Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
DEAN WELKER
Stepping out of his Ford F-250, Dean inhaled a lung-full of clean mountain air. Between the fruit trees and the chestnut grove, nothing smelled more like home. Marshall, North Carolina, just hit different. Memories of his youth flooded back as he stood before the small stone cottage with the tin roof sitting on twenty-five acres bordering South Fork Big Pine Creek. His grandmother had spent all of her eighty-six years there, now it was his.
Bittersweet for sure. He’d gladly hand over the deed if it meant five more years with that wonderful woman. Unfortunately, life didn’t work like that.
Running his hand along the back of his neck, and over his surgical scars, reminded him of another time life shoved him down. With several unhealed breaks, he had no business in the saddle, but the title was on the line.
Eight seconds. That’s all he had to do.
The damn horse kicked right out of the chute. Instead of marking the mare out with his spurs, he sat his ass down.
Worst decision of his life.
His timing went out of sync and he never recovered. Another kick and the horse launched Dean into a backflip. Landing on his head hadn’t helped. When he attempted to stand, he knew the pain. Over the years of riding, he’d broken enough bones to know.
A broken neck was a blessing. After the surgeries and therapies, the doctor’s threat still stung six months later. If he went back on the circuit, sustained another injury, he’d be paralyzed or worse.
The crunching of tires over his gravel driveway drew his attention, and he turned.
Every storm cloud had a silver lining. Returning to Marshall meant more time with his best friend. Over the years, the miles, through the wins and the losses, Dean always had Parker—his brother from another mother.
“Well, if it ain’t two-time Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association World Champion saddle bronc rider, Dean Welker,” Parker drawled. “Slumming it with the little people.”
His friend approached and wrapped him in a tight bear hug.
Dean returned the embrace with back slaps. “Good to see you.”
Stepping back, Parker surveyed the land. “House looks good. Then again, it’s stone and I’m no mason.”
Dean grinned. “Yeah, Gram had the place remodeled four years ago.”
“So, what you need me for?”
“The barn.” Dean gestured to the left of the house. “After Gramps died, Gram let it go.”
The two men strolled over to the large dilapidated outbuilding with the open front.
Parker stopped at the entrance and jiggled the door. “Gonna need a new pair of these.”
“Yeah,” Dean sighed.
Buzz.
As they stepped inside, Parker looked around. Beams of sunlight shone through the broken and missing slats of wood making up the walls. Dean took off his distressed Stampede bangora straw cowboy hat and swatted at several bees buzzing around his head.
“This is rough,” Parker commented. “But the bones are here.”
“For the love of…” Dean twisted trying to dodge the flying stingers. “Why are there so many bees?”
“I’d venture to guess there’s a hive in here somewhere.”
“So, I need to get some bug spray?”
Parker snorted. “If Gemma finds out you gassed some bees, she’ll kick your ass.”
There was a name Dean hadn’t heard in seventeen years. Parker’s younger sister used to follow them around everywhere when they were kids. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
“Let’s just say she’s a bit of a conservationist,” Parker mused. “So whatcha gonna do with this place?”
Dean shrugged. “Don’t know yet.”
“We’ll fix it up so you can put it on the market.” Parker nodded. “You gotta get back on that rodeo circuit, the ladies miss you.” Parker grinned wide and winked.
Once again, Dean scrubbed his hand along the back of his neck. The raised skin beneath his fingers taunted him. It couldn’t have been his last eight second ride. He still had more in him. Selling Gram’s place could be what he needed to get back out on the circuit.
Or maybe it was his sign to hang up his spurs.
Dean closed his eyes. This wasn’t a decision he had to make right now. Six months was a long time to be out of the game, but it wasn’t forever. He could still go back.