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“It’ll be fine. I wanted us to get a slower start, see if we were going to hit it off and be able to work together, but with the deadline, he’ll have to hit the ground running. I’ve told him where to find the keys, and left my cell phone number.”
The two men talked a few minutes longer. There wasn’t anyone Quintin trusted more than Ethan, anyone whose opinion he valued more, and it helped to walk through a few details and concerns that had kept him sleepless at night.
When they returned to Ethan’s truck in the front drive, his friend looked him straight in the eye. “You know I’ve got your back, Quint. I’ll help any way I can.”
“Thanks. I know I can count on you,” he replied. He ducked his head, then met his friend’s gaze. “Actually, I’m sort of looking forward to putting down roots again. And this place can use someone to bring it back to life.”
Ethan frowned. “I thought…”
Quintin waved a hand. “I know what I said back then. But that was a long time ago, and we were both drunk.”
Years ago, he and Ethan had been snowed in during a Colorado winter. Four miserably cold nights. When they’d run out of tall tales and worked their way through enough beer, they’d both ended up confessing their biggest fears, their wildest dreams, their greatest regrets. Quintin had never told anyone else what he’d admitted to Ethan that night. And although it had felt pretty damn good at the time to unload, looking back, he wished he hadn’t opened his mouth. That kind of past shame needed to stay buried and never see the light of day.
“Look how things have turned around for you,” Quintin pointed out, hoping to focus attention away from himself. “Five years ago, could you have imagined that you’d be back with Cassie? That you’d have a nearly-grown son and a baby on the way?”
“Is that what you’re really looking for?” Ethan asked. His voice was soft, like a leaf falling. “A wife and kids?”
“Hell, no,” Quintin replied with a laugh. Why had he ever taken this detour? “I’m not crazy enough to bite off that much more than I can chew.” When his friend remained silent, he added, “I’m just saying that I feel like I need a change. Like I’m ready for something different.”
He shrugged, as if it was no big deal, but Ethan was no fool. From personal experience, they both knew that so much of grieving was just holding things at bay. No more. Quintin had spent a decade trying to forget the life he had lived and lost. Teresa, his pretty young wife. Tommy, his son, a cheerful little boy who could make the most ordinary day seem special.
Sometimes Quintin could see both their faces so clearly in his mind’s eye. But these days their features were often like mists across a pond, formless and just out of reach.
As though he knew they needed to switch topics, Ethan pulled his truck keys from the back pocket of his jeans. He took one last look around. “You’ve got one hell of a job ahead of you, but if anyone can do it, you can.”
“Thanks.”
He clapped Quintin on the shoulder. “Call me if you need anything. And look at it this way, if all your plans end up in the toilet, you know where you can get a job.”
CHAPTER TWO
FIVE MILES FROM BEAUMONT, the weak sunshine that had spilled through the SUV’s windows all morning faded. It started to rain, hard. Definitely not a good sign from the gods, Riley thought.
She glanced in the rearview mirror. Both girls were napping in the backseat, curled against one another like puppies. Wendy flinched in her sleep as the first clap of thunder sounded in the distance. She’d always been afraid of storms, the exact opposite of Roxanna, who thought rain and wind made perfect dancing partners.
“Girls,” Riley said softly. “Wake up. We’re almost there.”
They sat up with groggy interest, watching water streak down the side glass of the SUV. Neither one said a word, and Riley was glad for the silence so she could concentrate on negotiating the road.
She almost missed the turnoff to the ranch. The sky had darkened to a muddy gray and bruised purple. The trees beyond the wildly swishing windshield wipers looked as if they were doing a mad waltz with the wind. The dirt drive had potholes nearly large enough to swallow the car, and she came upon the house so suddenly that she had to brake hard to keep from taking out a couple bushes in the yard.
Because of the way she’d parked, the headlights sent a direct beam of harsh light onto the Echo Springs ranch house.
It wasn’t what Riley expected.
In his few emails, Quintin Avenaco had told her that the original home was still standing—a three-bedroom Victorian. It needed work, he’d said, but it had potential, and a sound foundation.
Riley had pictured a quaint dollhouse of a place. Perhaps with the look of a tattered Southern lady, but charming. A house just waiting to be nurtured back into a real home.
But this…this place needed more than a woman’s loving touch.
Shutters that must be hanging by a single screw bracketed some of the second-floor windows. There were cockeyed porch balusters, crumbling bricks along the entry stairs and whole sections of gingerbread trim missing along the eaves. The house probably hadn’t been properly cared for since Roosevelt was in office. Teddy, not Franklin.
The disrepair gave it a sad, slightly creepy appearance. The fact that a storm was raging, whipping rain and debris everywhere, didn’t help.
Roxanna had unfastened her seat belt and hung over the seat back. “Cool!” she exclaimed, her eyes alight with excitement. “Do you think it’s haunted?”
I hope not, Riley said to herself. I certainly hope not. In as steady and upbeat a voice as she could master, she replied, “It’s not haunted. It just needs a little work.” And a bulldozer.
Wendy was hanging over the front seat now, as well, but her face told quite a different story from her sister’s. “Are we going to have to live there?” she asked in a whispery tone, her eyes full of grave concern.
“Of course not,” Riley replied. “We have a cozy little place all to ourselves. Somewhere…” She squinted through the rain and eerie darkness until she spotted the watery image of a big barn a short distance away. “Over there, I think.”
“I want to go back to Aunt Jillian’s,” Wendy said, unswayed.
Roxanna sniffed. “Big baby.”
The rain beat a hard tattoo on the roof, making Riley’s headache pound in unison. She released her seat belt and turned to face both girls. “Stop it, you two. We’ve come all this way and we’re not going to turn back now without even getting out of the car.”
“We can’t get out of the car,” Roxanna pointed out. “It’s raining too hard.”
“I mean we’re not going anywhere until we’ve given this a fair chance. The man who owns this place wants me to help him turn it into a real ranch. I’m going to work very hard for him, but I can’t give it everything I’ve got if you aren’t on my side. I know you’re nervous and a little afraid—”
“I’m not afraid,” Roxanna stated.
Riley eyed her with the most intimidating look in her mom arsenal. “I know you’d probably rather be back with Aunt Jillian. But girls, we have to give this our best shot. I need your help. So keep an open mind, will you?” She smiled. “For my sake?”
The twins nodded solemnly.
“Wait here,” Riley added, giving Roxanna a warning glance. “Do not get out of the car. I’ll find the keys, and then we’ll make a run for it. This is going to be great. I just know it.”
Her daughters looked at each other doubtfully, but refrained from comment.
Riley gasped as the first hard, cold raindrops hit her. It did little good to cover her head with her arms. In moments she was soaked.
She took the steps two at a time, nearly twisting her ankle as the wood gave under her foot. Flipping over the flowerpot by the front door, she retrieved the keys and an envelope Avenaco had left for her, then dashed back to the car. The whole ordeal took less than a minute, but by the time she slid into the front seat again, she had to wipe rainwater out of her eyes just to see anything.
The twins remained silent as she carefully drove toward the barn, splashing through more potholes. Those will have to be filled, she thought, automatically starting a to-do list in her head.
The map Avenaco had left for her indicated that the apartment was attached to the right side of the barn, a pretty standard setup. Most ranchers liked their second-in-command to be close, with easy access to both the main house and primary barn.
Riley parked, wrenched open the car door and hustled the twins out. They squealed as the rain hit them. She jammed the key into the lock, and was never happier in her life than when she felt the dead bolt slide back. They practically fell through the opening as the wind and rain swirled around them.
Gasping and dripping in near darkness, the three of them stood a moment, trying to catch their breaths. Riley’s hand found the light switch by the door. She flicked it on, and the room sprang into life.
Oh, dear God.
The place was smaller than Jillian’s. A miniscule kitchen to one side led out to a dining-living room combination. A closed door on the far wall probably accessed the only bedroom. Through another door Riley glimpsed a slice of sink and tub in a very small bathroom. The walls were wood-paneled in knotty pine, giving the place a gloomy, closed-in feel.
But it was the decor that had them speechless.
In Texas it wasn’t unusual to decorate a ranch house with a Western flavor. Nor was it uncommon to outfit the manager’s apartment with castoffs from the main house. But whoever had created this nightmare seemed determined to turn the place into a Western theme park.
There was a dining room table made out of an old wagon wheel. A sagging plaid couch draped with Indian blankets that looked as scratchy as steel wool. Two barrel chairs made out of actual barrels. Battered ten-gallon hats lined one wall, held in place by horseshoes that had been turned into hooks. Branding irons crossed one another like swords over the ancient television, while one corner of the living room boasted a fake saguaro cactus festooned with Indian dream catchers.
It might have been laughable. In fact, Riley could feel a giggle vibrating in her chest. But there was one big decor issue that would have to be dealt with immediately.
A white-tailed deer head adorned the space over the couch and seemed to be in a direct face-off with the mounted antelope head on the opposite wall. An angry-looking bobcat sat on the coffee table, posed to feast on a helpless rabbit with beady eyes.
Wendy’s fingers were already tightening around Riley’s.
“Mommy…” her daughter began, her voice a mere whisper, as if she’d suddenly found herself in church.
Riley bent down, bringing her face level with Wendy’s. “I know, honey. I know. But we can fix it.”
Seeing the fear on Wendy’s face, Riley felt a flicker of annoyance. All right. Granted, this was Texas, a state with some of the best hunting in the country. By why would anyone think stuffing the poor creatures he shot and using them for decoration was a good idea?
Wendy glanced back over her shoulder. Her features were as pale as milk. “They’re looking at us.”
Riley had to agree it must seem that way.
“I think they’re kind of cool,” Roxanna said, giving her sister a superior look, but Riley could tell most of it was pure bravado.
“Can we put them outside?” Wendy asked.
“Not right now,” Riley said. “It’s still pouring.” The rain made a good excuse. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure about her options. If they stayed, would Avenaco allow her to get rid of poor stuffed Bambi and his pals? He might be an avid hunter himself and see nothing wrong with it. And he’d expected a man to show up, someone who probably wouldn’t care one way or another about a few hunting trophies.
She felt Wendy start to shiver, whether from the rain or the taxidermy, Riley didn’t know. Probably both.
The downpour had slackened, so she made a couple of runs to the SUV to bring in suitcases, bags of groceries and a box of supplies. The girls didn’t move an inch until she tossed them towels and began drying them off.
Wendy particularly didn’t need to catch a cold. Last year, just before Riley had left Brad for good, a case of the sniffles had turned into pneumonia, putting their daughter in the hospital. They’d nearly lost her. Now, anytime Wendy even looked like she was going to sneeze, Riley’s heart leaped up in her throat.
She gave her daughters a big smile and nudged them farther into the room. “Let’s check out the place,” she said, even though there didn’t seem to be much else to investigate. “See what the bedroom’s like. I’m going to unload the groceries. I brought the stuff to make spaghetti tonight. How does that sound?”
Since that was one of their favorites, they nodded absently. Riley headed for the small kitchen, while Roxanna and Wendy drifted slowly toward the bedroom.
The range and fridge were old, but functional; work space was on the skimpy side, but manageable. There was a decent supply of pots and pans. A maid service card was on the counter. Avenaco had emailed her that he’d had the place cleaned, which was a relief. She wondered what the cleaning crew had thought of all the taxidermy.
On top of a cupboard she spotted a stuffed flying squirrel in midflight peering down at her. “Don’t even think about trying to tell me how to cook,” she muttered up at the creature.
“Mom…” Roxanna called from the bedroom.
Now what? Riley wondered.
She stopped at the bedroom door. The girls stood on either side of a queen-size bed. The space was less cluttered with tacky Western decor than the living room, and at least the bed looked comfortable. She had planned to give the twins the bedroom, since the setup had worked so well at her sister’s apartment.
Thankfully, there were no stuffed animals on the dresser or in the corner, looking ready to pounce. A pretty normal-looking bedroom, actually.
As long as you didn’t mind the huge stuffed buffalo head glaring down at you from over the bed.
WITHIN AN HOUR, the rain had stopped and sunshine made a welcome reappearance. Covering the buffalo head with the biggest bath towel in the linen closet seemed to reassure Wendy. They unpacked, though Riley couldn’t help wondering if it was a waste of time. When Quintin Avenaco returned, would she and the girls find themselves back on the road?
Riley decided they should spend the rest of the afternoon checking out their new surroundings. The girls refused to stay in the apartment alone, and trooped after her, with promises not to squabble or wander off.
The main house was off-limits, of course, much to Roxanna’s disappointment, but there were plenty of other things to see. Since the girls had been raised on a ranch, they didn’t find anything particularly interesting, but nothing scared them, either. Inspecting the barn, the equipment sheds and stock structures, Riley saw that Echo Springs had potential, just as Avenaco had said, but most of it seemed buried under years of neglect.
There were signs that he had begun to make progress already. Fifty-pound bags of grain were stacked in one corner of the horse barn, along with fresh, sweet-smelling hay and vitamin supplement pellets. Several unidentifiable delivery cartons were tilted up against one wall, plus boxes of cooling blankets, rubber wash mats, breeding hobbles and cross ties.
They found a late-model ATV parked in a dilapidated-looking loafing shed, probably for quick trips out to the pastures. Both girls wanted to take it for a spin, but Riley found an easy no in the fact that she didn’t have the key.
From the moment they’d left the apartment, they’d been aware of a high-pitched squeal coming from somewhere on the property. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard, and it was a sure bet they would never sleep tonight if it continued. They discovered the source of the problem behind the big barn.
A sixty-foot windmill stood beside a large tank, probably used to pump water to the pastures. Every time a breeze caught its weather vane and the fan blades turned, the screeching began.
Riley pulled out her pad and pencil, adding one more item to the list of chores she’d been compiling—fix windmill. Even as she wrote, the wind sent the blades whirling, and the twins cupped their hands over their ears.
Making a sudden decision, Riley tossed her list aside. “Come on, you two,” she said as she turned to head back to a toolshed they’d investigated earlier. “Help your mother with her first project.”
As a teenager growing up on her parents’ ranch in Oklahoma, Riley had gravitated toward helping her father with his chores, while Jillian seemed more interested in, and adept at, assisting their mother. Riley felt sure she could handle silencing the windmill. How many times had she been at her dad’s side as he tackled problems with their old mill?
She found tools and a cupboard holding replacement parts. She and the girls carried everything back out to the water tank. Riley glanced up, checking out the loop steps that led up to the platform where she could access the gear assembly. The mill seemed taller from this angle, and it had been a long time since she’d climbed a ladder that high, but no way were they going to put up with that noise tonight.
“What if you fall?” Wendy asked, her head tipped back as far as it could go as she looked up.
“She’ll get squished,” Roxanna added, and to Riley’s mind, she sounded a little too gleeful about the possibility.
“I won’t fall. Watch. I’ll make it up there faster than a monkey going up a coconut tree.”
That didn’t turn out to be entirely true. Riley wasn’t as limber as she’d been at fifteen. The loop steps were made of tightly welded metal, and the anchor posts of the tower were solid, but halfway up, the height got to her and she had to pause a moment to recapture her courage. Below her, the twins seemed impossibly small.
At last, she swung onto the tower platform. She sat down immediately to catch her breath. Below, the Texas landscape looked green, so full of abundance and grace. The buildings made it seem like a Monopoly board come to life.
Placing one hand to her brow in her best impersonation of an Indian scout, Riley stared off into the distance. “Hey!” she called down to the girls. “I can see Aunt Jillian’s apartment complex from up here.”
“Really?” they replied in unison.
She laughed and set to work.
The structure had to stand up to tough weather, so it was well constructed from galvanized metal, and looked to be in pretty good shape. Neither the vane nor blades needed replacing. Riley pulled out the screwdriver she’d tucked into her back pocket and removed the face plate from the gear assembly. Using detergent-free cleaner, she wiped down all the moving parts, then discovered the culprit—a rusty pump rod. Fifteen minutes later, she had it back in working order.
When she jumped to the ground from the last loop step, Riley couldn’t help grinning. Not bad for her first duty. Even Wendy and Roxanna seemed impressed. Now if only she could persuade Quintin Avenaco that she could handle any job.
She wanted to explore further, but the girls seemed to be running out of steam. Riley settled them in front of the television while she sat at the dining table, making lists, writing down questions she’d need to ask Avenaco and studying a detailed layout of the ranch that she’d found in a desk drawer. Probably a previous ranch manager’s paperwork. Her new boss had said he might be back by midafternoon tomorrow, and she wanted to be prepared if she had to fight for the chance to stay here.
By bedtime, all three of them were yawning. It had been a full day, and a nerve-racking one in some ways. A good night’s sleep would feel wonderful, Riley decided, even on the lumpy couch with Bambi staring down at her.
Tucking the twins in bed went more smoothly than she could have hoped.
