Big Sky Romance Collection

by Denise Hunter

  He was already in the left lane. His truck seemed to take the route of its own volition. He was on Route 120, headed south toward Casper. South toward Texas.

  His heart rate dropped and his fingers relaxed on the steering wheel. His breathing slowed, the knot in his stomach loosened. He felt better already, just pointing the truck in a different direction.

  Pointing his life in a different direction. A giddy feeling welled up inside him at the thought of all that lay ahead. But it was immediately choked out by thoughts of Shay.

  Shay, waiting for him at the courthouse. He had to call her. How could he explain this drastic change? But it wasn’t drastic really, was it? He’d been waffling since the moment they’d dreamed up this plan.

  She had to know he was struggling. Hadn’t he tried to talk to her about this weeks ago? Hadn’t she asked him a dozen times if he was sure? Hadn’t she asked him just this morning?

  And you said you were.

  He stuffed the thought back down. He’d made the decision, and it felt right. Felt freeing. A marriage couldn’t be God’s will for them, not right now. They didn’t even have their parents’ blessings. That wasn’t honoring, was it?

  Now he just had to break it to Shay.

  He’d stop at the next pay phone, call the courthouse. He’d tell Shay he loved her, that this wasn’t about her at all. That they were too young. They could get married later, after he’d had a chance to chase his dreams.

  He scanned the roadside and saw a phone booth outside a convenience store. He pulled in and entered the booth, racking his brain for the right words. He didn’t want to hurt Shay, but no matter what he said, that was unavoidable.

  The number was in the government section. He deposited some coins and placed the call. The receptionist picked up on the fifth ring.

  “Uh, yes, I have an appointment for—” He checked his watch. “Well, right now. I need to talk to Shay Monroe. She should be there in your office.”

  “She checked in a few minutes ago, but she went outside to wait for her fiancé.”

  “I’m her fiancé. There’s been a—uh, change of plans. Can you get her, please?”

  “I’m sorry, sir, I can’t leave my office.”

  “Please, I have to tell her I’m not coming.”

  A second line rang. “Hold, please.”

  “No, wait—” But the line clicked and she was gone.

  Blast it! He hated the thought of Shay waiting outside for him, watching every car as it turned the corner. Had she sensed his agitation? Surely she had. He twisted the cold metal cord around his hand.

  “Hello?” the woman said.

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  Another line pealed in the background. “I’m afraid I can’t leave my desk. We’re quite busy.”

  “Please. It won’t take but a few minutes, and I have to tell her—”

  “Sir. When the phone stops ringing, I’ll run out and get her, but I don’t know when that will be. Call back in fifteen or twenty minutes, and I’ll see that she’s here.”

  It was the best he was going to get. “Thank you.”

  He hung up the phone. He should put the truck back on the highway headed north and handle this face-to-face like a man. He knew it was the right thing to do.

  But if he went back, he knew he wouldn’t have the nerve to leave again. Even now he felt pulled, like he needed more distance between them to think with his head and not his heart.

  He’d keep heading south, just for fifteen minutes, then he’d pull off and call back. He ripped the number from the phone book, stuffed it in his pocket, and exited the booth, the accordion door creaking with neglect.

  He started the truck and got back on the highway, his mind whirling. How would Shay react? She’d be spittin’ mad, that was for sure. If he were there, she’d shove him, her eyes shooting fire. She’d rail on him; then, after a while, her face would start to crumple and he’d try to hold her. She’d push him away at first, then she’d fall apart and sob in his arms.

  He had to stop this. Had to start thinking of what to say. How to put words to his thoughts.

  Ten minutes later he had his monologue memorized. He was half wondering if she’d hang up on him when his truck made a noise. A half mile later he began losing speed. The truck sputtered, and that’s when he remembered. Gas!

  He’d meant to get it on the way to the courthouse, but he’d been so lost in his own misery, he’d forgotten. Stupid!

  He pulled the truck onto the emergency lane and turned the key, looking around. He’d left town miles ago, maybe six or seven?

  He got out and started jogging back toward Cody. By the time he reached a gas station, his shirt was wet with sweat, but the only thing he cared about was reaching Shay. He approached the phone, bolted to the side of the building, and placed the call.

  How long had it been? An hour and a half. He wiped the sweat from his forehead while the phone rang.

  When the woman answered, he identified himself.

  “I’m sorry, sir, your fiancée left a little while ago.”

  “What do you mean she left? What did you say?”

  “Sir, I don’t care for your tone.”

  Travis rubbed his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just . . . upset.”

  “She asked me what you’d said, and I told her you’d changed your mind and you weren’t coming.”

  Awww . . . blast it! He ground his teeth together and kicked the concrete wall twice. Three times. Then he took a steadying breath. “What’d she say? Where’d she go?”

  Another phone pealed in the background. “She was visibly upset. She waited awhile and then she left. I don’t know where she went. I’m sorry, sir, but I have to go.”

  “No, wait—” But the click sounded in his ear.

  He holstered the phone in its cradle with enough force to break it. Then picked it up and did it three more times. She was probably on her way home by now. She would’ve called her folks to come after her. There was no way to reach her at the moment.

  He bought a container, filled it with gas, and hitched a ride to his truck. Once it was running, he continued south, stopping to call Shay’s house at every town he hit. Shay’s dad finally picked up four hours later.

  “You have some nerve, buddy.”

  “Did Shay make it back?”

  “No thanks to you.”

  He begged to speak with her, but her dad said she wasn’t there. He decided to keep trying. She’d pick up eventually, and then he could explain. But at every stop, every time he called, her dad picked up. The last time he’d gotten a blistering earful.

  Travis kept driving, determined, now that he’d set his course, on crossing the Texas line before stopping. It was after midnight when he pulled into the first Texas motel he came across, La Siesta. It was a dimly lit U-shaped building with two cars in the lot. He opened the truck door, and when the interior light came on, he noticed something black on the passenger floor. He reached for it, his heart sinking.

  Shay’s purse.

  He’d left her with no money, no identification, nothing! He groaned and drove his palm into the steering wheel. Idiot! But surely she’d had . . . Then he remembered her suitcase. She hadn’t taken it out of the pickup bed—why would she? They were supposed to be married and driving home together.

  He called himself every name in the book as he checked in, then lay awake half the night berating himself for his thoughtlessness. But even in the darkness of night, even while he regretted what he’d put Shay through, he didn’t feel he’d made a mistake in calling off the wedding. The real mistake had been planning it in the first place.

  It would be months until he realized that some mistakes could never be undone.

  8

  Okay, spill,” Abigail said as soon as Beau lumbered away.

  The two women were sitting on a blanket on the town square lawn. Darkness was falling, and the lamps along the street flickered on one by one.

  Shay pulled her knees into her
chest. “Don’t know what you mean.”

  “You’ve been acting weird all evening,” Abigail said. “Was it the wedding? It must’ve reminded you of Garrett.”

  Strangely enough, she hadn’t thought of her ex-husband once. “Ancient history.”

  She tapped her toes to the country-and-western music. Across the wide expanse of lawn, the Silver Spurs jammed onstage. The guitarist moved forward, showing off his skills, and a gaggle of girls gathered at the foot of the stage. Musicians. Oh brother.

  “You and Beau all right? He seems tense.”

  “There is no me and Beau.”

  “I know that, I just . . .” Abigail heaved a sigh. “Come on, are we friends or what? It took a lot of creativity to grab a few minutes alone, and if you don’t spill soon, they’ll be back.”

  Fine. Whatever. “If you must know, the groom was Travis.”

  “Yeah, I know. Wade said they used to compete sometimes on the—” Abigail’s eyes popped open. “Travis? The Travis?”

  “The very one.”

  “Holy cow, Shay, I had no idea—why didn’t you tell me he was back?”

  “All Moose Creek knows he’s back.”

  “Well, I’m new here, remember? Oh my goodness. Your first love. Your soul mate. No wonder you—oooh, that kiss . . . No wonder Beau’s all prickly.”

  “He’s not prickly.”

  “He’s livid. He’s so handsome . . .”

  “Beau?”

  Abigail nudged Shay’s foot. “No, silly, Travis. It’s all making sense now.”

  Shay was glad it made sense to someone. Her own thoughts were a tangled knot of barbed wire.

  “I’m surprised you agreed to it.”

  “Didn’t know Travis was the groom. That was your aunt’s little surprise.” A breeze tugged at her hair, and the smell of roasted pork wafted by, turning her stomach.

  “I should’ve known. Aunt Lucy’s such a matchmaker.”

  “Well, she’s wasting her time.”

  “Not if that kiss was anything to go by.” Abigail winked.

  Shay knew her friend was teasing, but Travis had never been a joking matter. “Last thing I need is another cowardly man.”

  Last thing she needed was another man, period.

  “Sorry.” Abigail smiled sheepishly.

  Shay and Olivia were fine on their own. The girl had been devastated by her father’s desertion. She’d asked him every time he called when he was coming back. When he died, she cried daily for three months while Shay stifled her anger. Only when the anger wore off had she shed tears of sadness at his loss. In the end, she’d decided the anger was easier.

  No, they didn’t need some man strolling into their lives and breaking their hearts again, humiliating them in front of the whole town.

  Abigail nudged her foot. “So what are you going to do? Wade said he’s here until his folks return from Guatemala, and that’s not for—” Her eyes swung upward, over Shay’s head.

  “His being here is no concern of mine.”

  “Shay . . .”

  “I got plenty to keep me busy and—”

  “Uh, Shay.”

  “—last thing I’m worried about is—”

  “Travis McCoy!” Abigail stood to her feet. “I’m Abigail, Wade’s wife.”

  He is not standing behind me. Shay turned and followed a long denim leg upward.

  Travis stood behind her with Wade. Towering over her. She stood, dusted off her rear end, and crossed her arms. She wasn’t going to look.

  “Shay, I’m sure you know Travis,” Wade said. “Seeing as how you just got married and all.”

  “Ha, ha,” Abigail said, a bit too animated. “Cute, honey.”

  “We went to school together,” Shay said.

  “Actually,” Travis said, “we were high school sweethearts.”

  She looked. He’d changed into a black T-shirt and faded jeans and wore his cowboy hat. Too bad the bolo tie was gone. She’d missed her chance.

  “Actually”—Shay fixed her eyes on Travis—“we were engaged. He left me at the altar.”

  “Oh, uh, I see.” Wade pocketed his hands, looked helplessly at Abigail.

  “Now, where’d Maddy and Olivia run off to?” Abigail said. “Those girls. Always running off somewhere.”

  “You asked them to fetch you a lemonade.” Beau approached the group and handed Shay the Coke she’d requested. He looked between the three of them. “Did I interrupt something?”

  “No.”

  “Not a thing!” Abigail said.

  Travis nodded Beau’s way. “Meyers. Good to see you.”

  “McCoy.” Beau gave him a reluctant nod and draped his arm around Shay’s shoulders.

  The action was ornery and gutsier than she would’ve given Beau credit for. Just because she could, Shay let his arm rest there. Her eyes flickered to Travis, but he’d turned to watch the Silver Spurs. A shadow flickered across his jaw.

  The moment drew out, none of them wanting to sit because doing so would be rude without issuing Travis an invitation. And no one wanted that kind of awkwardness.

  Abigail surrendered to the pressure first. “Travis, would you like to—”

  Shay cut her off with a sharp glance.

  “I should take off,” Travis said. “Promised Mrs. Teasley I’d judge the huckleberry pies.”

  “Tough gig,” Wade said.

  Travis shrugged, backing away. “Somebody’s gotta do it. See y’all later.”

  His gaze swung to Shay one last time, that lazy grin tugging one side of his mouth.

  A big butterfly flopped over in her belly.

  Then he turned and walked away, fading into the darkness.

  “Some nerve,” Beau muttered.

  They sank down onto the blanket, and Shay put enough space between them to fit a pregnant hog.

  9

  Shay got out of the truck and stepped out into the tall grass. Coming around the other side, Olivia wiped away the trickle of sweat that rolled down her temple.

  She only had a few more salt blocks to drop, then the cattle would be set on minerals for the week.

  “You’re done, munchkin. Why don’t you run home and see if Maddy wants to come over?”

  Olivia hopped into the bed and pushed the heavy salt block toward the tailgate. “We’re not finished.”

  Her daughter had done nothing but work all day, all week. Some summer vacation. And soon they’d be booted off their property. Shay hadn’t broken the news to her yet, didn’t know what she was waiting for.

  She grabbed the fifty-pound salt block. “I’m almost done. Go do something fun.”

  It wouldn’t take her long to finish, and the smile on Olivia’s face as she wheeled away and jogged toward the house was worth it.

  Shay walked the block over to the cattle and set it on the ground. “Lick away, girls.”

  She’d forgotten how much Manny had done around here, but it was coming back to her in the form of sore muscles and calloused hands.

  Long as her hours were, they did nothing to alleviate the growing pile of bills. She’d put off her creditors as long as she dared, and still the foreclosure loomed. At this point, selling cattle was pointless, nothing but a downhill slope to ruin. Without the cattle, she’d have no means of income.

  Twenty minutes later her cell vibrated in her pocket. She pulled the last block to the edge of the bed, then checked her phone.

  “Hey, sweetie.”

  “Maddy invited me to supper. That okay?”

  She could hardly blame her daughter. Rice and beans were getting pretty old. “It’s okay with Wade and Abigail?”

  “Yeah.”

  “All right. Be back before dark or call for a ride.”

  “Thanks, Mom!”

  Shay said good-bye, turned off the phone, then hoisted the salt block. She didn’t deserve her daughter’s gratitude. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t give Olivia more chores than she already had. Yet the girl had been out here all week while all her pe
ers were swimming in the creek or taking shopping excursions to Billings.

  She knew just how that felt, and darned if her daughter was going to live that way. Help me, Jesus. Provide what we need soon. We’re down to the wire, You know.

  Her phone pealed. Probably Olivia again. It took a few seconds to balance the salt block on her thigh and check the caller ID. Unknown Number.

  Another collector. They just wouldn’t leave her alone. Wasn’t she trying her best? She could only do so much.

  She shifted the block on her thigh and pocketed the phone. The salt block teetered on her leg, then slipped from her gloved hand. It hit her foot with a dull thud.

  The pain came a full second later, shooting through her foot with a force that buckled her leg. Shay bit down on her lip, stifling a groan as she lowered herself to the ground. She pulled her knee to her chest and grimaced.

  She’d really done it now. She propped her foot on the cussed salt block, hoping to alleviate the throbbing. She’d likely just bruised the muscle or something.

  It was already feeling a little better, wasn’t it? She clamped her teeth down hard. Help me, Jesus. I do not need an injury right now, and I sure as shooting don’t need a doctor bill.

  If she just breathed, focused on something else, the pain would ebb away, and she could get back to work.

  Travis removed his hat, wiped his forehead, and replaced the hat. Buck started toward the pen, but Travis pulled the reins the other direction. “Not today, buddy. Got an errand.” Not a fun one, but necessary. And long overdue.

  He cut across the pasture, then crossed the shallow creek that divided their properties. The creek where they used to meet on hot summer days and cool autumn evenings. They’d carved their initials on a big oak on the day he’d asked her to be his girl. It still showed; he’d already checked.

  He wondered if Shay had cooled her heels. He’d given her nine days, but now he wondered if the anger had only festered since he’d left her on the town square lawn with Beau Meyers.

  He nudged Buck into a canter as they peaked the slope of the creek bank—as if saving two minutes was going to help matters. In the old days when she got her dander up, he just let her get it all out. She kicked up a ruckus and eventually the anger drained away, leaving her spent.