Second Chance Ranch Chapter 29

Chapter TWENTY-NINE:

“I’m goin’ out on the range later,” Squire told Pete at breakfast. “Saturday night was too close to the fireworks.” If Kelly hadn’t been there, Squire felt certain he’d have ended up on the lawn in a protective position.

“I’m with you, Major.”

“You want to come, then?” Squire slid the fried egg out of the pan and onto a plate. “We’ll saddle up, ride out until we’re good and lost in the middle of nowhere, and then camp for a few days.”

“Good and lost?” Pete glanced up from his breakfast of cold cereal.

“Figuratively speaking,” Squire said. “I don’t think Juniper can actually get lost on the ranch.”

Pete nodded as he pulled on his work boots and left the cabin. Squire stayed home for a few more minutes, then followed Pete out the door and into the stables. He should be in Kelly’s office, looking for the missing files, but the same desperation he’d seen in her face yesterday clogged his throat today.

Maybe this is all there is, he’d said yesterday. He didn’t want that to be true, because it would change everyone’s plans. His parents. They’d still retire, but it wouldn’t be what they’d been planning to do. He’d have to work far more than he’d like while he finished his degree. 

Worse, Three Rivers was bankrupt without that money, and he had no way to provide a good life for Kelly and Finn.

Without those documents and that money, he had nothing. Which was why he still hadn’t said anything to anyone.

Maybe this is all there is, he thought again, looking around the stables as cowhands mucked out stalls and fed horses.

I refuse to believe that, he thought. There had to be more to his life than a failing ranch and unrealized dreams of a life with Kelly. Otherwise, he didn’t need to be saved in that attack when so many others had died.

He started to spiral, his panic combining with the irritation inside him. The combination wasn’t pleasant, but Squire didn’t know how to curb it. It felt useless to pray—again—as the Lord surely knew what he wanted.

He simply hadn’t granted Squire’s prayers instantly, though He usually didn’t. He usually did let Squire know that He was aware of the situation, reminding him that He was in charge, that He understood, and that He loved Squire.

He knew all of that, and it wasn’t enough. The money was still missing. Squire still couldn’t take care of himself and a family while he went to school in College Station. 

Nothing had changed, even with the knowledge that God loved him. Some of the anger dissipated though, and Squire got both stables of horses fed, watered, and shoveled out before he set his sights on the administration trailer.

Kelly’s office was dark when Squire arrived. He frowned as he checked his watch. Lunchtime. Could she have gone to the house? He’d been down that way and hadn’t seen her—or a mass exodus of cowboys heading to the homestead for lunch. He hadn’t smelled anything delicious floating on the air—quite the opposite, in fact.

He left the admin building to check the lot for her car, and he didn’t find it where she usually parked. His breath wiped shallowing in and out of his mouth, his mind trying to land on something to do.

Finally, he pulled out his phone and called Kelly. She didn’t answer, and something cold settled in Squire’s chest. He couldn’t explain how or why, but he knew something had happened.

Kelly didn’t just ignore him, and she wouldn’t just not show up for work without at least texting him. She hadn’t texted or called, and yet, she also wasn’t here.

He could check with Tom or Clark, as they were technically her boss, not him. But instead, he returned to her office and called her mother, who answered on the third ring.

“Hello, Mrs. Armstrong. It’s Squire Ackerman. Is Kelly at home?”

“Oh….” Mrs. Armstrong let her voice fade to silence, further solidifying Squire’s suspicions that Kelly had deliberately avoided the ranch that day. Why, he wasn’t sure.

“Mrs. Armstrong?” he prompted.

“Kelly doesn’t want to talk to you right now,” she said, her voice gaining strength. “She came and got some files from her office this morning, and she’s working on them here at home.”

Squire turned and examined her desk. Sure enough, the five folders for each year of missing income were gone, as was the stack he’d been steadily working through over the past few weeks.

“Is Finn sick?” he asked, one last feeble attempt to have a reasonable explanation for why Kelly hadn’t come to the ranch that day. Anything that would speak to something other than that Kelly didn’t want to see him.

“No,” Mrs. Armstrong said.

“So she’s there,” he said, still trying to figure things out while his pulse beat out a horribly loud rhythm. Maybe he could drive to town and pick up lunch. Maybe she hadn’t eaten yet, and it wouldn’t be too windy. They could sit at the picnic table in the backyard and go through files together.

Scuffling came through the phone. “Squire,” Kelly said, her voice sharp and even. “Please do not come here. I don’t want to talk to you, or see you, right now.”

His heart leapt at the sound of her voice, then fell when it comprehended the words she’d spoken. His worst fears, confirmed.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Did you get into your DMV program?”

Thick ice threaded through him, pushing aside bones and slicing muscles with sharp, cold edges. She knew about the acceptance letter. “Kel—”

“Don’t,” she bit out. “It’s a simple yes or no question, Major Ackerman. Did you get into your DMV program?”

Squire did not like the way she called him Major Ackerman now. It felt like putting miles and miles of distance between them when he’d steadily been erasing that. He barely unclenched his teeth long enough to say, “Yes.”

The resulting silence didn’t speak of comfort like what he’d experienced in the park with Kelly.

This silence didn’t soothe his mental aches like what he’d felt at church with Kelly.

This silence cut, jabbed, stabbed, sliced at his heart.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d gotten into the veterinarian program?” Her voice broke. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. I know why. It’s fine. I get it. I’ll find your money and then you can be on your way.”

“If we don’t find the money, the acceptance doesn’t matter. That’s—”

“No, you don’t get to explain,” she practically yelled over him. “Do you know how much I hate the salon gossip circle? But that’s how I had to hear about your acceptance. You should’ve told me.”

She sounded broken, and Squire didn’t know how to fix her. He cursed himself for inflicting more pain to her still-healing heart. She hadn’t been ready for a new relationship, and while he’d convinced himself he’d given her enough time, he knew he hadn’t. He was on a deadline, and he wanted his second chance so badly, he’d pushed too hard, too fast.

“Without the money, I can’t go anyway,” he tried again, but she’d already hung up.

Squire stared at his phone, his heart hollowing, chipping off in places and drifting like ashes to the ground.

Her bitterness and anger were so raw. His shoulders sagged as he dropped his head. He couldn’t believe she’d ended everything just because he hadn’t told her about the acceptance letter. At the same time, he’d been afraid to tell her for the same reason. 

He wondered about the real story behind her divorce. She’d indicated that Taylor had been the one at fault, but he’d had enough relationships to know the street went both ways. Had she refused to talk to him too? Refused to work things out?

He shook his head to dislodge the growing distrust. He should’ve told her about the acceptance, plain and simple. He’d been told by the Lord to trust her, and he hadn’t acted on that prompting. Even if he did trust her, now she thought he didn’t.

He dialed her number again, sure she wouldn’t answer. She didn’t. He once again tried to silence the thoughts running through his mind. He’d forgiven her once; he needed to learn to trust someone now, more than ever. Not just someone.

Her.

He left the administration building, seeing no reason to stay on the ranch until tomorrow. If Kelly wasn’t here, Squire didn’t want to be either.

He called Tom first and barked, “Can I go out on the range this afternoon?”

“I—I—” Tom stuttered. “You’re the boss.”

“No, I’m not,” Squire bit out. “Pete and I want to get away for a couple of days.” He marched down the steps and toward his cabin. “Can you pull others over to our chores to make that happen? I can check on a couple of cabins out there before we come back.”

“All right,” Tom said. “That’s fine.”

“I’ll take Juniper and Peony,” Squire said. “Is that okay?”

“They aren’t working horses,” Tom said. “Should be fine.” 

Squire’s mind sizzled at him that Juniper and Peony were still amazing equines. They still had some use, and he wanted them to be useful to the ranch. They couldn’t afford to keep horses that weren’t useful, and Squire didn’t want the ranch to get rid of Juniper or Peony or Hank just because they were old.

He didn’t know what to do with the thoughts, because he didn’t know what to do with calm, gentle, retired horses. He told Tom he’d be back in a couple of days, and right before the call ended, he remembered to say, “Thank you, Tom.”

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Tom said, and the call ended.

Squire paused at the bottom of the steps leading up to his front porch. The bright brown wood of the porch roof cut through the brilliant blue sky above. He hoped he could find what he was looking for too, but the answer wasn’t in the sky.

It wasn’t written in the stars. 

It wasn’t anywhere in his mind, or his heart. If it was, he’d have plucked it out by now.

Helplessness filled him, and he took the steps two at a time to the porch. Under the kiss of air conditioning, he called Pete and said, “I got permission for us to go out on the ranch as soon as we’re packed and saddled.”

Pete exhaled like Squire was causing a problem for him. Squire’s heart squeezed. He didn’t want to go out onto the range alone, but he couldn’t stay here for much longer. “What are we doing, Major?”

“Well, I’m running away for a few days,” Squire admitted. “And I think you need to as well.”

“I do not,” Pete said.

“I know you broke up with Tammy,” Squire blurted out. He had to call Chelsea and let her know he’d be leaving his phone behind and wouldn’t be calling and texting her until the weekend. He wasn’t so used to having people rely on him for daily texts and calls, or to show up in their offices the way Kelly did.

She doesn’t anymore, he thought, and when Pete still didn’t answer, Squire said, “I’ll meet you in the stable in an hour, okay?”

“Okay,” Pete said, his voice more subdued than Squire liked.

He went into his bedroom and pulled a Duffle bag from his closet. “One hour, Lieutenant.” 

“One hour, Major.” Pete hung up, and Squire managed to stuff a couple of pairs of jeans, socks, and underwear into his bag before he collapsed onto his bed.

He lay back and held his phone above his head, tapping out a text to Chelsea. I’ve messed up badly. I don’t want to talk about it. I’m going out on the range with Juniper, Peony, and Pete, so I won’t be alone. Don’t worry about me. The Texas range always helps me find my way.

He paused there, trying to figure out how to wrap up this text. I love you, and I just wanted you to know I won’t be able to call or text you until the weekend.

He sent the message, and he stared at his phone, willing Kelly to message him. He wanted to hear her voice, and not in that annoyed, clipped tone that told him how much he bothered her.

He wasn’t super happy with himself right now either, so he couldn’t really blame Kelly. 

A message did pop up on his phone, but it wasn’t from Kelly. Chelsea had said, I love you, little brother. Whatever you’ve done, you can fix it. Don’t ask me how I know.

Squire wouldn’t, but he believed Chelsea. He simply didn’t know how to fix things on the ranch, with Kelly, or within himself, and all he could do was pray that the range would indeed help him find the right way to go.