The Bride Wore Denim

by Lizbeth Selvig

  “You’ve always blown that out of proportion, Harper,” Mia said.

  “And you never saw it for yourself.” Harper held back her anger with effort.

  None of the others had seen the devastation that day. Harper had been eight, and she still didn’t know why she’d been with her father the day he’d gone to help Mr. Buckner, a neighboring rancher, with some equipment problems. She’d been in a barn with the Buckners’ kids when she’d heard the explosion. She rushed out with everyone else to see the oil geyser—something she’d been told over and over was so rare as to be nonexistent with modern wells. Not only had the chaos that had followed scared the devil out of her, but the revolting mess left by the oil, spread over acres, had also made her extract a promise from her father. He’d never let that happen to Paradise Ranch.

  She’d made it clear from that young age on that if she ever ran a ranch, it would be different. To the endless teasing of family and friends, she’d thrown herself into learning about the environmentally green side of life. She’d forced her mother to recycle and her siblings to conserve water and her father to treat his cattle and all animals with the least amount of chemicals and pharmaceuticals he’d agree to. They indulged her to a point, but she’d been the tree-hugging, weirdo hippie Wyomingite ever since.

  The epithets had long since ceased to bother her.

  “If we’re in trouble, we need to consider everything,” Mia said.

  “We?” Harper replied. “Who is ‘we’? Grandma’s right, none of us has been here recently. There’s no ‘we.’ ”

  “Harper, your father took your oil concerns seriously,” her grandmother said. “He wasn’t one of the landowners who looked into drilling. But because of that, he made some other investments that didn’t work out as well.”

  Surprise didn’t begin to describe Harper’s reaction to such news. When had her father ever listened to her?

  “Fine,” Mia said. “But we have fifty-thousand acres. We’ve always been able to run enough cattle to do well.”

  “It’s been a slow, steady decline,” their mother said. “In the past six years, your dad had to reduce herd sizes in order to let some workers go and pay off immediate debts. Leif is looking at only three extra hands this winter, including himself—and we’re running only thirty-five hundred head.”

  “Really? That few men?” Cole asked. “Down from eight last winter. How are beef prices?”

  “They’re good,” Bjorn replied. “But building back up is taking a very long time, and the costs per cow have skyrocketed. If we could get ourselves up to eight thousand head and hire back some hands, we’d have a chance. The problem is the debt load. Sam invested in a couple of businesses that didn’t pan out.”

  With a gush like a broken dam, Harper and her sisters surged into speech at the same moment. Her head spun in the chaos, mostly because she couldn’t comprehend how a ranch with a helmsman as adept as she’d always heard Sam Crockett had been, could fall into such disastrous straits. She took out her frustration in the form of questions right along with the others, and it took Sadie with the help of Leif long moments to quiet them.

  “We will have time for all these questions,” her grandmother said. “But the reasons for the problems on the ranch are not our first priority. The important issue is that your mother cannot run Paradise alone.”

  “I don’t want to run it alone,” her mother said, clarifying the point. “Not without your father.”

  “You’re smart enough to run anything, Mama,” Grace said.

  “Thank you, sweetheart. But it has nothing to do with intelligence. Paradise Ranch is not my legacy.”

  “And that’s why I insisted we call this meeting,” Sadie continued. “It is not my legacy either, although it certainly has fallen to the women to figure things out. It is your legacy, girls.” She sent her piercing gaze once again over her granddaughters. “Your father left the ranch entirely to you six, and your mother. There are not too many options inherent in that bequeathal. In fact, you really only have two choices: one of you, or more than one of you, take over for your father, or you sell Paradise.”

  “What?”

  “What?”

  “No way!”

  The triplets’ exclamations emerged simultaneously. Harper shook her head at them—they had their own idiosyncrasies, she thought. The three had thoroughly distinct personalities, but they were still connected by the mysterious, slightly eerie thread that often made them seem like one conglomerate person.

  “We’re not here to make that decision at this moment.” Her mother spoke quietly. “That needs very careful thought and discussion.” She roamed the room with her eyes. “Or maybe not. You all have such full and busy lives built far from Wyoming.”

  It was telling, Cole thought, that nobody contradicted her.

  “We can get through the next month or two talking about the options,” she continued. “But it’s the end of August, and starting next month, the cattle must be brought from the high range to winter-over. Then starts the pregnancy testing, shipping, weaning, fence riding, equipment repair . . . ”

  “COLE, YOU COULD do it. You could take it over.” Grace spoke for the first time, her voice as quiet and calm as her name.

  Harper looked at Cole. His eyes had gone wide and his mouth opened and closed without a sound. Finally he managed a choked, “Excuse me?”

  “You could.” Grace smiled almost beatifically. She was the Crockett who most perfectly reflected her name—ever kind and gracious. “You know this place far better than we do anymore. We could hire you to be the . . . what?” She looked around as if for suggestions. “The manager, the CEO . . . ” She shrugged. “Heck, the King of Paradise.”

  “That sounds vaguely blasphemous.” Raquel smiled, albeit a little wanly, and crossed her legs, showing off the rich, polished brown leather of cowboy boots beneath her long jewel-toned skirt. She was the rough-and-tumble compared to Grace’s feminine-and-refined. The three oldest girls had done plenty of exploring and tree-climbing and falling out of trees as kids, but Raquel had taken “tomboy” to a whole new level. She’d found the caves in the hills and collected the snakes and frogs. She’d never wanted to be the pirate princess. And she had a logic and thought process definitely inherited from their father. She was the closest Sam had come to having a son. If she’d had the will, Harper thought Raquel would have been the best choice of all to take over the ranch.

  “No, ladies, it’s not me you want,” Cole said. “I’ve told your mama many times that running the Paradise isn’t in my blood. And I’m not here year ’round. I’m willing to help however I can, though. You know I have a vested interest in this place.”

  “Are you still trying to buy your father’s section back?” Raquel asked.

  “I am. No apologies.”

  “You shouldn’t apologize. I admire you for working toward that.” She rubbed her forehead. “What about the rest of us? I feel awful now that Kelly and Grace and I have to bug out tomorrow. But our new location opens the day after that, and there’s nothing we can do at this late date. I guess that means, though, that we’re not the choices for new CEOs either.”

  All three triplets wore expressions mixing regret with torn emotions. It was hard to begrudge them their conflicted feelings. They’d opened Triple Bean while they’d all still been in college. Between Kelly’s culinary arts degree, Raquel’s business degree, and Grace’s art and psychology double major, the little college endeavor had turned into a super-successful Denver business. They were opening a second branch of Triple Bean only a few years after graduation, and as far as Harper was concerned, the sky was going to be the limit for the three of them.

  “Don’t you dare feel awful about anything,” Harper said. “You need to go back and make that new store a wonderful second success.” She took a deep breath and forged ahead. “I wasn’t going to say anything today, but I have to leave by the end of the week myself. I, ah, have a gallery showing of my paintings the following Friday. My
first one. I promised to be around for the week in order to help with the preshow work. I’m sorry the timing is poor.”

  With a squeal Kelly jumped from her chair and crossed the five feet to Harper’s chair. Ignoring Cole still on the arm, she grabbed Harper in a fierce hug. “Oh my gosh, that’s the most wonderful thing! I’m thrilled for you, Harpo.”

  “Can it be rescheduled?” Amelia asked, out of the blue.

  The room, which had started to buzz again, went still.

  Harper closed her eyes and tried to call up her yoga Ujjayi breathing. “I probably should want to reschedule, Mia, but this show took years to get, and for me to renege at this point would screw my reputation, which isn’t all that big to begin with. I probably should love my father’s memory a little more, huh?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Harper. That isn’t what I meant.”

  “Are you going to stay?” Harper asked.

  “I have surgeries scheduled nonstop next week.”

  “And can they be postponed?”

  “All right,” Cole said. “That’s enough for now. Mia, we’re not in crisis this second. I think something your sister has waited for most of her life can take precedence.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mia replied. “We’re all in shock, and I thought maybe she was looking for an excuse to get out of her commitment. It wasn’t meant to be a slam.”

  “You’re right,” Harper said, reluctant to say much. “We have no idea about each other’s lives or priorities anymore. We had a bomb dropped on us after we’d already been through a disaster, and it’s hard not to get defensive. We should be more careful of each other’s fragile spirits right now.”

  “Fragile spirits? If that wasn’t spoken like the gypsy artist you’ve always been.”

  Anger flared again. “Is this your normal bedside manner?”

  “Girls, that’s enough,” Bella said. “It’s time to put the big differences among you aside. You’ve always been six unique people, and that’s why you’re all creative and have found your own ways. Try to celebrate that.”

  “No.” Grandma Sadie held up her hand. “I have to disagree, Isabella. It’s not time to coddle each other; it’s time for some ruthless honesty. I say it again. I’m a very old woman, and I remember back before what you young people call political correctness took over. We didn’t have time to say things we didn’t mean. Nor do we now, because the decision that must be made is going to change lives, mark my words. I’m not telling you what that decision should be, but it has to be made without the burden of secrets and hard feelings, or it’s going to ruin lives.”

  “You,” she fixed her stare on Amelia, “are a wonderful doctor. Most commendable. You must figure out what’s important to you here, if anything is. There are no wrong choices, but you can’t not make a choice.

  “You,” she turned next to Harper, “have always had a free spirit. I envy you, but live your dream and stop defending it as if it needs defending.

  “Joely, you seem the most wounded by this. I know you think we don’t notice, but if there’s something wrong, you need to learn to tell your family.

  “You three . . . ” For the first time, Sadie’s tired-but-firm mouth softened into a smile that actually looked like a grandmother’s rather than an ancient, exasperated monarch’s. “Our little caboose babies, as my mother used to call the youngest children. You’re making your ways, too, very impressively. I’m sorry this is being forced on your young shoulders.

  “Finally, you, Cole Wainwright, the prodigal son. This ranch is not your responsibility, as you’ve so adamantly insisted. And you say you know where you’re headed. Make sure that’s truly where you want to go.”

  As all the pronouncements settled on their recipients, Grandma Sadie took in the uneasy quiet without apology. “That was too many words for me to say and too many for you to hear. My part in this is over, and my purpose has been served. I will accept whatever decisions are made, but you had to know the problems are here to be dealt with. I’m tired. I’m going upstairs to my bedroom, and I’m going to weep again for my son. But lest you think the last tough-minded Crockett is gone, think again. You are each more like your father than you’ll ever admit.”

  Sadie eased her way slowly from behind Sam’s desk, leaning heavily on her cane. For all her forceful words, she suddenly did look tired and a little frail, stooped in her plain black dress, snowy pearls stark against her chest, and her thick white curls starting to relax from the long, sad, rainy day. Leif and Bjorn followed her through the room, each on an arm. She stopped in front of Harper and placed a warm, gnarled hand on her cheek.

  “My sweet Harper Lee. Find your common ground with Amelia. You two are the keys.”

  For the first time, Harper felt the full force of guilt, resentment, and sorrow. She kissed her grandmother and offered a hug, which the old woman accepted. “I don’t think we can be as wise and tough as you are, Gram,” Harper said. “I’m certainly not.”

  “Well, you have to start thinking differently. If anyone can change the course of her long-held ideas, it’s you. You have the imagination for it.”

  Once Sadie was gone, the room burst into noise again, but Harper had no heart for the arguments and questions. Her mother sat quietly at the desk, her face a mask of endurance, while her girls talked around each other like traders on the stock exchange. After five minutes, Harper could stand it no longer. She moved to the front edge of the desk, sat on its gleaming surface, and placed two fingers in her mouth. She let loose a window-rattling whistle.

  “Excuse me?” Amelia’s brows furrowed at the interruption.

  “Sorry,” Harper said, smiling despite the tension. “A ten-year-old community ed art student taught me how to do that. I think we need to stop and all take time to think. This moment isn’t the time to make a decision. The movie stars have to leave, but Mia, Joely, and I have five days yet, which gives us time to look at all the options, and we can keep in touch with Kel, Rocky, and Gracie.” She twisted to look behind herself. “Is that okay with you, Mama?”

  “It sounds perfect,” she replied.

  “We’ll make something work out,” Joely said. “There are six of us. We can keep Paradise. We’ll figure it out.”

  That’s when Amelia stood. With a calm that almost chilled the room, she stared at the group. “For once I agree with Harper,” she said at last. “This is the wrong time to be making maudlin promises.”

  “Aw, c’mon, Mia.” Grace looked up. “This is a maudlin day. An awful day. We can’t be logical and detached either. Doesn’t the thought of losing Paradise double the pain of losing Dad?”

  “On the contrary.” Amelia’s voice remained calm. “It should be clearer than ever. Paradise Ranch drove us all away, and it killed our father, just as it killed his father. I, for one, don’t intend to let it kill any more of us.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Joely turned from the huddle. “Dad loved this place.”

  “Dad sacrificed everything to this place, including his family.”

  “That isn’t true, Amelia,” their mother said, with the same quiet intensity her daughter exuded.

  “It is true, Mother. Don’t get me wrong, growing up on a ranch was the most phenomenal life training a girl could ask for. But it’s a driven and unforgiving lifestyle. The new grave at the church cemetery proves that.”

  “That’s the grief talking. You don’t mean this.” Harper started toward Mia.

  “Don’t tell me that it’s grief.” Mia glared and backed toward the office door. “You think we all need to dwell on this for five days? I say you’re wrong. Sell this place, take the money, and let someone else die of a heart attack ten years from now.”

  “Mia, stop,” Raquel said sharply. “That’s not a sensible argument.”

  “Life and death isn’t sensible?” She looked at each person in turn, ending with Harper. “Sell Paradise Ranch.”

  Harper stared at the door after her sister had powered through it and gazed anxiously around the
room. Every person left looked as if a knife had been thrust into her or his heart.

  Chapter Three

  SKYLAR THORSON SAT in the rough mounds of scree and stumpy, weedy alpine grass at the base of her favorite mountain, a sketch pad at her feet and an ancient Minolta 35-millimeter camera in her lap. Wolf Paw Peak wasn’t a true mountain, just one of a handful of random foothills rising from the plains south of the Teton Range, which anyone on Paradise Ranch could see any time they looked to the northwest. But Wolf Paw’s unique shape, like the head and front leg of a wolf rising from its den according to Indian legend, stood fully on Paradise land and always made Skylar feel safe. Safe and lucky to live within riding distance of its wild slopes, which rose a little over three thousand feet into the Wyoming sky. Although she’d reached its summit twice in the company of her older brother, Marcus, she was forbidden to climb it alone, which pissed her off because she was fourteen and totally capable.

  She’d nearly defied the rule this morning. After Mr. Crockett’s funeral yesterday, the last thing she’d wanted was to hang around while her Grandpa Leif, her parents, and all of Mr. Crockett’s daughters came down to the barns and kept talking about him and starting to cry. She was done crying. Her mother, who was normally really strict for a homeschool teacher, had given her and her two brothers another free day from lessons, so she’d taken Bungu out and come here to escape.

  Mr. Crockett was gone, and he’d been her friend—even though everyone else except her grandfather thought he was hard and even a little bit mean. He’d never been mean to her. When she’d been little, he’d always pulled out a hidden candy bar when he’d come to visit. As she’d gotten older, he’d taught her how to swing a lariat the old-fashioned way. When she’d decided she liked photography, he’d given her the old camera.

  Her parents thought all the developing was too expensive and she should save her money for a digital camera. She didn’t want one. Like she didn’t want a digital watch. Like she didn’t want to be around mourners for Mr. Crockett. So, she’d almost decided to climb her mountain to be sad and grieve in her own way. But she wasn’t stupid. It would be dangerous to start the trek after all the rain they’d had yesterday. Besides, she wasn’t in the mood to get yelled at for getting in trouble. And she’d be in trouble if she climbed Wolf Paw on her own.