Taking Chances

  By B.J. Daniels

  Copyright 2011 B.J. Daniels

  Smashwords Edition

  Table of Contents

  Taking Chances

  Best Friends

  Breakfast at Betty's

  Chance Rawlins leaned against the log railing in front of the ranch house and studied the slim silhouette of the woman moving along the lake shore.

  The sun’s dying rays slanted through the pines, casting the water behind her in bronze.

  She walked with her head down, her dark hair down and flowing free around her shoulders. At first glance, she looked as if she was searching for something along the shore, but Chance knew that what A.J. sought couldn’t be found in the washed stones.

  He groaned softly to himself as he watched her. No matter how much he denied it, she’d cast a spell on him worse than any gypsy fortuneteller ever could.

  He felt the tug of her ties to the land trying to hold him down.

  “Oh, boss lady,” he whispered and quickly reminded himself he was a wanderer, always looking over the next mountain, never staying long enough to plant roots.

  That was why he had to leave. Because lately he’d been thinking about what it would be like to stay. Here. With A.J.

  He’d tell her this evening, then he’d pack up and be gone in the morning before breakfast, before she could stop him. He smiled to himself at his assumption that she would try to stop him.

  He watched A.J. stop to pick up a small stone from the beach. She turned it in her fingers as if she were studying the stone, then tossed it into the lake.

  Ripples circled the splash, growing larger and larger, not unlike the ripples A.J. started the day she brought the stallion home to the ranch.

  That was the day Chance knew it was time for him to move on. He’d been in the tack room when he’d heard the rattle of the horse trailer and the pickup doors slam.

  “He’s the most beautiful horse I’ve ever seen!” A.J. exclaimed, her voice full of pride and excitement. In the four months since Chance had hired on at the ranch, he’d never heard that wistful lilt to her voice. Before then, he had believed that A.J. Murphy not only ruled with a fist of iron, but an iron heart as well.

  He’d pushed open the tack room door as the rest of the ranch hands came to see what the boss lady had brought back from the wild horse auction in town.

  “Watch him,” A.J. warned. “He’s a spirited one.”

  Chance stared at the horse trailer. Something inside it was raising hell. He frowned. Nor was it like A.J. to buy a troublesome horse. She shouted directions as one of the men backed the trailer up to the corral.

  Change looked past the trailer to his boss standing with her fingers hooked in the front pockets of her jeans. He’d never seen that look on her face before either. He couldn’t wait to see the horseflesh that made A.J. Murphy grin like a kid.

  “Step back!” a ranch hand yelled as he opened the rear of the horse trailer. Chance shook his head in wonder as the biggest, blackest stallion he’d ever seen burst from the trailer. The horse was trouble. Big trouble.

  He looked at A.J. Her cheeks were flushed the color of an early-morning sunrise. Her eyes danced like firelight on water. She ran to the corral fence and climbed up to watch the stallion run in a tight, angry circle.

  “He’ll be fast,” she said to no one in particular. “Midnight. He looks like midnight on the blackest of nights. Yes. Midnight. I’ve never seen a horse like him.”

  And Chance had never seen an A.J. liked this one. What had possessed her to buy such a horse?

  “You got him at the auction?” he asked.

  His boss turned and raised her chin a little as if she’d anticipated his disapproval. “That’s right.”

  “I suppose you intend to use him for stud.” The horse stopped in the center of the corral and reared. And Chance wondered if any fence could hold him for long.

  When A.J. didn’t answer, he glanced at her. “You intend to break this horse to ride?”

  “I most certainly do, not that it is any of your business.” She locked her gaze to his, and he could tell she had no intention of being the first to look away, so he gave her that much and looked down.

  “You’re the boss, lady,” he said, tipping his Western hat as he backed away. “But I’d watch myself around that horse. Like you said, he’s spirited, and some animals don’t take well to being corralled, let alone tamed.”

  He’d turned and headed back to the tack room, wondering if he hadn’t made a mistake coming to work for a woman, especially this woman. Chance had sworn then that he would leave, find another ranch, a ranch where the boss didn’t have promising curves under her Western clothes, a place where he wasn’t always feeling yearnings he’d thought long forgotten.

  Late that night, he thought of Anna and the kids. It had been more than seven years. Cody would be 10 now and Angel 8.

  Chance squeezed his eyes shut to keep out the pain, but the pain was always there. And the flames. They licked at his conscience. Always.

  Anna had hated horse ranching. He’d married her anyway because he had been so sure she would learn to love ranching and him for what he was. He’d been wrong.

  That night, she’d told him she was leaving him. He’d stomped out, driven into town to the Steer Inn Bar and tried to drown himself in beer.

  It hadn’t work, and he’d headed home, making promises to himself, promises to Anna. He told himself he’d give up everything for Anna and his kids.

  Then he’d seen the smoke and flames billowing up from the ranch house into the darkness until all that was left was darkness. And emptiness.

  Chance had turned in his bunk to face the wall and cried in gut-wrenching sobs the night after A.J. brought home Midnight. He couldn’t have said what brought back all the pain from his past. He just knew that as soon as he had enough money, it was time to move on.

  In the weeks that followed, he stayed clear of the horse and A.J. Both had a wild-eyed look that warned him to keep his distance. He did. Every night he’d see A.J. cross the ranch yard to the corral.

  Later, he’d hear her talking softly to Midnight, whispering sweet things in the stallion’s ear as he stomped restlessly.

  He would lie in his bunk and listen, shaking his head in wonder at her determination to break the horse. It crossed his mind that she might be practicing on the poor stallion for what she wanted to do to Chance himself. He’d stayed too long in one place and he knew it.

  The day he’d driven his old pickup into the ranch yard months before, he’d just been thinking more about a warm, dry place to spend the season, rather than who he’d be working for.

  “Got to talk to A.J. Murphy,” a ranch hand told him and pointed toward the main house.

  He’d parked his pickup and sauntered up the steps of the porch. “I’m looking for Mr. Murphy,” he’d said, removing his hat as an elderly petite redheaded woman came out of the kitchen.

  “You are, huh.” The woman chuckled and turned to call back into the building, “A.J. there’s a cowboy out here to see you.”

  A.J. Murphy came out in blue jeans, a Western shirt and tan boots. Chance had stared unabashedly. She wasn’t beautiful. Not really. Except for her eyes. They were clear, rare Montana sapphires. They met his gaze without hesitation and held it, challenge in those eyes.

  Wisps of dark hair curled around her face. The rest—a long wavy mane—seemed to be struggling to free itself from the clip at her nape.

  She reminded him of sweet sage in autumn, of summer campfires and clear, cold streams breaking loose in spring. And she made him feel 16.

  He didn’t like any of those feelings.

  “Ma’am,” he’d said, “I heard your ranch might be in need of another hand.”

  She’d eyed him up and down. “You any good with horses?”

  “People say I am.” He told her the four places he’d worked in the last two years.

  “Don’t stay around much, do you?”

  “My feet get itchy.”

  “Well, I need someone for the season. Can you keep your itchy feet still that long?”

  “I think so.”

  “Plan on it.” She’d smiled then and extended her hand. “Welcome to the Double M Ranch then Mr….”

  “Rawlins, ma’am. Chance Rawlins.”

  She’d repeated his name slowly, then released his hand. “Mercy here is our cook,” she said, motioning toward the tiny redheaded woman. “Don’t rile her or we’ll all be eating beans for a week. Understand?”

  Chance nodded. At the back of the house, the phone rang.

  “Mercy will point you to your cabin.” A.J. excused herself and went to answer the telephone.

  Chance watched her go, studying the intriguing way her jeans moved above her boots.

  When he turned to find Mercy shaking her head. “Son, I don’t think you’ll last a week around here.”

  But he had. Not that he hadn’t butted heads with the boss. Some days he and A.J. seemed to come at each other as if with a cattle prod. And Chance often wondered why she kept him on at the ranch. He had a feeling it had nothing to do with the fact that he had a way with horses.

  One night after A.J. brought the stallion home, Chance found her in the corral talking softly to Midnight, her hand stroking the horse’s strong neck. He edged around a corner of the barn so he could watch her. He had to admit, A.J. was making progress with the stallion.

  “Easy now, boy,” she whispered. Midnight snorted and moved restlessly. “You’re going
to be all right now. I’ll take care of you. You’re going to like it here.”

  A.J. turned as if she’d sensed him behind her.

  Chance stepped from the shadows.

  “You don’t approve of what I’m doing, do you?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said climbing the corral fence. “I guess I just like the idea of him running free.”

  She chuckled. “You would.”

  “I don’t want to see you take the spirit out of him.”

  “Why do you think breaking him will break his spirit?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t like to see anything tied down that doesn’t want to be.”

  “Like you?” she asked, climbing the railing to settle on the top beside him. “No ties. Always another ranch down the road when things get too closed in?”

  He reached over to pull a piece of hay from her hair. His gaze locked with hers.

  She looked away. “Don’t you ever want to stay in one place? I mean, hasn’t there ever been some place?”

  The starlight showered her hair with slivers of silver. “You mean like here?” he asked quietly.

  A.J. looked over at him. Her eyes were blue velvet. Her lower lip quivered so slightly a first he thought he’d imagined it.

  Chance felt a tightening in his chest. Damn. He told himself right then to run, out of the corral, off the ranch. To even consider what he was considering would be like diving into a river’s dark pool and not knowing how deep the water was. A man who did that couldn’t be sure he would ever surface again.

  “Oh, hell.” He swore and pulled her into his arms, half expecting her to slap his face. When she didn’t, he bent to kiss her lips. He kissed her the way he’d been wanting to for months. The way he’d been dreaming of kissing her and hadn’t admitted it.

  In his dreams—and in reality—she tasted sweet as wild strawberries. And she kissed him back like a woman who knew what she wanted and didn’t let anything stand in her way of getting it.

  “Chance,” she whispered when he raised his lips to look into her eyes.

  He kissed her again, afraid of what she would say. Even more frightened of what he might say.

  Then he held her tight, breathing in the sweet scent of her, warning himself to be careful. Love had made him blind once, and he’d lost everyone he’d loved. He couldn’t ever let that happen again.

  She pulled away first and went to stroke Midnight. “Buzz tells me he’s planning to retire by spring. I’ll be needing someone to help me run this ranch.”

  Chance felt as if he’d not only jumped into that river, he’d hit the rocky river bottom hard. What had he been thinking ever jumping in?

  He slid from the fence, grabbed A.J.’s arm, and spun her around to face him.

  "There are some horses you can’t break, can’t corral. They’ll only break your heart if you try and you’ll break theirs.”

  She looked at him, her eyes shiny with tears. “You already have a corral around you, Chance. I was just trying to get you to open the gate.” She turned and left him standing next to the corral with Midnight. The stallion gave him a look and snorted loudly.

  “If I want your opinion I’ll ask for it,” Chance said to the horse and went back to his bunkhouse cussing contrary horses and women.

  In the days that followed, A.J. seemed to avoid him, and he did his best to stay out of her path. Then tonight he realized the time had come. He had to leave.

  The sun finally melted behind the mountains like butter running down the far side, leaving the lake inky black. Chance saw A.J. coming toward the ranch house.

  “Ms. Murphy,” he said, stepping off the porch.

  She looked up in surprise, and he wasn’t sure if it was because she hadn’t seen him in the shadows or because he’d called her Ms. Murphy.

  She’d told him, the first day, that she didn’t want to be treated like a woman. So he’d called her A.J. rather than Ms. Murphy like the rest of the ranch hands did.

  Now he pulled off his hat. “I just wanted you to know, I’ll be leaving in the morning.”

  “I see.” If she was thrown by his news, she hid it well.

  “It’s time I moved on.” He shifted his hat brim in his fingers. There were other things he wanted to say. He suddenly wanted to tell her about Ann and his kids, to try to explain why he couldn’t stay.

  “Itchy feet again?” She looked past him toward the corral and Midnight.

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “I’ll draw up your paycheck tonight.” She sighed. “Do you know where you’ll be going?”

  He shook his head and looked down the dusty road leading off the ranch.

  She followed his gaze. “You’re welcome to have breakfast before you leave.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be gone before then, but thanks.”

  She nodded. “Well, then…” She offered him her hand. “…Goodbye…and good luck.”

  He shook her hand, not surprised by her strong, sure grip. He’d never admired a woman more than he did this one. “Goodbye A.J.”

  She nodded and walked past him, leaving him standing alone, fighting surprise and disappointment. Had he hoped she’d try to stop him? Well, she hadn’t.

  At his cabin, he threw his few belongings into a duffel bag. He loaded the bag, his saddle and his guitar into the back of his pickup. In the distance, he heard Mercy ringing the chow bell. He wasn’t hungry. Nor could he face sitting at the same table with A.J. He walked in the other direction, away from the ranch.

  By the time he returned to his cabin, the moon had scaled the backside of the mountain and peeked over the ridge, all golden and round.

  “Chance!” a voice called. Mercy stumbled up on the cabin porch. “I’ve been looking all over for you! It’s A.J. She’s taken off on Midnight.”

  “What? Is he even greenbroke yet?”

  “She’s ridden him and got most of the bucks out of him,” Mercy said. “But taking off in the middle of the night like this… Do you want me to get the rest of the hands? I waited because…”

  Chance knew why. “No, don’t wake the others.” A.J. had done something foolish. She wouldn’t want her men to know.

  “Do you have any idea where she might have gone?” Mercy asked.

  He remembered the afternoon he’d stumbled onto the high meadow. A profusion of wildflowers mingled with the tall, cool grass. He’d dismounted and walked through the meadow that was busy breaking in the scent of summer. Behind it, the snow-crested mountains gleamed blinding white.

  He’d been thinking about A.J. and trying not to, when she’d suddenly materialized as if he’d conjured her up as if by magic. She stepped from behind a cluster of smooth large boulders and into a stream that pooled, sparkling and cool at the base of the rocks.

  Chance hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the woman, her hair wet, her bare skin glistening in the sun. She’d rolled up her jeans and shirt to expose her ankles and bare midriff. He’d watched hypnotized by the childlike quality of her playing in the pool.

  Then he’d turned away quickly, feeling that he was intruding, knowing that what he was seeing was too private, too intimate.

  “I think I might know where she went,” Chance said to Mercy now as he pulled his saddle from the back of his pickup. “If I don’t come back in two hours, you’d better roust the men. I’m heading up to that high meadow, the one A.J. calls Ross Peak Meadow.”

  Chance saddled and rode out. The ground glowed slick-gray in the light from the full moon. The pines glistening a dark rich satin. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted, making his horse whinny softly.

  A.J. had mentioned the high meadow one night not long after she’d brought the stallion home. He’d been sitting on his cabin porch, gently strumming his guitar. The rest of the ranch hands had gone into town.

  The night was cold and clear. Stars splattered the sky like glitter on a dark canvas. Chance had looked up in surprise to see A.J.

  “You play well,” she said nodding to the guitar.

  He shrugged. “I can’t play much, just some songs I’ve picked up over the years.”

  She sat down on the cabin steps. “Tell me about some of the places you’ve been.”

  He strummed lightly on his guitar. “They were just places. After a while, they all seem the same.”

  She turned to look at him. “Do they really? I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be free to travel to new places.”