Snowbound With The Cowboy. Roxanne Rustand
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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.
Sara reached across the front seat of her truck to stroke the dog’s head, then rested her hand on its thin shoulders. “We’re going to find you a good home, Lucy,” she murmured. “Someone who will take care of those