Montana Dreaming

by Judy Duarte

She pulled into her driveway, and her headlights lit the red reflector lights on the rear of a car. The Jag.

  Riley was waiting for her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Oh, crap.

  He wasn’t going to take her rejection sitting down. Or by going home. Or by being avoided. He was going to confront her head-on.

  She parked the Blazer and got out.

  Every air conditioner on the block hummed in the summer night. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked.

  Out of habit Lisa glanced around, not seeing any news vehicles.

  Riley met her on the brick walkway to the house. “What was that all about?”

  “What was what all about?”

  “You know good and well what. We had a date.”

  Six nights ago he’d asked her to marry him. Tonight she’d brought another man to what he’d thought was a date. He was probably a little angry.

  “You assumed we had a date. I told you the other day that I wanted things to be professional between us.”

  “And then we spoke on the phone all week and I asked you out. You accepted.”

  “Well, I chose to keep things professional.”

  “So you asked Phil along?”

  “He’s a nice guy, isn’t he?”

  “I suppose you stayed to meet his dog.”

  Why hadn’t she thought of that? “Is there some point to this conversation?”

  “The point is you brought Phil along to tick me off.”

  She took her keys out of her handbag and approached her door. Not to tick him off, actually, just to wake him up. “I can have dinner with anyone I like.”

  Riley followed. “Don’t act all innocent. You had an ulterior motive.”

  She unlocked her door, then turned slowly to face him. “And you’d know all about those, wouldn’t you?”

  “What are you insinuating?”

  “Come on, Riley. I may not have been the best looking or most worldly woman you ever boinked, but I wasn’t the stupidest. I remembered you from high school, got that? You never gave me a second glance until I inherited a gold mine. Hello?”

  Insects buzzed around the light beside her door, so she stepped off the porch onto the sidewalk.

  Riley had the grace to momentarily look guilty. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

  “No? Then you think I would really be tricked into believing you were paying attention to me for myself? I have the pictures, Riley, I know I looked awful.”

  “You didn’t look awful,” he denied without much conviction.

  She snorted.

  “Things just developed between us naturally,” he said.

  “And the fact that I had just inherited the gold mine you thought belonged to your family never had a thing to do with the attraction.”

  He looked slightly sheepish. “Maybe at first.”

  “At first? That’s bull, and you know it. We both know it. Just stop with the act, will you? Could you just be honest?”

  “Lisa, I didn’t come here tonight because of the mine. That’s honest.”

  “Really.”

  “Yes, really.”

  Behind her the dogs whined and scratched on the inside of the door.

  “You might want to retrieve your messages from your other cell phone,” she said. “The one at the cabin.”

  He blinked as though she’d changed the subject. “Why’s that?”

  “There’s an urgent message from your father. Seems you ditched a meeting, and he wasn’t very happy with you. He called that number and left an earful.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Oh, he wondered if you were losing your touch since you didn’t have a ring on the dog walker’s hand yet. He had a few helpful suggestions. Charm her. Get in her pants. Knock her up.”

  If it had been daylight, she’d probably have seen a new color of green as yet unnamed by Crayola. But as it was, she simply read dismay at having been discovered in the tightening of Riley’s lips and his tense stance.

  “I have to give you credit, though,” she said, gesturing with one hand. “You didn’t try the latter suggestion.” A flutter of panic battered her chest. “Unless you did something to the condoms beforehand.”

  “Of course not!” He threaded a hand into his hair and tilted his head back as though praying for deliverance. When at last he looked back at her, he said, “Lisa, I can explain.”

  “Of course you can. You’re a master at getting what you want. It takes a strong person to resist your coercion. A smart person.”

  “May I please explain?”

  “Do you deny you had a plan to get into my good graces?”

  “No.”

  “Or that your plan included wining and dining and making me pliable?”

  “No.”

  “Did it ever seem to you that I played along a little too easily?”

  “I thought we were connecting.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that I was giving back to you as good as you were dishing out?”

  He swallowed. “Were you?”

  “Hello? The whole makeover, the dresses, the…underwear?”

  “You’ve been leading me on? But…but you were a virgin.”

  “The word is not a synonym for ignorant.”

  “Lisa, don’t you feel something for me?”

  An ache swelled in her chest, but she fought it down to salvage her pride. What did he want from her? “Yes, I do feel something,” she declared. “Sorry. Because now you have to go tell Daddy your scheme blew up in your face and that there won’t be a wedding.”

  She turned and walked into her house, firmly closing the door and locking it.

  Joey and Piper sniffed at her pant legs and licked the hand which still held her keys. She dropped them beside her purse on a table.

  A light knock sounded on the door, as though he knew she was still on the other side.

  “Lisa, let me in so I can talk to you. Please.”

  “Go away or I’ll call the police and tell them I’m being harassed by a stalker.”

  He must have taken her threat seriously, because a minute later she heard his car start and saw headlights as he carefully backed out around her Blazer in the drive and left.

  Well, there. That was it. She hadn’t lost anything because she’d never had anything to lose. Rather, she’d saved her pride and her heart and had an experience she’d wanted in the meantime. No feeling sorry. No turning back. If anything, she’d come out ahead because she’d learned her strengths and discovered her sexuality. She’d held her own against a formidable deceiver.

  If all that was true, why did she feel so empty?

  “What do you say we go for a run tonight, boys? We’re still in reprieve from the media and it’s a pretty night.”

  She could buy a dishwasher. She’d always wanted one.

  There really wasn’t a place for one, so the cabinets would have to be redone.

  Maybe it would be easier to just hire someone to do the dishes. And cook. Not a concept she was comfortable with.

  She could buy a new house with a dishwasher and a housekeeper already built in.

  Lisa shifted the heavy gold nugget from one hand to the other and set it back on the kitchen table.

  The phone rang. She’d bought one with caller ID and had the phone company adjust her service. Riley again. He’d tried to call seven times that morning.

  It had been three days since she’d seen him. Three days since she’d told him she was wise to him.

  The doorbell rang. The dogs were out back, so they weren’t underfoot to bark and trip her on her way to the front hall. Through the leaded-glass door she could see the brown uniform of the delivery man.

  “Lisa Martin?”

  “That’s me.”

  “Sign here, please.” The package he leaned up against the porch wall was six inches thick and about four foot by four foot square.

  “Who’s it from?”

  “Um, Kincaid Restorations?”

  “Never he
ard of them.”

  “Well, it’s for you, miss.”

  She signed the electronic clipboard and carried the surprisingly heavy box into the house.

  She had to get a knife to slice the strapping tape and cut open the end. She slid the packing material out on the floor. Between two thicknesses of foam and several layers of tissue and bubble wrap, she discovered a stained-glass window.

  The exquisite piece was Victorian looking but not in a reproduction-type way. It was an antique. The individual pieces of blue, violet and green glass had been intricately leaded to create flowering wisteria and vines.

  There was no note, no card, no invoice, and the absence of anything identifying the sender was proof it had been Riley. Who else? And since it had been Riley, that meant the bribe had cost a small fortune.

  She couldn’t keep it. She’d have to send it back. Or have it delivered to his address.

  Lisa leaned the piece of glass up against the leg of a table, and the light from the front windows caught it. Colors spread across the wood floor and the wool rug like an incredible rainbow.

  “How much does this suck?” she said to herself. “I get the first gift I’ve ever had from a man and I can’t keep it. And it’s really, really beautiful. And he knew I’d love it. The jerk.”

  Tears came to her eyes, but she blinked them away.

  Several things still had to happen. She had to prove to Riley Douglas that she was not a pawn in his game. She had to come to some decisions on what she wanted for herself. And she still wanted to dispel the untruths about Lily.

  First things first. Lisa waited until she knew school would be letting out and drove to the high school. Little had changed since her days there. The outside had been landscaped and a bricked common area created. Inside there were new display cases and the offices had been remodeled to all-window walls.

  After checking at the office, she was directed to a second-floor room where Ben Saunders taught.

  The man was in his sixties, his hair grayer and his middle thicker than when she’d taken his class. He was putting away books in an oak storage unit at the back of the room.

  “Mr. Saunders?”

  He blinked and took in her slim skirt and off-the-shoulder pink blouse before smiling. “Lisa Jane! Don’t you look just as pretty as all of your pictures. I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Well, sure. Have a seat.” He pulled out a wooden chair and gestured for her to take it. After she’d seated herself, he brought another and placed it across from her. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I know you’re always involved with Heritage Day and the reenactments of Thunder Canyon history.”

  “Oh, yes,” he replied. “I’m the chairman of the historical society’s publicity and ways-and-means committees.”

  “And several people have mentioned that you’re often found at the Hitching Post telling stories about the first gold rush and the early town founders.”

  He nodded. “There’s always a lot of interest in our town history.”

  “Would you mind telling me the documented facts you know about Lily Divine Harding?” Lisa asked.

  “Not at all. She operated the Shady Lady saloon. The operation did a booming business. It was one of three hurdy-gurdy houses in Thunder Canyon.”

  “Hurdy-gurdy meaning…?”

  “Well, that there were women available to dance and, er, entertain the men.”

  “Do you know of any proof that Lily employed women as prostitutes? Are there letters? Arrests documented?”

  He tapped a finger on his chin. “Actually, prostitution wasn’t illegal at that time. But there was an organization called the Women’s Temperance Prayer League. This group of the town’s leading ladies condemned and protested the existence of what they called the ‘dens of vice’ and had a mission to shut them down. There are a few old meeting flyers in the archives.”

  “But those only prove that they were accusing the Shady Lady of being a den of vice. Has anything ever proven the fact?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” he replied.

  “I borrowed several journals written by Catherine Douglas from Tildy Matheson.”

  Ben’s eyes lit with excitement. “Emily Stanton—er, Vaughn, I mean—told me those existed.”

  “Tildy plans to bequeath them to the historical society upon her death.”

  His expression was intense as he said, “They should be carefully preserved.”

  “Catherine’s things mean a great deal to her. She has treasured them. Catherine makes vague references to Lily’s house being a place of refuge and safety. Tildy’s and Emelda Ross’s stories back up the fact that Catherine Douglas was abused by her husband and often taken in by Lily.”

  “I’ve heard similar stories,” he said. “There’s a newspaper clip of a Polish woman named Helena who worked in the theater back east before escaping a bad situation with a man and coming to Montana. The article says that Helena found employment and refuge with a local establishment. I’ve suspected that establishment was the Shady Lady.”

  “Mr. Saunders, there’s no proof that Lily was a prostitute or that her saloon was anything other than a dance hall, is there?”

  He shook his head. “The theories have been elaborated over the years because of the painting. And the name of the saloon. It makes for a much more appealing story about the gold-rush days if our Lily was a colorful woman.”

  “Do you really think it would hurt commerce if the true facts surrounding Lily were made public?”

  He shook his head. “I doubt it. After all, we have a present-day gold mine.”

  “I’d like you to put together all the solid facts regarding Lily, the Shady Lady and anything else relevant, and I’ll have a book published for the historical society. You can be the author and take whatever is a fair share for royalties, and the rest of the proceeds will go to the foundation. How does that sound to you?”

  His face crinkled with a smile. “It sounds fantastic, Lisa. I can include photographs and documents from the archives. Perhaps quote from Catherine’s journals.”

  “Okay, then this is your project. If you’re aware of presses that do this sort of thing, I’ll do the legwork.”

  “What kind of deadline do you want?” Ben asked.

  “We’d like copies in our hands by next Heritage Day, right?” She thought a moment. “How about three or four months?”

  “I can do that.”

  Lisa left the school feeling good about doing all she could to clear up speculation about Lily. They may never have proof of the real story, but at least they could give the facts and let people decide for themselves.

  Lisa met Bernadine at the Hitching Post for lunch and told her what she’d come up with.

  “That’s great, Lisa. That’s giving to the community, and they’ll love you for it.” She glanced at the menu. “What are you getting?”

  “I don’t know. A hamburger? We need a restaurant as nice as anything in Billings so we don’t have to drive all that way for a real meal.”

  Bernadine laid down her menu. “You’re right.”

  Lisa looked at her. “You really think that’s a good idea?”

  “I think it’s a great idea. If we want to draw tourists to the resort, we’ll need some classy places for them to frequent. Besides those on the resort property itself.”

  “Not anything stuffy, though,” Lisa said quickly, getting into the idea with fervor. “Nice decor, maybe tin ceilings for atmosphere. Steaks. Good wine. Fabulous desserts. We’d need a good chef.”

  “You’re getting the hang of this rich-girl stuff,” Bernadine told her.

  “It could be called the Claim Jumper. We could hang mining memorabilia, old photographs in keeping with the theme of the town and Heritage Days.”

  “You’re really good at this.”

  “Dog Walker Turned Entrepreneur,” Lisa said. “Notice how I think in headlines these days?”

  “This is the k
ind of thing Riley mentioned,” Bernadine told her, “when he recommended you put money into local ventures. He’ll love this idea.”

  Lisa wasn’t so sure Riley would appreciate anything coming from her right at the moment, but they were going to have to get past their…difficulties…and get down to business.

  “I’d love to see his reaction,” the other woman added.

  “Yeah, I can’t wait.” Maybe this was it. Maybe this was how she’d show him she had her own mind and her own ideas and didn’t intend to be pressured into other people’s.

  Lisa thought about the women in the movies with men troubles who always confided in their best friends. She didn’t have a best friend. Bernadine was her friendly lawyer, but even if she was a friend, she certainly wouldn’t have any experience that would benefit Lisa in her bizarre situation.

  A confidant was an appealing notion at the moment, however.

  A man stopped beside their booth just then, and Lisa glanced up to find Phil Wagner wearing an amiable smile.

  “Hi, ladies.”

  “Hi, Phil,” they echoed one after the other.

  “I hear you’re bringing gold out of the mine this week.”

  “Yep. Hope you’re ready to make money for me.”

  “I’m ready. I’ve drawn up a five-year plan to go over with you whenever you have the time.”

  “I’ll have the time this week.”

  Phil slid a PDA from his pocket and flipped it open. “Thursday looks good in the afternoon. Or Friday morning.”

  “Any lunches or dinners open?”

  “Thursday lunch?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Here?” he asked.

  “There’s the café and the lunch counter at Super Saver Mart.”

  “The lunch counter is good,” Phil said.

  They chose a time, and he moved away to pay his bill and leave.

  “Another admirer?” Bernadine asked.

  “Another business associate.”

  “Miss Martin?” Chad Falkner stood beside their booth, no camera in hand.

  Lisa glanced around and didn’t see any other reporters. “Well. I was wondering when I’d see you.”

  “Kept our end of the deal, didn’t we?”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “Did you see the picture I took in People?”