Patricia Johns - Her Cowboy's Twin Blessings

Mr. Vern was selling the ranch, and Casey had a down payment saved up and had arranged for a mortgage just large enough to cover what this land was worth. Not a penny more, mind you, but Casey was a man of faith, and he didn’t think he’d need that extra penny. He’d been praying for this chance ever since the Courtright land went to Reed Land Holdings, and when he told his dad that he had a chance at getting this ranch, old Frank Courtright had added his prayers to the effort. This morning, Casey was going on up to the main house to tender his offer to Mr. Vern himself.

The drive from the manager’s house, where Casey lived, up to the main house took only about five minutes, and Casey’s truck bumped over the gravel road in a cheerful rhythm. Spring had come to this corner of Montana. Everything had sprouted—from the grass in the ditches lining to the road to the pasture, lush with tender new growth. Golden sunlight shone through the windshield and warmed up the cab.

This was it—this was the day! And the bright sunlight sparkling off the last of the morning frost on those long, nodding grasses felt like a gift from above. He’d tell the boys about this day when they were old enough to understand—the day the Courtrights got land again. He’d have a ranch to leave to those kids, and they’d be raised right with horseback riding, chores and a personal pride in the land under their feet. And if he could find the right woman, maybe he could even give them a mom.

Casey crested a hill, and the main house came into view. It was a low, wide ranch house with a porch that curved around the side. The backyard was fenced off, with a garden and a shade tree. And beyond the house in the distance, the snowcapped Rocky Mountains loomed in all their glory.

Casey pulled his truck up next to the boss’s and turned off the engine. He sat for a moment, raising his heart to his Maker.

Bless this, Lord , he prayed. This land would be the world to me, if You saw fit to give this Your blessing.

Then he pushed open the door and hopped out. No time like the present.

The side screen door was propped open with a brick, and Casey could hear the sound of voices as he approached. Mr. Vern’s laugh boomed out, and then Casey heard another laugh—softer, more musical. Was a woman in there?

Casey knocked on the door as a formality, then pushed it open as he always did and stepped inside. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the dimmer light of the kitchen. Mr. Vern stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his belly sticking out in front of him. He had a bristling white mustache that covered his lips so that you never could be sure what that mouth was doing unless he was laughing out loud or bellowing an order across a field.

“Morning, Casey,” Mr. Vern said. “Good timing. This here is Ember.”

Casey turned to make the introduction, and he was met with a tall, lithe blonde woman—bright blue eyes and a smile turning up the corners of her mouth. She was stunning—skin like cream and her lips shining with the lightest touch of gloss. He shook her hand and her grip was firm and confident.

“Pleasure,” Casey said with a smile. “You a friend of the boss?”

“Not exactly,” Mr. Vern cut in. “She’s considering putting an offer down on my ranch, and I need you to give her a tour of the place.”

“An offer—” The words stuck in his throat. “Right. Not a problem.”

This was his job, after all. He was ranch manager, and he’d be the one who knew the ins and outs of this place. It just came as a shock to hear he had competition already.

“Her car is out front,” Mr. Vern added. “She hit that big pothole just before the turn.” Mr. Vern exchanged a look with Casey. No one who knew these roads made that mistake. That pothole formed every winter. “Looks like a bent axle to me. She’s going to be in town for a bit while she gets that fixed. The tow truck is on its way.”

“Great.” Obviously, this wasn’t the time for Casey’s business with Mr. Vern, and already he could feel his opportunity slipping away. Of course, Mr. Vern would be cheery about all of this—the sale of this ranch was going to fund his retirement.

“After you give her the tour, I’d like you to give her a ride back into Victory,” his boss said, then turned to the young woman. “The land is beautiful. I have a feeling you’re going to fall in love with the place.”

Casey smiled tightly. “What was your name again?”

“Ember,” she said. “Ember Reed.”

“Wait—” Casey’s heart thudded to a stop and then hammered fast to catch up. “Reed... Not as in Reed Land Holdings?”

Ember’s cheeks flushed. “Yes, actually. But I’m not acquiring land for my father’s business. This is a personal purchase.”

“Right.” As if that even mattered. That wealthy family was the money behind the faceless corporate giant that had been gobbling up the land in the county for years. “Sir, could I have a word?”

Mr. Vern’s smile faltered. “Sure. Ember, why don’t you go on outside and check out the view. Casey will be right with you.”

Ember hitched a purse up onto her shoulder and headed out the side door. The screen slammed behind her, and Casey watched her look around for a moment before walking away from the door, affording him some privacy. For good measure, Casey swung the door shut.

“Reed Land Holdings,” Casey said hollowly.

“I need to sell, Casey. You know that.”

“Yeah, but to them ?” Casey clenched his teeth. “You’ve seen what they’ve been doing to this county! We used to be family ranches, shoulder to shoulder, until that soulless giant came through and started buying us out. They own sixty percent of the ranch land out here, and you want to turn that into sixty-five?”

“Linda’s care isn’t cheap,” Mr. Vern replied. “And the place she’s in has been going downhill. I need to get her into a better care home.”

Mr. Vern’s wife, Linda, was suffering from early-onset Alzheimer’s, and Casey could sympathize with his boss’s sense of urgency here.

“Sir, I was coming up here to make you an offer, myself,” Casey said, pulling the folded papers from his pocket. “I’ve talked to the credit union about a mortgage, and with the money I’ve saved and the bit that my dad gave me from the sale of his land, I’ve got enough to make an offer.”

“Oh?” Mr. Vern reached for the papers and scanned them. He nodded twice, then shot Casey an apologetic look. “It’s a fair offer, Casey. And I appreciate it. If all things were equal, I’d rather sell to you, but Miss Reed says that if she likes what she sees, she can offer twenty percent more than this.”

Casey accepted his papers back, emotion closing off his throat.

“I know how this seems,” Mr. Vern went on. “I know what your family lost, and I’m not some heartless cad. You know that. But with Linda’s cost of care going up, I need every penny I can get. This is my chance to retire, spend what time I can with my wife and set things up for my kids to inherit a little something when my time comes. I’m not young anymore. You might as well know that I’m in a lot of debt. Reed Land Holdings did a number on my profits, too. They’ve hurt everyone.”

“But you’re selling to them—”

“I’m not selling to them,” Mr. Vern retorted. “I’m willing to sell to that young lady out there. Like she said, this a personal purchase for her. Nothing to do with her father at all.”

“Funded by him, no doubt,” Casey shot back.

“Who am I to judge where someone gets their money?” Mr. Vern shook his head. “Everyone gets it from somewhere, and I don’t care if I’m paid by a bank or a checking account. I’ve got my own worries, Casey. You have to appreciate that. She’s not adding this to her father’s stash of land—this is for her.”