Snowbound with the Cowboy Page 8

  “It’s a fancy university,” Betty added with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Abby isn’t one to ever boast, but I was snoopy and looked it up on my computer. It’s one of the top ten programs in the whole country and admission is highly competitive. We’re very proud of our Abby. And Chloe too. She has a master’s in...was it in publishing? No—creative writing. She even sent a young adult novel off to a publisher last summer.”

  “And she submitted a cookbook to a different publisher,” Abby added. “She hasn’t heard anything yet, but we’re sure she’ll succeed. She’s a wonderful writer.”

  “Goodness. I’m impressed.”

  “During spring semester she’s been teaching at a college near Butte, so we just see her on weekends now and then,” Abby said as she ladled bowls of stew and handed them around the table, then passed the herb butter and basket of rolls. “Tate tells me that you had a lot of rescue animals in your cabin, but they’re all at his place now.”

  “I’m grateful that he suggested it. Otherwise I would’ve had two long trips into town tonight, and there isn’t really enough space at the clinic anyhow.”

  “Very handy, indeed.” Betty glanced between Tate and Sara, a gleam of curiosity in her eyes and a faint smile playing on her lips. “I believe I remember you from years ago, dear. Weren’t you and Tate friends, senior year?”

  Sara knew a matchmaker when she saw one, and could already imagine the wheels turning in Betty’s head. “Friends. I remember him being a really nice kid back then.”

  Betty smiled at Tate and chuckled. “I know some folks said you could be a bit rambunctious at times. But you were always just the sweetest, most affectionate little boy.”

  The back door closed with a soft click and Sara looked over her shoulder.

  Jess had come inside. He flipped his Stetson onto a hook and hung up his jacket, then shucked off his boots. “Yes he was,” he drawled, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Our little Tater was absolutely the sweetest ever...and he still is. Right, Grandma?”

  “Boys. Enough. Jess, you be quiet and go wash up so you can have some blueberry pie.” Abby rolled her eyes. “They’re all grown men, but when the brothers are in the same room it’s like a pack of fifth graders. Don’t pay any attention.”

  “That’s because Jess and Devlin never really grew up,” Tate said solemnly. “It’s a constant trial for us all.”

  Jess came back into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee, offered everyone else some, then took a chair at the end of the table. “We’ve got a brand-new paint filly. Pretty little head and the wildest markings I’ve seen. Ten down and five more mares to go.”

  “The girls will be thrilled.” Abby exchanged weary glances with Betty. “We had quite a time getting them to sleep this evening. They’ve missed all of the other foals and didn’t want to miss this one too.”

  “But you never know how long things will take. The mare could’ve waited to foal until the middle of the night.” Betty headed for the coffeepot and offered refills, then eyed the table. “Is everyone ready for pie?”

  Sara jumped to her feet and helped deliver the dessert plates to the table as Betty cut each slice and topped it with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, while Abby cleared the table.

  “This pie is amazing,” Sara exclaimed after her first bite. “I am in awe.”

  “So am I.” Abby gave Betty an affectionate pat on the arm. “I have watched her over and over and have taken copious notes, but my pies still don’t come close. It has to be a gift.”

  Sara had come into this home feeling stressed and worn-out, only thinking about a hot shower and a soft bed. But now she glanced around at everyone at the table and absorbed the sense of family—the obvious camaraderie, the love, the gentle teasing. A sense of wistfulness washed through her. This was what she had always dreamed of as a child.

  From the time she’d been old enough to be at home alone she had been—while her parents worked long hours and volunteered their spare time to good causes, barely landing at home to bicker and sleep before starting the next day of commitments to career and community.

  Sara had resented her loneliness: all of the times she’d had no parent in the crowd at a school event or someone to talk to at home. She’d felt guilty over selfishly begrudging her parents the time they’d spent on people and causes more important to them than any sense of family life.

  There’d been no sweet grandma like Betty at home to take up the slack...no siblings to fill the void. Just the sorry example of what marriage was like, which had dogged her ever since and kept her from ever risking that same mistake. So why on earth had she kissed Tate?

  Simple gratitude. That had to be it.

  He’d given her a feeling of warmth and security, when he’d kept his arm around her shoulders after the fire. Something she’d rarely felt. Surely just the kindness of a friend and nothing more.

  Though, from the startled look on his face, her kiss hadn’t exactly been a welcome gesture. Her cheeks burning, she’d quickly turned away and hadn’t looked back.

  She shoved aside her maudlin thoughts and found Betty watching her with concern in her faded blue eyes.

  “We shouldn’t be chattering away and keeping you up—you must be nearly dead on your feet.” Betty stood and put her dishes in the sink. “Come with me, and we’ll get you settled. Did you have any clothing I can wash and dry for you?”

  “I...um...did bring a small bag, but you don’t need to do that for me.” She went to fetch the small plastic bag she’d dropped by the front door. “Just point me to the laundry room.”

  “Goodness, no.” Betty held out her hand until Sara reluctantly gave it to her. “I’ll do that while you are getting ready for bed.”

  “I’ll check on all of your animals when I get home,” Tate called out. “Any instructions?”

  She paused at the kitchen door and turned. “I brought their food and put it in the tack room. I’ll be over first thing in the morning to take care of them. Thanks, Tate, for everything.”

  Betty led her to a bedroom at the end of the hall with a flower-sprigged wallpaper, lacy curtains and a pretty pastel quilt on the bed.

  “Abby and I just made up the bed with clean sheets, and that stack of towels on the dresser is for you. We thought you might be more comfortable in here since it has its own bathroom and shower.”

  “It’s lovely. Thank you so much.”

  Betty tsked under her breath as she turned back a corner of the quilt and top sheet and fluffed the pillows. “Now you try to sleep as late as you can. I’m sure Tate can figure out the feeding of whatever you’ve stowed at his place, so don’t worry about that. Promise? If we’ve all gone to church by the time you’re up, I’ll have a nice breakfast laid out for you when you get up.”

  Between the sweetly feminine room, a hovering, solicitous grandma, the family’s kindness and all that had happened today, Sara felt her eyes start to burn. “I—I can’t thank you enough, Betty.”

  “Everything will be all right, dear. When I start to worry, I remember my favorite Bible verse in Philippians, and just give it over to God. ‘In every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.’ That one always feels so reassuring.”

  As if she sensed Sara’s brimming emotions, Betty gave her a warm hug and patted her back. There was a twinkle in her eyes when she stepped away. “Maybe this was all part of God’s plan for you—coming back when you did. Maybe you’ll discover a more wonderful future than you ever expected. Sleep well.”

  Long after she’d taken a long, hot shower, Sara snuggled under the covers, but sleep eluded her as worries endlessly circled through her thoughts like moths orbiting a security light, worries that had plagued her for some time and now loomed even larger after th
e fire.

  The long-term owner of her clinic had been a curmudgeon, from all the accounts she’d heard, so the clinic hadn’t been as busy and profitable as it could’ve been. That, followed by two new owners in less than a year, wasn’t exactly a confidence builder for clients.

  She had to build the clientele, and soon.

  The clinic mortgage payments had to be paid monthly, absolutely on time. She’d be paying off her vet-school loans until she was old and gray. Just as important, she would be making regular house payments to Warren and Millie.

  Every. Single. Month.

  But now there was her other worry—insurance on the cabin. Millie and Warren went to bed promptly at nine, and there was no point awakening them—especially if the call would upset them. It would be far better to see them in person before they heard the news from someone else.

  If there was no insurance, she would pay for all of the repairs herself...because she knew full well that they didn’t have the money.

  But when she finally started to drift off to sleep, it wasn’t the clinic, the fire or her monumental debts that were swimming through her thoughts. It was the twinkle in Betty’s eyes before she’d wished Sara good-night, coupled with the moment Sara had impulsively kissed Tate...

  And the crazy wish that someday, he would kiss her back.

  Chapter Six

  Tate’s grandma Betty hadn’t been kidding about breakfast.

  Caramel rolls. Homemade cinnamon-streusel bread. A fruit platter. And she’d also left a sweet note thanking Sara for coming, asking for her cell phone number and directing her to the breakfast casserole in the fridge, with directions for reheating portions in the microwave or stove.

  Sara had heard the family’s SUV pulling out just as she was getting dressed and felt a stab of regret, knowing she should have gone to church, as well. But she’d awakened too late. And though Betty had washed her clothes and left them neatly folded by her bedroom door, none of them were respectful enough for church—just old jeans and faded T-shirts, coupled with the smoky, battered hiking boots she’d worn when she’d come last night.

  All of her animals were probably complaining about the breakfast delay and driving Tate crazy by now, though. She needed to get over there and take care of them, visit Warren and Millie and start cleaning up smoke damage at the cabin. And after the volunteer fire chief investigated the fire origin, the garage, as well.

  A busy day.

  She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, hoping to quiet the headache starting to build, then poured hot coffee into the travel mug Betty had left for her, ate quickly and went back to strip the linens in her room.

  Forty minutes later she pulled up at the barns at Warren and Millie’s ranch—now just another division of the Langford ranch, she reminded herself.

  From within the horse barn she heard the sound of dogs barking and the muffled sound of the parrot rapping out one of the Hamilton songs...probably the fourth one on the album, so he had a ways to go in his repertoire.

  The racket increased when she stepped inside the barn, where she found Tate brushing a fidgety bay gelding cross-tied in the aisle. Tate glanced at her and nodded hello, then led the horse down the aisle to a box stall.

  As soon as she spoke, the dogs started yelping and jumping against the front of the two box stalls she’d commandeered for them yesterday. The cats began yowling in the tack room.

  And now Theodore began yelling his usual refrain when he thought it was time to eat. “Emergency! Emergency! Ringadingding!” in a voice loud enough to wake the dead.

  Where on earth had he learned that—from a cartoon show?

  “Really sorry about the noise,” she called out. “I promise I’ll have all of the animals gone by tomorrow for sure. Maybe even tonight.”

  Tate didn’t answer and she thought he might be frustrated and angry.

  But when he turned to walk back up the aisle with a young paint, she could see he was laughing and she felt a funny little rush of awareness wash through her.

  “I’ll have to say that this has been an experience,” he drawled. “If you deal with this noise all the time, I think you deserve a medal.”

  “No—the animals were settled at the cabin. Once I get them all fed they should be better. Has it been...um...really difficult while handling the horses?”

  He cross-tied the mare and began brushing her. “It’s been fine, actually. Every new experience—every different sort of ruckus to tolerate—is good exposure. I usually have a radio station on loud for the same reason, but your friends have been more than enough.”

  She turned and went into the tack room to feed her cats and Theodore. Four of the cats fled past her boots before she could stop them and disappeared into the hay stall. Only one came for her kittykittykitty dinner call—the pure white female.

  “Sorry,” she muttered as she came out with stacked pans of dry dog food. “A few cats got away from me.”

  “That’s a relief. Three got away when I carried a saddle out into the aisle. I was feeling pretty guilty.” She thought she saw a twinkle in his eyes. “So at least it’s not only me.”

  “It’ll probably just be easier to let them be loose in the barn, from now on. I promise I’ll get the rescues all caught when I take my animals home.” She put three pans of kibble for large dogs in one stall, and three pans of kibble for smaller dogs in the other, then filled both water pails. “Thanks again for all of your help yesterday.”

  He rested a heavy saddle pad on the paint’s back, then settled the saddle into place so gently that it might not have weighed more than a feather. The mare’s ears swiveled, but she didn’t flinch. “I didn’t do that much. But you’re welcome, anytime.”

  “And thanks for setting me up with a night at Jess and Abby’s place. You were right—it would have been smoky and miserable back at the cabin.”

  He looked up from cinching the saddle. “So what do you think of my grandma?”

  She leaned against the front of a stall. “She seemed familiar, so I must have seen her a time or two at school events. She’s such a sweetheart.”

  “That she is.” His lips twitched. “She also fancies herself as the family matchmaker, so consider yourself forewarned. After you went to bed she must have spent ten minutes at the table, extolling your virtues.”

  Since Jess and Devlin were taken, that left Tate...and that knowledge did something funny to her insides.

  “I doubt it would take that long to list my better qualities,” Sara said dryly. “She must have made some up.”

  “We all thought she made a good case. Especially when Grandma waggled her finger under my nose and said you were way too good for me. Jess really liked that part.”

  Sara guessed his crafty grandma was trying to entice him with forbidden fruit. “She does know you’re leaving in a few months, right?”

  “Sure does.” He bridled the mare, then looked at Sara and grinned. “But when Grandma comes up with an idea, such barriers don’t always matter. Therefore, I’m apologizing in advance for anything she says or does that might be...awkward.”

  Sara suppressed a smile. “Like saying that I’ve arrived at the perfect time—assuming that’s because you’re home now—or that I might have a more wonderful future than I ever could have guessed? From that mischievous sparkle in her eyes, I think she’s already counting on wedding bells. Just so you know.”

  Tate groaned. “Sorry. Like I said—”

  “No worries. I just need to let her know that I’m totally wrapped up in my career and have no plans to ever settle down.” Sara rolled her eyes. “Even if I wanted to, I’d be an awful choice thanks to my awe-inspiring mountain of debt. Which, sadly, probably just got a whole lot worse.”

  “Because of the fire?”

  Sara glanced at the big white clock on the wall and nodded. “I just hope Warren and Betty have insurance.
They handle all that, and I guess I assumed it would be rolled in with their other policies—life and auto. They should be home from church by the time I get there, and believe me, I’ll be doing some praying along the way.”

  She did exactly that on her way into town, then found herself hesitating to knock on their door. What if Warren became upset and had another stroke? Or Millie burst into tears over the home she’d loved so much?

  Sara took a deep breath and knocked lightly, then a little louder. “Are you home?”

  She heard the shuffling of feet across the wood floor, then the door opened wide. Warren stood before her in his dress slacks and a button-down plaid shirt.

  “Well,” he said gruffly. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”

  Millie hovered at his elbow. “What a wonderful surprise, dear. The Weavers just dropped us off after church. Can you stay for lunch?”

  “Um...no. I just wanted to share some news with you. In person.”

  Warren waved her in toward the sofa and closed the door, then slowly headed for his recliner. “I don’t suppose this would be about the fire.”

  She felt her mouth drop open. “You heard?”

  Millie nodded. “The entire volunteer fire department attends Pine Bend Community Church, so there was a lot of talk. Something like that is big news in a small town.”

  “We heard that you and your pets were safe, so that was a relief,” Warren added. “What we haven’t heard about was the cause. Or the degree of damage.”

  “Gene—the fire chief—is going back today so he can take a longer look. Last night he guessed a bare wire might’ve sparked in the garage wall, behind the electrical panel. He said mice might’ve chewed on the wire insulation.” She took a deep breath. “The cabin filled with smoke, but wasn’t touched by the fire. I’ll scrub the walls and floors, and run fans to try to clear out the smell.”

  “And the garage? I had a lot of tools and equipment in there.”

  “I haven’t been inside, but the interior looks pretty well charred. I couldn’t guess at the dollar amount. Which is why...” She said another brief, silent prayer. “The insurance adjuster needs to come out. Would you have his name and your policy number?”