Roping In The Cowgirl

She crossed her arms, her expression of curiosity morphing into one of concern. “I asked if there was anything else you needed me to do before I leave, but you were a hundred miles away. Is something wrong?”

Apparently she’d been standing there for a while, long enough to notice the furrow in his brow, the frown on his face. But he shrugged off her question and his penchant for honesty. “No, everything’s fine.”

“It doesn’t look that way to me.”

That’s because things were actually a mess. What had Uncle Sam been thinking when he’d made this decision? Yet as stunned as Blake was, as angry at the circumstances, a niggle of guilt wormed its way into the mix. And having to assume at least part of the blame didn’t sit well with him, especially since he could justify everything he’d done. But it was what he’d failed to do that was most unsettling.

Carol entered his office and made her way to the edge of his desk, the familiar scent of her favorite perfume still faintly clinging to her at the end of the workday. “When I sorted the mail, I noticed the return address on that envelope was from a law firm in Brighton Valley. Does it have anything to do with your uncle?”

Normally, Blake kept his personal affairs to himself, but Carol was an exceptional employee and loyal to a fault. She’d also taken him under her wing six years ago, when he’d first started out at the Beverly Hills law firm of Greenburg, Rawlings and—now that Blake had made partner—Darnell.

Before he knew it, Carol had become a second mother to him, baking him homemade cookies and even inviting him to her house for dinner on the weekends. In fact, in many ways, she was more maternal than the one who’d given birth to him.

She’d mentioned retiring a couple of times, which was understandable since she was approaching her sixtieth birthday. But if and when she actually decided to turn in her resignation, he and the other partners would have a hell of a time replacing her.

Blake blew out a ragged sigh and leaned back in his chair, the springs and leather creaking with his movement. “Apparently Uncle Sam wasn’t satisfied with my legal advice or my ability to look over his financial affairs, so he hired another lawyer and has taken back full control of the Darnell Family Trust.”

“Is he competent enough to do that?” Carol asked.

“His mental abilities were never in question.” Still, Blake suspected the elderly rancher had lost the grip he’d once had on his common sense.

Damn. Was this really happening? Blake pushed back his chair and got to his feet. Then he walked to the window and gazed down at the cars driving along Wilshire Boulevard.

“I’m sorry,” Carol said. “I only asked that question because, the last I heard, he’d moved into a skilled nursing facility.”

“That was nearly a year ago. But a lot has changed since then. He moved to a retirement home for old cowboys called the Rocking Chair Ranch.” And if Blake hadn’t been so tied up with those last two cases and had let one of the other attorneys handle them, if he’d gone to Texas and visited his uncle in person, then maybe Sam wouldn’t be in this fix.

“A home for retired cowboys should be a fitting place for a man who’d been a rancher all of his life,” Carol said.

Blake turned away from the window and raked his hand through his hair. “Yes, it is. But the Rocking C is also a working ranch. And several months back, my uncle got a wacky job offer to be the foreman.”

“That’s a surprise—and a nice one.” Carol smiled and lifted a single brow, apparently awaiting Blake’s agreement.

Instead, he slowly shook his head. “Yeah. But he’s pushing eighty.”

“As a woman facing retirement age, I’m not looking forward to giving up my independence. After a few weeks of leisure, I’d probably jump all over a job offer that would allow me back into the workforce and let me use the skills I’ve acquired over the years.”

Blake didn’t doubt that. From the purple streak in Carol’s trendy hairstyle to the multiple piercings along her ears, she did her best to remain youthful and stylish. And while he valued her opinion, this situation was so...personal. The mishmash of feelings he was dealing with kept popping up in his chest, making him feel as though he was playing an unending game of whack-a-mole.

Carol crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one hip. “You were so worried about losing him last year, I’d think that you’d be happy that he’s found a new purpose in life.”

“Under normal circumstances, I would be. But... Well, it’s complicated.” Blake wasn’t sure how much he wanted to share, especially since his feelings were involved.

Okay, so it was his guilt that ate at him the most, and he wasn’t sure how to make things right. But Carol knew how much he loved his uncle, how he’d tried his best to take care of him—albeit from a distance.

Two years ago, when Uncle Sam and Aunt Nellie decided to sell their ranch and retire, Blake had tried to talk them into moving to California so he could look after them. He’d even asked Carol to check out various nearby senior communities—all expensive, top-notch places where they’d be safe and well-cared-for. But Sam, who could be as stubborn as that ornery old mule he used to own back when Blake was a kid, had refused to even consider it.

Instead, he and Nellie had remained in Texas, moving into an assisted living complex in Brighton Valley. At that point, they’d signed over their trusteeship to Blake, their only heir. And he began looking over their financial affairs, which were considerable, although most folks wouldn’t know it. Sam Darnell might look like a plain and simple cowpoke, but back in the day, he’d been a sharp cattleman, landowner and investor.

After Aunt Nellie suffered a stroke and died, Blake was heartbroken. But what had really torn him up was seeing how badly his uncle took the loss. The couple didn’t have any children, so it was just the two of them. And when Nellie passed, Sam lost his will to live.

In fact, his health had suffered so badly that he needed skilled nursing and had to move into a separate medical facility down the road. His doctor told Blake they’d have to call in hospice if Sam continued to lose weight and strength.

Again, Blake had suggested that his uncle move to California, but the stubborn old cowboy dug in his boot heels, insisting he was a Texan—born and bred. And that’s where he intended to die.

In what seemed to be a miracle at the time, a nurse’s aide managed to connect with him and encouraged him to start eating again. When she inherited a ranch called the Rocking C, she told Sam all about her plan to open a retirement home and asked him to come to work for her as her foreman. But there was more to the story. Things that didn’t sit well with Blake.

Carol crossed the room and closed the door to his office, drawing him from his musing.

“Talk to me,” she said. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Blake let out a sigh. “Sam struck up a romance. According to him, she’s not only a ‘younger woman,’ but a ‘sexy brunette with sparkling green eyes’. And I’m afraid he plans to give away the farm—so to speak.”

At that, Carol scrunched her brow. “A woman he met at the ranch?”

“Her name is Joy, and apparently, she works there, too. As long as I had control over the finances, I would have been able to put the kibosh on any wild-ass plan he had to whip out his credit card or write a check. But now I don’t have a say, so Sam’s free to make any crazy financial decisions he wants.”

Carol cocked her head. “Isn’t it his money to do with as he chooses?”

“Yes, absolutely. And even though I’m supposed to inherit his estate—unless he’s changed that, too—I don’t care about the money. I already have more than I need. It’s the principle of the thing. I don’t want to see anyone take advantage of him.”

“Do you really think he’s that lonely—or that gullible?”

“I wouldn’t have believed it before. But he emailed last month and said he wanted to get the woman’s teeth fixed. He even mentioned buying her a house. And, apparently, she has a niece who wants to go to medical school, but can’t afford it.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“I said, ‘Absolutely not.’ He was talking about spending a lot of money on a woman he’d just met. I can only imagine how she’s playing him.” Blake had known plenty of gold diggers like that. Hell, he’d almost married one until he’d finally seen through her manipulations.

“Okay, you said you’ve been emailing him. And I realize you’re reluctant to go on vacation, in spite of my advice to take some well-deserved time off so you can fill the well. But have you tried talking to him in person, at least, on Skype or the telephone?”

Blake blew out a sigh. “Yes, I tried calling the ranch a few minutes ago. The woman who answered said he wasn’t available, but I heard his voice in the background.” Blake turned to Carol, unable to mask his feelings. “Can you believe it? For the first time in my life, my uncle refused to talk to me!”

“Ouch.”

“And to make matters worse, I just got sucker punched with this.” Blake tapped his finger on the document lying on his desktop. “I’m not sure whose idea this was, but I’m not going to stand by and watch my uncle get taken advantage of by a woman intent upon taking him to the cleaners. I’m going to fly to Texas and check things out for myself.”

“Under the circumstances,” Carol said, “that’s probably a good idea. I’ll make your travel arrangements. I assume you’d like to go as soon as possible.”

Blake would leave right now, if he could. But he’d have to brief whichever attorney would be covering for him while he was gone.

“What’s on my calendar?” he asked.

The ever-efficient Carol smiled. “Nothing that can’t be postponed, canceled or handled by someone else, so consider it cleared. You’re free for as long as you need to be.”

Blake must have appeared skeptical—and hesitant—because she added, “Oh, come on. You haven’t taken any significant time off in years. And while this isn’t the same thing as a real vacation, at least it will get you out of the office for a while. Some evenings I was afraid we’d have to move a bed into the supply closet for you.”

He smiled at the thought—and at the woman who knew him better than anyone probably ever had. “You’re one in a million, Carol.”