Kathleen O'Brien - The Ranch She Left Behind

But everyone loved Barton, and Barton loved everyone. She accepted his hug without reservation—laughing when he had to slip his guitar around to his back to make room. How he managed to get so much accomplished, and yet always be strumming some tune on that old thing, no one could ever understand.

“Good thing you’re here,” he said merrily. “I’ve just about got the older two Wright gals married off, and I was wondering who I’d matchmake next.”

Penny laughed. “Not me,” she assured him. “I’ve sworn off men for an entire year.”

He frowned, as if she’d said she ate little green Martians for lunch. “Poppycock,” he said. “A year? At your age? Can’t be done.”

“Barton, not everyone is as romantic as you are.” Rowena shook her head. “Hey, see if you can find Bree, okay? Let her know Penny’s come home!”

“Done,” he said. He kissed Penny one more time, then held her at arm’s length, appraising her. “I’m thinking an older man. Not old like me. I wish. But a few years older than you, maybe. Seen the world. Would know how to treat a lady.”

“Barton.” Rowena gave him The Look.

“Okay, okay,” he said, grinning, and then he sauntered off, swinging his guitar back to the front.

Rowena turned to Penny with a smile. “Sorry about that. He really is such a darling old man. But he can be a bit much sometimes.”

“I love him,” Penny said honestly. Barton was obviously a treasure—the perfect general manager for the ranch. Not only was he a charmer who immediately won over every female guest, he was also a former dude ranch owner himself and knew everything. More than once, he’d kept the neophyte Wright women from making terrible mistakes.

As he told it, he’d tried retirement for a couple of years and hated it. He was born to work, and the harder he worked the happier he was. There wasn’t a chore too lowly, or a responsibility too heavy for him to take on with a smile. He sawed and painted, cooked and cleaned, ran financial programs and mocked up publicity flyers. He sang and danced, played the guitar and chess and horseshoes and generally made sure no man, woman or child left Bell River Dude Ranch feeling disappointed.

“Sorry about Alec, too,” Rowena said. “We’ve got a lot of crazy males around here, apparently. I’ll move the jar, whatever it is.” She shuddered dramatically.

“Ro, it’s okay. You don’t need to kick Alec out. I’m not staying at the ranch.”

Rowena stopped abruptly at the threshold and turned. “You’re not?”

“No.”

“Aw, Penny. You don’t have to go back to San Francisco tonight, surely? Dallas would be so disappointed. You haven’t even met Gray yet. You can’t go back tonight!”

“No, but—”

“Penny!” Bree appeared in the great room suddenly, balancing a tray of coffee cups and flatware. Obviously Barton hadn’t found her, because her face lit up with delighted surprise, and she instantly began searching for a clear space on which to deposit the tray.

Once free, Bree enveloped Penny in a hug so tight she temporarily had to give up all thought of breathing.

“Why didn’t you call?” Bree frowned at Rowena. “You didn’t forget to tell me, did you, Ro? You’re so caught up in planning the winter schedule—”

“I didn’t forget. She just showed up out of nowhere. I’m still trying to figure out what’s going on.” Ro turned back to Penny. “So, if you’re not going back tonight, of course you’ll stay here. We wouldn’t hear of your staying anywhere else.”

“Ro, I—”

“No foolishness about imposing. It’s your house. Rats—I shouldn’t ever have rented the sister suite. But we’ll think of something. Where are your things?”

Ro moved to the window to scan the yard. “I’ll get Barton back. Or somebody. Who’s not leading a class right now, Bree? We’ve got tons of strapping college kids. One of them will bring your suitcases in.”

But Bree was staring at Penny thoughtfully. Her cool, observant control had always spotted things Rowena’s passionate fire either overlooked or tried to will away.

“Hang on a minute, Ro.” Bree’s blue eyes had darkened slightly, and her cameo-pale forehead furrowed. “Everything’s okay, isn’t it, Pea?”

“Everything’s fine.” Eventually, Penny would have to tell them about the intruder. But one thing at a time.

“Good.” Rowena scraped her black hair away from her face impatiently. She was an old hand at rejecting any little reality that annoyed her. “Then of course you won’t go back to San Francisco tonight, so let’s find one of the kids to—”

“Ro, let Penny talk.” Bree put her hand on their older sister’s arm.

Penny smiled, grateful. Rowena was a steamroller when she got going, and Penny would find herself ensconced in one of the cottages by nightfall, with a pet parakeet and a Silverdell voter’s ID, if she didn’t slow things down.

Bree’s voice was gentle. “Tell us what’s going on, Penny. Did you really come all this way just for one day? Are you really going back tonight?”

Penny took a breath. “No. In fact, I’m not going back to San Francisco at all. I sold the town house.”

“You what?” Both her sisters spoke at once.

“I sold the town house. You know Ruth left it to me, for a nest egg. She expected me to sell, and luckily it moved very quickly. So I’ve come back to Silverdell.”

“Then...but that’s fantastic!” Rowena frowned, tugging the sheet from her shoulder and glancing around the porch, her gaze again calculating, sorting. “Okay, so we’ll have to free up something more permanent. They’re almost finished with the four new cottages, but they won’t be move-in ready until—”

“Rowena!” Penny squared her shoulders. “Bree. I know this is going to be a shock, and that’s why I didn’t call ahead. Or write. I wanted to tell you in person, face-to-face. The thing is...I’m not going to be living at the ranch.”

“Don’t be silly,” Rowena repeated, almost absently. “It’s no imposition. It’s what we’ve all been hoping for. You know we’ve been begging you to come ever since Ruth died. Since before Ruth died. Of course you’ll live here.”

“No. I won’t.” Penny took Ro’s right hand and Bree’s left into her own. “I love you for wanting to take care of me. But I won’t be moving into the ranch.”

Rowena opened her mouth, obviously prepared to protest reflexively, but a glare from Bree made her shut it again.

“Damn it, Ro. Let her explain.”

But could she? Could she ever make them understand how, up until today, she’d always been a stranger to herself, a guest in her own life? Their love, Ruth’s love, the exile to San Francisco, the quiet, hermit life with her great-aunt...where no storms came...

No storms. And nothing else, either.

Everyone had tried to shield her from the ugliness of the Wright family history. Maybe they thought that, since she’d been only eleven at the time of the tragedy, she had a chance of growing up unscarred if they wrapped her in cotton and tucked her away.

But in the end, they’d only managed to create a ghost of a girl, who had no idea who she was or what she wanted out of life.

“I’ve bought a house. A duplex. I’m renting one side out for now, but eventually I hope to open a studio. Give lessons, maybe. Definitely paint and take pictures, and anything else that will help me earn a living.”

The news wounded them. She could see it in the speechless shock that wiped their eyes and smiles clear of emotion.

“I’m sorry,” she said, though she’d vowed to herself that she wouldn’t apologize. She had nothing to apologize for. She had a right to make her own decisions, to live wherever she pleased. And yet she hated to hurt them.