His Montana Sweetheart (Big Sky Centennial Book 2)

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “Liv, I don’t know.” Grandma moved into the room quickly, her face creased in worry. “If you’re busy, he could wander off. Get lost. And those ranches are a ways out with lots of brush country.”

  “I like horses.” Grandpa planted his two feet firmly on the ground and stood. “Always did. Yes, I want to go. Trudy, where’s my hat?”

  “Here, but I don’t think this is a good idea,” she protested. She wrung one hand with the other. “How about if I come, too?”

  “I don’t need watchin’, old woman.”

  “Well, you’re wrong about that, you old coot,” Trudy retorted, but she gave him a good-natured peck on the cheek. “I might just like seeing these horses, too, did you think of that?”

  Grandpa huffed toward the car, muttering a mile a minute, and when he was far enough off, Grandma turned to Liv. “I know you mean well, honey—”

  “But you’re worried I might lose Grandpa or set him up for disappointment.”

  “Well, I heard about his little jaunt last week,” Grandma explained as she grabbed a thin, cotton sweater in case it got cold. The morning temps were in the seventies with no cold front in sight, but Liv understood Grandma’s defenses. Be prepared and do what proved necessary. Those two credos had done well for the older woman so far. “And while that turned out okay, he’s a handful sometimes, Liv. He’s usually nice and mild-mannered, but every now and again he gets plain mad and mean-tempered. And that’s what worries me, because I can’t say when it might happen.”

  “Then we double-team him,” Liv decided. “We do the ‘shift.’”

  Her grandmother drew a blank at the baseball term.

  “It means we shift strategies to make sure we’re one step ahead of him, working together.”

  “That could work,” Trudy declared. She climbed into the backseat and rode quietly until they got to the Double M. When Liv turned down the long, winding lane that led to the homestead area, she saw her grandfather’s eyes widen and her grandmother’s hands clasp. “Liv, this is lovely. Kind of rustic and country-and-western, and oh, my stars, Liv! Do you see those cattle coming this way?”

  “I do.”

  “Tom?”

  “I’m not blind, Mother, just a little daft as the years go on. They’re quite a sight, aren’t they? And real, live cowboys to boot.”

  “Beautiful.” Trudy climbed out when Liv parked the car. She reached to help Grandpa out, but he’d already undone his seat belt and opened the door. He stepped out, sure-footed, as if there wasn’t a thing wrong with him, his gaze upturned, watching the cattle drive, framed by two bushy eyebrows raised in appreciation.

  “They’ll be bringin’ them down to the far corral,” a voice said from behind them.

  Liv turned and saw Rusty leaning on a fence rail. “They decided to show them down here?”

  “Easier to load ’em here.” Rusty raised his gaze to the upper lands and then shrugged away from the split-rail fencing. “I’m Rusty, a friend of the family.”

  “Whose family?” Trudy turned his way and held out her hand. “I’m Liv’s grandmother and this is her grandpa. We’ve just moved into town.”

  “I heard tell, ma’am, and I also have it on good authority that you make one of the meanest apple pies around. And that we need to get in real apples from the Great Lakes to have things taste right.”

  Grandma blushed, hearing her words come back to her.

  Grandpa turned, sent Rusty a grin and a nod, but then swung back to watch the spectacle of cattle, waving en masse, a fluid curve of movement, working their way down the dry slope. “They kick up a lot of dust, don’t they?”

  Rusty smiled at Grandma to show he was teasing, then nudged his hat back while he moved to Grandpa’s side. “This time of year they do. And when the wet comes barrelin’ down from up north, it’s greasy slick to bring them up and down. But Jack and Mick, they’ve been doin’ this awhile. They’re good.”

  “Jack?” Grandma moved closer to Liv and kept her voice low. “Isn’t that the name of the young man you went with before? The young man you were engaged to in college?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well.” Grandma pondered the sight and Liv’s admission, then turned toward the corral behind them. “You said there were horses?”

  “A fair number, but the ones we’re caring for are on this side of the frontmost barn.” Liv started to lead the way, then turned back to call Grandpa’s attention. His face was outturned, watching the progression of horse and cattle. Rusty gave her a smile and a nod, a look that said he understood what couldn’t be said, and he’d watch after Grandpa while they moved off.

  A gentle heart and a keen mind, even well into his nineties, the old rancher had seen a lot of Jasper Gulch history. If she really wanted to know things about Jasper Gulch, she should sit down with Rusty Zidek and get it straight from the old gentleman’s mouth. And better sooner than later in light of his age. She couldn’t take his testimony as absolute fact without some corroboration, but if he steered her in the right direction, he’d make finishing her job in Jasper Gulch easier. And regardless of what decision she gave the university, she was determined to get the town history done before the end of the year. If she took the teaching position, she’d travel back on weekends as weather allowed, and finish her report that way. It wasn’t an ideal plan, but it wasn’t all that bad either, because weekends in Jasper Gulch meant seeing Jack...

  And that thought made her smile like a schoolgirl, so when she called Dilly’s name a little too loud, the healing horse jumped, startled.

  “Is he wild?” Grandma asked, stepping back. “Liv, you didn’t tell me he was wild, for pity’s sake!”

  “He’s not,” Liv whispered. She moved closer, tapped softly on the rail and waited patiently as the buckskin eyed her. “Come on, old boy, I didn’t mean to startle you, but you’ve got to get used to a bit of noise now and again, don’t you? But there now, that’s enough for the moment, come over here and show Grandma what a sweet thing you are.”

  The buckskin hesitated, eyes wide, then peeked around Liv, watching Grandma. He must have decided the older woman wasn’t any too dangerous because he padded forward, head down, waiting for a scratch behind the ears.

  “Good boy.” Liv reached out and gave him a good scratching where he liked it most, along the back of his neck to the left of the mane. “You’re such a love, Dilly.”

  “He’s kind of mangy looking, isn’t he?” Trudy moved closer. Her expression said she’d love to compliment the big horse but honesty prevailed. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Neglected, abused, uncared for.” When Grandma’s mouth dropped open, Liv faced her and nodded. “We saw him at auction. Another rancher was going to rescue him, but he reminded me of the old horse I rode here when I was young, so Jack and I brought him home.”

  “Home.”

  Liv heard more in the single word than her grandmother should know, but Trudy Mason had a lot of experience in her seven decades. “Here, I mean.” Liv waved around the ranch as she moved to the barn to get the horse feed. “To the Double M.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Her grandmother’s tone said she read the situation with solid accuracy, and that made Liv realize Grandma wasn’t alone, most likely. It was almost as if the town had planned this centennial celebration with one goal in mind, to bring her and Jack back together.

  “You know, I’ve watched many a thing go on in my life,” Grandma whispered as Liv brought food to Dilly in the near paddock. “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh and things that bore no reason I could see. But sometimes, honey, the path the Lord gives us is so plain and simple as to be too easy. And there’s many a person who misses it because of that. Thinking, questioning, weighing things up. Sometimes we have to go with our gut, with our heart.”

  “You’re too smart, Grandma.”

  �
��Not by half, but I’m old enough and experienced enough to know if God gives us a second chance in this life, he expects us to grab hold and take it. And I think that’s what’s going on with you and your Jack.”

  “He’s not my Jack, Grandma.” Liv let a note of caution creep into her tone, all the while wishing he was her Jack, and that made her feel foolish.

  “I expect you’re wrong about that,” Grandma continued, her voice soft. “But either way, it’s good to take the reins God gives us and ride with them. I’m all right with the road less traveled for a time, but there’s a reason folks opt for a well-trod path in life. Because it’s the best way to travel.”

  Wise words from a smart woman.

  The noise of the heifer drive grew behind them. Shouts of encouragement, yips of dog and the bawling of first-time pregnant cattle meant the chosen cows were nearing their destination.

  “Livvie! Come see over here!” Brian’s voice hailed her from the foreside of the adjacent barn.

  “You won’t believe it!” Maggie’s excitement added to the moment, her glee-filled voice spiking upward.

  Liv gave Dilly another long stroke of her hand, then walked around the far edge of the next barn. When she made the turn to the left, she laughed and dropped straight to her knees. “Brian! Maggie! It’s a puppy!”

  “Yes!” Maggie screeched the word, then clapped two sturdy hands over her mouth when Carrie’s look reprimanded her silently. “I forgot to be quiet again, Mommy! I’m sorry!”

  “Try harder,” Carrie advised.

  Brian braced two confident arms around the funny pup and lifted him into Liv’s lap. “Isn’t he the most beautiful thing ever, Liv?”

  He wasn’t. From the tip of his black nose to the end of his mottled tail, the little heeler looked like a scrambled mismatch of dog colors and shapes, but the bright look in his eyes and the quick-wagging tail won her heart, regardless. “Oh, he is, Brian. What’s his name?”

  “Blue.”

  “Well, of course.” Blue was the perfect name for this little fellow, a dog destined to learn the ropes of rustling cattle and chasing frogs. “When did you get him?”

  “A few days ago,” Maggie told her. She crept forward, trying to follow her big brother’s example of calm and quiet, but those adjectives seemed alien to the girl’s vibrant personality. “Isn’t he so sweet?”

  He was, Liv decided. She sat in the dirt, the little pup looking for a comfortable position to snug himself in, reminding her of too much. Long days with Jack and his parents, working the ranch. Training horses, training dogs, mixing up cakes and cookies with Mary Beth when chores were done.

  And Tank, her big, blond Labrador retriever, a trusty friend gone while she lived a couple of hours away, rarely visiting.

  The scent of dog, dust and dreams overwhelmed her. This felt like home. This had been her destiny all along. To be here, beneath the broad, blue Montana sky, surrounded by mountains and wonderful people, one with the land. Why had she ever thought otherwise?

  “Liv? You okay?” Brian bent and peered up at her. Worry creased his brow. “Do you want me to take him?”

  “No, no. He’s fine. I’m just being silly because he reminds me of when I used to hold my old dog.”

  “You had a dog?” Maggie crept in alongside and reached out a hand to the motley pup. “What was his name?”

  “Tank.”

  “That’s a funny name!” Chagrined, Maggie slapped her hand over her mouth, sent a guilty-as-charged look to her mother, then continued in a softer tone. “Why did you name him Tank?”

  “He was the biggest puppy of the litter, with the biggest appetite of all, and when he moved, he moved slow.”

  “Like a tank,” Brian mused.

  “Exactly.” Liv rewarded him with a watery smile. “And as he got bigger, he grew into his name. Big. Broad. Busy. A tank, through and through.”

  “You miss him.”

  She hadn’t realized how much until Brian tucked the little pup into her lap. She’d accepted Tank’s passing as one more regret, coming home, but why hadn’t she come back sooner? Hung out with the aging dog, the friend of her youth? Was she that selfish? That self-focused?

  Shame coursed through her, but Grandma bent alongside to pet the tiny dog. “I’ve always been shy of pets,” she told Brian. When he looked confused, she lifted both shoulders in a matter-of-fact motion. “They don’t live as long as folks do, and I’ve always been a little afraid of losing things.”

  The boy’s eyes widened.

  “But now I look back at my life, and I wish I hadn’t been afraid,” Grandma continued. “Think of all the puppies I might have raised. The dogs I might have loved. The walks I missed because I was too afraid to get attached.”

  “Grandma, I—”

  Grandma waved off Liv’s commiseration as she straightened. “Ach, it is what it is, Liv, plain and simple, but if I had it to do over again?” She smiled down at Brian and laid her aging hand atop his head. “I’d have had me some cute pups like this. Probably more than one because a dog’s love is a beautiful thing.”

  The clip-clop of a horse drew their attention. Jack and Roy-O appeared. Jack’s expression said the sight of them made him happy. Right until he spotted Liv’s face. “Liv, you okay? Hey. What’s wrong?” He was off the horse and by her side in a flash. Concern painted his dirt-streaked features, and the sight of him, dust-covered and worried about her, nearly did her in.

  “I’m fine, I just got all choked up about the puppy and Tank and remembering. Silly girl stuff.”

  “Not so silly.” He said the words softly as he reached in to pet the pup. The baby dog sighed, whimpered, then sighed again, blissful in sleep despite the gathered attention. Seeing Jack’s big, broad hand gently stroke the tiny puppy made her wonder what he’d be like with children...

  Their children.

  Tiny babies, then precocious toddlers, running amok, racing after puppies and dogs and cattle. Naughty little boys and sassy little girls, pigtails flying as they learned to ride herd alongside their daddy.

  Heat blazed her cheeks.

  She was wading into dangerous territory, day by day, moment by moment, knowing she should back away, and helpless to do so.

  “I’ve got to get back and help load the heifers. Will you be here later?”

  She shook her head, not ready to trust her voice to words.

  “We’ve got to get Grandpa home,” Trudy explained, and Jack stood, smiled, swiped his hand to dirt-streaked jeans and extended it to Grandma.

  “I’m Jack McGuire, Mrs. Mason. Welcome to Montana.”

  Grandma took the hand and didn’t raise a fuss about cleanliness. “This place is something, Jack McGuire. Really something.”

  “It is.” Carrie smiled across the kids. “Brian and Maggie come alive whenever we’re here. It’s as if they’ve come home.”

  Liv exchanged looks with Brian. His quiet gaze agreed with his mother’s assessment. He was home, here on the Double M, even though horses made him nervous and crowds of cattle gave him reason to walk the other way. Something about the ranch...and the ranchers...embraced the lonely traveler within.

  “Liv, gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

  “Okay.”

  She longed to say more, much more. To tell Jack how the combination of puppy, little kid and neglected horse rolled into her heart, but all that would have to wait, and a good thing, too. Otherwise, she’d be throwing herself at Jack McGuire, and that might not be the brightest choice of the day.

  He tipped his hat, remounted Roy-O, turned and rode to the far paddock, the sight of man and horse a rhythmic Western poem. She loved him. She knew it, heart and soul, and probably had never stopped loving him.

  Her bad, for thinking she was in control. But now, what should she do? Which direction should s
he take? Opt for safe and take her own sweet time at age thirty? Or throw caution to the wind?

  Is a little time such a bad thing? Getting your bearings, feeling your way?

  No, but a full-year commitment to the university wasn’t a little time. Not when she’d cast eight years aside already. Why wait? Why hesitate?

  Are you forgetting the broken heart he handed out the last time you got serious? And the one that followed your last romantic choice? Are you kidding me?

  Indecision plagued her, but as she and Grandma walked back to Dilly and Grandpa, the warmth and scents of the ranch swept her. She’d promised to attend the morning service with Jack, a leap of faith in many ways. But what would she find in the quaint, historic church? Better yet, what was she looking for?

  Liv wasn’t at all sure how to answer either question.

  * * *

  “Liv, you’re going with us.” Jane angled a look of surprised approval as Liv entered the kitchen early the following morning. “I’m so glad. Are you bringing your car or do you want to ride in the backseat with Grandma and me?” She fiddled with the timer controls on a Crock-Pot of chicken-and-potato stew, then peered at Liv over the glasses that had slipped well down her nose.

  “Jack’s coming by for me.”

  “Really?”

  “He is?” Dave came into the kitchen from the back door, and the look he sent her—an expression that wondered if she knew what she was doing—spoke more than words. “That’ll add fuel to the tongue-waggin’ fire.”

  “It’s not a marriage proposal, it’s a Sunday service. I wanted to meet the new pastor before next weekend’s game.”

  “Hey, if it gets you back in a pew, I’m not about to question the reason.” Dave laughed, chucked her right shoulder with a playful nudge, then peered up the stairs. “No Grandpa yet?”

  “Not a peep.”

  “Well, I’ll—”

  “Dave? Can you help me with Grandpa?” Grandma’s voice put a quick stop to their discussion.

  Dave winked at Liv and moved up the stairs at a quick clip. “Coming.”