His Montana Sweetheart (Big Sky Centennial Book 2)

by Ruth Logan Herne

  By the time they got Grandpa convinced that it was Sunday and he needed to get dressed, Jack had pulled up the driveway.

  Liv’s hair was a mess of curls from going to sleep with it wet, she hadn’t had time to even think about makeup and her white sandals were smudged with ranch residue, leaving her nothing but sling-back heels to wear, which meant a skirt. And a summer top. And a clip to pull her locks back, away from her face.

  “You’re absolutely beautiful, Liv.” Jack stopped and stared, a look of pure male appreciation lighting his eyes. He extended an arm and led her to the pickup truck. “Not like that’s a surprise or anything.”

  “Beautiful. Right.” She climbed in, made a face at him and ticked off her fingers. “I barely had time to brush my hair, much less do something with it.”

  His glance to her hair said he liked it just fine as it was, long and tumbling in its own form of disarray.

  “No makeup. My nails are a mess. And my sandals were dirty so I had to wear heels.”

  Jack looked down, surveyed the shoes and grinned. A light, short whistle said he didn’t mind the sassy shoes, either.

  “It’s all well and good for you,” she scolded as he climbed into the driver’s seat with barely enough time to make it to town, park and get into the old-fashioned church at the opposite end of town. “But five people with one bathroom makes for a tight morning when we’re all trying to get out of the house by eight forty-five.”

  “Your grandparents are coming?”

  “Yes. Grandma’s kind of excited, Grandpa was prickly as a trapped mountain bear because he didn’t believe it was Sunday and then couldn’t imagine why anyone would be going to church this early.”

  “A lot of changes, Liv.” Empathy softened Jack’s expression. “A big move like this could set a healthy person to questioning. Someone with Alzheimer’s?” He frowned as he swung the truck into a fairly tight space half a block beyond the church. “It’s a lot to digest in a fairly short span of time. But if we encourage him, and take it step by step, it might get better. I hope.”

  Liv hoped so, too, but the hectic hour before church had been a prime example of Grandma’s concern the previous day. When Tom Mason didn’t want to do something, he made his feelings known. She half dreaded going into the church of her youth, and not due to years of avoidance. That was between her and God.

  Was Grandpa behaving or making a scene? Would the entire town be at the early service, watching her walk in with Jack? And would that ramp up the current gossip to a frenetic pace?

  The carillon bells began chiming the bright opening thrums of Beethoven’s Ode to Joy. The familiar music lightened her step, brightened her soul. She’d sung this countless times over the years, but it had been a long time since the music had called to her.

  Today it did. As she entered the church, the softly lit interior reminded her of old days and new times. Jack came up alongside her and reached for her hand, a simple gesture of great magnitude in a small town like Jasper Gulch.

  Liv drew a deep breath. Glanced up.

  Sea-green eyes met hers, eyes that promised everything would be okay. She slipped her hand into his. The touch of his work-roughened palm felt good against her skin. The grasp of his fingers, twining with hers, combined old memories with new hopes, a perfect blend. And his look of promise, that everything would be fine, helped her believe.

  They slid into a pew behind Liv’s parents and grandparents. A young mother claimed the space to their right. Two busy, bright-eyed, new-to-walking toddlers clambered in with her, a mop-topped girl and a looking-for-mischief little fellow whose lopsided grin would surely break hearts one day.

  The new pastor walked to the front of the church, ready to begin the morning service.

  Bam! Bam! Bam! The little boy two-fisted his sippy cup against the aged wooden pew. His happy face reflected his delight at the loud, repetitive sound while droplets of milk sailed into the air with each strike. When his mother leaned over to caution him, he scowled at her, said a very loud and emphatic “NO!” and proceeded to hammer the pew again. Bam! Bam! Bam!

  The young mother cajoled the cup from him, tucked it into a long-strapped bag, then turned to where the barely walking girl was trying to scale her mother’s side in monkeylike fashion.

  The little girl took one look up at her mother’s frowning face and burst into tears.

  Loud tears.

  Liv reached over to tap the mother’s arm, wondering if she could help in any way. The little girl saw the perfect stranger reaching in her direction and shrieked.

  The mother turned quickly, her attention understandably torn. “Chrissy, what’s—” She read the situation and tried to quickly apologize to Livvie. “She’s afraid of people she doesn’t know. But thank you—”

  The words were barely out of her mouth when the little boy reconfiscated the cup from the quilted bag on the floor, turned it upside down and began dripping milk along the pew seat as if he was watering flowers in a garden, happy as could be. “Ya, ya, ya, ya...” His happy little voice caroled throughout the quiet church as the hapless mother tried to intervene once more.

  “Whaa!” The little girl—Chrissy—seemed determined to outshriek her brother’s singsong milk party. She quieted slightly when her mother turned attention her way, but began shrieking again when the little boy’s antics required further intervention.

  Half the church was watching the melee, the other half, well...they were behind Liv and she couldn’t see them, but she figured they were most likely watching, too.

  She’d worried about Grandpa causing a spectacle. He hadn’t, so far he was being good as gold, but the racket set up by the two toddlers beat anything Grandpa might have done.

  The young mother started crying, overwhelmed, grabbed both babies and fled down the aisle, the kids’ angst echoing as she went.

  The ensuing silence seemed harsh and surreal. A young mother. Two small children. No father with them.

  Could they have helped more? Done something else?

  A tap on Liv’s arm drew her attention around. Rosemary Middleton patted her shoulder, sent the now-quiet entrance a glance and offered comfort as she grabbed up her purse. “Hannah’s had a rough go, Liv. A widow, so young, with twins. She’s taken to staying home, staying put, because toddlers are an unpredictable handful. I was glad to see her come in, but now...” Her expression reflected the less than stellar outcome.

  “Should I go help?” Liv asked.

  “I’ll go. The kids know me from the store.”

  She slipped out as the pastor began the service with a smile of gratitude in Rosemary’s direction. He didn’t seem put out or disgruntled by the initial ruckus, nor did he make a joke about kids and behavior. From the look on the young mother’s face—Hannah—there was nothing amusing about the situation from her point of view, and Liv appreciated the minister’s sensitivity. Sitting behind her beloved grandfather, she knew that next time it might be him stirring up a fuss. Sensitivity for the old, the young and the troubled took on new importance to her these days.

  Thankfully, her worries for the day went unfounded. Grandpa Mason was the soul of good behavior, and Grandma seemed happy to be in church again, surrounded by family.

  “Kind of nice, isn’t it?” Jack whispered the words as they stood to sing a final hymn. He indicated her aging grandparents with a dip of his chin. “Despite the hardships, I think Grandma and Grandpa are still in love, even after all this time.”

  They were. It showed in the gentle way Grandma helped adjust Grandpa’s prayer book, the way she held the book of hymns just so, allowing Grandpa to see the words at his own level.

  Their actions exampled the promise of “in sickness and health.” Despite Grandpa’s poor prognosis, Grandma stuck by his side, rarely showing her frustration. And that was a lesson Liv needed, no, wanted to learn.r />
  And when the sweet service was complete, Jack stepped out of the pew, allowing Livvie to move before him. He didn’t take her hand on the way out, and that made her wish he would, her fingers longing to be threaded with his again.

  “Jack.” The young minister grinned as she and Jack came into the church foyer. The propped doors bled sunshine into the entry, flooding the floor with golden light. “Good morning! Let me know if you need another practice before the game next weekend. I’ve been reshaping my glove, getting it ready.”

  Jack laughed. “I should do the same thing. Mine has been sitting on a closet shelf for a lot of years. Ethan, this is Olivia Franklin.”

  “Dave and Jane’s daughter, right?”

  Liv nodded, surprised. “How did you know that?”

  Ethan aimed a funny face of disbelief toward Main Street and splayed his hands as if to say how could he not know that?

  Liv burst out laughing. “So you understand that there are no secrets in Jasper Gulch. That’s the first step toward survival, Reverend Johnson.”

  He shook his head and clasped her hand in welcome. “First, call me Ethan, please. Second, I figured it out the minute the knitters and ladies’ auxiliary and Daughters of the West discovered I was single. I have been the subject of ardent guesswork about the future Mrs. Ethan Johnson from that moment.”

  “Which means random folks dropping off casseroles, banana bread, cream-cheese brownies and cookies to showcase kitchen skills.”

  Ethan’s grin said she was correct. “I’ve tried to tell them that all is accomplished in God’s time. But there are a few who long to give the Good Lord whatever help they can.”

  Liv knew that firsthand. She’d seen the raised brows when she and Jack walked in. The quickly hidden smiles. Looks of surprise.

  But she’d noticed something else, too.

  The combined reactions didn’t seem nosy today. They seemed happy to see her and Jack together. Maybe pleased by the easy look on Jack’s face? The more joyful appearance he had now? That wasn’t a bad thing, to inspire joy in others.

  You will draw water joyfully from the springs of salvation.

  Ethan’s gentle preaching had cited joyful texts in the Bible, words of affirmation in times of hardship.

  She’d forgotten how many there were. Silly of her, to dwell on the negatives instead of embracing the positives in life. Was thirty too old to grasp that change?

  Regrasp it, you mean. Because you used to love the joys in life. You grabbed hold and ran with them until Jack dumped you. So who’s more guilty here? Him for being stupid? Or you for letting someone else’s choice chart your destiny for eight long years?

  “Ethan, would you like to catch breakfast with us?” Jack asked the question easily as if sharing a table with Liv was the norm, maybe because it had been normal for so long.

  Ethan refused, regretful. “I’d love to another day, but I’ve got Sunday school in a few minutes and it’s my turn to preside. Then I’m heading to Bozeman to do a hospital visit. This stretch of heat is tough on the elderly.”

  “And if you’re gone midday on Sunday, it limits the number of people who can invite you to dinner to meet their eligible daughters.”

  Ethan’s lips quirked in acknowledgment. “Timing is everything. Liv, nice to meet you.” He reached out to shake Liv’s hand as her parents and grandparents came through the door behind them. “And, Jack, I’m looking forward to next Saturday.” Ethan flexed his muscles, then cringed when his collar bit into his neck. “Reminder—no collars on the ball field.”

  “Although wearing it might get you preferential treatment from the umpires,” Dave Franklin noted, grinning. “All’s fair in love and baseball.”

  “I’ve ordered shirts for both teams, so the collar won’t be an issue,” Jack promised. He clapped a hand to Ethan’s shoulder. “Nice service, Ethan. Again.” Jack moved toward the beam of light. When he reached back for Liv’s hand, the look on his face...

  Tender, caring, loving...

  Gave her the answer she’d been looking for.

  She didn’t want to leave Jasper Gulch, and truth to tell, she didn’t need to leave right away. Jack’s face, his expression, the affection in his eyes, said everything.

  She’d stay right here and figure things out. As Mert said, sometimes things were just too important to yack about, and whatever this was between her and Jack McGuire needed time. She’d be wrong to shortchange that and she was tired of making mistake upon mistake. She had the university-job interview set up for tomorrow morning. If she took the position, she’d commute for the year. A lot of folks had long commutes in cities. If bad weather curtailed her on occasion, she’d face that as it came. “You ready to feed me, cowboy?”

  “Ready and willing. And I do like those shoes, Liv. A lot.”

  She caught his teasing look and laughed, remembering her angst over the shoes before church but the favorable look marking Jack’s glance to her legs, her feet?

  Made the cute heels worth every moment of finding the proper skirt without too many wrinkles.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Robin closed her laptop, stretched and yawned later that afternoon. “This is a wretched way to spend a summer Sunday, Liv. What are we thinking?”

  “My eyes are bugging out, so I can’t disagree.” Liv stopped entering data, stood and finished her iced tea. “Do you want to walk to the creek?”

  “No. You know what I really want to do? Really, truly?”

  Liv didn’t, so she shook her head. “No clue.”

  “I want to see a ranch. A real working ranch. With cowboys and cows and horses and well...did I mention cowboys?”

  “You did.” Liv laughed, glanced at the clock and nodded. “Hop in my car. I’ve got to take care of Dilly and the girls at the Double M. Which reminds me.” She pulled out her phone and texted Jack that she wouldn’t be around to care for the horses the following morning, but she’d make it up to them later in the day. “Come on, I’ll give you a quick tour when we get there, but there probably won’t be many cowboys around. Not midday on a Sunday.”

  “Am I dressed okay?” Robin wondered as Liv turned the car toward the McGuire ranch.

  “For?”

  Robin indicated her feet. “Aren’t you supposed to wear boots on a ranch?”

  “You’re fine. For a city slicker.”

  “Grr.”

  “When there’s more time, I’ll loan you a pair of my boots and I’ll bring you out to ride. We can saddle up the mares and get them used to being ridden again. If the heat breaks this week, we can start then. I bet you’d love it, Robin. Have you ridden before?”

  “No, but I’ve always wanted to learn, almost as if it was born in me.” Robin watched out the window as acres of tough Montana grassland swept by. “There’s so much I want to know, Liv.”

  “About riding?” Liv slanted Robin a glance, curious, as she guided the car down the rolling lane leading to the McGuire house.

  “About everything.” Robin shrugged, but her face looked pensive. “Consider it the frustrated cowgirl within.”

  “Well, you’ve come to the right state to fix that, so let’s start now.” Liv stopped the car, climbed out and gave Robin a quick ranch overview. “Most of the cattle are pastured in the uplands on the far side of the McGuire ranch. A buyer purchased a dozen pregnant cows yesterday, but that leaves Jack and his dad with well over twelve hundred cattle running. Half are calves who’ll get sold off late November.”

  “How big is this place?” Robin turned in a circle, then faced Liv. “It’s huge, right?”

  “Not like Shaw Ranch huge, but yeah. It’s big. And worth a pretty penny. But Jack and his dad don’t care about any of that.”

  Robin’s face said that was hard to believe.

  “Things are different in ranchin
g families,” Liv told her as she grabbed a lead for Dilly. She could give Robin a quick tour and offer the buckskin a walk around the ranch yard. Saying it, she began to realize the truth more deeply herself. “It’s like you’re part of the land. Born to it.”

  “But not everyone stays.”

  “No.” Liv hooked her thumb toward the paddock housing Dilly and the mares. Jack had moved them in together the previous day, ready to acclimate the horses to their new reality. “It’s not an easy life. Winter’s cold, harsh and lasts way too long. Some years are real tough. But when you’re a cowboy, well.” She made a face, wishing she could explain but falling short. “It’s part of you.”

  “You love it out here.”

  Liv grinned as she led Dilly out of the pen. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Ridiculously so.”

  She reached out an arm to Dilly and gave him the neck rub he loved before handing the lead to Robin. “I think I’d do okay on a ranch. Jack’s mother taught me a lot when I was younger. Hold the lead here while I finish the mares, okay?”

  “Um. Sure.” Robin made a face up at the big horse but kept her voice soft. “Did he look worse than this when you got him? Please say no.”

  “Much.”

  “Well, that just breaks my heart.” Robin ran a hand along Dilly’s neck and didn’t cringe when loose hair came off on her fingers. Liv gave her extra points for that, and when she swiped the hand to the side of her jeans, Liv figured Robin might just make it in the West, after all. “What about your career?” Robin wondered.

  “Maybe it’s time to change things up. Or at least juggle a while. I’m trying to learn to trust God’s timing. It’s a big step for me.”

  Surprise and disbelief marked Robin’s features. She sucked air between her teeth and cringed slightly. “That’s a huge change, Liv. Don’t you have an interview at the university tomorrow morning?”

  “I do.” Liv finished the mares’ feed, then ran fresh water to the trough before taking the lead from Robin to exercise Dilly outside the pen. “And we’ll see what happens with that. With all the changes in my family—”