Of course, the Grahams knew why he’d married her. The whole town of Redstone knew why he’d married her. Ben was Gabe’s only concern—and always would be. The sooner she accepted that fact, the better off she’d be.
Sara wasted no time saying good-night. But she did wait until she’d closed her bedroom door before she took the envelope out of her pocket. When she saw the amount written on the check, her usual self-doubts surfaced to worry her.
Was Gabe paying her five hundred dollars a week because she earned it? Or was he making sure she had enough money that she wouldn’t have any excuse not to leave when her six months at the Crested-C Ranch were over?
If her past had any bearing on her future, Sara feared she already knew the answer to that question.
AFTER SARA LEFT, Gabe let out a worried sigh. He’d tried his best to make Sara feel welcome. He’d even thought he was making some progress. But their conversation proved he had a long way to go before he convinced Sara that she and Ben belonged in Redstone.
Not that he could really blame her.
She’d been betrayed her entire life.
And in a way, Gabe knew he was betraying her, too.
He was urging her to meet friends and start feeling like she belonged. Yet, at the same time he was still allowing Sara to think whatever she wanted about his relationship with Ronnie Kincaid.
He wasn’t proud of it.
He knew he should have explained about Ronnie when Sara arrived at the ranch. But one thing held him back. Ronnie was an obstacle that kept the distance between him and Sara.
As long as Sara believed he was involved with Ronnie, Gabe knew he was safe. And as long as Sara kept her distance, Gabe knew there would be no opportunity to slip up and act on the physical attraction he felt for her.
Physical attraction was one thing.
But being a real husband to Sara was another.
His parents had been a shining example of what a marriage should be. They’d loved each other completely, body and soul. He simply didn’t have it in him to offer that kind of love to any woman.
He’d offered Sara a home and security. He’d be her friend. He’d be her protector. And he’d provide for her and Ben for as long as she would let him.
Responsibility, he could handle.
But that’s where he had to draw the line.
Still, it couldn’t hurt to have the Grahams come over to meet Sara and Ben, even though the idea had been Smitty’s, not his. And thinking about Smitty took Gabe’s thoughts back to the slight argument they’d had when Smitty first mentioned celebrating the Fourth of July at the Crested-C.
They’d been watching Ben ride his pony around the corral, Ben learning to handle the reins while one of the ranch hands named Slim held on to a tether to keep the pony under control. Gabe had made an innocent comment about how much Ben had learned in one short month. And Smitty had taken the opportunity to blindside Gabe.
“Yeah, Ben’s learned a lot,” Smitty had said. “Too bad he’ll be leaving in five short months.”
Gabe had known Smitty was baiting him.
But he’d been too afraid Sara had said something not to ask, “Has Sara said something to you about leaving?”
“Nope. But if you keep ignoring that little gal you married, I guarantee you she’ll leave.”
“I haven’t been ignoring her,” Gabe had argued. “Sara and I have a business deal, not a real marriage. And we both agreed that’s all we’ll ever have.”
Smitty snorted. “And that’s what you think it takes to keep a woman happy? A business deal?”
“Keeping Sara happy wasn’t part of the deal,” Gabe had been quick to remind him.
“You’re wrong. Keeping people happy is always part of any deal. Say you sell a man a horse, for instance. But he calls you later and says he isn’t happy with the horse you sold him. If you’re a good businessman you’ll do whatever it takes to make him happy with the horse he has. Or you’ll offer him a new deal.”
“I’m happy with the deal we have,” Gabe had grumbled.
“But the key is keeping Sara happy with the deal you have. If you’re not willing to be a real husband to her, then you’d better be sure she makes some friends so she’ll have a good reason to stay.”
Gabe had been searching for a comeback when Smitty said, “I think we should invite the Grahams over for the Fourth of July this year. It’s time Sara and Ben met their neighbors.”
But as Gabe rose behind his desk and headed to bed, he couldn’t help but be a little worried that forcing Sara to meet their neighbors was pushing her too fast. He’d seen the panicked look in her eyes when he first mentioned inviting the Grahams.
His only consolation was knowing he could count on Joe and Betsy to accept Ben and Sara without question. Joe had been his best friend since they were kids. Gabe had been Joe’s best man when he and Betsy got married right out of high school.
Of course, they hadn’t spent much time together since high school, him being single, them a married couple who later had a child. But now that Ben and Sara were part of his life, Gabe was actually looking forward to merging the two families.
Friends, Gabe thought, praying Smitty was right.
Maybe friends would give Sara a good reason to stay.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“THIS IS my new friend, Junior, Mom,” Ben said, and pushed a red-haired, freckle-faced boy in Sara’s direction.
“And I’m five years old, too,” Junior announced with a wide-toothed grin.
Sara stepped out onto the front porch.
She’d walked to the door when she first heard the truck pull up. But she’d been waiting while Ben bombarded their visitors with a dozen questions before they could even get out of the truck.
“I’m glad to meet you, Junior,” Sara said, reaching down to shake the small hand she was being offered.
When she looked up, a woman with the same striking red hair was hurrying in her direction. She was tall, skinny as a rail, and her short hair framed her pretty face in a halo of red curls befitting a cherub.
“And I’m Betsy Graham, Junior’s mother.”
Before Sara could say hello, Betsy grabbed her in a bear hug and gave Sara a healthy squeeze. “I just can’t tell you how glad we are to have you and Ben in Redstone, Sara,” she said. “Hardly a day goes by that Junior doesn’t complain about not having a boy his own age to play with.”
“Well, thank you, Betsy,” Sara managed, completely overwhelmed by the woman’s enthusiasm.
Betsy put her hands on her slim hips, looked over at Sara and rolled her eyes. Then she called out to the man who was heading around the house to where the picnic tables were set up, and where Gabe and the ranch hands were already busy playing horseshoes.
“Joe!” she yelled. “Act like you have some manners and come say hello to Sara before you head off with the boys.”
He stopped mid-stride, turned and started back toward the porch. His physique was that of a football linebacker, but something about him told Sara his attitude was all teddy bear. He removed his cowboy hat as he walked up the steps, revealing sandy-blond hair beginning to thin on top. And the deep crinkles around his eyes said he smiled much more often than he frowned.
Sara liked him immediately.
“Nice to meet you, Sara,” he said.
Sara briefly shook his hand.
“Don’t even think about picking up a horseshoe until you unload the truck and take the cooler and the other stuff we brought out back,” Betsy said.
Joe put on his hat, looked at Sara and grinned. “You’ll have to excuse me, Sara. As you can see, my bossy wife just gave me a direct order.”
“I think you mean your beautiful, sexy, intelligent, bossy wife,” Betsy teased. “And don’t you forget it.”
He gave Betsy a quick kiss on the lips and headed off.
The love between them was obvious. In spite of herself, Sara felt envious.
She quickly turned her attention to the boys. “I made so
me cookies this morning,” Sara announced. “Do you boys know anyone who wants to sample them for me?”
“We do!” Ben and Junior yelled in unison.
The boys bolted through the front door, and Sara ushered her first official guest into the large Coulter kitchen—a comfortable get-to-know-you-better place. As she followed Betsy, Sara couldn’t keep from thinking that just a little over a month ago her playing hostess to a Fourth of July picnic would have been as unbelievable as being called to the White House as an advisor for a world peace conference.
Yet, here she was.
And, surprisingly, not as nervous as she imagined.
“Smitty said you’d scrubbed everything around here from top to bottom, Sara,” Betsy said over her shoulder. “But girl, what you’ve done with this place is nothing short of a miracle.”
Sara smiled, as Betsy made herself at home and flopped down at the kitchen table with the boys. She licked her finger and wiped a smidge of dirt from the tip of Junior’s nose before she said, “You’ve got this place looking like it did back when Gabe’s mother was alive. I bet Mary is shouting your praises from heaven at this very moment.”
Sara’s smile instantly faded.
A lifetime of always being on the outside looking in caused Sara to say, “I think we both know it isn’t likely Mary Coulter would ever sing my praises in heaven, Betsy.”
A splash of pink instantly dotted Betsy’s cheeks.
She reached out without asking and took two of Sara’s cookies from the plate on the table. “Why don’t you boys take your cookies outside,” Betsy suggested, “and go see those new puppies Ben was telling us about.”
When the boys dashed out, Betsy wasted no time saying, “Look, Sara, you obviously took that remark wrong, and—”
“Surely you realize why I’m on the defensive here. I’m not stupid, Betsy. I know the whole town is talking about Gabe only marrying me so he could bring his nephew home.”
Betsy’s face turned solemn. “Maybe I’m the one who should be on the defensive, Sara. You’ve obviously already made up your mind about me. But if you think I’ve shown up to get a good look at the woman who had Billy Coulter’s illegitimate son, I hate to disappoint you. The only reason I’m here is because we both have boys the same age and I hoped we might become good friends.”
Sara opened her mouth to apologize.
But she burst into tears instead.
In a flash, Betsy was by her side with her arm around Sara’s shoulder. “You go ahead and cry,” Betsy said, giving Sara’s back a supportive pat. “I’m sure it’s a luxury you haven’t allowed yourself stuck out here with a bunch of men.”
Betsy ushered Sara to a chair, then took a seat beside her.
“I’m so embarrassed,” Sara said, using the hem of her apron to wipe her eyes. “And I’m so sorry for doubting why you came.”
“Oh, pooh,” Betsy said. “No reason to be embarrassed or sorry. Who wouldn’t feel like crying in your situation? You’re in a strange house. In a strange town—”
“Married to a strange man,” Sara said absently.
Betsy laughed. “Well, strange is an appropriate word to describe Gabe, I guess, but he’s a good man. And I think you already know that or you and Ben wouldn’t be here.”
“I didn’t mean Gabe was strange,” Sara said, dabbing at her eyes again. “I meant we’re basically strangers. But you’re right, Betsy. Gabe is a good man. And he’s totally committed to Ben.”
Betsy looked at her knowingly for a moment. “You just always pictured the man you married being totally committed to you. Right?”
“Something like that.”
Betsy patted Sara’s hand. “Well, if it’s any consolation, no one around here gives a hoot how you and Gabe ended up together. You and Ben are Gabe’s family now. And everyone in town is dying to meet you.”
When Sara sent Betsy a doubtful look, Betsy said, “And if that look has anything to do with Ronnie Kincaid, then I wouldn’t waste my time worrying about her if I were you.”
Sara opened her mouth to deny it.
“There aren’t any secrets in a small town, Sara. Everyone in Redstone knows everyone else’s business. Ronnie’s been chasing Gabe since she got her first training bra. If Gabe had wanted to marry her, he would have done so a long time ago. Ronnie knows it. And so does everyone else.”
Sara felt a huge weight lift from her shoulders.
“Thanks for telling me that, Betsy. I’ve felt so guilty worrying that Gabe sacrificed his own plans for Ben.”
Betsy patted her hand again. “I’ve known Gabe all my life. Gabe Coulter never does anything he doesn’t want to do. You’re here because he wants you and Ben here.”
Sara didn’t know what to say.
But she was saved from saying anything when Junior suddenly burst through the kitchen door with a wiggling black puppy clasped firmly in both hands. Right behind him was Ben. And right behind Ben was a nervous-looking Bess, unsure of the little stranger who was holding her pup.
“Look what Ben gave me, Mama.” Junior beamed. “I’m gonna name him Charcoal.”
Sara and Betsy both laughed.
And Sara realized she and Ben had just made their first new friends in Redstone.
GABE STOOD ALONE later that night, sipping a beer and watching the small group sitting around the campfire on the benches they’d dragged over from the picnic tables. Smitty was busy helping Ben and Junior load up their roasting sticks with more marshmallows. Joe and Betsy were sitting together, Joe’s arm around Betsy’s shoulder. Then there was Sara, sitting on a bench by herself, her own roasting stick and marshmallow held over the fire.
Sara laughed at something Betsy said, and it made Gabe realize how long it had been since laughter or having friends over had been a part of his daily life on the Crested-C. Fifteen years to be exact—too long.
Of course, that hadn’t been the case when his parents were alive. His mother hadn’t been in her element unless she was surrounded with friends and busy putting out food for those friends to enjoy.
His gaze returned to Sara.
She was a lot like his mother in many ways.
Sara was easy to be around, always making sure everyone else was taken care of. She’d been nothing but gracious to the Grahams. Just as she’d made all of the preparations for the day seem effortless.
But he shouldn’t have been staring at her. Sara sensed it and looked up.
And though Gabe told himself to head for the card game going on in the bunkhouse, he found himself walking in her direction. He shocked both of them when he sat down on the bench right beside her.
She moved over slightly.
And Gabe sat up a little straighter.
“Get Gabe a stick and a marshmallow,” Betsy said to Joe, somewhat defusing the awkward moment.
“No, thanks,” Gabe said, holding up his bottle. “Beer and marshmallows don’t mix very well.”
“You big wimp,” Betsy scoffed. But she looked directly at Sara and said, “In case you haven’t figured it out, Sara, Gabe isn’t a risk taker. He never does anything even remotely risky.”
“That isn’t true,” Gabe said, slightly embarrassed.
“Oh, pooh,” Betsy said. “Of course, it’s true. Name one thing you’ve ever done in your entire life that was risky.”
Marrying Sara and keeping my hands off her?
Out loud Gabe said, “Our senior year. You and Joe dared me to jump Clayton’s Gulch with Ricky Smith’s motorcycle and I did it.”
Betsy rolled her eyes and looked at Sara again. “Clayton’s Gulch is a ten-foot ravine just outside of town where the teenagers still hang out and party. And yes, Gabe did jump the gulch on Ricky Smith’s motorcycle when Joe and I dared him. But he’d seen Ricky jump that gulch a million times and he already knew it was possible. So I don’t call that taking a risk.”
“Gabe still had the balls to do it,” Joe said.
“Joe!” Betsy scolded, elbowing Joe in the side as she no
dded toward the other side of the campfire. “Watch your language in front of the boys.”
“Dammit, that hurt,” Joe grumbled.
Gabe and Sara both laughed.
“Okay, Betsy. You’ve tried to shame me. So tell us something risky you’ve done that can top jumping Clayton’s Gulch,” Gabe taunted.
Betsy grinned. “I can top jumping Clayton’s Gulch hands down. Joe and I had steamy sex once on the sofa in the living room while my parents were home upstairs.”
Joe frowned. “Hey! What happened to watching our language around the boys?”
Sara laughed.
But Gabe didn’t.
Not with Sara sitting so close.
And not with steamy sex floating through his mind.
He stood, looked at Joe and quickly changed the subject. “I came over to tell you the boys are playing poker for money tonight. Want to help me take some of that money?”
Joe automatically looked over at Betsy for an answer.
“Oh, go on,” Betsy said, and pushed Joe toward Gabe.
Thanks. I needed that reality check, Gabe thought.
He’d been in a strange mood all day. One minute, wondering what it would be like if he and Sara did have a real marriage. The next minute, worried that he’d even had such a troubling thought. But seeing Joe just now, waiting for permission from his wife to walk twenty yards to play cards, made Gabe realize he would never be husband material.
No way.
No how.
Not in this lifetime.
WHEN GABE AND JOE walked off, Betsy smiled at Sara. “I think your husband has a big crush on you.”
“Betsy!” Sara protested. It was her turn to nod toward Smitty and the boys, who were now totally entranced by the sparklers Smitty had bought for them.
“What?” Betsy demanded. “You and Gabe are married, you know.”
“Only on paper,” Sara said.
“Oh, pooh.” Betsy snorted. “The sexual tension between you two is so thick you couldn’t chop through it with a wood ax.”
“You keep forgetting Gabe has a girlfriend to take care of his sexual tensions.”
“Don’t be so sure about that,” Betsy said. “I hear Ronnie’s foreman is sharing her bed at the moment.”
A Ranch Called Home Page 9
