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  Table of Contents

  RETURN TO RUBY’S RANCH

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  RETURN TO RUBY’S RANCH

  Ruby’s Ranch Book 1

  RHONDA FRANKHOUSER

  SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

  New York

  RETURN TO RUBY’S RANCH

  Copyright©2016

  RHONDA FRANKHOUSER

  Cover Design by Ramona Lockwood

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America by

  Soul Mate Publishing

  P.O. Box 24

  Macedon, New York, 14502

  ISBN: 978-1-68291-269-0

  www.SoulMatePublishing.com

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  This book is dedicated with love to my Kisa,

  my amazing husband Bill,

  without whom I would have never allowed

  my writer’s soul to emerge.

  Acknowledgements

  I’d like to thank my husband, Bill, who encouraged me to return to writing to find that missing piece. You are the gift of my life.

  My editor, Samantha, of Soul Mate Publishing, who believed in the magic of Ruby’s Ranch. Thank you so much for giving my words a stage.

  My writing mentors and friends, Jeanette Roycraft and Kelly Larivee, for making me believe in my own journey.

  And finally, my dearly departed mother, who assured me that every single thing I did was the best thing she’d ever seen or read. I miss you every day.

  Webpage: rhondafrankhouserbooks.com

  Facebook page: Rhonda Frankhouser Books

  Twitter page: @RJFrankhouser

  Chapter 1

  Since Ruby Lattrell last saw it nearly two decades ago, the pasture in front of the house had grown wild. Fruitless mulberry trees that she’d played under as a child were now giant roofs of green over a field of soft flowering clover. Two woodpeckers pounded their tiny beaks into the hard bark, working for a midday snack.

  The cool breeze blew the scent of sagebrush and distant mountain rain over the land, cleansing the dust stirred when she pulled her vintage Jeep Wrangler to the side of the road. Ruby’s Ranch was all hers now. Her family’s legacy passed down to her by her namesake, her grandmother, Ruby Adams.

  She was finally home again. For the first time, since her father dragged her and her younger brother away, Ruby breathed in the calmness and excitement of ranch life. She couldn’t believe her eyes when two young chocolate Labradors headed out to greet her, occasionally pausing for a healthy romp. They must be descendants of her childhood dog, Lucy.

  Home.

  Ruby thought of her father then, for the hundredth time since visiting him at the memory-care facility on her way out of Colorado Springs. He’d once loved cowboying, loved her mother, but he’d lost himself when she vanished.

  Shaking off the sadness that threatened to steal her happy homecoming, Ruby turned back onto the gravel drive and headed toward the house. Once she passed under the big, wooden, and iron “RR” archway, she was embraced by the canopy of willows that her Grandpa Mac had planted in honor of her mother’s birth.

  At the end of a long, green tunnel of trees stood the main house, like something out of a dream. Alongside the ranch-style home, her grandmother had added a new greenhouse. A freshly painted hay barn stood fifty yards or so behind. The front corrals were alive with curious horses, the yard quiet except for the rustling of the inquisitive pups. Ruby spotted the protective glare of a mother cat peering out from under the porch, wondering, no doubt, just what the hell this strange woman thought she was doing coming so close.

  The place hadn’t changed much. Still a warm, safe nest cradled by golden foothills, under the azure sky. Even the color of the paint on the house was the same shade of cream with coffee brown eaves that it had been throughout her childhood. The trees and bushes surrounding the front porch landing had doubled in size. Her grandmother’s verandah garden burst with bright orange poppies and fragrant climbing roses.

  “These put mine to shame,” Ruby mumbled.

  The vegetable garden alongside the house had been downsized from the half-acre when she lived here as a child. The bright green of newly sprouted ears of corn weighed on tall stalks. The spread of squash plants threatened to overtake the space where green, beefsteak tomatoes hung heavy on their vines. Fresh strawberries and cantaloupe lay protected from the birds and squirrels beneath Granny’s string-net invention. Ruby smiled, remembering how she and her grandmother had worn their fingers raw tying that twine.

  The rows looked freshly weeded and turned, showing rich, dark soil, loose and welcoming to the cool spring rain. Since, her grandmother had been gone for weeks now, Ruby wondered who would think enough of her and her garden to take such care of the fruit and vegetables.

  After she climbed out of the Jeep, Ruby bent to make friends with the pups, taking in the freshness of clean, country air. The smells of her youth. Fresh hay. Horse manure. Damp earth and green grass drifting in the gentle breeze. It smelled like heaven to her.

  The pups’ big brown eyes were cautious at first, but warmed quickly enough when she scratched behind their ears. Lucy would have been proud of her descendants. Ruby spied two sets of tiny blue eyes, peering timidly from behind the protective tabby, a bowl of fresh milk tucked under the stair.

  “Hey, little ones, look at you. Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.” She held out a hand to coax them, but they held their ground. She’d barely climbed one creaky step toward the front porch when she heard the hurried rumble of a truck coming up the drive. Dust w
afted from under the delicate tendrils of the willows.

  The old, beat-up Chevy pickup came to an abrupt stop about a foot from the back of Ruby’s prized Jeep. She scowled with disapproval as the driver shoved open the door and dropped to his booted feet before the engine even had a chance to shut off.

  “Help you, miss?” he asked, with a slow, deep twang, wiping the dirt from his hands with a handkerchief he’d pulled from his back pocket.

  She squinted against the midday sun a little harder now as his voice rang a touch familiar. She watched him for an over-long moment, the mother cat twisting her lithe body around his legs in greeting. Sweat glistened on his tanned, muscular arms as he bent to pick up the kittens that came out to join their mother.

  She smiled. There had to be something special about a man who elicited the love of animals. He was at least six-foot-two, and built like he could lift a hundred pounds straight over his head with no problem at all. A smudge of dried mud followed the line of his strong, stubbled jaw. He could be the most handsome man Ruby had ever seen. Not a sophisticated, city kind of handsome. More a Russell Crowe, gladiator, kind of handsome.

  The irritated scowl returned to his face after he put the tiny, tabby kittens down, almost like he’d just remembered he wasn’t pleased about being pulled away from something important. This made him all the more interesting. Part of Ruby was glad she’d been such a bother. The day just became more intriguing.

  “They’re adorable. And they seem to like you.” She tried to break the awkward silence.

  Curious, soulful green eyes peered out from under his dusty Stetson hat. He gazed first at her well-worn Justin cowboy boots, then slowly up her long legs to the khaki shorts, pausing momentarily at the denim shirt she had tied loosely around her waist, showing just a hint of pale skin. His gaze stopped momentarily at the mess of red-blonde hair she’d pulled away from her face, before he finally met her eyes.

  Ruby held her giggle as he finished his perusal, not wanting to make him self-conscious since she’d recognized him. Billy MacCallister. Had to be. My, how he’d grown from the runny-nosed brat who used to follow her around so many years before. He’d been the pain-in-the-butt, kid brother of her best friend.

  But, this grown up Billy MacCallister was a whole different creature. Mercy, he’s definitely a full-grown man now. Ranch life looks good on him.

  “So,” Ruby avoided his eyes to keep him at a disadvantage for just a bit longer. She reached down to pet the dogs again, calming them. “How’s your sister these days, Billy?”

  He stopped wiping the dirt from his jeans and searched to get a better look at her face.

  “What’s the matter, Billy? Think you’re seeing a ghost?” A smile crossed her lips.

  “Ruby?” he asked, quietly at first then louder. “Ruby?” This time with unashamed excitement. Billy took two long-legged strides toward her, tilting his hat to get a better look. “Well, look at that, it is you.”

  Before Ruby had a chance to respond, he lifted her off the step and twirled her around, not caring at all that she now wore half the dirt he once had all over him.

  The enticing scent of musk shampoo, salty sweat, and horses swirled around her, drawing her in. How could a man smell that good after working in the mud? It took all her strength to keep from leaning in and making a fool of herself. He smelled like home to her and she had to admit, it felt good to be held.

  “Billy, good grief, put me down.” She tugged at her shirt to keep it down, embarrassed. The pups jumped up, anxious now to play, as Ruby tried to gain composure. Not an easy task when being twirled around by a handsome cowboy.

  “Ruby Lattrell, it’s so good to see you. How the hell are you?” The honest joy in seeing her poured from him. “Oh my God, you look fantastic!” He set her down and brushed the hair away from her face, looking her over now with those same hungry eyes he’d had as a love-struck kid.

  She glanced away, self-conscious. When she finally mustered the courage to gaze up at him, she couldn’t help but return his infectious smile. There was no worry there, or pretense. The tiny lines around his joy-filled eyes showed only that he knew how to smile. How to laugh. Something she’d forgotten how to do a long time ago.

  “Well, that’s certainly more of a welcome than I expected.” She stepped back to get some space and a better look at him. He had to be coming up on thirty now. Strapping. Still driving his mom crazy with that unruly chestnut hair tucked behind his ears, no doubt. Same innocent, broad smile that held secrets.

  He continued talking and following her every move, anxious to know everything all at once. Where had she been? How had she stayed so perfect? Finally, he realized she hadn’t said a word. He stopped then, smiled that secret smile again, his eyes slowly filling with concern. “Ruby, I’m sorry I’m just going on. How are you? Are you all right? Oh Lord, I’m so sorry about your grandmother.”

  Ruby flushed when he caught her staring. “Oh, I ah, I’m fine. Thank you, though. I can’t believe she is gone. This place will be really weird without Granny Rube here.” She took a step back toward the door, gathering herself, hoping she’d find the key in the usual hiding place so she could make a graceful exit.

  “You don’t act fine.” He caught up with her, supporting her elbow like a real southern gentleman. “Let’s get you inside.”

  Ruby didn’t protest. She kind of liked the fuss he made. This was someone she’d known for nearly all her life. It felt good to know he’d missed her.

  “Just wait till Claudie finds out you’re home. She’s going to just die.” He reached behind the rusted iron pot for the key and turned it in the lock. “She’s not living out here anymore. She’s got a place in town. Married a nice city guy who moved here from Arizona, Mike Calloway. They bought old Fike’s Market and fixed it up real nice. Doing real well with it. She likes living in town so much better than out here.” He kept talking as he closed the door behind them.

  The familiar smells of the house hit Ruby first, distracting her from what Billy was saying. Gingerbread cookies, Pledge furniture polish giving off an ever-present hint of lemon.

  Ruby stopped in the entry, closed her eyes, and visualized her mother and Granny Rube laughing in the kitchen, handmade aprons tied around their waists, shoving cookies in that old Wedgewood oven, sharing private giggles.

  Ruby stood for a long while as she replayed the memories over in her mind, only vaguely aware Billy had gone silent and held a supportive hand at the small of her back.

  “Welcome home, Ruby,” he whispered, his sweet eyes searching hers.

  She didn’t know why, but just then she couldn’t keep herself from turning and wiping the dust from his cheek, feeling more true compassion from this one understanding look than she’d ever felt before.

  “Thanks, Billy.” She realized suddenly her eyes filled with tears. “Thanks for making me feel so welcome. I’m glad to be home.”

  She felt as if she’d stepped back in time. She was just a teenager when she left home almost two decades ago. Nearly everything in the house remained in the same place. The fireplace room still held the same worn velvet couches and mahogany side tables. The faded ivy wallpaper she’d helped Granny hang curled at the corners where moisture and age had gotten to the glue. The heirloom rug passed from her grandfather’s family, now worn and fraying around the edges.

  The same photos capturing a more innocent time continued to be displayed on the dusty river-rock mantle. Yellowed images of Granny Rube’s parents looked too small and frail to have endured such a rough pioneer life. Next to that picture, Ruby saw the photo of her Grandpa Mac, taken only days before he was trampled to death by his prized bull, Heathen.

  Ruby picked up the tarnished frame and held it close, realizing only now how handsome a man her grandfather had been, tall and lanky, his deep-set eyes full of the devil. Reminded her of her mother
.

  “Granny used to say it served him right to get taken by the one beast on the ranch that was ornerier than him.” Ruby wiped the dust from the frame and replaced it back on the mantle in the exact place it was before. “Momma told me Granny put Heathen down herself with a twelve-gauge shotgun the night he killed Grandpa Mac, but I still don’t know if that’s true. She had such a flair for the dramatic, it was hard to tell fact from fantasy.”

  “Your granny was a good woman, Ruby,” Billy finally offered, a measure of respect in his voice. “Always remember that. She helped me out more times than I can count.”

  “I’m just sad I missed so many years with her. All I have are old memories of how things used to be. Silly stuff like, I remember when she calmed Jake and me during those hell-raising thunderstorms, and chased us into the pond when we were driving everyone nuts because we were so bored.” Ruby turned away from the photos and took in the room once again. “She always had time for us. I can’t believe I let her die alone.”

  “None of that was your fault. You shouldn’t think like that.” Billy moved his hand on her shoulder in an obvious attempt to offer comfort.

  “I was named after her, for Christ’s sake. And this ranch is my legacy. I should have been here for her. To help her keep this place running, especially after we lost Momma. I feel so awful that she lost us too. I should have been here.”

  Her eyes filled with tears again when she saw his honest concern. She leaned into him just a little. “I’m sorry for all this,” she said, embarrassed for not keeping her emotions in check. “Thank you, Billy.”

  “It’s okay.” He reached for her hand.

  They stood like that for a long time, while she accepted his comforting presence.

  “By the way,” he finally broke the silence, “My ma told me your Granny Rube took that bull down. Shot him dead, without hesitation.”