Sweet Montana Boxed Set 1-5

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Sweet Montana Boxed Set 1-5 Page 34

by Lisa Mondello


  “Trip was close to Levon. He’d been with Trip for a while. He’d tried a few cowboys as replacement but he hasn’t really clicked with anyone else.”

  “Did Levon take a better job?”

  Hunter’s expression grew dark. He grabbed a peanut from the bowl and shelled it. “He was killed last winter.”

  Brody was about to drop a few shelled peanuts into his mouth but stopped abruptly. “Killed?”

  Hunter glanced up at him and then gave him an idle shrug.

  Brody’s eyebrows stretched on his forehead as he stared at his friend. “You are one sick dude to bring me into this, Hunter Williams. You want to hook me up in a job where the former ranch manager was killed after I’ve done time for murder?”

  He said the last part quietly despite the noise in the pub. He didn’t need to broadcast it to the world when it followed him to every new job opportunity he’d had since leaving prison.

  “We both know it was an accident,” Hunter said, glancing around quickly. “I was there. And I know the truth about what went down even if the prosecutor didn’t see it that way and managed to prove otherwise.”

  “Twelve jurors saw it that way too. No one wanted to believe it was an accident.”

  “We don’t have to re-litigate this, do we?”

  “I have no intention of doing that. But I have a feeling my being in Sweet isn’t going to go over too well. People have long memories.”

  “They are forgiving people. I should know. I get a lot of work from them.”

  “Not everyone.”

  Hunter looked down at his hands as he twirled his coffee mug on the table in the wet spot the waitress made when she’d refilled his mug. “I get that. Tara probably won’t be happy. And she will find out. But she’s going to have to get over it one way or another because you did your time.” Hunter leaned forward. “You shouldn’t even have been in prison. But even if you did serve time, everyone deserves a second chance. Everyone. The question is what you want to do with it.”

  It seemed so simple when Hunter said those words. But it was far from easy and Brody knew it.

  He’d spent eighteen months in prison for manslaughter and had six months left on his parole. It had taken a long time for him to shake off the stench of prison and the stigma of his past. He was finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Although he’d been sorry his actions ended up taking a life, he wasn’t sorry that it had stopped Doug Mitchell from taking his sister, Marie’s, life.

  “It was a long time ago, Brody. None of us can change it. We did stupid things. And some of us paid a higher price for it. But this is a chance for a new start.”

  He grabbed another handful of peanuts from the bowl and thought about Hunter’s proposition.

  “I sure hope you’re right.”

  * * *

  Tuesday mornings were always busy. But today was busier than Tara had expected it to be. It was always hard to gauge tourism. But since the late season blizzard that hit Sweet a few weeks ago, killing the start of spring sales, tourism was slow to get started. Tara needed something to jumpstart sales by attracting people out on the street and guide them into her shop to buy gifts or goodies.

  She knew things would pick up next month when the rodeo was in town. But she didn’t want to wait that long. By then, her store might be in financial trouble.

  As far as rodeo venues went, Sweet offered a small but important stop on the rodeo circuit for most bull riders and bronc riders. A week later, the barrel racers would be in town. They wouldn’t be swinging back again until the fall. There would be a lot of foot traffic in town the days leading up to the rodeo and then on the days of the events. But then it would drop off and she’d have to rely on tourism and the locals again.

  Her assistant had a brilliant thought earlier in the week that Tara had decided to implement that morning. Dixie hadn’t been with her very long. But already Tara found working the bakery counter made her workday much easier. And if Dixie’s idea worked out well, she’d be well worth the risk Tara took in taking her on.

  For a long time, Tara had worked Sweet Sensations herself, bouncing from the bakery counter to the novelty shop as people came through the door. But it meant she worked long into the night after the store closed doing books and placing orders. Having Dixie here to give her time during the day allowed her to get some of that work out of the way so she could actually go home and have a life.

  She chuckled at the thought as she placed items that she’d carefully picked from the store shelves and was putting on a display out on the sidewalk. She hadn’t actually achieved a life outside of work. But she’d eventually get the hang of filling in all that extra time.

  Dixie, a part-time college student at the local college, had said that one way to draw people into the shop would be to put up a sign offering free flavored coffee and place a few carts out on the sidewalk with items from the shop to give people who walked by a peek at what they had to offer. Of course, that meant there was a potential for looting or even breakage. But if it got more traffic into the shop, perhaps it would be worth it.

  “I was thinking,” Dixie said as she put this morning’s baked goods into the display case. “You should offer more than just free coffee.”

  “More? I get my biggest margin from selling coffee and I’m already giving it away. If I give away anything more, I won’t make enough money to pay you.”

  Dixie made a comical face that made Tara laugh.

  “I’m serious. I’m not talking about coffee beans or any of the baked goods. I’m just talking about good old-fashioned flavored coffee. If we put a coffeemaker up by the window with a sign that says free coffee and the coffee of the day, people will come in because they can’t resist the smell of it. Then people will come back to try the new coffee flavor. What do you think?”

  Tara thought about it for minute. The idea had merit. It wouldn’t cost a lot. And if it worked, then people would already be inside the shop and their eyes would be drawn to either the bakery or the items in the store where she did most of her business with the summer tourists.

  “I think you’re on to something there, Dixie,” Tara said.

  Dixie laughed. “Good. Does that mean I can have a raise?”

  Tara looked over her shoulder and smiled at the amusement in Dixie’s eyes and face. “You’ve only been here a few weeks. Why don’t we at least wait until you’re here long enough to have a review?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “But I’m already making you money. Just think of how much you’ll make if I’m here the whole summer!”

  Tara couldn’t argue the point. Of course, she didn’t know how this little experiment was going to work. But if it paid off, she might just consider keeping Dixie on after the summer season. She had to admit that in comparing the last few weeks’ numbers with the numbers from the year before, she’d seen an uptick in sales. Dixie had an inviting way about her that the customers responded to. More money, more help, and more time to herself was cause for celebration.

  “Keep the ideas coming. I really do appreciate them. And who knows, you might get me on a good day.”

  Dixie grinned as she continued to put the pastries Norma had dropped off that morning into the display case. Then she shut the door to seal it as she hummed a tune that Tara didn’t recognize, as Tara walked through the store and picked out some items to finish the sidewalk display.

  “Make sure you keep the door open,” Dixie called out.

  “Grab me a door stop,” she said back. “My hands are full.”

  “Will do.”

  Tara pushed through the door to the sidewalk and was about to put the hurricane lamp that read Big Sky Country she’d pulled from the inside table when she glanced across the street.

  Her stomach lurched and she couldn’t believe her eyes. How? She knew Brody Whitebear was out of prison. He hadn’t been in prison for a very long time. She’d gotten the letter from the court stating he’d been paroled. But how in the hell did he think it was okay
to show up in Sweet, Montana where he had to know she lived and had a thriving business?

  Well, the thriving part was a bit over-exaggerated. Sweet Sensations was doing well. But that wasn’t the point. Brody Whitebear was walking on the sidewalk across the street from her domain when he shouldn’t be.

  Anger surged inside of her until her hands began to tremble and she dropped the hurricane lamp to the sidewalk where it crashed into a million pieces at her feet. The noise it made had the people on the street stopping to turn and look at her. Even Brody, who now stood in front of the hardware store, stopped and staring.

  Their eyes met and held for a moment. His expression held none of the surprise she felt inside. She hated this man. He had destroyed three years of her life. And for what? For him to be a free man? Doug wasn’t a free man. Her brother was dead. The injustice of that was too much to bear.

  She turned on her heels and stormed through the shop nearly running as she made her way behind the counter to the back room where she kept a broom and dust pan. When she emerged, Dixie looked at her with bewilderment. The doorstop of a rodeo cowboy on a bronc that Tara had asked Dixie to fetch was in her hand.

  “I will hope that wasn’t a really expensive piece,” she said.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Tara looked down at her hands as she held the broom and dustpan. They were shaking violently. She shoved the broom and dustpan at Dixie. “I’m sorry, but can you clean up that mess I just made on the sidewalk. I don’t know what got over me.”

  With a look of confusion, Dixie placed the doorstop down on the counter and then took the broom and dustpan. “Sure thing, Tara. Are you okay?”

  Tara took in a deep gulp of breath and nodded. “Please hurry. I don’t want anyone to cut themselves on the fragments. And be careful. It was a lot of glass.”

  “Sure.”

  Dixie hurried through the store. Tara heard the bell for the door ring as Dixie disappeared onto the sidewalk and went to her task.

  Tara reached her hand up to the wall and held on for support. This nightmare was never going to end. She thought that she had gotten over what had happened. No, that wasn’t it at all. She was never going to get over what had happened between her brother and Brody Whitebear. But Tara had moved past it. At least she’d thought she had.

  And now Brody was here in Sweet. He’d been standing on the sidewalk right across the street from her shop. It was insane. The only hope of Tara getting any semblance of sanity back would be if Brody turned right around, drove out of Sweet, and never returned.

  Sweet Montana Outlaw: Chapter Two

  If not for one of the taillights in his truck being blown out, Brody wouldn’t have been walking to the hardware store to get a replacement bulb before heading over to the Lone Creek Ranch to meet with the owner for a job interview. He’d thought long and hard about what Hunter said about second chances, and his friend had been right on all counts. He didn’t want to make a bad impression when he met the boss by having a blown out taillight on his truck. Even the smallest of things could give an employer a reason not to hire him.

  He hadn’t counted on seeing Tara Mitchell on his first day in Sweet. Now that he knew where her shop was located, Brody aimed to avoid it as much as he could.

  Tara Mitchell. He was still reeling from seeing her again after so many years. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen hate in her eyes as he had that morning. The first time was at his sentencing, and then a second time at his parole hearing when he’d been freed from prison. Time hadn’t made it any harder to see.

  Of course, Tara had every right to feel the way she did. It may have been an accident, but her brother had been killed during a fight they’d had, something that was unforgivable. Even after all these years, Brody couldn’t justify what had happened beyond the fact that it had stopped the destruction of his sister, Marie’s, life that day.

  Many years had passed since then, but the look Tara had cast him from across the street just punctuated his beliefs that although he done the time, people weren’t going let him forget no matter how many people understood what really happened that day, and why Doug Mitchell ended up dead.

  Brody pulled into the driveway of the Lone Creek Ranch and then parked his truck next to Hunter’s truck. Despite Hunter’s crazy notion, his friend had insisted on introducing him to Trip Taggart, the owner of Lone Creek Ranch, in the hopes of giving Brody gainful employment where it seemed hard to get elsewhere for more than a few months at a time. People got a little twitchy about hiring a convicted murderer, even if it was involuntary manslaughter.

  Hunter poked his head out from the barn just as Brody got out of the truck and slammed the door.

  “You made it,” Hunter said.

  “Was there any doubt?”

  Hunter laughed as he walked over to where Brody was standing by the truck. “When I left you, you insisted I was out of my mind and there was no earthly way I could get you out of here. So yeah, I had a few.”

  A smile pulled at Brody’s face. They’d been friends a long time, long before the craziness out on the reservation had started.

  “So where is Trip?”

  “Up at the house,” Hunter said pointing to the main house. “He’s in his office there. Relax. You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin. It’s not like you’ve never worked on a ranch and gotten your boots full of manure before.”

  “Is that supposed be my pep talk?”

  “It’s what you’re going to get. Don’t worry. Trip is a good guy. If he has any reservations about you at all, and so far he doesn’t given what I’ve told him, you’ll be back in your truck and on the road in five minutes.”

  “What exactly did you tell him?”

  Hunter shrugged. “Everything that matters. I had to. People know Tara Mitchell around here.”

  “And he still wanted to see me?”

  “Just meet the man.” Hunter slapped his hand on the back on Brody’s back. Then the two men started walking, following the brick path along the back of the house to where Trip’s office was located. Trip must’ve heard the two of them talking outside as they walked and met them at the door.

  “I hear you’re looking for a job,” Trip said.

  He was a tall man in his mid to late forties, Brody guessed. And he was strong. He had that look about him, as if he wasn’t afraid to get out of his office and work in the barn or the field if he had to. His thick crop of dark hair was starting to gray and his skin was dark from being in the sun.

  He wasn’t what Brody expected, unlike so many of the ranch owners who’d hired him over the years that had their ranches for show more than business. There were a lot of California rich that came out to Montana to buy up land and put up a pretty house that would cost a fortune in LA. Brody had worked on many of those ranches. But those jobs never lasted. Something expensive, perhaps a watch or a piece of pottery in the house, would go missing and the ranch hands would be the first to be blamed and dismissed. Without final pay, of course.

  That was never a good day because if the owners had wanted to make a fuss about it and call the police, Brody could have easily ended up back in prison. He could live without the lost wages, but he wasn’t going to go back to prison. Not for anyone.

  After a while, Brody wised up to the notion that these big city folks didn’t care much at all about their precious items lost when they could just claim them for insurance money. It made him wonder just how many times a watch or bracelet was “stolen” just for that purpose.

  But no matter. It wasn’t his money, his life, or his business.

  Brody pulled off his cowboy hat as he stepped into Trip’s office in front of Hunter. Then Hunter made quick introductions.

  “Have a seat and we’ll have a talk.”

  Brody walked over to the chairs across from the desk, and sat down in the one by the window and then he looked over at Hunter who was still standing by the door.

  “I guess I’ll just get back to work. I still have two more horses to sho
e before I call it a day,” Hunter said. Then he propped his hat on his head, and strode out the door, closing it behind him.

  Trip sat down behind his desk and got comfortable in the large leather chair. “Let’s get right to it and dispense with the things no one ever wants to talk about,” Trip said.

  “I appreciate that,” Brody answered as a knot in his stomach began to coil and tighten. He knew what was coming next.

  “I know you did time. I also know that it was for something that some people in this town wouldn’t understand because they don’t understand the dark side of life. I won’t pretend to know what truly happened that landed you in prison. But I do know Hunter Williams and I know his past. I’ve known the man a long time, even during his dark days. And despite the troubles he’s had, he’s a fine man. He wouldn’t recommend a ranch hand, much less a ranch manager, to me unless he knew the man was fit for the job, and that he was a man of character.”

  Warmth built up inside him until he was sweating. Brody was never been one for being comfortable with compliments. But hearing the words his friend had obviously used with Trip filled him with gratitude.

  “Not everyone feels the way Hunter does. You should know that.”

  “Hunter is not everyone and neither am I,” Trip said. “But even after he laid out some pretty harsh details, I still wanted him to bring you out so I could meet you.”

  “I appreciate that, sir.”

  Trip chuckled looking down at the blotter with scribble marks on his desk, and then back up at Brody. “Let’s just dispense with the formalities here. You can call me Trip. All the hands do. I know you’d appreciate this job. I’ll appreciate having you here when I know you can do the job.”

  “You’re giving me a chance?”

  “So it seems.” Trip sighed and his expression grew dark. “Understand the boots you fill here are big and they’re deep. Levon… He was a good man, and he was with me for a long time. He was a friend. No doubt you heard of his passing last winter.”

  Brody could see the wound of losing Levon was still raw in Trip. Hunter had explained how Levon was killed by a disgruntled horse breeder who’d felt Levon had cheated him in a deal. Tenterhook, the barrel racing horse in question, was owned by Tabby Swanson, the daughter of a friend of Trip’s whom Trip had taken in when her parents had died. Tenterhook was boarded at the Lone Creek Ranch and had also been hurt, but was now healing.

 

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