Snowbound with the Cowboy Read online

  She turned at the sound of boots clomping up the steps to the porch. “Hey, Tate—how’s it going?”

  But it wasn’t Tate. It was Jess, followed by Abby, Devlin and a slender woman with wavy, deep auburn hair. They were all carrying buckets and armfuls of rags.

  “I brought the fans and some extra helpers,” Jess said. “Abby, Devlin and Devlin’s fiancée, Chloe. Her dad was a foreman at the ranch when we were growing up, so you might have seen her in elementary school.”

  Chloe stepped forward with a warm smile. “We just lived here for five years, though, and I had bright red hair back then. So you probably don’t remember me.”

  Sara studied her as the memories slowly filtered back. “You had freckles back then, just a scattering over your nose, and the prettiest curly hair I’d ever seen. Right? I didn’t have either, and I was so jealous.”

  Chloe laughed. “My hair was always tangled, because after mom left, my cowhand dad had no clue about what to do with a little girl’s hair. And I hated those freckles because Jess and Dev used to tease me. Now I wish I still had them, but they’ve disappeared and my hair got darker. No one in town recognized me when I came back.”

  Devlin drew her close to his side and kissed her cheek. “If I hadn’t thought you were so cute I wouldn’t have teased you. Promise.”

  “This is a really nice place,” Abby murmured as she turned around to survey the cabin. “Beautiful cabinetry, and I love all the windows. I didn’t even know this place existed, until Tate told us about it. You sure don’t have to worry about neighbors up here.”

  Sara smiled. “Just you Langfords and a lot of wildlife—the shared property line is a hundred yards to the west. But I promise I’ll keep the noise down.”

  Devlin lifted the bucket in his hand. “So, where do we start?”

  “Honestly, I should just offer you coffee for coming all the way here. I don’t want to put you all to work.”

  “That’s why we came,” Abby said. “Betty is watching the twins, so this is like a mini vacation for me. Just tell us what to do so we can get busy. We’ve got to be home at five so Betty can go into town for bingo at the Senior Center.”

  Sara explained the cleaning process she’d found on the internet, and everyone got to work on a different area of the cabin. After Jess and Tate appeared with the fans and set them up, it was too noisy to chat, so everyone just kept working.

  Sara was crouched in a corner of the kitchen when she saw Tate’s boots at the corner of her eye. She glanced past him to the clock on the wall. “Four thirty already? How did that happen?”

  She stood, her knees creaking after she’d been hunched over for so long. The others were gathering their supplies and pulling on their jackets.

  “We made some headway,” Abby called out over the noise of the fans. “This whole west-facing great room wall is done.”

  “It looks really nice,” Chloe added. “Just look at the beautiful grain of that wood.”

  “You’re right. The place was empty for a long time, and I didn’t realize how dingy the walls were until now.” Sara made a face. “I can sure see where I need to start working next.”

  The day had been sunny and bright, in the fifties, but now the nighttime chill was settling in. Sara turned off the fans and shut the windows.

  Devlin and Chloe came over to give Sara a quick farewell hug before going out the door.

  Abby lingered. “You’re coming back to stay with us tonight, right? I’ll be in California for the next two weeks, but Betty is there. You’re welcome anytime, and for as long as you’d like.”

  “I really appreciate the offer, Abby. But I’d better stay and keep at this late as I can. I work all week and won’t have much time. I’m sure Tate is getting tired of all of my animals at his place.”

  Tate strolled in as Devlin and Chloe left. “I heard that, and it’s no trouble at all. But can you send me a text on what to feed them and how much? Then you won’t need to stop by twice a day.”

  “Well, I—”

  “Done. Can you come outside? I’d like to show you what Jess and I have been doing and ask you some questions.”

  She gave a helpless laugh. Dealing with this generation of Langfords was like trying to corral a hurricane. Without their willingness to pitch in, everything would have been so much harder. Thank you, Lord, for sending me all of this help.

  Jess stood in front of the garage, studying the opening. He looked over his shoulder at her approach. “Given the structural damage, you wouldn’t want to park a vehicle inside, in case it collapses.”

  She nodded. “No argument there. I’m just glad my truck wasn’t inside during the fire.”

  “We found sheets of plywood in that little barn. If you don’t mind, we could nail them up so the front of the garage will be closed against bad weather and vermin. It won’t look pretty, though.”

  “Sounds absolutely perfect.”

  “Good, I’ll drive my truck over and get the plywood while Tate asks you about a few things.”

  Twilight was descending, rendering the interior of the garage in a monochrome palette of shades of black and gray.

  “You should stay clear too. It’s not all that safe in there.” Tate pointed to several stacked boxes. “We’ve been raking through the cinders, and the all-metal hand tools like wrenches and chisels are in those boxes. The fire chief probably already told you that the power tools were basically incinerated—the motors, cords and any plastic housing.”

  She nodded.

  “Jess and I were talking, and we know you haven’t yet found out if there’s insurance coverage. If there isn’t, we’d be willing to round up a crew of friends to rebuild the garage. If the Amish can raise an entire barn in a day, surely we can put up a simple structure like this. You’d just need to supply the materials and hire an electrician.”

  The garage situation had been weighing heavily on her heart ever since she’d heard Warren and Millie waffle about their insurance coverage.

  That the Langfords had been so willing to help her stunned her. Gus was a different story, but had she been wrong about the rest of his family all this time?

  “Th-thank you. I—I—” Tate shot a grin at her that made her feel strangely breathless. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Just being neighborly.” He touched the brim of his Stetson. “I thought maybe you’d sleep a little easier knowing you weren’t going to sink deeper into debt.”

  Speechless at his unexpected thoughtfulness, she watched him stride out to his truck, unable to look away.

  She’d moved back to Pine Bend with no intention of wasting time on any flirtations. That simply wasn’t in her game plan—not when she needed to work hard and make every minute count. But she’d certainly never expected to encounter Tate again, much less find that she felt the same old awareness simmering through her, just like it had in high school.

  Yesterday, he’d even called her honey, but while her heart had warmed at his caring touch, those courtly cowboy manners were probably so commonplace in his life that they meant nothing at all. He’d always been a magnet for all of the pretty girls who flocked to him at school. By now, an inveterate charmer like him had probably left a hundred broken hearts in his wake and never even realized it.

  But when he’d flinched and turned away at her simple kiss of thanks, that told her all she needed to know. She didn’t need to worry about avoiding any awkward complications, because he had no interest in her at all.

  * * *

  On Monday morning Sara awoke early, hurried to Tate’s place to feed all of her animals and pick up the white cat, then drove to her clinic for a solid morning of appointments.

  When the clinic closed for lunch at noon she collected the cat from a cage in the back room, put her in a carrier and gathered some supplies, then drove down Main Street to Third Avenue.

  Sur
e enough, there was the office Gene had mentioned—Frost & Sons Insurance Company. Sara hurried inside and waited at the front desk while an early-twentysomething woman chattered into her cell phone.

  She pulled her cell phone away from her ear and looked up at Sara from beneath her bright purple bangs. “Can I help you?”

  “Just two quick things—I’m sure it’s your lunch break too. My aunt and uncle think they had policies with a Hobson Insurance here in town. Does that ring a bell?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Nope.”

  Swiveling in her chair, she reached for a Rolodex on a cluttered credenza and started flipping through the address cards. She got to the end and checked once again, then shook her head. “Just a minute.”

  She craned her neck toward a closed door behind her. “Mr. Tompkins? Someone here to see you.”

  A chair squeaked, and a dapper man in his midsixties opened the door. He smiled. “Did I hear the name Hobson? Franklin passed on seven years ago, and then I took over. This was once his office, though.”

  “My aunt and uncle—Warren and Millie Branson—think they have a homeowner’s policy with that company. Obviously it would have lapsed by now, unless it carried forward to you.”

  “Hmm. Their name does sound familiar.” He nodded and waved her into his office, where he settled behind his desk and started tapping his keyboard. After a few minutes he leaned back in his chair. “They took out a policy eight years ago on a cabin up in the foothills. It was insured through Hobson, and they continued their coverage with me after I took over. But eleven months ago they ignored three reminder emails, a letter and a phone call, so the policy lapsed.”

  “About the time they were heading into their decline,” she said softly.

  “Hmm?”

  “I don’t suppose there’s any recourse—back payments, or something? Extensions for long-term clients?”

  He chuckled. “Afraid not. Not after almost a year.”

  She stood and shook his hand. “Thanks for your time.”

  “If I can ever talk to you about your own insurance needs, be sure to stop by.” He walked her to the front door.

  “We’ve got to get the cabin reinsured and I need to look at renter’s insurance, as well, soon as possible. Can I get some quotes over the phone?” She nabbed a business card from the secretary’s desk. “I have another errand and need to get back to work.”

  At Millie and Warren’s apartment Sara took a deep breath and knocked.

  When Millie opened her door, her face instantly wreathed with joy. She bent down to peer into the small carrier. “She is beautiful!”

  “Don’t need a cat,” Warren grumbled from his recliner. “If you don’t have a barn, you don’t need a cat.”

  “Oh, you never mind him,” Millie said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Give him five days and he’ll be doting on this cat like an old mother hen.”

  “If he doesn’t come around, just call me and I’ll be back to pick her up.” Sara stepped back out into the hallway and brought in the kitty litter, domed litter box and bags of dry cat food, then got everything set up. “I’ll be bringing you everything she needs. But if you ever need to buy some food choose only the high-quality food—not the cheap brands.”

  Millie beamed when Sara opened the door of the carrier and the cat strode out, tail high, as regal as any queen. “I hope she’ll be friendly.”

  “It might take her some time to adjust, but she’s been very sweet with me.”

  “I think I’ll call her Princess.” Millie reached down to stroke her, but the cat took off and raced into the bedroom, where something crashed to the floor, then she zoomed around the living room, ricocheted off the back of the sofa and took a flying leap to land square on Warren’s paunchy belly.

  “Ooof!” He stared at the apparition in front of him. She stared right back, her tail twitching. “You should call this thing Smoke. She smells like a cigarette ashtray.”

  “She was in the cabin during the fire, Uncle Warren.” Sara crossed the room to take the cat from his lap, but Princess—or Smoke—moved higher up his chest and curled contently just below his chin.

  She reached for the cat again, but Warren lifted a hand. “She can stay,” he grumbled, sounding entirely out of sorts, but he settled a hand on her fur and began rubbing gently behind her ear. “Hhhmpff. Not much of a lady. She purrs like a boat motor needing a tune-up.”

  “Cats always seem to go for the people who like them least,” Millie whispered with a small smile. “It’s like they’re trying to make a point.”

  “Or,” Sara countered quietly, “maybe they can sense who likes them but doesn’t want to show it. I think she won him over in less than thirty seconds.”

  She glanced at her watch, then moved closer to Warren so they both could hear her better. “I need to get back to the clinic, but just wanted you to know that I checked on the Hobson Insurance Company. That fellow died, but another agent took over the office space. It’s called Frost & Sons now. You were on automatic annual payments until you changed bank accounts. Your cabin policy lapsed almost a year ago.”

  Warren sat up a little higher in his chair. “So what does that mean, exactly?”

  “Thanks to the fire wall you built, the cabin wasn’t damaged at all—other than a lot of smoke. I’m working on cleaning it up to get rid of the smell. But the garage is a total loss. There is no insurance money to cover it.”

  He looked up at her. “My tools?”

  “Basically everything is a loss except for some chisels and wrenches—and maybe one fancy table saw that could be repaired.”

  He gave a gusty sigh. “I built that garage myself and until a few years ago I could have done it again. But not anymore. And I don’t have the money to have it done right.”

  “I’ve...um...actually had a really generous offer of help. Some local folks said they could—”

  “Who?”

  “Neighbors,” she hedged. “If the materials are supplied, they’ve offered to rebuild it.”

  Millie twisted her fingers together. “But those materials would still cost more than we could pay. Right, Warren?”

  Warren glowered at Sara. “Which neighbors?”

  “The Langfords. Jess, Devlin and Tate—if he’s still around. They thought they could—”

  Warren’s eyes sparked fire. “I won’t be a charity case. Not for the likes of them.”

  Sara soldiered on as if she hadn’t heard. “They thought they could get some of their friends together too. They just wouldn’t do any of the electrical work.”

  Warren’s chin jerked up in silent defiance.

  “One last thing—the cabin needs home insurance. It ought to be my responsibility and I can take care of it today, if you don’t mind.”

  Millie frowned at her husband, her lips pressed tightly together. “You go ahead, dear, but give us the bill. No sense losing the cabin too. But as I’ve said before, you need to stay clear of that family. Every last one of them. Warren always said you couldn’t trust ’em far as you could throw them, and he was right.”

  “But, Aunt Millie—”

  Her aunt took her hand, led her into the bedroom and shut the door. Millie took a little upholstered chair in the corner and motioned for Sara to sit on the edge of the bed.

  “I know you have a good heart, but you weren’t in Pine Bend when we lost the ranch. There are things you need to know.”

  “I know the bank foreclosed because of debt—and maybe Gus was behind it,” Sara said slowly. “And I know Warren begged the banker for an extension that was denied.”

  “That’s all true. But we were behind by just two months, and Warren told the bank that we would have a load of cattle to ship in sixty days, which would have more than covered it.”

  “They wouldn’t hold off just a little longer?”

  “They could have. It
was an entirely arbitrary decision by the banker, but he had that right and he used it. A friend of Warren’s told him Gus was at the bank time and again, behind closed doors, demanding some kind of favor...and within a week the banker called in our loans. The timing couldn’t have been worse—late winter, when we had no crops or hay to sell, and no cattle ready for market,” Millie said bitterly. “We could never prove it, but I think the timing was planned. Then the auction was scheduled quickly, with little promotion.”

  “I’m so sorry, Aunt Millie. Truly.”

  “Gus picked up our ranch for a song and managed to get most of the livestock and equipment for pennies on the dollar. Few people figured they could win the bidding against him, so when they realized he was there, snapping everything up, they didn’t even try. I will never forget his smug expression when he looked at us at the end of the day, while he was getting into his fancy truck.”

  “But his boys had all moved away from home by then. Right? None of this was their fault.”

  “Maybe I’m wrong, but I’m sure I saw one of them helping the auctioneer—hauling things out of the barn. We only took the furnishings that would fit in the cabin, and watching him dragging our things out of the house to be sold for pennies just broke my heart.”

  Sara had known the basic facts, but until now she hadn’t felt the full impact of what had happened. How quickly and callously a whole lifetime of hard work could be swept away.

  She moved closer and reached out to take Millie’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  Millie sighed heavily. “We heard neighbors crowing about how cheaply they bought this thing or that, and we watched our entire lives go under the auctioneer’s gavel as if it meant nothing to anyone. It might have been better if we’d stayed away.”

  “If I’d only known, I could have come back. Tried to help somehow. Why didn’t you call me? Or write?”

  Millie rested her other hand on top of Sara’s. “What could you have done? You needed to be in school. Nothing would have stopped Gus Langford at that point. He’d already snapped up the Cavanaughs’ ranch, and he knew what he was about.”