lane in a plume of dry dust.
“You didn’t have to sell them,” Curtis said softly.
She refused to cry, though she felt a part of her had left in that trailer. “Of course I did. How else was I supposed to pay for this place?” she asked, dashing back the lingering tears in her eyes. Sniffing, her eyes red-rimmed, she faced her father.
“No one put a gun to your head, Tessa. Neither Mitch nor I—nor Denver McLean for that matter—expected you to buy the ranch.” He slung an arm across her shoulders and hugged her. “I’m proud of you, y’know. But you shouldn’t carry the world on your shoulders.”
“I don’t.”
“Don’t you?” He cocked his head toward the lane and Nate’s truck and trailer. “You could take a lesson or two from Paula Edwards.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning being mistress of your own house—raising me a passel of grandkids.”
Tessa thought about the baby she might be carrying. What would her father say? Surely he would figure out that the child was sired by Denver. She steered her thoughts clear of such dangerous ground and said, “So where were you during the women’s movement?”
“Right here watchin’ ’em burn their bras and what-have-you, protestin’ and carryin’ on. And all the time I’m wonderin’ why they don’t have the sense to know a good thing when they see it.”
“I guess it depends on your perspective,” Tessa said, squinting. Nate’s rig turned away from the lane and rumbled out of view.
“All I know is that I’m almost seventy and haven’t got one grandson to ride on my knee.”
“Talk to Mitchell,” she advised.
“I already have. But you—you’re the one who should be thinking about settlin’ down.”
“I’ll remember that,” she said dryly, her lips pressed together.
“And I’m not talking about Denver McLean.”
“Give me some credit, Dad. I know how you feel about Denver, and I know how Mitch feels about him.” Besides, she thought, he hasn’t asked me.
“And what about you?” her father asked gently, touching her shoulder. “How do you feel about him?”
“Denver’s an enigma,” she whispered, her voice catching.
“You think you’re in love with him again,” her father deduced, sighing loudly. “And don’t deny it. I can see it in your eyes.”
“I don’t hate him, if that’s what you mean.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it, Tess. But there’s just no reason for you to go pining for the likes of Denver McLean.”
“I’m not pining for anyone.”
“Good,” he said, sounding unconvinced. He swatted at a yellow jacket buzzing near his head. “I guess I’d better see if Mitch needs some help with the combine.”
Relieved that the conversation was over, Tessa walked through the back porch and into the kitchen, which smelled of spices and simmering meat. Milly was busy ladling gravy over pot roast.
“Denver with you?” she asked, without looking up.
“He’s still in town.”
“Well, if he gets back after I leave, tell him to call that partner of his.”
“Van Stern?”
“Right. He called a half hour ago. Left a message. Denver’s to call him immediately.” She paused to look over her shoulder. “He sounded real upset.”
“About what?”
“Didn’t say, but I gathered it was important.”
Great, Tessa thought, frowning to herself. Now what?
Chapter Eleven
Tessa flung off the covers, snatched her robe from the foot of the bed and glared at the clock. Four-thirty. She’d gone to bed at eleven and hadn’t slept a wink.
Where was Denver? she wondered. Still in Helena? Cinching her belt tightly around her waist, she walked to her open window. Streaks of gray rimmed the mountains surrounding the valley floor, casting the buildings of the ranch into black shadows. In a few days, she realized, these old buildings, the equipment, the acres of land and the cattle and horses would all be hers.
If the bank approved the loan.
If Denver located Colton.
If she could stand to stay here without Denver.
“If, if, if,” she said to herself as she hurried downstairs and thought about her future—a future without Denver.
She heard Marsha mewing at the back door. “I’m coming,” she called, unlatching the lock and opening the door a crack as the old cat trotted to her milk dish. “So where’re your babies, hmm?” Tessa asked as the calico rubbed against her bare leg. “Still hidden?”
Marsha mewed loudly again and followed Tessa into the kitchen. After starting coffee, Tessa poured some milk into a clean dish and set it on the back porch. “There you go, girl,” she whispered, petting the cat’s arched back.
The sound of a car’s engine cut through the early-morning stillness. Denver!
Clutching the lapels of her robe