A Town Called Valentine: A Valentine Valley Novel (6 page)

“Spring and fall aren’t usually the busy seasons up in the mountains. We get a lot of tourists during the winter and summer. They tend to avoid our muddy seasons between. Besides a teenager working after school, I usually get by with Mrs. Wilcox, my part-time help, but she’s getting old, and the poor thing has been having to call in sick more days lately.”

“That’s too bad.”

“We rely a lot on retirees for seasonal help here. And believe me, lots of people retire to Valentine Valley. It’s away from the big city of Denver, yet not in overly priced Aspen. You’d be surprised at the backgrounds of many of the locals. Not all are residents for generations like the Thalbergs, even though we
are
nestled in the middle of several ranches.”

Emily had heard enough about Nate and decided to keep the conversation on Monica. “So you were born here, too? What was it like growing up in such a small town?”

“Claustrophobic.”

Emily reluctantly shared her laugh.

“But you never feel alone,” Monica continued.

Emily had occasionally felt alone in San Francisco with Greg’s long hours, which was why she filled her days as much as possible, deluding herself that when she had a baby, Greg would spend more time with her, with their little family. The old pain hadn’t dulled, she realized, setting down her fork because of the lump in her throat.

Monica thoughtfully bit into a cheese stick and chewed. “Pretty quickly, you do feel like you’ve met every man. We often used to drive into Aspen to meet all the rich guys. But you know, most of them only wanted one thing from local girls. And let me tell you, there weren’t a lot of brothers on the ski slopes.”

Emily smiled. Both of them glanced toward the street as a commercial van pulled up next to them, the power company advertised on the side. A balding, middle-aged man in jeans, work shirt, and boots came around to them and smiled.

“Hey, Monica,” he said, nodding to her.

“Charlie,” she answered back. “Tell your wife those napkin holders decorated with hearts are hot sellers.”

“Great!” He looked at Emily. “Are you Emily Murphy?”

Surprised, she straightened up from her lazy slouch. “I am.”

“I’m Charlie Bombardo. I hear you were scheduled to have your electric and gas turned on in a couple days. Nate Thalberg knew I was working in the area, so he gave me a call.” He smiled. “He has a way of getting a person moved up the list.”

Damn, had she been so pitiful that he’d done her
another
favor? How was she supposed to rely on her own strengths when people kept assuming she couldn’t?

Monica laughed and shook her head. “That Nate. So what did he promise you?” she asked Mr. Bombardo.

“Lunch and a beer. I’ll be collecting during the Colorado Rockies game next weekend.”

“I—I don’t know what to say, Mr. Bombardo.” Emily heard herself stuttering, knew she hardly sounded professional. “Surely, I should be the one to owe you for this favor.”

“It’s Charlie. And no, don’t worry about it. I’m happy to help. And it’s hardly a favor—you’ll be paying the company for the service.” He grinned. “It’ll just take me a few minutes to make sure your hot-water heater and furnace turn on.”

“Perhaps I should be your guide,” Emily said ruefully. “The last tenants left a mess.”

“I’ll find what I need.”

After he went inside, Emily saw Monica regarding her thoughtfully.

“Well, well,” the other woman said.

Emily held up a hand. “Don’t even think it.”

“Think what?” Monica countered, cocoa brown eyes wide with innocence.

“Anything to do with Nate.”

“He’s doing you a lot of favors.”

Emily pressed her lips together. She might as well be a heroine tied to the railroad tracks the way she inspired Nate to rescue her.

“So you noticed, too,” Monica said. “Whatever he wants for it will be more than worth it if my girlfriends are telling the truth.”

Wanting to clap her hands over her ears, Emily concentrated on her salad.

A
fter a long day of hauling junk to the Dumpster—and no end in sight—Emily washed her face in the blessedly warm water in the restaurant ladies’ room. Miraculously, the plumbing still worked.

She felt bone weary and full of new aches, wondering if her thirties would now feel different than her twenties. She’d heard that the altitude could make her tired and out of breath. Since Greg had left her, she hadn’t made time for exercise like she used to. That would have to change.

Tomorrow. Tonight, the only exercise she’d get would be the walk to the mechanic to hear about her car. She changed into a clean shirt and repacked her backpack before locking the door. Early evening in Valentine Valley echoed with chirping birds and the occasional quiet laughter from open windows.

She walked tiredly down Main Street but still managed to notice the rest of the shops. The scent wafting from Carmina’s Cucina on the other side of Monica’s smelled divine, but she could also have eaten Mexican, or at a diner or a tearoom. And there were so many more ways for tourists to amuse themselves: a gift emporium, art galleries, and a portrait studio to have old-time photos taken. A huge sign advertised an outdoor tour company, and she imagined they did a brisk business in these mountains.

Hal’s Hardware was a welcome sight, and she knew she’d be frequenting it. Perhaps they gave lessons, or had books she could study. At the boardinghouse that morning, she’d seen an old computer with a big square monitor in a corner of the dining room. Were the widows even connected to the Internet? she wondered. They might still have dial-up.

The mechanic at the service station had had a chance to look at her engine and told her that the car would need about five hundred dollars’ worth of work. Emily winced at the thought. Since she didn’t need the car right away, the mechanic agreed to store it for a couple weeks, without charge, until she was ready. As she walked away, she felt embarrassed and frustrated—and grateful for his kindness. She wasn’t used to having so little money and reminded herself that perhaps she’d been spoiled during her marriage—maybe even by her mother. Though Emily had waitressed as a teenager, it had been for spending money, not the essentials.

The grocery store was on Main Street, too, and after stopping there for supplies, Emily walked back to the boardinghouse. The mountains were an impressive blackness rising up against the starlit sky. Then she heard several howls in the distance and picked up her speed, looking at the lights of the Victorian house as a beacon in the night. Only upon reaching the porch did she feel herself relax.

The widows were waiting in the kitchen, all flustered that she hadn’t called them, that she’d been out so late. She refrained from pointing out that she didn’t have their number, but they were ahead of her, giving her the number of the boardinghouse, and insisting they have her cell number in return. She felt uncomfortably tied to them.

“I have my own cell phone,” Mrs. Thalberg said with pride. “My grandkids insist on checking up on me.”

“And she hates that,” Mrs. Palmer said with a roll of her eyes. “I have a cell phone, too, you know, but you don’t see me braggin’.”

“My family knows where to reach me,” Mrs. Ludlow said calmly. “I just don’t see the need.” She nodded toward her walker and spoke without bitterness. “It’s not as if I drive anymore.”

“She has other skills that more than make up for it,” Mrs. Thalberg said, washing her hands at the sink. “Wait until you taste this pot roast she made.”

“Oh, no,” Emily insisted, setting down her bags. “I refuse to allow you to feed me when you’ve been so good to let me stay here.” Although the kitchen did smell incredible.

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Thalberg said. “We all take turns cooking. Today, I was at the ranch, and I knew I’d have a wonderful meal waiting.”

Emily studied Mrs. Thalberg’s corduroys and padded jacket. “Do you go to the ranch often?”

“Though I used to live there, I find I don’t miss it so much, what with my husband gone to his reward. I went to help my daughter-in-law Sandy weed the garden.”

Emily hoped her surprise didn’t show, but Mrs. Thalberg laughed.

“I’m still good for an occasional workday, Emily Murphy. Don’t forget to ask if you need help.”

She didn’t want the widows to see her chaotic building, so all she did was raise both hands to placate them. “I promise I will. Now if you’re going to be so kind as to feed me, I want a place on that cooking schedule.”

She spent a surprisingly enjoyable hour with the widows, received her first baking-at-altitude lesson, then was graciously permitted to use the computer. Though the desktop looked old, with a big, boxy monitor, the Internet connection was pretty good, and she was able to do some research on the work she’d need to do. YouTube had an amazing amount of how-to videos. Hal’s Hardware even had its own website with a complete database of their products online. That seemed rather strange for a small town, but she shrugged her curiosity away.

When she almost fell asleep at the desk, she knew it was time to turn in. Since she’d showered before dinner, she barely remembered hitting the pillow. At dawn, her cell-phone alarm jarred her awake, and just shutting it off made her wince. Sitting up in bed, she circled her shoulders, feeling the aches and knowing it would be a long day. But that was no excuse for not running, she firmly reminded herself.

After dressing in shorts, Nikes, and a zipped sweatshirt over her t-shirt, she went outside just as the sun was rising. Once again, she came up short, staring in wonder at the imposing mountains that seemed so unreal. Would she ever get used to the sight?

Warm-up stretches made her muscles feel a bit better, but her first hundred yards at a light jog almost made her change her mind. Doggedly, she pushed herself a little faster, and this time, when she reached the road that led over the bridge, she went the opposite way, following the fence along the field. Mrs. Thalberg had told her last night that the field was hay to feed the cattle through the long winter, and they’d be harvesting it next month. Then the old woman had said Emily’d better see Nate while she could because come haying season, he’d be working dawn to dusk to get the hay in before the weather could ruin it.

She hadn’t told the widows that Nate had dropped by her building yesterday. She could only imagine what they’d make of that.

With the mountains towering on one side of her, and the rolling green hayfields on the other, she tried to clear her mind and concentrate on nothing at all. In the distance, across the fields, she could see several buildings that must be part of the Silver Creek Ranch. She made out horses and riders, but couldn’t see what they were doing. Yet after a while, even the scenery couldn’t distract her from feeling light-headed, and queasiness followed soon after.

She wasn’t that out of shape, she told herself. But she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Stopping to lean a hand against the fence, she found herself panting, head bent, wondering if she was really going to be sick.

And then she heard the sound of a horse’s hooves thudding on the dirt road. Still breathing too fast, she glanced up and knew in a moment that it was Nate riding down the road toward her, a cowboy fantasy come to life, his body moving in perfect rhythm with the horse, that dog running behind.

Oh God
. He’d seen her drunk and loose, vulnerable and poor, angry and defensive. Was he now about to see her lose the banana she’d had for breakfast?

Chapter Five

N
ate drew back on the reins, and Apollo obediently came to a halt. The horse nickered softly, gesturing with its head at Emily.

“I know what you mean, boy,” Nate murmured, his earlier curiosity at the sight of her running toward him, having turned to exasperation.

She looked clammy and pale, with her breathing coming too quickly. He reached into the saddlebag for a bottle of water, then dismounted. Apollo contentedly bent to graze in the grass beside the road, while Scout danced excitedly at his side, panting from the run.

Emily frowned at Nate, but before she could open her mouth, he held out the water, and said, “You’re not used to the altitude yet. Take some slow, deep breaths, and you’ll start to feel better.”

She winced but did as he ordered, and he could see when she gradually regained control of herself. After a couple sips of water, the color began to return to her face.

“Don’t you work enough at the building all day?” he asked. “Why are you pushing yourself so hard?”

The annoyance faded from her expression as she studied him. “Why do you care?”

He found himself smiling. “Because you’re being nice to my grandmother. And I’m regretting getting her that cell phone because she’s suddenly calling me more than once a day and manages to get your name in there.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a reluctant grin on her lips that reminded him too much of the woman she’d been at the tavern, the one who didn’t seem to exist except when she’d had a couple beers. No, the real woman had problems, lots of them, and that was pealing like a warning bell in his mind.

“Look, I’m sorry your grandmother is annoying you,” she said, bending down to pet a very grateful Scout, who leaned against her legs and gazed up with adoration. “I like her a lot, but I won’t overstay my welcome. She should leave you alone after that. And about Charlie from the power company, you shouldn’t have done that. I can take care of myself just fine. You may get a thrill out of rescuing women, but—”

“Rescuing women?” he countered, chagrined to realize that she saw right through to part of his biggest flaw. If it was only about rescuing women, maybe he could have conquered it already. “I saw him passing on the street and knew you needed a break. And as for right now, if I hadn’t come along, you might be planted facefirst in my hayfield.”

She grimaced. “No more favors, Thalberg.”

His cell phone began to beep, making him grateful for the interruption. Pulling it out of his pocket, he glanced at the screen. “I have to take this.”

“Thanks for the water.”

She walked away at a brisk stride. He didn’t let his annoyance with himself stop him from watching her. For a short woman, she had legs that were long and shapely, and she obviously took care of herself.

Then he swore as he realized his cell phone had gone to voice mail. Before he could call the supplier back, he heard the arrival of another horse and glanced over his shoulder to see his sister, Brooke, bearing down on him, looking past him to Emily.

With a sigh, Nate patted Apollo’s neck and mounted to meet his sister at eye level, which wasn’t difficult when she sat in the saddle almost as tall as he did. Her brown hair was hidden by her cowboy hat, but he knew a long braid trailed down her back, and although it got in the way sometimes, she didn’t cut it. Those intelligent hazel eyes finally settled on him.

“So who was that?” Brooke asked. “I didn’t recognize her.”

“Emily Murphy. She just came to town to see about some old family property she inherited.”

Brooke’s amused eyes suddenly focused on him with new light. “I see.”

He didn’t stiffen, knowing how easily she could read him. “What do you see?”

“Grandma Thalberg was here yesterday.”

He wanted to wince. “Then you know everything I do. I’m sure Emily will be gone soon enough, and we can go back to knowing just our regular neighbors’ business.”

It was bad enough he couldn’t get Emily out of his mind, but he certainly didn’t need his sister or brother to know that. Although with the way Josh had been picking fights, maybe rumors of woman trouble would distract him.

“So what happened to Ashlee?” Brooke asked.

Nate frowned. “What do you mean? Is something wrong with her?”

“Oh, Nate, you’re hopeless,” Brooke said with a groan. “No, there’s nothing wrong with her. Although shouldn’t you know that since you’ve been dating her?”

“
Was
dating her. We cooled it off.”

“You mean
you
cooled it off. Had she reached the ten-date limit?”

He guided Apollo back down the road, away from town. Brooke’s gelding ambled alongside, while Scout trotted beside them, occasionally pausing to stick his nose in a hole.

“I don’t have any dating limits,” he said mildly, then remembered that Josh had first come up with that supposed rule.

“Oh, please. Every girl in Valentine knows your dating rules. I think Ashlee let her hopes get too high.”

“No, she didn’t,” Nate said patiently. “She sensibly asked me if I’d like to take our relationship deeper, and I regretfully said no. No tears, no recriminations.” Ashlee and all the others like her were safe from him—he knew when to stop himself from getting too involved, saw the warning signs a mile away—except where Emily was concerned.

“She knew the score, like every woman in Valentine Valley.” Brooke glanced over her shoulder as if she could still see Emily. “But this woman’s new. Someone will have to explain how it all works to her. You can’t trust Grandma Thalberg for that. If it were up to her, we’d each be married already.”

“Married?” He smiled. “You have a barrel-racing career to advance.”

She snorted. “You know I’ll be lucky to win at our rodeo, let alone take my meager talents on the road.”

With a laugh, he said, “Don’t worry about Emily. She doesn’t seem to be the tenderhearted sort. She’s fixed on repairing her property, selling it, and leaving.”

“Your ideal woman.”

“Will you stop it?” he demanded with exasperation. “You can find out the truth all by yourself the next time you see Monica Shaw. As I was leaving yesterday, I saw her curious face peering out at me. You can bet she’s hightailed it next door already.”

Brooke’s face lighted up at the mention of her best friend. “Then I know who I have to visit today.”

“We’re going out to inspect the irrigation ditches at Cooper’s Mine. Dad and Josh are waiting for us up at the barn. I think we have some holes that need plugging. That could take all day.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring my hip boots. That’ll help me wade through the bullshit you always spout.”

With a tap of his bootheels, he had his mount dancing up against hers, and laughing, they took off at a gallop for the barn, Scout chasing them with eager excitement.

The Silver Creek Ranch was a sprawling complex of a half dozen buildings beside the main house on its thousand acres. They even had a bunkhouse for use mostly during calving and branding season, when neighbors and extra help could stay the night. The ranch was a family business, manned by Nate and his parents and siblings. They had been self-sufficient for generations, and proud of it.

But the last thirty years or so, things had changed in the Roaring Fork Valley, as skyrocketing land prices made selling out family ranches far too easy to do. But the Thalbergs stood for tradition in Valentine, and Doug Thalberg had wanted to do what his father and grandfathers before him had done, run cattle.

And Nate had been able to continue his father’s family traditions, with a little smart investing, and he’d never been prouder. And it hadn’t taken anything away from the job he did day to day on the ranch—he made certain of that.

Josh and their dad were just leading a saddled horse out of the barn. Ducks quacked and scattered out of the way, heading back to the pond. Josh would be driving the ATV in case they needed extra supplies quickly. Doug Thalberg squinted out over his land with the narrowed, gray-eyed gaze of a man who knew the worth of what he did. He had the same brown hair as Brooke and Josh, but his was going gray, along with his mustache.

Josh, as usual, looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, rumpled and unshaven, but always alert and ready for whatever the weather and the ranch would bring that day. His eyes, so similar to their father’s, saw the world kindly, but lately he’d been focusing too sharply—needlessly—on Nate.

“Nate, did you get word about the part for the swather?” his dad asked, all business. “The hay won’t cut itself.”

“And the cattle won’t feed themselves this winter,” Brooke added, grinning at their father’s oft-repeated phrases.

Josh smiled at their sister.

“He just called,” Nate said. “I’ll head to the office and call him back right now. You all go on ahead, and I’ll meet up with you.”

“Take your time,” Josh said. “We can handle the dams.”

“Nope,” Nate said briskly. “I won’t be long at all.”

“Afraid I’ll move my dams quicker than you will?” Josh taunted, grinning.

He sounded completely good-natured, but Nate knew a challenge when he heard one. Lately, everything with Josh ended up with a challenge.

“Not a chance,” Nate said. “I always do my share.”

Josh studied him, then shook his head. “I know you do.” He headed for the truck shed where the ATV was parked.

Brooke and their father mounted and rode off, several ranch dogs chasing them, but Nate stood with his hands on his hips, watching until Josh disappeared inside the shed.

Lately, Josh had this crazy idea that Nate was trying to do too much, spreading himself too thin, and Nate was mightily offended. He’d spent years juggling the ranch investments, his own, as well as his ranch chores. Nate tried to ignore Josh’s concern rather than confronting him outright, partly because he didn’t want their father to think something was wrong. When Nate had insisted on going to Colorado State while his parents would have preferred he go to school closer to home, things had changed between Nate and his dad. He got the feeling that Doug Thalberg thought he was going to leave the ranching business—much as he’d always told Nate he could choose whatever career he wanted. A subtle tension had worked its way into their relationship even though Nate had majored in animal sciences along with business.

When Nate was young, there was always a part of him that wondered if Doug could think of him as a real son because he’d been adopted. Nate’s biological dad had married his mom, then abandoned them when Sandy had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Nate, only four at the time, had brief memories of his mom’s sorrow, and that perhaps things had been hard, but his mom made sure he never knew it. A year later, Doug had fallen in love with Sandy, and when he married her, he adopted Nate. True to his word, the adoption had been a pact between them, and Nate didn’t think his dad could possibly love him or his mother more.

College had seemed to change something between them, and it had taken years to work itself out. They were fine now, and he didn’t want Josh upsetting things. Nate had the ranch’s best interests at heart, and he knew what he was capable of—Josh didn’t. So many mountain ranching families couldn’t make a living and had to sell out, but Nate had found a way to bring more money in. His wide variety of investments—rodeo stock, organic farms, even a winery at lower altitude—were a challenge to manage, and he’d certainly never imagined the pleasure he’d take in coordinating so much, including the Silver Creek Rodeo, a month away.

That reminded him—after his phone call with the parts supplier, he could check out the online registration and make sure all the program advertising was in place.

There was always so much to do, enough to keep thoughts of Emily Murphy at bay, to his complete satisfaction.

A
s Emily got dressed after her shower, thoughts of Nate kept interfering. He’d looked so damn good riding toward her like a cowboy out of a Western movie. She had no idea cowboys still wore chaps, but they’d covered his jeans, fringe flapping at the edge. He’d worn a heavy work jacket, gloves dangled from his belt, and even had a scarf about his neck as if he’d need to cover his face in a dust storm. A dust storm in the Rockies? That almost made her smile.

But she hadn’t been smiling when she’d seen him. She’d been panting, and not out of lust but out of stupidity. Of course she’d heard about taking it easy when exercising at altitude. She’d just totally forgotten. Did he think she’d done it on purpose to get his attention? After all, she’d been jogging on his family land. But she’d stuck to the road. She’d been all ready to be upset at the implication she couldn’t take care of herself, and once again, he’d simply thanked her in regard to his grandmother. Nate Thalberg was making it too easy to forget what they’d done together that first night.

No, that was a lie—she couldn’t possibly forget. She still woke up in the middle of the night remembering how good she’d felt in his arms.

Maybe he wanted her to forget. She was living with his grandmother, after all. He was hardly going to proposition her under those circumstances. It had taken alcohol to make him do so in the first place, she thought with a sigh.