The Rancher's Redemption

Oh, this was good. Ego-bruising good. Almost as good as the day Zoe had jilted Ben at the altar. For which—sometimes, late at night—Rachel was sorry.

But not sorry. He’d undercut the Double T’s livelihood.

On Ben’s wedding day, Rachel had come out of the bridal vestibule at the back of the church, wearing a red satin gown so tight she could barely breathe. Or maybe she hadn’t been able to breathe because she’d lost her court case the day before to Ben.

Looking sophisticated and handsome, Ben had walked down the aisle toward Rachel, ignoring the murmurs and stares of his patiently waiting wedding guests. “Have you seen Zoe? I’m worried. She should have been here by now.”

At the altar behind him, his brothers hung back in their black tuxedos. Cowards. At least two of them knew where Zoe was. Rachel had sworn to keep her friend’s elopement a secret for as long as she could. Did she need to postpone things any longer?

“Rachel?” Ben had bent to peer into her eyes when she didn’t answer. “Are you okay?” Here was the Ben she’d grown up with, always watching out for Zoe and Rachel, so unlike the heartless man she’d faced in court over the past few weeks.

Rachel had tried to tug Ben away from prying eyes. “Ben, I want to renegotiate the water rights.” She sounded desperate, maybe because she was. Her father hadn’t spoken to her since the verdict came in.

“Not now, Rachel.” Ben glanced over her head, clearly searching for his bride.

“Yes, now. This can’t wait.”

“Rachel.” In the middle of the aisle, in the middle of the church, Ben blurted, “If you have to ask now, the answer is no.”

“You’re an idiot.” Rage as red as her dress pummeled Rachel’s veins and caused her to raise her voice. “Zoe eloped with Big E an hour ago!”

The assembled gave a collective gasp. Ben paled.

Only then did his brothers move, rolling toward them like a fast, incoming tide. They swept Ben out the door, leaving Rachel to face the crowd alone.

“Go get help!” Interrupting Rachel’s thoughts, Ben settled into a sitting position in the tree by the river. His red-clad legs dangling down from the branch he’d chosen. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Where’s your backbone, Blackwell?” She urged Utah closer and leaned over to rattle the gate to get the bull’s attention. Reluctantly, the bull ambled toward Rachel, huffing unhappily.

With Ben safe, Rachel’s gaze drifted toward the river. How many memories did she have at the end of this road with Ben? Too many to count.

This was where Rachel came to sort out her feelings. It was where Ben came to escape his large family. By unspoken agreement, this was where they weren’t Thompsons or Blackwells. This was where they could just be Rachel and Ben. This was where they could be friends without Zoe being jealous or his brothers teasing him. This was where—

Ben began to climb down the tree, quiet, like a rainbow-clad ninja.

The bull didn’t notice.

This is going to work.

The light dimmed as the sun disappeared on the other side of the mountain range, leaving the world in a blue-gray twilight. Rachel needed to pick up Poppy and put her to bed or she’d be a bear tomorrow, worn out from lack of sleep. She needed to prepare the quarterly tax paperwork. She needed to refill Nana Nancy’s weekly pillbox. She needed to read through her brief for court tomorrow because solid preparation was going to make her a better lawyer.

She rattled the gate some more.

A few minutes later, Rachel’s rope was secured on her saddle, the bull fidgeted on the other side of the fence, and Ben stood in front of Utah, stroking the gelding’s neck. “Hey, what’s that platform for?” Ben gestured toward a wooden structure by the river. It looked like a dock built too high above the water.

“Zoe calls it the observation platform. It’s on the website as being ideal for watching the sun rise or doing yoga.” Rachel doubted Zoe had done any of those things, either. And as far as Rachel knew, Zoe didn’t understand the significance of the end of this road to Ben and Rachel.

“Zoe built it?” Ben studied it with more attention than Rachel thought it deserved.

She wondered which memory came to his mind first. For her, it was always senior prom. He’d been out riding the morning after that dance and had found Rachel huddled on the bank wearing baggy sweats and no makeup with a nose stuffed with tears.

“Andy broke up with me.” Rachel hadn’t been able to look at Ben when she’d said it.

He hadn’t said anything in response. He’d just settled down beside her, slung his arm over her shoulder and watched the sun come up over the Rockies. Back then, she’d thought he was the best Blackwell ever.

It had taken nearly a decade to prove that wasn’t the case.

“The platform was Zoe’s idea.” Best make that clear. “She paid a ton to have it built.” Rachel turned Utah toward home, pausing to add, “And you can thank me for saving you and letting you traverse Double T land without having you arrested for trespassing.” The ingrate.

“Actually, this part of the road belongs to the Blackwells,” Ben said in an odd voice. And then he ran a hand over his hair and jogged ahead of her.

On the other side of the fence, the bull trotted next to him, like a loyal two-ton dog.

Dismissed, Rachel held Utah back, casting one last look over her shoulder toward the river, glimmering in the sunset. Now that Ben was safe, she could think about the rescue with more detachment. Replay Ben running from a raging bull as if he was running with the football, a pack of defenders at his heels.

In high school, Ben had played all sports. He was still in good shape and looked as if he could pick up where he’d left off on any playing field.

The playing field will be my courtroom tomorrow.

Rachel smiled. Now was the time to get into her opponent’s head. “Do you really go out looking like that back east?”

“Yep.” He was pulling away from her in an easy stride.

Down here, the road wasn’t overgrown the way it was on the section from the Double T to the first Blackwell gate. Traffic from Blackwell ranch hands, and now ranch guests, kept the weeds to a minimum.

She kicked Utah into a trot, bringing them alongside Ben. “Must be a city thing.”

His white teeth flashed. “You mean my running clothes don’t do it for you?”

“No.” Couldn’t he have developed a tick? Grown straggly gray hair? “I’ve seen people dress in tights before.” She let that sink in before adding, “Ladies doing Zumba at the community center in Livingston, for instance.”

“You’ve spent a lot of time commenting on my legs.” He sent her a sly glance. “The only reason I can see is that they must please you.”

“Still got that ego, I see.”

“I call ’em as I see ’em, Thompson.”

Thompson. He’d called her that in the seventh grade when he’d accepted her invitation to the Sadie Hawkins dance: Okay, Thompson.

“Okay, Thompson. Let’s do this,” he’d said again, as he led her to the dance floor, his tone as serious as if they were heading into battle against overwhelming odds.

She felt the same tummy shimmy now as she had then. Of course, years ago her nerves were from not knowing what would happen next. Would he accept her invitation? Would they slow dance? Would he try to steal a kiss?

A kiss...

She watched Ben’s athletic stride, thinking about how much she missed kissing and being held in a pair of strong arms. His arms looked rather strong.

Ridiculous.