Snowbound with the Cowboy Read online

  Millie and Warren exchanged glances, then Millie worried at her lower lip. “I...don’t know, dear. We’ve been away from there for so long.”

  Sara’s heart sank. “Do you have files for important papers? Maybe a home safe?”

  “Just some papers in a desk drawer. I haven’t seen anything about that insurance.” She fiddled with her wedding rings. “Warren shredded boxes and boxes of papers from our big file cabinet before we moved. Did you see it then, Warren?”

  His brow furrowed. “I—I don’t remember.”

  They’d both had health problems, both were getting older. It was entirely possible that they’d let the policy lapse.

  When she’d moved back to town a month ago and they offered her free use of the cabin, she’d tried several times to get that information. But Millie had breezily waved aside her questions, saying It is all fine and I’ll get to it soon—I’ve surely got all of those papers somewhere.

  Dollar signs began rolling through Sara’s brain and her nagging headache threatened to come back full force. “Don’t worry about it—we’ll get this all figured out. Do you remember anything about the company name? Was there a local office here in town?”

  Millie suddenly brightened. “The magnet!”

  “What?”

  “I think there’s a magnet on the fridge. It was...yellow, I think.”

  The refrigerator was blanketed with Post-it notes, appointment reminders, photographs and postcards. Sara began to methodically work her way through the maze of messages. At last, she found a yellow magnet with the name of an insurance company and a phone number in faded red letters. Yes.

  She brought it to Millie. “Could this be it?”

  Millie peered at it. “Maybe. It certainly looks old.”

  “It’s Sunday, so they won’t answer. But at least we can see if there’s a recording so we know they’re still in business.” Sara punched the number into her cell phone and gripped it tightly, hoping.

  The rising three-tone notes of a “Sorry, this number has been disconnected” message dashed her hopes, but she googled Hobson Insurance, Pine Bend, Montana, on her cell phone just in case.

  Nothing.

  Millie’s face fell. “That isn’t good news.”

  Sara gave her a quick hug. “No worries. It’s possible that they changed their name or were absorbed by another company, and someone in town might know—maybe one of the other insurance adjusters. I can do some sleuthing on Monday.”

  “This could cost us so much money,” Millie moaned. “And all because we were careless.”

  “I promise you, it won’t cost you anything. If we can track down an insurance policy, we’re golden. If not, I’ll cover the repairs. It’s a privilege to be living there, after all.”

  “But it wasn’t your fault.”

  “You and Uncle Warren are letting me live there, and I appreciate that so much. But if you ever decide to let me buy it, you’ll have no more concerns at all. No pressure—I just want you and Uncle Warren to be happy.”

  As usual, Millie skirted the topic with a vague wave of her hand. “If there’s anything you need, be sure to tell us. You could sleep on our sofa here, if you’d like.”

  “Actually, there’s just one little favor, but I hate to ask.”

  “Anything.”

  Sara chose her words carefully. “Well...you know that I take in pets in need. And since the fire, things are in a bit of an uproar. There’s one pet that would do so much better in a quiet place like this, until I can find her a permanent home.”

  “Can’t have dogs,” Warren bellowed from his recliner.

  “It’s just a lonely little cat. Her owner passed away, and she’s not used to a lot of commotion.”

  “Poor, poor thing.” Millie’s face filled with sympathy. “The white one?”

  Sara nodded and raised her voice so Warren could hear clearly. “I promise it’s not for long, and if you have any troubles I can come get her right away. I’ll bring the litter box, food and litter, and keep you supplied with everything.”

  “Warren.” There was a hint of challenge in Millie’s voice, and it was clear that she wasn’t really asking.

  Warren got the message. He heaved a big sigh. “One cat. Just one.”

  “Thank you, dear,” Millie whispered to Sara, her eyes sparkling. “I just know that little kitty needs us, and you’ve just made my day.”

  * * *

  After riding three of the young horses, Tate headed over to the main ranch for Sunday dinner. Betty and Abby usually served at one o’clock, and between the two of them there was always an incredible Sunday meal on the table.

  There was always a lot of laughter, as well—something so lacking while he and his brothers were growing up in this house that it seemed as if the ranch were now on a different planet. And the twins were a hoot.

  Who would’ve guessed that Jess would turn out to be such a good dad? Those girls would be one of the things Tate missed the most after he left Montana.

  But today he didn’t want to linger into the midafternoon. Sara had a mess to clean up, and no one to help her. The least he could do was be neighborly.

  He stepped into the kitchen through the back door, and was immediately assailed by the two little blondes who each grabbed one of his hands.

  “Please, please—did you bring the puppies, Uncle Tate?” Bella cried.

  “We’ve been waiting and waiting and waiting,” Sophie chimed in. “Are they here?”

  Abby crossed the kitchen and rested a hand on each girl’s shoulder. “Let the poor man get his boots and jacket off before you assault him, girls.”

  They eagerly hopped from one foot to the other, their long blond ponytails dancing.

  When he had his boots and jacket off he leaned down and they jumped into his arms. He pretended to wobble just a little as he straightened. “You girls are getting too big for your poor uncle Tate.”

  Sophie giggled, “No, we aren’t. We’re only in first grade.”

  “And we turned seven in March,” Bella added proudly.

  Tate raised his eyebrows. “Really? I thought you were in...oh, fifth grade. At least.”

  Never one to be distracted from an agenda, Bella ignored his teasing. Her rosebud mouth formed a pout. “What about the puppies, Uncle Tate?”

  “They’re not even a full week old, so they aren’t ready to play just yet.”

  “But when?”

  “Their eyes won’t open until they’re two weeks old. At three weeks they’ll be ready to handle.”

  Sophie’s own eyes opened wide with obvious horror. “They can’t see? Why not?”

  He tousled her ponytail. “Their eyes aren’t quite finished developing, sweetie. The closed eyelids keep them safe until the eyes are ready.”

  Bella’s face fell. “I can’t play with them for another two weeks? That’s a long time.”

  “But, you know what? I’m really going to need your help, then. They will need gentle holding and petting every day so they’ll be socialized.”

  Sophie exchanged perplexed looks with Bella. “What’s that?”

  “So they’ll know about people, and like to be handled. I’ll bet you two will do a wonderful job.”

  “But we get to have them all, right? Except one for Grandma Betty?”

  “I don’t need a new puppy in my old age, young lady.” Betty toddled into the kitchen, favoring her hip more than usual. “And you girls don’t need a whole litter of puppies, either. We would be overrun with dogs.”

  “But, Grandma!” Sophie begged. “They need a home.”

  “I think it’s going to storm,” Betty announced, ignoring the twins’ pleas on her way to the stove. “I can feel it in my bones.”

  “We’re almost ready to eat, but then you should go lie down, Betty,” Abby said as she mashed a pot o
f potatoes. “You’ve been on your feet a lot today.”

  Tate put the girls down and headed for the sink to wash his hands. “Tell me how I can help.”

  “Take the roast out of the oven and carve, if you would. Betty will make her famous roast-beef gravy, I’ll put the side dishes on the table and then we should be all set. Jess will be in from the barn any minute, and Devlin is on his way.”

  After Tate lifted the beef onto a wood carving platter, Betty took the roasting pan and got to work on the gravy at the stove. She looked over her shoulder at him. “Missed you at church this morning.”

  “I didn’t know when Sara would show up, and whether or not she would need some help. She doesn’t have family around her anymore. By the time she came it was too late to go, so I just worked a couple more horses.”

  Betty looked out the window with a faraway expression. “When you were growing up, I made sure all three of you boys attended church and Sunday school every weekend.”

  “I remember. If we were all quiet and paid attention, you took us to the little café on Main Street for frosted donuts and chocolate milk.”

  She chuckled at the memory. “There were three of you and one of me, so I wasn’t above a bit of bribery. I figured the good Lord would understand.”

  He started carving slices of the succulent, juicy roast. “I remember the drives home to the ranch too. You always peppered us with questions about the service. The kid with the most points got out of doing dishes the rest of the day.”

  “You boys really kept me on my toes. I had to listen real hard myself, just to stay one step ahead of you three.” She finished whisking the gravy, adjusted the seasoning and poured it into a gravy boat Tate remembered washing as a kid.

  “I’ll be there next Sunday, I promise.”

  “Where is your friend? I thought she would be here by now. I hope everything’s all right.”

  “Who?”

  “Sara. You did invite her for dinner, right? I’m sure she has her hands full without trying to cook too.”

  “From the sounds of things she had a busy day planned, so I didn’t ask.”

  Betty waved a ladle in his direction. “The poor girl has enough to do as it is. We’ll have plenty of leftovers, so after we’re done you can bring her some.”

  He’d already offered to stop by to help, but she hadn’t been all that receptive. He smiled to himself.

  Now he had the perfect excuse.

  Chapter Seven

  Sara stood at the open doorway and watched the fire chief poke and prod his way through the charred interior of the garage.

  Nightfall had been closing in when he’d examined the damage yesterday, but in the light of day it was easier to see the full picture. It didn’t look good.

  His clipboard in hand, Gene joined her outside. “Your insurance adjuster will give you an evaluation of the damage to the garage,” he said, flipping through his notes. “I’d guess it’s a total loss. If it were mine, I wouldn’t even try to cobble it all back together. I would bulldoze it, and start over. And for sure, I’d hire an electrician to come out and inspect the wiring in the cabin itself.”

  “My uncle told me he had a lot of tools in the garage.”

  “He must have been quite a craftsman. He had a lot of mighty-fine equipment. His chisels and wrenches are probably all right. You can rake through the rubble to see what you find.” Gene pursed his lips and shook his head slowly in sympathy. “But the power tools are all toast.”

  “I can only imagine how much they cost.”

  Gene rubbed his chin. “He might be able to salvage the table saw—it was in the corner with the least fire damage. But I wouldn’t worry too much. Insurance should cover the contents, at least to a certain extent—the adjuster will let you know.”

  Warren was in poor health now, gradually needing more physical assistance. He would likely never be able to work in his shop again, but she already dreaded telling him about the loss. “And what about the cause of the fire—did you find anything different?”

  “Nope. The greatest amount of fire damage was behind the electrical panel, so I figure that was the origin. I saw no evidence of arson.”

  Sara drew in a sharp breath. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”

  He shrugged. “If you were in a city, expert investigators could come out, but this situation seems pretty obvious to me.”

  “You’ve probably lived in the area for a long time, right?”

  “Almost twenty years. I manage the feed mill in town.” He glanced at his watch and jangled the truck keys in his pocket. “I’d better be off. The missus said she’d have Sunday dinner on the table at two.”

  “Just one thing—do you remember a Hobson Insurance Company in Pine Bend?”

  He rocked back on his heels, thinking. “Doesn’t sound familiar, but you could ask the insurance people on the corner of Main and Third. They might know.”

  Sara shook his hand. “Again—many thanks. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

  Gene had been gone only a few minutes when she heard the sound of a diesel pickup rumbling up the long drive, then Tate’s black truck appeared.

  Her pulse kicked up a notch as she finished filling a bucket of warm water at the kitchen sink, added a quick spritz of dishwashing soap and went out on the porch to meet him. “Honest, I know you’re busy. You didn’t need to come over again.”

  “Oh yes, I did. Grandma’s orders.” He reached into the backseat and withdrew several overfilled canvas shopping bags, then headed toward the cabin. “She thought you might be starving.”

  She opened the door for him and followed him to the kitchen. “Something smells amazing. What do you have in there?”

  “Enough for an army. Or at least, enough to cover you for a few days. It’s all still warm, so you can have your lunch now and refrigerate the rest.” He chuckled as he started pulling out one foil nine-by-thirteen pan after another. “Roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, glazed baby carrots, a couple of salads, a few dozen chocolate-chip cookies, and what looks like an apple—no, a cherry pie.”

  She stared at the growing array on the counter. “Wow. Have you eaten yet? We should share.”

  “I already had dinner with the family, so this is all yours. Betty said she made doubles of everything.” Surveying the interior of the cabin, his gaze landed on the two small tabletop fans she’d set up to exhaust smoky air through the open windows. “Did you look for some industrial-size fans?”

  “I called around, but couldn’t find anyplace that was open on a Saturday evening or Sunday. My two little fans are helping, though.”

  He thought for a moment, then pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped in a speed-dial number. He smiled after he disconnected the call. “There are a couple thirty-inch floor fans at Jess’s place. They keep the horses more comfortable in the horse barns when we travel to shows during the summer. Jess is bringing them over.”

  “I could’ve gone to get them,” she protested. “I don’t mean to be a bother.”

  “Helping someone is never a bother. So, where should I start?”

  “Really, I don’t—”

  He spied the task list on a clipboard she’d left on the kitchen counter, spun it around to face him and began reading aloud. “Scrub walls. Floors. Counters and cupboards. Maybe repaint ceiling? Wash all linens and clothing. Search the garage for salvageable tools and supplies. Find insurance company.”

  He stopped reading and looked up at her. “Find the company?”

  “Yeah. Well—I hope so. Warren and Millie don’t remember if they accidentally let the insurance lapse, and apparently they have no paperwork, because Warren had a big shredding party before they moved to town. Millie says he was shredding for hours, so who knows what else he might have destroyed. They aren’t even sure about which company it was. I’m going to try to track down
the one name they remember, but I’m guessing the policy lapsed.”

  “So what then?” he asked quietly.

  “They don’t have the cash, that’s for sure. Hopefully they’ll let me buy the place sooner or later, and then I’ll rebuild the garage.”

  He whistled under his breath. “You know that won’t be cheap, right?”

  “I googled it this morning. Just the materials could be around six grand or more, and with the labor, maybe three times that.” She shrugged. “So you’re right, it won’t be cheap. But it is what it is, and at least there’s already a concrete slab. I don’t know about reusing a steel roof.”

  “Wait on any decisions until you talk to me. Jess probably knows the best construction people around here, or would know who to ask.” He ran a finger down her list. “I’ll work on the garage. Is that all right with you? We’re supposed to be getting more snow, and you don’t want it filling up with a big drift.”

  “Perfect. Thanks, Tate. For everything.”

  “No trouble at all.”

  He looked up at the high ceiling and frowned, then grabbed his Stetson at the front door. “I’m bringing in an extension ladder. We’ll need it for the walls.”

  “Thanks.” She surveyed the cabin, glad it wasn’t any larger, and caught a sneeze on her forearm. “At least there isn’t any soot on the walls, but I can’t believe how much smoke came under the door to the garage. It smells awful in here.”

  Taking the bucket of warm water to the far end of the kitchen, she sprinkled baking soda on a damp sponge and began scrubbing one section at a time, then cleaned it off with a damp cloth.

  After rubbing it dry with an old towel she moved to the next section, laboriously cleaning and wiping and drying until her shoulders started to ache. She stood and stretched, her hands at the small of her back, and surveyed the rest of the cabin in dismay.

  After an hour, she hadn’t yet completed even one side of the kitchen. This was going to take forever.