Second Chance Ranch Chapter 7

Chapter SEVEN:

Kelly exuded politeness for the customers. Made small talk about their Saturday night plans. Counted their change. But her thoughts revolved around sitting next to Squire and eating lunch.

Finn usually shied away from most men, but he’d plopped right down next to Squire, shook hands with him, talked to him. Kelly tried not to read too much into what had happened at the park. Squire was well dressed, handsome, with a kind smile. He practically screamed American hero from his very pores. He’d been wearing a new scent today, one Kelly knew she’d smelled before but couldn’t quite place. She stewed about it as she weighed bananas, bagged cans, and handed over receipts.

By the end of her shift, she realized she’d spent the entire eight hours thinking about Squire Ackerman. She sat in her car for a few extra minutes once she’d pulled into her parents’ driveway, trying to fence him from her mind before she went to bed. She couldn’t stand dreaming about him too.

She didn’t even know how he’d rooted himself so deeply in her subconscious, her newfound guilt notwithstanding. He hadn’t been particularly nice to her at the ranch, instead hovering while she tried to work, then criticizing which task she chose to do.

But he was tall and handsome, and his cobalt eyes sucked her in like a strong vacuum. She didn’t understand how someone could live life so fully, without regrets and heartaches. One thought of his limp, and she knew Squire had a past, and that it wasn’t all roses and sunshine.

She smoothed back the wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail and hurried into the house. Her dad snoozed in the armchair, Finn curled into his side. Her mom glanced up from under the halo of lamplight across the room, her needle flying through her cross-stitch. “Hey, baby.”

Kelly managed a closed-lip smile. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt like she needed to be alone so she could cry. And not the kind of crying because she’d just found out her husband was a cheater and a liar, or the kind where she had to now be a single mom, or the kind where she’d been hurt physically.

The lonely kind of crying. The slow weep of missing a part of your life you used to love. Of coming home and finding someone there to listen, to discuss your life with, to hold close.

“I’m going to bed.” She scooped Finn out of her father’s lap and lugged him down the stairs. She managed to tuck him in and press a kiss to his forehead before the first tear fell.

* * *

Crystal’s husband Scott stood at the front of the congregation, his sermon beginning to pass the length of Kelly’s attention. Cuddled next to her, Finn’s soft breathing indicated that he’d fallen asleep. He sometimes did during church, especially after her father let him stay up late watching Discovery Channel.

Kelly stifled her own yawn. While she usually enjoyed the timbre of Scott’s voice, and the messages of forgiveness or mercy, what she loved most about church was the peace she felt when she attended. Like all her cares existed somewhere, but she didn’t have to think about them inside these walls.

She sighed and closed her eyes. Down the row sat Crystal and her three, boisterous boys. The only time Kelly saw them without dirty hands or yelling about something was at church. A smile sang through her soul, just about the same time the choir started the closing hymn.

The meeting ended and her dad lifted a still-sleeping Finn into his arms. Her parents moved down the aisle, speaking to their friends and neighbors.

Kelly leaned over and helped Crystal pick up the cereal her two-year-old had dropped during the sermon. Once they had all the sippy cups packed, all the shoes back on, and everyone turned toward the exit, the room had mostly cleared.

Scott stood in the back, shaking hands and hugging widows. Kelly followed Crystal and her nephews, taking a deep breath as she neared the exit. Out there, the real world waited.

“I don’t know.” Squire’s voice froze her feet mid-step. Her heart kicked against her ribs, and she smoothed her blouse before she could tell herself not to.

He stood to her right, in the other aisle, near the exit on the opposite side. Her view of him was partially blocked by Susie Randall, one of the stylists at the salon. A young, blonde hairdresser with fake nails, fake eyelashes, and other fakeries.

Kelly ducked around Scott and took an eavesdropping position in the foyer. If Squire turned and took four steps through the doorway, he’d see her. But right now, the wall protected her and allowed her to overhear his conversation.

“It would be fun,” Susie said, her voice set high on flirtation. “Word is y’all haven’t been out with anyone since y’all got back.”

“My dad’s needed a lot of help out at the ranch,” Squire said. Kelly detected a note of reluctance in his voice. Her insides performed a pirouette at his rejection of Susie. If he wasn’t interested in such a petite, perfect woman, maybe Kelly had a chance.

Maybe just a taste of sugar wouldn’t hurt….

Where did that come from? She startled away from the wall just as Crystal called her name. Thankful she didn’t have time to psychoanalyze herself, she turned to leave.

“Miss Kelly,” Squire said, suddenly at her side. His Texas twang shot sweetness right down to her toes.

She resisted the urge to appreciate the sight of him in a dark suit and pale yellow tie. Just because he smelled like pine trees and honey didn’t mean she could afford a taste of him. Along with his perfectly tailored clothes, he wore a cowboy hat and a smile Kelly knew had attracted Susie Randall.

“Oh, hey,” she said, a little breathlessly. She reminded herself that she didn’t attend church to pick up a dessert. She wasn’t back in Three Rivers to find a new husband.

Squire nodded toward the door, where Crystal stood gaping. “I think your cousin wants you.”

“Did you want me?” she asked, realizing half a heartbeat late how her question sounded. Her mouth dropped open like her jaw muscles ceased to exist. “I mean—that’s not—”

“Oh, I did.” He leaned closer, his eyes sparking with blue lightning. He brushed his hand along her elbow. “Are you going to the picnic?”

She shook her head, but his words refused to be dislodged. “Finn fell asleep.”

His expression remained neutral. Pure Switzerland. “Maybe you’d have time to walk me there?”

Kelly glanced toward Crystal, who stood in the doorway, her eyebrows high and her mouth open. Without any help from her cousin, Kelly looked back at Squire.

“Okay.”

Squire gestured toward the door, an encouraging smile on his face, and they stepped past a still-gawking Crystal.

“Interesting sermon today,” Squire said, his hands tucked neatly into his pockets.

Kelly had a hard time remembering what Scott had spoken of. “What did you find interesting?”

Squire peered up into the sky, taking a few moments before he spoke. “Do you believe God knows what He’s doing?”

“Yes,” Kelly said, still searching her memory for Scott’s words. She noticed that Squire wasn’t trying to hide his limp today. “Don’t you?”

“I did.” Squire spoke softly, pausing at the corner to check for traffic, though on a Sunday afternoon there was none.

“What changed your mind?”

Squire met her gaze, sheer intensity in his. “I watched four men in my company die. Two others get burned beyond recognition.”

Kelly’s stomach flipped and flopped, and she reached out and ran her fingers down Squire’s arm to his hand, where she held on. “I’m so sorry.”

He tapped his right leg. “All I got was a rod in my leg. Then I’m good as new.” He clipped out the last few words as he stepped off the curb, taking her with him since their hands were still joined. “I guess I’m just wondering why I’m still here and countless other men aren’t.”

“God must need you here.”

“One man who died had a wife and four kids.” Squire dropped her hand, and a chill danced through Kelly. “Surely they needed him. Certainly more than anyone needs me.” He spoke with a measure of bitterness Kelly couldn’t quite understand.

The park came into view, and Kelly stalled. For some reason, she did not want to be seen arriving at the picnic with Squire.

“Thanks for walking with me. See you tomorrow.” Squire stepped away from her, and she watched him join the festivities without looking back.

She worried for a moment that she’d upset him with her statement that God needed him here. Maybe he was just hurt she hadn’t apologized about the prom yet.

She sagged against the lamppost behind her, unrest pirouetting through her bloodstream. She could not get involved with her boss. Not again.

But with every beat of her heart, another dose of desire for the sensitive Army cowboy spiraled through her body.

* * *

Monday morning found Kelly in her office, her computer open to the tax program she liked best, with an Internet window listing the current tax laws under that. The former accountant at Three Rivers had scattered the financial documents throughout multiple folders and filing drawers, making it hard to track down the papers she needed.

Kelly entered the itemized deductions into her program line by line, taking careful seconds to make sure she had double and triple-checked the figures before moving to the next step.

A light knock on the door drew her eyes from the files.

“Morning,” Squire said, leaning in her doorway with his hands deep in his jeans pockets. He hadn’t shaved since she’d seen him on Saturday, and the scruff on his face only added to his intrigue.

“Good morning.” Kelly leaned away from her computer, her thoughts flying from coherent to crazy in under a second. “Are you sick?” She stood and moved around her desk to press her fingers to his forehead. She had to stand on tiptoe to do it.

A frown creased his eyebrows. “No. Why?”

“It’s….” She checked her watch. “Almost eleven, and this is the first I’ve seen you today.”

“Very funny,” he said, stepping past her to the chair. He settled himself and looked at her, those eyes blazing with mischief from beneath his cowboy hat. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

“So you’re going to watch me prepare taxes?” She sat down in her seat and pulled a file closer. “You need a new life.”

He leaned forward. “You’re doing the taxes?”

She shrugged like it was nothing. But she’d deliberately not started the taxes on Friday, simply because he’d suggested it. Today, though, something had shifted. Fine, something had tilted inside her when she realized he’d asked her out all those years ago. Something which had only been strengthened by the light touch of his hand in hers as they walked and talked after church.

“You’re doing that weird thing again,” he said. “Where you act like I can read your mind, but you should know I can’t.” He grinned at her, and she saw the life in Squire’s face, but sadness lingered around him too.

“You told me to do the taxes,” she pointed out.

“I suggested,” he said.

She set down the folder. “You practically demanded.”

A smile twitched against his lips. “I’m working on my delivery of my requests,” he said. “I blame the Army for my commanding tone and what I’ve been told are ‘murderous glares’.”

Kelly laughed. “Why did you join the Army?”

“They paid for my schooling,” he said. “I got a partial football scholarship at A&M, but I knew I wasn’t going to be a great collegiate athlete. So I joined the Army reserve, and they paid for my pre-vet program.”

She fiddled with a pen while she listened. “Do you want to be a veterinarian?”

A flicker of hope passed through his eyes. “One day,” he said. “I only had time to finish my Bachelor’s degree before I got deployed.”

She considered him, remembering the horrific things he said he’d seen. “What do you do for the Army?”

“Infantry squadron leader,” he said.

Her heart skipped a beat. “You fight?”

His eyes didn’t lose an iota of their teasing sparkle. “It’s not hand-to-hand combat, darlin’. We use guns, not swords.”

“I know,” she said, feeling a bit foolish. She had imagined him face-to-face with an enemy, trying to land the killing blow with a curved blade.

“Specifically, I man the Abrams.”

Confusion puckered her features. “The Abrams?”

“I drive the tank.”

“Oh,” she said. “Impressive.” He’d clearly adopted the workout policies of the Army as a daily habit, and his calm demeanor likely came from his training to keep cool during difficult situations.

“Or at least I did.”

Kelly’s eyebrows rose. “Did?”

He tapped his right thigh. “They gave me an honorable discharge after losing my femur.”

Compassion filled her, an uncomfortable sensation after trying to keep him at arm’s length. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She nodded toward his leg. “The leg, and the discharge.”

He took a deep breath, his chest rising as his eyes closed. Kelly again had the impression he was reliving something she’d never understand.

His eyes opened and held hers. “I’m okay with both things now.”

“Does your leg give you trouble?”

“Yes.”

His simple answer sent a fierce rush of appreciation through her. Appreciation for him, and for all servicemen and women who had sacrificed to protect her freedoms.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, finding the words inadequate but having nothing better. Why were they so easy to say in this conversation and so impossible in others? She needed to say something. Now.

Say something.

Say something!

“Squire—”

“A lot of things give me trouble these days.” His expression darkened, bringing the moody, upset version of Squire Ackerman. “So you obviously finished your accounting degree.”

She swallowed back the word vomit containing her apology. “Obviously.” She tapped on her computer track pad to wake the machine, not wanting to talk about herself.

“What else have you been up to?”

“Not much,” she said. “Being a mom. Cooking, and cleaning, and taking Finn to playgroups. We lived in San Diego before, or when….” She cleared her throat as she mentally berated herself. Great, Kelly. Bring up your ex. Awesome way to win over a guy.

She panicked as she realized she was trying to win over Squire Ackerman. Her best friend’s younger brother, Squire! Of course she was. She owed him an explanation for her silence.

“Sometimes I miss California. The heat in Texas is much different.” She wished her voice didn’t sound so strangled.

Squire gave her a serious look, his head cocked to the side like he could hear more in her words than what she’d said. “You should feel the sun in Kandahar.”

“Is that where you just returned from?”

“Sort of,” he said. “I spent six months in the hospital in Germany before my discharge. But I served one deployment in Afghanistan and this last one in Kandahar.”

She raised her left hand, which used to be bedazzled. “One divorce here.” The smile she tried on felt stretched too far in some spots and sagged in others, like an ill-fitted swimming suit.

“He must not know what he’s missing.” His words settled into the silence, between the cracks in her heart, where they tried to burrow into the soft places.

He stood, sending his chair into the wall behind him. “I should go.”

She nodded as he strode out of her office with the grace and power of a man who’d never seen a day inside a hospital. If she hadn’t been looking for it, Kelly wouldn’t have noticed his limp.

The words she should’ve said were still contained. Oh, he knows. He just chose someone over me.

* * *

“Squire?” Kelly poked her head into his office a few minutes before quitting time. He wasn’t there. She tried Frank’s office, but she hadn’t seen a light on all day. The rest of the trailer was likewise deserted, except for faithful Clark at the front desk. He moved like cured honey, slow and smooth, his hands weathered from years of outdoor work. His skin looked like tanned leather, and his face practically cracked when his expression changed.

“Have you seen Squire?” she asked him.

“Not since ‘bout one,” he said, his voice hard and rough. “He don’t usually spend all day out here.”

She looked over her shoulder, as if she could see through the solid metal door to the house. Kelly didn’t really want to go traipsing all over the ranch looking for him, so she hurried back to her office for her purse and phone. Dictating a text as she retraced her steps, she told Squire she needed to meet with him over some missing documents. Important tax documents.

All the sales documents for the cattle at Three Rivers in the past five years.

She hit send as she climbed in her car. “I can’t stay tonight,” she continued, speaking slowly into her phone. “Let’s meet at nine in my office tomorrow.” She backed out and drove past the equipment buildings, the stables, and the calving stalls—which she’d learned from Tom were full thanks to a successful calving season that had ended just a few weeks ago.

The house sat on the end of the row, the sprawling garden in line with the ranch buildings. Beyond that, a row of about twelve cabins was spread. She wondered which one was Squire’s and what she’d find inside. Five minutes down the road, he called.

“Hey,” she said, still thinking about which pictures he’d have displayed in his cabin, and if he’d used one of hers for target practice.

“Missing documents? Clarify.”

“Yes, sir, commander, sir,” she said, barely refraining from rolling her eyes. “Is that what your squadron called you?”

“Major, actually.”

“Okay, Major Ackerman.” She smiled to herself. Teasing Squire was more fun than she remembered. She sobered quickly at his growl. “I don’t have the income records for any cattle sales.”

“None?”

“Nothing for the past five years. I don’t know how Hector came up with the numbers for the taxes. I spent all afternoon digging through those files, and there’s not a single document detailing any profit.”

She turned from the bumpy ranch road onto the highway. “Three Rivers has been claiming a loss for five years, and without any income documentation, it’s no wonder.”

Squire coughed and then cleared his throat. “Well, I-I honestly don’t know what any of that means.”

She imagined him lounging on the leather couch in his old bedroom, the picture of her next to him on the bookcase. Her heart kicked out an extra beat. “It means, Major, that Hector has been filing a loss for the ranch.” She spoke kindly, hoping she didn’t sound condescending. “That means that, according to the IRS, you’ve been spending more money to run the ranch than the ranch actually makes. You get a break on taxes, because really, you’re not making any money to be taxed on. So far, so good?”

“I think I’m with you,” he said.

“The ranch has been selling cattle each year, hasn’t it?”

Squire took an extra few seconds to answer. “I believe so. Kel, I’m foreman, but I know almost nothing about operating a cattle ranch.” His low voice held twinges of embarrassment and sorrow. “My dad’s been teaching me, day by day. So I know we just finished calving season, and we got about two thousand new calves. We’ll only keep half of those. The cow-calves are selling for a lot this year, too.”

Kelly’s suspicions about Squire being hesitant to run the ranch intensified. She wondered why he was at Three Rivers when he didn’t want to be. Duty? Loyalty? Necessity?

“We’ll also sell off a couple hundred of our breeding heifers, and we have four bulls that are done siring.” He paused. “So we’ll replace our heifers with some of our calves that are several years old, and sometimes we purchase some. We’ll use several younger bulls for sires. We always keep some from castration when they’re calved.”

She wanted to laugh as he spoke of the inner workings of a ranch she’d never known about. “Okay,” she said, not knowing what else to say. “So you’ve been selling cattle. Because that’s the only source of income, right?”

“Right. Well, I mean, sometimes we sell our excess hay, but we really don’t have much of that.”

“But there are no records of any income from sold cattle in the past five years. We need to find those documents.” Her mind buzzed with this new development. She’d found the problem. She was capable of doing this job.

“I’ll come to your office tomorrow.”

“Nine o’clock.” She couldn’t wait, and that scared her almost as much as needing to learn about the calf-cow market. She was so out of her league at Three Rivers, professionally and personally.