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  Emma’s Dream

  A Morgan’s Run Romance

  M. Lee Prescott

  Published by Mt. Hope Press Copyright 2015, M. Lee Prescott

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted (auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic) without the express written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations or excerpts used in critical reviews or articles. Thank you respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at [email protected].

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people (alive or deceased), locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  bookmar:Dedication

  For my family, always, with love.

  * * *

  Chapter 1

  “This is a huge mistake,” Ben Morgan muttered, his chest tightening as he steered the Range Rover near the Arizona mountain pass. “Maybe the biggest one I’ve made in five years.”

  Then he remembered it wasn’t his decision. Doctor’s orders propelled him eastward, away from his gorgeous new home in Santa Barbara and a rapidly expanding business, which needed his attention 24-7. The partners, his college roommates and dear friends, had assured him they could manage without him for a while, but the guilt was eating at him already. His stomach growled, but there was no place to stop in the desert that surrounded him. He would have to eat in town.

  As the jeep climbed the Saguaro Canyon Pass, he thought back to the previous Thursday. On the Coast Highway, headed home for a swim in the ocean after a long day at work, he was still reeling from his last encounter with Miranda, his girlfriend of two years. Their official split had been several months earlier, when he moved out of their condo and into his new home, but unfinished business, mostly financial, had necessitated one more meeting, over lunch. The parting had not been pleasant, but they still needed to work together. Miranda’s law firm handled all his company’s legal work, and the partners wanted to keep her on.

  As he exited the restaurant, the pain started. Chalking it up to indigestion, he had hopped in the car and endeavored to ignore it. Halfway home, the pain now excruciating, he almost blacked out but was able to pull over and call 911. He told the operator he was having a heart attack.

  The young whippersnapper cardiologist smiled as she leaned over his gurney. “Fascinating diagnosis, Mr. Morgan, but totally incorrect. You’ve had a panic attack. I’m not sure what’s going on in your life right now, but whatever it is, you’d better see that it stops now, or you’ll be dead before your next birthday. Thirty-two is too young to die, don’t you think?”

  “So, I’m crazy? Is that what you’re saying”

  “No, what I’m saying is that something’s going on that’s triggering your physical symptoms. Are you under a lot of stress? Did anything unusual happen today?”

  “Just work and the end of a romantic relationship.”

  She shook her head, regarding him as one might a two-year-old. “Two huge stressors. Do you have a cardiologist?”

  “Why should I? I’m thirty-one, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Right, okay. Well, then, let’s pretend I’m your cardiologist. As your doctor, I am ordering you to take at least three to four months off work to decompress.”

  “Three to four months! Now you’re the crazy one. I have a business to run and—”

  “Which you won’t be running for long if the stress and anxiety cause a massive heart attack. Either take time now to decompress, re-evaluate and learn ways to live your life differently, or we’ll be spending a lot more time together. Do I make myself clear?”

  Now, six days later, he was headed to his family’s ranch in Arizona, Morgan’s Run, and his enforced R & R. He laughed, wondering if returning home might actually increase his stress rather than the opposite. The Rover crested the peak, and he began his descent into the verdant valley that stretched out north and south as far as the eye could see. An orographic effect created this green, moist valley, surrounded by desert over the mountains to the east and west. In the gorgeous valley, a largely undiscovered town existed, an oasis for its roughly three thousand year-round residents and an equal number of snowbirds, tourists and wealthy vacationers, who found their way through the passes in at various points in the year.

  As Ben Junior made his way into town, he passed familiar sights, largely unchanged. Nothing changed much in Saguaro. The Town Garage had a fresh coat of white paint. “Whoop-de-doo,” he said aloud, making a mental note to drop the Rover off for servicing soon.

  As he turned right on Main and headed toward Gracie’s Diner, a horn blared and the clunker in front of him screeched to a stop. Ben braked, but not in time to stop the Rover before it tapped the rear of the clunker. Ben swore under his breath and backed up, pulling over to park at the curb. As he did, the clunker’s driver leaped from her car, screaming and waving her arms. He shook his head. Foolish woman had left her heap in the middle of the street. Tall and slender, she wore Jackie O. sunglasses, a baseball cap pulled low on her forehead, a faded cotton shirt over blue jeans, and cowboy boots, the uniform for nearly every female rancher in the valley.

  “Geez, Toto,” he muttered, patting the Rover’s seat. “We’re not in Kansas anymore.”

  As she approached the Rover, Ben noticed her jeans hugged every curve, full breasts not quite obscured by the baggy shirt. He couldn’t see her face, but he had to admit the rest of the package was intriguing and also vaguely familiar. He approached as she bent to survey the clunker’s bumper.

  “What’s the matter with you?” she screamed, walking in circles, arms still flailing. “Oh, my God, oh, my God, what am I going to do?”

  Ben stared at her back, astounded at what was clearly a huge overreaction. The clunker was fine, hardly a scratch on it, although it would be hard to tell with all the other dings. Then, just as quickly as it started, the fire went out and she flopped down to sit on the curb, head between her legs, sobbing.

  “Hey, hey, it’s not that bad, is it? We hardly touched each other. No harm done.” He sat beside her, wondering whether he should pat her on the shoulder. Immediately she quieted and looked up at him.

  “Oh, my God. This just gets better and better. It figures.”

  Ben Morgan, the one person she expected never to see again, sitting beside her in the middle of Main Street. Could things get any worse? She leaned forward, hiding her face, wondering whether he’d go away if she sat there long enough.

  “Maggie? Is that little Maggie Williams? After five years, I’m in town less than a minute and the first person I bump into is you.”

  Maggie groaned and buried her head deeper, praying this was all a bad dream. If she hadn’t had to make a quick run to the bank, she’d be at work in the cool, dark stables. “Please just go. I’m fine.”

  She could feel his heat, his nearness rattling her to her core. A part of her longed to lean against him and draw comfort and strength from his warmth, but the wiser half screamed danger. She kept still, hoping he would disappear.

  “You don’t seem fine. Look, I’m sorry.” Ben placed a hand on her shoulder. It sent shivers of warmth all the way to her toes. “And I’m not leaving until I’m sure you’re okay.”

  Oh, no you don’t. Maggie stood and shook herself, step
ping away from his electric touch. She put on her sunglasses. Another second near him and she feared she might actually swoon. His soft chestnut eyes regarded her with obvious concern. Although he looked tired and thin, Ben Morgan was still drop-dead gorgeous, in faded jeans and sneakers, his broad shoulders straining the seams of a worn Stanford tee shirt.

  “I’m fine, really. It’s been a crazy day and you caught me at a bad time. I’m sorry I overreacted.”

  Ben watched her, wondering why a fender kiss had caused so much distress. “Can I give you a lift somewhere?”

  “No, of course not! I mean, thanks, but I’m okay now. Got to get back to work.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Sorry, I’m really late. Good to see you again. Take care.”

  She hopped into her car and drove away before he could utter another word.

  What the hell was that? Ben thought back to his one memorable night with Maggie Williams. They had both left Saguaro shortly after that night, but a part of him always wondered if there was something more to explore with his brother Kyle’s beautiful classmate. While he had pushed thoughts of her and their one night of passionate sex from his mind, as he watched her drive away, Ben realized that he had spent five years comparing every woman he met to Maggie Williams. His stomach growled, and he shook his head. Enough, time to eat! He left the Rover and walked the three blocks to Gracie’s.

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  Noon rush over, Gracie’s was empty except for one booth occupied by a family of four savoring the last spoonfuls of a Gracie Gila Monster. The diner’s signature sundae was made with Gracie’s secret chocolate sauce, vanilla ice cream, and hot toffee sauce, topped with whipped cream, then sprinkled liberally with crumbled peanut butter cups. Ben was tempted to forgo lunch and go for a Gila but decided on a portabella burger instead. With a nod to the family, he sidled up and took a stool at the counter.

  A young freckle-faced redhead, ponytail wagging, bounced up, flashing him a smile that lit up the room. “Hi, sir. Can I take your order?”

  “Hi, yourself. I don’t know you. Are you new in town?”

  She regarded him quizzically with lots of eyelash batting. “No, but you are. I’d remember you. Been here three years. I’m a student at U of A, but summers I come up to Saguaro instead goin’ home to Yuma. Too hot. My dad works down there. Just passing through?”

  Ben gave her the hundred-watt smile that made most women swoon. She was no exception. “You could say that. Name’s Ben.”

  “I’m Stacy. What can I get you, Ben?”

  “Iced tea and a portabella burger, lettuce, tomato, and lots of Gracie’s burger sauce.”

  “Comin’ right up.”

  Ben watched her disappear into the kitchen, relieved that he had not yet met anyone he knew. He wanted to surprise his parents.

  Well—he had met someone, he mused, remembering the curvaceous, lush-lipped Maggie Williams. It had been all he could do not to sweep her into his arms and kiss away those tears. Once again, he wondered at the subconscious torch he had been carrying for her. And what was with her behavior? Who falls apart and sobs uncontrollably over a bumper tap?

  As he savored the last bite of his burger, Gracie emerged from the kitchen. “Still a vegetarian, I see. Crime in God’s country.”

  Ben stood as she came around the counter to grab him in a bear hug. At six-four, he had her by a few inches, but Gracie was at least six feet herself, a towering figure in a grease-covered apron and frayed jeans, her wiry black hair streaked with gray, cut short, and sticking out at odd angles.

  “How’s my desert goddess? Have you missed me? You look younger than when I left.”

  “Tush.” She waved her hand, clearly pleased at the compliment. “Always were the biggest liar from here to Albuquerque. Are you home to stay?”

  “No, just a break from the rat race.”

  “Your folks must be thrilled. Can’t believe they won’t be angling for you to stay on, what with your dad slowing down and your brothers scattered hither and yon.”

  “Is Dad okay?”

  Gracie gave him a measured look before answering. “Course he is. Strong as an ox, but he’s not twenty-five anymore. Could use the help, I’m sure.”

  “Gracie, this is me. Has something happened to Dad?”

  “He’s fine, dearie. Had a minor dust-up last year, but from your expression, I guess he didn’t tell you about it. Not my place. Let him or your mom fill you in.”

  He stared at her for a moment or two, knowing he would not get another word out of her. “If you could keep my arrival quiet till I see them, I’d be grateful, Gracie.”

  Ben went for his wallet, suddenly anxious to be home.

  Gracie waved her hand. “Not on your life! Put that city money away and git up there and say howdy-do to your folks.”

  He leaned over and pecked her cheek. “Thanks, Gracie. Great to see you.”

  “Good to have you home where you belong,” she said, gently nudging him toward the door. “Hope it’s for good.”

  * * *

  Chapter 3

  Maggie drove through the main gate of Morgan’s Run and pulled into her usual spot behind the stables. She killed the engine and drew out her cell phone. When her father answered, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  “How’s my angel?”

  “Good as gold. What’s the matter, sweetie? You sound upset.”

  “Nothing, just wanted to check in.”

  “She’s napping. Should I phone when she wakes so you can say hello?”

  “No, I’ll see her in a few hours.”

  “Mags, what is it? What’s happened?”

  “Ben Morgan’s back.”

  “Oh? Bump into each other, did you?”

  “You could say that. We had a fender bender, right on Main Street.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yes, just embarrassed. When it happened, I freaked out. Made a total fool of myself, crying and wailing over a minor bumper tap. Thank goodness no one else was around.”

  “Glad you’re okay. You gonna tell him about Emma?”

  A truck drove up beside her and Maggie spied Jeb, her assistant.

  “Dad, I gotta go. See you tonight.”

  “Take care, honey.”

  Maggie waved to her assistant. “Hey, Jeb. You ready to tackle Tabasco?”

  She referred to a spirited mustang they were training, the size of a small draft horse. Soon his rider, a Border Patrol agent, would join them to participate in the final weeks of training. Then horse and rider would return to Nogales as a team, ready to keep watch in the mountains along the border.

  “Ready when you are. You okay, Boss? You look a little green around the gills.”

  “Fine, just tired.”

  “How’s my little cutie pie doin’?”

  “Full of it, curious, into everything, just like most four-year-olds. She keeps Dad busy.”

  “How’s the therapy going?”

  “Not much progress. She’s just outgrown her third wheelchair.”

  “Wow, has it been that long?”

  Maggie nodded. The sadness since the accident sometimes overwhelmed her, etching new lines across her brow and haunting her dreams. Afraid to be far from her phone, she watched the clock until it was time to head home. It wasn’t that she disliked the work. Maggie loved training horses, assisting with the day-to-day running of Morgan Run’s stables, but she worried continuously about Emma. Two years ago, the toddler had just learned to walk when her legs had been knocked out from under her, paralyzed when their car had been broadsided by a drunk driver.

  Hands on hips, stared at Jeb, who seemed a million miles away. “Are you coming or not?”

  “Sorry, Boss!”

  He fell in step beside her as they headed for Tabasco’s stall.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  Ben eased the Rover through the front gates, turned away from the house, and headed for the Lodge. At this time of day, he was pret
ty certain Ben Sr. would be in the lobby bar greeting guests, offering them a drink and a handshake. Ben Junior parked and hopped out of the Rover, pausing to gaze up at the massive log structure. Newly restored from a much smaller building, the renovated Lodge had been designed by his brother Sam, an architect who lived and worked in Flagstaff. Its new wings spread in either direction like the Lodge was a colossal condor ready to take flight.

  Ben sprung up the steps and passed through the massive twelve-foot doors that stood open to the afternoon breezes. His eyes scanned the lobby until he caught sight of his dad. At six-foot-six, Ben Morgan was hard to miss. A thick shock of gray hair curled at his collar and deep blue eyes sparkled with warmth as he chatted with a group of guests.

  As Ben approached, the elder Morgan spied him and paused midsentence. “S’cuse me, folks,” he said, nodding as he extracted himself. He closed the gap to his son, arms open. “Well, look who’s home.”

  After a hearty bear hug, Ben Sr. patted his progeny. “What’re you tryin’ to give this old man, a heart attack?”

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Has your mother seen you?”

  “Not yet. Just got here. Wanted to see you first. See how things are.”

  “Great, couldn’t be better. Especially now that you’re home. How long you stayin’?”

  “A month or two, maybe more. If it’s okay?”

  “Okay? You kidding? We’ll take you as long as we can get you. Forever would be great.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Better get over to see your ma or she’ll have my hide. I’ll finish up the meet-and-greet and be over shortly.”

  “You look good, Dad,” Ben said, and he meant it. His father hadn’t aged a bit, his long, lean body in terrific shape, as always. Remembering Gracie’s words, he hoped that whatever had befallen his beloved parent had been resolved.

  “Pshaw. Go on, now, git. Be down in a few.”