Big Sky Romance Collection

by Denise Hunter

  Travis and Jacob finished grooming their horses, left the barn, and parted ways at the lane that headed toward Jacob’s place. The sun had set over the Gallatin Range, silhouetting them against the pink-streaked sky. Travis had missed those mountains. Missed the towering trees, the grassy valley, and the loamy smell of dirt. He’d left it on his own accord, but he hadn’t realized the mistake until it was too late.

  He was on the porch steps when he heard a car rolling down the lane. A cloud of dust plumed behind a vintage yellow Volkswagen. He pocketed his hands as he approached the vehicle.

  Miss Lucy stopped her car, turned it off, and rolled down her window.

  Travis removed his hat. “Evening, ma’am.”

  “We need to talk.” The furrows above the notch in her glasses deepened.

  He reached for her door. “Come on in, sit a spell.”

  “Thank you, but I can’t be long. The girls have been home alone all day.”

  “The girls” were made of fabric and stuffed with polyester, but Travis didn’t comment. “What can I do for you, then?”

  “You can play Joseph Adams in the Founders Day ceremony.”

  She couldn’t be serious. Miss Lucy’s request tied his tongue in a slipknot. The woman had been there three days ago. Hadn’t she seen the way Shay had looked at him, heard the way she had spoken to him?

  “Cat got your tongue?”

  “I thought . . . Riley Raines was doing that.”

  “He has a girlfriend this year—Missy Teasley—and she’s a jealous one. Her mama asked me to find someone else.”

  “And you thought you’d honk Shay off real good by asking the man at the top of her Most Hated list.”

  “She doesn’t hate you.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  “Well, you haven’t fooled anybody, least of all me.” Miss Lucy’s eyes, magnified by the bottle glasses, narrowed knowingly.

  Travis looked toward the darkening sky and clamped his jaw. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t be contrary with me, Travis McCoy. I’ve known you since you were running around this place in nothing but a diaper. You’re still in love with Shay.”

  His eyes drifted back to hers. “That’s crazy.” If Miss Lucy had seen right through him, what about Shay?

  Okay, so it was true. He’d never forgotten her, and by the time he realized what he’d lost, she’d fallen hook, line, and sinker for some musician patsy. But then the guy up and left her.

  Just like you, McCoy. The thought tasted like dust.

  Plainly, Shay put him in the same category with her ex-husband. “You saw how she was.”

  “Can you blame her? You hurt her. She’s had a hard life, and the last thing she needs is the likes of you stomping all over her heart again.”

  “Then why’re you asking me—”

  “Because sometimes true love needs a little help. Shay still sees you as the stupid young boy who threw her away like yesterday’s garbage.”

  Ouch.

  “I see the man you’ve become. You just might be worthy of her now. Maybe.”

  He wasn’t so sure. He knew he didn’t deserve a second chance, and he wouldn’t hurt Shay for the world. She’d been his best friend. His first love. He’d missed her every day since he left. Had spent nights dreaming about their talks by the creek, their clandestine meetings in her barn when her parents thought she was in bed.

  He remembered the way she looked in that antique gown. Beautiful. The thought of another man standing next to her, taking those vows—even if they were pretending—rankled.

  “Shay know you’re asking me?”

  “ ’Course not. You think I’m crazy?”

  Half the town did, but Travis liked to think of Lucy Bowers as eccentric. “She’s gonna be ticked if we spring it on her.” When had he agreed to this?

  “That . . . or she’ll look into your warm gray eyes and see the truth. How vulnerable are you willing to be?”

  “I haven’t even apologized.” He’d planned to do that first thing. Then he’d seen her in that gown, and his brain turned to mush.

  “There’ll be time for that later.”

  “If she doesn’t leave me at the altar this time.”

  The woman cackled. “Now, wouldn’t that be a Founders Day ceremony for the record books.”

  On second thought, maybe that wouldn’t be so awful. Might do Shay good to turn the tables on him. Maybe she’d even slap him for good measure. On the other hand, did he want to do something so public when he was uncertain of her reaction?

  “I don’t know, Miss Lucy. She seemed awful sore.”

  “Now, you listen here. That girl’s been at the top of my prayer list since you left her to face her future all alone. I don’t know how she might react right off, but I’ve put in hours on my knees for Shay, and I’ve got peace about this plan of mine.”

  “Glad you do.”

  The woman started her car. “You just show up and let those eyes tell her what you feel, young man. Leave the rest up to me. Deal?” She stuck her age-spotted hand out the window.

  Travis took her hand in his and squeezed gently. He was in for it now, for better or worse. Literally.

  The wry grin slid from his face as he watched Miss Lucy’s car roll down the lane. He was pretty sure, in all the ways that mattered, that he was the crazy one.

  5

  How about Cocoa?” From her spot on the ground, Olivia gripped the bottle. The calf sucked greedily, almost wrestling it from her daughter’s hands.

  “You know how I feel about that,” Shay said. First a name, then a pet, then she was one cow shy of a herd. Besides, barring a miracle, the calf and everything else would soon belong to someone else. She continued raking out the stall, the pungent odors of cow flesh, dung, and straw filling her nostrils.

  “Her spots look like spilled cocoa. Not that I would know what that looks like.” Olivia shot Shay a mischievous glance. “Man, she’s hungry.”

  The calf’s mama hadn’t survived childbirth, but Olivia was standing in just fine. She’d been nursing the baby like clockwork. Off in the distance in town, the Moose Creek marching band struck up a tune. The Founders Day parade had begun.

  “Where’s Manny?” Olivia asked. “He said he’d show me how to win the ringtoss game. I’m coming home with a stuffed animal so big it takes up half my room.”

  That wouldn’t be hard. “I had to let Manny go.”

  “Why?” Olivia pulled the empty bottle from the calf’s mouth and scrambled to her feet, a frown drawing her brows together.

  “Can’t afford the help.”

  “But he needs this job. He’s saving for Mr. Ryan’s old truck.”

  It had about killed Shay to do it. But there was no money, and she wouldn’t have him working without pay anymore. “He’ll get another job, munchkin. I’ll give him a hearty recommendation.”

  She could feel her daughter’s glare on her back as she set down the rake and began spreading fresh straw. The faint strains of “Yankee Doodle” faded as the band turned a corner in town.

  “Can I go meet Maddy now?” There was a remnant of anger in her voice.

  “Finish your chores?”

  “Yep.”

  “Go ahead, then. When will you be home?”

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  Shay scanned the rows of dirty stalls. When those were finished, she had to do laundry and finish the books. “Seen one Founders Day, seen them all. I’ll meet you at the ceremony, if that’s okay with Abigail and Wade.”

  Her daughter shrugged, gave the calf one last pet, and hopped on the bike Shay had gotten her for Christmas from a used bicycle shop in Billings. It was a bike that had brought Olivia and Maddy together. As in, her daughter stealing Maddy’s.

  Shay sighed. Offspring had countless ways of humiliating you. But God had brought something good from that mess. He’d brought Maddy into Olivia’s life and Abigail into hers. She hadn’t had a best friend in years.
>
  In a nearby stall, Brandy nickered.

  “No time for a ride today, girl.”

  Shay never missed Founders Day. No one did. The history of Moose Creek’s beginnings had been meticulously documented with dates, names, and details. The particularity of the stories had given rise to uncommon pride in the little town’s heritage.

  Which was all just fine and dandy, except this time she was the one wearing Prudence Adams’s wedding gown. It had hung in her closet all week, mocking her every time she opened the door. How had she gotten herself into this?

  A picture of Miss Lucy, her eyes wide and frantic, appeared like a cartoon balloon.

  Oh yeah.

  At least her chores were an excuse to avoid Travis McCoy. Maybe she could avoid him completely if he didn’t attend the ceremony. He’d missed it for fourteen years, what was one more? He probably wouldn’t be there. After all the big-time stuff he’d done in Texas, this little rinky-dink town probably bored him silly. By the time his folks came back in six months, he’d be itching to return to his exciting rodeo life where women no doubt dropped at his feet like flies.

  Not that she gave a hoot.

  She’d heard countless tales of the rodeo circuit from Maddy’s dad, Wade. He’d reached national celebrity status before he escaped it in favor of anonymity in Moose Creek. Then God had led Abigail here to be Maddy’s nanny last summer, and the rest, as they say, was history. Now they were married and living happily ever after, and Wade’s notoriety had done nothing but help the local economy.

  But Travis wasn’t like Wade. Whereas Wade had run from the trappings of fame and fortune to settle here in relative peace, Travis had left the tranquility of Moose Creek in search of fame and fortune. And he’d leave again, even though he’d already found both. Let other cowgirls fawn and flatter all they liked, Shay preferred a man with staying power. But since there didn’t appear to be any of those left, she’d settle for no man at all.

  Her cell rang, and she pulled off her gloves and answered.

  “ ’Morning, sunshine.” The blaring band in the background left little question about his location.

  “Hey, Beau.”

  “Where ya at?”

  “In my barn.”

  “I saved you a seat.”

  He was getting too presumptuous. Beau was a fun distraction come Saturday night, but that was all. Last thing she’d meant to do was lead him on. “Thanks, but I’ve got too many chores.”

  “Meet me later? There’s a band onstage at three, supposed to have a great guitarist.”

  If she never saw another strutting guitarist, it’d be too soon. “Gotta get ready for the ceremony.”

  “Aw, you’re breaking my heart.”

  “I’ll see you at Bridal Falls.”

  “Not my idea of fun, watching my gal say vows to another man.”

  My gal? She had to put an end to this. “It’s pretend, goofy.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I heard. Say you’ll be my date for the picnic, and all is forgiven.” There was a smile in his voice. “The Silver Spurs are onstage afterward. We can dance the night away.”

  She wasn’t planning to go, but she had to break the news sometime. “All right, fine.”

  “I’ll save you a seat on the fairgrounds. When you get out of that fancy getup, meet me over there.”

  The phone buzzed. “All right. Gotta go, another call coming in.”

  She said good-bye, then she glanced at the screen to see Abigail’s name and answered. The band blared in the background. Good grief, she may as well be there.

  “Hey there,” she said.

  “You’re not coming?”

  “Too many chores to catch up on.”

  “Aw, rats.”

  She’d never meant to burden her friend with babysitting. “You want me to come get Olivia?”

  “Of course not. They’re having a blast.” A tuba sounded as it passed by. “Literally,” Abigail shouted.

  “I’m going to the picnic with Beau later, but no reason we can’t all sit together.” She’d squeeze in a chance to break his heart at some point. “And of course, I’ll be at the reenactment.”

  “Should I bring ‘something borrowed’?”

  “You’re killing me here.”

  After they got off the phone, Shay finished the barn, grabbed a quick lunch, and spent the early afternoon with her head in the books—the picture wasn’t pretty. By the time she finished, she had an hour to clean up and present herself at Bridal Falls.

  She’d grown progressively nervous as the day waned. By the time she was showered and ready to slip into the gown, she was shaking.

  She’d been a failure at marriage, and the whole community knew it. Scared off her first groom and chased away her second. Well, they had nothing to worry about. Both times the rug had been jerked from under her, and she wouldn’t be subjected to that again, thank you very much.

  Shay pulled the gown from its hanger and stepped into it. Would the ceremony stir it all up again? The gossip around her husband’s desertion, the humiliation of being second to the rodeo circuit and a musical career?

  Somehow, despite the fact that Garrett’s desertion was more recent and seemingly more heinous, it was the memories of the one before it that made her hands shake as she pulled the dress over her hips.

  It hadn’t helped that she’d returned from her disgrace in Cody, Wyoming, by bus. That she’d had no change of clothes and had stepped off the public vehicle into the busiest intersection in Moose Creek on a bustling Saturday night in her wedding dress. Alone.

  It had taken years to live that down. People still told the story to their young daughters, a cautionary tale against premature marriage. She was going down in the Moose Creek annals just like Prudence. Maybe someday they’d do a reenactment of her bus stop arrival.

  Bridal Falls was situated eleven miles south of town, just across the Wyoming border. As the story went, Joseph Adams had ordered himself a bride after striking gold in nearby South Pass City. When his bride-to-be, Prudence Wilcott, arrived by stagecoach, it was love at first sight—or so the legend went.

  With no permanent church in the settlement, the couple exchanged vows at Bridal Falls before a handful of friends. Their honeymoon took them north a short distance, where they camped by a bubbling brook in Paradise Valley, snuggled between the Gallatin and Absaroka Mountain Ranges. The first morning they awoke to find a moose and her young in the middle of the creek and named the stream Moose Creek. Later they settled in the area, and the name stuck.

  Shay cared about none of this as she made her way down the wooded path beside Miss Lucy. All she wanted was to get through the next fifteen minutes. She hiked the dress to her knees, careful of the delicate fabric. Last thing she needed was to be known as the woman who destroyed the town’s most precious relic.

  Judging by the cars lining the road and filling the grassy meadow, all of Moose Creek had turned out. When she and Miss Lucy emerged from the forest, Shay stopped, dropping the skirts to the ground. Folks were gathered on the grassy shoreline, a short distance from the falls, leaving a path down the middle for her.

  Someone spotted her. “She’s here!” All at once, the mass of people turned to stare.

  Shay’s spine stiffened. “They’re staring.”

  Miss Lucy tugged her forward. “Of course they’re staring. You’re the bride.”

  “Pray for me,” Shay said.

  “I always do. And don’t forget . . . you look beautiful!”

  As they approached the rear of the group, Miss Lucy left Shay to walk the grassy aisle alone. She pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin.

  I don’t care what anyone thinks. I. Do. Not. Care.

  Whispers tickled the air. She blocked them all and focused on the gentle whoosh of the distant falls. On the call of a magpie from a nearby branch. On the swish of her boots through the grass. Don’t let me fall, God.

  “Oh my word . . .” The whisper, so close, was impossible to miss. “Does she . . . g
room?”

  Warmth flooded her cheeks. She looked toward the groom’s spot but couldn’t see Riley Raines for the crowd. She forced her eyes to Pastor Blevins’s round face at the end of the pathway. At the tuft of hair the wind pulled across his balding head. At the black Bible in his hands, burgeoning with papers and bulletins and notes.

  She wondered if Missy Teasley’s eyes were shooting darts into her back. It was no secret Missy had gotten her mama’s possessive genes. She’d probably made poor Riley wish a thousand times he’d just said no. Why hadn’t Miss Lucy just asked Missy to fill the role? But of course, the dress would hardly fit her plump frame.

  A paper slipped from Pastor Blevins’s swollen Bible, and he stooped to retrieve it. His shoulder knocked into a wooden pedestal. It wobbled precariously, then he grabbed it, steadying it. That was new, the pedestal. Pastor Blevins poked his spectacles back into place with his index finger.

  Fifteen minutes. Just fifteen minutes and this will be over.

  On the other hand, if the preacher became distracted, he had a tendency to go down bunny trails. He could stretch this into thirty, easy.

  By the time it was finished, Shay would be ready to go home and hide. She was already regretting her decision to join Beau and the others at the picnic.

  But the quicker she walked, the sooner it would be over. She picked up her pace. Almost there. The only other person who wanted this thing over with was nearly in view. She turned a sympathetic smile in Riley’s direction as his plaid sleeve came into view.

  Yeah, I know. Me too, her grin said.

  The sleeve became a shoulder, and the shoulder became a face.

  But the face wasn’t that of Riley Raines.

  6

  Gravity plucked at the corners of Shay’s mouth. At her shoulders. At her heart.

  Her step faltered, and Travis’s hand went out. But she caught herself before he touched her.

  She wanted to smack the cocksure grin right off his face.

  How could he do this? How could Miss Lucy?

  “Isn’t he the one . . . ?” someone whispered.

  “Did she know?”