“That was stupid,” she whispered.
The propane heater put out enough heat to keep the bathroom and the bedrooms from freezing, but it meant leaving the doors open a crack. Grand’s door was ajar and she wanted to see her so badly that she was on her way to peek when she stopped. If Grand woke up there wouldn’t be any deciding about when the fight would take place.
Grand was not a morning person even though she crawled out of bed at six every single day, Sunday included. Sage had learned early on not to approach her until she was working on her second cup of coffee, so there was no way in hell she was going to start the argument right then.
She turned around and went straight to her bedroom, kicked off her boots, and hung her wet shirt and jeans over a recliner in the corner of the room. She pulled an extra quilt from the chest at the end of her bed and tossed it over the top of the down comforter before she slipped into bed wearing nothing but her panties and bra.
She was asleep before her body had time to warm up the sheets.
* * *
The wind was still howling like a son-of-a-bitch when Creed awoke at daylight. Why in the hell had he decided to buy a ranch in the middle of the winter? Sure, he’d liked the land when he looked at it a week ago and he’d seen potential for raising Longhorns and growing hay come spring. No sir, it didn’t look bad at all at fifty degrees and with the sun shining on the winter wheat.
And God only knew the price was right. Right, nothing! It was a downright steal and he’d felt an inner peace that he hadn’t known in a long, long time when the owner had showed him around and made the deal with him. But he hadn’t planned on the canyon filling up with snow on his first night in the house.
The weatherman said that the blizzard was going to stall out right above the canyon and wouldn’t move on toward the east for at least three more days. That was the last thing he’d seen on the television the night before because the electricity had flickered and then gone out for good.
The phone service had gone out before the electricity. His cell phone’s battery would soon be dead and the battery in his laptop would have bit the dust during the night. So there he was all alone in a blinding blizzard with a hundred head of cattle corralled in a feedlot behind the barn.
He wasn’t very well acquainted with the house, so he moved slowly when he slung his legs out of the bed and made his way across the bedroom floor. He shivered and opened the door wider to let in more heat. At least he had the little two-bedroom house all to himself until the blizzard came and went and things thawed out.
He put on three pairs of socks, long underwear, jeans, and a thermal knit shirt. He topped that with a thick flannel shirt and peeked out the window. There was nothing but a chill from cold glass and thick falling snow beyond that. But rain, snow, sandstorms, or heat, cattle had to be fed and taken care of, and the lady had said that if he wanted to buy her ranch, he’d have to take good care of it for the next three weeks. She’d be home the day before Christmas to see if he qualified as a buyer. If she liked what he’d done, she’d sell. If she didn’t, he’d only wasted three weeks.
Her words, not his!
It was December, so he didn’t expect eighty-degree weather, but he sure hadn’t figured on eight inches of snow coming down in blizzard-strength wind either, and that’s what the weatherman predicted. Two inches of snow or sleet crippled folks in Texas as much as two feet so they’d be a while digging out from under eight inches for sure. At least he wouldn’t have to contend with the granddaughter. No way could she get into the canyon in a storm like this. She could just hole up in her fancy hotel in Denver where the gallery was showing her paintings. La-tee-da, as Granny Riley used to say about all things rich and famous.
The stipulation for the sale was that Sage Presley could live on the ranch as long as she wanted. Well, Creed could live with the painter in her own house on the back forty of the Rockin’ C to get the ranch for the price Ada Presley quoted. She could play with her finger paints and take them up to Denver and Cheyenne every year. Their paths might cross once in a while and he’d tip his hat to her respectfully. He’d never heard of her, but that didn’t mean much. In Creed’s world a velvet Elvis was art and pictures torn out of coloring books held up with magnets graced the front of his mother’s refrigerator.
Creed didn’t care what Sage did for a living or what she looked like as long as she stayed out of his way. Miz Ada had said that he’d best be prepared for a shit
