Somewhere Montana

by Platt, MJ

  “Not if he can read and watch TV. Your situation must have drawn some media coverage. Won’t they think your disappearance might be connected to that?”

  “I hope not. The ones that like me enough to worry also have connections that could ensure Marcos ended up in the bay wearing a pair of cement boots.”

  “Seems to me that wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

  “I don’t want to see anyone dead over this. He needs to be held responsible for what he did and suffer the consequences. The kids don’t deserve to get into trouble over it.”

  “I wouldn’t want to see the kids get into trouble either. But I’m not as merciful toward Diego’s health status. Enough about that. Back to my original question. Please, will you go into town with me? It will do you good to get out and if it becomes too much for you, you can stay in the truck while I finish getting supplies.”

  Weighing the pros and cons, she didn’t think it was such a good idea. She didn’t want people’s pity when they saw her face. There would be many persons she knew from previous visits there. But she had to dip her toe in the water of society sometime.

  “Okay,” she acquiesced. She couldn’t resist his imploring look or the half smile that suggested it would be fun.

  * * * *

  After breakfast, Mac brought the truck to the front door and left it running to be sure it would be warm enough for Sage. When he entered the kitchen to pick up Little Mouse’s list, Sage caught his disdainful look at her outfit. The blue cotton pullover sweater over lightweight, gray pants and the thin, black leather half boots weren’t very warm. She was sure he would want to oversee the clothing she bought. She had attended winter survival camps at the ranch. Why hadn’t she packed more appropriate gear? She had planned to land in a warmer area.

  He helped her with her jacket and, with a hand at her back, escorted her out to the truck. Once in the truck, he looked at her reflectively.

  “Don’t you have a pair of winter boots?” he asked. She shook her head. He took the money from his shirt pocket and handed it to her. “Well, that’s the first thing you’ll buy. That’s part of your money I took from the safe this morning. You should have enough there to get everything you need.”

  “Thank you. If you hadn’t, I was going to save the receipts so I could pay you back every penny.”

  “I doubt what few things you intend to buy would break me. You’re not a high maintenance person.”

  “No, I’m not. I take care of myself. Once I came of age, I swore I would never be considered a burden to anyone ever again.”

  “Is that what you think this whole situation has been? That you’ve been an encumbrance to us?” He stared at her with resolution. “Get that idea out of your mind. We care about you, Sage. I thought you cared about us, too.” He put the truck in gear and started for the highway, eyes forward, mouth clamped tight.

  “I’m sorry,” she answered contritely. She wanted to explain, but one look at his face stopped her. The scenery outside her window turned blurry. She hadn’t meant to hurt him.

  The twenty miles into town was a long, silent trip. With the snow piled so high on the roadsides, some places felt like driving through a canyon. It had been a while since Sage had seen this much snow. At the top of the hill leading down into the town, Mac pulled to the side and stopped. The first sight of Somewhere had always been one of her favorite scenes.

  Coming into town from that direction, the first scene was the original town site. The residents, most descendants of the original settlers, insisted that section be kept in an Old West flavor. One would think they had been transported back in time.

  The wooden buildings with the well maintained old facades, many of the original signs, even down to the wooden sidewalks and hitch rails set conveniently in front of the establishments, businesses run by the fourth and fifth generations. The Silver Spur Saloon was still operated by a Michael O’Shea, and the Wentworth Hotel next door was owned by a great-great grandson. A Vanderhoff was still the town banker. Margaret MacReady inherited the Hole-in-the-Wall Restaurant. Murphy’s Emporium was managed by the offspring of one of the original town founders, as was Sheriff Dante Deveaux.

  At the far end of Main Street, to the right, sat a small, white church with the tall steeple, next to it the original one room schoolhouse, which was now the town library. Across the street, set back a ways and surrounded by a white picket fence, rose the white, three story Georgian colonial with blue shutters that originally housed Madame Charlotte’s house of pleasure. The great-great-great granddaughter had turned it into a bed and breakfast, still named Madame Charlotte’s. It all looked old, but the interiors had been updated with modern amenities.

  Beyond was a definite line of demarcation that separated the old from the totally modern. There were two new motels, a strip mall, an auto company, an industrial park with several thriving businesses, and the airport farther down the road.

  Mac drove down to park in the lot adjacent to the emporium, since no vehicles were allowed to park on Old Main Street, which was still maintained unpaved.

  “You feel up to walking around old Somewhere? You didn’t bring the cane,” he said.

  “We’re not going that far. I haven’t used the cane for several days, ever since we took the brace off for good.”

  “If you’re sure. You should be able to get most everything you need right here in Murphy’s. I can pick up all the stuff on Little Mouse’s list. This is the only place that carries the fifty pound sacks of flour and sugar. After we finish here, I’ll have to run out to the supermarket at the mall for the canned goods and such for the cabins. Then we can swing back here and have lunch at Margie’s.”

  He assisted her out of the truck and took her arm as they climbed the two steps onto the board sidewalk. Opening the door, he ushered her inside and she inhaled the smells of old wood, spices, and leather. He steered her to the clothing area and, after ascertaining she would be all right, left her to get Little Mouse’s order.

  Business was wrapped up fairly quickly at Murphy’s. Sage stood on the walk in front while Mac went to get the truck. She watched him effortlessly load their purchases in the back and latch the cap. Then he opened the passenger door and assisted her into the vehicle.

  “You okay? Feet warmer in those boots?” he asked, sliding the key into the ignition. At her nod, he eased out into the street for the short trip to the mall.

  When they left Harding’s Super Mart with two loaded grocery carts, Sage tried to hide the slight limp by leaning on her cart. From the frown line between his brows and the thin-lipped expression, she could tell her pain did not bode well for his frame of mind. She would deny any problem if he mentioned it. That way she could evade his suggestion that he should have made her stay in the truck, not let her accompany him wandering around a warehouse size store. Protecting her seemed to be his major concern. She didn’t want to worry him.

  Upon reaching the truck, he made her get inside and started the vehicle on the pretext it would be too cold for her to stand around while he loaded the boxes into the back. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, she suggested driving past the front of the mall so she could see what new stores had been added.

  “Well, the Old Sew and Sew Fabric Store, the Knit or Knot Yarn Shop, and the hair salon are still in the same place,” she noted.

  “The women in this area would probably go to war if they tried to close those three establishments,” he stated.

  “There’s Mr. Harrigan’s bookstore. Is he still running it? I remember him as being quite elderly.”

  “He’s still alive and goes in every day, even at the age of eighty-two. His grandson more or less manages the store now. Next door they’ve added a gym, which also advertises tanning booths. They combined the dry cleaner and the laundromat. Sears is still down at the end, if there’s anything you couldn’t get at Murphy’s.”

  “No. I’m good. I have more than I need. Remind me the next time I go shopping not to take you with me.”

&nb
sp; “I only wanted to be sure you had everything necessary for the season here. It’s a far cry from San Francisco.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Obvious. But since I’m not taking part in the winter survival school, I don’t need half of all we got.”

  “Yes, you do, if you plan on spending any time outdoors. And I can’t picture you happily cooped up inside for the next two months.”

  She threw him a quelling look, yet didn’t add an appropriate comeback. Had she given up her plan for leaving? Did she feel safe with them? He drove into the parking lot behind Madame Charlotte’s. After he assisted her out of the truck, his hand rested lightly at the small of her back as they walked through the short alley between the bank and the picket fence of the B&B. She wondered at the warm feeling that spread through her at his touch. Was it real, or a figment of her imagination?

  “Nothing really changes in old Somewhere, does it?” Sage asked, her eyes scanning the opposite side of the street. The sheriff’s office, the seamstress shop, the doctor’s office, the hotel with the second floor porch that shaded the front entrance, the saloon with its swinging doors, down to Murphy’s Emporium, all seeming to be calmly awaiting the next milestone of its existence.

  “Not on the outside. Modern renovations had to be done on the insides in order to meet the codes to stay in business. Let’s eat. I’m hungry,” he said, opening the door to the Hole-in-the-Wall and ushering Sage inside.

  The mouth-watering aromas made her stomach growl. Mac tossed her a knowing grin as he led her to a table along the wall, away from the hustle and bustle of the kitchen door. He held her chair as he seated her so her left side was facing the wall. She sent him a thank you smile when she realized what he had done. No awkward questions to answer if she met people she knew.

  The décor was as she remembered. White linen tablecloths and napkins suggesting old western opulence, yet toned down by the blue gingham curtains at the windows and the upholstered seats of the high—backed wooden chairs. A waitress brought over the menus and their glasses of water.

  “Hi, Margie. How are things?” Mac acknowledged the proprietress with a smile.

  “Hey, Mac. Business is good for this time of year,” she answered, casting a look at her. “Sage? Is that you, girl? Ain’t seen you in a dog’s age. You here for Mac’s survival school next week?”

  “Hi, Margie. No, not doing the school this year. Just dropped in for a visit,” she stated, turning to look at the middle age woman who had always been kind to her. Sage saw the shocked look, quickly masked. Bless the woman for not making any comment or asking questions.

  “You need a minute to look at the menu?” asked Margie, firing a questioning look at Mac, who hedged a don’t ask glance back at her.

  “I don’t. I’d like a double hamburger, an order of fries, and coffee,” said Mac. “What would you like, Sage?”

  “I’d like just a regular hamburger with fried onions and a side dish of your delicious slaw,” said Sage. “And a coffee, also.” She wasn’t sure how much she would be able to eat. Her stomach was still jittery. She remembered the odd looks she received from the people she met shopping, but Margie was the only one she had spoken to.

  “Yes, you always ordered the slaw no matter what you were eating.” Margie gave her a genuine smile and a pat on the shoulder as she left to take their order to the kitchen.

  “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Mac smiled at her, reaching across to lay his hand on hers.

  “Guess not,” she agreed with a shrug, not looking at him and withdrawing her hand to clasp her other one in her lap. “But we haven’t met any small children yet.”

  “Sage, please stop,” he pleaded. “Don’t do this to yourself. It will fade in time. At least you will be able to hide yours with make-up.”

  Her head snapped up and she gazed at him. “Yours isn’t bad. I don’t even notice it any more when I look at you.”

  “Nor do I dwell on yours. I see the inner beauty that’s always been in here,” he said, tapping his chest.

  Margie arrived with their orders and they silently dug into their meal. Mac openly watched her, as if ready to encourage her to eat. It was unnecessary because, with the first bite of the burger, Sage closed her eyes and let the flavors drift across her tongue. It was juicy and the onions were sweet, a subtle melt-in-your-mouth quality. The slaw had an extra bite to it from the dash of freshly ground horseradish added to the mixture. She didn’t realize how hungry she had been until she had devoured every last bite. Looking up, she caught Mac staring at her with a sexy half smile that turned up the corners of his lips.

  “What?” she asked, the blush she could feel creeping up her cheeks.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody enjoy their food like you do.”

  “Easy to do here. I’ve never found a hamburger like that in San Francisco.”

  “Margie gets her meat locally. Range raised beef. Leaner. Not crowded into feed lots and fed grains to fatten them up faster, plus all the other stuff in those grains. Ready to go?”

  While Mac paid for their lunch, Sage continued on outside. She was zipping her jacket when he came rushing out the door.

  “Why’d you run off like that?” he asked gruffly.

  “Getting crowded in there.” She hunched her shoulders. He tucked her hand in his and held it all the way back to the truck.

  Arriving at the ranch, Mac parked by the front door and Sage hopped out. He opened the back of the truck and she started collecting the bags for Little Mouse while he slung the bag of flour over one shoulder. She dropped the bags on the counter and headed back out for another load. Jumping up to sit on the tailgate, so she could retrieve the articles that had slid to the front, she was stopped by Mac’s hands at her waist.

  “What are you doing?” he asked curtly.

  “Getting the stuff that slid forward,” she answered, a challenge in her tone.

  “No need. It’s only the cartons for the cabins, and I can get them when I’m ready to unload there. Let’s take your stuff inside.” He lifted her down to stand in front of him. His strong hands cupped her waist and pulled her into him.

  His head slowly descended, his lips taking hers. This was what she wanted, what she had been waiting for. It was as she remembered, yet gentler. Her breath caught in her chest and her heartbeat drummed so loudly she was sure he could hear it, desire melting her. Her arms crept up around his neck as he deepened the kiss, his arms wrapping around her to pull her closer. She wanted to hold on tightly and never let him go, yet the fear of him rejecting her again made her stiffen in his arms.

  As he ended the kiss slowly, he eased back. She waited to open her eyes, hoping he could not read there what he would be able to see.

  “I’ve wanted to do that ever since we brought you down off the mountain,” he stated, his voice husky. There was warmth in her eyes, but a hint of disbelief resided there also. She wanted to erase her doubts, delete the memory of that night eight years ago. Now did not seem the time to put action to those thoughts.

  He grabbed her bags and steered her toward the house. Inside, he dropped the bags at the foot of the stairs, unzipped her parka, and slid it off her arms. He helped her off with her boots and led her into the parlor. Seating her on the couch, he lifted her legs onto it, placed pillows behind her, and covered her with the afghan that had been draped over the back. Then he walked over to the fireplace to throw on a couple logs and stir the fire.

  As he hooked the screen in place, he turned to her with a stern look and said “Stay!” pointing his finger at her.

  “Rowf!” she barked back at him. His stern expression didn’t change, but there was a twinkle of laughter in his eyes as he approached her.

  “Please,” he added, cupping her cheek. “You’ve done enough for today. Rest while you can. Tomorrow I pick up the men for winter survival camp. It’s going to be a busy week.” He brushed a kiss across her lips and strode out.

  Sage watched him leave, her heart in her eyes. What would he s
ay if she voiced her love? She couldn’t take that chance. He was solicitous of her welfare, and that kiss seemed to be more than friendship. Then she thought of Marcos, the reason she landed there, and she began to shake. She needed to call Vanessa and find out what was happening at home.

  Chapter Seven

  Sage was busy at the computer when Mac walked into the office. He strolled behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders, and bent down to kiss her neck. She shivered. He smiled. Backing away from her was not an option he considered. Not anymore. Not after the kiss they shared yesterday. Nor after the visions he visited last night, knowing she was only a few steps away in the next room.

  Those mental images popped up to haunt him. Him worshiping her body with his hands and mouth, him deep inside her, his body hardened rapidly and a groan worked its way up and out through his clenched teeth. No way could he act on those thoughts. Not yet. He had to move slowly. He had planted a seed with that kiss, he hoped. Let her nurture it.

  “In about an hour, I have to pick up the men at the airport,” he said, standing behind her. No way could he move until he got himself under control. Business. Talk business. Get your big brain in gear.

  “Everything seems to be in order here,” she said, turning to look at him over her shoulder. “I thought I’d check the cabins while you’re gone. Make sure we haven’t missed anything.”

  “Let’s go over the spreadsheets you’re going to be setting up. The breeding schedule I will need to cross-reference the mares and stallions with their foundation bloodlines. Can’t be using certain stallions with the wrong mares. Also we need one for income and expenses for each of the businesses. That will give me some idea of profit or loss if we consider expanding. Will they be difficult to do?”

  She shook her head.