Montana Welcome

by Melinda Curtis

  “You continue to prove the nice-guy adage.” Lily sat back, breaking off pieces of cookie and eating them. “I saw you eyeing that blueberry pie.”

  The one she’d struggle to eat without spillage. “Who needs pie when you can have chocolate?”

  Lily dropped a piece of chocolate chip cookie on the outdoor carpet.

  Conner swept it up and tossed the crumbs on his plate.

  “Again with the niceness.” She chuckled. “If you were going for tall, dark and dangerous, you should have chosen a black hat, not squeaky black boots.”

  The concert began with a twang of an electric guitar and the roar of the crowd, negating the need for him to comment on her opinion of him as nice.

  Supposedly the kiss of death to a man’s ego.

  It was a good thing Conner’s ego was already battered.

  His phone rang.

  Lily extended a hand as if expecting him to hand the phone over. “What?” She blinked too-innocent eyes. “If it’s Big E, I want to talk to him.”

  Conner glanced at the display. “It’s my mom.”

  Lily made a give-me gesture. “I like your mom.”

  Conner hesitated. “She’ll think something’s going on between us.” And why wouldn’t she if Lily answered his phone two nights in a row?

  Lily rolled her eyes and took possession of the phone, balancing it near her ear with both hands. “Hello, Conner’s mom. It’s me again. Lily.” She listened to whatever Conner’s mother had to say, chuckling softly. “He’s been a true gentleman. In fact, I was just telling him how nice he was.”

  More maternal chatter while Lily listened.

  “I meant it as a compliment.” Lily sounded apologetic. “Did he tell you we’re escorting a bride and her maid of honor to the Blackwell Ranch?” Lily smirked at Conner. “Yes, Big E couldn’t very well leave him to do this alone. These women may be drinking age, but they’re just so...so...young.” She paused, listening. And then she gave Conner a sly look. “I think the maid of honor is single.”

  Conner confiscated his phone. “Mom, don’t get any ideas. Natalie is not my type.”

  “Woop-woop,” Lily murmured, grinning.

  His mother huffed. “When you get to be my age and don’t have grandchildren, you always have ideas. They don’t stop. But Lily sounds lovely. Is she?”

  “Mom,” Conner warned.

  Lily leaned closer, trying to hear.

  “You haven’t dated since your accident. What’s the harm in a little workplace romance?”

  “That’s how people get fired.”

  “You young people.” His mama tsked before falling silent. She was rarely silent.

  “What’s wrong?” Conner sat up so fast, he nearly spilled the remains of his dinner.

  Lily took his plate, using her palms rather than her fingers, and set it on a side table, before leaning close again. She laid a hand on his arm.

  Her touch was nice. She was nice. This was nice. But it couldn’t go as far as the Blackwell Ranch or he’d be fired.

  No one was talking. “Mom, you’re too quiet.”

  “It’s nothing.” Mom coughed. “At least, nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Did the fox get into the henhouse?” Conner should be home. His mother wasn’t equipped to run the ranch for long periods, or even the small part she had taken on. Like Lily, she rarely complained about her limited mobility, but being with Lily these past few days had made him realize his mother might be acting brave for his benefit. Conner laced his fingers with Lily’s and waited for his mother to answer.

  “I wasn’t going to tell you, but the fox broke in last night.” His mother sounded defeated. “There were chicken feathers all over the ranch yard. I think he took Bessie. She was such a sweet thing, too.”

  “Ah, Mom.”

  The crowd roared as Chance Blackwell sang the first line of “Butterfly Blue.” Lily inched closer, her cheek nearly touching his. If he turned his head, he could kiss her. If he kissed her and his boss found out, Big E would have his hide and his double bonus.

  Conner didn’t move. “I might be able to get Ethan or Tyler over there tomorrow.” If the Blackwells weren’t too busy.

  Who was he kidding? The Blackwells were always busy.

  “Don’t you worry about me.”

  Like he had a choice. “It’s my job to worry.”

  She made a noise like a muffled curse.

  “Is there something else you’re not telling me? Do you need Doc?” Conner ran through a list of folks she could call to take her into town for treatment. “Ben and Rachel Blackwell promised to look in on you while I was gone.” They were on the next spread over, the Double T.

  “I’m fine. I just kicked the bucket.” She paused and then laughed. “You know what I mean.”

  “The rain bucket? Is the roof leaking again?” Now it was Conner swallowing a curse. The Rocking H was a dilapidated money pit, in desperate need of his double bonus.

  “It only leaks when it rains. The storm’s already moving across the valley.”

  A leak. Conner’s temples throbbed. He should rush home, but if he left now, he’d lose out on any extra income.

  “Don’t you worry about me and my chickens.”

  “But, Mom—”

  “No buts. I’ll see you Wednesday, as planned.”

  “Only if you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure, honey.”

  “Well, then. Good night, Mom.” He’d pray for no more rain and for satiated foxes.

  “Good night, Mrs. Hannah,” Lily called. She settled back in her seat, taking her hand with her. “You know, I can drive this to Montana if your mom needs you.”

  Conner shook his head. “I’ll give it another day.” Take Mom at her word. “She’s tough, like you.”

  That got a smile out of Lily, but only a flicker of one. “What’s this about an accident your mom mentioned?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s something.” She rubbed a hand over her collarbone where a pendant might have hung if she’d been wearing a necklace. “Somethings mean something. Here. Inside.” She tapped that spot over her heart. “Sounds silly, but my mom used to say that.”

  “My accident...” Conner grimaced. “It’s nothing. I was training a horse and was thrown against a fence.” Things might have been different if he’d landed in the dirt. Instead...

  The shocking bolt of pain. The horror of his legs collapsing beneath him. Of watching his mother rage over her inability to do more than call for help.

  “Ouch. I bet you got right back on.” She leaned forward to watch a group in gorilla suits ride past on a golf cart.

  Conner stilled. “I...uh... Not at first. At first, I couldn’t feel my legs.” The words came out slow and thick.

  Lily jerked around in her seat and gaped at him, a question in her eyes.

  He nodded. He’d been terrified that he’d never walk again. And once he regained the use of his legs, he’d been terrified anew. Who would take care of his mother if he had another, more serious horse-training accident? He was self-taught and he’d had some success. But the accident proved his accomplishments were based on luck. Telling him he should leave horse training to the professionals. “They say I defied the odds.”

  “That’s why your mother wants to talk to you every night.” She placed a hand on his knee, her warmth permeating his denim. “She wants to make sure you’re okay. My mom did the same thing, even though my accident happened twenty years ago. I’d get these texts from her.” She choked up a little, swallowing back her tears. “Good night, little chick. And I’d reply back, Good night, mama hen.”

  Conner was reminded her mother had died within the past year. He vowed to show a little more patience with his mama.

  “But eventually, you got back on a horse, right?” Lily studied hi
s face.

  “Yes. Just not that one.” That stallion disregarded fences and had the run of the Rocking H. Conner crossed his arms over his chest, thought better of it and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “I don’t break mustangs anymore.”

  “That’s smart.” Her gaze dropped to his hands. “As long as you don’t miss it.”

  He needed to tell her he didn’t miss a thing—not the challenge, not the bond he developed with the horse, not the pride and satisfaction of helping an animal find a place in the world and lead a productive life. He’d fallen into horse training as a way to make more cash than cattle provided. He wasn’t a professional. He needed to explain all that. And he would have if his throat hadn’t been bone-dry.

  “You miss it,” Lily said without accusation or judgment.

  Conner swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Maybe a little.”

  “I understand.” Her hand covered his. “When I was younger, I had a mindset of immortality. Rudy would never admit it, but I’ve been more careful the past few years. And yet there’s a part of me that misses those big-time rushes.”

  “It’s the wisdom of age,” he said softly, unable to tear his eyes away from their joined hands.

  “I feel the need to point out—again—that I’m not old and I’m not going to live in a bubble. Why should you?”

  “I don’t live in a bubble.” Lo and behold, his ego made a surprise appearance. Terribly unjustified, but an appearance nonetheless. “But I have responsibilities.”

  She shook her head. “You gave up something you love. You modified the way you live. Call it whatever you like. I’ll call it a bubble.”

  She’s right.

  He’d gotten back in the saddle, but not back in the groove of his life.

  For good reason.

  “How can we thrive inside if we turn our backs on our passion completely?” Lily stared in the direction of the bungee trampoline. “How do you find the balance that makes you feel good about yourself without giving up a part of you that once seemed integral to your very soul?”

  He didn’t know. He didn’t know so much, like why he hadn’t been able to put into words the tension he felt inside himself because he’d stepped away from horse training and the Rocking H. Lily had summed it up simply and succinctly. He hadn’t realized her internal struggle was his internal struggle.

  He wanted to train mustangs again, but there was the question about his skill level and, more important, he wasn’t willing to risk his ability to earn money to support his mother. Just like he wasn’t willing to risk his double bonus and kiss Lily. Sacrifices had to be made to uphold the status quo, even if said status quo didn’t make you happy.

  They sat holding hands in silence in front of the fire, listening to the music from the concert and the occasional roar of the crowd. And when the bridal party returned, a little tipsy and a whole lotta tired, they put them to bed, like an old married couple.

  Just without the married part.

  * * *

  LONG AFTER THE fire had gone out, the after-parties had died down and the concert equipment trucks were packed up and headed for the highway, Conner sat outside, occasionally staring at Lily’s Old West postcard, which he’d swiped from the motor home’s center console when she went to bed.

  I did the right thing.

  That was what she’d written. Was the right thing taking Lily to Montana? His wallet still voted yes. And his heart. His heart wanted her to stay on the road with him. But was it the right thing for Lily? Would she be better off with her sisters? Or her grieving, overprotective father? He set the postcard on a side table.

  A chilly breeze pushed past, nearly sending the postcard off the table. In his lurch to stop it, movement caught his eye.

  A shadow of a man stumbled between two motor homes across the circle. The intruder made his way through the carpeted outdoor space of one RV, pausing to poke around possessions left outside on their makeshift patio. He continued on. He had a method as he worked his way around the circle—poking at possessions, listening at doors—making his way closer to Conner, who was slouched in a webbed chair, and Bert, who reclined in his fancy folding lounger. On his present course, he’d reach Bert first.

  Conner had the generator running and the heat on in the motor home. His charges were snug and locked up tight. Other generators hummed in the circle, covering the noise of the shadow man’s approach, covering the noise of most any confrontation.

  The man reached the campsite on the other side of Bert. He picked up a woman’s jean jacket and smelled it before putting it back on a chair.

  That’s creepy.

  Conner’s hands fisted inside his coat pockets. This was the reason he’d stayed up, to protect his charges.

  The creep reached the edge of Bert’s outdoor carpet and paused, perhaps noticing a body in that outdoor recliner.

  As quietly as possible, Conner set his cowboy hat on a side table and leaned forward, ready to run to Bert’s rescue whether he had security on speed dial or not.

  “You heathen. Who do you think I am?” Bert rocketed out of his recliner like a big rock from a loose slingshot. “An easy mark?” He danced around his outdoor rug like a boxer, one with a little too much weave, a product of all the beer he’d drunk and the rising breeze.

  Conner made it to Bert’s side in time to support him. “I think you should leave, friend.”

  “You.” The dark-haired man stepped into the light of the banked coals in Bert’s firepit. “I’ve been looking for you.” He glared at Conner and raised his fists, steady as a rock compared to Bert.

  “You’re the groom.” Conner felt sucker punched. He nearly let go of Bert. What was his name?

  Lily’s former fiancé growled. “Where’s Lily?”

  A series of beeps danced over the menace in the air.

  “Security? It’s Bert. I’ve got a cat burglar here.” He belched and dropped his phone. “Oops.”

  Conner tightened his grip on Bert’s beefy arm. “How did you find us?” What was this guy? CIA? A foreign spy? He couldn’t be just another adventure tour guide.

  “I overheard Big E reassure someone he’d arranged for a Chance Blackwell concert experience today.”

  “Smart.” Supersmart. But also extremely villainous. The guy’s fists were still raised, ready to strike. “Listen, I don’t want to fight and you don’t want to marry Lily.” At the jilted groom’s raised brows, Conner added, “If you want a conversation to be private, you shouldn’t have it in a church hallway.”

  Two could play the eavesdrop game.

  Bert belched again. “Do you know this fella?”

  “No, sir.” That was no lie. Conner couldn’t remember his name.

  “I need to talk to Lily. I have a duty to the Harrisons.”

  “And a financial interest?” Why else would the cold-footed groom follow them? “Your duty ended in San Diego. Lily’s a Blackwell, not a Harrison.” Conner would have thought Big E had made that point clear.

  The jilted groom made another growling noise. He was a thickheaded, mean cuss.

  On the far side of the motor-home circle, a golf cart with a flashing light cut between two RVs.

  Conner had grown up around livestock, most of it nondomesticated—mustangs, bulls and the like. Sometimes it was better to let an animal show its true colors so you knew what you were up against. Sometimes it took a little goading to get that show. “Lily heard every word you said to Rudy in the church, too. She doesn’t want to marry you. In fact, she never wants to see you again.” That was a lie. Conner never wanted this guy to see Lily again. He didn’t care that she claimed they were best buds or that he’d saved her life. “If you knew she might not be able to pull a rip cord, why did you push her to skydive?”

  His adversary snorted, shifting his stance and tightening his fists until his knuckles cracked.


  The golf cart reached center circle.

  “Why risk her life?” Conner got ready to deliver the telling blow. “Did you need to prove her weak to make yourself feel more like a man?”

  Lily’s former fiancé charged Bert and Conner in full view of approaching security.

  Conner thrust Bert out of harm’s way, but he hadn’t factored in Bert’s inebriation. The older man tripped and sprawled across his outdoor carpet at Conner’s feet.

  The cold-footed groom stumbled on top of Bert, grabbing for Conner as he fell, even as Conner stepped out of range.

  “Cat burglar!” Conner cried, pointing at his adversary.

  Two beefy security guards tumbled out of the golf cart, Tasers drawn.

  “Help.” Bert flopped, throwing the groom on top of him off balance and to the ground. “He’s trying to kill me.”

  Conner almost wished Lily was around to see her former fiancé get tased.

  But he had no time to waste. He packed up the tables and chairs, retracted the awning and rolled up the carpet.

  He was headed down the dirt road toward the highway before security got things sorted out.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “HEY!” LILY BOUNCED awake in her bunk above the driver’s seat, arms flung against the motor home’s ceiling. She inched to the edge of the bed and hung her head over the side so she could see Conner.

  “Sorry.” In the driver’s seat, Conner raised a travel mug. “I was sipping coffee and missed seeing that pothole until it was too late.”

  The sun was rising but the world outside was still gray.

  She got a gander at her upside-down self in the rearview mirror. Her dark blond hair was a messy tangle. And then her gaze collided with Conner’s dark-rimmed eyes. Concern, and perhaps the blood rushing to her head, made her dizzy. “Is everything okay? What time did you get up? I didn’t hear a thing.” It had been the first night in weeks she’d slept peacefully for more than an hour or two at a time.

  “Haven’t been to bed yet.” Conner pushed up his sunglasses and pulled down the brim of his cowboy hat.