Page 3 of Take Me Please, Cowboy (The Calhouns & Campbells of Cold Canyon Ranch #1)
He nodded, and she went to get her phone from where it was charging on the hall table.
Returning to the kitchen, Ansley pulled her chair closer to his.
“I took a half dozen, haven’t even looked at them yet, but this is Jackson Flint carrying the painting into the law office.
Jackson is huge and that gives you an idea of just how big the painting was. ”
“I don’t know him,” Clyde said.
“He’s been in Marietta four years now, maybe a little longer. He manages FlintWorks, the brewery his older brothers founded in Marietta’s train depot.”
“I knew the name sounded familiar.”
She flicked through a couple photos of the building maintenance moving furniture to clear space for the painting and then hanging it. “Here it is up,” she said, handing her phone back to him. “It really fills up the wall.”
Clyde studied the photo. “The Bridger Mountains. The west face.”
She nodded. “Mr. Sterba was raised at the foot of the mountains. He said it’s his favorite view.”
Her uncle was still examining the photo. “You did a good job. Must have taken you some time.”
“Weeks, but I enjoyed it. We don’t have mountains like this in Texas.”
“You don’t have any mountains in Texas.”
“We do have the Hill Country,” she said, turning off her phone.
“Huh. Those are barely hills.”
She smiled because he was right. Compared to the Rocky Mountains, Texas was pretty much a flat state.
“I see now why you needed my truck. I’m sorry I reacted so badly.”
“It’s okay.”
“I should have asked more questions.”
“It’s behind us.”
Uncle Clyde’s gaze searched hers. “Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“So, how did you sell this landscape?” Clyde asked. “How did Sterba see it? Do you have a website?”
“I have a landing page, and my Ansley Art Instagram account. I use both to direct all traffic to my Etsy store. That’s where a lot of people find me.”
“Etsy?”
“It’s an online store for artisans. They get a lot of traffic and I’ve been able to sell smaller things through them.
But Mr. Sterba’s wife saw my work at the farmer’s market in Marietta.
I’ve had a little booth a couple of times and have sold things through that, mostly to tourists wanting a souvenir, but it’s made me money. ”
“I always wondered what you were doing out in the barn.”
Ansley laughed. “You knew I was painting.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t know you were good.”
“That’s nice of you to say so.” She rose and began gathering their dishes. “Do you want any dessert tonight?”
“Do we have any of your brownies left?”
“We do.”
“I’d like one of those if you don’t mind.” He pushed up, moving slowly. “Can I help with dishes?”
“No, I’ve got this. Go relax.”
But when she carried a dessert plate in to the TV room later, she discovered her uncle slumped in his leather recliner, the television on mute.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, swiftly moving to his side.
“Just light-headed.”
Ansley set the dessert plate on his side table and carefully touched his forehead. He wasn’t hot or cold. He didn’t feel clammy. But he did look pale. “Any other symptoms?”
“No. I’m just dizzy. I was dizzy earlier—”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I said I was hungry.”
She sat down on the edge of the couch. “Do you want to go to the doctor?”
“No.”
“Do you think this is related to your heart issues?”
“No.”
She frowned, uncertain. “How do you know?”
“Because it passes.”
“How long has it been happening?”
“For the last six months or so. But it’s fine. I’m fine. I think I’ll just go to bed. I’ll feel better in the morning.”
She glanced at the dessert plate on the end table. “No dessert?”
“Maybe put it in the freezer and I’ll have it tomorrow.”
He was struggling to rise, and she hovered, wanting to assist but not sure how.
On his feet, he sighed and shook his head. “If you don’t see me tomorrow morning, I might have gone to meet my maker.”
“Uncle Clyde, don’t say that.”
“Just a joke.”
“It’s not funny. I’m worried about you.”
“Everything’s fine. You deal with the brownie, and I’ll deal with myself.”
But in bed that evening, Ansley couldn’t sleep, her thoughts returning to her uncle.
What if he really wasn’t well and needed medical care? What if he needed help now? She didn’t want to lie in bed, updating her Instagram account if he needed her.
Troubled, she slipped from bed, tiptoed down the hall, and quietly opened his door.
His room was dark. She heard snoring. He was asleep.
He was okay. Feeling encouraged, Ansley returned to her room and wondered again what her uncle’s future was, as well as the future of Cold Canyon Ranch, which had been in the Campbell family for almost a hundred years.
The Campbells were a Montana family, and always had been since emigrating from Scotland at the turn of the century.
Her dad, Callen Campbell, was the first Campbell to leave Montana, turning his back on the family property, but that was because of a deep rift between him and his brother.
They hadn’t always been antagonistic. Growing up, her dad and uncle Clyde had apparently been close.
They were also competitive like most brothers, with Clyde a little more competitive.
But even then, no one expected him to swoop in and steal his brother’s girlfriend when Callen joined the army.
Her dad refused to forgive Clyde even after he’d met Ansley’s mom and had fallen in love.
They’d been happy together—obviously with six kids, five boys and one daughter over a fifteen-year period—and were still happily married.
But Callen wouldn’t forgive his brother and Clyde made no attempt to repair their relationship, either, not even when widowed.
There was no fixing the past, and no hope for the future, which also put the future of the Campbells’ ranch in jeopardy.
Callen still owned half the ranch. Their dad had left the property to both his sons, but Callen did nothing to help it, and he never took the income from it, leaving it all in the Campbell trust.
It was Callen’s wife, Andi, who felt sorry for Clyde.
Andi was the one who sent Clyde a Christmas card every year, and a card for Clyde’s birthday.
When Clyde’s neighbor, rancher Melvin Wyatt reached out to the Texas Campbells, it was Andi who answered the phone.
Melvin was calling to let them know that Clyde was not well, and the Cold Canyon Ranch was falling into disrepair.
Melvin said he and his boys were patching fences and checking in regularly on Clyde, but he needed help, someone who could be there daily, as his dementia was worsening.
It had been a shock to Ansley’s dad that his younger brother had vascular dementia.
The last time Callen had seen Clyde they were both in their mid-twenties.
Now they were men in their late sixties.
Callen didn’t feel like sixty. He didn’t feel fifty.
He was still fit and strong and riding every day.
He worked his ranch every day. Discovering that his brother wasn’t healthy shook him.
He and Andi made a trip to Montana and spent a weekend at the farmhouse.
Clyde was better by the time they left, less confused, more lucid, but he was easily agitated and would get frustrated by change.
Back in Texas, Callen gathered his family and said that this next year was critical.
They needed to help Clyde, and they needed to figure out what to do with the ranch.
Andi suggested Clyde move in with them, but Callen wasn’t going to go that far.
It was one thing to be concerned about his brother’s welfare, and another to have him under his own roof.
There was much discussion amongst the boys, Ansley’s brothers, about the Montana property.
How many acres? How many cattle could it support?
Were any crops being grown? Could it provide a living?
Despite the intense conversation nobody was ready to move to Paradise Valley, not when everyone had work, and relationships in Texas.
But then Ansley surprised them all by raising her hand. “I’ll go,” she said. “At least for the summer. We can decide what happens after that later.”
Summer had come and gone, and no one mentioned relieving Ansley. Her parents hadn’t returned for another visit. It was as if Clyde and Cold Canyon Ranch were no longer an issue. No one needed to get involved. Ansley had the situation well in hand.
Ansley turned over in bed, squishing her down pillow beneath her cheek. Oh, if only they knew.