Page 1 of Take a Chance (Blue Creek Ranch #1)

Malachi

I stared at my banking app and rubbed a hand across my face, hoping the numbers would change. I was running out of money so damn fast. If I counted every penny, I had about three months left. Maybe four.

Probably not four.

I glanced over where my son Payton was asleep curled up in his beanbag chair. There was a book next to him on the floor, and he was clutching Mr. Raven, a weird stuffed black bird toy he’d latched onto last summer at a craft fair we’d gone to with my mom.

Sighing, I checked my email next. I wished there had been notifications I just hadn’t noticed somehow. Of course there were none.

Since Pay—no, it was Tony this week—would probably snooze for another half an hour, I moved from the small kitchen table to the couch that was too big for the space, but I’d kept it because one end of it folded out into a bed.

That left more room for Tony’s stuff in the studio apartment I’d rented in a panic a few months back.

I settled on the couch and opened Google on my phone. I didn’t even have a working laptop at the moment, so I cherished my phone and treated it as if it was made of glass most of the time. Tony, at the age of four, had understood it was an Important Thing and was super careful around it, too.

The ancient iPad we shared was equally as treasured, even though the battery life was shitty and there was a small crack in the screen.

Jesus. This was not the life I’d wanted or expected.

Before I had time to use the search engine, I got a notification for a new email. Swallowing hard, my heart pounding, I opened my inbox to… another rejection. I was pretty fucking certain I’d applied to every farm or ranch I could find in a reasonable distance. Maybe it was time to be unreasonable?

My mom’s face jump-scared me, and I almost flung the phone across the room. Jesus Christ.

At least I had one bud in my ear. The other was chronically in its case on the counter.

“Hey, Mama. What’s up?” I attempted a casual tone.

“What’s wrong, Malachi?”

Well fuck.

“Nothing new?” It was a rhetorical question, of course.

She sighed. “Still no job prospects?” she asked quietly.

“No. I’m going to start applying farther, I think. There’s nothing around here.”

“I’m so, so sorry, son.”

“No, Mom. It’s not your fault.” It wasn’t. She could feel guilty all she wanted—which I hated—but it wasn’t her fault. Or mine. It had been my dad’s. “How’s Auntie Win?”

Knowing a way out of a painful conversation when she heard one—we’d become really good at that over the last eight months or so—she took the bait and began to tell me about the craft fair she’d gone to with her sister in the next town over from where she now lived in New Mexico.

I let her words wash over me and closed my eyes.

A moment later the beanbag chair rustled, but when I peered over the back of the couch, Tony had only shifted a little.

Soon after, my aunt’s voice called to Mom in the background, and we said goodbye and promised to call soon.

Even though I was tired and could’ve used the fifteen or so minutes I had left to take a power nap, I went back to Google.

This time I searched for any sort of horse-related businesses in the state of Colorado.

I was at the very northeast of the state but I wouldn’t mind moving a little more south. Anything would be closer to Mom.

Since there were no job listings, I browsed the businesses and sent an open application to a few. I didn’t expect much, but I was as honest as I could be. I even debated mentioning that I was a single father of one, but in the end, decided it was better to leave it off.

I settled on mentioning recently having lost the family farm where I’d worked with anything and everything horse and cattle related since I could walk.

I added that I could do equipment maintenance on anything that had an engine, and that I had helped a neighboring ranch with cattle drives for the past decade.

That had been in Nebraska. Barely across the border, but still. I hadn’t gotten far when I’d left the state. I’d just packed everything I could into a U-Haul and my truck, and found a little apartment near Fort Collins because it was cheaper than going to Denver or Colorado Springs.

Suddenly I came across a ranch in about the middle of the state and browsed their website.

Seemed like a family thing. All sorts of horse-related businesses all wrapped in one.

Breeding, training, an event venue, and riding instruction.

It looked nice as well. There was a tall blue spruce next to what I thought was the main farmhouse.

I clicked on their main email and sent in my so-called resume.

“Daddy? Did Nana call?”

I smiled and peeked over the couch again. “Yeah, buddy, she did.”

“I thought I heard you talking.”

There was new rustling and soon my son hurtled over the end of the couch with Mr. Raven in tow. Tony climbed over me and settled on my chest, sighing happily.

“Now that you’re up, we should go out. Park and diner, remember?”

Tony made a disgruntled little sound. “Do we have to?”

Keeping my face neutral in case Tony looked up, I replied, “Yes. We’ve agreed that we go outside twice a day, right?”

“But we don’t have horses or dogs anymore.”

It hurt. Of course it did. My perfect little kid, who had only started to talk a year ago when he could speak in full sentences he enunciated perfectly most of the time, had hit the nail on the head. Or a nail into my head, really.

I knew Tony didn’t know better. Didn’t understand the hurt.

“Yes, but fresh air is important. Besides, milkshakes.” I made my stomach bounce so that the boy almost slid off, giggling like crazy.

“Okay, okay!” Tony hated being tickled, so this was one of the alternatives.

He really was a very particular little boy. I couldn’t have loved him more.

“Go pee and we can go, okay?”

“I’ll leave Mr. Raven on my bed first.”

I sat up and cracked my neck. Okay. I could do this. I knew a cheap diner where the food was decent. I could cook the same stuff here in the kitchenette, but that would mean there was no incentive milkshake. My son, who had grown up on the same farm I had, disliked the outdoors.

He tolerated dogs, liked cats, abhorred chickens, and was ambivalent about horses. Ever since he was little, putting him down in the dirt was the worst offense. He liked the grass where he could sit down if he wanted to without getting dirty, but he freaked out about bugs. Still.

I was pretty sure Tony loved our little apartment just because it was bug free, clean, and indoors.

“Okay, Daddy, I’m ready!”

Pushing to my feet, I grabbed my phone and wallet, and moved across the small room to the door.

I glanced over at the windows. “Looks good, bud. We don’t need jackets, but do you want your hoodie just in case?”

“Yes, please.”

I grabbed the black hoodie with some tiny planet pattern all over and helped Tony to tie it around his waist.

“Let’s go; I’m getting hungry and the park waits for no man,” I said in a jaunty tone.

Tony giggled in a distinct way that told me he was exasperated. I wouldn’t dare to try dad jokes with this one.

No, scratch that, I did. I just had to find actually clever ones, because Tony was four going on fourteen. I still wasn’t sure how Vera and I had managed to make such an atypical, highly intelligent child.

The next day, I woke up to two more rejection emails. Then, around lunch time, I got one from that last place, Blue Creek Ranch.

Mr. Trevino,

Thank you for contacting us. While we’re not officially hiring, we’ve been meaning to, so your email couldn’t have arrived at a better moment.

If possible, would Thursday at two in the afternoon be a good time for you to come in for an interview?

Best regards,

Jennifer Harrington

With shaking hands, I typed a reply. I’d make it happen.

Come Thursday morning I prepared everything for the college student I occasionally hired for childcare when I went to interviews.

The drive was about three hours, depending on the traffic, and I wanted to leave early so that I had leeway if something went wrong.

At ten thirty, she hadn’t arrived.

Tony was picking up on my anxiety spike. “What’s wrong, Daddy?”

I gave him a tight smile. “Irina hasn’t called and isn’t here yet.”

“Oh.” He went back to reading his book. Not that he could read fluently, but he definitely recognized a lot of words and could remember stories from me reading them to him.

Five minutes later, there was finally a text from Irina.

I’m sorry, my car broke and I have a migraine anyway.

I gritted my teeth. Fuck.

I dug out my phone and called the ranch’s number.

It took four rings, then a slightly breathless voice answered. “Blue Creek Ranch, Jennifer speaking.”

“Ah, Mrs. Harrington? It’s Malachi Trevino.”

“Mr. Trevino! How can I help you?” Her tone was pure warmth. Like a mom. Which she was, based on the website.

“Well, I was about to leave to make sure I’m there on time, but my babysitter just bailed.” I hung my head and held in a sigh.

“That’s not a problem, Mr. Trevino. If you want to bring your child with you, they can hang out with me. Your interview is with my son.” Her voice didn’t change at all until it got more playful as she added, “I’ve raised ten of my own. Trust me, it’s no hardship.”

I swallowed hard. “Are you absolutely sure? He’s a good kid. Really quiet and polite.”

She chuckled. “I’m sure. Even if he wasn’t. If he can make the trip, he’s welcome here.”

I exhaled. “Okay. Okay. I’ll… I’ll stop for some travel snacks and things, but we should be there around two, give or take.”

“I understand this is a change of plans and if it delays you any, I know you’ll text or call me to let me know. It’s not easy being a parent, and if you’re doing it on your own…. Just take a deep breath and drive carefully. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Holding back sudden tears I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “Yeah. Thank you. I’ll see you then.”