“You have exactly five minutes to say your piece.”

Gabe could tell from the expression on Sara’s face that she meant to send him packing the moment five minutes were up.

“I know my brother had his faults, but turning his back on his own child wasn’t one of them. Blood kin is blood kin. We Coulters have always taken care of our own.”

“Well, here’s a news flash for you,” she said. “I made the decision not to tell Billy about Ben because there wasn’t any reason to tell Billy about Ben. It wasn’t like Billy was father material.”

This wasn’t going as planned. In fact, nothing about his interactions with her had. He needed some way to show her that her son, his nephew, needed to know his Coulter heritage. Gabe pulled the check from his front shirt pocket, unfolded it and held it up for her to see. “Take Billy’s insurance money. Use it to start a new life for yourself. But let Ben go back to Colorado with me. Let me give Ben the home and the legacy Billy would have.”

She stared at the check as if it were a coiled rattlesnake ready to strike. Then she glared at Gabe. “You must be crazy if you think I’d trade my son for money.”

Dear Reader,

In 1999 my dream came true. I sold my first romance to Harlequin Books. Now ten years later I’m thrilled to be back home with my first Harlequin Superromance novel.

Over the past decade I’ve written about single women looking for Mr. Right. I’ve written about housewives keeping hubby happy. But I’ve never had the chance to write about the kind of woman I was once—a single mom. Thanks to Harlequin Superromance, I’ve been given that opportunity.

I know exactly what it’s like to have more month than money. I know the agony of worrying if you’ve made the right decisions. And I know how hard it is shouldering the responsibility alone. But I also know the joy of being a mom far outweighs any hardships we face along the way.

A Ranch Called Home is my tribute to the single mom. And my message is simple: regardless of your finances or the mistakes you make, you still possess the most precious gift we can give our children—a mother’s everlasting and unconditional love.

Best always,

Candy Halliday

A Ranch Called Home
Candy Halliday

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Candy Halliday embraced women’s lib in the 60s, was a 70s single mom, married her Mr. Right in the 80s, became a proud grandmother in the 90s, and sold her first romance novel at fifty. Growing old gracefully has never been on Candy’s agenda. And since sixty is the new fifty and chubby is the new thin, Candy claims life in her world is good. Candy’s best advice: never put an age limit on your dreams.

This book is dedicated to my best friend

Lynda Tucker, an amazing single mom who has always been there for me through the good times and the bad. I love you, Tucker. Your friendship means more than words could ever express.

Acknowledgments

Special thanks to my wonderful agent

Jenny Bent for putting up with me.

A million thanks to my fabulous editor

Wanda Ottewell for giving me the chance to prove I can write traditional romance as well as romantic comedy.

Thanks to author Emilie Rose, my fellow

romance sister, who keeps me pointed in the proper writing direction.

Congrats to all my Duetter buddies as we celebrate

our tenth anniversary together in 2009.

And thanks always to my incredible,

supportive and loving family: Blue, Shelli, Tracy, Quint and Caroline— you guys rock!

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER ONE

GABE COULTER BOLTED upright in bed at the shrill ring of his bedside phone. When the person on the other end confirmed what Gabe had been waiting months to hear, he switched on his bedside light.

“And you’re certain you found them?”

“I’m positive,” the private detective said. “She and the kid are living in Conrad, Texas, a two-bit town just north of El Paso. She waits tables in a diner next door to a motel where they live. The boy stays in a back room at the diner while she works.”

“She hasn’t married?”

“Nah, she’s still single,” the detective said. “Still goes by the name Sara Watson. The kid’s name is Ben.”

“Ben,” Gabe half whispered.

Finally, he had a name.

He raked a hand through his hair, slowly processing the information. Finding them hadn’t been easy. The next step would be even harder.

“What do you want me to do now, Mr. Coulter?”

“Give me a second to get to my office,” Gabe said.

Grabbing his jeans from the bottom of the bed, Gabe pulled them on. With the phone still to his ear, he hurried downstairs in search of a pen and paper. He found what he needed on the massive mahogany desk that had served three generations of ranchers at the Crested-C.

What Gabe didn’t need was looking up to find that the late-Monday-night phone call had also awakened his foreman. The old man was standing in his office doorway, a worried expression on his gray-bearded face.

“I finally got a few photos of the woman and the boy,” the detective said. “But everything in Conrad is already closed for the night. I’ll have to drive back to El Paso before I can fax them to you.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Gabe said, jotting down the name and address of the diner. “I’ll leave as soon as I get my gear together. If I drive all night, I should be there in time to surprise her tomorrow.”

“That’s not a bad idea, Mr. Coulter,” the detective agreed. “She runs every time I pick up her trail. Conrad is nothing but a mud puddle in the middle of nowhere. It won’t take long before word gets around town that I was asking questions about her and the boy tonight.”

“You’ve earned that bonus we talked about,” Gabe told the detective. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I get back.”

“Good luck,” said the detective.

And Gabe knew he was going to need it.

He lowered himself onto the chair behind his desk, staring at the address he held in his hand. He purposely ignored the presence still looming in his office doorway. It should have been a subtle hint for Smitty to leave Gabe alone and go back to bed. But Smitty never had been good at doing what other people wanted.

“You just can’t let sleeping dogs lie, can you, Gabe?”

Gabe and the old man traded scowls.

“Spare me the lecture, Smitty. I’m fully capable of making my own decisions.”

“Well, you sure can’t prove that by me.” Smitty snorted. He pulled his suspenders up and over his stooped shoulders before he pointed a gnarled finger in Gabe’s direction. “The search for that boy should have ended when your brother was killed, and you know it.”

A muscle in Gabe’s jaw clenched.

The pain of Billy’s death was still as raw as the day of the accident. Images he usually kept at bay clicked through Gabe’s mind like a horror film: Billy waving to the cheering crowd as he lowered himself onto the back of eighteen hundred pounds of raw muscle; cheers turning to terrified gasps when the angry bull reared; every bull rider’s nightmare coming true as Billy fell backward into the stall; cowboys running from every direction trying to rescue their trampled hero.

A cold shiver passed straight through Gabe.

He shook it off and forced the memories into the shadows where they belonged. He only wished he could do the same with Smitty’s damn opinions. But the old man had more than earned the right to speak his mind, and they both knew it.

Had it not been for Smitty, Gabe never would have been able to hang on to the ranch after his folks died. Smitty had stepped in as surrogate father when Gabe needed him most. Smitty had helped run the ranch, and he’d helped raise Billy. The old man just kept forgetting Gabe was thirty-three years old now, not the inexperienced kid he’d been fifteen years earlier when his parents died.

“Billy told you himself that gal never even told him she was pregnant,” Smitty said, finally forcing the argument Gabe had known was coming from the day he took over the search for his brother’s son. “She didn’t want anything to do with Billy then. What makes you think she’ll let you near the boy now?”

“There’s a good chance the boy’s mother won’t let me near him,” Gabe admitted. “But I wouldn’t be much of a man if I conveniently forgot I have a nephew because my brother is dead.”

“Might have a nephew,” Smitty reminded him. “You don’t even know if that boy belongs to Billy.”

“Billy thought the boy was his,” Gabe said. “Unless I find out otherwise, that’s good enough for me.”

“Mark my words, Gabe. You’re borrowing trouble.”

“Maybe so. But there’s a five-year-old boy in Texas who could be my nephew. Trouble or not, I’m going to see him.”

Smitty shook his head in disgust. “You know the type of woman you’re dealing with, Gabe. You have her whole life story in a file in your top desk drawer.”

“All the more reason to check on the boy.”

“All the more reason to let the boy go!” Smitty shouted. He frowned at Gabe again. But he lowered his voice when he added, “You’ve worked hard holding on to this ranch. And for what? To let some one-night stand Billy met on the rodeo circuit lay claim to half the ranch your pa and your grandpa spent their whole lives building up?”

Gabe didn’t answer.

He got up from his chair, walked across the room and took down the framed portrait of his parents on their wedding day. When he opened the wall safe hidden behind the picture, Smitty let out a weary sigh.

“Don’t do this,” Smitty said. “If you hand Billy’s insurance money over thinking you’ll be rid of the boy’s mother, you’re kidding yourself. She’ll be holding her hand out for the rest of your life.”

Gabe still didn’t answer. He wrote out a check to Sara Watson for fifty thousand dollars and placed the checkbook back inside the wall safe. After he rehung his parent’s picture, the old man was still blocking his path.

“I shouldn’t be gone more than a few days,” Gabe said, putting an end to any further discussion.

Defeated, Smitty finally stepped aside.

But as Gabe started up the stairs to pack, Smitty called out after him, “Watch your back, you hear me, Gabe? That little gal’s liable to scratch your eyes out if you get within shouting distance of them.”

Gabe threw a hand up to signal he’d heard the warning.

But by noon tomorrow, he intended to be in Texas.

If the boy did turn out to be his nephew, Billy’s fifty thousand dollars in insurance money would be well spent if it meant bringing his brother’s son home to Colorado where the boy belonged.

GABE PULLED his truck to a stop in front of a shabby diner called Dessie’s at exactly ten minutes past noon on Tuesday, May twenty-ninth. The irony of the date wasn’t wasted on Gabe. Had Billy lived, it would have been his brother’s twenty-sixth birthday.

The fact that the motel beside the diner was nothing but a string of rundown buildings in an equally rundown town gave Gabe hope. Offering fifty thousand dollars to a woman stuck in a place like Conrad could be the big break he needed.

He grabbed his Stetson sitting on the bench seat beside him and jammed it onto his head. The second he stepped out of the truck, the unbearable Texas heat took his breath away. Why anyone would choose to live in such a dry, hot and desolate place was something Gabe would never understand. But then, he suspected most people wouldn’t understand why he chose to endure the bitter cold mountain winters on the West Elk Slope in Colorado.

Different strokes for different folks, Gabe decided and nodded politely to the two old men sitting outside the diner beneath a faded awning. A small table and a checkerboard between them, these two Conrad citizens didn’t appear to be affected by the sweltering heat at all.

“Dessie’s is always packed for lunch,” one of the old men told him. “But the home cooking is worth the wait.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Gabe said, and opened the diner door.

The second he stepped inside, Gabe saw her.

She was on the flashy side just as he’d expected. Bleached-blond hair. Too much makeup. Her sexy figure more than emphasized by the tight-fitting uniform she wore.

He walked past her, heading to a booth in the back—the only empty seat in the place. By the time he slid into the booth and placed his Stetson on the seat beside him, she was busy taking orders from three men sitting at a table near the diner’s front window.

Gabe watched as she openly flirted with each of the men, a come-on smile on her cherry-red painted lips. He smiled inwardly, knowing, if his gut instinct was correct, she’d hand the boy over the minute he flashed the money in her direction.

And thinking about the boy, Gabe took a quick look around the diner, surveying the situation. The detective had mentioned a back room. The best Gabe could tell, a sign pointing down a hallway to the restrooms was the most likely place for this room.

He’d give this Sara Watson a chance to let him see the boy first. If she refused, Gabe had already decided he was not leaving Texas without seeing the child who could very well be his nephew. Despite Smitty’s doubts, he’d know if the boy belonged to Billy the second he saw him—Coulter genes were hard to hide.

She glanced in his direction and gave another come-on smile. “Be with you in a minute,” she called out.

Gabe nodded.

He watched as she clipped the order she had just taken to a revolving wheel above an open window separating the diner from the kitchen. A skinny old woman with gray hair grabbed the order and pushed two plates back through the window at her. The blonde took the plates and placed them in front of a man and a woman sitting at the counter. Next, she walked to the register to take another customer’s money.

“Give me just a few more minutes, honey,” she called out to Gabe again, holding up a finger to signal she would be right back.

Don’t worry, honey. I’m not going anywhere, Gabe thought as she disappeared down the hallway.

He’d been waiting over a year for this moment.

He could wait a few minutes longer.

SARA PEEKED around the storage-room door and smiled when she saw her son sitting on the folding cot happily playing with his favorite toy—a plastic horse he’d named Thunder—and his constant companion. Being able to check on Ben every few minutes was a huge relief. In fact, Sara sometimes wondered if her guardian angel had been responsible for making her worn-out car break down in Conrad, Texas.

She and Ben had been shown nothing but kindness here.

She’d sold the car for parts when the mechanic at the town garage broke the news that the vehicle wasn’t worth what it would take to fix it. The mechanic had also sent her to see Dessie McQueen, a woman in her sixties who had seen her own share of hard times.

Dessie owned the town’s only diner and motel.

Calling Dessie a godsend would be an understatement.

She’d allowed Sara to work in the diner in exchange for a motel room and three meals a day for her and her son. And no money exchanged meant no payroll records to leave a paper trail behind. It had also been Dessie’s idea to fix up the storage room so Sara wouldn’t have to pay for child care for Ben.

“Keep your tips and get back on your feet,” Dessie had told her. “Until you do, we’ll keep the same arrangement.”

Sara had intended to do just that.

What she hadn’t intended was leaving Conrad so soon.

She glanced at the packed suitcases sitting beside Ben’s cot and felt like crying. The detective she’d been eluding for over a year had somehow managed to track her down again. As soon as the busy lunch shift was over, Dessie would be driving Sara and Ben back to her hometown of Houston. She and Ben would stay with her best friend Annie Riley for a few days until Sara could figure out where to go next.

And it was only fair that Annie should take them in.

Annie, after all, had been responsible for the detective being on Sara’s trail in the first place. Had Annie not run into her son’s father, Billy Coulter never would have known about Ben.

Billy Coulter, Sara thought. My first and last mistake.

She and Annie had been working the concession stand at the rodeo the summer before their senior year in high school when Sara met Billy Coulter. The handsome rodeo star had filled her head with empty promises then had ridden off with her innocence and not so much as a backward glance.

Sara had intended to keep it that way.

But in less than a week after big-mouth Annie told Billy he had a son, a private detective had arrived at Annie’s apartment complex asking questions. Fearing a costly custody battle Sara couldn’t afford, she’d taken Ben and left Houston before Billy could find them.

Then news of Billy’s fatal accident at the World Champion Rodeo Finals in Las Vegas had been plastered all over the papers and the television for days. She’d assumed the search for them would end after Billy’s death. But Sara really got worried when the detective tracked them down again in Fort Worth.

Someone was still searching for her son.

But she’d run forever if that’s what it took.

She’d never let anyone take Ben away from her.

Never.

GABE BRACED himself when the woman he’d come to proposition finally came around the corner and walked in his direction.

“What can I do you for, handsome?” she teased when she walked up to the table.

“That depends,” Gabe said.

She leaned forward, her hands resting on the table. And whether Gabe was interested or not, he had a bird’s-eye view of her more-than-ample breasts pressing against the thin fabric of her low-cut uniform.

She leaned even closer. “That depends on what, cowboy?”

“On whether your name is Sara Watson,” Gabe said.

The blonde gasped and jumped back.

“Sara!” she yelled over her shoulder. “Run!”

Gabe looked past the blonde. He hadn’t seen this waitress when he’d entered the diner. Staring back at him was someone who was anything but the type of woman he expected. Her face was scrubbed free of makeup and her dark hair was piled loosely on top of her head.

Beautiful—that’s what she was.

And her dark brown eyes were now wide with fear.

She looked at him a second longer, turned and ran.

“Wait!” Gabe jumped up from the booth.

Every man in the diner stood when Gabe did.

“I don’t want any trouble here,” Gabe said, looking around at the frowning faces.

“Leave the same way you came in,” a big guy near the front door said, “and there won’t be any trouble here.”

Gabe shook his head. “No. I’m not leaving until I talk to Sara Watson and her son.”

“Wrong answer,” the big guy said.

He took a threatening step in Gabe’s direction.

CHAPTER TWO

AT FIRST, Sara thought she’d seen a ghost.

The family resemblance was that frightening.

Same sun-streaked hair. Same piercing blue eyes. Same determined, square-cut jaw. Whoever the man was, he was a Coulter. And Sara knew he was looking for the Coulter she was running to find now.

“Ben, come with me,” she ordered, trying not to sound as frightened as she was when she hurried into the storage room.

Had it not been for the commotion going on in the dining room, Ben would have obeyed her. But raised voices and loud crashes were too much for any little boy to ignore. Before Sara could grab him, Ben jumped down from the cot and ran out with his toy horse under his arm.

Sara ran after him.

“Call the sheriff!” she called to Dessie as she hurried down the hallway past the kitchen.

“Sheriff Dillard’s on his way,” Dessie replied.

By the time Sara made it into the dining room, tables were overturned and all of the customers were on their feet. In a panic, Sara pushed through the crowd.

“Ben!”

“Over here, Sara,” someone called out.

Sara hurried toward two of the local men who were thankfully blocking Ben’s path. The concerned looks on their faces told her the intruder was still in their midst. Sara had no sooner uttered a grateful thank-you to her son’s protectors than someone else yelled, “Hit him again, Mack!”

Both men automatically turned back toward the action.

And Ben saw his opportunity to wiggle between them.

Sara’s grab for the back of Ben’s shirt came a second too late. Before she could stop him, her curious son darted into the center of the crowd. And when Sara pushed through after him, she found Ben standing above a man sprawled flat on his back.

“Are you hurt, mister?” Ben asked.

A hush fell, as if everyone awaited the guy’s answer.

He finally sat up, bringing himself to eye level with the little towhead staring at him. Instinctively, Sara stepped forward and pushed Ben behind her. Still, Ben peeped around her apron, staring at the stranger with the same startling blue eyes that this man had himself.

“You must be Ben,” he said, sticking his hand out. “I’m your Uncle Gabe.”

“Wow,” Ben said, stepping around Sara. He shook the hand he was being offered. “I’ve never had no uncles before.”

“Nice horse you have there,” he said.

“His name’s Thunder,” Ben said with pride.

“I like horses, too,” he told Ben. “I have a lot of horses on my ranch in Colorado.”

“Wow,” Ben said again, turning around to look at Sara. “Did you hear that, Mom? Uncle Gabe has lots o’ horses on his ranch in Col-dorado.”

Several people chuckled over Ben’s pronunciation.

But not Sara.

She placed her hand gently on Ben’s shoulder, nudging her son away from the man who was threatening to steal her sanity. “Go back to your playroom now, Ben, and stay there until I come for you,” Sara said sweetly.

The look she sent Uncle Gabe was anything but sweet.

How dare he introduce himself to Ben!

She looked at her son to find Ben’s mouth puckered in a little-boy pout. “Go now, Ben,” Sara repeated, and gave her son a gentle push.

“Okay, Mom,” Ben finally said, but he sent a small wave in his uncle’s direction. “Bye, Uncle Gabe.”

Gabe pulled himself up and dusted himself off.

“See you later, partner,” he had the nerve to say.

Over my dead body! Sara vowed.

The people suddenly parted and Sheriff Dillard walked up beside her. Howard Dillard was a big man, in his early sixties, and extremely fit for his age. People in Conrad called him Mr. Clean, not only because of his sterling reputation but also because he resembled the TV commercial character.

Dillard removed his hat and blotted his bald head with his handkerchief. “Is this the guy causing all the trouble?”

“He’s the one,” Dessie called out from the kitchen.

Sara and everyone else nodded in agreement.

And Sara could only pray the ugly bruise forming on the stranger’s left cheek had given him the clear message he was not welcome in Conrad.

He looked at Dillard and said, “My name is Gabe Coulter and I didn’t come here to cause any trouble. I came to see my nephew.”

Dillard purposely looked around at the damage.

“And I didn’t start the fight,” he added quickly. He pointed to one of the locals standing in the back of the diner. “That big guy started the fight.”

Dillard looked over his shoulder. “Is that true, Mack? Did you start the fight?”

“No way, Sheriff,” Mack said. “He took the first swing then I decked him.”

Everyone looked back at Gabe.

“Forget it,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s obvious I’m outnumbered here. I’ll pay for the damages.”

“And what about the damage you did to my son?” Sara demanded, hands on her hips now. “How dare you waltz in here and inform my son you’re his uncle without my permission. Don’t you realize how confusing that could be for a five-year-old?”

“You tell him, Sara,” someone in the crowd agreed.

He simply stood there, staring at her.

“I apologize,” he finally said. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have introduced myself to Ben without your permission. But when I saw him, he looked so much like my brother when Billy was that age, that I…”

Sympathy pulled at Sara’s heartstrings for a second.

But only for a second.

And Dessie definitely wasn’t sympathetic over the mess the fight had made. She entered the room, drying her hands on her apron as she marched in their direction. When she stopped beside Sara, Dessie pushed a strand of gray hair off her forehead and looked over at the sheriff. “I want to press charges, Howard. Lock the boy up. Maybe if he spends the night in jail it will improve his manners.”

Gabe laughed. “I can make my own bail, Sheriff.”

Dillard frowned. “You want to bet on that, son?”

“No. I can already see where this is going. But I’ve told you I’ll pay for the damages. And I’ve apologized for introducing myself to my nephew without his mother’s permission.” Gabe glanced at Sara for a second. “If she’d stop running from me long enough to hear me out, she’d know I only want what’s best for the boy.”

“Stop running from you?” Sheriff Dillard repeated. “Are you saying you’ve been stalking Sara?”

“Yes,” Sara said. “He’s been stalking me for over a year now.”

“The hell I have,” Gabe said. “I haven’t been stalking her at all. I’ve only been trying to talk to her.”

Sheriff Dillard turned to Sara. “Are you interested in anything this man has to say, Sara?”

“Not in a million years,” Sara said, staring him down.

But she shouldn’t have taken such a long look at him.

Despite the family resemblance, there was something about him that told Sara physical appearances were where the similarities between the two brothers ended. Billy had been loud and boisterous, with a fast line and a devil-may-care attitude. This man had an air of confidence about him that said he took life seriously. The determined expression on his face said he was used to getting what he wanted.

Everything about him spelled danger.

Tall. A hard, lean body. Exceptionally broad shoulders. He was all cowboy from his tight-fitting shirt and faded jeans, right down to the tip of his high-dollar boots.

And those eyes.

Penetrating.

Challenging.

A similar pair of blue eyes had led her down a treacherous path before. But Sara saw something she hadn’t expected in this man’s eyes. She’d seen genuine affection for Ben when Gabe met his nephew for the first time.

That realization scared Sara even more.

“You heard the lady,” Sheriff Dillard said. “Sara isn’t interested in anything you have to say. But because I’m a reasonable man, I’m going to give you a chance to avoid any jail time. You pay Dessie for the damages. Then you go back to wherever you came from. And you agree to leave the boy and his mother alone.”

“No,” Gabe said stubbornly. “Not until she hears me out.”

He kept staring at her.

Sara glared at him.

“Well, Sara?” Sheriff Dillard said. “Are you willing to talk to him? Or do I lock him up?”

“Lock him up,” Sara told the sheriff.

She wheeled around and left without a second thought. Sheriff Dillard would keep Gabe Coulter in jail for at least twenty-four hours—Dessie would see to it. By then, Sara and Ben would be long gone.

“Ah, come on, Sheriff,” she heard Gabe say. “Are the handcuffs really necessary?”

Guilt washed over Sara for a second.

But only for a second.

She hated that he was going to jail, but he’d chosen his own fate. He’d found her. She’d told him she wasn’t interested in anything he had to say. So he should have accepted her answer and gone back to Colorado the way Sheriff Dillard suggested.

Jail was Gabe Coulter’s own fault—not hers.

With a clear conscience, Sara hurried down the hallway. She was going to find her son. Then she was going to get as far away as possible from another handsome Coulter who was threatening to turn her life upside down.

“WHERE’S UNCLE GABE?” Ben hopped off the cot when Sara entered the storage room.

Sara’s heart sank.

She knew Ben was starved for male attention. Had she not watched more men than she could remember drift in and out of her mother’s life, she might have been more receptive to dating after Ben was born. But having Ben get attached to someone only to have the guy eventually move on was not a chance Sara had ever been willing to risk.

Ben was not going to grow up the way she had.

But that was a lifetime ago, Sara reminded herself.

And she wasn’t her mother.

Kneeling beside him, Sara pulled Ben to her chest for a fierce hug. She’d allowed her own fears to rob Ben of knowing his father, and she’d always regret that. She’d planned to avoid Billy only long enough to find a better job and get a decent place to live—something more suitable than the welfare-assisted housing project she’d been living in when Annie first told Billy about Ben. Then Sara would have contacted Billy on her terms—even agreed to let him meet Ben after she was positive no court of law could say she wasn’t able to take care of Ben properly.

But Billy was dead now.

And Gabe Coulter had no claim on her son.

“Mom, you’re squishing me.”

Sara released him and forced a smile. “Your uncle Gabe had to go back to Colorado, sweetie.”

The disappointment on his little face made Sara wince.

“But as soon as Dessie gets through serving lunch, you and I are going to go visit Aunt Annie,” she said. “Won’t that be fun?”

Ben nodded, but he didn’t look convinced.

“You remember how much you like staying with Aunt Annie and her dog, Coco,” Sara reminded him. “And remember how much fun you have going to the pool at Aunt Annie’s apartment complex?”

Ben frowned. “But I wanted to see Uncle Gabe’s horse.”

“But sweetie,” Sara said patiently, “Uncle Gabe didn’t bring his horse. His horses are on his ranch in Colorado.”

Ben’s face brightened. “Can we go to Col-dorado and see them?”

Thankfully, Sara was saved from an answer when Dessie walked in. She leaned over and whispered in Sara’s ear, “Coulter’s on his way to jail.” Then Dessie straightened and sent Ben a big smile. “Ready for lunch, little buddy? I fixed you a big hamburger with extra, extra cheese. Just the way you like them.”

The promise of a juicy cheeseburger sent Ben running.

As soon as Ben left, Dessie looked at Sara and said, “Before I take you to Houston, I think you should stop by the jail and talk to this Coulter man.”

“Absolutely not!”

“You heard him yourself, Sara. He isn’t going to stop chasing you until you talk to him.”

Sara’s chin lifted. “Then I’ll—”

“Keep running?”

Sara refused to answer.

“And what about when it’s time for Ben to start kindergarten in the fall? Are you going to spend the rest of your life dragging Ben from one town to another? From one school to another?”

“Don’t you think I’ve thought about that? That’s all I have thought about, Dessie. But this man wants more than just to talk to me. I could see it in his eyes. He wants Ben!”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Dessie said. “You won’t know for sure until you talk to him.”

Sara slumped onto the folding cot. “And what if I’m right?” She looked up at Dessie for an answer. “What if he wants Ben and he threatens to take him away from me?”

“Then you threaten him with a restraining order if he doesn’t stop harassing you,” Dessie said. “You’re a good mother, Sara. Don’t you ever doubt that.”

“No, Dessie,” Sara corrected, “I’m a struggling mother who can barely provide for Ben. All it takes is one call to Social Services. And I should know. That’s how I ended up in the system.”

“But there’s one thing you have that your mother didn’t,” Dessie said.

Sara looked up again. “And what’s that?”

“The courage to stand up and fight for your son,” Dessie said. “You march over to the jail right now and you tell that cowboy he picked the wrong mother to mess with.”

CHAPTER THREE

THE LAST PERSON Gabe expected to see again was the very person who walked up and stopped in front of his jail cell. Arms folded stubbornly across her chest, her pretty nose was held high in the air, and the expression on Sara’s face was deadly serious.

“You have exactly five minutes to say what you came to say,” she said with authority. “Then I want you out of our lives. If you ever come near us again, I’ll get a restraining order against you.”

So that’s how she’s going to play it.

He’d caught her off guard at the diner, and it scared her. She’d reappeared now to prove she was in complete control of the situation.

He rose slowly from the cot and took his time walking the short distance across the cell. He’d rehearsed the speech he planned to give his nephew’s mother a thousand times. Now, all he could think about was Smitty’s “she’ll scratch your eyes out” warning. It made Gabe thankful for the iron bars separating them at the moment.

She glanced at her watch. “Four minutes and counting,” she warned.

“I know my brother had his faults, but turning his back on his own child wasn’t one of them. It isn’t the Coulter way of doing things.”

“Well, here’s a news flash for you,” she said. “I’m not interested in the Coulter way of doing things. I have my own way of doing things. And I made the decision not to tell Billy about Ben because there wasn’t any reason to.”

“He was Ben’s father,” Gabe reminded her. “He had the right to know he had a child.”

She looked him straight in the eye. “I disagree. DNA doesn’t give you the right to be a father. You earn the right to be a father. I was eighteen and stupid when I met your brother, but I wasn’t too stupid to realize Billy wasn’t father material when he didn’t even consider me worth a goodbye when he left Houston.”

“People make mistakes,” Gabe said.

“True. But it doesn’t really matter now, does it? Billy is…” She faltered for a second, unable to say the word.

“Anyway,” she said, “I’m sorry about your brother. But as far as I’m concerned any connection Ben had with your family ended with Billy.”

Gabe frowned. “And that’s where I disagree. Blood kin is blood kin. We Coulters have always taken care of our own.”

He pulled the check from his shirt pocket, unfolded it and held it up for her to see.

“Take Billy’s insurance money,” Gabe urged. “Use it to start a new life for yourself. But let Ben come to Colorado with me. Let me give Ben the home and the heritage Billy would have given Ben if my brother had lived long enough to find Ben himself.”

Her reaction, however, wasn’t what he’d hoped for. She stared at the check as if it were a coiled rattlesnake ready to strike.

“We’re done here,” she said.

She whirled around and walked away.

“I didn’t come here to play games,” Gabe called after her. “You go ahead and get your restraining order. But I have five years’ worth of information on how well you’ve been able to provide for Ben alone. I don’t think you want me to use that information against you in court.”

She marched back to his cell.

“Now you’re threatening me?”

Gabe stepped back from the bars. She was so angry she was shaking. And the expression on her face said threatening to counteract her in court was the wrong thing to do.

“Take me to court,” she challenged. “I dare you. If I cared a flip about your money, I would have shown up on your doorstep a long time ago. But a court of law might have a different idea. Force the issue and you may end up selling your horses and your ranch and giving Ben half of the proceeds.”

The slam of the door at the end of the corridor as Sara left punctuated her words.

“Dammit!” he cursed, feeling like a first-class jerk.

He never should have offered her the money. And he definitely shouldn’t have threatened her just because she threatened him. He could see that now. But put a woman in his path, and he never had a clue what to do next.

That’s why he’d never had a woman in his life—at least not a full-time woman. Women were too complicated. Too temperamental. Too damn hard to please.

He was a rancher, not some smooth-talking womanizer like Billy. The ranch had always come first with Gabe, always would. He had horses to train. Ranch hands who depended on him for their livelihood. He didn’t have time for this kind of bullshit.

“Damn you, Billy,” Gabe muttered.

He walked away from the bars and flopped down on the solitary cot, wondering yet again how two brothers could have possibly been so different. He’d always been the responsible one—Billy never once considered the consequences of his actions.

Just like with Sara Watson.

There was no doubt in Gabe’s mind Billy had taken advantage of her being eighteen and innocent, just as she’d claimed. And Gabe certainly couldn’t blame her for coming to the conclusion that Billy wasn’t father material.

Still, Gabe would chase her forever if that’s what it took.

Unlike Billy, Gabe took his promises seriously.

And one way or another he would take his nephew home.

“WELL?” Dessie asked when Sara stormed back into the lobby of the sheriff’s office. “What did he say?”

“Just as I expected,” Sara said, still fuming. “He offered me money for Ben. And when I refused to take his fifty thousand dollars, he threatened to take me to court.”

“Fifty thousand dollars,” Dessie repeated, her eyes wide in disbelief.

“It could have been fifty million dollars and it wouldn’t have mattered to me,” Sara said, pacing to work off her anger.

“True,” Dessie agreed, “but if he has that kind of money to throw around, Sara, he’s a bigger threat to you than I thought.”

Sara stopped. “What do you mean?”

“Money talks,” Dessie said. “And big money means high-powered attorneys. I hate to say it, but you wouldn’t stand a chance against this cowboy in court.”

“What’s this about court?”

Sara and Dessie both turned. Sheriff Dillard walked out of his office into the lobby.

“Sara was right, Howard,” Dessie said. “Coulter wants Ben. When Sara wouldn’t take his money, he threatened to take her to court.”

“Well, I just got off the phone with the sheriff in Pitkin County, Colorado,” Sheriff Dillard said.

Dessie looked over at Sara. “Howard ran a check on Coulter’s license plate. The Coulter ranch is located near a town called Redstone.”

“And the Crested-C Ranch is one of the largest family-owned quarter-horse ranches in the state,” Dillard added. “Sheriff Carter not only knows our boy, but Gabe happens to be an old fishing buddy of the sheriff’s. Carter said Gabe is one of the most respected men in his county.”

“That’s strike two against you, Sara,” Dessie warned. “He has money and he has a good reputation.”

“There’s something else that might shed some light on why he continued looking for you after his brother was killed,” Sheriff Dillard said. “Gabe was at the rodeo when his brother was injured. And according to Carter, Billy made Gabe promise during the ambulance ride to the hospital that he would find his son and bring the boy home.”

Sara shuddered, thinking about the news footage she’d seen on TV. She hadn’t realized one of the men hovering over Billy immediately after the accident was his brother. And apparently neither had the media, because Sara knew that story would have been milked for all it was worth.

“I hate to say it, Sara, but that’s strike three against you,” Dessie said, shaking her head sadly. “There isn’t a jury alive who would rule against a man trying to carry out his dead brother’s last wish.”

“Will you stop being so negative, Dessie,” Sara scolded. “What happened to the ‘march in there and tell him he’s messed with the wrong mother’ lecture you gave me earlier?”

Dessie ignored Sara and directed her question to the sheriff. “Is Coulter married?”

“Oh, please!” Sara said. “What does his marital status have to do with anything?”

“His marital status has everything to do with this situation,” Dessie argued. “If Coulter doesn’t have a wife, who would take care of Ben if he did manage to win custody?”

They both instantly looked at Dillard for the answer.

“No wife,” Dillard said. “The sheriff described him as a loner, completely devoted to the ranch and his horses.”

“Well?” Sara asked, looking at Dessie, then back to the sheriff. “No wife means one point for my side, right?”

“Not necessarily,” Dillard said. “Carter said their folks were killed in an accident when Billy was in grade school and Gabe was still a teenager. Gabe stepped up to the plate, took over the ranch, and raised Billy himself.”

“And we all know how well that worked out,” Dessie snipped.

“Now, Dessie,” Sheriff Dillard said. “I hate to come to the man’s defense, but a bull killed his brother. Not a lousy upbringing.”

“Don’t be so sure about that.” Dessie snorted. “Coulter intends to raise Ben on a ranch with a bunch of rough and tough cowboys, the same way he raised his brother. If you ask me, that’s too much testosterone for anyone’s own good.”

Sheriff Dillard let out a loud groan. “Can we please not turn this into a man-versus-woman thing?”

“Oh, hell, Howard,” Dessie grumbled. “It’s been a man-versus-woman thing since the beginning of time.” She grabbed Sara by the arm. “Come on, Sara. We’re wasting time talking to this old coot.”

Sheriff Dillard immediately stepped in front of them.

“Stop right here, Dessie. I’ve known you too many years not to recognize that look on your face. You’re up to something. And when you’re up to something, it always means trouble for me.”

Dessie pushed past him but said over her shoulder, “I’m depending on you to keep that boy locked up until tomorrow, Howard. And if you intend to be reelected next term you’ll do your job.”

With that said, Dessie marched Sara out the door.

GABE STOOD when he heard the door at the end of the hallway open. He was hopeful Sara Watson had thought things over during the past three hours, and had finally decided to reconsider his offer. Fifty thousand dollars, after all, was a lot of money for anyone to throw away on foolish pride.

His hope evaporated when the sheriff approached the cell. In typical lawman stance, both hands were at Dillard’s waist, feet planted firmly apart.

He frowned at Gabe and said, “Your first mistake was offering Sara money in exchange for the boy.”

Gabe didn’t even bother to argue.

He’d already figured that much out for himself.

“Your second mistake,” the sheriff said, “was threatening to take Sara to court.”

“Well, what did you expect me to do?” Gabe asked. “She threatened me first with a restraining order.”

“Do you really blame her?” Dillard asked. “You admitted you’ve been chasing her all across Texas for over a year now.”

Gabe frowned. “I told you. I only wanted to talk to her.”

“And it never crossed your mind the only reason she kept running was because you were chasing her?”

“Bullshit,” Gabe said. “She kept running because she can barely keep a roof over her son’s head.”

“And you never considered offering Sara the money so she would be able to keep a roof over Ben’s head?”

“This isn’t about just keeping a roof over his head,” Gabe said. “This is about his heritage and his future. Half of the Crested-C Ranch belongs to Ben now. And one day I hope he’ll be the fourth generation to run it. But that isn’t going to happen unless Ben grows up on his own land and the ranch actually means something to him.”

“Then why didn’t you tell Sara that instead of flashing your money in her face?”

“I didn’t think it would make any difference to her.”

“You don’t have much experience in dealing with women, do you, son?”

Gabe sent him a warning look. “I’m in no mood for an education on dealing with women, Sheriff.”

“That’s too bad,” Dillard said, “because your threats just put Ben and Sara in danger.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Desperate people do desperate things,” Dillard said. “After Sara left I sent my deputy over to the diner to keep an eye on her. I found out a few minutes ago she’s taking the boy to Mexico.”

“Mexico?”

“Dessie has a niece who runs a resort in Juarez just across the border from El Paso,” Dillard said. “I’m sure that’s where Sara will go. But do I need to draw a picture for you? Juarez is a dangerous place. Mexico’s underground prostitution is big business in Juarez. And Sara and Ben would both bring top dollar.”

Fear sucker punched Gabe in the stomach.

He shook the iron door in front of him.

“Then let me out of here, Sheriff! Help me stop her.”

“Not so fast,” Dillard said. “First, you tell me how committed you really are to your nephew.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Dammit! Gabe didn’t have time for stupid questions. Not with a dozen horrible scenarios already running through his mind.

“But are you here for the right reasons? I did a little checking on you, Coulter. I talked to your old pal Sheriff Carter. So look me in the eye and tell me the truth. Are you willing to do whatever it takes to give Ben the chance to grow up on his own land? Or are you really just trying to keep a half-assed promise you made to your dead brother?”

For the second time that day, Gabe was thankful for the iron bars in front of him. Had it not been for those bars—and the fact Dillard was thirty years his senior—Conrad’s sheriff would have found himself flat on his back, compliments of Gabe’s own fist.

But Gabe managed to reel in his anger. And he met Dillard’s gaze with a deadly calm stare. “A man is only as good as his word, and there’s never been anything half-assed about mine. I’ll do whatever it takes to give Ben the chance to grow up on his own land.”

Before Dillard could comment, a loud squawk from the radio on his hip prevented his answer. He pulled the radio from its clip and clicked the button. “Go ahead, Joe.”

“They’re on the move, Sheriff.”

“Ten-four,” Dillard told his deputy. He clipped the radio back on his belt before he pulled a key ring from his pocket. “I’m going to take a chance on you, Coulter, and let you prove how good your word really is.”

“You won’t regret it, Sheriff,” Gabe promised, motioning for Dillard to hurry and open the door.

“But under one condition.”

“Name it.”

“If we stop Sara, you’ll let me do the talking.”

“Agreed,” Gabe said, and he meant it.

He’d only make things worse.

CHAPTER FOUR

SARA BIT DOWN HARD on her lower lip when she saw the sign: Come Back to Conrad Again Soon. Lately she’d thought less and less about leaving Conrad and more and more about staying.

In fact, just last week she’d found a small furnished house for rent within walking distance of the diner. In a few weeks she would have had enough money saved to place a rent deposit on the house. Her nightly prayers had all been the same: the search for them would end and she and Ben could stop running and live a normal life.

But answered prayers were scarce in Sara’s life.

She should have gotten used to that by now.

“Don’t look so worried,” Dessie said, glancing over at Sara from behind the wheel of the dusty station wagon now headed for the border. “I know you’ve always considered Mexico your last resort, but aren’t you glad I pushed you into getting your passports?”

Sara nodded, but only halfheartedly.

The thought had already crossed her mind that applying for their passports was probably responsible for the detective finding them again. But there was no point in mentioning that possibility to Dessie and making her feel guilty about it. What was done was done.

Still, Mexico had always been Sara’s last resort.

She didn’t like the thought of living in Mexico. And she certainly didn’t like imposing on a stranger to take them in. Even if Dessie’s niece was willing to give her a job at the resort and a place to stay, Sara still didn’t like being put in the position to rely on anyone’s charity.

She’d been a charity case her whole life.

And she’d hated every minute of it.

“Just think of this as a summer vacation,” Dessie chirped with far more enthusiasm than Sara could muster. “As soon as Coulter knows you’re in Mexico, he’ll give up and stop following you, I’m sure of it. By the end of the summer, you and Ben can come back to Conrad and pick up your lives where you left off.”

“I hope you’re right,” Sara said with a sigh.

“Of course I’m right,” Dessie said with confidence.

But Sara wasn’t so sure.

So many questions kept running through her mind. What if Gabe didn’t give up? And what if those high-powered attorneys Dessie had mentioned earlier were able to extradite them from Mexico? Even worse, what if she and Ben remained stuck in Mexico indefinitely, trying to wait Gabe out?

Maybe, Sara decided, she should stopping running. Maybe she should stay in the States and take her chances in court. Fight for her rights. Prove to Gabe Coulter that she didn’t intend to run from him for the rest of her life.

Her better judgment told her to turn around.

But before Sara could relay that message to Dessie, the high-pitched scream of a siren jerked Sara’s head around.

“Why, that’s Howard Dillard!” came Dessie’s surprised cry when she looked in her rearview mirror.

Sara kept staring at the flashing blue light. “What do you think he wants?”

“I can’t imagine,” Dessie said. “But there’s a rest area up ahead. We’d better pull over and find out.”

Dessie pulled into the rest area a few minutes later, the patrol car right behind her. By the time the station wagon rolled to a stop, Ben had his seat belt unbuckled and was already climbing out of the booster seat he hated. Standing up in the backseat, he waved out the back window when two men got out of the cruiser and walked in their direction.

“It’s Uncle Gabe!” Ben yelled, and bolted from the car.

“Ben!” Sara yelled.

She jumped out of the car after him.

But Sara froze when she saw Gabe bend down to scoop Ben up. Sara wasn’t sure what worried her most—Ben looking so happy, or Sheriff Dillard looking so perturbed.

When they got close enough for her to snatch Ben away from Gabe, Sara wasted no time reaching for her son. Her gaze locked briefly with Gabe’s, but he handed Ben over without an argument.

Dessie, on the other hand, didn’t waste any time stepping in front of Sara. “What’s going on, Howard?” she demanded, looking Gabe up and down. “And what’s he doing out of jail?”

“Now, Dessie,” Dillard said, “let’s all calm down and take a seat.” He pointed to a shaded picnic table a few yards away. “Nothing good ever comes from a hasty decision. Before Sara crosses the border, I want her to know she has another option.”

“What other option?” Dessie was quick to ask.

Dillard nodded toward the picnic table again. “Like I said, Dessie, let’s all sit down like reasonable adults and I’ll tell you.”

The sheriff headed for the picnic table.

So did Gabe and Dessie.

Sara first walked to the station wagon with Ben to retrieve his toy. She pointed to a water fountain several yards from the picnic table—far enough away that Ben couldn’t overhear the conversation.

“Why don’t you take Thunder over to that water fountain so you can both get a cool drink?” Sara told him, knowing her son would play in the water for as long as she would let him.

Ben made a beeline for the fountain.

And Sara headed for the picnic table. Ben’s instant bond with his uncle had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. But she’d already made the decision that she was not going to Mexico.

She was going to stop running and fight for her son.

Mexico might come later.

If she lost custody in court.

GABE SAT UP a little straighter when Sara approached the picnic table. She refused to take a seat herself; instead she stood at the end of the table proud and erect.

He kept his word and waited for the sheriff to do the talking, but he couldn’t keep his gaze from wandering where it shouldn’t. She was gorgeous; no doubt about that. Curvy in all the right places. A face that would make angels in heaven weep with pure envy.

But she also had a feisty streak.

He’d seen that back at the jail.

And the way she scowled now made Gabe doubt that anything the sheriff could say was going to change her mind.

“What we have here,” Sheriff Dillard said, “are two people concerned about Ben’s welfare.” He looked at Sara, then at Gabe. “Can we all at least agree with that statement?”

“No,” she said, staring straight at Gabe. “I don’t call threatening to take a child away from his mother being concerned about Ben’s welfare.”

Gabe felt the heat creep up the back of his neck.

He averted his eyes to his Stetson lying on the table in front of him. A random thought crossed his mind: the good guys always wore white hats. His hat was white. And he was trying to be the good guy in this situation.

But was he really the good guy?

Part of what Sara said was true. He hadn’t only been thinking about what was best for Ben. Gabe had been thinking about what he wanted. And he’d been determined to keep the promise he’d made to his brother.

“Let’s forget about court and custody battles, and move on to the solution I think I’ve found to this problem,” Sheriff Dillard said. “Gabe, you told me earlier that Ben would be the fourth generation of Coulters to run the Crested-C Ranch. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“But,” Dillard said, “you also told me that the main reason you want Ben to go to Colorado is because the ranch isn’t going to mean anything to Ben unless he grows up on the land. Is that also correct?”

“Yes,” Gabe said, and he looked straight at Sara. “And I want to apologize to you, Sara, for not making myself clear back at the jail when I—”

“Move on,” she snapped.

Women! Gabe thought. He’d sooner deal with a thousand-pound grizzly.

“Okay, Sara, let’s move on,” Sheriff Dillard agreed. “Ben’s best interest will always be your first concern. Right?”

She nodded curtly.

“And that brings us to the other option I want both of you to consider,” Dillard said. “The only logical way to settle this problem is with a compromise. Let Ben go to Colorado with Gabe and live on his own land, Sara. But you go with them.”

She laughed.

That old bastard tricked me! was Gabe’s first thought.

There hadn’t been a woman on the Crested-C since his mother died. And if he brought a woman home now there would definitely be hell to pay. Smitty, the old grouch, had run off every cleaning lady Gabe had tried to bring in over the past fifteen years.

And what about his ranch hands? Many of them had only known the Crested-C as an all-man’s world and that’s the way they liked it. No need for social graces. No need to wipe your feet, or watch your language. Gabe would have a damn mutiny on his hands if he brought a woman home.

“If that’s your idea of an option,” she said, “forget it. I’m not interested.”

Gabe breathed a sigh of relief.

Dillard banged his fist hard on the table.

Sara jumped.

So did Gabe.

“I’m not talking about what interests either of you!” Dillard boomed. “I’m talking about Ben’s best interest. The boy needs a family, and he has one. He has a mother and he has an uncle. Instead of playing hide-and-seek all over the state of Texas, or battling it out in court, the two of you need to put your selfish issues aside and do what’s best for Ben.”

Gabe squirmed. He’d boasted earlier that he’d do whatever it took for Ben to live on the Crested-C. That a man was only as good as his word. That his word had never been half-assed.

Dillard was putting those assertions to the test.

And Gabe knew it.

Now it was time to stand up and be the man he claimed to be. Or, go ahead and admit his word was only half-assed, just as Dillard had originally accused.

He chanced another glance in Sara’s direction.

She was staring right at him.

Gabe quickly looked away.

He didn’t like her accusing glare—or what she’d said about taking Ben away from his mother not being in Ben’s best interest. It brought back memories Gabe thought he’d buried long ago.

Unsettling memories.

Memories that cut open wounds that even time could never heal completely.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE I’m saying this, but for once I have to agree with Howard,” Dessie said. “I’m sorry, Sara, but this could be a new beginning for you and for Ben. You could finally be a full-time mother. And Ben could grow up in one place, put down roots.”

Sara couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Dessie was supposed to be her ally.

“You can’t be serious!” Sara gasped.

“I am,” Dessie said. “If you and Gabe battle it out in court, Ben loses. Either he loses his heritage or he loses his mother. I say Ben deserves both.”

Sara put her hands on her hips. “And you really expect me to take Ben to Colorado to live with a total stranger?”

“I’m not a total stranger. I’m Ben’s uncle.”

Sara shot him a mean look. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“I realize that,” he said. “But according to Sheriff Dillard, you were on your way to Mexico to live with a total stranger. I’m not sure I see the difference.”

Sara’s cheeks flushed crimson at the truth.

“He’s right, Sara,” Dessie said. “At least he’s Ben’s uncle.”

How dare my friends take sides with him?

But shocked didn’t cover her reaction when Gabe stood and held his hand out in her direction.

“I’m willing if you are, Sara,” he said. “Come to Colorado with me and live on the ranch. For Ben’s sake.”

For Ben’s sake.

Everyone was talking about what was best for Ben. But she was being backed into a corner.

And Sara didn’t like it!

“For Ben’s sake,” Sara said, trying to keep the quiver out of her voice, “I’m going to pretend we never had this conversation.”

She refused to shake Gabe’s hand.

And she was trying so very hard not to cry. Her friends siding against her threatened to pop the cork on a lifetime of bottled-up hurt. Instead of wallowing, Sara let her anger loose.

“Shame on all of you. How dare any of you act like you know better than I do what’s best for Ben.” She jammed a finger against her chest. “I happen to be a victim of other people deciding what was in my best interest. And do you know how that turned out? By the time I was eighteen I’d lived in four different foster homes. The houses were all nice enough. And the foster families were all pillars of the community. But it didn’t make one bit of difference! I was always the outcast. And that’s the same way Ben and I would be treated if we moved to Colorado to live on a ranch with his dead father’s brother.”

Sheriff Dillard started to say something, but Sara silenced him with one look.

“And don’t anyone try to tell me that isn’t true,” she said. “I would always be the unmarried woman living with some man. Respectable women in town would whisper about me behind their hands. And Ben would get in fights on the playground over the ugly things other kids said about his mother. I lived that life. And I won’t have Ben living it, too. So don’t any of you dare try to tell me what’s best for my son again.”

“Oh, Sara, honey,” Dessie said, reaching for Sara’s hand.

Sara jerked her hand away.

She pushed her hair carefully back into place.

Once she’d regained her composure, Sara turned to Dessie and said, “I’m going to get Ben now. We’ll be waiting for you in the station wagon.”

Then she looked straight at Gabe. “If you want to file custody papers, Ben and I won’t be hard to find this time. I’m tired of running from you. We’re staying in Conrad.”

Sara expected a comeback, but he didn’t say a word.

He just kept standing there, a blank look on his face.

Exasperated, Sara stomped off.

“MARRY ME,” Gabe blurted.

The minute he said it, he knew it was the right thing to do. He’d asked Billy once what he intended to do if he did find the boy and his mother.

“I’m going to do the same thing you would do if you were in this situation,” Billy had said. “I’m going to ask her to marry me. And if she accepts, I’m going to bring her home and provide the best life I can for her and my son.”

Gabe had been proud of Billy’s answer.

But it had taken Sara’s outburst before Gabe realized she was right on target about how she and Ben would be received in his small hometown if she lived at his ranch, no commitment between them. That’s when Gabe had felt his brother’s hand on his back, pushing him to finish what Billy couldn’t.

Sara’s spine was stiff, her fists still clenched in anger over a lifetime of other people pushing her around. He had a file filled with information on the lousy cards life had dealt her: no father in the picture; a mother arrested more than once for drugs and prostitution. The file was filled with details of a dozen different reasons why Sara Watson should have turned out to be the type of person Gabe assumed she was before he met her.

But they were words on paper, nothing more.

And Gabe was ashamed of himself.

He was ashamed for assuming she would hand over her son for money. And he was ashamed for making her such a thoughtless offer in the first place.

She slowly turned around. “Marry you? That’s absurd and you know it.”

“Maybe,” Gabe agreed. “I’m sure you aren’t interested in having a husband any more than I’m interested in having a wife. But this is about Ben. We’d be an official family if we married and made it legal. No whispers behind your back. No fights on the playground. No reason to be treated like outcasts.”

Gabe couldn’t quite decipher the expression on her face. Outright rage that he’d suggested marriage? Or sheer amusement over his unexpected proposal? Maybe a little of both.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” she demanded. “A few hours ago you were threatening to take me to court. And now you’re going to insult me by suggesting we should get married and become an official family?”

Gabe knew he had one chance to say the right thing.

So he told the truth.

“I was wrong. I convinced myself Ben would be better off living on the ranch with me. That I could give him everything you couldn’t. But I’d forgotten the nights Billy cried himself to sleep after our parents died because he missed our mother. I’d never do that to Ben. I realize that now.”

SARA BLINKED BACK tears.

He looked so sad standing there, clutching the brim of his Stetson, the look on his face so solemn. This was her first glimpse of who this man was. Maybe he wasn’t the enemy after all.

They were each aware of the sacrifice they’d have to make.

Both knew all of the reasons it wouldn’t work.

Still, Sara was forced to face some cold, hard facts about her own contribution to her son’s future. She had no home to give Ben. No promise of one day running his own ranch. And she certainly didn’t have a proud family heritage dating back three generations to pass down to her son.

In truth, it was a daily struggle to make ends meet. Living paycheck to paycheck, always having more month than money and struggling to provide the bare necessities were the only things she’d probably ever be able to offer Ben on her own.

What would Ben choose if he were old enough to make the decision himself? Would Ben choose a ranch and his heritage? Or would he choose a mother’s unconditional love? Most likely, Ben would choose both.

She would lay down her life for her son, without a second thought.

In comparison, marrying her son’s uncle seemed like an easy choice—as long as she didn’t stop to think about the consequences. Ben had already adopted Gabe as his immediate hero. She knew it was selfish, but she couldn’t keep from wondering where that would ultimately leave her if she did accept Gabe’s proposal for Ben’s sake.

In the background, Sara suspected.

Married to a man in name only.

And possibly losing all influence over her son.

Was she really willing to risk Ben growing up with a bunch of rowdy cowboys who flirted with danger for sport? Could she really chance Ben following in Billy’s footsteps and embracing the dangerous life of a rodeo star?

Yet in all fairness, Sara knew there were other dangers just as serious she’d have to steer Ben away from regardless of where he grew up. Ben falling in with the wrong crowd for one thing—a real threat for any boy who had no strong male influence in his life—and there would be enormous peer pressure as Ben grew older. Would she be able to keep Ben pointed in the right direction if her economic status forced them to live in less than desirable circumstances? Sara knew all too well that poverty often walked hand in hand with drugs and crime.

“Six months,” Gabe said. “That’s all I’m asking. Give us six months to see if we can live together on the ranch as a family. If things aren’t working out at the end of that time, I’ll have the marriage annulled. You and Ben can leave and you have my word I’ll never bother you again.”

Still, Sara remained speechless.

She felt addled, in a daze, completely unable to function—until a small tug on the hem of her uniform snapped her out of it. Ben stood behind her, Thunder under his arm, and sopping wet from head-to-toe.

“Can we, Mom, please?” he begged. “Can we go live on Uncle Gabe’s ranch and be a family just like Uncle Gabe said?”

Sara knelt and cupped his sweet, innocent face in both of her hands. “I’m sorry, Ben,” she tried to explain, “becoming a family isn’t that simple.”

“But why, Mom?”

It was her son’s favorite question.

And this time, Sara didn’t have an answer.

CHAPTER FIVE

“I NOW PRONOUNCE you husband and wife,” the justice of the peace said. He sent Gabe a wink before he added, “You may now kiss the bride.”

Sara held her breath when Gabe moved forward. She let it out again when he bent down for Ben who’d been standing between them during the quickie ceremony.

Hoisting Ben up, Gabe winked back at the justice of the peace and said, “I think I’ll let my best man have the honor of kissing the bride today.”

Ben placed a noisy kiss on the side of Sara’s cheek and rewarded her with a big smile.

“Are we a family now?”

Sara struggled for an answer.

But Gabe smiled and said, “Yes, Ben, we’re a family now.”

And that was that. They were a family now—even though Sara had claimed it wasn’t that simple. No pomp and circumstance. No fancy wedding dress. And no husband vowing to love her forever.

Not the wedding of Sara’s little-girl dreams.

“You made the right decision, Sara,” Dessie said as they both watched Gabe and Ben walk toward Sheriff Dillard, who had filled in as the other witness for the ceremony.

Sara nodded absently.

From Tuesday forward, the week had gone by in such a blur she’d wondered if she were trapped in some bizarre dream. All she remembered clearly was that she’d been walking toward the rest area parking lot with Ben thinking that everything she owned was packed in the two ratty suitcases stored in the back of Dessie’s station wagon.

She had no home to offer Ben.

No heritage.

And very little security.

That’s when she’d marched to where Gabe stood. And that’s when she’d agreed to give him the six months he asked for. He was offering Ben everything she couldn’t—including giving her the opportunity to be a full-time mother to her son.

Only a fool would have turned down such an offer.

Even if it only lasted for the next six months.

Sheriff Dillard and Gabe had taken care of everything else. They’d arranged for the marriage license. And they’d arranged for the ceremony to take place on the first day of June, at precisely eleven o’clock in the morning, by the local justice of the peace in Sheriff Dillard’s office.

She, on the other hand, had spent the next two days training the new girl Dessie had hired at the diner, and happily pretending her whole life wasn’t going to change forever when Friday morning arrived.

“Mom!” Ben exclaimed, running toward her. “It’s time to go cut our cake. Hurry.”

He darted off before Sara could respond.

“You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble of having a reception for us, Dessie,” Sara said. “But I really appreciate you doing that.”

“It’s nothing fancy,” Dessie said. She put her arm around Sara’s shoulder and gave her a supportive squeeze. “But you’ve made a lot of good friends in Conrad. It seemed a shame not to give everyone the chance to say goodbye to you and Ben.”

“Mom!” Ben yelled again. “Let’s cut the cake.”

“Mercy,” Dessie said, laughing. “Let’s go cut your wedding cake before that boy has a conniption fit.”

Sara took a deep breath.

Gabe was waiting for her by the door with Ben.

But as she walked in their direction a cynical thought crossed Sara’s mind: At least we have cake.

HAD ANYONE TOLD HIM he would go back to Colorado with his nephew and a wife, Gabe would have called that person a liar. But as Sara approached, Gabe knew uniting Ben’s family instead of selfishly tearing it apart was the only responsible thing to do in this situation.

Responsibility, he could handle.

He’d provide Ben and Sara with a good home and a good life for as long as they were willing to stay on the Crested-C. They’d never want for anything under his care. And he would go back to running the ranch and keeping things in order, the same way he’d always done.

The difficult part would be not letting himself get too attached to Ben. He’d learned the unbearable heartbreak that came from losing people you cared about. He’d lost his parents, first. Then, Billy. And Gabe knew there was a good possibility he’d lose Ben at the end of six months.

But at least he’d kept his promise.

Ben was going home.

Gabe opened the door for Sara when she walked up beside them. The faint scent of her perfume mocked him for a moment as she exited the sheriff’s office.

Sara wouldn’t be an easy woman to ignore.

Just watching her unsettled Gabe.

She took Ben’s hand and started across the street to the diner, and Gabe couldn’t help but think that the pale blue dress she wore emphasized her tiny waist. His gaze drifted back to her dark hair—pulled up on top of her head again today, the only way he’d ever seen her wear it. It wasn’t the first time he’d wondered how far down her back those silky strands would fall.

And thoughts like those were ones he couldn’t afford.

That’s why he’d laid all his cards right out on the table when he’d taken Sara and Ben to dinner the previous evening. He’d made sure Sara knew a friendship was all he’d ever want between them.

She’d agreed so fast, it actually bruised his ego.

But Gabe knew being realistic about their new living arrangement was a key factor if the family they’d created was going to be a success. He’d wanted to make sure Sara had no unattainable expectations from him, just as he had no unattainable expectations from Sara.

Their only focus would be Ben.

Just as it should be.

Sara had surprised him, however, by stating that she had no intention of being anyone’s charity case. Unless he needed her help on the ranch she planned to find employment in Redstone so she could pay for her own room and board.

He’d nixed her idea of getting a job.

And he’d assured Sara she’d have her work cut out for her on the ranch. Taking care of the house and cooking three meals a day for him and his six full-time ranch hands wasn’t going to be an easy task.

She hadn’t even batted an eye. And that gave Gabe hope things might work out.

He and Sara would both be too busy to worry about some silly piece of paper that legally pronounced them husband and wife. He’d tend to the ranch. She’d tend to the house and the cooking. And they’d both tend to Ben.

No problem, Gabe thought with confidence.

Sara picked that exact moment to glance over her shoulder at him. It was only one look. And an innocent one at that. But Gabe suddenly got the feeling he could be in trouble.

“YOU TAKE good care of Ben and Sara,” Dessie told Gabe as she and Sheriff Dillard escorted the new family to the diner’s door after the reception. “In Texas we can still round up a posse in the blink of an eye.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Gabe said.

Sara reached out and gave Dessie one last hug. “I can never thank you for all you’ve done for me.”

“Oh, stop, before you make me cry,” Dessie fussed. “Just remember. If things don’t work out in Colorado, you always have a home waiting for you here in Conrad.”

“I won’t forget that,” Sara promised.

Ben ran ahead to the white extended-cab pickup parked directly out front. On his tiptoes, Ben reached up and touched the fancy gold shield stenciled on the door. The words Crested-C Ranch were written in bold black letters inside the gold emblem.

“Can this C belong to me, Uncle Gabe?” Ben asked.

Ben pointed to the first letter of the word Crested and Sara knew her son was referring to the conversation he’d had with his uncle at dinner the previous evening. It still amazed her at how well Gabe had been able to explain things in terms simple enough for a five-year-old to understand.

“Your dad’s in heaven now,” he’d told Ben, “but he sent me to find you and your mom and bring you home.”

Gabe had also told Ben his last name was going to be Coulter—a change Sara agreed to allow only after Gabe assured her he wasn’t talking adoption, just the legal formality of changing Ben’s last name. “The C will stand for you and me,” Gabe had explained to Ben. “Gabe Coulter and Ben Coulter. The two owners of the Crested-C Ranch.”

That conversation was the reason behind her son’s question now. Ben obviously wanted to pick his own C.

“You can have either C you want, Ben,” Gabe said, ruffling her son’s blond hair. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“I want the first C,” Ben said with a big grin.

“Okay, Mr. First C—” Gabe tickled Ben “—up and into the truck now. We’re burning daylight, and we have a long way to go.”

Ben was still giggling when Gabe opened the truck door and helped him climb into his booster seat in the backseat of the truck. Sara had headed for the passenger side when Ben asked his uncle another question.

“Are we going home to Col-dorado now, Uncle Gabe?”

“Yes,” Gabe said. “We’re going home to Colorado now.”

Reality smacked Sara square in the face. She’d been lulled into a false security over the past few days with everyone assuring her she’d made the right decision. Even the ceremony and the reception had seemed surreal—as if she were only a bystander in someone else’s life.

But this was her life.

This was her future for the next six months.

Oh. My. God! What have I done?

Her answer came when her new husband suddenly appeared at her side, extending his hand to help her step onto the running board and into the truck. Then they were on their way to the Crested-C Ranch. A ranch where the C stood for Coulter. And where her son would be part owner of land that had been in the Coulter family for three generations.

Sara bit down hard on her lower lip to stop the trembling as she swallowed past the lump in her throat. She averted her gaze to the scenery beyond the passenger window. But if Gabe noticed she was in the middle of a major panic attack, he didn’t let on. Instead, he fielded the questions Ben fired from the backseat.

She soon learned that there were 15,000 acres to the Crested-C Ranch. And that part of the property ran along the Crystal River, named such because the melting snow from the high mountain ranges left the water so clear you could see all the way to the bottom.

She learned that Redstone was nicknamed “The Ruby of the Rockies” and was founded in 1901 by a wealthy coal baron who built a forty-two-room castle for his wife, who was actually a real Swedish countess. When Gabe said touring Redstone Castle was the town’s main tourist attraction and that you could take sleigh rides around the property in the winter, the idea of a sleigh ride had Ben clapping with glee.

But when Ben asked if he could ride a horse as soon as he got to the ranch, Gabe showed Ben the deep scar on his right hand that was the result of an argument he’d had with a strong-willed stallion when he wasn’t much older than Ben was now. “And that’s why you won’t be permitted to go near the horses unless an adult is with you,” Gabe had told Ben.

Although Sara fully approved of that rule, she remained silent on the issue. Just as she remained silent when Gabe informed Ben a border collie named Bess had a new litter of puppies. A puppy was something Ben had always wanted, and something Sara had never been able to give him. She’d had enough trouble trying to feed the two of them, much less a pet. Gabe also warned Ben that the barn cats were wild and would scratch you if you tried to pet them.

“I’ve never liked cats much,” Ben said.

In fact, Gabe had answered each of Ben’s questions without once giving the impression he was bothered by Ben’s persistence. Whether Sara wanted to admit it or not, the fact that Gabe had the ability to be so patient with her son won him big points in her favor.

She chanced a glance in his direction.

He looked over at her and said, “I think Ben finally wore himself out.”

Sara glanced behind her. Ben was fast asleep, both arms clutched tightly around Thunder, a touch of icing she’d missed with her napkin still clinging to his left cheek.

“Thanks for being so patient with him,” Sara said. “Ben’s nonstop questions can get rather annoying.”

“Not to me,” he said. “I’m glad he’s interested in life on the ranch.”

Sara didn’t answer.

He glanced over at her again. “And what about you? How are you holding up?”

His question caught her completely off guard.

“I’m fine,” Sara lied.

His expression said he didn’t believe her but he changed the subject.

“It’s a twelve-hour trip to Redstone. I thought we’d drive to just north of Albuquerque then stop for the night. That will put us halfway and break up the trip for Ben.”

Again, Sara was surprised by his insight. Keeping Ben strapped in his booster seat for twelve hours would have been a real challenge.

“I called ahead and made reservations,” he said. “Separate rooms, of course,” he added for clarity.

“Of course,” Sara was quick to answer.

The silence hung between them for a second.

Gabe turned his attention back to the highway.

Sara pretended to look out the window again.

But her thoughts kept going back to the conversation they’d had the previous evening. Gabe had assured her the only relationship he ever hoped to foster between them was a friendship. Knowing he had no personal interest in her should have been a huge relief.

But it wasn’t.

Not really.

Gabe’s firm declaration that he wasn’t interested in her personally had dragged up old feelings. Feelings of the way she’d always felt with each new foster family. They’d taken her in, sure. And they’d provided for her adequately. But not one of her foster families had ever been truly interested in her personally.

She’d often wondered if that’s why she’d been such an easy target for Billy. He had been the first person to ever seem genuinely interested in her. Of course, that, too, had been a lie. Just like the lie Billy had fed her about taking her with him when he left Houston.

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