by Liliana Hart
“James insisted,” she said. “I was hesitant at first, but he eventually convinced me it was the right thing to do. We both loved Shane, and I had to remind myself that James lost a lifelong friend and someone who’d watched his back on the battlefield. They were as close as two friends could be, and James didn’t openly grieve for Shane like I did. But he grieved all the same. If I’d been the shoulder he’d needed earlier on and not so consumed with my own grief we could’ve healed together. It’s one of my biggest regrets.
“But naming our Shane after him was the right thing to do. He very much reminds me of my first husband. Stubborn as a mule and always a hero.” Her smiled wavered and she looked down at her hands that gripped the teacup tightly. “I thought we’d lost him in that explosion. But my biggest fear is that we might still lose him. Stubborn as a mule,” she repeated.
Marnie stayed silent because her visions that involved Shane were hazy. She couldn’t tell Mary that his future was secure, and it was best not to give false hope. She’d learned that the hard way.
“One of the things I’ve always admired about you is that you never give up,” Marnie told her. “Shane needs your strength. He needs his family, but he especially needs you. And whoever Lacy is. He needs her too.”
“His physical therapist,” Mary said, nodding. “They fight like cats and dogs. She’s as stubborn as he is, thank goodness. I told him he’d met his match and there was no way he was going to intimidate a woman who’d done surgery in the middle of a battlefield.” Mary straightened her spine and said, “I’ve taken up too much of your work day already. It’ll be dark soon and I don’t like to drive at night.”
“I’m glad you stopped by,” Marnie said, feeling much too formal all of a sudden.
She helped Mary with her coat and belongings and then left her hand on her shoulder until the other woman met her eyes.
“You said that I was like a daughter to you. I just want you to know that you and James were always the parents I wish I’d had. When Darcy and I went off to camp every summer, we told everyone that my last name was MacKenzie and we were sisters. Those were the best weeks of my life.”
“Well, there goes my makeup.” Mary pulled her into a hard hug and sobbed into her neck. And it wasn’t long before Marnie realized she was crying too. She didn’t know how long they stood there, but when they were finished, there was a lightness in her heart that hadn’t been there before.
“Come to dinner tonight when you’re done here,” Mary said. “We’ve always got plenty of food.”
“I’ll take a raincheck. I think I’m going to have other dinner plans tonight.”
“Good for you, my girl. Good for you. Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get to have breakfast too.” Mary chuckled and waved good-bye, the little bells above the door tinkling behind her.
Chapter Fourteen
Big Sky Ranch was one of the oldest operations in the state of Montana, and it had always belonged to a Hamilton. Now it belonged to Beckett.
They didn’t have as much land as the MacKenzies. Not yet anyway. With the purchase of the Caldwell land it would put them darn close. The MacKenzies had shifted their operation so they ran and bred as many horses as they did cattle, so they had need for the extra acreage. The Hamiltons would always be cattlemen.
There was something about the land—owning it and working it—that soothed his soul like nothing else could. Just standing on the hill that overlooked the family home—his home now—and the vast pastureland and fences filled him with such pride he almost burst with it.
The fields were a blanket of white due to the fresh snow that had started falling at dusk. They’d get several feet before morning and the wind had already picked up. The weathermen hadn’t called for a blizzard, but Beckett had lived and breathed Montana since his birth, and if a blizzard wasn’t coming then it was the closest thing to it. Enough that an emergency alert had gone out warning that local businesses would be closed the next day and that everyone should stay off the roads.
The thing about a working ranch was that the animals didn’t care that a blizzard was coming. The cattle still had to be fed and milked twice a day. Calves were getting ready to drop at any time and they had to make sure the mothers were checked regularly. There were also pigs and chickens, not to mention horses. And when bad weather came, they all had to be rounded up and penned. It was an exhausting trial every blasted time. Because the animals seemed to sense the change in the weather and wanted to do their best not to cooperate.
He’d been right in the middle of pushing obstinate cows into the barn when his cell phone buzzed. He almost ignored it, and probably should have as he and his men had a limited amount of time to finish the job before the weather worsened. But he pulled it from the holster at his belt and recognized Marnie’s number. His first thought was that something bad had happened. What other reason would she have to call?
But she’d surprised him. She’d always been very direct. There was never any guessing with Marnie. It was a refreshing experience. Hell, even when he’d been a nineteen-year-old kid he’d recognized it as a quality to appreciate. So when she’d asked if they could have dinner he’d only been stunned speechless for a moment.
“I tell you what,” he’d said, putting his shoulder into the rump of a cow to get it moving. “Lock up now and come out to the ranch. The snow’s coming faster and you’re not used to driving in it. By the time you get here I’ll be finished up with the evening feeding and ready for a shower and a meal.”
She agreed as if they’d just made a casual business transaction and disconnected, leaving Beckett smiling into the phone.
“Boy, didn’t I tell you to stay away from women?” his father said. “They ain’t nothing but trouble. Didn’t you learn anything from the last go-around?”
Carson Hamilton was in his mid-sixties and still worked the ranch with the enthusiasm of a much younger man. His dark blond hair was silvered at the temples and the lines on his face were from years of working in the sun. He was tall like his son, but his eyes were a piercing blue instead of gray. The gray had come from Beckett’s mother.
“You also told me that I needed to get out and live beyond the ranch. That that’s where I’d get life experience.”
“That was when you were in college,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Besides, when have you ever listened to me?”
“I always listen. I just don’t always implement. Don’t worry, Pop. This woman is worth the trouble.”
“Hmmph. I take it from what I overheard that you’re not going to show up on our doorstep tonight to mooch dinner.”
“You’d be right about that. Marnie Whitlock,” he said by explanation.
His father slapped a cow on the rump and stared at him a few seconds. “Whew, boy. Talk about trouble. And it’ll do nothing but follow her around her whole life. She’s got the curse.”
“She’s got a gift,” Beckett corrected. “And she’s helped a lot of people with it. Don’t judge her by her father.”
Carson spat on the ground at the mention of Harley Whitlock. “Don’t see how anything good could come from that man. A liar, a thief, and a murderer. A real bastard through and through. He’s the only person I could ever say I was glad he was dead. And that he suffered when dying. You reap what you sow.”
“And his daughter paid the price,” Beckett said. “A lot of times at the hand of her father. She’s a survivor. And she’s made a good life for herself. She’s back home now and it doesn’t look like she plans on going anywhere.”
“You were always stuck on her,” Carson said. “It worried your mama sick when you started mooning over that girl. She was scared to death you were going to get her pregnant and then Harley would be tied to all of us. Maybe try to get part of the ranch as payment or restitution.”
Beckett stopped cold and stared at his father, his hands on his hips. “You never said a word.”
“Because we didn’t have to. We didn’t raise a fool. You’ve always been very re
spectful and private about your relationships. We would’ve heard otherwise if you hadn’t been. And that’s the way we raised you to be. You spent a couple years pining after that girl until you found your gumption to make a move. You’re a slow one. Like to think things through first before you take action. You got that from me. Your mama has a quick temper and is a little high strung at times.”
His father winked and pulled off his work gloves, sticking them in the back pocket of his insulated overalls. “That’s what I love about her. She always keeps things interesting. And then once we saw what he’d done to you that night…” Carson shook his head and moved toward the big sliding doors of the cattle barn. “Your face was so swollen and your jaw busted up. God, I thought your mama was going to hunt him down with her shotgun and fill him full of buckshot. I was of the mind to let her too, but after we called the sheriff and learned they were already after him all we could do was wait and see.”
“I don’t remember a lot of what happened after he punched me that first time. Bastard had huge hands and it hurt like a bitch. I could hear Marnie screaming in the background, but the blood was rushing in my ears and my vision was blurry. I couldn’t stop him.”
“And that’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Carson said. “You were still more boy than man, and let me tell you, there’s not many men who could stand up to Harley the way you did and live to tell the tale.”
Beckett made a noncommittal sound. He’d always blamed himself for not being able to do more to stop Harley. And it had taken him a lot of years to realize there was nothing more he could’ve done. You couldn’t stop crazy.
“It never occurred to me that there’s a reason I’ve never had the interest for a long-term relationship. No matter how hard I tried I could never find another woman that’s made me feel like Marnie does. It’s always been her. From the very beginning. The timing wasn’t right for us then. We were too young. And if Harley hadn’t stopped us that night, he would’ve eventually been a problem. The best thing for everyone that night was when he drove over that cliff. It set us all free.”
“I’m just telling you to be careful. Harley might be gone, but the girl still has trouble. I kept up with her enough through the years to know that that gift she has can be just as much of a curse. Not all the cases she helped on were successful. There were people who didn’t get saved.”
“It’s not a magic trick,” Beckett said, aggravated. “I don’t know how it works as she’s never explained it to me, but I don’t think it’s something she can always control. There were a lot more people she saved than she didn’t. She can’t save everyone. It’s not her job to. People still have choices that can change the direction of anyone’s future.”
“You seem to know a lot about it.”
“You weren’t the only one who kept up with her over the years. I tried to read everything I could about her. Interviews she gave, and police statements. I never stopped loving her. Not even after she was taken away. But I also knew she deserved to get to live a normal life. That life wasn’t here. At least not then. And my place will always be here.”
“But now she’s back,” his father said.
“Now she’s back,” Beckett agreed.
They moved outside and closed the doors, leaving the animals to their evening meal and the warmth of the barn, and then they got on their horses and headed to the other barn to check on the other animals.
Beckett pulled up his balaclava and covered the bottom half of his face and then pulled his ski cap low over his ears. Then he pulled the hood of his jacket over that. The wind was bitter and slapped at the upper half of his face as he rode side by side with his father.
They rode in silence to the smaller barn on the west side of the property to check the horses, but the hands had already made sure they were in their stalls and settled and fed for the evening. Big Sky had a good team and things ran smoothly, but part of that was because Beckett, and his father to a certain extent, were always right in the middle of things. No one would care about their business like they did.
Beckett started to dismount to double check that things were as they should be—it wasn’t unheard of for animals to escape because of someone’s careless actions—but his father stopped him.
“I’ll see to things here,” Carson said. “You go ahead on up to the house and get ready for your company. You smell like the back-end of a cow.”
“It’s hard to refuse an offer as good as that one. Y’all have everything you need for the storm?”
“We’re all set. And your mother has stew simmering on the stove and cornbread for supper, so I’m ready to get back myself. I won’t be but a few minutes here.”
Beckett nodded at his father and then dismounted his horse and handed over the reins so he could be put up with the others.
“You take the four-wheeler back,” Beckett said. “I want to stretch my legs.”
It wasn’t a long walk, but it was dark by the time the house came into view. When his father had decided to retire and put the ranch in Beckett’s hands, his parents had moved out of the big house on the hill, as was tradition when the ranch passed to the next generation. Beckett had tried to get them to reconsider. He didn’t need a house that big. But they’d insisted and had built a smaller house right on the lake about a mile past the cattle barn.
The main house had been built in the twenties from the proceeds gained during a successful stint at moonshining—a two-story log cabin with a shaker shingle roof and a porch that wrapped the entire way around the house. Large, rough logs were used as supports for the porch and snow covered the railing.
He’d always thought of it as a log cabin on steroids. There were huge windows front and back so light went all the way through the house, and a double staircase was showcased in the center, leading to two separate upstairs wings. Even as a child it had been too much room for just the three of them. But it was home. And more importantly, it felt like home.
It wasn’t one of those houses where you couldn’t sit on the furniture or where quiet was expected. He and his friends had tracked in muddy boot prints, the furniture had been well lived on, the floors scuffed, and an upstairs window broken from a poorly calculated game of indoor baseball.
He’d forgotten to call the house and let Izzy know he was having company for dinner. She’d been a staple at Hamilton House since long before he was born, and she’d decided to stay after the ranch had been passed to him. She said Master Beckett needed her a lot more than his parents did. And he thanked God every day she was there, because the house would probably fall in shambles around his ears without her.
Izzy oversaw the cleaning, cooked his meals, and she’d boxed his ears on more than one occasion growing up. And she looked like she wanted to box his ears right now.
“What do you mean you’re having company over for dinner?” Izzy asked, brandishing a wooden spoon like some would a sword.
Isadora Blackstone was a little sprite of a woman with coal black eyes and hair to match—though the hair had a little help from Clairol every few weeks. Her skin was the color of creamed coffee and her face was mostly smooth of wrinkles, due to the fact that she’d slathered it with Oil of Olay for more than fifty years. Her eyebrows were drawn on sharply with a black pencil and her lips were ruby red. She was maybe ninety pounds soaking wet, but when she got her dander up she was as scary as any giant.
“You think food just magically cooks itself and appears on your plate? Cooking for company takes planning and time. Especially if it’s a lady friend. You’ve got to make a good impression. Unless it’s that Hazel Trout. I’m not cooking for that little tramp, so if you’re thinking of parking your horse in that particular barn you’d better think again.”
Beckett snorted out a laugh before he could help himself and the spoon missed the tip of his nose by an inch. He congratulated himself on not flinching.
“I told you to stay away from that girl. I said, ‘Master Beckett, you keep your dallying with that girl out of my house. S
he sees herself as Queen Bee over Big Sky Ranch, and I’m already Queen Bee. There ain’t room enough for the both of us.’ Didn’t I tell you that?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Beckett agreed quickly. She had told him that straight out, and he wasn’t going to argue. Everyone knew that Izzy ruled the roost at Big Sky.
She nodded sharply and stuck her head in the refrigerator, slapping items on the counter.
“Shoo,” she said. “Get out of my kitchen. You smell like you’ve been rolling in manure.”
“Pretty close,” Beckett said. “You’d think the cows would be smart enough to come in from the cold on their own.”
“Thank goodness they’re not. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have steak thawed out and ready to put on the grill for your dinner guest. Now go, before you stink up the whole house. I used the Pine-Sol today on the floors and I like to keep the lemon smell as long as I can.”
“I’m going,” he said, and grabbed an apple from the bowl to take with him while her back was turned.
Izzy’s bark was always worse than her bite, and by the time he was finished in the shower and dressed in jeans and a soft gray sweater that matched his eyes, the meal was cooked and warming in the oven until Marnie arrived. Izzy had made herself scarce, but left a note taped to the oven to remind him to be a gentleman and that she was going to bed for the evening because her reality TV show was on. She lived in the small guesthouse behind the garage.
When the doorbell finally rang, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He hadn’t really thought Marnie would actually come.
He hurried to open the door and then stared in surprise at the woman that stood on his doorstep. Her face was white as a sheet and she looked like she’d been rolling in the snow. White flakes crusted her from the top of her hat all the way to the top of her boots.
“What happened? Are you okay?” He reached out to pull her inside and he was surprised when she didn’t pull away from his grasp. She must’ve been in shock. Or frozen solid.
