The Cowboy Who Believed Again (Three Rivers Romance #8)

Chapter 1

B randon Rhinehart walked into the cabin he’d once shared with his older brother—and whom he now shared with his cousin Dwayne.

“Howdy,” he said as Dwayne tucked in his shirt and re-buckled his belt.

“I’m heading back out to the fields,” Dwayne said with a straight face. “I just had to use the bathroom somethin’ fierce.”

Brandon grinned at him. “I’m not your daddy, my friend.” He pulled open the fridge and got out a couple of cans of sparkling water. “I’d enjoy the air conditioning and cold water while you can.”

“Are you done for the day?”

Brandon shook his head as he snapped open the first can of water.

Sometimes he put energy packets in them to give them flavor, but today, he simply tipped the can back and started guzzling.

Finally satiated, he slid the other can to Dwayne.

“Nope. I’m just in for dinner, and then I’ll be out to relieve you. ”

They’d been assigned opposite schedules for the harvest, as Brandon didn’t like getting up early, and Dwayne couldn’t sleep past five a.m.

“One more hour,” Dwayne said, and he faced the front door with determination in his dark eyes. Then he swiped the water off the counter and took it with him while Brandon chuckled.

Dwayne had not lived outside of his childhood home for long, and he still struggled to do whatever he wanted as an adult.

Brandon knew he wasn’t the greatest influence on the young man, as he lived his life exactly how he wanted.

He ate when he wanted to eat, drank what he wanted to drink, went to bed when he wanted, and got up when he wanted.

He also had an extreme sense of duty, and he’d never had a problem taking an assignment.

Brandon had never had a problem getting a date. Or having friends. Or much of anything. He was easy-going and personable. He worked hard, and he loved Texas, his parents, his family, dogs, chickens, horses, and cats.

His happy-go-lucky life had taken a turn for the worse in the past couple of years, as Brandon’s desire to meet someone he fell hard for and spent the rest of his life working to make happy grew, and grew, and grew.

He wanted children, and a house he didn’t share with another male family member, and land he could cultivate with his own hands.

“The land is out,” he told himself as he pulled a fried chicken meal out of the freezer. “But you might be able to get the rest.”

Of course, he’d gone on a female fast recently, choosing instead to order his groceries and household items online and picking them up from the safety of his pick-up truck.

He’d stopped using TwoCents, as well as any dating apps, to meet women.

He just needed to figure out where he should be, and then he could get back to dating.

With his hot fried chicken, gravy, and mashed potatoes, Brandon settled at the table with another can of sparkling water.

This time, he slapped a packet of grape powder against the edge of the table, then ripped it open and poured it into the can.

The resulting bubbling made him smile, and he picked up his fork to eat dinner.

Instead of scrolling apps for a date, Brandon had started looking at the temporary job boards for farms, ranches, and any other outdoor operations surrounding Three Rivers.

He’d worked as far as Pampa, an hour southeast, and out at a one-man operation west of town that he’d used the west exit of the ranch to get to faster.

Everyone needed help at the harvest, but Brandon had committed to Duke and Arizona that he wouldn’t go bring in someone else’s crops. Harvesting was the hardest work a cowboy did, and Brandon had his fill of it here at the Rhinehart Ranch just fine.

Since Brandon looked at these listings every day—sometimes multiple times each day—he recognized the jobs he’d seen before. Then his eyes caught on a new listing, and he put a bit of food in his mouth and lifted his phone closer to see it better.

Winterizing Help Needed.

He tapped to open the listing to see more details, wondering what would be required. His heartbeat started to pound when he saw this was a “minimum three-month position, with possible long-term work for the right fit.”

Room and board included, and Brandon forgot completely about his microwavable meal. The listing said he’d have his own cabin to live in on the property, with his own garden space if he wanted it.

This is a homestead , the listing continued. I can’t pay you much, but I need help getting the animal pens shored up and repaired for winter, winterizing fields, cutting down trees for firewood, and possibly drilling a well.

“No water,” Brandon muttered to himself, because he could read between the lines.

I have chickens who produce plenty of free eggs, and a garden and greenhouse that produces vegetables year-round.

I’m looking for someone who can help get more pastures and enclosures built, so I can add turkeys, goats, and cattle for milk and meat.

My goal is to be completely dependent on the land, and anything we can raise and grow here is free for the person who can help me get my homestead to this point.

Serious inquiries only, with the understanding the salary will be low.

A name and phone number sat at the bottom, but Brandon couldn’t see it right now, as he wasn’t logged in to the job board. He did that and found a female name sitting there: Lenore Sawyer.

He tapped on the phone number and his phone brought up the option to text or call. In this moment, the fact that Brandon would rather call than text reminded him of how he was closer to forty than thirty, and he lifted the phone to his ear as it started to ring.

The sun stayed up pretty late still, and Brandon could also get up earlier to make it to an interview should he get one. He left his dinner on the table and went to sit in front of the computer, because he’d be able to see the schedule here at the ranch easier that way.

“Hello?” a woman answered.

“Hey, there,” Brandon said easily. “This is Brandon Rhinehart, and I just saw your help wanted listing on the Temporary Rancher’s Forum.”

“Sure,” the woman said easily, and Brandon relaxed a little bit. “You saw the part about a low salary?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, though the voice didn’t sound much older than him, if she was at all. He had a little bit of savings, as he lived rent-free and had worked on the family ranch for literally his whole life.

“I can pay you seven hundred and fifty dollars a month,” she said. “I’ll give you the three months cash up front, when you sign the contract to work with me through February first.”

“So the job starts November one?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I can be flexible on that, though, as I know most cowboys are working the harvest right now.”

“Is your harvest done?”

Lenore cleared her throat. “Uh, yes,” she said. “I didn’t have much.”

“Okay.” Brandon could hear so many things in her tone, and he narrowed his eyes at the screen as he pulled up his calendar. “I’d love to come see the place, check out the cabin, and go over more details of what you need to make sure I have the skills you need.”

She hesitated, which also set a red flag flying in Brandon’s mind. He looked down at the keyboard, waiting.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll send you a pin, because I’m obviously off-grid.”

“Obviously,” he said. “Do you have generators? Solar power? Anything like that?”

“I run on generators,” she said. “Though I have the capability to get solar set up…if I can get the help.”

Brandon nodded, and he’d roughed it plenty of times in his life. He couldn’t imagine living without water and power for very long, though, and he understood the need Lenore had to get her infrastructure set up.

“What about tomorrow morning?” he asked. “I work the later shift on my family ranch, so evenings would be harder for me. Not totally out of the question, but harder.”

“Tomorrow morning is fine,” she said. “Eight? Nine?”

“Where you at?” he asked, because travel time would factor greatly into what time Brandon could meet.

“My place is northeast of Three Rivers,” she said. “About thirty or forty minutes.”

He whistled, because he currently lived about that far southwest of Three Rivers. “Hoo, boy,” he said. “That’s probably a couple of hours for me.”

“Really? Where are you?”

“My family owns the ranch just south of Shiloh Ridge,” he said, because everyone in the Panhandle knew Shiloh Ridge.

“Oh, that is far.”

“I can do it,” Brandon said. It would simply take a text to Duke to let him know he wouldn’t be able to work until noon. “Let’s say nine, and I won’t stay long, so I can get back here.”

“It won’t take long,” Lenore promised. “I’ll send you the pin and see you in the morning.”

“Sounds good.” Brandon added a, “See you tomorrow,” and hung up. He put his interview and homestead visit on the calendar that his whole family could see. Then he texted Duke, Dawson, his daddy, and Zona. They all wished him well, and Dawson sat back, feeling more peaceful than he had in a while.

Then his alarm went off, his stomach growled, and Brandon realized he’d spent his dinner break setting up an interview for another job instead of eating.

“Oh, well,” he said, quickly throwing his uneaten meal on the floor for Dumpling to finish for him. He’d eaten on the go before, and he grabbed a bag of beef jerky and a protein bar on his way out the door to relieve Dwayne from the fall Texas heat and harvest.

The following morning, Brandon leaned forward as he muttered something about whether this was the right road to take or not.

He’d been bumping along at a snail’s pace on a rutted dirt road for at least twenty minutes now, and he feared his GPS would give out at any moment, leaving him lost and stranded in the wilderness north of town.

He made the turn, hoping it was right. Relief edged through him as the arrow on the map pointed toward the pin Lenore had sent him. Only another minute passed before he drove past a chunk of trees that needed to be thinned and onto the homestead.

He pressed on the brake as all new emotions stomped through him. This place didn’t need a little bit of work.

“This place should be condemned,” he said right out loud.

None of the buildings or fences stood up straight, and piles of lumber, plastic containers, and other debris littered the side of the road where he’d been driving.

Chickens roamed freely in the yard, and two dogs got to their feet as the front door of the closest cabin opened.

A woman came outside, and Brandon eased his foot off the brake to get his truck moving forward again. He came to a stop next to her truck, glancing over at it too. The vehicle had to be at least fifteen years old—just like everything else here.

Brandon honestly wasn’t sure if he could revitalize this place. Perhaps this woman and her husband or other hired help, plus him, could make some headway. But if she had other help, why did everything here look like it had been put together with string and toothpicks?

And why would she have put up a job listing?

He peered through the windshield as the woman came down the front steps. She had pretty blonde hair swinging in a ponytail, and Brandon sucked in a breath as he recognized her.

“The woman from the hardware store,” he breathed out, refusing to let his lips move. She kept coming, and Brandon unbuckled his seat belt and dropped to the ground.

Their eyes met, and she came to a complete stop too, and Brandon knew why—she recognized him too.

All he could do now was pray she didn’t have any friends in town and hadn’t heard of his reputation with women.