Читать книгу Montana Dreams - Jillian Hart - Страница 11

Chapter Three

“Who was he?” Simon asked as the truck backfired, the sound echoing like a gunshot along the peaceful town street.

“You mean the man who gave us a push?” Her pulse stuttered but she tried to pretend it hadn’t.

“He was real strong. Think I could shove a whole pickup like that? Probably not.” Simon squirmed on his seat, restless and full of little-boy energy. “I liked his hat. No one wears hats like that in Portland. Not that I’ve seen.”

“Me either, but they’re everywhere around here. See?” She pointed in the direction of the sidewalk where a Stetson-wearing man headed into the dime store. “Everywhere.”

“My head would get really hot.”

“Mine, too.” She couldn’t help smiling, a genuine one this time. Her pulse evened out as the sputtering truck took them farther away from Hunter.

He’d changed so much since she’d known him last. He’d matured, looking like a dream in a Stetson. It seemed as if he’d mellowed a bit, too. Time had definitely improved him.

Not that she was interested. No way. It hurt too much. She slid her gaze across the bench seat to where her son sat, gazing out his window, taking everything in. It hadn’t been an easy decision not to tell Hunter about his son. Through the years guilt continued to claw at her, but she’d done what was best for Simon.

She knew there was a problem the instant the farm came into sight. A thousand Holsteins stood in a gigantic black-and-white cluster at their pasture gate, mooing. She lifted her foot from the gas pedal, and their combined chorus made enough sound to drown out the truck’s backfire.

“Mom, what’s wrong with them?”

“They’re waiting to be milked.” That didn’t seem to be the problem, though. The lack of farmhands did. She pulled onto the shoulder of the road. Only one vehicle sat in the shade of the barn—Milton’s old, battered truck. Had everyone else gone?

“I’m sorry, Millie.” He stepped out of the shadowed doorway, lean shoulders slumped. “This time was just the last straw. I got the boys to agree to come back when you can cover their checks if they haven’t found other jobs.”

“How long has this been going on?” She opened her door, stepping away from the truck so Simon wouldn’t overhear.

“For the last six months. Whip hasn’t paid us on time. The checks don’t clear. It takes most of a month to make good on ’em, and then it starts all over again.”

“I can’t blame them. I’d walk off, too.” She didn’t add that she’d had the experience of holding a worthless paycheck in her hands followed by a long stint of unemployment. It was a hollow-stomached experience she wouldn’t want for anyone. “Thanks for staying, Milton. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. The thing is, I can’t milk all these cows on my own. I’m gonna need help.”

“I know.” She blew out a sigh. “Is there anyone you can call in?”

“No one who will come without cash in the bank. Your pa has burned a lot of bridges over the past few years. He’s gotten old and cantankerous.” He winked to soften the truth. “I’ll make a few calls and see what I can come up with.”

“Thanks, Milton.” She checked on her son, still buckled up, craning his head to get a good look at the cows. Their udders were full, they had to be milked and couldn’t wait. “I’ll call you as soon as I can about the money.”

“All right.” Milton strolled away. Spotting him, the cows mooed harder, making so much racket that she couldn’t hear herself think.

Simon watched her with wide eyes as she climbed behind the wheel. The door didn’t shut on the first try. She had to give it a good slam before it caught. No matter what, the cows had to be milked. Just one more thing to add to her list, which was getting very long and overwhelming.

I’m trusting You, Lord, that this is all going to work out. She didn’t know how, but she had faith. She gave the pickup some gas, yanked hard on the wheel and bumped across the county road and up the driveway. Clouds of dust rose up behind her, fogging the air and cutting off all view of the barn in her rearview mirror.

It had been a long time since she’d worked in the dairy and her skills might be a little rusty, but that was okay. She’d look at the books while she fixed supper and afterward head down to the barn to help Milt.

I can’t believe I’m back, she thought. Right back where I started. She’d grown up miserable here, but it surely had to be different this time. It wasn’t as if she were staying.

Leaving was nonnegotiable. And if Hunter’s face filled her thoughts—high cheekbones, straight blade of a nose, magnetic deep violet eyes—then that was all the incentive she needed. That man had torn apart her heart, leaving nothing but pieces. He wasn’t going to do that again. And that’s exactly what he would do if he ever found out the truth.

“Mom?” Simon’s voice bumped along as the truck bounced over ruts in the driveway. “I can help with supper if you want. I know you’ve got a lot to do.”

“Why, I’d appreciate a helping hand.” That put a smile on her face. “You can be in charge of the pizza.”

“I’m good with pizza. But I sorta heard what that man said. I could help with the cows, Mom. I know I could.”

“I don’t want you having to work in the barn the way I did when I was your age.” She swung the pickup across the edge of the lawn and circled around, nosing it toward the driveway before shutting off the engine. It coughed to a slow stop. “I’m sure God has a plan in mind. Don’t worry, it will all work out.”

“Okay.” Simon unbuckled. “Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Bein’ here’s not so bad. I just want you to know you’re not alone.” He dropped to the ground and manhandled the grocery bag off the floor. “I’m gonna help you. You left your friends behind, too.”

“Thanks, kiddo.” She let the Montana breeze blow through her hair as she gave the door a good slam. Judging by the shape everything else was in around here, she sure hoped the oven worked or supper would be quite a challenge.

* * *

Hunter barely heard his cell ring over the noise. Whenever his family got together, noise was a given. He left his sisters talking at the picnic table over their desserts and hiked across Luke’s back deck to get a little privacy. He shouldered through the back door where there was bound to be some quiet. “Hello?”

“Hunter? Glad I caught you.” Milton Denning’s voice crackled over the line. Sounded like he was in the barn with the roar of machinery in the background, making him hard to hear. “Don’t suppose you’re lazing around with nothin’ going on by any chance?”

“Me, lazing?” He glanced out the kitchen window where his family—brother, sisters and half sisters—roared in laughter about something. Something obviously hilarious. “What’s up? Are you running low on milk replacer again? I got a bag you can have—”

“Thanks, but that’s not my biggest problem, not right now.” Milton’s words rumbled with severity. “I’m in the middle of milking without a single hired man.”

“Milking?” He glanced at the clock. “Shouldn’t you be done with that by now?”

“Yep, and I’m not even halfway through—” The phone cut out on Milton’s end, leaving only static and crackle. “—just the two of us—be past bedtime when we finish up if I don’t get more help.”

“This wouldn’t have something to do with Cal stopping by looking for work, would it?” He leaned against the counter, his thoughts drifting to Millie again. He gritted his teeth, trying to banish the woman from his mind. “I suppose it’s inevitable your men would try to find another position knowing Whip’s condition.”

“That’s not it. Money trouble. I can’t afford to pay you, but we can work something out. Maybe trade man hours or something.” Milton blew out a frustrated breath. His phone crackled again. “—I need help tonight. I’m too old for this. Should have retired years ago, but I saw how Whip was. He’s been sick for a long time, he was just too stubborn to admit it. Someone has to look after the cows and fight for the hired men.”

“The thing is, it’s almost my bedtime.” He glanced at the clock above the stove. Seven-eighteen. “I’m up at four for the morning milking.”

“I know what I’m asking, but I’m struggling here.” Milton’s tone stung with wounded pride.

That had to be a tough thing for a hardworking man to admit. Hunter blew out a sigh, did his best not to let the image of Millie into his mind, the one of her standing in line counting coupons, looking too thin and poor and worn-down. He couldn’t stop the lurch of his heart, just like he couldn’t stop hurting for her.

So, her plans hadn’t worked out. It surprised him his bitterness had gone, leaving only regret in its place. Unaccustomed to the ache dead center in his chest, he pressed the heel of his hand there and rubbed.

“Sure, I’ll come.” It wasn’t as if he’d have to see her. She wouldn’t be in the barn. Millie had Whip and her son to take care of—best not to think about the boy—so she’d be busy up at the house. It would be just him, Milton and the cows. “Let me tell Luke. I’m guessing he’ll want to volunteer to help you in the morning.”

“What? Why, that would be Christian of him. Of both of you.” Milton swallowed hard. “You don’t know what this means.”

“Hey, remember when I hired on at Whip’s place? You showed me the ropes. You taught me everything you knew about cows. This is the least I can do for you.” Hunter disconnected, pocketed his phone and checked the window again.

Judging by the way everyone was gaping and pointing at him, Luke had likely told them about his run-in with Millie. Great. He rolled his eyes, shouldered through the door and hiked up the walls around his heart. No way was he letting anyone know, even those he loved most, exactly what having Millie back in town meant. Pain seared with each footstep he took toward those hopeful faces.

“We just heard the news.” His half sister Colbie preened from the picnic table.

“And now he gets a call and he’s going out. Look at him.” His sister, Brooke, gave a flip of her dark hair, violet eyes warm with optimism. “Those are his truck keys.”

“Milton has a problem at the barn.” Best to act cool, as if he didn’t know what on earth they were talking about. He glanced past Colbie and Brooke to where his brother sat beside the twins, who were the youngest of the group. “Luke, I told him you’d pitch in come morning. He’s alone over there.”

“With all those cows?” Luke’s brows shot up with concern. “Tell him I’m in.”

“Good.” Best to leave before they bring up Millie again. Nell, their dear old dog, lifted her head off her paws, her eyebrows quirking with a question. She was a good herd dog, but she’d already put in her work for the day. “Why don’t you stay here, girl, and keep an eye on all those troublemakers?”

She panted in agreement. He stroked her head on his way by her bed on the edge of the deck.

“Hey, Hunter!” Luke’s voice sailed across the yard on a warm wind. “Say hi to Millie for us.”

“Yeah, say hi!” the sisters chorused.

“That would be hard—” he quipped “—as she wants to see me even less than I want to see her.”

He turned on his heel, his boots crunching in the gravel as he headed to his own little house sitting at the end of the driveway. So, his family thought there was a possibility of a reunion? Really? Didn’t they know him by now? Through all the years he’d been a bachelor, including the long decade Millie had been gone, had he once taken an overt interest in a lady?

No. Because he knew where romance led. He knew that love ended. Sure, a marriage may survive, but love? It was too fragile to last. That was the plain and simple truth and nothing on earth could ever convince him differently. He’d seen it in his parents’ marriage and in his own life, thanks to Millie.

Agony shot through him with a crushing intensity that stopped him in his tracks. He pressed his hand to his chest again, reeling with the pain. If he didn’t know better, he’d fear it was a heart attack, but it was simply the old death throes of the love he’d once had for Millie, remaining like a ghostly pain long after the wound was healed.

A little help, please, Lord. He reached out in prayer, hoping the Father above would understand. Hunter opened his truck door, climbed onto the seat and turned the engine over. It hummed quietly as he whizzed down the windows to let out the heat. He knew God had a plan in bringing Millie back to the valley. Her father was dying, and she had issues with her father that she deserved to have resolved before he passed on. Hunter didn’t begrudge her that. He alone knew how hard the man had been on his daughter.

But that didn’t mean Millie’s path had to cross his ever again. Hunter slid the gearshift into Reverse, swung around and nosed down the hill. His family called out to him as he rumbled by, and he did his best not to hear their “helpful” advice as he waved. Thankfully, he left them behind in a cloud of dust when he pulled onto the county road.

No, with Millie in the valley again, his options were clear. Avoid her. That was his new goal in life. He couldn’t go walking around in this kind of torment. He drew a shallow breath, hardly able to get air with the pain pushing in on him.

He could use the crowd at church as a barrier between them. He could send Luke to town for groceries. And as for this evening, he’d keep to the barn with Milton and everything would be all right. Problem solved. If he played it right, he’d never have to see Millie again.

When he reached the Wilson dairy, things were just as he’d expected. The rusty pickup Millie had driven to town was parked neatly at the house across the road. Lamplight shone in the windows. No doubt she was there, finishing dishes or maybe watching TV with her son. No need to worry.

He pulled beside the barn and cut the engine. The hot evening air met him. A giant herd of cattle lowed the moment they saw him. Their unhappy bellowing followed him as he stalked away from the truck.

A shadow moved in the dark depths of the barn. Milton, probably come to say how relieved he was. Hunter tugged down the brim of his hat. The slanting rays made it hard to see who stepped out of the darkness to greet him.

“Hunter McKaslin.” Millie burst into the sunshine, burnished by it. “What are you doing here?”

“The bigger question is why aren’t you over at the house?”

“Because Milton needs help. That’s why you’re here.” She nodded, as if putting it all together. “That’s why he didn’t tell me who he’d put calls in to, and for good reason.”

“Don’t get worked up. I know that look—”

“What look?” She glared, like a warrior woman ready for battle.

“Glaring eyes. Chin tipped up so high you can barely see me over your nose.” He planted his hands on his hips. “It won’t do any good to try and get rid of me. I gave Milton my word.”

“He doesn’t need your help.”

“You mean, you don’t.”

“You’ve helped enough.” The earlier humiliation at the grocery store returned. He’d been a witness to the fact that she’d been unable to pay for all her groceries, and that he’d given the truck a push still rankled. “I can’t be obligated to you. You get that, right?”

“Doesn’t change my intentions.”

“How would you feel if the circumstances were flipped? What if you needed my help?”

“Darlin’, I’d never accept a woman’s help.”

“And I can’t accept yours. This is too much. You know full well I can’t pay you.”

“That’s right.” He squared his hat on his head. “I’m not doing this for money. I’m here for Milton, not you.”

“Oh.” A slap couldn’t have stunned her more. She should have known. Humiliation swept through her, remembering the days when Hunter had shown his sweet side always doing for her, always helping. Crazy that she’d just assumed...well, of course things had changed. “Sorry.”

“If I run the second carousel, can you keep up?” Brash, Hunter shouldered past her toward the door.

She nodded, listening to the beat of his boots against the cement and wishing she was anyplace but here. Being beholden to the man was going to be a bitter pill.

“Don’t worry, Freckles.” His voice rumbled low with a nostalgic warmth. “You’ll hardly know I’m here.”

Why did her pulse skip at the hint of his grin? “That’s what you used to call me when we were...”

“Close?”

“I was going to say in love.” She shrugged. “Water under the bridge.”

“I’ll say.” He shrugged a what-can-you-do? “I’ll take the present over the past any day. How about you?”

“Absolutely. The past is a bummer.”

“Then we’ll leave it floating down the creek with the current. How about it?”

“Sounds good. It’s probably heading toward the ocean about now.”

“Or floating on the tides to Fiji. We were a long time ago, Millie. I say we forget about it.”

“Agreed. Thanks for coming.”

“It’s what we do around here, neighbors helping neighbors.” He paused at the doorway, half swallowed by shadow. “No thanks necessary.”

“The thing is, I don’t see any other neighbors rushing in to help.”

“No, Whip likely broke their good will long ago. He’s a hard man, but he was hardest on you. That was never right.”

“Doesn’t that fall into the category of the past?”

“I’m just sayin’.” Hunter’s iron jaw softened, perhaps a momentary weakness. “Get back to the wash-down. If Milton knew I was standing around shootin’ the breeze when I ought to be working, he’d have my hide.”

“Tempting to say you’d deserve it.”

“No doubt.” An almost-smile curved the chiseled line of his mouth. He disappeared through the barn doors, leaving her alone in the sunshine.

A cow’s moo started the rest of the herd lowing, a loud bawling that shattered the evening’s peace. Shaking her head, she headed inside. Hunter McKaslin back on the Wilson farm again. How about that? She dearly hoped it was not a trend. Having him around here all the time? Could not happen. No way, no how. There was one piece of the past she couldn’t banish down, and it was sitting inside the house with Dad, watching spaghetti Westerns.