The Rancher and the Rich Girl

by Heather MacAllister

  But Matt would blame himself. He wasn’t sure of all the legal mumbo jumbo, but the bottom line was that the circus people had a lease on their section as long as he owned the ranch. That was a condition of the inheritance. Selling would be a complicated process that would void the lease. And truthfully, finding a buyer who’d put up with the eccentricities of having retired circus performers wandering around the ranch was about nil. “I couldn’t do that to you.”

  “What makes you think we can’t take care of ourselves, eh? A little snow on the roof doesn’t mean you can’t see out the windows.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that while you’re entertaining your rich lady, you might find you like it and want to stay. So stay. Enjoy yourself. We’ll be okay without you.”

  Matt had his doubts, but appreciated Frank’s gesture.

  Caesar chose that moment to come bounding back and climb onto Frank’s shoulder.

  “It’s getting past time for me to shove off,” Matt said.

  “Lita packed you lunch?”

  “Yeah.” Before climbing into the pickup truck, Matt turned and waved toward the kitchen window where the gruff ex-carnival cook stood watching.

  Frank and Caesar leaned in the truck. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Frank said, then added with a jovial bellow, “Fortunately, there isn’t much I wouldn’t do!”

  Matt grinned good-naturedly, put the truck in gear and drove off, leaving the ranch in the hands of a lame trapeze artist and a money-hungry monkey.

  * * *

  “JESSICA!” THE TWO brunettes on the doorstep threw their arms around Jessica and squeezed. Their hugs felt as though they were squeezing life back into her.

  “It’s good to see you, Liz, Tara,” Jessica said, hugging them back.

  “So when are you breaking out the margaritas?”

  “In the middle of the afternoon?”

  “Jessica, Jessica.” Shaking her head, Tara picked up a hanging garment bag. “Have you forgotten that there’s never a bad time for margaritas?”

  Well yes, she had. Feeling vaguely improper—margaritas weren’t normally a Fremont drink—Jessica mixed a pitcher of the frozen slush and carried it into the den.

  It took no time at all to become reacquainted with her two friends. References to people, places and events whirled around her, and Jessica began to feel a longing for a way of life she’d happily abandoned nearly a decade ago. She was also forced to admit just how staid and circumscribed she’d become—maybe even boring. Okay, probably boring. At the very least, predictable. Jessica had never been predictable when she’d been in school with Tara and Liz.

  “Where’s your baby?” Liz asked Jessica.

  “He’s nine now.”

  “No way!”

  “Has it been that long since you eloped?” Tara asked.

  “I didn’t elope,” Jessica protested. “I just had a small wedding.”

  “I guess so. One minute you were next to me on the ski slope, and the next, you were in a lip lock with this gorgeous man,” Liz said.

  “Yeah, and then a week later, Lauren was packing up your stuff at school and telling us you’d dropped out to get married,” Tara recalled. “You always were impulsive.”

  “Then the next thing you know, there was the pitter-patter of tiny feet—you really jumped into things, didn’t you?” Liz was as blunt as always.

  “Well...I got pregnant on our honeymoon,” Jessica explained. “We went on a cruise and I was so seasick that I kept throwing up my birth control pills.” She realized she’d never told anyone this before.

  Tara grinned. “You must not have been seasick all the time.”

  “We spent two weeks on St. Thomas, but after we got back, I kept wondering why the seasickness wouldn’t go away!” When the laughter faded, Jessica added, “But I’m glad it happened that way. If we’d waited...” She couldn’t finish.

  She didn’t have to. Liz got to her first, enveloping her in a hug. “I’m so sorry, Jessie. Life stinks sometimes.”

  “I realize Samuel’s been gone a long time, but seeing you again reminds me of that last time we were all together in Switzerland and I first met him.” Jessica managed a wobbly smile. “But don’t feel sorry for me. I got the best little boy in the world out of the deal, so I’m happy.”

  “Well, where is he?” Tara asked, breaking the somber atmosphere.

  “In school until three-thirty.” A good thing, too. Jessica had been so busy with preparations for her houseguests that Sam had been feeling neglected and had let her know it. To be fair, he was used to having the undivided attention of both his mother and grandmother.

  “In that case...” Tara kicked off her shoes and dug out the auction brochure. “Plenty of time to figure out who we’re bidding on!” She patted the spot next to her on the sofa. Jessica joined her.

  “What’s this we business?” Liz opened the brochure and pointed to a man wearing a tuxedo and holding a rose. “I plan to get Rob, here, all for myself.”

  “Lauren’s Rob? Are you nuts?” Tara had always been a little intimidated by Lauren.

  “That’ll teach her not to show up.”

  Tara took a sip of her drink and shook her head. “Give me a man in tight jeans anytime.”

  “We’ve got a couple of those in here.” Liz flipped through the brochure. “Look, here’s a cowboy—hey, a rodeo champion.” She read the brief profile out loud.

  Tara turned the page in her copy of the brochure. “I was kinda looking at this one with the horse.” She showed Jessica.

  Jessica stared down into an unsmiling face half-hidden by a cowboy hat. The man was standing next to a striking black horse with an irregularly shaped white splotch on its forehead.

  Although she’d glanced through the brochure, Jessica wasn’t going to bid on anyone, so she hadn’t studied the men who were to participate in the auction. And as soon as she’d seen the horse in this photo, she’d quickly flipped past.

  Samuel’s horse had been dark with white markings—not as black as this one appeared to be, but enough like it to make Jessica uncomfortable. She’d never been a horsewoman, though she’d vowed to learn to ride well for her husband’s sake, but that had never happened.

  “He looks like the strong, silent type,” Tara said. “One who lets his actions speak for him. My kind of man.”

  Liz reached for the brochure. “I thought you were talking about the horse.”

  “Oh, ha ha.”

  “How about you, Jessie?” Liz fanned the pages of the brochure. “Which one are you bidding on?”

  Smiling, Jessica shook her head. “Oh, I’m not going to bid.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because...because...I guess it never occurred to me to bid on one of the bachelors.”

  “Again, why not?”

  “Well...”

  “There are some prime specimens in that brochure,” Tara said.

  “Jessie, you should bid on one of these guys,” her sister added.

  Jessica mentally tested the idea. “Well, what on earth would I do with him afterward?”

  “Ain’t that just the saddest thing you’ve ever heard?” Tara drawled.

  “You can’t be that rusty,” Liz teased.

  Jessica could and was. “You know, between learning the ins and outs of the construction business and raising my son, I haven’t had the emotional energy to go looking for a new relationship.”

  “That’s why this auction is so perfect,” Tara said. “You pay your money and you have control. The men agree to do what you want.”

  Liz poured the last of the margaritas into her glass. “I like the sound of that.”

  “You know what I mean,” Tara said. “The auction is a great way to get your feet wet ag
ain. Let’s find you a bachelor. How about page thirty-four—the park ranger?”

  “Sounds like a loner-type,” was Liz’s opinion. “Try for something more urban. Page twenty-eight is a cutie.”

  “So’s twelve.”

  They continued going through the brochure, making more and more outrageous comments about the men. Jessica found herself laughing so much the muscles in her cheeks were sore. She still had no intention of bidding on one of the auction bachelors—Rachel would have a cow—but she was having a good time, anyway.

  Having the McNeils here showed her as nothing else could that she’d neglected the “Jessica” part of herself. Maybe she should bid on one of the bachelors after all.

  “I could hear raucous laughter all the way from the back driveway.” From the doorway, Rachel’s voice rolled like a fog over the group, dampening their spirits.

  “Rachel.” Jessica stumbled as she got to her feet. She’d been sitting so long her leg was partially asleep, but Rachel’s silent gaze had already noted the empty margarita pitcher. “I’d like you to meet my friends.” Jessica quickly introduced the McNeil sisters. Rachel acknowledged them with a frosty Fremont smile of disapproval, which they ignored.

  “So, Mrs. Fremont, which of these gorgeous hunks will you be bidding on?” Liz asked, waving the brochure.

  “I will not be attending the auction,” Rachel pronounced in a tone that managed to convey to everyone that she felt Jessica shouldn’t be attending, either.

  “Good,” Liz said. “I was afraid you’d run up the price on the toy boy.”

  “Liz!” Even Tara was surprised at her sister.

  “Amos Pike owns a toy company,” Liz said mildly, but with the unrepentant twinkle Jessica remembered so well.

  “Rachel, you’re home early today,” she interjected before Liz could say anything more.

  “It’s four o’clock,” her mother-in-law said clearly.

  “But it can’t be!” Jessica stared at her watch. It was four o’clock. She’d lost all track of time. “Oh my God, where’s Sam?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “YOU MEAN HE’S NOT HOME YET?” Rachel paled.

  “I—I—” All the air had left Jessica’s lungs.

  “Maybe he came in the back door,” Liz suggested. “He probably saw us all in here and went up to his room.”

  Not Sam, Jessica thought. He’d never come home to anything other than his mother or grandmother waiting with a snack.

  “Go look, Jessie.” Tara nudged her past Rachel.

  “Are you telling me you don’t know where your own son is?” Rachel’s voice echoed with condemnation.

  Jessica hurried toward the stairs. “He’s probably in his room.” She hoped.

  But when Jessica saw the door slightly ajar, she knew Sam wasn’t in there. Still, she opened the door all the way and took in the smooth bedspread, which meant he hadn’t flung himself onto his bed since this morning.

  She stood there, mentally reviewing Sam’s schedule. Was there a rehearsal for some end-of-the-school-year program she’d forgotten? Spring soccer had finished two weeks ago and the summer season didn’t begin until school let out.

  “Call Sheriff Hatcher.” Rachel had reached the top of the stairs.

  “Sam’s only a half-hour late,” Jessica murmured, well aware that her friends were listening while they pretended not to. “He probably went to Kevin’s house.”

  “Without telling you? Do you allow this behavior?”

  Jessica looked at her mother-in-law and tried to infuse her voice with a calm she was rapidly losing. “No, Rachel, but the circumstances are a little different this week. Let’s not panic before we’ve made a few phone calls.” She started down the stairs.

  Rachel grasped her arm as Jessica moved past. “This town is packed with strangers in for that...auction. Anything could have happened to him.”

  Jessica didn’t reply.

  Sam wasn’t at Kevin’s house. There weren’t any practices at school. She called the bus barn and was put on hold while the dispatcher radioed the driver, who was now on her high school run.

  Though they only lived a short distance from Lander Elementary, Jessica had allowed Sam to take the bus that was available for kids who lived at the outer limits of the town rather than pick him up herself. That way he could enjoy a little independence and she didn’t need to worry about his safety. Now she wasn’t so sure it was such a good idea.

  “How could you, Jessica?” Rachel snapped.

  Jessica took a deep breath. “My schedule has been crazy all week. The afternoon just got away from me.”

  “Your friends have only been here a few hours and look at the influence they’ve had on you,” Rachel went on, her voice loud enough to carry through the kitchen door and be heard by Liz and Tara. “You’ve forgotten all your responsibilities.”

  In spite of her worry about Sam, Jessica was concerned about her mother-in-law. This querulousness wasn’t like her, and she didn’t want Liz and Tara spreading the word that Jessica lived with a dragon. “Please, let’s just concentrate on finding Sam.”

  “And how do you propose to do that?”

  At that moment, the transportation dispatcher returned with the information that Sam had been dropped off in his usual spot at the foot of the long driveway leading to the Fremont house, though he’d tried to get off earlier and hadn’t been allowed. “Our policy is that any change in a child’s routine must be in writing,” the woman said.

  “Yes, thank you.” Slowly Jessica replaced the phone and tried to figure out what to do next.

  “Well?”

  “They dropped him off just like they always do.”

  “I’m calling the sheriff.” Rachel reached for the phone, but Jessica stayed her hand.

  Overreacting wouldn’t get them anywhere. She needed to give Rachel some task to take her mind off Sam. “Would you start dinner for me? I’ve already made the pasta salad and there’s a fruit platter in the fridge.”

  Rachel blinked. “You’re acting very calm about all this. Just how much have you had to drink?”

  Jessica kept her voice even as she walked across the kitchen. “I had one margarita about three hours ago. I’m fine. Now, let’s see...dessert is Chocolate Death brownies from Sweet Lil’s.” She opened the bread keeper. “So, basically, I just need the French bread heated and the raw vegetables arranged—”

  “I can’t believe you!” Rachel gestured wildly. “My only grandson is God knows where and you’re worried about feeding those women?”

  Determined not to give in to Rachel’s panic, Jessica withdrew a loaf of bread. “The bus driver said Sam tried to get off before his stop. Something must have caught his attention so I’m going to get in the car and trace the bus route to see if I can find him. You stay here in case he calls.” She managed a smile. “Now, put on your Fremont face and pass around the raw veggies.”

  * * *

  MATT WOULD BE STAYING at the old Starlite Motel, but planned to board Black Star up at Lost Springs. He’d contacted Rex Trowbridge, a fellow Lost Springs alum who was now the director of the ranch. Rex had said boarding the horse wouldn’t be a problem.

  Matt had kind of been hoping it would be, so he’d have had an excuse not to bring Black Star. His ranch could get by for a while, but selling Black Star was inevitable. Midsize ranchers were struggling all over the Hill Country after last season’s drought, and this year wasn’t looking much better.

  The thing was, if he was going to have to sell Black Star, he’d get a better price now than later. With his black coat and that Hungarian horse blood in him, Black Star was a showy animal, the kind that brought a good price from people with money.

  In Matt’s experience, show always brought a higher price than substance.

  Still, during th
e past three days of driving, he’d nearly convinced himself that he could find some other way to keep the ranch afloat.

  It had been the signs for the Kingston Wildlife Sanctuary in Texas that had given him the idea of a sponsor. The place was a couple of hundred miles from Winter Ranch and Matt had been passing their advertising signs along the highway. The closer he got, the more detail was on the signs, and then he’d seen the one thanking the sponsors. He’d only caught a few of the names as he’d driven past, but seeing the list of companies and individuals made him wonder why it hadn’t ever occurred to him to have some wild animal rescue group contribute to the upkeep of the older performing animals instead of shouldering most of the feed bills himself.

  If anyone was running a sanctuary, he was, though it was hardly the model of efficiency.

  But he couldn’t just let the animals starve. They were all old, and most of them were tame enough to be pets. No zoo wanted them, and Matt shuddered at the thought of turning them over to the big game ranches in the Hill Country.

  He prayed he’d never get that desperate.

  Matt reached the outskirts of Lightning Creek and passed by the Starlite on Main. Some mighty fine-looking vehicles were parked in the lot already. He doubted the old place had ever seen such expensive cars. A couple of them were probably worth more than the old motel with its flickering Vaca-cy sign. Somebody had hand lettered a big No and duct-taped it just under the blinking star. Good thing he had a reservation.

  Since he planned to stop at Reilly’s Feed Store to pick up feed for Black Star, Matt headed for the statue of a cowboy on a bucking bronc, which sat in the middle of the traffic circle in the center of town.

  He smiled to himself as he passed the statue. How many times had he looked at that statue on a trip into town and dreamed of becoming a famous bronc rider? To his adolescent way of thinking, that was the quickest road to fame and riches and getting back with his mother.

  He’d planned to use his winnings to buy a home where they could live without sneaking away from the landlord. A place all theirs that nobody could take away from them.