by Janet Dailey
“What about you?”
“I never set much stock in it. Neither did my dad. We figured if there was oil around here, somebody would’ve already found it. Besides we had a ranch to work. And then, after Laura died, it was all I could do to get through one day at a time. I wasn’t paying much attention to oil rumors.”
Their eyes met in a flash of understanding—as if they knew, without speaking, that they’d both come to the same conclusion.
“There’s no proof either way,” Jubal said. “But those oil rumors could’ve given somebody reason to swindle my dad into signing over the ranch.”
“And they never took possession because the oil boom never happened,” Ellie said. “As things stood, it made more sense to just let you keep working the ranch.”
“They wouldn’t have needed to take physical possession. If the oil had been there, all they’d have needed to do was sell the mineral rights to the oil company. The bastards would’ve been sitting pretty.”
“They couldn’t have just taken over the ranch,” Ellie mused, thinking out loud. “Coming into the open would’ve exposed them to suspicion—especially if it turned out to be someone you knew—and especially if they’d done the same thing to other people.”
“Damn it, Ellie!” Turning in his chair, he seized her shoulders. His grip was almost painful, his eyes feverish with excitement. “This has to be the answer. It makes perfect sense!” He released her, his hands falling to his sides. “But we don’t have a blasted shred of proof!”
“Maybe we can still find proof.”
Jubal eyed the stack of unexamined DVDs. “So we keep digging in the haystack, hoping we’ll find the needle.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
Jubal’s only response was to turn back to the computer screen and start scrolling down the page.
“Are you sure your father wouldn’t just sell the ranch outright? You said he’d become reckless.”
“If he did, I don’t know what he did with the money. When I took over the finances I found a mountain of unpaid loans and bills. Come to think of it, he did give me five thousand dollars to pay for Laura’s funeral expenses. At the time, it didn’t occur to me to wonder where it came from. But he’d have gotten a lot more than that if he’d sold the ranch.” Jubal’s mouth tightened. “We need to track down Shumway and Sons. That would be our best chance of finding whether the transfer was legal.”
They spent the next two hours on the computers. By the time they’d finished going through the files, they were bleary-eyed and mentally exhausted. Worse, they’d found nothing else useful.
“At least I saved you some time. Wish me luck getting up. My back and shoulders are killing me.” Ellie moved forward to push her ungainly body off her chair.
“Stay put. Maybe I can make it easier.” Standing, Jubal stepped behind her. His big, rough hands rested on her shoulders, thumbs working the tight muscles on either side of her spine.
Ellie closed her eyes. Her breath emerged in a blissful sigh. “Oh, that feels heavenly. Please don’t stop.”
His hands kneaded her shoulders with gentle skill. He chuckled as she moaned with pleasure. “Let me know when you want me to quit,” he said.
“How about never?”
Only when he failed to answer did Ellie realize what her words had implied. Ten years ago those words might have pleased him. Now they were bittersweet.
The library basement was dim and silent. His fingers gentled on her shoulders, his touch becoming a caress. She battled the urge to reach up and stroke his hands—or even to turn and raise her face to his kiss.
Oh, Jubal, how did we get here—you widowed, me divorced and pregnant, both of us so unhappy? What if I’d said yes? Where would we be if I’d promised to come home to you?
Ellie knew better than to voice the thought. Whatever was happening here, it mustn’t go on. She broke the silence with a forced laugh. “I think I’ll be all right now,” she said, getting up. “Thanks for the massage.”
His mouth twitched in a half smile. “You earned that and more. How about I treat you to lunch?”
Ellie was about to decline. Then she remembered that she still needed to invite Gracie over to have her dress fitted. It would be easy enough to bring it up over burgers and shakes at Buckaroo’s.
* * *
After turning in the files at the reference desk, Jubal escorted Ellie outside to the Purple People Eater. He’d asked to drive the old car to Buckaroo’s, and she’d gladly let him.
“This is great,” he said. “Cruising down Main Street, with the muffler roaring and a pretty girl by my side, I feel like a teenager again.”
Laughing, Ellie laid a hand on his knee. The Christmas lights were glowing, the music was playing, and he’d discovered a possible clue to the loss of the ranch. It wasn’t much to go on, but for the first time in weeks, he felt a spark of hope. The ride was a short one, but Jubal enjoyed the feeling while it lasted.
With the lunchtime rush over, Buckaroo’s was quiet. They settled in a corner booth, and Jubal ordered cheeseburgers, fries, and double chocolate shakes—Ellie’s old favorite—for them both. He’d have preferred beer himself, but he knew she wasn’t drinking because of the baby. Service was fast. They had their order in a few minutes.
Ellie sat across from him, her body barely fitting between the seat and the edge of the table. Her face was flushed with cold, her hair loosely twisted and anchored at the crown with a silver clip. Tired shadows framed her dark brown eyes—he guessed she wasn’t sleeping well. Even so, she looked beautiful.
It struck Jubal how alone she was. Even with her family here, she was taking on a heavy burden, having this baby by herself. But he was in no position to help her. And even if he were, Ellie was bound to go her own way—and break his heart again, along with Gracie’s.
“How’s it going with your daughter’s hair?” she asked.
“Fine. The first morning I did the braid, she was late for the bus and I had to drive her to school. But I’m getting the hang of it—and we’ve got her hair looking good. No more pigtails ever again, she says.”
“That’s great.” She sipped her shake, getting chocolate on her full lower lip. Jubal fought the temptation to bend close and lick it off—as he might have done years ago.
“I don’t know if Gracie has told you,” she said, “but my mother is making her a Western gown for the Christmas Ball. She wants Gracie to come by the house and try the dress on so she can finish it.”
The request came as a surprise. Jubal had always encouraged Gracie to be honest with him, but she’d said nothing about a gown or even about the Christmas Ball.
“I didn’t even know she was going,” he said.
“Ben and Jess said they’d take her. And my mother offered to make the dress. Gracie’s excited about going. I hope you won’t spoil things for her.”
Ellie’s words stung. Why would she think he’d spoil a happy celebration for his little girl?
“Is it all right?” she asked.
“Of course it is. I just wish I’d known about it, that’s all. I’ll pay for her ticket, of course. And the dress, too.”
“The dress isn’t costing a cent,” Ellie said. “My mother already had the fabric, and she loves to sew. As for the ticket, why don’t you buy one for yourself, too, and come with her? Gracie would love that.”
Jubal sighed. True, Gracie would be happy if he took her to the ball. But with so much worry bearing down on him, he was hardly in the mood to go to a party. “I haven’t been to the Christmas Ball in years,” he said. “After Laura’s accident, there didn’t seem to be much point in it.”
“So Gracie hasn’t gone to the ball either?”
“I always take her to the Saturday morning Christmas parade. She’s never said it wasn’t enough.”
“But everybody goes to the Cowboy Christmas Ball, even kids. Surely she’s heard her classmates talking about it at school. I know you want to give her a good Christmas, Jubal . . .�
� She paused, then added, “. . . .and I know why.”
“Damn it, Ellie, nobody could say no to you.” Jubal pushed his empty plate to one side. “All right, I’ll buy Gracie a ticket. She can wear the dress and go with your family. Are you happy now?”
“This isn’t about me. It’s about Gracie. And I think she’d be even happier if you went to the ball with her.”
“Don’t push me.” Jubal took a bill out of his wallet and laid it on the table to cover the meal and the tip. “Let me know what time’s good for you, and I’ll bring Gracie to your mother’s place to try on the dress.”
“I’d be glad to pick her up after school and bring her home.” Ellie shrugged into her coat, which she’d slipped off her shoulders in the booth.
“I’ll bring her. I want to thank your mother for the dress and pay for the ticket.”
“Fine. How about tomorrow night? You’re welcome to come and have supper with us if you like.”
“Thanks, but that’s a lot of bother for you. We’ll eat at home and stop by around seven. All right?”
“Sure. See you then.” She accepted the hand he offered to help her squeeze out of the booth.
In the parking lot, she took the wheel so she could drop him off at his truck. Jubal studied her silent profile as she drove back up Main Street, under the strings of colored Christmas lights. Snow was falling in airy flakes, brushed away like scraps of lace by the creaking windshield wipers. Ellie’s eyes gazed ahead. Her mouth was set in a determined line. Jubal knew that look. She wasn’t happy with him. Maybe he should have agreed to come to supper, or promised to go to the Christmas Ball with Gracie. But he’d never been much of a socializer. And right now he had more worries than he could mask with a friendly smile. He just couldn’t do it.
At the library she pulled up next to his truck and kept the engine running while he climbed out of the car. “So, we’re on for tomorrow night around seven?” she asked.
“Right. And thanks. I mean it, Ellie. You were a lot of help this morning.”
“You’re welcome and thanks for lunch.” She sounded like a polite stranger.
Jubal closed the car door and watched her drive away through the falling snow. During the few years he’d been married to Laura—and they’d been good years—he’d managed to convince himself that he was over Ellie. But he’d been wrong. She was back—like a remembered song that had never stopped playing in his head.
And the timing couldn’t have been worse.
Chapter 9
Ellie and Clara had warmed up last night’s leftover spaghetti and finished it for supper. Ellie was clearing the table when Ben, Jess, and Ethan came in through the front door, trailing the aroma of pine. Only then did she remember that they’d talked about putting up the Christmas tree tonight.
“The tree’s on the porch,” Ben said. “Ellie, you’ll want to get your pet rat out of the way before we bring it in. He’ll be all over it.”
“Oh, thanks.” Ellie ignored her brother’s joke. “Ethan, would you find Beau? We don’t want him running outside while the door’s open, or getting underfoot while you’re putting up the tree.”
“I’ve got him,” Ethan said. “He came right to me.” He opened his jacket to reveal the little poodle snuggled against his chest. Until two weeks ago, Beau had never been around children. But he’d taken to Ethan and Gracie like instant best friends.
“Take him upstairs and shut him in my bedroom,” she said. “We’ll let him out again once the tree’s up.”
As Ethan vanished up the stairs with the dog, Ellie remembered once again that Jubal and Gracie were coming at 7:00. Unless they’d been delayed or changed their minds, they’d be here in a few minutes. Jubal wouldn’t be expecting a crowd, let alone a family celebration. He might feel uncomfortable. But that, Ellie reminded herself, was his problem, not hers.
Jubal had always been a loner. Now, after losing his wife, his father, and possibly his ranch, he seemed to have become even more solitary. Maybe being with Ben’s happy family would be good for him. He might even open up enough to talk with Ben about the loss of the ranch. If a crime had been committed, who better to involve than the local lawman?
That would be the sensible thing to do. But Jubal didn’t operate on sense. He operated on pride.
Jubal McFarland was the most stubborn person Ellie had ever known. She’d be smart to turn her back and let him solve his problems in his own mule-headed way. After all, she had her own situation to worry about. The trouble was, she couldn’t help feeling his pain. And she couldn’t help caring about the man and his adorable little girl.
Her thoughts scattered at the sound of Jubal’s old truck pulling up in front of the house. She would know that sound anywhere. Back in high school it had set her pulse skipping when he came by the house to pick her up for a date. But that had been a long time ago. Their whole world had changed since then.
“All clear!” Ethan announced, coming down the stairs. “I found the stand in the closet. Let’s get our tree in.”
Through the open doorway, Ellie glimpsed the truck’s headlights going dark and the doors opening. Moments from now, for better or for worse, Jubal and Gracie would be coming up the walk.
* * *
When Jubal had pulled up to the curb and seen Ellie’s brother’s family on the porch, he’d been tempted to keep driving. Not that he had anything against the sheriff. Like most of Branding Iron’s citizens, he had nothing but respect for Ben Marsden. But he’d hoped to make a quick stop, let Gracie try on the dress, and be on his way. Now things were looking complicated.
They’ve got a lot going on here. Let’s go and come back another night.
The words had been on the tip of Jubal’s tongue. But Gracie had been so excited about coming here, he couldn’t bear to disappoint her. He switched off the engine and lights and climbed out of the truck.
As they mounted the porch steps, it occurred to Jubal to wonder if he’d been set up. What if Ellie had arranged all this to get him talking to the sheriff about the ranch—something he wasn’t ready to do? What if she’d broken her word and told her brother already?
Ben was wrestling an enormous Christmas tree through the front door. “Hey, Jubal,” he said with a friendly grin. “Care to give me a hand?”
“Sure. Stay back, Gracie.” Jubal stepped up to help maneuver the eight-foot tree bottom first through the open doorway. He’d never known the sheriff well. Ben had been two years ahead of him in high school, so they’d never run with the same crowd. And unlike Ben, Jubal had never played team sports. He was a natural athlete who loved to ride and swim, but with the demands of the ranch, he’d had no time for the extra hours of practice that being on a team required.
While Jubal was dating Ellie, Ben had been a football star in college. By the time Ben returned to Branding Iron, his NFL hopes shattered by a knee injury, Jubal and Ellie were history. Only one encounter with the sheriff was seared into Jubal’s memory. It was Ben Marsden who’d knocked on the door that cold December night to bring him the news of Laura’s fatal crash. Ben’s manner had been professional and compassionate. But Jubal had avoided him after that. For a time, the sight of Ben’s face had been enough to stir the painful memory. But that had been four years ago.
Now, taking care not to break the branches, Jubal and Ben managed to get the heavy tree through the entry and into the living room. Meanwhile, Jess and Ethan had cleared a space in front of the window and put the metal stand in place. With Jess giving directions, the two men centered the tree, lifted it, and lowered the base of the trunk into the stand. Ethan wriggled underneath to tighten the bolts that would hold it in place.
Ben gave a low whistle of relief. “Thanks, Jubal. I swear the trees we choose get bigger every year. Or maybe I’m just getting older.”
“No problem. Glad to help.” Catching his breath, Jubal glanced around the room. He hadn’t been here since Ellie had broken up with him, but not much had changed. Cozy was the word for the small room, wit
h soft chairs and pillows, green plants, and a shelf-full of well-worn books, mostly discards from the library where Clara had worked. A love of reading was something he and Ellie had shared from the beginning.
Turning, he saw her sitting next to her mother on the flowered sofa. For the space of a breath their gazes locked; then her attention shifted to Gracie, who’d followed the tree inside and closed the door behind her.
“Hi, Gracie,” she said. “How nice your hair looks. Would you like to help decorate our Christmas tree?”
Hesitant, Gracie glanced at Jubal. “We just came by so I could try on the dress,” she said. “Where’s Beau?”
As if in answer to her question, the sounds of scratching, barking, and whining came from the upstairs room. Gracie looked stricken. “Is he all right?”
“He’s fine,” Ellie said. “We locked him in my room to keep him safe while we put up the tree. You can go upstairs and see him if you want. Just be careful not to let him out.”
“Is it all right, Dad?” Gracie asked.
“Just for a few minutes,” he said. “We don’t want to be a bother.”
“Nobody’s being a bother.” It was Clara who spoke. “Let her enjoy the little dog, Jubal. She can try on the dress when she comes downstairs. Meanwhile, we’ve got some cold apple cider in the fridge. Let me get you a glass.”
“I’ll do it. Stay where you are, Mom.” Ellie was on her feet. “Anybody else?”
“I’ll take some as long as you’re going,” Clara said. “Bring it out on a tray with some glasses. Then folks can help themselves.”
Gracie had gone upstairs. Ellie was glad she’d taken time to put the drawing of Beau in a spare frame and hang it on her bedroom wall, where Gracie would see it.
“Take off your coat and have a seat, Jubal.” Clara spoke as Ellie vanished into the kitchen. She’d always been nice to him, Jubal recalled. But then Ellie’s mother was nice to everybody. If Branding Iron had a queen, it would be Clara Marsden.
Ellie returned with a jug of cider and a tray of glasses, balanced against her burgeoning belly. Setting her burden on the coffee table, she filled the glasses and passed them out to Clara, Jubal, Jess, and Ben.
