by Janet Dailey
“You’re sure you’re all right?” he asked.
She looked up at him, her dark eyes melting into shadows. “I’m fine now. Just shaken up, that’s all.”
“And the baby? Do we need to get you to the hospital?”
Without a word, Ellie took his hand and moved it downward beneath the coat to rest low on her belly. Jubal felt flutter kicks against his palm, followed by a solid thump. He struggled to keep his emotions in check.
“Frisky little thing, isn’t she?” he said. “But I still think you ought to get checked at the clinic in the morning.”
“Good idea.” She drew away from him with a nervous laugh. “Right now, let’s see about getting my car out of here. Did you bring the tow chain?”
“I did, but it might not be enough. Let’s take a look.”
Wind bit through Jubal’s flannel shirt as he picked up the flashlight and walked around to the low passenger side of the car. It didn’t look good. The right front fender had crumpled against the solid fence post. The wheel trapped beneath it was bent at a cockeyed angle, the tire flat and peeled partway off the rim.
“It doesn’t look good.” He used the flashlight beam to show Ellie the damage. She muttered a few choice curses under her breath—that, too, was the Ellie he remembered.
“Even if I could pull your car out, you wouldn’t be able to drive it,” Jubal said. “For now, let me take you home. In the morning you can call Silas to pick it up with his tow truck. Your insurance should cover the tow and repair.”
It was good advice. Silas Parker, who’d run Branding Iron’s only garage and body shop for the past twenty years, was as honest as he was capable. Ellie knew she could trust him.
She swore again, then sighed. “All right. Would you get Beau’s booster basket for me? If I have to rent another car, I’ll need it. It’s hanging on the back of the passenger seat.
“Sure. But let’s get you into the truck first.”
“Take your coat.” She slipped Jubal’s sheepskin coat off her shoulders and handed it to him.
“Thanks.” The coat held her warmth and her aroma. He helped her into the truck, retrieved the dog’s booster basket, and headed for town.
On the road, Ellie was silent. Jubal thought about turning on the radio but neither of them would be in the mood for Christmas music.
As the Christmas lights on Main Street came into view, she finally spoke. “My car is a BMW, Jubal. How am I going to get it fixed around here?”
“Don’t underestimate Silas,” Jubal said. “It might take time to get your parts, but he’s got connections. If he can get the fender and wheel components from a junkyard, it’ll save you time, and any money over what your insurance will pay. And you know Silas. His work will be first rate.”
“Could I get it fixed in Cottonwood Springs?”
“I wouldn’t bet on it. You’d probably have to haul it to a bigger city. They could put you through the wringer and you’d never know what they’d done to your car or where the parts came from. But Silas would never cheat you. He’d probably even lend you one of the loaners he keeps around so you won’t have to go to the hassle and expense of renting a car. Think about it.”
“I will. Thanks.” She touched his shoulder as they turned onto her street. Jubal felt the contact like a gentle electric spark through his coat. He cursed silently. Against his better judgment, he was letting the woman get to him.
He pulled into her driveway, climbed out of the truck, and went around to open her door. She took the arm he offered to help her to the ground. Wind whipped around them as they stood face to face.
“One thing, Ellie,” he said. “What I told you about losing the ranch. Let’s keep that information private for now, all right?”
She nodded, clutching her jacket around her. “But if you talked to Ben, he might be able to help you.”
“I’m not talking to anybody yet. Not until I know more about what happened and who’s responsible. Understand?”
“I do. Not a word.” Her teeth were chattering. “I’d invite you in, but I know you need to get home to Gracie.”
“Sure.” Again, he resisted the crazy urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her until the past ten years vanished into nothing. “Now get inside before you freeze.”
She turned and fled toward the porch. Jubal watched until she was safely in the house. Then he climbed back into the truck and headed out of town.
Damn! Damn! Damn!
He would never have chosen to have Ellie back in his life. In the old days, she’d led him on for a couple of years, telling him she loved him, and proving it in ways every boy dreams of. She’d let him believe she was his for life. Then, just like that, she’d stomped his heart to dust under her feet, packed her things, and left.
Now here she was again, with her fancy car and big-city ways, her silly fluff of a dog, and another man’s baby in her belly. The crazy thing was, it felt as if she’d never left.
The woman was reeling him in like a fish on a line, with her beauty, her damned vulnerability, and all the little ways she’d gotten to him in the past. But this time he was wise to her. She’d humiliated him once. If he let her, she’d do it again. But that wasn’t going to happen. He was smarter and tougher now, and he had more pressing concerns than Ellie and her problems.
No more, Jubal vowed as he turned down the lane to the ranch. He and Ellie were history—over and done.
* * *
After her appointment, Ellie crossed the clinic parking lot to the space where she’d left the purple ’95 Ford Escort with the dented bumper and mismatched door. The loaner car Silas had given her to drive was no prize, but it ran, and the good man wasn’t charging her for the use of it. She’d already named it the Purple People Eater after the old fifties song.
The hinges squawked as she opened the door and squeezed her body onto the threadbare seat. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, she reminded herself. At least the aging Ford was getting her where she needed to go. Still, on this, the second day she’d driven it, she’d found herself slumping in the seat in the hope that nobody would recognize her. Fat chance of that. The good folks of Branding Iron must already be wagging their tongues and laughing. Ellie Marsden, who’d driven into town with her fancy car and her nose in the air, had clearly come down in the world.
Even Beau, when she’d taken him out for a ride, had seemed to know that something wasn’t right. Instead of his usual pawing against the window and barking at every dog he saw, he’d hunkered down in his booster basket, peering over the edge as if ashamed to be seen.
She shifted into neutral and cranked the starter. The old engine fired right up. It ran fine, despite a noisy muffler that announced her coming a block away. But Ellie hadn’t driven a stick shift since the days when Jubal had taught her how on his old pickup. She’d ground the gears a few times before getting the hang of it once more.
At least, on her follow-up visit to the clinic, she and the baby had checked out all right. Dr. Ramirez’s chattiness might have crossed the boundaries of professional conduct, but for Ellie, the friendly patter was a welcome change from the impersonal manner of most city doctors.
“Say hello to the mango for me.” As she drove up Main Street, Ellie remembered the doctor’s teasing farewell. But it didn’t appear she’d be saying hello to Jubal anytime soon. She hadn’t heard from him, or from Gracie, since Monday night. It was surprising how much she already missed them. But Gracie would be in school, she reminded herself. And Jubal would be dealing with the loss of his ranch. If only she could find a way to help him. But how could she even begin, when he’d ordered her to keep his secret?
Main Street was aglow with old-style Christmas lights, probably the same ones Ellie remembered from her girlhood. Tinsel draped the shop windows, and Christmas carols boomed from a hidden speaker somewhere. Ellie could hear “Deck the Halls” through the crack at the top of the passenger side window. There could be no escape from Christmas in Branding Iron.
Sila
s’s garage was just off Main Street. Ellie parked and went in to check on her BMW. She found it up on a rack, the fender and wheel removed.
“I’ve got good news and bad news.” Silas was tall and lanky, with graying hair, a long jaw, and an easygoing manner. “The good news is, I’ve located a wrecked car, in Wichita Falls, same make, model, and color as yours. The wheel and fender you need are in good shape, and the price should be fair—cash up front, but you said that wouldn’t be a problem.”
“And the bad news?” Ellie asked.
“They’re backed up on orders. It’ll take a couple of weeks to get them here, and at least a week for me to get the work done—that’s if they send all the parts and they all work.”
Ellie sighed. “So you think, maybe, by Christmas?”
“Maybe. I’ll do my best.” Silas rubbed the back of his neck. The creases in his fingers were stained black with oil. Never trust a mechanic with spotless hands, Ellie remembered her father saying.
“That old Ford workin’ okay for you?” he asked.
“Fine. It gets me around.”
“You let me know if you have any trouble with it.” His gaze flickered to her belly for an instant. “Wouldn’t want a lady like you gettin’ stuck somewhere at the wrong time.”
Ellie thanked him and left. Silas was honest to the bone, but he couldn’t work miracles. Since, as she’d learned, the only car rental agency in Cottonwood Springs had gone out of business, she would just have to make do with the Purple People Eater a few weeks longer.
One errand remained. Her mother needed a prescription picked up at the Shop Mart pharmacy. She turned back onto Main Street and headed south to the big-box store at the far end of town.
It was barely midmorning, but with a big holiday sale going on, the parking lot was already crowded. Ellie took the only spot she could find, in the last row. The walk would do her good, she told herself. And at least, this time, she shouldn’t have any trouble finding her car.
She was just closing the car door when a voice called her name. She turned to see a woman in a fur-trimmed leather coat loading groceries into the back of a late-model SUV.
“My stars! Is that really you, Ellie?”
The woman, a classmate from high school, had dyed her hair and gained a few pounds, but the voice was unmistakable.
“Krystle!” Ellie remembered the name just in time. The two of them had never been friends. In fact, Ellie had once suspected Krystle Martin of spreading some vicious gossip about her. But that was in the past. No reason not to be friendly now.
Krystle’s green eyes took in Ellie’s car and her expanded waistline. “My goodness, Ellie, I never expected to see you back in Branding Iron. Last I heard of you, you’d left us for the good life in San Francisco. What a surprise!”
Surprise, my foot! Ellie thought. Unless Krystle had changed, she’d be up on the latest dirt and eager to spread more. “You’re looking good, Krystle,” she said. “How have you been?”
“Oh, just dandy! I married Phil Remington—he owns the Chrysler dealership in Cottonwood Springs, but we both wanted to raise our family here, in his parents’ old home—you know what a lovely place that is. We have two girls and a boy.” She gave Ellie’s middle a look that couldn’t be missed. “Your first?”
“That’s right.”
“And you plan to keep it?”
“Of course I do.” Ellie felt a rising prickle of annoyance. “Just so you won’t need to ask, the baby’s father is my ex-husband.”
“Oh!” Krystle’s eyebrows went up. Evidently this was news, more grist for the gossip mill.
“And the car’s a loaner from Silas, while my BMW is in the shop.” Ellie could have kicked herself. Why should she need to justify herself to this woman?
“You probably know Jubal McFarland is widowed,” Krystle said. “The two of you were pretty hot and heavy back in the day. Any plans to get together?”
It was the last straw. “Right now my only plan is to have my baby. Nice to see you again, Krystle. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have errands to run.” Clutching her purse, Ellie hurried off toward the store.
“Merry Christmas!” Krystle called after her. Ellie pretended not to hear. If this was the kind of reception she could expect from the good people of Branding Iron, maybe coming back had been a mistake.
But with a baby on the way and no one else to be there for her, where could she have gone except home?
* * *
Jubal faced the loan officer across his polished walnut desk. “All I’m asking for is your help,” he said. “I need to talk with the people who bought the ranch—maybe I can make some kind of deal with them, or at the very least find out why my father sold it. But I’ve searched every record I can find, and there’s no trace of a Shumway and Sons Property Management. There must be something you can tell me.”
Clive Huish shook his balding head. Middle-aged, with faded blue eyes, a ruddy face, and a thickening middle, he’d married a Branding Iron girl, settled in Wichita Falls, then moved to his wife’s hometown six years ago. Since then he’d become one of the town’s leading citizens. He’d even run for mayor in the last election, but lost.
“Sorry, Jubal, but I don’t know any more than you do,” he said. “We didn’t find out about the transfer until we checked the title before approving your loan. It was almost as much of a shock to us as it must’ve been to you.”
“Was there a title company involved? They’d have to know.”
Huish shrugged. “Not necessarily. If the title was clear, a witness and a notarized signature would’ve been enough. I’m a notary myself. But I know I didn’t notarize your dad’s signature. If I had, I would certainly have remembered.”
“And you don’t have a copy of the bill of sale?”
“All we have is a copy of the registered deed from the county recorder. You’ve seen that.”
Jubal stood, reining in the frustration that seethed like a volcano inside him. “Then I guess I’ll just have to keep looking,” he said. “Believe me, I’m not done with this, and I’m not giving up.”
He left through the bank lobby, forcing himself not to punch the front door on his way out. All his instincts told him a criminal wrong had been committed. But without proof, he was nowhere. Anytime they chose to, the ranch’s new owners could evict him from the land without notice.
Somewhere there had to be an answer—or at least a clue that would give him a leg up on the truth. He’d learned nothing online, at the recorder’s office, or at the bank. He had sorted through the papers in the office alcove and had yet to find anything helpful. The one place left to look was the mountain of letters, invoices, receipts, and miscellaneous paperwork he’d emptied out of his father’s desk and boxed away. The search would be long and tedious. But it was his last, best hope.
He walked to his truck, the fresh air chilling his face. From farther down Main Street, the loudspeaker was playing “White Christmas.” Jubal didn’t feel much like Christmas today. In fact, he hadn’t felt like Christmas since Laura’s accident. For Gracie’s sake, he’d gone through the motions, but his heart hadn’t been in it. This year would be even more dismal, knowing it might be the last Christmas on the ranch where he’d grown up and had planned to spend the rest of his life.
He drove down Main Street beneath strings of twinkling lights. This morning, before catching the school bus, Gracie had asked him again when they were going to get a Christmas tree. Preoccupied with his own worries, he’d put her off. A year ago they’d waited too long and had to settle for the last scrawny tree on the lot. Gracie had done her best to smile as they decorated the crooked, needle-shedding pine. But he knew she’d been disappointed.
The truck’s front tire crunched through a frozen pothole, jarring Jubal’s thoughts back to the present. Losing the ranch wasn’t just his own tragedy, he reminded himself. It was Gracie’s, too. If they were forced to move, she’d even have to give up Jocko, her beloved horse. Damn it, it was time he stopped feelin
g sorry for himself and thought about his little girl, who deserved better than a half-dead stick of a tree and a father who could barely manage a smile. If this was to be their last Christmas on the ranch—or even if it wasn’t—he would make it the best ever. His heart might not be in it, but he would do it. Whatever it took, he would give Gracie a Christmas to remember.
Chapter 7
Jubal had planned to stop at Shop Mart on the way out of town. He needed a few groceries. Picking them up now would save him a trip later on.
He’d left the truck and was crossing the crowded parking lot when Ellie came out of the store. Today she’d worn her hair loose. It fluttered like dark silk as she paused to gaze out over the sea of vehicles.
She hadn’t seen him yet. If he was smart, he’d stay back and just let her leave. But he hadn’t heard from her since Monday night and, truth be told, she’d been on his mind far too often. He was curious to know what she’d done about her car, and there was a favor he’d meant to ask of her. Running into her now, by chance, would be less awkward than a phone call.
She caught sight of him walking toward her. A smile brightened her face. “Hi,” she said.
“How’s the car?” He felt like a fool kid at his first dance.
She laughed, the same laugh he remembered. “My carriage has been transformed into a pumpkin. Walk with me and I’ll show you.”
He fell into step with her, offering an arm to steady her on the uneven asphalt. “I saw that your car was gone from the barrow pit,” he said. “Did you get Silas to tow it?”
She nodded. “He’s already tracked down some parts. But it’ll take a couple of weeks to get them. Meanwhile, he lent me another car to drive. Step right up, folks. Here it is.”
Jubal found himself staring at the ugliest car he’d ever seen. It was painted a lurid, metallic purple with a sagging bumper and a mismatched yellow driver’s-side door. Silas was known for patching up old cars to use as free loaners for his customers. This one was a masterpiece.
“I’ve christened it the Purple People Eater,” Ellie said. “It’s what I’ve been driving all over town.”
