She didn’t want to get in the middle of it. Maybe Leland had never wanted a family. Maybe he felt like a fish out of water trying to step in and be a dad. As a kid, she’d seen only Saxon’s side. Age and distance brought a willingness to consider there could be legitimate reasons for Leland to want to see his nephew.
Darn it all, if Saxon and his boss needed answers so badly while he was running around the country, he should swing through Montana and see for himself.
One thing, though, Saxon had left his cell number. She scribbled it on a pad lying next to the machine. She ripped off the sheet and dropped it in her junk drawer. Maybe she’d pass on Saxon’s private number to her friends, but maybe not.
Still a tad irritated at his thinking she’d be his snoop, Jewell stalked off to bed. She didn’t fall asleep. Either Saxon’s call or what little she’d eaten tonight gave her indigestion.
Even Shadow issued a series of impatient huffs before he settled down. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, and soon Jewell kicked off her covers. Long after the dog slept, she watched the clock’s minute hand creep along. Each time she nodded off, she jerked awake sure she was hearing Saxon’s voice—silly, of course.
She got up and went to the kitchen for antacids and a glass of water. While there, she erased his message, something she’d been reluctant to do earlier.
The message might be gone, but the memory of hearing his voice lingered. And a goal she’d set when she sneaked out of his bus in the aftermath of their romp in his bed—to go home and forget him—continued to hover out of reach.
Chapter Five
Stepping out of his bus as the sun was sinking in the sky, Saxon wove through a crowd seeking his autograph before the evening show in Luckenbach. He imagined they were the sons and daughters of once-avid fans of Willie and Waylon and the song they’d recorded in the ’70s that put this rural Texas town on the map.
Donovan tried to hurry him along, saying they needed to check the setup since neither Saxon nor his band had performed here before. Saxon shrugged him off. He felt he owed his fans. When they finally made it into the building, Donovan pulled him aside.
“You look grim.” Saxon clicked his ballpoint closed and stored it in his shirt pocket. “Are there problems with the concert arrangements?”
“Nope. You said you’d handle finding out what your uncle wants. Fred expected me to report back.”
“I told you to leave it to me. Sid and Fred know I requested a month off after the benefit in LA. If I haven’t learned anything by then, I may fly to Montana to see what the hell’s going on.”
“Fred’s not keen on giving you that much downtime.”
“Tough. It takes downtime to write new material.”
“Even so, there’s still the matter of the old guy insisting on seeing you. What if he doesn’t want to wait until we finish in LA? What if he disrupts this tour?”
“He lives in the back of beyond, Donovan. What exactly do you guys fear he’ll do to hurt me?”
“Fred and Sid are afraid the old geezer may talk to tabloids if he needs money. He could hurt you and the label.”
Saxon snorted. “There’s no scandal in my past.”
“You need to squeeze the redhead to get you the skinny. Fred’s so uptight he has Sid meeting us in LA.”
“Jeez...why?”
“Partly over your long-lost relative. And partly to talk you out of taking a break. Your stock is up in the industry. Fred wants you to keep touring. Don’t forget who made you a star.”
Saxon hooked his thumbs over his belt. “In the seven years since Fred signed me, I’ve quadrupled his investment. Loyalty should cut both ways.”
“Yeah, well, at thirty-one it’s easy to flame out. And there are always young guns waiting in the wing.”
“Like Corbett Knight? I noticed Fred handed him some early songs I wrote and brought to Harmony. I’m glad Sid is coming to LA. It’s time he makes sure future songs I write will be exclusively my intellectual property.”
“So this time-out is really about song rights? Sid’s worried it has to do with the surprise visit from your lady friend. Listen, he can negotiate rights. But not if you want time off touring to go all lovesick, homesick or cow eyed over some woman from the Montana boondocks.”
As he digested Donovan’s unsubtle advice, Saxon accepted the guitar Carson stopped to hand him. The instrument, very like the one belonging to Jewell’s dad that he’d learned on, sent good memories flashing through his head. After seeing Jewell again—and after holding her and making love with her—maybe he was lovesick and homesick. He certainly hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. Merely hearing her voice give instructions to leave a message on her answering machine had left him yearning. But she hadn’t phoned him back. Probably he was stupid to wish for a different outcome from someone who’d twice split up with him.
“I’ll think on it,” he growled, brushing past Donovan to follow Carson.
* * *
ABOUT TWO WEEKS after Jewell fit her bridesmaid dress, the Artsy Ladies arranged to meet at the Owl’s Nest to decorate for Lila’s wedding.
Jewell debated going. She didn’t feel well, but she wasn’t unwell enough to see a doctor. She frequently felt fuzzy headed, and she hadn’t gotten her appetite back. That was so unlike her, given how hard she worked.
To her knowledge, no one she worked for had the flu. And the weather couldn’t be more summery, although there was dust and ragweed around. Her frequent headaches could be allergies. Unless they were caused by worrying about Leland and Saxon. After deciding not to give Saxon’s private phone number to his uncle, she changed her mind and headed over to his ranch.
Leland took longer than normal to answer her knock. Jewell thought he sounded short of breath. Instead of inviting her in for coffee, as he sometimes did when she brought warm coffee cake, like today, he thanked her for it and the number. But he said plainly enough that he didn’t want to talk to Saxon on the phone. He needed to see him. He also ignored her question as to whether he was ill. And did the same when she discreetly asked why it was so urgent he see Saxon in person.
Her concern remained even after she drove out to check on the owls. From there she inspected a load of cattle going to market. That done, feeling extra weary, she opted to stop at the café for supper.
Lila’s mom, Doreen Mercer, called Jewell to the pass-through. “Have you seen Leland recently? He almost always comes for lunch. He hasn’t been here this week. I phoned him yesterday and this morning, but he didn’t answer.”
“I saw him earlier today. I don’t keep regular tabs on him, Doreen.”
“At least you saw him. I hope he’s eating healthy.”
“I can’t say. I took him a coffee cake and he thanked me.”
“I’m probably worrying over nothing,” the older woman said. “We’ve been unusually busy, but I need to find time to go see how he’s getting along. He looked gray last time he was in.”
“Well, he’s not planting fields this year, so he hasn’t been out in the sun.”
Later, at home, Jewell revisited Doreen’s concern for her neighbor. Should she try calling Saxon wherever he was on his tour? Would he care that she and Lila’s mom had concerns about his uncle’s health? Or was she looking for an excuse to contact him and tell him she hadn’t learned why Leland wanted to see him?
She’d gotten over being irritated at Saxon for trying to pawn off a responsibility that was really his. She went so far as to check his tour schedule online. It was quite extensive. And hadn’t he indicated he’d call her again? She was wasting entirely too much time on grown men who couldn’t seem to settle old wrongs.
What she really needed to do before going out to Lila’s to decorate was contact the list of known birder activists. She got right on it, but the calls were discouraging. While all th
e spokespeople applauded her group’s efforts to secure a refuge, all cited a downtrend in contributions as the reason they couldn’t help.
Jewell fed Shadow and tended animals in her sick bay before she left her clinic.
The other Artsy Ladies were fashioning peach satin bows when she hurried into the B and B a bit late. “Your color scheme is gorgeous, Lila. Shall I start looping ribbon between newel posts?”
Myra handed her a roll and she set to work. Her escort at the ceremony would be Eric Odell, Myra’s younger brother. She liked him, but at his sister’s reception he’d ditched her to huddle with other ranchers. Unlike her friends’ escorts, Eric hadn’t asked her to dance. She had no reason to suspect he’d be more attentive this time. Jeez, she shouldn’t feel like a fifth wheel. With the exception of Seth Maxwell’s gem-hunting buddies, she’d know everyone. What did it matter if she was an unattached wallflower? Oh, boy, was she feeling sorry for herself. That was so unlike her.
“This renders the B and B useless for a while,” Lila announced. “Our pastor chose the dining room to hold our service. I had to stow all of my sewing stuff, so I’m way behind making baby sleep sacks for the Thanksgiving bazaar. Well, I’d stopped earlier to sew satin slipcovers for chairs Seth rented. There’s still so much to be done, and time’s flying past.”
“Are you taking a honeymoon?” Shelley asked.
Lila wrinkled her nose. “Two or three days in Billings. Seth needs to visit his college counselor and book the online classes he needs to complete his teaching certification. My mom’s keeping Rory.”
“I’ll board Ghost,” Jewell volunteered, mentioning Rory’s dog. “I can run by and feed your horses, too, if you’d like.”
“Would you? That would be a huge help. Seth thought maybe one of his buddies who plans to stay at the B and B might do it. But he’s not sure any of them know a thing about horses. And they may run up to Canada, anyway.”
“Lucky you two finagled a few days away since Seth starts teaching right after Labor Day,” Myra said. “Like you said, time’s flying. The bazaar will be here before we know it, too. Oh, and, Jewell,” she called up the stairs, “Zeke saw a large contingent of snowy owls today. He’s afraid it means we’re in for an early winter.”
“I counted three new nests.” Jewell leaned over the top railing. “I’m super bummed because the birding organizations I called to see if they’d partner with us all said no. They claim their budgets are already stretched thin.”
As the friends continued to tie bows along the curved staircase, Myra said, “I spent part of two weeks trying to chase down a way to reach Saxon Conrad.” She shot Jewell an apologetic glance. “Doreen got his agent’s number from Leland. But the agent’s secretary referred me to his label company. The woman I spoke with there laughed uproariously and asked if I knew how many people called wanting their artists to perform at charities for lifesaving events. She said saving birds was a first but then didn’t give the slightest indication she’d pass along my number.”
Mindy descended the stairs and got a new roll of ribbon. “I suppose we sound like nutjobs to people who see birds as pests.”
“For sure the women saw me as a pest,” Myra grumbled.
Lila’s son, Rory, who still wore a cast on his broken arm, spoke up. “Maybe my class can raise money once school starts. I’ll ask,” he said from the table where he painstakingly folded foil around squares of groom’s cake. “All the kids love the owls.”
His offer moved Jewell. “That’s kind of you, Rory, but your classmates’ parents already spend a lot at the bazaar.” Feeling guilty, she blurted out a phone number. “That’s Saxon’s cell number. Sorry I didn’t provide it earlier. He left a message on my answering machine. The owner of his label is sure Leland’s after money. To tell you the truth, it irked me, and I only just gave Leland the number. It makes no sense to me, but he doesn’t want to talk to Saxon on the phone. If they can’t even talk, I’m more convinced than ever that Saxon won’t give us the time of day.”
Everyone fell silent a moment. Finally, Lila shrugged and exclaimed, “Well, what’s the old adage...nothing ventured, nothing gained? Say that number again, Jewell. I’ll jot it down. Myra, if you drop by the café tomorrow, we can go up to Mom’s apartment and try calling him. If he hangs up on us, we can quit worrying how to get out ads between now and Labor Day. That’s the date Myra and I chose for the benefit.”
“Why not closer to the bazaar?” Jewell dropped the bow she held, and her stomach churned at the possibility such a benefit might materialize next month.
“Our plan is to nab him while he’s on the West Coast,” Myra said.
Tawana, who worked on the opposite stair railing from Jewell, paused to study her. “There may be an urgency for us to do this quickly, Jewell. I told the others this before you arrived. Wednesday a scout for an independent logging company came into the tribal office asking about an old-growth forest he’d spotted from the air.”
“Oh, no!” Jewell had bent to retrieve the bow but sat heavily on the landing and grabbed the railing to steady herself. “Leland’s trees?”
“Yes. He asked if the timber belonged to us. I could’ve sent him to Leland. Instead I ran copies of some old plat maps, which I hope confused him since tribal lands do butt against Leland’s property. Our council left an undeveloped swath all the way to the Canadian border, so the guy could assume we own everything and move on.”
“I hope so,” Myra said. “We cattle ranchers don’t need loggers disrupting our open grazing areas with their noisy chain saws. To say nothing of how barren it’d look if someone cut those beautiful evergreens.”
“And the owls would go away.” Jewell stood. “We’re lucky you were at the tribal office when he came in, Tawana. Although a logging outfit probably wouldn’t want to buy Leland’s house, barns and farmland, either. So far he’s stuck by his Realtor’s advice to not divide his holdings. I have no idea if he needs money. But he’s had his ranch on the market a year.”
Lila spoke from below, where she’d gone to cut more foil for Rory. “If Leland’s health is failing, as my Mom believes, he might be persuaded to sell his forest for the right price.”
“Jewell, what’s your thought? You see him more often than the rest of us,” Shelley said as she cleaned up empty ribbon spools.
“Leland’s an enigma. He doesn’t look well, but I haven’t been able to find out if something’s wrong. I’ve no idea why he reached out to Saxon. If he needs money to pay taxes or for some other reason, as Saxon’s boss believes, who knows what he’s apt to do?” Jewell heaved a sigh.
Tawana looped ribbon around the last newel post. “I know he made a deal for Eddie and Aaron to plant and harvest winter crops at a fifty-fifty split.”
Myra descended the stairs yawning and rubbing the small of her back. “I have to go home. I’m lumbering under the weight of two extra bodies. If you all want Lila and me to proceed with asking Saxon to give a benefit here, say aye now.”
Shelley, Mindy, Lila and Tawana all chorused aye without hesitation. Jewell was two heartbeats behind the others, but she did mutter, “Aye.”
Lila beamed at her. “You’re really giving us your blessing?”
“Yes,” Jewell said on the tail of a sigh. “How can I not support any attempt to secure the snowies a refuge? Heaven knows I’ve not been successful. If by some miracle you guys convince Saxon, I’ll help with whatever is needed.”
A cheer went up from the others. As the work party ended, Lila sent Rory off to bed, and the friends filed out. Some paused under the porch light to wish good luck to the two who’d volunteered to call Saxon.
“Shall we all meet at the café Friday for breakfast?” Lila said. “If Myra and I have luck reaching him, we can divvy up concert chores. If not, it’ll be our last gathering before my wedding.”
“No, wait,” Mindy call
ed from the bottom porch step. “Saturday morning of the wedding, if you all come to my salon, I’ll do everyone’s hair free of charge.”
There were more cheers and a consensus to meet on Friday.
* * *
SAXON LEFT THE outdoor stage after he and the band finished their last practice session for the LA charity. He stopped to say hello to another country singer, who asked if he ever sold any songs he wrote. They talked a bit, and then Carson passed by and took his guitar. “Sid’s waiting for you out where they’ve set up chairs in the park.”
“Thanks.” Saxon told the other singer he’d be in touch and dropped his sunglasses over his eyes before moving into the bright sunlight.
“Hey, good rehearsal,” Sid called. “Are you free for lunch?” He slapped Saxon’s shoulder.
“Sure. I was going to eat at the hotel.”
“I’d prefer a quiet restaurant where we can talk,” his agent said.
“Okay. We rolled in late last night. I don’t know of any place that fits that bill.”
“There’s a place in the next block I’ve heard about. Shall we try to get a table?”
Nodding, Saxon fell in step. He’d seen Sid bluster his way into many an establishment. He did so again today.
“It’s beastly hot,” the older man groused, shedding his jacket at the table a waiter found for them at the back of the room. “Didn’t you roast up on that stage?”
“It was warm. But we don’t perform until after sunset tomorrow,” Saxon said, opening the menu. He chose a shrimp salad and a light beer. As he waited for Sid to order a pasta dish, Saxon mulled over what he wanted to say to his agent.
He almost changed his mind when Sid ordered a double shot of bourbon. His agent rarely drank except for when they were in tense negotiations.
Sid’s liquor came, along with Saxon’s beer. “If this meeting is about my uncle, I’ve gotta say I don’t know any more than I did before the tour started.”
A Montana Christmas Reunion Page 7
