When Dreams Collide

by Brenda Sinclair

  “Susan, Angel of Mercy, can I have a couple of those, please?” pleaded Dusty, holding his head.

  Susan passed him the bottle and he downed two tablets.

  “Thank you. I just might live now.” Dusty passed the bottle back to her.

  While David and Catherine enjoyed the buffet breakfast, Dusty and Susan finished their coffee while trying to move their heads as infrequently as possible. The four friends reminisced about the wedding reception speeches and the pranks during the dance. David and Dusty blindfolded Jeremy and Amanda and then told Jeremy they’d hidden three fifty-dollar bills in the folds of Amanda’s dress. If he found them all, he could keep them. Of course, they’d only hidden two. Jeremy’s determined efforts kept the guests in stitches of laughter, and Amanda’s face absolutely scarlet.

  During brunch, Susan observed Dusty while he conversed with David and Catherine. She almost drove herself crazy attempting to guess the reason behind his request: I need to discuss something important with you. What the hell did that mean? Did he require a bank loan but wanted to avoid dealing with the local bank where Amanda and Catherine were co-managers? Was Dusty in some financial trouble? Gambling debts perhaps?

  “Excuse me, please.” Dusty rose to his feet and headed off in the direction of the men’s room.

  “I should say goodbye to Dad. Looks like he’s ready to head home,” added David, and he leapt to his feet and caught up to his father at the door.

  Having Catherine alone for a few minutes, Susan decided to confide in her old college roommate. “I know I can rely on your discretion. I need your opinion.”

  “My opinion?” Catherine frowned. “On what?”

  “Dusty.”

  “Yes!” exclaimed Catherine, and then lowered her voice. “We did it on purpose, you know.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re Amanda’s best friend making you the logical choice for maid of honor. But you graciously stepped aside when we asked if you’d mind me being matron of honor, since David was best man.” Catherine beamed. “We arranged it so you would be spending the entire day with Dusty, groomsman and bridesmaid, hoping a little spark of interest would develop between you two. And judging by the close dancing at the reception, our plan worked.”

  “Sparks of interest are none of your business. And besides, that is not the reason I need your opinion.” Susan shifted in her chair.

  “Oh.” Catherine’s shoulders slumped. “I’d hoped you guys would hit it off and then maybe he’d send Penny Snyder packing.”

  “Who the heck is Penny Snyder?”

  “Just this chick that works at the Lazy B. Jeremy hired her to work with the bucking horses. She rides like she was born in a saddle, outshines most of the male hands. But she’s set her sights on Dusty and follows him around like a puppy.” Catherine leaned back in her chair. “What do you want to know about Dusty?”

  Susan experienced a momentary flash of jealousy, but silently chastised herself a second later. Catherine hadn’t mentioned Dusty being interested in this Penny person, just that she was chasing him. Susan met Catherine’s eyes and asked, “Why would Dusty request a meeting with me at the bank on Monday morning?”

  “What?” Catherine straightened.

  “Less than an hour after I met Dusty, he asked for an appointment to discuss something important. Why would he choose me of all people to discuss something with? Did Dusty mention anything to you or David or Jeremy and then one of you steered him in my direction? I overheard him telling some guy at the reception that Jeremy was like the brother he’d never had.”

  Catherine shook her head. “I haven’t a clue what it’s about.”

  “His request doesn’t make any sense. Why wouldn’t he deal with your bank?” Susan leaned in closer. “Do you suppose he’s gotten himself in some kind of financial trouble?”

  “Dusty is the most level-headed guy I know. He has money in his account in my bank. Of course, I can’t disclose amounts, but he isn’t strapped for money.” Catherine glanced away for a second. “You don’t suppose...”

  “What?”

  “I don’t trust Penny Snyder. She’s only worked at the ranch for three months. But she’s certainly determined to land herself a husband. She wants a cowboy, and she’s decided she wants Dusty. Could she be blackmailing him or something?”

  Susan shrugged her shoulders. “I haven’t a clue. Don’t know the guy. Could Penny be pregnant, and...”

  “No way. Dusty doesn’t give her the time of day.”

  “So, why does he think talking to me will solve anything?”

  “I guess you’ll find out when you meet with him. If there’s anything I can do to help, don’t hesitate to ask.” Catherine touched Susan’s arm. “Dusty is such a nice guy. I sure hope it’s nothing serious.”

  Susan admitted to herself that she really liked Dusty, and she hoped his important matter wasn’t serious, too. “Amanda and Jeremy disappeared late last night to an undisclosed honeymoon location, and I overheard Dusty promising his pal that he’d check on his horse-breeding operation when he returned to the ranch.” Susan finished her coffee and set the mug aside.

  “David just waved at me. I guess we’re leaving now.” Catherine stood and hugged Susan.

  “I’m checking out right away, also. I’ve loved seeing all of you guys again.” Susan returned the hug. “Keep in touch.”

  “Count on it,” said Catherine, walking toward the door to join her husband.

  Susan’s watch indicated it was ten minutes past noon. Everyone was extending their goodbyes. She grabbed her purse and exited the dining room, intending to pack and check out of her room. She lived right here in Helena, and she had chores waiting for her at home. Laundry to do, a couple of utility bills to pay, a few files to peruse before a staff meeting tomorrow, and an afternoon nap afterward.

  Forget about Dusty, she silently chastised herself while punching the button to summon the elevator. She’d find out what he had in mind at ten-thirty tomorrow morning.

  Chapter 3

  Susan leaned back in her executive chair, elbows parked on the arms, and fingers tented. The soothing earth-toned decor in her office usually kept her grounded, but the three inch heel on her strappy white sandal tapped a steady beat on the clear carpet protector underneath her chair. Her desk was littered with files, but she couldn’t concentrate on a single thing except her imminent appointment with Dusty MacFarland.

  What possible reason would Dusty have to meet with me today, she asked herself for the hundredth time. Business meetings never rattled her, but for some reason she felt as nervous as a virgin bride on her wedding night. She was being ridiculous.

  “Never mix business and friendships,” she chanted the mantra aloud. But she didn’t consider Dusty a close friend. She’d only met him two days ago.

  She glanced at the wall clock hanging beside the coat tree. Twenty minutes after ten. She stood and peeked through the louvered blinds on her office window. Dusty sat cooling his heels in one of the chunky tweed-upholstered customer chairs out front.

  “He’s prompt, if nothing else,” she observed.

  Susan watched Dusty through the slatted window covering. Jeremy Branigan looked the typical Hollywood-handsome leading man, whereas Dusty appeared ruggedly handsome. She recalled the old Marlborough man magazine ads she’d seen as a teenager, before tobacco became a four-letter word and the ads were discontinued.

  “Dusty, you would have made an excellent Marlborough man,” she declared aloud, smiling to herself.

  The cowboy seemed to be a no-nonsense, get-the-job-done, reliable type of guy. He’d certainly taken matters into his own hands and rescued her on Saturday afternoon when her ring held her captive in the cloakroom.

  Steeling herself for the worst, hoping for the best, she exited her office and strode out to the customer waiting area.

  “Good morning, Mr. MacFarland.” Susan extended her hand.

  Dusty leapt to his feet, whipped the now fami
liar pale gray Stetson off his head, and shook her hand. “Good morning, Ms. Sanders.”

  “Would you like a cup of coffee while we talk?” Susan was surprised by his cheerful greeting, and his broad smile suggested the mysterious matter wasn’t troubling him in the least.

  How bad could it be?

  *

  Dusty grimaced. He should have wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans before shaking Susan Sanders’ hand. He felt like a pubescent teenager, talking to the prettiest girl in school. Get a grip, MacFarland, he silently ordered himself. You’re here on time, you’re looking presentable in the new western duds, and you remembered to remove your hat before shaking her hand.

  What could go wrong?

  Plenty.

  For starters, she could say no and toss him out on his ear.

  Dusty smiled. “No thank you to the coffee, ma’am, but thank you very much for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice.”

  The curvaceous body that drove him to distraction yesterday was dressed in a taupe pantsuit with a silky cream top peeking out from underneath. Good quality, professional, sensible clothes. Like the woman wearing them. He visualized the lacy panties hidden under those suit trousers. Cream? White? Pink again? He recalled her lustrous blond hair upswept in a stunning style for the wedding. Today, a single braid hung down her back.

  “All right, follow me, please.” She smiled and headed down the hallway.

  His thoughts wandered while he followed Susan into her office, admiring her south side heading north. What was the worst that could happen? She’d show him the door with an I-don’t-have-time-for-this-nonsense admonishment.

  “Please have a seat.” Susan pointed to the two upholstered chairs across from her desk.

  Dusty lowered himself into the closest chair, realizing he’d do damn near anything she asked of him. He really wanted this project to succeed, and he certainly wasn’t dealing with any bankers back in Texas where he’d grown up.

  The summer he turned ten he was legally adopted by a son-of-a-bitch, shit-for-brains father and a lovely church-going mother. His new Pa saw him as free ranch labor; his Ma loved him with all her heart. He’d loosened the noose of abuse his father fastened around his neck years ago, but sadly, the last maternal apron string was severed only recently.

  Susan picked up her phone when it rang and spoke briefly to the person on the other end. Once the call was finished, she picked up the receiver again and instructed her assistant to hold her calls.

  Dusty shifted in his chair, set his Stetson on the seat of the other customer chair. When he’d first laid eyes on Susan with her skirt up around her waist in the hotel cloakroom, he hadn’t realized she was the talented banker he’d inquired about. Her internet picture didn’t do her justice. Mr. Stevens, the lawyer who’d handled his recently deceased ma’s investments, had assured him that Ms. Sanders was exceptionally competent at her job and would meet his requirements nicely. He smiled to himself. After meeting her in that cloakroom, he’d imagined her handling numerous requirements. Most of them had nothing to do with his project, and everything to do with his body.

  Susan leaned her arms on the desktop. “So, what did you want to discuss with me?”

  Dusty wondered if he looked as nervous as he felt. “I’m buying a ranch, and I’d like your help,” he stated.

  Susan leaned back in her chair as if she’d gotten a whiff of something odorous.

  “Perhaps I should have worked my way up to that. You appear shocked.” Dusty squirmed in his chair. Surely, he hadn’t blown his chance already. He hadn’t been in her office for five minutes. “What I meant to say...”

  “Do you know what a ranch would cost?” blurted Susan. “Even a small ranch could run you a half million dollars. Is this a joke? Did Amanda put you up to this?”

  “No, ma’am.” Dusty shifted in his chair again. “I’m fully aware of the price of land in Montana. I’ve been checking online, and I found a couple properties that might have worked, but they were located too far south of here.”

  Susan gaped. “You’re serious!”

  “Yes, ma’am. But I bet you assume I’ve only got a couple nickels to rub together the day before payday. You consider me nothing more than a ranch foreman with less ambition than a horny rooster in a henhouse.” He felt his face redden when he realized what he’d blurted out.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you...” began Susan.

  Dusty held up his hand, stopping her mid-sentence. “I apologize for my off-color remark. Actually, if the adoption gods hadn’t chosen the parents for me that they did, or the lottery gods hadn’t shone on me with a two hundred thousand dollar win ten years ago, you would be absolutely right in your assumption.”

  Susan’s mouth dropped open.

  “I’ve shocked you again.” Dusty flopped against the chair back. “I’m not doing a very good job of explaining myself.”

  “How much?” inquired Susan.

  “How much explaining will I have to...?”

  Susan shook her head. “How much money do you actually have available as a down payment on a ranch? I assume you’re here in hopes of arranging a mortgage on the balance of the purchase price.”

  “Well, I won that lottery and promptly blew five grand in Vegas on a weekend runaway with Jeremy and David. But I’ve kept the remaining funds a secret and invested it wisely. It’s grown to a tidy sum over the years. Last time I checked the balance was approximately three hundred forty-five thousand.”

  “That’s wonderful and it sounds about right, Dusty. Nice investment. And if you’re only considering a very small ranch, you wouldn’t require a mortgage. I’m not certain you would qualify anyway without a definite source of income.”

  “Well, I’m also expecting an inheritance check from my mother any day now. But I’d like to start the paperwork to see if I qualify for a mortgage, just in case.”

  “Sure I can take an application and go from there. You mentioned an inheritance check?”

  “Dad died a few years ago, and Ma passed recently. The lawyers informed me that I’d be receiving a substantial inheritance, in cash. I haven’t a clue what ‘a substantial inheritance’ translates into moneywise, but I’m hoping for another hundred thousand, maybe two.”

  “My sympathies to you. Losing your mother would be difficult, even for a grown son.”

  “Thank you,” he whispered, not meeting her eyes.

  “So you expect a hundred thousand dollars,” she said, all business again.

  “Well, I don’t rightly know what to expect.” Dusty shrugged his shoulders, wiped his hands on his jeans. “I’m just waiting until I see the money in my hand.” He crossed his legs and grasped one of his well-used cowboy boots with his hand. Right now, those boots were the only comfortable thing in his world. “As I was her only child, she left me everything. I’m going to open an account at your branch and have all my money moved into it. I’ll advise the lawyers of the account number in case they suggest depositing the money directly into my bank account. The attorney will be releasing the funds soon, but he’s already given me a hand-written note from Ma. She knew she didn’t have much time. The last sentence in that note read, Follow your dreams and make your mark on the world, son.”

  Dusty leaned back in his chair, took a moment to wrangle his emotions back under control. “Anyway, my inheritance should arrive any day now, and I’ve liquidated my invested lottery win. I turned thirty-eight this year, and it is damn time I follow Ma’s advice and pursue my dream. I’ve got to admit, I’ve always been jealous of Jeremy and his bucking horse operation. I cannot ride herd over those smelly Branigan cattle one more year, or I’ll eat my saddle.”

  “Cattle aren’t so bad, are they?” Susan frowned. “Lots of cattle ranches in the country.”

  Dusty scoffed. “You probably think you milk a cow by pumping its tail up and down.”

  “Of course, and everybody knows chocolate milk comes from the brown cows and white milk from the white cows, right?” Sh
e laughed, shook her head, and then met his eyes. “Okay, with cattle prices the way they are, you’re probably wise. No cattle, just horses. You should have sufficient down payment to buy you a nice ranch with the balance mortgaged. If you can qualify. So, other than arranging the mortgage, is there anything else I can do to help?”

  “Actually, there is. You know the Helena area. I require a reputable and knowledgeable realtor to lead me to the ideal property.” Dusty scratched his head. “And then I need to find contractors and trades people for renovations, suppliers for feed and equipment, potential employees...”

  Susan laughed. “Okay, one step at a time. Have you prepared a business plan?”

  “Actually, I’m collaborating on one with a buddy I met online. He was a director of a multi-million dollar corporation. Recently retired, underfoot all day driving his wife nuts. She volunteers with a local horse rescue outfit, and she insisted he help me for free just to keep him out of her hair. I intend to offer my facility as a temporary shelter for her rescue horses if other facilities are maxed out for space.”

  “The contacts people make on the internet these days boggles the mind.” Susan shook her head. “I admit I thought you were just a good-looking ranch foreman, probably with no particular ambition. But I’m convinced you know what you want, you know what’s required, and you’re willing to work hard to make it happen. So, let’s start the paperwork to qualify you for a mortgage.”

  “Holy, hot, damn! Can you recommend an honest realtor? Someone who can locate the ideal property with a house, a couple of barns and corrals? Of course, I can build whatever is required. But I should reserve some of my money, a sufficient operating fund as a backup until the revenue starts flowing in.” Dusty slid forward in his chair, rested his arms on her desk. “I’ve got to let the Branigan clan in on my plans to give them time to hire a new foreman, but I’d like to have my own ranch up and running as soon as possible.”

  “Don’t rush out and purchase any horses today. This whole process takes time.” Susan stood and extended her hand. “But I know the ideal realtor. If it’s for sale out there, Graham will have heard about it.”