Hearts second chance, p.1
Heart's Second Chance, page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
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Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
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HEART'S SECOND CHANCE
Barbara McMahon
www.barbaramcmahon.com
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Heart's Second Chance
Copyright © 2024 Barbara McMahon
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Artificial Intelligence (AI) was not used to create any part of this book.
NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.
Chapter One
Tally Newcome was definitely worried. She peered through the front window, checking the empty driveway once again. There was still no sign of the deputy or her new guest. Glancing at her watch, she frowned. It was after four. No possible way they could join the others this late. Well, that couldn’t be helped now. Why were they so late; she’d expected them around noon. Had there been an accident? Surely, she would have been notified.
She had to stay near the house until they arrived. The delay gave her time to get a few more accounts brought up to date. She’d much rather be outside with the others, moving the small herd of cattle from the lower winter pastures to the higher, summer range. Riding, feeling the sun on her face, joining in on the wisecracking and smart-mouthed remarks the boys delighted in making was always more fun than doing accounts.
She and her new guest should have been there with them. She’d planned the weekend that way in order to ease him into their routine, to meet the others in an informal manner, to have a chance to relax.
All her plans were shot to bits, now.
The worry mingled with her jitters, which was nothing new. She always seemed nervous with the arrival of each new guest. She considered it a kind of stage fright. Surely she knew what she was doing after fourteen guests.
She provided help to those that needed it, wasn’t that the entire purpose of Fresh Start? To provide youthful first offenders a second chance? To provide the kind of help that her brother Bobby had never found?
For a moment the old anguish surfaced. She tried to damp it down. Regrets would change nothing. The past, with all its sorrow and pain, was gone. She’d been much too young to make a difference back then.
Now she did the best she could to offer alternatives, helping others the way Bobby should have been helped. If she had let nerves stop her, where would Pete and Manuel be today? Or Carrie? Or Trisha and Consuela? Or the others? She was making a difference and had in fourteen young lives thus far.
She raised her head straining to hear. Was that a car?
Dashing into the living room, she peered out the front window. Yes, the sheriffs emblem blazed on the side of the white cruiser. Finally.
Tally took a deep breath and hurried out the door.
“Miss Newcome? I’m Deputy Carmichael. I believe you’re expecting us,” he said as he stepped out of the car.
The rumpled deputy sheriff’s uniform showed the effects of the heat of the day. He stepped up to the porch and held out a sheaf of papers.
Tally nodded. “Yes, I’m Tally Newcome. I was beginning to worry.”
She smiled and reached for the familiar forms, scanning the transfer papers. They appeared in order. She scrawled her name at the bottom of the transfer form to acknowledge the arrival of her guest and handed the sheets back to the deputy.
She peered around him to the patrol car. The windows were tinted, so she couldn’t see her new guest.
“Y’all are several hours later than I expected. Did you have car trouble?” she asked as she waited impatiently while he tore off the top sheet and handed it back.
“Yeah, flat tire on our way here. And no spare. Not very good reflection on the department,” the deputy answered.
Tally skimmed across the papers again. Devon Henderson, she read. Briefly focusing on key sentences, she noted the conviction had been for accessory to embezzlement. White-collar crime, she mused. Would he fit in with the others?
While the deputy sauntered back to the car, Tally continued to read the summary report on the referral sheet which gave her the name of her new guest and how long he was required to stay at her place. In this case: three months. At the end of three months, his prison term would be over and he would be free to go wherever he wanted. Until then, he was under a kind of house arrest at her place.
And it was up to her to make sure his transition back into society went smoothly. To give him the maximum chance to succeed.
She’d known this program was something she had to do from the first time she’d heard about Fresh Start at her church, which was one of the sponsors. She’d been selected as soon as she’d applied. There were never enough volunteers. She was happy to be able to give back a part of what she had so much of now. And only sometimes did she rail against fate for bringing the solution too late to help her brother.
Devon Henderson sat stiffly in the back of the hot patrol car. Since stopping, the air conditioner had been off and the sun blazed down on the car. The least the deputy could have done was roll down a window. He held tightly on to his control as if the tension coiled within him could act as an impenetrable barrier, shutting out the hellish memories of the past three years.
Outwardly he appeared calm, controlled. He’d perfected that demeanor over those years. He sat without moving for the entire trip, staring straight ahead. Ignoring the attempts at conversation from the deputy, he focused on the knowledge that he was finally out. Bars and concrete floors and arbitrary rules and regulations were behind him. His throat ached and he swallowed hard, his heart pounded heavily.
No matter what it took, he was never going back. He’d bow and scrape and promise anything before he’d ever be sent back. It had been a shocking, wretched, endless three years. Dark anger flared when he thought about it, if he let himself think about it. Best not to dwell on it, that never got him anywhere. It was over. Or would be in three more months.
He didn’t know what to expect from this work furlough program. He hadn’t thought beyond getting out. His profession was lost to him. He’d stupidly seen to that. And the woman he thought he’d loved hadn’t been whom he’d thought she was. Everything had changed. Nothing would ever be the same.
He’d never trust another soul. He learned that the hard way first from Sheila, then from being incarcerated. He was truly on his own. The only one he knew he could depend upon was himself.
He looked out the window. The deputy blocked his view of the woman who had come from the house. Now he turned and headed for the car. Opening the door, he motioned for Devon to get out.
Devon did so with as much dignity and pride as he could muster. His hands clenched once, then he forced himself to relax. He didn’t like the cynical look in the deputy’s eye, but he’d had years to practice hiding his emotions. In only three months he’d be a free man. Able to go anywhere, do anything. Rebuild his life. He could summon the patience needed to get him through.
Devon stared at the woman who would be his jailer for the next three months. He hadn’t given much thought to her or the others on the ranch when told of his pending release. He hadn’t cared a lick—his only thought had been what he’d be leaving behind. And he couldn’t get out fast enough.
He found himself surprised at how small the woman seemed, actually petite. Her eyes were bright-blue behind blue-framed glasses. They stared at him almost apprehensively. Her honey-colored hair scraped back in some sort of ponytail at the nape of her neck looked hot and heavy on her slender frame. She wore faded jeans, not particularly stylish, and a plain white shirt that looked as if it belonged to her older brother or father. While she had a trim figure, it was not one to lose any sleep over, Devon thought.
His eyes skimmed down her again and he reconsidered. She was the first woman he’d seen in almost three years. Maybe he’d lose some sleep after all. She looked to be in her late twenties—and scared to death. He glimpsed the uncertainty in her eyes, her beseeching look at the deputy. Maybe she was the daughter of the place and her parents ran the ranch. That made sense.
For a moment a gut-wrenching pain hit. She wasn t afraid of him, was she?
His lips tightened. He didn’t want anyone afraid of him. He thought that by doing his time, he’d paid his debt and could move on. Maybe he’d been wrong.
Tally watched as the deputy opened the back door and ordered the man from the car. Her new guest reached back inside the car and drew out a duffel bag.
The man straightened and frowned at something Deputy Carmichael said but he refrained from speaking, merely nodding.
Tally held her breath, her eyes wide in startled surprise as she looked at her newest guest. Standing almost arrogantly beside the deputy, he topped the older man by several inches. His feet firmly planted on the dusty ground, one hand holding that packed duffel as if it weighted nothing, he turned, his eyes sweeping the front of the house. His gaze settled on her. With an impassive expression he stared at her through steel-gray eyes, narrowed as if assessing what he saw. His jaw was firm, his lips tight.
There must be some mistake, Tally thought, dismayed, unable to drag her eyes away from his piercing gaze. This was not some cocky young teenager she’d expected. This was not some confused young boy of eighteen or nineteen needing a helping hand like the others, needing assistance to ease the transition from prison back to the real world. To be given a chance to learn something new, make a difference in his life before going out on his own.
Instead, she looked at a tall, self-contained man who appeared to be in his early thirties. And who from the looks of him knew all there was about the real world and then some. He could probably teach her a few things and still come out ahead.
Tentatively she tried a smile, hoping her dismay didn’t show. Something was wrong. She was to be assigned a young man, a teenager, not this...this very male adult.
Her heart began to pound as he continued to stare at her through those disturbing gray eyes. Tally felt tendrils of awareness slowly seep through her body. She had never been so physically conscious of a member of the opposite gender before. Not even Dr. Percy when she’d had such a crush on him.
Breathing grew more difficult, and a small curl of fire and unexpected excitement built deep within her.
Aghast at her reaction, she dragged her gaze away, looking in near panic at the papers in her hand. Quickly she read the first section again. The age line had been left blank!
The deputy indicated Devon should head toward the porch. Tally swallowed hard, her thoughts spinning. She wasn’t prepared to deal with this! She’d been expecting a much younger man.
“Deputy, I think there’s been a mistake,” she called tentatively.
“Mistake, ma’am? I don’t think so,” the deputy said. “You got all the paperwork, if there’s a problem, you have to take it up with your own coordinator. My job is just to deliver him.” He looked at Devon then back at Tally and shrugged. “I’ve done my part.”
He nodded once and returned to the patrol car. Before she could formulate an argument, he climbed inside and quickly drove away, spraying dirt and gravel from the drive as he accelerated.
Tally tilted her chin, trying to look poised and assured, hoping the frantic beat of her heart wasn’t evident. Whatever was wrong, it was too late to fix today. She took a deep breath, doubts rising, but she ignored them, smiling tentatively at the man before her.
“Devon Henderson. I’m Tally Newcome. How do you do? Welcome to the Lazy T Ranch.”
She offered her hand. She noticed that he hesitated a second, then he stepped close enough to shake briefly, dropping his gaze to their linked grip. Then up to her face.
Tally almost yanked her hand away in shock. His hand felt hard, callused, and his touch sent spiraling tingles along her arm. She turned away, visibly squaring her shoulders, hoping he didn’t notice her reaction. What was wrong with her? Nerves?
“What mistake?” Devon asked.
His voice was deep and dark. Tally hesitated when hearing it. Was there a trace of the south in his words?
“Fresh Start is for youthful first offenders. I think you’re over the age limit,” she said heading for the door. Biting her lip, she wondered how to handle this turn of events. The deputy had been no help. And the offices were closed on Saturdays. She’d have to wait until Monday to straighten things out.
“What’s the age limit?” he asked, stepping after her. “There was no mention of age limit when I applied.” His voice was hard.
For a moment, Tally felt a hint of intimidation. Deliberate on his part? That she wouldn’t put up with. She straightened as tall as her frame would allow.
“Let’s get one thing straight from the get-go, Mr. Henderson. I run this place and I make the rules.”
“As you go along?”
“No. They’re written down.” She felt her ground slipping beneath her. Had there been an upper age limit? “But I’m set up to deal with teenagers, not older men.”
“Thirty-two is not that old. I’m a first offender. The counselor at the prison made no mention of an age limit.”
“You’re years older than the others here.”
“Others?”
“I have four others in the transition stage, two girls and two boys. They’re all within a few months of being the same age, nineteen. That makes you more than a decade older.”
She tried to keep her emotions level, even. Tried to take charge of the situation that seemed to be spinning beyond her control. Devon Henderson was not like the others staying with her.
Nor was her reaction. She’d never felt like this before. He filled her vision, tall and rugged. While she might feel some affection for her temporary charges, she’d never felt this gut-level physical awareness.
She caught her breath, dragging in the scent of him, light and tangy, and utterly male. Overwhelmed by his flagrant masculinity, conscious of him as she’d never been around other men, she stepped back. Magnetic, disturbing, blatantly virile, he radiated a curious leashed energy. She took a shaky breath, her mind going blank. She wasn’t afraid of the man—but she began to fear her own reactions. What was wrong with her today?
“This entire program is geared for troubled young people,” Tally said. “Part of what we do is work toward finding jobs, by teaching new skills. Some of our participants don’t even have a high school diploma, so we work on schooling. You’re old enough to know how to live, how to shop for food, clothes, a place to live. Why did you even apply for the program?”
“To get out.”
“Oh.”
He was honest at least. Then she frowned. Not totally honest or he wouldn’t have been in prison.
She forced herself to concentrate on the problem at hand, trying to ignore her awareness of the proximity of his muscular jean-clad legs only inches from her own, of his broad shoulders which seemed to be a yard wide, of the easy way he held the heavy, sagging duffel. The slight breeze tossed his hair and Tally found herself instantly curious about how it would feel beneath her fingertips.
Shocked at the wayward thought, she schooled her features, desperately hoping nothing of her reflections showed in her expression. What was the matter with her? She’d seen good-looking men before and never been so affected.
It had to be first-day jitters, nothing more. She’d been successful at this many times before. If she let him stay, this time would prove the same. Though she had doubts when she wondered how she’d get through the program if every thought revolved around touching his hair.
He gazed over the open fields. What was he thinking? The dark-green of the live oak that dotted the hillsides was the only break in the golden-brown color, except for the deep-blue sky. Late spring in California meant there wouldn’t be any rain until fall. The green winter grass had dried and turned golden. Excellent fodder for cattle. And beautiful in its own way.
Would he find the same fascination with the place she had when she’d first found out about it five years ago? Inheriting the ranch had been the catalyst that moved her to join Fresh Start.
Her initial training had whirled by. Peter Concannon and Manuel Lopez had been her first guests. Both had six months left on their sentences. They’d been a handful. Without the help of Gus, her foreman, and Gus’s wife, Alberta, who was the cook, she might never have managed. But now, four years into the program, she thought with pride, it grew easier with each new arrival.
