Sarah's Legacy. Brenda Mott

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ the clipboard she held underneath one elbow and offered her hand. Reluctantly, he took it.

      “I’m Bailey Chancellor.”

      “It’s Trent, and I’m pleased to meet you.” His words were a formality only. He didn’t want to make small talk; he wanted to finish his business and leave. That she knew his name made him wonder if she’d asked someone. Or had she simply assumed he was Sarah’s father, having seen the last name on the headstone?

      Her touch, her perfume, stirred something in him that he didn’t care to deal with. He released her hand and let his arm drop back to his side.

      Bailey cleared her throat. “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday.” She hesitated, as though searching for the right words. “I want you to know I really mean that.”

      He held her gaze, unable to turn away, and shrugged dismissively. “I guess I was a little uptight yesterday. It wasn’t a good day.” This was as close as he could bring himself to apologizing. She really hadn’t done anything, and he shouldn’t have snapped at her. But Sarah’s Christmas tree was a private thing.

      Bailey lowered her voice. “We got off on the wrong foot. Neighbors in a small town shouldn’t do that.”

      As her words sank in, he put the obvious together. His former neighbors, the ones who’d owned the eighty acres behind Windsong, had sold their place to the new president of Colorado Western National Bank, but he hadn’t realized that anyone was living there yet. So she was the woman who’d been the center of Ferguson gossip the past few weeks. Terrific.

      “I suppose not,” he said grudgingly in response to her comment.

      “Good. I’m glad you feel that way.” She smiled again. “Maybe you wouldn’t mind showing me your horses sometime. My secretary, Jenny, told me you own Windsong.”

      Trent bristled. The last thing he needed was Bailey Chancellor coming to his ranch. He had no inclination to entertain a city woman with big ideas. Especially one who had his libido awakening for the first time in over a year. “I’m sorry.” He took a step backward. “I really can’t entertain visitors right now. I’m too busy preparing this year’s crop of weanlings for sale.”

      She pursed her lips in apparent amusement and once more tucked the clipboard under her elbow. “I see. You don’t think a woman like me might actually want to buy a horse.”

      He raised his eyebrows. “Do you?” His face warmed at the look she gave him.

      “You figured I wanted to come pet them, is that it?” Her eyes sparked with something between amusement and irritation.

      Trent cleared his throat. “Something like that.” He folded his arms in front of his chest. “If you’re serious about buying, then I’d be more than happy to show you what I have for sale.”

      “Wonderful. When’s a good time?”

      Never. The uncharitable thought startled him, yet he couldn’t help it. Something about Bailey Chancellor set his nerves on edge. Not in a bad way, but in a way he certainly didn’t like. The prospect of her coming to his ranch displeased him, but he could hardly tell her no. His horses were for sale to anyone who would provide them with a good home and proper care. As long as Bailey qualified, there was no reason to turn her down. “This weekend would be fine, if that suits your schedule.”

      “Perfect. Tomorrow, two o’clock?”

      He nodded.

      “Great.” She gave a little wave. “See you then.” She walked away, her hips swaying just the slightest as she headed back to resume her conversation with Mr. Tool Belt.

      Just the slightest was enough to rouse more than his mind.

      “Mr. Murdock?” The voice calling him didn’t register at first.

      He blinked at the teller on the other side of the counter. “Hmm?”

      “May I help you?” She stared politely at him.

      Where was his mind?

      Forcing a smile, he stepped up to the window and handed the teller the check and deposit slip. He half listened as she counted bills into his hand for the return cash he’d requested, along with a receipt that read: Colorado Western National. Your Hometown Friendly Bank.

      His gaze had strayed to the woman with the golden-brown hair, long curvy legs and a name that rolled off his tongue like cream over strawberries. Bailey Chancellor.

      She caught him staring and flashed him a smile. He swallowed hard and turned away.

      Your hometown friendly bank.

      The only one he had any thoughts about getting hometown friendly with was Bailey.

      A woman with violet eyes.

      A woman who scared the hell out of him.

      “DO YOU HAVE a headache, Bailey? Can I get you some aspirin?”

      Bailey looked up into the concerned face of her young secretary. Quickly, she unfolded her hands and lowered them from her forehead. “No, Jenny, thanks. I was just thinking.”

      “All right.” Jenny started to leave.

      “Uh, Jenny?”

      “Yes?”

      “I was wondering something. You mentioned my neighbor this morning, Trent Murdock?”

      Jenny nodded.

      In the two weeks since she’d hired her, Bailey had quickly discovered that her secretary was a font of information. Jenny had lived in Ferguson all her twenty-five years, and knew everything about everybody. She loved to talk, and when Bailey had said this morning that she was in search of a good horse, Jenny had told her about Windsong. Jenny had bought a horse from Windsong two years ago, and gave the ranch and its owner, Trent Murdock, a good recommendation.

      As soon as Jenny had called Trent by name, Bailey realized he was probably the man she’d seen at the cemetery, since Murdock was the name on the little girl’s headstone. Normally she wasn’t the nosy type, but she couldn’t seem to get Trent Murdock off her mind, especially since he’d walked into the bank an hour ago.

      “What happened to Trent’s little girl?” Bailey asked.

      Jenny’s pretty face clouded over, and she stepped closer to Bailey’s desk, her long blond ponytail swishing. “She had stomach cancer. It was so sad. And that Christmas tree on her grave…have you seen it? God, it just tears your heart out. No one knows why Trent put it there, but he did it the day after she was buried, and he hangs a new ornament on it every now and then.”

      She shuddered and leaned on the desk. “I can hardly bear to talk about it. No one does. Trent’s wife left him after little Sarah died. She just couldn’t take it, I guess. It was really awful, though—him grieving and then Amy leaving him that way. A lot of ladies around here tried to comfort him, if you know what I mean, but he wasn’t having any part of it. Guess he just wants to be left alone in his grief.

      “Those horses are his whole life, and the only time a person can get СКАЧАТЬ