Return to Homecoming Ranch (Pine River)

by Julia London

  “I don’t have to believe Gwen. You took the kids, Libby. There’s no debate in that. And you had no right.”

  Libby stared at him, her hand clenching and unclenching. She suddenly turned around, started walking.

  “Where are you going?” he called out to her.

  She quickened her step, going as fast away from him as she could.

  Sam resisted the urge to go after her. Right now, he needed to think, to find his bearings. He’d made a commitment to this fundraiser, and he wasn’t going to let Leo down because Libby had let him down. He made himself turn around and walk back inside to the silent auction with his pulse pounding angrily in his ears. He heard a phone ring, but it took him a moment to realize it was his. By the time Sam dug it out of his pocket, the call from Tony had rolled to voice mail.

  Sam tucked the phone back into his pocket. He couldn’t talk to Tony right now. He had to think, to calm down. He would call Tony later when he’d cooled off.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Libby walked blindly into the Stake Out. She didn’t know where she was going, other than away from Sam, and found herself at the bar, still seeing Sam’s cold and distrusting expression before her. It was the worst sort of feeling—as if someone had pummeled her heart and left it bleeding.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

  “Water, thanks.”

  The bartender walked down to the other end of the bar to get it.

  Libby picked up a coaster and began to twirl it through her fingers. She was angry. With Gwen, for one. After all this time working on the committee, Gwen couldn’t possibly believe Libby would steal her children. And just what did Gwen think she would do? Run with them? Harm them? It was infuriating.

  Libby was also angry with herself, for having taken Alice and Max to get the costume. It was a dumb thing to do, and even though Libby hated to see Alice upset or disappointed, it was not her place to soothe Alice’s wounds. It was not her place.

  It was so painful to admit that to herself. Libby had believed that she’d come to terms with it, but today had proved to her she hadn’t at all. She had jumped at the chance to be with them. She had been so happy to be the one to fix things. She hadn’t come to terms with anything.

  But what made her so angry that she could not keep from taking tiny little gasps to calm her racing heart was that Sam didn’t trust her. She’d made a mistake. Okay, another one. But how could he not understand what was in her heart?

  “Here you go,” the bartender said, putting a glass of water before her. He slid a shot glass in beside it.

  “What’s that?” Libby asked.

  “The guy down there sent it. Said to tell you it would cure what ails you.”

  Libby looked down the bar at the man. He lifted his beer bottle to her.

  “Take it back,” Libby said. “I don’t want it.”

  The bartender shrugged and picked it up, made his way back down the bar.

  Libby sipped her water, seeing Sam’s clenched jaw, the hard look in his eye.

  “Give it a try, at least.”

  Libby turned to see who’d spoken. The man from the other end of the bar was standing beside her, smiling down at her. “You look like you could use a friend. What’s your name?”

  Libby snorted. “Don’t get too close, pal,” she said. “I have been known to pick up a golf club and go off on a man’s truck.”

  He laughed. “That’s my kind of woman,” he said, and slid onto the barstool next to her.

  The silent auction went fairly well, Sam thought, but in the end, there were a couple of items that were taken to the podium for open bidding. Sam bid on the hunting lease—he had no intention of using it, but then again, he couldn’t see vying for a sewing machine. In the middle of the auction, his phone rang again. It was Tony.

  “I’ve got five hundred. Who will make it five fifty?” Gwen said, scanning the crowd. Somehow, in spite of the mess of the afternoon, she had changed into a black sheath and looked very good and poised. “Five fifty?” Gwen asked.

  Sam raised his hand.

  “Great. Have we got six hundred?”

  Jackson Crane raised his hand. “Six fifty,” he called out and grinned at Sam. “No offense, big guy, but I want the lease.”

  “Six fifty,” Gwen repeated.

  “Make it seven, Gwen,” Sam said, and smiled at Jackson. “It’s a fundraiser.”

  The crowd laughed.

  Jackson did, too. “All right, all right. Eight hundred dollars, Gwen. And if I don’t get at least a squirrel, I’m suing Jack Wolzniak,” he said, turning around to look at the man who had put the lease up for auction.

  “Eight hundred fifty?” Gwen said to Sam.

  He shook his head. “Let Jackson have it. I’d hate for him to miss out on a squirrel this season.”

  Everyone laughed as Gwen declared, “Sold to Jackson Crane for eight hundred dollars! Ladies and gentlemen, that brings us to the end of our auction tonight.” She stuck glasses on her face and glanced down at a piece of paper someone had just handed her. “This is great news. We’ve raised fifteen thousand dollars to date! Leo, would you like to say something?”

  She stuck the microphone in Leo’s face. “I’d like to say thank you to everyone,” he said. “This means a lot to me. Many of you know that football has always been important to me, and in fact, I was playing football at the Colorado School of Mines when I was diagnosed with MND. I had hopes of playing in the NFL like I guess all boys do. Well, I obviously can’t do a lot of what I used to do, but by God, I can still coach the Broncos!”

  A wild cheer went up from the crowd.

  The auction was completed, and the evening began to wind down. Sam walked outside of the banquet hall to return Tony’s call. But there was no answer. He found that odd, as Tony had called him only minutes ago. He grabbed his coat from the hatcheck and walked outside to try again.

  On the second try, Tony picked up. And he was crying. “Sam,” he said. “You’ve always been a real good friend to me.”

  Sam’s pulse quickened. “I still am, Tony.”

  “Yeah, but . . . I just wanted to thank you,” Tony said, his voice tearful and thick.

  “You okay, buddy?” Sam asked, but his heart had started to race with apprehension. He began striding toward his truck.

  “I’m just thinking about everyone who has tried to help me.”

  “I’m coming up there,” Sam said. “Let’s go over them together.”

  “Nah, man. I’d rather be alone.”

  Panic flooded Sam. “Tony, goddammit, I’m coming up there. Just hang on. I’m in Pine River right now. Give me twenty minutes. You owe me twenty minutes!”

  “Don’t bother,” Tony said. “I’m not worth it. You waste all this time on me and I’m nothing . . .”

  “Twenty minutes, Tony!” Sam said sternly, and clicked off, quickening his step. His mind was on Tony, his thoughts up in the mountains, away from Pine River. He didn’t notice the waitress from the Stake Out until he almost collided with her. “Oh hey,” she said. “Hey, I know you. You’ve been in the Stake Out with Libby Tyler, right?”

  “Yes,” Sam said. “Why?”

  The girl glanced back at the Stake Out. “She’s pretty drunk. And there’s this guy, Tom Veranno, who keeps buying her drinks. He’s a dog. I tried to talk her into leaving but she wouldn’t listen to me.”

  Something hard and unforgiving snapped inside of Sam. “Thank you,” he said, and changed direction, heading for the Stake Out.

  The bar was crowded for a Thursday night, but then again, the Stake Out was the destination for hungry singles in Pine River. As Sam pushed through the crowd, he could smell the booze, and there were dirty glasses on the bar, empty shot glasses, empty beer glasses. Two bartenders were walking quickly back and forth behind the bar, carrying four or five drinks at a time.

  It never ceased to amaze Sam how the smell of alcohol and cigarettes could make him yearn so for a drink. He could feel the desire
rising up like leavened bread, suffocating everything else inside him.

  He saw Libby instantly. She was laughing at something a man was saying. A man who was practically on top of her, his eyes fixed on her breasts. Sam walked around to where she was. Her back was to him, so he put his hand on her shoulder. “Come on, Libby, let’s go home,” he said.

  She jerked around, her eyes wide and bloodshot, and she teetered on the edge of her stool. “Home! Where’s home, Sam? Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t want to go with you,” she said, jerking her shoulder out from underneath his hand.

  “Hey, pal, the lady doesn’t want you around. So take a walk,” Tom said, standing up from his barstool. He was several inches shorter than Sam.

  “I’m not taking a walk,” Sam said. “I’m taking her home.”

  “Don’t be like that,” Libby said. “Tom’s been really nice to me.”

  “Yeah, I bet he has,” Sam put his arm around her waist and made her stand up. “Where’s your purse?”

  She looked around her. “I don’t know. Oh. There it is.” She slid down to get it from where it had somehow ended up on the floor.

  “Dude, I said, leave her alone,” the man said, and when Libby dipped down, he put his hand on Sam’s arm. Sam swung so fast he surprised himself. He connected with the man’s jaw and sent him tumbling to the ground.

  Libby popped up, gasping with surprise. “Sam!”

  “I’m calling the cops!” the man said angrily, clambering to his feet.

  “I am a cop.” Sam grabbed Libby by the hand. “Let’s go.” He yanked her away from the bar and stalked through the crowd, pulling her along behind him. Everyone had turned to see what the commotion was, and several stepped out of their way as he marched through. Libby stumbled along behind him.

  With every step, Sam felt his belly churn. He hated this. He hated scenes, he hated drunks. And he especially did not care for the woman he loved to be so drunk. Yes, he loved Libby, of course he loved her, he’d always loved her. And to see her like this was beyond maddening to him.

  She said nothing until he opened the passenger door of the truck. She turned around then, swaying on her feet, and said, “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re always sorry, Libby. Get in.”

  “No, really. I’m really sorry. More than I am ever sorry about anything, because, I, you know, I love you, Sam.”

  Sam rolled his eyes. He knew all about drunken proclamations of love and the promise to do better. “Get in,” he said, and helped her inside the truck. He walked around to the driver’s side, stepped in, and started the truck.

  Libby slid down in her seat. “I thought you loved me, too.”

  He wasn’t going to respond to that. He’d been in this situation too many times to count, and it left a bitter taste of resentment in his mouth that he should be here again. There it was again, the overwhelming desire for a drink.

  “Okay, you’re mad, but what was I supposed to do?” she demanded, banging her fist on the console.

  “I assume you are talking about taking those children,” he said sharply. “You were supposed to let someone else handle it, that’s what. Let it be Gwen’s problem, and not yours.”

  She slid deeper in her seat. “I know. You think I don’t know? But Alice would have been crushed,” she said, saying it with so much conviction she almost tipped over.

  “And she would have survived,” Sam said curtly.

  “That’s not—”

  “Stop,” he said angrily. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Fine,” Libby snapped and folded her arms across her middle.

  Before Sam turned off onto the road up to Homecoming Ranch, she had passed out.

  TWENTY-NINE

  It was already noon by the time Libby made her way downstairs, one hand on her throbbing head, the other on the handrail. She felt awful, like she’d been dragged back from the brink of hell. Libby was not a drinker beyond the occasional glass of wine with dinner. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d even drunk liquor.

  She’d drunk what felt like bottles of it last night.

  Madeline was sitting at the kitchen bar, papers strewn in front of her when Libby stumbled in. “So you’re alive,” she said simply.

  “Debatable,” Libby said. She shuffled to the coffeemaker and turned it on. “I guess you know Sam brought me home.”

  Madeline snorted. “I know. It took the both of us to pour you into bed.”

  “That bad, huh?” Libby asked with a wince.

  “Worse,” Madeline said, sounding sympathetic.

  Libby groaned. “I was so stupid last night, Madeline. Where is Sam now?”

  “I don’t know, probably still in Montrose,” Madeline said.

  “Montrose?”

  “You weren’t the only one to get rip-roaring drunk,” she said. “Tony, too, apparently. After Sam got you upstairs, he went down to the bunkhouse and found Tony, several empty beer bottles, and an empty pill container.”

  Libby gasped. “Is he all right?”

  “He lived,” Madeline said. “I don’t know what he took, but it wasn’t lethal. Sam rushed him to the hospital in Montrose. Irony of ironies, they are sending him to Mountain View today.”

  “Ohmigod.” Libby sank onto a barstool and buried her face in her hands. Tony had seemed so upbeat last week after Justin’s visit. “What happened?”

  “Who knows?”

  “I should go,” Libby said, her mind racing ahead. She could help Sam, could talk to Tony. “I can help.”

  “I don’t think you can, Libby,” Madeline said. “You want my advice?”

  “No. No, wait,” Libby said, squeezing her eyes shut. “Yes. Yes, I want your advice, Madeline. I do.”

  Madeline frowned dubiously.

  “Look, I’ve managed to screw up maybe the best thing to ever happen to me. I need every piece of advice I can get, if I like it or not.”

  Madeline slid off her seat at the bar and picked up her papers. “Okay. If I were you, I’d lay low a couple of days. And then I’d think about getting some help for you, Libby. Remember when you came back from Mountain View, after you’d had all those talks with Dr. Huber? That really seemed to help you to be able to talk about things. I would do that.”

  “You’re right,” Libby said. “Good idea.”

  “But I would not go and find Sam. Not now.”

  Libby could feel her heart begin to split open, a soft tear, spreading like a spiderweb down the center. “Why not?” she asked.

  “Because . . .” Madeline glanced heavenward a moment, then at Libby. “You know, I really disappointed Luke one time. Like . . . really let him down. And he told me—Well, he said a lot of things. But basically he said he was in our relationship for the long haul, but he wasn’t in it to be jerked around. I’m guessing the same is true for Sam. I know he is crazy about you. He’s been crazy about you for a long time. But he’s not crazy, if you know what I mean.”

  Libby knew exactly what she meant. Sam could be the one for her, but not if she kept stirring up the dust. Even if she didn’t intend to stir the dust, she’d still done it, and the only way to keep that from happening was to stay away from all the Spanglers. “I know what you’re saying is right, Madeline. It’s what I have to do. But I love Alice and Max so much,” she muttered.

  “I know,” Madeline said. “Seriously, I know how much you care for them, and how difficult it must have been for you to lose them. I can’t imagine how hard. But Libby . . . if you really love them, you really have to let them go. It must cause them heartache, too. Do you think they want you and their mother and father to be at odds? They will always care about you, but at the rate you’re going, they will end up resenting you. You don’t want that, do you?”

  “No,” Libby said wearily. “Of course I don’t.”

  Madeline came around the bar and surprised Libby with a sisterly arm around her shoulders. “I’ve been there,” she said to Libby. “I’ve lost people from my life that I loved, an
d I know how it hurts. Just don’t lose Sam. He’s one of the good guys. Chill out, work on yourself, and my guess is he’ll come around.”

  Libby didn’t know if that was true or not.

  As the day passed, she waited to hear from him. She kept thinking she’d see his truck driving up the road to the house.

  He didn’t come.

  So Libby tried to reach Sam by phone. It rolled into voice mail.

  That afternoon, Madeline gave Libby a ride into town to get her car, left at the Grizzly Lodge. Libby went inside to speak to Dani.

  Dani was busy behind the counter, but in spite of everything that had happened, she still had a smile for Libby.

  “How did it go last night?” Libby asked.

  “It was great,” Dani said. “We’re halfway to our goal. Leo was very happy. I think it tired him out something awful, but he left with a smile on his face.” She looked slyly at Libby. “Where were you?”

  Libby shook her head. “You don’t want to know. Dani . . . I am sorry about yesterday. I thought I was being helpful—”

  “Well of course you did, hon. I’m sorry, too. I want to tell Sam that the more I thought about it, the more it seemed it was my idea, but he hasn’t been in.”

  Libby could picture him in his work shed, making birdhouses. “It wasn’t your idea, Dani. It was mine. But thanks for trying to help.” She smiled sadly. “I’ll see you.”

  The next afternoon, Libby drove to Mountain View to see Tony.

  He was sitting on a bed, staring vacantly out the window. “Wow,” Libby said. “You look like hell.”

  “You don’t look much better,” Tony pointed out.

  “Tell me about it.” Libby sighed and sat on the edge of his bed, sitting cross-legged where his leg would have been. His prosthesis was beside the nightstand. “We miss you, Tony,” she said. “You have to come back. Ernest is moping around. Madeline and I have no one to cook for.”

  Tony rolled his eyes and kept his gaze on the window.