Montana Dad

by Jeannie Watt

  “Are they leaving soon? Could you maybe spare me a year?”

  He grinned. “Sorry. The ranch is my first commitment.”

  “After little girls.”

  “That goes without saying.”

  Emmie set his card back on the stack. “I heard the bridge has been delayed again.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “I ran into Gloria in the grocery store. She blames Vince Taylor.”

  Gloria wasn’t off base, but Nick wasn’t going to verify that, even to an old friend. “They’ll pass it after we get done jumping through hoops. I have to hire an ecologist that they approve of to certify that there will be no environmental damage downstream. That’s supposed to be the last step, but I can’t get anyone for a couple of months.”

  Emmie gave him a sympathetic look. “As soon as you have a time frame, let me know so that I can get my subcontractors lined out, okay?”

  “Will do. They’ll have to travel the back road.”

  “That’ll cost you some man-hours.”

  “I know. The new owner of the Dunlop ranch has denied us access.”

  “Really? He’s going to make you drive around?”

  “She has a thing about privacy.” Which he wasn’t supposed to judge unless he knew the circumstances. Nick was judging, anyway. “She locked the gate and showed no interest in sharing the key.”

  Emmie shook her head and set the receipt that had just finished printing on the counter. “I’ll see what I can do on my end, but I don’t think I can do much.”

  “I know.” Nick picked up his receipt and folded it before sticking it into his shirt pocket. “I still don’t know how this woman managed to buy the place out from under me.”

  “Yeah. Something stinks there. I never did like that Juliet person. If you ask me, she married Dunlop for his money.”

  “I wouldn’t have minded, if she’d sold the ranch to me,” Nick said honestly.

  “Touché,” Emmie said with a half smile. “If you change your mind about full-time, let me know,” she called as Nick headed toward the door. He raised his hand to indicate that he heard her, then stepped out into May sunshine.

  Money and time. That was all this woman on the Dunlop ranch was costing him.

  But he couldn’t get past the fact that it shouldn’t have been costing him anything at all.

  * * *

  “I’M CERTAIN I’LL be able to get internet service within the week.” That had been the promise, anyway, after Alex had contacted the service provider. All of the utilities were still in Juliet’s name, and while some things, like the electricity, had been turned on with a phone call, the internet provider had to send a repair person for a new and improved hookup. And they wanted Juliet there to sign. So, Alex was going to be Juliet. It bothered her, but hey. No paper trail.

  “How will you work if you don’t have internet?”

  “I have everything under control, Mom.” For now. She didn’t have to work, thanks to her grandmother’s trust, which dribbled enough money into her account every month for the essentials if she was careful with her spending. She wanted to work. Wanted to contribute to the world instead of organizing social events. She would eventually start her own business, working from home and doing contract jobs, but she wouldn’t be doing it anytime soon.

  Alex pushed the hair away from her forehead in a distracted gesture, then glanced at herself in the mirror she’d unearthed from one of Juliet’s overstuffed closets and hung earlier that afternoon. Oh, yeah. Stress incarnate. And most of it was because she’d called her mother.

  “I think you jumped into this too quickly. I mean, my goodness, if everyone who’d ever had their home broken into sold and moved to the other side of the country, well, then...” Her mother’s voice petered out as she failed to come up with adequate words to describe the mayhem caused by such actions.

  “I wanted to get away from the people who thought I aided and abetted Jason.” Duh. “The situation was becoming untenable.” She had no way of knowing whether the home invasion had been related to Jason’s crime, but that had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. Or maybe it had been the push she needed to make a move instead of standing paralyzed, afraid of looking guilty if she left the area.

  “When they find this boss of yours and arrest him and clear your name, will you please come home?”

  Home was such a funny word to come out of her mother’s mouth—a woman who’d done everything in her power to keep Alex away from home. Boarding schools, summer camps, a trip to Montana to visit Aunt Julia.

  “Are you worried about me, or how things look?”

  There was a long silence, and then her mother said, “The guilty do not run.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Common. Sense.”

  Alex raised her eyes from where she’d been studying the floor as she spoke, caught another glimpse at herself in the mirror, then glanced away again. She looked awful. Two sleepless nights in her new house hadn’t done much to improve either her disposition or her appearance. She needed to find a Laundromat, stock up on food and see about finding a repair person.

  Even though she didn’t want anyone in her fortress of solitude and safety, she had to do something about the leak in her roof and the other issues that were cropping up with her house. Her calls to her aunt Juliet had gone unanswered, which wasn’t that strange for a woman who liked to disappear into the wilderness or lose herself in a massive metropolis when the mood struck her. But Alex needed information on the house, and Regina Hayes, the real-estate agent who’d initially handled the listing for Juliet, knew nothing about the wiring or the plumbing.

  “It was bad enough when you were here, but at least you held your head up high, gave all appearance of innocence.”

  Appearance of innocence? Really? Did her own mother suspect she was guilty?

  “Not that I think you had anything to do with it,” her mother amended.

  “Thanks, Mom.” Alex did not attempt to hide the irony in her tone. She was tired and unsettled, and tomorrow she was heading into town, where she would hold her head up high and give all appearance of innocence.

  She planted a hand on her forehead and looked up at the grease-stained ceiling as her mother launched into a description of what she thought her friends thought about the situation. Once upon a time, not all that long ago, Alex hadn’t been snide in her responses or in her thoughts.

  She’d been happy, working closely with Jason at the office while dating him on the side—a situation that would have sent red flags flying, but Jason had charmed her into believing that they could make it work. And they had—until the day Jason hadn’t shown up at the office.

  She’d tried desperately to contact him before his first client meeting, which she’d ultimately winged herself. After the meeting, she’d continued the search, calling his brother, Lawrence, and his former business partner, whom she’d replaced, Blaine. No one had seen or heard from him. Finally, after a gut-wrenching night of worry, she’d contacted the police. A missing persons report became an investigation into the company when it was discovered that a large amount of money was missing.

  She squeezed her eyes shut as memories of the insinuations and investigation that followed the discovery once again began looping though her brain. Lawrence had also been questioned but quickly cleared, and Blaine hadn’t even been a blip on the radar since he was employed in another company in another state. The bull’s-eye had ended up squarely on her. She clenched her fist. Hard.

  “Alexandra. Are you there?”

  Alex snapped back to the present. “Yes. You were saying?”

  “I was saying that it would be nice if you flew back home in a few weeks and made an appearance.”

  “Let me guess—guilty people do not visit home.”

  “Alexandra.”

  Alex bowed to t
he warning note in her mother’s voice. “Sorry.”

  “However, that is true. And it wouldn’t hurt. Especially if that investigator continues looking into matters.”

  Alex went still. “What investigator?”

  “You know. The person who was investigating.”

  “Is he still asking around?”

  “No,” her mother said impatiently. “I’m saying that if he decides he needs more information and starts stirring things up at some point in the future, it’d be better if you look as if you’re not afraid to come home.”

  “That makes sense,” Alex said. Even though she wasn’t about to go back to that place where everyone was so quick to believe the worst about her.

  Alex ended the call a few minutes later and leaned back against the kitchen counter, gripping it on both sides. It creaked.

  Of course it did.

  But she’d rather put up with a creaking, leaking house than head back “home.”

  She let out a short laugh and pushed off the counter. She might not have a home, yet, but she had a house to live in. Here in Montana, where no one suspected her of a crime.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ROSALIE CALLAHAN QUIETLY let herself into the county courthouse meeting room just as the commission chairperson lowered his gavel and announced that the meeting was in session. She was late, but attendance was scanty that evening, so she was able to find a seat in a back-row chair with a minimum of fuss.

  She unbuttoned her coat and pulled a small notebook out of her purse. Only then did she allow herself to scan the attendees. Vince Taylor, the man who owned the property on either side of her garden and gift shop, was not in attendance, apparently feeling that he had proper control of the situation via the commission members who owed him favors. Will McGuire, her former neighbor was there, sitting near the front, his full head of silver hair instantly recognizable. Will had been at every meeting she’d attended since having surprise permitting issues involved with the reconstruction of the bridge recently destroyed by spring flooding.

  The bridge across the Ambrose River might be small potatoes to the county commission, but it was the lifeline to the ranch where her grandchildren lived. The ranch where she’d lived for almost fifty years with her husband, Carl, before moving to town to start her new business after losing him to a series of strokes.

  Rosalie tipped up her chin and listened as the commission began discussing issues with a paving company that had not properly completed a project. The bridge was not on the agenda tonight, but since being blindsided by the additional requirements imposed on her family prior to bridge reconstruction, she didn’t miss a meeting. She wanted these alleged pillars of the community to know that she was watching.

  As was Will McGuire.

  And she was watching him, even though she didn’t want to be.

  They hadn’t had much contact since she’d told him off for interceding on her behalf with Vince Taylor a few months ago. That had been prior to the bridge issues, back when her only complaint was that Vince was being a very bad neighbor, due to the fact that he wanted to buy her property and she and her business partner, Gloria, refused to sell. So as things stood, her garden and gift store stood between the two Victorian houses he was renovating into upscale retreats. In her mind, they could have worked cooperatively. Vince saw things differently.

  The meeting was short that night, and while Rosalie had doodled on her notepad, she’d taken no real notes. Just before adjournment, during the public comments part of the meeting, she gathered her purse and managed to slip out the door, only to be hailed by Martina Owens, whose husband owned Hardwick’s Grocery. Martina had left a few minutes before Rosalie.

  “Still no movement on the bridge?” she asked.

  “We’re waiting for the ecologist to finish the ecosystem study and to present the results to the commission.”

  Martina gave her a sympathetic look. “We had similar issues when we tried to buy the lot next door to expand the store. Small towns.” She glanced out the door, then smiled at Rosalie. “My ride is here. Do you need a lift?”

  “Thank you, no. I enjoy the walk.” Rosalie followed Martina outside as the meeting room doors opened behind them and the attendees began making their way out, only to stop when she heard her name.

  She automatically drew in a breath before turning to face Will McGuire. “Hello, Will.”

  “Rosalie.”

  “Not much of a meeting tonight,” she said, needing to fill the air between them. The man put her on edge and there was no reason on God’s green earth for her to be feeling that way.

  “But you never know what might come up, so it’s good to attend.”

  “Is that why you attend?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

  “And it gives me something to do.” He inclined his heads toward the concrete stairs as people began edging around them, and Rosalie started to descend. She sensed, rather than saw, his hand come to her elbow as if to steady her, then he seemed to catch himself and once again dropped his hand.

  “Would you like a ride home?”

  “I’ll walk, thank you.”

  He nodded as if expecting that exact answer. “Then I guess I’ll see you in two weeks at the next meeting.”

  “Probably so,” she said. Then, she stunned herself by thrusting out a hand. “Goodbye, Will.”

  He took her hand, looking equally stunned. And his fingers closed just enough to send a small curl of warmth through her. “Goodbye, Rosalie.”

  He smiled and released her hand, then turned and headed in the opposite direction, toward his beat-up old ranch truck. The kind of truck Rosalie never had to ride in again.

  She pulled her coat around her more tightly, despite the warm evening, and started the short walk home.

  * * *

  NICK WAS ALMOST asleep when the high-pitched wail brought him out of bed. He slept in sweatpants and kept a hoodie close by for moments like this. A second cry tore through the air as he pulled the sweatshirt over his head.

  “Daddy!” Kendra called just as he pulled the door open. She was already out of bed, holding her bedraggled Foxy Loxy stuffed toy by the paw as she stood a few feet from Bailey’s bed.

  Nick reached down to hoist her up against his chest, and she buried her head against his neck as Bailey let out another shriek. Kendra understood that waking her baby sister when she had night terrors only made it worse, but that didn’t stop her from burying her head in Nick’s shoulder and dragging in her own ragged breath.

  “I want her to stop,” she whispered.

  “Me, too, baby. But the doctor says she’ll outgrow it.” He hoped, anyway. He was a guy who fixed things, and it had been hard to accept that he couldn’t fix this. Couldn’t rock and soothe it away.

  And he couldn’t help thinking that, despite what the doctor said, he’d done something—or worse yet, hadn’t done something—that in turn caused the night terrors to start. Had it been Kayla’s death? Or the fact that she wasn’t there? Or was he just doing stuff wrong?

  “Do you want to sleep in Aunt Katie’s bed?” he asked Kendra as he rubbed her back. Katie had spent the night in town with Rosalie, and sometimes the night terrors lasted a good twenty minutes.

  “Bailey will be afraid if she wakes up alone.”

  “I can sleep in your bed.”

  He felt her smile against his neck. “Your feet will hang out the bottom.”

  Yes. They would. And they had.

  “Maybe. But I’m tough. I can take it.”

  Kendra leaned back and put one hand on his cheek. “I’m tough, too.”

  His eyes started to sting, and he pulled his little girl back against his chest, cupping the back of her head. “Yes. You are very tough.”

  He swayed gently, just as he had when she was a baby and he’d held her, calming her when she’d had colic. H
er little body relaxed against his, and about the same time Bailey gave the series of small whimpers that usually signaled the end of the night terror.

  “She’s done,” Kendra said softly.

  “Yeah. I hope this is the only one tonight.”

  “I’ll call you if she has another,” Kendra said matter-of-factly, as if he couldn’t hear his youngest daughter shrieking the house down from his room across the hall.

  “I appreciate that, but I think I’ll sit here in Granddad’s rocking chair for a little while.”

  “Then I’ll sit on your lap.”

  Nick sat in the chair his grandfather Carl, the man who’d taught him the basics of carpentry, had made. Kendra locked Foxy Loxy close to her body as she curled up against him. Nick wrapped his arms around his princess and started rocking. If Bailey woke up, he’d get her, too, and rock both of his girls until they fell asleep. He tried not to think about the fact that his entire family could fit into one homemade rocking chair.

  * * *

  ALEX’S FIRST STOP in Gavin was not at the grocery store or the hardware store as she’d planned the evening before. Her third sleepless night in a row had convinced her that a stop at the animal rescue facility on the edge of town was a necessity.

  When she opened her car door, a cacophony of barks and howls greeted her. It wasn’t a huge facility, but every one of the ten or so runs extending from the cinder-block building was full of dogs of all sizes.

  Slowly Alex walked toward the office, past the runs, her heart breaking at the hopeful expressions on so many canine faces. Every one of them seemed to be saying, “Pick me, pick me.”

  Before she reached the office, the door swung open, and a small, roundish woman with a beaming expression waved her inside. “Are you Alex?”

  “I am.”

  “Not that many people call in advance, so I was taking a guess. I’m Wanda. Have a seat.” She waved to a no-nonsense metal chair facing the desk. Behind her, the wall was filled with photos of dogs under a hand-lettered sign that read Adopted. “I have some paperwork you’ll need to fill out.”