Falling For The Rancher. Roxanne Rustand

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Falling For The Rancher - Roxanne Rustand


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Beautiful drive, anyway, with all of this timber and those rocky bluffs. I always loved coming out to Doc’s place for his annual barbecues.”

      “I could’ve saved you the trip if I’d had your number.”

      “That’s why I wanted to see you in person.” She laughed softly. “Beth and I are hoping you won’t get off that easy.”

      “I’m sorry, but—”

      “Honestly, I think you’d be better off if you just let it stand. Good PR and all that.”

      He tipped his head toward the house. “Even if I wanted to help y’all out, I just don’t have the time. I can barely get in the door with all of the moving boxes stacked inside. It’ll take days to finish fencing the pasture and longer to take care of repairs in the barn.”

      “But—”

      “And then there’s going to be extensive remodeling at the vet clinic. A lot of time just getting the new practice going, and we’re still in foaling and breeding season, which means long days and even longer nights when I start seeing clients.”

      “Last year a guy backed out,” Hannah said darkly, as if she hadn’t heard a word about his complicated life. “It was the talk of the town for months when the winning bidder demanded her money back from the youth group, and that started a big flap about the future of the auction—liability, worries about lawsuits—but without this big fundraiser, too many deserving kids will miss a wonderful opportunity. This year we’d been praying there wouldn’t be a single glitch to jeopardize the auction concept. But now there is. You.”

      “This reminds me of a conversation I had with Beth at the cafe.” He stifled a laugh. “Darcy has some pretty convincing friends.”

      “My fiancé likes to say I’m forthright.” Hannah rolled her eyes. “Others just say stubborn. But if it’s for a good cause, why not?”

      There were now a good twenty bales waiting for him on the ground. The man on top of the stack was holding another and eyeing him impatiently. “If that’s it, then...”

      He turned to get back to work, but she touched his arm. “Please.”

      “Look, I—”

      “If you don’t care about the kids, well...”

      “It isn’t that I don’t care—I just don’t have time.”

      “Then think about Darcy and what she gave up for you.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “She’s single, you know, with no family around to help. Her little cottage is a wreck, and she’s been trying to hire a good handyman for months. But the good ones are booked ’til after the end of the year. And now, with her job in jeopardy since you showed up, she might have to sell and move. The cottage needs a lot of work before it can be listed.”

      Baffled, he shook his head slowly. “How could just twenty hours of labor make enough difference, then?”

      “She wanted to win Edgar. She’d been saving for months, hoping he would get the work started and then be willing to keep working for her. He’s a wonderful craftsman, but takes very few new clients.”

      “Then she shouldn’t have bid on me.”

      “That’s what I say. But she has a soft heart. She felt bad for you when no one else would bid. I’m sure she didn’t want you to face any ridicule.”

      “I’m sure I could’ve handled it,” he said dryly.

      “Maybe so...but with half the town angry over you threatening to fire the entire vet clinic staff, why add more fuel to the fire? And—” Hannah bit her lower lip, as if deciding how much more to say “—the other woman who drove the bidding up is...well, I think Darcy went so high ’cause she was trying to save you from a potentially bad situation. Very bad.”

      The man on the hay wagon cleared his throat. “Hey, Doc, I need to get back to the farm. You want me to just keep pitching these off or what?”

      Now there were a good fifty bales tossed into a jumbled pile on the ground, and at last one had landed wrong and broken. The farmer was muttering under his breath.

      “I’ll be with you in just a second.”

      He turned back to Hannah. “What if I made a donation to cover Darcy’s bid instead of doing the work?”

      Hannah folded her arms over her chest. “Fine, donate the two twenty-five. Except Darcy is still left high and dry. No Edgar, and no other skilled craftsmen are available until January...at least. Like I said, this is a small community.”

      “Fine. I’ll do it, then,” he said on a long sigh as he lifted a bale and started into the barn.

      But long after Hannah left, questions kept spinning through his thoughts as he stacked bales into one of the box stalls he was using to store hay.

      So Darcy had been struggling to save up for this auction? He knew what she was being paid at the clinic, and saving up a few hundred bucks for her beloved Edgar shouldn’t have been any big deal.

      Yet apparently she was strapped for cash.

      So what was her problem? Credit card debt? A gambling problem? Sheer irresponsibility? She didn’t seem like the type, but then, his own sister had mired herself in debt from online shopping, and he’d had to bail her out more than once so she and her kids wouldn’t lose their condo.

      And then there was his ex-fiancée—who had been far worse. He knew all too well how a person could be caught up in a web of embezzlement.

      So maybe this unexpected situation wasn’t so bad after all. If he completed the auction obligation to her, he’d have a chance to observe her situation and see if he even dared keep her around for the next two months.

      Desperate people could end up doing desperate, illegal things, and he wasn’t going through that situation ever again.

      * * *

      Logan logged onto the computer at the clinic on Monday morning and continued the search he’d started at home late last night.

      “Marilyn, can you come in here, please?” he called out.

      Darcy came in instead, wearing the new clinic uniform—maroon scrubs—plus her white lab coat with the Aspen Creek Vet Clinic logo on the front pocket, and a stethoscope around her neck. “She’s out in the parking lot helping Mildred McConaughy bring her dog in. Can I help you?”

      “I need to order some equipment, and I’d like an opinion on the vet supply distributor reps around here.” He flipped through the battered Rolodex on the desk. “Who do you prefer to deal with?”

      “Doc Boyd usually gave his orders to Harold Bailey—the two were old friends who went way back.”

      He looked up at her, momentarily taken aback. She stood in a shaft of morning sunlight streaming through the windows of his office. He’d first thought she had nondescript brown hair, but now he was struck by its rich, molten gold-and-amber highlights.

      It took a moment to gather his scattered thoughts. “And...uh...you don’t call him anymore?”

      “His branch warehouse is clear down in the Quad Cities, and the company takes too long for deliveries. After Doc passed away, we started using ABC Vet Supply because it has a warehouse over in St. Paul. Next-day delivery, usually, because it’s so close.”

      “So that sales rep is...” He thumbed back through the Rolodex. “Vicki Irwin?”

      “She’s young and fairly new, but sharp as can be and really follows through. She stops in twice a month. Sooner if we have any issues.” Darcy lifted a shoulder in a faint shrug. “But of course, you’ll need to decide for yourself which companies you want to use. What kind of equipment are you looking for?”

      “The most outdated


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