The Man from Montana

by Julianna Morris

  She doubted Clay had feelings for her; and if he did, he’d never admit it, even to himself.

  Grace and Nadia arrived, moving into the bunkhouse with a good deal of noise and energy. The two postgraduate students were pleasant, but they were decompressing from a year of intense study. Suddenly the TV was on or they were playing music and had friends coming and going at all hours.

  Tessa hoped things would settle down once they started guiding groups. In the meantime, to find some peace and quiet, she’d gone hiking or looked for something else to keep her occupied around the ranch. She’d give them another couple of days and if things didn’t improve by then, ask them to abide by a few basic courtesies.

  “You’re here even more than usual,” Jillian said as they cleaned the horse stalls together. “I’m guessing it has something to do with your new bunkmates. You should tell Clay if there’s a problem.”

  Tessa shrugged. She didn’t want to complain. Clay could have asked her to leave after learning everything and she was reluctant to put demands on him.

  Neither one of them had brought up their near kiss on the trip. The next morning they’d chatted politely and the guests had said nothing about their guides getting cozy—no winks or double entendres, either—so that part seemed to be all right. But she still wasn’t sure how Clay felt about it, although he’d probably prefer the subject was never raised.

  “It’s okay,” she told Jillian.

  “Okay? You slept in the barn’s loft last night.”

  “My new bunkmates were having what they called an impromptu high school reunion with a whole lot of booze flowing. I gave up around eleven and came over here with my sleeping bag. Four of the barn cats snuggled up to me and purred all night. It was the best slumber party I’ve ever attended. I may sleep up there for the rest of the summer.”

  “The loft is one of my favorite places, too, but I’m sorry you had to retreat to the barn, just to get some rest.”

  “That’s okay. It must be nice to feel that carefree. Anyhow, I’m sure it’ll resolve in a few days. They must know Clay expects them to be at their best while guiding trips.”

  “You can use my place until things improve,” Jillian suggested. “There’s more than one bedroom. It’s a guesthouse my folks used to rent out to people on vacation. I won’t even be there. I’ve been staying at the main house to help while my dad is recovering from his fall.”

  “You can’t want a complete stranger in your home.”

  “The horses trust you, so I trust you, too,” Jillian said simply.

  “Thanks, I’ll think about it.”

  Tessa didn’t intend to impose on Jillian, but the offer was another one of those kind gestures that made her emotional, like when Ginny had offered to stay in Montana in order to go on the first trip that Tessa guided. She’d exchanged email addresses with Ginny and they’d been writing back and forth ever since. The couple was having a wonderful time in Grand Teton National Park and Yellowstone, and planned to see the Bighorn Mountains and Devils Tower in Wyoming before leaving for Alaska.

  I thought I would miss my garden more, Ginny had recently written, but we’re seeing so many of the things we dreamed about, I rarely have time to think about anything else.

  When Tessa returned home she was going to invite them to visit her in Tucson. Sharing her hometown and the desert with Ginny and her husband would be a treat.

  Tessa finished spreading fresh straw in the last horse stall and then went over to the business office to tend the various planters. Once the roots were well established, they might not need much attention. A little rain seemed to fall throughout Montana’s summer months and it might be enough to support the native grasses, even in planters.

  Clay stepped from the office as she was coiling the hose.

  “Have you decided what other landscaping you want to do out here?” he asked.

  “A water feature would be nice, but I have to research what would work best. What do you need me to do today?”

  “Actually, I wondered if you’d like to go riding together,” he said. “To relax.”

  Her jaw dropped. “I didn’t think you ever relaxed.”

  “No matter what you seem to believe, I’m not a workaholic like my father. Look at me.” He gestured to his jeans and long-sleeved tan work shirt. “No buttoned-down suit. No tie. I only sit behind a desk for a few hours each week. I spend over half of each summer leading a group, not doing paperwork.”

  Tessa wasn’t convinced. “It wouldn’t be the end of the world to admit you take after your father a little. Surely he’s a decent person.”

  Clay’s eyes widened. “Dad is terrific, he just came close to working himself into an early grave. It took a stern warning from the doctor to force him to take more time for family and himself.”

  “More time for family?” Tessa pursed her lips. “That’s an interesting way to put it. Did you resent him for making his job more important than everything else? Because you’re turning into a version of him whether you like it or not.”

  CLAY WASN’T SURPRISED by the frank comment; it seemed characteristic of Tessa.

  “I’m not turning into a version of my father,” he said firmly. “For one, I don’t think he ever backpacked in his life. And I didn’t intend to imply his job was more important to him than we were. He just thought he had to work extra hard to take care of us.”

  Yet even before the words left his mouth, Clay knew what Tessa was driving at. As a kid he would have preferred seeing his father more, rather than have the huge house and expensive bicycles and other niceties. Being one of the “rich” kids in a small town hadn’t been a picnic, either.

  But the truth was, lately Clay had begun to understand his father a whole lot better. Now he was worried about what would happen to Andrew and Derry if Carson Outdoor Adventures suffered another major setback like the one following Renee Claremont’s accident. The outdoor adventure business had been more enjoyable before he started feeling as if the weight of the world would land on him if it didn’t do well.

  “There are more ways than one of being like someone,” Tessa murmured.

  “Let’s drop it. What about that ride?” he asked. “I thought we’d lead one of the four-night horseback trips later next week, so we should test our saddle legs, so to speak. I haven’t gone riding for a while and I don’t think you have, either.”

  “Aren’t Grace and Nadia doing most of the overnight horseback trips this summer?”

  Clay tensed. “Not any longer. They were still intoxicated when they got to the staging area this morning and they smelled like a brewery, so I told them to look for employment elsewhere. Did you get any sleep? I warned them about the noise around midnight. It got quieter, but clearly the party kept going.”

  “It was fine after I took my sleeping bag to the loft in the horse barn.”

  “That explains this.” Clay reached over and plucked a piece of straw from her hair. “I apologize for them. They did such a good job the last couple of seasons, this was the last thing I expected.”

  “I take it they’re moving out of the bunkhouse.”

  “After they sober up. How about the horseback ride? You can take Coal Dust, I know he’s your favorite, and I’ll grab food from the kitchen.”

  “I’d enjoy it, but I’m surprised you aren’t leading one of the groups today in Grace’s or Nadia’s place.”

  Clay shrugged. “Maybe I control things too much. I asked Jacqueline and Alfredo to take over. They’re two of my most popular guides and they always appreciate getting an extra trip.”

  “In that case, I’d love to go.”

  “Great. I’ll meet you in an hour.”

  * * *

  TESSA QUICKLY DISCOVERED that Coal Dust had one of the smoothest gaits of any horse she’d ever ridden. He was a sweetheart. She’d never ridden an Appaloosa before, but could understan
d why they were a favorite breed with Clay’s company.

  She and Clay rode east from the barn and then up a little-used trail into the hills, quickly leaving behind any signs of human habitation, without even a scrap of trash left by another hiker or rider.

  “It’s different here than in Arizona,” she mused after a couple of hours passed in companionable silence. “We don’t always remove human debris in the desert.”

  Clay looked shocked. “Why not?”

  “Oh, I’m not talking about plastic bags, aluminum cans and designer water bottles—I collect those. I mean historic items left by the early settlers, or artifacts from the Hohokam people or other Native American groups.”

  “That kind of trash is interesting.”

  “Yeah, it’s tough to resist the temptation to poke further. A few years ago I found a leather trunk buried in the sand. It was partially uncovered after a violent summer storm. But I notified a museum about it and kept my hands off.”

  Clay frowned thoughtfully. “I recall a high school history teacher talking about ‘historic trash’ on the Oregon Trail. People got desperate and had to discard extraneous belongings from their wagons, just to survive. Then some of the immigrants still didn’t make it.”

  Tessa remembered learning the same thing in school. “My teacher called the treasures left behind ‘broken dreams.’ It’s sad to think about the mementos that were abandoned, things like teapots and wedding dresses and clocks. Sometimes family bibles or other bits and pieces.”

  “Broken dreams—that’s a good way of describing it. But lightening the load from the start might have saved more lives,” Clay said matter-of-factly. “Bringing items unnecessary for survival put them all at risk.”

  Tessa shook her head. “Things that feed the soul and inspire us are important. Don’t you think the hope captured in a child’s drawing or a grandmother’s handmade quilt, for instance, could give someone the strength to go on?”

  They’d reached a narrow spot on the trail and Clay rode ahead of her. Of all the men she’d seen riding horses over the years, he looked the best. His personal mount was a gorgeous blood bay stallion, strongly built like his owner, although Firestorm seemed to be slightly more mellow.

  “I don’t deny you make a good case,” he said. “But I still think practicality should have won out. I also think this is something we’ll never agree upon.”

  Tessa regarded him. Clay was sexy and determined. He was protective of his family and even laughed at some of the same things she did. But he saw life in a different way, keeping his emotions locked tight most of the time.

  Or was that entirely fair?

  He didn’t reveal much to her, but why should he? She was practically a stranger. Still, she would have liked to have met him years ago, before the serious businessman had taken over.

  “I suppose not,” she said slowly. “Um, speaking of things we probably don’t agree on...about that night at the campfire. I’m sorry I got carried away. Again.”

  “You didn’t see me fighting you off, did you?”

  Tessa laughed. “No, but I still apologize.”

  “There were two of us there, and I put my arm around you first. To be frank, I’m honored you trust me. It can’t be easy, all things considered.”

  He meant Renee.

  Tessa hadn’t followed up on her request to the sheriff’s office, partly because she had faith in Clay’s integrity. Yet that didn’t stop the sense that something was still missing from the story. But she wasn’t sure where trust figured as far as a kiss went, although she did know that her feelings for him were becoming confused.

  A while later they rode into view of another beautiful mountain lake, even smaller than the one where the two-hour Carson Outdoor Adventures hike turned around. “This is gorgeous,” she said. “Which trips come up here?”

  “None, I’m not that generous. This is one of the places I keep to myself. We’re on public land, but few people know that it’s here.” Clay dismounted and stood gazing at the lake. The water was crystal clear and reflected the surrounding evergreens and white-capped mountain peaks in the distance.

  Tessa got off Coal Dust and gave his nose a rub. He nudged her chest and nickered. “You know I brought apples, don’t you?” she whispered. His head tossed and she laughed. She opened the saddlebag, where she’d tucked several apples, and fed one to him, then gave another to Firestorm.

  Clay set up a sliding hitch to allow the horses to graze next to a stream trickling into the lake. They immediately dropped their heads to the lush grass.

  Tessa sat down and let the peace sink into her.

  Perhaps it was the quiet serenity, but she suddenly realized what had been nagging her about Renee’s accident. Last fall, the sheriff had given her Clay’s name as the raft captain, then had said the guides and equipment weren’t responsible. At the time she’d heard it more as a general thing. Guides, plural, as in the guides at the company. But maybe Clay hadn’t been the only guide on the raft.

  A shiver crept across her shoulders, though it couldn’t make any difference. Even if more than one professional guide had been on the whitewater rafting trip, it didn’t mean that either of them was responsible or negligent.

  Clay sat next to her with the insulated bags he’d unhooked from his saddle. “You got quiet all at once.”

  “Did I?”

  She forced a smile, unwilling to say anything about Renee or the accident. It could wait for another day and it would be better to read the accident report before asking any questions. She’d been patient with the sheriff’s office, but maybe it was time to call or visit again and ask the status of her request.

  “I was wondering if you camp up here in winter,” she added.

  “Now and then, when I want to get away.”

  “It must be nice to have all of this amazing wilderness in your backyard. Have you considered leasing any acreage as grazing land?” Tessa made a broad gesture, encompassing the lake and grassland they’d ridden from. “Presuming it’s available for leasing.”

  “I don’t have cattle to graze.”

  “Yes, but wouldn’t a lease give you more say in who can come up here?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure, and since I’m clearly not a cattle rancher, a lease application would probably be denied. Besides, assuming visitors don’t do any damage, I wouldn’t want to prevent them from using public land. It’s great that so much has been set aside for preservation in the area.”

  Tessa opened the bag that Clay had given her and found an enormous sandwich on a sourdough baguette. The thinly sliced turkey and cheese filling was at least two inches thick.

  “Seriously?” she asked. “This thing must weigh two pounds.”

  “Would you rather have roast beef?” Clay offered her the sandwich from his bag. “Uncle Lee mentioned he’s never seen you eat beef at the barbecue, but I’m happy to switch.”

  “This one is fine, but I can’t possibly get all of it down. My stomach would pop.”

  “Uncle Lee says you’ve lost weight since coming to Montana and he’s concerned. Please don’t think he’s been eyeing you inappropriately or anything. Aunt Emma is the one who pointed it out to him,” Clay said hastily.

  Tessa laughed. “I didn’t think he was. Lee Sutter is a true gentleman. But I haven’t lost weight—I’m just hiking more than usual, so I’ve trimmed down and built extra muscle.”

  “Are you sure that’s all? You didn’t need to do any, uh, trimming down when you got here. That is, you looked fine then, and you’re fine now.” Clay appeared embarrassed, as if he’d committed a faux pas by referencing her weight.

  Or was it a compliment?

  It was hard to tell. She hadn’t been kidding when she talked about how her romances kept turning into friendships. It could be discouraging, though Clay and her father were both right. She’d never been ready fo
r a real relationship. Of course, that presumed the men she’d dated had been interested in something long-term, as well.

  In many cases they had wanted to settle down. A good many of her male pals were now happily married and she’d also become friends with their wives. She was “Aunt Tess” to a number of children and had been a bridesmaid on several occasions. At one wedding, she’d even stood in as “best man” when Hector’s brother couldn’t get back from Antarctica where he was doing climate studies.

  Ironically, now that she was feeling ready for more, she was attracted to a man who’d openly declared he wasn’t interested in marriage or having a family. If Clay had his druthers, he’d probably live in a remote wilderness log cabin, surviving on his wits and he-man skills.

  “Tessa?” Clay prompted with a wary expression.

  “You can assure your aunt and uncle that I’m fine.” Tessa was touched that his family was concerned on her behalf. Despite the complicated situation, they’d been kind to her. “I do a fair amount of digging and lifting while on a landscaping job or in my garden, but nothing to compete with the amount of activity here. I’ll miss it when I go back home in September.”

  They ate for a while in silence, then Clay cleared his throat. “I’ve been meaning to ask how your parents are doing.”

  Tessa scrunched her nose. “They’re okay. We talk often and face calls are a big help, it’s just that they’re accustomed to me being there practically every day. Mom even brings breakfast burritos to work and we eat together in the morning. But it isn’t as if they don’t have anyone else. Every Sunday the family—grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins—gathers out at the Agua Hermosa. Some of them work for Alderman Pools and we’re all involved in each other’s lives.”

  “But your parents, in particular, are still grieving for your sister.”

  She nodded. “Yes. I think it’s extra hard because Renee pulled away a bit before her accident. She said she needed to concentrate on her new position at the college, which was understandable, but then she left for Montana and now they’re torn, wondering if it would have made a difference if they’d pushed harder. And I wonder if I should have encouraged them to...” Tessa stopped and made a frustrated sound. “Sorry, sometimes the circles inside my head are exhausting. I go around and around and never come up with an answer, just more questions.”