Page 16 of A Marriage Pact for the Cowboy

That was the thought that sent him to the Ralston farm on Monday morning. He hadn’t been here since — think, think — the winter before Mrs. Ralston’s accident? Even as a kid, he’d been intrigued by buildings and architecture, and now, as he pulled into the farmyard, problems leaped out at him. The porch roof drooped. The siding needed fresh paint and, in some places, repairs. The double-hung windows were the inefficient kind that leaked air.

Frowning, Maxwell parked his mother’s car between Keith’s truck and Eryn’s car then climbed out. The Ralstons had either fallen on hard times or simply neglected their home. A quick glance around caused him to amend his thoughts to include the barn and machine shop. Bringing this place up to par would run an easy couple of hundred grand. Probably more.

Not that anyone had asked for his professional opinion.

Maxwell mounted the steps, careful of where he set his feet, and knocked on the wooden door.

A moment later, the door opened to reveal a surprised Keith Ralston. “Hello. Maxwell. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I came to see Eryn before I leave for Montana. Is she home?”

“Uh, sure. We were just finishing up a project.” The man grimaced slightly. “We’d never dealt with Amelia’s room, and we’re doing that now, along with everything else.”

What kind of everything else? “I won’t interrupt if you’re busy. I came by on a whim.”

“No, no. Come on in.” Keith widened the opening and beckoned. “We’re at a good stopping place.”

“Dad? Who was at the door?” Eryn jogged down the stairs just far enough for her gaze to meet Maxwell’s. “Um, hi. I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

Maxwell offered an easy grin. “Surprise! But I don’t need to stay. Your dad says you’re busy.”

“We have time for tea.” Keith gave his daughter a pointed look. “I’ll go put it on.”

Eryn’s hand touched her adorably messy ponytail. A bit of dirt smudged her cheek and her old jeans and T-shirt. “I’ll be right back.” She disappeared upstairs.

Awkward. Maxwell stood in the small entry. The staircase looked solid for the era, but refinishing would bring out its natural beauty. The house also had high ceilings edged with wide moldings. It could look quite charming.

Somehow, he didn’t think offering to renovate their home would be taken well. Probably they couldn’t afford it, or they’d have done it already, and besides, Maxwell was not moving back to Kansas, remember?

Yeah, he remembered.

Maxwell followed Keith to the kitchen, which would definitely require gutting… He needed to turn that part of his brain off. But why were boxes stacked in the corner and cupboard doors open to reveal empty shelves? He chuckled. “Looks like you guys are moving.”

“We are.” Keith glanced over from where he set three mugs on the countertop.

Maxwell blinked. “Pardon me?” And why hadn’t Eryn mentioned it?

The man sighed and glanced toward the doorway as though checking for his daughter’s presence. “We’ve hit on some hard times, and I sold the farm to Larry Groening the other day. We’ve got a bit of time, but we tackled Amelia’s room yesterday and then sort of kept going. A lot of this stuff has never been used since Kendra passed away.” He lifted a shoulder in a shrug that belied the moisture in his eyes.

“Where are you moving?”

“Don’t know yet. We’ll find a place in town. I can maybe work for Larry — he has that Bed of Greens Truck Farm. Or maybe I can stock shelves at the Co-op. I guess I’ll see what crops up. Bad time of year, though.”

“But… you’re a farmer. You’d hate being cooped up in a feed store or something like that.”

Keith grimaced as he shook his head. “You’re right, but even without the farm sucking me dry, bills don’t pay themselves. Leastways that I’ve noticed.”

A problem a Sullivan grandson had never faced, although Bryce had seemed ready to test the theory at times in his life. He might only be putting in time now, but he was at least earning his keep with landscaping at the ranch.

“I’m really sorry to hear that.”

“Dad!”

Maxwell turned to see Eryn with her hands on her hips, glaring at her father. Her hair had been brushed into a high ponytail, and the smudge was off her face. Also, had she dabbed on a little makeup?

He was no expert, but it seemed likely. Maxwell forced himself not to grin at the thought.

“Eryn!” Keith mimicked his daughter’s tone and stance. “There’s no point in trying to keep it a secret. Everyone in Gilead will know by next weekend, or by tomorrow if Mrs. Alleghany finds out sooner. It is what it is.”

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