Weston's Trouble (Saddles & Second Chances Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  RHONDA LEE CARVER

  Weston’s Trouble

  #3, Saddles & Second Chances

  2017 Rhonda Lee Carver

  Copyright 2017 Rhonda Lee Carver

  All rights reserved

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without permission from the author, Rhonda Lee Carver—except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages written in a review. For information, please contact Rhonda Lee Carver @ [email protected].

  This work is fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue in this work are from the author’s imagination and creation. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, dead or alive, is completely coincidental.

  This book is for your personal pleasure. Ebooks are not transferrable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. If you have enjoyed this book and wish to share with another reader(s) please purchase another copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, purchase a copy. Thank you for appreciating the hard work the author invested into this book.

  This book contains material that isn’t suitable for anyone under the age of 17.

  To read more books by Rhonda Lee Carver check out the list of her books at the end.

  Image

  Becky McGraw—Cover Me Photography

  Cover

  Pink Love Edits and Design

  Edits

  Todd Tinker

  Pink Love Edits and Design

  DEDICATION

  To love

  Author’s Note

  I hope you have enjoyed reading the Jericho brothers’ story. Urban and Hugh’s story will be coming very soon. Watch how these last two cowboys find love with saucy heroines. If you haven’t read Roman and Penn’s story, here they are…

  Roman's Choice (#1)

  Penn's Fortune

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  Table of Contents

  Front Matter

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Back Matter

  Bonus – Cowboys Forgive (Chapter One)

  CHAPTER ONE

  Weston Jericho knocked on the screen door to Lucas Tanner’s farmhouse. “Lucas? You in there?” After coming in off the land, Weston heard the voicemail message from his neighbor, and friend, and came right over. For the past nine years, Weston had made it a habit to stop in and check on the elderly man. Sometimes they watched a game together. Other times they sat on the porch while Lucas told stories of the past. Here lately, he was acting different…strange. The Tanner Ranch had lost a handful of workers over the last few months, and things looked overgrown and rundown. This wasn’t the tight ship Lucas usually ran.

  When he didn’t get an answer, Weston opened the door a few inches and stuck his head in. “Hey, Lucas?” The house was quiet, but a light was on in the next room.

  “In the kitchen, Wes. Come on in.”

  Stepping into the foyer, Weston’s gaze immediately fell on the display of hanging photos of the blue-eyed, brunette with the beguiling smile. The picture that always got him right in the gut was the one taken of her at her college graduation. He remembered how happy she was, how excited she was to follow her dreams. His chest ached. The history there could drown a man’s hope.

  Shaking his head, he went in search of and found the silver-haired man sitting at the table with his back to the door. “I got your message. What—” Weston came to a sudden stop when he rounded the table and saw the bloody rag pressed against the man’s head. “You okay?” Scanning the opened sewing kit and fresh splatters of blood, Weston’s stomach turned. “What the hell, Lucas?”

  “I fell. These old feet don’t work like they used to,” Lucas grumbled and narrowed his grey eyes. “I left you a message. You hear it?”

  “Almost an hour ago. I didn’t have my phone with me on the land.”

  He shrugged a thin shoulder, sending one strap of his suspenders falling. “I hated to bother you,” he murmured.

  “You stitch that cut up yourself?” Weston pointed at the two-inch, raw looking wound on Lucas’s knarled, wrinkled hand, already knowing what the answer would be.

  “Not bad stitching, huh?” He held up his hand showing off the jagged repair work. The man had worked the ranch since he could walk, minus the six years he’d spent in the Marines as medical support, and his twisted, bent fingers and white scars proved he’d been a hard worker in his time. Obviously, age was catching up to him and he wasn’t as spry as he once was, although Lucas would never agree.

  “Don’t you think you should have gone to the hospital, my friend?”

  He snorted. “There’s nothing they can do that I can’t do for myself. It wasn’t too long ago that I was sewing up wounded soldiers on the field. You didn’t hear any of them complain.”

  “Only that was more than forty years ago. How bad is the head?”

  Lucas dropped the rag, now soaked with blood. There was a small cut that didn’t need stitches, but the discolored bump was a concern. “Let me get you something to put on that.” In the freezer, Weston couldn’t find ice, but he did find a bag of frozen vegetables. He wrapped it in a clean cloth and handed it over. “Keep this on for at least fifteen minutes.”

  Thankfully, the older man didn’t argue.

  Pulling out a chair, Weston took a seat and reached into the first aid kit for the sterile wrap and ointment. “Let me see the damage.” With a sigh, Lucas held out his hand. Although Weston wouldn’t admit it, the stitching wasn’t bad for a man who wasn’t good with a needle and thread, but the chances for infection doubled because he doubted anything had been sterilized. “Why didn’t you wait until I got here?”

  “You would have talked me into going to the hospital.”

  “Would that have been such a terrible thing?” Soaking several cotton balls in antibacterial solution, Weston used them to gently dab the wound, careful not to irritate the injury any further.

  “I don’t have the money to waste on that crap,” the man groaned. “They would have found reason to keep me overnight for some hokey condition just to bleed me dry. That’s the problem with getting old. Makes it too easy for the white coats.”

  Gently wrapping Lucas’s hand as Weston had learned in the military, he then eased back in his chair and stared at his friend for a good long moment. “You know I don’t like to stick my nose in where it doesn’t belong, but have you spoken with Sammie?”

  “What for?” Lucas dropped the vegetable bag to the table.

  “The help you n
eed around this place.”

  “Bessie comes every day. Cleans. Makes me breakfast. I’m good.”

  “Great, but does she work the land? Supervise the day’s ins and outs?” Weston wasn’t sure how far he could push the issue before the old man would shut down, but there came a point when the rundown outbuildings, lack of hands and livestock, and Lucas’s dirty clothes couldn’t be ignored—shouldn’t be ignored. As far as Weston knew, he was about the only one who came to visit Lucas these days except for the ranch foreman, Braise Marx. Weston had spoken with the hand recently and things weren’t looking good. He’d noticed some unusual changes with Lucas as well.

  Fifteen years ago, the rancher had almost lost everything he’d worked hard for after going into debt to pay for his wife’s cancer treatment. At first, things had looked good and it was expected that she’d recover fully, but two years later, doctors found that the cancer had spread and treatment wasn’t available. She’d died six months later. Weston remembered how somber the funeral was and how many townsfolk showed up to pay their respects. Hannah was loved and he hadn’t known a sweeter, kinder woman. Sammie Tanner, Lucas and Hannah’s only child, had come home from college for the funeral. He hadn’t seen her, really seen her, since she had pigtails and was sucking on lollipops while riding in the tractor with her dad. Well, she’d changed, and boy had she. Weston had been knocked for a loop.

  He couldn’t keep his eyes off her, but respectful of the circumstances, it wouldn’t have been right for him to show his interest while she was mourning. A few days later, she had gone back to college, somewhere in Chicago, to some business school, and he’d gone back to seeing—hell, who had he been seeing at the time? She didn’t leave an impression. He’d been riding bulls in the rodeo at the time and those days seemed like forever ago. The Jericho cowboys had made a name for themselves as local rodeo stars. Three generations of ranchers and riders. Now, the only two remaining in the circuit were Hugh and Urban, yet Weston had a feeling his brothers would both be retiring soon. A man could only be beaten and hammered by bulls for so long.

  Eventually Sammie had come back to Colton and things heated up, but that was another story. One threaded with a lot of questions, deceit, and disappointment. On the rebound, he’d made the best, and worst, mistake of his life…

  Shaking his head, Weston pushed the thoughts aside and leaned his elbows on the table.

  “I don’t need help.” Lucas waved his good hand though the air as if to wipe away the idea.

  “You and I have known each other for a lot of years, buddy. You might not always like what I have to say, but you know it comes from good intentions. Don’t you think it’s time you told her?”

  “Phooey.” The grumpy old man stood and slowly made his way to the coffee maker. “Sammie doesn’t have any time for this old man. She’s too busy rubbing elbows with those stuck-up, yuppies to come see what I’ve, and her grandfather before me, built here. Ungrateful generation the whole lot of you.”

  “Didn’t she send you a ticket to fly out to visit her? Yeah, I remember, it was two Christmas’ ago.” Weston wasn’t sure how he remembered, but when Lucas talked about Sammie the world seemed to stop.

  “Pfft. I ain’t no city slicker. She’d expect me to change from my overalls into some stuffy sweater and those snobby pants your friend wears.” He dropped coffee granules into the machine.

  “Those are called slacks and I’m assuming you’re referring to Marty Landman. He’s your friend too, and attorney.” Weston smiled.

  “Whatever,” Lucas grumbled.

  Obviously, the man held it against Sammie for leaving. Sure, Weston had his own sour grapes over her disappearing like she did, but sometimes a person had to forgive. “I don’t have any clue what happened between you and your daughter, but it’s been nine years. Neither of you are getting any younger. Chicago wouldn’t be bad to visit.”

  “It ain’t none of your business, son.” He must have realized how harsh his words sounded because he turned, a little wobbly, and caught Weston with an apologetic smile. “Looks like we both dropped the ball where my daughter is concerned. If Chicago ain’t so bad, why didn’t I see you running off after her?”

  The pain struck Weston in the center of his chest. “She made her choice. Plain and clear.”

  Lucas sniffed loudly. “That girl was always a stubborn gal. I couldn’t count the number of times she’d go out riding when it wasn’t safe. Found her sleeping in the barn, straw sticking out of her hair and her clothes covered so many times I gave up on trying to convince her she had a bed.”

  “She loved the horses. She wanted to be close. That’s the heart of a rancher.”

  “That she did. Had no desire to mess with the cattle though. Or ranch business like hiring hands. Her mother was like that too.” He peered through the window above the sink for a long minute as if caught up in the memories of the past. Weston felt a sliver of sympathy for the man, although Lucas didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for his plight. When he spoke of stubborn qualities, Weston wondered if his friend had looked in the mirror lately.

  Although Sammie Tanner had more of a streak of stubborn than should be allotted for one person. She had overzealous determination in everything she did, including leaving Colton, Texas…and him. The most he could fairly say on the subject about her was that she wanted a different life, somewhere outside of the ranch life. What still pinged him… they’d been close, so close that he’d bought her a ring and planned to settle down with her, start a family. Had she been lying about her feelings? At this point, he couldn’t decipher between his true memories or fantasy.

  But when it came to Tanner Ranch, he knew without a doubt, she loved the place. Just not enough to stay.

  “Tanner Ranch is part of her legacy too. Maybe she’d want to be involved in saving it. Even plant some cotton back out on the west property. Breed horses. I remember her saying that was a plan of hers.” Weston scrubbed his day-old beard, realizing his words fell upon deaf ears. Lucas would do what he wanted to do when it was said and done.

  And that’s why when Weston got home, he did a bit of research and found Sammie’s whereabouts. It wasn’t hard. He’d looked her up a few years back, but for his own sanity, he’d kept his distance. He’d cared enough to allow her to spread her wings and she had, in a clever way. She’d opened a design business and was getting her name out there. Lucas was probably right. She didn’t have the time to visit her hometown, but Weston had a responsibility to let her in on what was happening at Tanner Ranch. What she decided to do from that point was on her.

  *****

  “Come on. Give me just another minute or two.” Brady didn’t even look up from his phone as he typed another message. “This is business.”

  Sammie frowned. “Business? On a Saturday night? I thought we agreed no business after eight on the weekends?” Thrumming her fingers on the table, she sighed and picked up her cocktail and took a long drink, hoping it eased the tension in her muscles. At the table across from them, a couple held hands and shared chocolate covered strawberries. How romantic. At this point, Sammie would appreciate a peck on the cheek. Brady hadn’t even commented on her new dress when she’d picked him up. He hadn’t noticed.

  “Relax, babe. We’re making money and money makes the world go around.” His greedy smile made her want to vomit.

  When she and Brady opened the design business together, things were good until they’d started dating. She should have known better than getting involved with her business partner because now, after three years, she was seeing the error of crossing boundaries. Every time she voiced her frustration about his late-night phone calls and texts, he used “making money” as his go-to excuse. Sure, at first, she loved watching her bank account grow, paying off bills, even buying a top of the line Lexus was a dream for the country girl turned city girl. Yet now, she was missing something in her life that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. After watching all her friends get married and start families, at thir
ty-five she wondered when her chance would pop up. Looking across the table at Brady who was still smiling at his phone, her stomach rolled. Did she see herself married to him? An image of them on their honeymoon, lying in bed, kissing, and then his phone ringing wasn’t a romantic thought. Wonder what he would think if she told him she’d considered artificial insemination? He’d run like the wind because he’d made it clear he didn’t want kids.

  The pause button on her life had been pressed, but it hadn’t happened over night. It was a gradual thing and she’d ignored the obvious signs—

  ignored the fact that she and Brady had nothing in common outside of work.

  “Brady, let’s go. I’m no longer hungry.” She rolled her finger around the rim of her glass. She’d rather be at home binging on Longmire than here watching her date on his phone, wheeling and dealing. Western movies and shows were her favorite, drawing her back to a time in her past. In Chicago, she didn’t see many cowboys, but a man in worn Wranglers and Stetson still did something to her that she couldn’t quite explain. Recently she’d gone through a box of old pictures and found a snapshot of one cowboy who had always been on her mind, even nine years later. Wonder what he was doing tonight? Probably with a woman who was all over him and not making googly eyes with her phone. “Brady. Really. Let’s go.”

  He didn’t even hear her.

  Figures.

  She waved to the waitress to bring the check and the petite blonde placed the red folder in front of Brady who didn’t make a move. After several minutes, frustrated and just wanting to get out of the restaurant, Sammie dug into her purse and placed her debit card inside with the bill. The pretty waitress gave Sammie a knowing, apologetic half-smile when she returned with the card.

  “I’m leaving.” She pulled her purse strap high on her shoulder and stood, tapping the table to grab his attention.