Читать книгу More to Texas than Cowboys - Roz Fox Denny - Страница 7

SLOWING HER RED Chevy Blazer on the outskirts of Homestead, Texas, Greer Bell passed a population sign that read 2,504. Wasn’t it decidedly less than that now, at least according to the current mayor? Directly ahead in the center of town sat Homestead’s most impressive landmark, the old courthouse. Its yellow granite columns and soaring clock tower told Greer she was home.

She knew that a lot of small Texas towns boasted similar landmarks. This courthouse probably hadn’t changed since it was erected by a German immigrant in the 1840s; as the story went, his wife had refused to budge once they reached Loveless County. Oh, the tales that old building could tell.

Maybe returning home after ten years away wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d imagined. Greer had certainly never expected her first glimpse of Post Street to bring such a mix of nostalgia and angry butterflies to her stomach. Frankly she’d assumed there’d be more visible change because of the land giveaway. She’d figured there’d be more people out and about in the middle of the week. Mayor Miranda Wright’s plan to revitalize Homestead by offering land or vacant homes to families willing to rebuild the dying town didn’t appear overwhelmingly successful. This was the same backdrop Greer conjured up in every dream of home during the past ten years. Maybe there were a couple of new stores. She pulled over and dropped her head onto both hands, still clutching the wheel.

She was parked in front of Tanner’s General Store. Had it been revamped? Painted? Oh—down the street that sign for a Dollar Store was new. And the café.

Shelby, Greer’s nine-year-old daughter, had slept on and off during their second day’s journey from Denver. Stirring, the girl rubbed sleepy hazel eyes several shades darker than her mom’s, which were generously flecked with gold.

“Are we there yet?” she asked for the millionth time, punctuating her query with a massive yawn.

Greer quickly raised a clammy forehead. “Not yet, honey bunny. We’re in downtown Homestead. Our ranch is several miles…thataway.” Greer jerked a thumb toward undulating hills barely visible beyond the courthouse, where a couple of old men sat on benches.

Shelby pressed her nose to the side window. “Then why are we stopping? Oh…is this where Grandma works?” Her voice warbled excitedly.

“My mother, you mean? Uh, no. Loretta, uh, teaches math at the high school. It’s a few miles out of town.” Greer’s eyes strayed to her daughter’s image in the rearview mirror, she noted her own deep frown. She wiped it away. After all, she’d taken many things into consideration before making up her mind to move back to the place of her birth. And yet she’d sheltered Shelby from the truth about her family—why her only grandparents were nothing but a scrawled signature on Christmas and birthday cards. But sitting in far-off Colorado—where she’d helped manage a busy guest ranch—filling out an application for a piece of Homestead’s almost-free land had seemed simple. Here, facing the stark reality, even knowing it was time to confront her past, Greer wasn’t sure she had the stomach for it. Still, this wasn’t the moment to begin divulging the truth to Shelby. Not when so many unsettled feelings boiled within Greer.

“Groceries,” she said suddenly, digging up a reason for stopping. “We need a few things to tide us over until we get to the staples I sent in the moving van. This is Tanner’s,” she muttered, peering at the weathered sign. “It used to be the town’s only grocery store. I figured Homestead would have a superstore by now, but apparently not,” Greer said, scanning the two-lane street flanked by old one-and two-story red brick or cream-colored buildings. Her stomach pitched again. She’d counted on change, but there didn’t seem to be much, and now Greer wasn’t sure she could get out and step back in time.

Shelby felt no such compunction. Unbuckling her seat belt, she threw open her door and slammed it shut with a bang.

Watching her energetic daughter bound over the curb onto the sidewalk, Greer emerged more slowly from the Blazer, and then took a minute to lock the doors, even though no one in Homestead had ever done so in the past.

Shelby didn’t wait for her mom at the entry, but shoved open one of the peeling double doors and disappeared inside, causing a bell over the door to jingle. Such a small thing, but Greer was further catapulted back to her childhood, when she’d trailed up these steps after her dad, clutching money she’d earned doing chores around the farm. Robert Bell, always stern, invariably scolded her for spending every last penny on books, knickknacks and candy. And yet…despite his own thrifty ways, he’d never tried to stop her. The memory was a sharp reminder of all she’d lost.

A lump settled in her throat as a string of familiar scents wafted past on the breeze created as Shelby let the door bang shut. Greer knew what her daughter would find inside. Oak barrels of varying sizes, brimming with gourmet goodies. Well, gourmet by Homestead’s standards. Delicacies such as home-cured jerky, fat dill pickles, peppermint drops, or specialties like imported teas. Seasonally, Mrs. Tanner stocked spicy cinnamon-orange, or pear-and-apple blend. For as far back as Greer could remember, stepping into Tanner’s had been like walking into a treasure trove. Food was the least of what they offered. Collectibles, toys, Christmas ornaments, kitchen gadgets and sundry gifts hung from the ceiling or were tucked in a myriad of cubbyholes. She’d have to bribe Shelby with a second trip to town if she hoped to pry her out of the store anytime soon.

Needing to let her eyes adjust to the dim interior after leaving the bright fall sun, Greer hesitated beside a barrel of shiny red apples. She supported herself against it to make sure her jelly knees weren’t going to let her down.

Once, she’d loved this store. Loved this town. She blinked rapidly to stave off tears she thought had all been shed long ago, and attempted to locate Shelby, all while compiling observations—well-oiled dark oak floors, a painted tin ceiling, dancing wind chimes tinkling softly in the lazy breeze of a fan. Her gaze skipped over the clerk standing behind the counter. She did notice he operated a more modern cash register than she recalled.

A customer laughed at something the clerk said. Greer judged both men to be a bit older than her almost twenty-seven years. It was hard to tell until her eyes adjusted. But she was reassured that something had changed. Affable LeRoy Tanner, a contemporary of Greer’s dad, obviously no longer owned the store. LeRoy and his wife had been fixtures in town forever, it seemed.

In her sporadic letters, Greer’s mother had indicated that a number of old-time residents had fallen on hard luck and left town.

A booming voice addressed Greer by name, and she snapped her head around. Realizing it was one of the men at the counter, she squinted to see better.

Shelby abandoned the Madam Alexander doll she was inspecting to burrow into Greer’s side. “Mama, that man knows you,” she said in a stage whisper.

Greer cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, you…ah…have me at a disadvantage. I’m still sun-blind.” She was pretty sure it was the clerk who’d spoken, yet it was the customer who galvanized her attention. A good two inches shorter but broader-shouldered than the clerk, the customer wore typical rancher garb—square-heeled boots, blue jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt. It was his arresting blue eyes under a worn baseball cap that gave her pause. Not your typical cowboy, but in spite of the general consensus, there was more to Texas than cowboys.

“I’m Edmond Tanner,” the clerk said, rounding the counter with his hand outstretched. “My dad, LeRoy, would’ve been here at the time you left. I’ve gotta confess, your hair gave you away. I’d’ve known those red curls even if Loretta hadn’t told us you were due to get in today, Greer.” His hearty chuckle was cut short by a rib-jab from his companion.

“Oops, forgive my bad manners.” Edmond cocked his thumb like a pistol. “I figured you two knew each other. Greer…Noah Kelley. Er…I reckon I oughta call him Father Kelley. With your dad being on the church board and all, I assumed Loretta had passed on the news about Father Holden’s stroke. We’re lucky the greater regional Episcopal council saw fit to let Noah fill in until his pop’s back on his feet.”

Greer reeled at the announcement and did a double take. Now she remembered Noah Kelley. They’d both been much younger. And he had certainly changed. Holden’s son used to wear his hair slicked down. He’d looked—well, stiff in starched white shirts and the requisite Sunday suit.

Noah responded to the lengthy introduction with a dismissive shrug. “I’d probably graduated from college and entered seminary before you got out of high school, so there’s no reason you’d know I ended up an associate priest at a church in Austin for…oh, more years than I care to think about. Time sure flies.”

Ed Tanner stroked his chin. “You’re gettin’ old, Noah. I forgot your mom recently ordered a cake for your, uh, thirty-second birthday wasn’t it?”

“Thirty-first,” Noah said, playfully aiming a punch at Ed’s bony arm. “Years come and years go. Think how long you’ve been an old married man, Ed. Why don’t we forget age and just welcome Greer home.” Noah’s eyes rested on her briefly. “I do remember you,” he said after a pause. “You wore pigtails and were nearer the age of—is the charming girl at your side your daughter?”

“Yep, my name is Shelby,” the child piped up without a shred of modesty.

Noah’s teeth flashed in a grin. “Well, I hope I’ll have the privilege of seeing both of you lovely ladies again soon. At church on Sunday?”

“No, you won’t,” Greer shot back so quickly it surprised everyone. “We haven’t even moved in yet.” She grabbed Shelby’s hand and hurriedly collected a shopping cart. How did she tell the local Episcopal priest that she hadn’t darkened a church door since she’d left Homestead—because his dad had been instrumental in convincing her parents to send her into exile? Noah Kelley was a sneaky one. Not only didn’t he resemble any man of God Greer had ever seen, where the heck was his identifying collar? How dared he go about town looking like an ordinary rancher.

“Come on, Shelby, let’s start with vegetables.” Greer aimed her cart toward the very back of the store where she remembered Tanner’s displayed fresh produce. Talk about bad luck. Of all the people she’d give anything not to run into here in Homestead, a relative of Father Holden Kelley topped her list.

In the occasional letters Greer received from her mom, Loretta Bell had probably avoided mentioning Holden or any member of his church board on purpose. No surprise there, given the shouting match they’d all had ten years ago.

NOAH EXCHANGED a blank look with Ed. Intrigued, he excused himself and hurried down the aisle after the woman and girl. He caught up quickly because Shelby had stopped to inspect a rack of kids’ books. “My invitation to attend church remains open for whenever you get settled, Greer. Attendance at St. Mark’s fell off even before Pop’s stroke. My main goal is to recapture the strayed or lost,” he said, turning up the wattage on a slightly crooked smile. “I’d especially like to entice back young families such as yours.” Noah’s bright gaze again shifted to Shelby. “You’d be eight or nine? We have a growing Sunday school that would gladly make room for one more. Perhaps your mom remembers Debra Coleville, or she may have been Debra Rooney then. She teaches a combined second-and third-grade class.”

Shelby hugged the book. “Will some of the kids be in my third grade at regular school? I just turned nine.”

“I think Megan Ritter’s eight. Her sister, Heather, is six or seven, and their brother, Brad, is nine. So’s Callie Montgomery’s sister, Brittany. And…the Gallaghers have a range of ages,” he said, rattling off a stream of names.

Some sounded vaguely familiar. Greer scrabbled through her mind but was unable to place anyone specific except for Gallagher. Every Texan knew State Senator Clint Gallagher.

“Mama, if I met some kids Sunday, I’d have friends for when I start school next week.”

Greer released her breath and gave a severe shake of her head. “I said no, Shelby. We need every waking hour to get the ranch cottages ready for our paying guests. Church is out of the question.”

Glancing between mother and child, Noah offered what he thought was a compromise. “I understand you and your husband are probably anxious to spruce things up in order to get your business off the ground. You could send Shelby with her grandparents.”

Pulling herself up to her full five-foot-three inch height, Greer let stormy eyes rake the much taller man’s guileless expression. “Shelby’s never met my parents. And for the record…I don’t have a husband. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’d like to finish shopping so we can get out to our ranch before the movers show up.”

Spinning on one heel, she sped down an adjacent aisle, uncaring that she’d been rude to a man of the cloth. She didn’t let up her mad dash until she reached the bins of vegetables and began pitching items willy-nilly into her cart.

Shelby finally found her. “Yuck, Mama. We don’t eat turnips. And what’s that green stuff with the red edges?”

Greer frowned at her cart. “It’s chard. On second thought, these greens will probably spoil before I have a chance to use them.” Meekly she put back the chard and some lettuce snatched up in her hasty attempt to escape Noah Kelley. Father Noah!

Greer’s heart tripped fast. It would be better if Noah did resemble his formidable dad. Instead the son had straw-blond hair that fell appealingly over a suntanned brow. Standing a good six feet in boots, Noah’s worn blue jeans fit his long legs as if sculpted. Even at a distance, Greer had been aware of eyes the color of a Hill Country sky. Up close, once he’d taken off his cap, those same blue eyes surely saw straight into her guilty soul.

Now why would she think that? She was guilty of nothing! She threw baking potatoes haphazardly into a paper bag. Father Noah would change his tune fast enough. As soon as his ailing dad clued him in about her ignominious fall from grace.

It seemed so long since she’d raced home from college in East Texas, heartsick and needing comfort. Instead she’d endured hearing Father Holden advise her folks to send her to Denver to live with her dad’s sister—so she could adopt out her illegitimate child. Oh, he’d made it plain she wasn’t the first girl in their parish to be shuffled off. Any girl in her predicament set a bad example, for their congregation, he said.

Greer’s dad, one of St. Mark’s loyal board members, went along with it. That still hurt. Even after all these years—or so she gathered, reading between the lines of her mom’s sparse letters—Robert Bell hadn’t changed his stance. Greer had hoped that with the passing of time, and with her added maturity, it’d be possible to get over the past. Maybe not.

She still quaked inside as she recalled what a humiliating experience that had been at seventeen. It wasn’t as if she didn’t already feel like dirt over being duped and dumped by a college senior she’d thought loved her. In truth, Dan Harper couldn’t shed her or his responsibility for a baby fast enough. When her parents and her church turned against her, too, that had been the worst blow.

“Mama, can I get this cereal?” Shelby ran back to the cart with a box of a kid-popular variety her mother rarely let her eat.

Greer opened her mouth to refuse, but saw shadows lurking in Shelby’s eyes that she recognized. A favorite cereal spelled comfort to a nine-year-old. Mom and child had left behind everything in Shelby’s world.

Gently, Greer pushed aside her daughter’s overlong bangs. “Okay, but when this is gone, it’ll be stick-to-the-ribs oatmeal for a while. Or whatever Cook whips up for our paying guests.”

“We have a cook?”

“Not yet. I plan to hire someone as soon as we make our guest ranch livable. We need to book guests ASAP. Until then, though, it’s just you and me, kid.”

Shelby hugged the box to her thin chest. “Maybe Grandma and Grandpa Bell will invite us to their house for dinner tonight. My friend, Rhonda Ann, in Colorado—she ate dinner at her grandma’s a lot.”

Greer winced. “Don’t get your hopes up, Shel. My parents lead busy lives. You and I, ah, are going to be busy, too. Remember what I told you about Mayor Wright saying our new place is a fixer-upper?”

“Yeah.” Shelby dropped the cereal in the cart next to a gallon of milk her mother had taken from the cooler. “Mayor M’randa said our place needs cleaning and painting. That’s why Mr. and Mrs. Sanderson gave us a bunch of paint before we moved. So we can get straight to work, right?”

“Right. Miranda said the previous owner of our ranch let it go downhill. That paint was a very generous gift from the Sandersons,” Greer added, thinking fondly of her previous employers at the dude ranch in Colorado. “I hope paint and elbow grease is all it takes to make it presentable for guests.”

Shelby darted down the next aisle, where she located their brand of peanut butter. She placed the jar in their cart, and Greer tossed in a loaf of bread and some jam, sensing her daughter’s desire to leave. Greer, too, was dying to see their property so she could assess what needed doing.

“Okay, Shel, I think we have enough here so we won’t starve for a few days. All our talk about settling in has made me want to hurry and get there. Shall we go pay for our stuff?”

“Can I push the cart? Oh, and can I buy the book I showed you? It’s about a girl who grew up in Texas.” She latched on to the cart handle, all the while bouncing up and down on her toes. She did slow where two aisles intersected.

“I don’t know about buying the book today. I need your help to put the house in order. I know you, Shelby Book Worm. Once you bury your nose in a story, you tune out the whole world. And how do I know? Because you’re just like me.” Greer tweaked her daughter’s shoulder-length coppery hair. “I’ll ask Mr. Tanner to hold the book for you. It’ll be your special treat for helping me clean up around the ranch.”

“O…kay!” Shelby was generally agreeable. “Mama, where are the other shoppers? Look at all this neat-o stuff. How come nobody’s here ’cept the clerk and the man who told us about church?”

Greer secretly hoped Father Noah Kelley had made himself scarce. Shelby had always been a kid with a million questions. “You remember how, after I started working for Cal and Marisa Sanderson at Whippoorwill Ranch, we only shopped every two weeks? We drove into Denver. Those stores are huge compared to the ones in Homestead. Everything’s bigger there, and there’s way more people. We’ve come to a small town, Shelby.”

“Yeah, I told my teacher I was scared to leave Colorado. She said I was lucky to be going to a small town. She said kids in small towns stay friends forever and ever. Is that true, Mama? You never talk about friends from here. But you said you were born in Homestead and lived here until you went away to college.”

How did she explain to Shelby that her good memories of growing up in Homestead were erased by what had happened during her first year of college? A year that had vastly changed her life?… “Honeybun, people move in and out of small towns, too. And Mr. Tanner remembered me. So did Mayor Wright. In fact, Miranda said she’ll drop by to make sure we get in okay this afternoon. If I remember correctly, Miranda’s three years older than me. So is Ed Tanner. I’m sure we’ll run into some of my other classmates, too.”

“Okay.” Shelby sighed as they approached the counter. Greer was relieved to see that one particular customer had left.

“I wish you were still friends with Father Kelley. Then we could go to his church on Sunday, and I’d hurry up and meet kids my age.”

The truth was that Greer had been hoping against hope that Holden Kelley had been among the people who’d pulled out of Homestead, a part of an exodus that had led to Miranda Wright’s land giveaway. The mayor almost didn’t get her program approved by the council. But Greer knew how stubborn farmers like her dad, not to mention powerful ranchers like Senator Clint Gallagher, could be. She could easily imagine the difficulties Miranda had experienced.

According to the article Greer had read in the one newspaper her mom had sent, some residents resisted Miranda’s plan, calling it stupid. If not for that article, which had caught Greer’s interest, she would never have checked out the land deal. Personally she was thankful, although she had received a couple of unsigned letters suggesting she look at parcels other than the Farley ranch. The mayor said to pay them no mind. Despite the resistance of some residents, similar plans had been successful in repopulating dying communities in other states.

The idea made sense to Greer. The town’s treasury purchased abandoned farms, ranches and homes for unpaid back taxes. Parcels were then offered to entice people to relocate. For people like her, who’d never otherwise be able to scrape together a down payment, low-cost loans could be obtained in exchange for agreeing to live on the land for a year. At times, Greer had to pinch herself to believe she might actually realize her dream of owning her own guest ranch.

As she set their groceries on the counter, Greer checked around for Father Kelley. Presumably he’d taken off.

Ed Tanner talked nonstop as he scanned and bagged her groceries. “So you haven’t seen the Farley place? Jase didn’t leave the Dragging F in very good shape. Did I hear right, you’re planning to open a dude ranch by Thanksgiving?”

“I prefer the term guest ranch. But yes. I’ve been the assistant manager at a similar spread in Colorado, and my boss there thinks I’m capable of running my own place. I intend it to be a working ranch. One that lets city folks experience a bit of the real West.” She made room on the counter for the milk. “I should probably research a brand. I can’t imagine people would be in any rush to pay money to stay at a ranch called the Dragging F.” Greer rolled her eyes at Shelby and the two giggled.

Ed laughed, too, as he handed Greer her change and offered to help tote her purchases to the car. “Farley lost a bundle of cash in that failed consortium, just like Nate Cantrell, Zeb Ritter, your dad and others. Jase’s mistake was in mortgaging the Dragging F to the hilt in order to buy in. When they went belly-up, he lost it all. Everyone lost their savings, some more than others. At least your pa had his farm to fall back on.”

Hating to admit she didn’t know what Ed was talking about—that she hadn’t known her dad was involved in a consortium—Greer murmured a response and made a mental note to find out more. Jointly owned ranches were common in Colorado.

At the Blazer, she unlocked and opened the back. “Thanks for carrying the heavy stuff out for us, Ed.”

He stepped aside to let her shut the door. “Good luck, Greer. And take care. You’re gonna live on the outskirts of civilization, wedged between the river and Clint Gallagher’s back forty. Eight or nine years ago, a developer said Homestead could be the next boomtown. He threw up a couple of spec ranchettes, but then there was a drought and a downturn in the economy, followed by foreclosures. His grandiose plans went straight to…well, you fill in the blank,” Ed said, eyeing Shelby.

That information was more than Greer had heard, too. Now the decline of Homestead made sense—droughts were the bane of a rancher’s existence. “Thanks again, Ed. We’d better head out, since we have a ways to drive.”

“Next time you’re in town, maybe my wife’ll be working and I can introduce you. Lorrie and I met at college. She’s from Big Springs. My folks retired five years ago, and my brothers moved to Dallas, wanting bigger and better things. I like it here, and I’m grateful that Tanner’s is still the easiest place to shop. Oh, there’s a Wal-Mart on the road to San Antonio, and some like the variety they offer and are willing to make the drive. Most aren’t.” Ed reached the sidewalk and gave a half wave.

Greer held the door for Shelby. “I won’t pretend the lack of progress makes me as ecstatic as it does you. Frankly, I’d hoped to buy supplies closer to my ranch.”

“Your next investment should probably be a good commercial freezer. And if there isn’t one, add a storage pantry. Jase catered to hunters, but he wasn’t much on amenities.”

“I barely remember Mr. Farley.” Pursing her lips, Greer slid under the steering wheel. She saw major dollar signs flashing before her eyes. She had some savings and a line of credit. Big-ticket items could kill her budget if she wasn’t careful.

Shelby bounced up and down in her seat, trying to see everything as Greer drove out of town. “Mama, when will our horses and sheep be delivered? Back home, Luke Sanderson had a dog of his very own. Can I have one, too?”

“I’m not taking delivery of any stock until I assess the condition of our barn and corrals. As for a dog, Shelby, we’ll need to discuss that later.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll be in school, and I’ll have my hands full seeing to guests. Let’s talk about this next summer when you’re home to feed and train a dog.”

“Summer?” Shelby flung herself back against the seat. “That’s so far away, Mama. It was just summer. It’s gonna be a long time till we have another one.”

Saying nothing, Greer veered left down a gravel road. Until Ed Tanner brought it up, she hadn’t given much thought as to how far from town her ranch was. And she’d expected houses to have sprung up along the Farm-to-Market road. Clearly they had not.

Braking at the end of a long gravel driveway, she drew Shelby’s attention to a lopsided sign hanging from a post—a sign announcing they were about to enter the Dragging F. Excitement inside the Blazer was palpable. Maybe that was why Greer felt so let down when she stopped in front of a less-than-stellar ranch.

Shelby was the first to utter a sentiment Greer shared. “Ugh, I hope this isn’t our new home. It looks…well, awful.”

With a trembling foot, Greer set her emergency brake before switching off the Blazer’s engine. “We knew it needed work,” she ventured, attempting a cheery tone.

Shelby joined Greer outside the Blazer and the two clung together. “Listen, so it’s seen better days, Shel. There’s nothing a scrubbing and a few coats of paint won’t fix. Let’s look around.” Greer pulled out a key Miranda had mailed her. Clearly none was needed. The front door had a hole where a lock mechanism should have been.

Their exploration was cut short when an older, dark-green sedan pulled in. The driver parked behind the Blazer and Greer reeled as her mother stepped out. Rollicking emotions ranging from anxiety to joy set Greer’s heart banging like a tambourine. Loretta had aged. Oh, she was still lithe, trim and neatly turned out, but deep lines etched her face and neck. And her once-vibrant red hair had gone brassy.

“Is that the mayor?” a curious Shelby inquired.

Greer’s throat had closed and tears hampered her ability to respond. All she could do was shake her head. No, no, no, galloped through her brain. She couldn’t handle one more disappointment today. Not on top of seeing the town, meeting Holden Kelley’s son, then finding her and Shelby’s dream home so decrepit.

Loretta Bell quickly removed a mop, bucket and broom from her back seat. She slowly approached the duo standing on the porch. Suddenly, with a small cry of delight, she dropped everything and went down on one knee in front of the granddaughter she’d only seen via yearly photographs.

Uncharacteristically shy all at once, Shelby edged closer to Greer and looked up at her mother for instructions on how she should react.

Through a haze of tears, Greer noticed that Loretta had held out her arms, but then let them fall. In that one brief moment, Greer realized that it took guts for Loretta to show up unannounced, since she had no idea how she’d be received.

Releasing a sob, Greer hastily mumbled introductions. Bridging the gap, taking the initiative, she gathered her mom and her daughter into a trembling hug. Three generations of Bell women sank down on a sagging porch step. They all talked at the same time and alternately laughed and cried together until Loretta jumped up and collected her cleaning tools.

In a voice still husky from tears, she said, “I took time off work to help you make this place livable.” She let a worried gaze rest momentarily on Greer. “Your father is…uh…busy cutting hay.” She quickly turned aside. “The truth is, Greer,” she said in an unsteady voice, “He’s too stubborn to let bygones be bygones. Yet, everything that’s happened has taken its toll on Robert’s health. He splits his days between the farm and church work.” Raising a slender wrist, Loretta checked her watch. “He’ll expect lunch on the table at noon as always, so I can only stay a couple of hours. As much as I’d like to sit and talk, we need to dig in.”

A stab of sadness affected Greer’s breathing. She ought to have suspected that her parents still cared first and foremost for each other. Then came their devotion to church, jobs, and last to their only child. A mother herself now, Greer didn’t think she’d ever subscribe to that concept. She’d never let Shelby take a back seat to anyone or anything. If ever she met a man she’d consider marrying, he’d have to understand going in that her love would be divided equally. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been such a shock that her parents had shipped her off to live with a stern, rigid aunt. Greer had always been a tagalong in her parents’ lives.

Following Loretta and Shelby as they chatted about inconsequential things throughout a depressing tour of the house, cottages, bunkhouse and a barn that had no door at all, Greer wondered if in coming home she’d made the second mistake of a lifetime. Had she idealized this opportunity? Was she crazy to think it spelled a future for Shelby?

True, the mayor had been a huge cheerleader for her program, but truer still, Greer had latched on to the deal with gusto.

Over the next hour as the trio worked together, her worries began to fade. Her mom’s chatter spurred Greer over her disappointment with the dilapidated place.

“I have a bolt of cloth at home guaranteed to brighten this kitchen,” Loretta said. “Greer, come help me measure these windows. Tonight I’ll sew up red-and-white-checked valances and curtains. Add a coat of white enamel to these cupboards, and your guests will gravitate to this room.”

Greer accepted one end of the tape measure. As she did so, a blue GMC pickup pulled in. Within seconds, Homestead’s mayor bore down on the house, swinging a galvanized bucket swathed in a bright red ribbon in one hand; in the other she carried a steaming pie plate. Shelby ran to open the door.

A tall woman who could be called statuesque, Miranda Wright wore jeans with panache. Her mink-brown ponytail swept her shoulders as she thrust the bucket into Greer’s hands. “Welcome to Homestead. I could’ve brought you a plant, but you’ll get more use out of a hammer, nails, screwdriver, paintbrushes, gloves and assorted tools. The dried-peach pie is courtesy of my mother, Nan. Oh, Loretta, hi. You know how Mom loves to bake. I assume my able escort is none other than Shelby?” A yellow Lab trotting at Miranda’s heels claimed Shelby’s attention. “That’s Dusty,” Miranda said, then asked a question about school. As Shelby petted the dog, they discussed the local elementary. Miranda said, “How cool is it that your grandma teaches math at the high school across the street from where you’ll be going?”

“I didn’t know that.” Shelby’s hand hovered over the dog. “So maybe I won’t feel so bad not knowing any kids. At the store in town, Mama met a man who invited us to church. He said I’d meet kids my age. But Mama said we can’t go, ’cause we’ve got so much work here.”

Miranda, who noticed Greer staring at something outside the kitchen window, stepped over to have a look. “Ah, I wondered what was so engaging. Looks good, huh? That’s Noah Kelley, exercising one of his horses by the river. Is he the man Shelby meant? Did he mention he bought one of the two mini-ranches bordering the eastern edge of your property?”

“What?” Greer spun around, wearing a frown.

Miranda just grinned. “Yeah, I know his mom’s on the Home Free committee, but the ranchettes aren’t part of our package. Anyway, he didn’t want to displace his folks from the rectory, since they’ve lived there for probably forty years. Neither did he want to move home, which I’m sure you can understand.”

Feeling confused, Greer slipped out to the back porch, where she was able to identify that the rider was indeed Father Kelley. “I thought you said my property butted up against Clint Gallagher’s grassland,” she muttered.

Miranda pointed in the opposite direction. “Yes, and you’ll probably need to rebuild those buckled fence sections. The senator opposed our land giveaway. Another thing—I know the guy you worked for in Colorado recommended you run sheep instead of cattle, but old-time cattlemen are never comfortable having sheep move in. Clint rents deer leases, too. I’m sure you realize hunting season’s right around the corner.”

“Gr…eat!” Greer blew her bangs out of her eyes. She’d rather fence off Noah Kelley, who was actually trespassing. However, if she did that, she’d cut her stock off from water. What had made this ranch so appealing was its proximity to the Clear River.

Her attention remained focused on Noah, who sat the pinto like a seasoned cowboy. Her insides curled, and Greer almost missed her mom calling from inside the kitchen that she had to leave. Hurrying to walk Loretta out, Greer saw Noah’s home, visible through a stand of weeping cypress nearer the river. A long-ball pitcher could, without much effort, smack his brick chimney, which gleamed in the nearly noontime sun. Miranda whistled for Dusty, announcing that she had to leave, too, and Greer thanked both women for stopping by. As they turned their vehicles around, she wondered what had possessed her to think Homestead could be her utopia. Every bit of her old baggage, plus some that was new, had already begun piling up on her doorstep.

But Father Kelley did indeed look good….