Roping His Heart

Rachel has dreamed of owning the old mansion down the road for as long as she can remember. So when she runs into a handsome city guy who claims to own the home, her world turns upside down.

Patrick's career is just taking off in the city, and he couldn't be happier. But when an old deed to a mansion turns up in his deceased father's belongings, Patrick decides to travel to Idaho to see if he can use it for his business.

Patrick meets the beautiful and fiery Rachel at the mansion, and sparks fly. Now he must decide if his business is worth going home to, or if he's willing to leave his city life for the woman who has roped his heart.

 Rachel stopped weeding and wiped her brow. It was uncommonly hot for
June, and her plants were feeling it. If it didn’t rain soon, it wouldn’t
matter if her flowerbeds were well groomed because everything would be wilted and gone.

She stood and stretched her back, then grabbed her tools to put them away. The rest would have to wait until evening when it was a little cooler. The darkness of the old
rundown shed felt good on her skin, and she regretted having to go back
outside. But this was the last of the chores on her list for the day, which
meant she could escape for just a little while.

Rachel walked into her house and heard the gentle hum of the sewing machine coming from the back of the house. Mama must have decided to sell her quilts at the town market after all.

 The smell of peach pie wafted in from the kitchen, and three more cooled on the stove. There would be more by that night. Rachel poured herself a glass of water and enjoyed the feeling of it running down her parched throat.

She set her glass in the sink and went to the back of the house, where she found her mother leaning over the sewing machine. “I got what I could, Mama. I’m going to run into town. Do you need anything?”

Mama stretched and looked at Rachel. She had three pins pursed between her lips, preferring that over using a pin cushion. She shook her head and waved before going back to her sewing.

Rachel turned, grabbing her keys on the way out. Her boots crunched on the gravel as she walked to her Chevy truck and climbed in. She turned on the engine and
opened the windows before pulling onto the road. It was a thirty-minute drive into town, and it would take about half that for the air-conditioning to start working. She wasn’t going there yet, though. 

Rachel turned onto an unpaved road a few miles later, her truck bouncing through the potholes. She needed to add more money to the jar she had hidden. Soon she’d have enough to put a down payment on the old mansion. In three more weeks, it
would go on the market, and she could snag it.

The thought brought a smile to Rachel’s lips. Her own house. And not just any house—the perfect spot for a bed and breakfast, like she’d always dreamed of owning. 

She was jarred out of her thoughts as the mansion came into view. Trees surrounded it. The twisted branches gave the yard character. While most people thought the whole property
was an eyesore, Rachel had loved it since childhood. She pulled into the
driveway and avoided the broken branches lying on the ground.

Rachel reached under the seat and pulled out an envelope. She counted the money again just to be sure, but she knew there were five tens, two twenties, and forty ones. She rolled it into a bundle and climbed out of the truck, shoving the money into her pocket.

The mansion welcomed her as she walked past the wild branches and up the old, worn steps. The brick exterior had seen better days, but still held up over the years. A few of the windows were cracked, but those had been boarded up at some point. The entryway had large cobwebs throughout. She shuddered and ducked into the small drawing room to the right. The only footprints in the room were her own, which was good. No one had found her stash yet. 

Rachel stomped her foot as she walked. She had to do it just right. There! One floorboard made a hollow sound compared to those around it. She pulled the threadbare rug back, careful not to tear it. She sneezed as it stirred the dust, then knelt on the rug to hold it out of the way so she could lift the loose board. A jar of money sat nestled in the crack, along with a few old notebooks containing ideas she’d written down over the years. She pulled out the jar and shoved the bills inside, then screwed the lid back on. She told herself yet again that she should put all the money in the bank, but having it
here just seemed to keep the dream of owning the mansion a little more real.

Once everything was set back exactly right, Rachel climbed the stairs to the library, where she pulled back an old ragged curtain to let in some light. Only a few books sat on the shelves now, and they were hers. She needed to return one to her aunt, so she slipped it under her arm and then picked up another. 

The trill of her cell phone made Rachel jump. She pulled it out and cursed under her breath when she saw the caller ID. This call wasn’t going to be short.

“Hello?” Rachel turned and headed for the stairs.

“Hey, Rachel. Reverend Miller wants to know if you’ve made up your mind yet.” Mrs. Peterson was the organizer of the city celebration on the night of the Fourth, and had bugged Rachel endlessly about performing.

“You know I haven’t performed in years. I don’t even have anything ready to go.” Rachel made sure the door to the mansion was firmly shut and went to her truck.

“Nonsense. Your voice is like an angel’s.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. True, she’d always been told she had a great voice, but she wouldn’t compare it to an angel. “Thanks, but I’ll have to think about it. I have things I need to do around the ranch, and Mama is making quilts, so I’ll need to help with the baking.”

“Fair enough. But can I just put you down as a maybe?”

Rachel sighed. “Fine. If you can’t get anyone else, I’ll do it.” 

That earned a squeal from Mrs. Peterson, and Rachel had to hold the phone away from her ear. What had she just gotten herself into?

 ***

Rachel set the last of the bags into her truck and shut the door. One store down, another three to go. She shoved her keys into her pocket and walked toward the butcher
shop. The streets were chaotic as people scurried from one place to another, getting the town ready for the week-long festivities. Red, white, and blue flags were plastered everywhere, and flowers were being replanted to match the theme.

The shop was cool compared to the heat outside. The butcher nodded toward her and continued helping the woman in front of her. The woman glanced over her shoulder and smiled when she saw Rachel.

“Oh, honey, I just heard the news. I’m so glad you’ll be singing next weekend. I’ve missed your voice.” Sherry was a good friend of Rachel’s mom and was connected to all the latest gossip.

“I haven’t agreed yet. I just told Mrs. Peterson I’d do it if they don’t find someone else.” The news had spread fast, even for a small town like this. Mrs. Peterson must have sent out a mass text.

Sherry laughed. “So stubborn—like your father. Well, I hope you’ll agree. Heaven knows we need something to help us forget last year’s fiasco.”

Rachel laughed. “Anything would be better than that.”

The mayor had convinced his niece to sing, and it had turned into a disaster when she forgot the words, burst into tears, and ran off the stage.

“True, but even so. I’ve missed your singing.” Sherry thanked the butcher and left the store with a wave.

“Sorry, Rachel, your order isn’t quite ready yet.” Stuart dried his hands on a towel. He was the same age as Rachel and had played football for college until he injured his shoulder.  

She pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to him. “It’s fine. We’re still making space for it. I just have the information for the sheep we’re bringing in next week.”

Stuart took the paper from her and looked it over. “Everything looks great. I’ll send your family the invoice.”

“Thanks. I’ll be back in the morning for the burgers.” Rachel pulled out her wallet to pay the deposit for the meat he would be butchering for her.

“So, Rachel, are you really going to sing?” Stuart asked. 

Rachel stared at him for a moment before she realized he was joking. “I’m kind of afraid to say no by now.” 

He laughed. “I get it. Either way, you can’t blame everyone for trying.”

“I guess not.” Rachel put her purse away. “See ya, Stuart. Tell your mom I said hi.”

“Will do.”

Rachel left the butcher shop and climbed in her truck. She still needed to stop by the bank, but after being pestered all day, she decided to head home. If one more person asked if she was going to sing . . .

It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy it, but since the day she’d been left at the train station, she didn’t have much of a reason to sing.