His Montana Sweetheart. Ruth Herne Logan

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СКАЧАТЬ Reality made Jack straighten and watch his father leave. “See ya’.”

      Mick strolled out of the barn, his gait easy, the roll of his shoulders a dead giveaway. He settled a couple of toolboxes into the bed of his signature red Double M pickup truck. Then he climbed into the driver’s seat with the window open, the radio cranking Easton Corbin sounding like a young George Strait. As the truck rounded the curved driveway, Jack saw his father’s head bob in time with the music...and heard him start to whistle along as the truck headed for the road.

      His father. Cleaned up, whistling and headed out for the day.

      The irony of how he planned to do the same thing the following morning wasn’t lost on Jack. He’d huffed about all the centennial nonsense. He’d done his best to ignore it until the rodeo rumbled into town last month and Julie Shaw cornered him.

      But maybe Jasper Gulch needed something new to shake things up. A town mired in the past, arguing over moving forward, tussling about fixing a long-broken bridge. A place with little crime, beset with strange stuff lately. The time capsule disappearance. Problems at the rodeo. The shed there being set on fire. Troubling things in a town that boasted no crime other than errant dogs and cows now and again traipsing over flower beds they didn’t own.

      On the plus side, Liv had come back, at least for a little while. Shop owners had spruced up their storefronts on Main Street and the access roads. Bright banners welcomed folks to town and the whole thing looked more inviting than normal.

      The changing light reminded him of the storm front headed their way, but the nice thing about hauling fresh-rolled hay up to the barnyard was that he had plenty of time to think. And since seeing Livvie earlier in the week, he didn’t mind thinking nearly as much as he used to.

      * * *

      Blue jeans and a shirt. What could be difficult about that?

      Everything.

      And her hair. Ponytail? Down?

      Ponytail, Liv decided as she bent over, smoothed the front with the brush and gathered her hair into a band.

      She frowned in the mirror, added a lace cami, then refastened the jeweled snaps on the short-sleeved fitted shirt and nodded at the new image.

      Cowgirl, with emphasis on “girl.” She grabbed her Stetson and had her boots on before Jack pulled up to the curb with the four-horse trailer attached. Jack strolled to the porch as she stepped outside, and the look on his face said he’d been looking forward to this morning, just like her. Which meant she’d be the one to put the brakes on. “Hey, cowboy.”

      “Hey, yourself.” He gave the brim of his hat the slightest of tweaks and watched her smile. “You still remember how it’s done.”

      “You can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl.”

      “And who’d want to?” Jack’s expression said that was about the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. The look on his face made Liv revisit her years away. Her expression must have changed, because Jack leaned forward and ducked a little to see her face. “Didn’t mean to insult. And in the city, they wear what they want, but if the look suits, and in your case, I think you were born to ride and wear Western—”

      His compliment made her smile because she did feel at home in these clothes. Natural. And maybe younger than she’d felt the last few years.

      “Why not embrace it at least as long as you’re here?” He held the truck door open and Liv couldn’t remember the last time Billy had held the door open for her. If ever. She pushed the comparison aside as Jack climbed into the driver’s seat. He shoved the truck into gear and headed for Route 287. He made the turn onto the two-lane and pushed his hat back. “So here’s my plan.” He indicated her notebook and iPad. “We can talk baseball and history all you want. I invited Coach over tomorrow, so I was hoping you could come by the ranch for supper and we can pick Coach’s brain, too.”

      “Except he didn’t live around here until twenty years ago and has no family here,” Liv pointed out. “I’d love to see him, but can’t we get together in town?”

      “On a Sunday evening?” Jack’s look said she needed to remember where she was, and he was right. Jasper Gulch embraced limited business hours on Sunday, something she hadn’t seen much in the city. Out of respect for family time and the Lord’s Day, nothing was open in Jasper Gulch on Sunday evenings. “Besides, I owe Coach a dinner, and we might as well grill a few steaks and throw some potatoes in the fire, don’t you think? No biggie.”

      It was a biggie, and he knew it. She read him like an open book on a sunlit afternoon, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to have supper at the ranch, and she’d made a promise to herself on the way back to Jasper Gulch nearly two weeks before. No more pretense. Face life, get a grip and be honest with herself. So she squared her shoulders and nodded as she began making notes. “It does sound good, and with Mom and Dad away I’m not prone to cooking for one, so you’ve saved me from starvation.”

      “Good.”

      She ignored the quick grin he cast her way as she waited for her screen to refresh. “And that way I can check on how our new friends are doing. If we find any today, that is. How’s Dillinger?” Dillinger had been her horse of choice at the Double M through the years they dated. Jack would mount Roy-O, the large bay, and she’d saddle Dillinger, the strong-willed buckskin that reminded her of Denny in The Man from Snowy River. A good horse, brave and true.

      Jack sucked in a breath. His hesitation said more than words.

      “He’s gone?”

      “Back in February. Winters are hard on old animals.”

      “Like Tank.” She breathed deep and stared out the window, the rise of mountains curving this way and that, rugged land stretching in every direction. “I forgot that being away for so many years really changes things. People gone. Animals gone. Except for the beginnings of the new museum, the town has stayed the same on the surface.” She bit back a sigh from somewhere deep inside as reality bit deep. “But the real things? The important ones, like losing people and things you love? I’m realizing how much I’ve missed by being gone.”

      “Time goes on.” Jack paused at a fork in the road, bore right and then added, “And just the idea of that museum caused a ruckus with folks.”

      “Why?” She turned to face him and had to steel herself not to get lost in his profile. Seeing him...hearing him...simple proximity to him brought back all kinds of memories. She’d held hard to the last memories, her broken heart, weeks of tears, years of living in the same Midwestern city while avoiding him at all costs, but now? Here in Jasper Gulch? The good memories were starting to edge out the bad ones, and she couldn’t let that happen.

      “Jackson Shaw likes things the way they are. Always has, always will. His son Adam and the other kids are more easygoing, and Cord’s actually been fighting his father on the whole bridge issue—”

      “Cord wants the bridge fixed?” Livvie sat back, surprised. “Good for him. Just because Jackson is the mayor doesn’t make him the law.”

      Jack shot her a look that said “get real” and Liv sighed. “Okay, I get it. But just because it is that way doesn’t mean it should be. Three cheers for Cord standing up on his own. And СКАЧАТЬ