by Casey Dawes
“Wow! It looks great!” After plunking the beer in the fridge, she walked out to the deck. He’d already set up a tablecloth, napkins, plastic ware, and plates. Interspersed were a couple of mason jars with flowers from the garden.
“I liked your container idea,” he said. “Casual. That’s how life seems to work best out here—easygoing.”
“One of the reasons I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
He stowed the corn and potato salad, then checked his watch. “We’d better go. Parade will start soon, and I understand parking is impossible.”
“Okay.” Her voice was bursting with barely controlled excitement.
She’d tell him what was on her mind when she was ready.
Even though he didn’t see Hobo nearby, he opened the back passenger door and whistled before opening the door for Julie. A streak bounded from the pasture and leapt into the seat. The mare stuck her head over the railing and nickered her disapproval at the loss of companionship.
“Still no word from Mattie?” she asked.
“Actually, I got an official letter from her claiming ownership. She copied her solicitor.”
“What did you do with it?”
“Filed it. I’m not going to rise to her bait.”
“Wonder how a new owner will feel about her.”
“Don’t know. As far as I know, the humane society doesn’t pick up stray horses. Maybe you can take her?”
“I doubt she’d fit in my apartment.” Her light laugh lifted his spirits even more.
She was almost bouncing on her seat. What was up? Maybe he was supposed to ask. Deborah had always let him know what he was supposed to say, do, and think around her, which had made their lives together safe but boring. It had been like living with a strange clone of himself.
This was different. Oh well. In for a penny ...
“Is there something up? You seem excited.”
“My painting sold! Someone from Hamilton bought it—said it was just the thing to hang over the fireplace. Imagine! My painting in someone’s home!”
Then she did bounce on the seat.
He laughed heartily. When he first met her, she’d seemed a little uptight. Now, it was as if painting in the open air had opened a part of her soul she’d had locked up for a while.
“That’s fantastic. Did you give her the new painting?” he asked when he was finally able to breathe again.
“Uh-huh. She thinks that will sell quickly, too.”
“Girl, you better get busy. You’re all set to become a major artist—the C. M. Russell of Missoula.”
“Get out of here. I’ve only sold one painting. Russell sold a few museums’ worth. Ouch!”
“Sorry.” He’d been so caught up in her enthusiasm he’d forgotten to pay attention to the driveway and had hit a big hole he’d been meaning to fill in. Definitely needed to get the road graded.
More money. His mother would not approve.
He didn’t care. For the first time in his life, he felt like his expenditures were worthwhile. There would be more satisfaction in a smooth drive than in an expensive bottle of wine purchased for his parents.
And he was happier with an unknown dog, a mystery mare, a ranch next to nowhere, and the easy-living woman by his side than he’d ever been in the uptight world of Manhattan and professional tennis.
The realization caught him off guard. It was too bad, because no matter what happened, he had to go back to New York. He’d made commitments, and he was going to keep them.
If only she’d go with him. Then he could bring a little bit of Montana home with him.
• • •
The parade route was already lined with people. He parked in a dusty lot behind Main Street. As he and Julie walked up the slight hill, he was greeted by a number of locals he’d met at the reception for Willy and while doing business around town. A number of them remembered Julie, and those who didn’t know her quickly introduced themselves.
Small towns, where everyone made it their business to know everything about everyone else. It could be annoying, but right now it felt good.
They cheered the local football team as it rode by on a flatbed trailer and applauded the high school cheerleading float and the troops of scouts, proud in their uniforms. A few veterans walked with the nation’s flag, representing the sacrifices they’d made for the country.
They cheered civic organizations, the members of the local biker church, and those walking with every type of dog there was. Hobo nudged his hand as if to say, “Why aren’t we there?”
Young riders on sturdy horses were followed by clowns cleaning up the animal’s deposits to the cheers and laughs of the crowd.
“Good to see you, Logan. And your friend.” Mattie’s voice stiffened his spine.
“Hello.” Next to him, both Hobo and Julie stilled, as if waiting for a rattler to strike.
“I want my horse. When can I pick her up?”
“You still haven’t convinced me it’s your horse.”
“I don’t understand why you don’t believe me. I showed you the papers—told you why I wasn’t there to take care of it.”
He turned to fully face her.
“It doesn’t ring true to me,” he said. He could feel a few of the people standing near him tune in to what was going on. The story would be all over town by the end of the day.
Couldn’t be helped.
“Do I have to sue you?”
“Do whatever you want. The mare is staying with me.”
“I’ll get her back. Whatever it takes.”
Julie moved shoulder to shoulder next to him as he stared at Mattie.
“We’ll be ready.”
He made a move to touch the brim of his imaginary hat, turned back to Julie, and took her by the elbow. “I think it’s time to grab a burger,” he said, guiding her toward Does, with Hobo trailing behind.
Unsurprisingly, there was a line at the restaurant. But anything to get away from that woman.
He shuddered with revulsion.
“What?” Julie asked.
“That woman,” was all he could spit out.
“I know. I’m glad you’re not rolling over and giving up the mare.”
“Why would you ever think I would?”
“She’s one more inconvenience to you.”
That stung.
“There’s an empty seat in my area,” Sarah said as she dashed up. “Grab it. It’s a madhouse in here!”
Logan guided Julie through the crowded floor to a small table in the far corner. In spite of the people, noise, and smell of hot grease, he felt as if he was leading her to a table in the fanciest restaurant in New York. With her bright smile and colorful demeanor, Julie was a classy woman no matter where she was.
What would his mother think of her?
A few seconds later, Sarah slid a mug of coffee in front of him and a glass of iced tea in front of her. “I suggest burgers,” she said. “Cook’s on a roll.”
“I think we’ll have burgers.” He looked at Julie, and she nodded her head.
“Good choice.” Off she went.
Julie laughed and glanced out the window. “Will Hobo be okay out there?”
“Sure. There’s water, shade, and lots of people to check out and greet.”
“Got a point.” She sipped her iced tea. “I like the mare.” He leaned forward. “She’s a top-notch animal—friendly and smart.” And he wanted to ride her, if his damn leg would ever heal. “When I leave ...”
If he left.
“When I leave,” he started again more strongly, “I’ll take the time to find her someplace good to be. I really wish there was a way for you to take her.”
She stirred the straw in her drink.
What was she thinking?
“How about you sell the ranch to me? I wouldn’t be able to pay it all at once, but you could take the loan, and if I was unable to make the payments, you could take the note back. You wouldn’t lose anything. I can take care of Lefty
and Hobo and everything.” Her voice grew tight.
Could he do that? It would make her happy.
But it would tie him to Montana ... and her. What would happen if she couldn’t pay the note? Then he’d be stuck starting all over again.
“When I sell it, I want it to be over and done with. I’m not coming back. I thought you understood that.” His voice was harsh, even to his own ears.
She gulped, but then drew a deep breath and continued. “I have an idea. I know I could make it work.” Another deep breath. “I want to create an artists’ retreat. Those cabins are ideal. They provide privacy, but there’s an ability to talk to other artists. I could work on the barn and make it a meeting place—maybe get different people to teach classes there. And now you’ve built that amazing barbeque area. It could be wonderful! Can’t you see it?”
The thing was, he could.
He fought the vision. It wasn’t his. He was going to show young men and women how to play to win, to get the trophy and the prize money. Start them on the road to success. And he wouldn’t only teach rich kids. His plan was to provide a significant opportunity for those with talent and drive, regardless of their circumstances, to give them an opportunity out of a not-so-good life.
A bunch of airy-fairy artists oohing and ahhing over the amber waves of grain weren’t remotely in the picture.
He couldn’t want her dream. It would destroy his and maybe him along with it. Who was he if he wasn’t a tennis player?
“Out of the question,” he said.
“Oh. Okay.” She retreated into her shell.
Damn it.
“Burgers. Just the way you like ’em, Logan.” Sarah slid the plates in front of them. “I had to guess on yours, honey,” she said to Julie. “But Bill’s churning ’em out all the same, so it doesn’t really matter.”
She paused with her hands on her hips. “You guys okay?”
“Uh-huh,” Logan said.
“Sure,” Julie said.
“Somehow I find that hard to believe,” Sarah said. “But I don’t have time to get to the bottom of this. All I have to say is, whatever is making you two look like snarling dogs, get over it. Life’s too short. And today’s the nation’s birthday—a time to work together, not be angry with each other. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Logan said.
Julie nodded.
Sarah sped back to the counter to pick up the next order.
“Guess she told us,” Julie said.
“Yep.” What should he say after that? A change of subject. Could he convince her the devil didn’t live in New York City, and there were possibilities everywhere, not just in a ranch near a town of 840 people in the West?
“What did you think of the parade?” he finally asked.
“It was exactly what I expected a small-town parade to be.” Her energy bubbled through her dissatisfaction. “In fact, I was thinking of re-creating a series of small vignettes of a small-town parade that hang together. Maybe I’d have one character that appears in all of the pieces.”
“Interesting.”
“Yes. I took a lot of pictures with my phone. I can’t wait to get started.”
“Feel free to come out anytime. You’re always welcome. If you want to stay overnight, you can use one of the cabins.” That ought to satisfy her.
Instead, her shoulders drooped.
He just didn’t get it. He was being nice, wasn’t he? Why was she acting this way? Crap, he didn’t understand women.
Definitely not this woman.
It would be best if he ignored the situation and tried to stick to neutral territory.
What the hell could he talk about?
“What time do you need to get back to set up the barbeque?” she asked.
Whew.
He glanced at his watch. “I think we need to finish our burgers and get out of here.”
“On it,” she said and took a big bite.
He followed suit. Eating eliminated talking, and the one thing he did not want to do was talk. Hopefully, some of his guests would engage Julie, and he’d be spared any further chance to put his foot in his mouth.
Or think about how much he wanted to kiss away her unhappiness.
They managed to keep it light through the rest of the meal and the trip back to the ranch. Hobo gave a periodic whine and kept his chin on the seat back behind Julie.
What was up with the damn dog now?
He was going to have one hell of a cleaning bill when he returned this car. Should have bought one from a used lot and sold it when it was time to leave. But if something went wrong, he wanted to turn it over to a rental car company and not deal with it himself. A motor head he was not.
When they returned to the ranch, Julie got the pot ready for the corn and stuffed drinks into an ice chest full of cubes while Logan created a second place for beer. Luke Bryan and Blake Shelton thumped from the speakers he’d installed on the deck.
They worked well together, moving into a team very quickly. Maybe it could be a blueprint for the bigger barrier between them. In the lull between the final preparation and the arrival of the first guests, he had the opportunity to ask.
“Could you paint a picture for me? One I could take back to New York to remind me of Montana?”
“I thought you didn’t want any reminders,” she said.
“I don’t want reminders of the ranch. The countryside is beautiful, though. And I’ve seen the effort you’ve put into your art.”
“But you haven’t actually seen my art,” she said.
“True. Do you have anything with you?”
“I don’t carry my paintings around in the car.” She smiled. “Only when I’m working on them. And the two I’ve got went to a gallery in Stevi, remember?”
“I guess I’ll have to make a trip to the other side of the mountains.” He smiled at her. “I’d really like an original Julie Thompson.” He took a stray hair that had escaped from behind her ear and replaced it, his fingers lingering on the soft skin of her jaw a second too long.
“Logan ...”
“Hi there!” Sarah’s voice echoed through the house. “Anyone home?”
“Out back, Sarah,” he said as he stepped away from Julie. Probably just as well. She had a deer caught in the headlights look.
“Oh, wow,” the woman said as she handed two pie plates filled with oozing fruit to him. “You’ve done an amazing job. Willy would have been so proud.” She gestured to the pies in his hand. “One’s raspberry and one’s blueberry. Berries have been very plentiful this year. I picked them over the weekend, so they should be really fresh.”
“They look wonderful.” Julie took the plastic-wrapped pies from his hands and placed them on a table she’d arranged along the wall for desserts. “I can’t wait to dig in.”
Sarah had picked the berries and made the pies herself. Desserts in Manhattan came from his mother’s favorite bakery on First Avenue.
“Who else is coming?” Sarah asked.
“A few of the gals from the garden center, some couples from the hardware place, people I connected with at Willy’s funeral. About twenty-five people.”
“Good crowd.” She nodded with satisfaction.
Another two people came around the side of the house—his attorney, Douglas, and his wife. “Looks nice,” the lawyer said.
“Thanks. You know Sarah.”
“Of course.” The lawyer started to introduce his wife to Sarah, but it turned out the two women were in a knitting circle together.
“And this is Julie. She works in the chocolate shop in Missoula ... for now. But she’s a talented artist who is starting to sell. You should snatch one up for your office.”
The pink tinge on Julie’s face pleased him.
“I’ll do that,” Douglas said. “Nice to meet you.”
A few more people came around back, and from the slams of car doors and chatter, more were on the way. Soon Logan was wrapped up in the duties of host and lost track of Julie. He meant
to introduce her to the local gallery owner but caught a glimpse of the pair chatting amicably about an hour into the festivities.
Soon he lost himself in the spirit of the occasion—keeping ribs, burgers, and hot dogs going on his new grill and making sure beverages didn’t run out. Julie kept condiments full and extras piled high on the table. The sun was bright, but the trellis he’d erected kept everything cool.
A swimming pool sure would be nice, especially for the kids who were starting to run around setting off small firecrackers. Hobo had retreated to the barn, where the mare neighed her displeasure at the noise.
Would someone in the gathering know how the horse got to be in Willy’s barn? As guests came up to replenish their meat supplies, he casually introduced the issue of the stray mare.
He struck gold while talking to the attorney’s wife.
“That’s Willy’s horse, I think,” she told him. “Some guy came into town towing a trailer a few months back and asked for directions to the ranch. Said he had something that needed to be delivered.”
“Do you know exactly when that was?”
“Right before Willy got sick, I think.”
That made sense and fit with Sarah’s idea that the horse had been delivered right after Willy went into the hospital.
But why wasn’t there a mention of the mare in the will or any of the papers he’d found? Didn’t horses need to have papers?
Chapter 12
Logan cornered Douglas and asked him if he knew anything that Willy had been planning in terms of livestock.
“He loved to go to Vegas, particularly during the national rodeo. He was getting real interested in rescuing rodeo stock—running the horses on the range once their usefulness was over. He had the land and money enough. I didn’t know he’d moved from talking to doing, though. Can I see her?”
Logan let Julie know where he was going, and they walked across to the structure.
“She’s a beauty,” Douglas said when Logan led the mare out of her stall.
Lefty nickered her agreement.
“Can I see?” A young girl, about twelve or thirteen, dashed into the barn, followed by two more.
How had they known?
“Did you really expect to walk into a barn alone?” Douglas chuckled. “Kids are always keeping their eye out, especially if it’s a strange place that needs exploring.”