Big Sky Mountain

by Linda Lael Miller

  He entered the elevator. The doors whispered shut between them and Kendra was left with the odd sensation that she’d imagined the whole exchange, if not the whole crazy day.

  Had she really entered—and lost—a three-legged race at a cemetery picnic?

  Seeing Callie and Shea and Opal in a happy huddle, she joined them.

  “How’s the new mama?” she asked.

  Shea rolled her eyes. She was flushed and twinkly with excitement, like a girl-shaped topiary draped in fairy lights. “Would you believe Joss wants to go home—right now? Dad and Opal are making her stay the night, though—just to be on the safe side.”

  “So I guess that means Joslyn’s doing just fine,” Kendra said, smiling.

  “She’s amazing,” Callie put in. “And so is little Trace. Lordy, he looks just like his daddy. Slade Barlow in miniature, that’s him.”

  “Dad’s walking about a foot off the ground,” Shea said, pleased.

  “Hutch’s mama would roll over in her grave if she saw him wearing that wrinkled shirt out in public,” Opal fretted, her gaze focused on the closed elevator doors. “She took pride in things like that.”

  Kendra blinked, confused.

  “Don’t mind Opal,” Shea said in a conspiratorial whisper, slipping an arm through Kendra’s. “She’s suffering from a laundry fixation at the moment—it’ll pass.”

  “Oh,” Kendra said, no less confused than before but allowing herself to be swept into Joslyn’s room.

  Her friend was sitting up in bed, hair brushed, face scrubbed and glowing, eyes lively with joy. “Did you see him yet?” she asked, her tone happy and urgent.

  Kendra laughed. “Not yet,” she admitted. “I just got here a minute ago.”

  That dazed feeling, as if she couldn’t quite catch up with herself, was still with her.

  There were flowers everywhere, making the small quarters look and feel more like a garden than a hospital room.

  Joslyn beamed. “I can’t wait to have another one,” she said.

  “Whoa,” protested Slade, from the doorway, grinning. “We just got out of the delivery room a couple of hours ago, woman.”

  “Come here and kiss me,” Joslyn told him.

  Shea laughed and made a face. “Gross,” she said fondly.

  By that time, Slade had crossed the room, bent over Joslyn, and touched his mouth to hers. The air crackled with electricity.

  Kendra, still befuddled, remembered the bouquet of yellow carnations she was carrying and found a place for it among the tangle of color filling the room nearly to overflowing.

  A nurse brought little Trace in then and placed him gently in Joslyn’s waiting arms. The sight of the three of them—father, mother and child—was a poignant one to Kendra and she felt a warm twinge of affection—along with a touch of envy. The latter was followed by a swift plunge into guilt, because she loved Madison so fiercely, and wanting to bear a child of her own seemed almost greedy.

  Joslyn’s gaze over the baby’s downy head rested warmly on Kendra for a moment and the kind of understanding only close friends can share passed between them.

  Shea took a cautious step forward. “Could—could I hold him?” she asked.

  Joslyn smiled at the girl. “Of course,” she replied easily. “Here—let me show you how to support his head....”

  As simply, as beautifully, as that, Shea took her place in this newly expanded family—and then there were four.

  Kendra was so choked up she nearly fled the room, fearing she’d cry and Joslyn would misunderstand.

  “I’ll pay you a visit when you get home,” she told her friend, aware of Callie and Opal entering the room behind her. The walls were starting to close in; she needed fresh air and space to recover her equilibrium.

  What was wrong with her, anyway?

  “Wait,” Joslyn said when Kendra would have made her exit. “There’s something I want to ask you before you go and it’s important.”

  Kendra, mystified and strangely hopeful, approached the bedside. Shea, holding the baby expertly, made room for her in the small, cozy circle, and Slade looked at her with a smile in his eyes.

  Up close, Trace was so beautiful that he claimed a piece of Kendra’s heart, right then and there, and she knew she’d never get it back, never even want to get it back.

  “Will you be Trace’s godmother?” Joslyn asked softly, reaching out to cover Kendra’s cool and somewhat unsteady hand with her own warm one. Her grasp was firm.

  The request was a simple one and yet it touched Kendra to the center of her soul, an unexpected grace. “I’d be proud,” she managed in a ragged voice.

  Joslyn squeezed her hand. “Good,” she said, tearing up herself. “That’s good.”

  Overcome, Kendra touched Trace’s tiny head, turned and hurried out of Joslyn’s hospital room. The instant she crossed the threshold, the tears came in rivers and she ducked into the women’s restroom to pull herself together.

  At one of the sinks, she splashed cold water on her face, not caring that she’d ruined her mascara. She used a moist paper towel to wipe away the dark trails on her cheeks, drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders, ready to face the world.

  For the most part, anyway.

  Downstairs Madison was ensconced at the main desk, coloring importantly and enjoying being the center of attention.

  It threw Kendra a little when she realized that Hutch was there, too, chatting amicably with the receptionist. Barely out of her teens, the young woman, whose name tag read Darcy, looked up at him with an expression that resembled wonder, hanging on his every word.

  Kendra found herself withdrawing slightly—she might have been able to hide her puffy eyes from Madison, but Hutch was another matter. He noticed right away and she knew he probably wouldn’t ignore the only-too-obvious fact that she’d been crying, very recently and a lot.

  He might even deduce that, while she was very happy for Slade and Joslyn, she was feeling oddly hopeless at the moment, and that would make her too vulnerable to all that cowboy charm.

  “Maybe I ought to drive you and Madison home in my truck,” he said, straightening and stepping back from the tall reception counter. “I can call one of the ranch hands to bring your car back over to your place.”

  Hutch’s attention had fully shifted by then, entirely focused on Kendra, and the receptionist seemed not just miffed but crestfallen, as though the sun had suddenly stopped shining for good.

  “Mommy cries when she’s happy,” Madison announced. “She told me so, when we went to buy my bed at the store in Three Trees.”

  Hutch’s mouth quirked upward at one side. “Crying and driving don’t mix very well,” he said easily, huskily. “Especially when there’s precious cargo aboard.”

  “What’s precipitous car-blow?” Madison asked.

  “It’s what you are,” Hutch told the child, though his eyes hadn’t left Kendra’s face.

  There was no question of refusing to accept his offer of a ride home; that would make her look like a careless mother, willing to risk her daughter’s safety in order to protect her pride, which, of course, she wasn’t. And never mind that she was perfectly capable of operating a motor vehicle; it wasn’t as if she’d been drinking, for Pete’s sake.

  For these reasons, and others not so easy to recognize, she gave in.

  She even said, “Thank you.”

  Outside Hutch sprinted over to the Volvo to fetch Madison’s car seat from the back, and within a few moments he was installing the gear inside his extended cab truck. His hands moved with a deftness Kendra well remembered as he hoisted Madison into the seat—he, the bachelor rancher and local heartthrob, might have performed the task a million times before.

  Madison loved being fussed over by a daddy type—what little girl didn’t?—and if she’d been wearing a dress instead of those little jeans and a T-shirt, she probably would have stood right there in the hospital parking lot and twirled her skirt.

  A softness settled over
Kendra’s heart as she looked on, but it was soon replaced by a flicker of dread. She could certainly prevent herself from falling in love with Hutch Carmody, but could she prevent Madison from buying into the illusion?

  Hutch, despite his wild ways, was decent through and through. He genuinely liked people, particularly children, and he talked to them with a rare, enfolding ease that naturally made them feel special, even entirely unique.

  It wasn’t a deception, Kendra concluded sadly, not really. The problem was that, to Hutch, every child was special and every woman. Every dog and horse, too.

  She tried to shake off these thoughts as she climbed into the front passenger seat, once Madison was settled, and buckled herself in for the short ride home.

  If she didn’t allow herself to care too much for this man, she reasoned fitfully, as Hutch took the wheel and started the truck’s engine, maybe Madison wouldn’t care too much for him, either.

  CHAPTER SIX

  MADISON, AFTER GREETING a wildly joyful Daisy the moment they entered the new house, where there were still boxes all around, accumulated over several days of moving, took Hutch by one hand and practically dragged him from one room to another, showing the place off. Of course the dog followed them, occasionally putting in her two-bits with a happy little bark.

  Kendra, emotionally winded from a long and eventful day, remained in the kitchen doing busywork, washing her hands at the sink, debating whether or not she ought to brew some coffee. The stuff could keep her up half the night, but as she remembered only too well, Hutch could drink the strongest java at midnight and still enjoy the sleep of the innocent and the just.

  Talk about ironic.

  Still Hutch had brought her and Madison safely home from the hospital visit to see the newest member of the Barlow clan—she was going to be Trace’s godmother and the honor humbled her—and she owed the man the courtesy of a cup of coffee if he wanted one.

  He’d pretty well gone to the wall that day, Hutch had, and he’d been a big part of some very memorable experiences for both her and Madison. At his suggestion, she’d left the keys to her Volvo at the hospital reception desk, and a couple of his ranch hands were already en route from Whisper Creek to pick up the vehicle and bring it to her.

  Yes, the least she could do was offer the man coffee.

  She didn’t dare think about the most she could have done.

  In the distance she heard Madison’s ringing laugh, the dog’s excitement at having the family intact and a visitor thrown in as a bonus, and Hutch’s now-and-again comment, all along the lines of, “Well, isn’t that something.”

  By the time the three wayfarers got back to the kitchen, Kendra had brewed a coffee for Hutch and an herbal tea for herself, using the one-cup wonder machine brought over from the big house. The device looked massive in this much smaller room, and way too fancy, but it served its purpose and for now that was enough.

  “This is quite a change from the mansion,” Hutch observed quietly as Madison hurried for the back door, calling over one shoulder that Daisy needed to go outside, and quick!

  Kendra merely smiled and held out the cup of black coffee.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Hutch said, taking the mug. It looked fragile as a china teacup in his strong rancher’s hands. “Thanks.”

  She inclined her head toward the table and he drew back a chair, but waited until she sat down with her tea before he took a seat himself.

  His manners were yet another of Hutch’s contradictions: he would leave a woman practically at the altar, wearing her heirloom wedding dress, break her heart right there in the presence of all her friends and family, but he opened doors for anyone of the female persuasion, whatever her age, and his male elders, too.

  Through the open screen door, with its creaky hinges, Madison could be heard encouraging Daisy to hurry up and be a good girl so they could go back inside and be with the cowboy man.

  Hutch grinned across the expanse of the tabletop and Kendra grinned back.

  “This has been quite a day,” she said, wondering if Hutch had the same odd mixture of feelings as she had where Slade and Joslyn’s new baby was concerned. He was clearly happy for the Barlows, but she knew he wanted kids, too—it had been a favorite topic between them, back in the day, how many children they’d have, the ideal ratio of boys to girls, and even what their names would be.

  A weary sort of sorrow overtook Kendra, just for that moment, and nearly brought tears to her eyes.

  She shook it off. No sense getting all moody and nostalgic.

  “That it has,” Hutch agreed in his own good time, which was the way he did everything. The habit could be exasperating, Kendra reflected, except in bed.

  Whoa, she thought. Don’t go down that road.

  A warm flush pulsed in her cheeks, though, and he noticed, of course. He always noticed what she’d rather have hidden, and overlooked things that should have caught his attention.

  She looked away for a moment, recovering from the sexual flashback.

  Madison and the dog came back inside, which helped Kendra calm down, and Madison sort of hovered around Hutch like a moth around a lightbulb.

  Kendra finally sent Madison into the living room to watch the cartoon channel for the allowed half-hour before bath and bed, not because she wanted to get rid of her, but because the child’s obvious adoration for Hutch was so unnerving.

  Only cartoons could have distracted Madison from this admittedly fascinating man and even then she was reluctant to leave the room.

  As soon as they were alone, Kendra opened her mouth and stuck her foot in it. “Don’t let her get too attached to you, Hutch,” she heard herself almost plead, in a sort of fractured whisper. “Madison’s already lost so much.”

  Hutch looked stunned; he even paled a little, under his year-round tan, but in a nanosecond, he’d gone from stunned to quietly furious.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he demanded, and though he kept his voice low, it rumbled like thunder gathering beyond the nearby hills.

  Kendra let out a long breath, closed her eyes briefly, and rubbed her temples with the fingertips of both hands. “I wasn’t saying—”

  He leaned slightly forward in his chair, his bluish-green eyes fierce on her face. “What were you saying, then?” he pressed. She knew that look—he wasn’t going to let this one go, would sit there all night if he had to, until he got an answer he could accept as the unvarnished truth.

  “Madison is only four years old,” she said weakly. Carefully. “She doesn’t understand that your charm, like sunshine and rain, pretty much falls on everybody.” She tried for more clarity and spoke with more strength now. “I don’t want her getting too fond of you, Hutch. You’re so nice to her and she might read things into that that aren’t there.”

  Hutch shoved a hand through his hair in a gesture of pure annoyance. His jawline went a bloodless white, he was clenching his back molars together so tightly. “You think I play games with people—with kids?” he finally asked, as though the concept had come out of left field and mowed him down. “You think I get some kind of kick out of making them believe I care so I can kick their feelings around later, just for the fun of it?”

  Kendra hiked up her chin and met his gaze straight on. “Maybe not with children,” she allowed evenly, “but do you ‘play games’ with women? That’s a definite yes, Hutch. And I’m sure Brylee Parrish isn’t the only person who’d be willing to back me up on the theory.”

  “You believe all that—” he paused, looked back over one shoulder, probably to make sure Madison hadn’t wandered back into earshot and, seeing that she hadn’t, finished with “—crap on the internet?”

  Kendra’s chuckle was light, but edged with a degree of bitterness that surprised even her. “Pictures don’t lie,” she said. “Besides, this goes back a lot further than your infamy on the web. Maybe you’ve forgotten that one of those broken hearts was mine?”

  He looked as though he couldn’t believe what
he was hearing. “And maybe you’ve forgotten that we had something good going for us before you decided to kick off the traces and become Lady Chamberlain.”

  “It wasn’t like that at all!” Kendra whispered.

  “Go ahead and rewrite history to suit yourself,” Hutch rasped, pushing back his chair and standing up, his half-finished coffee forgotten. He made the move so quietly that his chair didn’t so much as scrape the floor, but rage was hardwired into every lean, powerful line of him. He set his hands on his hips and looked down at her for a long moment, then added, “The fact is, sweetheart, you walked out on me.”

  A knock sounded at the screen door just then, and a man’s face appeared on the other side of the mesh. “Brought the car,” he said, jangling the keys.

  Hutch crossed the room, yanked the screen door open, and stormed right past the guy without even glancing at him.

  The ranch hand looked at him curiously and extended the Volvo keys to Kendra, who had followed Hutch as far as the threshold, even though she had no intention of pursuing him. All the things she wanted to say to Hutch—okay, scream at him—were lodged painfully in the back of her throat, where she’d barely managed to stop them.

  “Thank you,” Kendra said mildly, taking the keys from the visitor’s hand.

  “You’re mighty welcome,” the weathered cowboy replied with a practiced tug at his hat brim. A mischievous twinkle lit his eyes. “Seems like this wouldn’t be a good time to hit the boss up for a raise.”

  Kendra smiled at the joke. “You’re probably right,” she replied.

  Hutch’s truck started up with a roar, and both Kendra and the ranch hand winced a little when the tires screeched as he pulled away from the curb.

  The cowboy shook his head, smiled ruefully and turned toward the other Whisper Creek truck waiting in the short driveway alongside the house, a second man at the wheel.

  Kendra waved, closed the screen door, then its inside counterpart, hung the keys on a nearby hook and turned to find herself facing her daughter.

  Madison and Daisy stood side by side, in the middle of the kitchen, their heads tilted at exactly the same angle, their gazes questioning and worried.