An Ideal Father

Wyatt crumbled visibly, his shoulders quivering as he backed away.

Right. Cimarron bit back the word. What was he doing? Saying the same devastating things to his young nephew that had so often sent him scurrying for a hiding place before his father could see the tears and give him still more grief. He was becoming the man his father had been.

“Hell, no!” he muttered. He sloshed to shore. “Look, Wyatt, I’m sorry I yelled.”

But the damage was done. The child retreated to the spot where he’d sat to eat, hugged his knees and hid his face. Cimarron squatted in front of him.

“Wyatt, look at me.”

Wyatt shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you, it’s just that the fish got…”

Got away. So what? It was a damn fish. He would have released it anyway.

Cimarron reached out to touch Wyatt’s shoulder but stopped short. He shook his head and stood up. What was the point? He didn’t know how to get through to the kid. He was rotten at this daddy charade anyway. He had to find a good, loving home for his nephew—with two parents who knew what they were doing.

From the corner of his eye, Cimarron saw a flash of movement. Adrenaline jolted his system.

“Don’t move, Wyatt,” he commanded softly. The child reacted by lifting his head to look at Cimarron. “Don’t move. Stay real still.”

CHAPTER SIX

SARAH PRESSED HARD against the cordless screwdriver, forcing the screw into the brittle wood. The soft whirring sound grew weaker by the moment as her batteries lost power.

“Just two more,” she begged between clenched teeth. She drove another one flush with the plate of the metal hasp. Her screwdriver finally ground to a stop with a few threads left on the last screw, but the result was good enough.

This was her third latch. She’d been lucky that Harry Upshaw was willing to bring them to her while she finished cleaning up in the café after breakfast. She didn’t tell him why she wanted them and she wouldn’t let him put them on for two reasons. One, it might actually be against the law to padlock the property if Cimarron’s claim was legal, and she didn’t want Harry to get in trouble; and two, she wanted the personal satisfaction of being the one to lock out the man who had stolen her property. Furthermore, she didn’t want Harry or anybody else to know about her predicament right now. Replacing the screwdriver in her toolbox, she threaded a heavy padlock through the loop and snapped it closed, as she’d done on the other two doors of the old house.

“There, maybe that’ll keep him out for now.”

She peered across the valley, expecting to see Cimarron return from fishing any minute. She’d watched from her bedroom window early that morning as he stalked off down the trail, fishing gear in hand, with his cute little boy trotting hard to keep up. She wondered about the story behind their odd standoffish relationship, but told herself she probably was better off not knowing.

Glad to finish her chore without being caught, she hurried back home and put away the tools, then changed into jeans, boots and a sweater and locked her own doors. She got into her small SUV and pulled onto the main road in the direction of the Rocking R Ranch. She needed to get away, to put distance between herself and her problem; to spend the day in the fresh air and solicit advice from Kaycee, who had been her best friend ever since she’d opened the clinic next door to the café two years ago. Sarah loved spending time at the ranch. Something fun was always happening on Sunday afternoons and the high spirits of the kids were contagious.

As usual, Sarah was greeted by two Australian shepherds and a mutt named Sam that Kaycee had rescued. Four of the seven Rider children raced from the house, waving and shouting when they saw her, and not breaking stride until they disappeared into the darkness of the barn.

Kaycee greeted Sarah from a paddock across the graveled parking area where she waited with two saddled horses.

“Come on, I’ve got the horses saddled. Let’s go for a ride.”

“Wonderful,” Sarah said, climbing the paddock fence to mount her favorite mare and follow Kaycee through the gate.

Kaycee’s tawny hair was pulled into a ponytail that was looped through the back of a baseball cap. Tall, slender and athletic, Kaycee could manhandle a yearling steer with the best of men and had earned the respect of even the surliest ranchers for her knowledge and quiet competence as a largeanimal vet.

A woman vet in a tough, mostly male environment, Kaycee could hold her own. Yet Sarah had seen her in tears, too, torn between the career she’d worked hard to build and the man she loved. Sarah would bet Kaycee’s vet skills weren’t what ultimately won the heart of widowed rancher Jon Rider. Probably it had more to do with the smile that lit her green eyes and the loving, nurturing disposition that allowed her to become an instant mother to seven kids under the age of twelve. Never in her wildest dreams could Sarah imagine becoming an overnight mother and suddenly having seven kids. It boggled the mind. Sarah missed having Kaycee living next door at the clinic, but she would never begrudge her friend the happiness that was reflected in her face every day since she’d fallen in love.

Given a loose rein, the horses meandered along the mountain path. Sarah lifted her face to the warm sunshine, enjoying the peace, letting the gentle sway of the horse’s back relax her a little.

Kaycee gave her time to wind down for a few minutes before she said, “You sounded upset when you called this morning. Everything okay?”

“No,” Sarah said abruptly. “Oh, Kaycee, all my wonderful plans have fallen through. My bed-and-breakfast…Everything.” Sarah pressed her lips together to keep from crying. That never solved anything and besides, Kaycee was so strong…She’d never let anybody steal her dreams and neither would Sarah.

“How?” Kaycee turned in the saddle and tilted her head toward Sarah. “What’s going on?”

“Some guy just showed up out of the blue yesterday and claimed he owns my bed-and-breakfast. That Bobby sold it to him.”

“No way! That can’t be right. Bobby wouldn’t do that, would he?”

“Yes,” Sarah said with a huff. “Yes, he probably would, if it meant money.”

“You saw where he signed it over?”

“No, I was too mad to look at anything, but Griff came by last night and checked him out because the nut decided to sleep in his pickup truck in my parking lot. Griff told me that the signature sure looked liked Bobby’s. No criminal background. The sign on the side of his truck claims he’s a restoration expert. Damn it, why did he choose my house to restore?”

“Did you ask him?”

“No, I didn’t even want to talk to him.”

“You’ll have to. You do plan to talk to a lawyer, right?”

“Yes, I’ll call Nolan in the morning, as soon as I can. I hope there’s something he can do.”

Kaycee reined her horse to a stop on a bluff overlooking the sweeping river valley that ran between two majestic mountain ranges. Myriad shades of green and blue swirled together with the brilliant flowers of summer. They formed a soothing tapestry that seemed to bring Sarah’s problems into a more manageable focus. Surely she could work something out with this guy. Or break the contract. She was anxious now to talk to her lawyer, to see what options she might have.

Kaycee leaned on her saddle horn, gazing into the misty distance. “You said he has a sign on his truck. Does he have a Web site? Maybe you could learn more about him.”

Sarah nodded. “Good idea. I’ve been so overwhelmed since yesterday, I haven’t been able to put two thoughts together. First Aaron didn’t show and my grill finally cratered. Then this guy comes in and drops a bombshell on me. He did fix my grill, though, and he helped me with dinner last night.”

Kaycee looked askance at her. “Wait. He buys your house, and then you let him help you out?”

“I know, I know. Stupid. But honestly, I wouldn’t have made it without help. Sometimes you do what you have to do, to just get by.”

“Let’s ride back and take a look at this guy, if we can find him on the Net.”

When they had unsaddled the horses and put them out to pasture, Sarah and Kaycee closeted themselves in Kaycee’s home office in the rear of the rambling ranch house. Kaycee made coffee in a pot on a side counter and they sat down to do a bit of research.

“What’s the name of his company?”

Sarah repeated the company name she’d seen on the truck logo.

“His name is Cimarron Cole.”

“Cimarron? Interesting name.” Kaycee clicked the mouse a few times, searching. Within seconds, over a thousand hits popped up.

“Wow,” Sarah said softly.

“Wow is right,” Kaycee agreed. The first entry was his Web site. She clicked. “Double wow.”

The impressive home page was a sophisticated layout with photos floating across the page, fading and merging. Always there was the same sequence. First, photos from several angles of a house in terrible shape, and then a montage of construction scenes, ending with spectacular restorations.

Kaycee slid the mouse to Sarah. “You go where you want to.”

Sarah began clicking links to various projects Cimarron had done—the final results always breathtaking. She leaned forward in her chair, with a different perspective now. Okay, so he could do what he said. In fact, he could make her house more grand than she’d ever dreamed it could be. His house. Not hers. She felt the sting of tears again. She wanted her bed-and-breakfast so much it hurt. She’d anticipated the excitement of different guests each week. She just wanted things to be the way they were before.

She clicked on his bio, and a photo of him popped up, along with a statement of his professional creed. No hint of family or personal information.

“Is that him?” Kaycee said, eyebrows raised.

“It is.”

“He’s a hunk.”

Sarah gave a wry grin. “He looks better in person. For what it’s worth.”

“Dang, Sarah. Too bad he’s the villain.”

“Yeah. Too bad. He’s got a sweet little boy with him, too, about the twins’ age.”

“That’s interesting. No wife?”

“Not that I know of. And he doesn’t seem to want the child at all.”

“Looks like you’ve got a plateful, all of a sudden.”

“More than I ever wanted, I assure you.”

Another click brought her to a page that listed the homes Cimarron had restored or refurbished. At the beginning of his career he’d apparently contracted out to others, restoring private family homes and historically relevant property.

Over the years, those jobs had given way to his own projects. Before-and-after photos of each house had a short caption underneath noting the beginning and ending dates of each project and usually included photos of the smiling new owners. A plantation house he’d just completed in Louisiana was on the market for several million dollars. No doubt he realized a significant profit on every house, otherwise why would he keep doing it? He’d recover his investment in Sarah’s house ten times over—when he sold it. Sarah’s optimism caved, leaving an empty spot that opened up like a sinkhole and swallowed her future.

Kaycee ran her finger lightly down the screen along the list of houses and prices. “He flips houses. Restores them and sells them off.”

“Looks like,” Sarah murmured. “What am I going to do?”

“If you need help buying it back or paying a lawyer, you know Jon and I will do as much as we can.”

Sarah put her hand over Kaycee’s on the desk. A true friend, who would no doubt dish out plenty of money for her. But this wasn’t Kaycee’s battle.

“Thanks. I know you would, but I don’t think it would do any good. I can see why he’s dead set on restoring the house and making a killing off it. But you never can tell…Maybe fate will intervene.”

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