Garrison pointed his finger, his face dark with anger. “That woman threatened me with a gun.”
“Which she is properly permitted to own and carry,” Tate said. “Marge, is this the yahoo you called me about yesterday? You want to press charges?”
Katie laid a hand on the sheriff’s sleeve. “I’d like a few minutes with this gentleman.” She refused to call Brad her husband; he had ceased to deserve that title. “In the barn.” Like Luke, she had come to take strength from the company of horses.
“Not out of sight,” Luke said with a scowl.
“Of course not. Oscar, would you please make sure the party keeps rolling? Don’t let Auntie Rose get involved.”
“About time to sing ‘Happy Birthday,’ right?”
“Perfect. Jake, if you could start carrying out the cupcakes...”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”
“Pretty clear who’s in charge here,” Tate said. “Okay, out to the barn. But I’ll be watching the whole time, Garrison.”
Oscar and Jake left first and cleared the crowd away from the door. Marge followed, giving Garrison an evil glare over her shoulder.
“If we go out the front door and around the far side of the house, no one will notice us,” Katie said. She looked at Luke. “See you outside.”
“Whatever you say, ma’am,” he said, echoing his father.
Luke had the big sliding barn door pushed back by the time the others appeared. He set the brakes on his wheelchair. “I’m staying right here,” he said.
The sheriff patted his shoulder. “We’ll keep you company, son.”
Katie walked ahead of Brad halfway down the long center aisle and stopped in front of a box stall. The palomino mare stuck her head over the door with a soft snort.
“This is Dawn,” Katie said, the name jumping into her mind unbidden—a golden new beginning for her and the horse. “She belongs to the Camerons, but I’m going to help with her rehab.”
“You can’t be serious.” Brad flung up his hands, making the mare shy back into her stall. “This is a fling, a fantasy. I don’t blame you—I drove you to it. But this has got to be a passing whim.”
“Maybe, but it’s better than just existing at the edge of your life the way I’ve obviously been doing.” She led him to the side door opening to the horse pasture. The snowy peaks of the San Juans loomed beyond the level creek bottom with its fringe of willows.
“This is my world now,” she said. “This is my life. Durango is a nice town. I have friends here, people who come into the Queen every day and enjoy my cooking. Marge and I work well together—I’d love to buy in as a partner.”
“With the money you cleaned out of our account, I suppose.”
“No more than I deserved for fifteen years of faithful service.” She came down hard on faithful. “Katie the Irish maid, almost like one of the family. And I took much less than a good divorce lawyer could get for me. All I want from you is my freedom.”
“I see you’re screwing around already,” he said with a sneer.
“Don’t try to judge me by your standards. Luke and I have too much respect for each other to behave the way you’ve done.”
He seemed to shrink under her unrelenting gaze. “You won’t give me another chance?”
“You’re kidding, right?” She turned and strode ahead of him toward the sunlight, leaving him to follow. “We’re done, Sheriff,” she said. “I’ll have your burrito with green chili ready for you on Monday morning.”
Brad climbed into the deputy’s car without another word.
The party began to wind down, with parents carting exhausted children and cranky babies home. Auntie Rose left with Oscar, unaware of the near meltdown at her party. She had thanked Katie repeatedly for the rosebud-decorated cupcakes. “Every one like a little birthday cake,” she said. “So much work, so much love. I’m so happy for my favorite boy.” She kissed Katie’s cheek.
The last guests left before sunset and the leftovers were parceled out between Marge, Tom’s family and the home ranch. Katie and Luke went together to check the horses.
“I’ve thought of a name for my horse,” she said, fondling the mare’s ears and straightening her creamy forelock. “Dawn.”
“Couldn’t be better,” Luke said. “I knew you’d come up with something.”
They moved to the door overlooking the horse pasture and watched in comfortable silence while light faded from the sky and the first stars appeared.
At last he said, “So what happens next?”
“I truly can’t say. Maybe he’ll fight me over the divorce, maybe not. I’m not going to think about it right now.”
“Good plan,” he said.
* * *
KATIE DROVE TO Durango the next afternoon. Heeding Jake’s advice, seconded by Luke and Shelby, she planned to spend the night at Marge’s instead of returning to her apartment. She didn’t think Brad would try accosting her again, but he knew where she lived. Better to wait until she was sure he had left town.
Marge had carried home leftovers guests had brought to the feast. “I’d kill for the recipe of that pumpkin succotash June Black Horse makes. And her chili-chocolate cake. Did you get a taste of the beef?”
“I’m afraid not. There was none left by the time I got a chance to eat. And after I helped tend it the night before.”
“Never mind,” Marge said. “There’ll be other parties.” She winked. “Maybe even a wedding. Which reminds me, a history grad student at Fort Lewis found out about our mystery bride. We missed some letters in a separate compartment. No tragedy, just a heck of a romantic tale.”
“I’m glad,” Katie said. “I don’t need any sad tales. So why didn’t she use her pretty clothes?”
“The bride’s name was Emily Ruston. Her father was upstart rich from silver and arranged for his daughter to marry into a local family with roots almost as deep as the Camerons’. Her parents took her to Europe to buy her trousseau, but on the return sailing, she fell in love with a young journalist from New York. They eloped the minute the boat docked.”
Katie took a second helping of elk stew. “So how did everything end up in your attic?”
“Emily and her husband lived in the East for a while, but she was homesick, so they moved back to Durango. Her parents welcomed her and bought her this house, and guess what? Her husband made his own silver strike and did very well for himself. She lived in this house the rest of her life.”
“I guess she never got to wear her wedding finery,” Katie said. “What are you going to do with the clothes?”
“Why? You want them?”
“Not really. What would I do with them? But I wonder if I could fit into that wedding gown.” Maybe Emily’s good luck in love still clung to the dress.
Marge rose from her seat and gave Katie a peck on the cheek. “I suspect Emily would smile down to see it finally put to use. You’ll get your own happy ending—I feel it in my witch’s bones.”
* * *
BUSINESS WAS BRISK as usual the next morning at the Queen. Sue Cabot kept the carousel spinning with orders, and Roger moved almost at a trot clearing tables and resetting them as customers arrived hungry and left well fed.
“Breakfast burrito with green chili,” Sue said through the pass-through. “Extra cheese.”
“Sounds like Sheriff Tate’s here,” Katie said.
“And someone asked for a bagel with light cream cheese. I told him he might have better luck at the café down the street, but he changed his order to coffee, whole wheat toast, dry, and orange juice.”
The hairs on the back of Katie’s neck prickled. “Where’s Marge?”
“She ran to the bank—we’re out of ones. Something wrong?”
“Probably not. Where’s Mr. Whe
at Toast sitting?”
“The small table by the window. You want me to give the sheriff a heads-up?”
Katie peered into the dining room and sighed. “No, I’ll take care of it.”
She left the kitchen, stopping for a moment by Sheriff Tate’s table to tap his shoulder. He followed her glance and started to stand.
“Not yet,” she said and moved toward the table Sue had pointed out.
“Good morning, Brad. Your orange juice okay?”
“I’m sorry to bother you at work,” he said, half rising. “I’m leaving today to catch a flight from Albuquerque. Could you spare me a few minutes in private?”
She considered his plea. What harm could it do? She glanced over her shoulder. “Just a second,” she said.
She crossed to Sheriff Tate’s booth. “I’m going to talk with...” Again the word husband stuck in her throat.
“Garrison,” Tate said. “You okay with it?”
She nodded. “We’ll go into Marge’s office and leave the door open. If you could just enjoy another cup of coffee...”
“I’ve got your back,” he said, “and I won’t let Marge barge in. I hope I don’t have to draw my weapon on her—too much paperwork.” He stood and switched to a seat facing the rear of the restaurant.
She beckoned to Brad, who followed her to Marge’s small office. She sat in the swivel chair at the roll-top desk and waved Brad to a battered Windsor chair.
She looked at her watch. “I have maybe ten minutes before the customers start getting restless,” she said. “Pretend you’re pitching a big project to a new client.”
“You know me pretty well.”
“Not as well as I thought. What happened, Brad? We started out so well. We wanted the same things. At least I thought we did.”
“I thought so, too, until the business took off,” he said. “I guess I fell in love with the success and prestige.”
“I tried to go along on the ride,” Katie said, “I really did. But I need to create something of my own. I’d never have left if we’d had children—”
Brad grunted as if in pain. “Yeah, about that. When I was twelve, I got mumps. I’d had my baby shots, but somehow I got sick anyway. I didn’t think about it till we’d been married awhile and you didn’t get pregnant. I got checked out—the doctor said our chances were slim to none.”
She stared at him, finally managing to say, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
His failure to confide in her hurt almost as much as his infidelity.
“We could have worked something out,” she said. “Some procedure, or adoption.”
He looked down at his hands. “I was ashamed. Like I was less of a man. Things got weird at home...”
“About five years ago.” She recalled he hadn’t touched her for nearly six months. “That’s when you really started burying yourself in your work.”
“And the other, too.” He turned away with a grimace. “First I went to a prostitute, but that was...”
“Please. I don’t need all the details.”
He shrugged “After that there was a sales rep at a conference in New York—”
“So you had to prove to yourself what a stud you were.” Bitterness welled up in her. “But you didn’t turn to me.”
“I didn’t think...you’d understand how worthless I felt. After a while it got to be a game with two prizes, talking women into bed and getting away with it.”
“Okay, I get it,” she said, sadness mingling with disgust. “I guess it won’t be as much fun now without the intrigue.”
“What if I sold out and moved here? There’s always work for a good contractor, and you’re right—Durango is a nice town.”
He shocked her into silence. Give up what he’d worked so hard to build in Connecticut? Just to win her back? For a moment she almost said yes, if only to honor the magnitude of his offer.
“I could build you another house, better than the first one.”
She regained her footing. “That was never my house. Your partner designed it, and his decorator furnished it. You let me choose the interior paint and the countertops, then changed the colors on me.”
“Vanessa thought the softer tones would be more modern.”
“Guess what? I’m not modern—I’m old-fashioned. If you’d cared what I wanted, we’d have bought an old farmhouse to restore, not an Ethan Allen showroom. Did you have sex with Vanessa, too?”
His face told her the random shot had struck home. “I’ll sell the house and buy whatever suits you,” he said. “We’ll do anything it takes if you want a baby. I never realized how important that was to you, because it didn’t matter much to me until I found out I couldn’t.”
“And it still doesn’t matter. I’m done with settling for second best,” she said, her voice rising. “I’m holding out for a man who wants children as much as I do, who’ll be a full-time father. Not someone who thinks a baby would be a nice little project to keep me occupied.”
“Everything okay?” Sheriff Tate stuck his head around the doorjamb.
“We’re fine, almost finished,” she said. “Let me go, Brad. Go home to Britt Cavendish. She looks like she would appreciate your house and your ambitions.”
“She’s gone—she meant nothing to me.”
Somehow she wasn’t shocked by his casual dismissal. “I’m sure you can find someone to take her place. Take up sailing—that should get you in with the silver-spoon crowd.”
She stood. “Have a safe trip back. Maybe I can forgive you someday, but I’ll never trust you again. We’re done.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“JUST LET ME off out front while you park,” Luke said. “I’ll wait for you.”
Shelby didn’t ask if he needed help, only braked in front of the Silver Queen. He pulled forearm crutches from behind the seat and slid down from the truck an inch at a time until he was standing square on the pavement. He waited a few seconds to be sure of his balance then stepped away to slam the door, giving Shelby a thumbs-up.
He made the two steps to the curb and then onto the sidewalk. He looked up just as Brad Garrison left the Queen. They saw each other at the same instant, their eyes locking like a clash of sabers.
With intense concentration, Luke moved forward until he stood only an arm’s length from Garrison.
“Enjoy your breakfast?” he asked.
“No, not that it’s any of your business. And stay away from my wife.”
“That’s her call, I reckon. Seems like she’d rather you stay away. Far away.”
“You feel pretty safe, don’t you?” Garrison’s fists balled at his sides. “You know I won’t hit someone who can’t defend himself.”
Luke lunged forward, almost falling, and Garrison took a quick step backward, livid with fury.
“Well, look at you! I told Katie you wouldn’t stay in that wheelchair long.” Marge stepped between the two men as if Garrison didn’t exist. “Let me open the door for you, Luke. I want to see her face when you walk in.”
Luke held his ground long enough to show he was willing to play this out before walking ahead of Marge into the restaurant. The door swung shut behind them.
Katie stood stone-like, both her hands covering her mouth. Then she ran to Luke, almost knocking him over when she flung her arms around him.
“I’m so glad you’re here! Did you see Brad outside?”
He steadied himself against the door frame and smoothed her hair back from her flushed face. “Yeah, we passed the time of day.”
Marge snorted. “Like two bull elk about to lock antlers. You’re dang lucky I showed up when I did. You want to wreck your new toys—” she pointed at his braces “—scrapping with someone six inches taller and fifty pounds heavier?”
“He’d be no bigg
er than me once I got him on the ground,” Luke said, knowing she was right. He’d been a breath away from making a damn fool of himself. “Why was he here?”
“Sit and let me catch up on orders,” Katie said. “Then I’ll tell you all about it.”
Sheriff Tate appeared beside them. “Too bad I didn’t walk the gent out, but I guess I can go make La Plata County safe now. If you’ll give me my check...”
“On the house,” Marge said. “I’m grateful you were here to back Katie up.”
Katie darted to the pastry case and came back carrying a paper bag. “To hold you till lunch,” she said.
“Just don’t tell my wife,” he said, accepting the bag. “She’ll make me start eating breakfast at home.”
Shelby came through the door. “Did I just see—”
“Yes,” they all said, and she laughed.
Katie and Marge headed for the kitchen while Luke and Shelby chose a table in a quiet corner. Sue and Roger stopped to exclaim over Luke’s braces and congratulate him on being upright again.
Twenty minutes later Katie came to their table, bringing three pieces of apple pie to go with the coffee Sue had poured.
“Brad was on his way out of town,” she said, taking a seat. “He stopped to let me know he was leaving.” She traced the pattern on the oilcloth table covering with her finger. “He offered to sell out in Connecticut and move here if Colorado suits me better.”
“The hell you say!” Luke’s resolve to keep his mouth shut vanished like smoke in a strong breeze.
“And he was willing to do whatever it takes to start a family if that would make me happy.”
Luke laid his fork down before he dropped it, his fingers as clumsy as a two-year-old’s. He’d done his best, he’d played fair. Now he saw his hopes receding like taillights on a dark desert two-lane.
“I told him to go home and find someone who likes his lifestyle better than I ever would,” Katie said.
Luke looked down to hide tears stinging his eyes.
The counter bell on the kitchen pass-through dinged in triple time. Katie jumped to her feet. “Enjoy your pie,” she said. “Marge never rings the bell like that unless she’s about ready to blow.”
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