's smile was all teeth, but Cole was pretty sure there was a little bit of panic behind that studied expression of boredom. He looked like he was about to say more when there was another squeak of soles on marble. “Peter!” A man came up with his hand out.

  Peter shifted his binders to his other arm and shook his hand with a politician's gravitas. “Mr. Shelby!” he enthused. “How's the golf handicap?”

  The man's chuckle set Cole's teeth on edge. “Speaking of, you owe me a re-match!”

  “Sure, of course. Have your secretary call mine.” Peter shot Sammie a look. “I'm never too busy to spend time with you.”

  The man took the ball and ran with it. “And that's the amazing thing. You are always giving back. This town owes you a debt of gratitude for what you've done for it.”

  Peter nodded, still staring at Sammie. “Hope Springs needs jobs, that's clear. You can't stand in the way of progress.”

  Cole straightened up, but Sammie spoke first. Pinning a steely smile onto her face she nodded. “That's right. Progress like eco-upgrades and good paying, highly skilled jobs that Bitter Ridge Ranch provides.”

  The two-month deadline terrified Cole, but it was worth braving that terror just to see how Peter's face fell when he realized he hadn't beaten them. Sammie's smile widened. “We're looking forward to providing even more in the future.”

  “The future,” Peter echoed.

  Sammie waved the violations notice under his nose. “It didn't work, Peter. Nice try though.”

  Peter turned red, then whirled and rapped on the judge's door.

  Sammie took Cole's arm and pulled him away. “Don't look back!” she urged him. “Confidence. Head up. Look like we got this.” She let out a tinkling little laugh and
tossed her head.

  Cole burst out laughing too. Walking arm-in-arm with Sammie, he didn't have to feign confidence at all. He kept his head high all the way through the security checkpoint and even managed to wave goodbye to Seth.

  “Did you see how pissed he was?” Sammie giggled once they'd emerged from the cool building into the oppressive heat. But her giggle faded fast. “Cole, two months? How are we going to do that?”

  Cole really liked the way she kept using the word we. “Hard work? That's all I've got. But we can do it.” He lifted his hand, the need to touch her overwhelming.

  Sammie blinked. “He's not going to win, right?”

  Cole shook his head and let his hand brush down her arm until his fingers touched hers, Impulsively he twined them together. She looked down and then up at him with an expression of pure shock.

  “We got this,” he promised.

  Her smile made him want to promise even more.

  Six

  That night, the moon rose fat and full. The night bugs had finally quieted their evening ruckus, and the only sound was a faint rustle of wind through the grass and the far off nickering of the slumbering horses.

  It was all so peaceful out here. But inside of Sammie's head, there was nothing but turmoil.

  Nights like this, when she was all in her head, there was only one thing that got her back out again. Sammie zipped up her Yale hoodie against the cool night air, then unfurled the length of her jump rope. The gravel drive was too uneven for it work properly there. Her only option was the porch. She swung the rope overhead.

  “One,” she counted. “Two. Three.” Faster and faster she jumped, the slap of the rope against the wooden boards giving her something to focus on. When she reached one hundred, she switched it up, skipping just like she had as a little girl. “Cinderella, dressed in yella, went downstairs to kiss her fella,” she recited. The old words rose up out of nowhere, and suddenly she was a little girl again, in this exact same spot. Watch me, Mama! How high do you think I can get?

  “You crazy girl,” her Mama would chide approvingly, and then stay right there in the doorway, counting with her.

  “Are you crazy?”