Issued to the Bride One Airman (Brides of Chance Creek Book 2)

by Cora Seton

  Sadie stared after him as he scooped the stakes from the ground and kept walking. He was right. No matter what else happened, they had to finish the garden within a month. No time to sit here staring at the dirt.

  Even if a tiny blue flower now winked at her from the prints of Connor’s boots in the dirt where he’d stood just a moment ago.

  Chapter Four

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  “What are you doing in Montana when you should be in Ireland?” Connor’s mother asked for the third time.

  He stood on the back porch, having stepped outside so the phone conversation wouldn’t wake up anyone else so early in the morning. A week had passed since the wedding—a week since he’d left Florida and his career as a pararescueman behind—but Connor still woke before dawn like clockwork. He’d spent his days shadowing Sadie as much as possible, and either helping Lena with the cattle or dry walling the living room and kitchen when he could tell Sadie needed time alone. He hadn’t made much progress with her—or the garden, but the kitchen and living room were ready to paint now. After he and Sadie had finished with the garden measurements, he’d called in an order for the granite stones, which should arrive any day now. The foundation was dug and the footer installed. The walls of the garden would be tall enough that they needed a concrete base reinforced with rebar.

  When his phone had buzzed, he’d just been finishing up his breakfast and he grabbed it, expecting it to be Lila again. Bridget’s texts had tailed off, but the more he explained to Lila he was off limits, the more she messaged him. His mother had probably thought to leave a message, but now that she had him on the line, she wouldn’t quit.

  “I’ll come as soon as I can, but I’ve got a job to do here,” he said again.

  “Well, I don’t understand what Montana can hold when you could be home with us. You are out of the military, aren’t you?”

  “Not quite.” But he would be soon enough, something he found difficult to contemplate. “You could always visit me here, you know.” He’d said the words automatically, but his mother paused long enough to get his attention.

  “What is your father doing these days?” She asked the question casually, but Connor wasn’t fooled, and in light of the similar conversation he’d had with his father just a few days ago, his patience gave way.

  “You could ask him, you know. The two of you should be able to have a conversation.”

  “If your father wants to talk to me he knows how to reach me; I’ve never left my home.”

  “But you expected him to abandon his without a backward look.” Connor had no idea why they were hashing over this old ground.

  “He was the one who said he’d move to Ireland. I never changed my mind; he did.”

  Connor hated the old pain in her voice. “Well, the two of you will have to come to some sort of understanding, because I expect you to be civil at my wedding.” He meant it in a general way—something in the future to aspire to.

  But his mother took it specifically. “Wedding? Connor, are you getting married? When? Soon? Who is she—you never mentioned a thing! Oh, of course I’ll come to Montana for your wedding. You couldn’t keep me away!”

  Connor hadn’t heard her so excited in years, and even as he opened his mouth to disabuse her of the notion he had set a date, a new thought came to him.

  What if he gave his mother the wedding she wanted? What if he lured her here to Montana? His father, too. After all, he was supposed to marry Sadie—sooner or later.

  What would happen then?

  He stepped back inside and glanced at the calendar on the wall. Thought about the plans he’d made for his fathers’ visit. Picked a date five weeks out and named it. That gave him three weeks to build the garden and woo Sadie before his father arrived. Cass and Brian were due back then, too. They’d have two weeks to plan the wedding if she said yes. Since his father planned to spend three weeks at the ranch, maybe his mother should, too.

  And if Sadie said no, he’d still stick around in Chance Creek long enough to let his parents spend some time together.

  Could he heal the rift between his folks?

  Even if all they did was talk civilly after all this time it would be worth it.

  And maybe—just maybe, if she actually did agree to marry him—their wedding could heal the rift between Sadie and her father, too. The General hadn’t come to Cass’s wedding, but anything was possible. He might come this time.

  “Come early and stay for a while. How about three weeks? Can you swing that?” he asked his mother.

  “Of course!”

  “The most important thing to remember is you have to listen,” Amelia was saying as Sadie woke up, took in the familiar surroundings of her room and realized she’d been dreaming—and she was alone. A moment ago she’d sat in the dirt between two rows of bush beans, Amelia cross-legged in the dirt across from her. Her mother had pointed to the brown spots spoiling the lush green foliage. “Listen to the plants, the ground, the air, the rain. All of it has something to tell you, but only if you take the time to listen.”

  Was that the problem? Sadie sat up, pushed the covers to the side and got out of bed. The wide floorboards were cool under her feet but she could tell already the day would be warm. When she reached the window, she pulled back the white lacy curtains and spotted Connor out in the rectangle where the garden’s footer had been laid. He was looking from corner to corner, obviously building an image of the garden in his mind. He’d said the granite would be here soon. She liked the idea that it had been quarried in Silver Falls like the standing stone must have been.

  Soon there’d be a beautiful walled garden on the ground Connor paced.

  That wouldn’t be hers, she reminded herself.

  Still, she said she’d help, so she should dress, get her breakfast and get out there.

  But something caught her eye.

  Sadie moved closer to the window. She could just see the top of the tall green hedge that formed the maze. And it was—

  Brown.

  Fear, plain and simple, pierced through her. If the hedge died—

  If it died—

  What did that mean?

  An image slipped into her mind from some long-forgotten memory. Her mother standing in the garden on a blustery day, one hand holding her wide-brimmed hat on her head. “It’ll be there long past you and me,” she was saying to someone. “That maze holds the heart of the ranch. It’s part of Two Willows now.”

  The vision left as quickly as it had come, and Sadie understood it must have happened when she was very young. Back when the garden was her playground. When she’d learned the lore of the dirt and plants at her mother’s side.

  If the hedge died—would her memories of her mother die, too?

  “Sadie?”

  She turned with a start when Jo opened her door a few inches. “Yes?”

  “I just wondered—Cass used to get the groceries—we’re out of bananas…” Jo trailed off sheepishly. “I can run to town.”

  “No, I’ll do it. Add anything you like to the list and tell everyone else to, as well.” Cass’s jobs were her jobs, after all.

  And if that meant she didn’t have time to go inspect the maze, well—so much the better, since she had no idea if she could save it.

  Hours later, Sadie still hadn’t made it out to the garden, to the maze or to help Connor. Cass did so many more tasks than she’d even realized, and catching up with them had taken all morning and well into the afternoon. She’d never dreamed they created so many loads of laundry, or that the house got so dirty so quickly. First Amelia, then Cass, had always collared her and assigned her tasks as needed, but she’d never been the one in charge of the whole show, and there was a lot to do.

  By the time she’d run her errands in town, driven home again, switched the loads of laundry and cleaned the first floor of the house, it was time to prepare lunch.

  Now she understood why Cass snapped at them sometimes at the dinner table. No sooner did you clean up from one me
al than it was time to make the next one.

  The only bright spot of the day was the kiss Connor snagged when he’d passed her in the hall mid-morning. Just for a second, her whole body tuned into the ranch, but then he was gone and the feeling was gone, too, leaving her frustrated and more than a little confused. She still didn’t understand what to make of what happened when they touched, and when she finally opened the back door to head to the greenhouse, she decided she’d have to do more experimenting.

  Hunches had saved his life more than once, and when a red Ford truck pulled around the house and parked near the carriage house late that morning, Connor straightened from the piles of stone he’d been inspecting and strode toward it, just as Jo clattered down the steps from the back porch and went to meet the man who climbed out of the driver’s side.

  He’d been excited about the delivery of the stones since it meant he could finally begin the real work of building the walled garden, but as he watched Jo and the stranger talk, his hackles rose. The man kept stepping closer to Jo, and while she kept stepping back, her body language confused Connor. It was as if she was leaning toward the man at the same time she was moving away.

  The man looked up from his conversation with Jo, spotted Connor, tipped his hat to Jo, climbed back into his truck and took off.

  “Who was that?” Connor asked when he finally reached Jo.

  “Said his name’s Grant Kimble. I’ve never met him before, but he’s heard of me.”

  “How?”

  Jo looked at him askance. “Probably from someone in town. Everyone knows I breed puppies. That’s what he was after.” She hugged her arms over her chest and Connor noticed her gaze slid back toward the direction the truck had gone around the house.

  “You sold him one?”

  “Of course not. My puppies are booked up years in advance.”

  He’d underestimated Sadie’s younger sister, Connor realized. She was a businesswoman and she hadn’t been swayed by the man’s attentions.

  “Want to see them?” Jo asked suddenly.

  “Sure.”

  She led him around the side of the carriage house to a door he hadn’t noticed before. Inside was a clean, bright room that had been walled off from the rest of the carriage house. A litter of black-and-white McNab puppies greeted him with wobbly legs and wagging tails while their mother got to her feet and came to check him out. She was obviously comfortable with Jo, and soon she’d sniffed him up and down, decided he was all right and allowed him to kneel down near the puppies and play with them.

  “Haven’t had a dog in years,” he told Sadie. It was wonderful to be the object of the attention of so many happy puppies. Connor felt himself relax in a way he hadn’t in ages.

  Puppy therapy. It should be a thing, he decided as he let them lick and sniff and climb all over him.

  She studied him. “You can have one,” she said after a minute. “I don’t see any harm in you.”

  Connor chuckled, wondering what she meant by that remark. “There’s a man or two out there who’d tell you different. Anyway, didn’t you just say your puppies were spoken for?”

  She smiled. “I like that. Your accent.”

  Connor hadn’t realized he’d slipped into it. Not the showy brogue he used when he was making fun of his origins or wanted to deflect someone’s attention. And not the slight Texas twang he’d learned from his father. Only when he was truly comfortable did he slip into the true accent of his youth—a light Irish burr.

  “Is Ireland beautiful?” she asked.

  “It is.”

  “You don’t want to go back?”

  He’d yearned for it for years as a teen, but Connor realized that old pain wasn’t nearly as sharp anymore. “I like to visit, but I’m an American now.”

  “What about Texas?”

  “Texas is too matter-of-fact for my taste. Nothing like Ireland.”

  “You miss the magic,” she said flatly and caught him off guard.

  “I guess that’s true.”

  “Plenty of magic here,” she said with a sudden smile that transformed her face. Jo was as much a beauty as her older sisters, but she was still maturing into it, Connor realized. “Is that why you left the Air Force?” she went on. “Not magic enough?”

  He chuckled. “No, not much magic in the Air Force, you’re right about that, but that wasn’t the reason I left. Chalk it up to a little misunderstanding.”

  “Who misunderstood? You—or the muckity-mucks at the top of the food chain?”

  “Let’s just say I still think I’m right.”

  Jo nodded. “This one’s yours,” she said, handing him a squirming puppy. “Max. He’ll be here for you when he’s ready. You can visit him whenever you like—just come and get the key when you need it. And don’t let anyone else in here.”

  “I won’t. Thank you.” Connor understood the trust she’d placed in him, and for the first time since he’d arrived at Two Willows he felt a thread of hope. If Jo could see the good in him, couldn’t Sadie be persuaded of it? He bent closer to Max, letting the puppy check him out, warming to the little critter instantly, and decided to leave that question for later. First things first. Brian had trusted him to watch over Two Willows, and that man in the truck—Grant—had rubbed him the wrong way. He’d seemed cocky, the way he’d tried to change Jo’s mind. And he especially didn’t like that the man had left as soon as he spotted Connor. An honest man would have stuck around and shook his hand.

  Time to head to town, he thought. He’d talk to Cab Johnson, the sheriff, whom Brian had told him all about. See if the man knew anything about Grant.

  But first he’d have some fun with Max.

  An hour later, he sat in a booth at Linda’s Diner, a cup of coffee in front of him, and watched the sheriff demolish a slice of cherry pie.

  “Grant Kimble, huh? Never heard of him,” Cab said when he’d swallowed his bite.

  “Do a lot of strangers come through Chance Creek?” Connor took a sip of his coffee. Strong. Just the way he liked it. He thought about having a burger, too, but decided he’d wait to eat until he was back at Two Willows with Sadie.

  “Some, but a man looking to buy a dog? That kind of thing runs through the grapevine. Jo doesn’t advertise online. She’s strictly a word-of-mouth businesswoman. People wait for years for her puppies.”

  Connor leaned back, nodding. And yet she’d handed him one as if it was nothing, watching over him with satisfaction as he and Max had gotten to know each other. Connor looked forward to when Max was old enough to roam the ranch with him. A dog seemed the perfect addition to his life here at Two Willows.

  “Mae?” Cab called the waitress over. “You heard of a Grant Kimble? Man looking to buy a dog?”

  The attractive brunette nodded. “Was in here the other day asking questions. I heard Tom Mackenzie suggest he take a chance with Jo Reed down at Two Willows.” She turned to Connor. “That’s where you’re staying, right? Did you see the man?”

  “That I did, lass,” he answered, slipping into the overblown brogue that seemed to win him favor with the ladies. He supposed it was a habit he needed to change. Linda’s Diner wasn’t a pickup bar, and he wasn’t in the market for a girlfriend anymore. Still, he knew from experience it would help get him what he wanted. He’d always been able to flirt his way to the information he needed. The ability had come in handy throughout his life—including during his time as a pararescueman. “It’s like a secret weapon,” one of the men on his team had once said.

  Right on cue, interest lit the woman’s eyes. As he described the man who’d stopped to talk to Jo, she nodded.

  “That’s him.” She lingered at their table. “Another piece of pie, Sheriff? Something for you?” she asked Connor, sending him a glance that told him she wanted to further the conversation.

  “Well, now, there might be something I want,” Connor said, leaning forward as if they were the only two people in the room.

  Mae smiled. “Spell it out for me and I
’ll write it down.” She held up her order pad and pen, leaning forward, too, as if to give him a better look at her ample cleavage.

  “All we need is the bill,” Cab said flatly, a hard edge to his voice that shattered the mood.

  Connor sat back, jolted and a little embarrassed by Cab’s words. They felt like a rebuke, but all he’d been trying to do was elicit more information from a possible informant who should know a lot about what went on in this town.

  Without another word, Mae tallied up the bill and handed it to Cab. “Come back anytime,” she said to both of them, but a quirk of her eyebrow told Connor it was him she wanted to see again.

  When Connor turned back to the sheriff, the man was regarding him with something far too close to contempt for comfort.

  “Didn’t peg you for trouble,” he said.

  “I was just trying to—”

  Cab held up a hand to stop him. “This is a small town. People watch each other and people talk. The General sent you here to help Sadie Reed, so don’t tell me you were just trying to…” He trailed off and waved a hand.

  “I could have found out more. Where he came from. Why he’s in town.”

  “Maybe, but the General asked me to keep an eye on his girls and I let that slide once. I’m not letting it slide again. If you’re not serious about Sadie, you back off, do your job and get out of Chance Creek. If you are serious, walk a straight line. Got it?”

  “Yeah, I got it.” As much as the rebuke smarted, Cab was probably right. Connor didn’t care enough about Grant Kimball to risk his relationship with Sadie over the man. He could have asked his questions straight up, anyway. Mae seemed happy to tell them anything she knew. So why fall back on the old accent trick?

  Habit, he guessed. A habit he’d have to break before it caused trouble between him and Sadie.

  He wanted her. Not because of his mission. Not because of the ranch.

  He wanted her for the way the whole world seemed to come alive when they touched.

  The way she cared so desperately for her ranch.