“I’d love it.” Robin began to hoist the heavy history volume, but Chauncey tsk-tsked that idea.
“I’ll do it, I’ve got it, don’t trouble yourself. These old volumes take a special touch.” She clapped the book shut and placed it on the shelf with a firm thump that meant business. “Anytime you need one of those specials, you ring me. I’ll be glad to get it for you. If I’m not busy, of course.”
“Of course.” Robin smiled at the older woman and didn’t seem put off by Chauncey’s gruff manner. “Lovers of history must stick together.”
Chauncey beamed a smile on her that included Liv as they moved to the door, and Liv was pretty sure she’d taken a firm step up in the librarian’s estimation, just because Robin smiled at the right time. A good lesson to learn when dealing with die-hard residents of Jasper Gulch. And not such a difficult one to follow.
“Should we drive over or leave the cars here?” Robin wondered as they moved down the three steps to the short sidewalk linking the asphalt lot to the Western-style library.
“We can leave them. It’s hot, but it’s a short walk. Oh.” Liv followed the direction of Robin’s gaze to the long chain wrapped around a thick, metal pole at the parking lot entrance. “You think Chauncey’s going to close that gate, right?”
“I assumed so, at closing time. I take it she’s not going to do that?”
Liv grinned and set off for Main Street, and as they passed the chain she pointed north. “Chauncey Hardman only closes this parking lot during the rodeo and round-up weekends. She says she won’t have any foul beasts contaminating her lot with their droppings so when there are horses and trailers moving around the business district, Chauncey puts up her chain.”
“But it’s asphalt.” Robin looked at the small lot and then back to Liv. “Couldn’t it just be rinsed off with a hose? Horses are a part of life in Jasper Gulch, right?”
“As much as anything else, yes. But Chauncey’s mother rode off with a rodeo rider about fifty years ago and never looked back. Chauncey’s had nothing to do with horses ever since.”
“But she stayed.” Robin’s expression said something didn’t compute. “She stayed in a place that’s surrounded by horses and cattle ranches. That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if you love Big Sky country. And Chauncey Hardman, for all her idiosyncrasies, loves Montana, heart and soul. She does the greatest history exhibit in the fall and a living-history pageant every spring in the park. I think I fell in love with history listening to Chauncey weave stories when I was a kid, but I know better than to ask her about horses...”
“Duly noted,” Robin said with a laugh.
“And to talk in her library.”
“Lesson learned.” Robin followed Liv into the old-style cross-buck door of Great Gulch Grub, the hometown café. Empty tables filled the middle with the lunch crowd long gone, while booths lined the outer walls. They settled into a booth close to the short counter. Robin sat back and swept the retro-Western interior a look of appreciation. “Every time I stop in here, I feel like I’m walking onto a movie set. The punched-tin ceiling, the wagon-wheel lights, the old, worn floor.”
“And I love that fifty-plus years of wipe-downs has dulled the finish on half of the tables. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Liv smiled as the middle-aged daytime waitress swaggered their way. “Mert, I’d love a coffee, and if you put a shot of caramel in it, I’d die happy.”
“With Granny’s fresh rice pudding?” Mert wondered.
“Rice, milk, eggs...” Liv pretended to ponder. “That sounds healthy to me. Robin, you won’t be sorry if you order the rice pudding, it’s an old family recipe that no one shares—”
Mert tapped the worn tabletop with a bright blue freshly polished fingernail. “If everybody and his brother has the recipe, why in the name of Sam Hill would they come here to get it? Business savvy.” She bestowed a humor-filled look of wisdom to Robin and Liv, then nodded Robin’s way. “And you like your coffee without the froufrou stuff Livvie asks for and I expect Granny’s fresh peach pie would sit right for a Sunday afternoon.”
“With vanilla ice cream, I’m a happy woman,” declared Robin.
“You’re in here fairly often, then.” Liv turned her attention back to Robin and jerked a thumb toward Mert’s retreating back. “To have Mert know your likes.”
“Well, she’s smart as a whip and I figured that out the first day in.” Robin nodded to an older fellow who passed their table on his way out. “And she likes her customers happy. I found that to be true with a lot of the folks in this town.”
“But not all.”
Robin gave Liv a look of consideration, then shrugged. “I haven’t been here long enough to have opinions, not really.”
Liv snorted because Jasper Gulch was great, but like any small town, it had its share of snippy folks.
Robin acknowledged the sound with a smile and a nod. “Okay, there are a few interesting characters, but mostly folks are charming. And totally Western. I didn’t realize how different things were here until I got here.”
Liv considered her words, thought a moment, then asked, “Didn’t realize? Like you knew about Jasper Gulch before you came? But we’re not big enough or notable enough to bring folks in unless they’re fishing or hunting, Robin. And you’re not here to do either. And it’s not like our history here is core-curriculum stuff. We weren’t on any cutting edge of anything historical and we’ve stayed small, except for the size of the ranches, and pretty much unchanged and to ourselves for generations. So having you come here, curious about history, kind of makes me curious about you.”
Robin’s face said one thing. Her words? Quite another. “I had stuff I needed to get away from. Nothing hugely bad, just stuff. I wanted to head west, see how things work here, and maybe find the roots my family lost a long time ago. I got here just in time for the rodeo, but then the huge celebration for the time capsule turned into a complete bust because it was stolen. And then someone intentionally started a fire at the rodeo. Even though it got caught quickly and put out, that made me wonder what kind of town Jasper Gulch really is.”
“Usually good, quiet and peaceful,” Liv declared. “I don’t think anyone remembers a time when you couldn’t just do as you would, doors unlocked. Right now folks are worried. You can see that in their faces. As to the past?” She shrugged. “A lot of folks stopped here then moved on. The mountains are tough for some, there was little in the way of business opportunity because the town avoided change, and water rights make everybody a little crazy. So we’ve had our share of folks who leave in search of easier ways. But having said all that....” Liv leaned back and waved toward the wide double windows facing Main Street. “I fell in love with Jasper Gulch all over again when I came back nearly two weeks ago. I didn’t fully appreciate what a great place this was until I got a taste of other things. Now I have to weigh all that up.” Liv reached up and accepted her caramel coffee from Mert with a smile of thanks. “With jobs scarce and not much new, I have no idea if there’s a plausible reason for staying here.”
“I can think of one available cowboy who could help you with that dilemma, Liv Franklin. But I don’t expect you’ll be wantin’ advice in that particular arena.”
“Thank you, no.” Liv sent Mert a look that said her assumption was spot-on. “Single and staying that way is my current mantra.”
“Time’s got a way of changin’ those mantra things when we least expect it,” Mert advised. She gave a knowing look out the front door as a Shaw truck rumbled past, and when she looked back at Liv, her smile smacked of wisdom. “When Julie Shaw came strollin’ in here last month, leadin’ that rodeo cowboy around like a ring-nosed bull, I knew right off where that pair was headed. Straight to the altar, and I’m rarely wrong about things like that after livin’ in these parts for my share of decades. But you take your time, Livvie. Jack
McGuire’s not goin’ anywhere. Not with those new horses you and he bought yesterday.”
And there it was, the single most important reason for hightailing it out of Jasper Gulch and burying herself in another city.
Everyone here knew about her and Jack and everyone and their mother expected them to form some kind of Hollywood movie-set bond because they both happened to be back in town at the same time. Single. Loving horses. And a little nostalgic with her biological clock ticking away.
Robin straightened her shoulders and perked up. “Is Jack cute? And nice? And a churchgoer? Because if Liv’s not in the market for a smokin’-hot cowboy, I sure am.”
Liv burst out laughing. So did Mert. And Robin looked pleased with herself for easing Liv’s growing tension. “I’m going to warn you off, but not because I have any designs on Jack myself.”
Mert snorted as she dished up a very generous helping of ice cream to Robin’s peach pie on her side of the counter.
“But because it would be real nice to be able to have a conversation with one person in this town—” Liv raised her voice just enough for Mert to hear and appreciate in the otherwise empty restaurant “—that doesn’t play matchmaker with me and Jack McGuire.”
“We could make a pact.”
The distinctly male voice behind Liv made her heart crunch and her pulse spike. “Where did you come from? Because you weren’t behind me a minute ago.”
Jack tipped his hat to Robin, squatted low and eyed the rice pudding Mert set down in front of Liv, and his grin widened when Mert used a little more gusto than necessary to top the pudding with thick whipped cream. “You’re not spoiling your appetite for supper, are you?”
Robin smiled.
Mert grinned an “I told you so” look that would spread around town like a late-summer wildfire by nightfall.
“Actually, I—”
“Coach is excited to see you,” Jack interrupted as if she hadn’t been about to offer objections. “And we need to catch up on the baseball history and game stuff we never got to yesterday, once we had the horses.”
True, but—
“Do you want to drive out to the ranch, or can I pick you up?”
“Pick her up,” Mert advised, her face showing approval because picking a girl up sounded like a date.
“I’ll drive, of course.” Liv scolded Mert with a look, but the middle-aged woman just laughed and went back to stocking the counter for the Monday-morning crowd. “Jack, this is Robin Frazier. She’s in town to do some Montana history.”
“Something you know a lot about and you two have in common.”
“So it seems.” Robin smiled at him, and Liv wasn’t afraid to send her a look that said while Jack wasn’t exactly “taken,” he wasn’t one bit available, either.
“Are you here in town?” Jack asked and Robin nodded.
“I’m at Mamie Fidler’s place, and between Mamie, Mert and now Chauncey, I don’t have to go very far to find exactly the kind of characters I love to read about. Funny, smart, sassy, down-home folks with good hearts.”
“Don’t forget nosey.”
Robin burst out laughing. So did Mert. And as Jack stood, he reached out a hand and quick-grabbed the bill for their coffee and dessert. “This one’s on me, ladies.”
“Jack, I—”
“It’s the least I can do for my new ranch hand, right?” His look toward Mert assured she heard and approved as she handed him a white to-go sack. When she grinned, he went on, “I’ll see you later, okay? Around six? I headed into town because I heard that Granny had made fresh rice pudding and how a certain someone has a particular fondness for that dessert.” He lofted the bag. “Twice in one day, Liv. That can’t be bad. So. See you at six?”
He’d driven to town to buy some of Granny’s rice pudding for their dessert because someone—Mert, no doubt—had called to advise him. Talk about sweet. And to-die-for good-looking. She waved him out the door but didn’t hide the tiny smile of satisfaction his trip wrought. “Yes. Fine. Go. You’ve stirred up enough trouble for one day, Jack.”
He smiled, said goodbye to Mert and didn’t look back, most likely because he knew all three women would be watching him go. And when he’d cleared the door by less than a foot, Mert refilled their coffee, smiled down at Liv and said easily, “I’m not saying a word to anyone about this, Liv, and there’s one very good reason for that.”
“And that is?” Liv raised her gaze to the waitress’s wise eyes.
“It’s too important this time, and I don’t want to see anything so sweet, nice and downright good get messed up again. And that’s the whole of it.”
Livvie wanted to hug her, but Mert wasn’t the hugging sort, except this time, it was Mert who leaned down and put a quick arm around Liv’s shoulders. “Welcome home, Liv.”
Her words touched Liv’s heart and possibly her soul. Maybe the town wasn’t just bored and addled with minding everyone’s business. Maybe...like Robin said...most folks were just plain nice, looking out for each other. And that made a world of difference.
Chapter Six
“I grabbed a couple of extra steaks to throw on the fire,” Mick McGuire announced as Jack climbed out of the truck later that afternoon. “And washed up a few more potatoes.”
“Because?”
A shout of laughter pulled Jack’s attention left. Two school-age kids romped in a clean hay pile that hadn’t existed that morning. The barn ladder gave them easy access to the pile, and then they jumped, tumbling down the pale green heap, landing and laughing at the bottom.
“Mick, would you like more tea?”
Jack turned, spotted the nice-looking woman at the side porch door and sent his father a look of interest that made the older man color up. “That’s Carrie.”
“Hmm.” Jack smiled as the woman crossed the yard. Before she got close enough to hear, he stepped closer to his father. “Reason to whistle right there.”
He expected his father to grow more embarrassed, but Mick surprised him by just nodding and thrusting his hands deep into his pockets. “Yes, it is.”
Mick’s simple reply caught Jack up short. If he’d laughed it off, Jack could have minimized his father’s interest in the fortyish woman heading their way. But a quick agreement? And the smile he bestowed as the woman approached with two tall glasses of tea?
That said more than his sparse words ever could. “I’m Jack.” He stuck out a hand and the woman eyed the tea, his hand, laughed and passed a glass to Mick, flashing him a look as she did, a look they shared for a quick, bright moment.
“Carrie Landry. And that’s Maggie.” She pointed to the pig-tailed tomboy scrambling up the barn-side ladder as if born to climb. “And Brian. Mick invited us to supper, but then he saw your stuff laid out and realized you might be having company. I hope it’s not an intrusion, Jack. We can always come another night.”
“Nonsense.” Mick waved it off as if a house full of company was the norm, and it had been, back in the day. When Mom was alive and folks stopped by all hours of the day for coffee, sweet tea and honest answers about most anything. “We love a crowd.”
“It’s fine, really.” Jack followed his father’s cue as the kids raced their way, shrieking about how cool the ranch was. “Coach is coming by for a steak roast.”
“It’ll be good to see him.” Mick picked up Maggie and swung her high into the air, settling her on his shoulders, a move Jack remembered from his own childhood.
“And Livvie.”
His father paused, nodded and almost smiled. “Good to see her, too. I expect there’s a story behind the livestock that showed up in the front barn yesterday.”
“With women, there’s always a story, isn’t there?”
“Truth to tell, son.” Mick sent Carrie a teasing look, then shifted his attention to the fire pit. “Yo
u want to get the fire going or should I?”
“You take the kids—”
“I’m Maggie!” The little girl caroled the words from Mick’s broad shoulders as if onstage. “I’m five and I’m in kindergarten but they’re moving me to first grade because I already know everything.”
“Good to know.” Jack reached up and shook the girl’s hand, and wasn’t surprised when she offered a wicked-strong handshake for a little kid. “And you’re Brian. I expect you’re a bit older than your noisy sister, eh?” Jack smiled and squatted to lessen the height difference. “Eight years old?”
“No, sir. Seven.”
“Well, you look eight,” Jack declared. “Obviously mature for your age.”
A small shy smile told Jack he’d done well, but then the boy glanced down, kicked the dirt, scrubbed his toe into the tiny divot he’d made and shrugged. “I’m just seven, though.”
The horses nickered behind the barn. One whinnied, then another followed suit before they dashed across the new paddock as if they owned the place. The boy shrank back. His actions pushed Jack to offer a different plan. “Brian, do you want to help me start the fire? I’d be glad for some company.”
“Sure. Can I?” He turned his face up toward his mother, imploring.
“May I,” his mother corrected him, but then she nodded. When she lifted her gaze to Jack, she sent him a silent look of gratitude. “And yes, but follow Jack’s directions, okay?”
“I will.”
“I like fires,” Maggie announced. “But I like horses more. I want to know everything there is to know about horses, Mr. Mick. Like everything in the world. Is that okay?” She leaned down, a totally fearless move because one wrong shift of her weight would send her tumbling over Mick McGuire’s broad shoulders. Not that Jack’s father was about to let that happen. He held firm to her legs and shrugged affably. “I can teach you all I know. And that’s a fair bit.”
“Then that’s perfect,” she declared, righting herself. “When I grow up I want to run a ranch like this. I want to ride horses all day and night. I want—”
His Montana Sweetheart (Big Sky Centennial Book 2) Page 7