Montana Cowgirl

by Debra Salonen

  She would have jerked back her hand if he hadn’t been holding it tight. “Oh.”

  The happy open look on her face shut down.

  “Mia and Ed were in college when they got pregnant. Mia was determined that a pregnancy wasn’t going to derail her goal of getting her law degree. She passed the bar five years after Ed. Juggling babies and childcare and college took a toll—on their marriage and on Mia, physically.”

  “You think the stress caused her cancer?”

  “I don’t know. But her life is completely f-ed up at the moment. And her kids are really, really unhappy.” He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated that he couldn’t make his words express exactly what he felt. “I guess what I’m saying is if Mia and Ed couldn’t pull off an unplanned pregnancy when they were in college, what chance would we have had in high school?”

  “Are you saying you think I made the right decision?” Tears pooled in her eyes like sparkling crystal drops.

  He nodded. “Yes, but...”

  “There’s always a but.”

  He reached out and put his hand against her belly. “I’ll probably always wish things could have been different. I am really sorry for the way I handled things, though. You didn’t deserve all that crap.”

  “I wish things had been different, too.”

  He took her face between his hands and used his thumbs to wipe her tears. “Do you think it’s possible for us to put the past behind us and start fresh?”

  Bailey wanted with all her heart to say, “Yes.” But something stopped her. She didn’t know why. Paul seemed sincere in his apology. She appreciated the perspective time and his sister’s situation had given him. But...could they ever completely let go of the past and move on...together?

  He pulled her to him, two hearts pressed together, memories of heat and sex and wanting sweeping away the old pain.

  Could they forget? Maybe not, but they could comfort each other in a way their bodies remembered. And maybe for now, that would be enough.

  Chapter 17

  Bailey didn’t recognize her first shopper of the morning, but she knew the type—bored, rich and looking to make a statement. Bailey’s target market for big-ticket items.

  B. Dazzled’s bread and butter consisted of the under fifty bucks stuff—of which they’d sold a boatload in the past six days. Traffic had thinned out after the weekend, but Bailey was hoping the second weekend would draw new people from all over.

  The lady studying Bailey’s twenty-two-hundred dollar necklace was not from Marietta or Montana. L.A. by her tan and perfect, designer breasts. Bailey would have staked her profit on it.

  “Good morning. How are you?” She picked up her polishing cloth and a pounded silver cuff. Mornings at the fair were Bailey’s favorite time—especially on a morning after she’d spent the night with Paul. Chloe and Mark were staying with their cousins at grandma and grandpa’s, which gave her and Paul some valuable together time. They’d even socialized with old friends and Mariettans. “If you have any questions about the stones, just let me know. Montana sapphire is quite unique.”

  The woman framed the faux marble bust in her cell phone camera and snapped a shot just as Sage Carrigan walked up. Although Sage and Bailey hadn’t been close in high school, the two had a great deal in common now. Both businesswomen trying to make a living in their old hometown.

  They’d caught up a few nights ago while the majority of fairgoers were watching Country and Western legend Alan Jennings, in the bandstand.

  Sage had a permanent shop in town—and had even offered to display a few pieces of B.Dazzled jewelry if Bailey decided not to open her own store.

  “That piece would really complement your skin tone,” Bailey told her prospective customer.

  “Do you think so? It’s pretty, but quite a bit more than I usually pay for costume.”

  Bailey looked at Sage. They’d also discussed the knock-your-head-against-the-wall mentality that some people brought to the marketplace.

  Both Copper Mountain Chocolates and B.Dazzled Western Bling sold unique, handcrafted products. If you wanted mass-made, you were better off shopping at the nearest big chain store.

  “That piece is one-of-a-kind,” Bailey told the woman. “The stones are Yogo sapphires we buy from a family-owned company that has been hunting and polishing this type of gem for four generations. The Yogo is almost always blue or purple, and they’re not heat-treated. I guarantee you’ll be the only person in the world with this exact necklace.”

  Sage subtly flashed her two thumbs up then cut out, dashing back to her counter when a young mother with three kids walked up. With novel flavors like papaya and chili pepper, her chocolates didn’t generally appeal to children.

  Sure enough, the woman took one look at the price tags and said, “How ’bout a corn dog?”

  “What kind of metal is this?”

  Bailey returned her focus to her customer. She explained about the quality of her silver. “Why don’t you try it on? You’ll love the feel of it against your skin. It’s far lighter than it looks.”

  Ten minutes later, the lady walked out wearing her new necklace.

  Sage applauded. “Great work, Bailey. Like reeling in an eighteen pounder. Your dad would be proud. Pretty soon we’re going to be calling you the big fish whisperer.”

  Bailey surreptitiously took a bow.

  Their camaraderie felt redemptive in ways Bailey hadn’t expected. Until this week, Bailey hadn’t realized how starved she was for contemporary female company.

  In addition to Sage, Bailey had reconnected with several other Marietta classmates back in town for the fair. And the best part of all was realizing the Jenkins family drama she’d always felt separated her from others truly had passed under the bridge.

  She jotted down the sale on the spreadsheet and was in the process of picking another piece to display when her parents came in.

  Bailey didn’t think she’d ever get used to seeing her father in a wheelchair, but OC’s doctor had given strict orders not to walk more than a few yards on his new prosthetic until his stump was completely toughened up. Apparently Dad had set back his recovery a few weeks by pushing too hard, too fast.

  “Hi, guys. Mom, I just sold the Yogo necklace.”

  “I know. I pointed it out to your dad as we were coming here. He complimented the lady on it.”

  “I had her preening like an old hen with peacock feathers,” OC boasted.

  “You were ogling her bosom.”

  “That, too. There was plenty of it.”

  She batted him playfully with her scarf. “I’m going to buy some chocolate. You’d better shape up, mister, or you won’t get any.”

  “You know what I like. Don’t come back without it or I’ll turn you over my knee and paddle your behind.” He winked at Bailey. “One of these days I’m going to do it just to see if she likes it.”

  Bailey reached for her purse to hide her blush. Ever since OC’s return from Reno, her parents had been acting strangely flirtatious.

  Although bemused—and a wee bit grossed out—did a child ever want to think of his or her parents as sexual beings?—Bailey thought she could see a light at the end of the tunnel. A flashing road sign saying: Move on.

  She couldn’t live with her parents forever. If she could find the right time to ask OC about giving up Jenkins’s Fish and Game, she might suggest moving the retail part of her business to the front and making the back part into her home.

  “Hey, Dad, I was wondering...would you consider—” Her question was cut off by a special ringtone.

  Paul.

  He started shouting before she could even say hello.

  “Oh, my god, Bailey, what were you thinking?”

  “Huh?”

  “Chloe wasn’t ready to do trick riding. You should have cleared it with me first. She’s a novice, for God’s sake. Someone saw her practicing this morning. She slipped and her foot got caught in the stirrup and she was dragged halfway across the arena. I
’m following the ambulance to the ER right now.”

  Bailey had no idea what he was talking about. “How is she? What happened? Is she going to be okay? I don’t know—”

  He interrupted, his tone furious, afraid. “Not every kid is as fearless or graceful as you. She never should have tried that swoop. Especially not on Skipper. She could have been killed.”

  The swoop? Oh, God. “I did—”

  “You didn’t think. If you had, you would have asked me for permission and I would have said no. There’s Jen. I have to go.” He hung up without letting Bailey get word out in her own defense. He didn’t need her. He had Jen—and the bond that even divorce didn’t truly sever when the life of a child was at stake.

  Her arm dropped limply to her side. She couldn’t think. Her chest hurt as though she’d been dragged across an arena, which she had—twice, but never from trick riding on Charlie. And she never in a million years would have taught that trick to Chloe.

  “Uh-oh,” OC said, rolling closer. “What happened?”

  “Chloe Zabrinski is on her way to the hospital. Apparently she tried to do the swoop from her horse and fell and was dragged. Paul is blaming me for teaching her the trick.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  She shook her head. “How could I? I haven’t been on a horse in a year. That’s not the kind of trick you can talk someone through. She’d have to see it demonstrated.”

  OC groaned as if stabbed in the gut. “Your video.”

  “My what?”

  He rubbed his forehead, his gaze not quite reaching hers. “Jack had a video camera back in the day. Big black thing. Cost a fortune. He filmed you practicing on Charlie. When they moved, he ran across his old videos and had them transferred to a DVD. That was his gift to you. I planned to give it to you as soon as the fair got over.”

  “That’s nice, but if you’ve got the only copy, how would Chloe see it?”

  “I don’t know. He wasn’t making a lot of sense. But he might have said something about YourTube.”

  “YouTube,” she said, a cold wave flushing through her veins.

  “He probably thought he was doing a good thing. You were really something back then. Fearless.”

  It was easy to be fearless when you didn’t have anything to lose. Now, she’d lost everything—and, worse, Paul might lose his precious daughter all because of her. “I have to go.”

  “To the hospital?”

  “No. Away. It’s the curse. I’m a danger to myself and others. Maybe I can find a deserted island with Wi-Fi and FedEx so I can stay in business, but...”

  She grabbed her purse and spun around so fast, in such a panic, she nearly tumbled over her father. His hands closed tight on her upper arms. The more she fought to get free, the more fiercely he held.

  “Let go, Dad.”

  “Never.”

  “I don’t belong here.”

  “This wasn’t your fault, Bailey. And I’m not going to let you run away in shame again. You are not to blame for all the bad things that happen in this town. Me? Maybe? But not you.”

  It’s not your fault.

  How long had she waited for someone to say those words? Her whole life?

  A sob escaped, followed by a hurricane of grief. She wept in her father’s arms until her mother, Sage and others rushed over to see what was wrong.

  Between hiccups, she told them what she knew. Sage pulled up the video on her phone and showed them.

  “My gosh, Bailey, I’d forgotten how amazing you were. No wonder you were crowned Fair Queen.”

  She put a hand on her Bailey’s shoulder. “But you were an eighteen-year-old athlete who had trained for this for months, not a ten-year-old with an inexperienced horse trying the trick for the first time without any supervision or help. This is so not your fault.”

  Mom nodded. “Sage is right. Paul jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

  Because he still thinks of me as a self-centered, reckless girl who didn’t take into account the consequences before she acted.

  The truth hurt more than she could comprehend at the moment. It would take time...days...years to process. She’d get past this terrible sadness at some point—just like she had with her other losses, but she didn’t know when. Or how.

  She looked at her parents. Her friends. Her community.

  Running away and trying to deal with life on her own hadn’t worked out all that great. Maybe this time, she’d stay. She’d build her business, become an active part of Marietta and prove once and for all you couldn’t keep the Jenkins down.

  Hopefully, Chloe would be okay. Paul would apologize for blowing up at her when he learned the whole story. But did she want to give her love and trust to a man who yelled first and asked questions later?

  The way her father did so often when she was growing up?

  She would have liked a storybook ending. She’d almost let herself believe she and Paul deserved one. But one thing Bailey knew from losing Daz and Ross—and the Paul she’d loved in high school—nothing was a given.

  Somehow, she had to figure out a way to move on again—without moving.

  Chapter 18

  Paul rubbed his face with both hands. His skin felt gritty from the dirt of the arena where he’d dropped to the ground beside his daughter’s lifeless body.

  The bile in his throat surged upward as it did every time he remembered Mark’s panic-stricken cry. “Daddy. Dad. Come quick. Chloe fell. She’s not moving.”

  Paul, his parents, brother and two friends from work had been sitting in camp chairs beside the trailer at the time. Paul had been considering breaking the news that he was seeing Bailey Jenkins again. Instead, he’d tossed his soda can to the ground and raced to pick up his panic-stricken son.

  “Where? What happened?”

  “The horse ring.” Mark pointed, his skinny arm shaking like a branch in a high wind. “She was practicing trick riding. L...like Bailey. She fell off Skipper. On her head,” he managed to get out between sobs.

  “Dad, call 911.”

  Paul passed Mark to Mom. “Stay with Grandma. It’s going to be okay.”

  Then he took off running—Austen at his side. “What did he mean trick riding? Has Bailey been teaching Chloe?”

  “Every day for the past couple of weeks. Getting her ready for the Western Showmanship.”

  “Trick riding is not a sanctioned event. Why would she do that?”

  Paul’s mouth went dry as he recalled some of the crazy, fearless stunts Bailey had pulled off when she rode Charlie.

  By the time he reached Chloe, a crowd had gathered, including an off-duty paramedic who kept anyone from moving her.

  “There’s an ambulance on-site. It’ll be here any minute,” he told Paul. “She probably had the wind knocked out of her when she fell, but she’s breathing now.”

  “Thank God she had a helmet on,” Paul said, dropping to his knees beside her.

  He’d reached out to touch her, but the paramedic stopped him. “The helmet will protect from a brain injury, but it won’t help a broken neck. That’s why we’re not moving her until we get a back board.”

  A broken neck? The words echoed through his head the whole way to the hospital. Fear made him want to kick a hole in that perfectly innocent waiting room wall. His family kept their distance.

  He had a vague memory of yelling at Bailey on the phone, blaming her for what happened. He’d owe her an apology no matter what happened, but he couldn’t think about any of that until he knew for certain his little girl was going to be okay.

  Jen came into the room. “I’m still waiting to hear how this happened? Where were you? Why was she alone? Why wasn’t your old girlfriend with her? I knew this would happen when you bought her that goddamn horse, Paul. You and your stupid horse fetish. You’re not a cowboy, okay? You’re never going to be a cowboy? When are you going to give up on that ridiculous dream and sell that stupid farm?”

  Jen’s questions and accusations pommeled him. For once he d
idn’t mind. He deserved the blame. He was the one who bought Skipper. He was the one who brought Bailey back into their lives. If not for him, Chloe probably never would have gone online looking for images of Bailey. She never would have found a video of Bailey’s stunt riding.

  “From what Mark said, Chloe was trying to do trick riding.”

  “What kind of tricks?”

  Paul shook his head. “I don’t know. But I’ve seen riders lean sideways in the saddle and scoop a flag or ring from the ground. Mark said she watched a video on YouTube. I thought Bailey taught her the trick. I was wrong.” He’d accused Bailey unfairly. Mark showed him the video on Chloe’s phone once they reached the waiting room. “She wanted to show off for her friends and thought it would help seal her pick as the top Junior Princess.”

  “What is wrong with you people?” Jen screeched. “Who the fuck cares about some stupid fair so much you’d risk your life?” She crossed her arms. “I never understood why you bought that stupid ranch in the first place.”

  Because it was Bailey’s home. Because my first time was in the hayloft of that barn. Because I loved her. I still love her.

  “Mr. Zabrinski?” a voice said from the doorway. “Your daughter’s back from the MRI. You can see her.”

  Paul grabbed Jen’s hand and led her down the hallway to the too-white room with a view of the fairgrounds. Jen elbowed him out of the way to get to her bedside first.

  “Chloe? Baby? Are you okay?”

  “Mommy?” Chloe’s voice trembled. She appeared to be a little groggy, but at least she was moving. “What happened? The nurse said I fell on my head.”

  Paul touched her foot. “Good thing you were wearing a helmet. Can you feel this?”

  She giggled and scooted her feet to one side under the thin cotton blanket. “Yes. It tickles. Is Skipper okay? I was leaning over and he stumbled. I let go so he wouldn’t fall on me.”

  Jen tried to repress a cry of horror.

  Chloe realized her mistake and reached up to reassure her mom. “He wouldn’t have hurt me on purpose, Mommy. He’s been really, really good since I started working with Bailey. She’d be so proud of him. Daddy, tell her this wasn’t Skipper’s fault, okay? I saw that video and had to try. It looked like so easy.”