“Why don't you go out there and look around again, Sam. Hell, you own it.”
“Now?”
“Whenever you have time.”
“By myself?”
“If you want.”
“I don't know.” She turned away again and sat staring into space, thinking of the ranch and Aunt Caro. It would be so painful to see it again without her this time. It would be filled with memories of people she had cared about who were no longer there. “I don't want to go out there alone, Charlie. I don't think I could handle it.”
“Then take someone with you.” He sounded matter-of-fact.
“Who do you suggest?” She looked at him skeptically. “My mother?”
“God forbid. Hell, I don't know, Sam, take Mellie.”
“What about the kids?”
“Take all of us, then. Or never mind ‘taking us,’ we'll take ourselves. The kids would love it, so would we, and I'll tell you what I think once we get there.”
“Are you serious, Charlie?”
“Totally. I think this will be the most important decision you've ever made, and I'd hate to see you screw it up.”
“So would I.” She looked at him somberly and suddenly thought about something. “What about Thanksgiving?”
“What about it?”
“It's in three weeks, what if we all go out then?”
He thought for a minute and then grinned at her. “You've got a deal. I'll call Mellie.”
“Think she'll want to go?”
“Hell yes. And if she doesn't”-he grinned-“I'll go alone.” But Mellie offered no objection when he called her, and neither did the boys when they told them, and they didn't tell anyone else. They just quietly made reservations for a four-day trip over Thanksgiving. Samantha didn't even tell Harvey. She was afraid to upset him, and she still hadn't given him an answer about the job.
31
Samantha grew strangely quiet as they drove the last miles through the rolling hills on the familiar strip of highway. But the others didn't notice. The boys were so excited, that they were jumping up and down in the rented car. Mellie had left the baby with her mother, and the trip had gone smoothly so far. It was obviously an unorthodox Thanksgiving, the grown-ups at least thought it would be worth it. They had eaten a dry little slice of turkey and some dressing on the airline, and Mellie had promised to put together a real turkey dinner the next day on the ranch.
Samantha had spoken to Josh again only that morning. The boys were going to sleep in sleeping bags in one of the two guestrooms, and Charlie and Melinda were going to sleep in Aunt Caro's room. Sam would sleep in the room she had last had. The house was large enough to accommodate all of them, and Josh had assured her that there were groceries and that if she liked he would pick them all up at the plane in L.A. But Sam had insisted that she didn't want to spoil his Thanksgiving, she would see him when they got to the ranch. He had told her then, in his pained, halting way, how glad he was that she owned the ranch now and that he would do whatever he could to help her. He just hoped she wouldn't do something foolish like sell it, because he thought she could turn out to be one of the best damn ranchers around. She had smiled wistfully as he said it, wished him a happy Thanksgiving, and hurried to meet Mellie and Charlie and the boys in the lobby. They had had to take two cabs to the airport, and now they were crowded into a huge station wagon and the boys were singing songs.
But all Samantha could think of as they approached the ranch was how it had been the last time she had seen it, with Caroline and Bill King strong and healthy. Then she thought back once again to her days there with Tate. It all seemed like a dream now, it was so distant, the moments of joy she had shared with him, the hours at the cabin, the rides that they took on his pinto and Caro's handsome Thoroughbred stallion. She had been able to walk then. She felt a black cloud descend on her slowly as they turned the last bend in the road and she realized once again how much everything had changed.
“There it is.” She said it softly from the backseat, pointing a shaking finger. They passed through the main gate, drove up the winding road, and then she saw it: Aunt Caro's house. But there were no lights on, and although it was only five o'clock in the afternoon, it looked bleak and lonely and sad in the failing light. “Josh said he'd leave the door open. If you want to go inside, Charlie, the living room lights are all on a panel on the right just behind the door.” Sam just sat there with her eyes riveted to the house. She kept expecting to see the lights come on, to see the familiar white hair, to see Aunt Caro's smiling face and a wave of the hand. But as Charlie went in to turn the lights on and then walked quickly back to the car, there was no one beside him, and even the boys grew quiet as they looked around the ranch.
“Where are the horses, Sam?”
“In the barn, love. I'll show you tomorrow.”
“Can't we see them now?”
She smiled at Charlie over their heads and then nodded. “Okay, let's get our stuff inside, and then I'll take you all over.” But now that she was here, she didn't want to. She didn't want to go into the house, or the barn, she didn't want to see Black Beauty standing in his stall, or Navajo, or the other familiar horses. All she wanted was to see Caroline and Bill King and Tate Jordan, and live a life that she never would live again. There was a lump in her throat the size of an apple as she got herself into her wheelchair and let Charlie back her up the stairs. She rolled herself slowly into the house then and looked around. Then, ever so slowly, she began to roll toward her own room down the hall. A minute later the boys scampered past her, and she forced a smile as she showed them their room, and then she returned to the living room to find Charlie and Melinda. She pointed in the opposite direction, to their room, but she didn't want to see it. She didn't want to see the empty bedroom that had been Caro and Bill's.
“You all right?” Melinda looked at her gently and she nodded.
“I'm okay. Honest.”
“You look tired.”
She wasn't though, she was just desperately unhappy. “I'm fine.” She was remembering once again with all too painful precision just how she had felt when she had left the ranch, not knowing where Tate was, or if she would ever find him, but still hopeful. And now she knew for certain that she would never see him again. Not only that but she had lost Caro… The thought of it weighed on her like wet cement. And then as she sat gazing out the window at the dim hills in the twilight, she saw a bandy-legged little figure coming toward her, like an elf or a little wood sprite, and suddenly with damp eyes she was beaming. It was Josh. He had seen the lights in the house and he had hurried to see her. With a broad smile she pushed her way out the door and waited for him in her wheelchair on the porch. But as she did she saw him stop dead where he was standing, and she could see the look of shock on his face and hear the words. “Oh, my God…” And then suddenly, without knowing when she had started, she was crying, and so was he, and he was halfway up the stairs and she was reaching down, and he bent over her and held her, as together they cried, for Bill and for Caro and for Tate, and for Sam as well. For what seemed like hours there was only the muffled sound of their crying, and then after a time the wizened old cowboy sniffed loudly and stood up.
“Why didn't nobody never tell me, Sam?”
“I thought Miss Caro…” He shook his head with a look of despair.
“How did it happen?”
She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them. It was as though she too had shared in his shock. As though suddenly she saw herself as he saw her, crippled, in a wheelchair, no more the proud young palomino who had run all over the ranch. It was as though her life were over, as though she had suddenly grown old. And at that moment she knew that she couldn't keep the ranch now. There was no way she could run it. All the men would react the same way to her as Josh had. She was a cripple now-no matter what they had told her at the hospital in
