Leigh Duncan - His Favorite Cowgirl

“Where do you hang your hat these days?” While Kelly clipped lead ropes onto halters, he hefted the gelding’s saddle from a fence rail.

“Houston. I’m a regional manager for Palmetto Boots.” She took off for the barn, the horses trailing her.

Working for the world’s best-known boot manufacturer explained the fancy footwear she’d sported at the hospital. “Been with them long?” he asked, dropping the saddle onto a sawhorse in the tack room.

“Ever since Pops kick—ever since I left.” She settled the gelding into one stall, the fawn-colored mare into another. “I started out stocking shelves. Took night classes. Earned a degree in business. Hard work and a little bit of luck put me on the fast track to the corporate level. I’m in the middle of negotiating a big contract with Ivey’s.”

Hank caught a hint of pride in her voice and figured she deserved it for nailing a contract with the largest chain in the South. “Good for you,” he called, grabbing curry combs and brushes from pegs near the door. He’d always known she was meant for bigger things, though there’d been a time when he’d thought they’d conquer the world together.

Kelly checked the gelding’s coat for burrs. “So how about you? Last I heard, you were rodeoing.”

Hank whistled. “Haven’t done that in...” Ten years and eight months. He straightened the frown that sprang to his lips. “Rodeo’s no life for a family man. I sort of—” he paused, searching for the right word “—fell into real estate. Mostly in North Florida. The Tallahassee area.”

“Sales, huh?” Kelly grabbed one of the curry combs he’d balanced on the top rail. “Never figured you for a suit and tie.”

“It took some getting used to.” He caught her arched eyebrow over the horse’s hindquarters. She knew him well. Too well.

“Business must be good if you can take this much time away from it.” She began brushing.

“I’ve done okay.” Although not lately. A nation-wide recession had all but sunk the housing market. Not that he’d admit those failures to the woman he’d once dreamed of building a future with, especially not when hers had turned out so well. “Let’s just say losing Dad made me re-examine some things. I realized family had to come first. Mine needed me here, so here I am.” He bit his tongue. From the shape of things on the Bar X, it looked as though her grandfather could use some help, too.

Kelly’s green eyes pinned him. “My future is in Texas,” she said, leaving no room for misinterpretation. She took a breath. “If you’re in real estate, though, you must know the market better than I do. What’s a place like this going for these days?”

“You don’t want to hang on to it?” The Bar X had been in the Tompkins family far longer than the Circle P had belonged to the Parkers. He watched carefully as Kelly’s gaze swept through the barn.

“I might not have that option. I found a couple of final notices from the tax office on the dining room table.”

A trip to the hardware store and some elbow grease would fix broken steps and door hinges, but a man who didn’t pay his tax bill could lose his birthright to the highest bidder at the county auction. He and Colt were going to the next one in...

Hank gulped. “You don’t have much time. The tax sale is in three weeks. October first.”

Kelly’s hands, which had been working a comb through the gelding’s long mane, stilled.

“Crap,” she whispered at last. “How’d he let things get this bad? I was hoping to sell the ranch to pay for Pops’s care, but...” A pair of expressive brows rose over rapidly widening eyes. “Those nursing homes the social worker mentioned—I spoke with a couple of them on my way out here. They’re mighty proud of what amounts to three squares and a room. I’ve stayed in five-star hotels that didn’t charge as much.”

“That’s down the road though, right? First, he’ll be in rehab till his leg heals?” Hank worked a pick through the little mare’s hooves. “The way I see it, your first priority has to be the taxes. You have the money?”

Kelly sighed. “I have enough in savings to pay the bill. It won’t leave much.”

He propped his elbows on the mare’s back. “You pay those taxes. It’ll buy you some time to figure out what to do next. Meanwhile, your grandfather’s Brahmans have already overgrazed that pasture. They need to be moved.” In a gesture that stirred a long-forgotten urge to be her hero, Kelly tucked her bottom lip beneath her teeth. He swallowed. “Look, the job’s too big for one person, which is probably why Paul didn’t get around to it. I can spare a couple of the boys for the day or so it’ll take to move those cows. Any longer than that, though, and you’ll have to clear it with Ty.”

Tugging on the end of her ponytail, Kelly stepped back. She folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t expect you to solve my problems for me, Hank. Ty, either.”

“Hey, we’re just talking.” Uncertain where the conversation had veered off track, he held up his hands in mock surrender. “There was a time when we could talk about anything.”

“That was different.” Kelly’s arms remained in place, her posture stiff. “We were friends.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “We were a lot more than friends.”

The gelding pawed the wooden floorboards as Kelly stared at a spot somewhere over his left shoulder. “Those days are done,” she whispered. “I’m not interested in starting over.”

“Me, either.” Even if he was dumb enough to take up with a woman who’d walked away from him without so much as a second glance, with all he had going on this year, starting up with his old girlfriend again had bad idea written all over it.

“Just so you know,” Kelly said, thawing a bit.

“No problem. I’m just trying to be neighborly.” He grabbed a brush and gave the little mare another rub down. While he worked, he explained, “Besides, you know the Parkers. They’ll insist on helping with your grandfather’s cattle till he’s on his feet again.” For good measure, he added, “Any of us would.”

Kelly appeared to mull things over. With a sigh, she dropped her arms to her sides, the fight seeping out of her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s all right.” Hank scuffed one boot through the straw. “You’ve got a lot on your plate.” He fought an urge to wrap an arm around her shoulders when moisture dampened her eyes. Neighborly kindness would only explain so much. Instead, he gathered an armload of curry combs and brushes. Stopping at the door to the gelding’s stall, he glanced back at her. “So, we’re good, neighbor?”

“Yeah,” she said, running a calming hand over the gray’s long neck. “We’re good.”

By the time the horses were fed and watered and the tools stowed properly, the sun had dipped beneath the horizon. In the distance, the last glimmers of daylight painted the low-lying clouds gold. Night birds winged across the sky, their calls rising above the drone of cicadas. From somewhere far off came the throaty growl of a bull alligator.

Hank paused for a moment, drinking in the view he’d missed during the years he’d spent in North Florida, where sunsets hid behind hills and tall trees. It seemed ironic that Kelly wanted to leave all this behind just as he was rediscovering it, but—he shrugged his shoulders—the choice was hers. He wasn’t a part of her life anymore. Still, if she was serious about selling the ranch, he wouldn’t mind handling it for her. Or earning the big commission the sale would generate. He leaned against his truck. Though the housing market had dried up, he still had contacts in Tallahassee who might be interested in the ranch as an investment.