The Rancher's Return

Could he sell all this? Could he walk away from the history these cabins and the ranch represented? How many pillow fights had taken place in this very cabin? How many times had he and Garret snuck out of the main house where they lived with their mother to play tricks on the girls sleeping here overnight?

His eyes fell on the Bible his grandmother had given him. On top of that lay the box with the nugget. Two small things, but they carried the weight of history and expectations.

He leaned his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands as he struggled with the memories and the responsibility. He had started working on the ranch when he was only ten years old, driving the bale wagon from the fields to the yard. Over time he graduated to the tractor, and then he started baling, as well.

Together he and his grandfather had ridden miles of fence lines, Papa Bill passing on his wisdom, his knowledge and the history of the ranch.

Regret twisted his gut. Sure he had bought the Rocking K from his grandfather, paying in sweat equity and bank loans, but the ranch was passed on to him. A ranch that had been in the family for four generations.

Could he change his mind? Couldn’t he simply let things go on as usual? Would Wade be willing to carry on as a manager, or would he want to have his own place eventually?

For a moment he wished he believed God heard prayers. Because that would be convenient. To ask God for some kind of guidance, some kind of sign.

But his belief in God died two years ago when he watched that small coffin being lowered into the ground, taking his purpose in life with it.

Carter pushed himself to his feet. The decision was made. It was time to move on. Pete had found him a buyer, and that was all the sign he needed. Now all he had to do was tell Wade.

And Nana Beck.

He pulled in a long breath and reminded himself this was the right thing to do. Then he left the cabin.

The sound of laughter greeted him as he pushed open the door of Wade’s house.

The first thing he saw was Adam sitting at the table, his cheeks smeared with syrup, forking a piece of pancake into his mouth. Just as his son used to.

The glimmer from the past twisted, and any regrets he had about selling the farm seemed to disappear.

Adam looked up when he came into the kitchen. “Are you going to have pancakes too, Mr. Carter?”

Carter gave him a quick shake of his head, no.

But Miranda was already setting an extra plate on the table. “Of course you’re going to join us,” Miranda was saying. “I’ll even get Emma to make a letter C for you.”

Carter glanced over at the stove, where Emma was frying pancakes. Her hair was pulled away from her face, and as she flipped the pancake she glanced over at him.

The sparkle in her eyes dimmed, and she glanced away.

Not that he blamed her. He’d been less than diplomatic this morning, and he knew it. But her chitchat about Nana and history and how wonderful the ranch was twisted the guilt knife already lodged deep in his breast.

“I’m not sticking around long,” he said. “How are you feeling today?” he asked. Yesterday, she had complained about a sore back, blaming it on her pregnancy.

“A bit stiff, but that’s to be expected.”

Carter put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. “You make sure you take it easy,” he said.

Miranda waved her hand at him. “Don’t fuss. I’m fine.”

Carter gave her a gentle smile, then glanced over to catch Emma watching him. He turned away again. “I need to talk to Wade, by the way.”

“He’s having a shower right now.” Miranda grabbed Carter by the arm and pulled him toward the table. “Sit down and eat. You’re practically drooling. Emma, give this man some fresh pancakes.”

“You’ll really like them,” Adam assured him with a grin just as Emma dropped a couple of pancakes on his plate.

“I smell pancakes,” Wade called out, rubbing his hands together as he came into the kitchen. “I hope Adam didn’t eat them all like he usually does.”

“I don’t do that,” Adam complained.

Wade rubbed his head, to show him he was teasing, then flashed Carter a grin. “Glad you could join us, buddy.”

In spite of Wade’s smile, Carter caught an underlying note of sympathy in his voice. Since he’d been back, this was the first time Carter had stepped into the house where he used to live.

Yet another reason to get away soon. Too much subtext underneath every conversation.

“Yeah. Miranda strong-armed me into staying.” He kept his tone light.

“Never mess with a pregnant woman,” Miranda said. “Emma, why don’t you sit down and have some breakfast? I think we have enough to eat.”

“I’ll throw on a few more pieces of bacon,” she replied.

“Got enough of that too.” Wade dropped into a chair across from Carter. “Sit down. Eat.”

“Do we need more coffee?” Emma asked, not moving from her place at the stove.

“What’s with the excuses? If I didn’t know you better, I’d guess having the boss around was making you nervous.”

To Carter’s surprise, he saw a flush work its way up her neck as she sat down at the table. He doubted it was caused by nerves.

More than likely annoyance.

“I’m done.” Adam licked his fingers one more time then pushed his plate away. “Can I sit on your lap, Mom?”

“Of course you can,” Emma said, “But first let me wipe your hands.”

Carter watched as Adam made his way around the table to Emma, unable to look away. She wiped his hands and then shifted her weight so he could sit on her lap. The domestic picture in his old kitchen teased up another memory of his nana cooking for them.

He dragged his gaze back to his foreman. “Wade, I need to talk to you. About the ranch.”

“Yeah, sure. What do you need to tell me?” Wade asked, squeezing the syrup bottle over his pancakes.

Carter didn’t know why he glanced over at Emma again. To his surprise, she was watching him. As if she knew what he would say.

But before Carter could speak, the phone rang. Wade reached behind him, snagging the handset off its cradle.

“Wade here,” he said, tucking the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he speared a piece of bacon off the plate. Then his hand froze and his eyes widened.

“What? When?” Wade dropped his fork and gripped the phone, his fingers white. “How is he … how are they?”

He got up and strode out of the kitchen, peppering the phone with anxious questions.