The Marriage Charm (Bliss County 2) (28 page)

The rain had stopped, but it was drizzling, and the wind had picked up. Melody wouldn’t describe herself as miserable, exactly, but it was close. She didn’t know how they did it, but Spence and Jim managed to start a fire when they paused for lunch. Hadleigh’s chicken dish wasn’t going to work, since boiling water was out of the question, so she’d improvised and made fried chicken strips instead and served bagged salad with ranch dressing to complete the meal. The girls devoured every bite as they all sat there and tried to not get blown off the mountain.

The scenery was gorgeous, but it was hard to appreciate with the wind howling at about fifty miles an hour.

And, not to put too fine a point on it, Melody’s rear end hurt, and she was sure almost all the females felt the same way.

Oh, Jim and Spence sat on their horses as if they’d been born on them, but the muscles she’d used the day before were beginning to make themselves known. There were aches in various strategic places.

By the time they made camp, at least not in the pouring rain this time, she was ready to trade her saddle for a comfy couch.

No such option available.

The relentless wind didn’t help, and the tent rocked as the trees echoed with the sound of branches whipping around. There was an eerie whistle in the air. Melody had put together her Hot Brown sandwiches, tried to broil the tops with the small propane torch she used for crème brûlée, but she quickly saw that wasn’t going to work. She didn’t want to be responsible for a forest fire.

So everyone ate soggy turkey sandwiches.

“We could be the worst trail ride supervisors in the history of the world,” she said, lying on her sleeping bag an hour later, after the lamest dinner ever, wondering if the tent was going to get picked up by the wind and whisk her to never-never land. “Jim and Spence have been taking care of everything. They don’t mind the wet, the work, the horses, the wind... My thighs hurt so badly that I could give a whole new meaning to the term bow-legged.”

Bex, also supine on her bedroll, sighed heavily. “I work out every day. If it’s any consolation, my thighs sympathize with yours.”

Hadleigh, who rode frequently, was in better shape. She sat easily, ankles crossed. “Like everything else, it takes practice.”

Melody asked Bex, “Do you want to strangle Miss Sunshine, or should I?”

“We could do it together.” They exchanged a look.

Hadleigh elevated her brows. “Hey, someone needs to stay positive in this tent of gloom and doom. Besides, it doesn’t appear that either one of you—or both of you together—are capable of taking me out. So it isn’t going perfectly. So what? I’m having fun. For one thing, when do we all get to spend time together like this? I miss it. It’s like the slumber parties we used to have.”

Okay, Melody had to agree that she had a point there. She rolled over on her stomach. “I remember you used to tell the best stories. Go for it, H.”

Hadleigh pondered a minute. “Okay, sure, got it. Once upon a time there was this beautiful princess...”

Bex made a derisive sound. “Here’s an FYI. I think that one’s been done before.”

“Hey, give me a minute. There’s this beautiful blonde princess who is incredibly stubborn, and she’s in love—madly—with the sexy police chief of a small town in a place we’ll call Wyoming. They’re both really independent, and they break up and go their separate ways. But he’s a hottie, and more important, a good guy, and they hook up again.”

Melody raised her head so she could look at her friend. “You’re hilarious. Hottie? I hate to inform you, but I don’t remember the Grimm brothers using that kind of language.”

“Well, this isn’t a fairy tale.” Hadleigh shrugged as the wind broke off a branch somewhere, the crack startling as it thudded to the ground. “This princess is pretty stupid and doesn’t realize what she has right under her nose.”

“Stupid? Oh, that’s nice.” Melody still had to admit that she’d love to know where this was going. “Oh, yeah, everyone wants a stupid princess.”

“She
is
blonde,” Bex, the brunette, pointed out, enjoying it.

Hadleigh piped up. “Hey, it’s my story. Can I finish? So, the princess asked the chief—before he became the chief—to marry her many years before, but he was wise, and he said no.”

“Wise?”

“Neither of them was ready. I know all about that.” A blithe wave.

That was certainly true. Hadleigh’s first wedding, had it happened, would have been the mistake of a lifetime.

“There’s a happy-every-after, right? This is an inspiring story. I love it so far.” Melody tried to keep the cynicism to a minimum. “I actually remember that day. Thanks for reminding me, though.” Okay, she couldn’t prevent a little sarcasm, after all.

“And I think the princess should ask him again.” Hadleigh leaned forward. “Listen, this is a secret, but I happen to know
he
bought the diamond that was stolen from her house. He bought it for her. He commissioned that engagement ring, Mel.”

Despite the shriek of the wind, the tent was suddenly quiet. Hadleigh, in pajama pants and a tank top, stared at her. “I shouldn’t spoil it,” she said in a low voice, “because it’s his surprise, but I love you, and I love Spence, and you’re just plain meant to be together. I see him look at you and...” Her eyes were glossy with sentimental tears. “It might be a little-known fact, but Mrs. Arbuckle is his godmother. Tripp told me Spence wanted you to design your own ring, but didn’t know how to go about it, so he called her.”

That explained a lot, but Melody didn’t have any idea what to say.

She’d been waiting for any sign that he was interested in marriage, but of course, he wouldn’t just
say
it.

And yet...he’d delivered cookies in the rain. Fed her cats. Taken kids on a trail ride.

All of those things meant more to her than the ring, believe it or not, and she was deeply touched. Some men couldn’t say the words, she supposed; they expressed them in acts of kindness and generosity, instead.

“How should I go about this proposal?” She ran her fingertips over her eyebrows. “I blew it the last time, shall we keep that in mind? You already know I’m not good at this. I proved it nine years ago, and I have to admit that getting shot down makes me leery of trying again. I don’t know how men do it. It’s like slicing open your chest and presenting the other person with a beating heart.”

“Oh, that’s a romantic picture.” Bex took a chocolate bar from her backpack and broke off pieces, handing them out. “Let’s plan this. It seems like I’m the only sane one here. I’ll go first.”

“The
only
sane one?” Both Melody and Hadleigh took umbrage—and the chocolate, which was really good.

Bex leaned up on an elbow and nibbled, the light of the tent lantern reflecting off her face. “Well, it seems to me that all along, your problem with Spence has been that both of you want to be in control of everything in your lives, and what you have to get is that it’s going to be
one
life. A shared one. Your main obstacle is that you’ve both been fending for yourselves for a long time. Neither of you can give up that role, so you clash at every turn.
You
want to run the relationship and so does he. I don’t think it is a mystery to the rest of us, but the two of you don’t see it.”

This was true campfire talk, but a campfire was impossible, so Melody settled for her sleeping bag and snuggled in with her chocolate. “Oh, wise one, you are a font of advice. How
would
you suggest I go about it?”

Bex gave her a predictable Becca Stuart scowl of reproof. “Trying to help here, okay? I just think you should look him straight in the eye and say
, guess what, I don’t mind moving in with you, but only as your wife.
”

“That’s a romantic proposal?” Hadleigh obviously disagreed as the tent shook under another onslaught of wind. “That’s an ultimatum. Men don’t respond well to ultimatums.”

“Just because you’re the married one, you’re the expert? You and Tripp didn’t exactly get it right the first time. Hardly smooth sailing, if you’ll forgive the cliché.”

Warning: argument brewing.
Melody could only think of one way to stop them, so all she did was say mildly, “I might be pregnant.”

She’d always liked the word
flabbergasted
but had never had occasion to use it in a sentence. Now might be a good time. They both looked shocked, stunned, staggered—pretty much the definition. “I’m not saying I am,” she amended. “What I am saying is it’s a possibility.”

“Spence was that irresponsible?” Hadleigh asked in disbelief.

“Spence? That isn’t flattering. What about me? I was irresponsible, too, but
that
doesn’t surprise you?”

“I’m kind of thinking you want to have his baby,” Bex said in a soft voice. “So, what H is saying is that he feels the same way.”

It was like old times—they were in their jammies, whispering together before they fell asleep—but these were much more grown-up topics. True, they were still whispering about boys, but now it was boys who’d turned into men. Different page, same subject.

Melody would probably have replied but at that moment their tent flap flew open, and three girls tumbled in, all of them out of breath. They started to talk at once, until Melody lifted a hand for silence. “Calm down, and just one of you talk, please.”

“There’s something out there.” One of them, a slim dark-haired girl named Tina, said it with a shudder. “We can hear it. I think it...growled. And it scratched on our tent!”

“It did.”

The camper influx didn’t stop there. Within minutes the entire tent was full of frightened girls, and it was clear that panic was the order of the night.

The wind gusted. One of the girls shrieked. That helped matters not at all, since everyone else shrieked in response. Including Melody, Bex and Hadleigh.

Luckily, it brought Spence and Jim running.

Rumpled and obviously asleep before that moment, because he was wearing only a pair of jeans, Spence pulled open the door, saw the pile of girls and said, “Can someone tell me what’s going on?”

“Scary noise.” Bex was succinct, a trembling twelve-year-old in her arms.

“A scary noise?” He ran his hand through his dark hair. “You have to be sh—...er, kidding me. All this screaming and ruckus over a scary noise? What kind of scary noise? Anyone have more information? Describe the noise.”

“They said it was a growl,” Melody explained. “And something scratching at the tent. Scary noise works for me.”

Behind him Jim said, “Well, son, they ain’t making this one up. We’ve got a bear problem.”

*

W
HAT HE WANTED
was some sleep.

Not much to ask. Forty winks.

Forget it. Unlikely to happen.

Bear problem. That was great news. Bears were pretty dang smart, and they were also tenacious. The only reason they ever bothered humans was if they needed to defend themselves or their young, or if they wanted food.

He didn’t need to be a biologist to figure out what this bear wanted. Food.

He went back to his tent to get a shirt and could hear it crashing around. “What kind? Did you get a gander at it?”

Jim watched him yank a sweatshirt over his head, rifle in hand. “Looks like a brown bear to me, but it could be a young grizzly. Those silvertip cubs look full-grown even when they’re young.”

Grizzly? Now that would be perfect. How big did they get? Oh, they got big.
Big.
He’d met one face-to-face once when he was about fifteen and out camping. Thankfully it just gave him a contemptuous look and walked away.

“That .22 won’t stop him.”

“Might frighten him off,” Jim said. “He’s pretty well trashed one of the tents.”

Spence let out a sound of pure irritation. “It’s those damned cookies. Let’s see. Mix something like berries and nuts with sweets, and guess what? Bears will like it. I thought I asked every camper if she had anything like that to give it to me. I promised she could have it back first thing in the morning, but for tonight I had to hoist it up out of harm’s way. Dammit, that critter is spooking the horses. I can hear them moving around.”

Jim handed him a small bag. “Here’s Pauline’s. With an apology. She’s joined the others in that tent.”

Oh, great, now he was walking bear bait. He turned, high-powered rifle in hand. “Tell me you don’t think every one of those tents doesn’t have some of those damned cookies in them. I was clear, wasn’t I, when I talked about bears?”

Jim gave an unholy grin. He was taking it seriously, but still thought it was funny. “Yup, I’ll bet all of those tents have cookies and God knows what else in them, and you were very clear.”

Spence glanced around. “This is going to be interesting. So do you want to go search for the bear or do guard duty and keep an eye on the horses? I’m not leaving the girls alone. Especially since they probably have more cookies to attract bears.”

Jim tilted his head. “I’ll guard the tent. Since they’re all piled in with Hadleigh and her friends, that makes it pretty easy on me. Can we exchange weapons, though? What you’re holding there would make a statement, and I’ll be guarding precious cargo, including my wife and my daughter-in-law. My gun is just a suggestion to move on. Most critters will do that, but not all, so it’s your choice.”

He agreed, of course, exchanging his weapon for Jim’s, but he hoped the young grizzly theory was a case of mistaken identity. Bears tended to stay with their mothers for quite some time, usually two years. Young bear, fine. Young bear with a protective mother...not so good.

It didn’t really matter. Black bears killed more people than grizzlies or brown bears; bees and wasps were a lot deadlier than any of them. Mother Nature abounded with critters that could do you harm, but usually weren’t interested in people. The bear was after food, which it had found. Now they needed to encourage it to go foraging elsewhere.

“Make the girls tell you the truth,” he warned, checking that the rifle was loaded and ready. “If I discover one of them hoarded a bag of cookies in that tent where they’re all huddled together, I’m going to be really annoyed. Get Mel, Bex and Hadleigh on it.”