by Liz Isaacson
Chapter Nineteen
Montana folded the top of the brown bag while Aurora sprayed herself with sunscreen on the back porch. She came inside and tucked the can inside her backpack.
“Here you go, sweetie.” Montana handed her the lunch she’d packed, and Aurora put that in her backpack too. “What else do you need? Did you get your water bottle?”
“I got it,” she said. “Sunscreen. I have my wallet. I have my phone and a battery. My lunch.” She ticked things off on her fingers as she said them. “I think I’m ready.”
She was starting at Bowman’s Breeds that morning, and Montana’s nerves had been buzzing for weeks.
After the emotional day in the barn and then the cemetery, she’d taken a few days to gather her emotions before she’d spoken to Aurora about the solution to getting up to Bowman’s Breeds—and that Oliver was really a Walker.
Aurora had admitted that yes, he was. Not only that, but she’d been to Seven Sons Ranch several times over the past few months as she spent time with Oliver. She liked Tripp and Liam, and they’d been teaching her how to ride a horse, which was one of Oliver’s absolute favorite things to do.
Montana had cried after the conversation, not during it. Since then, though, Aurora told her a lot more about Oliver. She said when she kissed him, and she told Montana if she was at Seven Sons or Oliver’s house. Oliver came to their house quite often, and in fact, Montana had invited him and his family for the Fourth of July barbecue that Uncle Bob did every year.
And they were coming.
She was hosting a Walker at the house where she lived.
When she looked at herself in the mirror now, she didn’t even know the woman looking back at her. She wore happiness in her eyes in a way Montana had never done before—at least not for a long time.
She could smile with a simple text that had Bishop Glover’s name on it.
She didn’t hate anyone, even her ex-husband who had inflicted so much pain upon her. For some reason, the Lord had taken that burden the easiest, and Montana barely carried any thought of Johnny anymore.
She and Aurora had talked about him, and Aurora said the same thing. “I don’t even think about him, Mom. I don’t need him.”
Montana feared she might need a father one day, and she didn’t want it to be Johnny Martin. She’d started thinking that perhaps it could be Bishop Glover, but they were moving slow, just as she’d said she needed to.
She still saw him on a daily basis. They sat beside one another at church every week. He kissed her every chance he got. But they were not talking about marriage and diamonds and where they’d live once all of that happened. He was dealing with family issues himself, and Montana still had a long way to go to be the woman she wanted to be when she finally put on a white dress and walked down an aisle toward another man.
Someone knocked on the door, and Aurora spun toward it. “That’s probably Ollie.” She grabbed her backpack and hurried through the kitchen. Montana followed her, but she didn’t try to go quickly.
It was Ollie, and Aurora let him into the house just as Aunt Jackie came into the hall. “Good morning,” she said pleasantly to Oliver.
“Ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat at Jackie. He met Montana’s eye, and his lit up. “Morning to you too, Montana. Ma’am.” He swallowed but kept his smile hitched in place.
“Good morning, Oliver.” She smiled at him, because she genuinely liked the boy. He really was well-mannered and well-spoken.
“Uncle Wyatt said he’s two minutes out,” Oliver said. “Should we wait on the porch?”
“Sure,” Aurora said, opening the door again.
Montana did hurry forward then. She gathered her daughter into a hug and slung one arm around Oliver too. “You guys be careful up there, okay?”
“We will, Mom,” Aurora said.
“Work hard,” she said next. “You’re working with adults who expect you to listen and do what you’re told. You’re working with animals who deserve your respect.” She stepped back and cocked her eyebrows at the pair of them. “This isn’t summer camp or some sort of ranch date.”
“Mom,” Aurora said.
“No, ma’am,” Oliver said. “You’re right. We’ll work hard.”
“Be polite.”
“Mom, stop it.”
“I won’t,” Montana said, actually enjoying her daughter’s embarrassment. “Remember who’s name you carry. It’s mine, Aurora. I might have a job at Three Rivers one day, and I don’t want them whispering about how my daughter wasn’t a hard-working, perfectly polite, absolute joy to work with.”
“Mom.”
“And your family surely expects something from you, Oliver,” she said, looking at him.
“They sure do,” he said. “We’ll be polite.”
“Perhaps you two could keep working there if you do a good job this summer,” Montana said. “Never underestimate the value of connections.”
“We won’t, Mom,” Aurora said, her eyes bright. She stepped into Montana and hugged her again. “I love you.”
“Love you too, baby,” Montana whispered. She nodded at Oliver, who smiled at her. “If you guys get a lunch, call me. I don’t think I can stand to wait until tonight to hear how it’s going.”
“Okay.” With that, Aurora stepped outside, with Oliver following her. He closed the door behind him, but it stuck, and it didn’t latch all the way.
“She’s so embarrassing,” Montana heard Aurora say.
“Nah,” Oliver said. “She’s great, Rory. I like her a lot.”
“I know,” Aurora said while Montana thought Rory? Who in the devil is Rory?
“You’re lucky you have her,” Oliver said, and Montana pressed her face against the crack in the door, hoping to see them. She couldn’t. “My step-dad gave me the same lecture on the way over. My mom did it over breakfast. They just care about us, and they want the best for us.”
Oh, this Oliver was wise too. Good-looking. Charming. Hard-working. Smart. Well-spoken. And wise.
No wonder Aurora was head-over-heels for him, and Montana started to pray that he wouldn’t break her daughter’s heart. But they were fifteen. Broken hearts were inevitable at that age, weren’t they?
“There’s Uncle Wyatt.”
Montana opened the door then and stepped out onto the porch as the teens went down the steps. Wyatt pulled parallel to the house and rolled down his window. “Morning, Montana.”
“Thank you, Wyatt,” she called to him, waving one hand above her head.
“I’ll keep my eye on ‘em,” he said as they went around to get in on the passenger side. “I’ve got your number. You’ve got mine.”
“Yep.”
He waved then, and with everyone loaded, off they went. Montana watched until the truck turned, and she couldn’t see it anymore. “Dear Lord,” she said aloud, but she couldn’t continue the prayer. God knew what she wanted—protection, safety, help, blessings.
“Come on, darling,” Aunt Jackie said. “You haven’t even had your coffee yet, and you’ve got to get up to Shiloh Ridge. It’s the last day of painting at the Ranch House, and then you’ll get to install your cabinets.”
Montana let her aunt guide her inside and serve her coffee and cinnamon-sugar toast. She hugged Uncle Bob as he rushed out to the store, and then she got in her truck and headed up to the ranch that had been a saving grace for her these past few months.
Not only was Bishop paying her a whole lot more than her daily rate, but she got to see her boyfriend every day. She got to feed off the energy of the land. She got to watch the cowboys work and realize how much she loved Texas, her country, and God, just like all of them.
She got to see Bear dote on Sammy, and she’d watched Ranger take soup up to Oakley when she wasn’t feeling well. She’d watched him leave the ranch to check on his wife at the dealership she owned when she went back to work after her bout with the flu.
She loved the examples of good living and caring about others she saw at
Shiloh Ridge.
And she got to do what she’d trained and loved to do more than anything—build. Design cabinets and pantries, then make them come to life out of flat planks of wood.
Bishop had given her free rein with the Ranch House, and she’d redone the entire bottom floor layout simply because she could. He’d said she could put it in her portfolio, and she was absolutely going to do that.
She hadn’t tried to get another job yet, though she knew her time at Shiloh Ridge was going to end soon. Probably not for another month or two, but soon enough.
She’d need something else, despite the small nest-egg she had in her bank account now.
Her website for Montana Home Designs was functional, and she could add pictures from the Ranch House and really start to get her name out there. Perhaps she could pick up a job of her own, redesigning and then building that design for a family in Three Rivers. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to go from ranch to ranch, knocking on doors and asking if they had any work for her.
She hadn’t heard about the library bid either, and she needed to check the deadline on that. “Probably should’ve heard something by now,” she told herself as she turned off the highway and onto the road she knew by heart at this point.
“Guide me,” she prayed to the Lord. “I’ll work anywhere, and if that’s another ranch, help me get there. If it’s a project for my own company, that’s okay too.” she took the road that led around a portion of the ranch to the house overlooking the town of Three Rivers. She loved the view up here, and she imagined God on His throne on high, looking down over the inhabitants of the world.
“Keep my daughter safe,” she added to her prayer. “If possible and according to Thy will, Lord, keep Aurora safe in every sense of the word.”
The road arced, and she couldn’t see the town anymore. “And bless Bishop, and Bear, and Ranger, and Ace. Ward, and Cactus, and Mister, Judge, and Preacher. Bless the cowboys who work up here. Bless Lois and Dawna Glover. Bless them all, please. I don’t know what they need, but You do. They’re good people, and I just want them to be happy. If You can, please.”
Her mind churned, and Montana realized who she was thinking about now.
Tears filled her eyes. “And I know I haven’t prayed for my mother in a while, but if You could watch over her too, that would be nice.” Her heart pittered, sending a scattered beat through Montana’s chest.
She literally felt the weight she’d carried on her spine for years release. “Thank you,” she said, her tears spilling down her cheeks. “Thank you, Lord, for taking that burden.”
She pulled up to the house, and while she was several minutes late, she took another one to send a quick text to her mother. Love you, Mom. I hope you’re okay. Let me know if you’re not, and I’ll see if I can help in some way.
Looking up, she studied the outside of the house. From this view, no one would know the mess it was inside, or how long it had been under construction. She felt so much like it. On the outside, she looked put together and whole. On the inside, the Lord had been working on her constantly for a decade now. She looked back at the phone and sent the text, feeling a whole portion of her chest coming together just like that.
Fixed.
Done.
Relief filled her, and Montana got out of her truck and stuck her phone in her back pocket. She had the distinct realization that most people were exactly like her—no matter how perfect they seemed from the outside, on the inside, the Lord was working on them too. Everyone, everywhere, was in a constant state of construction. Some were a little closer to being restored, while others had just had everything knocked down so it could be rebuilt.
“That’s right,” a man yelled as he came out the front door. He nearly plowed into Montana, but she jumped out of the way just in time. She didn’t even think Mister had seen her.
He pounded down the steps she’d just come up as someone else yelled, “You can’t just move out.”
“Yes, I can!” Mister yelled. “I’m not livin’ with you anymore, Judge.” He stormed over to his truck and stood on the rudder to climb in. He paused there as Judge came out of the house. He rose above the truck and wore a perfect mask of rage. “In fact, I hope I never have to talk to you again!”
With that, he got in his truck, slammed the door so hard Montana cringed, and started the vehicle. It roared as he stomped on the gas as he backed up. He laid on the horn as he drove away, and Judge said, “You’re such an infant, Mister,” in a cruel, cruel voice Montana didn’t think he’d want anyone to hear.
Montana wished she could make herself very small so she could disappear into the windows behind her.
She couldn’t, so when Judge turned around to return to the house, he looked right at her. “Hi,” she said weakly.
“Bishop isn’t here yet,” Judge said, frowning as he strode back into the house. He slammed that door too, and Montana took that, along with his statement about Bishop not being there, as him saying, don’t come in until he is.
Montana sighed and sat down on the top step of the porch. She could overlook the town from here, and she gazed down on it as her pulse calmed. Yep, everyone was just in some state of disrepair on the inside, no matter how put-together they were on the outside.
I’m heading in now. I’ll call with an update afterward. Montana sent the text to the group with Aunt Jackie, Uncle Bob, and Aurora in it and looked at Bishop. “I’m ready.”
“You gonna text your mom?”
“Oh, right.” Montana kept forgetting that things between her and her mother had improved over the past month, since she’d found a way to pray vocally for her and then text her. Her mother had texted back, and while they weren’t sharing deep thoughts or feelings yet, they were speaking. That was something.
She sent a quick text to her mother about the meeting for the bid finalists for the library. With that done, she faced the current library, and it was a sad, little blue building in an older part of town. It looked like it had once been a house, and Montana wouldn’t doubt that for a moment.
“It’s going to be great,” Bishop said. “You’re one of the top three. Even if you don’t get it, that’s a huge compliment.”
“Yes,” she said absently, trying to gather her strength and courage together. She’d debated dressing up for this meeting tonight, but in the end, she’d just put on a clean pair of jeans and a top with red, pink, and yellow flowers splashed across it.
“Go on, now,” Bishop said, plenty of cowboy drawl in his voice. “I’ll be right here when you’re done.”
She looked at him, an extreme sense of gratitude and adoration pouring through her. “Thank you, Bishop.” She leaned toward him and found the last of her strength as he kissed her. “Go have fun with your mother.”
“See you in an hour.”
Montana got out of the truck and went inside the library. It wasn’t hard to find the sign with a huge arrow and the words conference room. She went that way, pausing outside the only door in this short hallway.
“Whatever Thy will is, I will be okay,” she whispered. “But I’d really like to get this design and build.” It would catapult her to the top of the list of builders in Three Rivers. Everyone would know she’d designed and built the library, and thousands of people would use it. “I’ve worked my whole life for this.”
So had a lot of other people, Montana knew. Just because she’d worked hard didn’t mean everyone else hadn’t. Her hard work didn’t make her more deserving.
Bishop was right; even if she didn’t get the bid, getting selected as one of the three finalists was a huge honor.
She opened the door and walked in, already scanning to see who else was there. Her eyes landed on Micah Walker, and her heart plummeted to the ground.
Yes, Wyatt had been driving Aurora to Bowman’s Breeds for about a month now. She liked Wyatt. He always had a smile and a laugh, and once he’d brought Montana a loaf of bread from his wife Marcy.
She’d hosted Oliver and his family at
her aunt’s house for the Fourth of July, and that had gone really well too. Tripp Walker was kind and actually somewhat soft-spoken. He wasn’t Oliver’s biological father, but he treated Ollie as his own. They acted the same. They spoke the same. They even wore the same hat—one of Wyatt’s signature pieces, she’d learned.
Montana had been giving her burdens to the Lord for a couple of months now, and while she still wasn’t quite to the place of forgiving her sisters, she’d been learning more and more about the Walkers, getting to know a couple of them, and she knew they weren’t bad people.
Micah Walker didn’t even know what he’d done to Montana’s business. To her confidence. For him, he just wanted to start his own construction firm, same as her. The difference was, he had a lot more money and a lot more connections than Montana did.
He rose to his feet, his smile wide and instant. “Montana Martin,” he said, his voice kind and deep and full of joy. “Micah Walker.” He extended his hand toward her, and she found herself returning his grin as she shook his hand.
Her eyes went to the other man in the room. He wore a dark suit, and Montana did not recognize him, which meant he represented a big firm. He wouldn’t get the job; the library board and City Council would want it to go to a local.
She now had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it.
“Nice to meet you,” she finally said to Micah. “I’ve heard a lot about you, as I’m sure you can imagine.” She smiled again. “Wyatt drives my daughter to work with him, and my daughter is dating your nephew, Oliver.”
“I’ve heard,” Micah said, pulling out a chair for her. “In fact, I’ve met your daughter several times. She’s real good with babies. Did you know that?” He smiled at her.
Montana’s smile slipped. “I didn’t know that. I know she’s been to Seven Sons several times.”
“We live right across the lane from the main ranch,” he said. “My wife sometimes sits on the front porch with our fussy boy. Aurora took him once, and she had him laughing before she even left the driveway.” He chuckled. “My wife said we should hire her to babysit, but we have so much family, we haven’t needed to do that yet.”