His Montana Sweetheart (Big Sky Centennial Book 2)

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “And the cute cowboy,” Robin noted, indicating the sprawling Double M with a wave of her hand.

  Liv smiled because the cute cowboy was a given. “I feel like I’m at a crossroads, with no red lights or stop signs, which means I have to pick a route and follow it. But no matter what I decide, we can continue to work together on the town history—unless you’re getting ready to leave?”

  Robin’s profile said leaving was the last thing on her mind, but as she gazed outward at the ranch, she shrugged. “I’m a restless soul right now. Not sure what to do or where to go, I just know I want to feel like I belong somewhere. And I don’t ever want to be lonely again. Pathetic, right?”

  “Not at all,” Liv answered, knowing loneliness wasn’t just an issue when you were alone. Sometimes it happened in a busy office. Or a house built without true love. “No real roots back home, Robin?”

  Robin made a face. “I was a fish out of water there, like my ancestors of old, the ones who may have traveled through here. So maybe that wanderlust passed on to me.”

  “We’ll see how you feel about being here once winter’s wrath keeps us cooped up for months.” Liv raised her chin toward the endless mountains. “That’s when ranch life makes you or breaks you. There’s no cozy car heater on a 4X4 while you’re checking fence. And the wind bites hard when you’re monitoring newborn calves on horseback in ten degrees and biting wind.”

  “They have their babies outside? In the snow?” Robin stared at the mountains, then Liv, incredulous.

  Liv laughed and gave her a friendly shoulder jab. “Welcome to ranching, my friend. And when it’s calving time? Everyone helps, one way or another.”

  “I don’t want to hear another bit about it,” Robin told her. “I’m going to envision a manger scene, Christmas-friendly, a sweet cow, a bed of straw and a beautiful baby calf, all doe-eyed and clean.”

  “And I’ll let you think that way, but the reality on a ranch is survival of the fittest. On the other hand, Jack and Mick take it quite personally if they lose a calf or cow.” Liv remembered the stark look in Jack’s eyes whenever a cow or calf went down, and that was another reason to love the McGuire men. Big men. Big hearts. “They see it as a failure, and it breaks their hearts.”

  “With twelve hundred cows?” Robin raised a brow in disbelief, as if caring for a huge number made the loss more understandable.

  Liv knew better. She’d worked the ranch over a couple of college spring breaks. She understood the harsh conditions of early spring in the mountains, the bawling calves, snow barreling in on the heels of a Canadian clipper. And any time an animal succumbed, Mick, Jack and Mary Beth took it to heart. “A life’s a life out here.”

  Robin reached up a hand to the needy horse clip-clopping alongside Liv. “You’ll do okay here, Liv.”

  The possibility of sharing this life with Jack and Mick made Liv see the possibilities before her more clearly. “I think I could, even after all that’s gone on these past years. I’m just sorry it took me so long to realize it.”

  * * *

  Jack’s phone rang midmorning on Monday. He saw the bank manager’s name and clicked in, surprised. “Mr. Thompson? What can I do for you?”

  “Jack, that check from those folks in Decatur came back marked insufficient funds.”

  Jack stopped in his tracks because he’d talked his father into taking the personal check rather than insisting on a bank draft. And he’d only done that because he was familiar with the Brower legacy in Decatur, Nebraska. Their reputation, their stake in farming preceded them.

  His heart sank.

  Any farmer could run out of money, and many had the past few years. Would the Browers do that, though? Pass off a bad check and accept cattle without payment?

  No.

  At least he hoped they wouldn’t. “Did you run it through again, Wilbur? Maybe funds got tied up between accounts.”

  “I called their bank personally because I didn’t want to make this phone call, Jack. They said there aren’t enough funds in their combined accounts to come close to covering a nearly twenty-thousand-dollar payment. I’m sorry.”

  He was sorry?

  Oh, man. Jack scraped a hand to the nape of his neck to thwart the encroaching tension headache. “Not your fault, Wilbur. Mine for not insisting on a bank draft.”

  “They are the best way to go,” Wilbur agreed, but Jack didn’t want to hear that right then. He never took personal checks for big-business dealings. He’d learned that as a young man and had the practice reinforced as an investment adviser in Chicago. And this time of year, when money was tight on a ranch, waiting for that single big paycheck on “calves-to-market” day, well...

  He bit down hard on a wad of gum, missed the gum and bit the inside of his cheek instead. Instant pain added to the financial blow. He’d been riding high these past few weeks, enjoying life for the first time in a long while. And now—

  Now, what? So the Browers passed a bad check. You’re runnin’ off the deep end and you don’t even know if it was intentional or inadvertent. Henry Brower’s been in the business for decades, and his father before him. You really think he’d slip you a bad check and then waltz away with a trailerload of pricey, pregnant cows?

  It wouldn’t be the first time a farmer employed desperate means to get back on his feet. And it wasn’t like the Browers lived next door. Going after the money would entail time, effort and distance, none of which Jack had right now. But whether or not he had the time, he had little choice because he’d made the decision to accept Henry’s check. Now he’d have to man up and fix it. After admitting it to his father.

  He shoved his hat aside, swept a wide hankie to his brow and continued checking fence. It was an all-day job in the middle of a heat wave, but making sure the Plow Creek pasture was tight and secure was his task of the day, and he wasn’t about to mess that up after already messing up. He stopped to eat the sack of peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches he’d brought along and hit Liv’s number on his speed dial.

  The call went straight to voice mail, which was unusual. She rarely turned off her phone and frequently checked the battery to make sure it was charged. He dialed her parents’ home instead. If she wasn’t working with Robin, maybe she was back home, helping with Grandma and Grandpa. She’d texted him that she was busy this morning, but he didn’t expect her to be unreachable. And with the financial smackdown he’d taken, hearing Liv’s voice, her laugh, would ease the sting of handing over twenty thousand of his savings to the McGuire ranch fund.

  “Trudy Mason here. Hello.”

  “Mrs. Mason, this is Jack McGuire. Liv’s friend.”

  “Of course I know who you are, Jack. Liv’s special friend.” She put teasing emphasis on "special” as if to make a point. “What can I do for you?”

  “Is Liv there? I tried her cell phone but it wasn’t turned on.”

  “Oh, the interview, of course!” Grandma Mason exclaimed and then tsk-tsked modern technology. “She must have turned it off while she was interviewing for that job at the university in Bozeman.”

  Jack’s heart sank again, only deeper this time. Much deeper.

  Liv was interviewing for a job in Bozeman? And didn’t tell him? “You’re sure that’s where she is, ma’am?”

  “One hundred percent certain.” The staunch note in the elderly woman’s voice said she shouldn’t be doubted. “She told me this morning she’d be at the interview and then shopping. Might as well get stuff bought and taken care of when you’re in the city, right?”

  Jack’s heart deflated further.

  He’d messed up his father’s financials with misplaced trust, and that seemed to be the theme of the day because he never expected Liv to go off and get a job in the city—a city an hour’s drive away in good weather—without making mention of it to him.

  Doubts assailed
him when he disconnected the call.

  He thought they’d bridged a huge gap these past few weeks. When they were together, the last thing he wanted to do was leave her and head home, alone. When they were apart, he thought about her, nonstop. Right now his plans, hopes and dreams disappeared in a puff of reality smoke.

  Liv might be leaving. Heading back to her life, her career. And he knew this would come, he’d expected as much initially, but that was before they’d had a chance to talk, laugh, kiss.

  And oh, that kiss. A once-in-a-lifetime event, a moment of pure, ever-after sweetness, the kind of kiss that puts a man in mind of roots. Playgrounds. Porch swings.

  He stared at the phone, hating how easy it was to find things out these days. In the old days he’d have been left to learn bad stuff in a much slower time frame. He’d have preferred that, because now he had the rest of the day working fence, alone, thinking of all he’d lost.

  Money he could replace. It would be a stretch, but he’d banked a good deal in Chicago and his personal investments had paid off. It hurt, but the twenty-thousand loss wasn’t a death knell for the ranch because he had the funds to cover it. But the thought of Liv leaving, when every part of his being longed for her to stay?

  That broke his heart. He hadn’t realized how much he’d assumed until her grandmother’s easy words put him into his current tailspin.

  Should he have spoken up sooner? Declared his intentions? And what were those, exactly? To tie a smart girl like Livvie up to a ranch kitchen, raising calves and kids, wasting the college degrees she’d worked so hard to get? How was that fair?

  It’s fair if that’s where she wants to be, tweaked his conscience. You might actually try asking the girl. See where that gets you. That’s the sensible thing to do.

  Jack didn’t want to be sensible. He didn’t want to be turned down or pushed aside. He didn’t want to be anyone’s second choice. Not now. Not ever.

  So that’s it? You’ll just up and let her go? It’s only an hour away, for pity’s sake. You don’t have enough gumption to date a girl an hour away? Dude, you deserve to lose her if that’s the extent of your limitations.

  It wasn’t the distance, Jack knew as he finally turned Roy-O back toward home.

  It was desire.

  Ranching was work, hard work, and if a marriage was to work on a ranch, it had to be 100 percent on all levels. Sure, folks worked off the ranch, more so these days than ever before. But a job an hour away, in the thick of winter?

  He’d been born and raised in Montana blows. He understood the fury of storm after storm, and why driving an hour wasn’t in anyone’s best interests. And if Liv wasn’t interested enough to stay here, with him?

  Then maybe she hadn’t forgiven him, after all. Maybe their time together had been simply a sweet walk down memory lane.

  His phone buzzed. He pulled it out, saw Liv’s number and stared at the readout for long, drawn-out seconds. And then he turned the phone off and tucked it away.

  Liv was smart and beautiful, she deserved the best God could offer her, and it certainly wasn’t to waste her intelligence on a cattle ranch with someone who couldn’t guard the bottom line. She deserved better than good. Liv Franklin deserved the best, and that wasn’t him, a guy who failed to recognize a good thing when he had it. Whatever this job was, he couldn’t justify asking her to miss an opportunity to shine as she was born to do, beauty and brains, a stellar package.

  He rode easy down the hills later that afternoon, giving Roy-O a break, horse and rider both worn after a long day. And when the horse was cooled down, fed and put up for the night, Jack crossed the yard, let himself into the house and went to bed. Sleep was a long time in coming, and when it did, it came in fits and starts, with images of Livvie, Henry Brower and bad checks running together. He got up less rested than when he’d lain down, shrugged into the same dirty clothes he’d worn yesterday and hit the trail again. There was nothing and no one on the Plow Creek pasture to care how he looked, smelled or acted.

  And today, that was just fine by him.

  * * *

  Whenever God closes a door, somewhere He opens a window. The old quote took shape when Abigail Rose called Livvie first thing Tuesday morning and offered her a job as the new curator of the under-construction museum. “We can’t pay too much, and it’s really part-time for starters, but Livvie, if you’re staying in Jasper Gulch, Chauncey and I think you’d be perfect for the job.”

  “And the mayor approved?” That seemed more surprising than anything. She and Jackson Shaw hadn’t seen eye to eye on too many things.

  “When it comes to history, Chauncey and I usually get our way.” Abigail’s tone said it was a given in history matters, and knowing Chauncey Hardman, Liv didn’t doubt it. “Abigail, I’d love to take the position. And part-time is perfect right now. Thank you!”

  “None needed. We’re lucky to have someone of your caliber, Liv, and we know that,” Abigail assured her. “And if you don’t mind my asking, what shade of polish were you wearing on Friday? I’m not big on blue nails, it doesn’t seem quite right, but I did like the color you had on.”

  “Teal Stencil,” Liv replied. “It’s one of my favorite summer shades.”

  “I’ll check it out,” declared Abigail. “Mind you stop by my office to get the applications for employment forms in the next day or two, okay?”

  “I will. And Abigail?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  Abigail’s soft laugh came through loud and clear. “Welcome home, Livvie Franklin.”

  * * *

  “Have you seen Jack?” Liv approached Mick as he pulled his pickup truck into the ranch yard about an hour later.

  “Not today. He was up and out early. Didn’t see him yesterday, either, but the dust in the kitchen said he’d been through there.”

  “Men,” she scolded, laughing. “Dust stays outside. That’s what porches and mudrooms are for. I could have emailed him this stuff, but he said your printer was giving you a hard time this past week, so I thought I’d print these off and leave them here when I tended the horses. And I told Robin Frazier I’d teach her to ride if the heat breaks this week like they’re predicting. Is that all right?”

  “I’d be obliged.” Mick strode next to her as they approached Dilly’s pen. “The mares were a good buy. I look at them and I see Mary Beth’s dreams for this ranch coming to life. Both beauties, ready to breed. Long as you don’t mind spending some time babying them.”

  “My pleasure.” Liv ducked through the rail and grinned back at Mick when Dilly didn’t shy away. Instead, he moved closer, plodding toward her in a show of trust. “Sweet difference, right?”

  “Yes, it is.” Mick raised a handful of mail and the notes Livvie brought along. “I’ll put these inside, then pick up Maggie and Brian from their friend’s place. Carrie’s car is in the shop again.”

  “Cars are like plumbing and computers,” Liv agreed as she led Dilly forward for an easy walk around the yard. “They’re great when they work. If I miss Jack, will you see that he gets those, please?”

  “Will do. But I can’t believe you won’t be seeing him later today.”

  She hoped so. And she hoped she’d see him tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that, ad infinitum. How perfectly was this all working out?

  Jack, her Jack. A job at the museum. A chance to help with Grandma and Grandpa. But right now, she needed to get the horses cared for and head for City Hall, excited to see Jack later.

  Except she didn’t.

  He didn’t call that day. Or the next. And when she called him to see if something was wrong, her call went straight to voice mail.

  Was he avoiding her?

  Impossible. They’d been having so much fun together, such a wonderful time, and those moments when their eyes met?
Their hands touched?

  The tenderness in Jack’s gaze made her long to jump into life with Jack, no hesitation. And that was a big change from the timid, hands-off girl who drove into town a month before.

  He’s turned tail and run before, her conscience scolded. I do believe I warned you of that. You, of course, chose not to listen.

  Liv shushed the negative voice. She wouldn’t listen now, either, not when she finally felt right with life. With love.

  Was she foolish to trust him, after what happened last time?

  Maybe. But sitting by his side in church, sensing his smile as she tried to calm a curly-haired little girl, made her see the deeper side of Jack McGuire. Kind, yes. Honest to a fault. And self-sacrificial. He’d go the distance to help someone out. A heart of gold with a rancher’s singular mindset. A good combination, all told.

  But when he hadn’t called by Thursday, she wondered if she’d made the wrong leap of faith again. She stared at her phone Thursday afternoon, willing it to ring.

  It didn’t. And when Robin wondered what was wrong, she tried to shrug it off and failed.

  “No call, no contact, no nothing? Since Monday?” Robin squared off as if ready to fight for her new friend’s honor. “You left messages?”

  “Several times.”

  “And got no response?”

  Liv sighed, not wanting to talk about it yet longing to share with someone. How funny to be sharing her feelings with Robin Frazier, the one person in town who hadn’t known her backstory with Jack from years before. “I can’t believe I’ve been stupid again.”

  “You haven’t, Liv. You’ve—” Liv’s scowl got Robin to be quiet, but not for long. “I’m shocked. Amazed. And downright angry.”

  Her zeal made Liv smile, despite herself. “Robin. You barely know him. And you can’t be mad at him. He hasn’t done anything except possibly break my heart. Again. I should be used to it by now. Although at least he had a reason the last time. Or so he thought. But this is exactly what he did then, employing ‘radio silence,’ which I now refer to as pouting.”