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Excitement and anxiety swirled in her stomach, making her wish she’d eaten something other than straight sugar for breakfast. It’d be nice if Mitch’s statement was true, but she couldn’t be sure. Her dad might’ve left her the ranch, but he’d also done everything in his power—short of hog-tying her and dragging her to the city—to get her to leave Deer Creek after graduation.
That was what bugged her. With him gone and no family left, she’d never be able to find out why he’d called her back home.
Home. The word snuck up and bit her, leaving a mark. Newman Ranch might’ve been that at one point, but not recently. And not like this.
Well, there was only one way things were gonna get any better.
Time to get some errands done if she was committing to fixing this place up.
For starters, she needed clothes. Not the kind she’d brought from San Antonio—slacks and a couple of blazers more suited for the bank and any meetings she needed to hold about her dad’s estate than any outdoor work. Her heels, may they rest in peace, were going to be her only sacrifice if she could help it.
She made a mental list in her head, calling on memories to help.
A hat to keep the sun off her face.
Boots so she could ride when the need called for it.
Jeans for sure. One pair of slacks were already stained and hopefully not about to join her Blahniks in the Newman Ranch fashion graveyard.
Oh, and definitely layers. Specifically, a jacket that actually fit. It was too cold here to get by with prayers and a saddle blanket like she’d been doing.
Maggie slung her purse over her shoulder and dug in a drawer until she found the keys to her dad’s ’71 Ford F-250. She smiled. The truck was the only thing off-limits when she was a teenager, even though Pete, the ranch foreman, taught her how to drive his Chevy when she was only twelve.
“Sorry, Dad. It can’t be helped.” She giggled to herself as she wrapped her father’s coat around her and headed out into the bright Texas sunlight.
The hills, dappled in bright green with red sand undertones this morning, rose to greet her. The creek that cut through the valley at their base bubbled and churned with the recent snow runoff, and a rabbit darted out from one of the juniper bushes bordering it.
A hawk screeched overhead, and Maggie’s heart stilled as it dove after its prey. She watched as the hawk’s graceful arc was matched by the speed and dexterity of the rabbit, who narrowly escaped becoming part of the circle of life. Wonder spread through her chest as it had when she was a child watching the wildlife that also called Newman Ranch their home.
“How do they know how to do that?” she’d asked her dad when she was seven or eight.
“Biology. They were born with something called instinct and it’s kept them alive and doing this same dance since the beginning of time.”
Maggie opened the unlocked Ford door and threw her purse in, stealing a glance toward Bennett’s land beyond the west fence. Her instincts a decade ago had been to follow that man toward a life in Deer Creek, raising babies and puppies on land they worked themselves.
Could instincts change with time, or had she gone against her own biology, making a career out of helping other people’s dreams come true?
Only one thing was certain. She’d bought herself some time to figure out what she was meant to do—become the hawk or keep on acting like a rabbit running scared.
Chapter Four
Bennett tossed a bale of hay into the bed of his truck and wiped the sweat from his brow. The sun was high in the sky and intense enough even the typical spring clouds stayed away. Gander was hiding out under his truck tire, too lazy to go in search of discarded apple cores or carrot nubs from the horses like he usually did.
Bob had been right—this day was a scorcher after all. Between the heat and lack of sleep the night before, Bennett was wiped. He was running on whiskey fumes and empty hopes, neither of which was gonna hold out much longer. Hell, not even the espresso from Mae’s had given him a boost.
In fact, the only thing that had shaken off the fog was the same thing distracting him now.
Maggie Newman.
He squinted as a bead of sweat got in his eye, stinging something fierce.
“Did you hear a thing I just said?” Jackson asked.
Bennett’s brother threw the last hay bale beside the others in the King’s Ranch F-250. For the past three years since he’d come back to Deer Creek, Jackson had worked tirelessly to prove he was part of the family and a good rancher at that. Bennett might’ve been suspicious Jax’s boots were still the made-for-walking kind the first six months he was back, but now he was just grateful to have his brother alongside him. They made a good team.
“No. Sorry, my brain’s a million miles from here.”
Or more like two miles east.
