Colorado Woman (The Hansen Women)

by Coburn, C. C.

  “Are you excited about your mom coming home?” she asked them.

  “Yeah! We’ve got so much to tell her,” Nicky said.

  “I hardly missed her,” Justin admitted.

  Maggie decided that was a good thing, since tears before bedtime weren’t something she liked dealing with.

  She kissed them both and said, “I’ve really enjoyed having you guys here and getting to know you better. I think you’re going to enjoy being at school here. Tomorrow I’ll take you in to town to have lunch at Martha’s and arrange to have some kids who’ll be in your year group there. Is that okay?” Whether her school stayed open, or they ended up over at Spruce Lake Elementary, they’d still be hanging out with the same children.

  The boys both whooped with delight and raced back into the house, Ruff on their heels, barking excitedly.

  “Ruff!” she growled warningly, and he quieted immediately.

  “Are you up to having a visitor?” she heard Mac ask from behind her.

  “Sure.” She patted the chair beside her and Mac took it.

  “Feel like watching a bit of television later on?” he asked.

  “No. I feel like falling asleep right here. I can’t believe how tiring two little boys can be—and they haven’t even been here half the day!”

  “I think you’ll enjoy watching this bit of television,” he said mysteriously.

  “Okay. But it better be worth it,” she warned with a grin.

  Maggie and Mac hadn’t been alone together since the night at the cabin. Maggie preferred it that way. She needed to distance herself from him romantically and feared if they were ever alone together again, she wouldn’t be able to control her feelings for him. Not after the other night.

  “Have you been avoiding me?” he asked.

  “Hey! I could ask the same thing of you. You’ve been down in Colorado Springs doing Lord knows what for the last couple of days. What have you been up to?”

  “You’ll find out,” he said cryptically and reached out to clasp her hand in his. He brought it to rest on his chest, over his heart and closed his eyes.

  Maggie was about to protest but he’d shut his eyes and said, “This is my favorite time of day. The sun has set behind those mountains but there’s still plenty of light to enjoy the scenery.”

  “Which you won’t see with your eyes shut,” she pointed out.

  “Sometimes you don’t need to have your eyes open to appreciate what’s around you,” he murmured and lifted her hand to his lips.

  Maggie had to get her mind off what effect Mac’s lips were having on her hand, so she said, “Lisa called before. They’re heading home in the morning and expect to be here either Saturday or Sunday.”

  “You just say the word and we’ll all come over to help unload the van.”

  “Which brings me to another matter. I have no idea where to put all the stuff she might be bringing with her! Our little cabin is full of enough furniture already.”

  “She can leave it stored in my barn until she finds a place. It’s perfectly clean, never had an animal in it, from what I can tell, not even a mouse.”

  “That’s kind of you. Thanks. I’ll let her know in our next call. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

  Maggie gave Mac all Lisa’s news, about selling her car so quickly and her decision to buy something out here.

  “I’d be happy to take her down to Denver or the Springs to find one, if you don’t have the time to take her.”

  “Thanks, Mac. You already have Lisa half in love with you. You’ll be her hero for sure if you do that.”

  “The only woman I want to have thinking me her hero is sitting right here beside me.”

  “That sounds like another song.”

  He laughed and hauled Maggie to her feet. “Come on, time for television. You might want to set it to record, so the boys and Lisa don’t miss out.”

  With her hand in Mac’s she followed him into the house and switched on the television and handed him the remote so he could find the station he wanted.

  A popular crime show was just finishing as they tuned in. Gramps joined them and sat on the sofa with them rather than selecting his usual old armchair, forcing Maggie to scoot up closer to Mac.

  The sound of a guitar’s strings being strummed filled the room and the hairs on the back of Maggie’s neck stood up. And there was Mac, launching into a folksy, foot–tapping tune about Coldwater and the barbeque. There were great shots of Mac’s friends who he’d roped into coming to the barbeque and every western cliché you could imagine: cowboys swinging lariats, horses running free on the prairie, an old–fashioned bar complete with swinging doors, people line–dancing and generally whooping and hollering their enjoyment.

  Maggie found her feet tapping along to the tune and was sorry it was over so soon. The closing scene was of Mac tipping his hat, and the location and date of the barbeque weekend were splashed across the screen.

  It took Maggie several moments to come to terms with what she’d seen. When she did, she said, “So this is what you’ve been doing the past couple of days?”

  “Sure is. Did you like it?”

  “Like it? It’s amazing!”

  “That’s thanks to Flynn. He did all the mixing and montages, blended in the film clips and stuff. I just wrote a song.”

  “You did more than write a song! Oh, my!”

  Suddenly, Maggie’s phone started ringing, and then the home phone. The first call was from Paige, the second from Martha—they’d both caught the advertisement. Maggie let Gramps take the call from Martha while she spoke to Paige.

  “I hope you don’t mind, sis, she said, but I’m coming out to stay for a while.”

  Surprised, all Maggie could manage was, “No, of course I don’t mind. Are you taking vacation time? Will you be here for the barbeque, I could really use your help.”

  “Yes, and yes.”

  “What’s up? You sound so down, sweetie?”

  She could hear Paige’s sigh on the other end of the phone. “I need to get out of LA for a bit.”

  “The law after you?”

  “You’re so funny,” Paige said dryly. “I just need a break. I’m bringing Angus by the way.”

  “So long as Angus understands the first time he bites anyone I’m going to shoot him.”

  “Very funny!”

  “It’s not funny the way he bites all the men he meets. That dog will be wearing a muzzle, just so you understand. Otherwise you can leave him in LA.”

  Maggie heard a soft sob and felt immediately contrite for being so hard on her sister. Usually Paige was the most composed of the girls. “Oh, my goodness! What’s wrong?” she demanded.

  “I can’t talk about it. I’ll be there late afternoon, okay?”

  “Sure, do you want me to come collect you, or will you take the shuttle from DIA?”

  “I’ll rent something. I’m bringing a friend.”

  Maggie wasn’t sure what to say to that bit of information. Paige was so upset, it would only upset her further to tell her there was no room at the ranch for another soul—unless they slept outside on the porch—or in a tent.

  “Okay, we’ll look forward to seeing you,” Maggie said and rang off.

  “Damn!” she said and Gramps looked up from finishing his call with Martha.

  “There’s no call for cussin’ around here,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “Paige’s coming home. And she’s bringing a friend.”

  “You did point out that we’re bustin’ at the seams here didn’t you?”

  Maggie’s shoulders sagged. “I didn’t have the heart, she sounds really down. I wonder what it’s about?”

  “Yee, hah!” Pixie cried and they both looked at her in query.

  “You should see how many hits our website is getting since Mac’s ad played!”

  Mac wore a grin from ear to ear.

  Maggie couldn’t help it, she grabbed his cheeks and kissed him full on the lips.

  He r
eached for his phone saying, “I’ll have them play it again if I can get that reaction again.”

  “Which brings me to asking: who paid for the advertisement?”

  “Me.”

  “Mac! You can’t do that. It’s… it’s…”

  “It’s the least I can do for my girl,” he said, cupping Maggie’s cheek and kissing her. He got to his feet and said, “I’d better be getting home. And if your sister and her friend need a bed, there are still plenty going begging over at my place.”

  “Thank you, Mac. It sounds like Paige wants to be close to home for a bit. But if her West Highland terrier, Angus, gets too annoying, I’ll send him over, okay?”

  Mac looked a little alarmed. “I heard your half of the conversation.”

  Maggie laughed and said, “I know. But don’t worry, I’m going to read Angus the riot act as soon as his highly polished toenails set foot in the door. You won’t get any problems from him.” I hope.

  Chapter Seventeen

  As it turned out, Mac didn’t get to meet Paige, or Angus, or her mysterious friend. Instead, he got a call from his agent to say he needed to fulfill a contract obligation.

  Deciding he might as well get the songs he’d been composing recorded, leaving him to enjoy the rest of his summer in Colorado, Mac headed east, promising he’d be back in time for the barbeque, and also promising he’d be promoting it every opportunity he got.

  “But I only just got back!” Pixie complained, as he made the announcement he’d be leaving soon after she and Lisa pulled up in the U–Haul truck after their journey. They’d driven through the night in order to get home for Saturday. Lisa missed her boys and Pixie just wanted to get home.

  Although the way she was looking at young Flynn, Mac’s nephew, Maggie suspected there were other reasons she wanted to get back to the ranch as well.

  But Flynn was heading east with Mac, who had got him a job on the music video production team, as assistant to the director.

  Pixie’s bottom lip stuck out a mile at this news.

  “Tell you what, Pix,” Mac said. “If your big sister can spare you for a few days, maybe you can fly out and stay with me and come along to the recording sessions, learn a bit about the industry, meet my publicist—”

  The rest of what Mac had to say was drowned out by Pixie’s scream of excitement, her hugging Mac so close he nearly choked, and then the sound of her boots on the stairs as she raced up to her room to pack.

  “Um, I didn’t expect her to agree so readily, nor to come with us right away.”

  Maggie put her hands on her hips and her head to the side. “I’m telling you now, Mr I’ve–got–a–big–mouth–McKade, I’m not the one who is going upstairs to point that out to her.”

  Mac stuck his index finger to his throat as if loosening an imaginary collar. “Quite. So, do you have any objections to her coming along? I’ll pay for her flights,” he added quickly.

  “Not at all, I need all the available beds I can get around here.”

  Mac smiled at that and pulled Maggie into his arms. “I’m going to miss you,” he murmured and kissed her temple.

  “I’ll miss you too,” Maggie said, drawing back to look into Mac’s eyes. Placing her hand on his cheek, she kissed his mouth.

  “I’m ready!” Pixie cried as she shot out of the house and down the front steps. “Oh, sorry,” she said, looking not the least bit sorry about interrupting Maggie and Mac.

  Mac ignored her, drew Maggie into his embrace and kissed her long and hard, while Pixie bounced from foot to foot, impatient to get moving. Finally, he released Maggie. She stumbled back, caught his shirt front and pulled him in for another kiss.

  “Sheesh! If you’re gonna keep doing this, we’ll never get to the airport! And if you don’t hurry up and stop kissing, there won’t be any seats left for me!”

  Mac took his own sweet time releasing Maggie, and then turned to Pixie and said, “Relax, there are always spare seats in first class.”

  “First class? First class! First class! Oh, my God, did you hear that, Maggie, I’m gonna fly first class!”

  Maggie covered her ears and said, “If you keep screaming like that, you’ll be flying sitting on the wings. Now, have you got everything you need?”

  “Of course, my toothbrush, cell phone, a change of clothes and not nearly enough money.” She held up a small overnight bag as evidence.

  Maggie could only shake her head. Pixie’s needs were so simple. She hadn’t even had time to unpack her bag since arriving home, so it was probably full of dirty washing.

  But there was no use pointing that out to Pixie; she was like a tightly wound spring and so eager to leave. Maggie hugged her and said, “Now, you do everything Mac says. Do not make a nuisance of yourself. Eat sensibly. Don’t talk to strangers.”

  “Yes, yes and yes,” Pixie said.

  “That was only three yesses and I told you four things,” Maggie said and patted her cheek. “Now, go in the house and say a proper goodbye to your grandfather, sister and nephews and I’ll walk over with you to Mac’s.”

  “I can wait for her,” he offered.

  “No, you need to get back and book her first–class seat, remember?” Maggie said and winked.

  Mac caught her to him and kissed her again. “See you in a few minutes,” he murmured.

  They both knew it would be the last time they’d be seeing each other alone for some time, so their kiss was bittersweet.

  Finally, Mac drew away and said, “I’ll take good care of her, sweetheart.”

  “I know you will. She adores you, so I doubt you’ll have any trouble. Just don’t let her get talking to strangers, she really is very naïve.”

  “I won’t,” he promised and with a tiny salute, headed down Maggie’s driveway to his house to farewell his family and book a seat for Pixie on the same flight as him and Flynn.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next two weeks flew by so fast, Maggie barely had time to miss Mac.

  Following on from his television appearance and the YouTube clips advertising the barbeque that Flynn had uploaded to the internet, the town started buzzing long before the barbeque weekend dawned.

  In fact, the first interested parties rolled into town within a day of Mac’s advertisement being aired.

  Seemed people were coming from all over to check out the town. Families on school vacation had detoured from their routes, natives of Colorado had stopped by, country music fans had arrived early to stake out a good spot to watch the festivities.

  The motel was full, the camping ground was almost at capacity and Sheriff Matt O’Malley had reported that all the accommodation available in Spruce Lake was booked solid for the coming weekend. He’d offered extra security in the form of off–duty deputies as well as the rostered Sheriff’s department staff.

  Maggie had fielded so many inquiries about the school, she was starting to wonder if it all could actually work. She’d taken some families on tours of the school and, far from being put off about its potential closing, they’d instead praised her and the town and given their names and contacts.

  They’d all been excited about the prospect of having their kids go to school and grow up in a community that was virtually free of crime. The abundant fresh air and cheap rent on houses no doubt helped them make up their minds about moving to Coldwater. There was plenty of employment to be had within an hour’s commute of the town, but many were looking at working in Coldwater, or opening businesses there.

  One of the fathers who’d visited the school early on was a mechanic and was interested in buying the garage and re–opening the adjoining gas station. Another, wanted to lease the motel—in spite of being told of the limited amount of traffic that stopped in the town overnight. “I have a feeling that once people equate this town with Jake MacKade and the scenes depicted on those YouTube clips, they’ll all be breaking their necks to come here, and I don’t mean just for the barbeque,” he said. “This place,” he said, looking around, “i
s a hidden gem.”

  That pronouncement had endeared him to everyone in town and he’d been offered the motel for sale at a knock–down price. The town council had voted to give him a license to run it—based on his previous experience in the industry—effective immediately. He’d instantly employed two cleaners and reception staff and was planning on extending the premises, if he had a good year.

  Since Crazy Joe’s was right next to the motel, Martha was working overtime at the diner and had taken on a short–order cook and three new wait staff. She didn’t expect the boom to continue and had warned the staff their jobs might not be there after the weekend, but they’d been prepared to go for the ride.

  Earl had been forced to restock his store after he’d sold out of anything and everything to do with camping. The saddlery next door to him had reopened as had the grocery store—under new management—Enrique’s wife, Sofia.

  A realtor had taken over one of the shops and was doing a brisk trade in rentals and sales. Since over half the houses in Coldwater had been deserted, there were a lot of properties available for either rent or sale. And, like the motel, at knock–down prices. He was so busy he’d taken on more staff.

  Everywhere Maggie looked on Main Street, the windows—some boarded up for many years—had been uncovered and polished and now glinted in the sun. The bottle shop was doing a roaring trade and someone wanted to reopen the bar that had closed nearly a decade earlier.

  The Episcopalian church on Washington—usually locked up tight between monthly services—had opened its front doors for anyone in need of a quiet place to worship.

  The town council had employed three extra gardeners to mow the grassy verges and generally tidy up overgrown gardens, both on Main and the surrounding streets. Down by the river, the park had been rejuvenated. It had always been a popular spot for picnics and now families had blankets spread over the grassy banks as they watched their children frolicking in the river.

  All the Victorian lamp–posts lining every street had been given a fresh coat of black paint, broken bulbs replaced, and yet more hanging baskets planted and hung.