Diamonds And Denim (Country Brides & Cowboy Boots)

by Danni Lee Nicholls

  “Trust me, Willow. Jim and I have worked things out for years. It’s the sign of a good relationship. Don’t you fret.”

  A new bloom of hope began to bud within Willow. Maybe there would be a day when she would be wearing Curtis’s ring after all.

  Linda continued, “I haven’t wanted to intrude or make you think I’m trying to take your mom’s place. No one could ever do that. But I hope you know I’ll help you plan in any way you want. In fact, I’d love the opportunity.” She beamed at Willow, and the lines around her eyes crinkled. “After all, you’re going to be my only girl.” She reached her hands out toward Willow.

  Willow took Linda’s roughened palms into her own and smiled with real affection.

  Linda stood. “I should get on home. You’ve got chores, and heaven knows I do too.”

  The two women walked toward the door. “Thank you, Linda,” Willow said.

  Linda pulled Willow into a motherly embrace once they made their way to the truck. With a final wave, Willow watched as Linda turned around in the lot and headed toward the road.

  Moving back to the barn, Willow grabbed the pitchfork and hurried to Michigan’s stall, where she stabbed at the soiled horse bedding with new frustration. The horse moved out of her way.

  Why did everyone think her business was their business? The gossip train and the judgment caboose seemed to be pulling out of the Sunrise Creek on a daily basis. Couldn’t she have a friend without someone tattling on her?

  She pushed the pitchfork into the sodden sawdust. “Ugh!”

  She straightened at the slight nickering of Michigan, who nosed her shoulder. Willow put the pitchfork against the wall and went to Michigan. The horse moved his nose into Willow’s chest as she ran her hands over his neck.

  She missed her mom and her gentle way. She missed Mick too, but with that realization came a shadowed fact. Somewhere, in all those long years she had spent away from Curtis, she had quit missing him.

  Chapter 24

  Four days later, Willow was cleaning the chicken coop. She didn’t mind the work. She liked it, actually. There was something satisfying about knowing that her hens were warm and dry in fresh straw and shavings, and it kept her mind from dancing around her refusal of Curtis’s offer or marriage.

  With the chickens clucking around her, Willow spread their clean bedding when her phone chimed. She pulled it from her pocket, hoping for a message from Curtis, although since the proposal, they hadn’t talked. Instead, she was surprised to see a text from Shorty, telling her there was a letter on the kitchen table and dinner was in the refrigerator.

  Willow furrowed her brow. What in heaven’s name could Shorty have to say that he couldn’t just tell her? Spreading one more flake of straw, Willow brushed her hands together before heading back to the house. The letter lay on the kitchen table in a plain white envelope. Opening it, she pulled out one sheet of paper with words formed in Shorty’s masculine hand. Willow read the first sentence as alarm spread through her.

  Shorty had quit! He explained that there was enough food in the freezer for the next couple of months, which should give her the necessary time for her to hire a new cook.

  Willow’s mouth fell open as she devoured the rest of Shorty’s words. He apologized for not speaking to her directly, but he knew she would not accept his resignation, and it would’ve been a difficult conversation. Desperately, she read the letter again, looking Shorty’s reason for quitting. None was given.

  It didn’t take Willow long to read between the lines. Curtis had something to do with this. Tears of anger, hurt, and frustration filled Willow’s eyes as she rushed back to the barn to find her father. She placed the letter in his hands. “Did you know about this?!”

  Her father scanned the note. Willow read the shock as it came into her father’s face, bolstering her own theory of what had happened. “No. He never said a word about it to me. What would make him do such a thing? He’s been with this family since you were three. Your mother—”

  Willow looked up at her dad, expectantly.

  “Your mother would not accept this,” he said.

  “Well, I won’t either.” Willow snatched the letter from her father’s hand, anger bubbling over the surface of her manners. “You know why he did this, don’t you?”

  Her father looked clueless.

  Willow’s impatience grew, and she shook the letter in her fist. “It’s because of Curtis! Curtis has wanted him to quit. He tried to talk to me about it the night he came home, and we argued when he was here last summer. Shorty knew about that. He’s quitting to make things easier, but I won’t allow it. Shorty is part of this family, and Curtis—” Willow sputtered. “Curtis is not!”

  “Now, Willow,” her father began.

  “Don’t you ‘now, Willow’ me, Daddy! Don’t you see? Do you agree with this?”

  “No. I don’t agree. I think Shorty should’ve come and talked to us before taking off, but he made a choice, and I’m not going to get between a man and his choices. Especially a choice that didn’t include me.”

  White-hot fury boiled inside of Willow. “I’m going to go get him and bring him home.”

  “But you don’t know where Shorty is.”

  Willow blinked and read the note again. Shorty had given no indication as to where he would be working. Giving her father a look of desperation, Willow ran to the bunkhouse and flung open the door. Everything that belonged to Shorty was gone. Hurrying to the kitchen, she found it in perfect condition, as if waiting for him to return.

  Pulling out her phone, Willow punched Shorty’s number on her screen, but it went to his voice mail with a recording asking her to leave a message. She opened her mouth to speak, but then changed her mind. Hanging up, she dialed a new set of numbers. Curtis answered the phone.

  “Where’s Shorty?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” Curtis sounded genuinely puzzled.

  “Did you know he was quitting?”

  “No! He quit?! Just like that?”

  “Yeah, just like that.”

  “Well, that sure makes things easier, don’t you think?”

  Willow’s earlier rage exploded. “Easier for who, Curtis? You may not have fired him, but he quit because of you. He knew you wanted him out of here, so he just quietly took care of it.”

  Curtis’s tone was even and calm. “I know this is hard for you to see, Willow, but in the long run, he did you a huge favor. It’ll be less expense for the ranch, and Shorty won’t have any trouble finding another job. Where has he gone to?”

  “I have no idea!” Willow yelled in the face of Curtis’s composure.

  “Don’t worry. He’ll surface in a week or two,” Curtis said casually.

  Willow closed her eyes and leaned against the wall as grief spilled inside. Shorty’s departure opened that yawning pit that she hoped to never see again. Another loss. After a while, they all led to that same black abyss of pain.

  Curtis continued, “Look, I know this is hard for you. I know he’s been in your life since you were a little girl, but Willow, you’re grown-up now, and there’s absolutely no reason to keep a cook around during the off-season on a ranch as small as ours.”

  Ours? Was Curtis comparing the Double W to his family’s ranch, the Triangle 4? Or did his words carry a different meaning? Willow pursed her lips together in order to keep words from flying out of her mouth. She didn’t want to say anything she would regret while in this heat of anger. It was why she refused to leave a message on Shorty’s phone. What could she possibly say that wouldn’t be infused with the hurt of abandonment and temper? She could at least offer the same civility to Curtis.

  “I need to go now, Curtis,” she said evenly.

  “I’ll be there in a little while,” Curtis said. “I’m coming in from town. We can talk more about it then.”

  “No. In fact, I think I’d prefer not to see you tonight.” Willow’s voice took an unnatural dead calm.

  “Willow—”

  The c
alm spread through her like a cold wind. “Really, Curtis. I’ll call you in the morning.” She could hear him protesting as she pressed the red button on her phone that disconnected them.

  Willow took a deep breath as she looked over the fading light. Purple twilight edged the sky, creating a halo for the mountains and valley. The frosty November moon rose in the east, as big as a dinner plate and the color of amber gold.

  Placing her phone back into her pocket, Willow turned to face the moon. The desire for Mick that she’d fought since his departure came back to her now, whispering in her need for understanding and comfort. Somehow, he would know the importance of having Shorty near and the jarring shock of his departure. Even though Mick hadn’t known Shorty for long, his feelings toward the old cook were warmer than Curtis’s.

  Tears flooded her eyes and the moon blurred out of focus. She wiped her cheeks, allowing the beauty of the evening to pull her in. “I wish Mick could see this,” she murmured. But she also wished for more. She wished for him to be standing beside her and offering her comfort in his whispered embrace. Ever since he’d left, she tried not to think about that October afternoon when he’d cupped her face in the warmth of his palm and breathed her name like a reverent prayer. The memory raced at her so fast it took her breath away in the still, cold, and clear afterglow of the day.

  A coyote yipped in the distance, bringing Willow back to the present moment. She pulled out her phone and reread the text Mick had sent days ago with the picture of the Olympic Mountains and Puget Sound. Just one touch, and she could connect with him, hear his voice and listen to his adventures. She could tell him about Shorty. He would understand, even if no one else did. Just one touch.

  She shook that desire away. Mick was with Simone now.

  Willow pushed the power button to her phone and it blinked off. Swallowing hard, she put the phone back into the pocket of her jeans and looked at the moon, which had risen over the mountains, growing smaller but brighter in the deepening night. Letting out a heavy sigh, Willow closed her eyes against the lengthening evening and took a deep breath, pushing out thoughts of Mick to the cold mountain air.

  Curtis was right. Shorty would eventually show up. After he got settled in his new job, he would get in touch. But that was the only thing Curtis had gotten right, and there were several things he’d gotten wrong. Shorty’s absence was not better for the ranch. After all, she was part of the ranch, and Shorty’s absence was not better for her.

  Turning away from the moon, Willow walked toward the house, her hot anger coming against the cool breath of the evening. Curtis had put more than his share of muscle and effort into this ranch, but did that mean she owed him its future as well as her own? No. She was not beholden to Curtis.

  The cooling autumn breeze soothed Willow’s fury along with the revealing of this truth. The Double W was her and her father’s responsibility, and someday she would need to tell Curtis that very thing.

  Settling onto the back deck, she looked over the darkening sky and the shy appearance of the stars. With the full moon, the stars wouldn’t be as visible. But even though Willow couldn’t see them, she knew they were there—just like her mother’s love, and just like Mick, who would, within the hour, be sharing in the same moonlight that spilled over her and her land.

  Chapter 25

  The following evening, Willow pulled the flat-bed truck into the pasture and turned off the engine. It was snowing hard, and the bed of the truck was loaded with hay. Willow didn’t like needing to feed the herd so early in the season. She would’ve preferred to wait at least another two weeks, but with the early snows, she didn’t have much of a choice.

  Pushing open the heavy door of the vehicle, Willow stepped out and was greeted by a snappy wind that blew fitful snow. Pilot followed her and rounded the truck. Climbing the bales, Willow cut the strings holding the hay together and began pushing it out to the herd. After releasing a couple of bales over the side of the truck, Willow stood from her stooped position just in time to see Pilot stop to sniff something on the ground, his nose rubbing against the hind leg of a cow.

  The kick happened in one swift motion, and before Willow could blink, Pilot was lying in the hay, gasping for air and pawing the ground. Willow rushed to Pilot’s side and picked him up. The dog’s legs stopped all motion and his body went limp, his weight draped across her arms, lifeless yet still warm. Panic and fear flooded Willow as her heart slammed against her ribs. With cold slick despair, she laid Pilot across the seat of the truck before ramming it into gear and rushing out of the pasture and onto Three Dog Road. Her first call was to the vet, Dr. Carson Forbes, telling the receptionist to expect them in twenty minutes.

  “Drive safe,” Morgan said. “You’ll just be delayed if you have a spinout. Be careful.”

  Willow took a deep and shaky breath. “You’re right. Okay. I’ll be there soon,” she said without lessening her speed. She called her dad and told him what had happened and asked him to please grab hay from the barn and finish the feeding. She told him the gate was wide open. While driving, Willow took off her jacket and placed it over Pilot, who was as still as a rag doll. His eyes were glassy and he stared straight ahead without seeing. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth and his breathing came in short gasps.

  “It’s shock, Pilot. Just shock. Don’t die on me. Please don’t die. It’s just shock,” she repeated in a whisper during the whole drive as her own shallowed breath rose into throat with dread.

  Pulling into Dr. Carson’s office, Willow honked the horn before running to the passenger’s side of the truck. Dr. Carson and Morgan met Willow with a gurney, and after gently transferring Pilot, they all hurried into the office as the snow picked up its pace.

  “What happened?” Dr. Carson asked as they hurried into the warm office.

  Willow’s voice was shaking, as were her hands. “He got kicked by a cow.”

  “Did you see the kick?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where did it land?”

  “In the chest.” Willow was breathless.

  “Wait here. We’re going to need get him stabilized, and then we’ll go from there.”

  Dr. Carson and Morgan left the room with Pilot on the gurney between them, while Willow sat on the little bench against the wall and put her head in her hand, her nerves jumping like firecrackers. She had to move. Standing, she began to pace the small waiting room. “Don’t die, Pilot. Please don’t die,” she chanted in a whispered prayer of hope and worry with each piercing inhalation.

  Tears came to her eyes, and she reached for her phone. She couldn’t give her dad an update. She really didn’t know anything, and Curtis wouldn’t care all that much. Ruby would come sit with her, but Willow really didn’t want company. She wanted … She pushed that thought away, but it persisted in its demand. She wanted Mick. Willow put her phone away and continued to pace, her misery and anxiety mounting with each step.

  Dr. Carson entered the waiting room. His blue flannel shirt was open at the throat and his jeans were worn thin at the knees. “We’ve got him stabilized, but he isn’t out of the woods. In fact, this is pretty serious, Willow.”

  The tears that were threatening spilled onto her cheeks. “How serious?” Her voice cracked with fear and panic.

  “We’ve got an IV running now, and he’s on oxygen to help support his oxygen function. We’re also treating him for shock. If we continue with treatment, I’ll start with an X-ray to check for broken bones and to get a peek at his lungs. If that doesn’t give me all the information I need, I may have to do an ultrasound.”

  Willow closed her eyes as competing emotions battled within her. Country vets often didn’t get paid for their services, and she knew Dr. Carson would be concerned about the money. Her family had always paid for vet services, but would her dad want to pay for Pilot, especially if it outranked the cost of what a cow was worth? She hated having to think of money, but with the early snows and always running on a shoestring, it was something she needed t
o consider. Her whole body quivered with dread. “How much is all of this going to cost?”

  “Well, depending on what else is wrong, it could be around eighteen hundred.”

  Willow swallowed. “Do we have a few minutes for me to make a couple of phone calls?”

  Dr. Carson nodded. “Yes. Pilot is stable now.” He gave Willow a sympathetic look. “I completely understand your dilemma.”

  Willow nodded as Dr. Carson walked from the room.

  Willow’s breath came in sharp gasps as she rushed outside. She needed to call her dad, and she should at least inform Curtis, but why? He didn’t really care for Pilot. As if by instinct, her fingers dialed Mick’s number. All of her barriers keeping Mick out of her life now lay on a gurney in a vet’s office.

  “Hello?”

  Willow couldn’t speak. Tears were coming too fast, and she brushed them away as they turned cold on her cheeks.

  “Willow, are you there?” Mick probed.

  Willow sniffled and took her first deep breath. “Yeah. I’m here.”

  “Hey, what’s the matter? You don’t sound good.”

  Willow let out a cracked sob. “It’s Pilot,” she cried. Through her tears, she explained what had happened.

  “You’re at the vet’s office now?” Mick asked.

  “Uh-huh,” Willow sniffled.

  “Tell them to go ahead with treatment.”

  “But—”

  “Just tell them. I’ll cover it.”

  Willow stopped crying and sucked in her breath. “I didn’t call you for a handout,” she said, backtracking. “And I know you’re barely scraping by as it is. You can’t afford this, and Pilot isn’t yours. I just needed …” What did she need? She shifted the conversation. “You can’t do this.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I can, and I will,” Mick said.

  Willow’s thoughts began to spin, and she leaned against the truck. Dear, sweet Mick. He was offering her a lifeline.