least there’d been some side benefits to this trip. For one thing, Clay and his mom had been able to share some precious time together before he’d dropped her off at the airport in Chicago for the flight back to Providence.
Being an alcoholic, it was as far as she could travel without wanting a drink. Gabe had made it clear there would be no alcohol during the trip. He’d challenged her to handle it long enough to connect with the son she hadn’t seen in months. Though she’d been unable to make it all the way to Montana, Clay seemed okay with it.
As for Gabe, he’d had an opportunity to get inside Clay’s head. Enough time to establish a tentative rapport with the teen who’d been born of affluent parents who didn’t know the first thing about child rearing.
Unfortunately the death of Clay’s father to cancer two years earlier had turned his world upside down. Unable to deal with his own pain, let alone that of his grieving alcoholic mother, he’d gotten into trouble with other kids from wealthy Providence homes who could afford drugs and were indiscriminately vandalizing their exclusive neighborhoods for the fun of it.
In desperation, Clay’s mother had finally retained Gabe to defend her son in court. But sending the boy to military school had only been a stopgap. Now that Gabe was free to live his destiny, hopefully Clay would receive the emotional and psychological help he desperately needed.
As they continued driving through old snow, a familiar road sign showed up on the right.
Welcome To Marion, Montana. You’re In God’s Country Now.
Gabe had passed it dozens of times over the last year. It meant their long drive across the U.S. was about to come to an end.
Before this trip he’d always flown to Glacier Park International Airport where his foreman, Mack Whittaker, waited to take him back to the ranch in the station wagon.
Not this time.
It didn’t take a prophet to know that all hell had broken loose now that both families had received the letters Gabe had posted. Even though he’d told his parents he had gone abroad, there was still a chance his father would try and find him. Gabe had chosen to come by truck in order not to leave a trail.
In a couple of months he would write another set of letters explaining that he and Stefanie had gone their separate ways.
Thankfully she’d flown to Paris a few hours after he’d left the house and was enjoying herself with good friends as planned.
Now that she’d been given her freedom, she was entitled to be with any man she chose. To Gabe’s chagrin, he found he loathed the idea. Her image, her husky voice, had refused to leave his mind or senses.
He supposed she would haunt him for a long time to come. You didn’t live for a year in the same house with a wife like Stefanie and hope to walk away from her totally unaffected.
On the other hand, he hadn’t realized how deeply she’d gotten beneath his skin. The drive through a lot of rain and some snow flurries would have been torture if he’d had to be alone with his thoughts.
He figured it would probably take hearing that Stefanie was going to marry someone else’s favorite son headed for the White House to douse the sparks Gabe had determined not to acknowledge, let alone allow to catch fire.
His face formed a grimace before he gunned the accelerator. Twenty minutes later he glimpsed something in the twilight that broke his torturous train of thought.
Larch Tree Boys’ Ranch.
When Gabe saw the newly erected sign at the gate, he let out a satisfied sigh and slowed down. Mack must have pulled some strings to make sure it had been put up in time to coincide with Gabe’s arrival.
A special welcome home present.
The best one he could have received to chase away feelings that were 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
