by Janet Dailey
Ellie stayed silent, giving him a chance to reason things out. Jubal appreciated her for that. She’d always been a smart girl—smart enough to know when to talk and when to listen. He’d bet money that she’d already figured things out, but she wanted to make sure his conclusion matched hers.
“The registered owner of the ranch is Shumway and Sons,” he continued, still thinking aloud. “But if old Jacob was the last of the Shumway men, the business would have died with him, or gone to his heirs . . .
“I’ll be damned!” Jubal swore as the last puzzle piece fell into place. One look at Ellie told him she’d reached the same conclusion. Jacob Shumway’s heir was Donetta Huish. She and Clive, her lying banker husband, had carried out the scam and taken the ranch.
But even if it was true—and it made too much sense not to be—there was no paper trail to tie the couple to the crime. And there was no way to prove the transaction hadn’t been perfectly legal.
Jubal stacked the pages of the contract, slid them back into the envelope, and reached up to turn off the reading lamp. The flickering firelight deepened the shadows in the room. What they’d done tonight felt good. Working together, they had solved the mystery of the stolen ranch. But now they’d run flat into a wall.
“Maybe it’s time to get some help,” she ventured. “We could talk to Ben—”
“Not yet. The sheriff’s job is to arrest criminals. We can’t even prove there was a crime.” He stared into the fire, his fists resting on his knees. “I’m not giving up, Ellie. Who knows, there might have been other folks who were cheated in the same way. Some of them might not even know they’ve lost their land. First thing Monday I’m going back to the county recorder’s office and search the records for any other property registered to Shumway and Sons.”
“Will they let you do that?”
“They should. It’s public information. If not, that’s when I’ll talk to your brother.”
“I’ll help, too. If we work together we can save time.” Ellie’s eyes glowed with enthusiasm.
Jubal cursed silently, knowing what had to be done. She was so damned beautiful. He couldn’t even look at her without remembering how he’d loved her, and how she’d left him cold. Now she was getting to him again—and he couldn’t let it happen. It was time to push her away and close the door before she left his heart, and Gracie’s, in ruins.
Turning, he placed his hands on her shoulders, holding her at arm’s length. “Your help has made all the difference. But you’ve done enough. Please understand, this isn’t good for either of us, or for Gracie. You need to get ready for your baby and let me finish this on my own.”
* * *
His words struck her like a slap in the face. Ellie had been so excited about what they’d discovered tonight. They might not have found a way to get the ranch back, but for the first time in years she’d felt like she was making a difference. Brent had treated her like property, an ornament to have on his arm at parties, someone to act as his hostess, charm his friends, manage his home life, and satisfy his needs in bed. It hadn’t been enough—either for her or for him.
But tonight she’d felt like a different person. Being with Jubal had reawakened emotions she hadn’t felt in years. He’d made her feel needed and protected. With him, she’d felt alive again. Now he was taking it all away.
Steeling her resolve, she lifted his hands off her shoulders and clasped them between hers. “Jubal, we were always able to talk. We could say anything to each other as long as it was honest.”
“We could.”
“I only hope we still can, and that we’re still friends.”
“That’s pretty much up to you, Ellie.” He stirred, looking vaguely ill at ease. She took a breath, forcing herself to go on.
“Ten years ago, I was nothing but a crazy kid with big dreams. I’m a grown-up now and things are different. But I still care about you. And I care about Gracie, too. That’s why I want to help you get your ranch back.”
“Then listen to me. This is hard to say.” His hands shifted, trapping hers, now, between his big, rough palms. “I care about you, too. But the more time I spend with you, the greater the chance of my falling head over heels all over again and making a fool of myself. That kiss tonight was like going back in time. It pushed me to the edge, almost over. But I can’t let that happen. Not to me and not to Gracie. You almost killed me when you left. I can’t let you do it again—especially to a little girl who already thinks you hung the moon. That’s why I’m calling this enough. I can finish this job on my own. You need to go home, have your baby, and move on to whatever comes next.”
Ellie pulled her hands away. He’d cut her deeply, just like she’d done to him ten years ago. “I guess I deserved this,” she said, fighting tears she was too proud to shed. “Fine, I’ll go—first thing tomorrow, as soon as that limb’s cleared out of the road.”
His expression was a rigid mask. “One more thing. Please thank your mother for Gracie’s dress. And tell your family I’ll be taking my daughter to the Christmas Ball myself. That’s the least I can do for her.” He stood, looming above her. “Now get some rest. You can have my bed. I’ll sleep out here—or in my dad’s old room.”
Ellie stood. “You don’t have to do that. I can take the couch.”
“Just go, Ellie. The bathroom’s across the hall. You probably know that.”
“All right.” Ellie was too tired to argue. “Wake me early.” She turned away and walked down the hall to the bedroom, feeling swollen and achy and miserable. He’d finally paid her back for leaving him. She could only hope he was happy. As for her, like Scarlett O’Hara, she would think about it tomorrow. Right now, all she wanted to do was close her eyes and shut down.
Having nothing to sleep in, and not wanting to undress, she unfolded the quilt at the foot of the bed. Leaving her shoes on the rug, she lay down in her clothes and wrapped the quilt around her. Minutes after closing her eyes, she was fast asleep.
* * *
Feeling like a first-class jerk, Jubal lingered on the sofa, watching the fire die and listening to the howl of the wind in the chimney. Part of him ached to walk back to the bedroom, wake Ellie, and apologize. But no, cutting off their relationship had been the right thing to do. She’d be better off in the long run. So would he.
Forcing his thoughts in another direction, he opened the manila envelope, slid out the three pages of the loan contract, spread them on the table, and reread every line. His mind circled and analyzed, weighing every possibility. Only one conclusion felt right—the one he and Ellie had reached together. Clive and Donetta Huish had taken advantage of his father’s need and failing mental capacity to steal the ranch. Using old man Shumway’s business name and signature had enabled them to keep their own names out of the scam.
Had they stolen other people’s land the same way, or had Seth McFarland given them a single perfect opportunity? Either way, their involvement would be hard to prove—especially if the contract was legal.
But what if proof wasn’t what he needed? Jubal’s pulse lurched as a new idea struck him—an idea so simple that he could scarcely believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.
Pushing off the couch, he began to pace. Carrying out the plan would take guts on his part. True, there were risks involved. But as things stood, he had nothing to lose.
He’d be going it alone. Ellie was out of the picture—he’d made damned sure of that tonight. But there was no way he could have gotten this far without her. If he got his ranch back, he would have Ellie to thank for it.
So why hadn’t he told her that? Ellie had come clean about her feelings for him, and his response had been like slapping her lovely face. If he’d wanted revenge, he had it. But the fleeting satisfaction it had given him only left a bitter taste behind.
He didn’t want revenge. He didn’t want satisfaction. All he really wanted was Ellie.
Ellie, her baby, her fool dog, the crazy highs and lows—the whole damned adorable package!
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br /> But it was too late now. Tonight he had closed the door on his chances.
The fire had burned down to coals. Jubal picked up the contract and slipped the pages back into the envelope. Then he unplugged the Christmas tree lights, kicked off his boots, and stretched out on the couch. The night wasn’t going to be comfortable, but he didn’t plan to sleep much.
* * *
Ellie moaned in her sleep, her dream so vivid that it might have been real. It was Christmas Eve. She was back with Brent in their high-rise luxury condo with a view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Dressed in a black designer cocktail gown with diamond earrings, she was flitting back and forth between the kitchen and the formal dining room, where the table was elegantly set for eight. Brent, who was expected home any minute, had told her he was bringing some important guests, and everything had to be absolutely perfect.
Pausing by the table she checked the fold of each linen napkin, inspected each wineglass for any spot left by the dishwasher. The silver and china gleamed in the glow of the crystal chandelier above the long dining table.
In the oven, the crown rack of lamb, to be served with organic greens and an airy potato cheese soufflé, was done to perfection. The crème brûlée she’d prepared for dessert was ready for its touch of flame. The condo was spotless, everything polished and perfect.
Except for the Christmas tree. It stood in the corner, by the window, without a single light or ornament. Brent was going to be furious. Grabbing a box of decorations out of the closet, she began flinging them on the tree. She could smell the food burning in the oven. She rushed to take it out. The lamb was singed to blackness and the soufflé had fallen. And when she tried to open the vintage wine bottle, she dropped it on the marble floor. Glass shards and red wine spattered the kitchen.
Brent picked that moment to walk in the door, trailed by six of his women friends dressed as strippers. He gazed around the room, taking in the ruined food and the haphazardly decorated tree. “How could you let me down like this?” His lip curled in a snarl. Raising his hand, he smacked the flat of his palm across her face.
* * *
Ellie woke with a jerk. Her whole body was shaking. She was fine, she told herself. It had only been a dream. But where had that awful dream come from? What was it trying to tell her?
She’d never burned a company dinner or forgotten to decorate a Christmas tree. But Brent had found other excuses to punish her. She’d retreated into denial about his abuse. She’d told herself she loved him. And she’d made excuses for him—he was working too hard, he wasn’t sleeping well, she just needed to be more understanding, and everything would be all right. Even when she’d gone back to him for that trial reconciliation, she’d been in denial. But she’d come out of it knowing two things—Brent’s problems weren’t her fault, and he would never change.
She lay on her back, feeling the baby move. She was safe. So was her little one. Brent would never hurt either of them again.
Little by little, she drifted back into dreamless sleep.
* * *
The distant sound of a chain saw jerked Ellie awake. She thrashed free of the quilt and sat up. A confused moment passed before she remembered where she was and why she was there. She hadn’t expected to get much rest, but she felt as if she’d barely stirred all night. Even that disturbing dream was a dim memory this morning.
Gray sunlight filtered through the blinds. She glanced at the bedside clock. Seven-thirty, and it sounded as if Jubal was already working on the fallen limb. Good for him. After last night, all she wanted was to climb into the Purple People Eater and go home.
“Hi, Ellie.” Gracie stood in the open doorway. She was dressed in faded jeans and a red sweatshirt, her French-braided hair mussed from sleep. “My dad told me you were here. I’m really glad that old limb didn’t hit your car. Can I make you some coffee?”
“You make . . . coffee?” Still muzzy from sleep, Ellie stretched cautiously and slid her legs off the bed.
“Sure. We have a machine. My dad taught me how to use it. I already made some for him. I can cook you a toaster waffle, too, if you want.”
“Coffee will do. Thanks. Give me a minute.” Ellie pushed to her feet and found her shoes. With the baby doing a Ginger Rogers number on her bladder, she made it across the hall to the bathroom. She emerged a few minutes later, face splashed, hair finger-combed, teeth rinsed with the mouthwash she’d found. With her makeup gone and her hair cow licked from sleep, she probably looked like an extra from a zombie film, but that couldn’t be helped. At least she had no more reason to impress Jubal.
The aroma of fresh coffee beckoned her to the kitchen. As Ellie took a seat, Gracie lifted the carafe from the coffeemaker and filled a blue stoneware mug without spilling a drop, no mean feat for an eight-year-old.
“Milk and sugar?” she asked.
“Just a little milk. I’ll pour it.” Ellie took the cup, added milk from the carton on the table, and took a sip. “This is really good. You’re one amazing girl. I’ll bet you can do lots of things.”
“Thanks.” Gracie poured herself a glass of milk and mixed in some powdered chocolate. “My dad says coffee is for grownups so I don’t drink it. But that’s okay because I think it tastes awful.”
Ellie sipped her coffee. From the direction of the road, she could hear the chain saw starting, stopping a moment, then whirring up again. The sky was clear through the kitchen window, the morning calm and windless.
“Why didn’t you bring Beau?” Gracie asked.
“I’d only planned to stay a little while,” Ellie said. “I left him with my mother. I didn’t know I was going to be stuck here overnight.”
“Dad says that limb is really big. It might take a while to cut it up and pull it out of the road. While you’re waiting, would you like to see my horse?”
“I’d love to,” Ellie said. After last night, Jubal might not approve of her spending time with his daughter. But she wasn’t about to hurt the little girl.
“I’ll get your coat!” Gracie darted into the living room. By the time she came back, Ellie had finished her coffee. Shrugging into her coat, she followed Jubal’s daughter outside.
The sun had risen, flooding the yellowed pastures with light. A flock of blackbirds rose from the bare branches of an old apple tree, twittering as they soared against the sky.
At Gracie’s approach, two scruffy-looking brown dogs bounded out of the barn to greet her. They wagged their tails, tongues lolling as she patted them. “This one’s Pearl and that one’s Ruby,” Gracie said. “They’re sisters. Dad says they’re the best cattle dogs ever.”
The dogs turned to Ellie, wagging and sniffing. As she stroked them cautiously, she found herself wondering how well the pair would get along with Beau. But why should it matter? She wouldn’t be bringing her little poodle here again.
“What breed are they?” she asked Gracie.
“Just mutts. We got them from the shelter in Cottonwood Springs, so we don’t know for sure. They look like they might be Border collie and Australian shepherd. Dad likes girl dogs. He says they’re smarter, and they’re less apt to fight with other dogs. These two are fixed, so they won’t have babies.” Gracie glanced up at Ellie. “Is Beau fixed?”
“He is. I didn’t want him chasing after the ladies.”
“You should bring him the next time you come. I bet Ruby and Pearl would like him. They’d probably think he was their puppy.”
“Maybe.” Ellie didn’t have the heart to say she wouldn’t be coming back. “Hey, where’s your horse?”
“Come on!” Gracie led the way into the barn with the dogs tagging behind. The place had changed little in ten years. Ellie even recognized one of the three horses as the one Jubal had let her ride in the old days. The gentle bay mare was showing her age now, but Ellie was glad to see that she was still here. The second horse, a tall, spirited buckskin, was new, as was the third, a small brown and white paint gelding. “Here’s Jocko.” Gracie walked into the stall and w
rapped her arms around the little horse’s neck. “Isn’t he beautiful? Dad says he’s all mine.”
Ellie thought of the shadow that was still hanging over the ranch. If Jubal lost the place and had to leave, what would happen to these animals and the little girl who loved them? Knowing Jubal, he’d probably lain awake nights asking himself the same question.
“I can’t take Jocko riding alone until I’m older,” Gracie said. “But I ride him with Dad when we go out to check the cattle. Jocko’s not very big but he’s fast and smart. I’m going to train him to barrel race so we can compete in rodeos.”
“That sounds like a great idea.” Ellie stroked the satiny neck. She’d done all she could to help Jubal save his ranch. Now he’d pushed her aside, determined to finish the fight on his own. She could only wish him the best, for his sake and for Gracie’s.
Walking out of the barn, Ellie could still hear the distant whirr and whine of the chain saw. Abruptly the sound stopped. Now, faintly, she heard the ring of calling voices.
“That must be our neighbor, Travis,” Gracie said. “He bought the old place up the lane. I bet he’ll help Dad move the limb. Hey, let’s go watch!”
Not a bad idea, Ellie thought. Her car wasn’t that far, even to walk. The morning was cold but sunny. And if she was there she could leave as soon as the road was clear. “That’s fine, Gracie,” she said. “But would you run into the house and grab my purse off the rack? That way I won’t have to come back for it.”
“Sure. I bet Beau is really lonesome for you.” Gracie flashed into the house. A moment later she caught up with Ellie partway down the drive. “Here’s your purse. I’ll carry it for you.” She slung the strap over her thin shoulder and led out as they set off down the lane.
They hadn’t gone far when Ellie spotted the two pickup trucks parked one behind the other. She recognized Jubal’s old red Ford in front. The one behind looked almost as old and was a rusty black. Coming closer, she could see Jubal at the rear of the purple car, sawing side branches off the fallen limb. A tall, wiry stranger was gathering up the limbs and stacking them in the dry grass at the roadside. His arms were full of wood, but he paused to nod a greeting.
