The mallet landed on Gabe’s left thumb.
“Dammit!” he cursed, and dropped the mallet.
Smitty leaned over and looked at the ugly gash.
“That’s gotta hurt, Gabe. And that’s a fact.”
Gabe stuck his thumb into his mouth. The look he sent Smitty was lethal.
Smitty only grinned. “There’s some duct tape in the glove box of the truck. Want me to get a piece and bandage your thumb?”
“I’ll get it my damn self,” Gabe fumed. “And maybe if I put a piece of duct tape over your mouth we might get a little work done around here.”
Gabe stomped off toward the cab of the truck.
But he wasn’t smarting from his injured thumb nearly as much as the sound of Smitty’s satisfied chuckle over being able to get him riled up.
“Like I give a damn who takes Sara to the dance,” Gabe mumbled as he used his teeth to tear off a piece of the silver tape. “Sara can square-dance down Redstone Boulevard naked for all I care.”
Gabe folded the tape gently over his thumb.
“But she won’t find me standing on the sidelines watching her do it,” Gabe vowed. “And that is a damn fact.”
“Did you say something, Gabe?” Smitty called out.
Gabe kicked the door shut with the heel of his boot. When he stomped around the truck, Smitty was still standing beside the bale of wire, a mocking grin on his whiskered face.
“I said if you’d put forth as much effort being a ranch foreman as you did delivering doughnuts, we might finish repairing this fence before dark.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said.” Smitty kept grinning at him.
“YOU LOOK SO PRETTY in that red dress with your dark hair and brown eyes, Sara,” Hazel Cooper said on Friday afternoon. “Marge showed me the material you picked out for the pioneer dress she’s making you. And now I understand exactly why you picked that gingham print. Red is definitely your best color. And you’re going to look gorgeous in your television interview. I just can’t tell you how pleased the mayor is that everyone is willing to dress in Old West costumes for the square dance while Don Inglehorn’s in town. Don’s program is broadcast coast to coast, you know. And we’ll be bringing a taste of the Old West right into living rooms all across the nation. Why, the mayor said he wouldn’t be surprised if our tourist business more than doubles by the end of the summer.”
Sara smiled when Hazel finally completed her run-on sentences. The mayor’s wife was a robust woman, always impeccably dressed like the mayor was himself, and Hazel always referred to her husband as the mayor since she and her dearly beloved were the only two people in Redstone impressed with his title. Hazel could also tell you who’d been in town on any given day, and what time of day they arrived and what time they left.
Sara just wished Hazel would hurry up.
Thirty minutes of endless chatter was enough.
Plus, it was Friday and she had to get Ben’s clothes ready to go to the ranch for the weekend. Gabe wouldn’t arrive until later, after Ben got home from school, but the bakery had been so busy all morning she was running way behind schedule. And the last thing Sara wanted was to give Gabe the impression she’d delayed packing Ben’s things on purpose in order to have an excuse to talk to him.
Those days were long gone and Sara intended to keep it that way.
Hazel finally pointed to the bakery case. “And I’ll take a dozen of those scrumptious blueberry tarts. They’re the mayor’s favorite, you know. And that’s something you might want to mention in your interview, Sara. I don’t know if you realize it or not, but it’s amazing how much influence political figures have over the public. I read once that after President Jimmy Carter mentioned he ate a certain brand of cereal for breakfast, sales for that brand increased fifty percent.”
“You don’t say,” Sara mumbled as she plopped the last of the blueberry tarts into the bag with the doughnuts, the apple turnovers and the cream puffs, and handed it across the counter. After giving the woman her change, Sara smiled and said, “Tell the mayor I hope he enjoys these.”
“Oh, the mayor always enjoys anything I bring him from your bakery, Sara. In fact—”
The incessant babbling suddenly stopped.
Sara looked up as Ronnie Kincaid walked into the bakery.
Hazel sent an anxious look at Sara, but she smiled when Ronnie walked up beside her. “Why, I was just telling the mayor the other day that you hadn’t been to town in ages, Ronnie.”
Ronnie sent her a bored look. “And you would know, wouldn’t you, Hazel?”
Hazel’s face flushed. “Well!” she huffed. “What a positively rude thing to say!”
Hazel marched out the door.
Ronnie turned her attention to Sara. “I didn’t want an audience for what I came to say.”
Sara straightened her shoulders. “Then you were rude to Hazel for no reason. I’m not interested in anything you have to say, Ronnie.”
“Too bad. We need to talk about Gabe.”
“Gabe and I are over.”
Ronnie laughed. “Don’t insult me. We both know it won’t be over for Gabe until you and your brat leave Redstone.”
Sara’s hackles rose at the nasty reference about Ben. But a glance at the bakery’s front window reminded Sara she needed to say calm. At least half of the other shop owners and a dozen or more locals were already sending nervous glances in their direction. In the midst of it all was the mayor’s wife chattering at the top of her lungs.
“My son and I aren’t going anywhere,” Sara said, looking back at Ronnie. “And I think you should leave before you draw a larger crowd than the one standing outside there now.”
Ronnie sent a brief glance over her shoulder. She sneered at Sara when she turned around. “Do you really think those idiots out there give a damn about you? Because they don’t. They’ve all been waiting to see me kick your ass since the day you brought Billy Coulter’s bastard home to Redstone.”
Sara paled and felt the closest she’d ever come to slapping anyone.
“Your insults aren’t going to work on me, Ronnie. If I let you bully me into a fistfight like some common tramp, those people out there will assume everything they’ve ever thought about me behind my back is true. But I’m not like that. And you’re not worth me looking cheap now.”
Sara stepped around from behind the counter. “I’ll show you your way out.” She walked over to open the front door.
“Sara, look out!” someone screamed.
Sara turned around in time to see a chair sailing through the air. It missed her completely. But it hit the bakery’s plate-glass window with a thunderous bang.
Glass exploded in every direction.
The crowd outside scattered like a flock of pigeons.
RONNIE WALKED calmly out of the bakery and down the front steps. She ignored the angry stares and the nasty insults people hurled in her direction and continued across the street to her Suburban. Her next stop would be to the pay phone at Jones Country Store. Then she was headed to Crested Butte where she intended to give Charlie Biggs a huge piece of her mind.
“Stupid people,” Ronnie mumbled a few minutes later as she hopped out of the Suburban and headed for the phone booth.
And she was talking about Gabe, Sara and Charlie.
She’d tried to wait them all out for six long months. She’d waited for Gabe and Sara to patch things up on their own. And she’d waited for Charlie to get his head out of his ass and come home to the Flying-K where he belonged.
But she wasn’t waiting any longer.
Not after she’d heard through the cowboy grapevine that Charlie was drinking his life away in Crested Butte where some little blond barmaid had her eye on him. And not after she heard some big-shot food critic was coming to interview Sara at her bakery next month.
Gabe might be a fool, but Ronnie wasn’t.
If she hadn’t caused that scene in the bakery, she and Gabe would have ended up all alone playing solitaire
like her father, while Charlie settled down with the blonde and Sara moved off to Denver to be the idiot host on some worthless television baking show.
Sliding behind the wheel again, Ronnie headed for Crested Butte, pleased with herself whether anyone else appreciated what she’d done for Gabe and Sara or not. Not that she’d ever admit she’d only caused a scene so Gabe would come running to Sara’s rescue. Let everyone rush to console poor, sweet little Sara after big, bad Ronnie threw a chair through her window. The whole town could think whatever they wanted.
But Ronnie would tell Charlie the truth.
He’d told her not to come looking for him until she patched things up between Gabe and his wife. Ronnie intended to remind Charlie that he didn’t say a damn thing about being nice and polite when she did it.
EVERYONE HAD RUSHED toward Sara the minute Ronnie drove away. And thirty minutes later when Sara looked around, it appeared half of Redstone was still crowded into the bakery to assess the damage and offer help.
“Don’t worry about that window, Sara,” Hank assured her. He turned to the man standing beside him. “Right, Harve?”
The owner of the hardware store nodded. “We’ll all pitch in and put some plastic over your window,” Harvey Miller said. “And I’ll order the new glass first thing in the morning.”
Someone else handed Sara a glass of water that she eagerly accepted. She had just taken a long sip from the glass when the mayor’s wife hurried inside.
“I just talked to the mayor,” Hazel said, slightly out of breath, “and he insists that you press charges, Sara. Ronnie’s been nothing but trouble from the day she was born, and—”
“No,” Sara said, stopping the woman’s prattle mid-sentence. “I appreciate everyone’s concern, but I don’t intend to keep a feud going by pressing charges against Ronnie. She and I had a disagreement. It’s over. And I intend to keep it that way.”
When the crowd began to break up, Sara heard someone say, “Sara’s a better person than I am.”
“Me, too,” someone else agreed. “I’d have me a lawyer before the sun went down.”
After the bakery finally emptied, Sara let out a long sigh. She’d known Ronnie would force a showdown sooner or later. She was just thankful Ronnie had decided to do it while Ben was at school. One more week and school would have been out for the summer and Ben would have heard every ugly thing Ronnie said about him.
Even the thought made Sara shudder.
She headed to the kitchen for a dustpan and broom. She couldn’t help but think about something else Ronnie had said—that it wouldn’t be over for Gabe until Sara left Redstone. It made her wonder if maybe she should leave so both of them could finally get on with their lives.
She had just knelt down to sweep up the jagged pieces when she heard another set of heavy footsteps on her front porch steps. When Sara looked up Gabe was standing in the doorway, his face as white as the Stetson hat he always wore.
“Are you okay?”
It was all Sara could do to keep from running straight into his arms. Instead, she said, “I’m fine,” and went back to sweeping the glass into the dustpan.
He removed his hat and took a step in her direction. “Someone called the ranch and said Ronnie took out your front window with a shotgun.”
Sara stood up. “You know how people in this town like to exaggerate. Ronnie had her say. She threw a chair through my window. And that’s the end of it.”
Sara turned and headed into the kitchen.
Gabe followed, hat in hand.
Sara ignored him and dumped the glass into the trash. But when she turned around he was standing way too close for comfort. Only inches were left between them.
He placed his hat on her kitchen counter, looked at her and said, “I know I’ve been a real jerk, Sara—”
“Don’t, Gabe,” Sara told him, fighting back the tears. “Like you told me once, it’s too hard on both of us.”
Sara tried to push past him.
But Gabe grabbed her hands, forcing her to stay.
“Just hear me out,” he begged. “Please.”
Sara wanted to tell him no. That she wasn’t interested in anything he had to say. Just like she had that first day she met him.
But in spite of everything, Sara still loved him.
“I came to make sure you weren’t hurt,” he said, still holding both of her hands. “But I also stayed up all night rehearsing what I wanted to say to you when I came for Ben tonight. The stunt Ronnie pulled got me here a little sooner.”
Gabe dropped down on one knee.
“I love you, Sara. You’re the most important thing in my life and I can’t live without you. I want you to wear my mother’s wedding dress. I want you to ride up our driveway in a horse-drawn carriage filled with roses. And I want the whole town standing on our front lawn when I ask you to be mine forever. Just say I’m not too late. Say you still love me and that you’ll marry me.”
Sara pulled Gabe up and threw her arms around his neck.
Gabe hugged her against him. “Is that a yes?”
The long kiss Sara gave him answered his question.
Gabe kissed her again.
And again.
Until more footsteps echoed through the bakery.
Ben ran into the kitchen at full speed. “Wow, Mom. What happened to the front window?” But he looked even more surprised when he saw Gabe. “What are you doing here already, Uncle Gabe?”
Gabe put his arm around Sara and pulled her close.
“Hey!” Ben protested. “And why are you guys doing all that mushy stuff today?”
“We’re doing all the mushy stuff,” Gabe said with a big grin, “because your mom just agreed to marry me.”
“Forever this time?” Ben asked.
Gabe looked at Sara for an answer.
“Forever this time,” Sara said.
Ben didn’t hesitate. He ran and jumped into Gabe’s outstretched arms. “Can we go home now, Mom?”
Sara looked at Gabe for an answer.
“Not until after the wedding, Ben,” Gabe said, and smiled at Sara. “I have some wooing to do first.”
“Wooing like Bandit does?” Ben threw his head back. “Wooooooooooooooooooo.”
Sara and Gabe both laughed.
But Sara knew her fairy-tale romance was finally about to begin.
RONNIE DROVE down the main street of Crested Butte and slowed to a stop when she saw Charlie’s truck parked in front of a bar called McAdoo’s. She parked the Suburban three doors down and took her time walking up the sidewalk.
If she found Charlie all hugged up with the blonde, Ronnie wouldn’t be responsible for her actions. But if she didn’t, she intended for Charlie to be with her when she left Crested Butte.
She took a deep breath and walked into the bar. She breathed a sigh of relief after her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. Charlie was sitting at the bar. Alone. But Ronnie’s eyes narrowed when the perky little blonde behind the bar suddenly sidled over and practically pushed her boobs in Charlie’s face.
Ronnie marched across the room and slid onto the stool beside him. The deadly look she gave the blonde sent the bimbo skittering off to the far end of the bar to attend to another customer. Charlie, however, refused to even acknowledge Ronnie’s presence.
She looked over at him and said, “Some cushy job you must have if you’re drinking this early in the day.”
“I’m between jobs at the moment.”
Ronnie reached over, picked up the glass of whiskey sitting in front of him and drained every drop. “I still need a foreman at the Flying-K.”
“That’s your problem,” he said, and signaled to the blonde. “Jack on the rocks again, sweetheart.”
The blonde sent Charlie a go-to-hell look.
“Boo-hoo,” Ronnie mocked. “Sweetheart looks pissed.”
Still, Charlie ignored her.
He also ignored the blonde when she slammed his drink down a few minutes later. He reached for his drin
k, his eyes still focused straight ahead. “What are you doing here, Ronnie?”
Ronnie shrugged. “Well, you told me not to come looking for you until I patched things up with Gabe and his wife. I did that earlier today. So here I am.”
“Right,” he said, and brought the glass to his lips.
“Of course, I had to cause a scene in town so Gabe would have reason to come running to the rescue. I threw a chair through the bitch’s window at her bakery.”
Charlie sputtered in his drink.
“But you know me,” Ronnie said, and sighed. “That’s just the type of woman I am. Bold. Brassy. Always hard to handle.”
Charlie lowered his glass to the bar.
“Yeah,” Ronnie said, “you never know what to expect from a woman like me. But you can guarantee one thing. The sex will always be sizzling and leave you begging for more.”
Charlie looked at her for the first time. But it wasn’t lust Ronnie saw in his eyes. Charlie loved her—he always had. And what he needed now was to hear her say out loud that she felt the same way about him.
“I love you, Charlie. I want you to come home.”
Charlie grinned. “All you had to do was ask, babe.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
SARA STOOD in Betsy’s upstairs guest bedroom, admiring Mary’s wedding dress in the full-length mirror. Like the picture of Mary on her wedding day, Sara wasn’t wearing a veil. Instead, Betsy had entwined a sprinkle of baby’s breath through her dark, upswept hair. Sara touched the delicate lace across the bodice, wondering if her own daughter-in-law would want to wear this dress one day.
Or possibly a daughter—if she and Gabe decided to have children. They’d agreed not to make that decision until later, after they’d had a chance to enjoy being a real husband and wife.
The bedroom door opened and Sara turned. She smiled when Betsy, Annie and Dessie filed into the room.
“You look beautiful, Sara,” Dessie said.
“Absolutely perfect,” Betsy agreed.
“Breathtaking,” Annie said, tossing her long, blond hair over one shoulder and looking pretty breathtaking herself in the pale pink dress she was wearing.
A Ranch Called Home Page 19
