better left to die.
When he and the Realtor from Kalispell had flown over this property eighteen months ago, everything about the ranch had felt right to him. Seventy-five thousand acres of lush green meadows dotted with cattle and statuesque pines.
In the early-morning sunlight he’d glimpsed a ribbon of blue teeming with trout as it danced against a dense green forest backdrop. A couple of rustic log cabins nestled here and there in a fertile valley surrounded by snow-capped mountains completed a picture that spoke straight to Gabe’s restless soul.
Always before, his needs, aspirations and desires had been fragmented, eluding him like some flirtatious breeze he couldn’t follow. Then he’d seen the ranch and suddenly everything had crystallized for him.
It was here he would put down roots.
The ranch was the one special spot on earth that called to him, and heaven knew he and his family had seen and traveled more of mother earth than most people.
“This is it?” Clay cried out excitedly.
“Yes. We’re home.”
But with Stefanie no longer in the picture, the word had a hollow ring. That was a reality Gabe was going to have to live with.
Shifting gears, he drove the truck onto his private property. Though it was early spring, the place looked like winter had still gotten in a few final licks.
“How come you didn’t name the ranch after you?”
“The larch trees were here first, not the Wainwrights. Now I hope you’re hungry because I can promise that Marva will have her famous homemade chili waiting for us.”
“Is she your wife?”
Gabe took a deep breath before he said, “No. She’s the cook for the main ranch house.”
“Mom showed me a picture of Mrs. Wainwright from the newspaper. She’s really good looking!”
“I agree.” Gabe’s voice grated. If the truth be known, Stefanie was probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life.
“Is she already at the ranch?”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “No.”
“When’s she going to come?”
“She’s not, Clay. Right now she’s on a trip around the world.”
The boy frowned. “Why?”
He rubbed the side of his unshaven jaw. “She needed time away on her own.”
Clay looked at him with a solemn expression. “Are you two getting a divorce?”
He’d been asked an honest question. To hedge it would only provoke more curiosity.
“We are divorced.”
“Didn’t she want to live on a ranch?”
“It was more a case of her wanting to live the life she loves on the East Coast.”
“Did she ever see your ranch?”
Perspiration formed on Gabe’s brow. “No.”
“But that’s crazy! She’d only have to get one look at this place, and she’d never want to go back!”
Gabe shook his head. To be young again. To see life in such a simplistic way. “It’s never going to happen.”
“That’s too bad.” The boy was still mourning his father’s death. Saying goodbye to Stefanie didn’t seem to be that much different for Gabe…
“As you’ve already been made painfully aware, life doesn’t always go the way we want. What do you say we both put the past behind us and move forward from here?”
The boy’s head was bowed. “That’s kind of hard to do, but I’ll try if you will.”
Once more Gabe’s heart went out to Clay. He patted his shoulder. “It’s a deal.”
CHAPTER TWO
STEFANIE spent a restless night in Kalispell, Montana. Though the woman riding with Gabe had been dropped off at O’Hare airport in Chicago, Stefanie’s dreams were still haunted by the reality of her existence and the possibility that Gabe was in love with her.
Heartsick, Stefanie drove on to the tiny hamlet of Marion where she’d been told to meet the P.I.s at the coffee shop of the Branding Iron motel.
The rustic little café bar appeared deserted, no doubt because a weather report forecasting a storm before evening had prompted tourists to run for cover while they could.
By now it was ten after three. After two hours of watching for Stan and Wes out of antler-trimmed windows, she was convinced something had gone wrong. To come this far only to lose Gabe’s trail was anathema to her.
When she finally spotted their rental van, she left the booth and ran to the entrance to meet them.
“You can relax,” Wes assured her as they walked back to her table. “The boys’ ranch where your ex-husband spent last night is his final destination.”
The waitress took orders for hot coffee.
Bewildered by the information, Stefanie asked, “How do you know that for certain?”
“I made a phone call, pretending to be a parent wanting information,” Stan explained. “According to the woman who answered, the combination ranch and accredited school for teenaged boys in trouble with the law is the brain child of a Mr. Wainwright, the owner and manager.”
What?
“To quote her words, ‘The structured environment of his working cattle ranch offers a viable alternative to the usual punitive reform school. The boys live, study and work on the ranch in family groups with trained counselors, teachers and surrogate parents. The result is a much higher rate of rehabilitated young men who will make positive contributions to society in the future.’”
Stefanie shook her head trying to assimilate everything Stan had just told her, but she couldn’t fathom it.
Gabe had turned his back on a political career, which could have taken him to the highest office in the land in order to live in this remote, savage wilderness surrounded by young criminals?
Throughout the endless drive across the country, she’d become convinced that Gabe’s passenger was his son, that he and the boy’s mother were going to end up here together.
Maybe that still held true. It was possible the woman he loved would be joining him later.
Stefanie felt her heart splinter.
Having learned this much, would it be unforgivable of her to show up at the ranch? While they’d been married, Gabe had had many months to tell her the truth, but she’d waited in vain for him to confide in her.
While she struggled with these questions, Wes placed a Montana map in front of her. “This is the way to the Larch Tree Boys’ Ranch, Ms. Dawson. I’ve highlighted the route in blue. Weather permitting, it’s a twenty-minute drive from here.”
“I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you’ve done.” Stefanie handed them both a bonus check.
“We were glad to be of help.” Stan smiled.
“Good luck to you.”
“To you, too.”
“Thanks. Let us know if we can ever be of help again.”
“You know I will.”
The P.I.s had done their part to perfection. She’d been given the proof that Gabe wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t lost to her. But she’d been so focused on catching up to him, she hadn’t thought beyond this moment.
After the two men left the café