Bruiser nuzzled against his hand, and Gabe reached into a feed bag hanging by the stall for a handful of oats.
“What do they expect me to do?” Gabe asked when Bruiser began lapping up the oats. “Run to Redstone every night with a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates in hand? Don’t they realize I gave it my best shot when Sara was living right here under my own roof, and that wasn’t good enough for her?”
Bruiser snorted in agreement with Gabe’s tirade.
He got another handful of oats for his loyalty.
“And all this calling me up and inviting me over for supper. What’s that about? Doesn’t Sara realize it tears my heart out to be in the same room with her? That it’s everything I can do to keep my hands out of her hair? Doesn’t she have any idea that I love her more than I ever thought I could love anyone or anything else in the world?”
Bruiser gave Gabe’s shoulder a sympathetic nudge.
In return, Gabe patted the big horse’s neck and rubbed him affectionately between the ears. “You and I have the type of relationship I can understand,” Gabe told the horse. “I take good care of you, and you don’t doubt my intentions. You don’t second-guess my motives. You instinctively know that you can always depend on me. And that’s the way a relationship should be. Just like the one I have with you.”
He gave Bruiser a final pat, walked to the barn door and looked out at the silver snowcapped mountains illuminated by the moonlight. He’d been worried from the beginning that Sara might have trouble settling into a solitary life on the ranch. And when he thought about it, he couldn’t really blame her for preferring town—even one as small as Redstone—to the isolation that surrounded them at the Crested-C.
It took a special kind of woman to live on a ranch and cook three meals a day for a bunch of hungry men. And although Sara had never once complained about her chores, he hadn’t missed the excited glow on Sara’s face Friday when he’d stopped by the bakery to pick Ben up for the dogsled races.
Surrounded by the crowd of the people crammed into the bakery, Sara looked happier than he’d ever seen her. And although he couldn’t help but feel more than a little jealous, in his heart, Gabe was pleased.
Sara had started her new life, and from every indication it would be a huge success. It was time now to get his own life back on track and stop grieving for what might have been.
Gabe closed the barn door, ready to apologize for the tantrum he’d thrown earlier. Smitty and his ranch hands had stood by him through the good times and the bad.
And accepting life without Sara, Gabe knew, was going to be an extremely bad time for many more months to come.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SARA KEPT the bakery closed on Sundays. She needed at least one day set aside for Ben. They’d also started attending church with the Grahams. She was waiting for Gabe to bring Ben home now. Gabe had promised to have Ben back by eight so he wouldn’t miss Sunday school at ten.
She hurried to her bedroom window when she heard the truck stop out front. Then Sara flew back to her dresser for a final look in the mirror before she went downstairs. Pushing a few stray hairs into her hair clip, she couldn’t help thinking that it would serve Gabe right if she took the clip out altogether.
But she’d never do that.
Taking her hair down was special to Gabe.
He considered it sensual—and private.
By the time Sara reached the door, Gabe and Ben were already walking up the steps. Ben bolted into the room with the gusto of a soon-to-be six-year-old, slipped off his backpack and thrust it in Sara’s direction.
“Hi, Mom,” he said as Sara bent down for a kiss. “I had a great time. Some of the boys came up to the house last night and played music. And every time Smitty blew his old harmonica, Bandit howled like this.” Ben threw his head back. “Woo-woo. Wooooooooooooooo.”
Sara laughed and helped Ben off with his coat before she smiled at Gabe. “Would you like a piece of pie and some coffee, Gabe?”
He was still standing on the porch. And the look on his face said he wasn’t coming in.
“Better not,” he said, patting his stomach. “I’ve dropped a few pounds eating Smitty’s cooking. I’d like to keep it that way.”
If his comment was meant to hurt her, it worked.
But Sara wasn’t ready to give up yet. “Just coffee, then?”
Gabe shuffled from one foot to the other.
Ben reached out and grabbed his uncle’s hand. “Come on in, Uncle Gabe. I want you to see my bedroom.”
Removing his Stetson, Gabe stepped inside the door and allowed Ben to pull him across the room to the stairs. When the two of them started to the upper level, Sara followed. But she held back when they reached Ben’s bedroom, leaning against doorjamb instead of entering the room herself.
“I guess my room’s okay, but it’s not as good as my room at home,” Ben announced, producing, Sara noticed, a slight smile from his uncle at the knowledge that Ben still considered the ranch home.
“Well, I think this is a great room, Ben,” Gabe said as he inspected some of the drawings Ben had taped on the wall beside his bed.
“That’s Bess and Bandit,” Ben said proudly, pointing to two shapes that slightly resembled man’s best friend. “And that’s Lightning,” he informed Gabe, pointing to a rather legible drawing of a white pony.
“What about this one?” Gabe asked.
“That’s you and Smitty sitting on the corral fence.”
“Is my nose really that big?” Gabe teased.
Ben giggled.
“Gabe,” Sara interrupted, “if you change your mind about something to eat or drink, I’ll be downstairs.”
“No thanks, Sara. I really need to get going.”
He said it without even turning to look at her.
He swung Ben high into the air, then he dropped Ben feetfirst onto the bed.
“Excuse me?” Sara said before she could stop herself.
“Uncle Gabe lets me jump on the bed sometimes when I stay over,” Ben quickly explained.
“Troublemaker,” Gabe whispered behind his hand.
Ben giggled again and gave his uncle a final hug.
Sara moved out of the doorway when Gabe walked in her direction. “Thanks for letting Ben spend the weekend with you, Gabe.”
“Thanks for letting him come,” Gabe said.
He started down the hallway. But when he disappeared down the stairs, Sara hurried after him before she lost her nerve. “Gabe, wait.”
He turned at the bottom of the stairs. “You got the final annulment papers, right?”
Sara nodded and started down the steps. She’d cried all day when she got them. During the three long months since she’d left the ranch, she’d tried everything possible to keep the channels of communication open between them. She’d extended invitations he never accepted. She’d stopped by the ranch on numerous occasions to leave baskets of goodies for him and the boys. She’d even swallowed her pride, like she was doing now, begging for his attention.
Nothing had worked.
And Sara had finally come to the end of her rope.
By the time she came to a stop on the last step, tears she couldn’t hold back were streaming down her face. “I’ve lost you, haven’t I, Gabe?”
He frowned at her question. “Don’t do this, Sara. It’s too hard on both of us.”
Sara reached out to touch his arm.
He moved out of reach.
“Don’t, Sara,” he said again.
He walked out her front door and never looked back.
Sara whispered, “Goodbye, Gabe.”
He’d answered her question.
She’d lost him—forever.
DURING THE WEEKS that followed her final plea to Gabe, Sara was forced to accept the fact that her decision to leave the ranch had been the right choice. Gabe had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her. All he’d ever cared about was Ben. And since she wasn’t putting any restrictions on lettin
g Gabe see Ben whenever he wanted, he had no use for her at all.
Sara no longer called extending invitations he wouldn’t accept. Nor did she take time out of her busy schedule and drop by the ranch to get a glimpse of him. She didn’t even hover in the doorway on those Sundays when Gabe brought Ben back to town, hoping he would stay and visit. Instead, a casual wave from the porch when Gabe drove up with Ben was the extent of any face-to-face contact between them.
Just like today, Sara thought as Ben bounced up the steps alone while Gabe pulled away from the curb and drove off down the street. Ben had called her early that morning, begging to skip church so he could be at the ranch when a new foal was born.
“The baby foal is so cute, Mom,” Ben said. “I named him Starfighter. He has a white star on his forehead.”
He only grimaced a little when Sara gave him a hug. Her little boy was growing up fast.
“Are you hungry?” Sara asked as Ben dumped his gear inside the door.
“I’m real hungry, Mom. Me and Smitty worked real hard. We had to hold Matilda’s head while Uncle Gabe helped her birth her baby.”
“Smitty and I,” Sara corrected, thinking back to Gabe’s concern that the Crested-C wouldn’t mean anything to Ben unless he grew up on the land. Her son might not be living at the ranch at the moment, but Sara had a new understanding of what it meant to be blood kin.
The Crested-C meant everything to Ben.
“The snow’s melting real fast now, Mom,” Ben said as they walked into the kitchen. “Can we go home soon?”
His question broke her heart.
Hoping to avoid the subject until she could figure out exactly what to say, Sara said, “So how hungry are you, sweetie? Hungry enough for a big cheeseburger?”
“With extra, extra cheese.”
Later, after Ben was occupied with his extra, extra cheeseburger, Sara took a seat beside him. “You know, Ben, I’m not sure we’ll be moving back to the ranch anytime soon.”
Ben stopped chewing and gave Sara a concerned look. “You mean ’cause you and Uncle Gabe got nulled?”
Sara raised an eyebrow. “Where did you hear that?”
“Junior said you and Uncle Gabe got nulled. What’s nulled, Mom? Does it hurt?”
More than you’ll ever know.
“The word is annulled, Ben. It’s a legal term for what happens when you end an agreement. Uncle Gabe and I agreed to stay married for six months. Our six months were over, so we ended our agreement.”
Ben thought it over and said, “Junior said I didn’t have a family anymore. But when I asked Uncle Gabe about it, he said we’d always be a family, no matter what.”
His words turned Sara inside out.
“Your Uncle Gabe was right. You’re a Coulter, remember? And whether you live at the ranch or in town, you’ll always be a Coulter and Gabe will always be your family.”
Ben swiped away his milk mustache with the back of his hand. “Are you still a Coulter, too, Mom?”
Sara shook her head. “No, honey. I’m not a Coulter anymore.”
She almost added, I never really was.
“Uncle Gabe said when school’s out you might let me stay at the ranch longer than just on weekends so I can learn to take care of Starfighter all by myself.” He sent her a pleading look. “Would you, Mom?”
“We’ll see,” Sara answered.
Ben smiled.
The words slipped right out of Sara’s mouth. “Did your Uncle Gabe say anything else about me?”
“Like what, Mom?” Ben asked innocently.
“Forget it, honey, it isn’t important,” Sara said, immediately ashamed of herself for tying to pump her own son for information about a man who didn’t love her.
“Uncle Gabe did say something about you this morning.”
Sara held her breath.
“He said—” and Ben mimicked Gabe’s deep voice “—you’d better get out of that mud puddle, Ben, or your mom will skin both of us alive.”
Sara sent Ben a pretend mean look and said, “And I will skin you both alive, young man, the day you come home looking like you’ve been playing in the pigsty.”
Ben giggled at Sara’s response.
Sara left Ben to finish his cheeseburger. But her heart was filled with an incredible sadness. It was over between her and Gabe. The sooner she accepted that fact the better. One day Gabe Coulter would look just as good driving away from her house as he did driving up to the curb.
Comforted by that lie, Sara headed for the kitchen to check on the orders Smitty would deliver to Glenwood Springs tomorrow morning. Against her better judgment, Smitty had assumed the role of her deliveryman, though it had been Betsy, not Sara, who had recruited him for the job. As Betsy predicted, Smitty had jumped at the chance to make a weekly trip out of Redstone so he could broaden his horizons in the gossip arena.
Smitty’s assurance that it was none of Gabe’s business, however, didn’t qualm Sara’s concern that Gabe disapproved of Smitty’s new job. And if she hadn’t needed Smitty’s help so desperately, she would have vetoed the idea from the very beginning.
But her catering orders had actually put her over the top as far as her finances were concerned. And although the bakery had done much better than she originally hoped, the catering income would make it possible for her to pay off her loan at the bank sooner than she expected.
As soon as the loan was paid off, she intended to start making mortgage payments to Gabe. And that was something she wasn’t going to argue about.
Satisfied her orders were complete, Sara heard Ben’s footsteps on the stairs, then waited until the music from his favorite video game filtered down from his bedroom. Ben being home had put an end to the deadly silence that often consumed Sara. But even Ben’s presence on Sunday evenings didn’t lift Sara’s blue mood.
Sunday evenings had once been private time with Gabe.
Of course, Betsy reminded Sara on a regular basis that her solitary life was her own choosing. And that she owed it to herself to accept some of the offers she’d received from the good-looking cowboys who made a special trip to the bakery to have an excuse to talk to her.
“Give Gabe a run for his money,” Betsy had urged Sara time and again. “Let Gabe know he’d better come to his senses before someone else takes his place.”
In time, maybe Sara would date someone else. And comforted by that lie, too, Sara cleared Ben’s plate from the table, placed the dishes in her industrial dishwasher and switched off the kitchen light. She wandered upstairs and, after making a quick check on Ben, Sara seated herself on the sofa in the spare bedroom she’d turned into a den.
Absently flipping through the television channels, she stopped when she found one of her favorite programs: From Eats to Sweets with Don Inglehorn. The famous food critic lived in Denver, but he traveled nationwide. And his viewers had the privilege of tagging along with him as Don toured the country looking for the best restaurants, bistros and bakeries to review.
“Next month in May,” Don Inglewood said smiling into the camera, “I’ll be visiting one of my favorite places in my home state of Colorado. And you can count on me to be looking for the best Glenwood Springs has to offer—from eats to sweets.”
Sara was so excited she could hardly contain herself.
She grabbed the portable phone sitting on the end table beside her and hit Speed Dial. “You aren’t going to believe this,” Sara breathed into the phone, “but I just heard on television that Don Inglehorn is going to be in Glenwood Springs next month.”
“Don who?”
“The famous food critic, Betsy! How hard do you think it would be to find out where he’ll be staying in Glenwood Springs?”
“Oh. My. God.” Betsy gasped. “Please tell me this guy is so hot you’ve forgotten you even know Gabe Coulter.”
Sara laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you. Don is in his fifties and he’s obviously gay. But I want a basket filled with goodies from Fresh from the Oven waiting for him when he arrives
at his hotel.”
“Well, I guess we could call around and ask.”
“You’ll help me find out where he’s staying then?”
“Oh, pooh,” Betsy said. “What a silly question.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SMITTY SAT perched on the back of the flatbed truck late Thursday afternoon while Gabe wrestled with a bale of barbed wire that was currently getting the better of him. It irked Gabe every time the old man jammed his hand into a bag of doughnuts that had Fresh from the Oven written in bright pink letters across the front of the bag.
“Did you hear that big food critic from Denver is going to bring his television crew to Redstone next month and give Sara an exclusive interview on his program?”
Gabe stiffened at the sound of Sara’s name. But he went back to work unraveling the length of wire he needed from the bale.
“Yeah,” Smitty said, “it seems this Don Inglehorn makes a trip once a year to the Hotel Denver over in Glenwood Springs for a mineral bath in that natural hot springs pool they have. The guy had such a fit over Sara’s marble pound cake last week he drove straight to Redstone and asked Sara to be on his television program.”
“Maybe he’ll want to interview her damn deliveryman, too,” Gabe grumbled, and gave the fence post a sound thud with head of his mallet.
“The whole town’s excited over the exposure Redstone’s gonna get,” Smitty rambled on. “The mayor’s arranging a big celebration while the camera crew’s in town. He’s gonna block off Redstone Boulevard and have an old-fashioned square dance. Everyone agrees we need to do all we can to promote Redstone with the whole nation watching.”
Gabe sent Smitty a mean look. “Would you stop yapping and bring me those wire cutters?”
Smitty abandoned his doughnuts, slid off the back of the truck and hobbled over to Gabe with the wire cutters in his hand. Gabe cut the wire. But when he drew back to give the fence post a final hit, Smitty said, “I heard those cowboys who hang around the bakery are already fighting over who’s gonna take Sara to the dance.”
A Ranch Called Home Page 18
