His Montana Homecoming

by Jenna Mindel

  He held out his hand. A completely inadequate and awkward gesture, but it was the best he could do. “Goodbye, then.”

  Faith stepped closer and slipped her hand into his. Her skin was soft and rough at the same time. “Goodbye.”

  He didn’t want to let go. Contemplating a friendlier way to part company, Dale leaned down.

  But Faith stood on tiptoe and quickly kissed his cheek. She let go and moved out of reach. “Be careful.”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  Would it be so bad to stay? Faith’s words whispered through his mind as he climbed behind the wheel and backed up.

  “It’d be disastrous,” he muttered.

  He drove down the driveway without a problem. He’d make it if he took it easy. He checked his rearview mirror and clenched his jaw. Faith stood outside, watching him leave. It felt like a punch in the gut to let her down, but he kept driving.

  He’d almost made it to Jasper Gulch when the sleet turned to icy rain slashing across the windshield and down the windows. He cranked up the defroster and turned on his wipers, but ice still formed. He slowed down to a crawl. The surface of the road had iced over, too.

  Feeling the pull of the wheels toward the ditch, Dale overcompensated. The little rental car spun like a top, finally coming to a stop in the middle of the road. The lemon’s front end pointed in the direction where he’d come from.

  And Shaw Ranch.

  Dale shook his head at the irony.

  Leaving might have been a bad idea.

  Chapter Seven

  Faith leaned against the door. Dale was gone. For good. And it hurt. How could that be? She’d spent two days with him. Only two.

  “You okay, Faith?” Her mom must have come in the house through the laundry room. Her hair was plastered to her head and her cheeks rosy-pink from helping Julie with the sheep.

  She nodded, not trusting her voice. No way would she cry. It had been only two days. Ridiculous!

  “Where’s Dale? Surely he can’t still be sleeping.”

  Faith cleared her throat. “He’s gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Airport.”

  Her mother’s eyes went wide. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”

  Faith sidestepped her mother’s comforting embrace before she lost it. “It’s fine, really. I’m fine.”

  She made her way up the stairs toward her room to shower and change. Tea is what she needed. A soothing hot cup of tea. Then she’d give in and sulk.

  Midway up, Faith turned. “What am I going to tell Dad?”

  Her mom’s expression remained concerned. “Tell him what you told me. It’s not like we’re going to have much of a draw from outlying areas in this weather.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Faith peeked outside.

  Rain now hit the windows with icy splats, then drizzled down the pane. Her brothers were out there in this mess checking on the cattle.

  By the time Faith stepped out of the shower, she heard her father’s booming voice call out her name. Something was wrong if her father had come home from his office at city hall before an important Jasper Gulch event. Throwing on her thick cotton bathrobe, she bolted from her room.

  “Faith Elaine?”

  She hung over the railing. “What?”

  Her father stood in the living room stoking a roaring fire. “Homecoming’s postponed. Already got a thick coating of ice out there with no sign of stopping.”

  “Okay.” Faith could spend the whole day in her room practicing if she wanted. She’d feed the horses come dinnertime. Until then, they were fine in the barn. “Heard from the boys?”

  Her father nodded. “I’m heading out there myself.”

  Dale stepped close to the fire and then looked up with a grim smile. His tan coat was torn and dirty.

  Faith’s heart raced. “Dale.”

  He gave her a nod, then stared at the flames, looking like a man defeated.

  “Found him in a ditch near town.” Her father held his hands out to the warmth of the flames. Both of them looked cold and wet. No, Dale looked drenched.

  “What happened?” She clutched the front of her robe.

  Dale looked at her. “I changed my mind about leaving.” Then he smiled. “The weather helped.”

  His eyes said something else. Something far more personal. Or maybe that was her imagination and wishful thinking.

  Her father laughed and slapped Dale on the back. “Good thing your rental spun out close to Jasper Gulch, or you’d have been stuck for sure with all the roads closing up around us. They’ve already closed the interstate. As it was, I almost drove past you, too.”

  “Yes, thank you.” Dale reached his hands toward the fire.

  “Make yourself at home, son. This storm might be a long one.” Her father looked up at her. “Where’s your mother?”

  Faith shrugged. “Kitchen?”

  “I’m going to throw on something dry and catch up to the boys.”

  “Anything I can help you with, Mayor?” Dale offered.

  Her father laughed again. “Thanks, but no. Can’t afford to lose sight of you out there.”

  “Of course.” Dale’s lips thinned.

  And Faith felt a little sorry for him. What did he think he could do, anyway?

  “I’m taking a four-wheeler.” Her father left in search of her mom.

  Faith slipped down the stairs. Dale hadn’t moved away from the fire. Was he okay? Had he hit his head or something when his car went off the road?

  Standing next to him, she noticed the slight tremors that shook him, and touched his arm. “Give me that wet coat. You need to get out of those damp clothes before you freeze.”

  He slipped out of the expensive wool while taking in the robe she wore. “Too late, I’m already frozen.”

  “Very funny.” Faith bundled his coat into a ball. She’d see about having it repaired and cleaned. She looked down and noticed Dale’s sock-clad feet. Thin-looking socks, too. “Didn’t you wear the boots you bought?”

  He shook his head. “Another pair of shoes ruined. Lost, actually, in the ditch.”

  Dale was a city boy through and through.

  Faith pushed a chair closer to the fire. “Sit and put your feet up on the hearth. I’ll be right back.”

  He did what he was told. “Where are you going?”

  “To get you something hot to drink.”

  *

  Dale watched her hustle away in that fluffy blue bathrobe and her bare feet. He felt like an inadequate fool. And useless, besides. He couldn’t help his host. Not that he’d have a clue what to do, being a greenhorn.

  After spinning out, he’d headed back to Shaw Ranch, but the freezing rain had coated the road with ice so quickly, the little lemon wouldn’t respond to taking a curve. He’d slid right off the road into a deep ditch. He’d been trying to push the car out, using a couple of fallen tree limbs as leverage, when his shoes got sucked off his feet into the mud. Good thing the mayor had come along with that beast of a vehicle.

  The heat from the fire seeped into him, warming his frozen feet. His wet socks steamed. He’d never been this cold in his life.

  “Here.” Faith pushed a steaming mug at him. “Hot chocolate.”

  He could use something a whole lot stronger but sipped it anyway. “Thanks.”

  She bent down, stripped off his wet socks and looked ready to toss them into the flames.

  “Those are cashmere.” He couldn’t believe they’d stayed on, but they were well made. Good elastic construction.

  “These are useless.” She tossed them on the floor.

  What kind of man couldn’t take care of himself in the elements? But then, in New York, he’d never had to. Assistance was a phone call away with loads of cell coverage. He stared at his red toes, which were tingling with sharp needle pricks. He wiggled them and winced.

  Faith looked at him with soft compassion. Like a wise woman might view the village idiot. “You’re fortunate my dad came by.”

&n
bsp; “Yes.” The mayor had hooked up a strap to the rental and pulled it out in no time. Jackson Shaw’s truck tires had chains on them, so it was pretty easy towing the lemon back to Shaw Ranch.

  “I’m going to get dressed. Do you want anything?”

  He stared at Faith’s pretty face that had been scrubbed clean from a shower. Her hair was wet too. Seconds ticked by before Dale finally shook his head. “The phone, maybe, but later.”

  She smiled.

  And Dale’s stomach dropped.

  How long would he be trapped here?

  With her.

  *

  “There goes the power,” one of Faith’s brothers announced.

  Dale couldn’t tell which one. He opened his eyes. A blanket covered him. And a pillow had been placed under his feet.

  Faith.

  He swung his legs off the stone ledge of the hearth and winced when his bare feet hit the stone-tiled floor. His muscles screamed against further movement, but he ignored them and stepped forward. How long had he slept? The fire had died down some, but it still crackled and hissed. Calling him back.

  He looked outside and shuddered. Fat snowflakes fell steadily, sticking to the icicles that hung from the trees and the fence and everything. Jack Frost had run amok while he was out cold.

  “May I use your phone?” he asked no one in particular.

  “What happened to you?” Cord asked.

  “My rental went off the road.”

  “Dude. I’ve seen beat-up bullfighters that look better.” Adam, the one who’d carried Faith over his shoulder, laughed.

  Dale looked down. His trousers were grass-stained, blood-stained and ripped. When had he scraped his knee? His feet looked puffy and he walked as if he might be pushing seventy. “I guess the car won. Phone?”

  “It’s out, too. First thing to go.”

  Great. No phone, no power. At least his laptop was charged. His phone, too, but that was practically useless out here. “How long will it be out?”

  “Have you looked outside?” The other brother, the one who’d held his hand when they were saying grace, spoke.

  Dale squinted. “Snow.” It snowed in New York. He knew about snow. “So?”

  All three brothers laughed.

  “There’s a thick coating of ice under that snow. The power’s going to be out a good long while.”

  What did that mean? “Okay. I’m going to shower.”

  “That’ll have to wait until we get the generator hooked up.” Cord shifted his stance.

  Dale wanted to bark orders to get to it, but this wasn’t his home. “I’ll change, then.”

  He heard soft notes of the violin coming from upstairs. Faith was practicing again. Something about that soothing sound only aggravated his irritation. She was good, too good to bury herself in the middle of nowhere.

  Faith found God in the music. Her passion. And she was content with that find, having everything she wanted right here. He wasn’t content and never had been because he could always do better, work harder and play harder, but none of that would erase his reality. He’d never been enough for his father to stay with his mom.

  He made his way to the foyer and grabbed his bags. Passing by a mirror, he got a glimpse of himself and nearly laughed, too. His hair stuck straight up. He hadn’t bothered to shave this morning, and his five-o’clock shadow had moved to mountain time.

  Once in his room, Dale stripped out of his clothes and tossed his pants in the trash. He wanted a shower but made do with what water he could dribble into the sink. Dressed in the jeans and a warm flannel shirt Faith had picked out, he settled down with his laptop.

  Connecting to the internet was impossible. Once the generator was hooked up, he’d send an email to his assistant that he’d been waylaid in Jasper Gulch by weather. He couldn’t even contact the property manager at Lone Peak. An odd sense of satisfaction that he didn’t have to make that purchase settled him down some.

  Then he got to work, opening files sent by Jeannie and his father for review. It didn’t take long to burn through his laptop charge. With a growl, he slapped the lid shut and stood.

  Snow still fell outside, coming down thick and heavy. His stomach rumbled. He’d missed breakfast and lunch. He crossed the room and flicked on a light. Nothing. How long did it take to hook up a generator?

  Dale exited his room. He’d talk to the mayor about this. Jackson Shaw was a man of business. He’d understand Dale’s need to keeping working.

  *

  Faith felt her mouth drop open.

  Dale Massey, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, walked into the great room and headed straight for her dad. His hair wasn’t slicked back like the other day, but full and messy. And his stubble-roughened jaw made him look, well, like a bit of a cowboy. A ruggedly handsome one, too.

  “Mayor, have you had a chance to hook up the generator?”

  Her father glanced at her with a twinkle in his eye.

  She shut her mouth.

  That made her dad smile even broader. “Yes, Mr. Massey. We were able to hook up the generator.”

  Dale spread his hands wide. “The lights in my room don’t come on and none of the outlets work.”

  “That’s right. I’ve turned off breakers in the house to conserve on the gas needed to run the generator. We don’t know how long the power will be out, but we’re ready. We have plenty of food and water.”

  Dale looked relieved. “Good, I have a ton of work to do and my laptop’s dead. So, if you’ll point me to an outlet that does work—”

  “Sorry, Dale, but I can’t allow you to do that.”

  “Sir?”

  “Like I said, we have to manage our resources and be careful of what power we use. We’ve got animals to care for. A short shower is fine, but I won’t run down my fuel with a lot of lights and charging of electronics when heat and water is more important. I expect we’ll be one of the last groups to have our power restored, considering our location.”

  Faith watched Dale digest this news. His neck burned red-hot. He might be good at controlling his reactions, his emotions even, but right now, it was pretty easy to guess his thoughts and they were not happy ones.

  “Have you eaten anything today, Dale?”

  “No, sir. Not much.”

  “Faith, get this man a snack, would you?” Her father snapped his newspaper back into place. Conversation over.

  Faith got up. “Come on.”

  Dale followed silently until they were in the kitchen. “Is he serious?”

  “About limiting usage? Unfortunately, yes.” The power hadn’t gone out like this in years, but Faith remembered having to be selective in what they used.

  Dale hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “He’s the mayor. Isn’t he on the priority list?”

  Faith stared at him. The flannel Dale wore gaped at the base of his neck exposing part of his collarbone. Even that looked strong and manly, especially without one of those stuffy undershirts. “No. The elderly come first here.”

  Dale ran a hand through his hair. “This is crazy. I’ve got work to do.”

  “Would it kill you to give your laptop and phone a rest?”

  He gave her a sharp look. “It might.”

  Faith bit her tongue as she fixed Dale a sandwich. Could he be more self-centered? This weather situation was serious. “You want work to do? You can help me with the horses after you eat.”

  “Fine.” He tore into his sandwich and then mumbled around a mouthful, “Thank you.”

  Faith grabbed a handful of potato chips. Munching a chip, she glanced outside. It was still snowing heavy wet snow. Might be better to keep the horses in the barn overnight. Her brothers and father had used the ATVs to check on the cattle earlier. Her brothers were out there dropping hay with the big tractor now. Hopefully, they wouldn’t get stuck.

  “You look worried,” Dale said softly.

  “That’s a lot of snow piling up.”

  “We get snow in New York. Slows everyone down a
bit, but it’s not too bad. Upstate gets more, of course.”

  Faith looked at him. He really didn’t get it. She shouldn’t expect him to. “The mountains get tons of snow, and the people who live up there are used to handling it. We don’t get as much here in the valley. It snows, then melts, snows a little more and some stays. This much all at once could be real trouble.”

  “With the return of power?”

  “Keeping the cattle fed and watered and warm. Their winter coats are in, but if it gets super cold after they’ve gotten wet?” Faith shrugged.

  “You might lose some?” Dale looked like he finally understood the implications of that terrible possibility.

  She didn’t want to think about cattle losses. Her father and brothers had built up a fine herd with strong bloodlines. Those animals were tough. “We’ll do what we can, and pray that we don’t.”

  A subdued Dale placed his plate and glass in the sink and followed her to the closet in the foyer. He wore his felt-lined boots this time and the wool-lined barn coat.

  Slipping into her own coat and boots, Faith handed Dale a hat and work gloves, then called out to her father. “We’re going to feed and water the horses.”

  “Okay. Your mother’s helping Julie with her sheep. Check on them while you’re at it. Ryan’s helping the boys.”

  “Will do.” Faith opened the door for Dale.

  He gave her a crooked grin as he walked out. “I’m supposed to do that.”

  “Oh, please.” Faith pulled her scarf closer around her neck.

  Dale chuckled. “Lead the way.”

  Faith tromped through the wet, heavy snow. They had about a foot on the ground already.

  Once inside the barn, she stamped her feet and the horses nickered softly. “Hi, guys.”

  “They seem restless.” Dale brushed snow from his shoulders.

  “They want back outside. Come on.” Faith entered their grain room and handed Dale a bucket and a big scoop. “Each horse gets a full scoop.”

  “Okay.”

  She took the lid off the grain barrel and scooped up the fragrant mix of oats with molasses. Once their buckets were full, they made the rounds. Faith stood on tiptoe to lean over the top of a stall and emptied half the scoop of grain into a corner feed trough. The horse stuck his nose into the food before she’d finished.