A Ranch Called Home

by Candy Halliday

  Gabe switched on the radio and a few minutes later he was whistling along to a lively country tune, still holding on to the firm belief that all it would take to clear his head was a little time away from the woman who had somehow managed to steal his heart.

  SARA HAD WATCHED Gabe leave the ranch from the kitchen window. But it wasn’t until Gabe’s truck disappeared out of sight that she reacted. The sharp pain in her solar plexus nearly doubled her over.

  Save the heartache, the voice inside her head had scolded. Save it for when you have to explain to Ben why your decision to bring him to Colorado has blown up in your face.

  Sara straightened, pressed a hand to her midsection and called on her inner strength.

  The same as she’d done at the kissing booth after the showdown with Ronnie. She’d stood there smiling like nothing was wrong and taking the money while Betsy took over handing out kisses. She’d refused to give Ronnie or Gabe the satisfaction of spoiling her son’s first—and possibly last—Founder’s Day celebration.

  Gabe had not ventured far from their vicinity the rest of the day, even though he kept his distance. In fact, their only eye contact after the kiss had been the curt nod Gabe had given her when Ben took it upon himself to scamper off to tell his uncle they were leaving and heading for home.

  Sara had secretly hoped Gabe would follow.

  But he didn’t.

  Instead, it was much later when he’d returned to the ranch with Smitty and the ranch hands. She’d been tempted to knock on his bedroom door and tell him they needed to discuss the fiasco at the kissing booth but, of course, she hadn’t done that, either.

  She’d kept reassuring herself if she pretended the kiss had never happened, maybe Gabe would do the same. That maybe everything would blow over and things would return to normal.

  But never once had Sara expected Gabe to leave. If Gabe was willing to abandon the ranch during the busiest time of the year, there was no going back to normal. Clearly he was struggling with a decision.

  He had a choice to make.

  And Sara feared she knew what Gabe’s choice would be.

  Pack your things and leave now, she kept telling herself. But only one thing stopped her. She was not going to give Gabe Coulter an easy way out.

  He’d been the one to storm into their lives, spouting clichés about blood kin and family ties. She and Ben certainly hadn’t come looking for Gabe. He’d even challenged her to do what was best for her son.

  So no, she wasn’t going to leave.

  She’d be right here when Gabe returned. And if it turned out Gabe wanted her and Ben gone, so be it. At least she could leave Redstone with a clear conscience, knowing she’d lived up to her end of the bargain.

  “Got your shopping list ready?” Smitty more or less barked in Sara’s direction as he opened the screen door and entered the kitchen.

  Sara made her way to the opposite counter where the old guy knew full well she kept her running list of the supplies they needed. Personally, she thought Smitty’s daily shopping trips were a big waste of time and money. And that they should buy in bulk for the ranch and stock supplies. But Sara also suspected without her daily list, Smitty would lose his excuse to spend most of his mornings in Redstone, hanging out with his cronies at Jones Country Store.

  After handing him the list, Sara expected him to shuffle out of the kitchen the way he usually did. Instead, he poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot Sara always kept full, out of habit from her restaurant days. When he took a seat at the table, Sara retrieved the cream and sugar from the counter and placed them in front of him. He offered her a less than amicable grunt of thanks.

  “It ain’t none of my business how you run your kitchen, missy,” Smitty said as he stirred the milk into his coffee. “But I’ve been meaning to mention that you’d save yourself a lot of time and hard work if you went back to using them paper plates and cups, and them plastic forks and spoons like I always used when I had to cook for the boys.”

  Sara held her temper in check, thinking to herself that Smitty would probably be back to using those paper plates and plastic forks much sooner than he expected. She said instead, “I guess it’s just a woman thing, Smitty. With all the beautiful china and silverware in these cabinets, I think it would be a real shame not to use them.”

  “Mary wouldn’t settle for anything but the very best,” Smitty said with a hint of pride in his voice. “And Luke made sure the very best was what Mary had.”

  Aware that Smitty was obviously in the mood for a chat, Sara decided to take advantage of the situation. If anyone could give her any information about what was going on inside Gabe’s head, Smitty could. But Sara knew she’d have to approach the subject cautiously, and only ask if Smitty gave her the opportunity.

  She refreshed her own cup and took a seat beside the old man. “I don’t mean to pry, Smitty,” Sara began slowly, “but I’ve never known exactly what happened to Ben’s grandparents.”

  He stirred his coffee a few more times before he answered. “It was a real tragedy. And that’s a fact.”

  After a few more sips from his cup, Smitty said, “It was the middle of January fifteen years ago, but sometimes it seems like yesterday. Luke had taken Mary into town like he always did on Saturday mornings, and I kept the boys here with me to round up the livestock. There was a blizzard on the way and we had to get ready for it.”

  He looked at her and said, “You’ll find out soon enough that snow is a fact of life at this elevation. When it starts flying it never stops. Not until spring.”

  Sara wasn’t looking for a weather report—particularly since she might not be here come winter—but she knew better than to rush him.

  Smitty heaved another deep sigh. “The weather bureau predicted the storm wouldn’t reach Redstone until late Sunday night. But things turned real nasty by the time Luke and Mary started up the mountain that afternoon. Luke had driven these roads all his life, and I’m sure he thought he could make it. And he would have, if it hadn’t already snowed so heavy on the mountain all that week.

  “A small avalanche took out twenty feet of the road leading up to the ranch. And when it did, it swept Luke and Mary to the bottom of the canyon with it.” He shook his head. “They were buried instantly. The snow was so deep it took two whole days to dig them out.”

  Sara shuddered, thinking how nervous she was traveling on the winding gravel road leading up to the Crested-C.

  “Gabe was only eighteen,” Smitty said, “and Billy was only eleven. But I watched Gabe Coulter become a man overnight. He took charge of this ranch, and he took care of his little brother. And he did a fine job of it, too.”

  “With a lot of help from you, I’m sure,” Sara said, giving the old man credit where credit was due.

  Smitty shrugged off her comment. “I was around in case Gabe needed me.”

  “But what about you, Smitty?” Sara decided to ask. “Don’t you regret not having your own ranch and a family of your own?”

  “Working this ranch is all I’ve ever needed,” Smitty said with conviction.

  Just like Gabe, Sara thought.

  When Smitty’s face suddenly turned grave with concern, Sara worried she’d actually said those words out loud.

  “With Luke gone, I wasn’t sure we could hold on to the ranch. A good breeder gets his business from a solid reputation, and at that point, Gabe wasn’t much more than a snot-nosed kid. I ain’t proud of it, but I pushed that boy day and night. And all the while I kept drilling it into Gabe’s head that the ranch had to come first. That emotions were a sign of weakness. And that nothing or nobody could ever stand in his way if he wanted this ranch to be a success.”

  Sara reached out and touched his arm. “You did what you had to do, Smitty. And it worked.”

  “Yeah, it worked,” Smitty said. “Maybe too good.”

  Before Sara could ask what he meant, Smitty cocked his head in her direction. “I don’t mean to pry, either. But I can’t for the life of me f
igure out why you let Gabe ride out of here this morning without telling that boy you were in love with him.”

  Sara blushed. “You mean it’s that obvious?”

  “To everyone but a stubborn fool like Gabe,” Smitty said. “Don’t you realize Gabe’s running scared right now because he feels the same way about you?”

  Sara was tempted to bring up the subject of Ronnie Kincaid, but her pride wouldn’t let her go there. Instead, she said, “I do love Gabe, Smitty. But if Gabe feels the same way about me, he’ll have to make the first move.”

  Smitty frowned and stroked his woolly beard. “You know,” he said, “I had two old mules once that remind me a whole lot of you and Gabe.”

  Sara’s eyebrows shot up a notch. “Oh, really?”

  “One mule was so stubborn it wouldn’t eat a bite, no matter what type of grain I tried to feed it. And the other mule wouldn’t drink a drop of water, no matter how many times I led it to the trough to drink. I’m telling you, those two mules were a real sad pair. And that’s a fact.”

  “So?” Sara asked on cue. “What did you do?”

  “I shot them both and put them out of their misery.”

  Sara laughed. “And the moral to this story would be?”

  The old man pushed himself back from the table and reached for his cane. At the door, he looked over his shoulder. “Life’s too short to waste it being stubborn, missy. If you love Gabe, you tell him you love him before it’s too late.”

  The screen door banged and Smitty was gone.

  But Sara remained sitting at the table, staring into her cup and praying with all her heart that what Smitty said was true—Gabe was only running scared because he loved her, too.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  GABE REACHED the Beartooth Ranch on the outskirts of Billings, Montana, just before nine o’clock Sunday night. The ten-hour-plus trip should have exhausted him. Instead, Gabe felt pumped up and ready for a little hell-raising. And he was counting on his old friend to oblige him.

  Raising hell was how Rowdy got his nickname.

  Gabe brought the truck to a stop in Rowdy’s driveway, unconcerned that there were no lights on inside the house. Monday morning always started at sunrise. And like most cowboys, Rowdy restricted his partying to Friday and Saturday nights only.

  Except on special occasions. And this Sunday night was one of those times.

  Gabe left the truck and took a long, leisurely stretch before he bounded up the front-porch stairs and banged his fist against Rowdy’s front door. It took several moments before a light came on, flashing a golden shadow across the front porch.

  Gabe grinned and banged on the door even harder.

  “Hold your horses, dammit! I’m coming,” Rowdy yelled as he jerked the door open.

  He stumbled onto the porch wearing nothing but the pair of jeans he was still trying to fasten at his waist. A big grin spread across his face when he realized who was banging on his front door.

  “Why, Gabe Coulter, you old dog,” Rowdy said. He gave Gabe’s hand a firm shake. “Why didn’t you let me know you were headed this way?”

  “I’ve never needed an invitation before,” Gabe said, and walked in past Rowdy without being invited. But he’d no sooner stepped inside the door when another voice rang out from the darkened hallway on Gabe’s right.

  “Rowdy, honey? Is everything okay?”

  Gabe glanced at Rowdy. Rowdy shrugged and sent Gabe a sheepish grin.

  “You go on back to bed now, sugar,” he crooned to the redhead hovering outside his bedroom door. “Gabe’s an old friend of mine from Colorado.”

  Gabe couldn’t believe it. He’d known Rowdy most of his life. And the one rule Rowdy had always lived by was “never take a woman to your own bed unless you plan to keep her there on a permanent basis.”

  Not Rowdy.

  Not his role model.

  Not the man who’d vowed he’d remain single for life.

  Gabe sent Rowdy a disgusted look. “I guess I should have called first.”

  “You mean you came alone?”

  “Hell, yeah,” Gabe said. “Why?”

  “Just wondering,” Rowdy said, grinning at him. “I thought you might have brought the new Mrs. Coulter along.”

  “And how’d you hear about her?”

  “How do you think?”

  “Then I’m sure Smitty also told you we only got married for the boy’s sake.”

  “Yeah, Smitty mentioned something like that when I called last week,” Rowdy said. “But when he rattled on about how great she was, I figured even an old saddle tramp like you would have enough sense to realize you’d lucked into a pretty good thing.”

  Gabe took a playful swing at Rowdy.

  Rowdy was quick enough to dodge it.

  “I hate to say this, Gabe,” he teased, “but you look like hell warmed over. And you definitely look like a man who could use a stiff drink.”

  “You mean sugar still lets you drink?” Gabe jeered.

  It was Rowdy’s turn to take a swing.

  They finally settled themselves at Rowdy’s kitchen table with a bottle of bourbon between them. Gabe glanced at the man who was only a year older, thinking how people had often mistaken them for brothers. They were practically the same height and build and, like most cowboys whose time was spent on the open range, Rowdy’s blond hair was in bad need of a good haircut.

  “So, tell me,” Rowdy said after he’d poured them both a second drink. “How bad do you have it for this woman you only married for your nephew’s sake?”

  Gabe picked up his glass and belted down the liquid. “Let’s just say I kissed her over twenty-four hours ago and even this whiskey can’t wash away the taste of her lipstick.”

  Rowdy let out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

  “That bad.”

  “Then what in the hell are you doing in Montana, man?”

  “I thought if I spent a few days in Montana with you, it might clear my head.”

  “And what if she’s gone when you get back?”

  Fear gripped Gabe’s heart. The thought of Sara leaving while he was gone had never crossed his mind. Why wouldn’t Sara leave? Instead of telling her exactly how he felt, he’d stormed off like the coward that he was. And he’d left her to believe he’d only kissed her to make Ronnie jealous.

  “So, what’s got you in such a stew, Gabe?” Rowdy leaned forward and filled his glass again. “Does it bother you that Billy’s the one who met her first?”

  “Hell, no,” Gabe said, and he meant it. “She was an innocent kid when she ran into Billy. And we both know my brother never had any scruples when it came to women. Sara never had a chance from the minute Billy said hello.”

  “So, what’s the problem? Is she butt ugly? Hard to get along with? Dumb as a fence post?”

  “No, dammit,” Gabe said. “She’s beautiful. And she’s smart and easygoing. Sara is everything a man could want.”

  “I see. So this isn’t about Sara. It’s about you. You fooled around and fell in love. And to put it bluntly, you’re one scared-shitless cowpoke.”

  Gabe nodded.

  “Exactly what part scares you?”

  “Exactly what part doesn’t?” Gabe grumbled.

  Rowdy snorted. “Hell, Gabe, I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of not having anything to keep me warm at night but my own imagination. We’ve both worked hard. We’ve both paid our dues. And because of it, we’ve become successful ranchers. But there comes a time in every man’s life when he has to face the fact that being a lone desperado isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

  Rowdy tilted his head toward his bedroom. “If I’m lucky, that little gal in there is going to marry me. And if you have any sense left in that thick skull of yours, you’ll head back to Colorado. If you don’t, you’ll be getting a divorce before you even find out if you like being married.”

  When Gabe refused to comment, Rowdy leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his bare chest. “The way
I see it, Gabe, it’s the easiest thing in the world to isolate yourself from life and stay hidden out on the range with a bunch of horses who don’t demand a thing but a place to graze and a cool stream to take a drink. But it takes real guts to make a permanent commitment to another human being. I’ve finally grown up. What about you?”

  Gabe didn’t answer right away.

  But he finally said, “Maybe I’ve grown up, too, Rowdy. As hard as I try, I can’t picture the rest of my life without Sara in it.”

  When Rowdy grinned, Gabe said, “At least pacify me with one last toast to those die-hard desperados we both used to be.”

  Grabbing the bottle from the middle of the table, Rowdy poured each of them another drink. “To all the young desperados out riding the open range,” he said, clinking his glass against Gabe’s. “And to all the old desperados like us who have finally found their way home.”

  “I NEED TWO COOKIES, Mom,” Ben announced late Monday afternoon as he raced into the kitchen. “One for me, and one for Bandit.”

  Sara walked to the cookie jar and handed her son a cookie for each fist, then steeled herself for the loud bang as the screen door slammed behind him. She walked back to the stove, pierced her pot roast several times with a meat fork, then closed the oven door and set the timer. She heard the screen door open again.

  “No more cookies, Ben, and I mean it,” she called over her shoulder. “You’ll ruin your supper.” Expecting a lengthy argument, Sara turned around.

  The meat fork fell from her hand.

  “I thought you were in Montana.”

  “And I thought you’d be gone when I got back.”

  Sara blinked rapidly to clear her eyes. “Is that what you want, Gabe? For me to leave?”

  “God, no.”

  He closed the distance between them so fast Sara gasped when he pulled her into his arms. And the searing kiss he gave her left Sara’s fingers tangled in the long curls at the nape of Gabe’s neck. When they finally broke apart, all they could do was stare at each other.