Champion At Heart (Sequel of Breaking Ice)

Chapter Seven

The day had turned hotter as the hours went by, something that was expected in the middle of July, and the humidity was getting worse, making way for high electric bills on air conditioner use.

The bell at the top of the door in the hardware store rang, announcing the arrival of a customer, and old man Gilligan rushed from the nail aisle to greet whoever had walked in.

"Marshall Redd! It's so nice to see you, boy," he greeted the man with a smile on his face, pushing his big rimmed glasses up on his nose as he walked around the counter. "It has been a while since you've stepped into my store. I thought you would have gone to that big warehouse at the end of town. Many folks stopped coming here to see what they had to offer."

Thomas Gilligan was hitting near 70s, with kind eyes, white hair on the sides, and the habit of combing a few of the strands to cover his bald spot on the top. He was ready to retire, but with no kids, or anyone to leave the business to, it was making it harder to leave what he had built from the ground up when he had arrived in town. He had thought of selling it, but he figured that was not a choice he wanted to make.

A young man, only 21 years old, Thomas had bought the empty space on Main St, and made the town his home.

"No way I'll go to that place, Thomas. You're the real deal. Those large companies are just greedy," Marshall replied as he limped towards an aisle.

Week after week, for the last three years, he had remodeled the old ranch and had made it habitable for him and Sophia. For the most part.

Now he was standing in front of the paint samples, trying to find the perfect color for her bedroom. Being a teenager, now 16, meant she changed her mind many times in a month.

"How's your leg feeling?" Thomas asked, thinking it was a stupid question, but Marshall was one to keep to himself, so no one knew much about the ornery cowboy that now lived apart from anyone in town. And almost no one knew how he had been recovering.

"It's getting there. But I have no hope of ever getting on a bull again. Almost six years, and I am still feeling useless."

"Oh, poppycock," the old man waved his hands dismissively. "You are doing more than enough for you and your sister. That ranch you bought had potential, and you had made it a home. So you, sir, are not useless."

Marshall smiled at his compliment, and kept browsing for paint to order.

"What colors could a teenage girl like?" he muttered to himself, picking up a strip of different shades of yellow, pink, and purple. They seemed a bit girly, but Sophia was more of a tomboy.

Much to his dismay, she seemed to want to follow in his footsteps and become a rodeo star. Bull rider, specifically. Marshall was against it, but if his sister was anything like him, stubbornness should be her middle name.

"You'll get back to it one day, and then properly retire," Thomas mentioned as he walked over, frowning at the selection of paint Marshall had in his hands. "I don't think Miss Sophia would like that."

"How do you know?" Marshall asked, confused, when Thomas chuckled, picking up a strip with different shades of brown and black.

"She's more of a dark color type of girl."

Marshall frowned. Those colors suited him better, especially with the mood he has been carrying all these years.

"I don't think..."

"Trust me, Redd. Sophia spends more time here keeping me company. Which for a lady who wants to be a rodeo star or loves horses, it's strange that she doesn't enjoy being at the ranch."

Patting Marshall's shoulders, he headed back to work. Since when has Sophia stopped liking being on a ranch? Has he failed to care for her that she doesn't want to see him often?

He needed to find out what was wrong with that picture, and get some answers from her.

"Call me if you need anything or when you're ready to check out."

"Thank you." Not able to make up his mind, Marshall took an entire booklet of color strips to take back home.

"How much do I owe you?" he asked, when Thomas shouted back that it was on the house. With a smile on his face, the first one in many moons, thinking the man was just a fool for giving things away for free, he dropped a few bucks on the counter and made his way out of the store.

Keeping his head down, his cowboy hat covering his eyes, he didn't realize there was someone walking in until he bumped against her shoulder.

"Excuse me, Miss. Sorry," he apologized, not looking up, but as he slightly stared to the side, he saw a pair of little heart patterned boots walking by, making his heart race.

He could probably blame it on his yearning for a family, or the gut feeling he still had that he was a father.

Shaking his head, he called himself a fool for hoping. But something about those little feet made him think, and as tempted as he was to go back and see the little girl wearing them, he opted for heading to his truck instead.

"Well, someone finally decided to leave his hermit ways and grace us with his presence," Lexie said with a heavy drawl, leaning against the open window of his truck as soon as he got in. Lexie Lowell was the mayor's daughter, and she had been trying to get Marshall's attention for years. Even after his ex-girlfriend had left, she had wanted to console him and help him get out of the sulky ways he found himself in. To no avail.

Marshall was a tough man to get, but she loved a good challenge.

"I'm sorry, Lexie. I'm just trying to get my life back together," he replied as nicely as he could. Lexie was a kind woman, and she was just as beautiful. Big, hazel eyes adorned her freckled face, and her fiery red hair curled down over her shoulder. She was admired by many folks for her tender and caring nature, but as much as Marshall tried to like her the way she wanted him to, it was impossible.

Brooklyn Evans had left a scar in his heart, and she was the only one that could mend it. Not that he would ever see her again.

"Well, Daddy is planning dinner tomorrow night. Maybe you and Sophia would love to join us? I know she is at the age where she doesn't want to spend time with the family and..."

"I'll let you know. Thank you, Lexie," he interrupted, waiting for her to step back before he turned the ignition on. "Have a nice day."

"You too, cowboy," she smiled, which made him feel guilty. Lexie deserved a good man by her side, and Marshall Redd was not that man. He was damaged goods, and his heart could not belong to anyone else but Brooklyn Evans.