Snowbound with the Cowboy Read online

  When had anyone been concerned about where she was or if she made it safely home? It was surely only because she was so tired, but she felt her eyes burn. “Thanks,” she whispered.

  She drove away without looking back. But she had no doubt that he was watching her leave, and that he would be waiting for her text.

  And it filled her with an unfamiliar sense of peace. Or was it something more?

  * * *

  Tate stepped back to let Grandma Betty slide into the pew next to Jess and Devlin, then settled in beside her. Abby wasn’t back from California yet, and Chloe hadn’t returned this weekend. He leaned close to Betty’s ear. “Just like old times with your three rowdy little boys?”

  She patted his knee fondly and smiled. “Not so little anymore, but I’m still hoping you’ll all behave.”

  He scanned the sanctuary, looking for familiar faces.

  There were a few—some local ranchers and their families. The owner of the grocery store, and several of his old teachers. But disappointment seeped through him when he realized that the faces he was really searching for—Sara, and the uncle and aunt she would probably sit with, weren’t here. Maybe the snow and cold had kept the elderly couple home. And maybe Sara had slept in. She’d certainly looked exhausted when she left for home.

  He settled back in the pew and looked at the tall stained glass windows that lined each side of the sanctuary toward the front. Twelve in all, they each depicted a familiar Bible story, while above the altar, Jesus with a flock of sheep filled a huge rectangular stained glass window and sent beams of jewel-toned sunshine over the pews.

  The familiar scents of burning candles and lemon furniture polish brought back memories one after another.

  The cloying scent of carnations and roses at Heather’s funeral, her tiny casket at the front of the church and Mom quietly weeping with her arm holding him close. Mom’s own funeral less than a year later, though there’d been no comforting hugs then.

  Dad had been insistent about the boys showing a strong, brave face because men—especially Langford men—didn’t cry. Jess and Devlin had remained stoically silent, their faces awash with tears. But at six years old Tate had collapsed with grief and someone had taken him outside until he could collect himself and return.

  And then there were the less painful memories...because after that day Dad never again crossed the threshold of the church until his own funeral, so it was Betty who took the boys every Sunday.

  As a kid he’d spent much of his time in church fidgeting in the pew and counting the tiny, intricate pieces of stained glass, or imagining himself in those Biblical settings. Now, from an adult perspective, he felt a sense of awe at the artistry and craftsmanship that could draw a person in with vivid colors and deeply emotional appeal.

  The organist began to play “Beautiful Savior” just as she had at the beginning of every service he could remember. The congregation rose to sing the verses, then Pastor Bob led them in prayer.

  When everyone sat down for the sermon, Tate caught a glint of something at the corner of his eye. He looked over his shoulder.

  It was Sara, her hair loose and wavy this time, and a beam of sunshine had turned her blond hair to molten gold. A blush bringing roses to her cheeks, she slipped into the far end of the back pew.

  He nodded to her and she waggled her fingertips in return.

  Pastor Bob’s familiar, deep voice boomed from the front of the church, and Tate settled back in his pew.

  The pastor’s hair had turned to silver and he was more portly than Tate remembered, but the man had called him by name and given him a jovial welcome for coming back to church.

  Now the pastor’s voice rolled over the congregation like a gentle wave. “Today’s sermon is based on the twenty-first chapter of Matthew, verse 22. ‘And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive.’”

  “The power of prayer is so amazing, so awe-inspiring, yet some of us fail to understand and believe in this wonderful gift God grants us—the ability to speak to Him in prayer, with the understanding that He listens to each and every one of us. From the little child kneeling by her bed, to the elderly man as he lies dying.

  “And He answers. He always answers. Maybe it’s right away. Maybe it’s in God’s perfect timing that differs from ours. And maybe, in His infinite wisdom, that answer is not what we hoped. Now, what can we pray for? What should we ask? Is anything too great or too small? Let’s look at Corinthians...”

  The pastor’s voice faded away as Tate’s thoughts drifted. He shifted uncomfortably. Prayer.

  Just the word dredged up memories of tragedy and loss, and desperate pleas that surely hadn’t been answered if a loved one died anyway.

  He and his brothers had prayed so hard at Mom’s bedside. He and his buddies had prayed over Jace.

  Though the worst had been his desperate prayers over Heather’s lifeless body when she lay in the barnyard, because that had been his fault.

  Betty nudged him and he realized that everyone was standing now, singing a modern praise song he didn’t know. She pointed to the front of the sanctuary where the lyrics were scrolling down a large white screen.

  He stared at the screen, not really seeing the words, still caught up in his old memories. After Pastor Bob led the congregation in more prayers, the service was over.

  Guilt slid through him at his lack of attention as he followed the family to the vestibule, where Pastor Bob was shaking hands and wishing everyone well.

  “So good to have you back, son.” He gave Tate a double-handed clasp and a big smile. “It’s been a long while. I hear you’ve been a rodeo star all these years.”

  His effusive praise sent heat crawling up the back of Tate’s neck. “I got by, is all.”

  “Well, your grandma tells it differently, and she showed me a stack of championship trophy buckles you sent home to her. She’s very proud of you, you know.”

  “Yes, I am.” Betty slipped her arm through the crook of Tate’s elbow and gave it a little squeeze. “But if you’ll excuse me, I see someone I need to talk to.”

  Bob gave him a piercing look that seemed to peer straight into Tate’s soul. “I’m sorry to hear you’ll be leaving town again. But if you ever want to stop by and chat about anything, my coffeepot is always on and the door is always open.”

  “Uh...sure. Thanks.”

  “I always mention that to new folks and anyone who’s been gone awhile, just so they know.” The pastor lowered his voice. “I’ve known you since you were a little tyke, and couldn’t help but notice that you don’t quite seem like your old happy-go-lucky self. If there’s anything I can do...”

  “Guess I’ve just gotten older.” Tate dredged up a smile. “Thanks, though. See you next Sunday.”

  He caught up with Dev and Jess at the edge of the parking lot, and Betty joined them a moment later. “You said there was someone you wanted to see?”

  “Well.” Betty gave a disgruntled snort. “There certainly was. That pretty little veterinarian—but I don’t know what happened to her. I looked away and she disappeared.”

  “Ah, yes,” Devlin drawled, with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “The veterinarian. Jess tells me that you two are a perfect match. How’s that going?”

  Jess laughed. “Yeah, Tate. If you aren’t careful, you’re gonna lose out to some rancher a whole lot more handsome than you are.”

  “Boys,” Betty hissed. “Behave yourselves.”

  “Unlike you ‘boys,’ I have no plans to settle down. My life is on the road and that is never going to change.” Tate jingled the keys in his pocket. “I’m going to head out. See you around.”

  He caught the gleam of bright golden hair just a few feet away, in the midst of a family chattering about their newborn foal. She seemed to be trying to back away and to make her escape, and when he passed she looked up to g
ive him a knowing grin. She’d obviously overheard.

  He rolled his eyes. “Family.”

  She said something reassuring to the people surrounding her, then she caught up with him and slipped her hand into his. “You’re my getaway excuse,” she whispered with a soft laugh. “Otherwise I might have been there for an hour.”

  “I needed an escape route myself.”

  Her laughter made him smile.

  “Sorry—I couldn’t help but overhear. Your brothers are quite the comedians. They’re trying to marry you off, I take it. To me?”

  “Sorry about that. They were just joking. Next week it’ll be about something else.”

  “You’ve made it pretty clear that you want to get back on the road and leave this town behind.”

  “Yeah. I guess that’s why they think they’re hilarious. But...”

  “But what?”

  “When I got here I just wanted to pitch in at the ranch and help out for a while, but this town was the last place I wanted to be. I couldn’t wait to pack my bags.”

  “And now?”

  “I’m actually enjoying my time here. It’s nice, smelling the pines and looking out at the Rockies at sunset every day. Peaceful. I’m glad to have this time with my grandma, because you just never know what the future will bring. And,” he added with a low laugh, “despite their obnoxious manners, it’s been good connecting with my brothers again.”

  He stopped at the far edge of the church parking lot. “I’m parked out there, but I don’t see your truck. How did you get here?”

  “I stopped to pick up Warren and Millie for church, but Warren didn’t feel up to it.” She hiked her thumb toward a little red sedan. “They asked me to take their car and fill it up.”

  “Well...thanks for helping me last night. I expected discussion, not hard labor. Maybe I can return the favor?”

  She waved a hand dismissively. “No need. It was fun, being in that house again and imagining what can be done to it. I hope you’ll let me see your progress. Millie and Warren would be so—”

  She cleared her throat. “Well, I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job.”

  “I suppose they wouldn’t want anything changed, after all the years they lived there.”

  “Actually, Millie always dreamed of updating everything, but there just wasn’t the extra money. It’s just that it was...”

  “Hard to lose their home?”

  She nodded.

  “And a Langford making changes to their home would be painful.”

  “I’m afraid so. They seem to consider all Langfords as birds of the same feather, which is completely unfair. Your father handled his business, not you boys.” Her voice held a note of relief, as if she were glad to unburden herself of this truth. He could understand.

  “My brothers and I disagreed with him most of the time. But when you’re young you don’t have much choice.”

  “I totally understand. But my aunt and uncle are getting older now and not thinking as clearly as they once did. At this point they couldn’t have stayed on the ranch at any rate—even the cabin got to be too much for them. Now I’m trying to convince them to move into one of the senior townhomes where they would have assistance.”

  “That’s exactly where we would have been with my dad if he’d lived another decade—too stubborn to admit he needed help.”

  “I probably shouldn’t have shared quite so much with you.” She smiled faintly. “But I just wanted you to know in case you bump into them in town. My uncle has become more vocal with age, and I can’t guarantee he’ll be polite.”

  He was touched by her warning. She trusted him to understand. “I’ll try not to get in his way.”

  She glanced at her watch. “I suppose I’d better be off. A few more hours of work on my cabin and I hope I’ll be able to relieve you of your unexpected guests.”

  And then he’d rarely see her. It was a sobering thought.

  “I’ve become rather accustomed to that parrot’s constant singing. He’s certainly a change from the radio. And the cats have apparently made themselves right at home, so they aren’t any trouble. They show up for dinner and then disappear up into the hayloft.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t saying that you want to keep some of them. Right?”

  “Not to adopt—when I leave Lucy will be my only travel buddy. But I know you don’t have a lot of space in your cabin,” he said slowly. “And that the population sort of comes and goes.”

  “Correct. The director of a no-kill shelter in the next county thinks they’ll have room for three of the six dogs and one cat just two weeks from now. No luck on the singing parrot, though. I can’t imagine why.”

  “So as long as I’m at the ranch, just let them stay.”

  “Really?” Her eyes lit up. “You are amazing.”

  She started toward her uncle’s red sedan, then turned and gave him a quick hug. “Thank you!”

  She caught him off-balance and he had to take a step back. Her hair smelled of fresh lemons and she felt so soft and sweet that it was all he could do to stop himself from drawing her into a longer embrace. Lemons. Who knew they could smell so good?

  “Since I don’t need to finish the cabin right now, I’ll take the car back to Warren and pick up my truck. I need to come over to clean the parrot’s cage and take the dogs out for a run anyway, so then I’ll help you rip up the downstairs carpet if you’d like. Seems only fair if I can be useful.” She spun on her heel and waved as she headed for her car. “See you soon!”

  He stared after her, a little dazed.

  One minute, he’d expected his life would return to normal...just one monochrome, gray day after another once Sara and her menagerie moved on.

  But the next, he’d somehow managed to say the right thing and suddenly everything changed. At least for a while.

  It was all unfamiliar ground, and he didn’t even know what he should be hoping for when there could be no future in it.

  But at least Sara was staying.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sara looked out the window at the heap of old carpeting stacked on the covered porch. “What in the world can you do with all of that?”

  “I did some calling. The county landfill will take the old carpeting.” Tate took a sip of coffee. “And all of those trash sacks filled with carpet pad too.”

  She dropped her gaze to the newly bare hardwood floor under her feet. “I didn’t think it was possible, but I believe the first floor carpeting was as bad as the second. Just look at all of the stains. Generations of spills at the dining room table, I suppose. I remember knocking over a few glasses of milk myself as a kid. Are you going to refinish these floors yourself, or hire it done?”

  “After watching some YouTube videos and comparing the costs, I’ll do it myself. I can rent the equipment, but I’ll start upstairs in the small bedroom and work my way down. By the time I get to the living and dining rooms I hope I’ll be good at it.”

  “So you’ll need all of those tack strips taken up first. I can help with those, but after that I should probably go. Is the toolbox still upstairs?”

  “Yes, but you don’t need to,” he protested.

  “I know. But then you’ll be able to move along quicker and you don’t have a lot of time. I can’t wait to see what it looks like when you’re done.”

  She started up the stairs, and behind her, she heard a defeated sigh.

  “After all of this hard work, I really do owe you a favor,” he muttered as he followed her. “What about helping you with that incinerated garage? I know it won’t be replaced soon, but Jess has a front loader. We could clear it all away for you if you had a thirty-or forty-yard Dumpster dropped off.”

  It did look terrible—like a twisted, charred cadaver with a gaping maw where the garage door had been. Whenever she arrived home after dark and he
r headlights swept past it, it actually looked a little scary—thanks to watching a few too many horror movies with friends during her college days. She could almost imagine bears—or something worse—barreling out at her from the darkness.

  But her mail and package deliveries went to the clinic, so no one else ever had to look at the ruins but her. It could wait.

  “I know it all needs to go—every last piece of it,” she said firmly. “This summer I’ll hire someone to clear it all away. But you have enough on your plate already, and you’re letting the rescue animals stay here. That’s a huge blessing to me as it is.”

  * * *

  Sara had referred to herself as Type A, and if that meant being a hard worker who didn’t ever slow down, she fit the definition to a T...though why she was so all-fired insistent about helping him out he couldn’t guess.

  During the past two weeks she’d finished working at the clinic every day, then picked up a pizza on her way out to the ranch—or he threw something on the grill—and they had supper together before getting to work on the house.

  He’d begun to look forward to evenings all day, and their discussions about everything under the sun—politics, the latest news, global warming. Wild animal protections in the Rockies.

  Spending time with a well-educated, well-spoken woman was quite a change from the chatter of the giddy buckle bunnies who dogged his footsteps at the rodeos, wanting autographs and selfies, and begging for dates. Most of them were barely twenty, some barely out of high school, and all of them spelled trouble, as far as he was concerned.

  But Sara...she challenged him. Delighted him. And she’d insisted she only wanted a casual friendship, which lifted all the complications of awkward beginnings and divergent expectations. Without agendas on either side, they could both just enjoy whatever time they had and not think about anything else.

  Better yet, her delight at the gradual changes in the house made him want to work all the harder. At this rate he’d reach the goals he’d set for his stay in Montana with time to spare.