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By the hangar, Chase watched the sleek plane taxiing toward them, the line of his mouth thinning in annoyance. “An architect,” he grunted, not for the first time, then shot a glance at his son. “I know Tara and her extravagant ideas, and I’m telling you right now we are not building some grandiose monstrosity just to sell a few cattle in it.”
“You won’t get any argument from me.”
Chase nodded in approval.
Engines whining, the streamlined aircraft swung abreast of them and braked to a stop. One of the ranch hands trotted out from the hangar and positioned the chocks behind the plane’s tires. In a succession of minutes, the engine’s high-pitched whine faded into silence, the cabin door was cracked, and a copilot in a white shirt and tie latched the door open. With the push of a button, he lowered the flight of steps, skipped down them, and turned to offer assistance to his passengers.
Tara stepped into the doorway and paused on the top step, her darkly vivacious looks accented by the matching powder blue top and slacks she wore. A chiffon scarf of the same shade was loosely knotted at her throat. Her searching gaze finally landed on Ty. A warm smile broke across her face as she lifted a hand in greeting, then descended the steps with a lithe grace.
Without a backward glance, she moved across the tarmac toward them. But Chase’s attention focused on the young man at the head of the steps, clad in blue jeans, a tan shirt with thin, white stripes, and a navy tie.
“If that’s the architect she brought,” he muttered under his breath to Ty, “he looks like he’s straight out of college.”
But Ty had no opportunity to reply as Tara reached them, her dark eyes sparkling and alive to him. Gone were all traces of grief’s dullness and pallor. She was once again a ripely beautiful woman, certain of herself and her allure.
“Ty.” She spoke his name in simple greeting, then turned to his father. “I’m so glad you’re here, Chase. Forgive me for forcing myself on you. I know I should apologize for sticking my nose into something that is absolutely none of my business. But I’m so excited about my idea that I just had to tell you and Ty about it in person. I know you both are going to love it.”
“We’ll see,” Chase replied, deliberately cool.
Undeterred, she half turned to include the young man just joining them. “Ty, Chase, I want you to meet Noah Richardson. Don’t be fooled by his looks,” she warned. “His stunning renovations of abandoned factories and a variety of historic buildings have made him the talk of the entire Southwest. There is absolutely no one better qualified than Noah for the job I have in mind.”
Ty waited until Tara had finished the introductions to ask, “Just what is this job you have in mind?”
She paused for effect. “The barn.”
“I assumed this was probably about the new sale barn we’re planning to build. We already have an architect working on drawings for one,” Ty replied.
“Not a new barn, Ty,” she corrected, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “I’m talking about that old, timbered monstrosity you already have.”
Caught completely off guard by her answer, Ty exchanged a quick glance with his father then asked for a clarification, “You’re talking about remodeling the old barn into a sale facility?”
“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” she reasoned, confident of his agreement. “After all, why build a new facility that can be used for little else when you can remodel an existing structure to serve a dual purpose?”
“Assuming it can be done,” Chase inserted.
“Of course. That’s why I brought Noah. So he can look it over and see if it’s possible.”
Noah finally spoke for himself. “If it’s the same building I saw from the air, it certainly looked big enough. But size isn’t the only determining factor. I really need to spend some time in it.”
“Well? What do you think?” Tara looked at Ty with bright-eyed expectancy.
“I think it’s worth checking out.” There was way too much logic in the suggestion for Ty to argue with it. He didn’t ask, but he took his father’s silence on the matter as an agreement.
Without further discussion, the four of them climbed into the four-door Suburban parked near the hangar. Ty slid behind the wheel while Tara took the front passenger seat. Leaving the private airstrip, Ty drove along the narrow road that led southwest to the ranch headquarters.
He parked close to the barn and walked over to open its massive double doors. After an initial groan of protest, they slid apart to reveal the shadowed gloom of the barn’s cavernous interior and its wide alleyway.
The young architect walked directly into it, his head on a swivel as he began a visual inspection. He paused near one
of the stout, upright supports and ran a hand over its uneven surface.
“These timbers are hand-hewn.” He turned back toward Chase. “How old is this barn?”
“Well over a hundred years,” he replied.
The architect leaned a shoulder against it, giving the rustic column a testing shove, then stepped back, murmuring, “Solid as a rock.”
“Can’t you just picture it, Ty?” Tara edged closer to him, gesturing at the interior. “All this old wood varnished and gleaming, washed with indirect light. It’s the perfect setting, utterly rustic and Western, steeped in history and tradition. The sheer ambiance of it will be a draw in itself.”
