Chapter 5
As the BMW’s headlights swung through the front gate, Jubal forced himself to take a deep breath. There was no reason facing Ellie should set him on edge. The past was over. They’d both moved on. But even after ten years—seeing her alone, pregnant, and vulnerable—the old wounds still burned.
He’d have been better off if she’d never come back to Branding Iron. But here she was. And in this small town, there were bound to be encounters—especially since Gracie was so keen on that useless little fluff of a dog. It was time he and Ellie had a talk. If they could come to some kind of understanding, maybe things would be less awkward between them.
After she pulled the car up to the porch and switched off the engine, he came down the steps and opened her door.
“I hope we’re not too late,” she said before he could speak. “Gracie told me her homework is already done.”
“No problem,” he said. “It’s barely eight. Come on in. I’ve got hot chocolate on the stove. It’s okay if you want to bring your dog in.”
“Beau’s at home with my mother. And I hadn’t planned on staying. I just came to drop Gracie off.”
Whatever. He’d shown himself willing, and that was that. It was probably just as well if she didn’t come in.
Jubal was about to wish her a safe drive home when Gracie opened her side of the car and came around with her backpack slung over her shoulder and a pizza box in her hands. Somebody had changed her hair. She looked pretty, but more grown-up somehow. He already missed her little-girl pigtails.
Jubal took the pizza box. “If this is for me, thanks,” he said. “I’ll warm it up later.”
“Please come in, Ellie,” Gracie begged. “Just for a little while.”
Jubal sensed Ellie’s hesitation. Was he the one she wanted to get away from, or was it her memories of his place? “I really don’t think—” she began.
“Please, Ellie! Please come in!” In the glow of the porch light, Gracie’s eyes would have softened any heart.
Ellie sighed, took the key out of the ignition, and slung her purse strap over her shoulder before she climbed out of the car. Taking an extra moment, she locked the door with the remote button. Jubal could have reminded her that out here, with nobody around to steal things, she could have left her keys and purse in the unlocked car. But she’d been away from Branding Iron long enough to develop city habits. Trying to change them wouldn’t be worth his time.
Ellie took the arm Jubal offered as she mounted the steep porch steps. She could tell he was trying not to look at her belly, which stuck out so far that she could no longer see her feet. But he had to be curious about her situation. Was that the reason he’d invited her in, or was he just being polite? At least, given her appearance, she could rule out any desire to rekindle the old flame.
Gracie put her backpack down by the door, took the pizza box from Jubal, and carried it into the kitchen. Ellie released Jubal’s arm as they walked in from the porch. Without asking, he stepped behind her, slipped off her jacket, and hung it on a handy coatrack.
Looking around, she couldn’t help comparing what she saw to the place she remembered from ten years ago, when Jubal’s widowed father was still alive. Seth McFarland had been something of a pack rat. When he’d lived here, ruling the house and ranch like a despot, every surface had been stacked with newspapers, old ranching magazines, bills, and catalogs, which no one except him was allowed to move. Only Jubal’s room had been orderly. Now it was as if everything had been stripped bare and put in order. Coals glowed in the fireplace. Laura’s senior yearbook photo in a simple silver frame was the sole adornment on the mantel. Even the bookshelves, which covered one entire wall, looked organized. Only the refrigerator, seen through the kitchen door, showed signs of clutter. It was covered with drawings, most of them on yellow notebook paper.
When Jubal shed his coat and walked into the kitchen to heat the pan of cocoa on the stove, Ellie followed him. Standing in front of the fridge, she studied the sketches, which could only be Gracie’s. Most of the pictures were of animals—horses, cats, and dogs, along with a few unicorns and dragons. The figures, though imperfectly drawn, had a playful charm about them, as if they were dancing on the paper. Jubal’s daughter had the makings of a talented artist.
Gracie was setting the table with cups and saucers, clearly pretending not to notice that Ellie was looking at her artwork. She glanced up as Ellie spoke her name.
“Gracie, these pictures are really good. I didn’t know you liked to draw.”
“I guess you never asked me,” Gracie said.
“She draws a lot.” Jubal poured the hot cocoa into the cups. “Not much else to do out here on cold winter nights.” He pulled out a wooden chair for Ellie. “Have a seat. Sorry, no marshmallows.”
“That’s fine. I’ve outgrown marshmallows.” Ellie sat, fitting her middle against the edge of the table. The chocolate was hot and good. The taste of it brought back the old days, when he’d made it for her in this very kitchen—with marshmallows. She almost mentioned it, but caught herself in time. The past was a closed book, better left that way.
“Oh—I just remembered something!” Gracie bounded from her chair and raced out of the kitchen. Moments later she was back with a sheet of white paper, which she handed to Ellie. “I made this for you,” she said.
“Oh, my goodness!” Ellie gazed at the life-sized drawing of a little white poodle. “It looks exactly like Beau!” She spoke sincerely. Gracie had done an excellent job of capturing her dog’s personality on paper. “He almost looks as if he could bark!”
“Do you like it?” Gracie asked.
“I love it. I’m going to take this home and put it somewhere special.” She reached out and gave the little girl an impulsive hug. As Gracie’s arms slipped around her neck, Ellie glimpsed Jubal’s face. The pain and concern in his eyes cut into her like a laser. Knowing she’d crossed the line, she eased Gracie away and slipped the drawing into a side compartment of her purse. “Thank you, Gracie,” she murmured.
“Finish your chocolate, Gracie.” Jubal spoke in a flat voice. “Then it’s time you were in bed. You’ve got school tomorrow.”
She glanced at Ellie. “Can’t I stay up just a little longer? Please?”
“Bedtime. Now. I’ll come and tuck you in when you’re ready.” Jubal glanced at Ellie as if to say, See what you’ve set in motion ?
Ellie emptied her cup and rose from her chair. “I really should be going,” she said.
“No, stay. This won’t take long.” We need to talk, his expression told her. Strange, after all these years, how easily they read each other.
Gracie finished her chocolate. “Good night, Ellie,” she said. “Thanks for a wonderful time.”
“You’re welcome,” Ellie said. “I had a good time, too.”
Gracie gave her a hopeful smile. “Maybe we can do it again soon.”
Ellie glanced at Jubal and saw his eyes narrow. “We’ll see,” she said.
Jubal rose. “Brush your teeth, Gracie. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
As she scurried back toward the hall, Jubal began clearing away the cups and saucers from the table. With his back to Ellie he rinsed them in the sink, along with the empty pan, and placed them in the dishwasher before turning back to face her. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Don’t go.”
With that he strode down the hall toward Gracie’s room. Ellie imagined him tucking her in, hearing her prayers. The Jubal she remembered could be sweet and tender. Was there enough of that tenderness left to spare for his daughter, or had time and grief worn it away, leaving only a hard shell of the man he’d been?
Rising, she walked back into the living room and sank into a corner of the worn leather sofa, which faced the fireplace. She felt exhausted, but her frayed nerves kept her on edge. Whatever she and Jubal had to say to each other was bound to be painful.
A few minutes later she heard the light creak of his footsteps on the hardwood floor. He came around the sofa and sat down at a comfortable distance—close enough to talk but far enough to give her space. The coals in the fireplace cast a glow over his rugged features.
“Are you cold?” he asked. “I can put another log on the fire.”
She shook her head, pointing to her belly with a feeble laugh. “Don’t bother. I’ve got a furnace in here. The house looks nice, by the way.”
“Not much different. Just cleared out some.” He leaned forward, hands resting on his knees as he gazed into the fireplace. “How’ve you been, Ellie?”
“How’ve I been?” The irony of his question struck her. She shook her head. “Since you’re probably wondering, I might as well tell you the whole story. I married a man I met in law school—didn’t finish myself because he had a great offer from a firm in San Francisco. Lived the good life for a few years—fancy condo, cars, clothes, high society. Then I found out he was cheating. I went through counseling with him, trying to make it work. Even after I’d filed for divorce, I let him talk me into a trial reconciliation. It only lasted a few weeks, but”—she glanced down at her bulging middle—“as you see.”
“The jerk left you pregnant?” Jubal actually sounded angry.
“Not quite. By the time I found out I was expecting, he’d already married the current love of his life. I never told him about the baby. He still doesn’t know.”
“Is that wise?” He studied her, eyes narrowing. “The man has a responsibility—”
“I’m aware of that. But he doesn’t deserve this child. And I don’t want him in our lives. I can raise my little girl on my own.”
“Having pretty much done that myself, all I can do is wish you luck. Being a single parent can be tough.”
“Ben told me about your wife’s accident. What an awful tragedy for you and Gracie. I’m so sorry, Jubal.”
He leaned back into the couch, stretching his long legs out in front of him. His cowboy boots were scuffed and worn beneath the frayed hem of his jeans. This was a man who worked hard, with no need for vain trappings. He was who he was, no excuses, no apologies. Until now Ellie had never realized how much she respected him for that.
“I remember Laura from school,” Ellie said. “She was a lovely girl—the perfect wife for you. I did you a favor by leaving.”
“Did you?” He didn’t look at her. “It’s been four years since the accident. It’s like it happened yesterday. There’s not a morning goes by when I don’t look at Gracie leaving for school and wish her mother was there to fuss over her and send her off looking pretty.”
“But you’ve done a fine job with her. She’s bright, caring, and respectful. And I get the impression she knows how to take care of herself.” Ellie could scarcely believe it. They were talking, almost like old friends. But something told her this truce was too fragile to last.
Jubal gazed into the dying fire. He hadn’t expected to enjoy having Ellie here, sharing his couch and catching him up on her life. He found himself wanting her to stay. But that wasn’t going to happen—especially after she heard what he needed to say. Turning toward her, he forced himself to begin.
“Gracie’s a tough little girl. But losing a mother is something no child survives without emotional scars. She was four when it happened—old enough to remember. She puts on a brave face, but that loss cut deep. It’s made her hungry for a woman’s affection—and set her up to get her heart broken.”
Restless, he rose and stood looking down at her. “I won’t see my daughter hurt again. That’s why I’m asking you to back off. The more time you let Gracie spend with you and your dog, the more devastated she’ll be when you leave. And you will leave, Ellie. You were never meant for Branding Iron. Nobody knows that better than I do.”
Ellie didn’t reply. She sat looking up at him, her face hauntingly beautiful in the firelight. He could almost imagine cupping that face between his hands, then bending down to brush her lips with his—except that a brush-kiss wouldn’t be enough. Pregnant and all, damn the consequences, he wanted to devour her.
“Maybe you should think about getting married again, Jubal,” she said. “Gracie told me there’d been ladies coming around—with cookies and meat loaf, she said. Surely there’s at least one woman out there who could be a good wife to you and a loving mother to your little girl.”
“As I recall, you said something along those lines ten years ago. ‘Find yourself another girl to marry—a girl who’ll be happy sharing your life.’ ”
A little smile played around her lips. “I did say that. And you found one. Are you afraid to try your luck again?”
Turning away from her, Jubal stared into the glowing bed of coals. He’d loved Laura, but theirs had been a practical kind of love, steady and solid, nothing like the breathless highs he’d known with Ellie. Lord, he’d never find anything like that blazing teenage passion again—and probably shouldn’t try. He wasn’t a high school kid anymore. At his stage in life, a homemade supper on the table and a warm bed at night ought to be enough.
But even that was more than he could offer a woman now.
“Well?” She was still looking up at him, waiting for his reply. As Jubal searched for a clever retort, something snapped inside him.
“Blast it, Ellie, don’t push me!” He sank onto the couch, cursing under his breath. “This isn’t a good time to ask!”
“What is it, Jubal?” The weight of her hand on his shoulder was no more than the brush of a bird’s wing. But he felt it in a deep place where no one but Ellie had ever touched him.
He’d sworn to keep his troubles to himself, but the story came spilling out—his father’s mismanagement, his plans for the ranch, and the shocking discovery he’d made at the bank.
“The work I’ve done, the debts I’ve paid off, the things I’ve gone without—worse, the things Gracie has gone without. It’s all been for the sake of a miserable piece of land I don’t even own.”
“You’re sure?” Ellie’s dark eyes were wells of sympathy—the last thing Jubal wanted from her. He was already wishing he’d kept quiet. Now it was too late for that.
“I checked the deed in the recorder’s office. This ranch belongs to some outfit called Shumway and Sons Property Management. My father signed away the property the year before he passed. I might’ve paid more attention, but it happened right after Laura’s accident. I was dealing with other things.”
“And your father could do that? Sell the property without your signature?”
Jubal remembered then that Ellie had gone to law school. “The ranch was part of a family trust,” he said. “As long as he was alive, my father, as trustee, had control. Yes, he could sell it or give it away or whatever the hell he wanted to do with it.” Jubal raked his fingers through his hair. “Sorry, I’m still in shock. I know I’ve got to fight this. But right now I don’t even know who or what I’m fighting. I’ve tried to learn more about the new owners, but it’s like they don’t exist—or maybe don’t want to be found.”
“That makes sense if they did something illegal to get the land.”
“I’ve thought of that. But I’ve got no proof. I’ve got nothing.”
“What I don’t understand is why you’re still here. Why hasn’t the new owner evicted you and taken over the ranch?”
Jubal exhaled wearily. “I’ve thought about that, too. The best explanation I can come up with is that they’re holding the property as an investment, hoping that, for whatever reason, the value will go up. If that’s the case, it would be to their advantage to have somebody working the place.”
“What about property taxes?”
“They’re set up on autopay from the ranch account. And they’ve been paid every year. Evidently the new owners have no problem with my taking care of those.”
“That’s monstrous, Jubal.”
“It’s business. And I didn’t invite you in to talk about it. It’s my problem, not yours.”
“Gracie doesn’t know?”
“I’m hoping I can clear up this mess without having to tell her we’re homeless.” He stood, holding out his hand to help her up. “Come on, it’s time you were getting home. I’ve burdened you enough.”
She took his hand, her fingers silky smooth against his roughened palm as he pulled her to her feet. “I haven’t forgotten what you told me about Gracie,” she said. “Believe me, I understand. I don’t want to hurt her either. I’ll try to distance myself.”
“Thanks.” He walked her to the door and lifted her quilted jacket off the rack. As he held it open, so she could slip her arms into the sleeves, her subtle fragrance rose from the fabric—not perfume, only Ellie, creeping into his senses just as he remembered.
Her shoulder-length hair was twisted up and anchored with a clip, exposing the nape of her graceful neck. The urge to lean close and press his lips to her soft, white skin was so powerful that he almost groaned out loud. But he managed to control himself as he pulled the jacket up into place. “I’ll walk you to your car,” he said. “The front steps could be slippery.”
“Thanks, I wouldn’t want to take a tumble.” She let him balance her as they crossed the porch. Partway down the steps, her foot slipped on an icy spot. With a little gasp, she pitched forward. Catching her shoulders, Jubal managed to stop her fall, but the move swung her around hard to face him.
For a heart-stopping moment, they froze, her parted lips a finger’s breadth from his. It would be so easy, so tempting to kiss her, Jubal thought. But he knew better. One kiss would never be enough. Give in to his urges, and he’d be walking into a minefield of trouble—more trouble than he needed.
He found his voice. “Are you all right, Ellie?”
She nodded. Something glimmered in her eye. Was it a tear or just the reflected light from the porch? “Just a little shaky, that’s all,” she said.
“Will you be all right to drive home?”
“I’ll be fine as soon as my nerves settle. I could’ve had a bad fall just now.”
“Here, take my arm again.” A dry wind had sprung out of the west. It whipped tendrils of hair around her face as he eased her down the remaining steps, saw her to her car, and opened the door. She slid her body carefully behind the wheel and fastened the seat belt low on her lap.
“Thank you for catching me.” The car’s dome light cast her face into stark light and shadow. She looked pale and tired, he thought.
“Be safe. Call me if you need anything. I mean it.” Jubal closed the door. With his back to the biting wind, he watched as she turned the sleek car around and drove out of the gate. Had he overstepped, inviting her to call him? She’d looked so vulnerable that he’d felt the need to say it. Not that she’d ever take him up on it. She had family to take care of her, including a brother who was the county sheriff. Forget it, Jubal told himself. Ellie would be fine.
But something else was gnawing at him. By the time her taillights vanished down the lane, he was already regretting what he’d revealed to her about the ranch.
Why hadn’t he kept his mouth shut? His problems were nobody’s business but his own. But tonight the story had come pouring out of him. Now Ellie knew about the trouble—and if she mentioned it to anybody, the story would soon be all over town. And even if she didn’t, it would color what she thought of him.
In the old days, he’d shared almost everything with her—his clashes with his father, his desire to improve the ranch and make it more productive, and his worries about the future. Back then they’d been more than just teenage lovers; they’d been good friends who could talk for hours about anything. Maybe that was why it had felt so natural to open up with her.
But it was no way to impress a sophisticated woman like Ellie. Maybe he should’ve put on an act—told her how well his plans were going and how much money the ranch was bringing in. But Ellie was no fool. One look around the place, and she’d have known it was all a lie. But even that would’ve been better than having her feel sorry for him.
Turning, he headed back up the steps and went inside. Tonight he would spend more hours online, searching for whatever he could find in the way of county records, tax lists, complaints to consumer agencies, trust laws—any clue that might lead to something he could use. So far he’d found nothing. But he couldn’t afford to give up. There was too much at stake—including his future and his daughter’s.
Christmas was only a few weeks off. If he couldn’t find a way out of this mess by then, there wouldn’t be much to celebrate.
* * *
After checking both ways for oncoming headlights, Ellie pulled onto the main road and headed back to town. At this hour there was little traffic, but then, Branding Iron wasn’t exactly known for its night life.
Clouds had darkened the face of the moon. Vaguely nervous, she switched her headlights to high beam and turned up the radio, which was still playing Christmas music. “Here Comes Santa Claus” boomed out of the BMW’s state-of-the-art speakers. She tried singing along, as she had with Gracie, but soon gave up and switched the radio off. She wasn’t in the mood. Her thoughts were with Jubal.
Seeing him tonight, talking like friends, had brought back the memory of old times and how good things had been between them. But they were different people now. She was about to have her ex-husband’s baby. He was a single father struggling to save his ranch. The idea of anything more than friendship between them—if even that—was unthinkable.
So why had the thought crossed her mind?
She remembered the night of her high school graduation—the night Jubal had proposed. He’d been her date for the senior party, and afterward they’d driven out to one of their favorite spots, a wooded rise overlooking the moonlit sweep of the open plain. She’d already been admitted to the University of Texas and planned to leave for Austin that summer to find a job and, hopefully, an apartment with roommates before school started in the fall. It was an option Jubal didn’t have. His only choice was to stay in Branding Iron and help his father work the ranch.
They’d snuggled and kissed. Then, to her surprise, he’d taken a small velvet box out of his pocket and opened it to reveal a diamond engagement ring. The stone was tiny, but Ellie had known it had probably drained his meager savings to buy it. She’d been moved almost to tears, but even before he spoke, she’d known what her answer would be.
“Say you’ll wear this and come back to me, Ellie,” he’d said. “I know you want an education, but for however long it takes, I’ll be waiting for you. There’ll never be anyone else for me.”
Then she had broken his heart.
Something flashed in front of her—a deer, then another one, leaping into her headlights. Her foot groped for the brake. No way to stop in time. Instinctively she wrenched the wheel to the right. The car swung onto the graveled shoulder and kept going. Like a slow-motion nightmare, it careened down into the low barrow pit and crunched to a cornerwise stop against a steel fence post.