by Casey Dawes
“Wow, she’s pretty,” the first girl said. “I bet she’d make a good barrel racer. Wouldn’t you girl?” She walked close, and Lefty nuzzled her.
The horse did have an affinity for women.
“Have you put a saddle on her?” Douglas asked.
“Not yet.” Would he ever get to a place where he’d think about putting a saddle on a horse? Not that he knew how to go about the process.
“Why don’t you let her out into the corral? The kids would like it, and she could use the exercise.” Julie’s soft voice echoed in the barn.
He nodded and led the mare from the barn. Soon there was a crowd looking at the animal.
But no one knew where she’d come from.
The party began to wind down in time for attendees to get home or to travel to where the fireworks were being held. Sarah was one of the last ones to leave. She embraced him in a giant bear hug.
“Willy would have been proud of what you’ve done for the ranch and the spread you put out for people. You’re becoming a part of this community—a good part. You should think harder about moving here permanently. It suits you.”
He nodded politely.
After they’d cleaned up the last of the trash, he cracked open two beers that were left and offered one to Julie. “Special reward. Thanks for all your help.” He gestured to the two Adirondack chairs that faced the sun setting over the mountains. “Unless you want to go to the fireworks ...” He hadn’t even thought about it. Didn’t small-town girls live on small-town traditions?
She shook her head. “Too much noise. They’re pretty once in a while, but we’ve been with people all day. I’m kinda wrung out.”
“What did the gallery owner say?”
“She’s willing to take a look—especially since I’m already in one gallery and I’ve sold a painting. Now, all I need to do is paint another one.”
“Must be hard to keep up with your job.”
“Yeah. Sue Anne’s pretty understanding, and I need that base salary for now.” She gave him a quick glance. “That’s why I thought the retreat idea would be perfect for me. Low maintenance and give me lots of time to paint—especially in the winter.”
He nodded. Maybe this was the way to pry her out of the state. He didn’t know why he was so intent on seeing if they could thrive outside of Montana, but he didn’t want to let her go, even for the night.
“I still don’t think it’s a good idea, but how about if I don’t say a flat out no for now,” he said. “If there is a way for someone to pay full price, though, I’d rather do that.”
“No holds in the state.” Her voice was quiet.
“Something like that.”
“And yet, you want me to paint something for you.”
“That’s different. That’s something of yours. And I’ll be happy to pay for it.”
She waved her hand. “We can talk about that later, after I actually produce something. After all, you’re letting me wander around your property.”
“How about I sweeten the deal even more? There’s one of the cabins my uncle used as guest quarters. I’ve cleaned it out and made sure everything works. How about as long as I have to stay here, I loan it to you so you can paint without bothering your roommates.”
“You’d do that for me? Really?”
“Yep. I really like you, Julie.”
She looked at him but didn’t say anything. Instead, she placed her half-finished brew on the picnic table.
Awkward. Too soon. Damn it.
“It’s a long drive. I’d better head back,” she said.
He stood and looked at her carefully. Her eyes were tired. How many beers had she had? He didn’t want her driving that long.
He wanted to kiss her and take her to bed, explore her a bit more.
But that was another thing that was too soon. He needed to keep her at a distance, so when he left, she wouldn’t be hurt ... well, too hurt.
Shit. Why was he leaving?
Oh, yeah. His life was somewhere else.
Regardless, he didn’t want her driving.
“Cabin’s ready now. Why don’t you stay the night? Then you can have a fresh start in the morning. Do you have to work?”
“Yes, but my shift doesn’t start until five.”
“Then stay.”
She looked cautious, and he could see her examining how tired she was in light of a one-hour-plus drive through mountain passes.
“Okay. It’s a good idea.” She picked up her beer and sat back down.
“I’ve got something else for you.” This suddenly seemed the time to give her the gift he’d been working on for several weeks.
He fetched it from his bedroom and brought it to her, feeling like he had the first time he’d landed a fish and presented it to his uncle. Proud but uncertain of the reaction.
She held the carved box in her hands for a few seconds, tracing the intricate top with her fingers. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s a pencil box,” he said, eagerly showing her how the lid slid off to reveal the cavity inside. “Talent like yours should have pretty things to use as tools.”
“This isn’t merely beautiful. It’s ... oh my, did you carve this?” She choked out the words.
All he could do was nod.
Her eyes shone with happy tears.
He’d intended to give her space, not push her. Instead, quietly, he stepped forward and tilted his head toward hers, his hand caressing the soft locks at the edge of her face.
Thank goodness she’d lost that silly hat during the day.
He gave her time to object, but she was silent, her gaze a little wide-eyed with caution.
Her soft lips tasted of sun and innocence, someone who could redeem his life and make him whole again. She’d given him hope and joy for the future already.
She responded, lifting her arms to encircle his neck and pull him closer. Her lips parted, inviting him to taste more.
He obliged, sweeping her mouth with his tongue as she tentatively explored him. Her fingers moved from the back of his neck and explored his face, lingering over his scars and testing the sandpaper of his late-day beard.
He hardened with need. If there was the slightest hesitation on her part, he’d stop. But she continued, and her passion ramped up as her hands returned to his back and traced the hard muscles he’d developed since he’d arrived.
He let his hand drift lower down her back, the soft curves of her body enticing him in a way no woman had ever done before. Oh, God, he wanted her. He pulled her closer so she could feel his desire.
She gasped and pulled back.
“I can’t.”
He dropped his hands and stepped back. “Okay. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ...”
“I didn’t mean to tease you.” She looked miserable and torn by a conversation she was having in her own mind. Her gaze wouldn’t meet his.
“You didn’t. You were into it. I guess I went too far.”
“Probably with most girls it wouldn’t matter.”
“But you aren’t ‘most girls.’ You’re special—at least to me.”
“You can’t mean that.” She looked at him in disbelief. “We barely know each other.”
“I know enough.” Cautiously, he took her hand and guided her back to the chairs.
“It’s just ... I ... well ... I don’t know how to say this. It sounds hopelessly old-fashioned.”
“Try me.” He smiled to encourage her.
“While I don’t buy all of my family’s and church’s teachings, there are some things I do believe in. One is that I want to be sure the ...” She stopped.
Without moving, he waited.
“I want the first man I’m with to be the one I’ll marry.” The sentence came out in a rush, and she looked to the mountains before turning back to him, chin up and eyes resolute. “I don’t need to wait until the wedding night, but I need to know he’s the one.”
It was more important than ever that she come to New York with hi
m. He wanted her. Not just for a night but for a long time. But to do that, she needed to see him in the city that molded him, just as he was seeing her in her environs.
“I understand,” he said.
“You do?”
He nodded. “It suits you. Part of the character I admire. You are a woman with a great deal of integrity and loyalty. It seems natural for it to extend to your private life. I’m not going to lie and tell you I wish it were different.” He allowed a grin that she reflected weakly. “But I respect you, and I won’t press the issue.”
“I’ll drive home tonight,” she said.
He shook his head. “I would worry too much. Stay in the cabin. It has a lock.”
“You put a lock on a guest cabin? No one locks their doors out here.”
“I’m from New York. Everything is locked up tight in my world.”
• • •
Julie tossed most of the night in the unfamiliar bed. The room was charming—and locked—but she felt no fear of Logan. He had proven he was a gentleman, raising her regard for him even further.
If only he wasn’t so bound and determined to go back to New York.
Maybe she should reconsider her stance. Would living in a city, especially with the wealth needed to navigate it, make it more pleasurable? She could spend time in galleries and museums; maybe take a few additional art classes or apprentice with a world-class painter. Could she keep her car in the city? Then she could use it to go north or south to explore the ocean’s edges.
And if he made love the way he kissed, it might be worth bending her rules.
But it wouldn’t be Montana. And she wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t do what she felt was right for her.
At six, she finally gave up and took a shower in the tiny bathroom. Cleaning herself refreshed her, but the feeling didn’t last as she slipped on the clothes she’d worn all day yesterday.
Before she left the cabin, she picked up the pencil box he’d made for her, once again running her fingers over the intricate carvings. With skill like that, he should be working with his hands, not chasing after a silly ball or pushing young egos to play harder and smarter. She put it with her other things and headed out the door.
Hobo lay on the tiny porch that came with the cabin. Had he been there all night to guard her?
“Good dog,” she said as he scrambled to his feet.
Logan was waiting on the porch for her.
“Coffee?” He raised his cup. “There’s more inside.”
“Sure.” The awkwardness she’d expected wasn’t there. She dropped her things in the car and followed him to the kitchen where he handed her a cup of coffee.
She followed him out back, and he handed her half of the paper from the day before. Sitting in comfortable silence, they read the paper as the birds chattered their morning hellos.
Relaxed, she finished her coffee and stood. “I’d better head off.”
“I should cook you breakfast before you go.”
“No, that’s okay. I need to head back. There are a few things I need to do before I go to work.” Like taking a second shower and throwing some clothes in the small washer-dryer unit. She opened the screen door to the kitchen.
He followed.
“You can’t drive all that way on an empty stomach.”
“I’m not hungry.”
He pulled a box from the counter and opened it. The sweet smell of powdered sugar and chocolate slipped from the container.
“Donut?” he asked with highly arched eyebrows and a voice that sounded like a man asking a little girl if she wanted candy.
“Shouldn’t, but they are tempting.”
“Just one.”
“Oh. Okay.”
He pulled off a paper towel and handed her a powered donut wrapped inside it.
“Thanks.” The earnestness of his eyes got to her. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I appreciate—well, everything.”
Before he could react, she left the kitchen with a wave and headed for her car.
As the miles rolled beneath her tires, she enjoyed the beauty of the scenery around her.
Was that all there was? Was she missing something, a key that might be important to her artwork ... or her happiness?
Logan had already shown his regard for her opinion. Yes, they’d kissed, but the second she’d hesitated, he stopped. He put her needs in front of his own. He was the type of man who not only knew which fork to use, but the correct wine glass to use for the occasion.
But he was also perfectly comfortable drinking his brew from a longneck bottle. He wouldn’t put her down for not functioning in his world. Instead he’d teach her things she knew nothing about. They’d go to museums—and they had world-class museums in New York.
Maybe they’d even go to Europe. Paris. Were Monet’s Water Lilies as fabulous as they appeared in art books? What would it be like to stand where Picasso painted?
But it wasn’t only what he could give her.
She could help him heal. He’d told her that more than once.
She should give him a chance. Give them both a chance at love. Maybe if she worked harder at understanding what drove him, they could find a compromise and be content being a country mouse and a city mouse together.
He wanted a painting. So, she’d create one.
She’d taken a few photos of the view from his porch last night that she could use as a start. Based on her conversation with the Phillipsburg gallery owner, she needed to begin on something local. Maybe a trip to Georgetown Lake.
Of course, that would mean more time off from the shop. Fortunately, Patricia, the young woman Sue Anne had chosen, was turning out to be a quick learner with a keen interest in learning everything there was to know about chocolate-making and running a small shop. They had a synergy Julie had never felt with her friend, no matter how close they were.
It wouldn’t be a problem to take off more time, except for the hit to her bank account. Like Dad said, whether or not she could get a retreat going, she was going to need a plan to handle the business of being an artist.
She entered Hellgate Canyon, the twisty, turny section of Route 90 before it reached Missoula. This is how her life could be, constrained by her past or opening up into the wide valley of experience.
The choice was hers.
• • •
“Boy, am I glad to see you,” Sue Anne said when she arrived. “The tourists have finally made it north, and they’re stocking up before heading to Glacier, Flathead, Paws Up, or wherever. This is a new standard of busy. I’m thrilled!”
“Patricia working out?”
“She’s wonderful! I couldn’t have picked a better person.”
“That’s great to know.” Julie hesitated.
“That’ll give us time to prepare for the wedding. It’s only six weeks away.”
“I know. I keep wondering how I’m going to get everything done and build up enough supplies to be away for a week. You will be here, won’t you?”
“Of course. I’ve got it in big bold letters on my calendar.”
“Good,” Sue Anne said with a smile.
“Any idea where you’re going for your honeymoon?”
“Zach really wants to see Lake Louise. It sounds beautiful ... and remote.”
“You’ll do fine, you southern belle. Texans are made of sturdy stock. You know that.”
“I can always count on you.” Sue Anne threw her arms around her and squeezed before releasing her and looking at her carefully. “How did the Fourth go?”
“Fine. The parade was cute, and Logan can cook a mean barbeque. I talked to a new gallery owner, and she wants—Oh! You don’t know! I sold a painting!”
“That’s great! Wonderful!” Sue Anne grasped Julie’s arms. “I’m so proud of you. I know what it feels like to have a dream come true.”
“It’s only a whisper.” Julie laughed. “I’ve got a lot farther to go.”
“But it’s a start. And the other gallery owner—does s
he want a painting, too?”
“On commission.”
“Soon there’ll be more and more.”
“I hope you’re right.” Julie hesitated. She didn’t need to pile any more work on Sue Anne, but she wanted to do this right. “I know this is a crunch time for you, but is there a good time to pick your brain about business plans? My father suggested I develop one.”
“After all the help you’ve given me? Of course. How about Tuesday afternoon? It’s usually quiet then.”
“Good.”
Sue Anne glanced at her watch. “Darn. I’m supposed to meet Zach in five minutes. Got to run.” Sue Anne hung her apron on the nearest hook and took off.
After she finished the truffles Sue Anne had started, Julie checked Saturdays and Sundays before the wedding against the calendar Sue Anne kept in the kitchen, noting everyone’s schedule, including hers. Sunday was going to be the best day for a wedding shower. She texted Zach with a few suggestions, since he would be helping her figure out who to invite and how to contact them.
She really needed to get more in touch with this wedding.
The day flew by fast, as did the next few. Even though they’d ended on a weird note, she hoped she’d hear from Logan, but there was only silence from Phillipsburg.
On Sunday, her roommates took off with their current boyfriends to go hiking, so she was able to start on the painting for Logan. Once again, she fingered the box he’d made for her. A pencil box. Who would be so observant and thoughtful as to put this much creativity into a functional item? Every time she touched it, she felt him nearby.
Hopefully, her painting would mean the same.
As she flipped through the photos, she picked out a few that included some of the ranch buildings. There were also a few of Lefty and Hobo. He may not want to remember the place he was giving up, but he didn’t yet know the power of her state on a person’s viewpoint.
She sketched out the drawing she had in mind, changing things as she went to gain the perspective she wanted—the human scale of the ranch set against the grander vista of the grassland and mountains.
She studied her sketches of the animals. Could she do a credible enough job to include them? Once she had the main scene laid down, she could spend a few more hours sketching to get the right look. Decision made, she began to transfer the outline to canvas.