Montana Mavericks, Books 1-4

by Diana Palmer

  “He’s what, sixteen? To be your son, you would have had to have him when you were a kid.”

  “I’m thirty-two, Luke.” She was looking into his eyes. “That’s not important. Keith’s future is. Will you downplay your obsession with rodeo if he should ask about it? He likes you. He admires you. But I don’t want him to be like you,” she said, finishing in a tortured whisper.

  Never had anyone said something that hurt Luke more than what Maris had just said: I don’t want him to be like you.

  He tried to put it out of his mind. “So where’s Terrance Colson now?”

  Suddenly realizing that she’d been hanging on to Luke’s arm, Maris backed away from him. “He’s in jail. Keith’s grandmother moved away. I don’t think there’s any other family. Luke, will you cooperate with me on this?”

  Without a dram of expression on his face, he nodded. “You have my word.”

  This time she didn’t question the value of his word but believed him wholeheartedly. Something she’d said had reached him, thank God. “Many, many thanks,” she said with all the gratitude she felt inside, making her voice slightly unsteady. “I won’t forget this, Luke.”

  Luke ran all ten of his fingers through his damp hair. “I have a feeling that neither will I, Maris.” I don’t want him to be like you. “Would you like me to walk you to the house? It’s awfully dark out tonight.”

  Maris shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m not afraid of the dark, and the yard’s pretty well lit once I get beyond the barn. Good night, Luke.”

  She slipped out, closing the door behind her. He sank to the bed and sat there staring down at his own two bare feet. He was thirty-five years old and owned nothing but a six-year-old pickup truck and an IOU for three thousand bucks. A cynical smile tipped one corner of his lips. Maybe Maris wasn’t wrong about rodeo, after all.

  There was a bustle on the ranch in the ensuing days, which elated Maris. Keith and Luke worked nonstop with the horses, and often she heard their laughter ringing throughout the compound. She rode out every morning to tend the cattle, then spent the rest of the day on the yard sale. There were only a few more items left to clean and make ready.

  During lunch one day she mentioned the weeds behind the barn. “They have to be chopped down,” she said, looking at both Keith and Luke.

  “We’ll do it right after lunch,” Luke assured her.

  “Great. Thanks. I made up a bunch of posters announcing the sale, and I’m going to bring them into town this afternoon to display in store windows. I’ve also put an ad in the newspaper. I can hardly believe the sale is going to be this weekend.” She bit down on her lip, worried suddenly. “What if no one comes to it? What if no one cares that I’m having a yard sale?”

  “They’ll come,” Luke said.

  “They will, Maris,” Keith earnestly agreed.

  Of course people will come, Maris told herself repeatedly during the drive to town. She smiled grimly. Maybe some would come just to get a look at her hired man.

  With her stack of posters, Maris started making the rounds of Whitehorn’s commercial establishments. No one refused her request to exhibit her signs in their windows, and she got to talk to a lot of old friends, many of whom promised to come and see what she had for sale this weekend.

  John Tully, the drugstore owner, beamed from ear to ear when she showed him the poster. “A yard sale, eh? Well, I could use a new yard. Maybe I’ll buy yours.” He laughed as though he’d just invented wit, and Maris, out of friendship, laughed with him at the tired old joke.

  John put the poster in a prominent spot in his best window. “How’s that?”

  “That’s great, John. Thanks. Well, I have a few more of these to distribute, so I’d better be running along.”

  John followed her to the door. “How’s that fellow Rivers working out?”

  “Just fine, John.” Maris put her hand on the door to open it.

  “I sent him out to your place, you know. We met in the Hip Hop one morning and he asked if I knew of any available jobs in the area. Naturally, the minute he said he wanted ranch work, I thought of you trying to run your place with just a boy for help.”

  “That was kind of you, John.”

  John kept smiling. “Guess it turned out better than I thought.”

  “Better how, John?”

  “Well, with the two of you becoming…um…friends…”

  Maris heaved a discouraged sigh. “Don’t believe everything you hear, John. Incidentally, do you happen to recall who told you that Luke and I were becoming…um…friends?”

  “Well, let me see, Maris.” The druggist scratched his balding head. “Uh…seems like it was Lily Wheeler.”

  “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?” Maris drawled sarcastically. Before John Tully could come up with a reply, Maris was going out the door. “Bye, John. Thanks for the use of your window.”

  Lily Mae Wheeler. Maris fumed all the way back to the ranch. That woman would try the patience of a saint. She knew everything about everybody in town and within a fifty-mile radius thereafter, and if you happened to run into her on the street, you couldn’t shut her up no matter what you did. Lily could talk faster than anyone Maris had ever known, and obviously the woman didn’t need much oxygen, because she rarely ever slowed down for a breath of air.

  But how on earth Lily Wheeler had gotten wind of Luke working on the No Bull, Maris would never know. But then, how did Lily get most of her information? The woman just naturally attracted news, even plain, everyday and rather dull news such as a stranger in town landing a job on a ranch thirty miles from town.

  Judd should hire Lily to unearth the murderer of Floyd Oakley, Maris thought wryly. She must have plenty to say on that subject.

  Eight

  Maris had advertised the yard sale to begin at nine in the morning and end at four in the afternoon. At ten minutes after eight on Saturday morning a car arrived. Maris was walking among her sale items, removing sheets that she’d been using to protect some of the better pieces from nighttime dampness, and she looked at the car with surprise.

  Winona Cobb got out and called a cheery, “Hello, Maris.”

  Winona was at least seventy, but seemed to have more energy than people half her age. She was short and stout, a round little butterball of a woman with iron gray hair and a chipper smile. Today she was wearing a purple tunic and her usual jewelry—a large amethyst crystal pendant and assorted bracelets. Maris had always considered Winona to be a true eccentric. Along with the junk she collected, which she sold, swapped or merely stacked in untidy piles inside her small shop or in her front yard, she kept animals—dogs, cats, chickens and goats. And bees, lots of bees. She sold the honey they produced, and it was very good honey. Winona had a way with the insects and they never stung her—even though she never wore protective clothing. People called her a “bee charmer.” But Maris wasn’t especially fond of bees buzzing around her head and she never stopped at Winona’s place anymore. Ray used to stop often. Ray had not only stopped, he had swapped and even bought. Winona was apt to recognize some of her own junk in today’s sale, Maris thought with droll amusement.

  Oh, yes, there was one more side to Winona Cobb, Maris recalled as she resigned herself to the woman jumping the gun on the opening of the sale and walked out to greet her: reputedly, Winona had psychic powers. Sometimes she had visions that came upon her like sort of a fit, or spell. Winona also told fortunes; if you asked nicely and she was in the mood, although Maris had never availed herself of Winona’s services.

  “Hello, Winona.” She was already looking around, quite avidly, Maris noted.

  “Where’d you get all this stuff?” Winona asked.

  “From a room in the barn,” Maris replied evenly.

  Winona gave her a sharp-eyed, almost suspicious look. “How’d it get in the barn?”

  Maris had to physically choke back laughter. “Ray put it there.”

  Winona grunted. “Never knew he had so much goods. How come you�
�re selling it?” Her gaze landed on the old marble clock, which Luke had carried outside for Maris to clean, then carried it again when she asked him to place it on the sideboard. “What’s that?”

  “An antique clock. It’s genuine black onyx, Winona, and the face is real gold and ivory.” Those were facts, not fancy. The clock, once cleaned and quite beautiful, had raised Maris’s curiosity enough that she had made a trip to Whitehorn’s library to research old clocks. She had found a photograph in a book that depicted a clock very similar to hers. Circa, late 1800s. Value, $400-$500. The book was a year old, so it was quite likely that the value of her clock was even higher than quoted.

  But this was only a yard sale, after all, and she had put a price of two hundred dollars on it.

  Winona looked at the tag and sniffed. “No one’s gonna give you two hundred for an old clock, Maris.”

  Maris smiled. “Then I’ll keep it. I rather like it.”

  By eight-thirty, Winona had checked each and every item in Maris’s yard, even the old trucks and cars behind the barn. “What about that Corvette?” she asked.

  “It’s sold, Winona. See the Sold sign on it?”

  “Oh, yeah, I see it now.” She turned to Maris. “Where’s that hired hand I’ve heard so much about?”

  Inwardly Maris stiffened; outwardly she smiled coolly. “He’s here somewhere. Both he and Keith will be helping with the sale.” Actually, what they were doing before the sale began was attempting to separate the stallions from the other horses still remaining in the main pasture.

  Keith was riding Mother and Luke was riding Rocky. Both animals were reasonably well behaved now, and Luke had successfully roped the two younger stallions and led them to the cattle pasture, which was the most distant fenced field from the buildings.

  Bozo, the big red stallion was a whole different ball game, however. Over and over again he cleverly dodged the rope and ran off kicking up his hind legs and snorting. “He’s a sly devil,” Luke called to Keith, though the comment was accompanied by a rather pleased smile. The stallion’s spirit reminded him of Pancho’s. No one but Luke had ever ridden Pancho, and Luke suspected that Bozo, too, would be a one-rider horse. Before he could even begin the training process, however, he had to catch him.

  Winona’s keen eyes caught sight of the two men on horseback, though the pasture was some distance from the barn. “What’re they doing?” she asked Maris. “That smaller fellow is Keith Colson, isn’t he?”

  Before Maris could say more than “Yes,” Winona was on her way to the pasture. Maris breathed an exasperated sigh. Obviously the woman was determined to get a closer look at Luke.

  But what did it matter? Maris thought. She had nothing to hide. Luke was a hired hand and the twenty-five dollars she handed him at the end of each week was proof of their platonic relationship. He always looked at the money with sardonic amusement and she always pretended to not notice. But the cash he’d received thus far must all be in his wallet, as he hadn’t left the ranch even once since he’d begun working with the horses.

  Winona stopped at the fence; Maris did the same. “Keith looks well,” the older woman commented. Her piercing gaze moved to Maris. “You like him, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Very much.”

  Winona looked off across the pasture again. “Terry Colson was born mean, you know. It wasn’t just his drinking that caused him to beat his son and mother.”

  “You knew him?”

  “I lived here all my life, Maris. I know everyone.”

  “Yes, I expect you do,” Maris said with a smile.

  “Except for that lanky fellow on the Appaloosa.”

  Maris was watching Luke, admitting to herself the splendid way he rode and looked, admiring even the hat on his head and the boots on his feet. Feeling Winona’s eyes boring into her, a flush crept into her cheeks.

  “You like him, too, don’t you?” Winona said.

  Maris’s face got redder. “I…he…”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, don’t be embarrassed about it. Do you think anyone expects a young woman like yourself to live alone for the rest of her life?” Winona began walking off. “I’ve seen enough. Thanks for letting me look around.”

  Maris hurried to catch up. “Did you see anything you wanted to buy?”

  “Nope. Just wanted to find out what it was you were selling.” Winona climbed into her car. “Drop by and say hello sometime.”

  Maris nodded. “I will.” She meant it. It wouldn’t hurt her one darned bit to dodge the bees and the goats to say hello to a neighbor. “Bye, Winona.”

  In the pasture Luke admitted defeat with Bozo…for the time being. Coiling up his rope he spoke to Keith. “We’d better unsaddle now. It’s almost nine.”

  They rode toward the gate. “Do you really think people will come to the sale?” Keith questioned.

  “They’ll come,” Luke said confidently. He grinned at his younger companion. “We’ll be ready for them, right?”

  “Right,” Keith agreed. He’d been assigned to handle the cash box, and was mighty proud about Maris’s putting so much trust in him. He looked at Luke and couldn’t imagine anything better than the two people he liked most becoming more than just friends. “Maris is real pretty, don’t you think?”

  Luke laughed. “Yeah, she is. What’re trying to do, boy, match us up?”

  Keith’s face got red, but he grinned. “Seems like a good idea to me.” Whooping then, he nudged Mother into a gallop.

  As Luke kept Rocky at a walk, his laughter faded. Keith might think it was a good idea, and it set all right with him, too. But Maris was another story. Her opinion of rodeo riders sure wasn’t one to encourage a man.

  The number of people, who seemed to arrive in droves, stunned Maris. For hours she went from one group to another, discussing the various merchandise, and selling it!

  Melissa Avery fell in love with the sideboard. “I have the perfect spot for it in the Hip Hop.” She also bought most of the mismatched chairs and tables. “I’m planning on expanding the café,” she told Maris.

  John Tully bought the clock, after arguing Maris down to one hundred fifty dollars. A young couple purchased the bedstead and two dressers. A rancher bought the entire stack of galvanized pails and the riding lawn mower.

  And so it went throughout the day. One man, who owned a gas station and dealt in used vehicles on the side, bought all the old, broken-down cars and trucks—other than the Corvette, of course—from behind the barn. After that transaction was made, Luke toted the miscellaneous motors around to the front of the building, as there was no longer a reason for him to hang around the larger equipment.

  The hand tools went, the coat tree with the brass fittings, much of the glassware and, finally, one by one, Ray’s gun collection.

  By four Maris was exhausted. There were still some things unsold, and most of the larger items that were sold hadn’t yet been picked up. But the cash box was overflowing, and when the last car drove off, Keith brought it to Maris with a totally amazed expression.

  “There must be thousands of dollars in here, Maris.”

  Maris’s weary spirit suddenly revived. “Let’s count it.” She and Keith started for the house. Maris stopped and turned. “You, too, Luke. Come on.”

  “No, you two go ahead. I’m going to take a shower.”

  Concealing her disappointment that he didn’t want to be included in the most exciting part of the day, she nodded and proceeded to the house. She and Keith sat at the kitchen table.

  “I don’t believe this,” she said while sorting the cash from the checks, then stacking the cash by denomination. “Keith, look. There are six one-hundred-dollar bills.” They counted the cash and added up the checks, and Maris sat back, weak with incredulity. “Three thousand five hundred and sixty three dollars. And that’s not counting the change.” There was a small mountain of coins. “I’m looking at it with my own eyes and I still don’t believe it.”

  Keith chuckled gleefully. “Hundreds
of people came, Maris.”

  “Everyone from the whole area, I think.”

  “There’s not much left out there for tomorrow.”

  “I know, but my signs said Saturday and Sunday, so we’ll have to be here. Keith, this calls for a celebration.” She picked up two of the twenties. “Would you do me a huge favor and go to town? I want three of the biggest, best steaks you can find. We’ll cook them on the charcoal grill. How does that sound?”

  Keith’s eyes lit up. “Terrific! Sure, I’ll go.” He took the money from Maris’s hand.

  “And stop at the bakery and pick out something really special for dessert.”

  “A pie?”

  “Or a cake or…whatever looks good to you. Okay?”

  “Gotcha. I won’t be long.”

  “Drive carefully,” Maris called as Keith dashed out. She sat back again, sighing and shaking her head at the stacks of cash on the table. The sale was a lifesaver. She could catch up on the mortgage payments and certainly all the small bills that had been coming in the mail with Past Due stickers could be paid in full. Plus, she reminded herself, she would be receiving the balance due from Jim Humphrey on the sale of the Corvette. Oh, what a wonderful feeling it was to have the money to get herself back in the black.

  Then she thought of Luke and that IOU. The means to pay him the full amount was sitting right in front of her. Her heart skipped a beat. If she paid him off, would he leave the ranch and her stranded with a herd of partially broken horses?

  Oh, he wouldn’t, she mentally argued. Surely he wouldn’t.

  But dared she take that risk? He had agreed to receiving payment from the sale of horses, and that was the arrangement she must hold him to.

  Not nearly as excited as she’d been, Maris gathered up the money and brought it to her bedroom, where she put it in a shoe box in her closet. The coins remained on the table, and she returned to the kitchen to scoop them into a plastic bowl. Later, when she had the time, she would sort and count them. For now, she stuck the bowl in a cupboard.