Candy Halliday - [Cowboy Country] - A Ranch Called Home

ARanchCalledHome“You have exactly five minutes to say your piece.”
Gabe could tell from the expression on Sara’s face that she meant to send him
packing the moment five minutes were up.
“I know my brother had his faults, but turning his back on his own child wasn’t
one of them. Blood kin is blood kin. We Coulters have always taken care of our
own.”
“Well, here’s a news flash for you,” she said. “I made the decision not to tell
Billy about Ben because there wasn’t any reason to tell Billy about Ben. It
wasn’t like Billy was father material.”
This wasn’t going as planned. In fact, nothing about his interactions with her
had. He needed some way to show her that her son, his nephew, needed to know his
Coulter heritage. Gabe pulled the check from his front shirt pocket, unfolded it
and held it up for her to see. “Take Billy’s insurance money. Use it to start a
new life for yourself. But let Ben go back to Colorado with me. Let me give Ben
the home and the legacy Billy would have.”
She stared at the check as if it were a coiled rattlesnake ready to strike. Then
she glared at Gabe. “You must be crazy if you think I’d trade my son for money.”


Dear Reader,
In 1999 my dream came true. I sold my first romance to Harlequin Books. Now ten
years later I’m thrilled to be back home with my first Harlequin Superromance
novel.
Over the past decade I’ve written about single women looking for Mr. Right. I’ve
written about housewives keeping hubby happy. But I’ve never had the chance to
write about the kind of woman I was once—a single mom. Thanks to Harlequin
Superromance, I’ve been given that opportunity.
I know exactly what it’s like to have more month than money. I know the agony of
worrying if you’ve made the right decisions. And I know how hard it is
shouldering the responsibility alone. But I also know the joy of being a mom far
outweighs any hardships we face along the way.
A Ranch Called Home is my tribute to the single mom. And my message is simple:
regardless of your finances or the mistakes you make, you still possess the most
precious gift we can give our children—a mother’s everlasting and unconditional
love.
Best always,
Candy Halliday
A RANCH CALLED HOME
Candy Halliday



ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Candy Halliday embraced women’s lib in the 60s, was a 70s single mom, married
her Mr. Right in the 80s, became a proud grandmother in the 90s, and sold her
first romance novel at fifty. Growing old gracefully has never been on Candy’s
agenda. And since sixty is the new fifty and chubby is the new thin, Candy
claims life in her world is good. Candy’s best advice: never put an age limit on
your dreams.
Books by Candy Halliday
HARLEQUIN DUETS
58—LADY AND THE SCAMP
82—WINGING IT
103—ARE MEN FROM MARS?/VENUS, HOW COULD YOU?
This book is dedicated to my best friend
Lynda Tucker, an amazing single mom who has
always been there for me through the good times and
the bad. I love you, Tucker. Your friendship means
more than words could ever express.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to my wonderful agent
Jenny Bent for putting up with me.
A million thanks to my fabulous editor
Wanda Ottewell for giving me the chance
to prove I can write traditional romance
as well as romantic comedy.
Thanks to author Emilie Rose, my fellow
romance sister, who keeps me pointed
in the proper writing direction.
Congrats to all my Duetter buddies as we celebrate
our tenth anniversary together in 2009.
And thanks always to my incredible,
supportive and loving family:
Blue, Shelli, Tracy, Quint and Caroline—
you guys rock!
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER ONE
GABE COULTER BOLTED upright in bed at the shrill ring of his bedside phone. When
the person on the other end confirmed what Gabe had been waiting months to hear,
he switched on his bedside light.
“And you’re certain you found them?”
“I’m positive,” the private detective said. “She and the kid are living in
Conrad, Texas, a two-bit town just north of El Paso. She waits tables in a diner
next door to a motel where they live. The boy stays in a back room at the diner
while she works.”
“She hasn’t married?”
“Nah, she’s still single,” the detective said. “Still goes by the name Sara
Watson. The kid’s name is Ben.”
“Ben,” Gabe half whispered.
Finally, he had a name.
He raked a hand through his hair, slowly processing the information. Finding
them hadn’t been easy. The next step would be even harder.
“What do you want me to do now, Mr. Coulter?”
“Give me a second to get to my office,” Gabe said.
Grabbing his jeans from the bottom of the bed, Gabe pulled them on. With the
phone still to his ear, he hurried downstairs in search of a pen and paper. He
found what he needed on the massive mahogany desk that had served three
generations of ranchers at the Crested-C.
What Gabe didn’t need was looking up to find that the late-Monday-night phone
call had also awakened his foreman. The old man was standing in his office
doorway, a worried expression on his gray-bearded face.
“I finally got a few photos of the woman and the boy,” the detective said. “But
everything in Conrad is already closed for the night. I’ll have to drive back to
El Paso before I can fax them to you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Gabe said, jotting down the name and address of the
diner. “I’ll leave as soon as I get my gear together. If I drive all night, I
should be there in time to surprise her tomorrow.”
“That’s not a bad idea, Mr. Coulter,” the detective agreed. “She runs every time
I pick up her trail. Conrad is nothing but a mud puddle in the middle of
nowhere. It won’t take long before word gets around town that I was asking
questions about her and the boy tonight.”
“You’ve earned that bonus we talked about,” Gabe told the detective. “I’ll be in
touch as soon as I get back.”
“Good luck,” said the detective.
And Gabe knew he was going to need it.
He lowered himself onto the chair behind his desk, staring at the address he
held in his hand. He purposely ignored the presence still looming in his office
doorway. It should have been a subtle hint for Smitty to leave Gabe alone and go
back to bed. But Smitty never had been good at doing what other people wanted.
“You just can’t let sleeping dogs lie, can you, Gabe?”
Gabe and the old man traded scowls.
“Spare me the lecture, Smitty. I’m fully capable of making my own decisions.”
“Well, you sure can’t prove that by me.” Smitty snorted. He pulled his
suspenders up and over his stooped shoulders before he pointed a gnarled finger
in Gabe’s direction. “The search for that boy should have ended when your
brother was killed, and you know it.”
A muscle in Gabe’s jaw clenched.
The pain of Billy’s death was still as raw as the day of the accident. Images he
usually kept at bay clicked through Gabe’s mind like a horror film: Billy waving
to the cheering crowd as he lowered himself onto the back of eighteen hundred
pounds of raw muscle; cheers turning to terrified gasps when the angry bull
reared; every bull rider’s nightmare coming true as Billy fell backward into the
stall; cowboys running from every direction trying to rescue their trampled
hero.
A cold shiver passed straight through Gabe.
He shook it off and forced the memories into the shadows where they belonged. He
only wished he could do the same with Smitty’s damn opinions. But the old man
had more than earned the right to speak his mind, and they both knew it.
Had it not been for Smitty, Gabe never would have been able to hang on to the
ranch after his folks died. Smitty had stepped in as surrogate father when Gabe
needed him most. Smitty had helped run the ranch, and he’d helped raise Billy.
The old man just kept forgetting Gabe was thirty-three years old now, not the
inexperienced kid he’d been fifteen years earlier when his parents died.
“Billy told you himself that gal never even told him she was pregnant,” Smitty
said, finally forcing the argument Gabe had known was coming from the day he
took over the search for his brother’s son. “She didn’t want anything to do with
Billy then. What makes you think she’ll let you near the boy now?”
“There’s a good chance the boy’s mother won’t let me near him,” Gabe admitted.
“But I wouldn’t be much of a man if I conveniently forgot I have a nephew
because my brother is dead.”
“Might have a nephew,” Smitty reminded him. “You don’t even know if that boy
belongs to Billy.”
“Billy thought the boy was his,” Gabe said. “Unless I find out otherwise, that’s
good enough for me.”
“Mark my words, Gabe. You’re borrowing trouble.”
“Maybe so. But there’s a five-year-old boy in Texas who could be my nephew.
Trouble or not, I’m going to see him.”
Smitty shook his head in disgust. “You know the type of woman you’re dealing
with, Gabe. You have her whole life story in a file in your top desk drawer.”
“All the more reason to check on the boy.”
“All the more reason to let the boy go!” Smitty shouted. He frowned at Gabe
again. But he lowered his voice when he added, “You’ve worked hard holding on to
this ranch. And for what? To let some one-night stand Billy met on the rodeo
circuit lay claim to half the ranch your pa and your grandpa spent their whole
lives building up?”
Gabe didn’t answer.
He got up from his chair, walked across the room and took down the framed
portrait of his parents on their wedding day. When he opened the wall safe
hidden behind the picture, Smitty let out a weary sigh.
“Don’t do this,” Smitty said. “If you hand Billy’s insurance money over thinking
you’ll be rid of the boy’s mother, you’re kidding yourself. She’ll be holding
her hand out for the rest of your life.”
Gabe still didn’t answer. He wrote out a check to Sara Watson for fifty thousand
dollars and placed the checkbook back inside the wall safe. After he rehung his
parent’s picture, the old man was still blocking his path.
“I shouldn’t be gone more than a few days,” Gabe said, putting an end to any
further discussion.
Defeated, Smitty finally stepped aside.
But as Gabe started up the stairs to pack, Smitty called out after him, “Watch
your back, you hear me, Gabe? That little gal’s liable to scratch your eyes out
if you get within shouting distance of them.”
Gabe threw a hand up to signal he’d heard the warning.
But by noon tomorrow, he intended to be in Texas.
If the boy did turn out to be his nephew, Billy’s fifty thousand dollars in
insurance money would be well spent if it meant bringing his brother’s son home
to Colorado where the boy belonged.

GABE PULLED his truck to a stop in front of a shabby diner called Dessie’s at
exactly ten minutes past noon on Tuesday, May twenty-ninth. The irony of the
date wasn’t wasted on Gabe. Had Billy lived, it would have been his brother’s
twenty-sixth birthday.
The fact that the motel beside the diner was nothing but a string of rundown
buildings in an equally rundown town gave Gabe hope. Offering fifty thousand
dollars to a woman stuck in a place like Conrad could be the big break he
needed.
He grabbed his Stetson sitting on the bench seat beside him and jammed it onto
his head. The second he stepped out of the truck, the unbearable Texas heat took
his breath away. Why anyone would choose to live in such a dry, hot and desolate
place was something Gabe would never understand. But then, he suspected most
people wouldn’t understand why he chose to endure the bitter cold mountain
winters on the West Elk Slope in Colorado.
Different strokes for different folks, Gabe decided and nodded politely to the
two old men sitting outside the diner beneath a faded awning. A small table and
a checkerboard between them, these two Conrad citizens didn’t appear to be
affected by the sweltering heat at all.
“Dessie’s is always packed for lunch,” one of the old men told him. “But the
home cooking is worth the wait.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Gabe said, and opened the diner door.
The second he stepped inside, Gabe saw her.
She was on the flashy side just as he’d expected. Bleached-blond hair. Too much
makeup. Her sexy figure more than emphasized by the tight-fitting uniform she
wore.
He walked past her, heading to a booth in the back—the only empty seat in the
place. By the time he slid into the booth and placed his Stetson on the seat
beside him, she was busy taking orders from three men sitting at a table near
the diner’s front window.
Gabe watched as she openly flirted with each of the men, a come-on smile on her
cherry-red painted lips. He smiled inwardly, knowing, if his gut instinct was
correct, she’d hand the boy over the minute he flashed the money in her
direction.
And thinking about the boy, Gabe took a quick look around the diner, surveying
the situation. The detective had mentioned a back room. The best Gabe could
tell, a sign pointing down a hallway to the restrooms was the most likely place
for this room.
He’d give this Sara Watson a chance to let him see the boy first. If she
refused, Gabe had already decided he was not leaving Texas without seeing the
child who could very well be his nephew. Despite Smitty’s doubts, he’d know if
the boy belonged to Billy the second he saw him—Coulter genes were hard to hide.
She glanced in his direction and gave another come-on smile. “Be with you in a
minute,” she called out.
Gabe nodded.
He watched as she clipped the order she had just taken to a revolving wheel
above an open window separating the diner from the kitchen. A skinny old woman
with gray hair grabbed the order and pushed two plates back through the window
at her. The blonde took the plates and placed them in front of a man and a woman
sitting at the counter. Next, she walked to the register to take another
customer’s money.
“Give me just a few more minutes, honey,” she called out to Gabe again, holding
up a finger to signal she would be right back.
Don’t worry, honey. I’m not going anywhere, Gabe thought as she disappeared down
the hallway.
He’d been waiting over a year for this moment.
He could wait a few minutes longer.

SARA PEEKED around the storage-room door and smiled when she saw her son sitting
on the folding cot happily playing with his favorite toy—a plastic horse he’d
named Thunder—and his constant companion. Being able to check on Ben every few
minutes was a huge relief. In fact, Sara sometimes wondered if her guardian
angel had been responsible for making her worn-out car break down in Conrad,
Texas.
She and Ben had been shown nothing but kindness here.
She’d sold the car for parts when the mechanic at the town garage broke the news
that the vehicle wasn’t worth what it would take to fix it. The mechanic had
also sent her to see Dessie McQueen, a woman in her sixties who had seen her own
share of hard times.
Dessie owned the town’s only diner and motel.
Calling Dessie a godsend would be an understatement.
She’d allowed Sara to work in the diner in exchange for a motel room and three
meals a day for her and her son. And no money exchanged meant no payroll records
to leave a paper trail behind. It had also been Dessie’s idea to fix up the
storage room so Sara wouldn’t have to pay for child care for Ben.
“Keep your tips and get back on your feet,” Dessie had told her. “Until you do,
we’ll keep the same arrangement.”
Sara had intended to do just that.
What she hadn’t intended was leaving Conrad so soon.
She glanced at the packed suitcases sitting beside Ben’s cot and felt like
crying. The detective she’d been eluding for over a year had somehow managed to
track her down again. As soon as the busy lunch shift was over, Dessie would be
driving Sara and Ben back to her hometown of Houston. She and Ben would stay
with her best friend Annie Riley for a few days until Sara could figure out
where to go next.
And it was only fair that Annie should take them in.
Annie, after all, had been responsible for the detective being on Sara’s trail
in the first place. Had Annie not run into her son’s father, Billy Coulter never
would have known about Ben.
Billy Coulter, Sara thought. My first and last mistake.
She and Annie had been working the concession stand at the rodeo the summer
before their senior year in high school when Sara met Billy Coulter. The
handsome rodeo star had filled her head with empty promises then had ridden off
with her innocence and not so much as a backward glance.
Sara had intended to keep it that way.
But in less than a week after big-mouth Annie told Billy he had a son, a private
detective had arrived at Annie’s apartment complex asking questions. Fearing a
costly custody battle Sara couldn’t afford, she’d taken Ben and left Houston
before Billy could find them.
Then news of Billy’s fatal accident at the World Champion Rodeo Finals in Las
Vegas had been plastered all over the papers and the television for days. She’d
assumed the search for them would end after Billy’s death. But Sara really got
worried when the detective tracked them down again in Fort Worth.
Someone was still searching for her son.
But she’d run forever if that’s what it took.
She’d never let anyone take Ben away from her.
Never.

GABE BRACED himself when the woman he’d come to proposition finally came around
the corner and walked in his direction.
“What can I do you for, handsome?” she teased when she walked up to the table.
“That depends,” Gabe said.
She leaned forward, her hands resting on the table. And whether Gabe was
interested or not, he had a bird’s-eye view of her more-than-ample breasts
pressing against the thin fabric of her low-cut uniform.
She leaned even closer. “That depends on what, cowboy?”
“On whether your name is Sara Watson,” Gabe said.
The blonde gasped and jumped back.
“Sara!” she yelled over her shoulder. “Run!”
Gabe looked past the blonde. He hadn’t seen this waitress when he’d entered the
diner. Staring back at him was someone who was anything but the type of woman he
expected. Her face was scrubbed free of makeup and her dark hair was piled
loosely on top of her head.
Beautiful—that’s what she was.
And her dark brown eyes were now wide with fear.
She looked at him a second longer, turned and ran.
“Wait!” Gabe jumped up from the booth.
Every man in the diner stood when Gabe did.
“I don’t want any trouble here,” Gabe said, looking around at the frowning
faces.
“Leave the same way you came in,” a big guy near the front door said, “and there
won’t be any trouble here.”
Gabe shook his head. “No. I’m not leaving until I talk to Sara Watson and her
son.”
“Wrong answer,” the big guy said.
He took a threatening step in Gabe’s direction.
CHAPTER TWO
AT FIRST, Sara thought she’d seen a ghost.
The family resemblance was that frightening.
Same sun-streaked hair. Same piercing blue eyes. Same determined, square-cut
jaw. Whoever the man was, he was a Coulter. And Sara knew he was looking for the
Coulter she was running to find now.
“Ben, come with me,” she ordered, trying not to sound as frightened as she was
when she hurried into the storage room.
Had it not been for the commotion going on in the dining room, Ben would have
obeyed her. But raised voices and loud crashes were too much for any little boy
to ignore. Before Sara could grab him, Ben jumped down from the cot and ran out
with his toy horse under his arm.
Sara ran after him.
“Call the sheriff!” she called to Dessie as she hurried down the hallway past
the kitchen.
“Sheriff Dillard’s on his way,” Dessie replied.
By the time Sara made it into the dining room, tables were overturned and all of
the customers were on their feet. In a panic, Sara pushed through the crowd.
“Ben!”
“Over here, Sara,” someone called out.
Sara hurried toward two of the local men who were thankfully blocking Ben’s
path. The concerned looks on their faces told her the intruder was still in
their midst. Sara had no sooner uttered a grateful thank-you to her son’s
protectors than someone else yelled, “Hit him again, Mack!”
Both men automatically turned back toward the action.
And Ben saw his opportunity to wiggle between them.
Sara’s grab for the back of Ben’s shirt came a second too late. Before she could
stop him, her curious son darted into the center of the crowd. And when Sara
pushed through after him, she found Ben standing above a man sprawled flat on
his back.
“Are you hurt, mister?” Ben asked.
A hush fell, as if everyone awaited the guy’s answer.
He finally sat up, bringing himself to eye level with the little towhead staring
at him. Instinctively, Sara stepped forward and pushed Ben behind her. Still,
Ben peeped around her apron, staring at the stranger with the same startling
blue eyes that this man had himself.
“You must be Ben,” he said, sticking his hand out. “I’m your Uncle Gabe.”
“Wow,” Ben said, stepping around Sara. He shook the hand he was being offered.
“I’ve never had no uncles before.”
“Nice horse you have there,” he said.
“His name’s Thunder,” Ben said with pride.
“I like horses, too,” he told Ben. “I have a lot of horses on my ranch in
Colorado.”
“Wow,” Ben said again, turning around to look at Sara. “Did you hear that, Mom?
Uncle Gabe has lots o’ horses on his ranch in Col-dorado.”
Several people chuckled over Ben’s pronunciation.
But not Sara.
She placed her hand gently on Ben’s shoulder, nudging her son away from the man
who was threatening to steal her sanity. “Go back to your playroom now, Ben, and
stay there until I come for you,” Sara said sweetly.
The look she sent Uncle Gabe was anything but sweet.
How dare he introduce himself to Ben!
She looked at her son to find Ben’s mouth puckered in a little-boy pout. “Go
now, Ben,” Sara repeated, and gave her son a gentle push.
“Okay, Mom,” Ben finally said, but he sent a small wave in his uncle’s
direction. “Bye, Uncle Gabe.”
Gabe pulled himself up and dusted himself off.
“See you later, partner,” he had the nerve to say.
Over my dead body! Sara vowed.
The people suddenly parted and Sheriff Dillard walked up beside her. Howard
Dillard was a big man, in his early sixties, and extremely fit for his age.
People in Conrad called him Mr. Clean, not only because of his sterling
reputation but also because he resembled the TV commercial character.
Dillard removed his hat and blotted his bald head with his handkerchief. “Is
this the guy causing all the trouble?”
“He’s the one,” Dessie called out from the kitchen.
Sara and everyone else nodded in agreement.
And Sara could only pray the ugly bruise forming on the stranger’s left cheek
had given him the clear message he was not welcome in Conrad.
He looked at Dillard and said, “My name is Gabe Coulter and I didn’t come here
to cause any trouble. I came to see my nephew.”
Dillard purposely looked around at the damage.
“And I didn’t start the fight,” he added quickly. He pointed to one of the
locals standing in the back of the diner. “That big guy started the fight.”
Dillard looked over his shoulder. “Is that true, Mack? Did you start the fight?”
“No way, Sheriff,” Mack said. “He took the first swing then I decked him.”
Everyone looked back at Gabe.
“Forget it,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s obvious I’m outnumbered here. I’ll
pay for the damages.”
“And what about the damage you did to my son?” Sara demanded, hands on her hips
now. “How dare you waltz in here and inform my son you’re his uncle without my
permission. Don’t you realize how confusing that could be for a five-year-old?”
“You tell him, Sara,” someone in the crowd agreed.
He simply stood there, staring at her.
“I apologize,” he finally said. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have introduced
myself to Ben without your permission. But when I saw him, he looked so much
like my brother when Billy was that age, that I…”
Sympathy pulled at Sara’s heartstrings for a second.
But only for a second.
And Dessie definitely wasn’t sympathetic over the mess the fight had made. She
entered the room, drying her hands on her apron as she marched in their
direction. When she stopped beside Sara, Dessie pushed a strand of gray hair off
her forehead and looked over at the sheriff. “I want to press charges, Howard.
Lock the boy up. Maybe if he spends the night in jail it will improve his
manners.”
Gabe laughed. “I can make my own bail, Sheriff.”
Dillard frowned. “You want to bet on that, son?”
“No. I can already see where this is going. But I’ve told you I’ll pay for the
damages. And I’ve apologized for introducing myself to my nephew without his
mother’s permission.” Gabe glanced at Sara for a second. “If she’d stop running
from me long enough to hear me out, she’d know I only want what’s best for the
boy.”
“Stop running from you?” Sheriff Dillard repeated. “Are you saying you’ve been
stalking Sara?”
“Yes,” Sara said. “He’s been stalking me for over a year now.”
“The hell I have,” Gabe said. “I haven’t been stalking her at all. I’ve only
been trying to talk to her.”
Sheriff Dillard turned to Sara. “Are you interested in anything this man has to
say, Sara?”
“Not in a million years,” Sara said, staring him down.
But she shouldn’t have taken such a long look at him.
Despite the family resemblance, there was something about him that told Sara
physical appearances were where the similarities between the two brothers ended.
Billy had been loud and boisterous, with a fast line and a devil-may-care
attitude. This man had an air of confidence about him that said he took life
seriously. The determined expression on his face said he was used to getting
what he wanted.
Everything about him spelled danger.
Tall. A hard, lean body. Exceptionally broad shoulders. He was all cowboy from
his tight-fitting shirt and faded jeans, right down to the tip of his
high-dollar boots.
And those eyes.
Penetrating.
Challenging.
A similar pair of blue eyes had led her down a treacherous path before. But Sara
saw something she hadn’t expected in this man’s eyes. She’d seen genuine
affection for Ben when Gabe met his nephew for the first time.
That realization scared Sara even more.
“You heard the lady,” Sheriff Dillard said. “Sara isn’t interested in anything
you have to say. But because I’m a reasonable man, I’m going to give you a
chance to avoid any jail time. You pay Dessie for the damages. Then you go back
to wherever you came from. And you agree to leave the boy and his mother alone.”
“No,” Gabe said stubbornly. “Not until she hears me out.”
He kept staring at her.
Sara glared at him.
“Well, Sara?” Sheriff Dillard said. “Are you willing to talk to him? Or do I
lock him up?”
“Lock him up,” Sara told the sheriff.
She wheeled around and left without a second thought. Sheriff Dillard would keep
Gabe Coulter in jail for at least twenty-four hours—Dessie would see to it. By
then, Sara and Ben would be long gone.
“Ah, come on, Sheriff,” she heard Gabe say. “Are the handcuffs really
necessary?”
Guilt washed over Sara for a second.
But only for a second.
She hated that he was going to jail, but he’d chosen his own fate. He’d found
her. She’d told him she wasn’t interested in anything he had to say. So he
should have accepted her answer and gone back to Colorado the way Sheriff
Dillard suggested.
Jail was Gabe Coulter’s own fault—not hers.
With a clear conscience, Sara hurried down the hallway. She was going to find
her son. Then she was going to get as far away as possible from another handsome
Coulter who was threatening to turn her life upside down.

“WHERE’S UNCLE GABE?” Ben hopped off the cot when Sara entered the storage room.
Sara’s heart sank.
She knew Ben was starved for male attention. Had she not watched more men than
she could remember drift in and out of her mother’s life, she might have been
more receptive to dating after Ben was born. But having Ben get attached to
someone only to have the guy eventually move on was not a chance Sara had ever
been willing to risk.
Ben was not going to grow up the way she had.
But that was a lifetime ago, Sara reminded herself.
And she wasn’t her mother.
Kneeling beside him, Sara pulled Ben to her chest for a fierce hug. She’d
allowed her own fears to rob Ben of knowing his father, and she’d always regret
that. She’d planned to avoid Billy only long enough to find a better job and get
a decent place to live—something more suitable than the welfare-assisted housing
project she’d been living in when Annie first told Billy about Ben. Then Sara
would have contacted Billy on her terms—even agreed to let him meet Ben after
she was positive no court of law could say she wasn’t able to take care of Ben
properly.
But Billy was dead now.
And Gabe Coulter had no claim on her son.
“Mom, you’re squishing me.”
Sara released him and forced a smile. “Your uncle Gabe had to go back to
Colorado, sweetie.”
The disappointment on his little face made Sara wince.
“But as soon as Dessie gets through serving lunch, you and I are going to go
visit Aunt Annie,” she said. “Won’t that be fun?”
Ben nodded, but he didn’t look convinced.
“You remember how much you like staying with Aunt Annie and her dog, Coco,” Sara
reminded him. “And remember how much fun you have going to the pool at Aunt
Annie’s apartment complex?”
Ben frowned. “But I wanted to see Uncle Gabe’s horse.”
“But sweetie,” Sara said patiently, “Uncle Gabe didn’t bring his horse. His
horses are on his ranch in Colorado.”
Ben’s face brightened. “Can we go to Col-dorado and see them?”
Thankfully, Sara was saved from an answer when Dessie walked in. She leaned over
and whispered in Sara’s ear, “Coulter’s on his way to jail.” Then Dessie
straightened and sent Ben a big smile. “Ready for lunch, little buddy? I fixed
you a big hamburger with extra, extra cheese. Just the way you like them.”
The promise of a juicy cheeseburger sent Ben running.
As soon as Ben left, Dessie looked at Sara and said, “Before I take you to
Houston, I think you should stop by the jail and talk to this Coulter man.”
“Absolutely not!”
“You heard him yourself, Sara. He isn’t going to stop chasing you until you talk
to him.”
Sara’s chin lifted. “Then I’ll—”
“Keep running?”
Sara refused to answer.
“And what about when it’s time for Ben to start kindergarten in the fall? Are
you going to spend the rest of your life dragging Ben from one town to another?
From one school to another?”
“Don’t you think I’ve thought about that? That’s all I have thought about,
Dessie. But this man wants more than just to talk to me. I could see it in his
eyes. He wants Ben!”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Dessie said. “You won’t know for sure until you talk to
him.”
Sara slumped onto the folding cot. “And what if I’m right?” She looked up at
Dessie for an answer. “What if he wants Ben and he threatens to take him away
from me?”
“Then you threaten him with a restraining order if he doesn’t stop harassing
you,” Dessie said. “You’re a good mother, Sara. Don’t you ever doubt that.”
“No, Dessie,” Sara corrected, “I’m a struggling mother who can barely provide
for Ben. All it takes is one call to Social Services. And I should know. That’s
how I ended up in the system.”
“But there’s one thing you have that your mother didn’t,” Dessie said.
Sara looked up again. “And what’s that?”
“The courage to stand up and fight for your son,” Dessie said. “You march over
to the jail right now and you tell that cowboy he picked the wrong mother to
mess with.”
CHAPTER THREE
THE LAST PERSON Gabe expected to see again was the very person who walked up and
stopped in front of his jail cell. Arms folded stubbornly across her chest, her
pretty nose was held high in the air, and the expression on Sara’s face was
deadly serious.
“You have exactly five minutes to say what you came to say,” she said with
authority. “Then I want you out of our lives. If you ever come near us again,
I’ll get a restraining order against you.”
So that’s how she’s going to play it.
He’d caught her off guard at the diner, and it scared her. She’d reappeared now
to prove she was in complete control of the situation.
He rose slowly from the cot and took his time walking the short distance across
the cell. He’d rehearsed the speech he planned to give his nephew’s mother a
thousand times. Now, all he could think about was Smitty’s “she’ll scratch your
eyes out” warning. It made Gabe thankful for the iron bars separating them at
the moment.
She glanced at her watch. “Four minutes and counting,” she warned.
“I know my brother had his faults, but turning his back on his own child wasn’t
one of them. It isn’t the Coulter way of doing things.”
“Well, here’s a news flash for you,” she said. “I’m not interested in the
Coulter way of doing things. I have my own way of doing things. And I made the
decision not to tell Billy about Ben because there wasn’t any reason to.”
“He was Ben’s father,” Gabe reminded her. “He had the right to know he had a
child.”
She looked him straight in the eye. “I disagree. DNA doesn’t give you the right
to be a father. You earn the right to be a father. I was eighteen and stupid
when I met your brother, but I wasn’t too stupid to realize Billy wasn’t father
material when he didn’t even consider me worth a goodbye when he left Houston.”
“People make mistakes,” Gabe said.
“True. But it doesn’t really matter now, does it? Billy is…” She faltered for a
second, unable to say the word.
“Anyway,” she said, “I’m sorry about your brother. But as far as I’m concerned
any connection Ben had with your family ended with Billy.”
Gabe frowned. “And that’s where I disagree. Blood kin is blood kin. We Coulters
have always taken care of our own.”
He pulled the check from his shirt pocket, unfolded it and held it up for her to
see.
“Take Billy’s insurance money,” Gabe urged. “Use it to start a new life for
yourself. But let Ben come to Colorado with me. Let me give Ben the home and the
heritage Billy would have given Ben if my brother had lived long enough to find
Ben himself.”
Her reaction, however, wasn’t what he’d hoped for. She stared at the check as if
it were a coiled rattlesnake ready to strike.
“We’re done here,” she said.
She whirled around and walked away.
“I didn’t come here to play games,” Gabe called after her. “You go ahead and get
your restraining order. But I have five years’ worth of information on how well
you’ve been able to provide for Ben alone. I don’t think you want me to use that
information against you in court.”
She marched back to his cell.
“Now you’re threatening me?”
Gabe stepped back from the bars. She was so angry she was shaking. And the
expression on her face said threatening to counteract her in court was the wrong
thing to do.
“Take me to court,” she challenged. “I dare you. If I cared a flip about your
money, I would have shown up on your doorstep a long time ago. But a court of
law might have a different idea. Force the issue and you may end up selling your
horses and your ranch and giving Ben half of the proceeds.”
The slam of the door at the end of the corridor as Sara left punctuated her
words.
“Dammit!” he cursed, feeling like a first-class jerk.
He never should have offered her the money. And he definitely shouldn’t have
threatened her just because she threatened him. He could see that now. But put a
woman in his path, and he never had a clue what to do next.
That’s why he’d never had a woman in his life—at least not a full-time woman.
Women were too complicated. Too temperamental. Too damn hard to please.
He was a rancher, not some smooth-talking womanizer like Billy. The ranch had
always come first with Gabe, always would. He had horses to train. Ranch hands
who depended on him for their livelihood. He didn’t have time for this kind of
bullshit.
“Damn you, Billy,” Gabe muttered.
He walked away from the bars and flopped down on the solitary cot, wondering yet
again how two brothers could have possibly been so different. He’d always been
the responsible one—Billy never once considered the consequences of his actions.
Just like with Sara Watson.
There was no doubt in Gabe’s mind Billy had taken advantage of her being
eighteen and innocent, just as she’d claimed. And Gabe certainly couldn’t blame
her for coming to the conclusion that Billy wasn’t father material.
Still, Gabe would chase her forever if that’s what it took.
Unlike Billy, Gabe took his promises seriously.
And one way or another he would take his nephew home.

“WELL?” Dessie asked when Sara stormed back into the lobby of the sheriff’s
office. “What did he say?”
“Just as I expected,” Sara said, still fuming. “He offered me money for Ben. And
when I refused to take his fifty thousand dollars, he threatened to take me to
court.”
“Fifty thousand dollars,” Dessie repeated, her eyes wide in disbelief.
“It could have been fifty million dollars and it wouldn’t have mattered to me,”
Sara said, pacing to work off her anger.
“True,” Dessie agreed, “but if he has that kind of money to throw around, Sara,
he’s a bigger threat to you than I thought.”
Sara stopped. “What do you mean?”
“Money talks,” Dessie said. “And big money means high-powered attorneys. I hate
to say it, but you wouldn’t stand a chance against this cowboy in court.”
“What’s this about court?”
Sara and Dessie both turned. Sheriff Dillard walked out of his office into the
lobby.
“Sara was right, Howard,” Dessie said. “Coulter wants Ben. When Sara wouldn’t
take his money, he threatened to take her to court.”
“Well, I just got off the phone with the sheriff in Pitkin County, Colorado,”
Sheriff Dillard said.
Dessie looked over at Sara. “Howard ran a check on Coulter’s license plate. The
Coulter ranch is located near a town called Redstone.”
“And the Crested-C Ranch is one of the largest family-owned quarter-horse
ranches in the state,” Dillard added. “Sheriff Carter not only knows our boy,
but Gabe happens to be an old fishing buddy of the sheriff’s. Carter said Gabe
is one of the most respected men in his county.”
“That’s strike two against you, Sara,” Dessie warned. “He has money and he has a
good reputation.”
“There’s something else that might shed some light on why he continued looking
for you after his brother was killed,” Sheriff Dillard said. “Gabe was at the
rodeo when his brother was injured. And according to Carter, Billy made Gabe
promise during the ambulance ride to the hospital that he would find his son and
bring the boy home.”
Sara shuddered, thinking about the news footage she’d seen on TV. She hadn’t
realized one of the men hovering over Billy immediately after the accident was
his brother. And apparently neither had the media, because Sara knew that story
would have been milked for all it was worth.
“I hate to say it, Sara, but that’s strike three against you,” Dessie said,
shaking her head sadly. “There isn’t a jury alive who would rule against a man
trying to carry out his dead brother’s last wish.”
“Will you stop being so negative, Dessie,” Sara scolded. “What happened to the
‘march in there and tell him he’s messed with the wrong mother’ lecture you gave
me earlier?”
Dessie ignored Sara and directed her question to the sheriff. “Is Coulter
married?”
“Oh, please!” Sara said. “What does his marital status have to do with
anything?”
“His marital status has everything to do with this situation,” Dessie argued.
“If Coulter doesn’t have a wife, who would take care of Ben if he did manage to
win custody?”
They both instantly looked at Dillard for the answer.
“No wife,” Dillard said. “The sheriff described him as a loner, completely
devoted to the ranch and his horses.”
“Well?” Sara asked, looking at Dessie, then back to the sheriff. “No wife means
one point for my side, right?”
“Not necessarily,” Dillard said. “Carter said their folks were killed in an
accident when Billy was in grade school and Gabe was still a teenager. Gabe
stepped up to the plate, took over the ranch, and raised Billy himself.”
“And we all know how well that worked out,” Dessie snipped.
“Now, Dessie,” Sheriff Dillard said. “I hate to come to the man’s defense, but a
bull killed his brother. Not a lousy upbringing.”
“Don’t be so sure about that.” Dessie snorted. “Coulter intends to raise Ben on
a ranch with a bunch of rough and tough cowboys, the same way he raised his
brother. If you ask me, that’s too much testosterone for anyone’s own good.”
Sheriff Dillard let out a loud groan. “Can we please not turn this into a
man-versus-woman thing?”
“Oh, hell, Howard,” Dessie grumbled. “It’s been a man-versus-woman thing since
the beginning of time.” She grabbed Sara by the arm. “Come on, Sara. We’re
wasting time talking to this old coot.”
Sheriff Dillard immediately stepped in front of them.
“Stop right here, Dessie. I’ve known you too many years not to recognize that
look on your face. You’re up to something. And when you’re up to something, it
always means trouble for me.”
Dessie pushed past him but said over her shoulder, “I’m depending on you to keep
that boy locked up until tomorrow, Howard. And if you intend to be reelected
next term you’ll do your job.”
With that said, Dessie marched Sara out the door.

GABE STOOD when he heard the door at the end of the hallway open. He was hopeful
Sara Watson had thought things over during the past three hours, and had finally
decided to reconsider his offer. Fifty thousand dollars, after all, was a lot of
money for anyone to throw away on foolish pride.
His hope evaporated when the sheriff approached the cell. In typical lawman
stance, both hands were at Dillard’s waist, feet planted firmly apart.
He frowned at Gabe and said, “Your first mistake was offering Sara money in
exchange for the boy.”
Gabe didn’t even bother to argue.
He’d already figured that much out for himself.
“Your second mistake,” the sheriff said, “was threatening to take Sara to
court.”
“Well, what did you expect me to do?” Gabe asked. “She threatened me first with
a restraining order.”
“Do you really blame her?” Dillard asked. “You admitted you’ve been chasing her
all across Texas for over a year now.”
Gabe frowned. “I told you. I only wanted to talk to her.”
“And it never crossed your mind the only reason she kept running was because you
were chasing her?”
“Bullshit,” Gabe said. “She kept running because she can barely keep a roof over
her son’s head.”
“And you never considered offering Sara the money so she would be able to keep a
roof over Ben’s head?”
“This isn’t about just keeping a roof over his head,” Gabe said. “This is about
his heritage and his future. Half of the Crested-C Ranch belongs to Ben now. And
one day I hope he’ll be the fourth generation to run it. But that isn’t going to
happen unless Ben grows up on his own land and the ranch actually means
something to him.”
“Then why didn’t you tell Sara that instead of flashing your money in her face?”
“I didn’t think it would make any difference to her.”
“You don’t have much experience in dealing with women, do you, son?”
Gabe sent him a warning look. “I’m in no mood for an education on dealing with
women, Sheriff.”
“That’s too bad,” Dillard said, “because your threats just put Ben and Sara in
danger.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Desperate people do desperate things,” Dillard said. “After Sara left I sent my
deputy over to the diner to keep an eye on her. I found out a few minutes ago
she’s taking the boy to Mexico.”
“Mexico?”
“Dessie has a niece who runs a resort in Juarez just across the border from El
Paso,” Dillard said. “I’m sure that’s where Sara will go. But do I need to draw
a picture for you? Juarez is a dangerous place. Mexico’s underground
prostitution is big business in Juarez. And Sara and Ben would both bring top
dollar.”
Fear sucker punched Gabe in the stomach.
He shook the iron door in front of him.
“Then let me out of here, Sheriff! Help me stop her.”
“Not so fast,” Dillard said. “First, you tell me how committed you really are to
your nephew.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Dammit! Gabe didn’t have time for stupid questions. Not
with a dozen horrible scenarios already running through his mind.
“But are you here for the right reasons? I did a little checking on you,
Coulter. I talked to your old pal Sheriff Carter. So look me in the eye and tell
me the truth. Are you willing to do whatever it takes to give Ben the chance to
grow up on his own land? Or are you really just trying to keep a half-assed
promise you made to your dead brother?”
For the second time that day, Gabe was thankful for the iron bars in front of
him. Had it not been for those bars—and the fact Dillard was thirty years his
senior—Conrad’s sheriff would have found himself flat on his back, compliments
of Gabe’s own fist.
But Gabe managed to reel in his anger. And he met Dillard’s gaze with a deadly
calm stare. “A man is only as good as his word, and there’s never been anything
half-assed about mine. I’ll do whatever it takes to give Ben the chance to grow
up on his own land.”
Before Dillard could comment, a loud squawk from the radio on his hip prevented
his answer. He pulled the radio from its clip and clicked the button. “Go ahead,
Joe.”
“They’re on the move, Sheriff.”
“Ten-four,” Dillard told his deputy. He clipped the radio back on his belt
before he pulled a key ring from his pocket. “I’m going to take a chance on you,
Coulter, and let you prove how good your word really is.”
“You won’t regret it, Sheriff,” Gabe promised, motioning for Dillard to hurry
and open the door.
“But under one condition.”
“Name it.”
“If we stop Sara, you’ll let me do the talking.”
“Agreed,” Gabe said, and he meant it.
He’d only make things worse.
CHAPTER FOUR
SARA BIT DOWN HARD on her lower lip when she saw the sign: Come Back to Conrad
Again Soon. Lately she’d thought less and less about leaving Conrad and more and
more about staying.
In fact, just last week she’d found a small furnished house for rent within
walking distance of the diner. In a few weeks she would have had enough money
saved to place a rent deposit on the house. Her nightly prayers had all been the
same: the search for them would end and she and Ben could stop running and live
a normal life.
But answered prayers were scarce in Sara’s life.
She should have gotten used to that by now.
“Don’t look so worried,” Dessie said, glancing over at Sara from behind the
wheel of the dusty station wagon now headed for the border. “I know you’ve
always considered Mexico your last resort, but aren’t you glad I pushed you into
getting your passports?”
Sara nodded, but only halfheartedly.
The thought had already crossed her mind that applying for their passports was
probably responsible for the detective finding them again. But there was no
point in mentioning that possibility to Dessie and making her feel guilty about
it. What was done was done.
Still, Mexico had always been Sara’s last resort.
She didn’t like the thought of living in Mexico. And she certainly didn’t like
imposing on a stranger to take them in. Even if Dessie’s niece was willing to
give her a job at the resort and a place to stay, Sara still didn’t like being
put in the position to rely on anyone’s charity.
She’d been a charity case her whole life.
And she’d hated every minute of it.
“Just think of this as a summer vacation,” Dessie chirped with far more
enthusiasm than Sara could muster. “As soon as Coulter knows you’re in Mexico,
he’ll give up and stop following you, I’m sure of it. By the end of the summer,
you and Ben can come back to Conrad and pick up your lives where you left off.”
“I hope you’re right,” Sara said with a sigh.
“Of course I’m right,” Dessie said with confidence.
But Sara wasn’t so sure.
So many questions kept running through her mind. What if Gabe didn’t give up?
And what if those high-powered attorneys Dessie had mentioned earlier were able
to extradite them from Mexico? Even worse, what if she and Ben remained stuck in
Mexico indefinitely, trying to wait Gabe out?
Maybe, Sara decided, she should stopping running. Maybe she should stay in the
States and take her chances in court. Fight for her rights. Prove to Gabe
Coulter that she didn’t intend to run from him for the rest of her life.
Her better judgment told her to turn around.
But before Sara could relay that message to Dessie, the high-pitched scream of a
siren jerked Sara’s head around.
“Why, that’s Howard Dillard!” came Dessie’s surprised cry when she looked in her
rearview mirror.
Sara kept staring at the flashing blue light. “What do you think he wants?”
“I can’t imagine,” Dessie said. “But there’s a rest area up ahead. We’d better
pull over and find out.”
Dessie pulled into the rest area a few minutes later, the patrol car right
behind her. By the time the station wagon rolled to a stop, Ben had his seat
belt unbuckled and was already climbing out of the booster seat he hated.
Standing up in the backseat, he waved out the back window when two men got out
of the cruiser and walked in their direction.
“It’s Uncle Gabe!” Ben yelled, and bolted from the car.
“Ben!” Sara yelled.
She jumped out of the car after him.
But Sara froze when she saw Gabe bend down to scoop Ben up. Sara wasn’t sure
what worried her most—Ben looking so happy, or Sheriff Dillard looking so
perturbed.
When they got close enough for her to snatch Ben away from Gabe, Sara wasted no
time reaching for her son. Her gaze locked briefly with Gabe’s, but he handed
Ben over without an argument.
Dessie, on the other hand, didn’t waste any time stepping in front of Sara.
“What’s going on, Howard?” she demanded, looking Gabe up and down. “And what’s
he doing out of jail?”
“Now, Dessie,” Dillard said, “let’s all calm down and take a seat.” He pointed
to a shaded picnic table a few yards away. “Nothing good ever comes from a hasty
decision. Before Sara crosses the border, I want her to know she has another
option.”
“What other option?” Dessie was quick to ask.
Dillard nodded toward the picnic table again. “Like I said, Dessie, let’s all
sit down like reasonable adults and I’ll tell you.”
The sheriff headed for the picnic table.
So did Gabe and Dessie.
Sara first walked to the station wagon with Ben to retrieve his toy. She pointed
to a water fountain several yards from the picnic table—far enough away that Ben
couldn’t overhear the conversation.
“Why don’t you take Thunder over to that water fountain so you can both get a
cool drink?” Sara told him, knowing her son would play in the water for as long
as she would let him.
Ben made a beeline for the fountain.
And Sara headed for the picnic table. Ben’s instant bond with his uncle had
shaken her more than she wanted to admit. But she’d already made the decision
that she was not going to Mexico.
She was going to stop running and fight for her son.
Mexico might come later.
If she lost custody in court.

GABE SAT UP a little straighter when Sara approached the picnic table. She
refused to take a seat herself; instead she stood at the end of the table proud
and erect.
He kept his word and waited for the sheriff to do the talking, but he couldn’t
keep his gaze from wandering where it shouldn’t. She was gorgeous; no doubt
about that. Curvy in all the right places. A face that would make angels in
heaven weep with pure envy.
But she also had a feisty streak.
He’d seen that back at the jail.
And the way she scowled now made Gabe doubt that anything the sheriff could say
was going to change her mind.
“What we have here,” Sheriff Dillard said, “are two people concerned about Ben’s
welfare.” He looked at Sara, then at Gabe. “Can we all at least agree with that
statement?”
“No,” she said, staring straight at Gabe. “I don’t call threatening to take a
child away from his mother being concerned about Ben’s welfare.”
Gabe felt the heat creep up the back of his neck.
He averted his eyes to his Stetson lying on the table in front of him. A random
thought crossed his mind: the good guys always wore white hats. His hat was
white. And he was trying to be the good guy in this situation.
But was he really the good guy?
Part of what Sara said was true. He hadn’t only been thinking about what was
best for Ben. Gabe had been thinking about what he wanted. And he’d been
determined to keep the promise he’d made to his brother.
“Let’s forget about court and custody battles, and move on to the solution I
think I’ve found to this problem,” Sheriff Dillard said. “Gabe, you told me
earlier that Ben would be the fourth generation of Coulters to run the Crested-C
Ranch. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“But,” Dillard said, “you also told me that the main reason you want Ben to go
to Colorado is because the ranch isn’t going to mean anything to Ben unless he
grows up on the land. Is that also correct?”
“Yes,” Gabe said, and he looked straight at Sara. “And I want to apologize to
you, Sara, for not making myself clear back at the jail when I—”
“Move on,” she snapped.
Women! Gabe thought. He’d sooner deal with a thousand-pound grizzly.
“Okay, Sara, let’s move on,” Sheriff Dillard agreed. “Ben’s best interest will
always be your first concern. Right?”
She nodded curtly.
“And that brings us to the other option I want both of you to consider,” Dillard
said. “The only logical way to settle this problem is with a compromise. Let Ben
go to Colorado with Gabe and live on his own land, Sara. But you go with them.”
She laughed.
That old bastard tricked me! was Gabe’s first thought.
There hadn’t been a woman on the Crested-C since his mother died. And if he
brought a woman home now there would definitely be hell to pay. Smitty, the old
grouch, had run off every cleaning lady Gabe had tried to bring in over the past
fifteen years.
And what about his ranch hands? Many of them had only known the Crested-C as an
all-man’s world and that’s the way they liked it. No need for social graces. No
need to wipe your feet, or watch your language. Gabe would have a damn mutiny on
his hands if he brought a woman home.
“If that’s your idea of an option,” she said, “forget it. I’m not interested.”
Gabe breathed a sigh of relief.
Dillard banged his fist hard on the table.
Sara jumped.
So did Gabe.
“I’m not talking about what interests either of you!” Dillard boomed. “I’m
talking about Ben’s best interest. The boy needs a family, and he has one. He
has a mother and he has an uncle. Instead of playing hide-and-seek all over the
state of Texas, or battling it out in court, the two of you need to put your
selfish issues aside and do what’s best for Ben.”
Gabe squirmed. He’d boasted earlier that he’d do whatever it took for Ben to
live on the Crested-C. That a man was only as good as his word. That his word
had never been half-assed.
Dillard was putting those assertions to the test.
And Gabe knew it.
Now it was time to stand up and be the man he claimed to be. Or, go ahead and
admit his word was only half-assed, just as Dillard had originally accused.
He chanced another glance in Sara’s direction.
She was staring right at him.
Gabe quickly looked away.
He didn’t like her accusing glare—or what she’d said about taking Ben away from
his mother not being in Ben’s best interest. It brought back memories Gabe
thought he’d buried long ago.
Unsettling memories.
Memories that cut open wounds that even time could never heal completely.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE I’m saying this, but for once I have to agree with Howard,”
Dessie said. “I’m sorry, Sara, but this could be a new beginning for you and for
Ben. You could finally be a full-time mother. And Ben could grow up in one
place, put down roots.”
Sara couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Dessie was supposed to be her ally.
“You can’t be serious!” Sara gasped.
“I am,” Dessie said. “If you and Gabe battle it out in court, Ben loses. Either
he loses his heritage or he loses his mother. I say Ben deserves both.”
Sara put her hands on her hips. “And you really expect me to take Ben to
Colorado to live with a total stranger?”
“I’m not a total stranger. I’m Ben’s uncle.”
Sara shot him a mean look. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“I realize that,” he said. “But according to Sheriff Dillard, you were on your
way to Mexico to live with a total stranger. I’m not sure I see the difference.”
Sara’s cheeks flushed crimson at the truth.
“He’s right, Sara,” Dessie said. “At least he’s Ben’s uncle.”
How dare my friends take sides with him?
But shocked didn’t cover her reaction when Gabe stood and held his hand out in
her direction.
“I’m willing if you are, Sara,” he said. “Come to Colorado with me and live on
the ranch. For Ben’s sake.”
For Ben’s sake.
Everyone was talking about what was best for Ben. But she was being backed into
a corner.
And Sara didn’t like it!
“For Ben’s sake,” Sara said, trying to keep the quiver out of her voice, “I’m
going to pretend we never had this conversation.”
She refused to shake Gabe’s hand.
And she was trying so very hard not to cry. Her friends siding against her
threatened to pop the cork on a lifetime of bottled-up hurt. Instead of
wallowing, Sara let her anger loose.
“Shame on all of you. How dare any of you act like you know better than I do
what’s best for Ben.” She jammed a finger against her chest. “I happen to be a
victim of other people deciding what was in my best interest. And do you know
how that turned out? By the time I was eighteen I’d lived in four different
foster homes. The houses were all nice enough. And the foster families were all
pillars of the community. But it didn’t make one bit of difference! I was always
the outcast. And that’s the same way Ben and I would be treated if we moved to
Colorado to live on a ranch with his dead father’s brother.”
Sheriff Dillard started to say something, but Sara silenced him with one look.
“And don’t anyone try to tell me that isn’t true,” she said. “I would always be
the unmarried woman living with some man. Respectable women in town would
whisper about me behind their hands. And Ben would get in fights on the
playground over the ugly things other kids said about his mother. I lived that
life. And I won’t have Ben living it, too. So don’t any of you dare try to tell
me what’s best for my son again.”
“Oh, Sara, honey,” Dessie said, reaching for Sara’s hand.
Sara jerked her hand away.
She pushed her hair carefully back into place.
Once she’d regained her composure, Sara turned to Dessie and said, “I’m going to
get Ben now. We’ll be waiting for you in the station wagon.”
Then she looked straight at Gabe. “If you want to file custody papers, Ben and I
won’t be hard to find this time. I’m tired of running from you. We’re staying in
Conrad.”
Sara expected a comeback, but he didn’t say a word.
He just kept standing there, a blank look on his face.
Exasperated, Sara stomped off.

“MARRY ME,” Gabe blurted.
The minute he said it, he knew it was the right thing to do. He’d asked Billy
once what he intended to do if he did find the boy and his mother.
“I’m going to do the same thing you would do if you were in this situation,”
Billy had said. “I’m going to ask her to marry me. And if she accepts, I’m going
to bring her home and provide the best life I can for her and my son.”
Gabe had been proud of Billy’s answer.
But it had taken Sara’s outburst before Gabe realized she was right on target
about how she and Ben would be received in his small hometown if she lived at
his ranch, no commitment between them. That’s when Gabe had felt his brother’s
hand on his back, pushing him to finish what Billy couldn’t.
Sara’s spine was stiff, her fists still clenched in anger over a lifetime of
other people pushing her around. He had a file filled with information on the
lousy cards life had dealt her: no father in the picture; a mother arrested more
than once for drugs and prostitution. The file was filled with details of a
dozen different reasons why Sara Watson should have turned out to be the type of
person Gabe assumed she was before he met her.
But they were words on paper, nothing more.
And Gabe was ashamed of himself.
He was ashamed for assuming she would hand over her son for money. And he was
ashamed for making her such a thoughtless offer in the first place.
She slowly turned around. “Marry you? That’s absurd and you know it.”
“Maybe,” Gabe agreed. “I’m sure you aren’t interested in having a husband any
more than I’m interested in having a wife. But this is about Ben. We’d be an
official family if we married and made it legal. No whispers behind your back.
No fights on the playground. No reason to be treated like outcasts.”
Gabe couldn’t quite decipher the expression on her face. Outright rage that he’d
suggested marriage? Or sheer amusement over his unexpected proposal? Maybe a
little of both.
“Why the sudden change of heart?” she demanded. “A few hours ago you were
threatening to take me to court. And now you’re going to insult me by suggesting
we should get married and become an official family?”
Gabe knew he had one chance to say the right thing.
So he told the truth.
“I was wrong. I convinced myself Ben would be better off living on the ranch
with me. That I could give him everything you couldn’t. But I’d forgotten the
nights Billy cried himself to sleep after our parents died because he missed our
mother. I’d never do that to Ben. I realize that now.”

SARA BLINKED BACK tears.
He looked so sad standing there, clutching the brim of his Stetson, the look on
his face so solemn. This was her first glimpse of who this man was. Maybe he
wasn’t the enemy after all.
They were each aware of the sacrifice they’d have to make.
Both knew all of the reasons it wouldn’t work.
Still, Sara was forced to face some cold, hard facts about her own contribution
to her son’s future. She had no home to give Ben. No promise of one day running
his own ranch. And she certainly didn’t have a proud family heritage dating back
three generations to pass down to her son.
In truth, it was a daily struggle to make ends meet. Living paycheck to
paycheck, always having more month than money and struggling to provide the bare
necessities were the only things she’d probably ever be able to offer Ben on her
own.
What would Ben choose if he were old enough to make the decision himself? Would
Ben choose a ranch and his heritage? Or would he choose a mother’s unconditional
love? Most likely, Ben would choose both.
She would lay down her life for her son, without a second thought.
In comparison, marrying her son’s uncle seemed like an easy choice—as long as
she didn’t stop to think about the consequences. Ben had already adopted Gabe as
his immediate hero. She knew it was selfish, but she couldn’t keep from
wondering where that would ultimately leave her if she did accept Gabe’s
proposal for Ben’s sake.
In the background, Sara suspected.
Married to a man in name only.
And possibly losing all influence over her son.
Was she really willing to risk Ben growing up with a bunch of rowdy cowboys who
flirted with danger for sport? Could she really chance Ben following in Billy’s
footsteps and embracing the dangerous life of a rodeo star?
Yet in all fairness, Sara knew there were other dangers just as serious she’d
have to steer Ben away from regardless of where he grew up. Ben falling in with
the wrong crowd for one thing—a real threat for any boy who had no strong male
influence in his life—and there would be enormous peer pressure as Ben grew
older. Would she be able to keep Ben pointed in the right direction if her
economic status forced them to live in less than desirable circumstances? Sara
knew all too well that poverty often walked hand in hand with drugs and crime.
“Six months,” Gabe said. “That’s all I’m asking. Give us six months to see if we
can live together on the ranch as a family. If things aren’t working out at the
end of that time, I’ll have the marriage annulled. You and Ben can leave and you
have my word I’ll never bother you again.”
Still, Sara remained speechless.
She felt addled, in a daze, completely unable to function—until a small tug on
the hem of her uniform snapped her out of it. Ben stood behind her, Thunder
under his arm, and sopping wet from head-to-toe.
“Can we, Mom, please?” he begged. “Can we go live on Uncle Gabe’s ranch and be a
family just like Uncle Gabe said?”
Sara knelt and cupped his sweet, innocent face in both of her hands. “I’m sorry,
Ben,” she tried to explain, “becoming a family isn’t that simple.”
“But why, Mom?”
It was her son’s favorite question.
And this time, Sara didn’t have an answer.
CHAPTER FIVE
“I NOW PRONOUNCE you husband and wife,” the justice of the peace said. He sent
Gabe a wink before he added, “You may now kiss the bride.”
Sara held her breath when Gabe moved forward. She let it out again when he bent
down for Ben who’d been standing between them during the quickie ceremony.
Hoisting Ben up, Gabe winked back at the justice of the peace and said, “I think
I’ll let my best man have the honor of kissing the bride today.”
Ben placed a noisy kiss on the side of Sara’s cheek and rewarded her with a big
smile.
“Are we a family now?”
Sara struggled for an answer.
But Gabe smiled and said, “Yes, Ben, we’re a family now.”
And that was that. They were a family now—even though Sara had claimed it wasn’t
that simple. No pomp and circumstance. No fancy wedding dress. And no husband
vowing to love her forever.
Not the wedding of Sara’s little-girl dreams.
“You made the right decision, Sara,” Dessie said as they both watched Gabe and
Ben walk toward Sheriff Dillard, who had filled in as the other witness for the
ceremony.
Sara nodded absently.
From Tuesday forward, the week had gone by in such a blur she’d wondered if she
were trapped in some bizarre dream. All she remembered clearly was that she’d
been walking toward the rest area parking lot with Ben thinking that everything
she owned was packed in the two ratty suitcases stored in the back of Dessie’s
station wagon.
She had no home to offer Ben.
No heritage.
And very little security.
That’s when she’d marched to where Gabe stood. And that’s when she’d agreed to
give him the six months he asked for. He was offering Ben everything she
couldn’t—including giving her the opportunity to be a full-time mother to her
son.
Only a fool would have turned down such an offer.
Even if it only lasted for the next six months.
Sheriff Dillard and Gabe had taken care of everything else. They’d arranged for
the marriage license. And they’d arranged for the ceremony to take place on the
first day of June, at precisely eleven o’clock in the morning, by the local
justice of the peace in Sheriff Dillard’s office.
She, on the other hand, had spent the next two days training the new girl Dessie
had hired at the diner, and happily pretending her whole life wasn’t going to
change forever when Friday morning arrived.
“Mom!” Ben exclaimed, running toward her. “It’s time to go cut our cake. Hurry.”
He darted off before Sara could respond.
“You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble of having a reception for us, Dessie,”
Sara said. “But I really appreciate you doing that.”
“It’s nothing fancy,” Dessie said. She put her arm around Sara’s shoulder and
gave her a supportive squeeze. “But you’ve made a lot of good friends in Conrad.
It seemed a shame not to give everyone the chance to say goodbye to you and
Ben.”
“Mom!” Ben yelled again. “Let’s cut the cake.”
“Mercy,” Dessie said, laughing. “Let’s go cut your wedding cake before that boy
has a conniption fit.”
Sara took a deep breath.
Gabe was waiting for her by the door with Ben.
But as she walked in their direction a cynical thought crossed Sara’s mind: At
least we have cake.

HAD ANYONE TOLD HIM he would go back to Colorado with his nephew and a wife,
Gabe would have called that person a liar. But as Sara approached, Gabe knew
uniting Ben’s family instead of selfishly tearing it apart was the only
responsible thing to do in this situation.
Responsibility, he could handle.
He’d provide Ben and Sara with a good home and a good life for as long as they
were willing to stay on the Crested-C. They’d never want for anything under his
care. And he would go back to running the ranch and keeping things in order, the
same way he’d always done.
The difficult part would be not letting himself get too attached to Ben. He’d
learned the unbearable heartbreak that came from losing people you cared about.
He’d lost his parents, first. Then, Billy. And Gabe knew there was a good
possibility he’d lose Ben at the end of six months.
But at least he’d kept his promise.
Ben was going home.
Gabe opened the door for Sara when she walked up beside them. The faint scent of
her perfume mocked him for a moment as she exited the sheriff’s office.
Sara wouldn’t be an easy woman to ignore.
Just watching her unsettled Gabe.
She took Ben’s hand and started across the street to the diner, and Gabe
couldn’t help but think that the pale blue dress she wore emphasized her tiny
waist. His gaze drifted back to her dark hair—pulled up on top of her head again
today, the only way he’d ever seen her wear it. It wasn’t the first time he’d
wondered how far down her back those silky strands would fall.
And thoughts like those were ones he couldn’t afford.
That’s why he’d laid all his cards right out on the table when he’d taken Sara
and Ben to dinner the previous evening. He’d made sure Sara knew a friendship
was all he’d ever want between them.
She’d agreed so fast, it actually bruised his ego.
But Gabe knew being realistic about their new living arrangement was a key
factor if the family they’d created was going to be a success. He’d wanted to
make sure Sara had no unattainable expectations from him, just as he had no
unattainable expectations from Sara.
Their only focus would be Ben.
Just as it should be.
Sara had surprised him, however, by stating that she had no intention of being
anyone’s charity case. Unless he needed her help on the ranch she planned to
find employment in Redstone so she could pay for her own room and board.
He’d nixed her idea of getting a job.
And he’d assured Sara she’d have her work cut out for her on the ranch. Taking
care of the house and cooking three meals a day for him and his six full-time
ranch hands wasn’t going to be an easy task.
She hadn’t even batted an eye. And that gave Gabe hope things might work out.
He and Sara would both be too busy to worry about some silly piece of paper that
legally pronounced them husband and wife. He’d tend to the ranch. She’d tend to
the house and the cooking. And they’d both tend to Ben.
No problem, Gabe thought with confidence.
Sara picked that exact moment to glance over her shoulder at him. It was only
one look. And an innocent one at that. But Gabe suddenly got the feeling he
could be in trouble.

“YOU TAKE good care of Ben and Sara,” Dessie told Gabe as she and Sheriff
Dillard escorted the new family to the diner’s door after the reception. “In
Texas we can still round up a posse in the blink of an eye.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Gabe said.
Sara reached out and gave Dessie one last hug. “I can never thank you for all
you’ve done for me.”
“Oh, stop, before you make me cry,” Dessie fussed. “Just remember. If things
don’t work out in Colorado, you always have a home waiting for you here in
Conrad.”
“I won’t forget that,” Sara promised.
Ben ran ahead to the white extended-cab pickup parked directly out front. On his
tiptoes, Ben reached up and touched the fancy gold shield stenciled on the door.
The words Crested-C Ranch were written in bold black letters inside the gold
emblem.
“Can this C belong to me, Uncle Gabe?” Ben asked.
Ben pointed to the first letter of the word Crested and Sara knew her son was
referring to the conversation he’d had with his uncle at dinner the previous
evening. It still amazed her at how well Gabe had been able to explain things in
terms simple enough for a five-year-old to understand.
“Your dad’s in heaven now,” he’d told Ben, “but he sent me to find you and your
mom and bring you home.”
Gabe had also told Ben his last name was going to be Coulter—a change Sara
agreed to allow only after Gabe assured her he wasn’t talking adoption, just the
legal formality of changing Ben’s last name. “The C will stand for you and me,”
Gabe had explained to Ben. “Gabe Coulter and Ben Coulter. The two owners of the
Crested-C Ranch.”
That conversation was the reason behind her son’s question now. Ben obviously
wanted to pick his own C.
“You can have either C you want, Ben,” Gabe said, ruffling her son’s blond hair.
“It doesn’t matter to me.”
“I want the first C,” Ben said with a big grin.
“Okay, Mr. First C—” Gabe tickled Ben “—up and into the truck now. We’re burning
daylight, and we have a long way to go.”
Ben was still giggling when Gabe opened the truck door and helped him climb into
his booster seat in the backseat of the truck. Sara had headed for the passenger
side when Ben asked his uncle another question.
“Are we going home to Col-dorado now, Uncle Gabe?”
“Yes,” Gabe said. “We’re going home to Colorado now.”
Reality smacked Sara square in the face. She’d been lulled into a false security
over the past few days with everyone assuring her she’d made the right decision.
Even the ceremony and the reception had seemed surreal—as if she were only a
bystander in someone else’s life.
But this was her life.
This was her future for the next six months.
Oh. My. God! What have I done?
Her answer came when her new husband suddenly appeared at her side, extending
his hand to help her step onto the running board and into the truck. Then they
were on their way to the Crested-C Ranch. A ranch where the C stood for Coulter.
And where her son would be part owner of land that had been in the Coulter
family for three generations.
Sara bit down hard on her lower lip to stop the trembling as she swallowed past
the lump in her throat. She averted her gaze to the scenery beyond the passenger
window. But if Gabe noticed she was in the middle of a major panic attack, he
didn’t let on. Instead, he fielded the questions Ben fired from the backseat.
She soon learned that there were 15,000 acres to the Crested-C Ranch. And that
part of the property ran along the Crystal River, named such because the melting
snow from the high mountain ranges left the water so clear you could see all the
way to the bottom.
She learned that Redstone was nicknamed “The Ruby of the Rockies” and was
founded in 1901 by a wealthy coal baron who built a forty-two-room castle for
his wife, who was actually a real Swedish countess. When Gabe said touring
Redstone Castle was the town’s main tourist attraction and that you could take
sleigh rides around the property in the winter, the idea of a sleigh ride had
Ben clapping with glee.
But when Ben asked if he could ride a horse as soon as he got to the ranch, Gabe
showed Ben the deep scar on his right hand that was the result of an argument
he’d had with a strong-willed stallion when he wasn’t much older than Ben was
now. “And that’s why you won’t be permitted to go near the horses unless an
adult is with you,” Gabe had told Ben.
Although Sara fully approved of that rule, she remained silent on the issue.
Just as she remained silent when Gabe informed Ben a border collie named Bess
had a new litter of puppies. A puppy was something Ben had always wanted, and
something Sara had never been able to give him. She’d had enough trouble trying
to feed the two of them, much less a pet. Gabe also warned Ben that the barn
cats were wild and would scratch you if you tried to pet them.
“I’ve never liked cats much,” Ben said.
In fact, Gabe had answered each of Ben’s questions without once giving the
impression he was bothered by Ben’s persistence. Whether Sara wanted to admit it
or not, the fact that Gabe had the ability to be so patient with her son won him
big points in her favor.
She chanced a glance in his direction.
He looked over at her and said, “I think Ben finally wore himself out.”
Sara glanced behind her. Ben was fast asleep, both arms clutched tightly around
Thunder, a touch of icing she’d missed with her napkin still clinging to his
left cheek.
“Thanks for being so patient with him,” Sara said. “Ben’s nonstop questions can
get rather annoying.”
“Not to me,” he said. “I’m glad he’s interested in life on the ranch.”
Sara didn’t answer.
He glanced over at her again. “And what about you? How are you holding up?”
His question caught her completely off guard.
“I’m fine,” Sara lied.
His expression said he didn’t believe her but he changed the subject.
“It’s a twelve-hour trip to Redstone. I thought we’d drive to just north of
Albuquerque then stop for the night. That will put us halfway and break up the
trip for Ben.”
Again, Sara was surprised by his insight. Keeping Ben strapped in his booster
seat for twelve hours would have been a real challenge.
“I called ahead and made reservations,” he said. “Separate rooms, of course,” he
added for clarity.
“Of course,” Sara was quick to answer.
The silence hung between them for a second.
Gabe turned his attention back to the highway.
Sara pretended to look out the window again.
But her thoughts kept going back to the conversation they’d had the previous
evening. Gabe had assured her the only relationship he ever hoped to foster
between them was a friendship. Knowing he had no personal interest in her should
have been a huge relief.
But it wasn’t.
Not really.
Gabe’s firm declaration that he wasn’t interested in her personally had dragged
up old feelings. Feelings of the way she’d always felt with each new foster
family. They’d taken her in, sure. And they’d provided for her adequately. But
not one of her foster families had ever been truly interested in her personally.
She’d often wondered if that’s why she’d been such an easy target for Billy. He
had been the first person to ever seem genuinely interested in her. Of course,
that, too, had been a lie. Just like the lie Billy had fed her about taking her
with him when he left Houston.
She’d felt like such a fool that morning when she arrived at the rodeo grounds,
suitcase in hand, only to find Billy had left without her. But not because she
loved him. She hadn’t known Billy long enough to fall in love.
Billy had represented a chance to free herself from her past. A chance to
finally be in the company of people who truly liked her. Not people who were
being paid by the state of Texas to tolerate her because she had a lousy mother
who couldn’t stay out of trouble.
Sara had let her guard down.
And she’d never seen Billy again.
But at least Gabe had been honest with her. At least she knew where she stood
with him. She glanced in his direction again, wishing her stomach didn’t do
major flip-flops every time she looked at him. But his genuine kindness and his
complete devotion to her son kept tugging on her heartstrings.
Qualities like those would win any mother’s heart.
Except her heart was the last thing Gabe wanted.
He’d made it perfectly clear from the moment she met him that his only interest
was in Ben. He’d offered to marry her because of Ben. He’d offered her a home
because of Ben. He’d offered her a chance for new life because of Ben. Her son
was the only common bond she and Gabe Coulter would ever have. She had to accept
that. Officially they were a family now—but only on paper. “Blood kin is blood
kin,” he’d told her once. And that left Sara where she’d always been. The
outsider—yet again.
CHAPTER SIX
“THOSE MOUNTAINS straight ahead are the Ragged Mountains,” Gabe said the next
day as they neared the end of their trip. “The Crested-C sits right in the
middle of that big forest.”
“Wow,” Ben said in awe.
Sara agreed, but she didn’t say so. The snowcapped mountains in the distance
were simply breathtaking.
“The elevation reaches over ten thousand feet on some of the peaks, and the snow
never melts there,” Gabe said. “But the elevation at the ranch is only around
seven thousand feet. The summer days are nice and mild. And the summer nights
are just chilly enough to be comfortable.”
“Do any bears live in those mountains, Uncle Gabe?”
“You bet they do, Ben. And there are cougars and elk, and lots of deer and
beaver. We have our share of coyotes, too,” Gabe added, “and that’s why we keep
dogs like Bess on the ranch. Old Bess can smell a coyote a mile away. The minute
she starts barking, we know to keep our eye on the livestock.”
“Did you hear that, Mom? We’ll have to watch out for those mean old coyotes.”
Sara only nodded. But she kept thinking to herself that Ben having cougars,
bears and coyotes for neighbors was far less threatening than the street gangs,
drugs and violence she’d faced at his age living in the southwest slums of
Houston.
“There’s an eagle’s nest on the cliffs above the ranch,” Gabe said. “You can
watch eagles fish for trout in the river right from the front porch.”
“Did you hear, Mom? Real eagles,” Ben said in wonder.
Sara turned her head and smiled at Ben, trying to remember when she’d seen her
son so excited. She couldn’t.
She’d had a long talk with herself as she lay awake the previous night, staring
at the ceiling in the hotel room, her son asleep and snuggled close beside her.
And she’d made a silent promise to Ben that she was going to stop feeling sorry
for herself and embrace the chance to make things work.
Ben needed a strong male influence in his life, and Gabe was willing to give him
that. The least she could do was make the transition into their new life as easy
as possible for all of them. And with that thought in mind, Sara decided it was
time to stop looking out the window and join the conversation.
She pointed to the side of the road when a head popped up out of a hole to look
at them. “Look at that cute little animal, Ben.”
“Ah, Mom,” Ben said with typical male disgust. “That’s just a silly prairie dog.
You see them all the time.”
When Sara glanced at Gabe, the amused look on his face told her he’d seen
through her ploy. But he made no attempt to give her away.
“Maybe your mom would like to ask a few questions,” Gabe said, seeming willing
to include her in the conversation now that she’d shown a little interest.
“Yeah, Mom. What do you want to know?” Ben mimicked.
Sara wasn’t sure what to ask now that she had full male attention. “Oh, I don’t
know,” she finally said. “Is the house at the ranch a large house?”
“It’s a two-story log house that’s been added on to over the years,” Gabe said,
glancing over at her. “The main part of the house is the cabin my grandfather
built when he first came out west and bought the property.”
He paused for a moment before he said, “Let’s see, there are fourteen rooms in
all if you count the three bathrooms. There’s a formal living room and dining
room. A big kitchen. And I have an office at the house.” He glanced behind him
and smiled at Ben when he said, “And there’s a den with a television that you
can use as your playroom, Ben.”
He looked back at Sara and said, “There are five bedrooms in all. I wish I could
offer you the privacy of the master bedroom and bath on the first floor, Sara,
but they belong to my ranch foreman. Smitty walks with a cane now and the stairs
are hard for him to manage.”
Sara sent him a puzzled look. “But I thought you said your ranch hands lived in
a bunkhouse on the property.”
“Smitty’s more family than he is my ranch foreman,” Gabe said. “He moved into
the house and took over the cooking after my mother died. He knows more about
ranching than I’ll ever know. If it hadn’t been for Smitty, I wouldn’t have been
able to hold on to the ranch.”
“And this Smitty,” Sara asked, “have you told him you’re bringing a wife back to
the ranch along with your nephew?”
He hesitated for a second. “Yes. I talked to Smitty yesterday. Why?”
“Well, you just said Smitty’s been taking care of your house since your mother
died,” Sara said. “It only seems logical he might not be that receptive to
handing the reins over to someone else.”
“Don’t worry about Smitty,” he said. “It might take a few weeks, but he’ll get
used to the idea of having you and Ben around.”
Sara started to comment, but something held her back.
For the first time, it registered that she and Ben weren’t the only ones whose
lives were going to be changed drastically. Gabe was going to have to make more
than a few adjustments in his life now that he had a wife and a child to
consider. And thinking about Gabe made Sara wonder who else might have to get
used to the idea that he’d decided to bring a new wife home to Redstone.
You idiot, Sara thought, scolding herself for not thinking of it before. There
was no way a man like Gabe would be lacking for female attention. Gabe Coulter
was every woman’s fantasy, all wrapped up in a faded denim package and tied with
one gigantic sex-appeal bow.
“Is there anyone else you should tell me about?” Sara asked. “Someone who might
be a little upset you’re bringing home a ready-made family?”
His flinch was unmistakable.
He glanced at Sara for a moment, then back at the road. “No one I’m concerned
about,” was his only answer.
Sara dropped the subject, but his ambiguous answer led her to believe there
certainly was a disgruntled lady somewhere in Redstone. A lady who had to be
stewing over the fact that Gabe had tossed aside his own plans in order to take
responsibility for his dead brother’s son.

GABE COULD HAVE bypassed Redstone and taken the back road out to the Crested-C,
but he chose instead to drive through the center of his hometown. To Gabe’s way
of thinking, the sooner people got a good look at his new family, the sooner the
gossip would die down and they could get on with starting a new life.
As much as he loved Smitty, Gabe had no doubt the old gossip had made a beeline
to the country store directly after he’d called with the news. Gabe also knew
Smitty would have wasted no time venting his frustration that Gabe had gone
against his advice and had been foolish enough to marry the boy’s mother in
order to bring his nephew home.
Privacy in a small town was nonexistent. Especially in a town as small as
Redstone, where the biggest news of the day was usually whether the old
Dalmatian at the fire hall made it all the way down Redstone Boulevard and back.
Gabe knew any attempt to conceal his new family would be treated as cowardice.
And he was no coward.
By driving through the center of town on a busy Saturday afternoon, Gabe knew he
was making an unfaltering statement. He was telling everyone in Redstone that he
was confident in his decision whether anyone liked it or not.
He threw his hand up for an occasional wave, and accepted the nods and greetings
from the people who stopped what they were doing long enough to gawk at his two
passengers. But it wasn’t until they were nearing the end of town that Gabe
chanced another glance at Sara.
She’d been sitting ramrod straight in her seat since he first drove into town.
Her eyes were still focused straight ahead, but Gabe suspected as intuitive as
she’d been about Smitty and any possible love interest in his life, the new Mrs.
Coulter was more than aware why he’d purposely taken her on his little tour.
As if she’d read his mind, she suddenly looked over at him and said, “Well? Do
you think we passed inspection?”
Gabe knew better than to insult her by pretending he hadn’t put them on display.
“Folks in Redstone are nosy, Sara, but they’re also practical. We’re legally
married and they’ll accept you and Ben without question.”
Her expression said she was doubtful.
But Gabe had told her the truth.
Redstone would accept Sara.
Would Sara, however, decide to accept Redstone?
As he took the gravel road that would finally lead his new family home, Gabe
suddenly realized that getting Sara to agree to come to Colorado had been the
easy part.
Keeping Sara in Colorado would be the challenge.

SARA HELD her breath as they passed under two towering gate posts supporting a
large sign with the Crested-C logo carved deep into the stained cedar. The
setting was definitely rustic, but something about entering through the massive
gate actually had a royal feel to it.
A fairy tale Sara loved as a child flashed through her mind. In the story, a
handsome prince from a faraway kingdom had ridden into a modest village
searching for a young maiden to become his princess bride. Though complete
strangers, the maiden had eagerly accepted his proposal. They’d ridden away
together on his gallant white stallion, headed for his kingdom so the new
princess could give the prince the one thing he wanted most of all: an heir to
his throne.
Sara suppressed a sigh.
A handsome stranger was taking her off to his kingdom. And Ben even represented
an heir to the Crested-C Ranch. Unfortunately, the white pickup truck was no
gallant stallion; she was no longer a young maiden, and there would be no
fairy-tale romance waiting at the end of her journey.
Her heart might have believed that if Gabe hadn’t suddenly looked over at her
and smiled.
“We’re almost there,” he said, prompting Ben to squirm in his booster seat,
trying his best to see out the windshield.
Sara was doing a bit of squirming herself. They were now traveling up the
mountain on a narrow gravel road that seemed to be etched out of the hillside.
She squeezed her eyes shut when the truck inched dangerously close to the edge
of the steep ravine.
Her eyes snapped back open when Ben squealed.
“Mom! Horses!”
A magnificent herd of horses was grazing unconcernedly on plush green grass in
the meadow up ahead. At the sound of the approaching truck, several of the
horses shied away from the fence and bolted across the meadow, delighting Ben
even more. Even Sara had to admit she’d never seen a more spectacular setting.
With the snowcapped mountains above them, the entire scene looked like something
from a postcard at a souvenir shop.
“The house is just ahead,” Gabe told them, and seconds later Sara saw the
outline of a log-and-rock structure that was large enough to double as a small
hotel.
Ben gave his usual response. “Wow.”
And Sara marveled. “The house is enormous.”
But when she glanced over at Gabe, his brow was furrowed and a scowl had settled
on his handsome face. Sara followed his gaze back to the house. Two figures were
standing on the front porch. And when the truck got closer, Sara felt her own
breath catch in her throat.
One of the figures was definitely female.
Sara knew without question that the curvaceous figure, standing on the porch
beside a stooped older man she presumed to be Smitty, had to match Gabe’s
flippant definition of “no one I’m concerned about.”
“This should be interesting,” Sara said out loud.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE LAST PERSON Gabe wanted to find on his front porch when he brought his new
family home was Veronica Kincaid. But there she was. As big as life, and
obviously itching for a fight.
He’d known, of course, he’d have to face Ronnie sooner or later. But Gabe had
assumed it would be later, and on his own terms.
He stole another look at Sara and immediately regretted his decision to sidestep
the issue when she’d pointedly asked him about anyone being unhappy with his
decision. But Gabe could come closer to explaining Einstein’s theory of
relativity than he could to explaining his misguided relationship with Ronnie
Kincaid.
For years, everyone had assumed he and Ronnie would end up together. Mainly
because Ronnie’s ranch, the Flying-K, bordered Gabe’s own property. And next to
the Crested-C, the Flying-K was the largest ranch in Pitkin County.
But Gabe knew people also took their relationship for granted because Ronnie
spent most of her time telling anyone who would listen that she intended to
marry him come hell or high water. The feeling, however, had never been mutual.
And not because the lady wasn’t pleasing to the eye.
Ronnie was downright beautiful. They’d even had a few lust-filled moments over
the years—after all, he was only human. But lust was one thing. And settling
down with any woman on a permanent basis wasn’t going to happen.
Especially not Ronnie.
Gabe would sooner cuddle up with a timber rattler than he would his pushy
neighbor. Ronnie was cold, she was ruthless, and she was willing to bulldoze
over anything or anyone in her path to get what she wanted. If she hadn’t been
so stubborn, Gabe suspected she would have moved on and found some other guy to
badger and harass. But the more he’d ignored her, the more determined Ronnie had
become to reel him in. She’d even gone as far as bragging that she’d have him at
the altar by Christmas this year.
And that’s why Ronnie was standing on his porch now. Her own bragging had made
her a laughingstock.
And no one laughed at Ronnie Kincaid.
Gabe reluctantly brought the truck to a stop several yards away, fully aware of
the fury that awaited him. “If you don’t mind,” he told Sara, “I’d rather you
and Ben wait here for a few minutes.”
When Sara nodded in agreement, Gabe headed toward the two surly figures who were
now glaring at him.

“IS UNCLE GABE in trouble, Mom? Those people sound really mad.”
“Your uncle can take care of himself,” Sara told her son, handing Ben a coloring
book to distract him from the angry voices that reached them.
Ben taken care of, Sara looked back at the porch.
The woman was strikingly beautiful.
And the way Gabe took her firmly by the arm and led her around the side of the
house, Sara knew this woman had a past with Gabe—an intimate past. One he’d
tossed aside for Ben. It was all Sara could do to keep from opening the door and
throwing up out of pure guilt.
She’d been so busy feeling sorry for herself she hadn’t stopped to realize the
person making the ultimate sacrifice wasn’t her at all—it was Gabe. It was
Gabe’s world they were intruding upon. Gabe’s plans they were ruining. Gabe’s
life they were changing.
The old man was still glued to the spot on the porch, leaning on a cane and
holding a suitcase in his free hand. When he frowned in Sara’s direction,
another wave of guilt swept over her.
“Stay in the truck, Ben,” Sara ordered.
She made her way steadily to where the old man was standing. And when she
reached the bottom step, Sara shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand and
met the man’s angry regard.
“I’m Sara,” she offered, “and you must be Smitty.”
“That’s what my friends call me.” The old man grunted, dismissing her coldly.
Sara refused to be put off by his rudeness.
“I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re leaving,” Sara told him. “If you’re
leaving because of me and my son, I’m truly sorry.”
He glanced in her direction briefly, but remained unyielding. “Ain’t it a little
late to be sorry? You got what you wanted. Gabe married you.”
Sara dropped her hand and pretended to stare out over the ranch the same way
Smitty was pretending to do. “Yes, Gabe and I did get married,” Sara said. “And
we’ve agreed if things aren’t working after six months, Ben and I will leave.
But I’ll leave right now before I run you out of your own home. And I mean that
sincerely.”
Smitty still refused to look at her. “Don’t you worry about me, missy,” he said.
“I’ve made my own arrangements. Ronnie Kincaid’s been trying to steal me away
from Gabe for years. She’s here to pick me up now. I’m her new foreman over at
the Flying-K.”
The fact that the woman was a rancher, too, had little to do with the situation,
and Sara knew it. Sara hadn’t missed her “How could you do this to me?” screech
at Gabe. If anything, Sara suspected the woman’s attempt to hire Smitty had been
nothing more than a ruse to put her on the scene when Gabe drove up with his new
family in tow.
Sara said, “Then I guess there’s been a big misunderstanding.”
He glanced in her direction, but Sara knew he was too proud to ask what she
meant.
“I was under the impression Gabe really needed you on the ranch. He told me you
knew more about ranching than he would ever know.”
The old man stood a little straighter and actually puffed his chest out a bit.
“Gabe said that, did he?”
Sara nodded innocently. “He also said you were the backbone of this ranch, and
that he was glad I could take over the house and the cooking so you could get
back to running the ranch the way it should be run.”
She was stretching the truth, but her words seemed to be working. Smitty lowered
his suitcase slowly, then shifted his weight back to his cane. “Well, I guess I
could stay on at least a week or two,” he grumbled, meeting her eyes fully for
the first time. “Just until you get settled in, that is,” he added. “Gabe can’t
do everything around here. He’ll need someone to show you what needs to be done
in the house.”
“I’d really appreciate that,” Sara said, but she noticed his gaze had suddenly
drifted past her. When Sara turned, Ben was standing only a few feet away,
accepting lavish kisses from a large black-and-white dog.
“Could you show me how to rope one of those horses so I could ride him, mister?”
Ben asked, petting the dog’s head with one hand while pointing to the pasture at
the side of the house with the other.
When Sara glanced back at Smitty, the old man’s face crumpled right before her
eyes. By the time Ben and the big dog bounded up the steps, Smitty was wiping
his eyes with a red and white bandanna he’d pulled from the back pocket of his
overalls. He didn’t object when Ben reached out and took his hand.
“Gabe said Ben looks exactly like Billy did when he was that age,” Sara
mentioned.
“Spittin’ image,” Smitty managed to say in a slightly choked voice. “And that’s
a fact.”
“Well, can you, mister?” Ben asked, oblivious to the emotion he had stirred.
“Can you get me one of those horses to ride? Uncle Gabe said I can’t go near the
horses unless a grown-up goes with me.”
“You can call me Smitty, son,” the old man said, then started down the steps
with Ben leading the way. “But the first thing any good horseman learns is that
you have to make friends with a horse before you can ride him.”
“Will you show me how?”
“Making friends with a horse takes time,” Smitty said with authority. “Now take
that big roan stallion over there by the side of the fence,” he said, pointing
to the horse with his cane. “Old Bruiser can be real friendly, or he can be real
mean. You see, it’s all in the way you handle a horse, Ben….”
Sara couldn’t suppress a smile as she watched the twosome stroll off in the
direction of the pasture with the big dog following closely at their heels. But
her smile evaporated when movement from the corner of her eye warned Sara she
was no longer alone. Turning around, Sara found herself face-to-face with the
woman Smitty had identified as Ronnie Kincaid.
Her jet-black hair was cut short like a man’s, but it suited her. And her skin
was as smooth and tanned as the expensive leather boots she wore. She was tall
and she was lean. Her tight-fitting jeans showed off every inch of her long,
perfect legs.
Sara immediately felt drab in this woman’s presence.
She gave Sara a quick look up and down and dismissed her just as rapidly. But
when she saw Smitty holding Ben up on the fence so he could rub a big chestnut
horse between the ears, she stomped off in a huff toward a black Suburban that
was parked at the far end of the porch. Within seconds, Sara found herself
fanning away the dust left in the wake of the irate Miss Kincaid.
“Sorry about the interruption,” Gabe said nonchalantly as he walked up beside
her. He smiled when he looked toward the pasture. “Looks like Smitty’s decided
to stay on. What did you say to make him stay?”
Determined to act every bit as nonchalant as Gabe, Sara shrugged. “I told Smitty
the truth. That Ben and I would leave before we ran him out of his own home.”
Gabe frowned. “You aren’t having second thoughts are you, Sara?”
Shouldn’t I be having second thoughts after the scene I witnessed? Sara wanted
to scream. His girlfriend had thrown a full-blown hissy fit right in the middle
of the yard. And Gabe had the nerve to stroll up acting like the welcome
committee had paid them all a social call.
But Sara took a deep breath and said, “It’s obvious us being here is causing you
major problems, Gabe. We can still call this whole thing off, you know. Whether
you believe it or not, you don’t owe Ben a thing.”
His frown deepened at her last comment.
He pointed to the pasture where Ben and Smitty now had several horses vying for
their attention. “I want you to look out there right now and tell me you can’t
already see that Ben belongs here.”
Sara refused to admit any such thing.
“I can take care of my own problems, Sara. All you have to do is take care of
Ben.”
Then he was gone.
Leaving Sara standing in the yard, still shivering from Ronnie Kincaid’s icy
glare, and trying to convince herself she wouldn’t care if the man she’d married
ended up in another woman’s bed when the sun went down.

GABE COULD FEEL the weight of Sara’s stare as he walked toward the pasture, but
he never looked back. She hadn’t questioned him about the scene with Ronnie, but
Gabe felt guilty for not trying to explain. At the moment, however, Gabe’s belly
was full of trying to talk logically to any member of the opposite sex.
He’d let Ronnie vent her anger, reminding her that he’d never led her on as she
accused, and that she’d always known nothing serious was ever going to develop
between them. He’d also pointed out that she knew full well the two of them had
never discussed a wedding date—ever—and certainly not for December. And he’d
told her that despite what she thought of his decision to marry his nephew’s
mother, the case was closed and his decision was final.
He’d managed to keep his composure through her screams and insults. He’d even
taken the hard slap in the face she’d given him when they first rounded the
corner of the house. It wasn’t until Ronnie threatened Ben and Sara that Gabe
lost control.
He’d ordered Ronnie off his property.
And in doing so, Gabe knew he’d made a bitter enemy.
Anyone would testify that Ronnie Kincaid was not someone you wanted for an
enemy. And Gabe knew he’d have his hands full over the next few months trying to
run interference and protect Ben and Sara from the woman’s unfounded wrath.
When he reached the pasture, Gabe propped himself casually against a fence post
directly beside Smitty. “Looks like your new boss left without you, old man,”
Gabe said. “If you need transportation over to the Flying-K, you can take the
flatbed and I’ll send one of the hands after it later.”
Smitty adjusted his grip on Ben, who was now leaning over the fence to pet a
colt. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Smitty snapped. “It would be just
like you to spread it all over town that I walked off the Crested-C after forty
years without giving notice.”
Gabe shrugged, perfectly comfortable with the bantering that had always gone on
between them. “Well, it would be pretty low-down of a foreman to walk off the
job without giving any notice.”
“If you think you’re gonna ruin my reputation, sonny boy, then you’re badly
mistaken,” Smitty said.
“You’re staying on, then?” Gabe egged things on a little further.
Smitty reached out to shove Bruiser’s nose away when the big horse pushed his
muzzle a little too close to Ben for Smitty’s liking. “I’ll stay a while,”
Smitty said. “That gal you brought home will have to be shown what needs to be
done around here.”
“And what about me?” Ben suddenly chimed in, reminding them that two little ears
had been listening to their conversation. “You’ll stay long enough to show me
how to make friends with these horses, won’t you, Smitty?”
“Making friends with horses takes a long time, Ben,” Gabe said, sending Ben a
wink.
“Not with this kid,” Smitty said, patting his new apprentice affectionately on
the back. “Ben’s a real natural with horses.”
Gabe swallowed, hard. “Just like his grandfather.”
“Just like his uncle and his grandfather,” Smitty corrected, always determined
to have the last word.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BY THE TIME Ronnie made it back to the Flying-K, she was still so angry she felt
like smashing something. And it should have been Gabe’s stupid face with her
fist instead of slapping him openhandedly like a girl.
The bastard!
He’d been a stubborn ass forever. But Gabe’s first obligation had always been to
his ranch and his horses. And that’s what had Ronnie so confused. The logical
thing would have been to marry her and merge their two ranches.
What had Gabe done instead?
He’d married some piece of fluff from Texas who would have burst into tears had
Ronnie bothered to say boo to the silly bitch. And all because of a dumb promise
he’d made to Billy.
The stupid fool!
Storming into the house, Ronnie headed straight for the den. The fact that her
father was sitting in his usual place at a card table playing solitaire didn’t
prevent her from walking directly to the wet bar on the far side of the room.
Pouring two fingers’ worth of bourbon into a tumbler, Ronnie belted it down in
one easy gulp. But as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, she sent a
hostile glare in her father’s direction.
“What are you looking at?”
Ross Kincaid looked back down at the cards on the table and waited a few seconds
before he said, “Isn’t it a little early in the day for whiskey?”
“Mind your own damn business, Ross.”
She poured herself another drink.
“Then I guess the rumor’s true,” he said. “Gabe really did marry the boy’s
mother.”
Ronnie didn’t answer. She took the tumbler with her and flopped onto the heavy
leather sofa facing the stone fireplace. She was pissed. And the last thing she
wanted was any advice from her father. Ross was weak and gutless. Always had
been.
How else would you describe a man falling to pieces when a worthless woman like
her mother walked out on them? Pathetic, that’s what Ross was. Ronnie couldn’t
even remember her mother, but she’d had enough sense to say good riddance to her
a long time ago.
But not Ross.
After her mother left he’d lost interest in everything. His life. His ranch. And
most of all, his only child.
To hell with both of them, Ronnie vowed as she brought the tumbler to her lips
again. She’d never needed a mother or a father. By age twelve she could ride a
horse as well as any man on the ranch. By sixteen she was breaking the most
difficult horses herself. And by twenty-one she was doing the bookkeeping and
making all of the major decisions where the ranch was concerned.
And what had her stupid father been doing during that time? He’d sat uselessly
in the den playing solitaire, still pining away for a woman he hadn’t even seen
in thirty long years.
Ronnie was the reason they still had a roof over their heads. She was
responsible for making the Flying-K one of the most successful horse ranches in
the state of Colorado. So any advice from dear Papa was not damned welcomed.
“I did you a huge disservice by not letting your mother take you with her when
she left,” Ross said, as if he’d known exactly what Ronnie had been thinking.
“Like hell, you did.” Ronnie snorted. To annoy him, she drained every drop of
the whiskey in her tumbler.
He pretended not to notice, his eyes still focused on the cards he was holding.
And just when Ronnie thought she’d been successful at putting an end to any
phony father-daughter chat, Ross said, “I’ve stood by and watched this ranch
become your whole life. And I made a grave mistake in doing that. Maybe if you’d
gone with your mother, maybe then—”
“What?” Ronnie shouted. “Maybe I would have followed in dear old Mommy’s
footsteps? Spent my time jet-setting from here to there, dining on Russian
caviar and drinking champagne instead of working my ass off to keep us from
losing this ranch?”
“Maybe you wouldn’t have turned out so—” he rubbed a hand over his forehead
“—callous.”
“Callous? I’ll tell you what’s callous, Ross. Callous is being more worried
about finding a new wrinkle in the mirror than the fact you have a daughter you
haven’t seen since she was two years old. So don’t you dare call me callous.
Save callous for the woman who walked out on both of us.”
She’d gotten herself so worked up she jumped up from the sofa and smashed her
empty tumbler against the rock hearth of the fireplace. Turning to face her
father, Ronnie said, “This ranch will always be my life. And whether you’ll ever
admit it or not, I do a damn fine job running it.”
Ross shuffled his cards, still never looking in her direction. “Then why don’t
you do that, Veronica? Why don’t you concentrate on running this ranch and leave
Gabe Coulter alone? If I thought you actually loved the man, it might be
different. But we both know all you’ve ever wanted is Gabe’s land.”
Ronnie didn’t deny it.
Instead she mocked her father’s words. “What did love ever get you, Ross? I’ll
tell you what love got you. Nothing. Except a lifetime of living in the past.”
He looked directly at her for the first time. “We’re not talking about me. We’re
talking about you. And I know my own daughter. You don’t like to lose. But leave
Gabe alone. He’s a good man.”
Ronnie threw her head back and laughed. “I’ll never leave Gabe alone. We’re two
of a kind, me and Gabe. We’re ranchers first. And everything else comes second.”
“Not anymore, Ronnie. Gabe has a family now.”
“We had a family, too, but that didn’t keep my mother here, did it?”
His flinch made Ronnie smile.
She walked around the sofa and leaned over her father, her hands braced on the
card table in front of him. “That little twit Gabe brought home won’t last a
week. And when she skips town the same way my sorry mother did, I’ll be right
here where I’ve always been. Waiting for Gabe to come to his senses so we can
merge the Flying-K and the Crested-C and have the largest damn horse ranch in
the state of Colorado.”
She headed for the door, but paused before walking out.
“You are right about one thing though, Ross. I don’t like to lose. And I intend
to do everything in my power to make sure Miss Texas leaves Redstone as fast as
her pretty little ass breezed into town.”
Her say over, Ronnie stormed out of the house and headed for the barn, the new
scowl on her face put there by another old man who had taken Gabe’s side that
day. She should have known that fool Smitty would back down the minute Gabe got
home. Now she’d have to do some major damage control. She’d have to swallow her
pride and formally ask her ranch foreman to stay.
Not that she was really worried about Charlie Biggs leaving. Hell, you couldn’t
blow Charlie off the Flying-K with a stick of dynamite. She hadn’t missed the
way Charlie looked at her. She could feel his eyes undressing her with every
move she made.
And now that Gabe had gone and got himself married?
No, Charlie wouldn’t be in any big hurry to leave.
He’d hang around for sure now, thinking he might get lucky. Which wasn’t a bad
idea when Ronnie thought about it.
She’d be damned if she let the whole town laugh at her behind her back. She’d
show them. All of them. And she’d start by letting word get around town that
she’d been too busy screwing Charlie’s brains out to even care that Gabe Coulter
got married.
Stepping inside the open barn door, Ronnie looked around first, relieved to see
no one else was present except the man she’d come to see. Eating crow had never
been her strong point and she damn sure didn’t want an audience when she did it.
Her focus settled on Charlie.
He was stripped down, wearing nothing but his jeans, his bare back to her as he
rubbed down a saddle he had on the workbench before him. Her gaze swept across
his broad muscled shoulders, then downward, settling on one fine cowboy ass if
she had to say so herself. Had Charlie been a rancher instead of a ranch hand,
she would have chosen him over Gabe Coulter any day of the week.
Charlie was a handsome devil. Hair black as a raven’s wing—gray eyes like a
wolf.
And flirting with the devil was exactly what she needed after Gabe made her out
to be a first-class fool. Ronnie took a step in Charlie’s direction. And finally
sensing her presence, he glanced over his shoulder at her.
It was now or never to make amends.
“You’re staying on as foreman,” Ronnie told rather than asked him.
“Not interested,” he said, and went back to work on the saddle.
Ronnie rolled her eyes.
She really hadn’t expected any less. They’d had a huge fight earlier that
morning when she’d told Charlie she was bringing Smitty in as acting foreman.
Charlie had seen right through her intentions. Now he was going to make her beg.
But she’d do her begging her own way.
Ronnie walked over and casually propped herself against the workbench facing
Charlie. With her elbows resting on the surface, all it took was a slight
forward thrust of her breasts. And, presto! The front of her shirt popped open
enough to give Charlie a peek at anything he wanted to see.
His gaze immediately went to her cleavage.
“Don’t be an ass, Charlie. You know I pay you more than anyone else pays a
foreman around here.”
He looked away. “Maybe I’m not staying around here. Maybe it’s time I moved on.”
He went back to work on the saddle.
Hard muscles rippled.
Healthy biceps flexed.
Ronnie inched a little closer to him.
“But surely we can think of something that might entice you to stay,” Ronnie
said, running the tip of her finger seductively up the full length of Charlie’s
bare arm.
She felt him tense under her touch.
He put down the saddle soap and looked at her. “Yeah,” he said, “I can think of
one thing that might make me stay.”
Ronnie smiled.
“I want to hear you say you’re through making an idiot of yourself over Gabe
Coulter.”
Her hand shot forward to slap him.
Charlie caught her arm midair.
Ronnie could see the lust in his eyes. And Lord, how it did turn her on. Just
once, she’d love to know what it felt like to be taken by a man who truly wanted
her—not just because she’d made herself convenient.
Too bad about her pride, though. “Get off my property. Now!”
“I’ll get off your property,” Charlie said. “But not until I show you what
you’ll be missing when I’m gone.”
Ronnie gasped when he jerked her forward. She tried to fight back, but he
dragged her with him into the tack room. And when he kicked the door shut behind
them, he pushed her roughly up against the plank wall and pinned her hands above
her head with one strong arm.
Their gazes locked in a fiery battle of wills.
Ronnie, daring him to touch her.
Charlie, daring her to stop him.
His free hand roamed down her neck. Slowly, he unbuttoned the front of her
shirt. Ronnie held her breath as his hand slid inside her bra. And when he gave
her nipple a hard but ever-so-pleasurable squeeze, Ronnie moaned in spite of
herself.
Instantly, his hot mouth came down on hers.
Ronnie kissed him back as forcefully.
She was much too aroused to push Charlie away, and way too turned-on to care.
His hand slid from her breast, down her stomach, fumbling for the zipper of her
jeans. She gasped again when his fingers slid boldly between her legs. And
though she bit down hard on her lower lip trying to resist him, the shiver of
sheer pleasure running through her body left her crying for more.
For the first time in her life, Ronnie surrendered.
And Charlie took complete control.
CHAPTER NINE
BY THE END of her third week on the ranch, every muscle in Sara’s body ached
from the exertion of removing fifteen years of dirt and grime from the house she
and her son now called home. Gabe had warned her Smitty ran off every cleaning
lady he’d tried to hire over the years, but nothing could have prepared Sara for
an all-male perspective of the acceptable level of clean.
Sara had washed everything from curtains to bed linens. She’d chased cobwebs and
dust bunnies until they often showed up in her dreams as full-blown monsters.
She’d never been immune to hard work. But Sara soon found that taking on the
responsibility of running a house, being a full-time mom to an active
five-year-old and cooking three meals a day for a bunch of hungry ranch hands
who wolfed down every morsel she placed in front of them was a never-ending
task. More than once it crossed her mind that any woman who had the audacity to
label being a housewife mindless work, did so only in fear that someone might
ask her to take on such an overpowering assignment.
For Sara, there were no scheduled coffee breaks, no relaxing lunch hours, nor
did she have any coworkers to help with the multitude of duties she performed on
a daily basis. In a nutshell, she was it. And the enormous amount of
organizational skills required to keep a mental note of what her son was doing,
tend to a meal in the oven, supervise the laundry and dust and vacuum a
fourteen-room house, was extremely overwhelming.
There were days when Sara would run from one task to another at such a maddening
speed, she contemplated having Smitty shop for a pair of roller blades when he
made his daily trip into Redstone. Thankfully, Smitty did make those daily trips
into town for their supplies. Had shopping also been added to her vast list of
duties, Sara would have collected her son and headed back to Texas after her
second day on the ranch.
Life at the Crested-C began at sunrise and it ended shortly after dusk. And
though a lesser woman would have admitted defeat, Sara had never been happier.
For the first time in her life, she had the joy of experiencing what it was like
to be part of a real family. Granted, it wasn’t a typical family, but it was a
family nonetheless. And nothing pleased Sara more than sitting at the opposite
end of the large dining room table from Gabe, watching while seven burly cowboys
folded their hands politely and waited for Ben to deliver his short “God is
Great” prayer of thanks.
Sara never wanted to be anywhere else.
Especially since their new lifestyle was having such a positive effect on her
son. Ben had adapted to their new surroundings so quickly it scared Sara. Not
only had he abandoned his mother’s side to become Smitty’s constant shadow, but
her five-year-old baby had jumped at the chance to have his own bedroom.
Ironically, that happened to be Billy’s old bedroom—still adorned with life-size
posters of the acclaimed rodeo star, and lined with the multiple ribbons and
trophies Billy had won over the years.
At first, it had bothered Sara to be in a room where Billy’s presence was
everywhere. But she eventually found comfort reading to Ben every night with
Billy smiling down at them. It was almost as if Billy were trying to tell her he
was sorry. And that he couldn’t have been more pleased to have his son home.
Being surrounded by his father’s possessions seemed to have given Ben a sense of
comfort, too. And for that, Sara would be eternally grateful. Unlike her own
unanswered questions about a father she never knew, for Ben, there would be no
unanswered questions. Billy had become real for Ben. And as long as Gabe and
Smitty were around, Sara knew her son would have answers for anything he ever
wanted to know about his father.
The hardest part of Sara’s new life were those moments she spent in her own
bedroom at night before she gave in to the exhaustion of the day and let sleep
mercifully claim her. It was then that her old doubts and fears crept in to make
her leery of her new peace and happiness.
Do you really think this can last? Didn’t you give Gabe the perfect out by
agreeing to have the marriage annulled in six months if the arrangement wasn’t
working?
And that had become Sara’s latest fear.
What if things didn’t work out? What was she going to tell Ben then? Even
thinking about how devastated her son would be if they had to leave the ranch
terrified Sara.
And that’s why many nights found her tossing and turning when such disturbing
questions refused to leave her alone. Especially when the questions took on an
even deeper level of cruelty.
Where do you think Gabe runs off to every night? her troubled thoughts would nag
her. Do you really think he’ll stay in a phony marriage when he has a woman like
Ronnie Kincaid waiting in the wings? You’re just his housekeeper, remember? The
woman he puts up with because you happen to be his nephew’s mother.
Those were the thoughts that hurt the deepest, constantly reminding Sara exactly
where she fit into the whole scheme of things. She would never be anything more
to Gabe than his nephew’s mother. And the fragile bond that was slowly forming
between them would never be anything more than the friendship Gabe said he
wanted based solely on the mutual concern they shared for her son.
Of course, Sara told herself she was willing to settle for nothing but
friendship from Gabe. That her life at the ranch would be complete, as long as
she had the opportunity to watch her son grow into a good and honest man.
A man who would take his commitments seriously.
A man who would be kind and giving.
A man who was admired and respected by his peers.
A man like Gabe.
The same man who was winning tiny pieces of Sara’s watchful heart with each
passing day.

THE FULL MOON BATHED the house in a silvery light when Gabe turned off his
headlights and let the truck coast into the circular driveway. The long drives
he’d been taking over the past three weeks were beginning to get the better of
him. Still, driving around aimlessly and trying to clear his head was better
than lying wide awake wondering what type of silky nightgown the woman in the
room next to his was wearing while she slept.
At first, he’d hoped the card game in the bunkhouse would be the perfect
diversion for the growing physical attraction he was feeling for Sara. But he’d
taken such a hard ribbing from his ranch hands about the strip poker they’d be
playing if they had a pretty new wife like Sara, he’d given up on that idea.
Not that he could really blame his rowdy hands for thinking he was fifty kinds
of crazy. Hell, all of them were already half in love with Sara. Even Smitty
liked her, though he’d yet to admit it.
And that’s what had Gabe so confused.
He’d expected to have a mutiny on his hands. Not a bunch of lovesick cowpokes.
Yet, when Gabe thought about it, who could really blame the guys for being
smitten with Sara? She had a pinup-model figure, sure. But it was more than
that.
Maybe the dresses she wore were part of it. She always looked so feminine: her
dark hair swept up on top of her head, a few stray tendrils caressing her neck;
an apron tied around her tiny waist; the long skirts of her dresses only
allowing a peek at an ankle now and then.
She was sexy as hell.
But she was also as wholesome as motherhood, apple pie and “The Star-Spangled
Banner” all rolled into one. And what cowboy had ever been able to resist a
combination like that one?
None Gabe knew of.
He’d also been amazed by the way she’d taken over the household with such ease.
Everything from one end of the house to the other had been spit-shined and
polished to the point that he, Smitty and the rest of the hands were checking to
make sure their boots were clean before they entered the house.
And who would have ever expected that to happen?
Not to mention the fact Sara was a pure genius in the kitchen. The meals she
placed before them were so delectable the general conversation around the ranch
had changed from what needed to be done on the 15,000 acres they were trying to
maintain, to what Sara might be serving for supper that evening.
But the thing that impressed Gabe about Sara most was the tenderness she openly
exhibited toward her son. Watching Sara lovingly smooth Ben’s hair back from his
forehead for a kiss, and seeing her cuddle Ben in her lap for a hug, brought
back childhood memories of Gabe’s own mother. Thinking of his mother made Gabe
realize that for the first time in fifteen long years he had clean clothes in
his closet, fresh linens on his bed and a full stomach when the sun went down.
Gabe didn’t know what more a man could want.
Or did he?