Sarah's Legacy

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 him to open up is when he’s discussing them. You really ought to go see them. I’m sure you’ll find one you like. But don’t mention Sarah. Her death’s just too much for him to cope with. Like I said, no one talks about it.”

Jenny paused for air and Bailey blinked. For a subject that was allegedly taboo, her secretary certainly hadn’t held back much. But then, that was Jenny, and Bailey was quickly learning that in a small town gossiping was highly rated.

“Thank you, Jenny. I’ll keep that in mind.”

BAILEY WORKED through her lunch hour and left the bank at two o’clock. Her furniture and other belongings were due to arrive at her house at two-thirty. She drove to the bed-and-breakfast where she’d been staying, changed into jeans and a T-shirt then headed for the farm. As she passed the cemetery, she glanced over at Sarah’s tree.

Why had Trent put a Christmas tree on his little girl’s grave in the middle of August? And why did he continue to keep it decorated? She couldn’t shake the picture of him kneeling beside the grave yesterday, hanging a new ornament. Maybe he’d done it because yesterday had been the one-year anniversary of Sarah’s death. Jenny had said he hung a new one from time to time. It tugged at Bailey’s heart to ponder what occasions made him do so. The remembrance of a special day once shared with Sarah? Her birthday? The day she took her first step? God, how it must hurt to lose a child.

She couldn’t begin to imagine the pain Trent suffered. She wished she could have somehow comforted him. Until yesterday morning when Camille Kendall, the owner of the bed-and-breakfast, had told her about the shortcut road that ran past Roth Hill Cemetery, she’d taken the long way around to get to her farm. That was why she hadn’t seen the cemetery and the tree sooner. Odd that she’d happened by on the day Trent visited Sarah’s grave—a day that surely caused him great sorrow.

Maybe fate had thrown him in her path.

Bailey shook off the thought. It was ridiculous. When she got involved with a man, it wouldn’t be Trent Murdock. Clearly, he carried a lot of baggage. She didn’t need that, no matter how much she sympathized with his loss. And he most certainly didn’t need her to comfort him. He obviously was a loner, just the type of man she’d vowed to avoid. She’d seen enough of men focused on their careers, men who didn’t want children. From what Jenny had said, the loss of his daughter had made Trent into just that kind of man.

No, Bailey couldn’t let her feelings override good sense. The only thing Trent had to offer her was a horse, and she’d do well to remember that.

She pulled onto County Road 311 and minutes later turned into her driveway. The farmhouse had been remodeled in years past and was in good shape for the most part, but it still needed a few little repairs here and there, some paint, a loving touch. She had nearly finished painting the inside. The repair work would come as she made time for it.

The moving van arrived punctually, and Bailey spent the remainder of the afternoon directing the movers where to put the heaviest pieces of furniture. By six o’clock, she was hot, dusty and tired. But she was happy. She wandered from room to room, through rows of boxes, loving the way her furniture looked in the place. The big house seemed to swallow her possessions. She would have to accumulate things to fill it. The four bedrooms, living room, family room, dining room and spacious kitchen were a far cry from the two-bedroom apartment she’d rented in Denver.

One day, Bailey promised herself, all the rooms would be filled, not just with furniture but with her family. She planned to have it all. The house with the white picket fence, a dog, a cat, a horse…and kids. Lots of kids. Whether she could find the right man to share her dream had yet to be seen. That was where her version of the all-American family often fell apart. She’d witnessed so many empty marriages, met so many shallow men, that she’d begun to wonder if real love and romance existed. The businesswoman in her said no. But that didn’t stop her from wanting children.

Growing up, she’d lived in enough foster homes to know that thousands of kids out there needed parents and didn’t have them. She’d been one, and she longed to give a child what she’d never had, to complete the circle she’d traveled and close the empty space that had claimed a part of her life for so long. If she never found the right guy to marry, she would simply adopt children and raise them on her own. Her kids would never lack for love or for a true parent. They would have roots, and this wonderful farmhouse to call home.

Bailey’s stomach growled, reminding her she’d skipped lunch. She ambled to the kitchen, where she grabbed a sandwich, then headed for the porch swing.

The sound of hoofbeats reached her ears as she pushed open the screen door. Her mouth dropped at the sight of half a dozen horses galloping across her pasture. Heads held high, necks arched, they raced in a semicircle. Hot on their heels was the stray dog she’d been feeding for the past two weeks, and right behind the dog ran a figure in a ball cap and faded jeans.

Quickly, Bailey set her sandwich plate on the porch railing and rushed down the steps. A jumble of thoughts filled her mind as she pushed through the pasture gate. From their dished faces, fine-boned heads and flowing tails lifted high in the air, she could tell the horses were Arabians, which could mean only one thing. The man in the ball cap, who continued to let out a steady stream of curses at the blue heeler-mix, could be none other than Trent Murdock.

Her experience with horses went no further than the research she’d done in preparing to buy one. Still, it seemed to her that the most sensible thing to do to get the Arabians calmed down and under control was to first contain the dog.