Reunited With The Rancher

“I didn’t come here to talk about horses,” Carson reminded his father. “I came to tell you I’m not interested in your clinic. I’m not interested in whatever other way you want to make amends for what you did to me. To us. You had no interest in us for twenty years. Don’t start now.”

“I’m not starting now,” Jack said as he brushed the sleek red neck of the horse. “I thought you might like a change of pace so I sent you the offer. The least you could do is stay here and take a look at the clinic.”

Stay and be tied to Jack. The next thought took him by surprise. He couldn’t stay here and face Kylie each day either. And he had a feeling if he was on this ranch, she’d be here, too. All hazel eyes and sunshine smiles. He still pictured her as a kid of thirteen, laughing, riding bikes, swimming in the creek. She’d changed. But hadn’t they all?

The ranch had changed, too. Not just the obvious: new cabins, new stable, new livestock and fancy fences. The name had changed, too. Mercy Ranch. Mercy. He did wonder about the name change. From the Rocking W to Mercy Ranch.

“Why Mercy Ranch?” he asked.

“Mercy,” Jack said as he stroked the back of the horse with a soft-bristled brush. “Mercy means to offer forgiveness when it is in one’s power to punish.”

“I know the definition of the word. Why did you rename your family ranch?”

Jack grinned at him. “Because of mercy. I didn’t deserve it, but I received it. And now I can pay that forward. All of the men and women you see on this ranch are wounded warriors. Military veterans. It’s a place for them to start over. Or a place to settle down. It’s about mercy. Even the mercy we show ourselves.”

“Kylie?”

“Her story is her business. I can only tell you my story.” Jack grimaced and dropped the brush he’d been using on the horse. “Well, this is bad timing.”

Carson stepped forward, saw the lines of pain in his father’s face and the perspiration beading across his brow. “Jack?”

Jack slid a bottle from his pocket and managed with shaking hands to get the lid off. Carson took the pill bottle from him and shook one into his hand. With a sigh Jack put the pill under his tongue and he didn’t object when Carson led him to the office where there were several chairs.

“You need to sit down. We don’t want you standing up as your blood pressure decreases. You’ll end up facedown on the floor.”

“Kylie will think you knocked me out.”

“Yeah, right. I’m prone to violence. I’m calling 911.” Carson pulled his phone out.

“You’ll do no such thing,” Jack growled. “I’m fine. Give me a minute. While we wait, you can finish that horse and put him back in the stall.”

Carson reached for Jack’s wrist and felt his pulse. Rapid but steady. “How often does this happen?”

“Often enough that I need pills. Go take care of the horse.” He took a deep breath. “Please.”

“I’ll put him in the stall.”

“Too citified now to do some chores?” Jack badgered as Carson left the office.

Carson gave the horse a quick brushing. He was untying him when another man came walking down the aisle. He appeared to be in his late twenties. He was tall, walked with an easy gait and when he got closer, Carson saw that he had silver-gray eyes. Those eyes pinned Carson with an angry stare.

Carson focused on the eyes rather than how much the younger man looked like him, looked like his brother Colt. He told himself it was coincidence. Plenty of people had gray eyes. That didn’t make them related. Right?

“Where’s Jack?” the younger man asked.

Carson led the horse to the stall. “He’s in his office.”

“Jack?” the other man called out, walking past Carson, shoulder checking him as he went.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Carson muttered as he followed him to the office. “He can’t walk back to the house. Is there a wheelchair around here? Or we can carry him.”

“I can walk,” Jack growled. “Isaac can help me.”

Isaac, the gray-eyed stranger had a name.

Carson motioned toward the door. “Be my guest. Isaac will pick you up when you fall on your face.”

“You wouldn’t make a good local doctor. You need a better bedside manner.”

Carson tamped down on a smile. “Right. I guess I’m a chip off the old block.”

They sat there for a minute staring each other down, then Jack sighed. “Isaac, I’m afraid he’s right. These old legs are too shaky for that walk back to the house.”

“I’ll get a wheelchair.” Isaac headed toward the door. “Say one thing to upset him and you’ll answer to me.”

Carson didn’t bother to respond. He waited until the other man—Isaac—was gone before he approached Jack again. “I assume you’ve been to a specialist?”

“Yeah, I have. It’s nothing major.”

“I would beg to differ, but what do I know. I’m only a doctor.”

“Without a bedside manner.” Jack closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” Jack said. “Stay here for a few days. We can talk.”

“I don’t think so.” Now, knowing Jack was sick, Carson didn’t have the heart for the confrontation. He’d come here expecting the same ranch, the same Jack West, and nothing was what he’d expected.

He pulled a chair close and a moment later Kylie appeared pushing a wheelchair. Carson looked behind her, then he looked to Isaac, looming just inside the door. “Where are my kids?”

Kylie pushed the chair close. “They’re with Eve. Don’t worry. She’s watching them. I just thought it would be easier to do this if they weren’t here. And less traumatic for them.”

He didn’t leave his children with strangers. For good reason. Kylie must have seen something in his expression, because she sighed.

“Carson, they’re safe. I promise.”

“Of course they are.” He glanced at his watch and opened the pill bottle again. “Time for a second dose.”

“You take a second dose,” Jack grumbled, but he took the second pill.

“Well, that’s a good sign,” Kylie said as she slid an arm behind Jack to help him up out of the chair. “Come on, Oscar.”

“I’m not a grouch.” Jack managed a half grin as he said it.

“Yes, you are.” Kylie smoothed Jack’s hair and gave him a thorough looking over. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m good.”