Thanks to those infernal physio exercises, he’d regained much of the mobility in his hip and moved around without his cane. He was surprised at how spry he felt sometimes, although at the end of a busy day, he tired sooner than he would have liked.
Tomorrow he’d get on a horse and ride for the first time since the blast. Much as he hated to admit it, he was a little nervous, but he knew as soon as he was in the saddle, his muscles would remember what to do. He’d practically been born astride a horse, after all.
It was almost time to consider the future. He’d spent the last year feeling like an old man with his injuries, but in reality it had been all the desk work he’d done in the past decade that had aged him before his time. Men were meant to be moving, and he’d determined he was going to get back to fighting trim. There was lots of work to be done on this ranch, and he’d be damned if he’d let the younger generation do it all.
He enjoyed his work at the reserve training center, too, and had a feeling more opportunities were coming his way in that vein now that people knew he was gaining strength. He looked forward to new career challenges, but he meant to be careful not to be pulled away from the ranch too much.
He had grandchildren now, and they needed him to be present in a way he hadn’t been able to be for his own daughters. He wanted to keep up with them, which meant changing the way he viewed himself. He’d let himself get far too curmudgeonly before his time.
Now it was time to age backward, as Emerson liked to say, and as much as he growled at the younger man when he spouted nonsense like that, Augustus had decided he was right. This summer he meant to swim in the creek, ride his horse, go to fairs and celebrations, spend time with old friends and new grandkids.
He meant to live life to the fullest.
He certainly felt blessed.
As he turned in, he thought of Amelia, as he always did. She’d led him back here, and she’d helped him create a small, busy community at Two Willows. As alive as she was to him still, and as present as she was on this ranch, he felt a softening of the connection between them. It would always be there, but she’d walked her path on this mortal coil and lingered here to help him go a little further on his own, knowing he hadn’t been ready to be without her. Now her work here was done, and he was strong enough to move forward alone. She needed to move on, too.
Augustus swallowed, the familiar ache inside him still sharp, but sweet, too. He had many years ahead of him. A family to surround and support him. A career to continue in various incarnations. Someday he and Amelia would be together again. Until then, any number of adventures still lay ahead.
And he was ready for them.
Emerson and Wye found their happily ever after, but the Turners and Coopers are too busy feuding to find love—or are they? Want to know how the Turner/Cooper feud got started? Why Lance Cooper and Maya Turner are kissing? And what really happened at the July 4th Reenactment? Check out Cora’s next Chance Creek series, Turners vs. Coopers, beginning with The Cowboy’s Secret Bride.
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Read on for an excerpt of Volume 1 of the Turners vs. Coopers series – The Cowboy’s Secret Bride.
The Cowboy’s Secret Bride
By Cora Seton
Chapter One
Present day
This wasn’t the place.
Carl swept his gaze across the pastures before him, took in the squat, ugly house perched close by and shook his head over the dilapidated barns and outbuildings some distance away.
“I know it doesn’t look like much, but Hilltop Acres is a bargain,” Megan Lawrence, his realtor, said. An earnest young woman, she was relatively new at her job and very enthusiastic.
“It’s small,” he countered.
“It’s a ranch. Not many of them for sale around here.”
“You’re telling me.” He’d spent years on and off looking for the right one, and he was beginning to wonder if he’d ever find the property he wanted. He’d always been able to picture it in his mind: a stately home perched on a rise of ground, fields and pastures sloping away around it to a tremendous view. Plenty of acreage for a large cattle operation. A prosperous place like the ones featured in the movies he used to watch with his father when he was young.
Not a stunted little spread like this one.
His dad had spent summers on a ranch when he was a kid and always talked of the day he’d retire to one, but that hadn’t happened before he passed away. It was up to Carl to make that dream come true.
“If you’re not interested, I guess we’d better leave. I’ve got another appointment.” Megan pulled out her cell phone, frowned at something on the screen and tucked it away again.
Carl adjusted his hat, wishing his father was still alive to help with this search. “Someone else is looking at this property?” He didn’t want it, but if there was nothing better available…
“No—it’s Camila Torres. She just wants a little place in town.”
“Camila—?” Carl cut off, his chest tightening. “Camila’s looking for a house?” An old, dull ache pulsed to life within him. He couldn’t believe he’d let her get away. He still lay awake some nights thinking about the conversation they’d had in DelMonaco’s three years ago and wondered what he could have said to make the outcome different.
After that disaster, he’d ended up spending six months in California and had considered giving up on Chance Creek, but the place had a hold on him, and he kept coming back. He hadn’t found a woman to replace Camila, though, and now and then, when he saw her in a store or on the street, the ache in his chest made him wonder if he ever would.
Meanwhile, Whitfield Tech had soared in valuation, and knowing a good opportunity when he saw one, Carl had sold it for a princely sum last year. He never needed to work another day in his life if he didn’t want to. The experience had required many more trips to California, and all the flying back and forth began to wear on him. He was always living out of a suitcase. Running to catch a plane.
He was ready to settle down.
For good.
And Chance Creek kept calling his name.
He’d finished the period of consulting work required of him as part of the deal with Whitfield Tech’s new owners. He’d kept mentoring Sven as his friend and ex-employee expanded the robotics business he’d started on the side a few years ago, too. That had occasioned more flying back and forth, but Carl owed Sven for all his hard work at Whitfield Tech.
Through it all, he’d worked with the Coopers on their ranch whenever he could, soaking up everything there was to learn about running a cattle operation. He knew a hell of a lot more about ranching now than when he’d first tried his hand at it years ago. Maybe it had been for the best he hadn’t been able to find a spread yet, but he was ready for his own place now. Soon Sven wouldn’t need him so much, and he’d stop flying back to California all the time and be able to devote all his energy to his new ranch.
If he ever found one.
“That’s right. Camila,” Megan said, interrupting his thoughts. “She’s looking for something with two bedrooms, one bath. Close to her restaurant.”