The Rancher She Loved

by Ann Roth

  Pete cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, Tammy passed away two years ago, at the age of forty-four. She was killed in a car accident. I’m really sorry, Sarah.”

  “Oh, dear God.” Closing her eyes, Sarah sank against the headboard. The investigator remained silent, giving her time to absorb the information. “Did she and her husband have children?” she asked after a moment, wondering about half brothers or sisters.

  “None. I do know that Tammy and Art owned a local sporting goods shop and fishing business, and that Art was quite a bit older. Not long after Tammy died, he sold the business. Within a year of his wife’s death, he suffered a serious heart attack and passed away. Again, I’m sorry. I’ll email you the link to the obituary.”

  “Thank you.”

  Numb and grief-stricken, Sarah disconnected. None of her questions would ever be answered.

  She would never get to meet her biological mother, never learn the name of her biological father. Never know if Tammy had missed and thought about her over the years, and never find out why she’d stayed away from her parents.

  Sarah hugged her pillow and thought about her grandparents. It was up to her to break this sad news to them. They would be devastated over losing their only child and filled with regret that they hadn’t tried harder to find her.

  If only she could call Clay. She needed him to hold and comfort her, and say things that would make her feel better. But he had problems of his own, and she doubted he wanted to hear any more about hers. Besides, she needed to start getting over him.

  The tears that had refused to come last night finally fell. Sarah cried both for losing Tammy without ever having a chance to meet her and for losing Clay. Though she’d never really had him.

  She was alone, but strong, and would deal with her grandparents and whatever else came her way just as she’d dealt with everything this past year. By herself.

  Sarah squared her shoulders and got up.

  Mrs. Yancy was probably waiting with breakfast for her. She would eat first. Then she would phone her grandparents and invite herself over so that she could break the news in person. Dreading the ordeal ahead, she made the bed, then padded into the bathroom.

  After showering and dressing, she headed downstairs. The mouthwatering aroma she’d come to expect in the morning filled the air and stirred the appetite she thought she’d lost. Determined to hold herself together, she headed into the kitchen with her chin up.

  “Good morning, Sarah.” The older woman’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “You slept quite late. Clay must have kept you out until all hours.”

  At the mention of Clay, Sarah’s composure slipped. She turned away to get coffee, but not quickly enough.

  “Did you two have a fight last night?” Mrs. Yancy asked, sounding concerned.

  “Nothing like that.” Sarah brought her mug to the table and sank onto a chair.

  “Then why do you look as if someone has died?”

  The woman’s sympathetic expression destroyed what was left of Sarah’s tenuous grip on herself. “Someone did die—Tammy Becker,” she said, her eyes filling. “The private investigator just called. She was killed in a car accident.”

  “Oh, honey.” Mrs. Yancy left her post at the stove, brought Sarah a box of tissues and patted her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you.” Sarah wiped her eyes.

  “Does Clay know?”

  Sarah shook her head. “He’s—” Not about to air his dirty laundry, she hesitated. “He’s dealing with some problems, and I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other again.”

  Her temporary landlady squeezed her shoulder, but thankfully didn’t pry. “I’m serving pancakes this morning, which I happen to consider among the best comfort foods in the world—especially when loaded with chocolate chips. Are you ready for breakfast?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “You sit tight and sip your coffee.”

  Mrs. Yancy had already eaten, but made herself a chocolaty pancake and joined Sarah at the table. Instead of breaking into her usual nonstop chatter, she left Sarah to her thoughts.

  Grateful, Sarah sampled a pancake. It was delicious, and just what she needed. Ravenous for some reason, she devoured every crumb.

  “Feel better now?” Mrs. Yancy asked.

  “I actually do. I loved the chocolate chips. I’ve never had them in pancakes.”

  “Aren’t they a nice addition? Tell me, do your grandparents know about Tammy?”

  “Not yet. I’m going to call them in a little while and then drive over and see them.”

  “That’s a good idea. I’ll pack up some cookies to take along.”

  Sarah managed a smile. “That’d be nice.”

  “It’s no trouble. Your grandparents are lucky you found them. You’ll be a great comfort.”

  Sarah hoped so. Given the awkwardness between them and the lack of affection, she still wasn’t sure they wanted to be grandparents.

  “Clay seems so interested in your family, and very interested in you,” Mrs. Yancy went on. “I’m sure that no matter how bad his problems are, he’ll want you to share this with him.”

  Under normal circumstances she would, but Clay had other things on his mind. Besides, as bruised as Sarah’s heart was, she didn’t feel up to calling him. She ducked her head.

  “You really like him.”

  Was it that obvious? She sighed. “I do.”

  “He feels the same about you. I can tell by the way he looks at you.”

  “I know that he likes me,” she acceded, “but my feelings for him run deeper.”

  “Ah—you’re in love with him. That was fast, but love sometimes works that way. It was like that with my John and me.”

  “I don’t want to love Clay,” Sarah said.

  “You can’t tell your heart who it should or shouldn’t love.”

  Sarah sighed and nodded. “You’re lucky you and your husband felt the same way about each other.”

  “Yes, and I’ve always been thankful for that. Clay may need more time, but you’re perfect for him. He’ll come around—I just know it. Whatever you do, don’t give up.”

  There was nothing to give up. Clay already owned her heart. He was the best lover she’d ever known, but for him, sex was as casual as eating out. For Sarah, it meant so much more.

  And that was probably the tip of the iceberg of differences between them, differences too wide to bridge.

  “I could talk some sense into him,” Mrs. Yancy added, straightening her spine.

  Sarah cringed at the very thought. “Please don’t.”

  “Whatever you say, dear. But I really think you could use his strong shoulder about now.”

  Because that was painfully true, Sarah made a quick decision. “I interviewed seven ranchers, met my grandparents and found out what happened to Tammy,” she said. “I finished everything that I set out to do here, so there’s no reason for me to stay through Wednesday. But don’t worry, I’ll pay for the full two weeks we agreed on.”

  She’d write the article at home and then work on the house until it was ready to put on the market. After that...Sarah wasn’t sure where she’d live and didn’t want to think about that now.

  “I’m not sure whether I’ll leave Monday or Tuesday,” she went on. “That depends on how my grandparents handle Tammy’s death.”

  Mrs. Yancy nodded. “I’ll be sorry to see you go.”

  “You’ve been wonderful, but it’s time for me to get back to Boise.”

  The woman looked unconvinced, and Sarah forced a smile. “I’ll be okay. I always am.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Early Saturday morning Clay woke up with his mind in turmoil. He was pretty sure that he wasn’t responsible for Angela’s pregnancy, but doubted he’d be
able to relax until they got the test results.

  He’d been down this road before, but not in Saddlers Prairie, and had no idea where to go for the test. He’d ask Dr. Mark Engel, who ran the Saddlers Prairie Medical Clinic and was the only doctor in town.

  Clay shoved both bed pillows under his head and caught a whiff of Sarah’s perfume. Last night had been spectacular—at least until Angela’s call.

  If not for that, he had no doubt that Sarah would be here with him now. He imagined her asleep beside him, soft and naked and infinitely desirable. He’d kiss her awake. They’d fool around and end up making love—the best way in the world to start the day.

  His hungry body was definitely on board, a certain part of him alert and ready. “Settle down,” he said gruffly, and sat up.

  As much as he wanted to be with her—and he wanted that more than just about anything—he wasn’t stupid. That call had affected her, too, the shock on her face just about matching his own. Like him, she probably needed space to digest the whole sorry situation.

  After putting himself through his usual killer workout, he called the clinic and left a message for Dr. Mark’s answering service. Then he headed for the ranch.

  Several hours later, while Clay was busy helping the crew impregnate the cows and heifers, the good doctor returned his call. Clay snickered at the irony of his timing.

  “I have to take this,” he told Mattson.

  “No problem.”

  Clay stepped out of eavesdropping range, wincing as his leg protested. “I can trust you to keep this to yourself, Doc, right?” he asked.

  “Everything we discuss is confidential,” Dr. Mark assured him.

  Speaking in a low voice, Clay explained his situation, adding that he didn’t believe he was the father, and that although he always used protection, this wasn’t the first time he’d needed a paternity test. “Where do I go to get the test around here and in Billings?” he asked.

  “Let me look up a couple of labs in or near both cities. I’ll text you the addresses and phone numbers.”

  Less than five minutes later, armed with the info, Clay phoned Angela. He gave her a list of labs in Billings. “As soon as you let me know where you’re having your DNA test, I’ll go to a local lab for my blood sample, and have them send it over,” he said.

  She didn’t sound happy about that, which reconfirmed Clay’s suspicions that he wasn’t responsible for the pregnancy, and added that she needed to consult with her own doctor first. Her doctor didn’t work weekends, but Angela would call on Monday.

  She continued to insist that Clay was the father. He didn’t argue, just let her talk. Which turned out to be a smart move, as she finally ran out of steam. She agreed to get the test next week and let him know where to send his sample.

  “Thank you,” he said, relieved that she wasn’t fighting him on this. “About a week after the lab receives both our tests, we’ll know whether I’m the father.”

  When Clay disconnected, he felt better. Sometime in the next one to two weeks, he would know. God willing, the results would be in his favor.

  He thought about updating Sarah, but decided to put off the call until he had something concrete to tell her. He’d call after Angela confirmed that she was going in for testing.

  Then he and Sarah needed to talk. Clay wanted to make sure she understood what they’d already discussed—that he wasn’t into serious. He wanted to keep seeing her for as long as his feelings lasted, but he couldn’t commit to anything more than that.

  He was pretty sure she wouldn’t mind staying in touch. Too bad she lived as far away as Boise. Then again, Boise was on his list of cities to visit when his business was up and running. He would see Sarah there.

  Which meant that, as of right now, Boise had just moved to the top of his list. In a much better mood, he rejoined his crew.

  * * *

  DREADING THE CALL she was about to make, Sarah dialed her grandparents from her bedroom.

  “Hello, Sarah,” Mr. Becker said. “If you’re calling to thank us again for dinner, no need. We enjoyed seeing you and Clay. He doesn’t act all full of himself like some celebrities. He’s an interesting fella.”

  Her grandfather didn’t know the half of it. “We had a good time, and I can’t thank you enough. But I’m calling for a different reason. I heard from Pete Charles this morning.”

  “Oh?” Her grandfather sounded excited, which made what she was about to say that much more difficult. “Hold on, while I get my wife.” He put his hand over the receiver, and Sarah heard his muffled voice. “Judy, pick up the phone. It’s Sarah, and she heard from the private investigator.”

  A moment later, her grandmother spoke. “Hi, Sarah. Did your Mr. Charles find Tammy?”

  “Yes, but I’m afraid it’s bad news.” Not sure how to tell them, she paused.

  “Please, Sarah, tell us.”

  “Okay, but you might want to sit down.” She pulled in a breath. “Two years ago, Tammy was in a car accident. She...” Her voice broke. “She didn’t make it.”

  Her grandparents greeted this with silence. Then Mrs. Becker let out an odd wailing sound that stabbed right through Sarah’s heart.

  “My baby, gone?”

  Mr. Becker cleared his throat and then swallowed thickly. “Tammy is with the Lord now.”

  Neither of them said another word. Sarah heard the quiet sobs. Grieving for them and for herself, she let her own tears flow freely down her cheeks.

  After a moment, she reached for the tissues in her purse and dabbed her eyes. “I’m coming over.”

  Less than an hour later, she let herself into her grandparents’ apartment.

  Neither managed more than a nod of welcome.

  Looking as if they’d been struck by lightning, they sat side by side on the sofa, just as they had the other day. Within range of touching each other but separate, grieving parents drawing a modicum of solace simply from each other’s presence.

  They might not be physically affectionate, but they loved and relied on each other. Sarah envied that, envied the bond they shared.

  When her grandfather pulled himself together enough to notice the plate in her hands, she set it down. “Mrs. Yancy, the woman I’m staying with, sent these cookies and her condolences.”

  “Please thank her.” Her grandmother struggled to her feet. “Coffee will go nicely with those. I started a fresh pot just before you called.”

  “Let me get it,” Sarah said.

  The older woman opened her mouth as if to argue, gave a weak nod and dropped back to the sofa. “All right.”

  After Sarah handed out the cups, she took a seat in the same armchair as before. No one touched the cookies or the coffee. The Beckers began to talk about Tammy.

  “We were strict with her,” Mr. Becker said almost apologetically. “But we did what we thought was best.”

  “She wouldn’t tell us the name of the baby’s father, even when we took away all her privileges,” his wife said. “I read in her journal that it was someone who was with her on the youth group trip to Canada. A boy whose name started with the letter B. All those kids came from good, church-going families. I can’t imagine who could’ve done that to our baby, and I have no idea whose name started with that letter.”

  “We attended the same church,” Mr. Becker reminded her. “That didn’t stop Tammy or the boy from doing what they did. Most of those families moved away long ago. I doubt we’ll ever know his name.”

  “Whoever the boy was, he never let on, not even when Tammy disappeared. The minister and every member of our church tried to help, but even with prayer and their support, accepting that she was gone from our lives was a struggle.” She began to cry quietly again. “We drove her away.”

  “You couldn’t know she’d run off.” A box of tissues sat on the
coffee table. Sarah handed it to her grandmother. “You only did what you thought was best,” she added, repeating her grandfather’s earlier words.

  Words that also applied to Ellen, Sarah realized. She’d kept the adoption a secret because, for whatever reasons, she’d thought it was the right thing to do.

  Sarah had never considered Ellen’s wants or needs, had only focused on the painful effects of her lie. She would never know why her adoptive mother had buried the truth, but seeing her in this new light blunted some of the anger and decreased the awful heaviness that had weighed her down since the day she’d found her birth certificate.

  “She begged us to let her keep you, but we wouldn’t even think about that,” Mr. Becker said brokenly.

  “We were too ashamed.” Mrs. Becker hung her head. “Because of our stubborn pridefulness, we missed so much—watching our daughter mature and grow up. Getting to know you from the beginning.”

  Her heartfelt tone and regretful expression made Sarah’s chest ache. Her grandparents might reject a hug, but she needed to give it.

  Sarah stood, moved to the sofa and squeezed in between them. First she embraced her teary grandmother in a silent, comforting hug. Then she turned to her grandfather with open arms. He squeezed her hard, his shoulders shaking as he silently wept.

  When she let go, they all blew their noses.

  Suddenly Sarah’s stomach growled. She glanced at the clock. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and it was already midafternoon. Time to let the Beckers grieve alone and find a sandwich someplace.

  “I should go now,” she said. “But I can come back tomorrow.”

  “We’ll be in church all day,” her grandmother said. “If you’d like to attend with us, you’re welcome.”

  Sarah didn’t think she was up for that, and besides, she needed to work on the article. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”

  Mr. Becker opened his mouth, but his wife gave him a warning look. “We won’t force you to come. That’s another reason why we—” she choked up “—lost Tammy. We don’t want to lose you, too.”

  Sarah knew she would dearly miss her grandparents when she returned to Boise. Maybe she should move closer. Something to think about later.