need startup stock with good lineage, a few smart, trainable horses. If you decide to breed, we’d be talking more about stud services. I may do some breeding myself later on, but for now I’m more interested in doing the training. Bottom line? Whatever we work out, I trust you. You wouldn’t believe what a rare commodity that is in Hollywood.”
Cole rubbed his jaw, squinting at the colt while he thought. “Sure. You know Trace...he’s always been more interested in horses than the cattle. He’d be all over a breeding program.”
Cole’s cell rang. He was needed in the east barn, so Ben walked out with him. They agreed to talk more before he left for LA, and then Ben headed toward the house.
He’d barely knocked once when Barbara McAllister flung the door wide. “Ben. Oh, my goodness, you’re even taller than when you left,” she said, and pulled him into a hug. “I’m glad you came.”
Ben smiled. She was so tiny that her arms couldn’t reach all the way around him. “You look good, Mrs. McAllister. How are you?”
“I’m fine.” She leaned back. “Look at you, so handsome. I saw you last night from the porch, but with all those people here, I couldn’t get to you before you disappeared.”
“I knew you all were busy, so I stayed away from the house. I figured today would be better.”
“Well, your mom is very anxious to see you. How about we go to the kitchen? I bet you still know the way. It was always your favorite room in the house.”
“Mrs. McAllister, are you implying I ate like a horse?”
“Of course not. None of you boys did.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re an adult now. Call me Barbara so I don’t feel like I’m a hundred and ten.”
“Come on now, Barbara, you know you could be Rachel’s twin.”
With a laugh, she wagged a finger at him. “You,” she said, “are too charming for your own good.”
She had to be in her midfifties, but she still looked youthful, her skin smooth and unlined except for the laugh lines around her eyes. He was about to follow her then realized something was different about the house. Sunlight shining in through a two-story window flooded the foyer and living room.
“That’s new,” he said, amazed he hadn’t noticed last night.
“It was Cole’s winter project a few years ago. Before—” She sighed. “Before things got a bit tight around here. I don’t mean only the Sundance. The whole community has suffered.”
Jesus, he hadn’t considered how the poor economy had affected small rural towns. The film business had felt the pinch also, though obviously not like the rest of the country. Made him more eager to do business with the McAllisters.
At the door shared by the dining room and the kitchen, Barbara stopped and lowered her voice. “I’ll let you go in by yourself.”
“No, you don’t have to—”
“Yes.” She gave him a gentle smile and squeezed his hand. “I do. We’re all so glad you’re here,” she said and slipped away.
Ben inhaled deeply. Feminine laughter wafted from the back of the house. It would be so easy to find a distraction. Postpone seeing Hilda for another day. He didn’t have to be back in LA until the loan was finalized. In just over a week, the Ventura ranch would be all his. Well, his and Lena’s, but she was a silent partner, a venture capitalist with one foot in the film business. She had her hands in a variety of projects and knew nothing about ranching or horses. Turning a profit was all she cared about.
It was eerily quiet on the other side of the door. Normally, he’d hear pots banging around, Hilda humming. The woman loved to hum or sing. It didn’t matter what kind of music or in what language. She was probably wringing her hands, waiting for him to come through the door.
Might as well get it over with. He pushed the door open. She sat at the oak table, her hands clasped tightly together.
“Benedicto,” she murmured, her voice catching as she got to her feet. “I can’t believe you’re really here. You’re a man now. Tall and handsome.”
Wrinkles lined her face. Her eyes looked tired. Partly because of him, he imagined. And partly because of the lies she’d been unable to keep straight over the years. All variations on a theme. Why his father never came to see them. Why they’d left the house he and Claudia had loved. Why they had no grandparents or cousins. And finally, that his father was dead. Regardless of the cause, her dark brown eyes were filled with sadness, and his chest tightened in unexpected sympathy.
“Hello, Mom.” He went to her and she opened her arms to him. A tear slipped down her cheek just before he hugged her. Some of the resentment that had weighed him down lifted as memories—good ones—from his early childhood rushed through his mind.
All was not forgiven, though. He still had questions, and if she thought him being here absolved her of the lies and deceit, she was wrong.
When she finally released him, Ben expected her to lead him to the table so the long overdue talk could begin. But after she ran a hand down his chest, she went straight to the fridge.
Ben sighed. She would fill him with a homemade meal, tell him...whatever, and barely look at him again. At least he recognized the ground rules: she wouldn’t tell the truth and he wouldn’t confront her. The relief was instantaneous. He was off the hook for now. And so was she. But he wasn’t leaving Montana without knowing exactly what happened with his father.
* * *
GRACE SENSED SOMEONE standing behind her and turned to see Roy looking over her shoulder as she finished her end-of-shift report. “Yes? Did you want something?”
“Give out any more tickets today?” Roy chuckled. “Can’t believe you cited Ben. I bet that pissed him off real good.”
“Not my problem.” She shuffled some papers and obscured Roy’s view. “He shouldn’t have been speeding.”
“That hard-ass attitude ain’t gonna win you any friends around here.”
A sarcastic remark almost slipped out. But that would be stupid. Curious, she asked, “So, you wouldn’t have given him a ticket?”
Roy walked over to the coffeemaker sitting on a metal filing cabinet. Only the two of them were in the office. Danny was out on patrol, and it was Wade’s day off. And Gus, he worked a couple days a week. She’d never heard of a part-time deputy position before.
Roy’s eyebrows drew together as he refilled his mug. He’d never impressed her as someone who thought before speaking.
“It’s not a trick question, Roy. I’m honestly just curious.”
He studied her for a moment, then dumped a ton of sugar into his coffee. “I doubt it,” he said finally.
“Does anyone ever give speeding tickets?”
“Sure.” He shrugged. “Out on the highway. But here? Not too often. Usually it’s the high school kids we stop. Or tourists.”
“Thank
