Tuff Garrison spent a good part of the morning riding fences. It wasn’t his job, but he frequently performed the task. The Daltons had given him a good deal on rent for his living quarters on the ranch, as well as an enviable lease on his work studio and storefront. It was important to him to return their kindness. And he’d been riding fences so long that it didn’t make sense to stop now, even if he was making a good living selling custom saddles.
Besides, he enjoyed the solitude. Just him, his gelding Muchacho and 1,500 acres of lush land, majestic mountains, tall pines, and Dry Creek, which wended through the property like a fat snake. The rides spurred his creative juices. And by the time he walked into his workshop, he was raring to go.
Today, there was no sign of the redhead he’d passed on the road a few days ago. But he’d seen her old Mercedes parked at Sawyer’s place on his way to the stable. He wondered what the story was with her. Tuff had been living on the ranch for close to a year now and hadn’t crossed paths with her before. No question she was a Dalton, though. All of them had those piercing blue eyes. Hers were prettier than her male counterparts. Then again, he’d always been a sucker for a redhead.
He turned Muchacho toward the stable and gave him his head. It was getting late and he had a Zoom meeting with a finicky client on the East Coast. He had two saddles that needed to be packaged and shipped to members of the United States Olympic Equestrian Team and some last-minute alterations to a bridle for a Texas rodeo queen. A full plate.
But setting up shop here on Dry Creek Ranch was the best decision he’d ever made. He was getting too old to be a full-time wrangler. And though he’d never cared much about money, it turned out being a saddler was quite profitable.
Leatherwork had started as a hobby, something to do in a bunkhouse before bedtime. Wranglers, impressed with Tuff’s handmade belts, bridles, hackamores, and his eye to detail, began asking him to mend their weathered tack or make them new pieces.
It had been his bunkmates who’d encouraged him to rent a stall at the annual National Finals Rodeo in Vegas and sell the leather boot bags and rope cases he made. That business slowly grew to pro cowboys and wealthy ranchers commissioning him to make tack and luggage with their trademark brands and monograms. The extra income went a long way to holding Tuff over during the lean times.
Soon, word spread, and he was selling four to five custom saddles a year. When the opportunity to have a brick-and-mortar shop fell into Tuff’s lap, he took the plunge.
This year, he was looking at a six-figure profit. It was more than he’d ever made in his life. And he was doing what he loved. Sometimes, he had to sock himself in the arm just to believe it was real.
By the time he reached the barn, Muchacho was in a lather. Tuff’s own shirt stuck to his back, even in fifty-degree weather. He dismounted, slipped off his saddle and gave his horse a thorough brushing.
It was good of the Daltons to make space in the stable for Muchacho, another perk of living and working on Dry Creek Ranch.
“Hi.” Cash’s daughter, Ellie, climbed over the fence into her mare’s stall. The kid came every morning before school bearing treats for her mare, Sunflower.
“How you doin’ Miss Ellie?”
“Good.” She scratched Sunflower’s head. “My dad says he’ll go in half with me for a saddle. I’m babysitting now and the Morgans pay me twelve dollars an hour.”
He grinned. “I’m sure we can work something out.” Hell, he’d make the kid a free saddle, given all her old man had done for him. But he appreciated Cash instilling the meaning of a buck in his daughter.
Tuff led Muchacho to the paddocks, removed his halter and gave him a slap on the rump. “Have a good day at school, Miss Ellie,” he called as he headed home for a quick shower.
His cabin had been Cash’s originally, then Sawyer’s celebrity chef wife, Gina’s. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a small two-bedroom cottage with a mostly open floor plan. He’d painted the walls and rebuilt the deck, which had been a whisper away from falling down. And he’d furnished the place with a few good pieces from Jace and Cash’s wives’ farmhouse store, Refind.
It was the first time he’d ever had a real home, and he was still getting used to laying his head on the same pillow every night. Until now, he’d been a nomad, traversing the country in search of his next job.
He washed away his morning’s ride and threw on warm clothes. November in Dry Creek was nippy. His studio and adjoining shop had a woodfire stove. He’d cut enough wood over summer to supply both the cabin and his workspace with heat for the next two years.
Tuff hiked less than a mile to Dry Creek Village, the ranch’s business park, a series of Western-style storefronts anchored by Gina DeRose’s eponymous restaurant. The Daltons’ cattle enterprise hadn’t been enough to support the cost of running the ranch. So, they came up with the ingenious idea to turn a small portion of the ranch into a destination shopping center that promoted the region’s agricultural products. Besides the restaurant, Refind, and Tuff’s Saddlery, there was a large specialty market, a butcher shop, a florist, and a kiosk serving locally made sarsaparilla. Cash’s wife, Aubrey, also ran an interior design business from the center, which was headquartered in Refind.
The commercial park had been designed to retain the rugged charm of the ranch, and offered walking trails and picnic areas that took advantage of views of the Sierra foothills and Dry Creek. And it didn’t hurt that the parking lot was full of electric charging stations for the visiting Bay Area folk, who made the two-hour trek to soak in the countryside.
In the last week, holiday decorations had started going up, including a huge fir tree that had been trucked in from the other side of the ranch. Lights were strung along the eaves of the buildings, and rows of luminarias lined the walkways. An enormous barn star tacked to the side of Refind lit up at night. If it were up to Tuff, he’d keep the barn star lit up year-round. It was a nice touch.
He unlocked the door to his shop and turned on the light. While contemplating whether to make a fire, he booted up the coffeemaker. He hung his jacket and hat on the deer antler rack the ladies had given him from Refind as a welcome gift.
The storefront was small, just a few displays of saddles and bridles. On one wall was a custom shelving unit with smaller items such as luggage, wallets, handbags, and riding gloves. The tourists gobbled those pieces up as fast as Tuff could make them. In the back, he kept his workshop, which was full of patterns and bolts of leather. A small desk with a computer sat in the corner. The bulk of his retail business was run online. His clients spanned the country, and he’d even started making a few saddles for equestrians abroad.
It was as close to a perfect setup as it got. In addition to a nice place to work with good neighbors, the Daltons had given him and Muchacho the run of the ranch. The men and their wives had been the closest thing to family as Tuff ever got. But at the end of the day, he was still a loner. Nothing would ever change that. Still, it was good to be surrounded by trustworthy people and have a sturdy roof over his head.
He poured himself a cup of coffee, flicked on his computer, and started to scroll through his emails when the bell over his shop door rang. “Howdy,” he called to the front of the store.
“Tuff, can I borrow your key to the storage unit? I forgot mine.” The storage unit was an old livestock shed where the shopkeepers kept their overflow junk, everything from seasonal décor to excess stock.
He walked up front to find Ava, one of the young co-owners of the floral shop eyeing a toiletry bag. “This is gorgeous. Maybe I should get one for Bryce.”
Bryce was Ava’s boyfriend and from what Tuff could tell a lazy piece of shit. When Ava and her partner, Winter, first opened the flower shop, Bryce had sat on his ass while the two women ran around, setting everything up. Ava waited on the dude hand and foot.
“Here’s the key.” He handed her his shop ring. “How’s business?”
“Good. Thanksgiving arrangements galore. Two December weddings and the Christmas orders for wreaths and centerpieces have already started coming in. It’s crazy.”
“Nice.” He liked Ava and Winter. They were fresh out of ag school and, except for Ava’s taste in men, had good heads on their shoulders. Besides running the shop, they leased a few acres from the Daltons and grew their own flowers.
“Gina’s having us do all the holiday florals for the restaurant, which is huge.” She sat on the stool by the cash register in no hurry to go. “You have any more of that?” Ava nudged her head at his cup of Joe.
“Let me see if I can scrounge up another mug.” He wandered into the back, found a cup from his mismatched set, and scrubbed it out in the bathroom before filling it with coffee. “Here you go.”
“You’re a prince among men, Tuff Garrison.”
If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was flirting with him. There was likely an eighteen-year age difference between them. Unlike most of the men he knew, Tuff preferred women his own age. They didn’t tend to get ideas in their heads of everlasting love and marriage.
“Did you hear that Sawyer’s long-lost sister is here?” Ava took a sip of her coffee and eyed him over the rim of the mug.
He didn’t like idle gossip, but admittedly was curious about the redhead. “What do you mean long-lost?”
Ava shrugged. “All I know is she’s been out of the picture for six years. Gina mentioned her but didn’t say much else. I heard she’s moving into Cash and Aubrey’s old place. So I guess you’ll be neighbors.”
That was news to him. Cash, Aubrey, and Ellie had recently moved out of the little cabin across the creek from his place into their newly built home on the other side of the ranch. The new, custom two-story was a showstopper. Tuff wasn’t surprised, given that Aubrey was a first-rate decorator. Prior to moving, she’d redone the couple’s cabin on the exterior with flowerboxes under the windows and red shutters. It looked a hell of a lot more finished than Tuff’s.
“I hadn’t heard” was all he said, intentionally leaving out that he’d already met Miz Dalton.
“Gina says she’s super nice and might start working in the market.”
He pointed at her cup. “You want a warmer on that before you go?” It was a subtle hint that he had a business to run and couldn’t stand around talking all day.
“I’m good.” Ava hopped down from the stool. “Thanks for the key and the coffee.”
“Any time. Just leave the key on the counter when you’re done. I’ve got a Zoom meeting in the back.”
“Will do.”
After his conference call, he found the final sign-off for a parade saddle in his inbox. He and the client had been going back and forth on the design for nearly a month. Lots of tooling and silver.
To celebrate, he wandered over to Gina’s for a late lunch. Usually, he nuked something in his studio’s microwave, but why not live large today? Besides, he was curious about Ava’s news regarding the redhead being his new neighbor. Best to get it straight from the horse’s mouth.
The restaurant was busy for a weekday afternoon. Gina DeRose had her own cooking show on FoodFlicks and a culinary empire that included frozen entrees, baking mixes, and kitchenware. This was her only restaurant, and people flocked from all over to say they’d eaten there.
Tuff asked to be seated at the bar. It made more sense than taking up a whole table for himself. The bartender took his order. He perused his phone for any emails he’d missed while he waited for his food.
Gina came out of the kitchen, caught sight of him, and strolled over. “Hey, stranger. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Been swamped.” He stood up and gave her a brief hug, then gazed around the dining room. “From the looks of things so have you.”
“Can’t complain. Business is good. I’m glad you came in. Sawyer and I have been meaning to come by the cabin.”
“Oh yeah.” He tensed, hoping they weren’t kicking him out. The lease was a month-to-month and had started out as temporary housing until he found something else. But he’d grown rather fond of the place and its bird’s-eye view of Dry Creek. Hell, he could fish right off the front porch.
“Sawyer’s sister, Angela, is here. We’d like her to stay a while and our place is only a one-bedroom. So, she’ll be moving into Cash and Aubrey’s old cabin for the time being. We didn’t want to just spring a new neighbor on you.”
“It’s your place. I’m just lucky to get to live in it.” He grinned, relieved. It turned out Ava had gotten her facts right.
“We’re lucky to have you as a tenant. You’ll like Angie. She’s great.”
He bobbed his head. “I believe we already met. She was on her way to your house and stopped for directions.”
Gina cleared her throat. “Sawyer and I were kind of hoping you could look out for her. She’s had a rough time of it.”
Tuff waited for Gina to explain. But it soon became clear Gina had no intention of saying more on the subject. In his world, a “rough time” could mean a whole host of things. But he wasn’t one to pry, not when he had his own secrets.
“Sure,” he said. From what he’d seen of Angela Dalton so far, looking after her wouldn’t be difficult. She was easy on the eyes. “When is she moving in?”
Gina let out an awkward laugh. “Uh, tonight.”
Sure enough, when he got home that evening, the redhead was sitting on the front porch of the cabin, sipping a glass of wine. He waved to her from across the creek. She came to the railing and said something, but he couldn’t hear her over the rushing water.
Tuff crossed over on the footbridge and stood a few feet from her porch steps. “Sorry, I didn’t catch what you said.”
“I said I’m your new neighbor.” She stood up and smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her blue eyes.
Tuff didn’t think it had anything to do with him, more to do with those rough times Gina had mentioned.
At their first meeting, he would’ve put her somewhere around his age. But now, without a car between them and her hair tied back, he could see she was younger. Thirty maybe. She was slight and not an inch taller than five-five. Her clothes, a dress and high-heeled boots, weren’t what you would call ranchwear. But they were sexy without trying. She was sexy without trying.
And too damned young. And sad. She reminded him of a flower waiting for rain.
“Welcome. I’m right over there if you need anything.” He aimed his chin across the creek.
“Thank you.”
He started to walk away when she asked, “Have you lived here long?”
“’Bout a year. Right when your brother and cousins opened Dry Creek Village. I own Tuff’s Saddlery.”
“I peeked in the window the other night on our way to Gina’s steakhouse for dinner. You do lovely work.”
He tipped his hat. “Thank you.”
“I used to ride.” She looked out over the land and for a few seconds seemed lost in the view. “Back when my grandfather was alive, he kept a horse here for me. I lived in Los Angeles with my family but was here every summer and for the holidays.”
Like her, he gazed across the fields to the surrounding mountains. “It’s a hell of a place. I’ve lived on a lot of ranches in my time but nothing like this.”
“Where are you from?”
“Oh here, there, and everywhere,” he sidestepped.
She started to say something and stopped herself. And for a moment they just stood there.
“I’ve got dinner waiting for me,” he finally said. “Again, welcome to the neighborhood.”
He crossed the bridge to his side of the creek. When he turned around, she was still standing there, staring out over the horizon, a haunted look on her face.