Montana Maverick

by Debra Salonen

  A lump formed in her throat. Weren’t those the exact words she’d planned to tell him today…in a less stark and brutally honest way? “I…”

  He put his big, rough, rancher’s hand to the side of her face. “It’s okay, Meg. Last night was a gift. I’ll never forget it. But you and I both know the gulf between Missoula and Silver Springs Ranch is more than miles. I can’t expect you to give up everything for me, any more than you’d ask that of me. It is what it is.”

  The finality of his tone made something shrivel into a tight ball in her belly. Her rational mind agreed with everything he was brave enough to say, but that didn’t mean she wanted to accept it. “Is there some reason we can’t be friends?”

  He pulled her to him and held her without moving for two long, soul-wrenching heartbeats. “We’ll always be friends…the same way people thought we were enemies, from a distance. There’s only so much pain and regret a heart can take on a daily basis, and I’ve reached my quota.”

  He pressed a kiss to her hair and let out a long sigh. She felt him swallow before adding, “I know the kids will miss you, Meg, but I don’t think you should come back after today. I don’t want them to hope for something that can’t be. Just wouldn’t be fair to anybody—even you.”

  She fought the tears that rushed to her eyes by picturing her plan: write a book and have a baby. Nothing had changed. She’d met a family she, potentially, could love with all her heart, but the logistics of combining their two worlds made tracking a downed helicopter in the middle of a blizzard look downright easy. And, most importantly, loving Henry meant giving up the dream closest to her heart.

  “You’re right,” she said, proud that her voice barely broke. “I wish things were different, but…”

  “If wishes were horses, all men would ride,” he filled in.

  His eyes looked a little dewy, too, she thought when their gazes met. “Do you think your sister will help us? I’ll probably need to refinance the ranch to cover the cost, but I’ll figure out how to pay her.”

  Or I will. “Mia will give you the family discount,” Meg said, turning to leave. “I promise.”

  Before she could take a step, Henry caught her again and kissed her. Deep, head spinning, heart stopping, as if mapping her tongue, her taste. She gave into the pleasure with a certain degree of desperation. She knew, deep down, she’d never be loved like this again.

  Hank watched Meg leave the room with the same sort of fatalistic sense of finality he’d had when he put Laurel, JJ and Annie on a plane for California six months after Jacob’s funeral.

  At the time, he’d told himself he’d see them again. There was talk of sending the kids to Montana every summer, the way Laurel grew up—one foot in California, one in Montana. But that didn’t happen.

  So, Hank made a couple of trips to San Diego. But Laurel lived in a small guesthouse on her stepfather’s property, a stone’s throw from Glory’s large blended family that looked at Hank like he was a redneck hick who didn’t belong with the cool people.

  The physical distance between Hank and his daughter was nothing compared to the pain he’d felt watching her flounder, depressed and half-alive.

  It took a dippy hippy to bring her back to life. And Bravo and Mystic more than made up for the fact Hank didn’t see much of Laurel for two years.

  She told him later, when she was dying, that she’d made excuses to keep him at arms’ length because she thought he’d be disappointed in her for not going back to her teacher’s aid job or finishing her degree.

  “You would have hated the way we lived on the beach, Hank. Like stoner bums who partied all night. We were never part of that scene…well, David partook when the spirit moved him, but I loved the beach because people accepted you as you were. I wasn’t a widow with two kids. I was just a mom. I didn’t have to marry David so people wouldn’t be scandalized. And, as much as I loved him, I married the love of my life once and never planned to dishonor Jacob by marrying again.”

  And, although there was no question that Bravo and Mystic were David’s children, Laurel chose not to name their father on their birth certificates. Hank didn’t understand why. But he hoped the formality of having to prove paternity would be one more stumbling block that slowed David’s custody quest. Whether or not that would make any difference in the long run was anybody’s guess.

  He hoped to have a better idea of where he stood in the eyes of the law when he talked to Meg’s sister. In the meantime, he needed to tell JJ what was going on.

  He trudged up the thick plank steps to the loft. He had to duck at the top of the stairs to avoid bumping his head. He hadn’t been up there during the day. The view from the picture window below the peak of the ceiling was pretty phenomenal.

  “Wow. These are some digs,” he said, glancing sideways at the young man lounging on the lower bunk to Hank’s right.

  The set of beds to the left were neatly made, just as JJ’s was. “Thanks for cleaning up around here. How do you feel?”

  “Okay. When are we leaving? I heard you tell Meg you called a road plow.”

  The walls have ears, his mother used to say.

  “After lunch. Meg is helping me set up a meeting with her sister.” He paused, and then added, “A lawyer. Hopefully she’ll represent us if…”

  “You get in trouble about crashing the helicopter.”

  “No. That was an accident. The worst I’d be looking at is a fine for landing on Forest Service land.

  “Unfortunately, D’Vede and his mother heard about the crash, and they’re making noises about wanting to take Bravo and Mystic.”

  JJ sprang from the bed, the Speed Cube he’d been playing with falling to the floor. Luckily, the thick nap of the carpet kept it from rolling too far. “I think we should change our names and move somewhere he can’t find us.”

  Hank tried not to smile. “That was my first thought, too, but then I realized we wouldn’t have any money and probably couldn’t work because I wouldn’t have a social security number.”

  He shook his head and shrugged. “I’m afraid we’re stuck meeting this problem head on.”

  “But Bravo’s grandma is rich. Her house has two swimming pools. And a tennis court.”

  “Hopefully, if she gets custody, she’ll be ordered to put a fence around the pools because neither Bravo nor Mystic can swim.” He was joking but JJ took his comment the wrong way.

  “You’re going to let them go. Just hand them over like…like puppies?”

  Hank spotted a movement on the stairs. Annie and Bravo huddled together, fearful, expecting the worse. He motioned for them to come to him.

  He went to one knee and pulled them into his arms. “In case you didn’t hear me, JJ, Meg is finding us a lawyer who is going to help me fight to the bitter end to keep this family together. Are we clear on that?”

  JJ nodded, but looked away so Hank wouldn’t see his tears.

  “Group hug,” Annie said.

  JJ shook his head. “I’m gonna feed Rook. Meg told me last night she’d help me find him some food.”

  They’d run out of dog food the night before and, while tasty, their leftover people food probably wasn’t enough nutrition for the big, active canine that spent most of his time outdoors.

  Hank let JJ go while he comforted the younger children, repeating his plan with fewer details. “So, we’re heading back to the ranch today. Can you help?”

  Annie nodded.

  “Can I finish the cold movie, first?” Bravo asked. “They’re fighting the snow monster. It’s my favorite part.”

  Hank bit down on his smile. “Yes, you may. Then I want you to look under all the furniture until you find every one of your cowboys and Indians. We don’t want to leave anybody behind, right soldier?”

  Bravo saluted smartly, then gave him a hug. “I love you, Grandpa.”

  “Me, too, little guy.”

  Annie needed a few extra hugs, and then she went downstairs to organize her holiday gifts.

  W
hich reminded him. He needed to download the video he took from Meg’s camera before they left. He and JJ had reviewed the footage JJ took that morning using his GoPro, and very little of it was useable. JJ needed more practice and maybe a few lessons to avoid looking straight into the sky or moving two quickly left and right. Watching his video made Hank dizzy.

  When he returned downstairs, he found JJ and Meg in the pantry.

  “Here’s what I meant,” Meg said, backing out with a large can in hand. “Beef stew.”

  Hank caught her by the shoulders to keep her from bumping into him.

  “Oh,” she said, obviously surprised by his touch. He wished like hell he could turn off the feelings she’d awoken in him last night.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

  She closed the pantry door and stepped away, leaving a respectable space between them. Too bad even that wasn’t enough to keep his body from reacting to her scent.

  “No problem.” She handed the can to JJ. “Pour it over four or five slices of bread and give it to Rook. I remember Mom doing this when our dog was alive. Dad was supposed to be in charge of the animals, and he never remembered to buy food.”

  “We have a giant bag at home,” JJ said, carrying the large, aluminum mixing bowl Meg had given him to use as a dog dish to the far counter. “Nobody expected to be gone so long. Right, Grandpa?”

  Hank leaned down to pet the dog. “True. I figured the doctors would give Mystic some antibiotics, and we’d back home on Christmas Day.”

  He startled, picturing the tree they’d cut from Laurel’s favorite grove. “We still have gifts to open, kids.”

  Four beautifully wrapped boxes had arrived Christmas Eve day from D’Vede and his mother. Hank had been so busy dealing with Mystic’s fever he’d barely noticed. But Annie and Bravo had oohed and ahhed about them.

  JJ made a rude sound. “Presents can’t make up for stealing our family.”

  He finished scraping the soup into the bowl then turned and looked at Meg. “Did you talk to your sister? The lawyer?”

  She shook her head. “Mia didn’t pick up, but I left a message on her cellphone and one at our parents’ house, too. She’ll call back soon. I told her if she’d meet us at the ranch this afternoon, I’d follow her back to Marietta so she didn’t have to be on the highway alone at night.

  “Don’t worry. Mia will figure out something. When she was your age, we called her Nitro.”

  He blinked. “Why?”

  “Because big things can come in small packages. She’s a firecracker.”

  “Has she handled a lot of custody cases?” Hank asked, walking to the coffeemaker to pour a cup. It was stone cold, so he put the cup in the microwave to heat it up.

  Meg didn’t answer right away. She stepped to the refrigerator and pulled out an armful of sandwich fixings, including peanut butter and jelly.

  The microwave pinged.

  “No,” she said, once his back was turned. “She was a prosecutor for the District Attorney’s office in Cheyenne ever since she graduated from law school, but she’s scary smart and she never gives up. Period. If she agrees to help us…er, your family, she’ll give you a hundred and ten percent and then some.”

  Sounds familiar. That was exactly what someone said about Meg…somewhere…he tried to picture where he’d heard those words.

  No, not spoken. Written.

  Meg Z gives 110-percent and then some—even if she didn’t know what she was doing because she was a V (my 5th, but who’s counting?)

  Hank’s grip on his cup faltered. The heavy mug—the only non-wolf cup he could find in Meg’s cupboard—clattered against the beautiful marble countertop. His heart raced. His armpits tingled with what he recognized as a fight or flight response.

  Flight? No, f-ing way. Fight? Definitely. One hundred and ten percent and then some. His fingers curled into a tight ball.

  He closed his eyes, imagining the satisfaction he’d feel when he planted his fist in Ken Morrison’s face.

  The bastard stole Meg’s virginity then had the audacity to brag about it on the bulletin board in the Search And Rescue locker room—where all the back country students could see it when they returned from their two-week sojourns with a low-life scum of a man who eagerly betrayed their trust the moment he got back.

  “What’s wrong?” Meg asked, mopping up the spill with a rag.

  She checked the mug to make sure it wasn’t broken then looked at him. Those Montana sky blue eyes searched his for answers. What could he tell her? That he knew a secret she probably wished she could erase from memory? Or was he projecting his hatred of Ken on her? Maybe Meg, like Glory, picked Ken for some reason Hank would never understand.

  Luckily, Mystic’s cry of outrage superseded his need to ask a question that was none of his business—especially given the fact he’d basically told her to get lost.

  He stalked out of the kitchen, confused and torn.

  Home. He just wanted to get home, throw up a few barricades and pray the world left him alone. The strategy never worked in the past, but what choice did he have?

  Zero. Zip.

  Less than one hundred and ten percent. That was for sure.

  *

  JJ ran until his lungs burned. The thick snow pack between the house and the big garage made his feet feel like weights were attached to his ankles.

  “Hurry,” he called to his sister. “I want to tell you something before Grandpa and Meg come.”

  Annie stopped to scoop snow from the inside of her boot. “I hate winter. I wanna go home to the beach.”

  They’d only lived in San Diego for a few years, but JJ had hated every minute. He’d missed the ranch. He’d missed the wide-open spaces and the peace of not being surrounded by millions of people. He’d liked but never trusted his mother’s boyfriend, David. Or, rather, D’Vede, as the longhaired artist made them call him.

  His stomach churned, creating a bad taste in his mouth.

  “Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen for us, but it may be where Bravo and Mystic are going.”

  Annie caught up with him at the wide flat space Hank had shoveled that morning. Early. JJ had heard the noise and got up to look out the window. JJ thought his grandfather looked mad. Furious, even. Now, he understood why.

  “What are you talking about, JJ?”

  “D’Vede and Nona are going to take Bravo and Mystic. And it’s my fault.”

  “No, it isn’t. The storm made us crash.”

  “A gust of wind hit and I couldn’t hold the stick on course, Annie. The bird went sideways and something broke. It’s my fault.”

  Big fat tears appeared in her eyes.

  He grabbed her shoulders and gave a little shake. “Don’t cry, dummy. You’ll freeze your face off.”

  She pushed him. “Don’t call me dummy. Mom said you were supposed to be nice to us and lead by example.”

  His mother’s words played on some imaginary ear buds. “You’re the big brother, my darling son. It’s a huge responsibility, but you’ll be fine because you’re just like your daddy. And Jacob was my hero. He took care of everything and everyone he loved. We’ll be watching from heaven, and I know you’ll make us proud.”

  “You’re not a dummy. Sorry. But you can’t cry because Hank will want to know why and you can’t tell him, Annie. Promise?”

  Her bottom lip quivered but she nodded. “I promise.”

  He took her hand. He felt a tiny bit better now that he’d shared his guilt, but unless he could think of someway to fix this, he’d never forgive himself.

  Chapter Ten

  ‡

  Meg knew for certain she was sick about halfway down the mountain.

  She was grateful she’d lost the coin toss.

  After the snowplow reversed directions and left them with a four-foot curb of snow to shovel before they could back her pickup truck out of the barn, she and Henry locked horns over who would drive.

  “It’s my truck.”

&
nbsp; “I have years and years more experience.”

  “You’re nine years older than I, not ninety,” she snapped, realizing too late she’d revealed she knew certain details about him she only could have acquired by asking about him over the years. Because Henry Firestone didn’t do Facebook or any social media sites. The Silver Springs Ranch had a website in dire need of updating, but a visitor to it would find no personal information about its photogenic owner.

  “Let’s flip a coin. JJ can be the judge.”

  So, they had. She called heads and lost.

  Thank God.

  The newly plowed road was a slippery mess. Even Henry’s knuckles were white by the time they reached the crossroads. Meg’s were, too, but for a different reason. She was fighting waves of nausea. The heat from the blast furnace on the front console was nothing compared to the waves of radiant energy coming from her cheeks and forehead.

  She lowered the window enough to grab a big gulp of frosty air.

  “Hey,” someone yelled in the back.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, pressing her face to the triangle of frost accumulating in the corner of the glass.

  She wanted to turn around and crawl into her bed, but there was no way that was happening. Mia had agreed to meet Henry this afternoon as soon as they reached the ranch.

  “We’ll take a potty break when we reach the General Store,” Henry said.

  “And buy some jerky, Grandpa?” Bravo asked.

  “Sure.”

  “And a cookie?”

  “Of course, Annie. What do you want, JJ?”

  “Nothing.”

  Henry looked at the boy squeezed between his shoulder and Meg. The front end overcorrected and the back end of the truck fishtailed slightly—quite a feat given the chains Henry put on before they left the cabin.

  Meg’s head bounced off the glass with a loud crack. “What the…? Meg, are you okay?”

  “Yeah…no…maybe. I don’t feel good.”

  He cursed softly under his breath, and then he said, “Sorry, kids. No stopping. We’re going straight home. I think Meg has the flu.”