The Rancher She Loved

by Ann Roth

  Sarah’s unwitting thoughts turned straight to Clay. He probably had a date tonight with some adoring woman.

  She pictured him with a tall, voluptuous female who hung on his every word. Would he take her out someplace, or would they stay in and create their own private entertainment?

  Not at all happy with the thought, Sarah frowned and pressed down hard on the accelerator. The car shot forward.

  In the distance, pulled off to the side of the road, a deputy stood with a radar gun pointed at her. She quickly slowed to the speed limit. As she passed the deputy she waved and smiled.

  Then her mind homed right back to Clay. She didn’t want to think of him kissing or doing other things with some other woman, but she didn’t want him kissing her, either.

  “So what exactly do I want?” she asked out loud.

  The answer popped instantly into her head, as if it had been waiting for the question. She wanted a man to love and build a family with.

  “I’ll start looking for him,” she promised out loud. “Just as soon as I find Tammy Becker.”

  A road sign indicated that the exit for Spenser’s General Store and Barb’s Café was just ahead.

  Sarah pulled into a pockmarked lot that looked full. She didn’t see any parking spaces. Well, it was Saturday night.

  Stomach growling, she cruised around at a snail’s pace, searching for an empty slot. Suddenly her cell phone rang. She glanced at the screen. Private caller. It had to be Clay.

  Of all people. He must not be out on a date, after all. Maybe he wanted to see her tonight. Why else would he call during the dinner hour?

  If he thought she was one of those women who waited around for him to ask her out, and then came running, he was wrong.

  She almost let the call go to voice mail, but in the end, she slipped on her Bluetooth. “Hi, Clay.”

  “Hey,” he replied in his smoky voice.

  Her heartbeat accelerated, and unwanted warmth flooded her.

  “Find anything unexpected in the footlocker?” he asked.

  They hadn’t spoken since she’d taken it with her to Mrs. Yancy’s. Since then only two days had passed, but it felt like forever.

  “Nothing that answers any of my questions.” She sighed. “Yesterday I drove over to Four City High School.” She told him about the fire and the loss of school records. “I also contacted the local church in Saddlers Prairie, and I tried some of the others outside town. Unfortunately, I came up empty. It’s hard not to get discouraged.”

  “I’ll bet. I hear music. You at a bar?”

  “By myself? That’s my car radio.” She laughed and turned down the volume. “I’m in the parking lot for Spenser’s and Barb’s Café, trying to find a place to park. What’s up?”

  “Maybe you should find that parking space first.”

  Sarah sensed the undercurrent in his tone and knew. Clay had found out something about Tammy. Forget about dinner. She hit the brakes. “Tell me now,” she said, too impatient to wait.

  “Suit yourself. I was out having a beer and burger earlier, when the bartender mentioned the Beckers. He’s met people by that name. They live in the same retirement home as his great aunt. He isn’t sure they’re the Beckers you’re looking for, though.”

  Sarah’s heart stuttered. “But they might be.”

  “It’s definitely worth checking out. These people could be your grandparents.”

  Grandparents. Sarah hugged herself. “Did the bartender mention Tammy?”

  “No, but he doesn’t really know the Beckers.”

  “What’s the name of the place where they live?” she asked, exhilarated and hopeful that this tip would pan out.

  “It’s called Sunset Manor. I checked the address online, and it’s roughly twenty-five miles northwest of town.”

  “That’s so close,” she breathed.

  If they were the right Beckers, she could meet her biological grandmother and grandfather. They would tell her where Tammy was, and hopefully the name of her biological father.

  Behind her, a car honked. She was so keyed up that she almost had a heart attack. “Hold on, will you?” Luck was with her, and she found a spot at the back of the lot. “Okay, I’m parked now. Who did you say told you?”

  “A bartender at Sparky’s, a tavern on the edge of town. He heard through the grapevine that you were looking for the Beckers. Don’t ask me from who. In this town, it could be anybody.”

  “Probably Mrs. Yancy.”

  “Ah, Mrs. Yappy.”

  Sarah sensed Clay’s smile and couldn’t stop one of her own. “I like her, Clay.”

  “I know. Back to the Beckers at Sunset Manor. Are you going to contact them?”

  Sarah had planned to spend Sunday driving around and snapping photos for her article. But if her grandparents wanted to see her instead... “Of course. I’ll call them right away.”

  Too jazzed to sit still, she exited the car and paced the lot.

  A few curious people glanced her way. She could no more stop the happy grin on her face than stop breathing, and couldn’t help but notice the responding smiles. Saddlers Prairie really was a friendly place.

  “I’ll keep my fingers crossed that they’re your grandparents,” Clay said.

  “Please do. Thank you so much for letting me know. By the way, I spent this afternoon with a rancher you might know, Lucky Arnett.”

  “Lucky’s a good guy, and he sure knows his way around cattle and ranching.”

  “So does his foreman, Zach Horton.”

  “I’ve met Zach.”

  Something in Clay’s tone caught her attention. “You have something against him?” she guessed.

  “Zach’s all right. What do you think of him?”

  “He seems smart and competent, and he answered all my questions.”

  “Did he ask you out?”

  The question startled her. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. Ours was a purely professional meeting, Clay. An interview.”

  “I’m familiar with your interviews,” he said drily. “As I recall, you and I stretched the definition of professional quite a bit.”

  Her face heated. She lowered her voice and turned away from a youngish couple watching her with interest. “That was different. You and I were together hours every day, for a week and a half. I spent maybe an hour with Zach. We didn’t connect the way you and I did.”

  “You’re saying you felt something for me back then.”

  If she hadn’t, she never would have spent all those hours fantasizing about building a relationship and a future with him. She wouldn’t have kissed him, wouldn’t have dreamed about him for years.

  “You did,” he said.

  “It was a long time ago, Clay.”

  “Not that long. You felt something,” he repeated.

  What was the point of denying it? “All right, I admit it.”

  He made a satisfied sound, and she could almost see his triumphant expression.

  “Your ego is showing,” she said.

  “My ego has nothing to do with this. I’ve always wondered.”

  Sarah just bet. “Now you know. I should go.”

  “Let me know what happens with the Beckers.”

  “Okay, but would you mind explaining why you’re so interested?”

  “Because when you shared Tammy’s journal and other stuff with me, you hooked me in, Sarah, better than the suspense novel I’m reading. I’m vested in your life now, and when you finally connect with your blood relatives, I want to know.”

  He sounded so earnest and heartfelt, that then and there she forgave him for his big ego and just about melted.

  “My friends back home haven’t exactly been enthusiastic about my search for family, and your interest and
support mean a lot,” she said. “Sitting with me and listening while I sorted through the footlocker the other day—that went above and beyond, and I really appreciate it.”

  “Like I said, I enjoyed it—all of it.”

  The longing that had been with Sarah since those intense kisses that day flared up inside her, and she knew that if Clay were with her now, she’d step into his arms for more.

  Which would be a total mistake. Thank goodness she was nowhere near him.

  Clay cleared his throat. “I’ll let you go eat now. Good luck with that call.”

  * * *

  HE REALLY NEEDED a sign letting people know that this was Hollyer Ranch, Clay thought as he parked at the ranch early Sunday afternoon. Something to take care of later. The construction crew took Sundays off, and no one was there. No hammering, sawing or radio music to disturb the quiet. Birds called to one another and squirrels raced back and forth, chattering playfully.

  Nothing had changed since yesterday, when he’d interviewed and hired half a dozen of the experienced hands who’d worked with Mattson. Some of the framing was up. Not enough to make sense of the size and scope of the house, but progress all the same.

  The house was coming together. Burl had moved into his cottage yesterday, and the other ranch hands were moving into their trailers sometime today. First thing tomorrow, they’d get to work on repairing or replacing fencing, while Burl evaluated the equipment that had come with the ranch.

  If all went well with that, Clay and Mattson would check out the cattle auction on Wednesday. Once Clay purchased a suitable herd and the business was up and running, he would contact and visit rodeo producers across the West.

  After enduring eighteen months of physical pain and mental anguish, when it seemed that his life had tanked and nothing would ever change, things were finally coming together.

  Feeling upbeat, he limped around the ranch as he did every Sunday, visualizing his pastures alive with animals and a busy crew and the sounds of a working ranch.

  A pleasurable way to pass the time. Today though, he was restless, and he knew who was to blame. Sarah Tigarden.

  That phone call last night... Clay shook his head. She’d been so excited and had sucked him right in with her. His mind filled in the physical details—her blue eyes extra wide and bright, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted a fraction....

  The mental image was enough to drive a man crazy, and he’d come this close to inviting himself to join her at Barb’s, just to see if he’d fantasized her right.

  More than that, he’d wanted to be with her, wanted to hold and kiss her, and show her a whole different kind of excitement.

  His body began to stir and predictably hardened. Clay frowned. Before the accident, life had been simpler. When he wanted a woman and she wanted him, they got down to business and enjoyed themselves. Since than, two things had changed—he’d given up mindless sex, and the group of willing women he’d once taken for granted had moved on.

  A few had contacted him via email, asking to come visit. Clay never emailed back. He didn’t want them around, didn’t want the pity that was bound to be in their eyes.

  Sarah didn’t pity him. When he kissed her, she responded in a way that let him know she wanted him.

  The rest of the time, he wasn’t at all sure where he stood. One minute she was warm and sweet, and the next she acted as if she wanted to wring his neck.

  It was confusing as hell, and figuring her out was proving to be as difficult as gauging an unpredictable bull.

  Take that phone call she’d promised him after she contacted the Beckers. Clay hadn’t heard from her, which could mean a number of things. They were the wrong Beckers, or she hadn’t been able to get in touch with them. Or she had, and they didn’t want anything to do with her.

  Or she’d changed her mind and didn’t want to keep him posted.

  “Women,” Clay muttered, scrubbing his hand over his face.

  He was better off keeping his nose out of her business and staying away from her.

  He started for the pickup, the rest of the afternoon and evening stretching out before him as endless as the Montana sky. He was rolling slowly down the driveway, considering a drive to the nearest town with a movie theater, some forty miles away, when a pale green sedan hummed down the highway. Sarah’s car.

  Clay honked and pulled onto the road behind her. She didn’t seem to notice him or hear the horn. After checking for traffic and finding none, he pulled into the wrong lane so that the pickup was beside hers and honked again.

  She startled and braked to a stop. Loud rock-and-roll music spilled through the sunroof. She adjusted the sound and pulled off her sunglasses. Shooting him a dirty look, she lowered her window.

  “You scared me, Clay!”

  “I honked, but you didn’t hear me.” He noticed a truck heading toward them. “There’s a dirt turnaround about ten yards up the road. I’ll meet you there.”

  A few minutes later, he pulled in behind her and exited the pickup. A light wind whispered through the prairie grass.

  Clay leaned into her open window. “How’d the call go?”

  “Call?”

  She was wearing those sunglasses again, and he couldn’t see her eyes. She slid her hands over the steering wheel, reminding him of the way she’d moved her palms over his chest before she kissed him.

  Clearing his throat, he glanced at those impenetrable sunglasses. “The one you were going to make to the Beckers.”

  “Oh, that. Mrs. Yancy talked to a friend who confirmed that the same Bob and Judy Becker who used to live in Saddlers Prairie are now residing at Sunset Manor. They are my grandparents.”

  “But you didn’t call them.”

  “I decided to surprise them instead. I’m on my way to Sunset Manor now, with my birth certificate and a few of Tammy’s things.”

  “What if they aren’t home? Twenty-five miles is a long way to drive, only to discover that the people you want to see are out,” Clay said. “Or they could have company, or hell, they might even be asleep. It’s been what, thirty years? If it were me, I’d want time to get used to the idea of meeting you. Otherwise, you don’t know how they’ll react to the shock.”

  “I’d rather just take my chances. If they’re not at home, I’ll write them a letter. At least the drive will give me a chance to get a feel for the area.”

  Her fingers nervously drummed on the steering wheel, and he finally understood. “You’re afraid to call them.”

  Sarah released a loud sigh and looked up at him with a stricken expression. “Am I that transparent?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “I thought about this most of the night, Clay. If I drop in unannounced, they can’t hang up on me or lie and say they’re busy, or that no, they don’t want any contact with me. They’ll have to meet me, and with any luck, they’ll like me.”

  Her quick, fleeting smile only underlined her misgivings.

  Clay gently tugged off the sunglasses so that he could see her worried eyes. “They’ve probably thought about you all these years, wondering how you turned out,” he assured, smoothing her bangs. “Once they see how pretty and smart you are, and how easy you are to talk to, they’ll be happy to know you.”

  Her whole face brightened. “You really think so?”

  “I sure would.”

  “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but what if you’re wrong?”

  He hoped to hell he wasn’t. That kind of rejection would hurt like the devil, and Sarah deserved better. “Sure you don’t want to call them first?”

  She looked terrified by the thought. “I just can’t.”

  He was going to let her go, but his mouth jumped ahead of his brain, and he found himself asking, “Why don’t I come along?”

  “You’ve already done enough
for me. Besides, I’m sure you have better things to do with your Sunday afternoon.”

  “Hey, if I didn’t want to come, I wouldn’t offer.”

  She hesitated. “Well, if you really want to...”

  Realizing he’d been holding his breath, he exhaled. “Good. My ranch is about a half mile behind us. Why don’t you leave your car there and let me drive.”

  Chapter Eight

  Clay pulled up the gravel driveway of his ranch with Sarah following, and wondered what he was doing, bringing her here.

  He gestured for her to park. By the time she exited her car and headed toward him, he’d nosed his pickup around to face the highway and stood waiting at the open passenger door.

  She headed purposefully toward him, the skirt of her little sleeveless dress swinging and her strappy sandals kicking up dust.

  “I like that dress,” he said, letting his gaze rove lazily from her smooth shoulders and round breasts to her shapely legs and slender ankles.

  “Thanks,” she said, flushing a little. “I wanted to look nice.” She glanced around. “So this is your ranch. It looks huge.”

  “Four hundred acres,” Clay said, and tried to see the property through her eyes. The foundation and partially framed house, the dirt mounds, the stacks of building supplies and the sags and gaps in the fencing didn’t look like much. “I finally hired a crew, and with any luck, I’ll be buying my first stock on Wednesday.”

  Wanting to impress her, he pointed out areas of the ranch and described what he intended to do.

  “It all sounds wonderful, Clay!” she exclaimed. She glanced at the construction. “I assume this will be your house.”

  He nodded. “It should be finished around Thanksgiving—if Ms. Nature cooperates and we don’t get an early blizzard or some other natural disaster.”

  “And if Ms. Nature refuses to cooperate?”

  “I’m working on ways to pay her off so that she will.”

  She smiled at his little joke, and he relaxed. Going with her was a good idea. He gestured toward the pickup. “Let’s head out.”

  Instead of climbing in, she started fidgeting, twisting her hands together, kicking a pebble from her shoe. “I never heard of a stock contractor until the other day. Tell me how that works.”