Chapter Two

Evelyn

 

The Double J Ranch sign hung above a dirt lane as I turned my car. The sign was old, most of the letters in need of repainting. This was the address Axel gave me, and the name matched the one in my e-mail. Why is he fighting for this place? It looks like it needs a ton of work.

I stopped my car where a red pickup truck was parked and started searching through the papers on my seat. Everything was scattered everywhere, but I knew exactly where to find what I needed. I chuckled to myself at the thought of my father’s scowling face. “Evelyn, organization in the first step towards success,” he would say, his long nose pointing downward at me as he spoke with disappointment echoing in his voice.

Success meant something different to me than it did my father, to most. I wanted to be happy, and the big city wasn’t the place. Although I wasn’t certain the country was the place either.

I shoved a new notepad, a few pens, and a book on probate and estate law into my briefcase and opened my car door.

Dammit. Why did I bother to wear my nice shoes? There was mud everywhere, and no sign of a walkway. My expectations of a ranch being fought over in probate court were much higher than what I drove up to.

The house was small, a brick ranch with a wraparound porch. The wood on the porch railings was splintered, and any sign of paint or weather treatment was long gone. The ranch was nice, solid, but small. Shutters on the outside hung crooked by some of the windows, and one was missing entirely.

I sighed as I slung the brown leather briefcase over my shoulder, a gift from my father after I passed the bar.

My first step down onto the muddy make-shift drive and my shoes were covered in mud up to my ankle. The rehab ranch was much nicer, cleaner; this place was a cesspool in comparison. Damn heels. Was I trying to impress the man I was doing a favor? I hated my height, and every time I was meeting someone new I tended to opt for my highest heels. Coming to a ranch in Hereford, Texas obviously made my decision a silly one.

I slammed the car door, turned to head towards the house when I realized my left heel was stuck in the mud so deep I couldn’t move. My hands reached frantically for the car, but I was already going down.

My backside ached as it landed hard on the ground, splashing mud from the puddle beneath me onto my clothes, my face, my hair. The briefcase, the one daddy bought me to stay organized, was a few feet away from me, lying comfortably in a clean patch of grass. It mocked me as I struggled to get up, only to fall again, this time face down so I could taste the earth, my embarrassment, and my father’s disappointment.

I busied myself wiping my face, clearing my eyes so I could see my way back to the car. I would leave, before James Laurie realized I was even there, and quickly wash up before returning.

“Woah,” a deep voice called from somewhere near, too near to escape.

I looked up to see a gray horse, teeth showing with lips curled back as if to laugh at me. Atop the horse, a man: tall, lanky, wearing a black ten-gallon hat. He slid from the saddle, the same grin as the horse spread upon his face.

“Take my hand,” he offered, extending it towards my mud-soaked body.

What choice did I have but to take it, to let this man help me to my feet?

“Evelyn Pierce,” I said softly as I took his hand.

He was strong, his grip firm, and with one swoop I was on my feet.

“I assumed,” he grinned.

“It’s not funny. Someone could really get hurt out here,” I scowled, trying the best I could to save some dignity.

His grin disappeared, and his face turned serious as he reached behind my back to steady me.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, you’re right. Are you hurt?” he asked gently.

“No,” I stammered.

“Let’s get you to the house. You can use my washroom to clean up,” he smiled warmly, not mockingly like before.

“Thank you. Are you the cowboy I’m here to help?” I asked as he guided me slowly towards the patch of grass that led to the house.

“I am. James Laurie, Ma’am,” he introduced himself.

He wasn’t at all what I expected. As far as being a cowboy, he didn’t look like one other than his clothes, boots, and horse. His skin was soft, not hardened by years in the sun herding cattle. His build was tall, towering over my five-foot frame by at least sixteen inches, but lanky, not muscular and thick like most of the cowboys I’d run across.

“I really do appreciate you coming out here to help,” he opened the door, guiding me inside.

I looked around, seeing what I expected from the outside view. The front room was larger than expected, but outdated, undecorated, and dirty. The walls were papered in a faded design; wagon wheels was what I thought I made out. The furnishings were old, worn, and misplaced. With some work it could be nice, real nice, but why would someone want to do all that work, especially this cowboy that looked like he belonged in the city more than I did?

“Your washroom?” I asked meekly, my voice squeaking like a tiny mouse as I spoke.

I cleared my throat.

“If you don’t mind,” I added.

“Of course, ma’am. It’s the first door on the left,” he pointed down the narrow hall.

Ma’am? I wasn’t sure I cared for that address. It made me feel old. It was easy to see I was older than James Laurie, at least by a few years, but not old enough that he should call me ma’am.

“Miss Pierce is fine,” I smirked and then headed in the direction of the washroom.

Disappointment struck me hard as I closed the bathroom door behind me. The room was small and smelled of something strange, something I couldn’t quite recognize.

I looked for towels, most of which were on the floor, except one tucked in the small shelf above the toilet.

Where was I even to begin? I was a mess, my clothes covered in mud, and even if I used the dirty towels on the floor, which I really didn’t want to do, there wasn’t enough here to clean me off.

The shower curtain was old and made from a stiff plastic. I pulled it back, fearing the worst. I sighed at the sight of a clean tub, clean tile walls, and a shower head I prayed worked.

I kicked off my shoes, carefully placed them in the tub, and then stepped in beside them. I’d rather be wet than muddy, so with my breath held, I turned the water on and flipped the lever to activate the shower with me underneath the nozzle.
Pipes rattled in the walls as the water worked its way out of the shower head and onto me. Mud ran down my face, my legs, and all through the tub as I was washed clean, not only of the mud, but of what little dignity I’d had when I arrived.

A bar of soap mocked me from the small shelf on the shower wall. It was dirty, covered in more mud than myself. No. Rinsing is fine. I’d dry off with the one clean towel the best I could and just pull my hair back into a tight bun while it dried.

 I shut the water off once it ran clear, and stepped out of the tub onto one of the dirty towels. A pair of red boxer briefs peeked out from under my feet as I reached for the clean towel. My mind wandered to what the tall cowboy looked like wearing only them and his hat.

Knock, knock. “Ma’am, I-uh, I mean Miss Pierce. I found some old clothes in the back room. I think they belonged to one of his kids, old man Jasper that is. They-uh, they are clean, and dry at least,” James spoke through the door with a nervous rattle in his voice.

He must not be used to women throwing themselves into the mud at his feet, and then scowling at him for their misfortune and clumsiness. I sighed. Kids clothes? Old clothes? But, like he said, they were at least clean and dry.

Knowing that the one towel wouldn’t dry my silk blouse and tweed skirt, I opened the door just enough to accept his offerings.

Oh, how he must be laughing his ass off now. I set the sweatshirt and shorts on the toilet seat and stripped from my own soaked clothes. After drying off, I stepped into the bright green shorts: boy shorts no less. They were ridiculous, but they did fit. The sweatshirt was gray with the words written across it in a bold red. I stared in the mirror, completely and utterly mortified as I read ‘Save a horse, ride a cowboy’ on my chest.

The silk blouse I wore was soaking wet and showed my bra underneath while wet. My eyes rolled as I pulled my hair back into a tight bun and took a deep breath. Suck it up, Evelyn. You can do this, I told myself under my breath as I stared into the small, dirty bathroom mirror.

My hand turned the knob; I straightened up my back and walked with confidence into the main room to meet James Laurie. I smiled, picked up my briefcase and moved to the table.

“Let’s get to work,” I took a seat at the table trying hard not to think about how ridiculous I must look.

I was relieved when he took the seat across from me, quickly nodding as he pushed papers in my direction. No nonsense, all business. That was what I needed right now.