Harlequin Heartwarming December 2020 Box Set

by Cari Lynn Webb, Linda Warren, Mary Anne Wilson

  He saw Cal say, “Oh, man, I’m so sorry. What do you want to do?”

  Jake wanted to be able to hear so he could call Seth and talk to him. He wanted to be the person he used to be, and be there for Sarge, who had virtually saved his life when he was a teenager. He wanted to see Sarge. He didn’t hesitate to reach for his phone and quickly text Seth. What hospital is Sarge in? Where are you and Ben? Tell Sarge I’ll be there as soon as I can. For now, use texts. Easier for me to get. Let you know when I’m on my way.

  He sent it, then looked up at Cal. “I need your help.”

  Cal nodded. “Name it.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  TWO DAYS LATER, Jake spotted the welcome sign for the town of Eclipse almost five hours after crossing from Utah into Wyoming.

  Welcome to ECLIPSE, WYOMING. Pop: 2,001. Elevation: 4,952ꞌ. THE WEST AT ITS BEST.

  When he passed it and took the turn off the highway, he was twenty miles from the only place he’d called home in his life—the Eclipse Ridge Ranch.

  According to the welcome sign, the town’s population had doubled since he’d lived in the area. He drove his black pickup along the main street, Clayton Drive, more than aware how the population growth had affected the small town. Stores that were a lot more upscale than in the old days lined the raised-plank walkways. Gift shops catering to the town’s unique offering of the best locations to see solar and lunar eclipses had sprung up everywhere. They were intermingled with determinedly Western-themed stores that fed into the other reason people came here—an Old West experience at dude ranches.

  Jake was relieved when he looked ahead and spotted at least one piece from his past that had survived seemingly intact. He slowed the large pickup and eased into a parking space directly in front of Garret’s General Store. It was still the same warehouse-sized barn where Jake had worked as a teenager. It was done in wood and bricks, both honestly weathered over the years.

  When Jake walked inside the store, it could have been fifteen years ago. Packed shelves and racks held everything a person could want from guns to boots to Western clothes. A space in the back area, where townspeople gathered for coffee, doughnuts and gossip, was still there. The sweet scent of fresh pine came from a huge Christmas tree in the center of it all. The Garrets had always put up the biggest and best tree in town. Obviously, they had kept that going to the present day, down to a spectacular moon-shaped tree-topper that glowed gold.

  Jake scanned the rows of merchandise, then spotted what he’d come in for. His leather aviator jacket and jeans were no match for the cold that arrived on penetrating winds in this part of Wyoming. He needed serious winter clothes. As he approached the rack of heavy denim jackets lined and collared with shirred fleece, he was startled by a tap on his shoulder.

  He exhaled, then turned and faced his past. The man was at least thirty pounds heavier and fifteen years older, but Jake recognized him immediately. Farley Garret, the owner of the place, didn’t seem to recognize him. Jake, at thirty-two years old, was a huge change from the gangly youth he’d been. Farley was different in other ways, too. His flannels and denim had been changed up for flashy Western clothes in varying shades of blue and silver. A Santa hat didn’t completely hide his thinning gray hair.

  Jake picked up the man’s words in the middle of a sentence. “…called out, but this Christmas music is too darn loud.” Jake remembered how the Christmas music had annoyed him as a teenager, but right then, he would have welcomed being able to hear it. “I was looking for a jacket,” he said.

  “We’ve got the best.”

  Jake reached for the one he wanted from the rack and turned to Farley. “I’ll be needing one of these.”

  Farley’s eyes narrowed, then recognition hit. “No. Jake Bishop?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Wow!” Farley said, then unexpectedly pulled Jake into a bear hug and thudded his shoulder. When he let go, he was in the middle of saying something. “…sooner or later, and I was right.”

  “Sorry, what?” Jake asked.

  “I knew you’d show up sooner or later.” He looked around, then back at Jake. “Where’s the crew?”

  He understood. “Ben and Seth aren’t with me. I’m here to check on the ranch, then I’m heading down to Casper to see Sarge.”

  The man’s expression sobered. “I was real sorry to hear about the accident.” He held up a hand, and Jake read, “One sec,” before Farley turned in the direction of the entrance.

  Jake looked over at the door and saw the bell over it swinging frantically, announcing customers arriving. Farley waved a welcome to two older women before turning back to Jake. His dark eyes narrowed. “You okay, kid? You didn’t hear something bad from the hospital, did you?”

  “No, it was just a long trip.” He changed the subject. “How did you recognize me?”

  That brought Farley’s smile back. “You’re still that kid, just a bit older and a heck of a lot taller. But the giveaway was that.” He pointed to the jacket. “Sarge always got those for you boys when you first arrived. Are you here to get the ranch up and running again?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Dwight Stockard was the only hand left, and he’s moved on down to help his cousin, Sonny, near the Wind River Rez.” Farley looked back to the entrance again and said something that Jake didn’t catch before the man headed in that direction.

  Jake stayed put when he saw a woman wearing a puffy white jacket smiling up at Farley by the door. Measured alongside the man at five foot ten or so, the newcomer wouldn’t top five two. Her deep red hair was brilliant. It fell against the white of her jacket in loose ringlets, framing a delicate face that was flushed from the cold.

  What really caught Jake’s attention was the combination of her smile and what he read as she spoke. “Sir, I know I shouldn’t come into your store to ask you about another store, but I need to find a place that has cold-weather clothes for women.”

  “Smart girl,” Jake murmured to himself as he kept watching.

  “I’m really not into Western gear. I need clothes that I can wear here and when I go back home to the city.”

  Jake guessed her giant marshmallow coat wasn’t a bad image for her to project in the city. Then her smile grew as Farley spoke, and she responded, “That sounds perfect. Just point me to it.”

  Farley motioned to the north and the woman said, “Thank you so much.” She turned to a display rack by the register and reached for a pair of bright red gloves paired with a matching knit beanie. “I’ll give you a sale, at least,” she said.

  Farley was nodding as she handed him some cash, then she pushed the hat and gloves into the pockets of her jacket. After taking her change, she said, “I’ve never been here before. The man at the gas station was telling me about the eclipses.”

  She listened intently to what Farley was saying. “You might just see me back here when that happens. One more question. Where’s the best coffee around?” When Farley pointed to the back area of the store, she looked pleased. “Then I’m in the right place, after all,” she said, and went in the direction of the visiting area.

  Jake turned away as she disappeared deeper into the store and finally went in search of what else he’d come to buy. In fifteen minutes, he was checking out at the register with the jacket, flannel shirts, collarless thermal shirts and warm boots.

  Farley rang up his purchases and spoke as he took Jake’s credit card. All Jake caught was “…came in?”

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “You’re not used the altitude around here anymore, are you?”

  “No, I am not,” he agreed gladly.

  “I asked if you saw that pretty little lady come in.”

  “The one with red hair wearing a marshmallow jacket?”

  Farley guffawed. “Yeah, that would be the one. Sure hope she gets a good jacket at Bailey’s shop
.”

  Jake agreed, then said his goodbyes before heading out into the cold with his items. He got in the truck, tossed his bags over by his duffel on the passenger seat, then started the engine. Sitting back, he closed his eyes for a minute, breathing in and out evenly. It had gone well with Farley, no big slip-ups, and the man had handed him a generic excuse when he’d missed what he’d said to him.

  He exhaled. The driving was wearing him out. Despite the truck being upgraded with every conceivable aid for the hearing impaired, he still felt strange driving it. So far, he hadn’t had a problem. Another twenty miles and he could get some sleep and he wouldn’t have to worry about hearing or not hearing another person, until he went to see Sarge. He opened his eyes and exhaled.

  Putting the truck in Reverse, he started to back out of the parking spot, but before he’d gone more than a few feet, the truck slammed to a bone-jarring stop. His bags tumbled to the floor, and when he looked at the rear-camera view on the screen in the dash, he saw the reason for the stop. Quickly, he looked over his shoulders at a road-dirty blue Jeep barely inches from the truck’s tailgate. The automatic emergency braking system had stopped a disaster.

  When he saw the driver, he grimaced. Even through the tinted rear window, he could clearly see a takeout cup in her right hand. It was probably empty, because what looked like coffee was now a brown stain all over her white puffer jacket.

  Her face was almost as red as her hair when she looked toward him. There was no great smile now as he easily read her lips. “What a stupid jerk!” With a swipe at her face, she shook her head, then drove off.

  “Tourists,” Jake muttered to himself as the Jeep disappeared up the street to the north. Too bad Eclipse wasn’t like the old days, when Clayton Drive was used by people riding horses or driving trucks, and the people smiled and waved if they saw you. Now it was angry strangers who called you names.

  * * *

  LIBBY WAS FRUSTRATED. She had almost collided with a local in a massively oversize truck about an hour ago and ruined her jacket with spilled coffee. She didn’t mourn the coat, just the fact that she’d paid so much for it back in Seattle. At Snow Dreams, the store the flamboyant cowboy back at the general store had recommended, she had found a thermal-lined green jacket with a hood and had worn it out of the shop. She’d also bought what the owner had suggested—some flannel shirts and thermals along with boots that were lined with soft faux fur. Her new white puffer jacket would have to be dry-cleaned to save it from the trash can.

  She knew she’d taken too much time shopping in town before heading to the ranch. Daylight was starting to fail, and she turned on the headlights. Finally, she heard the female voice come over the GPS. “In two miles take exit 91 and continue west on County Road 27 for 3.4 miles. Your destination will be on your right.”

  The woman’s voice had barely stopped when her phone rang. A quick check showed her it was Seth, and she accepted the call through Bluetooth. “Hey there, Seth,” she said.

  “Are you at the ranch yet?” His voice came through the car speaker.

  “No, but I’m close.”

  “Great. No problems on the drive?”

  “I made it.” She wouldn’t go into the incident with the black truck in town. “You said that there are two rocks that mark the entrance to the ranch. Any signs or anything else?”

  “No, but the rocks are boulders and at least ten feet high and just as wide. Go right between them on the gravel drive, and that takes you up to the house. It’s set back a good ways from the road.”

  The female GPS voice cut in, “In two hundred feet, take Exit 91 and travel west for 3.4 miles. Your destination will be on your right.” She saw the exit, then Seth was back on the line. “…and I don’t know if it’s locked up.”

  “I have the keys you gave me,” she said, assuming he was talking about the house. “I’m just going onto the county road.”

  Seth’s response broke up. “…to…drive…no reason to…”

  The female voice spoke again. “Signal lost.”

  “Great,” Libby muttered, but kept going until she saw the huge boulders caught in the glow of her headlights. They really were massive. She slowed and turned between them and drove onto the six-thousand-plus acres of ranch property. The Jeep’s tires crunched on the gravel as she headed up the drive.

  When she topped a low rise, she could make out the hulking form of a building in the distance. Although the growing dusk hid details, she knew from the plans she’d studied before the trip that it was the main house. The center section was the two-story original log construction topped by a metal roof. Two single-story wings, also made of log, had been added years later on the east and west sides. The house looked dark, with no lights coming from it, except for reflected flashes from her headlights bouncing off the first-floor windows.

  As she drove closer, she realized that the light wasn’t totally from the windows but had been bouncing off a huge dark pickup truck. It was parked directly in front of steps that led up to a wraparound porch and entry. It actually looked like the truck that had almost backed into her in town.

  Seth had assured her no one was at the ranch, but obviously some wires had been crossed in the information chain. She pulled to a stop by the pickup, turned off the Jeep, then looked at her useless phone with its no-service icon on the screen. It wasn’t a hard decision to make to go back and find a signal, then call Seth to find out what was going on.

  But when she turned the key in the ignition, the headlights she’d left on dimmed as the engine started to turn over. Then they died away, followed by a series of clicks. She flipped the headlight switch to off, then tried the key again, but there was only a grinding sound and more clicks.

  “Shoot,” she muttered, and tried to turn the headlights back on. There was no glow from them, and darkness was everywhere. Without the motor running, there was no way to use the heater, and if she stayed in the Jeep to wait for someone to show up, she was certain sooner or later she’d freeze to death.

  She had to go inside. She reached in her purse to find the keys, along with a slender canister of pepper spray she’d never used before. Quickly, she got out of the car, then hurried up to the porch as she zipped up her new coat and pulled the hood up to keep out the cold.

  She hesitated at the door when she realized there was a dim yellow glow in the two tall, narrow windows on either side of the door. She gripped the pepper spray cylinder and pushed the keys into her jacket pocket, then moved to her right to look cautiously through the window. She could barely make out anything in the dim interior light, but there didn’t seem to be movement inside.

  She knocked on the door. Nothing happened. She knocked again without getting an answer. She tried one last time. When no one showed up, she gripped the pepper spray in her right hand and the ice-cold door handle with her left and turned it. It clicked and the door started to swing back, when a gust of wind came up behind her and snatched the door knob out of her hand. The door flew back and slammed violently against the log wall inside. She hurried in, fumbled and dropped the canister as she turned to fight the wind and get the door shut.

  When it was closed, she picked up her pepper spray and stood still, listening and trying to catch her breath as she looked around. The dim light came from a huge wagon wheel chandelier that hung from a coved ceiling high above the two-story space. Only four bulbs of maybe ten were lit, but she could see the worn stone floor, the cheesy Western decorations and a cowhide bench beside the wide archway. The great room, which she knew lie beyond foyer, was dark.

  Nothing was moving. No one was coming down the staircase to her right. No one was coming out of the hallways used to access the east and west wings of the house. No one stepped through the archway from the great room. She was beginning to think the house was empty. Maybe someone had parked the truck, then taken off. Or maybe they broke into the house and had passed out or were drunk o
r on drugs.

  Surely the crashing of the door against the wall would’ve made the dead sit up and take notice. Ignoring a mounted animal head snarling down at her from the log wall to her left, she cleared her throat and called, “Hello! Hello! Is someone here?” Nothing.

  She waited a moment longer, then yelled as loudly as she could, “I’m in the house, and I don’t mean any harm.” The only noise she could hear was the moan of the wind outside, and she shivered. Slowly, Libby crossed the stone floor and took the single step down into the great room. She kept talking loudly as she went. “I’m going down into the great room. Now I’m looking for the light switch.”

  Shadows blurred everything in front of her, and she shifted her pepper spray to her left hand and reached with her right to see if she could find the switches on the wall. She never felt it because someone’s hand was already on it—a large hand. She jerked away, barely stopping a scream, and stumbled backward into the room.

  The overhead lights flashed on, blinding her momentarily. She jerked the pepper spray up in front of her, ready to use it as she blinked rapidly trying to focus. With false bravado, she spoke to the tall blur of someone in the archway. “I’ll use this if I have to.” She only knew how stupid those words were when her eyes finally adjusted, and she saw a man on the step facing her.

  While she might have had him within spraying distance, he had a double-barreled shotgun pointed right at her. “Hey, no, no, don’t,” Libby sputtered, trying to back up more, but stopped abruptly when his eyes narrowed on the pepper spray. She quickly let it fall to the floor with a clatter, then raised her hands, which were embarrassingly unsteady. “Please, don’t do anything stupid,” she said, not beyond begging. “I’m supposed to be here, I really am. I promise.” She just stopped herself before she crossed her heart. She certainly didn’t hope to die.