Читать книгу Beneath Montana Skies - Mia Ross - Страница 13

“Hey there, cowgirl.”

Holding a fifty-pound bag of sweet feed balanced on her shoulder, Morgan Whittaker froze in midstep. It couldn’t be, she thought, before it occurred to her that was just wishful thinking. The once-familiar voice behind her could only belong to one person, and although she hadn’t heard that smooth tenor in ages, she’d recognize it anywhere.

Very slowly, she turned halfway around and let her eyes confirm her suspicion. Thankfully, she was wearing her mirrored aviator sunglasses, so he couldn’t see the contempt she knew must be plain in her eyes. “Tyler Wilkins. What’re you doing here in Mustang Ridge?”

Under the brim of his cream-colored Stetson, the gold tinting his hazel eyes sparked with a bit of his infamous temper. But it quickly mellowed, replaced by one of those easygoing grins that had charmed her—and countless other women—for so long. “Well, now, last time I checked, this was my hometown, too. I haven’t been to Montana in a while, so I figured it was time for me to make a visit.”

“I’d say seven years is more than a while.” For her, it was a lifetime ago. She was almost thirty now, and for her those days were a distant memory. From the look of things, nothing had changed for him, except that his rangy, athletic build had filled out a bit. He was more solid now, but she knew from hard-won experience that was just an illusion. There had never been anything solid about Ty. Unfortunately for her, she’d discovered the truth about him too late. “And since it’s June, shouldn’t you be headed to Reno for that big roundup I read about? The article said the humongous rodeo purse is drawing every able-bodied cowboy west of the Mississippi.”

Something flashed across his weathered features, and for a brief moment she thought it almost looked like regret. Then again, the cocky bull rider had never been prone to remorse, even when he was clearly in the wrong. The look vanished quickly, and she decided it had just been a trick of the sunlight and shadows underneath the overhang that shaded the sidewalk in front of Big Sky Feed and Seed.

“Not goin’ this year,” he said simply, hooking his thumbs into his wide leather belt.

She noticed that he wasn’t wearing his prized silver champions buckle because, really, you couldn’t miss one of those if you tried. Something about him wasn’t adding up for her, and while she shouldn’t care, she had to admit that she was suddenly curious about what had brought him home. Figuring it couldn’t hurt to ask, she dove in boots first. “Why not?”

He didn’t answer, and when he took a step toward her, she instinctively pulled away. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

“Taking that bag of feed before it caves your shoulder in.”

Suddenly aware that she’d slumped a bit under the weight, she straightened up and glared back at him. “I’m perfectly capable of handling it myself.”

“Suit yourself.”

He didn’t retreat, but he did drop his hands. Realizing that people were beginning to stare at them, she ignored his helpful gesture and heaved the bag into the back of her 4x4. She turned to catch him wearing an expression that struck her as being almost mournful before a half grin rushed in to replace it. “To answer your question about the rodeo, I’m just taking some time off. No big deal.”

Any idiot could tell there was more to the story than that, but she didn’t have the time or the patience to drag anything more out of him. Besides, he was obviously not keen to talk about it, or he would have spilled his guts to her already. She still couldn’t believe he’d approached her in the middle of the street this way. Then again, he’d probably been hoping that a meeting in public would keep things between them more or less civil. Apparently, he’d gotten smarter since the last time she saw him.

She’d mostly recovered from the shock of seeing him, so she called up her backbone and opened the driver’s door. “Well, enjoy your vacation. Bye.”

She climbed into the cab and reached out to pull the door closed, but he stopped it with a strong hand scarred from years of rope burns and broken bones. Glancing down at the door and then up at her, he asked, “What’s this decal for the Mustang Ridge Conservancy about? I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s a new organization in town,” she explained as patiently as she could. “There’s a group of local residents working to make sure this area stays the way it is and out of the clutches of a big energy developer that’s been sniffing around the last few months.”

“Looking for what?”

“Natural gas and oil. That may or may not be under the ground, and may or may not be feasible to pump out of where it is.”

A slow grin worked its way across the face that was still way too handsome for the good of any woman within ten miles. “You sound mad.”

“I am,” she spat. “What they’ve got in mind will destroy the environment, and the idea of it makes me furious. My family’s been here on our original homestead for generations, and so have plenty of others. If we have anything to say about it, that land will stay the way it’s always been.”

“Sounds like a tough job.”

“We’ll figure it out.” They had to, she added silently, because the alternative wasn’t even worth thinking about.

“Speaking of your family, I was hoping to stop by and see JD while I’m in town. Ya think that’d be okay?”

Her father would probably take one look at his visitor and start choosing a shotgun from the rack in his den. In all honesty, Morgan thought that would be entertaining to watch. “It’s fine with me. If he doesn’t want to see you, I have no doubt he’ll tell you so.”

Ty stared at her through narrowed eyes, the brim of his hat adding an old gunslinger effect to the look. After a moment, though, that infernal grin was back in place. “We’re neighbors, so we’re gonna have to deal with each other at some point. No time like the present, right?”

Morgan didn’t really care if he dropped off the face of the earth and was never seen again. But that sounded childish, even to her, so she went with a noncommittal shrug. “Whatever.”

“My truck’s over there,” he commented, nodding to a flashy silver extended cab model parked across the street. It made her keenly aware that the mud-spattered vehicle she was driving was looking pretty ragged these days. “Mind if I follow you out there?”

“Whatever.”

This time, he wisely let her close the door. She gave it a little more muscle than was strictly necessary, and the slam echoed off the two-story buildings that flanked both sides of the small Main Street business district. She started the engine, then noticed that he was still hanging in the open window, arms spread wide as if he was reluctant to let her go. Tamping down her impatience to be free of him, she glowered up at him. “Was there something else, Ty?”

“Yeah.” After a deep breath, he grimaced and said the words she’d given up on ever hearing. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she demanded, his remorse only adding fuel to her temper. “Slinking out of Houston in the middle of the night, or never having the guts to tell me why?”

“Both, and all the other things I did wrong with you. With us,” he added in a somber tone. “You deserved better than what you got from me, but I want you to know that I honestly loved you.”

A flood of long-buried emotions was threatening to swamp her good sense, but Morgan ruthlessly shoved them back into the dark recesses of her heart where they belonged. The boy she’d once loved had let her down in the worst conceivable way, and no matter how handsome or contrite the man standing in front of her seemed to be, she had no intention of letting him off the hook now. Or ever.

“Thanks. You know the way.”

As she started the engine, he gave her the kind of lost-puppy-dog look that she’d never seen from the arrogant cowboy she’d known most of her life.

“Can you forgive me?” he asked.

Angling a look at him from behind her sunglasses, she cocked her head in a show of considering his request. And then, because he totally deserved it, she brought the hammer down on him. “No.”

With that, she shifted into Reverse and backed out of her spot, not caring whether she ran over his fancy riding boots or not. She caught sight of him in her rearview and tried not to be jealous of him as he strode across the street and beeped his truck open with one of those fancy new key fobs that did everything but order pizza for you.

Who did he think he was, anyway, she fumed while she sped out of town and toward the sanctuary of her family’s ranch. Ambushing her like that, apologizing as if what he’d done to her was no big deal?

It had been an enormous, life-altering deal for her, and while things had turned out well enough, she resented the fact that he’d been able to blithely go on to enjoy a fabulous career when she’d had to sacrifice her own.

That was in the past now, she reminded herself, feeling the wind pick up as she increased her speed outside the town limits. Not far from the quaint shops and vintage theater, the scenery changed dramatically, and she felt her temper subsiding as she looked around her at the most beautiful place she’d ever seen. Mile after mile of wild beauty and rolling free-range pastureland flew past, broken up by ranches and small farms that seemed to be part of the landscape instead of built on top of it. Off in the distance the sun reflected off the southern face of the Bridger Mountains, giving them a cloud-like appearance that was still unlike anything she’d ever seen.

During her rodeo career, she’d traveled all over the country, racking up one barrel-racing trophy after another because she and her half-mustang palomino, Sadie, were just a tick crazier than their competition. But no city or town she’d ever been to could hold a candle to home. That was what made it home, she supposed as she turned into the long drive marked by a hand-carved sign that read Whittaker Ranch—1882.

Driving between long lines of board fence, she caught sight of her mare and smiled for the first time since Ty had rattled her in town. She pulled over and was mildly annoyed when he followed suit. Determined not to let him ruin her moment, she grabbed some dried apple slices from the stash she kept in the glove box and got out.

Sadie’s ears perked up when Morgan came around the car and headed for the fence. Nickering a greeting, the gorgeous horse tossed her head like the diva she was and pushed against the top rail, craning her neck to reach the treats.

“Hold on to yourself,” Morgan teased, using her father’s equine version of hold your horses. Sadie angled a look at her, and she laughed as she held out a handful of Sadie’s favorite snack. They were gone in an instant, and while she was snuffling around for more, she noticed Ty.

Blowing out an excited breath, she danced along the rail to where he was standing, arms spread over the top as if he’d been waiting for her to notice him. He showed her his empty hands, but apparently she didn’t mind that he didn’t have anything for her. Nosing under his palm, she nudged him into petting her cheek, then ruffling her forelock the way she liked.

“Traitor,” Morgan grumbled, but the horse didn’t seem to care that she wasn’t happy.

“How are you, Sadie girl?” their unwelcome visitor cooed, a bright smile lighting his face. “It’s been so long, I wasn’t sure you’d remember me. Clyde’s on his way, should be here day after tomorrow. Maybe we’ll come by and you two can get reacquainted.”

“If Clyde’s coming, you must be planning to stay,” Morgan said, hoping she sounded casual about the prospect. She’d assumed he was on vacation, and learning that he was planning to stick around awhile didn’t exactly thrill her.

“Not sure right now,” he hedged, rubbing Sadie’s cheek in a pitifully obvious attempt to avoid Morgan’s gaze.

Typical Ty, she thought bitterly. Look up commitmentphobe in the dictionary, you’d probably find his picture. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. She didn’t want to care, but there was a teeny tiny part of her that still did. Stupid, but true.

A bit of compassion for him bubbled free of her control, and she heard herself saying, “Well, I’m sure you’ll get it all figured out.”

Glancing up from under his hat, he gave her the kind of sheepish look she’d never seen on him before. “Thanks.”

He’d stopped petting Sadie, and the spirited animal snorted her disapproval. Clearly out of patience, she gave another head toss before wheeling away from the fence and galloping off in the stunning burst of speed that had made her—and her fortunate rider—a champion many times over.

“Still gorgeous,” Ty murmured, his gaze tracking the mare as she seemed to float over the ground. Then he looked over at Morgan, and his mouth crinkled in the boyish half grin that had first buckled her knees as a teenager. “Both of you.”

It was a blatant attempt at getting on her good side, making her forget that he’d abandoned her after one of their infamous fights and had never looked back. Scowling at him for all she was worth, Morgan turned on her heel and stalked back to her car. That’s what she got for showing him some sympathy, she railed silently as the engine roared to life and she jammed the transmission into gear. The sound of gravel spitting out from under the tires perfectly matched her mood as she flew up the driveway toward the house.

If Ty Wilkins thought a few sad looks and canned compliments were going to undo what he’d done to her, that cowboy had another think coming. Once he left town, everything would go back to the way it was before he showed up. She just wished he hadn’t taken it into his head to make a detour to Mustang Ridge.

She could have happily lived the rest of her life never laying eyes on him again.

Still a spitfire.

The thought flew through Ty’s mind almost as fast as Morgan’s 4x4 was speeding away from him. During his long drive up from Texas, he’d spent a lot of his time picturing what it might be like when he encountered the fiery cowgirl again. Some of the scenarios had been downright frightening, to the point that he’d almost reconsidered the wisdom of his approach.

Then it had occurred to him that he owned nothing in this world except a few acres of land, some rodeo trophies and his truck.

Although the truck wouldn’t be his much longer, he reminded himself grimly. He’d be delivering it to its new owner tomorrow, and then he’d start hunting for something he could afford. After hitting rock bottom a few months ago, he’d come dangerously close to being forced to sell his horse. By sheer, stubborn will, he’d managed to hold on to the prized cutting horse, but it had been a near thing. He’d gotten some insane offers, but even for a down-and-out cowboy, some things were priceless.

He might have lost everything else—including his dignity—but he still had Clyde. It was one of the few victories he could claim recently. Actually, he amended as he eased himself into the cab to follow Morgan, it was the only victory. That was the unexpected advantage he’d discovered in losing pretty much everything you once considered important. Whatever you had left meant a lot more to you.

At the end of the driveway was the same sprawling farmhouse he recalled from his childhood. Driving toward it, he admired the menagerie of animals grazing in the two pastures that flanked the gravel lane. While they came across as gritty ranchers, in truth the Whittakers were all softhearted critter collectors who couldn’t seem to turn away anything that needed a home. Among the kaleidoscopic herd of about twenty horses, he spotted several goats, a cluster of sheep and something that looked suspiciously like a miniature camel.

The latter slowly raised its head, chewing its cud in a back and forth motion that gave its shaggy face a pensive appearance. When it levered its head back and brayed, it made Ty think of a tractor transmission grinding to a halt in the middle of a field. That he still remembered the death-knell sound from his days as a farmhand was actually amusing, and he couldn’t help chuckling. Some things stayed with you, he supposed, no matter how far away you’ve drifted from your roots.

Pulling into the circular turnaround near the house, he parked next to Morgan’s car and winced as he slid to the ground. The back that had once been his strongest asset wasn’t what it used to be, but bearing in mind what it had gone through, his doctors had told him that he was fortunate to be upright. Injuries like his weren’t just career enders—they often turned out to be fatal. For some reason, he’d been spared that horrific fate, and whatever the future held for him, he was determined to meet it standing on his own two feet.

Like him, the Whittaker farmhouse had seen better days. Built of sturdy Montana pine, the framework looked as solid as ever, but the clapboards and roof were in need of some TLC. When the dog sprawled out near the front door caught sight of Ty, she jumped to her feet and trotted down to greet him much the way Sadie had.

“Hey there, Skye,” he said, ignoring the protest in his back as he hunkered down to pet the speckled Aussie. “How’ve you been?”

She answered him with a short yip, turning her head to lick his palm in an obvious bid for more attention. When Morgan paused beside them, he looked up to find her staring down at him, arms folded in a gesture he couldn’t quite read. When she didn’t say anything, he figured it was up to him.

“It’s nice to see some friendly faces,” he commented, carefully unwinding to stand up. She didn’t respond, and he decided to try some humor. “Even if they are furry and standing on four feet.”

A hint of the wry grin he recalled teased the corner of her mouth, and when she removed her sunglasses, he saw a glimmer of appreciation in those incredible blue eyes. Her waterfall of blond hair was tamed back into a ponytail that fell down her back beneath her straw cowgirl hat, but a few of the curls he’d always admired had escaped to frame her tanned face in a cloud of gold.

On the day he met her in first grade, he’d believed Morgan Jo Whittaker was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. In all the years he’d been on the rodeo tour, he’d met dozens of women, but he’d never come across one who even came close to changing that opinion.

Morgan was one of a kind, he thought for the millionth time. Beautiful, smart as a whip, with a sassy personality that both frustrated and fascinated him. And he’d walked away from her. What an idiot.

Now she was looking up at him, wearing a curious expression that made him feel like a bug squirming on a slide under a microscope. Trying to appear calm, he endured the scrutiny in silence, hoping it wouldn’t last too much longer.

It didn’t. “What are you really doing here, Ty?”

“I told you in town. It was time for a visit.”

She took one step closer and stopped, those intelligent eyes boring into his with an intensity he’d rather not experience again. “You used to be a better liar.”

That was true enough, and he couldn’t keep back a chuckle. “Not enough reason to do it anymore, I guess. You want the truth?”

“It’d be a nice change of pace.”

Stepping onto the porch, he motioned her to one of the handmade rocking chairs. When they were both seated, Skye plopped down on a braided rug between them, and for a single insane moment, Ty got a picture of how their life might have been if he hadn’t messed everything up.

Behind them, a burly shadow appeared in the screen door, and Ty pushed himself to his feet. “Afternoon, JD.”

With a “hmpf” that gave nothing away, the owner of Whittaker Ranch came through the door, letting it fall closed behind him with a sharp crack. His battered boots thumped ominously on the old floorboards, and Ty got the feeling of standing in front of an old-time sheriff, waiting for some kind of judgment on his character.

Sliding a quick glance at his daughter, JD leveled a cool glare at Ty. “I oughta run you offa this place at the end of a Smith & Wesson for what you did to my girl.”

“I’m very sorry for everything that happened,” Ty began, trying to keep his voice steady. He respected JD for many reasons, feared him for others. Right now, he was just trying to hold his ground and remember that he was nearly thirty years old and not the dumb kid he’d once been.

“Did you apologize to my Morgan?”

Ty loved the way he said it, as if she was a little girl still in need of her daddy’s protection. Someday, if he was ever fortunate enough to have a family of his own, he’d be as fiercely protective of them as JD was of his.

“Yes, sir, I did.” Looking over at her, he added, “I’m hoping she’ll find a way to forgive me someday.”

The lady in question didn’t say anything, but she wasn’t glaring at him anymore, either. He took that as a positive sign.

Apparently, JD had noticed the same thing, because the old wrangler chortled. “I don’t see any fresh holes in your hide, so you must’ve done all right. Are ya thirsty?”

“Parched. I left Denver around six this morning and didn’t stop till I got here.”

“Long drive.” After a quick trip inside, JD came back with three glasses of lemonade. He handed them out, then settled onto the porch swing and crossed his boots on the porch floor in front of him. “So, what’ve you been up to?”

Ty nutshelled the past couple of years for his host, skimming over the worst of it to avoid a lot of questions he’d rather not answer just yet. Throughout the conversation, Morgan was unusually quiet, and he kept casually glancing her way to gauge her reaction to what he and JD were saying. Mostly, her face was maddeningly unreadable, and he found himself back in high school, wondering what was running through that quick mind of hers.

She’d always had a great poker face, and it seemed that she’d improved it over the years. Why she’d felt the need to do that, he couldn’t imagine. While it wasn’t any of his business, he couldn’t help wondering what had caused her to cultivate such a close-to-the-vest attitude.

Suddenly, Skye bounced to her feet and darted off the porch to begin an easy herding lope up the long driveway toward the road. When a yellow school bus appeared in the distance, Ty chuckled. “Her hearing’s better than mine. I never heard it till just now.”

“I’m convinced that dog can tell time,” JD announced confidently. “No matter what the school schedule is, she always seems to know when the girls are coming home.”

“Girls?”

“My girls,” Morgan explained, emphasizing the word my for some reason.

“I didn’t know you were a mom, too. Is there anything around here you can’t do?” Ty said, hoping to soothe her ruffled feathers with a little well-placed admiration. It wasn’t all that hard, he mused. She was still the same remarkable woman she’d always been. There wasn’t a day that went by when he didn’t kick himself for leaving her behind.

“Not so far,” she replied, arching an eyebrow in the haughty expression he recalled vividly. He’d been the target of that look far too many times to count, and it was burned into his memory forever.

The girls in question took their time walking up the driveway, with Skye flitting from one to the other in typical Aussie excitement. Ty got the impression that she was herding them toward the house, and he smiled at the picture. Country girls under a big, beautiful sky. Life didn’t get much better than that.

As they drew closer to the house, he noticed something about them that made him stare over at their mother in surprise. “They’re twins.”

Morgan didn’t respond, but JD proudly chimed in, “Allie and Hannah. Every bit their mama’s girls, that’s for sure. Hannah’s sharp as a tack, and Allie’s got a real way with critters, big and small. That’s how we ended up with Teddy.”

“Teddy?”

“The alpaca,” JD clarified, nodding toward the odd animal Ty had noticed on his way in. “A friend of hers had to move away, and the family couldn’t take livestock to their new neighborhood. Allie begged us to take him in, and—”

He ended with a shrug, and Ty laughed. “You couldn’t tell her no. Why does that sound familiar?”

“Hey, now, that’s not fair. He told me no plenty of times,” Morgan protested.

“I was talking about your little sister, Jessie,” Ty clarified, taking a drink of his lemonade to sell the comment to her. That got him the raised eyebrow again, and he couldn’t keep back a grin. To his relief, the look mellowed slightly, and while she didn’t exactly smile back, at least she wasn’t glaring at him anymore.

When they saw who was sitting on the porch, the girls broke into a run, although one of them lagged behind by a few steps. As she got closer, Ty could see that she was doing her best to keep up with her faster twin but couldn’t quite manage it. In response, Skye slowed her pace and circled around the girl, as if encouraging her to keep going. Something about that twanged his heart deep inside, in a way he’d never felt before.

Shoving away the baffling reaction to someone else’s child, he waited for JD to make the introductions.

“Girls, this is Ty Wilkins, an old friend of ours who’s back for a visit. Ty, this is Hannah—” he pulled one of them close “—and Allie.” With her, JD paused a moment to let the comment sink in before smiling at her. After a couple of seconds, she answered with a faint smile before moving past him to where Morgan was sitting.

Ty didn’t have much experience with kids, but he knew a shy girl when he saw one. Standing, he took off his hat the way he’d been taught and smiled at each of them in turn. “Ladies, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Hannah thrust a hand at him, shaking his with a firm confidence that reminded him of her bold mother. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

Wow, that was a kick in the teeth, he mused. Made him sound ancient. Then again, to her he probably was. Allie didn’t venture out to follow her sister’s lead, and he settled for another smile in her direction. “Your grandpa’s been telling me about how you ended up with an alpaca named Teddy. It was real generous of you to give him such a good home.”

“He’s a good boy,” she allowed in a voice so quiet, he had to strain to hear it. After that, she patted Morgan’s cheek and drifted into the house without another word.

Obviously, there was something different about her, but he’d never dream of asking what it might be. Fortunately, her twin filled in the blank for him. “Allie has a-tism, so she’s shy around people. It was nice of you to talk about Teddy, ’cause she really likes him.”

Following that very straightforward explanation, she skipped inside, Skye right on her heels.

The revelation hung in the air, creating an awkward silence that Ty had no clue how to fill. Morgan looked especially uncomfortable, and JD reached over to grasp her hand in a reassuring gesture. “Both our girls are special. That’s what we focus on, right, honey?”

“Right.” She made a valiant attempt at a smile that fell woefully short. Standing, she said, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to check on things inside, then unload that feed I bought in town. Hope you enjoy your visit, Ty.”

He suspected that she didn’t come close to meaning that, but as she disappeared inside, he couldn’t really blame her for not welcoming him with open arms. She’d told him she’d never forgive him, and he believed her.

“Well, I’d best get over to my place and see how bad that old cabin looks,” he said, putting his hat back on before extending his hand to his neighbor. “Thanks for the talk and the lemonade. I enjoyed ’em both, just like always.”

That leathery hand held on to his for an extra pump before letting go. Then JD gave him a sage look, as if he knew what Ty was keeping from them all. “You’re welcome here anytime, son. Starting over ain’t easy, but it might go better if you get a little help once in a while.”

“What makes you think I’m starting over?”

“I was born during the day,” the old rancher told him with a chuckle, “but not yesterday.”

Grinning, Ty strolled out to his truck feeling a lot more chipper than he had just a couple of hours ago. As he drove out and headed for his place on the other side of the Whittakers’ east pasture, something about Morgan’s twins was nagging at him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something about them that felt familiar to him.

They were both the spitting image of their mother, he reasoned. That must be it. But even as he tried out that explanation in his head, it didn’t sit right with him. Then, because he couldn’t think of anything else, he put it out of his mind. As JD had noted, starting over wouldn’t be easy, but he had a lot of years left, and he had to come up with a productive way to spend them. What that might be, he couldn’t say, because the only skills he’d ever had any interest in learning were useless outside the rodeo arena.

Beyond that, the modest Cape-Cod-style cabin he’d referred to hadn’t been lived in since his parents had moved away five years ago. No doubt, there was enough work to do there to keep him well occupied and prevent him from thinking too much about the still amazing—and still maddening—Morgan Whittaker.