Snowbound with the Cowboy Page 18

  “Oh, Abby—I’m so thrilled for you!” Chloe gave her a heartfelt hug, then stepped back to look at Abby head to toe. “When?”

  “Late October.”

  Abby looked at Jess with a smile so filled with love and happiness that Sara’s heart caught, then melted. “Congratulations—both of you. This is so exciting!”

  It was hard to imagine feeling such joy.

  She glanced at Tate and their eyes met. Held. And then he gave her that heart-stopping quarter smile that never failed to enchant her.

  Especially after this past week.

  They’d once resolved to be friends. But after they decided to ditch that charade and see where that led them, she’d discovered a side of him she’d never expected. The tall, broad-shouldered rodeo cowboy was a true romantic at heart. Who knew?

  Their days were still filled with work, but at night he brought her flowers. Took her to dinner. And—he’d even watched three chick flicks without complaint, back-to-back. Maybe they’d once tried to maintain the distance of good friends, but he was definitely making up for it now.

  They’d even started talking about a future together and Tate told her he had never been happier.

  The pony lifted her head and snorted, her ears pricked. Bella turned toward the barn door. “Momma! Who is that?”

  A slender, curvy figure posed in the doorway, one hand on the doorframe and the other on the hip of her short, short, short cutoff denims. Behind her Sara could see the rusted tailgate of an old green Chevy pickup.

  In the doorway she was silhouetted by the afternoon sun, but there was no mistaking that pause for effect, or the feline grace of her walk as she headed straight for Tate.

  Sara’s mouth dropped open, then she clamped it shut when the woman slithered straight up to him, flung her arms around his neck like a needy octopus and planted a kiss square on his mouth.

  “Uh...girls, we need to go back to the house. Right now. I...forgot something. Cookies. We need to make cookies.” Abby grabbed the twins and hustled them out of the barn. “You too, Jess. Now.”

  Chloe shot a sympathetic glance at Sara, turned away to grab Devlin’s arm and then they too were gone, leaving Sara to watch in frozen horror as the woman leaned back a little and framed Tate’s face with her scarlet-tipped fingers.

  She gave him a seductive smile. “I’ve missed you. It’s been way too long, so I thought I’d better check on you. You need to come back.”

  The woman’s cowboy hat wasn’t a Resistol or a Stetson, the Western boots were more flash than function. She wore a tight Western plaid shirt that exposed her flat, willowy midsection.

  She looked like a cowgirl version of a human Barbie doll, and Tate wasn’t exactly resisting.

  So this was what he wanted—flash and sparkle, not some ordinary woman who usually wore plain vet-clinic coveralls with a stethoscope slung around her neck.

  Embarrassed, humiliated, Sara felt her cheeks turn to flames. Then she too escaped the barn to leave the happy couple—especially the lying, deceptive cowboy—in peace.

  Before she said something she would regret.

  His words came back to her as she drove away and she gritted her teeth. He’d once said buckle bunny fan girls wore tight clothes, Western boots and a lot of makeup.

  He hadn’t said he didn’t have any buckle bunnies in his past. He’d only said that he discouraged them. And he’d described the woman in his arms to a T.

  It was certainly a revelation, and Sara only wished she’d seen it sooner. If this was the kind of woman he preferred, then these past weeks had been a farce. Probably just something to while away his time as he waited for the auction and his rodeo life to begin again.

  She had been a fool.

  Chapter Seventeen

  After checking on the newborn foal at the Parker ranch, Sara went home to shower and change clothes.

  Going back to Tate’s place to quietly pick up her remaining animals was too great a risk right now. He and his long-lost girlfriend had probably gone there to continue their reunion, and the thought of running into them again made her stomach clench.

  Instead, she headed for Pine Bend to check on a post-surgery case at her clinic, and then went to check on Warren and Millie.

  Millie’s welcoming smile turned to worry the instant she opened the door. “Oh dear—come in. Is something wrong?”

  Warren leaned forward in his recliner to peer at her, then leaned back. The white cat, like always, was in his lap. “She looks fine to me.”

  “I am, Uncle Warren. Maybe just a little tired.”

  Millie’s expression of concern didn’t waver. “Come, have a nice cup of tea. I made banana bread this morning. Would you like some?”

  “Just tea would be fine.” She could detect the aroma of Millie’s moist nutmeg-and-cinnamon-spiced banana bread, but today she knew it would taste like sawdust. “Can I make the tea for you?”

  Millie flapped a hand in dismissal. “Just go say howdy to Warren. He’s been in a bit of a mood today.”

  Sara sat next to him and rested a hand on his. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Hhhhmpf.”

  “Is that like A-okay? Or just middling?”

  “Ask your aunt. She’s the one who thinks we need assistance. I’m fine staying right here.”

  “Ahhh.” Sara shot a questioning look at Millie.

  “He opened a letter from the assisted-living place,” Millie said when she brought over two cups of tea and then went back for her own. “It could be months or even a year before they could offer us an apartment.” She rested a hand on Warren’s arm and raised her voice so he could hear clearly. “It won’t be anytime soon—even if we wanted to. And we can always decline.”

  He stroked the cat with a gnarled hand. “What if they don’t take cats?”

  “They do, Warren. Remember? It’s right on the contract. I promise you we won’t ever go anywhere without your cat.”

  From what Sara could see, they would need assisted living sooner rather than later, and declining wouldn’t be an option.

  Warren’s eyes grew heavy and he seemed to be dozing off. Millie tipped her head toward the kitchen table and touched a forefinger to her lips.

  At the table, she cut two slices of banana bread and set out butter, plates and forks. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”

  “Nothing, really.” The understatement almost made Sara laugh.

  There wouldn’t be anything going on ever again, thanks to the surprise appearance of Tate’s girlfriend. No walks under the stars. No late-night talks in front of the fireplace.

  No talk of a future together.

  “Well. I don’t believe you, but I don’t want to pry, either.” Millie stirred sugar and a little milk into her tea. “So I’ll tell you something instead—and it’s something I’m ashamed to admit.”

  “I can’t believe that. You’re the kindest, sweetest person I know.”

  Millie snorted. “I wish that were true, but we’re all sinners and I’ve done my share. And far more.”

  The fragrant scent of the banana bread proved too hard to resist. Sara gave one to Millie, and took the other. And then she waited for Millie to continue.

  “I fancied I was a good Christian. I always go to church—or the chapel service they have at the Senior Center. I read my Bible and try to hold my favorite verses in my heart.”

  Sara nodded.

  “And I know only God has the right to judge others, not me, no matter who or what they are. It’s sinful to hold a grudge. We’re supposed to love each other, not hate.”

  Now Sara knew where this was heading.

  “Yet I’ve spent eight years despising a neighbor and extending that resentment to his entire, innocent family. Resenting all of them for what in truth was our own failure.”

  “The ranch,” Sara said quie
tly.

  Millie nodded. “I’ve only wanted to lay the blame on Gus Langford’s greed. But in truth, we would have lost the ranch anyway, before long. Warren could no longer manage all of the work. Our medical bills were staggering. The drought...” Her voice trailed off. “Well, maybe Gus escalated things. But that’s just who he was. My job was to forgive, accept what was and move on with grace. And I failed.”

  Sara’s own debacle today suddenly seemed very small, and she felt a flash of guilt for dwelling on it. “I know it was hard on you, and I am so sorry.”

  “When you came back to town I warned you to stay away from the youngest Langford boy. I thought he was no better than his father, so I told you that you deserved more.”

  “I remember.”

  “Do you know he came right up to our door one day?”

  Sara’s mouth fell open.

  “To my shame, there probably isn’t a person in town who doesn’t know how Warren and I felt about that family. Yet Tate and his brother came to our door, knocked, and Tate talked to us. He didn’t back down when Warren raised his voice. He just waited him out, then explained again. All he wanted was permission to do you—and us—a great kindness.”

  Realization dawned. “He asked your permission to raze the garage?”

  Millie nodded. “He wanted to take care of it for no cost, and he wanted it to be a surprise for you when you got home.”

  She’d thought he’d simply come over to do it, not realizing that he’d had the class to ask. She swallowed, thinking about the other ways Tate had been thoughtful and kind.

  “He even puts up with obnoxious parrots,” she said softly.

  “I don’t know anything about parrots.” A sad smile touched Millie’s lips. “But a little bird told me that you were with Tate Langford at church on Easter, and that he seemed to be sweet on you.”

  Seemed to be was certainly correct.

  “If that’s true, I don’t want you to miss happiness because of anything I’ve said about him or his family. He’s a fine young man, and I was wrong to judge. I just want to ask your forgiveness.”

  * * *

  Feeling uncomfortable about any further awkward encounters with Tate and his girlfriend, Sara lingered at the café in town over an early supper until Tate would have completed his chores, then she slipped out to his ranch.

  His truck was gone, she noticed with relief, so she collected the parrot, three dogs and the only two rescue cats she could find, left him a terse note about the missing cat, and then headed for home.

  As she drove up to the cabin she surveyed the space where the garage had been—an empty twenty-two by thirty cement rectangle where Tate and his brothers had worked so hard to surprise her.

  Kind hearts. Thoughtful people.

  Even if one of them was completely dishonest.

  She didn’t expect to see them much anymore, though. The delightful Sunday dinners, celebrations for births of babies and other family events wouldn’t include a veritable stranger once Tate was gone.

  She let the three dogs run for a bit before bringing them inside, brought in the cats, then picked up the parrot cage and lugged it into the cabin.

  She pulled off the fabric cover. “Almost dinnertime, Ted.”

  The miffed parrot ruffled his feathers, stretched out his wings and twisted his head to peer at her with one beady golden eye. He launched into his favorite rap song, then paused and started again. “Emergency! Emergency! Ringadingding!”

  She laughed. “You got that right, buddy.” But the cabin no longer smelled of smoke, and life was good—except for a minor hiccup—and she’d forget him soon enough.

  A text chimed into her phone.

  Then another.

  Any emergencies would come via her pager, so she turned the phone off and tossed it on the counter.

  If she’d only heard secondhand about Tate’s relationship with some floozy, she wouldn’t have taken it at face value. She would have talked to him. Worked at being fair. Discovered the truth. But what she’d seen wasn’t just a tale spread by a malicious gossip.

  That woman knew him. Kissed him as if she’d done it a thousand times, and he certainly hadn’t pushed her away.

  It was time to move on, and that’s what she intended to do.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sara had intended to move on with her life and not look back. She had no doubt that Tate would return to his original plan, head for the rodeo company auction in one week with his scantily clad friend and start his new career.

  She didn’t expect to see him show up at the clinic first thing the next morning with two crates of barking puppies.

  Wishing Neta was here to greet him, she slid a glance to the appointment book on the front desk. “Vaccinations,” she said wearily. “Come on back. First exam room.”

  The puppies were all fat, wiggly bundles of pure energy, and it took a while to give each one a simple exam, administer its vaccinations and fill out a health form Tate could give to its future owner. With their wildly different colors, at least it was easy to keep track.

  She put the final pup back in its cage and handed Tate the stack of documents. “They all seem to be in excellent health,” she said stiffly. “Neta isn’t here today, so I’ll have her send you a bill.”

  He lifted the cages. “About yesterday—”

  “No need to explain.”

  “But—”

  “This whole situation is awkward and a little embarrassing, to tell the truth. But I understand now. We’re just friends, Tate. And I’m honestly not interested in anything more. I do wish you the best, but please don’t feel you need to offer any excuses.” She ushered him toward the front door, then turned to the next client and waved her toward the hallway. “Second exam room on the right, Mrs. Conway.”

  There were several clients with dogs and cats in the waiting room and Tate’s puppies began barking excitedly at all of the interesting new scents. Sara heard the noise fade as he went out the door, then stop as the door closed behind him.

  She listened for a moment, almost wishing he would come back inside and tell her in no uncertain terms that he’d sent the other woman packing. That yesterday there’d been a terrible misunderstanding and he cared only for her. But Sara was no fool, and she knew that was unrealistic.

  Or was it?

  She’d seen a flash of raw emotion in his eyes when she’d turned him away a moment ago...just enough to make her second-guess her feelings and give her a small ember of hope.

  But when Sara left for home at five o’clock, she saw the rusted tailgate of an all-too-familiar green rusty Chevy truck parked in front of a strip motel on the edge of town.

  And there was Tate’s truck, parked right beside it.

  * * *

  Tate tossed his hammer in the toolbox and stripped off his leather gloves, then stepped back to survey the work he and Devlin had done on the Branson house over the past week. “So what do you think? Pretty nice?”

  “I think you should stay right here instead of gallivanting all over the country. Been there, done that, and I still don’t get why you want to leave all of this behind. What kind of life is that?” Devlin pulled on his faded denim jacket. “You’ve got a fine place here, in a part of God’s most beautiful country. You have family. Grandma, who isn’t going to live forever.”

  He had a point, but Tate just shrugged. “I can always visit.”

  “Whatever.” Dev pocketed his billfold and cell phone on his way to the back door. “Drive safe tomorrow, Tater. And good luck. Just remember what—and who—you could have had here if you hadn’t messed it all up.”

  Tate couldn’t argue with that.

  But he’d done what he came to do—he’d helped Jess and Dev as much as he could with what time he had, and he’d already taken the training horses back to the main ranch for Jess to keep riding.


  During his time back home he’d discovered a surprising truth. He truly wanted to stay. To live out his life as a rancher, and be closer to his family.

  But the thought of living in Montana, knowing he would still run into Sara and maybe see her marry someone else, made it easier for him to leave.

  After a sleepless night he threw his duffel bag in the back of his truck before dawn, took one last look at the house and headed south toward Denver.

  It was twelve or thirteen hours, with stops for fuel and food. If the weather stayed clear and traffic light. He’d be at his hotel by evening and at the auction at noon tomorrow. And if the good Lord was willing to answer his prayers, he’d soon be the owner of a rodeo company and well on his way to the life he’d always wanted.

  His headlights cut a narrow swath of light through the darkness as he drove on, then a faint pink blush began creeping above the eastern horizon. He turned the radio on, then off. Shoved a CD into the slot but tired of that too. Dev’s words were still running through his mind when the sun was high overhead.

  Dev had made it sound so easy. Just go talk to her, he’d insisted.

  But Dev hadn’t seen the look of disgust and hurt in her eyes when she’d ushered him out of the vet clinic and told him he shouldn’t come back. And Dev hadn’t tried to text her a dozen times or send emails that she’d probably deleted on sight.

  Tate had tried to explain as best he could, in those messages, but Sara hadn’t responded to them—perhaps she hadn’t even bothered to read them. And that told him all he needed to know. She didn’t trust him. And she definitely didn’t care.

  He’d always known he wasn’t worthy of a woman like her—even before the incident at the barn. And he’d finally given up.

  He drove a few more miles, and Dev’s words hit him again. Why was he so driven to leave Montana and spend his life on the road?

  It wasn’t about the money earnings and the big gold trophy buckles anymore. It wasn’t the adrenaline rush of competition and seeing his name rising in the standings for year-end championships.