The Bride Wore Denim

by Lizbeth Selvig

  “That’s something we all end up learning, Aiden. The work never dies. Your daddy and grandpa work really hard. I bet you work hard at school, too.”

  He shrugged.

  “Aiden?” His mother appeared at the door and peered through the screen. “Harper?”

  “Hi, Melanie. Sorry to bother you.”

  “Nonsense. I’m thrilled to see you, although I’m surprised it’s so soon after the funeral. Are y’all doing okay up there?”

  Every time she heard it, Melanie’s lilting Carolina accent tickled Harper. It was so incongruous amid all the macho bombast of western Wyoming.

  “We’re fine, really. In a little bit of shock still, but we’re muddling.”

  “I’m sure it’s a comfort for your mama to have you girls all home.”

  “The triplets are gone already, but the rest of us have a few more days. And Joely will be staying on to start taking over some of Dad’s work.”

  “Oh my, what a task that is,” Melanie said. “Bless her heart; I’ll be prayin’ for her, you can believe that. Can you come in? I’ve got some fresh peanut butter cookies. Slipping in a little home-ec lesson even though I promised no school today.”

  “You must be the most organized person on the face of the earth. Mom, teacher, baker, friend. How do you do it?”

  She stepped into the house. It did smell delicious.

  “I don’t always manage well. The older two are starting to fuss a bit about school and discipline. This time of year, when Leif and Bjorn are busy I sometimes do a lot of fudging with field trips. And now, since your father . . . Harper, I’m really sorry about your dad.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’ll let me know if there’s anything at all I can do.”

  “I will. In fact, I’m kind of here to ask a huge favor right now.”

  “Name it.”

  “We need to go as a family to Wolf Paw Pass. Don’t mention it yet, but yesterday I ran into a group from Mountain Pacific gas that claimed they were here on my dad’s request. I’m not sure about that, but it’s divided the family a little. I want everyone to see the area these people were talking about testing. I’m not a big fan of them coming onto the ranch.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Melanie said.

  Melanie’s agreement soothed Harper’s inner turmoil a little. She didn’t know what Leif or Bjorn’s feelings about the situation would be, but if she had Melanie’s support, it couldn’t hurt.

  “Not everyone will be adverse to the idea. It’s a good way to supplement income if there is a reserve of oil or gas on ranch property. Still, there has to be a better way to make money than spoiling good land.”

  “So what can I help you with?”

  “We only have three horses these days, but Mama said you and Bjorn have five. I’m wondering if we could borrow two mounts for a couple of hours this afternoon.”

  “Of course. I’m wondering, though, if there might be only two available today.”

  “Oh?”

  “One is a pony—too small for any of you. Marcus took his horse, Scout, out this morning and isn’t back. Bjorn’s King threw a shoe yesterday and is a little sore until he gets it back on. That leaves Leif’s Nellie and Skylar’s Bungu. I shouldn’t give permission to take him without asking Skylar first.”

  “Of course. The black-and-white Appy?”

  “Her pride and joy. She bought half of him herself. The girl is horse crazy, but then, this is a ranch.”

  “We had six horse-crazy girls. I totally understand.” Harper sat at the crisp, white lacquered kitchen table and took in Melanie’s cheerful blue-and-red Norwegian color scheme. On one wall was a framed Norwegian blessing Harper had heard Leif recite a hundred times over the years. “I Jesu navn gar vi til bords . . . In Jesus’s name we come to the table . . . ” She smiled, hearing her father’s voice mercilessly butchering the pronunciation whenever he teased Leif by trying it himself.

  “Sure ain’t a drop of Viking blood in your veins,” Leif would say.

  “Unless there were Vikings in Davy Crockett’s genes,” her father would reply haughtily.

  “Probably were,” Leif would say with a sniff.

  Faintly Harper heard a question and pulled her eyes from the prayer, surprised that it of all things had dredged up the sorrow. She shook her head and turned to the plate of cookies Melanie set on the table.

  “Sorry, what?” Harper asked.

  “I asked when you have to go back to Chicago.”

  “Another four days. I have some preexisting commitments. Amelia has to get back to work in New York. I think, as of this morning, Joely’s talking about taking Mom on a road trip to get her things from California.”

  “Your daddy raised some pretty smart girls.” Melanie smiled. “You’re all doing very well. He was proud of you.”

  So everyone kept saying. Harper smiled back—her rote acknowledgment of how great Sam Crockett had been. People said a lot of things after someone died. She bit into a cookie, and groaned.

  “This is amazing. It’s been ages since I’ve had a homemade peanut butter cookie. I forget that nothing compares—except maybe something with six pounds of chocolate.”

  “Well, that goes without saying.”

  “So, is Skylar here?” Harper changed the subject over a mouthful of thick, warm, chewy cookie. “I could ask her myself about her horse.”

  “I think she is.” Melanie stood and walked to the kitchen door. She leaned through it and called her daughter’s name. Instead, Aiden came running. “Have you seen Skylar?” Melanie asked.

  “Uh-uh.” He shook his head. “May I have a cookie?”

  “After lunch. You’ve already had two.”

  “But pleeeeeeze?”

  “Go. Find Skylar for me. Pleeeeeeze.”

  “She’s not here.”

  “Oh?”

  “She left.”

  “When did she leave?” Melanie’s brow furrowed. “She should be telling me when she goes out.”

  “Like one second ago, about.” He eyed the plate of cookies pitifully.

  “Thank you for the information. Now you go and play.”

  “Howdy, Miss Harper.” He grinned as if they shared a secret joke.

  “Howdy, Mr. Aiden.”

  He beamed at her, his dimples deepening adorably, and turned to go—obedient yet impish. No doubt about it, the kid was already a lady killer.

  “Six going on twice that.” Melanie sighed.

  Harper laughed and took another cookie. Aiden Thorson was the kind of kid who could make a person think about having her own. The idea had never seriously crossed her mind. Children didn’t fit well into an artist’s bizarre schedule, and with her history of drugs and dropping out of things, she didn’t have anywhere near the credentials one needed for raising human beings.

  “He’s darling,” she said, deciding she was just as glad Aiden was staying with a mom like Melanie.

  AN HOUR LATER, Harper led Joely, Mia, and their mother over the trail Harper had followed the day before. Cole brought up the rear. She rode Skylar Thorson’s black-and-white Appaloosa without the girl’s approval, since nobody had seen her from the time Harper had appeared to ask for permission to use the horses. She’d only been on the horse twenty minutes, but Harper had decided she wouldn’t give him back. He was a beauty, but he also had brains to spare. Bungu. All Melanie could tell her about his name was that it was an Indian word for horse, and that Skylar loved him more than life itself.

  Joely rode the inexperienced Chevy, who belonged to Rico, the ranch hand. Cole had their other hand Neil’s gelding, Paco. Bella rode Sam’s gelding, Wheeler, and Mia rode Leif’s mare, Nellie. As the sun filtered through the trees, highlighting the route toward the mountains and the open land beyond Wolf Paw Peak, Harper relaxed. Nobody seemed mired in anger or even dark grief any more. Maybe this whole idea would work. Or they were all nursing hangover headaches.

  “Nice day for a ride.”

  Cole’s voice startle
d her slightly and she laughed, embarrassed by the constant woolgathering that was making her so scatterbrained. A psychiatrist would excuse her, considering the events of the past week. Her family wouldn’t consider it odd in any case. But she didn’t like it.

  “Hi,” Harper said.

  “Hi.” He grinned, his face, shaded by the brim of his tan cowboy hat, was tough and angled and boyishly impish at the same time. “You doing okay?”

  “Of course.”

  “Hey, it’s not that obvious an answer to me. You didn’t even say goodnight. And after all those promises . . . ”

  The wink he gave, underscored by a lecherous little grin, triggered a groan of dismay.

  “Oh, don’t even remind me. I’m totally humiliated, and I’m sorry. You plied me with way too much Scotch.”

  He chuckled. “It was good stuff.”

  “I guess it was, but honestly? A thousand bucks . . . ” She blew a fart sound and swished her hand through the air. “Makes more sense to buy a Coach bag or Prada shoes. At least you get multiple uses out of them. And they don’t make an ounce of sense to me either.”

  “I’ve always seen this lack of pretense in you. Fart noises and Birkenstocks, right? Real sexy, Harpo.”

  “Hey, you used to laugh plenty hard at the fart noises—at least I don’t do them with my armpits like some people I know. And do you see Birkenstocks anywhere on my person? I know how to dress properly for this place.”

  “Awww, I’m just giving you a bad time. We were always good at that.”

  The reminder was mildly depressing. Next thing she knew he’d be stealing her boots and hiding them like he’d also done when they were kids. She didn’t want to believe he still saw her as that short, stocky, fart-sound-making preteen from almost twenty years ago.

  “Sorry,” she grumbled. “Must be my thousand-dollar hangover.”

  “You don’t get hangovers. I know that about you, too.”

  “So I don’t drink much anymore. I’ve become a lightweight.”

  “What? Old Tris doesn’t take you out to the finer establishments of Chicago?” He waggled his brow, and she leaned sideways in her saddle to sock him on the arm, finally laughing.

  “Not to the seedy establishments either. Or to the movies. Or picnics. Or anywhere.”

  “Hey, then I’m one up on him. I’m taking you on a picnic.”

  “No. I’m taking you on a picnic.” The new turn in the conversation reboosted her mood.

  “I’ve missed this kind of thing, Harpo. Glad you’re still fun to tease.”

  At that her residual embarrassment from the night before along with her fears that she was only as good as a childhood memory to him, dissipated like magic. They rode in companionable silence, and the longer he stayed next to her, the more comfortable she grew, absorbing his quiet confidence, reveling in his easy manner and unwavering friendship. She gave up wondering why she was so hyperaware of him this trip and let herself simply enjoy.

  He rode as one with his horse, left hand loose but sure on the reins, right hand relaxed on his thigh. Fascinated by the ridges of veins on the back of his hand, which defined the word masculine in visual form, she stared at the dusting of hair behind his knuckles and let her gaze meander up his arm to the roll of his plaid shirt sleeve below his elbow. Broad chest. Defined shoulders—obvious even beneath the loose cotton of his button-down shirt. Corded neck. Full lips—

  She cut herself off as tension crept back up her neck and heat into her cheeks.

  Leaning forward, she stroked Bungu’s long, black mane as his head bobbed easily with his walk, and concentrated on his beauty rather than Cole’s. She willed her friend to start talking again, suddenly craving the goofball she’d resented earlier. The goofball would be preferable—safer at least—to the strong, silent, movie star–looking cowboy.

  They came around the base of the mountain, and this time no rumbling trucks marred the valley vista stretching before them. Her mother and sisters fanned out into a line, and everybody halted. For a moment only wind rustling in the hills and the snorting of the horses filled the warm air. A wispy bank of clouds trailed from the Tetons in the distance, like banners from Camelot.

  “I haven’t been here in ages,” her mother said. “It is truly stunning.”

  “And now imagine a half-dozen oil wells,” Joely said.

  Harper could have kissed her for saying the words first and saving her from the obvious everyone had expected her to state.

  “The first question would be whether there isn’t somewhere else they could put them,” her mother said. “Or explore. I suppose if this is where the oil is . . . ”

  “And what if it is?” Harper asked. “Can’t we decide we don’t want them here for no reason other than we don’t want them? Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with politics or thinking one belief is good and another bad. Maybe it’s our ranch, and we want it to look like this for the next generation.”

  Nobody countered her.

  “As I recall, there’s a great picnic spot around the next curve,” Mia said.

  “I’m all for that,” Joely agreed. “I know there’s chocolate in our saddle bags.”

  The entire mood lightened. Once they’d tethered the horses, their mother pulled a large, blue-and-white checked cloth from her saddle bag and shook it out on the grass beside a rocky outcropping. From the rest of the bags came a seemingly endless supply of sandwiches, fruit, carrots and celery sticks, two Thermoses of coffee and hot chocolate, and some magical plastic container filled with thick, gooey brownies.

  Half an hour later, full and sated, they all sat back against boulders and sighed in contentment. “Bella, you are a true wizard—this was delicious,” Cole said.

  “It was a perfect thing for me to do today. Thank you,” she replied.

  “We could stay here,” Harper said. “Ignore all the things there are to decide.”

  “I definitely like the sound of that,” her mother said. “But I need to head back. I promised myself to work on some thank-you notes. I’d like to have them done before you girls leave—just because I’d rather be sad with you all around.”

  Joely wrapped her in a hug. “I’ll help with that, Mom.”

  “I have a conference call at two,” Mia said. “Then of course I’ll help, too.”

  “We all should,” Harper agreed.

  “I’d like to take the long way back,” Cole said. “Finish going around Wolf Peak and up across Kwinaa Ridge and see what the view is from there. Maybe it’s a little more hidden and protected. How about if I meet you all back at the house?”

  Harper’s emotions swung wildly at his request. How much nicer would it be to continue riding than to go back and face funeral thank-yous? But her mother deserved her support.

  “You shouldn’t do that alone,” her mother said. “We could take the extra time.”

  “Why don’t you all go?” Mia said. “I don’t have time before my call, unfortunately, but I can go back by myself—this is a perfectly easy, safe trail.”

  Harper studied her elder sister. Mia had been particularly subdued today—quiet and nonargumentative. She didn’t know what that meant, but it did dispel her own defensiveness and made the afternoon and all the impending weighty discussions lurking in its shadows much less onerous.

  “Harper, you go with Cole,” Joely said. “I’ll get us started on the notes. Mia can do the call, and you two will be back in a couple of hours.”

  “We could all go tomorrow,” Mia replied, a hint of reservation stealing into her voice for the first time.

  “No, no, we’d have to borrow horses again,” their mother said, smiling at Harper. “You two go. We’ll see you when you get home.”

  They packed up the picnic with no further discussion, and before she knew it, Harper was waving her sisters and mother down the trail. When she turned back to Cole, he was staring off across the valley again.

  “You want to look for a place to hide oil wells, don’t you?” she asked, trying
hard to keep accusation from her voice.

  She didn’t relish bringing up the subject. It seemed like enough to be here, to absorb the beauty, the ripe scents of late summer. At that moment, she wanted Joely to succeed. Joely who hadn’t changed her mind overnight. She wanted Mia to be wrong that selling Paradise Ranch was the smart thing to do.

  “I want you to look at all the options, that’s all.”

  “You think I haven’t over the years?”

  “I know you’ve looked at all the reasons you hate oil. I respect that, Harpo, I do.” He nodded to the grass where they’d been sitting for lunch. “Come on, sit down. I want to ask you something.”

  “Fine.”

  He sounded so reasonable. She could be reasonable. She sat beside him, and he put one arm around her shoulders, pointing toward Grand Teton with the other. The little thrills of delight at his touch didn’t shock her anymore. The shoulds and shouldn’ts of being this close to him, however, gave her no peace. The shouldn’ts were screaming at her.

  She stayed beside him anyway.

  “Look out there,” he said. “What is it to you?”

  “Stunning scenery,” she said.

  “No. It’s stunning scenery to everybody. What is it to you? What do you want to keep it looking like that for?”

  “Isn’t that a self-evident answer?”

  “Not at all. You want it pretty. You could travel ten miles down the road, see the same vista without oil wells, and what would this one little piece matter?”

  “Because it’s mine.”

  “Ah. Is it, though? Do you plan to be here? Plan to come back here with a family? Children? Grandchildren? That’s what ‘mine’ means, you know.”

  “Good gosh, Cole.” Anger rose quickly. “How am I supposed to know that? What is this, some kind of guilt trip?”

  He took his arm from her shoulders and grasped her by both upper arms, turning her firmly to face him. “It’s not. Of course it’s not. There’s no right or wrong answer for you. But I know what I want, and I will fight for it.”

  “Fight our family for it, you mean?”

  “That’s not at all what I mean. I’d like to work with you for it. With Mia, Joely, the triplets, and your mother. If there’s a way to keep this place alive, I want to help find it. And it isn’t just for the pretty view.”