“So what’s the next move?” Carter asked, dragging his hands over his face.
“I’ll need you to come in as soon as possible and sign up a basic agreement for sale. I’ll fax a copy to Jurgen, and we’ll take it from there.”
“Do I need to stick around for all of that?”
“Once you sign the agreement, we can do a lot by email and phone. You don’t need to stick around after the initial paperwork, though it might be helpful.”
An image of Emma and Adam drifted through his mind, and he shook his head as if to dislodge it. “No. I’ll be leaving. The sooner I can get away from here the better.”
“Let me know when you can come in to sign, and we’ll be well on our way.”
“One other thing,” Carter said, feeling as if he owed Emma at least this. “There’s a woman who works here, Emma Minton.”
“Oh, yeah. I know Emma. She’s a good-looking gal.”
Which made Carter wonder if Pete was one of the guys who had asked her out.
As if that mattered.
“She’s asked me about subdividing an acreage off the property for her and her kid. When you talk to Jurgen, could you run it by him? See if he’d be willing to subdivide it?”
Pete sucked his breath through his teeth. “I doubt it. One of the things he liked the best about the property was that he had no close neighbors. But, hey, doesn’t hurt to ask.”
“Just ask him and let me know.” Though he had told Emma he couldn’t do anything for her, he still felt he had to at least try. Then Carter said goodbye and tossed the cell phone on the bed as he glanced around the cabin. A poster of a ski hill took up one wall. Two snowboards leaned in one corner of the cabin, both cracked in half. Remnants of Hailey’s wilder days when there was no ski run too difficult, no boundary that she respected, no jump she couldn’t take.
He knew the other cabins, built by Carter’s grand father for each of his three girl cousins, would hold similar detritus of their lives. Another wave of second thoughts drifted in behind the memories.
Could he sell all this? Could he walk away from the history these cabins and the ranch represented? How many pillow fights had taken place in this very cabin? How many times had he and Garret snuck out of the main house where they lived with their mother to play tricks on the girls sleeping here overnight?
His eyes fell on the Bible his grandmother had given him. On top of that lay the box with the nugget. Two small things, but they carried the weight of history and expectations.
He leaned his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands as he struggled with the memories and the responsibility. He had started working on the ranch when he was only ten years old, driving the bale wagon from the fields to the yard. Over time he graduated to the tractor, and then he started baling, as well.
Together he and his grandfather had ridden miles of fence lines, Papa Bill passing on his wisdom, his knowledge and the history of the ranch.
Regret twisted his gut. Sure he had bought the Rocking K from his grandfather, paying in sweat equity and bank loans, but the ranch was passed on to him. A ranch that had been in the family for four generations.
Could he change his mind? Couldn’t he simply let things go on as usual? Would Wade be willing to carry on as a manager, or would he want to have his own place eventually?
For a moment he wished he believed God heard prayers. Because that would be convenient. To ask God for some kind of guidance, some kind of sign.
But his belief in God died two years ago when he watched that small coffin being lowered into the ground, taking his purpose in life with it.
Carter pushed himself to his feet. The decision was made. It was time to move on. Pete had found him a buyer, and that was all the sign he needed. Now all he had to do was tell Wade.
And Nana Beck.
He pulled in a long breath and reminded himself this was the right thing to do. Then he left the cabin.
The sound of laughter greeted him as he pushed open the door of Wade’s house.
The first thing he saw was Adam sitting at the table, his cheeks smeared with syrup, forking a piece of pancake into his mouth. Just as his son used to.
The glimmer from the past twisted, and any regrets he had about selling the farm seemed to disappear.
Adam looked up when he came into the kitchen. “Are you going to have pancakes too, Mr. Carter?”
Carter gave him a quick shake of his head, no.
But Miranda was already setting an extra plate on the table. “Of course you’re going to join us,” Miranda was saying. “I’ll even get Emma to make a letter C for you.”
Carter glanced over at the stove, where Emma was frying pancakes. Her hair was pulled away from her face, and as she flipped the pancake she glanced over at him.
The sparkle in her eyes dimmed, and she glanced away.
Not that he blamed her. He’d been less than diplomatic this morning, and he knew it. But her chitchat about Nana and history and how wonderful the ranch was twisted the guilt knife already lodged deep in his breast.
“I’m not sticking around long,” he said. “How are you feeling today?” he asked. Yesterday, she had complained about a sore back, blaming it on her pregnancy.
“A bit stiff, but that’s to be expected.”
Carter put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. “You make sure you take it easy,” he said.
Miranda waved her hand at him. “Don’t fuss. I’m fine.”
Carter gave her a gentle smile, then glanced over to catch Emma watching him. He turned away again. “I need to talk to Wade, by the way.”
“He’s having a shower right now.” Miranda grabbed Carter by the arm and pulled him toward the table. “Sit down and eat. You’re practically drooling. Emma, give this man some fresh pancakes.”
“You’ll really like them,” Adam assured him with a grin just as Emma dropped a couple of pancakes on his plate.
“I smell pancakes,” Wade called out, rubbing his hands together as he came into the kitchen. “I hope Adam didn’t eat them all like he usually does.”
“I don’t do that,” Adam complained.
Wade rubbed his head, to show him he was teasing, then flashed Carter a grin. “Glad you could join us, buddy.”
In spite of Wade’s smile, Carter caught an underlying note of sympathy in his voice. Since he’d been back, this was the first time Carter had stepped into the house where he used to live.
Yet another reason to get away soon. Too much subtext underneath every conversation.
“Yeah. Miranda strong-armed me into staying.” He kept his tone light.
“Never mess with a pregnant woman,” Miranda said. “Emma, why don’t you sit down and have some breakfast? I think we have enough to eat.”
“I’ll throw on a few more pieces of bacon,” she replied.
“Got enough of that too.” Wade dropped into a chair across from Carter. “Sit down. Eat.”
“Do we need more coffee?” Emma asked, not moving from her place at the stove.
“What’s with the excuses? If I didn’t know you better, I’d guess having the boss around was making you nervous.”
To Carter’s surprise, he saw a flush work its way up her neck as she sat down at the table. He doubted it was caused by nerves.
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