A Ranch Called Home

by Candy Halliday

  “True,” Sara said, “but I still can’t justify paying fifteen hundred a month for a place I’ll have to fix up. Not when I’ve already been offered a suitable space for the bakery for only nine fifty closer to the other shops.”

  “Nine fifty?” Karen repeated, obviously shocked.

  Sara nodded.

  Karen flipped through her notebook. “You know,” she mused, “nine fifty might not be out of the question. You’re right about the place standing vacant for so long. And it is farther from the rest of the other shops.” She tapped a manicured finger against a page. “Why don’t I just run out to my car and give the owner a quick call on my cell? Nine fifty might be doable in this situation.”

  “Sorry,” Betsy drolled, “I’m afraid your cell is useless in this quaint little town. You’ll have to use the pay phone at Jones Country Store.”

  Karen looked perturbed then scurried out the door.

  Betsy burst out laughing. “What space are you talking about? I didn’t know anything else was for rent on Redstone Boulevard.”

  Sara sent Betsy a sly smile. “You’re forgetting I’ve been on my own a long time, Betsy. I learned how to bargain for the best price at a very early age.”

  “You mean you really are interested in this place?”

  “Let’s see what the agent comes up with first,” Sara said with a worried look. “My loan at the bank has already been approved, although I suspect Gabe had something to do with that. And even though I’ve saved almost every penny Gabe’s paid me over the past six months, my finances are still strained. It’ll be expensive getting a business off the ground. And I’ll have to think about furniture, too. Both for the bakery and for upstairs.”

  “Leave the furniture to me,” Betsy said. “When Joe’s folks died a few years ago, we stored more furniture than I care to think about in my attic and out in the barn. With a little elbow grease, we’ll have this place looking so quaint, all of those rich folks from Vail and Aspen will think they’ve traveled back in time to the Old, Old West.”

  Sara smiled. “What would I ever do without you?”

  “Don’t worry,” Betsy teased, “I have an ulterior motive in making myself so useful.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Let’s just say I expect a huge discount on all the pastry my heart desires.”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal,” Sara agreed as Karen swept back in, giving Sara the thumbs-up sign.

  “Well, it looks like you’re in business.” Betsy beamed.

  Sara let out a long sigh. “Yes, I guess it does.”

  But her excitement was overshadowed by two major concerns. One, spending every nickel she had on a business that could easily fail. And her second was knowing once she committed to leasing the property, there was no turning back on her and Gabe.

  “Are you really sure you want to do this, Sara? Going out on your own is a big step. Shouldn’t you stay at the ranch and try to work things out with Gabe?”

  “Going out on my own is the only way I can work things out with Gabe, Betsy.”

  “And does Gabe understand this?”

  Sara shook her head. “Of course not. He thinks I’m leaving because I’m not sure how I feel about him.”

  When Betsy didn’t comment, Sara asked, “Is that what you think, too, Betsy?”

  Betsy sent her a sympathetic look. “I believe you love Gabe, Sara. But Gabe’s a black-and-white kind of guy. You either love him or you don’t. No in between. No if you do this, I’ll do that. If you leave the ranch, there’s a big chance you could lose him. I just want to make sure you understand that.”

  “I do understand that,” Sara said. “But I’d rather lose Gabe completely than spend the rest of my life wondering if Gabe only settled for loving me because it was best for Ben.”

  And before she lost her nerve, Sara walked across the room where the real estate agent was holding out a pen so Sara could sign the lease on the big chance she was willing to take.

  “WELL, I SURE HOPE you’re happy.”

  Gabe stopped cleaning out the stall and turned to find Smitty standing behind him, leaning on his cane. “Happy about what?”

  “About letting Sara walk out of your life,” Smitty said. “She just told me she’s signed a lease on the old Blake house in town.”

  Gabe frowned. “And why does that surprise you? You told me the other day Sara was planning to go look at it.”

  “It surprises me, because I thought the two of you had patched things up,” Smitty said. “The past few days butter wouldn’t have melted in your mouths the way you’ve been acting around each other.”

  “And you think if I act like a jerk and refuse to talk to Sara, she would change her mind and want to stick around?”

  “No. But I think if you march into that house right now and tell Sara you love her, it might put an end to this foolishness.”

  Gabe tossed the pitchfork aside and faced Smitty with his hands at his waist. “I’ve already tried that approach, remember? It wasn’t good enough for her. Leave it alone, old man. It’s over between us.”

  Smitty didn’t leave it alone. “What are you saying, Gabe? That you don’t love Sara enough to ask her to stay?”

  “Maybe I love Sara enough to let her go.”

  “Well, that’s just plain bullshit.” Smitty hobbled off.

  Gabe picked up his pitchfork and went back to work.

  So. It really was final.

  Sara was still determined to leave.

  And he was still determined to let her go.

  SARA HAD BEEN so busy cleaning her new place from top to bottom, and hauling furniture from the Grahams’ over the past few weeks, Christmas had sneaked up on her like a thief in the night. She stood alone in the darkened den, mesmerized by the twinkling lights on the giant fir tree, and finding it hard to believe it was already Christmas Eve.

  One more day then she and Ben would move to Redstone.

  Sara reached out and touched one of the slender branches, thinking back to the day Gabe had asked her to go with him and Ben in search of the tree. It had been such a glorious December day—the sunshine turned the heavy snow into a blanket of sparkling white glitter, the sky above them so clear and blue it took her breath away. It had also been the only day she’d spent any time with Gabe since the night Ronnie strolled through the door and changed the course of their lives.

  On the way up the mountain, they’d stopped to make a snowman in the middle of the forest, adorning the chubby character they created with a variety of bells and cones covered with wild bird seed as a Christmas present for their feathered neighbors. Ben had instigated a fierce snowball fight, which Gabe eventually won, despite the fact that she and Ben had teamed up against him.

  It was Ben who had first spotted the tree farther up the slope where Gabe had taken them. Watching Gabe’s patience with Ben—holding the ax but allowing Ben to help cut the tree—had only deepened Sara’s love for him.

  Gabe loved Ben unconditionally.

  Sara would never doubt that.

  Too bad he didn’t feel the same way about her.

  In fact, Gabe had become a stranger to her. He’d been pleasant enough, but guarded. He’d made sure there were no chance touches between them. No brushing of their shoulders. And not once had he sent her a meaningful glance, offering her even a glimmer of hope that he still loved her.

  They’d reverted to the initial roles they’d played when she first moved to the ranch, as if the intimate moments in each other’s arms had never happened. At times, Sara wondered if their brief love affair had only been a figment of her imagination.

  “Sara.”

  She turned to see Gabe standing right behind her.

  He handed her one of the cups he was holding. “I thought you might like some more hot cider.” He looked at the tree, rocking back on his heels before clearing his throat. “I wanted to talk to you alone before tomorrow morning.”

  Sara issued a silent prayer that Gabe was going to
ask her to stay. Yet in her heart she knew he’d already allowed things to progress too far if he’d had any doubts about her leaving.

  “You’re right,” she said. “Things are going to be pretty hectic in the morning. I can’t decide who’s more excited—Smitty or Ben.”

  “Yeah,” he said, glancing at the parcels around the tree. “It’s been a long time since we had any reason to have a tree or presents around here.”

  Sara winced at his comment. But dammit, she wasn’t going to cry!

  She sat on the floor in front of the tree.

  Gabe surprised her by sitting beside her.

  On impulse, Sara reached out and grabbed a brightly wrapped package. “This is for you,” she told him. “From me.”

  He hesitated for a moment, but took the package. He tore off the shiny silver paper, opened the lid then lifted out the expensive pair of leather chaps from the box. The look in his eyes immediately softened. “You obviously knew how much I needed these,” he said. “Thank you.”

  He surprised her again with a quick kiss on the cheek. Then he pulled an envelope from his shirt pocket.

  “I didn’t wrap your present in fancy paper,” he said, “but Merry Christmas, Sara.”

  Sara opened the envelope and looked inside to find three neatly folded documents. Removing the first one, she leaned closer to the tree lights to read it. She gasped when she realized she was holding the deed to the Blake house.

  “Gabe—”

  “I offered you money once for the wrong reason. Let me give you something now for the right reason. Those landmongers in Aspen would have raised the rent on your next lease the minute your bakery started showing any profit. That deed will keep the profit in your pocket.”

  Sara still willed herself not to cry. She couldn’t pull it off.

  When she took the second document from the envelope, Gabe said, “I bought the Jeep for you when you came to the ranch and I want you to keep it. That’s the title. And that’s another thing I won’t argue about.”

  Reaching up, Sara swiped at her cheeks. She took the final document out of the envelope.

  But before she could unfold it, Gabe pulled her to him for a long, final kiss. When he released her, Sara didn’t miss the moisture in his eyes.

  “Be happy, Sara. You deserve it.”

  Then Gabe was gone.

  And Sara was left sitting by the Christmas tree alone, staring at the papers that would put an official end to Gabe and Sara Coulter’s marriage of inconvenience in ninety short days.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  FRESH FROM THE OVEN officially opened for business the third weekend in January, which coincided with the annual Sled Dog Races. Everyone in town agreed Sara couldn’t have picked a more perfect time to launch her new business.

  People from all over the country made the trip to join in the festivities. It was a big business weekend for the whole town of Redstone. And to Sara’s delight, her new establishment became an instant hit with everyone who walked through the bakery’s front door.

  “Please tell me we can call it a day,” Betsy pleaded on Sunday evening. “It’s officially six o’clock, my feet are killing me and I vote we lock up.”

  Sara took the keys from her apron pocket and tossed them to Betsy. “You lock up, I’ll bring coffee.”

  She turned back to the pile of dirty baking pans stacked in the sink and actually smiled. She’d been so busy during the last day of the dog races that, other than a few lonely blueberry muffins left in the pastry case, everything had been sold out.

  Dirty dishes or not, it had been a good day.

  By the time Betsy locked the front door, Sara was holding two cups of coffee. She shooed Betsy over to one of the tables in the front room.

  As the snooty real estate agent had envisioned, a variety of rustic tables and chairs now provided more than enough atmosphere for jet-setting tourists in search of a quaint Old West bakery. Betsy’s shabby-chic decorating ideas couldn’t have been more perfect. An assortment of antique cooking utensils adorned the newly-painted walls—rolling pins, biscuit cutters, even a wooden-handled mixer.

  Another of Betsy’s contributions had been from her greenhouse. Large clay pots filled with bright-faced pansies were everywhere, perking up the room.

  “What we need now is a fairy godmother who will have that kitchen cleaned up by the time we finish our coffee.” Betsy heaved a sigh of relief when she flopped onto one chair and propped her feet up on another.

  “You’ve already been my fairy godmother,” Sara told her. “I never would have survived this weekend without your help, Betsy. Thanks for ignoring my offer to send you home where you belonged.”

  Betsy shrugged off the compliment. “This wasn’t my first dogsled weekend. I knew it would be a madhouse in town. I just never expected people to be lined up on the sidewalk waiting to get inside a bakery.”

  Sara grinned. “I think people really were impressed with the pastry, don’t you?”

  “Impressed? Are you kidding? I saw two little old ladies rolling around on the ground fighting over a piece of your baklava.”

  Sara laughed. “I realize this is not going to be my typical business weekend, but I did have several different business owners from Glenwood Springs approach me about supplying them with fresh pastries every week.”

  “That could really be a lifeline,” Betsy agreed. “If you cater to a few of the big hotels and restaurants, you could build up a steady clientele.”

  Sara took a sip. “I’m just not sure how I could swing it this soon, Betsy. I can’t keep imposing on you, and I’m not in the position to hire someone to look after the bakery while I make deliveries to Glenwood Springs every week.”

  “Then recruit a deliveryman,” Betsy said with a twinkle in her eye. “You know. Someone who would love to ride over to Glenwood Springs once a week and get caught up on all the juicy gossip in the county.”

  “You mean Smitty?”

  “I can’t think of anyone better suited for the job.”

  “And wouldn’t Gabe just love that? Smitty’s already spent more time here than he has at the ranch over the past few weeks helping us pull things together. I can only imagine what Gabe would do if he found out I’d recruited Smitty.”

  Betsy shrugged. “You never know. After all, Gabe did drop by for a minute yesterday.”

  “Only to pick up Ben and take him to the dog races.”

  “Yeah, but he did stop by. Maybe Gabe will turn out to be more supportive about your move to town than you think.”

  Sara took another sip. She wasn’t pinning any false hopes on Betsy’s assessment of the situation. Gabe had stopped by at the absolute busiest part of her day, and he’d stayed only long enough to collect Ben and offer a brief nod in her direction. It had been Smitty, not Gabe, who had brought Ben back later that night.

  What Sara also hadn’t told Betsy was that Gabe had turned her down both times she’d asked him over for supper shortly after she and Ben had moved to town. She’d wanted him to see her in a different light. Wanted him to realize she was a smart, resourceful woman perfectly capable of running her own business and supporting her son—and not the charity case she’d been when Gabe first met her.

  But he hadn’t given her that chance.

  Instead, both times he’d come up with some lame excuse about being tied up at the ranch. He’d also shown no interest whatsoever in what she’d been able to do with the living quarters upstairs. On the two occasions he had stopped by for Ben, Gabe had managed an exceedingly quick exit. Sara had a sickening feeling things weren’t going to change anytime soon.

  “Mom?” Ben yelled down from the top of the stairs. “Me and Junior’s hungry.”

  “Junior and I,” Sara yelled back.

  “Can you bake us a pizza, Mom?”

  Sara looked over at Betsy.

  Betsy looked back at Sara.

  “Oh, no, he didn’t,” Betsy said. “Please tell me that child did not have the audacity to even utter th
e word bake to you.”

  Sara laughed.

  Betsy narrowed her eyes. “Shall you go up and strangle him, or shall I?”

  “You go strangle him,” Sara said. “I’ll put a pizza in the oven.”

  “No, I’ll spare his life this time,” Betsy said. “But only because the boys have been such angels to stay upstairs and play all afternoon.”

  “Did you hear me, Mom?”

  “We heard you,” Betsy responded. “You want pizza.”

  “Fresh from the oven,” Sara quipped.

  She pulled her weary self up from her chair and headed for her less than tidy kitchen.

  GABE FROWNED at the pitiful group gathered around his dining room table. “Would you guys stop acting like Smitty just served you a plate of poison? I remember a time when you inhaled anything he put in front of you.”

  “Yeah, but that was before Sara spoiled us with all her good cooking,” Slim muttered.

  “Yeah,” another hand spoke up. “I’d kill for a big plate of Sara’s meat loaf and that homemade gravy of hers about now.”

  “Things sure ain’t the same around here without her,” Smitty chimed in. “And that’s a fact.”

  Gabe slammed his fist on the table.

  Every paper plate fluttered when he did.

  “Do you think it might be possible to get through at least one meal without someone moaning and groaning because Sara is gone?”

  Gabe pushed his chair back from the table. And stormed out of the room.

  He grabbed his jacket from the coatrack next to the kitchen door, left the house and headed for the barn. He was as frustrated over the whole situation as the rest of them. But most of all, he was angry with himself for taking that frustration out on Smitty and the boys.

  Dammit!

  Didn’t they realize they weren’t the only ones who missed Sara. His heart ached every time he looked across the table and saw her vacant chair.

  Gabe stomped into the barn and walked toward Bruiser, who immediately trotted to the front of his stall, bobbing his head up and down for Gabe’s attention. “At least you don’t try to make me feel guilty about Sara leaving,” Gabe told the horse as he rubbed Bruiser’s nose.