Chapter 13
13
C harlie Grace juggled a lunchbox, a water bottle, and a pair of sneakers as her daughter, Jewel, hopped around the kitchen, trying to wriggle into her pink jacket. The smell of sizzling bacon and the faint, floral tang of Jewel’s detangler lingered in the air, mixing with the piney scent of wood smoke from the stone fireplace in the adjacent living room. Outside, frost still clung to the windowpanes, and the hum of the school bus echoed faintly in the valley below.
“Mom, I can’t find my other mitten!” Jewel whined, her voice tinged with eight-year-old urgency.
“They’re by the back door, Puddin’,” Charlie Grace said, setting down the sneakers and reaching for the lunchbox lid. Her hands moved quickly, tucking a homemade peanut butter and jelly sandwich into the box next to carrot sticks and a cookie wrapped in foil. “Go grab them, or you’ll miss the bus.”
Jewel darted off, her socks skidding on the hardwood floor, and Charlie Grace exhaled sharply, tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear. She glanced at the clock. Seven twenty-seven. Three minutes to go before bus pick-up.
The back door creaked open, letting in a sharp gust of cold mountain air as Aunt Mo stepped in, carrying a wicker basket of fresh eggs. Her cheeks were pink from the crisp morning, and her gray-tinged hair was tucked neatly under a knitted hat. “Mornin’, darling,” she said, shaking the cold off her boots. “I thought I’d pop over and see if you needed an extra hand.”
Charlie Grace’s polite smile was automatic. She turned off the stove and plated up the bacon. “I’ve got it, Aunt Mo. Thanks, though.”
Aunt Mo didn’t bother with niceties. She planted the egg basket on the counter, her brow lifting in a way that reminded Charlie Grace of a ranch foreman inspecting the hired help. “You’ve always ‘got it.’ That doesn’t mean you don’t need help. When’s the last time you sat down, hmm?”
Charlie Grace sighed and pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead, brushing aside the creeping tension. “Really, I’m fine. Jewel’s ready, and the bus is coming. After that, I’ve got a schedule to keep.”
“Which is exactly why you do need help.” Aunt Mo leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. “Look, you’re not Superwoman, Charlie Grace. You’re runnin’ this ranch, raisin’ a little girl, lookin’ after your dad, and keeping things from falling apart. Let me take something off your plate.”
The faint rhythmic sound of wheels squeaking down the hall broke the brewing argument. Charlie Grace’s father, Clancy Rivers, rolled into the kitchen in his chair, his weathered hands spinning the wheels with practiced ease. His hat, as always, sat perched at a jaunty angle, the brim shadowing his sharp, lined face. His boots—polished but worn at the edges—rested on the footplate.
“Morning, ladies,” he said, his deep voice rumbling like a storm on the horizon. “What’s all the fuss about?”
“Nothing, Daddy,” Charlie Grace said quickly, sliding Jewel’s lunchbox into her backpack.
Aunt Mo gave Clancy a knowing look. “Your daughter’s stubborn as a mule. Won’t let anyone lighten her load.”
Clancy chuckled, the sound rich and surprisingly warm. “Runs in the family.”
Charlie Grace’s lips twitched at the corner, and she shook her head. “Don’t start.” She pointed to the table. “Your bacon and eggs are waiting.”
She crouched to zip up Jewel’s jacket as her father maneuvered his chair to the table.
The accident that had put Clancy in the chair was years ago, but its shadow still loomed. He’d been thrown from a horse while rounding up cattle during a thunderstorm—a freak bolt of lightning had spooked the animal. The fall left him paralyzed from the waist down and changed everything for the Rivers family.
For a long time after the accident, Clancy had been angry—at the world, at himself, and most painfully, at Charlie Grace. She’d made the hard decision to turn their sprawling cattle ranch into a guest ranch to save them from financial ruin. Clancy had resisted, calling it a betrayal of their heritage, but the mounting medical bills and dwindling income left no choice.
The battle between them had been fierce, with words thrown like daggers, but time and resilience softened the edges of their conflict. Eventually, they’d found a delicate peace. Clancy, though still resistant to change, had come to respect Charlie Grace’s determination and resourcefulness.
“You know,” Clancy said now, breaking into her thoughts, “Mo’s got a point. You don’t have to do it all on your own, Charlie Grace. Stubbornness is admirable, but it ain’t practical.”
She glanced at her father, his gray eyes steady but soft. He wasn’t lecturing—just reminding her she wasn’t alone. She straightened and gave a half-hearted shrug. “I have plenty of help. Do I need to remind anyone you hired Gibbs? I fired him after finding him in the hay with Albie’s niece, and you hired him back.”
Was that a grin on her father’s face?
She shook her head, knowing this was an argument that couldn’t be won. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”
Aunt Mo snorted. “She won’t, but at least I’ll have tried.”
The sound of the school bus rattling up the lane in the distance saved Charlie Grace from replying. Jewel moved for the door, mittened hands waving. “Mom! It’s here!”
Charlie Grace grabbed her backpack and slung it over Jewel’s tiny shoulders. “Okay, go on. I’ll watch from the porch.”
She followed Jewel outside, the cold biting her cheeks as she stood on the wide front porch, waving as her daughter ran for the end of the lane and clambered onto the bus. The engine growled, and the vehicle lumbered down the icy road, leaving a faint trail of diesel in the crisp air.
As she turned to go inside, her gaze swept across the sprawling ranch. The barns stood sturdy against the pale morning light, their red paint vivid against the snow-dappled fields. Smoke curled from the chimney of the main lodge, and a distant neigh carried on the wind. A horse-drawn sleigh, loaded with hay bales stood waiting.
Gibbs stepped out of the barn, adjusting his hat before leaning against the fence. A cigarette dangled between his fingers, a thin trail of smoke drifting upward as he waited for her to join him in feeding the cattle.
The ranch was alive, humming with activity, and for a moment, Charlie Grace let herself feel the pride that came with keeping it that way.
Inside, Clancy and Aunt Mo were already bickering good-naturedly, and the familiar sound made her smile. She had her hands full, no doubt about it, but this life—messy and complicated as it was—was hers. And she wouldn’t trade it for anything.
By mid-morning, the feeding was done, and Charlie Grace headed for her office in the lodge, brushing off hay from her jeans as she walked. The wide windows of the lodge framed the sprawling pastures beyond, but she barely noticed the view. Her mind was already on the stack of mail that waited for her.
Inside, her office smelled faintly of cedar and coffee. She sat down at her desk, flipping on her desk lamp and pulling the mail closer. The stack was thicker than usual, a mixture of envelopes in various sizes and colors.
She started with the smallest ones, tearing through a slew of utility bills—electricity, propane, and water—all higher than expected thanks to the harsh winter. She added them to a growing pile before moving on to the next set of envelopes. Veterinary invoices for the horses. Feed delivery costs. A late notice from the fencing company she’d hired last fall to replace the paddocks.
Her chest tightened as the numbers added up. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to push back the headache threatening to creep in.
Finally, she reached the last envelope from Thunder Mountain Savings and Loan, her bank. With a heavy sigh, she tore it open and pulled out a statement. Her heart sank as she scanned the transaction details, her stomach doing a flip when her gaze landed on a particular expenditure evidenced by a cleared check tucked inside the envelope.
A check for $500. Made out to Gibbs Nichols.
“What the hell?” she murmured, holding the paper closer.
Her father’s signature scrawled across the bottom was unmistakable. Charlie Grace clenched her jaw as her cheeks flushed with anger. Gibbs Nichols—the man who always seemed to turn up like a bad penny—had somehow managed to weasel his way into her father’s wallet. Again.
She set the statement down and opened her laptop, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she logged into the ranch’s operating account. The balance appeared on the screen, confirming what the statement said. The check had cleared two days ago.
Charlie leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking beneath her. She stared at the screen, the tightness in her gut now a full-blown ache. The ranch’s finances were already stretched thin. Which is why she’d declined loaning her ex-husband money when he’d hit her up for it the other day.
This...this was a blow they couldn’t afford. And to make matters worse, her dad knew it.
Her fist curled against the desk as she thought about the arguments they’d had about Gibbs in the past. Her father always swore he wouldn’t let Gibbs take advantage again, yet here was the proof in black and white.
With a heavy sigh, she closed the laptop and rubbed her temples. “Looks like we’re having a little talk, Dad.”
Her gaze wandered out the window, the peaceful view of the ranch doing little to calm her racing thoughts. One thing was clear—she needed to get to the bottom of this, and fast.
Charlie Grace stormed across the yard, the gravel crunching angrily under her boots as she made her way to the house. Her blood boiled with every step, the statement and check still clutched tightly in her hand. The sun glinted off the frost-tipped grass, but she barely noticed. All she could think about was Gibbs Nichols and her father’s baffling decision to hand him $500 without so much as a conversation.
Arriving at the backdoor leading into the kitchen, she kicked off the snow from her boots and threw it open, stepping inside with a determined stride. Her father’s wheelchair sat near the dining table, where Clancy Rivers casually worked a crossword puzzle. Aunt Mo was perched nearby, folding towels and humming to herself. Both of them looked up as Charlie Grace entered, her boots stomping on the hardwood floor.
“Dad,” she snapped, holding up the bank statement like it was evidence in a trial. “You want to explain this?”
Clancy squinted at the paper and set down his pen. “What’s up, sweetheart?”
“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me,” Charlie Grace fired back. “You wrote a check to Gibbs. Five hundred dollars. Are you kidding me right now?”
Aunt Mo froze mid-fold, her expression shocked. “Clancy, tell me she’s wrong.”
Clancy let out a huff, rolling his wheelchair back a few inches. “Now hold on, both of you. It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be.”
“Oh, really?” Charlie Grace said, hands on her hips. “Because from where I stand, it looks worse than bad.”
Clancy sighed and leaned back in his chair, giving Charlie Grace a patient but knowing look. “Honey, I know you’re upset. But Gibbs is trying. He’s always been a little…impulsive, but he’s got good intentions.”
Charlie Grace threw her hands in the air. “Good intentions? Good intentions don’t pay the feed bill or the propane to heat the lodge and the house. And they sure as heck don’t undo all the damage he’s done to this family.”
Clancy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m not defending what he’s done in the past. You know that. But people deserve second chances, and sometimes third or fourth ones. I’ve had my share of those, remember?”
Charlie Grace’s face softened for just a second as memories of her dad’s hard-fought struggle to reconcile with her mother after a one-time indiscretion flashed through her mind. But just as quickly, the frustration surged back. “That’s different. You made changes, Dad. Real ones. Gibbs just keeps screwing up and expecting everyone to bail him out.”
“Maybe so,” Clancy said quietly. “But you know as well as I do that holding onto all that anger isn’t doing you any good. He’s Jewel’s father, and that little girl looks up to him like he hung the moon.”
Charlie Grace flinched. It was true. Jewel adored her daddy. Which is exactly why Charlie Grace had bent as far as she had in the past. But this—well, a willow branch could only flex so far without breaking.
Clancy leaned back in his chair, watching Charlie Grace pace the room like a storm ready to break. With a sigh, he reached into his wallet, pulled out a folded check, and held it out to her. “The loan’s already been paid back.”
Charlie Grace stopped mid-step, glaring at the check in his hand before snatching it. She unfolded it quickly, her eyes narrowing. “It’s post-dated.”
“Only by a week,” Clancy said calmly. “He told me he asked you for an advance and you turned him down. Raising a family comes with a lot of expenses. Besides, we both know he’s good for it.”
Charlie Grace let out a sharp groan, clutching the check in her hand like it might catch fire. “Mark my words, this check is going to be as good as the promise he made to be faithful.”
Clancy frowned but kept his tone even. “You can always dock his wages if the check bounces.”
“That’s not the point, Dad,” she snapped. “I have other bills to pay! I can’t keep carrying him, not financially, not emotionally, not any way. Gibbs has a new wife. Let her deal with his immaturity.”
Clancy sighed, the lines on his face deepening. “I get it. I do. But Gibbs is trying, Charlie Grace. Maybe not in the way you want him to, but he’s trying.”
Aunt Mo, who had been quietly standing near the door with a sharp eye on Clancy, finally spoke up, her voice firm and resolute. “Charlie Grace is right, Clancy. This isn’t just about a post-dated check—it’s about Gibbs thinking he can take shortcuts and expect someone else to clean up after him. And you did it without even consulting her, knowing she would never agree. That’s not fair to her, and you know it.” She stepped closer, her gaze softening as she looked at Charlie Grace. “You’ve worked so hard to keep this place running, sweetheart. You shouldn’t have to shoulder Gibbs’ irresponsibility, no matter how ‘good for it’ he might be.”
Clancy opened his mouth to argue, but Mo cut him off with a raised hand. “Don’t. You’re enabling him, Clancy. You’re making it easier for him to dodge the consequences of his choices. If he wants to be a father, then he needs to step up and act like one. Charlie Grace isn’t his safety net.”
Charlie Grace tightened her grip on the check, thankful for the support. At least someone understood the true nature of the situation.
Mo reached out and gently touched her arm. “You have a right to be upset, honey. You’re in charge here.” She gave her brother a look before turning back to Charlie Grace. “Just remember, you’ve got a lot of people who see the work you’re doing and respect you for it. You don’t owe Gibbs Nichols anything.”
Clancy rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, finally nodding. “Maybe you’re right, Mo. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten involved.”
Mo smirked, her voice softening but still sharp. “Took you long enough to figure that out.” She gave Charlie Grace a wink. “Now, what do you say we leave the check on the table and go grab some potatoes from the cellar for tonight’s dinner? Ain’t nothing a pan of my scalloped potatoes can’t make better.”
Charlie Grace let out a small, reluctant laugh and tucked the check into her pocket. “Sounds like a plan. Thanks, Aunt Mo.”
As they left the room together, Clancy lingered behind. “Stubborn women,” she heard him mutter.