by Dara Girard
Brooke sent Jameson a look, but he was staring out the window. “He said that?”
“Yes, he said you’re one of the best potters he’s ever met. So would you be willing?”
“Of course,” Brooke said, amazed by the praise of her work. She’d known Jameson had respected her as an artist but not to this level.
Linda smiled. “Thank you. This will mean so much to us. I’ll send you the logistics later today.”
They chatted some more about the fund-raiser then Brooke stood. “I’m going to see what I have in my studio. This discussion has gotten me so inspired, I may create something special especially for the event.”
“That would be great!” Linda replied.
* * *
Linda watched Brooke leave then looked at Jameson. She remembered the first time she’d set eyes on him, when he’d come to the organization to ask what help they needed. The Browards were known for their interest in horses, and she hadn’t been surprised by his offer of help. What had surprised her was his intelligence and his “don’t mess with me” attitude. She would have slept with him if he had ever given her the chance. But he hadn’t, and now he was married so she knew that opportunity was gone. “See, was that so hard?” she said. “I don’t know why you didn’t think that she would go for it.”
“You don’t understand her the way that I do.”
“You think too hard sometimes.”
“Maybe, but not this time. She said yes to you, not to me.”
“I doubt you ever have a problem getting a woman to say ‘yes’ to you. But I never thought I’d see you married. Funny how you never mentioned anything about her. But you are a man of secrets.”
Jameson rubbed his chin and didn’t reply.
“She’s a little young, isn’t she?” Linda said, determined to get him to say something.
“She’s not that young.”
“True. I guess I’d always hoped you’d like your women a little more seasoned. But I guess once a woman hits thirty the men stop looking.”
“Men never stop looking. You’ll find the right man one day.”
She made a face. “I knew you’d say that.”
“You know I’m right.”
“So, how did you meet?”
“I wonder why everyone keeps asking us that question? Does it matter?”
“People always enjoy a good love story. You’re avoiding the question.”
“Yes. I’m not very interesting. I get married and then all of a sudden my personal life becomes the topic of conversation.”
“You can’t blame people. Nobody expected you to have a personal life. I thought I knew all I could about you. I thought I knew things even your family didn’t know, like you helped us rescue horses and helped our mission. But I didn’t know about her. Nobody knew about her. Why was she such a big secret?”
“Because of this. Because of your speculation about her age and even who her family is.”
“Yes, I’d heard about her sister and how things had ended between you two.”
Jameson frowned. “I like you better when you talk about horses.”
Linda laughed. She couldn’t share that it had felt like a betrayal when he’d gotten married without telling her. Not that they were close, but she’d felt that she’d known him like no one else. She’d flirted with him and he’d let her, and it had been a fun relationship she’d hoped could have developed into something else. He was a sexy man, but she knew that she could never get past the wall he’d put between him and everyone else. It seemed that Brooke had managed to get past that wall and she had to applaud her for that. She wondered what the secret had been. What his weakness was. “I really like her,” she said. “Even though I know my opinion doesn’t matter.”
“Hmm.”
“I’m happy for you. You two should become part of the horse rescue’s board of directors. I think your idea will really make a difference for us. It’s going to be the best fund-raiser we’ve had in years.”
* * *
Jameson certainly hoped so. He sat in the family room after Linda had gone and wondered if using Brooke’s work would be a good idea. If the auction didn’t go as either woman planned, they’d both blame him. But he wasn’t a defeatist. It would work, and this way he could make up for Brooke missing the Sugarloaf Craft Festival.
“Oh, is she gone?” Brooke asked, returning to the room with a bunch of papers under her arm.
Jameson glanced at his watch. “Yes, about twenty minutes ago.”
Brooke sat down beside him. “Sorry I took so long. I was just thinking of some ideas and started sketching—”
He took the papers from her. “These look good. Choose whatever one you want to work on.”
“What was that about an online gallery?” Brooke said.
“What?” Jameson asked in an absent way as he stared at another sketch.
“Why did you mention me having an online gallery?”
Jameson shrugged. “I’m surprised that Rainey hadn’t thought of that before. It seems like a good idea and another way artists can get their work seen.”
“And I’m the best you’ve ever met?”
“You are.”
Brooke sniffed. “Probably because you’ve never met a potter before.”
He raised his brow. “Are you questioning my taste?” He pressed a finger against her lips before she could speak. “You’re supposed to be flattered because I have excellent taste.”
Brooke pushed his hand away. “What if no one places a bid on my work?”
He shook his head. “An artist never doubts her work. She can doubt the intelligence of her audience but never her work.”
“And how do you know so much about artists?”
“It’s not so different from what I do. I buy and sell to my customer. I know I’m good at what I do and you are, too.”
“How did you meet her?”
He frowned. “Meet who?”
“Linda.”
He started to smile. “Funny, she asked the same question about you.”
“And what did you say?”
“Nothing. If you’re curious about each other, you two should get together.”
Brooke glanced down at her sketches. “She’s a very beautiful woman.”
“She’s not my type.”
Brooke lifted her head. “I didn’t know you had a type.”
I thought I’d made my type pretty obvious, Jameson thought but realized that maybe Brooke didn’t want to see how he really felt.
Chapter 15
Brooke looked around her studio, not sure which pottery pieces would be the best for the auction. She’d only pretended to look earlier. When she’d left Jameson and Linda alone, she hadn’t gone to her studio. She just walked around trying to figure out how she felt. How could Jameson have said all those things about her? And Linda seemed so impressed; she didn’t want to disappoint them. She still had that fear as she looked at her artwork, although she was certain she’d just use one of her sketches to come up with something new. She really didn’t want to let anyone down. She wanted to impress Jameson. She wanted to impress the Browards. She wanted the town of Granger to know how much she could contribute to this worthy cause. That she wasn’t just Roy Palmer’s daughter or Jameson’s wife but a talented person in her own right. A person who commanded respect the way Gwendolyn and Laney did.
She turned when there was a light knock on the door, then Cecelia came into the room.
“Well?” she said.
“Well what?”
“Did you like her?”
Brooke smiled. “Don’t pretend you weren’t listening by the door.”
“I don’t eavesdrop,” Cecelia said, looking offended.
“Not even a little?
”
“Okay, maybe just a little, but I couldn’t stay because I had to talk to the housekeeper. So what did you think?”
“I liked her.”
“I knew you would.”
“But she still makes me nervous.”
“Why?”
“Because of what Jameson told her about my work. And now I have to find or create the right pottery pieces for the auction.”
“Oh, yes, Jameson told me about that. It sounds wonderful. I think it’s a great idea to donate some of your work to help raise funds for the rescue.”
“Yes, it sounds like a great idea, but I want to make sure I can pull it off.”
“Of course you can pull it off. You worked hard to get those items ready for that craft festival you had to miss. This would be close to that and also will help with promotion. I know you won’t get paid for your pieces but—”
“I don’t care about being paid. I care about representing myself in the right way. It was different when it was only my ego on the line, but now Linda, Jameson and all the horses depend on me bringing in enough money. What if it doesn’t work? What if I don’t raise enough money? What if no one bids at all?”
“Of course someone will bid. Your work is fabulous. I’ll be there and so will all the people who care about you.” She looked around the studio. “And I can tell from what I’ve seen that Jameson isn’t just flattering you. I was married to a potter who worked with the indigenous clay found in this area of Montana.”
“I didn’t know that. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“It slipped my mind. Besides, I first thought that the private investor buying up land in this town was interested in the secrets this land holds.”
“What secrets?”
“Well, on the far side of the property is where you can find the special clay, Precambrian Grecian shale. This shale, with three colors found together, cannot be found anywhere else in the whole state of Montana.”
Brooke gasped in awe. She knew that Cecelia was talking about the shale she had heard about that was used to make calico clay. She’d learned about the shale while taking a course at Montana State University. A special process had to be used to keep the dark red, rich brown and creamy ivory separated. Then the clay was poured into molds, giving each sculptured piece a unique marbled or calico look. No two items looked alike. She hadn’t been able to find that kind of shale after she had finished the university course.
“Are you sure some of that shale is here on the Broward property?”
“I’m pretty sure. There’s an old map that we can look at.” Cecelia disappeared into the family room and pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper.
They looked at the map. “Yes, there it is,” Cecelia said excitedly.
“Let’s go find it,” Brooke said. It would be just the material she needed to make a magnificent piece in time for the auction. It was worth the adventure. They left early the next day and in their excitement forgot to leave a note for Jameson. They also did not see the ominous dark clouds off in the distance. They drove for several miles. Brooke had never seen this part of the Broward property. The Palmer property was much smaller. Although profitable, it did not have the extensive mountainous areas as the ones found on the Broward property. As Brooke drove, Cecelia was in charge of reading the map, which they followed closely. They soon found themselves driving on a long winding dirt road that ended in the front of a cave.
“This is it,” Cecelia said. They parked the car and went inside the cave, carrying several bright flashlights. After walking for a few feet, they saw a wondrous sight. Right in front of her was the most incredible assortment of shale she had ever seen.
“I don’t believe this,” Brooke said. “It’s amazing.” She moved closer and ran her hand over the shale, fascinated and excited about their find. “It’s like an artist’s treasure trove.”
“I know. If those investors found out about this—”
“I’m not telling anyone. Do the Browards know about the shale?”
“I don’t know. I never heard anyone except my husband mention it. I didn’t say anything because no one ever asked.”
“I’ll just take enough shale for the items I would like to make for the fund-raiser, that’s all.”
Brooke retrieved the items she had packed in the trunk of her car, then carefully collected the shale and put them in several waterproof containers she had packed for the trip. As she finished putting her equipment away it started to rain. She and Cecelia were packed and ready to go just as the downpour hit. They were in the car and driving back home when, within minutes, the dirty road was turned into a muddy river, dragging the car along with it.
“I’m so sorry about this,” Cecelia said in a tense voice.
“What?” Brooke said, trying to sound calm, although she was worried about keeping a grip on the wheel and maintaining control of the car. It felt like it was gliding. “The rain? It’s not your fault. I wanted to come, too.”
“But I don’t want there to be any more tension between you two. Jameson is going to be mad when he finds out I took you out here in this kind of weather.”
“I’m not a child. I can take care of myself, and I don’t know what you’re talking about. What tension?”
Cecelia shot her a glance and frowned. “Don’t play dumb with me. Ever since he got those two dogs I’ve noticed the distance between you two. But it doesn’t matter now.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re going to die.” Cecelia let out a stifled scream as the car began to swerve.
“No, we’re not going to die.” Brooke tightened her grip on the steering wheel as she felt the car begin to pull out from under them.
“Nobody knows we’re out here.”
Brooke couldn’t maneuver the car well and they soon realized she was losing control and the water was pushing them forward. That’s when she saw where the road fell away.
* * *
It had been a hard day. Jameson returned home that evening, hungry and tired. The house was oddly dark and quiet, and there was no note and no food on the warmer. He wasn’t too surprised; he figured Brooke must be still in her studio preparing for the fund-raiser. He called Cecelia’s number, but it went directly to voice mail. He called Brooke’s cell phone and got her voice mail, too. That was strange. He couldn’t reach either of them, so he called Frank.
“Have you seen Cecelia or Brooke?” he asked once Frank picked up.
“Yes. I saw them driving off early in the morning in the direction of the red cliffs.”
“Thanks.” Jameson put the phone receiver down. That was odd. With the kind of weather they were experiencing, he found their actions to be reckless. Especially for Cecelia. She knew that that part of the property was where slow-moving streams became raging rivers, especially during and following major rainstorms. Because of how rugged the area was, none of the cattle were ever taken through there. It was mountainous and dangerous and an easy place for someone who didn’t know what they were doing to get lost. Jameson felt himself growing angry. Why did Brooke decide to go there without telling him what she was doing? And Cecelia should’ve known better. She should have left a note.
Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe Frank got it wrong and they just went shopping and he didn’t need to worry.
But after another hour passed and the rain increased, Jameson’s dark thoughts began to gather.
* * *
The rain had lightened but their troubles hadn’t ended. Brooke swallowed, trying to keep her panic in check. The car sat in a precarious position: hanging off a semi-cliff, where the earth had just fallen away. Brooke knew she had to find a way to get out, but she was aware that any movement could make the car become dislodged and plunge them into the ravine below.
When the rain let up, Brooke had parked the car
so that they could wait out the weather. Cecelia then stepped out to get something from the trunk, and the moment she did some of the soil gave way, taking the car partly over the edge, where it was now lodged, with only a large tree branch keeping it from toppling further.
Cecelia pulled out her cell phone and called Jameson while Brooke tried to think of an exit plan. “Where the hell are you?” Jameson demanded before Cecelia could speak.
In a trembling voice she told him the location. “We need to get help now. The car is hanging over a cliff, and Brooke’s inside.”
Cecelia half expected him to shout at her or swear. Instead his voice became ominously calm and he said, “We’ll be there” before he disconnected.
* * *
Jameson knew he needed to get out there as fast as he could. He didn’t have time to wait for the wilderness rescue team. He would have to see what he could do himself. He phoned Frank and told him what happened and that he needed to get as many of the available ranch hands as he could to come help. Then Jameson, Frank and a few helpers threw items they thought they would need in the back of two all-terrain vehicles and drove through the rain. By the time they reached Cecelia, she was frantically jumping up and down and pointing off in the distance.
“Oh, Jameson. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” she said, tears streaming from her eyes.
“Are you okay?” Jameson asked, in no mood to hear her apologies. He knew they didn’t have any time to spare.
“I’m fine. But—”
“Where’s the car?”
She pointed off to the side, where they could see Brooke’s car hovering in a precarious position. Below the car, what once was a small stream was now a raging river, threatening to destroy everything in its way. He could see Brooke inside the car, her face mirroring the horror she was feeling. She was still holding on to the steering wheel. Her eyes wide and fixed.
Frank swore. Jameson felt like swearing, too, but he had to stay focused. He couldn’t let emotions rule him. He turned to his team, gave them instructions, then said, “Let’s go.”
The men immediately went into action. They were accustomed to these kinds of rescues, but they were usually rescuing a calf or cow, not a human being. Not Jameson’s wife. They quickly found several large branches nearby and carefully pushed them under the car to create a canopy. Then they used heavy-duty rope to tie to the car to prevent it from falling any farther. Once they felt they had it secured, Jameson lay on his belly and inched his way slowly over the branches until he reached the driver’s-side door.
