His Montana Sweetheart (Big Sky Centennial Book 2)

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “If the description fits,” Robin growled, clearly upset for her new friend. “I don’t get it.” She stormed around the cell-size space, trying to keep her voice down and failing.

  Great. Now the entire town would be privy to Liv’s romantic foibles again. Three swings at love? And three strikes. She was “out” now, by anyone’s game. Time for a change of subject. Past time, actually. “Did you find anything in your searches that would indicate why our blonde, husband-hunting, ice-cream-counter girl might be involved in the disappearance of the capsule?”

  “Nothing.” Robin shook her head and made a face. “Lilibeth might have Available for Marriage stamped on her forehead, but Capsule Thief?” She negated that thought instantly. “No way.”

  At least they were in full agreement on that score.

  Liv mentally scanned her choices as packed up for the day. Should she ride out to the ranch and take care of the horses? She’d made a promise, but after days of not hearing from Jack—and thinking she might run into him and how awkward that would be—it made her second-guess the task at hand. But a promise was a promise. Even so, she wouldn’t deny the apprehension building inside as the days slid silently by. Memories converged, mounting an attack on her trust, her newfound faith, her already damaged ego. Could he be doing the same thing again? The signs pointed to yes.

  Would he?

  Her heart said no, but she hadn’t been able to trust her heart for a long time.

  Go see him. Force the confrontation. Get it over with, once and for all.

  The stern voice within didn’t want to be shushed, but Liv hushed it anyway. She didn’t want a confrontation. She didn’t want drama. She wanted sweet old-fashioned faith, hope and love.

  She drove to the ranch, uncertain about a lot of things, but sure of one: she was in love with Jack McGuire and this time she’d stick to her guns. No knee-jerk replacements, no foiled attempts at love. She’d learned that lesson the hard way, but she’d learned it and had no desire to repeat the painful process. Although at least last time they’d had the gift of distance to lessen the pain. Now, with her new job as the museum curator?

  Her worst fears had come true, that Jack would dump her and they’d be stuck in the same town together, nodding politely when they passed on the street.

  Grim, she aimed the car for the Double M, determined to get on with things, one way or another. And if she ran into Jack McGuire there?

  Homicide might not be ruled out.

  * * *

  Jack tapped on Liv and Robin’s closet-turned-office door a few minutes later that afternoon. When he poked his head in, there was no sign of Liv. Disappointment nailed him, which meant his decision to let her find her own way wasn’t sitting well. “Robin? Is Liv here?”

  Robin looked surprised to see Jack when she first turned around. And then?

  Oh, then she looked downright aggravated as she marched across the narrow room, her eyes boring into his. “Shame on you, Jack McGuire. Shame, shame, shame!”

  “Huh?” He pulled back, surprised, amazed and not a little worried because Robin’s face said she was ready to do battle and he was the only other combatant in the room.

  “Leading a nice girl like Livvie on, getting her all excited over falling in love with you, wanting to be with you, have sweet little babies with you and then you go and do this!”

  Him? Livvie? Babies? “Robin. Slow down. What in the name of Sam Hill are you talkin’ about, woman?”

  “Olivia Franklin, that’s what I’m talking about!”

  “Shh.” Jack grimaced, turned and shut the door behind him, but he was pretty sure the dead silence from the front desk of the town offices meant all ears were tuned to their rather loud conversation. Which meant they needed to tone it down. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You don’t?” She came right up to him and raised her hand in the air, her gaze locked with his as she popped her fingers up, one by one. “You take a girl out, get her all moony-eyed over your ranch, buy her a horse, let her play with puppies, and then, after she’s helped you put together a great hometown baseball game geared toward a good cause, you turn tail and run. That’s what, Jack McGuire. And if you’re not ashamed of yourself—” she folded her arms across her chest and tapped one ominous foot on the floor, tap, tap, tap “—I’m ashamed enough for both of us and I barely know you.”

  “That would have been my next point,” Jack muttered, scrubbing a hand to his neck. “Listen, Robin, I know you mean well, but it’s not like that with me and Liv. I mean, I thought it was. I hoped it was. But then she got this really good job in the city, and what kind of guy holds a woman back from an opportunity like that? What kind of a jerk do you think I am?”

  “Job? What job?”

  So she didn’t know, either. Jack hauled in a breath and came clean. “Liv got a job at the Bozeman campus of Montana State University. On Monday.”

  “Who told you this?” Robin studied his face as he answered, and he was pretty sure the ponytailed blonde might have missed her calling. Surely the FBI could use another skilled interrogator.

  “Her grandmother.”

  “Ah.” The toe resumed tapping, but not as slow and threatening as it had been before. This tap was a little more rhythmic and snappy. “So you took the word of a somewhat rattled septuagenarian and wrote Liv off without talking to her, asking her questions or approaching her in any way, shape or form. Is that how Western guys do it? Because no wonder it takes you guys forever to find a wife.”

  “Hey, I—” Jack stopped, replayed the conversation in his head, then angled his chin down. “Do you mean she didn’t get the job offer?”

  “Of course she did, you big dork, they’d have been crazy not to offer her a position with a résumé like hers.”

  “Then, I don’t—”

  Robin refused to give him a chance to finish. “They offered. Liv turned it down.”

  “She... Say what?”

  “She refused their offer. She apologized for wasting their time and said she needed to stay in Jasper Gulch for a while. That she had unfinished business here. Namely, you, I think, but she didn’t say that to the department head. At least not outright.”

  “She refused the job.” The thought of Liv turning down a good job like that spurred a mix of emotions, but in the end, joy won out. “She’s staying here? Really?”

  “A fact you’d know if you got your head out of the pasture and talked to her. Are all cowboys this addled and dense?” she wondered aloud, but a growing smile took some bite out of her words. “Because if this is the norm—” she pointed to him and her voice said it wasn’t exactly a compliment “—I’m steering clear of cowboys once and for all.”

  “Where is she now?” he asked. He glanced at his watch and frowned. “She’s at my place, isn’t she?”

  “Very Shakespearean, star-crossed lovers, complete with the melodrama we all know and love,” Robin told him. “Yes, she’s there taking care of your animals and probably fit to be tied because you’ve been ignoring her for days.”

  “Well, that’s over,” Jack promised. He reached out and hugged a very surprised Robin, then turned and hurried out the door. “I’m heading home.”

  * * *

  He pulled into the yard abutting the near barn just as Liv approached her car. She looked up. Saw him. And the look on her face, the expression of angst and sadness, rolled into one, made him want to beat himself up. He came to a stop just shy of her car and bounded out of the truck. He closed the distance between them in record speed and grabbed two very surprised hands in his. “You’re staying.”

  Liv stared up at him, pulled her hands free and rounded the side of the car. “Actually, I’m going home to make supper for Grandma and Grandpa.” She started to climb into the driver’s seat, but Jack stepped between her and the car.

 
“I mean here. You’re staying in Jasper Gulch.”

  Liv looked up again, and her expression said this wasn’t news. “That’s been the intent right along, hasn’t it?”

  “Wait, stop, Liv. Talk to me. Didn’t you go to Bozeman on Monday for a job interview?”

  She nodded and shrugged. “For a job I decided I didn’t want and shouldn’t have applied for.”

  “You turned down their offer.”

  A slow look of awareness deepened the light blue of her eyes to a stormy gray. “You thought I was leaving.”

  “Your grandmother said you were leaving, taking a job in Bozeman.”

  Liv’s gaze cut through him. “You thought I was leaving and so you ignored me for three long days. Three very long days.”

  “Liv, I—” He jumped in, ready to explain about the bad check and his lack of faith, but she cut him off right sharp.

  “Don’t.” She put up a hand, palm out, fingers splayed, a clear stop sign. “You didn’t trust me enough to ask, or care enough to consider a long-distance relationship. You took it upon yourself to pout and get angry all over again, and Jack?” She turned her attention toward the ranch, the horses, the distant trees, hills and mountains and shook her head. “I can’t do this. I can’t deal with your lack of trust. I get that life hands out disappointments, but I thought you grew up. I thought we grew up. Looks like I was wrong.” She pointed left, giving him no choice but to move out of the way, because she was right.

  He’d reacted without giving her a chance to explain herself and all because he’d taken a financial blow. He’d jumped to conclusions, wishing she’d stay, then deciding he had nothing of import to offer a smart, educated woman like her because he was mad at himself again.

  She got into the car, shaking her head, her features rigid.

  He’d hurt her. He’d made assumptions and acted on them, and that wasn’t husband material. That was lack of faith talking. In himself and in God’s timing. And that lack of faith might have just cost him the most precious thing in the world, again.

  Olivia Franklin.

  * * *

  Heat lightning sparked along the distant mountains. Jagged flashes crimped the federal-blue sky, the light casting shades of gray in its wake.

  Jack thought she was going. He’d assumed the worst and instead of talking to her, facing her, he’d tucked tail and crawled into his hermit-rancher cave, much as he’d done before.

  Liv’s heart broke all over again. She’d felt so good being here. Whole. Alive. And she’d blossomed in the light of a growing faith, a hope that sprang from within. God’s hope.

  She didn’t feel very hopeful now. Angry?

  Yes.

  Disappointed?

  Check!

  Miserable?

  She stuck her lower lip out, much like little Chrissy had done in church, then drew it back in when the resemblance seemed too obvious.

  She’d done a lot of growing lately, but not enough, it seemed. Because right now she wanted to throw one of those little-kid hissy fits, stomp her feet, fold her arms across her chest and scowl.

  She didn’t.

  Instead, she turned the car left, headed for the wood-and-stone church, parked, climbed out and tried the door, fully expecting it to be locked at suppertime on a Thursday.

  The church door swung open easily. The scent of old wood and new oil teased her senses. She crept in, found the pew she’d shared with Jack, sank down and prayed. She prayed for understanding. For faith. For wisdom, because she hadn’t felt all that smart of late. And when she was done praying, she sat quietly, seeping in the silence, letting peace flow through her.

  She was a child of God, a princess of the Most High King. No matter what happened with her and Jack, she’d done the right thing turning down the teaching position. Being here, working in the museum she helped raise money for, felt right. She could assist with Grandpa. Give Grandma some much-needed free time. And she could get to know her grandparents all over again. This time, she’d accept God’s time and use it wisely.

  She stood to leave as a handful of choir members came in the back entrance. They smiled at her. One of the older fellows removed his cap, the old-style dignity a sweet pleasure. “Good day, Miss Livvie.”

  “And to you.” She eased out the door, into the light of an oblique sun, the days growing shorter as August wound down. She breathed deep, squared her shoulders and headed home, ready to begin this new stage of her life, letting God’s light brighten her way.

  She’d turned down a good-paying job, committed herself to being in Jasper Gulch and lost the man she loved, but with God’s help, she’d turn it all around.

  Although the thought of being a town spinster didn’t sit well, so she pushed that image aside and went home. She had work to do tomorrow, and then the big game on Saturday.

  A game with Jack, surrounded by baseball. Fun.

  Liv ignored the droll tone of her conscience and decided she would have fun. If nothing else, she was helping the town she loved, and for that reason alone, she’d plant a smile on her face and work the game she’d planned at his side.

  Only, she’d work it without acknowledging Jack McGuire’s presence on the planet, very Austen friendly. That realization meant she might need a little more faith formation in the forgiveness area. And she’d be happy to work on that, after Saturday’s game.

  * * *

  You blew it. Again.

  The harsh scolding from Jack’s conscience was nothing he didn’t already know.

  What was wrong with him? What was he thinking, going off half-cocked over something as simple as money?

  In your defense, it wasn’t exactly pocket change.

  Jack shrugged off the lame excuse. Twenty grand was significant funding, but the money wasn’t the problem.

  He was the problem.

  He strode across the gravel drive, fingers twitching, longing for forgiveness—and a fight.

  Blue yipped from the kennel on the back porch. Jack tried to ignore the pup’s whine, but the little fellow fussed again, scraping the front of his cage with tiny paws, needing to have a run around the yard.

  Jack changed direction, moved to the porch and released the little heeler from the dog-training crate. “Come on out here, boy.”

  The pup didn’t need encouragement. He bounded down the steps after Jack, scurrying about, spinning here and there, sniffing possible target areas, anxious until he’d taken care of the necessities of puppy life. Then he came and sat at Jack’s feet, his mottled face upturned, tongue out, panting happy emotion, his tiny tail thumping a beat of pure love.

  Mick pulled in just then. He rolled to a stop, saw Jack and the pup, and smiled. “I was thinking he’d need a spell around the yard about now and didn’t know you were here. Hey, Blue.”

  The pup dashed toward Mick, thrilled to have both men on board. Mick picked up the puppy, cradled him and eyed Jack. “You’ve looked better.”

  Jack grimaced because he knew it was true.

  “And I passed Livvie’s car on my way here, so I’m guessing you’re in the doghouse for something.”

  “I think it’s beyond the doghouse,” Jack admitted. “She pretty much wants to be done with me.”

  “Well, we men aren’t the brightest creatures in the world,” Mick acknowledged as he smoothed one hand across the pup’s head and back. “And we mess up continually. Somehow we manage to put other things first, in front of our women. Your mother wasn’t afraid to call me on it. Fairly often.”

  Jack cringed. “So it’s a family trait? Great.”

  Mick laughed. “Some of us learn faster than others. What did you do?”

  “Acted stupid. She had a chance at a big job in Bozeman and I thought staying here with a guy like me would be unfair, so I backed off.”

 
“You wanted the best for her.” Mick shrugged one shoulder, considering Jack’s words. “Nothing wrong with that, Jack. But when we try to make decisions for women, deciding what’s in their best interests? That’s when we stir up a pot of trouble.” He set Blue down, gave a whistle and moved toward the back barn. “I’m going to let him run around out back a bit. I’m having supper at Carrie’s tonight with the kids, so you’re on your own.”

  On his own. Alone, again. Because he’d done exactly what his father said, he’d made decisions for Liv while mad at himself.

  When would he grow up, for real? Learn to trust God, trust Livvie, trust that life would work itself out?

  Dilly padded across the corral, a light breeze sifting the horse’s mane as he moved. He tossed his head, showing off, a sure sign of improved health and humor. The neglected steed had come back to life under Livvie’s gentle, skilled hands, her patient nature. Her proficiency on the ranch was right before him, in plain sight. Why hadn’t he weighed the importance of that, how she loved being here? Working here? Getting dirty right alongside him?

  Love is patient, love is kind...

  The popular verse from Corinthians made Jack rethink his actions.

  He’d been so proud of his baseball career, his successes. When his injury stopped them cold, he reacted badly. When his mother passed away, he kept himself to the ranch, running herd and working off his grief in silence. And when he realized he’d made a bad risk on a twenty-thousand-dollar debt, he’d tucked tail again, not wanting Liv tied to a failure.

  Love is patient, love is kind...

  He hadn’t been patient or kind. He’d been quietly foul-tempered, ready to pack his toys and go home like a spoiled kid, refusing to look at the big picture. His mother used to look at the good and bad in life, shrug and say, “And this, too, will pass.”

  He needed to do that more often. Accept the bad times, enjoy the good and deal with life like a responsible adult. Like Livvie, he realized, and that deepened his regret.

  He moved to the house, determined to make it up to her, someway, somehow. If he needed to grovel, he’d grovel. If he needed to beg, well...