Chance's Joy. Patricia Thayer

okay. I’m glad you came by, Mr. Randell.”

      “Call me Chance.”

      Joy couldn’t help but stare at her rescuer. This man who had so confidently taken care of her and Katie seemed all thumbs now. “Chance…I want to thank you again for everything you did today.”

      The tall rugged cowboy shook his head of neatly combed sandy hair. “No need, ma’am. Just glad it all worked out.” He gave her a half smile that showed off even white teeth. “I’ve never delivered a baby before. I mean, I’ve helped a few calves and colts into the world, but never a…baby.”

      “Well, this is a first for me, too,” she said. “Did you see Katie in the nursery?”

      He nodded. “I got a quick look. I picked her out right away.”

      A short silence stretched between them, then Joy glanced at the lovely spring flowers he gripped in his hand. “Are those for me?”

      “Oh, yeah. I was just going to leave ’em. But I couldn’t find anything to put them in.”

      “You can use the water pitcher.”

      This time Chance managed to place the bouquet in the makeshift vase.

      “They’re lovely. Thank you for bringing them,” Joy said, feeling tears welling up again. Stupid hormones. “You’ve been my only visitor.”

      He frowned. “Is there anyone I can call for you?”

      Joy shook her head, feeling a sudden fear grip her. “No! I mean, thank you, but since my husband died it’s just me, and now, Katie. When Great Aunt Lil’s lawyers finally located me in Denver and told me about the ranch, I decided to make a new beginning for us here in San Angelo.” A safe place to escape my in-laws, she added silently.

      Chance shifted his stance, then moved closer to the bed. “Look, Mrs. Spencer—”

      “If I’m going to call you Chance then I think you can call me Joy.”

      Chance frowned. He hadn’t meant to get too familiar with this woman. He came here to convince her that turning the Kirby Ranch into a profitable operation would cost a lot of money and take time, not to mention all the hard work. And it would be impossible for her to handle it on her own. After all, she was a city woman.

      “Look, Joy, you probably didn’t get much of a look at the property you inherited, but your aunt hadn’t been running cattle for a long time. Maybe five years or so. It won’t be easy getting things going again. There’s been rain this past week, but we’re still in a drought. The house is in pretty good shape but….”

      “I don’t care about the land, Mr. Randell.”

      “Chance,” he corrected her.

      “As I said, Chance, I’m not planning on raising cattle. Right now my main concern is the house. The Kirby Ranch is going to be my home now.”

      “So, you’re not planning on running a herd?”

      She shook her head, and Chance felt a weight lift from his shoulders. “I’m not a rancher,” she said. “But I had thought about harvesting my aunt’s pecan orchard and maybe putting in a vegetable garden.” She picked at the bed linen. “But believe me, Katie and I plan on staying.”

      “Then you won’t be offended if I offer to take the place off your hands.” Chance began to pace the small area, then stopped and looked at her. “And at a fair price,” he said. “Then you can move into town and take care of your daughter.”

      Joy couldn’t believe the gall of this man. He wasn’t listening to her. Most of her life, she’d moved from place to place. Since her parents’ divorce, she hadn’t had a permanent home for any length of time. Her short marriage to Blake had been as close as she’d gotten. But her father’s aunt had left him a cattle ranch, and Joy was his only heir. She’d gladly taken Lil’s place no matter what condition it was in. The ranch had been in her family for generations, and it would be Katie’s one day. Most importantly, Joy desperately needed somewhere for herself and her baby to live, somewhere far away from the Spencers. Far away from any threat to her daughter.

      Now, she had this big cowboy trying to get his hands on it. Well, no one was going to take her home away from her.

      “I’m very capable of taking care of my daughter, Mr. Randell, we are going to live at the ranch.”

      He didn’t look happy. “Fine, suit yourself,” he finally said, then mumbled something about stubborn females as he jammed his cowboy hat on his head and stalked out.

      “Thank you for the flowers,” Joy called after him, wishing she hadn’t just lost the only friend she’d made in town.

      Chance parked his truck next to the barn, got out and slammed the door. His mood hadn’t improved in the slightest during the twenty-minute drive home from the hospital. He marched across the gravel drive to the yard, then up the walk to the back porch of the large, two-story house he’d lived in for the past twenty-plus years.

      That sure as hell didn’t go well, he thought about his talk with Joy Spencer. She’d rejected his offer fast. He couldn’t help but wonder why. He didn’t buy her story about the ranch being a family home. As far as he knew, she’d never once visited Lillian Kirby.

      He thought back to his recent talk with Mrs. Spencer, remembering her elusive sapphire eyes. She had a secret. He couldn’t hold that against her. People had a right to start over without everyone nosing into their business.

      But there was no law that said he couldn’t try again to buy her land. And he wasn’t giving up. He jerked open the screen door and stepped into the utility room, jammed his hat on the peg and walked into the kitchen. The sunny yellow walls and biscuit-colored tile kept the room bright even at night. He glanced toward the double-door refrigerator. Hank was staring inside.

      “What you lookin’ for?” Chance asked.

      “Something I’ll never find as long as Ella works here. A decent meal.”

      In spite of his mood, Chance found himself smiling. The feud between Hank and the housekeeper had been going on for years. “Why don’t you just fire her?” he asked for the hundredth time.

      The older man stretched to his full six feet in height. Even in his mid sixties, Hank’s back was ramrod straight, and his white hair was thick and wavy. Although his face was lined from years in the sun and showed his age, Hank Barrett could still outwork most men. He was a gruff man, but underneath he had a kind heart. How many men would have taken in three boys and given them a home?

      “Who’d hire her?” he said. “She’s too old to start over. Besides, I guess I’m used to her ways. How long before she gets back from her sister’s anyway?”

      “Tomorrow,” Chance answered. “You should have gotten a temporary cook in here to help. The hands haven’t been too crazy about cooking their own meals.”

      “Well, dagnabbit,” Hank said as he slammed the refrigerator door. “You’d think at least one of the men I hired could throw together a decent supper.”

      Chance grinned. “I take it it’s your turn to feed us tonight.”

      Hank made a rude comment.

      “Hey, we used to get into trouble for that kind of language.” Chance couldn’t help but think back to his adolescent days when he thought cursing made him seem tough. “You used to make me muck out stalls every time you caught me swearing, and I had to muck out more when Cade and Travis cursed.”

      “It was only fair, they learned that nasty talk from you.”

      Hank exchanged a sad glance with him. No doubt he was thinking about the two absent boys. “Sure would be nice if we got to see them once in awhile.”

      “Yeah, that would be nice.” Chance would like to have them closer to home, but he couldn’t ask