Winning Over the Rancher, page 1
“There’s one thing we both want,” Lily said.
Cade held her gaze. “And what’s that?”
“We want Gina and the kids to be happy.”
“We do,” he agreed. “But I’m afraid we have very different views on what they need to be happy.”
“Really? I want them to have a home. You offer that to them. But you need support after the storm. Now I have two options for you. I open a fundraising page where I will shamelessly beg perfect strangers to put money into your ranch...”
Everything inside Cade protested. There was no way he was going to let strangers pay his bills.
“Or,” Lily continued, “I make a plan for how you can attract more tourists to the ranch and use it as pitch to stay on at the firm where I work. You get marketing tips that would normally cost you thousands, and I get a shot at turning the temp job into a permanent one. Deal?”
Dear Reader,
Have you ever walked through an orchard in full bloom and admired all those tender blossoms? Have you been there in fall when the apples are ripe for harvesting and marveled how such a small white flower can develop into a deep red, juicy apple? Every fruit feels like a small miracle and those orchards, often planted there many generations ago, are symbols of resilience and hope. The trees have to weather storms and survive frosts and if they could talk, they would tell us that after a bad year with little harvest, there will always be a better one to rejoice about.
This story, Winning Over the Rancher, begins with a storm and all the devastation and despair it brings to people who have already suffered losses. Staring at the wreckage, they wonder if they still have the strength to rebuild, one more time. I think we have all been there at times in our lives where storms hit and dreams got damaged and we felt like we might never be happy again. With this story, I hope to show that, regardless of the difficulties you may be facing right now, you can overcome and you will find new joy in your life. I hope that the struggles of the characters and their victories will bring hope to your heart and a smile on your face. And that, when you see an orchard, whatever season it may be, you will remember that those trees are whispering to you, and that after bad years, there are always good ones coming that are worth waiting for.
Warmest wishes,
Viv
Winning Over the Rancher
Viv Royce
Viv Royce writes uplifting feel-good stories set in tight-knit communities where people fend for each other and love saves the day. If she can fit in lots of delicious food and cute pets, all the better. When she’s not plotting the next scene, she can be found crafting, playing board games and trying new ice cream.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
EXCERPT FROM TO TRUST A HERO BY ALEXIS MORGAN
CHAPTER ONE
THE STORM HIT so unexpectedly that everyone on the ranch was caught unawares. There hadn’t been any warning on the weather forecast, nothing beyond the normal line about potential thunderstorms, something to be expected on hot and humid July nights.
But as soon as he heard the wind bang at his bedroom window, Cade Williams knew there was nothing normal about this.
He jumped out of bed, grabbed his jeans and shirt off the captain’s chair by the desk and stuck his bare feet into his boots determined to go outside and see what he could salvage. He prioritized in a heartbeat. The barns were pretty much stormproof with small windows of reinforced glass and extra bolts on the doors so the animals inside were safe. He didn’t want to consider the possibility that an entire roof would be peeled off. Nothing he could do about that. But there were toys left in the yard from his sister Gina’s twins, and any object grabbed and flung by such strong wind could do substantial damage. He had to round up anything unattached.
He hurried down the corridor, taking care to muffle his footfalls and not wake his mother sleeping in the master bedroom he had to pass. As permanent residents on this multigenerational ranch, they both slept in the left wing of the ranch house where the family bedrooms were located. The right wing held guest rooms that had been allocated to Gina and the twins. Her old room, still as it had been when she had left home to go to college, with boy band posters on the wall and her prom dress in the closet, hardly fit a pregnant mother of two.
His throat tightened a moment. His little sister a pregnant mother of two. A widow at that. Protectiveness swept over him as a tidal wave just like that day a month ago when Gina had moved back to the ranch after her house had been sold. She had arrived with two crying little girls in her arms, a menagerie of rescue pets and no more possessions than the clothes on her back. She had stood in the yard looking about her as if she was disoriented, not fully realizing where she was and that she was home now. She had lived a totally different life for so long, far away from the ranch and the simple ways she had grown up with. A dramatic accident had forced her to return, empty-handed. But Cade had known for certain things were looking up now, for Gina, the twins and the vulnerable life forming inside of her. Life had dealt them hard blows, ripping all security away from them and leaving them exposed, but their family would be there for them, no matter what it took. This ranch would be their safe haven. The place where they could recover and build a new future.
He had thought that, until now. The wind howling around the house seemed an enemy force determined to throw new trouble into their path.
Cade gritted his teeth as he passed the archway leading into the spacious kitchen. From the shadows a sleek silhouette slunk up to him. Rosie, their Border collie mix, got ahead of him and placed herself at the front door, blocking his path. Her whole stance told him he wasn’t getting past her. The rattling of the storm outside made her flatten her ears and he bet she wanted to get away from the door that was being attacked by the forces of nature. But she wouldn’t move as long as she was on duty to keep him inside. To protect a member of her family from harm.
“Sorry, girl, but I have to go out. There’s work to do.”
Usually at the word work Rosie got all excited. But now she eyed him like he was out of his mind. Obviously in her estimation, there was nothing to be done outside that door.
She was just like him: determined and stubborn when she wanted something, and he had to reach over her to pull the door open. The moment, however, that he opened it a crack, the wind threw rain and hail inside and whistled past him into the hallway tearing overalls off the coatrack and knocking a crystal vase off a side table. It crashed to the floor in a thousand pieces, scattering the red dahlias like bloodstains on the boards.
Rosie whined and pressed herself against his legs, pushing him away from the door. Her ears came up as she barked low and her worried gaze at him said more than a thousand words. It was dangerous out there and she wasn’t letting him walk straight into it.
Suddenly, his mother stood by his side, grabbing his arm. “This isn’t a normal thunderstorm,” she said, her eyes wide with fear. “This is a derecho.”
Cade froze at the word. He had heard about derechos from his father and grandfather. They came out of nothing and could do enormous damage. The last one had hit when he had been two. They had lost most of their harvest and it had been questionable whether the Williams ranch could even survive that season. Along with their trees, their future had been uprooted and it had taken them years to fully recover from the damages.
“No,” Cade said, everything inside bucking against the idea a monstrous thing like that would hit the ranch that was his sole responsibility after his father’s death ten years ago. “It isn’t a derecho. There hasn’t been one in Boulder County for thirty years. You’re wrong.”
His mind raced. The apple trees and flower fields exposed to the unforgiving weather had to provide much needed income. With Gina back at home they had three extra mouths to feed. Not to mention the debts she had come with. Nothing could happen to that all-important harvest.
“I have to go out there,” he said hurriedly. His heart hammered under his breastbone. “Maybe there’s still something I can do to—”
But his mother clung to his arm, pleading desperately. “Stay inside, Cade, please. What if you get hurt or worse? Who will take care of Gina and the little ones if something happens to you?” Her features, which still carried the softness of youth, suddenly looked haggard in the diffused light of the corridor lamp. “We can’t lose you. Not you too.”
The pain in her voice kicked him in the guts. They knew what loss was. First Dad, then Gina’s husband, Barry. Now it was up to him to keep them safe. It went against everything inside him to do nothing, let the storm tear his precious property apart. But staying in one piece was more important now, for all of them.
He gave in to her and had to use all his weight to bolt the door against the wind that wasn’t about to be shut out. It seemed to wa
“Cade, come.” His mother ushered him back to the kitchen by the arm while Rosie shepherded him from behind. It was as if both of them were afraid he would escape and run outside anyway. To save what he couldn’t save?
* * *
CADE SAT UP with a jerk. He groaned as pain flashed through his shoulder muscles. He had fallen asleep at the table, head on his arms, and every muscle was sore. He carefully tested his numb arms, moving his fingers to coax feeling back into them. His ears registered something right away.
Silence.
Welcome, wanted, wonderful silence.
A sudden quiet, the absence of all those nerve-racking thudding and creaking noises as the storm pulled at the hundred-year-old farmhouse, shaking the rafters, rattling the panes and howling through the chimney.
It’s over.
Relief seeped through his body and he exhaled in a huff. He let his sandpapery eyes adjust to the light from over the stove as he scanned the kitchen.
By the burned-out fireplace stood the well-polished mahogany rocking chair that had been his father’s. His mother sat in it; her graying head sagged to one side, chin on her shoulder as she slept. In her arms, cuddled tight against her, sat a little girl, her honey-blond hair pulled back in a braid, her pajamas flaming red against the dark blue nightgown his mother wore. Her bare little feet were tucked under her and his mother’s hand rested protectively on her legs. Even in sleep she was guarding her granddaughter like a lioness. That poor, fatherless girl.
Cade swallowed hard. He walked over quietly and recovered the paisley bedspread that had slipped down from the sleeping forms. Ma had brought it from her bedroom to create a cocoon for the little girl.
With a tender smile he covered them both, resting his finger a moment against the five-year-old’s cheek. She slept so peacefully now. Despite her fear of the ordeal outside, she had known she was in good hands here.
Rosie, settled between the rocking chair and the fireplace’s stone edge, looked up at him. She wanted to get to her feet, but he put his finger to his lips to indicate she had to be quiet, then added the hand gesture for her to lie back down. Her amber eyes followed him as he turned to the other seat by the fire, a big brown leather club chair. Gina had curled up in it like she used to do as a teen, her legs over one of the chair’s thick arms. The other twin lay sprawled across her, burying her little face in her mother’s warm neck.
Cade fetched a folded blanket from the sofa, unfurled it and tucked them in. He retrieved the stuffed bear that had slipped out of Stacey’s grasp and put it beside the little girl. To outsiders the twins were identical especially when they wore the same clothing, but he clearly saw little differences. Stacey had more of the Williams chin. Pa would have loved to hold these little darlings in his arms.
But he had never had the chance to see his grandchildren.
Grief slashed through Cade but he pulled back his shoulders and grabbed the boots he had kicked off. He had work to do.
“That’s your problem, Cade,” Shelby’s voice echoed in his head. “You always have work to do. You live for the ranch and there’s no room for anything else in your life. Not for hobbies or for trips with friends. Or for me. We can’t see each other that often because of my job in the city and when we can, you have some tree to trim or a cow is about to calve at a friend’s ranch and you have to help. You also got elected into some farmers’ collective or other, have a meeting to attend or a petition to organize to get the city council to address the dangerous traffic situation on Main Street. I used to like that you did all of these things, were so committed to helping your community, but...these days you’re there for everybody but me. I just can’t deal with being second best anymore.”
She had looked genuinely sad at her conclusion. It had been the reason for their breakup. Not falling in love with someone else, no betrayal, no big blowup. She hadn’t shouted her reasons at him in anger or with hot tears. No. It had been a well-thought-out, quiet acknowledgment that the ranch came first in his life and she couldn’t accept that.
He hadn’t been able to argue with her. In fact, he still didn’t know what he could have done to make their situation any different. This was his life. On a ranch the work simply never stopped. He couldn’t tell a harvest-ready crop that he’d be back after the weekend. Or a cow about to calve in the evening that she’d better do it in the daytime. And that traffic situation on Main Street had really been dangerous and the city council had just needed a bit of public pressure to finally do something about it. Yes, it took time to organize things, but...he liked to be involved and it kept him so busy he didn’t even miss socializing.
“Do you know the last time we attended a birthday party together?” Shelby had asked him. “Eight months ago. I dragged you there. Since then we’ve been invited out often enough, but you never have time to go.”
“If you love that sort of thing, you can go,” he had said. “I’d never stand in your way.”
“I know.” She had sighed. “You don’t mind me going alone, because you don’t want to go anyway. And you don’t miss me when I’m not around. You feel totally fine on your own.”
It had been true back then, and it still was. Weeks could go by without him seeing anyone socially and he didn’t miss it. After all, he talked to enough people at the farmers’ market and the meetings for the ranchers’ association where he was recently reelected as regional representative. People emailed and called all day about ranching issues that needed a spot on the agenda. It wasn’t like he was a recluse.
Doesn’t matter anyway, he told himself. With Gina and the kids here, there’s no room to think about things you want for yourself. It has to be about them now. Solving their problems, making them safe.
He walked into the hallway, picked his Stetson off the rack and pulled it over his eyes. It always felt good to be able to do something, put his pent-up energy into hard work with a clearly visible end result. It was a quarter to six. If he worked quickly, he might have the yard cleaned up before Ma and Gina woke up.
At the front door he froze. There was beautiful stained glass on either side of the tall oak door and the left panel was broken. It wasn’t a huge crack but it couldn’t be easily repaired. He’d need an expert for it. Another bill.
He opened the door and stepped outside, glancing down to detect what had hit and broken the glass. Something bright yellow lay on the tiles. The handle of a child’s shovel. Little Stacey loved to use her own tools to help him with the flowers. For a few carefree moments she could forget her daddy had died and her life was in turmoil. But if the storm had ruined the apple harvest and the flower fields, the safety that Cade longed to provide for those precious little girls would be at risk. Without money the debt collectors will come after them.
Even here.
Clenching the shattered shovel’s handle in his hand, he crossed the yard. Pink blooms from the hanging baskets were scattered everywhere like wedding confetti. The twins’ plastic tractor lay with its wheels in the air and his SUV had a gash on the side like an open wound. His eyes registered it and calculated the damages. But he had two main priorities: the animals and his orchards.
He entered the big wooden barn and walked around quickly. Cows and goats all there. Check. Chickens safely settled in their coop in the back. Check. Guinea pigs sleeping, only their noses sticking out from under the straw. Check.
Mollie and Millie, the rescue donkey pair, stood close together. They had had some trouble adjusting to their new surroundings and seemed to gain confidence from each other’s company. Or was it to avoid the water dripping from on high? Glancing up, Cade detected several dark spots among the rafters. There had to be water leaking into the hay loft. “I’ll be back with the toolbox soon,” he promised the donkeys, patting their soft noses. “But first a look at the trees.”
