Second Chance Ranch (3 page)

Her stomach knotted at the blank look she received from Trevor. Instantly, dread turned to suspicion as she remembered her mail. “What aren’t you telling me? Was it in the letter you sent? Sorry I haven’t opened it yet, I just noticed it today on my way out the door to come see you.” When his brows drew together, Jen knew something was wrong.

“I haven’t sent any letters.”

Way wrong.

Trevor sat straighter in his executive chair, the maroon leather absorbing his movement as only the finest Italian leather could do. “Jen, you have first chance at a prime piece of real estate. Lucky for you, there’s interest close by, otherwise Jess would have posted the sale notice nationally.”

“Is that why you’re pushing me about the fund-raising? Getting all the support I can isn’t just to look good on paper, is it?” Her heart sank at his brief nod. She drew a breath to bring oxygen to her brain as she thought it through. “The hospital foundation is behind me. I’m working with the pharmaceuticals for sponsorship and a couple of the ranch supply chains are interested, too.” She grappled for more information that escaped her brain. “And, I’m putting together the crop plan Jess insisted on. With that in place, the harvest yield alone will make the monthly payment.”

“The bank knows the Trails’ End has an excellent production history.” Trevor spoke slowly, the intensity of his gaze making it clear this was serious. “With a sound understanding of how to run the ranch and the collateral you’re offering, the battle shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Battle? With whom?” Jen tried to think of ranchers in the area that might want to expand. “Someone contacted you about the sale?”

He sat still.

“Trevor, who else wants the ranch?”

“Zac Davidson.”

Blood flow stalled in her veins. “Excuse me?”

His usual piercing glare softened as Trevor sat back in his chair. “Zac came and talked to me about putting in a back-up bid on the ranch. He wants to come home. He wants the Trails’ End.”

Zac?
“I know he was obsessed with the story of his great grandfather losing the ranch in a poker game, but he never said anything about wanting to buy it. Why would he? He never planned to come back to Hawk Ridge - he couldn’t wait to get out of here.” Her mind raced, tangling together the conversations they’d shared earlier in the day. Nothing. Just a dynamite kiss. Her stomach lurched. She gathered her papers and shoved them into the manila folder. “Excuse me, I’ll get back with you, Trevor. Thanks.”

Bolting out of her chair, she stopped as the room spun around her.
I will not faint.
She focused on her mission of walking through the office and out into the sunlight. Zac’s betrayal stung enough, she didn’t need the humiliation of passing out in the lobby of the law firm, too. Jamming her palms on the crash rail, she shoved the glass door open and proceeded down the sidewalk.
Steady girl, you’re almost there,
she swallowed as her steps grew quicker. At the first streetlight in the middle of the block, she locked her fingers through the metal wire of the waste receptacle for support. A deep clang like the toll of a bell echoed through the cast metal as the ring on her pinkie finger connected with the post in the bare, open palm slap.

“Zac,” she ground out through her clenched teeth. She slapped the post again allowing the stutter of pain to wrench up her arm. Pain was good. It distracted her from her initial intent of tearing Zac Davidson apart, limb from limb. She reared back for another slap, but thought better of it. The crisp smack still tingled in her palm. Instead, she threaded the fingers of her other hand through the waist-high wire rim and dug her fingernails into her palms.

She tilted her head back and tried to focus through her frustrated tears on the wrought iron lantern design at the top of the post. “Why did you come back to Hawk Ridge?”

CHAPTER TWO

Zac sat in his pickup waiting for Jen to leave the office building. He’d hoped for more time, creating a better relationship between them before he mentioned his plan to her. Just his luck she carried a chip on her shoulder about his not calling her after Gabe’s wedding, and then complicated matters by having her meeting with Hockett so soon.

Poor, poor timing.

The sun reflected off the glass doors of the P.B Wrenn building on the corner of Main and First Street. The red brick and copper-colored masonry cornerstone of town was named after Packer Bennett Wrenn, one of the founding families of Hawk Ridge. The family still lived in Hawk Ridge and managed the
Tricky Find
gold mine. Zac tapped his thumb on the steering wheel as his gaze skimmed over the ornate Corinthian columns and copper flake trim. He’d always thought the monstrosity was a bit overkill for the sleepy main road, but hey, his family wasn’t around when the plans had been drawn up. The Wrenn’s settlement in Hawk Ridge dated back earlier than the Davidson’s, a monumental accomplishment seeing as the Davidson brothers brought the first cattle operation to the area back in mid-1800s.

As his gaze followed an ornate line of gilded masonry, Jen bolted from the glass doors and out of the office building. Even parked across the street, he noticed her face was way too pale for normal. He slid out of the truck and slammed the door, stopping between his tailgate and the bumper of an SUV to let a car drive by before jay walking across the street. Jen seemed on a mission to outrun him. Well, he was on a mission of his own to set the story straight.

Reaching the sidewalk on the other side, he found Jen clutching the rim of a the trash basket, her eyes squeezed closed. Her lips moved without sound. Stopping a couple of feet short of her, he swayed back at the force of her tension. What had Hockett said to her? “Jen?”

She continued to clutch the wire rim without acknowledging he’d spoken. As if approaching a spooked calf, Zac stepped forward and cupped her shoulders. Tension erupted as she snapped her eyes open. “Let go of me.”

And have you take a swing at me? No way.
The law clearly stated no brawling on public streets. He grasped her shoulders tighter and pulled her to his chest locking her there with an arm around her waist. Snagging the manila folder from under her arm before it hit the ground, he pressed it to her chest for added protection. “Let’s go to the park for a second.”

Heat radiated from her skin as she drove her cheek into his chin, but she didn’t argue. They crossed the grass lawn and over to a small grove of aspens beside the picnic shelter. “Can we talk?”

Her rigid shoulders relaxed. Once he cautiously released her, she slipped from his grip and leaned against the white trunk of an aspen tree, her narrowed gaze leveled accusations at him like hollow points at a target. He let the folder drop with a thunk to the ground at her feet.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her flat and lifeless voice betrayed the danger she held at bay.

Squaring his stance, he didn’t bother to pretend he didn’t know what she meant. She’d just left the law office. That said it all. He looked across the street and shook his head. “I wanted to. That was one of the reasons I’d stopped by the ranch on my way to the Circle D. Between the plumbing incident and our conversation, the moment never seemed right.”

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie.” That stretch of truth sounded phony even to his own ears.

Jen wasn’t buying it. “Obviously, you knew my plans for Trails’ End. You knew how long I’d been working on this. I’m certain Trevor mentioned how excited I am about the project when you
submitted your bid
.” The emphasis of her words slapped him across the face.

“Back-up offer, Jen. You hold the contract.”

Her jaw clenched as she ground the ball of her booted foot into the grass. “You led me on. Again.”

“I didn’t lead you on. I’ve never led you on.” He tried to remain calm hoping the effect would rub off on Jennifer. Families and teenagers milled about the park. Kids were playing in the sand pit on the other side of the trees. A little girl squealed and cried about sand in her eyes. Zac knew how she felt. “I’m honestly excited for your new career path.”

“A career path I can follow straight out of Hawk Ridge, right?” She snapped her heel into the tree trunk behind her.

“Of course not.” The muscles in his shoulders tightened. This wasn’t a conversation, it was an inquisition. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh really?” She planted her feet firmly apart and crossed her arms over her chest. A sheen of moisture brightened her eyes. “Why don’t you tell me how it is, Zac.”

He’d never lied to her and he wasn’t about to now. Still, how could he tell her he wanted to reclaim what was rightfully his, sort of. If great, great-grandfather Jeb hadn’t lost that poker hand almost a hundred years ago, the Trails’ End would still be a part of the Circle D. Only by Divine providence did he have the opportunity to restore the family ranch. The Trails’ End belonged to the Davidsons — this Davidson specifically.
Lord, help me say this without insulting her.
“Running a ranch of this caliber takes more than having a dream, Jen. You have to have a plan of action and know how to implement it.”

“I’m learning,” she said, her voice a low rumble.

“Learning isn’t the issue. You’re smart. You can do anything you put your mind to. But right now, there’s a heavy mortgage resting on this property that is covered by the agricultural yield. Jess knows that; Trevor knows that; I know that. And now, you need to understand that who ever buys the Trails’ End will have to continue using the yield as payment.”

“I know that.”

He scrubbed his hand over his face. “How are you going to manage a hundred-acre camp and the rest of the twenty-four hundred acres?”

Turning her head, she stared across the park in the direction of the main street in Hawk Ridge…toward the Wrenn Building…toward the law office that held and administered the Last Will and Testament of Arthur Eklund. “It’s important to give children recovering from cancer a place where they find unconditional acceptance from staff and other kids in the same situation they’re in. A place to heal and try their wings. Arthur listened to my plans for a camp, he heard the need for facilities like this. He took it upon himself to make it a reality, I didn’t ask for any of this.” She turned to him, cold calm etched deeply in her steely blue eyes. “I’m not going to let Arthur’s gift wither and die because I don’t know how to grow hay.”

Sounded great in theory, substantiating the outcome of agricultural foreclosures. He wanted to shake some sense into her. “Trevor told me that Arthur put that clause into the will after he’d talked to you, worked with you, when he saw the hope light in your eyes.” At the mention of Arthur’s motives, Jen stopped frowning and eyed him with wonder. He took a breath and considered the revelation. Didn’t she think he sympathized with her? Hadn’t she known how much the old man cared for her? Not only him, but how many other people cared about her? Didn’t matter. She needed to understand reality. “Just because your enthusiasm is there doesn’t make this a good idea.”

“It doesn’t make it a bad one, either,” she retorted. “It just shows Arthur knew I loved the place just as much as he did.”

“Love doesn’t pay the bills.”

Venom shot from her eyes so quickly he leaned back onto his heel.

“Love doesn’t pay the bills,” she mumbled as her arms tightened, her fingers pinching the fabric of her sleeves. “Tell me Zac…do you know how to oversee a camp specializing in cancer recovery?”

Her flat tone cautioned his words. “No, I do not.”

“I don’t know how to farm a ranch to keep the hay production at its highest yield,” —she bent over and scooped her folder off the ground— “and you don’t know how to offer encouragement and hope to anyone but yourself.” She fanned the folder letting the dead grass on the cover float to the ground. “I’d say we’re on equal footing then, Mr. Davidson.”

“Jen, what are you talking about?”

She pushed from the tree with grace and made her way across the grass park toward her truck parked on the side road.

Over the years, Jen’s motives confused him, but right now, he hadn’t a clue what set her off or why. Zac kicked his toe into the grass as he watched her pull out, drive down the road and out of sight.

“It’s not like that at all, Jennifer. Not like that at all.”

* * *

Tossing her keys into the bowl beside her door, Jen scooped up the day’s mail out of habit as she closed the door.
Lord, why is this happening to me?
She dropped her purse in the chair and crossed into the kitchen. Filling a glass with water, she turned and leaned against the edge of the sink. Why? Why was Zac doing this to her? His family had thousands of acres on the Circle D. She couldn’t recall Grace or Martin ever mentioning they wanted to buy the Trails’ End.

Years ago, Zac couldn’t leave Hawk Ridge fast enough. No way would he ever willingly come back.

She stepped over to the table and sank down in the chair. Besides, Arthur Eklund wanted her to have this ranch. He wanted her to provide a safe place for children to heal and mend. She set her glass on the table with a little more force than necessary. She’d had the barn remodeled as the rec center and the old bunk house brought up to handicap building code. Her camp was small now, but she had plans.