Three river ranch, p.15
Three River Ranch, page 15
“Well, look who’s got a new friend,” she said with a laugh. “Good girl, Mistral.”
She bent down to examine the gap in the fence. The old wood posts were barely hanging together. Would it hold until Carson got back? Should she try to fix it? She really needed Carson to come home.
Rory returned to the house and called his cell, but it went straight to voice mail. She left a message, then noticed that there was a message awaiting her as well.
“Mr. Granger,” said a tinny voice. “I’m calling on behalf of Mr. Sanderson and Mr. Green. Your application package did not arrive at our office in time for us to present it to the committee with the other proposals. An error on the label directed it to the wrong office, and unfortunately, it was not redirected until the deadline had passed. Thank you for the opportunity to consider your work. You are welcome to resubmit next year.”
“No. No!” Rory whispered, her heart thudding in her chest. She’d packaged the application forms. Had she written the address wrong? Carson would be devastated.
She had to fix this. There had to be something she could do, she thought as she rummaged through Carson’s Rolodex. When she found the lawyer’s number, she took a deep breath. She was desperate to find anyone with ideas on how to solve this problem.
“I absolutely cannot discuss my client’s business, Ms. McAllister,” Jonah said, sounding horrified at the very suggestion. “I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course,” Rory said quickly. “It’s just that I feel awful about my part in this. The people he was hoping to get funding from turned him down.”
“Does he know yet?”
“No. He’s out with Zach, getting more horses. Jonah, I can’t explain it, but I think there’s something about the ranch and his funding that he doesn’t want to tell me, for some reason. If there’s anything I can do to fix this, please, say so. You’re his friend. You’ve got to help.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, he asked, “Do you like living on the ranch?”
“I do!” Rory said, surprised to discover that she meant it. “Why?” She took a deep breath, trying to quell the panic she felt at breaking the news to Carson.
“What you’re asking of me,” said the lawyer, his voice hushed, “is in violation of client confidentiality. But Derek Granger was not a reasonable man. I’m willing to bend the rules a bit in order to right a wrong and get Three River Ranch and all its assets into Carson’s hands. But this is just so you know what Carson is up against. Okay?”
“Go on,” Rory said breathlessly. Maybe there was a way out, after all.
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Anything is better than the mess I’m in now.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Jonah swallowed audibly. “Three River Ranch remains in trust until such time as Carson or Mitchell Granger reinstates the property as a working cattle ranch. Mitchell’s out of the picture, so it’s all up to Carson.”
“You know he won’t do that.”
“You’re right, he’s refused.”
“So? What’s the second option?”
Jonah hesitated. “I’m done for if this gets out. Oh hell. The other option is for him to get married.”
Rory stood silent, her mouth open. The phone in her hand suddenly became extremely heavy. Married. Her jaw worked for a moment or two before she could form the word.
“Married?”
“You asked. But you didn’t hear it from me, you understand?”
After she hung up, Rory sank into the nearest chair. Carson could have everything he wanted, just by getting married. And he hadn’t said a thing. It made sense now, the confusion she’d sensed in him. Or did he hate the idea of marriage so much that he’d reject it, reject her even at the cost of his career?
The rest of the day, Rory went about her tasks mechanically, trying to figure out what to do with this information. She fed and cleaned up after the puppies, fed Stormy, and, on Bliss’s advice, wound a strand of baling twine around the crumbling fence posts. But all the while she was thinking of Carson. He felt something for her; she knew he did. But he didn’t trust those feelings. He was willing to sacrifice his dreams, rather than get further involved with her. It was an easy enough solution, after all; a temporary marriage now, a quiet divorce a year later…provided they’d both be able to walk away afterward.
He was trying to protect her. From himself.
Maybe it was time for her to protect him.
She had the power to help bring his dreams to fruition; she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she didn’t do this for him. But if she did this…oh, why was this such a difficult decision? It’s not like it would be a real marriage.
For a brief moment, time stopped, the air around her hung suspended as her mind raced to catch up with her heart.
Ah, she thought as the scales came off her eyes. How easily we lie to ourselves.
Could she really do this, insist on playing wife to Carson, pretending it was temporary, pretending all she wanted from him was money? Even knowing that at the end, he might walk away, when she wanted him to be a real husband, a real father to her baby?
It was worth the risk to her heart, for the chance that he might finally see what she saw in him. That he could see what they could be, together.
She had to try.
Chapter Sixteen
Carson and Zach didn’t speak much on the last leg of their journey. They were both grimy and bruised from the rough work of catching terrified mustangs. Short on sleep, food, and patience, all they wanted was to get their cargo home intact, and release them in a safe place.
Which, for now, was the corral next to Stormy’s. Unless Carson could guarantee that his land would stay safe, Three River Ranch was no more than the frying pan that followed the fire. Against his better judgment, he’d told Zach the conditions of Derek’s will. Mild-mannered Zach chose that as an appropriate moment to speak ill of the dead, and Carson couldn’t muster energy to contradict him.
“Why was it so important to him that you follow in his footsteps?” Zach said, breaking the silence. The dark road outside was broken only occasionally by the headlights of passing vehicles. The console provided the only illumination in the cab of the truck, but it was enough for Carson to see the sympathy in his friend’s face.
It infuriated him.
“He was a little man who wanted control.” Carson’s hands gripped the wheel tightly. “He controlled my mother when she was alive. He controlled Mitch and me when we were there. But the fact that neither of us gave a damn about his precious empire drove him crazy. So now he’s made sure we don’t get his money unless we dance to his tune.”
“I can see him wanting to leave a legacy. But he had to know that you’d fight it.”
“Of course he did. It probably brightened his last days.” Carson glanced at Zach in exasperation. “He’s put a bonus clause in his will, for both me and Mitch. An incentive, if you will, for us to get married. He told me once that Granger men aren’t good on their own.”
“He’s got a point there.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re not exactly in touch with your feminine side,” Zach said with a laugh. “Even when you were with Laura—and she was no treat—you were easier to be around. Maybe your father was trying to do you a favor. You’re a tough nut to crack, you know that?”
“Which doesn’t bode well for my inheritance,” Carson added glumly. “And thank you, by the way.”
“Hey,” Zach said, punching him lightly on the shoulder. “I love you like a brother. Who else could tell you the hard truth?”
“I could do with a little less love, in that case,” Carson said as they pulled into the yard.
“I doubt that, my friend.” Zach swung himself out of the cab and looked toward the house, where Rory stood silhouetted against the light inside. “In fact, you’ve got a ready-made solution to your problem standing right in front of you. She’s gorgeous; she’s got a fatherless baby on the way. You can’t deny the convenience. You’re already living together, after all.”
Carson shot a glance at the kitchen window. “Not happening.”
Zach, busy opening the gate to the corral, stood still at his words. “You don’t like her? What’s wrong with you? Is it the baby?”
“No, it’s not that.” Carson grabbed the bar holding the trailer door shut and heaved upward on it until it released with a metallic clunk. “She’s complicated.”
Zach ducked from flying dirt as the first horse exploded out of the trailer. “Then you do like her,” he shouted between horses.
“Never said that,” Carson answered, waving his arms to direct the animals.
“Didn’t have to. That’s all the answer I need.” The last horse pushed through the narrow trailer opening and pounded away to the far corner of the corral. Zach swung the gate shut and latched it securely.
Both men were sweating and covered with dust. But the horses were in and safe, at least. Finally he could check on Stormy. They made their way to the other corral. With only the light of the moon to guide them, the mare was difficult to find, but Carson spotted her beneath a stand of deciduous trees.
Then looked again. While he watched, the foal nudged a gap between the fence posts where it was almost big enough for him to squeeze through. Carson shooed both him and Stormy away from the weakened area. He could see that Rory had wound some twine around it, but it hadn’t held. He pushed away the image of her nervously trying to fix the fence. Her shaking hands, her wide eyes watching for the mare.
What had he been thinking, leaving her with that kind of responsibility, forgetting about her fears? He’d been thinking of the horses. He’d been thinking of himself.
He’d been thinking like a Granger.
Shame tightened his chest, followed by anger. Rory had no business being here at all, let alone in her condition. She should be with friends, people who cared for her, not a man who was so self-centered, he’d leave her alone at the drop of a hat to take care of his own interests.
He’d tried to warn her. But no, she had to take his guesthouse, she had to insist on being pigheaded, independent…brave. Generous. Sweet.
Stupid!
If she’d been hurt, working around Stormy and the foal…
Carson squeezed his eyes shut against the fear that welled up in him at the thought of Rory injured.
“Damn it!” he muttered. “I did not ask for this!”
…
Rory stood anxiously at the window, waiting for Carson and Zach to come in from the corrals. She was grateful not to be part of releasing this trailer-load of mustangs. Watching the first group burst out had been quite enough for her. Six or eight or however many he had this time would be a rodeo she’d happily skip.
She was eager to tell him about Mistral’s new friendship with the foal, but she dreaded telling him his funding had been denied. She wanted to be very businesslike with him, and tell him she’d be his, for a price.
But as soon as she heard his footsteps on the porch, she knew it wasn’t going to go down like that.
“The foal can get through the fence.”
“I know,” she said, taken aback. “I fixed it as well as I could. What’s the matter? He didn’t get out, did he?”
“I can’t believe you let this happen. Do you have any idea how important that foal is to my project? He could have gotten hurt or been separated from Stormy. Coyotes could have found him.”
All the excitement Rory had felt at seeing him again evaporated.
“What?” he said.
She turned away, furious tears near the surface. But before she could say anything, Zach slammed into the room. Clearly, he’d heard them.
“Your father was right,” Zach said to Carson. His tone was even, but there was venom beneath his words. “Granger men are bastards. Rory.” Zach turned and put a gentle hand on her arm. “You’ve done a fantastic job looking after everything while we were gone. Thank you.”
She whirled to her room, Mistral at her heels. But from behind the closed door, she heard Zach’s voice, quick and low. Carson was quiet after that. She hoped he felt terrible.
Good, she thought bitterly. That made two of them.
“You won’t believe it!” crowed Desiree, her excitement vibrating over the telephone wires. “Jeanette Franklin, the old bat, decided to throw in the towel. I guess ten years of failure finally convinced her that she’s missed her calling. Children and parents everywhere, rejoice!” Des fell silent, suddenly noticing Rory’s lack of response. “Rory? You okay?”
“Yeah,” she answered quickly, reaching deep inside to pull up some semblance of enthusiasm. “So Jeanette the Martinet is quitting. What tipped her over the edge?”
By the time Desiree had told the story of Jeanette’s fateful interaction with a high-functioning autistic boy and his difficult mother, Rory’s sides were aching from laughing.
“Jeanette actually poured paint on him?” Rory repeated in disbelief, between breaths.
“Versions of the story differ,” Des said. “She says she was handing him a jar and it slipped. Mrs. Lippman says she hurled it at him like a major-league pitcher.”
“Poor Jeanette.”
“Poor Jeanette, my butt,” Des retorted. “Why she ever chose teaching is beyond me. Special education, no less.”
“She has skills,” Rory protested.
“Sure. Then she needs to find a place that values those skills. Like a slaughterhouse.”
“Des,” Rory said, wishing with all her heart that her friend wasn’t miles away, “you are exactly what I needed.”
“And that,” Des said, “is the Rory I know and love.”
Rory’s throat closed up at the tenderness in Desiree’s voice.
“Hey, what’s going on with you?”
Rory swallowed hard. “Nothing.”
“Liar.” Des paused. “Come on, what’s really happening? Is the baby okay?”
“The baby’s fine. Mistral’s fine. I’m fine.” She paused. “Except that I may have made an enormous mistake.”
“So come home,” Des said immediately. “My story about Jeanette was more than an entertaining bit of gossip. She’s not returning in the fall, which means there’s a position open. They asked me if I thought you’d be interested. You should check your e-mail, kiddo.”
“Des.” Rory winced. “I can’t even think about that right now.”
“Try. It’s a great opportunity. I know you don’t want to be here, with everything that happened, but honestly, Rory, don’t you miss it? The kids? The challenge? What aren’t you telling me?”
Rory sighed. “Nothing. It’s just been a long few weeks and it’s been harder than I expected.” She could hear Des breathing on the other end of the line. She hoped fervently that her friend would forgive her when she found out the truth.
“Fine. Just know that I’m ready to listen whenever you’re ready to talk.”
As Rory hung up the phone, she again questioned the wisdom of her plan. She was about to become a mother. What would that mean for any future relationships she might want? Any man would be justifiably cautious about getting involved with her.
But as she lay in bed that night, Rory realized that her track record was not what doomed her to loneliness. There would never be another man for her. She’d lost her heart to Carson Granger and he didn’t love her in return. As soon as he heard about his funding, he’d be furious with her, justifiably. She might as well do him this favor, so she could take what was left of her dignity and leave.
In the morning, she rubbed grainy eyes and steeled herself for the tirade. But Carson wasn’t in the kitchen. She didn’t hear him moving about anywhere in the house. Maybe she’d slept a little, after all. She fed the dogs, then headed out to the corral.
She found the men hard at work replacing the section of fence the foal had found. The new mustangs stood huddled together on the farthest side of the corral, milling about in a nervous mass of stamping hooves and tossing manes.
“Carson,” she called, feeling a sudden kinship with the terrified horses. “I need to talk to you.”
He tossed down his tools and ran a hand over his face. Even dust and sweat couldn’t dampen the attraction Rory felt.
“What?” He glanced up once, then went back to his work.
“Hey buddy,” Zach called. “Remember what I said about being a jerk?”
Carson sighed, then put down his hammer. “Sorry. It’s been a tough few days.”
From across the corral, Zach cleared his throat and glared at his friend pointedly.
“Rory, I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you last night. Zach was right, you did a great job.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that,” she said quickly, knowing that if she didn’t force the words out, she’d lose courage. “But that’s not what I need to talk to you about.”
A line formed between his brows. “Okay, shoot.”
“There was another message for you while you were gone. From those people who came to see you. About your grant proposal.”
Carson grew still, his eyes piercing hers. “Tell me.”
“It’s in your voice mail box. They turned you down, Carson. I’m so sorry.”
He pushed past her then, a look of such disbelief on his face that Rory could scarcely bear it. But he was halfway to the house already and she had to jog to catch up. She reached him in the kitchen in time to see his face as the message registered. He didn’t look at her, but the disappointment radiated off him in waves.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her words a desperate rush. “I know how much you were counting on this. They said it didn’t get there in time, that the address was wrong. I must have made a mistake. Carson, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said, without looking at her. His face was devoid of expression. “They never intended to give it to me. I knew that the day they were here.”
“But—”
“Forget about it, Rory. I’ll apply for other grants. I’ll find support, somewhere.”
“Or you can let me help.”
