by Jenna Mindel
“You finally got coverage.”
He chuckled. “It’s a pretty weak signal, but I’m getting what I need.”
“Oh.” Faith wondered what that was but didn’t ask. Really, it was none of her business and Dale wasn’t offering up any clues.
She finally pulled onto Main Street. “Where should I drop you off?”
“The corner is fine. I’m going to pop into the bank.” Dale slipped his phone back into his pocket.
“Really?” Faith raised her eyebrows.
“Really.” He grinned at her, but again offered no explanation.
She pulled up to the Great Gulch Grub café. “Here you go.”
Dale stared at the restaurant’s sign. “Is that for real?”
“Yes, and before you make fun of the name, the food is awesome. Everything’s homemade.”
“Of course it is.” He leaned close, gave her a whisper of a kiss and then smiled. “See you in a few at the high school.”
Faith sat stunned, watching him cross the street and head for the bank. She ran her fingers over her lips. What was that all about? A sign that he cared? Of course he did, but how deeply?
A sudden knock on the car hood startled her. Lilibeth Shoemaker shouldered her large handbag and waved.
Faith pressed the switch to open her window. “Hey.”
“Are you headed for the high school?”
“I am.”
“Can I catch a ride? I’m supposed to help set up.” Lilibeth rolled her eyes.
It was only a few blocks, but then Lilibeth wore impossible shoes. “Sure, hop in.”
The nineteen-year-old slipped into the passenger seat and her purse tipped over.
Faith noticed a stack of papers rubber banded together and glanced at Lilibeth. No sense pretending she didn’t see anything. “That’s a lot of paper.”
The girl scooped up her handbag and settled it in her lap. “Financial-aid paperwork.”
“For college?”
Lilibeth tossed her blond hair. “I’ve got plans. Dreams, even. Some of us aren’t lucky enough to catch a multimillionaire.”
Faith opened her mouth to deny catching anyone. Not yet, anyway. But then, Lilibeth might have seen Dale’s sweet little goodbye kiss when he got out of the car. Not that it meant anything. Dale had business in New York. He was leaving, and he hadn’t given her any indication he was ever coming back.
*
Exiting of the bank, Dale spotted Cord Shaw and waved him down. “Do you have a minute?”
Faith’s brother looked at him closely. “Let’s go to city hall. There’s a meeting room there.”
“I’d rather not run into the mayor,” Dale said.
Cord nodded. “Understood.”
Dale followed Cord across the street and they entered the building through a side door. He’d put the guy’s hackles up, but Cord appeared to be a man Dale could trust. And Faith’s brother might give him straight answers.
Once inside a small conference room, Cord didn’t sit down. He didn’t mince words, either. “Okay, what’s this all about? Faith?”
“No.”
Cord stared hard. “Don’t mess with my sister and break her heart. She trusts too easily.”
Dale appreciated that. “I have nothing but respect for Faith.”
“Uh-huh.” Cord mulled that over.
Dale wasn’t sure Cord believed him. “Look, I like your sister and wouldn’t for the world hurt her—”
“But?” Cord looked as if he might tear him apart.
Dale chuckled. Jackson Shaw wasn’t nearly as protective, but then there was that little thing about wanting the Massey money. “But I’m not here to talk about Faith. And you’re going to have to trust that your sister is a smart woman.”
That’s all he’d say.
Cord’s scrutiny weighed heavy a moment, and then, finally, the guy sighed. “Okay, I got ya. So, what did you want to know?”
“That bridge on River Road. What’s the situation?”
Cord gestured toward a chair. “Have a seat.”
Dale sat down, but Faith’s brother exited the room.
He came back with a fat folder and tossed it on the table in front of him. “Engineer inspections, estimates and everything the council has tried to do to raise the funds to rebuild the bridge. We’re far from close and, of course, my dad’s done little to help with this project. When the time capsule was found by the bridge, I think some folks took it as a silent message to leave things be.”
“Faith said your father doesn’t want the bridge reopened.”
Cord nodded. “I’m not sure why. Maybe he thinks the tragic legend of Lucy Shaw’s body never being found after her car went over the side is more of a tourist draw than an opened bridge. Or like a bunch of folks here, he likes things to stay the way they are. Regardless, our town needs to grow and my dad knows that.”
Dale nodded as he fingered through the papers. “Mind if I borrow these for a day or two?”
Cord’s gaze narrowed. “My mom told me that your family is flying in for the Thanksgiving celebration, that you’d asked if they could stay at the ranch. If you don’t mind my asking, what changed everyone’s tune?”
“I used the Massey float as added incentive.”
Cord laughed. “Faith will like that.”
Dale nodded. He’d been in a hurry to leave since arriving, and now? Now, he had a few ideas he wanted to investigate. More time with Faith was a bonus. One he hoped neither would regret.
“Take your time with those.”
“Thanks.” Dale had been given approval for more than simply taking a file.
“And with Faith, too. She’s a good girl.” Cord’s protective expression had returned.
Dale nodded. “I know. Another thing—I wanted to ask about this museum…”
*
The Jasper Gulch Homecoming was like no event Dale had ever attended. This was small-town America in all its glory. Red, white and blue streamers hung in an attempt to transform the high school cafeteria into a festive dining hall. Pretty tough to do with Jasper Gulch Bobcat team banners and sports records high on the walls. It still looked like a school cafeteria despite the round tables with white tablecloths and floral centerpieces sporting picks that read “100 years.”
He’d done his duty by posing for several pictures to commemorate the event. He shook hands with the senator and various county officials. Confirming that he was the only Massey in attendance got old real quick, but at least more were on the way. Standing beside the Shaws for all those photos hammered home the nail. For now, he was alone.
As hors d’oeuvres were laid out, Dale wandered the perimeter of the room. Dozens of easels had been set up with old photos and newspaper articles depicting Jasper Gulch throughout those one hundred years.
Faith was busy helping Nadine and doing her duty as the mayor’s daughter, but she’d given him a wave when he arrived. For now, Dale was on his own. The only Massey among scores of Shaws.
He stared at the first large poster displaying photos of the town’s founding. He recognized Silas Massey from the bank’s portrait, as well as Ezra Shaw. Both posed with women who had to be their wives.
Dale studied the picture closer. Grace Massey was a small woman and sort of plain. Not the type he’d imagine having the power to keep a reported ladies’ man at home. Did Silas stay home? Especially after they’d arrived in New York with a fortune in hand?
“That there’s Silas and his young wife, Grace.” An elderly index finger, gnarled with age, pointed to a picture.
Dale turned toward Rusty Zidek. “Yes. I recognized him from the portrait hanging in the bank.”
“Doesn’t your family have any pictures? Be interesting to see some after they’d moved to New York.”
Dale nearly laughed. The Massey photo albums were sketchy at best and more consumed with the founding and subsequent growth of Massey International. But then, he’d never asked his dad much about Silas and Grace. Or even his own grand
father. Maybe there existed old records or things he’d never been shown. “Not that I know of.”
Rusty fingered his long gray mustache. “Too bad. Too many folks lose sight of their heritage these days.”
“When I get back to New York, I’ll see what I can find.”
Rusty zeroed in on him. “That’d be real good. I’m sure the museum would be interested in copies.”
Dale got straight to the point. “Did Silas really steal from the bank he helped establish?”
Rusty didn’t look a bit surprised by the question. “Staying out at Shaw Ranch, I suppose you’d hear sooner or later. Jackson keeps that tight in his craw. My father knew all about the Shaw promise to keep Silas’s actions secret for the sake of the town, but venom like that leaks out on occasion.”
Dale’s stomach turned. “So it’s true.”
Rusty nodded. “I remember my pa talking about it. He helped Ezra cover up the theft to keep the bank afloat.”
“Nice.” Dale’s heritage comprised thieves and cheaters.
Rusty narrowed his gaze with sympathy. “You can’t pick your family, son.”
“No, I suppose not.” It didn’t sit well that the Massey fortune had started with stolen money. Neither did Rusty’s ability to see how much the information bothered him.
“There’s a bigger family you can be part of, though. Can’t guarantee it ain’t equally messed up, but with it comes a whole lotta love and belonging.”
“Are you talking about Jasper Gulch?” Dale chuckled. He supposed the townspeople were a family of sorts.
“God’s family. His body of believers, you know, the church.”
Dale shook his head. “I’m not into church.”
Rusty slapped him on the back. “I read that Fortune magazine article and it said you’re a man of your word.”
“A man’s not worth much without it.”
“That’s true.” Rusty gave him a serious nod. “Says so right in God’s word—let your yeses and nos stand firm.”
That wasn’t what Dale meant but he kept walking down the line of old photos with Rusty. Julian might be worth millions, but his word was a flimsy thing. Would God prove to be different?
“Who’s that?” Dale pointed.
“That’s Lucy Shaw. Ezra’s daughter. He tried to force that pretty thing to marry a man not of her choosing.”
Evidently the Shaw patriarchs had a history of trying to marry off their daughters. “She’s the one who went over the bridge.”
Rusty gave him a surprised look. “You’ve learned a little about our history.”
It felt like Dale’s history, too, and in a way it was. Silas Massey was where he’d come from. Jasper Gulch held his roots. Something he’d never had or thought about before while bounced between prep school and his parents’ condos.
Dale shrugged. “Faith told me about it.”
Rusty gave him a serious nod. “Miss Faith’s the kind of woman who’d help a man find answers to life’s questions. I’d have up and married her myself if I were few years younger.”
Dale laughed. “A few?”
Rusty grinned as if he knew he talked foolishness. “Quite a few.”
Faith had mentioned rumors after she’d bid on the pastor’s picnic basket. Dale could only imagine what might be said about the two of them. He certainly wasn’t adding more fodder to the gossip mill by discussing Faith with this guy.
“Why do you think that bridge closed?”
Rusty gave him a hard look. “The bridge remained open, but folks stopped using it. Jasper Gulch can’t raise the money to fix it, either.”
All information confirmed by the reports Cord had given him. “A second road in would help this town grow.”
Rusty kicked the heel of his boot against the floor. “Reason enough for some to want it torn down. Folks don’t like the idea of their way of life threatened by change. We’re a town that holds by family values.”
Dale nodded. He knew that, after talking with Cord. “What side do you fall on?”
“I’ve seen a lot of comings and goings in this town, but whatever will be, that’s up to God.”
“God?” Dale wasn’t sure why the Almighty would care about a bridge in a rinky-dink Montana town.
“He’s got a way of providing at the right time, so long as we trust Him. Folks round here tend to do that.”
“I see.” But he didn’t. Not really.
As he’d told Faith, it wasn’t that Dale didn’t believe in God. He’d never given the topic much thought. He believed in the golden rule of treating others with honesty and respect because it made good business sense. He also made sure Massey International gave to charities because he wanted the right reputation, in addition to the tax benefits.
Faith talked freely about God. He’d once thought the way she bandied about scripture was sort of cute, but he knew better now. She lived by what she’d read within the pages of the Bible. He’d been drawn by them, too. He’d read a few passages again this morning.
The Shaw family might not be perfect, but their beliefs were a part of who they were. Belief in God seemed like part of Jasper Gulch, too. Right along with apple pie and hometown pride.
“God provides the right people.”
Dale laughed. He couldn’t help it. Did this old-timer think God had brought him here? Dale’s presence had more to do with Julian’s busy schedule than divine providence.
“Hey.” Faith approached them with an attractive, scholarly looking blonde woman.
“You’ll see.” Rusty gave him a satisfied nod before turning his attention to the women. “Howdy, Miss Faith. Miss Robin.”
“Have you been filling Dale in on his family history?” Faith asked, and then glanced at him. No doubt she wanted to know the truth, too.
“A man’s got a right to his roots.” The old-timer grinned with a glint of his gold tooth. “And a lot of roots have started right here in Jasper Gulch. We could use more good ones, too. You kids be good, I’ve got a few words for our senator over there.”
Dale watched the old man leave. Dale had roots here. A history. Could he have a future, too?
“Dale, this is Robin Frazier. She’s been working on her master’s thesis as well as putting together a lot of these photos with Olivia Franklin, our new curator of the historical museum.”
“Soon to open.” Robin extended her hand. “Nice to finally meet a Massey. There’s so little written about where Silas came from, only that he was a gold miner. Can you shed any light on his ancestry?”
“I did a little research online and there’s no mention of where Silas came from other than Jasper Gulch. Until he skipped town.” Dale glanced at Faith.
“What I’ve read stated his leaving caused quite a stir.” Robin gave him a studious smile.
“I imagine so. Are some of those articles represented here?”
“No. Most are with the files stored at town hall until the museum opens. I’m sure Liv wouldn’t mind if you reviewed them.”
“Great. I’ll check into that.”
The woman named Robin gave him a polite nod. “Nice to meet you, Dale.”
“You, too.”
After she walked away, Dale glanced down at Faith. “You look puzzled.”
“Surprised.” She smiled, but her brow furrowed.
“At what?”
She shrugged. “Your interest in Jasper Gulch’s history goes beyond your great-great-grandfather.”
“I needed to know the truth about Silas in order to make it right. And now I do. What your father said is true.”
Her pretty mouth dropped open and then closed into a firm line. Her blue eyes caught fire. “It’s not up to you to pay penance for the past. That sounds too much like my father talking.”
She was pretty riled up.
“He’s got a point, though. The Masseys owe something to this town.”
“You don’t owe anything to anyone here.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Dale wanted to give back something, starti
ng with that bridge. He pulled Faith’s arm through his. “Walk with me and explain all these old photos.”
The puzzled expression returned. “Sure, Dale. If that’s what you want.”
“It’s what I want.”
For starters. For now.
Chapter Twelve
Faith didn’t understand Dale’s sudden interest in Jasper Gulch history. Or his belief that he somehow owed the town for something his great-great-grandfather did aeons ago. This Dale Massey, who had at first appeared so arrogant and indifferent, was definitely a man of principle.
She nibbled a piece of cheese and watched Dale converse with ease. Her father had whisked him away toward the state senator and other dignitaries. Dale Massey was one refined businessman who could talk to anyone. And he was shrewd, too. Dale listened far more than he spoke.
Faith couldn’t help wondering what Dale’s brothers were like. Would they really come for Thanksgiving? If so, what would they think of Dale’s sudden benevolence toward Jasper Gulch?
She glanced at a newspaper clipping of the first lighting of a Jasper Gulch Christmas tree. Christmas was special here. The merchants and townspeople went all out with decorations and lights the day after Thanksgiving. They strung lines of greenery with big red bells across Main Street. She wished Dale could see it, but he had important business back in New York. He was leaving….
“Hi, Faith.” Pastor Ethan stood next to her with a cup of punch. “According to Robin Frazier, Mr. Massey has quite an interest in the history of Jasper Gulch.”
“Yes.” And then it hit her. “Can I ask you something, Pastor?”
“Sure thing.”
“Would you consider a Christmas theme for tomorrow night’s worship service? I could play the violin and assemble a small choir to sing carols. I’ll take care of everything.”
Her minister narrowed his gaze. “Why so early?”
Faith came clean. “I’d like to give Dale the gift of Christmas. A real Jasper Gulch Christmas, even if it’s just a taste.”
Pastor Ethan looked at her closely.
Faith didn’t flinch. So what if she’d shown how much she cared for Dale by such a request? Ethan Johnson had been her minister for nearly the last six months. She could trust his discretion.
“I don’t see why not.”
