Sarah's Legacy

by Brenda Mott

  He looked at Bailey. Tears streaked her cheeks, and she swiped at them with the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “You shouldn’t have had to lose her the way you did.” Nudging Star closer, she reached out and touched his arm. “I wish I could do or say something to ease your pain.”

  He nodded. “It’s not something parents ever think they’ll have to go through. You just don’t expect to outlive your child.”

  “No.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes once more. “She had stomach cancer?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. The cancer spread to her liver.” He took a deep breath. “She died six months after being diagnosed.”

  “Dear God.” Bailey tilted her head back to look up at the sky, then let her gaze come to rest on the cemetery atop the hill. “I’d like to visit her grave again sometime,” she said, “if you wouldn’t mind, and take her some flowers.”

  “Sure.” Dokina shifted beneath him, then pinned her ears at Star. “Hey.” Trent spoke to the horse. “Be nice.” He tightened his reins, forcing Dokina back a step. “I guess we’d better head for home. Someone’s tired of standing still.”

  Bailey managed a small smile. “Okay.” They rode along single file at first, until the trail widened. Then Bailey rode up beside him. “What happened to Sarah’s horse?” she asked. “The one in the photo I saw tonight?”

  Another source of pain on the long list of decisions he’d had to make.

  “I couldn’t bear to see Misttique every day. Sarah loved that horse more than anything. But I couldn’t bear to sell him, either. So I shipped him to my parents’ ranch in California.”

  “They still have him, then?”

  He nodded. “Mom finds comfort in taking care of Misttique and riding him. She says it makes her feel close to Sarah.”

  Bailey’s mouth twisted in a sad little smile. “Sarah probably would’ve liked that.” She hesitated. “What about her dog?”

  He frowned. “How did you know she had a dog?”

  “Macy told me.” She eased Star along the trail, and in the moonlight, he could see the soulful expression in her eyes. “He looked like Buddy, didn’t he?”

  Trent sighed. How had this conversation gotten started? He really didn’t want to rehash all this. “Yeah, pretty much. He was a Border collie–blue heeler mix. His name was Jax, and I bought him for Sarah just before we found out she was sick. He stayed by her side constantly. And he moped when she went to the hospital.” He didn’t tell her that Jax had howled outside Sarah’s bedroom window the night she died, until Trent could stand it no longer.

  That mournful, near-human sound would haunt him for the rest of his life. Even the better part of a bottle of whiskey hadn’t been enough to drown out the plaintive wail. He’d brought the dog into his room and let Jax sleep on the rug beside the bed. Trent had lain awake all night, staring up at the ceiling, his eyes dry and achy. He’d cried so many tears there were none left inside him. Dangling his hand over the edge of the bed, he’d rested it on Jax’s head, finding comfort in the animal’s presence.

  Amy had left hours before, unable to sit by and watch her daughter die. She’d been staying with a friend since their marriage had officially ended, when he’d brought Sarah home from the hospital. The next day, Amy came back to get the remainder of her things while Trent was at the funeral home, and she took Jax with her.

  “My wife and I had separated shortly before Sarah died. She moved back to California right after that, dog and all, and filed for divorce.” He steered Dokina over a fallen log. “Careful. Don’t let Star trip over that.”

  Bailey guided the gray horse over the log. The look she gave Trent told him she knew he was trying to shift the conversation elsewhere. She grew silent, then asked, “How long have your parents raised Arabians?”

  Relieved and grateful that she understood his need for a change of subject, Trent let out a breath he’d barely been aware of holding. He’d already told Bailey more than he’d intended. “Since before I was born,” he answered.

  They spent the remainder of the ride talking about Zadel Arabians and his mother and father. “Your parents sound wonderful,” Bailey said as they halted at the foot of her driveway. “Do they visit often?”

  He stiffened. Was she hoping to meet them? A part of him would love to introduce Bailey to his mom and dad. Another part ran scared at the thought of what that implied. “Usually once or twice a year. I’m not sure when they’ll be out again.”

  “Well, thanks for riding with me.” Bailey grinned crookedly. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  He chuckled. “No, it wasn’t. Do you want me to help you unsaddle Star?” He was making up an excuse to prolong the evening, but he couldn’t stop himself. He’d enjoyed their ride together far more than he wanted to admit, and now that it was over, he hated to leave Bailey.

  “No, thanks,” she said. “I can handle it.”

  “All right.” He turned his horse around, then looked back over his shoulder. “Hey, Bailey. Let’s do this again soon.”

  She appeared startled by the invitation, but she quickly recovered. “Sure.” Her lips curved, making him remember the kisses they’d shared by the river. “That way I won’t get lost in the dark.” She winked and lifted her hand in a little wave, then headed up the driveway.

  Trent rode away, heart pounding, not sure why he’d tacked on the last-minute invitation. Maybe the night air had gone to his head.

  Then again, maybe Bailey had.

  He glanced over his shoulder, unable to resist just one more look at her, and saw her do likewise as she rode Star toward the barn.

  Quickly, he faced forward in the saddle. The sight of Bailey riding in the moonlight on a horse the color of a phantom was enough to make him believe she was merely a figment of his imagination. He’d hardly be surprised if he woke up in the morning to find he’d dreamed all the things that had occurred in his life since he’d met her. Since a woman with big-city ways and a small-town heart had stirred feelings long dormant in him.

  The memory of her parting smile followed him home.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a ride as much as he had tonight. And though he hated to admit it, it had sort of felt good talking to Bailey about Sarah.

  Trent continued to dwell on Bailey as he unsaddled Dokina and brushed her down. Surely he was losing his mind. He seemed to sway between wanting to steer clear of Bailey and wanting to take her to bed. He couldn’t help thinking it would be interesting to see which of the two ended up happening. But for now, he was satisfied to take things one day at a time. A day with Bailey in his life often felt like ten. Still, he had a sinking feeling that one without her might feel like a thousand years.

  He turned Dokina out into the pasture and stood near the gate, looking across at Bailey’s house. A light was on in the barn. After a while, it went out, and a short time later, so did the one in an upstairs room that was probably her bedroom.

  He pictured Bailey climbing between a set of crisp cool sheets, possibly wearing a scrap of lacy panties and a teddy. Or a sheer silky nightgown, or maybe nothing at all.

  A heated mixture of longing and apprehension filled him.

  If only he could switch off his feelings for her as easily as she’d turned off the light in her room. He turned his face toward the heavens. “Sarah, honey, what on earth is your daddy going to do?”

  A shooting star streaked across the night sky. Trent followed its path, then stared at the place in the star-studded blackness where it had disappeared.

  Closing his eyes, he made a wish. He wished for guidance, and hoped that whatever was meant to happen would happen soon, so that he might either forget Bailey and get on with his life, or have the courage to pursue a relationship with her and see where it led.

  Then he went inside and climbed into bed. And as sleep curled around him, he drifted away on a dream in which he held a phantom lover, and lost himself in her gentle touch and her mesmerizing violet eyes.

  CHAPTE
R TEN

  BAILEY NEVER THOUGHT she’d consider a branch audit a blessing in disguise, but that was exactly how she felt as she prepared for her first one as president of Colorado Western National. Her job depended on all bank records being in order, which turned out to be a good thing. It left her no time to dwell on the kisses she and Trent had shared by the river last week.

  They hadn’t talked since their moonlight ride. True, Bailey had worked late every night this week. Still, she’d thought Trent would call. He’d said he wanted to go riding again sometime soon. Normally, Bailey would have assumed he, too, was busy. But she’d caught sight of him across the pasture several times while she did her chores, and all he’d done was wave. He’d made no effort to come to the fence and talk to her.

  In all fairness, she had to admit that she hadn’t made an effort to walk over and talk to him, either. She felt stressed and exhausted from working late every night. Preparation for the branch audit meant poring over everything from safe-deposit sign-in cards to night-drop logs. The bank would be scored on a scale of one to a hundred. If it didn’t receive at least an eighty-five, Colorado Western National would go on written warning, and Bailey could lose her job.

  The thought terrified her. She had every confidence she’d kept things running properly, but what if she’d overlooked some important detail? Without her job, she could hardly afford the payments on her farm, and without the farm, her dreams would all go down the tubes. She’d be forced to move back to the city.

  And she’d probably never see Trent again.

  Bailey shuddered at the thought of giving up her farm. She’d come to care a lot about Trent, but the farm meant everything to her. She’d promised herself that nothing would stand in her way of obtaining the solid, permanent home she’d always longed for—a place to put down the roots she so desperately needed for her and her future children. She’d also vowed she would accomplish her goals with or without Trent Murdock.

  She intended to keep those vows.

  Obviously, her relationship with Trent must mean something to him, or he wouldn’t have trusted her enough to talk about Sarah. But exactly how far he was willing to take things, she didn’t know. Bailey was actually surprised he’d talked about Sarah at all, and wondered if he would have, had they not ridden past the cemetery. It didn’t matter. At least he’d opened up to her a little. She only hoped she wasn’t a complete fool for thinking things might continue to develop between the two of them.

  She’d already made it clear to Trent that she cared about him. If he wanted to be with her, he was going to have to meet her halfway.

  Determined to push Trent out of her mind for now, Bailey headed for the bank. As she entered the lobby, she spotted Lester Godfrey in the waiting area.

  Jenny approached her. “Bailey, Lester’s here to see you.” She frowned. “He said he needed to talk to you about something, but he wouldn’t say what.”

  Bailey glanced at the clock and sighed. She still had some last-minute things she wanted to go over before the auditors arrived. “I can give him a few minutes,” she said reluctantly. “Send him into my office.”

  Bailey sat down behind her desk, and Jenny showed Lester inside. He removed his ball cap and clutched it in his work-worn hands, twisting the bill into the shape of a taco shell.

  “Hello, Lester.” Bailey smiled and indicated one of two chairs facing her desk. “What can I do for you?”

  Lester sat on the edge of the chair and cleared his throat. “I was wondering if there was any way you’d reconsider giving me that loan, Ms. Chancellor. I really need the money.”

  Bailey frowned. “I don’t understand. I thought the money I paid you for your truck was enough to carry you through for a while.”

  “It did help.” Lester shrugged one shoulder and avoided making eye contact. “But it didn’t go as far as I’d hoped. My wife, Jolene—she had some female surgery recently, as you know. And the bills just keep pourin’ in.” His gaze returned to hers. “Besides that, Jolene’s madder’n a wet hen at me for selling you that truck.”

  “Oh?”

  He puffed out his cheeks, then sighed. “We had our first date in the Chevy, at the old drive-in theater that used to be out east of town. And I’ve spent a lot of time and money fixing the truck up.” He grinned crookedly. “We brought each of our four kids home from the hospital in that pickup, and Jolene wants it back. So I was thinking if you could see your way to giving me the loan, then I could buy the truck back and maybe have some money left over to pay the doctor bills.”

  Sympathy for Lester’s plight flooded Bailey, but there was nothing she could do. “I’m sorry, Lester. I’d like to help you, but as I told you before, you don’t qualify for a loan.”

  He nodded. “I know when you ran everything through your computer it didn’t come up lookin’ real good. I ain’t got much in the way of credit.” He gestured dismissively. “But can’t you just skip all that and do things the old-fashioned, small-town way? Maybe pull a few strings and get me the loan? I’m good for the money, I swear.”

  Bailey held on to her patience. “I’m truly sorry, Lester, but it just doesn’t work that way.” She offered him a sympathetic smile. “Times have changed. Unfortunately, we no longer give loans based on a man’s word and a handshake.”

  The earnest smile left Lester’s face, and with it his friendly attitude. “I see. Guess I’m beginning to understand why folks in this town have a problem with you running the bank.” He jammed his cap down on his head and pushed away from the chair. “Thanks a lot for your time.” With that, he stormed from her office.

  Startled by his abrupt change in attitude, Bailey rose from her desk and walked out to the lobby where Jenny’s desk stood. Jenny had turned in her chair to look out the window, craning her neck to watch Lester stride down the street. “Uh-oh,” she said, her face clouding over.

  “What?” Bailey stepped up beside her and peered through the tinted glass that lined the top half of the wall. Across the street, Lester disappeared through the doors of the Silver Saddle Saloon, located just down the block.

  “He’s drinking again.” Jenny faced her, exasperation in her eyes. “Poor Jolene. She’s had trouble keeping that man sober ever since they got married. But he’d been doing so well lately. I thought he might’ve stopped for good this time. He hasn’t touched a drop since New Year’s Eve.” She shook her head. “Lord, what will Jolene say? Maybe I should call her.”

  “It might be best if you didn’t,” Bailey said. “It’s usually not a good idea to interfere in someone’s marital problems.” For the life of her, she couldn’t understand why any woman would stay with a man who had a drinking problem, much less continue to have children with him. But it was none of her business.

  Bailey headed back to her office. By the time the lunch hour approached, her palms were sweaty. The auditors were due to arrive at one o’clock. Everything was in order. She couldn’t wait to get the whole thing over with. She was too nervous to eat anything substantial. Maybe a cup of yogurt would settle her stomach.

  As she walked to the break room, she spotted Lester, standing next to Jenny’s desk once more. Jenny had risen from her chair and was trying to calm him down. He gestured vehemently and shook his head, shrugging away from the hand she laid on his arm.

  Spotting Bailey, Jenny strode her way. “Lester wants to see you again.” Irritation flushed her face. “I tried to tell him you were tied up in a meeting, but he got very belligerent.” She shot a disgusted look in Lester’s direction. “He’s drunker than twelve skunks. He must’ve spent the last three hours slamming down longnecks.”

  “Never mind, Jenny. I’ll handle it.” Her patience rapidly thinning, Bailey headed purposefully toward Lester. Lord, she didn’t need this right now.

  He gave her a lopsided grin. “Just the woman I want to see.” He held out his arms as though the two of them were bosom buddies. As he tried to sling one arm around her shoulder, Bailey sidestepped him and took him by the elbow.<
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  “Lester, why don’t you come into my office for a minute.”

  “Good idea,” he slurred, glaring at Jenny. “She said you were in a meeting and didn’t have time for me.” He drew back and frowned. “Whatsa matter, Ms. Chancellor? Are you too busy to talk to a work-in’ stiff like me?” He staggered sideways, drawing the attention of the customers in the lobby.

  “I’m making time for you now, aren’t I?” Fully irritated, Bailey marched him into her office. “Have a seat.” She closed the door behind them.

  Lester sat down. Bailey took her chair and folded her hands on top of the desk blotter. “Now, what seems to be the problem?”

  “I already told you what the problem is.” He enunciated each word slowly, as though his tongue were too thick and tied in knots. “I’m out of money.”

  Holding on to the last of her patience by a thread, Bailey spoke calmly. “Yes, and I already explained to you that you don’t qualify for a loan. There’s nothing I can do about that.”

  He waved her statement aside. “Aw, c’mon. You and me both know that’s all just red tape. You can get around it.” He leaned forward, sending alcohol-laden fumes her way.

  Bailey leaned away from him. “What happened to the money I gave you for your truck?”

  Lester’s face reddened. “I told you, it’s gone. Spent.” He waved his hand in the air in a gesture that said farewell to the money.

  She couldn’t help wondering if he hadn’t drunk away a good deal of it, rather than spend it on the bills he needed to pay.

  “And you know what else?” Lester pressed his forefinger against the top of the desk for emphasis. “If I don’t get that truck back now, Jolene is not going to be a happy camper, let me tell you. She’s hell on wheels when she’s mad.”