Debbi Rawlins - Anywhere With You

THE TENT WAS GONE, along with the tables and chairs. Ben shouldn’t have been surprised. People in the country woke early and went right to work. He’d been one of them once.

He stood near the stable waiting for Trace to bring back the Porsche. In the bright sunlight, the Sundance looked even more run-down than it had last night. The place wasn’t an eyesore, nothing like that. In fact, their paying guests might consider the buildings quaint and rustic. And for all he knew, that was the point of not keeping things pristine. But he doubted it. The McAllisters had too much pride.

A dude ranch...

Ben still couldn’t believe it. Gavin McAllister must be turning over in his grave. He’d been a cattleman to the bone, and proud of it. But he’d been a husband and father first, and willing to do anything to take care of his own. And that had once included Ben.

Blocking the sun with his hand, he squinted down the gravel driveway. Trace had been gone awhile now. What the hell...was he halfway to Kalispell? Maybe Ben should’ve warned him about Grace. The other deputies wouldn’t ticket him. To some extent, Ben understood why she had to be a hard-ass. Still, she could’ve given him a warning.

He glanced at his watch and shook his head in amazement. Trace had been gone only seven minutes. Hardly long enough to get the Porsche revved.

No mystery what had Ben edgy. He turned to the house, wondering if Hilda was standing at a window, watching him. The chaos in the kitchen had kept him from seeing her last night. Okay, fine. Nothing would have stopped him if he’d truly wanted to see her. His sister had slung the accusation after waking him with an early call. Claudia hadn’t tried his cell phone. No, she’d rung the inn and asked someone to pound on his door at 8:00 a.m. when she knew he’d still be sleeping. Probably to punish him for not staying at the Sundance.

Claudia refused to understand he couldn’t just waltz in after a fifteen-year absence. Hilda would want to know everything that had happened to him. He’d never admit he’d had it rough in LA after leaving the Sundance. A big olive-skinned kid like him who fit a nice, neat stereotype of a freeloading illegal brought a lot of unwanted attention. For months, he’d been stopped, questioned and frisked almost daily. Sometimes the shakedowns had been warranted, most times not. So no, he wasn’t overly fond of law enforcement in any form.

It had shocked him to learn Noah Calder was sheriff of Blackfoot Falls. When they’d been kids, Noah had practically lived at the Sundance, getting into his share of trouble right alongside Ben.

Maybe he should stop by the office when he got back to town. And just maybe he’d see Grace.

Giving in to the inevitable, he started toward the house. Distracted by thoughts of Grace’s pale, creamy skin, he almost didn’t see Cole walking out of the stable.

“Hey, Ben.” He pulled off his work gloves. “I didn’t know you were here. Find me before you leave. I want to show you something.”

Ben veered his way. “What’s that?”

“It can wait,” Cole said, glancing at the house.

“We’re here now.”

Cole smiled. “Okay. Come on. It won’t take long.”

As they entered the stable Ben breathed in the familiar scents of saddle soap and leather. He was glad to see the tack wall was in primo condition.

They passed five stalls before Cole stopped and motioned with his chin. “Look familiar?”

Ben stared at the long-legged colt, noticed the identifying snip of white between the nostrils. “Is Zorro the sire?”

“Yep.” Standing with his arms folded, his feet planted wide, Cole looked on like a proud papa. “This is Milo.”

“How old?”

“Four and half months. Just been weaned.”

“You gonna sell him?”

“Nope. He’s staying right here.”

“You ever change your mind, call me.”

Cole looked over at him. “So you’re going through with it. You’re buying that ranch?”

Ben had forgotten he’d mentioned it to him in LA. “As soon as I get back to California and sign the papers.”

“Good for you, bro. You should be working with horses. Dad always said he’d never seen anyone better with an Arabian than you.”

Ben’s chest tightened. He didn’t remember that, but he believed Cole. “You been doing much breeding?”

He shrugged. “Not really. Why?”

“I’ll be in the market for stock soon.” Ben hadn’t considered the possibility before now, but he liked the idea of being able to give them some business.

“You must have closer ranches and auctions,” Cole said, the interest in his eyes at odds with his nonchalant words.

“I’ll need startup stock with good lineage, a few smart, trainable horses. If you decide to breed, we’d be talking more about stud services. I may do some breeding myself later on, but for now I’m more interested in doing the training. Bottom line? Whatever we work out, I trust you. You wouldn’t believe what a rare commodity that is in Hollywood.”

Cole rubbed his jaw, squinting at the colt while he thought. “Sure. You know Trace...he’s always been more interested in horses than the cattle. He’d be all over a breeding program.”

Cole’s cell rang. He was needed in the east barn, so Ben walked out with him. They agreed to talk more before he left for LA, and then Ben headed toward the house.

He’d barely knocked once when Barbara McAllister flung the door wide. “Ben. Oh, my goodness, you’re even taller than when you left,” she said, and pulled him into a hug. “I’m glad you came.”

Ben smiled. She was so tiny that her arms couldn’t reach all the way around him. “You look good, Mrs. McAllister. How are you?”

“I’m fine.” She leaned back. “Look at you, so handsome. I saw you last night from the porch, but with all those people here, I couldn’t get to you before you disappeared.”

“I knew you all were busy, so I stayed away from the house. I figured today would be better.”

“Well, your mom is very anxious to see you. How about we go to the kitchen? I bet you still know the way. It was always your favorite room in the house.”

“Mrs. McAllister, are you implying I ate like a horse?”

“Of course not. None of you boys did.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re an adult now. Call me Barbara so I don’t feel like I’m a hundred and ten.”

“Come on now, Barbara, you know you could be Rachel’s twin.”

With a laugh, she wagged a finger at him. “You,” she said, “are too charming for your own good.”

She had to be in her midfifties, but she still looked youthful, her skin smooth and unlined except for the laugh lines around her eyes. He was about to follow her then realized something was different about the house. Sunlight shining in through a two-story window flooded the foyer and living room.

“That’s new,” he said, amazed he hadn’t noticed last night.

“It was Cole’s winter project a few years ago. Before—” She sighed. “Before things got a bit tight around here. I don’t mean only the Sundance. The whole community has suffered.”

Jesus, he hadn’t considered how the poor economy had affected small rural towns. The film business had felt the pinch also, though obviously not like the rest of the country. Made him more eager to do business with the McAllisters.

At the door shared by the dining room and the kitchen, Barbara stopped and lowered her voice. “I’ll let you go in by yourself.”

“No, you don’t have to—”

“Yes.” She gave him a gentle smile and squeezed his hand. “I do. We’re all so glad you’re here,” she said and slipped away.

Ben inhaled deeply. Feminine laughter wafted from the back of the house. It would be so easy to find a distraction. Postpone seeing Hilda for another day. He didn’t have to be back in LA until the loan was finalized. In just over a week, the Ventura ranch would be all his. Well, his and Lena’s, but she was a silent partner, a venture capitalist with one foot in the film business. She had her hands in a variety of projects and knew nothing about ranching or horses. Turning a profit was all she cared about.