Sarah's Legacy. Brenda Mott

me your horses sometime. My secretary, Jenny, told me you own Windsong.”

      Trent bristled. The last thing he needed was Bailey Chancellor coming to his ranch. He had no inclination to entertain a city woman with big ideas. Especially one who had his libido awakening for the first time in over a year. “I’m sorry.” He took a step backward. “I really can’t entertain visitors right now. I’m too busy preparing this year’s crop of weanlings for sale.”

      She pursed her lips in apparent amusement and once more tucked the clipboard under her elbow. “I see. You don’t think a woman like me might actually want to buy a horse.”

      He raised his eyebrows. “Do you?” His face warmed at the look she gave him.

      “You figured I wanted to come pet them, is that it?” Her eyes sparked with something between amusement and irritation.

      Trent cleared his throat. “Something like that.” He folded his arms in front of his chest. “If you’re serious about buying, then I’d be more than happy to show you what I have for sale.”

      “Wonderful. When’s a good time?”

      Never. The uncharitable thought startled him, yet he couldn’t help it. Something about Bailey Chancellor set his nerves on edge. Not in a bad way, but in a way he certainly didn’t like. The prospect of her coming to his ranch displeased him, but he could hardly tell her no. His horses were for sale to anyone who would provide them with a good home and proper care. As long as Bailey qualified, there was no reason to turn her down. “This weekend would be fine, if that suits your schedule.”

      “Perfect. Tomorrow, two o’clock?”

      He nodded.

      “Great.” She gave a little wave. “See you then.” She walked away, her hips swaying just the slightest as she headed back to resume her conversation with Mr. Tool Belt.

      Just the slightest was enough to rouse more than his mind.

      “Mr. Murdock?” The voice calling him didn’t register at first.

      He blinked at the teller on the other side of the counter. “Hmm?”

      “May I help you?” She stared politely at him.

      Where was his mind?

      Forcing a smile, he stepped up to the window and handed the teller the check and deposit slip. He half listened as she counted bills into his hand for the return cash he’d requested, along with a receipt that read: Colorado Western National. Your Hometown Friendly Bank.

      His gaze had strayed to the woman with the golden-brown hair, long curvy legs and a name that rolled off his tongue like cream over strawberries. Bailey Chancellor.

      She caught him staring and flashed him a smile. He swallowed hard and turned away.

      Your hometown friendly bank.

      The only one he had any thoughts about getting hometown friendly with was Bailey.

      A woman with violet eyes.

      A woman who scared the hell out of him.

      “DO YOU HAVE a headache, Bailey? Can I get you some aspirin?”

      Bailey looked up into the concerned face of her young secretary. Quickly, she unfolded her hands and lowered them from her forehead. “No, Jenny, thanks. I was just thinking.”

      “All right.” Jenny started to leave.

      “Uh, Jenny?”

      “Yes?”

      “I was wondering something. You mentioned my neighbor this morning, Trent Murdock?”

      Jenny nodded.

      In the two weeks since she’d hired her, Bailey had quickly discovered that her secretary was a font of information. Jenny had lived in Ferguson all her twenty-five years, and knew everything about everybody. She loved to talk, and when Bailey had said this morning that she was in search of a good horse, Jenny had told her about Windsong. Jenny had bought a horse from Windsong two years ago, and gave the ranch and its owner, Trent Murdock, a good recommendation.

      As soon as Jenny had called Trent by name, Bailey realized he was probably the man she’d seen at the cemetery, since Murdock was the name on the little girl’s headstone. Normally she wasn’t the nosy type, but she couldn’t seem to get Trent Murdock off her mind, especially since he’d walked into the bank an hour ago.

      “What happened to Trent’s little girl?” Bailey asked.

      Jenny’s pretty face clouded over, and she stepped closer to Bailey’s desk, her long blond ponytail swishing. “She had stomach cancer. It was so sad. And that Christmas tree on her grave…have you seen it? God, it just tears your heart out. No one knows why Trent put it there, but he did it the day after she was buried, and he hangs a new ornament on it every now and then.”

      She shuddered and leaned on the desk. “I can hardly bear to talk about it. No one does. Trent’s wife left him after little Sarah died. She just couldn’t take it, I guess. It was really awful, though—him grieving and then Amy leaving him that way. A lot of ladies around here tried to comfort him, if you know what I mean, but he wasn’t having any part of it. Guess he just wants to be left alone in his grief.

      “Those horses are his whole life, and the only time a person can get him to open up is when he’s discussing them. You really ought to go see them. I’m sure you’ll find one you like. But don’t mention Sarah. Her death’s just too much for him to cope with. Like I said, no one talks about it.”

      Jenny paused for air and Bailey blinked. For a subject that was allegedly taboo, her secretary certainly hadn’t held back much. But then, that was Jenny, and Bailey was quickly learning that in a small town gossiping was highly rated.

      “Thank you, Jenny. I’ll keep that in mind.”

      BAILEY WORKED through her lunch hour and left the bank at two o’clock. Her furniture and other belongings were due to arrive at her house at two-thirty. She drove to the bed-and-breakfast where she’d been staying, changed into jeans and a T-shirt then headed for the farm. As she passed the cemetery, she glanced over at Sarah’s tree.

      Why had Trent put a Christmas tree on his little girl’s grave in the middle of August? And why did he continue to keep it decorated? She couldn’t shake the picture of him kneeling beside the grave yesterday, hanging a new ornament. Maybe he’d done it because yesterday had been the one-year anniversary of Sarah’s death. Jenny had said he hung a new one from time to time. It tugged at Bailey’s heart to ponder what occasions made him do so. The remembrance of a special day once shared with Sarah? Her birthday? The day she took her first step? God, how it must hurt to lose a child.

      She couldn’t begin to imagine the pain Trent suffered. She wished she could have somehow comforted him. Until yesterday morning when Camille Kendall, the owner of the bed-and-breakfast, had told her about the shortcut road that ran past Roth Hill Cemetery, she’d taken the long way around to get to her farm. That was why she hadn’t seen the cemetery and the tree sooner. Odd that she’d happened by on the day Trent visited Sarah’s grave—a day that surely caused him great sorrow.

      Maybe fate had thrown him in her path.

      Bailey shook off the thought. It was ridiculous. When she got involved with a man, it wouldn’t be Trent Murdock. Clearly, he carried a lot of baggage. She didn’t need that, no matter how much she sympathized with his loss. And he most certainly didn’t need her to comfort him. He obviously was a loner, just the type of man she’d vowed to avoid. She’d seen enough of men focused on their careers, men who didn’t want children. From what Jenny had said, the loss of his daughter had made Trent into just that kind of man.

      No, Bailey couldn’t let her feelings override good sense. The only thing Trent had to offer her was a horse, and she’d do well to remember that.

      She pulled onto County Road 311 and minutes later turned into her driveway. The farmhouse