Not this time. Libby stole every moment she could to be with Sam, and every moment spent in his company—talking, making love, laughing—was another moment she felt her life gaining strength and direction.
The day before Austin and Gary’s wedding, the weather turned cold and wet, and the skies began to spit bits of icy rain. Libby’s happiness shrouded her like a cloak when several guests decided not to make the trek up to Homecoming Ranch for the ceremony for fear of being stuck by another early blizzard.
The few that did drive up from Durango and Colorado Springs sat shivering in the barn, no matter how high Luke cranked the space heaters. Gary and Austin’s little dogs had muddied feet, and one of them planted his paws on Gary’s trouser, sending his mother, Martha, into an orbit of displeasure.
In spite of the hard work Libby and Madeline had put in, and how happy Austin and Gary seemed to be, Martha’s sourness about the event—and the lack of dazzle, given the elements—rubbed off on Madeline.
“I don’t see how this is ever going to work,” she said at the end of the night when the guests had left. “It’s too far out, and too many things can happen. Unless we build a hotel with a big ballroom, this ranch is never going to work as a destination event place.”
“We have two cabins—” Libby started, but Madeline was quick to cut her off.
“Two empty cabins. Two empty cabins that we paid to have built so that people would stay in them. Which they did not do because we are too far away from anything, the weather is too unpredictable, and, Libby, please, God, admit it, this is not going to work.”
“Okay,” Libby said, defeated. “I admit it.” What Madeline was saying was true. But Libby had put so much hope into Homecoming Ranch. She’d hoped too hard, just like she’d hoped too hard with Ryan. She could admit defeat in the event business, but she wouldn’t declare Homecoming Ranch defeated. She’d come too far with it. There had to be another way to make it viable.
Libby refused to let Madeline’s pessimism dampen her spirits. She felt nothing but optimism for the future. This was exactly the sort of setback that would have put Libby on the floor only weeks ago, but everything had changed since then. She was bone-tired from the work of getting a muddy ranch ready for a wedding, from the stress of not knowing where her next paycheck would come from, and still, she felt as if she were floating around on little puffy white clouds.
When she wasn’t at Homecoming Ranch, she was at Sam’s place, watching him craft birdhouses, even though he said that made him self-conscious. Or cooking for him in his underwhelming kitchen. The day after the disastrous wedding event, Sam even talked her into riding out to check on mean Millie, who told Libby to get off her property or she’d shoot her. Libby had laughed at the threat. She felt too invincible to be brought down by the likes of Millie Bagley.
She really appreciated the way Sam cared for Tony, too. Now that Ernest had brought the cattle down from the forest leases, he was ready to drive them down to one of the valleys for the winter. Tony had tried to help him, but his artificial leg had proved to be a problem.
“He really hates that he can’t do all the things he used to do,” Sam said. “I keep telling him that he had twenty-seven years to get used to the leg he lost, and he needs more than a year to get used to the new one.”
Sam was diligent about checking on Tony and building him up, and Libby truly admired the way Sam had shouldered the responsibility in a way that no one else had. Or would, given the opportunity. But that was Sam—he was the towering tree among them, strong and protective and supportive. Sometimes, Libby wondered if he was trying to make up for what happened with Terri. Trying to erase those years by doing something good and really helping people instead of merely talking about it.
Whatever his motive, Libby wanted to be more like him. She wanted to help. So when Tony told Libby one afternoon that he was sad all the time, she asked him if there was someone he’d like to talk to. She had in mind someone like Dr. Huber, but Tony said, “My buddy Justin. He’s in Denver. I told him maybe he could come out here for a few days.”
“He’s more than welcome,” Libby said. “Luke goes to Denver from time to time—maybe he could bring him. Tell him to come on.”
If Libby was this happy, she thought Tony deserved to be happy, too.
Madeline wasn’t quite on board with it, however. “God, Libby,” she said, rubbing her temples. “We can hardly pay bills. We can’t pay these guys, we can’t really feed them—we just don’t have the money.”
“Then I’ll stop by the food bank,” Libby had said calmly. “I’ll handle it, Madeline. Don’t worry.”
“I can’t help it,” Madeline had said wearily.