His Montana Bride. Brenda Minton

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       Chapter One

      Jasper Gulch Welcomes You To the World’s Largest Old Tyme Wedding. The banner was stretched across one wall of the Jasper Gulch, Montana, festival hall at the fairgrounds. The town was celebrating its centennial and for some reason, a hundred years meant a hundred brides and grooms. Or at least that was someone’s opinion. Katie Archer wasn’t one of the brides. Instead, she stood on the sidelines, the sister of a bride, as well as a potential bridesmaid. It was the place where she felt comfortable and where she’d spent most of her life—standing in the shadow of her older sister, Gwen.

      Gwen was beautiful, intelligent, gifted and so many other positive adjectives, but she was also unfailingly kind. And Katie was loyal. When Gwen had asked her to make this trip, Katie hadn’t been able to refuse, even though she knew Gwen would have to leave at times. Katie had taken vacation from her job in Missoula, packed a bag and climbed into the backseat of Jeffrey’s Land Rover, Jeffrey behind the wheel, Gwen in the passenger seat. Jeffrey Parker, the groom, was an orthopedic surgeon originally from Denver but now practicing in Missoula. The two had met when Gwen started her residency.

      They had arrived in the small town of Jasper Gulch, Montana, earlier in the day. There had been time to take a tour of the town, find the Shaw ranch where they would be staying during the month of October while they prepared for the wedding, and then they’d headed for the fairgrounds where the engaged couples would be treated to a prewedding reception.

      Since arriving at the cavernous, slightly drafty building, Katie had watched as Gwen and her fiancé, better known as Dr. Jeff, got the royal treatment. Even from a distance Katie could see that her sister and Jeff were in love. And they looked beautiful together, like the power couple they were. Gwen looked stunning with her dark hair in a jeweled clip, a shimmering red dress that suited her slim frame and her makeup applied perfectly.

      Gwen and Katie were complete opposites in every way.

      After a lifetime of being compared to Gwen, somewhere along the way Katie had learned to smile and let it go. She would never be the honors student. She would never be the perfect daughter. She would always be Katie, the redhead with a penchant for flirting just to get noticed.

      Anything to get noticed.

      At least she had been that person. In the last two years she had learned to accept herself, the person God had created. She’d stopped the continuous race to find someone to love and to love her. She’d learned to love herself.

      She shifted from foot to high-heeled foot and watched the crowds, the couples and the townspeople. The Shaws, their hosts while in Jasper Gulch, were interesting. Jackson Shaw and his wife, Nadine, were the patriarch and matriarch of the family and the community. Mayor Jackson Shaw, tall and distinguished and definitely a Montana rancher, was in charge. His wife stayed close to his side.

      But there was tension. Katie had watched the couple share a few looks that she thought meant a lot more than “isn’t this a great event.” Having survived her parents’ rocky marriage, she knew the signs of a couple not in agreement. She didn’t think the tension was limited to the Shaw family, either. She got the feeling the community of Jasper Gulch was packing a lot of hope into this six-month centennial celebration.

      It seemed a few people wanted to keep the community just the way it was, cut off from the rest of Montana with just one road in and out.

      Katie stopped to look at a bulletin board with old photos of the town and a few new photographs, as well as schedules for coming events and plans for improvement. There was a picture of the Beaver Creek bridge as it stood today and a photograph from the town’s heyday. There were pictures of the main street through town with old automobiles parked in front of stores that were no longer in business. Jasper Gulch was like so many towns around the country. It had served its purpose years ago, long before airlines, technology and chain stores. Now it struggled to stay alive. Being secluded as it was probably worked in favor of the businesses that were still in operation.

      Even with its struggles, it would have been nice to grow up in a town like this, with a family that went to church, with people who knew your name. But she hadn’t. She slipped away from the memorabilia, some of which would be put in the new museum, if it ever got built.

      Katie had spent her younger years in San Diego but had grown up in Missoula in a subdivision with neighbors she barely knew. Her parents had both worked long hours. Sunday had been the day of rest, but not a day for church. The four Archers had spent little time together.

      Katie had dreamed of a place like this, a small town situated in a valley surrounded by mountains and with a deep blue sky that seemed to go on forever. The acres of ranch land, the surrounding mountains and the sparkling, clear streams. Who wouldn’t want to call this home and preserve it for future generations?

      With a cup of hot cider from the refreshment table, she sank onto a folding chair and watched the crowds. From across the room an elderly man smiled her way. She smiled back and he tipped his hat. She had been introduced to him earlier and thought his name might be Rusty. He’d played baseball as a youngster and he was nearly as old as Jasper Gulch, he’d informed her.

      Her gaze moved from the aging ball player and landed on Cord Shaw, son of Jackson and Nadine. She’d met him at the Shaw ranch, but briefly. The tall, sun-tanned cowboy with the dark wavy hair hadn’t stayed long at the main ranch house. He’d greeted their guests, thanked them for participating in the wedding and then he’d made excuses about work at his own place.

      Typical of most of the men here, Cord wore jeans and a dark sport coat over a button-down shirt. His cowboy hat was black, matching his jacket. He turned and smiled. Maybe at her. Probably not. Gwen had moved into the spotlight and men always smiled at Gwen. Men, women, babies and the elderly. They couldn’t help it. Gwen was the flame and everyone around her a moth.

      “Those Shaw men, they sure are hot, aren’t they?”

      The statement took her by surprise. She turned and smiled at the young woman who had taken the seat next to hers. The girl was pretty, maybe late teens, and definitely too made up. Her clothes were too loud, her hair too sleek. Katie smiled at her and refrained from commenting on the Shaw men.

      “I’m sorry?” What else could a woman say when СКАЧАТЬ