A Cowboy Under The Mistletoe

Chapter Nine

No one had ever asked her that. Could she forgive herself? Was it ever going to be possible?

Ally looked deep into Hank’s eyes. “I’m not sure,” she said finally, knowing it was past time she confided in someone. The understanding glint in his dark blue eyes gave her the courage to go on. “There are times I have so much guilt I feel like I’m suffocating. Guilt because I couldn’t convince my parents to handle my mother’s illness any differently. I would give anything to have gotten them the help they needed, when they needed it. Instead of failing them at the toughest, most crucial moment of their lives…”

“Do you think they would have been happy in Houston?”

Her face crumpled. “No.” More tears flooded her eyes.

Hank settled his palms on her shoulders. “Do you think if they’d known they were coming to the end of their lives, they would have wanted to be right here, on the ranch?”

A sob rose in Ally’s throat. She was so choked up she could barely breathe, never mind get words out. “I don’t think there is anywhere else they’d rather have been.”

He threaded a hand through her hair. “I know you miss them.”

Tears blurred Ally’s vision as pain wrapped around her heart. “I do.”

Hank’s hands shifted to her back and he pulled her close. Unable to hold back a second longer, Ally buried her face in the solid warmth of his shoulder. And cried the way she hadn’t cried when her parents had died. She cried for all the times she had had with them…and all the things that were left unsaid, for the way she had disappointed them, and the way they had disappointed her. But most of all, she cried because she loved them anyway, with all her heart, and missed them so much she felt her whole being would shatter into a million pieces. And through it all, Hank held her close and stroked her back, letting her sob her heart out.

Ally had no idea how long they stood like that. She only knew that when the storm finally passed and she lifted her head, he wiped her tears away with the pads of his fingers and gently lowered his head to hers.

The touch of his lips was everything she had ever wanted, everything she needed. Ally kissed him back, pouring her feelings into the sweetly tender embrace.

For the first time in her life, she was really and truly happy to be right where she was. And it was all due to Hank.

He made Mesquite Ridge a different place for her.

It was still a wilderness, with so much of the four thousand acres uncared for and untamed. But when she was with Hank and saw the ranch through his eyes, she also noted the richness of possibility of the house and the land.

She saw the wonder to be had in a life here, with him.

And that made her want to be held, to be loved, to love in return.

It no longer mattered how much was holding them apart. She wanted to be with Hank again, even if only for a brief period of time.

And he wanted her, too.

His kiss, the warmth and tightness of his embrace, told her that.

And that was, of course, when the purr of a car motor came up behind them.

Ally and Hank let each other go, turned in unison and saw Graham Penderson, of Corporate Farms, get out of his Cadillac and stride toward them.

“I HAVEN’T HEARD FROM YOU,” the small man said, as slick and falsely charming as ever. “So I thought I’d stop by to get your answer in person.”

Ally felt Hank tense beside her. Knowing it would be a mistake to show any weakness to the CF agent, she resisted the urge to take Hank’s hand and hold on tight. Deliberately, she held Penderson’s eyes. “Thank you for the offer-” which, technically, was about to expire “-but my answer is no.”

Ally wasn’t surprised to see Penderson’s expression grow more conciliatory than ever. “You understand ours is a one-time offer. Six months from now, if you still haven’t sold on the open market, we won’t be back with anything near what we are offering now.”

But Hank would still be there, Ally thought, wanting the land.

If his “plan” to acquire it had been put together by then…

She stopped herself. She could not allow herself to think that way; otherwise she’d be no better a business person than her father had been. And it was up to her to see the ranch sold-for a good price-so her own future would be assured, no matter whether she got laid off from her job or not.

This was her chance to obtain the financial security that had always eluded her in her youth.

But she was going to do it her way. Not Corporate Farms’.

“I understand,” Ally said calmly. “The answer is still no. I’m not selling until I get an offer that matches what the land is worth.”

Penderson’s glance narrowed. “We already gave you that.”

“No. You didn’t,” Ally countered equably. “Fortunately, I have every confidence someone else will.”

Especially now that renovations on the ranch house are under way.

“Fine, then.” Penderson gave one last disparaging look at the acres of untamed land, resettled his hat on his head and stalked back to his Cadillac. “You’ll be waiting a long time to realize more than what we’ve already offered, for property that is in such poor shape. And I’m not just talking about the house, which we planned to tear down anyway. No one can run cattle on pastureland this overgrown! The mesquite thickets alone are a hazard.”

Ally and Hank stood in silence, watching him drive off.

“He has a point about that,” she said with a sigh, as her mind returned to business. “There is mesquite everywhere and the trees are covered with two-inch thorns that can do a lot of damage to people and cattle.”

Hank wrapped a companionable arm around her shoulders. “First of all,” he soothed, “cattle are smarter than you think.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.” Hank squeezed her warmly and continued his tutorial. “They know enough to stay away from anything that is going to injure them. Second, the trees don’t just sport fragrant white flowers in the spring and summer, they also produce long bean pods that the cattle can graze on, and provide shelter when it’s cold, and light shade in the hottest parts of the day. Mesquite adapts to almost any soil that isn’t soggy. It’s heat and drought tolerant, helps prevent erosion and fixes nitrogen in the soil.”

Ally thought about what the untamed growth would do to the bottom line. “Mesquite is still not popular with ranchers, since it readily invades grazing sites, and is virtually impossible to get rid of once it takes root.”

Hank tipped back the brim of his hat and gave her the sexy once-over. “And here I thought you didn’t know anything about ranching.”

“I know enough to realize that a controlled burn is needed on vast parts of the ranch, to ensure the long-term health of the land. But as much as I’d like to rid the ranch of all the old dead grass, cedar, mesquite and so on, to germinate different seeds and promote steady, even growth, I’m not sure blackened land would be the best thing for any property on the market.”

Hank inclined his head. “Nonranchers might not understand.”

“And since everyone who is anyone wants a ranch these days, just so they can say they have one-even if they never really visit it…”

“It makes sense to leave the land wild and untamed, for now.”

“Right.”

They studied each other.

Ally knew Hank still didn’t want her to sell to anyone else, but to her surprise, he didn’t look the least bit relieved about what had happened earlier.

“Aren’t you going to tell me I made the right decision regarding Corporate Farms?” She didn’t know why, exactly; she just wanted to have Hank’s approval about that.

He shrugged and walked toward the back of his truck. “It’s not over yet.”

Perplexed, Ally trailed after him. The intimacy they’d felt earlier was gone, just like that. “What do you mean?”

Hank slammed the tailgate shut. “I know what it looked like just now, but Corporate Farms has not given up. They will wait a few days and go into phase two.”

Oh, really? “And what the heck is that?”

“First, they tried to take advantage of you. That didn’t work, nor did playing hardball with you. So, figuring the third time is the charm, the next time they’ll come back to woo you. And give you an offer you’d be nuts to refuse, with absolutely no time limit on deciding.”

Ally shook her head. “I don’t think so. Graham Penderson was pretty clear just now, that this was it-they wouldn’t be back.”

Hank folded his arms in front of him. “We’ll see who’s right. The question is, what are you going to do if they come back with a much higher offer?” He scanned her face. “Will you sell to them, knowing what you do about their overall intent, and how they do business? Or wait for another buyer?”

HANK HAD HOPED-unreasonably, he knew-that Ally would have had time by now to really think about what she was going to do, and commit to selling to him. If only because he had the ability and the drive to turn the ranch into the financial success it always should have been.

Instead, the hard-edged business person in her kicked back in. “If Corporate Farms were to come back with another offer, I would of course listen to what Graham had to say. Just like I will consider any and all offers that Marcy Lyon at Premier Realty brings to me, after the property is listed. And should you come to me with a serious offer that meets my asking price, of course I’ll listen to that, too.”

Hank’s gut tightened with disappointment. “But in the end the highest dollar wins,” he guessed.

Ally nodded reluctantly. “I may not have a job in another ten days. This property still has a mortgage on it. Up to now, I’ve been making the payments and paying the utilities out of my savings, but I can’t keep doing that when I have no revenue of my own coming in. Even if I somehow manage to keep my job, it’s still too much of a stretch to continue for very much longer.”

Hank understood.

“I suspect the people at Corporate Farms suspect that, which is why they thought they could come in with a low offer and I’d jump on it.”

Hank’s cell phone rang. Frowning, he pulled it out of the leather holder attached to his belt. Looking at the screen, he saw his cousin was returning his call. “I’ve got to get this. Hi, Will…”

Hank listened as Will confirmed the details. “Yeah. Eight tomorrow morning. The usual deal. Okay, thanks, see you then.” He ended the call.

Trying to figure out how much he could tell Ally, without betraying the confidentiality of the business deal under way, Hank explained, “My cousin, Will McCabe, owns a charter service out at the Laramie airstrip. It used to be just private jets, flying in and out of there, but since I came back to the area he’s added a helicopter to his fleet. So whenever he gets a request-usually from a big oilman or one of the other prominent business people in the area-I fly the chopper.”

“Sounds lucrative.”

It was. “The revenue from those gigs is responsible for all the cattle I’ve bought thus far, and the additional money I have saved.”

Ally eyed him with respect. “How long will you be gone?”

Long enough to get the deal done, Hank thought resolutely. But wary of telling Ally anything before the plan was set, he replied cautiously, “I’m not sure. The person I’m taking wants to go to Dallas, with a couple of stops along the way, stay overnight, and then do the same thing the following day, en route back. Which brings me to the next question. Are you going to be able to handle Duchess and the puppies, or do you want me to bring someone else in to care for them?”

Ally glowered. “Seriously?”

“I did promise it wouldn’t be your responsibility,” Hank reminded her.

“Yeah, well, it’s not the first promise around here that hasn’t been kept.”

Hank let that one pass.

She lifted her hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry. It just seems that whenever something goes wrong in my life, it happens here at Mesquite Ridge.”

Hank tugged Ally close for another long, thorough kiss. Only when she was putty in his arms did he lift his head. “Things have gone right here, too, Ally,” he whispered.

Very right. And one day he hoped she would see that.

GRETA MCCABE APPEARED on the ranch house doorstep at six o’clock the following evening. Hank’s mother smiled warmly as Ally ushered her in out of the cold. “I tried calling before I came over, but there was no answer.”

Ally didn’t mind her stopping by without an invitation. It had been a little lonely since Hank had left for his trip early that morning. “I must have been out walking Duchess,” she explained.

Greta cast an admiring look at the newly painted woodwork and walls, then turned back to her and handed over a large paper bag bearing the insignia of Greta’s restaurant in Laramie.

“You didn’t have to do this.” Ally beamed with pleasure.

“I figured you’d be too busy to cook, given all you have to do around here,” Greta said.

She was right about that. Ally had been working hard all day, making washable canvas slipcovers for the living room furniture.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked so I put in a couple of different entrées. Just follow the reheating directions on the foil containers when you’re ready to eat,” Greta said. “And of course, the salads and desserts are ready to go.”

“Thank you. This is so nice.” Ally basked in the thoughtfulness.

“So how are Duchess and the puppies?” Greta asked.

Ally gestured toward the kitchen. “Come and see for yourself.”

While Ally put the food in the fridge for later, Hank’s mother knelt to say hello to the golden retriever and all eleven of the newborns. Nearly a week had passed since Duchess had given birth. All the pups except Gracie, who still lagged a little behind, were now close to two pounds in weight. And although their eyes were still sealed shut, they were getting about with increasing mobility, rolling and squirming across the warming bed when they were awake. Right now, they were all sound asleep in a pile of puppy arms and legs.

Greta smiled at the sound of the soft, gentle snoring. “I can’t believe no one has stepped forward to claim them yet,” she said.

Me, either, Ally thought.

The woman stood and regarded her with a soft, maternal expression. “So. How are you doing, dear?”

Ally swallowed. “Good,” she lied. Then added, more honestly, “Considering.”

Greta gently patted her arm. “This must be really hard for you, coming home for the first time after the funeral.”

Ally nodded-it had been. Happy to have some female company, she picked up the coffeepot off the stove. “Would you care for some coffee?”

“Love some,” Greta said.

Relieved that Hank’s mom appeared in no hurry to go, Ally poured two mugs of the fresh brew and brought out a tin of sugar cookies from the grocery store. As they enjoyed their snack, they talked about the progress Ally had made thus far, updating the ranch house.

Greta cast her an appreciative glance. “It’s not just the house that has benefited from your presence. Hank seems to be really flourishing since he’s been around you, too. Bringing in a Christmas tree…”

Which was still undecorated, Ally thought, a little guiltily.

Greta ran a hand through her silver-blond curls. “Organizing that wallpaper removal party…”

Ally rubbed the edge of her plate with her thumb. “I was really surprised.” And maybe a little thrilled.

Greta studied her over the rim of her mug. “He feels for you,” she observed tenderly. “Probably because he knows what it is to lose a loved one.”

Was that all that was drawing him to her? A mixture of empathy and lust, with a healthy dose of property hunger, thrown in? Ally wondered.

Oblivious to the nature of her thoughts, Greta ran a nicely manicured hand over the tabletop, lamenting, “We never thought Hank would get over losing Jo-anne. But the years in the marines, and now this ranch, have brought him back to life.”

And Hank’s mom was happy to see that, Ally noted.

“I know you’re getting ready to put the ranch on the market…”

If I don’t sell it to Hank first, Ally thought, wishing all the harder he would find a way to make a decent bid, so she could accept it and move on. She would have peace of mind knowing the property was in the right hands to make it thrive, the way it should have all along.

Greta patted Ally’s hand. “I know the process can be difficult, particularly when it comes to sorting through your parents’ belongings. It can be a lot to take on alone, as well as very emotional, so if you need help…let me know. And before I forget, Shane and I would very much like for you to come to the annual open house at our ranch, on December 23…”

The day she was supposed to hear about whether or not she still had a job. Ally hesitated. “I’m not sure that will be a great time for me,” she said.

“Nonsense. You have to eat. In the meantime, if you need help with anything at all, you let Hank’s father and me know. We’re only eight miles down the road. And it’s not just a family thing that has us making the offer-or the fact that Hank is temporarily absent. It’s part of the code of survival around here. Ranchers help each other out.” She smiled warmly at Ally. “But having grown up on Mesquite Ridge, surely you know that.”

Actually, Ally didn’t. Her parents had always kept pretty much to themselves, and never asked for help for themselves-or gone out of their way to assist anyone else, even their closest neighbors. But maybe it was time that changed, too, she thought. For as long as she stayed in the area, anyway…

She thanked Greta again and walked her to the door, then went back to get Duchess and take her out into the yard.

As she went back inside, she noticed the message light blinking on the answering machine. There were two calls from Premier Realty and the title company, another from Porter, wanting to know if she’d heard anything more about the layoffs, and finally, one that was definitely not for her.

“Hank, honey, it’s Lulu. Are you ready for dinner?” the chic divorcée asked enthusiastically. “’Cause I’m starving after the day we’ve had together! Oh, wait, I think I just dialed your home number instead of your cell. Never mind. I’ll just come and find you.” Click.

Ally sat staring at the phone. The call had come in at six-fifteen, when she was out walking Duchess in the yard. The screen ID said the call had come from a luxury hotel in Dallas.

So that was where Hank had gone! Ally realized, stunned. Lulu Sanderson was the client he was flying around? And now they were in Dallas together, sharing a hotel, if not a room? What in heaven’s name was going on?