LITMIR.BIZ

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in greeting.

      Ahead at the sprawling two-story house, her father sat on a green Adirondack chair beneath the sloping eaves of the front porch. So much had changed. Last month the patriarch of Elliott Ranch could only be found on that porch when rain forced him to slow down. Now he perched on the edge of the chair, refusing to lean back and relax. A black Stetson rested on his head and hid his face as he watched the world go by, hating every minute of his forced convalescence.

      Sara tried not to think about the phone call from Uncle Henry that night. Her father’s heart attack was as unexpected as the Colorado storms that whipped through the valley. Before that, Hollis had convinced his daughter as well as the rest of the world that he would live forever.

      Oh, yes, she should have known the hardworking, and equally hardheaded, rancher would eventually wear out the heart the good Lord had given him, but she hadn’t expected it would be this soon.

      Hollis Elliott was stubborn and unyielding, but he was still her father. She loved him, but could she forgive him? Could she maintain the necessary boundaries needed in order to live the life she wanted instead of the life he continued to try to orchestrate for her?

      Sara pulled her Jeep into the gravel circular drive in front of the house and parked next to her father’s Land Rover and their housekeeper’s ancient wagon. She was anxious to get out of a dress and into boots and jeans. There was plenty of time for a long ride, and she intended to take full advantage. She missed the time away from the ranch and her horse, and wasn’t ashamed to admit where her roots were. Elliott Ranch was home, and definitely her favorite place on the planet.

      She approached the front porch and had barely settled her foot on the bottom step before Hollis Elliott’s first directive flew.

      “Stop by the dealership in Buena Vista. There’s a new Land Rover with your name on it.”

      Taking a deep breath, she continued up the stairs. Do not react. Nearly twenty-four months had passed, and she liked to believe she’d learned something.

      “I can’t afford a new car. Besides, I love my old Jeep. It gets great gas mileage.”

      “That piece of tin is falling apart.”

      “No, it isn’t. But that’s beside the point. I’ll decide when I need a new car.”

      When her father opened his mouth again, Sara reached over and kissed his leathery cheek, halting further discussion.

      “Have you eaten?” she asked.

      “Malla is starving me.”

      From the screen door, Malla Esperanza cocked her dark head to one side and clucked her tongue. “You know what they say about liars.”

      “Well? You call that food? A sliver of turkey and a few vegetables?”

      “Your dietician calls it heart-healthy,” Malla returned.

      “I call it—”

      “Excuse me.” Sara interrupted her father’s tirade.

      “Can I fix you something to eat, Sara?” Malla asked, rolling her r’s like a melody as she spoke.

      Sara had nothing but affection for the woman who had been the sole female role model in her life since her mother died. If only she had Malla’s patience and even temperament.

      “No, but thank you, Malla,” she said with a smile. “I ate in town. I haven’t had dinner at The Prospector in years. It was delicious.”

      “Enough food talk,” her father interrupted. “Cut to the chase. How did the meeting go?”

      “It went well, Dad.”

      “Clinic Director. If you have to be a doctor, then director is the way to go.” His lips moved into a wistful smile. “Your mother would be proud.”

      “I’m auditioning for the position,” Sara said. “I’ll be working with another physician for eight weeks.”

      “What? That’s a load of cow paddies.” He began to stand. “Where’s my phone?”

      Sara touched his shoulder. “No, Dad. Stop.”

      Hollis sat down, grumbling. “I didn’t pay for that clinic so someone else could run things.”

      She cocked her head. “Why did you pay for the clinic?”

      “Because Henry asked me to.”

      “That’s the only reason?”

      “What are you insinuating, young lady?” His eyes narrowed in challenge.

      “Nothing, but remember, your money doesn’t buy you the right to manipulate other people.”

      Hollis released a loud snort. “We’ll see about that.”

      Looking past her father, Sara’s glance met Malla’s. The older woman’s eyes were wide with concern. She placed a hand on her heart in gesture and shook her head in warning, before turning away from the screen door.

      Taking a deep breath, Sara relaxed and lowered her voice. “I won’t stay if you interfere.”

      His steely black eyes met hers, but she refused to allow her gaze to waiver.

      “And this time, if I leave I won’t come back.”

      It was Hollis who finally looked away and shook his head.

      Sara dug in her purse and tossed a white package with her father’s blood thinner and diuretic on the small table next to him. “I picked up your scripts.”

      “Save your money,” he grunted. I’m not taking all those pills.”

      “At least take the anti-cranky capsules.”

      He paused and blinked, then released a gruff laugh. “Very funny.”

      Sara placed a gentle hand upon his. “I love you, Dad, but sometimes you have to let things happen in God’s timing instead of yours.”

      “The Lord and I have an arrangement. He runs His business and I run mine.”

      She couldn’t contain a burst of laughter. “Not quite how it works, but nice try.”

      “So who is this other doctor you’re up against?”

      “What does it matter?” she asked.

      “Invite him to the house.”

      Oh, that wasn’t going to happen. Sara cleared her throat but was silent.

      “Is that a no?” Hollis asked.

      “Malla said you hired some new men to help around the ranch while you’re recuperating.”

      “Short term. I’ll be back on my feet real quick.” He shook his head. “That reminds me, you have time to attend the cattlemen’s meeting next week?”

      “Dad, I work at the clinic. I can’t help you with the ranch, too.”

      “Just thought I’d ask. It is your heritage.”

      She was silent. There was no point upsetting him. Medicine was her heritage, only he refused to acknowledge that.

      “How’s Mitch working out?” she countered, looking toward the corral.

      “Mitch is doing just fine. No plans to court my daughter, like the last ranch manager, if that’s what you mean.”

      She tensed and gripped her briefcase handle tightly. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

      “Sara, you’re going to have to talk about it eventually.”

      It? It would be the debacle that was her engagement, and he was right. She wasn’t going there any time soon.

      “You still blame me for that idiot fiancé of yours, don’t you?” As usual, the manipulative rancher continued to prod the conversation

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