Good Together

by C. J. Carmichael

  In the evenings, a few tables were pushed together to make room for live musicians, who played for free, just for the practice and exposure. Then she and Noah would dance, sneaking out back every now and then for the beer that they were both officially too young to drink.

  They made out some, too. Portia had made it clear that she was only willing to go so far—and Noah seemed, if not happy, at least resigned.

  She wasn’t sure how much longer that would last, which was a worry, because she didn’t think she could come here on her own. It was such a cool place, it made Portia wish she had some sort of artistic talent. Though, she did think she could paint as well as most of the artists who hung out here.

  “I’m getting the evil eye again,” Noah said, getting up from his chair. “I’ve got to go load up the dishwasher and stuff.”

  “Me, too.” Jared, who’d had his arm around Kirsten, while they whispered and laughed in the corner, pushed back his chair, the legs scraping obnoxiously on the wooden floor. “I’ll be back in a bit. You’ll still be here?”

  “We will,” Kirsten promised. She kept her eyes on the guys until they’d disappeared behind the curtain that closed off the kitchen from the rest of the café, then turned to Portia and gave her a big smile. “Aren’t they yummy? Soooo cute.”

  Portia nodded. Jared reminded her of the guy who played Arrow on TV. He had short brown hair, nice features, and a muscle-builder’s body. Both guys went to the gym almost every day. Plus they were obsessed about these green smoothies that tasted to Portia like blended grass.

  “My Mom would kill me if she knew I cut classes two days in a row.” Kirsten’s eyes were bright as she leaned forward conspiratorially.

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “It feels good to me. I don’t know what your life was like before college, but for me every hour was filled with school, or activities, or tutoring. I had to account for where I was every minute of the day. To go from that, to this—perfect freedom—is just amazing.”

  “It is.” She and her sister hadn’t had crazy schedules, but their mother had been the kind who always wanted to know where they were. Her mother wouldn’t be angry if she could see her now. She’d be disappointed.

  Portia glanced around the room, seeking some sort of distraction. The reason she was here was to forget about her family problems. And being reminded of her mom didn’t help. “I’m going upstairs to see how that girl is coming along with her picture of that turtle.” One of the artists was working on a life-sized water color of a sea turtle she’d seen on a vacation to Maui. It was Portia’s favorite and she could hardly wait for it to be completed.

  “I’ll let you know if the guys get a break,” Kirsten said, staying in her seat.

  Portia took the stairs slowly, her exhaustion catching up to her. She hadn’t slept well at home and even worse since she’d arrived back in Seattle. It seemed that no matter how late she stayed out at night, she still couldn’t fall asleep once she went to bed. Last night she’d made the mistake of phoning her sister around two in the morning.

  “Wren? I can’t sleep.”

  “What are you doing calling me at this hour? I have to get up for class in four hours.”

  “Oh, God. Are you still going to classes? How can you concentrate?”

  “My classes are the only thing keeping me sane right now.” Her sister had paused, then asked, “Are you skipping class?”

  “Of course not,” Portia had lied. It just figured, didn’t it, that her brainy sister would react to the breakup of their parents by studying even harder than she had before. Wren was going to end up with stellar grades, while she’d probably get kicked out of college before Christmas.

  “Have you heard from Dad?” she asked.

  “No.”

  Portia could tell that Wren was hurt by this, as well. “What do you think is going on? Has he forgotten about all of us?”

  “No,” Wren was quick to answer. “I think he’s going through some weird stuff. He’s probably afraid we’ll be on Mom’s side and give him a hard time. Which is probably true. I totally feel like giving him hell. But—”

  “He’s still our dad,” Portia had whispered, holding her phone with both hands, curled up under her covers, and remembering all the times he’d tucked her in when she’d been a child. Their father had been away a lot.

  But he’d also been home a lot too.

  She’d sighed, then. “I hope he calls me soon.”

  “Me, too. Go to sleep now Portia.”

  The line had gone dead, but Portia had lain awake for hours, staring out her window and wishing she could see the moon and the stars the way she could from her bed at home.

  * * *

  Wednesday morning Mattie had just finished her breakfast when she heard a rig pull into the yard. Actually Tuff heard the rumbling first. She let out one sharp bark, then ran from the front door to the side one, clearly wanting to be let out.

  “Oh no, you don’t. You’re staying in here where you can’t be run over.” Mattie passed her a chew toy and pointed to the dog pillow by the back window. It was Tuff’s favorite place to rest, because all she had to do was lift her head and she could see everything happening in the back yard.

  After this morning’s chores, Tuff had been reluctant to leave the barn and come back to the house. She was only four months old and already she was showing signs of being a good ranch dog. But Mattie could hardly be pleased about that when she wasn’t sure she would even be living on a ranch one year from now.

  Mattie paused by the window herself, watching the progress of a silver and white half-ton pulling a two-horse trailer, the kind with living quarters attached. The driver went about as close to the barn as he could get, then climbed out of the cab and took a big stretch.

  She recognized him. Tip Duvall was an up-and-coming star in the steer wrestling world. A little shorter than Wes, he had the ideal build for a cowboy—compact, wiry and solid muscle. Three years ago, Wes had pointed out the young rookie to her, saying he was going to be one of the best in the business in five years. Tip was well on the way to proving Wes correct. In fact, in every rodeo they’d been at together this year, Tip had scored much higher than Wes.

  With a heavy heart, Mattie went to the mudroom to layer up. The temperature today was just below freezing—a lot warmer than when she and Nat had made their impromptu road trip to Billings. She hadn’t heard from him in the two days since. Several times she’d wanted to call, to hear his warm, reassuring voice. But she resisted. The boundaries of their long-time friendship were shifting and she was nervous about pushing them too far.

  Besides, she had to learn to stand on her own two feet.

  Outside, she stuck her gloved hands deep into the pockets of her parka. Sun glinted off the frothy mounds of fresh snow, making her wish she’d remembered her sunglasses.

  Tip watched her approach, his stance displaying the bow in his legs common to most men who spent a lot of time on horses. It had been a few years since Wes had introduced her, but he acted like he remembered her well.

  “’Morning, Mattie. It’s good to see you again.” He gave her a smile with his handshake.

  “Hey, Tip. You’ve had a good year.” He’d come very close to qualifying for the Wrangler National Finals scheduled for mid-December. It was an accomplishment Wes had never achieved. Only the most talented and dedicated cowboys—those willing to be on the road almost all year long—had a shot at it.

  “Thanks. Next year I hope to make the Finals with Whiskey Chaser.

  “He’s a good horse,” Mattie agreed. So, down to business already. She still couldn’t believe Wes was giving up his beautiful golden quarter horse. Much as she hated this transaction, she felt obliged to be hospitable. “Are you hungry? I have coffee ready in the house. And muffins in the freezer I could thaw in the microwave.”

  “I’m fine. Thank you, though. Is your barn warm? We could do our paperwork there and not need to take off our boots.”

  “Su
re.” She led the way, sliding the door open for him, then feeling a rush of pride as he let out a whistle.

  “Now this is what I call a horse barn.” He glanced inside one of the empty stalls, then admired the parade of blue and red ribbons running down the aisles. “Is this the arena back here?”

  She nodded. “Go ahead and take a look.”

  He slid the door open and stepped into the dirt-packed arena where the Bishops had trained and worked their Tennessee Walkers for many decades. “Very impressive.”

  “This barn was built thirty years ago and it’s still in excellent shape. I brought Whiskey Chaser in to get him all nicely groomed for you. Would you like to ride him a bit before we finalize things?”

  “Not necessary. I gave him a nice workout back at the Belt Rodeo in June. We made a good team.”

  Mattie felt shocked to hear this. The Belt Rodeo had been mid-June, about a month after Dex Cooper’s death. Had Wes already been thinking of selling back then? Planning to leave her as well?

  “Do you have an office in here?” Tip asked.

  “Sure.” As she headed for it, Tip was already pulling the papers out of the breast pocket of his jacket. In no time they had everything taken care of and it was time to take Tip to his new horse.

  Princess Bride and Madame Curie nickered at her as she passed their stalls. They’d rather be outside, frolicking in the bright sunshine, but in here they’d be clean and rested for their upcoming journey. If the Ronan outfit showed up this afternoon as scheduled, tomorrow, all that would be left in the barn was the cats.

  Tears had filled her eyes by the time she reached Chaser’s stall. She felt like she had a tennis ball in her throat and a dark pit of sadness where her heart ought to be.

  Fortunately Tip was too busy reacquainting himself with the quarter horse to notice her sudden quiet. She stayed in the aisle, turning her back as she swiped away the tears. She’d said her goodbyes to the horses yesterday when she’d groomed them, then again this morning as she gave them what would probably be their last feeding at Bishop Stables. Today she would keep her distance and try not to break down in front of people who were virtually strangers.

  “Yup. Still looking good. Thank you, Mattie. I can tell when a horse has been taken care of by someone who loves him.”

  His words brought tears to her eyes again, despite her resolve. “Want help loading him in the trailer?”

  “We’ll be fine.” Sure enough, once Tip had attached the lead rope, Chaser followed him contently out of the barn.

  “Go ahead,” Mattie kept her face averted “I have some things to finish up with in here.”

  “Okay, then. Thanks again. You take care now.”

  “Drive safe. And good luck to you both.”

  “We’ll go far. You’ll see.” Tip winked, before leading the horse out the main door and disappearing from her view. She slid the door back into place, closing her eyes and resting against the solid pine for a moment. It was somewhat reassuring to know that she’d be able to follow Tip and Chaser’s career next year—it would be a way of maintaining contact with the courageous and hardworking quarter horse.

  She puttered in the tack room, waiting until she’d heard Tip’s rig rumble on down the road before emerging and heading toward the house. She hadn’t taken three steps, however, when she noticed a new vehicle driving in from the main road. Another rig, a bigger one this time. She shielded her eyes and watched as it drew closer, until finally she recognized Guy Medley’s white and silver unit.

  He drove in slowly, raising one hand in greeting, before maneuvering the trailer for an easy exit. His head was bowed slightly when he walked toward her, as if he was fascinated by the tips of his boots. Finally when they were only a few yards apart, he halted and lifted his round face. He looked at her rather sadly with his little brown-button eyes.

  “Mrs. Bishop. I don’t suppose you’re be happy to see me again.”

  She didn’t need to ask. Obviously he was here to pick up the rest of their horses for the family outfit near Ronan. “Thanks for letting me know the first batch went to a decent place.”

  “No problem. I wouldn’t have felt good about it myself, otherwise. I don’t often get to handle horses of this caliber. Frankly they’ll be under-utilized on that swanky ranch. But they’ll have a good life and be treated well. As will this batch. I know the Claypools myself and they’re good people.”

  Mattie had heard of them, too, and despite the fact that they had a small outfit, their reputation was fine.

  So that was reassuring.

  “Want some coffee?” Mattie offered. “I’m afraid I’m all out of pie, though I could find you something else.”

  This time he shook his head. “If I get moving now, I’ll be in Ronan in time for lunch. Might as well pull the Band-Aid off fast.”

  He felt bad. Poor man. None of this was his fault. He was just doing his job. “They’re all in the barn. I gave them a good grooming yesterday. I—” her voice hitched and she stopped talking. In her mind she could picture them, Copper, Princess Bride, Madame Curie, lining up and trustingly getting into that trailer. Never guessing they would never come home again...

  How could she do this to them?

  If only she had some other option.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Nat was just driving out of Polson, about to get on the Memorial Bridge that crossed the Flathead where it ceased to be a lake and narrowed into a river, when he noticed the truck with the Wyoming license plate. The cowboy at the driver’s seat was pulling a horse trailer with living quarters attached. Not an uncommon sight on these roads. Still, it made Nat’s lips thin into a hard, angry line.

  Cause he had a good idea where that cowboy had been and which horse was in the back of that trailer. Nat turned off the radio, no longer in the mood to listen to up-beat rock tunes. Fifteen minutes later he was off the highway heading south toward home—and the Bishop place. When he saw the huge tractor-trailer rig parked next to Mattie’s barn, he swore. Losing them all in one day. This was going to kill her.

  He didn’t even consider driving by. He pulled in and parked his truck next to Mattie’s, by the house, then hurried over to the big rig. The horses had already been loaded and Mattie was talking to a rotund man with a round face and small, dark eyes. He thought she looked glad to see him, but she didn’t say anything. She was gripping onto the corral fence, though, like she needed the support. And she looked like she’d been crying.

  Nat walked up to the man with his hand outstretched. “Hi there. I own the place up the road. Nat Diamond.”

  “I’ve heard of the Double D,” the trucker driver acknowledged, shaking his hand willingly. “I’m Guy Medley. I was out here last week picking up some horses for transport out to the Whitefish area. Now I’m back for the rest, though I can’t say I’m very happy about it. This little lady is having a hard time seeing her horses go.”

  Mattie had turned away from them, was pretending to fuss with a section of fence closer to the barn. Nat knew she wasn’t meaning to be rude. She was just trying to hold herself together.

  “Where are you taking these horses?” Nat wanted to know.

  “John Claypool’s place, they just have a small outfit, mostly looking for nice horses for their kids to ride.”

  “What will they do with the yearlings?”

  “No idea. Train them I suppose. It’s too bad about that nice bay, though, looks pretty old. Would have been nice for her to finish out her days in a familiar place.”

  He had to be talking about Copper, who’d been Mattie’s horse since she married Wes and moved out here. “That’s for damn sure,” he agreed.

  Once Guy had taken off with the horses, Nat took Mattie by the arm and led her inside. He could feel her trembling and didn’t know if he felt more sad for her, or plain furious at Wes. Tuff greeting them enthusiastically, but not even the puppy’s cute antics drew a smile from Mattie.

  He couldn’t leave her alone this way.

  �
��How about you change out of your work clothes and we go into town for some lunch?” So he’d just been in Polson. Wouldn’t hurt to drive back.

  Rather than hang her jacket and tuck away her boots the way he’d seen her do before, Mattie dropped everything to the floor, mechanically washing her hands before she headed to the kitchen. He removed his own boots and followed her.

  “Mattie? Lunch?” he repeated, since she seemed to be in something of a daze. She’d gone to stand by the window. It made him kind of crazy to see how beautiful she was, even in her sorrow. He didn’t want to be feeling any sort of attraction to her. It wasn’t right. Not in these circumstances.

  “I—just can’t, Nat. I don’t want to be around people right now.”

  “Does that include me?”

  She gave him a feeble smile and a gentle head shake.

  “Then come with me to the Double D. I’ll bet Eadie has made something good we can eat for lunch. We’ll bring Tuff and she can play with her sister again. It’ll be a win-win.”

  Mattie ended up agreeing, mostly Nat suspected, because she lacked the energy to argue. She did seem a little less fragile once he had her seated at the kitchen table at his place. The blueprints for the renovations were still on the counter where he’d been studying them that morning. He had a few last minute changes to run by Timothy. Nat rolled them up and took them back to the study. Then he put on the kettle for tea.

  A minute later Eadie came through, carrying a laundry hamper of freshly folded sheets and towels.

  “Hello Mattie—I thought I heard two sets of footsteps. I was in the laundry room.” She turned to Nat. “I’ll put away these towels, then make up your bed and I’ll be finished for the day. I made a chicken enchilada casserole for your dinner. It’s in the fridge, along with a dry salad.”

  “Perfect. We can have the casserole for lunch.”