Ben started down the lane to the house but decided to take the long way around the stables. As he turned the corner, coming ’round the north side of the barn, there she was, standing beside the clunker, talking on her cell phone. She was bare-headed now, her sunglasses perched atop her head, holding back her long, thick chestnut mane, loose and falling around her shoulders. She was smiling, in animated conversation, a musical laugh punctuating her words. She was gorgeous, the gangly teenager all grown up, transformed into a voluptuous woman. Ben thought about Miranda. Stylish and chic, but oh, so skinny, a swizzle stick in comparison to this full-bodied, luscious creature. Totally different species.
Suddenly Maggie caught sight of him and the smile vanished. Her loose, open stance closed up, and she turned away.
“Emma, honey, gotta go. See you soon, Sweet Pea.”
Turning back, Maggie watched Ben step from the Rover and steeled herself for another encounter. The man was magnificent, no doubt about that. To her annoyance, her treacherous body began to tingle from head to toe.
“Mr. Morgan, we meet again.”
“What brings you to the ranch?”
“I work here.”
“Oh?” Despite her defiant stance, he noticed that her lip trembled. Don’t know how I can change the dynamic between us, but she’s sure worth a try.
“I train horses, run the pony camps and lessons, and help organize most of the pack trips. Harley leads them, of course, and I do the day-to-day stuff.” You’re babbling, Maggie Williams. Stop talking!
“What happened to Princeton?”
“Dropped out.”
“Why?”
“Look, it’s been a long day. I’ve got to get going.”
“Do you live here? On the ranch?”
“No. Still live in town with my dad.”
“How’s he doing?”
Ben racked his brain to think of conversation topics that might keep her talking. Gazing into those deep azure eyes, he discovered a warmth and stillness he had never experienced before. Had it been that way during the one night they’d spent together? He didn’t remember those eyes, but he could still feel her soft skin, still smell her scent, a mix of citrus and jasmine.
“He’s terrific. Same old, same old.”
“Still wrangling and taking care of the valley livestock?”
“He retired a few years ago, but he keeps busy.”
“Give him my best.”
Gazing into his warm, dark eyes, Maggie felt herself going weak at the knees. And there was that treacherous tingle again. Control yourself, woman. “Will do. Gotta go.”
“Would love to see your dad. How is he?” he called, but she was already gone. Ben watched her drive away and whistled softly. They didn’t make women like Maggie Williams in California. He had forgotten what he had been missing.
* * *
Chapter 5
Ben pulled into the farm at the same time as one of the ranch trucks. His youngest sister, Ruthie, jumped out of the pick-up and screamed.
“Hey, Shortcake!” He opened his arms, she flew into them and lifted her, swinging her around as they had done all their lives.
“I’m twenty-two and a college graduate. Can’t call me Shortcake anymore, you big lout.”
He set her down. “Doesn’t look like you’ve grown any since I left.”
“You’d be surprised.” She punched his gut affectionately, other hand on her hip.
“What happened to coming out to Santa Barbara after graduation?”
“Too busy. Was thinking of a trip in August, and now here you are. Does Mom know you’re here?”
Ben shook his head.
“She’s gonna have kittens when she sees you.”
“I certainly hope not.”
“She’s been pining away for her favorite child, especially since last winter.”
“What about last winter? Ruthie, what’s up? Did something happen with Dad?”
Before his sister could reply, the screen door opened and Leonora Morgan emerged, hand shielding her eyes. “Oh, my Lord in heaven, is that you, Bennie?”
“Hey, Mom!” He waved, then crossed the distance between them and opened his arms as she launched herself from the bottom step of the porch.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?”
“He wanted to surprise you, of course.”
“Ruthie, go call your father. He’ll be over the moon.”
“Just saw Dad.”
Ben realized his mistake as soon as the words were out. Her face fell, knowing he had gone to his father first.
“As I drove in, I saw him headed into the Lodge, so I stopped,” Ben lied.
“Never mind all that. Come on in. So good to see you, darling. We weren’t planning anything fancy for supper, but I can send Carmela into town to pick up some groceries. What do you feel like?”
“Oh, Lord,” Ruthie said, grabbing a knapsack from the truck. “The prodigal son has returned. Can’t remember the last time Mom asked me or any of us what we felt like for dinner.”
“Ruthie, stop chattering and go tell Carmela that Ben’s home.”
* * *
Chapter 6
“Carmela, thank you,” Ben said, savoring the first forkful of sticky beans. “Oh, how I’ve missed these beans.”
Carmela had planned skewered lamb, rice, and salad, but added skewers of vegetables and a bean dish she knew was one of Ben’s favorites to the evening’s menu. She beamed, nodded at him, then disappeared into the kitchen. Plump, but still a raven-haired beauty, Carmela never seemed to age. Her dark, flawless skin was as wrinkle-free as it had been in her twenties. Now in her early sixties, the talented, inventive chef had begun working for the Morgan family as a teenager. Over the years, she graduated from maid to housekeeper, then added cooking to her duties in her late twenties. She and her husband, Raoul, lived in one of the cottages behind the stables. Although they had longed for a family, they were never blessed with children and had thus adopted Ben and his five siblings as their own.
Raoul managed the livestock, except the horses. The ranch was home to several dozen rare varieties of chickens, a few pigs, and an assortment of goats, raised for their milk. They also raised four varieties of sheep—Columbia, Navaho-Churro, Dorset, and Royal Whites. The last were meat animals. The others were raised for their highly prized wool. At any one time, the herd ranged from three to five hundred head, and Raoul and his crew spent their days and nights tending to their safety.
Ruthie, Ben, and their parents shared Carmela’s delicious dinner, with animated conversation throughout. Ruthie still lived at home. Their sister, Beth, three years younger than Ben, ran the organic farm, with Ruthie’s assistance. She lived in town with her longtime boyfriend, Bill, a biology professor at U of A.
“So, how long can you stay, honey?”
“I was thinking a couple of months, if you and Dad can stand having me around me that long.”
“Already told him, forever would be okay with us.” His father reached over to pat his wife’s hand, eyes gazing at her with affection. After thirty-three years of marriage, they were still high school sweethearts, more in love than when they began dating as fifteen-year-olds.
“Not that you need one, but any special reason why you’ve come home now?”
His mother always saw right through him.
“Doctor’s orders. Says I need to de-stress.”
“Oh, honey! Well, you’ve come to the right place for that, hasn’t he, dear?”
“You said it! We’ll put him right to work! Doin’ a nonstressful job, of course.”
“We will do no such thing. He’ll go right to bed, and Carmela and I will take care of him.”
Ben cringed and gave Ruthie a look. “Mom, I’m tired, but I’m not dead. I’m ready to earn my keep. Whatever you need.”
“We need a lot of help at the farm,” Ruthie said. “Everything’s coming in at once. Hard to keep up.”
Leonora waved her fork in her daughter’s
direction. “Ruthie, don’t be ridiculous. Your brother is not a farmhand.”
“Ready to hop back in the saddle, son? I’m sure Harley, Maggie, and Jeb could use a hand. And Raoul is always looking for drovers.”
His mother looked from husband to daughter. “Have you two lost your minds? If Ben works, he is management. I will not have Raoul, his sisters, or Harley Langdon ordering him around like a common laborer.”
“I’m not proud, Mom. I’m here to help, and to tell the truth, I’d just as soon be the one taking orders rather than giving them.”
Leonora Morgan threw up her hands. “That’s it. My family’s officially lost their marbles.”
Ignoring her, Ben turned to his father. “I’m happy to help you at the Lodge if you need me, but I was thinking about the stables? Maybe leading pack trips again? I’m looking forward to riding.”
“Glad to hear it.” Ben Senior gave him a long look before replying, “Harley and Maggie can always use an extra pair of hands. I’ll ring ’em in the morning.”
Ben smiled at his father. When his horse, Loukas, came up lame and had to be euthanized, he swore he would never ride again. It was only a few weeks before he left his family and the ranch behind for life in California. “I was surprised to see Maggie. Seems a funny place to end up after getting into Princeton. What happened there, anyway?”
Three pairs of eyes looked at him quizzically. Finally Ruthie spoke up. “You have been gone a long time, brother, dear.”
“Poor girl lasted less than two months in New Jersey,” Leonora said. “Came home pregnant and moved back in with her father. Such a waste.”
“Bite your tongue, woman. She’s the best wrangler in a hundred miles, and she works for me.”
“I still say it was a terrible waste of a promising future. She and your brother won every academic prize through high school. He’s now in veterinary school and she’s roping mustangs and cleaning stalls.”
“What happened? Did she have the child?”
“Yup, a real cutie pie,” Ruthie said. “Name’s Emma. Her dad retired to take care of her while Maggie works.”
Ben Senior shook his head. “Tragic, really. Drunk driver hit Maggie one night. Left the little one paralyzed.”
Leonora stood, clearing their plates. “As I said, a terrible waste.”
Ruthie rolled her eyes, giving her mother a disgusted look. “No, it’s not. Maggie’s crazy about Emma, and she’s the apple of her grandpa’s eye.”
“Can we please change the subject?” Leonora asked. “Sad as it is, there are much more interesting topics than the travails of poor Maggie Williams. Tell your father and me about Santa Barbara and the new house. He promised to take me there this fall for a visit.”
* * *
Chapter 7
Maggie parked, resting her head against the steering wheel to collect herself. When she greeted Emma and her dad she was determined to be present with them, not lost in the arms of Ben Morgan five years ago. She had thought of nothing else on the short ride home, his lips capturing hers so completely, strong arms enfolding her, drawing her to him until there was no him and her, but a pulsing, heated presence of bodies joined as one, moving in perfect synchrony. Over and over, he had taken her and she him that hot August night. Impossible that daylight had come and heralded the rift that prompted them to part company. An excruciating separation, she realized now that the hurt had lain dormant, but not forgotten, in the deepest part of her. Now he was back. Shaken to the core with longing, she shook herself. Get a grip, Maggie Williams. Do not let him break your heart again.
She sat back, smoothed her hair, and pinched her cheeks to bring color back. Her dad, with his keen eyesight, would certainly notice her paleness. Finally she grabbed her backpack, alighted, and forced a smile as she went in. Fortunately, there was no need to force a smile when she spied them, hunched conspiratorially over a jigsaw puzzle. Emma’s knitted brow matched her grandpa’s, and each had chin in hand, intent on their task.
“Hey, buddies.”
Maggie’s heart ached as Emma looked up and smiled. Could she possibly love anyone more than she did her four-year-old angel, who had endured such pain with courage and fortitude?
“Mommy, hooray! You can help us now.”
Ned winked at his daughter, his gaze full of concern. “Grandpa’s not very good at puzzles, I’m ’fraid.”
Maggie scooped up her daughter, twirling her in her arms, her fragile body like a feather. Emma ate like a horse, but she’d withered to almost nothing after the last surgery, and they were just now beginning to build her back up. “How was your day?”
“Super supreme!” Emma stroked Maggie’s cheek, pushing hair from her face.
“How’d the therapy go?” Maggie looked to her dad as Emma went limp in her arms. “That bad, huh?”
“She was a trooper, as always, but they gave her some good yanks and pulls.”
“It hurt, but I was brave, Mommy.”
“I know you were, baby. I’m so proud of you. Let me take a quick shower to wash off the grit, then we’ll tackle that puzzle, okay?”
After dinner, bath, and story, Maggie sang to Emma, their favorite song, “Baby Beluga.” She stroked the child’s downy-soft chocolate curls, so like her daddy’s. Emma had his eyes, Maggie mused, and his smile. Fortunately, only her dad and she had ever noticed, and Maggie intended to keep it that way.
“Night, Sweet Pea,” she whispered, her toddler already half asleep.
Ned Williams sat on the couch, magazine in hand, observing his daughter cruised the living room, picking up toys and empty glasses and cups. Still youthful and ruggedly handsome at fifty-six, he had his daughter’s steel-blue eyes and a full head of curly salt-and-pepper locks that he kept short. Lean and fit, he still had the body of the wrangler he had been before Emma’s birth. Despite the June heat, he was dressed in faded jeans and a flannel shirt. He could almost have passed as Maggie’s older brother.
“Wanta talk about it?”
“Nope.”
“Might help.”
“Doubt it.”
“I’m a good listener, sweetie.”
“Dad!” Maggie didn’t bother to hide the exasperation in her voice.
“Okay, okay. How’s it going with Tabasco? You bringing him along?”
“He’s tough, but Jeb’s been great with him. Much as I love him, his size scares me a little. I’ve never ridden anything that big.”
“Reminds me of Junior, the Clydesdale they rescued out at Tyler’s years ago.”
Ned referred to the ranch where he had worked as trainer, wrangler, and quasi-vet for most of his adult life. Occasionally they still called him for births and minor surgeries. As a young man, Ned had gone east to Tufts Veterinary School on a full scholarship. A fish out of water, he had nonetheless dug in and completed nearly three years of training with distinction when the death of his father yanked him home to Saguaro. While he had never gone back to complete the degree, his training made him invaluable to ranchers in need of emergency vet care, especially on the remotest ranches.
“Be careful, sweetie. Keep your head in the game. No distractions with a horse like that.”
“That’s why Jeb’s been doing most of the riding.”
“Hooves on a beast that size are deadly. No daydreaming.”
“Okay, Dad, go ahead. You might as well spit it out.”
“All I know is you look like shit, and I’m guessing Ben Morgan does, too.”
“Where did that come from? Besides, when I saw him, he looked cool as a cucumber so I think you can stop worrying about him..”
“Probably as good-looking as ever, too. Morgan boys have always been lookers.”
Maggie sat down hard beside him, head in hands. “Dad, please. This is not helping.”
“You gonna tell him about Emma?”
“Never!”
“He has a right to know, darlin’. Was one thing when he was gone, far away in California. But now? What if he settles here
in Saguaro to help his folks runnin’ that place? God knows they need it with Ben Senior ailing and their businesses growing every year. They’re the second biggest organic farm in the state, and the sheep and—”
“Stop, please, Dad. I know what you’re doing, and I appreciate your concern, but I don’t care about the Morgans’ millions, and they are nothing to me or Maggie.”
“That’s not what I was sayin’, but they might be willing to help with her care?”
“Never. Subject closed. I’m going to bed.”
She leaned over to kiss her beloved father, the only parent she had known since her mom had left when Maggie was three.
“I don’t know the story, sweetie, but the Ben Morgan I remember was a good guy. Any chance he might be still?”
“Good night, Dad. Thank you for all you do for us. Love you.”
She patted his shoulder and headed for her room, glad for the time alone to gather her thoughts and process the tumultuous events of the past eight hours.
Ben tossed and turned. Memories of life before his escape crashed back, along with a vivid image of one of his last nights. The wild, unexpected hours of unbridled passion he had shared with Maggie Williams had caught him completely off guard. Had his need to get away caused him to turn his back on the strong feelings he had for her that night? They had argued about why he was leaving, and then she was gone. He had turned his back on feelings for the beautiful young woman who had opened up and given herself fully to him. What a fool. Had he spent the last five years trying futilely to find another woman who made him feel like Maggie Williams had?
Maggie, too, slept fitfully, dreaming of Ben Morgan, and how she’d waited for his phone call, letter, email, some kind of message that would let her know it hadn’t been just a roll in the hay for him. Now he was back, completely unaware of his daughter, who shared his smile, his eyes, and so much of his strength and spirit. She knew it wasn’t fair to father or daughter to keep their connection a secret, but telling Ben about Emma would break Maggie’s heart all over again, bringing back the terrible loneliness and sense of abandonment she had felt five years earlier. Besides, the minute he heard about Emma, Ben Morgan would probably hop in that fancy SUV and vanish quicker than a jackrabbit.
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