His Texas Bride

He didn’t know, did he? About the ranch, and the role he now played in it? Somehow she’d assumed someone had told him why he was here, besides to attend his mother’s funeral.

She offered him a hand up, which he willingly took, giving her the crooked grin she’d once found so adorable, and that still did funny things to her insides.

What should she say now?

Should she be the one to tell him about the ranch?

No, she decided suddenly. Let the lawyer do the honors. There was no reason she had to be the one to spring such news on the man. In fact, given the circumstances, she was probably the last one who should be blabbing anything to Buck.

“Tyler is a very special kid,” Ellie remarked, smiling gently at Buck.

“Just don’t let him hear you call him that. He thinks he was born forty years old. And I suppose my lifestyle hasn’t lent him much in that arena.”

Ellie didn’t ask about Buck’s wife, Julie. She knew the story from Mama Esther, heard it during many of the long talks they’d shared. That Julie had abruptly deserted Buck was almost more than Ellie’s mind could comprehend, but that she had likewise abandoned her own two-year-old son—well, that was entirely beyond Ellie’s frame of reference. She still felt angry every time she thought about it.

“You’re a good father, Buck,” she stated emphatically. “Anyone who sees you with the boy can tell that.”

“He doesn’t think so,” Buck muttered. “And I’m not so sure of that myself. He’s got so much anger built up inside of him. I think he might just explode some day.”

“Maybe I can help with that,” Ellie offered. “My ranch is called therapeutic for a reason.”

Buck lifted an eyebrow. “It’s kind of you to offer, Ellie,” he said, running a hand down his face, “but we aren’t going to be in town that long.”

Ellie nodded, but inside, she knew otherwise. Buck didn’t know it yet, but he was going to stay. She had to make him stay, or everything she’d worked for her whole life would go up in smoke.

The ranch. Her ministry.

Everything.

And she wasn’t about to let that happen.

Chapter Three

The reception had mostly cleared out by the time Buck and Ellie returned to the ranch house. Larry Bowman, the town lawyer, was waiting for them, helping himself to what was left over from the food folks had prepared.

Larry smiled as they entered. “I waited around,” he explained kindly. “If you’re feeling up to it, Buck, I thought it might be best if we tackled the reading of the will now, rather than putting it off for later. I completely understand if you would rather make it another day.”

Buck hung his hat on the rack by the door. “No, Larry. Today is fine. Good, actually. I need to settle things up and be on my way as soon as possible.”

Buck didn’t miss the surprised look Larry flashed Ellie, but she just blinked a couple of times and then shrugged before the moment was gone.

“So, did Mama leave Ellie something in the will? Is that why she’s here?” Buck asked, only mildly curious and not at all begrudging whatever his mother might have left Ellie. He knew the two of them had been close.

Larry scratched the stubble on his chin. “Perhaps we’d all better sit down,” he offered, rather than answering the question directly. “Everything is laid out in the will.”

“You can skip the formal stuff, Larry,” Buck said confidently. “I already know what the will is going to say, and I likewise know how I’m going to handle the estate. We don’t need to go line by line or anything.”

“I see,” Larry answered, not sounding as if he saw anything at all. Buck arched an eyebrow. He couldn’t understand what was so complicated. His mother had been a small-town woman, and she’d lived simply. She didn’t have anything of value except the craft store, and Buck knew he didn’t want to keep that.

Shouldn’t really come as a surprise to anyone, least of all Larry or Ellie.

“Why don’t we just cut to the practical stuff and let me tell you what I want to do,” Buck suggested, taking a hard-backed chair and turning it around, straddling the seat and leaning his forearms against the chair’s back.

Larry pulled another hard-backed chair opposite Buck and seated himself, his back ramrod straight, and set his briefcase on his lap. Larry almost appeared tense, Buck thought, which was odd for a lawyer.

Ellie evidently preferred to stand, for she leaned her hip against the table and crossed her arms, giving Larry a warm, encouraging smile, that Buck wished, for a moment, was for him instead.

Wasn’t she here to support him? It looked to Buck like all the support was beaming in Larry’s direction.

“So,” Buck said when it appeared everyone was as settled as they were going to get, “Mama left me the ranch, er, the craft store, I mean. That’s probably the main item, right? I’m sure I’ll want to select some personal items to keep, and, Ellie, you feel free to do the same. I know how close you and Mama were.”

Tears formed in the corners of Ellie’s eyes, but she didn’t brush them away. The sight of her tears was enough to cause emotion to swell in Buck’s own chest, partly over the loss of his mother and partly in sympathy for what Ellie must be feeling.

“Maybe we could go to Mama’s house together,” he suggested, thinking it might be easier on her. He didn’t want to think about the fact that by his words he had disassociated himself from the ranch that had been his childhood home. Instead, Buck forged onward with his thoughts. “That way, Ellie, you can have first dibs at all her little knickknacks and things. I’m sure Mama would be happy to see some of her keepsakes passed down to you.”

Larry looked down at the folder in his hand, then adjusted his tie at the neck and cleared his throat. His face was expressionless, but a flush was rising on his cheeks. “Uh, Buck, son, I’m not sure how to tell you this, so I’m just going to come out and state it plain. There is no ranch.”

“What?” Buck knew he was squawking, but Larry’s statement had hit him with the force of a semitruck. “What do you mean there is no ranch? My mama lived in that place her whole married life. She might have turned the place into a tourist trap, but she wouldn’t sell it off to some stranger.”

Ellie’s arms dropped to her sides, and her fists grasped the edge of the table. She gave an audible huff and glared at Buck. “She did sell the store—the ranch, Buck. Last spring. I know this is going to be hard for you to accept. She wanted to tell you about it in person, but she became ill before she could make a trip out to see you. She didn’t plan it this way.”

Buck buried his head in his hands. Could this be any worse? “I don’t get it,” he murmured between his palms. “Why would Mama sell her own home? Was she too frail to run the store by herself anymore?” That didn’t sound like Buck’s mother at all, but he was grasping at straws to come up with any reasonable explanation for Esther’s actions.

“She was lonely,” Ellie said sadly, but her gaze shot fierce daggers at Buck, leaving him no doubt where she placed the blame for his mother’s circumstances. “That was a big old house for her to live in all by herself. She ran her business single-handedly until the day she sold out to a neighbor, but it wasn’t because she was too frail, as you put it.”

Buck frowned. Ellie just had to rub it in that he hadn’t had a close relationship with his own mother. He felt guilty enough without her adding her opinion on the matter.

“It was only when she became ill,” Ellie continued, “that Mama Esther needed special care.”

“She couldn’t be out on her own,” Larry added in a businesslike monotone, that Buck thought might have carried just a hint of a judgmental quality to it.

What was it with everyone today? They couldn’t just mind their own business?

“Why didn’t I know about any of this?” Buck demanded, feeling repeated sharp-edged stabs of guilt with every word Ellie and Larry said.

“Again, Buck, your mother wanted to tell you in person,” Ellie reiterated. “And everything happened so fast, with the illness and all. We were all completely focused on Mama Esther. Everything else had to wait.”

“Someone should have called me,” Buck ground out through clenched teeth. “I should have known.”

“You’re right,” Ellie agreed softly, though still with an edge to her tone. “Someone should have called you. I should have called you. But it was against Mama Esther’s wishes for me to do so, and I simply couldn’t bring myself to deceive her in any way, not even for you.”

Buck groaned. From the clipped way she spoke, barely holding back her emotions, he knew she meant especially not for him. “No property, then.”

The money Mama had received from the sale of the assets had no doubt gone to cover her medical expenses—maybe even a Christian charity or two, knowing his mother. Buck saw his dream of owning a horse ranch floating right out the window, but he was more heartbroken by the fact that he hadn’t been there for his mother when she needed him. She hadn’t even told him she was ill.

And all because of his pride.

“Actually,” Larry interceded, breaking into Buck’s thoughts, “that isn’t precisely true. You do own property, Buck, just not the ranch you grew up on.”