Winning the Rancher's Heart Page 17

  “I think you should leave,” Wyatt said in a quiet, level tone that brooked no argument.

  For a long, tense moment, she couldn’t make herself move. Then suddenly she couldn’t bear to stay.

  Blindly, Jeri turned and stumbled out of there, sobbing as the door closed behind her. She climbed back into her rig and drove away, leaving everything else behind her.

  * * *

  It hurt to breathe, so Ryder held his breath, but that hurt, too, so he gasped in air, rolled over in bed and stared at the ceiling, feeling like one big blob of pain. Losing Jeri was worse than anything he’d ever experienced, worse even than her lies. He’d been so young when his mom had died that he hadn’t truly understood the ramifications. His father’s death had come with a sense of relief. Al Smith’s grief over his wife’s passing had never diminished, and while the ravages of his cancer had been horrific, the ordeal was short-lived and had ended with a sense that he’d found peace at last. Bryan’s death had been much worse, but even that paled in comparison to this. Try as he might and despite an overwhelming sense of betrayal, Ryder simply couldn’t stop loving or missing her. He was his father’s son, after all.

  He’d stayed home from church last Sunday, too sick at heart to make himself show his face in public. Wyatt had already warned that he was not going to get away with that a second time. Since then, Ryder had done his best to carry on with life as normal, fearing that this awful struggle to simply put one foot in front of another was his new normal. Still, what choice did he have?

  Lord, give me the strength to get over this, he prayed before forcing himself into a sitting position. Numbly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, but then he dropped his head into his hands and struggled to think of something, anything, other than Jeri.

  Strangely, his deepest regret was that he hadn’t spoken to her that last night, a week ago now. After the newspaper had come out on Friday, he’d spent all his time digesting what had happened and planning what he was going to say to her. Though his family was precious to him, he’d nixed any birthday celebration. He just wasn’t up to pretending to enjoy their good wishes. The speeches he’d imagined delivering to Jeri had run the gamut from raging to cold indifference, all designed to wound her and impress upon her how deeply she had wounded him. In the end, he hadn’t even been able to look at her. His chief emotion now was a yawning sense of loss, a painful emptiness that he kept begging God to fill.

  The support of friends had helped, at least with his fears of public rejection. Stark and Meri Burns had been the first to show up, voicing their support and concern.

  “No one who knows you could believe that nonsense they printed,” Meri insisted. “We’ve always understood how deeply you regret and grieve what happened.”

  Rex and Callie Billings had come over with a pro bono offer to sue the newspaper. Despite openly admitting that the chances of success were slim, Rex thought it might be possible to get a retraction and find out exactly who the anonymous source was. That person could then be sued for slander. Ryder had refused. Why drag the thing out publicly? Besides, little in the story could be proved an outright lie. He just didn’t have the energy or inclination to fight this thing any longer. Obviously, Bryan’s death was a tragedy that he would carry with him for the rest of his life. Perhaps that was just. Ryder didn’t know, but God did, and He was Ryder’s last refuge.

  That being the case, he couldn’t very well sit here feeling sorry for himself when the hour for the worship service loomed. Besides, Dean and Ann Pryor had stated firmly that they would be waiting for him at the church door when he arrived. Time to tend the horses.

  He rose and dressed in yesterday’s clothes then went out to the barn. Over the past week, he’d gotten in the habit of skipping breakfast. His appetite had vanished, and it was all he could do to make himself choke down a few bites at lunch or dinner. Tending the horses had become a special kind of comfort to him. He’d spent long hours with them, saddling and riding at least one of the Loco Man herd every day and walking Jeri’s remaining two. Wyatt had vowed to send her horses back to Stark, but then a deposit had shown up in the B and B account, enough to cover her room rent and the care of the horses for the rest of the month. The bank had informed them that refusing and returning the payment would require two weeks or more, so Wyatt had settled for blocking any further receipts.

  Ryder was glad about that. Having Dovie and Betty around gave him a strange, hopeful comfort. He greeted them both daily with lavish affection and toyed with the idea of telling Jeri that she couldn’t have them back. Of course, he’d have to call or text her to manage that, and he couldn’t do that. Not yet.

  After spending as much time with the horses as he dared, Ryder went back to the bunkhouse and got ready for church. When it was time to go, he opened the front door to find Wyatt standing there with a raised fist.

  “Oh,” his big brother said. “You’re ready.”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” Ryder muttered, plopping his hat onto his head. Wyatt clapped him on the shoulder as they walked side by side to the carport. At the last moment, Ryder decided to take his own truck. Jake, who had brought Kathryn over to stay with Tina, argued briefly, but Ryder insisted. He was a grown man. He would stand on his own two feet even if that meant merely arriving alone to church.

  Dean and Ann weren’t waiting at the door as promised. Instead, despite the cold weather, they were standing in the parking lot. Wyatt and Jake and the boys pulled in right behind him, but the Pryors fixed their focus on Ryder and engulfed him with embraces as soon as he slid out onto the ground. A little embarrassed but also comforted, he walked toward the building in the center of a determined cadre of support, but when they got to the door, he asked Wyatt to hold up. Then Ryder stepped forward, pulled open that door and entered alone.

  The pastor stood just inside. As the others piled up behind Ryder, letting cold air into the foyer, the pastor grasped his hand and slid an arm across his shoulders.

  “Ryder, I had no idea what trauma you’ve been through with this Bryan Averrett tragedy. Please know that we will keep Bryan’s family in our prayers and add you to each of them.”

  Stunned, all Ryder could do was stammer his thanks. Then Wes and Dr. Alice Shorter Billings embraced him. Others hurried to him with hugs and murmurs of comfort. Some had done no more than shake his hand in the past. Others had let a nod of acknowledgement suffice. Now they rushed to show their support. Despite feeling that much of this had been orchestrated by his friends, Ryder was more than grateful. Humbled almost to the point of tears, he silently accepted every greeting, his smile strained but his heart swelling.

  Later he told himself that he couldn’t expect the same treatment from those who had not sat in prayer meeting with him. He was wrong. Perhaps some did wonder privately if recklessness or irresponsibility on his part had killed Bryan, but once he started appearing in public again, people he barely knew came up to say how horrible they’d found the newspaper article to be and wish him well. Abe Tolly even called him.

  “I never dreamed you were dealing with something like this, son. Don’t let other people’s envy get the better of you.”

  “Envy?”

  “Sure. What else could be behind such scurrilous nonsense? Good-looking boy like you, with your skills and gentle nature, lesser folks are just going to naturally be jealous. Besides, that poor young man’s own sister knows you didn’t murder her brother. She so obviously loves you.”

  Ryder had no reply for that. For days, he’d let incriminating bits and pieces of their conversations and interactions float unchallenged through his mind. Jeri dropping that mineral block on his toes and delaying their progress on the range with accident after presumed accident... Jeri finding fault with every property Tolly had shown her, even though finding a place was her only stated reason for coming at all... Jeri pressing him for details about Bryan’s death... So much that she had said and
done now seemed like clear indications of her perfidy.

  Ryder had paid no attention to Wyatt’s misgivings about her or to Ox’s warning that something didn’t add up. The fact that Jeri had stopped him when he’d tried to tell her that he loved her and wanted to marry her now seemed particularly ominous.

  After Abe Tolly’s call, though, Ryder began to remember other things, like how she’d absolved him after she’d heard the full story of Bryan’s death.

  You’re sensible and good.

  She hadn’t just helped Tina, she’d offered to help Tina, and she’d continued to show her concern. He remembered how she was with the boys and little Glory Pryor, and how she’d almost wept with delight and relief when he’d suggested moving her horses from Stark’s to Loco Man. They’d worked so well together, he and Jeri, like a team of long standing. And what about the day she’d turned to him for comfort after burning all the bread and cheese in the house—a disaster stemming from nothing worse than a desire to help by making lunch? He recalled feeding her French fries and how she’d come so easily into his arms, the way she’d pressed against him and turned her lovely face up for his kiss, her hat dangling between his shoulder blades as she’d wrapped her arms around his neck.

  The pain of loss swirled through him so heavily that he staggered beneath the weight of it. Shoving aside the memories, he searched for other things to think about. Horses. He sat and thought on that for a long time. Then he saddled up and took a ride around the property. The next day he did the same thing. On the third day, he asked his brothers to meet him at Jake’s shop. When they were all gathered, he didn’t beat around the bush.

  “I want a quarter section of land for horses.”

  The moment they looked at each other, he knew they’d discussed this at some length, but he didn’t give them time to accede or refuse. Instead, he stated, firmly, what he expected.

  “I want it in my name.”

  “But you already own it with us,” Wyatt objected. “That’ll just make you personally responsible for the taxes on that part of the ranch.”

  “That’s all right,” Ryder insisted. “I want it in my name because I intend to build a house, and I don’t want any guff from either of you about what I put on the property. Nags or thoroughbreds, it’s my business.”

  “A house will require a mortgage,” Wyatt pointed out, lifting a hand to the back of his neck.

  “And?”

  There went that look again. This time he saw some surprise and a bit of relief, maybe even a smattering of pride.

  Jake cleared his throat, wiped the wrench in his left hand with the rag in his right and asked, “You sure a hundred and sixty acres is enough for what you have in mind?”

  Ryder grinned. “It’s a start. That’s all I want right now.”

  “I’ll speak to Rex about drawing up the papers,” Wyatt said, and that was that.

  On Friday, the Tri-County Weekly printed a retraction of sorts, quoting Jeri Bogman as saying that Ryder had been rightfully cleared of any and all responsibility in her brother’s death. The article also stated that she, for one, bore him no ill will and knew how deeply he regretted the “accident.” The Ardmore paper printed a short piece, also quoting her, in Monday’s edition.

  “My brother was more responsible for his death than anyone else,” Jeri was quoted as saying. “I know how difficult that is for my mother to accept, but it’s the truth.”

  That told Ryder the identity of the anonymous source, and he could only be thankful that he hadn’t pursued a defamation suit. The woman had suffered more than enough. And so had Jeri.

  I miss my brother especially.

  What would have happened if she’d confessed right then that Bryan was her brother? They could have cleared the air, come to a complete understanding about Bryan’s death. But then what? Ryder knew with shocking certainty that he wouldn’t have had the courage to pursue her if he’d known she was related to Bryan. His own sense of guilt would have stopped him. Besides, she’d likely have left the ranch after learning the truth, and that would have been the end of it.

  He’d have missed holding her and kissing her. They wouldn’t have worked together for hours or sat together and talked and laughed. Fort Worth would never have happened, and he wouldn’t have felt the bone-deep thrill of loving and wanting her, of knowing that she loved and wanted him.

  A rush of gladness swept over him when he visualized how happy she’d been to see him there.

  My boyfriend, she’d said, and he had been so pleased to hear it.

  He remembered then how eager she’d been to see him after coming home from a rodeo, and how warmly she’d responded to his every touch. Other memories, suppressed until this moment, swirled around him.

  I never thought I wouldn’t want to leave you.

  He saw her smile and the warmth in her eyes as she gazed up at him, felt her snuggle against his chest and rise up on tiptoe to bring her lips to his. He heard her promise to make it home in time for his birthday. And she had.

  That brought thoughts of the gift he’d inadvertently stepped on and never opened. Kathryn had handed it to him a few days later. He’d tossed it onto the shelf in his living room, next to the photo of his parents and brothers, unopened.

  Going to it now, he pulled away torn paper and broke the ribbon to remove the top of the flat, flimsy box. He brushed aside more paper and saw a hat pin affixed to a black-and-white bandanna. In silver script, the pin spelled out the words “Loco Man Ranch.” Picking up the bandanna so he could release the pin, he saw more words embroidered near the hem in bright red thread.

  “JERI’S COWBOY.”

  An identical bandanna beneath it read, “RYDER’S COWGIRL.”

  He ran his fingertip over the embroidery, coming to a conclusion that quieted something within him. She loved him. It hadn’t been an act. Bryan Averrett’s sister had loved him, at least for a time.

  That didn’t mean things could work out between them. He couldn’t imagine how they might overcome the fact that he had, however inadvertently, been involved in her brother’s death. And then there was the family. They were so angry on his behalf. But if she could forgive him for Bryan’s death, surely he could forgive her for her deception.

  Maybe she’d intended to hurt him somehow when she’d come there, but she’d mainly brought him joy. He knew they had to talk about that, but he wasn’t ready. If he saw her now, he feared the pain would blossom again and he’d lash out. That wouldn’t solve anything. Besides, his family wasn’t likely to be amenable to the idea.

  “You tell me when, Lord,” he whispered, holding that bandanna in his hand.

  Maybe the moment would never come, but he was willing to go there if that was where the Lord led him. Or he would be. Eventually. Meanwhile, she had two horses and some other stuff here. The tie was not entirely broken. Not yet.

  He released the pin from the bandanna. The latter he tucked back into the box, but he connected the pin to his dress hat.

  No, the tie was not broken.

  Only his heart.

  And he was beginning to think he might live through that, after all.

  Chapter Fifteen

  She hadn’t won a race in weeks. Thankfully, she’d managed—barely—to finish in the money a couple times. It was enough to pay her expenses, so Jeri kept on keeping on. It was tough, though. She’d spent every night in her trailer since leaving Loco Man Ranch, not that she slept much. She kept seeing Ryder’s back and bowed head at the table there in the ranch house kitchen and his big, booted feet as he’d walked past her with neither word nor glance.

  About all she could logically do was call the newspapers in Oklahoma that had printed her mother’s lies and set the record straight. She couldn’t bring herself to go back to the ranch to pick up her horses or the personal things she’d left behind, so she’d arranged payment for their upkeep. Thankfully
, Tina had swiped her debit card when she’d first checked in.

  Meanwhile, Jeri ached for home and those she’d left there.

  It wasn’t just Ryder whom she missed, though he was by far the one she missed the most. She couldn’t help worrying about Tina or thinking of the boys and Kathryn, whom she admired more than the woman could know. She even missed Jake’s teasing and Wyatt’s protective, big-brother attitude. She longed for her bed and boisterous meals at the family table and, most of all, those quite moments of connectivity that she’d found with Ryder.

  Her mother called, raving, when she found out that Jeri had given her own interview to the papers. “How dare you?” she demanded. “How dare you let him off the hook like that? He killed your brother!”

  “Bryan killed himself, Mom. I know it wasn’t intentional, but he was more responsible than Ryder, and you know it. You have the coroner’s report that says Bryan was abusing anabolic steroids, as well as the unedited video of what happened.”

  “Bryan was only twenty-one!” Dena raged, tacitly confirming Jeri’s suspicions about the report and video being in Dena’s possession the whole time. “Where do you think he got those steroids? He didn’t find them on the street!”

  “He didn’t get them from Ryder,” Jeri stated firmly. “You know Ryder wasn’t using because you have that report, too.”

  Dena didn’t deny it. “So what? That just means he knew how bad those drugs are. It doesn’t mean he wasn’t selling them!”

  “Stop grasping at straws, Mom. Bryan is gone, and no one is more responsible for his death than he is. You have to let it go.”

  “How can you do this to me? How can you do this to your brother?”

  “I’m not doing anything to either of you,” Jeri replied softly. “I’m just stating the facts, and I don’t believe Bryan would condemn me for that.”

  “Well, I do!” Dena screamed, breaking the connection.