Safe Haven Ranch
Author
Louise M. Gouge
Reads
15.8K
Chapters
14
Chapter One
“You what?”
Olivia Ortiz stared at her elderly neighbor, barely sparing a glance at his too-handsome companion. “But, Albert, you promised to sell your land to me.” She was standing in her own driveway, hands fisted at her waist in a defensive posture.
“I know, I know.” Albert Winslow shrugged his bony shoulders and gave her an apologetic smile. “But wait ’til you hear what he has planned, and I think you’ll like it. Will, how about you tell Miss Olivia what you have planned.” As usual, the almost ninety-year-old gentleman repeated himself. He looked up at his much taller companion. “I think she’ll like it.”
“Um...” The younger man, who fit the very definition of a tall, dark and handsome cowboy—with curly black hair thrown in for good measure—grinned, and his blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight, causing a silly hiccup in Olivia’s chest. “Don’t you think you should introduce us first?”
“Oh.” Albert blinked and looked from him to Olivia and back again. “Sure thing. Miss Olivia, this is Will Mattson. Known this boy all his life. He’s the grandson of my old friend Andy Mattson, Lord rest his soul. Will, this is Olivia Ortiz. She and her father own this property.” He waved a hand around to include the fifteen acres that comprised her land, just over a quarter the size of his own fifty acres. Centered by matching pink adobe houses, the two properties were separated by a four-foot fieldstone fence, with a single flimsy, never-locked, much-used gate between them.
Will reached out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” He gave her a wide smile, revealing perfect white teeth set off by his perfectly tanned complexion, which caused another hiccup near her heart.
What was wrong with her? She wasn’t about to let herself fall for this man...or any man. No one could ever replace Sancho. Still, she briefly shook his hand as his name registered in her brain.
“Mattson? Are you...?” Annoyance replaced the shock that Albert’s devastating news had delivered.
“Yes, ma’am.” There went that cowboy “ma’am” thing again, punctuated by a boyish shuffling of his western boots on the dusty ground. “Can’t escape it around here.”
“Well, if you’re a Mattson, why do you need this small property to add to the...what is it? Eight or ten thousand acres your family owns?” She didn’t mean to sound so confrontational, but Albert had just crashed her desperately held dreams, so her social filters were crashing, too. “You plan to buy the whole county?”
“Unka Weeoo?” An adorable little brown-haired boy poked his head from behind the man’s long legs. “Hokay?” His voice, barely above a whisper, wobbled, and his big blue eyes were round with fear.
How had Olivia failed to see the little guy? He must have been frightened by her outburst.
Will’s expression became gentle, paternal. He scooped up the boy, who looked to be around four, and chucked him under the chin. “Sure thing, buddy. Everything’s okay.” He looked at Olivia. “This is Jemmy, my nephew.”
“Hi, Jemmy.” She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. Her own son would be getting close to three, if only... She shook off the memory. “I have a daughter just about your age.” Would six-year-old Emily be offended by being compared to a younger child? Olivia stopped short of asking the boy if he would like to meet Emily. That would seem like an invitation to these men to come inside.
Jemmy buried his face in Will’s shoulder, then flung his arms around his uncle’s neck.
“He’s a little shy.” Will gently massaged the boy’s back.
What was the story there? Was Will babysitting? Olivia dismissed the questions. Her own question hadn’t been answered. Why would a member of the wealthy Mattson family need Albert’s property, set as it was in this little canyon beside the Rio Grande? It certainly wasn’t enough land to run a herd of cattle, like on their other holdings. And she needed this land. It was her lifeline to restoring her very purpose in life, her only viable means of supporting herself and her daughter and giving them a future beyond what Sancho’s life insurance provided. While Dad’s pensions kept them afloat for now, he often reminded her that he wouldn’t always be there for her.
“Why don’t you invite us in for coffee,” Albert said, “so I can say hello to your father.” He took a step toward the back door to Olivia’s house.
“I, uh...” She brushed a strand of sweat-dampened hair from her forehead, then realized she’d probably streaked it with dirt. “I’m in the middle of planting these marigolds.” She pointed to the line of prepared soil along the driveway. “The plants shouldn’t lie out in the sun for long before going into the ground.”
“Oh, come on, now.” Albert took another step toward the house. “We won’t be long, and I’d like to say hello to Lawrence.”
She huffed out a harsh breath. When Albert got ahold of an idea, he didn’t let go. Besides, this problem needed to be settled. Now. Maybe Dad could persuade Albert not to change his mind about the sale.
“Okay.” Not okay. “Let’s go in.”
She led them through the long back room—a combination of library, reading room, office and model-train room—and into the living room.
“Have a seat.” She waved a hand toward the couch and chairs set in a semicircle around the white adobe fireplace in the corner. “Dad, we have company,” she called out. To her unwanted guests, she added, “I’ll make coffee.”
She went to the kitchen and washed the dirt from her hands, then tossed out the remnants of this morning’s brew and washed the pot.
Emily skipped into the kitchen. “Did Mr. Albert come over?” She grabbed a paper napkin from the table and reached up to brush Olivia’s forehead, sending a small shower of dirt to the floor. Sometimes it seemed Emily mothered Olivia as much as Olivia mothered her.
“Thank you, sweet pea. Yes, Mr. Albert and his friends.” His friends. Not hers. “One of them is a little boy. Why don’t you go see if he wants to play?” As she put a new filter into the coffee maker and measured the grounds, she nodded to the covered plate on the table. “And take them some of those sweet rolls we made this morning.”
Emily danced over to the sink and washed her hands, not completely drying them, then gathered small plates and napkins and put them on a tray with the sweet rolls. If Olivia hadn’t been so upset, she would burst with pride. Her daughter was already the perfect little hostess, which should go a long way in impressing their next client, who would soon be renting their studio apartment. People who rented the studio wanted peace and quiet, and might consider the presence of a child a big turnoff, but Emily could charm a grizzly bear.
“What’s up, kiddo?” Dad limped into the kitchen, leaning on his ever-present quad-cane and looking older than his sixty-two years.
“It’s—it’s...” Olivia’s eyes burned with sudden tears. She blinked them back. “Albert wants to sell his land to the Mattson family instead of us.”
“What?” His tone was more curious than outraged, unlike what she’d felt upon hearing the news.
“He wants to explain it to me. To us.”
She had to remember that this land actually belonged to Dad, although he always referred to it as ours and let her do what she wanted to the property. Seven years ago, Mom had inherited it from her parents, and she and Dad had moved here from Seattle. By then, Olivia and Sancho had been married, so she didn’t live here until—she breathed out a sigh—Sancho had died over three years ago, and she’d come here so her parents could help her raise Emily. Then, last year, Mom died. Olivia swiped the back of her hand over the bothersome tears that ran down her cheeks at the memory. After such losses, would her grief ever subside?
“Huh.” Dad started toward the living room. “I’ll be interested in what he has to say.”
In minutes, the coffeepot spat out its final drips. Olivia poured the fresh brew into an insulated carafe and set it on a tray, along with mugs, creamer and sugar.
In the living room, the men were already engaged in a lively conversation as they munched on the sweet rolls.
“Real tasty, as always.” Albert took another bite.
“Yes, ma’am. Delicious.” Will turned to Dad. “If you don’t mind, Lawrence, I’d like to look at your model trains sometime.” He accepted the steaming mug from Olivia. “Thanks, ma’am.” He gave her a nod. “I think Jemmy will be real interested, too.” With both hands occupied, he nudged the little boy with his elbow and smiled at him. “Won’t you, buddy?”
Jemmy returned a round-eyed look, but didn’t smile. They sure did look like a loving father and his son.
Olivia quickly quashed the thought. She wouldn’t do herself any favors by admiring anything about this man.
“Sure thing.” Dad beamed. “I’m always up for showing off my favorite hobby.”
Olivia delivered the other mugs, then said in a stage whisper to Emily, “You can get juice boxes for you and Jemmy.”
“Want to go with me?” Emily reached out a hand to the little boy.
As before, he buried himself in his uncle’s protective embrace.
“It’s okay, Jemmy.” Again, Will’s eyes exuded paternal kindness. “It’s just in the other room. You can see me through the doorway. Wouldn’t you like a juice box?”
Eyeing Emily with suspicion, Jemmy nonetheless scooted off the couch and, after a moment of hesitation, took her hand. She giggled and led him from the room in her older-sister way, as she always did with younger kids. Jemmy looked back at Will but didn’t tug against her grip.
As he watched them, Will released a quiet sigh. “Thanks.”
Olivia tried to subdue the empathy welling up inside her. Was he raising this child?
“Now, let’s get down to business,” Albert said, interrupting her thoughts. “Will, how about you tell Olivia and Lawrence about your plans. I think they’re going to like them.”
Olivia couldn’t quite school her face into a polite expression, but Dad’s interest was clear from his raised eyebrows, to his half smile, to his posture as he leaned toward their guest. But then, Dad was always friendly and interested in other people, even if they might not return the attitude.
Will shifted in his seat at the end of the couch. “Well, it’s something I’ve been praying about for some time.”
Oh, great. That makes it sound like God’s already on your side.
“Albert’s land, being tucked away in this little valley, would be the perfect location for my plans.” He gave Olivia that white-toothed smile that probably charmed all the girls in Riverton and parts beyond. “I’d like to establish a boys’ ranch for at-risk younger boys, away from the negative influences of their present lives. You know, kids who maybe come from abusive homes or have parents or older siblings who’ve chosen the wrong path. These boys need some foundation to their lives so they won’t follow that same pattern. My aunt fosters four boys right now and wants to take on more, but her house and yard in town aren’t big enough. I want to give her a home that is. And, of course, I’ll live there, too.”
Olivia felt as if a boulder had slammed against her chest, while her heart sank deeper with each word. Sancho had worked with troubled teens, and he’d been murdered for it. And this man wanted to buy the land that should be hers and bring a bunch of troublemakers to live on the next property, all too close to Emily. Added to that, a noisy herd of wild boys would destroy the peace and quiet she promised to her prospective clients. Who would come here for a quiet retreat from the world, only to be met with screaming, shouting kids?
“Isn’t that a fine plan, Olivia?” Albert gave her a big smile.
Even Dad looked at her expectantly. Didn’t he see the obvious problem? Time to address the foundational issue.
“I’m sure Mr. Mattson is sincere in his desire to help troubled children, but this isn’t the place for it.” She worked hard to keep the resentment from her voice. From Dad’s frown, she could see she wasn’t succeeding. “Albert, you are an old-school gentleman, and we both subscribe to old-fashioned values. When you agreed to sell your land to me, I took that as a firm commitment from you—a handshake, if you will, which to us is as unbreakable as a written contract.”
Silence filled the living room, broken only by the sounds from the kitchen, where Emily chattered to Jemmy about the various flavors of juice in the refrigerator. What a wonderful big sister she would have made to little Daniel. But Sancho’s death had traumatized Olivia, and she’d miscarried at six months.
Her husband, her son, her mother. How many more losses would the Lord send into her life? Must she also give up the dream that had begun to restore her mental and emotional health, and most of all, her faith? Add to that her financial needs, and she was determined to hold Albert to his word.
No, this deal must not go through. She had to do everything in her power to persuade Albert to keep his promise. But what power did she actually have?
As if showing her the way, her spine stiffened, and she sat up straighter.
“Albert, you know a gang of delinquent kids murdered my husband. I can’t let the same kind of criminals take my livelihood, too, not to mention threaten Emily’s safety.”
A stinging buzz streaked up Will’s neck and raised the hair on his scalp. Wow. Just wow. Albert had told him Olivia Ortiz was a widow, but he hadn’t said her husband had been murdered. And by gang members. No wonder she didn’t like his plan. More like hated it, actually. What should he say now? Offer his condolences for her loss? Point out that his boys wouldn’t be violent? And what was that about her livelihood?
Lord, I know You’ve brought me to this place. What should I say now?
“Man, I’m so sorry to hear about your husband.” The words came out without further thought. “I can’t imagine...”
He shut up before he stuck his foot in his mouth. When his sister died violently last year, he’d been devastated. Nothing anybody said had consoled him, and a few “friends” blamed her for sticking with that creep... Sorry, Lord—that abusive, narcissistic alcoholic she’d married despite the family’s pleas. In spite of their own sad history, with Mom leaving when they were kids, Megan always thought she could fix things and people. Clearly, she hadn’t succeeded with Ed. After he killed her, he barricaded himself in a motel room and was shot by a SWAT marksman who didn’t realize Jemmy was also in the room. It had been six months since that shootout, and Jemmy still had nightmares.
“It’s a rough world out there.” Albert reached over and patted Olivia’s hand. “But we can still do some good in our little corner, can’t we? That’s why I liked Will’s idea so much.”
Her wounded look moved Will, and she seemed on the verge of tears. The urge to comfort her came on strong, but he forced it back. Being too empathetic with some women could give the wrong impression, maybe even get him in trouble...again. Best to ignore her emotions and discuss only the facts of this matter. Of course, she’d looked pretty cute with that swipe of dirt on her forehead. She must have looked in a mirror and washed it off while she was in the kitchen.
Nope. Not going to think about her that way. That just leads to trouble.
“Ma’am, I’d be interested in hearing more about your plans. Albert tells me you’ve been hosting authors and artists in your studio apartment. How will you use his house?”
She cleared her throat and sniffed back the tears, settling a blank expression on her pretty face. Stop that, you doofus. You can’t think of her as pretty. It can only lead to trouble—heart trouble.
“I plan to expand my business and make room for more artists who need a quiet place to express their art. A safe refuge from fans whose interruptions can destroy concentration, not to mention inspiration.” Her expression softened as she warmed to her topic. “As Albert may have told you, these two properties were settled in the early 1900s by artistic women who were searching for that very thing. They supported each other and explored opportunities not available in the outside world during that era. I plan to carry on that tradition for this land.” She laughed softly, a pleasing, musical sound. “Of course, things have improved for women since then, but artists still need peace and quiet when they’re trying to write that next big novel or paint that glorious landscape. We’re highly selective in our clientele, all of whom hear of us by word of mouth from their friends.”
She sounded like a brochure for the place, but from what she’d said, she clearly didn’t advertise.
“Tell them who’s coming today, Olivia.” Lawrence’s dark eyes flared with excitement. “None other than New York Times bestseller Nona—”
“Dad!” Olivia glared at him. “We never share who’ll be staying here. Privacy. Obnoxious fans. Remember?”
“Oops.” He laughed, clearly not embarrassed by her scolding. He turned to Will. “You get the idea, right?”
“Yes, sir.” Indeed he did. More than that, he understood the need for privacy. All his life, people—especially women—had expectations of him because his name was Mattson. Despite Will being only ten years old when Mom left, Dad had expected him to be stoic, claiming a Mattson didn’t give in to emotions. Then, after Will’s last girlfriend had made clear she would expect a pampered, jet-set life as Mrs. Will Mattson, he’d decided to stop dating. Instead, he spent his energy and resources helping boys who had no agenda beyond wanting and needing love, a full stomach and a clean bed. Some of them needed a home where disreputable relatives couldn’t find them and use them for selfish or even evil purposes. Boys like Jemmy. So far, Ed’s relatives hadn’t come up with any legal reason for claiming custody, but they’d made plenty of noise and threats.
So, understanding aside, he had to fight for the right to buy Albert’s property. While he valued the man’s promise to Olivia, he knew this area well, and not a single plot of land provided what this remote fifty-acre riverside valley did.
“Miss Olivia?” He gave her a gentle smile just short of pouring on the infamous Mattson charm. “I really need this land. A bunch of disadvantaged boys are counting on it. Won’t you please release Albert from his promise to sell it to you?”
Confusion crossed her face. Then she lifted her chin and glared at him. “You mean you aren’t going to call in your lawyers and claim a verbal contract doesn’t count legally?”
He chuckled. “No, ma’am. I’m a lawyer myself—family law—but I don’t believe in using the law to bully people.” He glanced at Albert, who was closely watching the interaction. “I’ve found the best way to handle situations like this is through prayer and healthy arbitration, so everybody comes out of it believing the right thing’s been done.”
She blinked those dark brown eyes, and her jaw dropped. “Prayer?” She looked at her dad, then back at Will. “Do you say that so you can claim God is on your side?”
Will rocked back in his seat. “Uh, no, not at all. Just the opposite. I pray to learn God’s will, even if it’s not what I’ve asked for.”
“Oh, I see. So—”
Olivia’s frosty response was cut off by the sound of giggles in the kitchen, and not just from little Emily. It was a beautiful duet of lighthearted noise from two kids clearly having innocent fun. Will had never heard Jemmy giggle, and a lump formed in his throat. How had Emily, whom Jemmy had just met, broken through his nephew’s paralyzing fears and caused such carefree laughter when his young cousins hadn’t been able to?
“Unka Weeoo!” Jemmy dashed into the living room, his face bright with an excitement Will had never seen. He stopped and stared at the adults, apparently forgetting Will wasn’t the only one in the room. His face clouded, and his thumb went into his mouth.
Will stood slowly. He’d learned not to make sudden moves around Jemmy. Instead, he walked to the boy and kneeled in front of him. “What is it, buddy? What did you see?”
Jemmy buried his face in Will’s shoulder.
Emily skipped over to them. “Jemmy, Jemmy, come back. Mommy, it’s the hummingbirds. They came back to the feeder.” She took Jemmy’s hand and tugged, but gently. “C’mon, Jemmy,” she coaxed. “You’ll miss it. And we need to make more sugar water for them.”
Jemmy peeled himself slowly from Will’s chest and let her lead him away, this time without a backward glance.
In that moment, Will knew one thing. He must make sure Jemmy had every opportunity to play with this precious little girl, no matter what it took.
