Читать книгу A Ranch Called Home - Candy Halliday, Candy Halliday - Страница 10

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.”