“We’ve been hauling in and repairing some of the old school bleachers they’d stored in the bus garage. They aren’t pretty, but they’re sturdy and will work to make seating. The best part is, the school donated them to the event.”
Hank looked out over the lush, green golf course and thought of the burnished gold hayfields and snowcapped purple mountains that surrounded End of the Line. Growing up in Chicago, he’d never thought his heart would feel the sense of freedom under expansive blue skies; never realized how the call of an owl in the dead of night could bring him peace. Lying next to Julie might have much to do with that, as well.
“We’re going to have mutton busting, junior barrel riding, and amateur bronc riding. Maybe tractor pulls, if we can get enough entrants.”
“Sounds like fun.” Hank shifted in the club chair overlooking the resort. It was a balmy ninety-eight in the desert shade, but from where he sat, it was a pleasant seventy degrees. “I’m sorry I’m not there to help out.”
“You and me both,” Rein said. “Hey, but you could always ante up and ride a bronc. The purse is going to a good cause.”
Hank laughed. “Let me check to see if my insurance is up to date.”
“You’d be doing a good deed,” Rein said. “Another, at any rate, to add to your list.”
Hank swirled the cubes in his glass of iced tea. He thought back to his conversation with Julie. She’d mentioned nothing about any good deeds. Maybe Rein had misunderstood what he’d heard. “I haven’t done much of anything yet, other than the banner, but I will look at things when I get back.”
“No, I’m talking about the guy staying at your place,” Rein said.
Hank leaned forward in the chair. Did he say there was a guy staying in his cabin? “Yeah? I don’t think I heard about this.”
“Oops, I figured you and Julie had already discussed it. Sorry, man. I ran into Dalton and he mentioned the situation.”
“Situation?” Hank asked.
“Yeah, why the guy is staying at your cabin for a couple of days.”
Hank stood and stared out the sliding doors leading to his second-story balcony. “Yeah, who is this guy and how does Dalton know him?”
“Dalton said the guy’s truck broke down between here and Billings. Dalton picked him up and they towed his truck to Nan’s. Guess it’s a classic truck. She had to order parts and it could be a couple of days.”
Hank rubbed his hand over his mouth and released a quiet sigh. Never mind that this guy was living in his cabin, but Julie hadn’t even bothered to mention that fact to him.
“Hey, I hope I didn’t open a can of worms,” Rein said.
Hank’s gaze narrowed on movement in the limb of a tree. A large bird seemed to be peering at him. Was it a falcon? “So, Dalton doesn’t know this guy really well?” He squinted at the massive bird, confused—he could’ve sworn it was a snowy owl. The American Indian lore about the great owl appearing before an impending storm drifted into his brain. That, of course, was entirely absurd—this was Arizona, not Montana. Then again “impending storm” could simply be a metaphor for many different things. That didn’t ease his mind any.
“I’m just curious as to what anybody knows about this guy who is sleeping in my bed?” Hank tried to reel in the frustration building inside. Maybe Dalton had made the decision himself, knowing that he was gone this week. “Does Julie know?”
Rein cleared his throat. “Uh, she was the one who suggested it.”
Ouch. So much for that theory. “I see.”
“Look, he’s ex-Army Ranger. He’s from Texas, taking care of his father’s last wishes to have his ashes scattered at a number of bucket list places, apparently.”
“And End of the Line was one of them?” Hank searched the liquor tray, found the whiskey, and poured a liberal finger into his tea glass. He tossed it down quickly, hardly aware of the slow burn sliding down his throat.
“No, his dad was adopted, born in Billings. Somehow he found records that indicated that the woman who gave birth to his dad might have lived around here.”
“I wonder what he had to do to get that information,” Hank muttered, not masking his sarcasm. The guy was likely a war hero, loved his country. The original Boy Scout. Always ready to perform a good deed. The idea that Julie suggested it without even consulting him exacerbated his concerns.
“Well, I know Dalton wouldn’t have picked him up if he didn’t think the guy’s story was legit,” Rein offered.
“Ex-Army Ranger?”
“That’s what Dalton said.”
“And Julie offered him the cabin?”
“That, you’ll have to take up with her. In all fairness to her, man, you live at her place ninety percent of the time,” Rein said.
“Yeah.” Rein had a point, but why wouldn’t Julie just tell him?
“Hey, I’ve got to finish more calls. We’ve got pens to build this afternoon. Thanks again for the sponsorship. We’ll settle up when you get home. And, uh…sorry if I spoke out of turn. Julie has so much going on that I’m sure she didn’t think it was a big deal. The guy is only here until Nan gets his truck fixed. Literally everything else is booked up.”
“Sure. Hey, give Liberty my best. See you guys in a few days.” Hank dropped the phone on the table. Maybe he’d moved too fast. He glanced at the phone, picked it up, and dialed Dalton.
“Hey, trouble. What’s going on?” Dalton answered.
“Not much. Had a call from Rein today.”
“He hit you up for the rodeo sponsorship?” Dalton asked.
“Yeah, I’m happy to help out. But that’s not why I’m calling.”
“Okay, shoot, but be warned, I’m playing single dad while Angie is in town with Rebecca,” Dalton said.
“I wanted to know more about this guy staying at my place.”
There was a brief silence.
“You mean Hunter?”
“Are there more men staying at my place than I’m aware of?” Hanks asked.
He heard Dalton sigh. “No, man. Hunter is a guy I picked up just outside of town. His truck broke down—”
“Yeah, Rein mentioned that.”
“He’s on a mission to fulfill his father’s dying wish to find his birth mom. Billings hospital records indicated a Jane Doe from End of the Line. ‘Course, that was in a different time.”
“Sure. Sounds like small town drama is alive and well,” Hank said. Over the years, End of the Line had become like a second home. So, too, had the trials and tribulations of life in the once-booming gold mining town. Nowadays, all traces of the gold rush were overgrown with weeds and filled in with rock. Only a couple of actual mines still existed, but were boarded up with “no trespassing” signs.
“So, has he had any luck finding his grandmother?”
“Not yet. Nan had to order parts for his dad’s old truck. Classic ride, but he’s been driving the thing all over the country spreading his dad’s ashes—”
“Yeah, Rein mentioned that, too. Sounds morbid, if you ask me. And you feel comfortable letting him stay next door to Julie and the boys?”
“And my brother and his pregnant wife up the road, not to mention the other guests.” Dalton paused. “What’s going on, Hank?”
Hank realized that he’d allowed Julie’s delay in setting a date spill over into a host of uncertainties.
“Are you and Julie—” Dalton left the sentence open.
“We’re fine. I think. She just forgot to mention that she’d offered my cabin to this guy.”
“Ah, I see.” Dalton said. “And you don’t think it’s because you aren’t here and when you are, you’re at her place? When was the last time you slept in that cabin, by the way?”
Hank sighed. It was true. He’d allowed himself to imagine the worst.
“Besides,” Dalton said, “you’ve got nothing to worry about. Just because the guy looks like Thor and creates sighs from women on the street—”
“You’re an A-hole, you know that,” Hank said, but with a grin. He
knew his friend was poking fun at him. Still, thinking of a guy like that living next door to Julie didn’t settle well. Especially given her desire to explore her new-found freedom.
“So, aren’t you back soon, anyway?” Dalton asked.
“Yeah, well, these guys offered me quite a chunk of change if I’d stay on for a few more days and fly them to a resort in southern California to play a course there.”
“Rough life,” Dalton said. “So, you’ll be back…oh lord, hang on a sec.” The phone thudded to a surface and, in the background, he heard Dalton gently reprimand Sawyer. “We talked about this, son. The puppy doesn’t need your pacifier. And you don’t eat his dog treats.”
There was the sound of scuffling, followed by a high-pitched, defiant squeal. Dalton returned momentarily “Sorry, Sawyer has decided that trading his pacifier for the dog’s treat biscuit is a fair deal.”
Hank had never been around kids that small. Not that he hadn’t thought of him and Julie adding another child to their family some day. Hell, he had to get her convinced to set a date, much less have another child.
“Hey, extending a few days sounds like a lucrative deal, if Julie’s good with it,” Dalton said, then whispered harshly to his young son, clearly distracted.
“You go take care of your family. I’ll see you in a few days, unless these guys decide to call it quits,” Hank said.
“Okay, man. Hey, take care and seriously, don’t worry,” Dalton said. “I know the whole engagement thing kind of got off on a rocky start, but Julie loves you. That’s clear to everyone.”
Except she hasn’t said those words to me yet. “Give your family a squeeze from Uncle Hank.”
“You bet,” Dalton said, and hung up.
***
Julie dug through the myriad boxes covered in thick dust. She brushed away the cobwebs and held her forearm to her face to stifle a sneeze.
“My stars and garters,” she heard Nan say from behind a barrier of old furniture piled against one another reaching to the attic’s ceiling. “I should have warned you about the dust. I haven’t been up here in years.”
In an attempt to delegate the responsibilities of the Frontier Days celebration, Julie had accepted Nan’s offer to organize the veterans’ float for the community parade.
Though Nan kept busy running Patuzky Sporting Goods and Repair as well as caring for her best friend, Gwen, a resident at the End of the Line nursing home, she loved being involved in community efforts. She and her late husband, Andy, had often spearheaded various community projects in years past.
Julie coughed in the wake of not one, but at least three consecutive sneezes. On this Saturday morning, she’d agreed to help Nan find her husband’s box containing his uniform and other articles from his service in Vietnam.
Julie was grateful for the help. Taking on the responsibility of chairman of the Frontier Days celebration had been a way to help ease into community involvement, planting some roots. She and Hank had never broached the subject of the future. She was happy to live in the present. Each day had taught her something new about herself. She’d just begun to grasp that freedom, to enjoy being with a man who required no legalities to maintain their relationship.
Then he’d proposed, and everything went sideways. She loved finding out who she was, but she knew that Hank loved her and her boys and he wanted more—he wanted the whole package.
“Good heavens,” Nan called out.
Julie hoisted herself to her feet with the aid of an old sea trunk and gingerly stepped over piles of books and sundry items. “Did you find something?” she asked, peeking around the corner of an old dresser, vanity, and headboard. She found Nan seated on the floor, a battery-operated lantern placed in a chair beside her for light. She was surrounded by stacks of magazines, old records, and what appeared to be postcards. A box lay open in front of her. She carefully pulled out a jacket from its cardboard prison, unfolding it with reverence as she held it up into the light. Several pins above the breast pocket winked in the new light. Nan smiled as she turned to look up at Julie. “You know, I can remember the day he stepped off the bus in this uniform. He looked so sharp. And even though I’d been actively against the war, I was never prouder to be in that crowd welcoming him and the other men in town home.” She chuckled quietly. “It’s true what they say about a man in uniform.” She looked back, eyeing the now musty-smelling garment. “I couldn’t wait to get him out of the darn thing.” Nan glanced up at Julie. “Sorry if I’m being too forward. But I’m guessing you may have felt that way about a certain pilot from Chicago from time to time.”
Julie smiled, skirting effectively around her comment. “I can’t imagine what it was like having him so far away, not knowing the dangers he faced.”
Nan nodded. “It was every bit as bad as they said it was. And frankly, we’ll never know how bad it was. We wrote often. Andy told me I was his lifeline to the sane world. Even though we’d broken off our relationship, I still cared deeply for him. We were barely out of high school when we broke up. I was looking to go to college. He wanted to get married. Not long after, he moved to Billings to work, and a few months later I found out he’d enlisted. He didn’t tell me right away. He knew I’d taken a stand against the war. But eventually I started receiving letters from him and I answered them, finding myself falling in love with him all over again.”
“Did you keep those letters?” Julie asked.
“I’ve got them stored downstairs in a lockbox,” she said. With a curious look, she ruffled deeper into the box. “I wonder if he kept mine.”
Julie was drawn to Nan’s story. “When did you know you…for sure…that he was the one, the one you wanted to marry?”
Nan sighed. “I think I learned more about myself in those years apart. The war took its toll on everyone.” She pulled out a hat and brushed her bony fingers across the brim. “Two weeks after he returned, I was the one to ask him to marry me.”
Julie grinned. “Really?”
Nan nodded. “This progressive little hippie had decided she didn’t want anyone else on this journey, so I gave him back the ring he’d once used to propose to me and asked him to marry me.”
“Wow, that’s quite a story, Nan,” Julie said.
“Nicholas Sparks stuff, right?” Nan laughed. Her gaze narrowed. “You having doubts about your engagement?”
Julie averted her gaze from the old woman. Her inability to set a wedding date and the high school way she’d reacted to Hunter McCoy had rattled her. Questions ate away at her. What if the feelings she had for Hank weren’t real? What if her feelings for Hank were no more than an overblown sense of gratitude? I mean, how many men would be willing to take on a woman and two adolescent boys scarred by such a horrible trauma? Would she have many other choices? “How’d you know you loved him?” she asked, meeting met Nan’s steady gaze.
“I’m not sure that’s the same for everyone, sweetheart. For me, it was knowing that when we were apart, I felt empty.” She looked at the hat. “Love always seems to find a way, despite our choices.”
Julie swallowed, wondering whether she should put off marrying Hank. He was an attractive, kind-hearted man who any woman in her right mind would want. Maybe being married to Louis had broken her, created something inside her that made her feel undeserving of a man like Hank. “Did you have children?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.
Nan shrugged, her smile brave. “Doctors said I wasn’t able. So, we started our business here, did a little traveling. Got involved in the community. It was enough, I guess.”
Julie frowned. “You guess?”
“Well, I’d always dreamt of having kids,” Nan said. “But we often did things for the school and had our annual children’s fishing trip where we taught kids to fly fish. That’s where I first met those Kinnison boys and Rein. Jed sent them to us that first summer after their mom left Wyatt and Dalton. Thought it’d be good for them. Turned out, those boys were naturals. Eventually we had them come help us
with the expeditions.”
Julie listened, searching the eyes of a woman married for over fifty years to the same man. There was a certainty in her gaze, a camaraderie that still existed even though he’d passed on. Their life, it seemed, had been a partnership.
“Why don’t we take this downstairs before we inhale too much more of this dust,” Nan said, handing the cap and jacket to Julie.
She folded the flaps of the box shut and lifted it from its hidden existence on the bottom shelf. “We’ll see if there’s anything else the old man tucked away that we might be able to use.”
Julie stood and held out her hand. “Do you need some help up?”
Nan laughed. “At almost seventy-four, I can use all the help I can get, sweet pea.” She gripped Julie’s hand and rose to her feet.
A few moments later, Julie had put on a pot of coffee while Nan began removing items from the box on the kitchen table.
“Oh, look, he did save them.” Nan pulled a stack of yellowed letters tied with twine from the box. As though lost in the past, she untied the string and began sifting through, checking the dates.
Julie set a cup of coffee in front of her and sat down across the table, silent as she watched the woman trek down memory lane.
A frown marred Nan’s pleasant expression. Laying the other letters aside, she focused on one in particular, sliding the letter from its opened envelope.
She watched the emotions pass through the old woman’s eyes as she read the letter. “Nan, are you okay?” Julie asked.
A small sigh escaped her lips, and then Nan rested her hand to her forehead. For a moment Julie said nothing, allowing Nan to process whatever it was that had so obviously affected her. “Nan?” Julie asked again.
“It was all a lie,” Nan said softly.
Julie covered the old woman’s hand, offering comfort for what she could see was difficult news. “What do you mean, it was all a lie?”
Nan’s eyes—as alone and sad as Julie had ever felt or seen—met her gaze. She handed the letter to Julie and stared out the kitchen window.
“He had a son,” Nan said.
“What?” Julie frowned.
Worth the Wait (Last Hope Ranch Book 2) Page 5