The Rancher's Texas Match

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#ulink_150cbd4c-003a-52b6-adcc-0be519747e30)

The Silver Star ranch was one of the prettiest, most peaceful places Macy Swanson had ever experienced, from the stately oaks that lined the fenced drive, to the white-sided, two-story home. Behind the home was a red barn. In the background were the three cabins that made up the Lone Star Cowboy League Boys Ranch.

The Silver Star, on first glance, looked as if it might be a family ranch. On second glance, a person noticed the boys. From ages six to seventeen they were the reason the ranch existed in its current state and the reason she had come there. Because one of those boys was hers. Her nephew, Colby.

As she parked under the shade of a twisted old oak tree, she caught the tears before they could fall. She took a deep breath, to let go of the pain, the grief. The guilt. It took more than one breath. It took several. It took a swipe of her finger under her eyes to brush away the evidence. Even now, at the first of October and almost a year since the accident that had taken her brother and sister-in-law, the grief still sneaked up on her.

She missed her brother, Grant. She missed Cynthia, his wife. They should have been here, raising their son. Instead she was the one trying to fill their shoes after the crash that ended their lives. She was the one trying to put the pieces back together for Colby, only seven and still angry and hurt that his parents weren’t coming back.

The guilt sometimes outweighed the grief because she didn’t know how to help her nephew. She had always wanted children. Now she doubted she knew how to be a mom. After all, she didn’t seem able to fix this one hurting little boy.

Someone tapped on her car window. She jumped a little, moving her hand to the steering wheel and managing to smile up at the man looking in at her.

Tanner Barstow. Wonderful. The rancher and volunteer at the boys ranch stepped back from the door as she pushed it open. He’d posed as Mr. January for the calendar the community put out as a fund-raiser for the ranch. The Cowboys of McLennan County calendar had been a hit, she’d been told. She had a copy hanging in her kitchen. It had been there when she moved in last winter, after the accident.

Her life had become segmented, broken in two distinct halves. Before the accident. After the accident.

Before the accident she’d been engaged to Bill, an attorney in Dallas. She’d been a librarian, managing several libraries in the Dallas metro area.

After the accident... She was still trying to find the person she was after the accident. She now lived in Haven, where she was a librarian at the local library, a substitute teacher at the high school and a volunteer at the Silver Star. Most important, she was the aunt of Colby, determined to find a way to make that little boy smile.

“Are you okay?” Tanner asked as she stepped out of her car.

He was a full head taller than her five-feet-eight inches. He was rangy, lean and powerful. His jeans rode low on his hips. The button-up shirt tugged at his shoulders. His dark chestnut hair was wavy, and she could tell that when it curled, it bothered him. Maybe because he couldn’t control it. He seemed to be a man who liked control. Dark blue eyes caught her attention. He was giving her a skeptical look, as if he was positive she couldn’t be okay.

And maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she was so far out of her depth here in this small town that she didn’t know if she would sink or swim. Mostly, she felt as if she was sinking.

“I’m good.” She cleared her throat and gave him a smile that wavered; she felt it tremble a little.

“It’s going to get better. Give him time. Give yourself time.” He said it like he meant it. She nodded and closed her eyes, against the brightness of the sun and against the pitying look he was giving her.

“I know,” she finally answered, and she thought it sounded as if she meant it or believed it. She added a hopeful smile for punctuation.

“Come, watch him ride. We’re in the arena today. He’s doing great.”

His hand brushed her back to guide her in that direction. The touch was brief, but the comfort of the gesture couldn’t be denied. She could really use a friend. She could use a hug. She shook off that thought as one that went too far. After all, she’d made friends in Haven, through work and through the Haven Community Church. She wasn’t alone. Not completely.

But the idea of a hug wasn’t wholly without merit. What would Tanner Barstow, vice president of the local Lone Star Cowboy League, self-made rancher and horse trainer extraordinaire, do if she asked him for a hug? He’d probably do the man-hug, quick and from the side, and then head for the hills.

Movement in the arena caught her attention. She watched as the boys, all younger, rode around the enclosure. They kept their horses in an easy lope, right hands on the reins, left hands at their sides.

“What are they doing?” she asked as they walked in that direction.

They stopped a few feet from the white, wood fence of the arena. She kept her attention focused on Colby. He was such a tiny little guy, with his mom’s dark hair and his dad’s green eyes. The ranch hand in the arena called all the boys to the center. A young teen stood next to him. The boys rode their horses and lined up so that boys and animals were facing the ranch hand.

“They’re practicing showmanship, for Western pleasure classes at local events. It takes control for the horses, and for the boys.”

“This is such a great place. I’m so glad it was here for Colby. I don’t know what we would have done.”

He nodded, acknowledging the comment. His gaze remained on the boys and the men working with them. “It’s the best. It was truly inspired. When Luella Snowden Phillips started this ranch, she probably didn’t realize how long-lasting and far-reaching the ministry would be. But it’s been here for seven decades. I just wish we had more room and could take more boys.”

“They were praying about that at church last Sunday,” she offered. “Someone mentioned that boys had been turned away. And wouldn’t it be an amazing thing if no child was ever turned away from this program?”

“That would be amazing.” He walked away from her, moving a little closer to the fence. “I heard Colby had a hard time last weekend.”

He shifted, settling his gaze on her just momentarily before turning his attention back to the boys in the arena.

Was that an accusation? Or was she just being unduly sensitive? Colby had been allowed a twenty-four-hour pass to go home with her. She’d had to bring him back to the ranch early.

“It’s hard for him to be at home. I keep thinking that it will get easier, that he’ll want to be there.”

“Don’t give up.” He stepped away from her, heading toward the gate. “If you’ll excuse me.”

She nodded as he walked away. From the arena someone shouted. She saw the ranch hand who was working with the boys move quickly. As she watched, the boys dismounted and started tugging their horses away from the center of the arena. Tanner was through the gate, leaving it open in the process.

“Close that,” he called back to her.

She reached the gate and closed it as she went through. The boy at the center of the ruckus was yelling at Jake, the ranch hand who’d been instructing them. The other boys, most of them under ten, were backing away as Tanner hurried to help. It looked like chaos about to be unleashed. The teenager who’d been helping was trying to get control of the nearly half dozen boys left to fend for themselves as the adults focused on the one youngster who was causing the problems.