A Cowboy Never Quits Read online

  Jessica opened her mouth to start spouting her list of reasons this was the right call—from how she was only doing this for Chloe’s good to how bad decisions had consequences. Then, of course, she’d add that she loved her no matter what. Since those type of remarks had gone unanswered during the drive here, she figured there wasn’t much point. Either she’d get the job on the ranch and have more time to try to get Chloe to see the light, or they’d go back home, where she’d have to find another drastic measure to employ.

  Chapter 2

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea to hire her,” Wade said as soon as the office door closed behind him. He stood across from his brothers, Brady and Trace, who flanked their parents. Usually they had a bit of a monarchy when it came to decisions.

  Ma was the queen, and everyone did what she said. Dad helped enforce and carry out her wishes. But she’d gotten so sick over the winter—pneumonia right on top of acute kidney failure—and her stint in the hospital had scared them all. They’d had a big family meeting about the need for her to slow down, which everyone agreed on, and how much they could realistically take on. Since Wade was not only the eldest, but the best at making decisions based on logic instead of empathy, they’d agreed to let him call the shots for the most part.

  In theory. This was the first test, and they were failing.

  “Ma needs help,” Brady said, as if Wade didn’t know.

  “I realize that. But having Ms. Cook work here is a conflict of interest if we accept her daughter into the program. No one else’s mommies are here, and we do that for a reason.” Most of the parents had a hard time with the tough-love method the ranch’s staff needed to enforce, especially at the beginning. For about half the kids, stricter rules would’ve been enough to keep them out of trouble in the first place, but there were usually other issues at play, too. It took time and manpower, along with the right combination of manual labor, pushing, and love to figure out what those were, which was why enrollment was capped at fifteen. Taking on another teen would make it sixteen. “Don’t you remember how we decided we’re not running the Island Ranch of Misfit Toys?”

  Ma frowned at the moniker, regardless of it being perfectly accurate. Not that Wade would give up the brothers he’d acquired through the years, or how many teens’ lives he’d seen change because Ma and the rest of the staff showed so much love toward them. But they were all only human, and they also were all tired and worn down.

  “What about Liza?” Wade tried, thinking he could use Ma’s empathy to get her to see his side of the argument. Their counselor was fairly new to the ranch and had her hands full with three-year-old twins with enough energy to outlast that annoying pink bunny who was forever pounding his drum. “Adding another person for her to counsel would strain her schedule, too.”

  “I can help watch the twins easier than I can stand in that hot kitchen,” Ma said. Which was the opposite of the relaxing she was supposed to be doing. If she’d just take some time to heal, she might actually get better.

  “I’m sick of stew and chili.” Trace leaned around Ma to address Dad. “No offense. It’s good. It’s just week three, and my stomach can’t take much more.”

  “We can all help out in the kitchen, then,” Wade said, and the skepticism spread like a river, flowing from one face to another. Sure, they’d claimed to be willing to help out before, but that kitchen was stifling hot, and cooking on that large scale wasn’t for the faint of heart. Not to mention taking a spin there meant wasting daylight on chores they’d later have to attempt in the dark.

  “We’ve upped the salary twice and advertised the position going on four months now,” Trace said. “All we’ve had is that one lady who took a look at our kitchen and claimed we didn’t have the gourmet setup she needed.”

  Yeah, that lady would most likely have made food they couldn’t even pronounce, heavy on the vegetables and fancy dressings that didn’t fill up growing kids and grown men for a day of nonstop work. Most people in town already carried a steady job or two, and while the ranch’s staff had come a long way in opening the townsfolk’s eyes to what they did, plenty were still leery about being around the teens. A lot of the kids did have rough pasts, and just when they were starting to buck the stigma, there was an incident at another alternative camp where a troubled teen boy got hold of a knife and hurt some people. Now everyone in Silver Springs was happy to have a good ten miles between them and the ranch, and a few commented they’d like even more.

  Of course that incident had happened the month after Ma got sick.

  “Brady, can’t you ask Tanya about borrowing their cook for a few more meals?” Wade asked. “Didn’t you say they’re slower than usual at the dude ranch?”

  Brady had been friends with the girl next door for most of their lives, and Wade hoped that borrowing their chef—who was also a bit on the fancy side—might buy him time to find someone better suited to the position.

  But Brady shook his head. “The guy’s on vacation right now, and he’s not coming back until their next booking in a couple of weeks. And before you ask, Tanya’s got enough on her plate, too.”

  Wade wanted to argue he wasn’t going to ask, but that’d be a lie.

  Trace pushed off from the edge of the desk, picking up his gloves, which meant his mind was on getting back to work—where all of their minds should be considering how much they had to do. “Why are you so against Jessica anyway? She seemed nice.”

  Nice. Young. In over her pretty blond head. There was one problem right there. As he’d sat across from her and she’d pleaded for them to take her daughter, he’d experienced a mushy sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time. He’d reminded himself that he disliked people who insisted exceptions should be made specifically for them. That he was the one who had to say no because so many of his family members were bleeding hearts who’d take in anyone. Dad rivaled Ma in that area, and if she hadn’t gotten sick, they both would’ve been agreeing to anything Jessica asked for. Which, again, was why he’d taken over the enrollment process for the teens who didn’t come through the state.

  If they hadn’t been making a shopping list for their next supply run into town, his parents wouldn’t even have been here. Wasn’t that the way timing always was? A real bitch, one who seemed hell-bent on making his life more difficult.

  “We can’t make exceptions,” he said. Not for blond women with big brown eyes that held an admirable amount of determination, misplaced or not. He was sure she heard a lot that she looked too young to have a daughter in her teens, and he’d nearly put his boot in his mouth by saying so. Obviously it hadn’t been easy. The hints she’d dropped had him reading between the lines and experiencing a twinge when she added that sentence about living with regrets and worry over it being too late.

  That please she’d added, so raw and vulnerable, tugged at him, too. He’d shoved away the weak emotion, only for her to surprise him with the funny retort about the lean-to. The more he thought about the woman, the more conflicted he felt, which only brought about more complications and reasons to say no.

  Brady stood, and Wade steeled himself to go tell Ms. Cook that he was sorry, but it wasn’t going to work out. Then his brother clapped him on the back. “I hate to do this to you, Bro, but you’ve clearly made up your mind. You’ll just pull rank and argue if I don’t play a little dirty. So this is me reminding you that we’re a democracy. Time to put it to a vote.”

  Wade automatically shook his head, his argument poised and ready. “We don’t have a bed for either of them. I refuse to let her daughter stay with her while the rest of the teens have to clean their bunk rooms and participate in meetings and group chores. It’s not fair.”

  Brady held up his hands. “By all means, we’ll keep it fair. I’m sure we can find an extra bed. Until then, she can use a camping cot.”

  “Jessica can take Nash’s cabin for now,” Ma said. “Who knows when he’ll be back.”

  If he’d be back, but Wade wouldn’t say that to her, just like she’d never say it aloud because she believed giving voice to your worries only made them bigger. Nash hadn’t been an official part of their family until he was sixteen, after spending a court-ordered six months here at the ranch. Since discovering he was good at the cowboy thing, he fed his restless energy and paid his bills by working the rodeo circuit.

  “And if he does come back while she’s here,” Trace said, “he can just stay with me.”

  “Or at the main house,” Ma quickly added, and Trace gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze that infused her with more hope—hope that Wade worried was dangerous. What else was new? Too much hope, too many people, and too much shit to do to ever actually get it done. That might as well be Turn Around Ranch’s theme.

  Brady turned to Wade. “Sounds like it’s settled, then. Jessica’s got the job. Do you want me to go tell her the good news, or do you wanna do it?”

  * * *

  When Chloe pictured hell, she always thought there’d be more brimstone and fire. Who knew it’d be endless stretches of land, dotted with cows chewing like they meant to show off everything in their mouths, and a house that could only be described as a run-down log cabin? The horrible, all-is-lost sensation clenching her internal organs at least matched—if not exceeded—expectations.

  She glanced at Mom, hoping against hope that she’d say something like “Okay, now that you’ve been scared straight, we can go back home.”

  But she was an expert at recognizing when there was no changing Mom’s no into a yes, and the stubborn set of her chin made it clear that if she had her way, this would be Chloe’s new address.

  Angry heat coursed along the now-familiar path it’
d seared through her veins on the drive here, over and over, until it was all she felt. The anger was better than the helplessness and the hurt, so she clung to it. How could Mom overreact like this? For so much of her life she’d done the right thing. Colored inside the lines. So many of those days and nights she’d spent alone while Mom was working.

  She’d had no one, but then she’d managed to make a few friends and learned how fun it could be to let go once in a while. Then she’d met Tyler. Spending time with him and her new group of friends calmed her nerves and helped quiet the doubts constantly running through her head. About if anyone liked her, and if people were talking about her, and, and, and, until she couldn’t breathe. She’d hid the panic attacks from her mom—from everyone. Maybe getting drunk or high wasn’t the best way to numb herself, but it was better than being flat on her back on the floor, unable to breathe.

  Ironic that she hadn’t told Mom about the attacks because she was sure she’d freak and send her to a psychiatrist, and after one joyride in a borrowed car, Mom was full-on trying to enroll her in cowboy boot camp.

  What if they force me to wear cowboy boots? That’s gotta be cruel and unusual punishment. Surely even out here in the sticks they had their limits.

  Chloe’s fingers itched to grab her phone and check it, but Mom had confiscated it, along with her laptop. Fat lot of good that would do anyway, since she doubted this place had a Wi-Fi hot spot. Now she didn’t know if her friends were trying to get hold of her, or how many times Tyler had texted to check on her. Or if his parents had grounded him, too, although they didn’t seem like the grounding type.

  In her defense, she had tried to talk him out of hot-wiring the car, but he’d given her that impatient look that meant she was being too uptight. As he’d pointed out, the car was old and always parked in the same place, just gathering dust, so he was actually doing the person a favor by running it. Seemed to make sense at the time. They were going to bring the car back before anyone realized it was gone, just as soon as they picked up food from the convenience store a couple of miles down the road.

  It would’ve been harmless if Tyler hadn’t sideswiped another car on the way. Just her luck, there was a cop at an intersection who witnessed it and pulled them over, and then all hell broke loose.

  Demanding they get out of the car.

  The blinding beam of a flashlight right in the eyes.

  Watching Tyler walk and turn and stand on one leg and blow into a Breathalyzer.

  Being shoved into the back of a cop car.

  Admittedly, getting dragged down to the police station beside her handcuffed boyfriend wasn’t the highlight of her sophomore year. All she’d wanted in that moment was her mommy, and then Mom had come to pick her up, and now she was the last person Chloe wanted.

  The need to know what was happening finally overpowered her death grip on her vow of silence. “What’s going on? What are we waiting for?”

  The rocking chair Mom was seated in creaked against the wooden porch that faced the empty vastness, and she slowly turned her head toward Chloe. “Just ironing out details. I’m hoping to get a temporary job here. That way I can be around as you go through the program and actually have a way to pay for it.”

  Tightness claimed Chloe’s lungs, restricting her from getting any air. “Mom, I’ve learned my lesson. Please, let’s just go home. I’ll do better.”

  “We already had that arrangement when you flunked your last chemistry test, remember? And when you came home after curfew for the second time in a row, and I was sure you’d been drinking, but gave you the benefit of the doubt after you assured me someone had just spilled a beer on you.” Mom’s eyes went shiny, which made Chloe feel shitty, but she refused to burst into tears. “Then you snuck out, and I warned you. I distinctly remember saying the words ‘last chance.’ I thought it’d sunk in, so imagine my surprise when I thought you were sleeping in your bed and got a phone call to come pick you up from jail. Jail, Chloe.”

  “I remember. I was there.” Snapping didn’t help her case, and Mom’s spine straightened, like an exclamation point to her decision about forcing her to stay at this awful place.

  “Well, since I was also there, I can assure you, this ranch is an upgrade. It’s not so bad, and there are people here who can help you. If you’ll just give it a chance—”

  “I’m sorry. About snapping at you, and about sneaking out, and about ending up in jail.”

  Chloe treaded carefully, already feeling like the water was rising so fast that all the paddling in the world wouldn’t stop it. She had to try, though. “Give me one more chance. I swear this time I’ll do better. Just please, please let’s go home.”

  The screen door opened with a screech, and the tall cowboy dude taking up most of the doorway frowned at the mechanism that opened and closed the door. “Needs some WD-40,” he muttered, and for some reason that upped Chloe’s apprehension about what he’d say next.

  She wanted to tell him she didn’t belong here and that her mom was overreacting, only her words died on her tongue as he peered down at them. He reminded her of Mr. Gordon, the math teacher who most of the students were afraid of, even the bad ones. No one dared to talk back to him.

  Mom stood, wringing her hands in front of her, and Chloe’s heart hammered a rapid rhythm that left her dizzy and thinking she might be on the verge of another panic attack. “Did you need my references?” Mom asked. “I can make a few calls and—”

  The guy sliced a hand through the air, and Chloe thought she needed to learn that trick because it immediately made Mom stop talking. “No need.”

  Mom’s shoulders slumped; Chloe’s hopes soared.

  “You’re hired,” he said, and her and Mom’s body language switched, desperation replacing every other emotion inside Chloe as happiness and relief flitted across Mom’s features.

  “Thank you so much,” Mom said. “You won’t regret it.”

  Regret. That could be the title of Chloe’s life right now. And as she gazed out at the miles and miles of nothingness that had just become her home for the foreseeable future, she decided she’d prefer brimstone and fire.

  Chapter 3

  While Jessica had been sincere when she promised Wade he wouldn’t regret giving her a job, clearly it didn’t comfort him any. She’d thought he was grumpy before, but his grumpitude had kicked up a few notches since the meeting he’d had with his family.

  “You might want to hold off on celebrating,” he said, as if she’d been jumping up and down with joy. “There are conditions. Several of them.”

  Announced in that death-toll tone, it was hard to stifle the worry and doubt that tried to creep over her. Was she in over her head? Totally.

  Would she figure it out? There wasn’t any other option.

  “Why don’t the two of you come on in, and we’ll go over all the rules and talk terms. Then you can decide if you still want the job.”

  “I’ll want it,” Jess said, lifting her chin.

  Wade gave a sort of half grunt, half huff, and then turned and went back inside. She assumed she was supposed to follow, so she gestured for Chloe to come on. Naturally, her daughter took her sweet time obeying, but gradually pushed to her feet.

  “What job could you possibly do here?”

  Well, on the bright side, her daughter was talking to her again. Jess would’ve preferred a less snide tone, but she supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers. “I’m going to cook for the people on the ranch and at the camp.”

  A snort-laugh escaped Chloe, and even though it was at Jess’s expense, it still caused a glimmer of hope. She hadn’t heard her daughter laugh in a long time. “You can’t cook.”

  “I do all right, and I’ll learn whatever else I need to.”