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Authors: Denise Hunter

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The Trouble With Cowboys (29 page)

BOOK: The Trouble With Cowboys
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Dear A Mess in Missoula,

    
Change is never easy, but the hardest kind of transformation is the kind that happens on the inside.

33

A
nnie took another spin through town, this time checking the café parking lot and the side streets to the east. There was no sign of Sierra. She had to face it. Her sister wasn’t in Moose Creek.

She turned into a parking slot in front of the Mocha Moose. After last night’s sleep, or lack thereof, she was in desperate need of caffeine.

She was leaving the shop with her cup of java when she ran smack into Miss Lucy on the sidewalk. She steadied the cup, preventing a spill.

“Sorry!” they said simultaneously.

“Oh, honey,” Miss Lucy said after they’d steadied each other. “I heard about Sierra. Have you heard from her?”

Seeing the compassion in Miss Lucy’s eyes, Annie’s eyes stung, threatening to spill over right there on Main Street. She shook her head.

“Come with me.” Miss Lucy led her to the Doll House and ushered her into the shop. The scent of new fabric and glue permeated the store, and the blast of air-conditioning made her shiver.

“Sit down now. Tell me what happened.”

Annie sat and her nervous energy spilled out in the form of words. She didn’t stop with the story of Sierra’s leaving. It flowed right into Dylan’s proclamation of love, and that led right into Sierra’s secret. Annie spilled it all, trusting Miss Lucy implicitly, her thoughts gushing out like water from a broken jar.

“Oh my,” Miss Lucy said when she’d finally run out of words. “What a mess.”

Hearing it all spoken at once only helped Annie see it afresh, and Miss Lucy was right. “Why is this happening? My sister is missing, and my life is falling apart at the seams.”

“I know it feels that way. But have faith. It’ll all work out as God intends.”

“I’m so worried about Sierra and Ryder. I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to them.”

Miss Lucy took her hand. “I’ve been praying for her since I heard. I’m sure she’s fine. She can be a little hasty, but she’s got a good head on her shoulders. She wouldn’t endanger her boy.”

Annie hoped she was right. As impulsive as Sierra could be, she’d never been reckless with Ryder.

“About that other thing. . .”

“Other thing?”

“Your young man.”

Dylan. Annie slanted a grin at Miss Lucy. “He’s hardly that. I
just told you about Luke and Ryder. Have you ever seen such a dead-end relationship as mine and Dylan’s?”

“Luke’s on his way back to Texas even as we speak. I ran into Dylan this morning. He’s the one who asked me to pray for Sierra— and for you.”

That knowledge warmed her through. “But he and Luke are brothers. We couldn’t hide the truth forever. And even if it wasn’t for that, you know how I feel about cowboys.”

Miss Lucy’s lips pursed, accentuating the lines fanning outward. “Yes, I do.”

The weight of the last twenty-four hours pressed down on Annie, crushing her. Her shoulders slumped with the burden. “Despite all my efforts to guide Sierra, I failed. Despite my determination not to fall for a cowboy, I fell. I did the one thing I never wanted to do and
didn’t
do the one thing I promised to do. All my efforts to keep Sierra from becoming like our mother, and look at me . . .
I’m
the one who’s become her.”

“Oh, honey, you couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“I’m head over heels for a cowboy, just like her.”

“Maybe so, but that’s not uncommon. Let’s face it, you can’t throw a rock around here without hitting one.”

“Are we destined to make our parents’ mistakes? I knew the truth, I guarded myself against it, and it still happened.”

“What truth do you mean?”

“You know, Miss Lucy. Cowboys. They’re unfaithful. They leave. Sure, they can be charming and hardworking and otherwise fine, upstanding citizens, but put them in a thousand-square-foot house with a wife and two kids and see how fast they beat a path for the door.”

“Oh, honey.”

“It’s
true
.”

Miss Lucy shook her head. Her eyes looked large and sad behind her Coke-bottle glasses. “It’s not true. And when you talk like that, it hurts my feelings. My dear Murray was a cowboy, and he was the most faithful man that ever walked God’s green earth.”

Annie felt a stab of guilt. She wouldn’t argue with Miss Lucy, but that was one man. So Miss Lucy had found the anomaly. That didn’t mean anything.

“You witnessed a string of deadbeats parading through your life when you were young, and yes, they were cowboys. I understand how it might make an impression. But it’s a false impression.”

Annie locked the denial behind tight lips. She respected Miss Lucy, but the woman was wrong. Some stereotypes were stereotypes for a reason.

“It’s not a matter of cowboys, dear. Your mother, God rest her soul, had awful poor judgment in men. If there was a loser in a fifty-mile radius, she’d have him wrapped around her little finger in five seconds flat.”

“You can’t tell me most cowboys are faithful. Every last one of those men betrayed my mom.”

Miss Lucy tilted her head, her face gentling. “Like you did John? Oh, I know it was only a kiss, honey, but it was a small betrayal nonetheless.”

The woman’s words were like a kick in the solar plexus. Annie took a sip of her coffee, trying to soothe the sting. It didn’t work.

“I hope you’ll forgive me. I didn’t mention it to make you feel bad, dear. I only want you to see that everybody makes mistakes. But each person has the right to stand on his own merits, not be herded into some category. You wouldn’t want someone to judge you by that one mistake, much less judge a whole segment of the population.”

Maybe so, but as she’d said . . . it had only been a kiss. And Annie had realized what she’d done, had felt remorse. That wasn’t the same thing. Even her own father had never looked back.

“I see the reluctance on your face. But, Annie, God loves everyone, even cowboys. And He works in their lives just like He works in yours and mine. Who are we to judge?”

No one could accuse Miss Lucy of beating around the bush.

Is that what I’ve been doing, Lord? Judging people?
It was a nasty thought, one she wanted to shrug off as quickly as possible.

The bell rang over the door, and a family entered, their little girl running to the display window and pointing at a prairie doll in a ruffled yellow calico.

Annie stood, trying to shake off the feelings Miss Lucy had dredged up. She tried for a smile, uncertain whether she was grateful for the talk or not.

“I’ll let you get to your customer.”

“Wait here. It won’t take long.”

“That’s okay, I have some work to do.” Inside and out, it would seem.

Annie left the store in a daze. She felt like she’d just had her bell rung, and maybe she had. The rebuke, no matter how gently delivered, had stung.

She got in her car and turned the key. She thought of Dylan and the way she’d perceived him before she’d known him. Yes, her impression of him had changed along the way. She didn’t think her feelings could’ve grown into love otherwise. She’d come to see him as a man who helped his friends. A man who listened, really listened when you talked. Sure, he liked to have fun. Sure, he was a cowboy. But he was unlike any cowboy she’d ever met.

Her eyes fell on the worn copy of
Pride and Prejudice
poking
from her purse. Was she like Elizabeth Bennet, judging Dylan the way Elizabeth had judged Mr. Darcy—presuming him to be haughty before she even knew him?

Yes, she was. She was no better than Elizabeth Bennet. One would think she’d read the novel enough times to recognize when prejudice reared its ugly head. Apparently not. She’d judged not only Dylan, but every man in cowboy boots all her life, and had never once considered she might be wrong.

How’s that for ironic, Lord? I’ve been both prideful and prejudiced
. No wonder the novel struck a chord with her. How could Dylan even stand her, much less love her?

Annie tore her eyes from the faded cover.
I’ve been wholly unlovely, God. Forgive me
.
Help me to see people as they really are and not as I’ve believed them to be. Help me to see myself for who I really am, not for what I believed myself to be
.

Dear Hesitant in Helena,

    Secrets have a way of coming out into the open. Almost always, they’re better told than discovered.

34

D
ylan pulled out of his driveway and turned toward Bozeman where Luke would board a plane to Texas. He’d miss his little brother. Luke had been a big help around the ranch. The kid could hold his own in the saddle.

Luke stretched out in the passenger seat. “You’ve been quiet today.”

His brother was one to talk. “A lot on my mind.” Dylan couldn’t think of anything except Annie lately. All day, moving cattle, all he thought about was Annie. Annie’s smile, Annie’s touch, Annie’s kiss. Annie, Annie, Annie.

And their supposedly impossible relationship.

She just didn’t love him, that’s what it was. If she felt the way he
did, she wouldn’t let anything stand between them. And that was the thought that had put a hole in his gut all day.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“You been watching too many Lifetime movies.”

Luke shrugged. “Sometimes it helps.”

Dylan knew Sierra hadn’t returned. He’d managed to draw that tidbit out of Abigail, who’d heard it from Shay. Annie was probably biting her nails to the quick and wearing holes in her knees. He whispered another prayer for her, for Sierra and the whole mess of their relationship.

As they approached town, he kept his eyes peeled for an old blue Dodge. It was late on Friday, and with the glut of tourists, he couldn’t scan fast enough.

“Keep your eyes open for a blue Dodge pickup, would you?”

Luke looked out his window. “What for?”

“Friend of mine, her sister’s missing. She took off with some guy.”

“What friend?”

He slowed as he went through town. The bank parking lot was empty. Not even John Oakley was working. No blue trucks down Church Street.

“Annie—the woman who helps me with Braveheart.” Maybe he should call around. Someone might know something.

“Annie Wilkerson? You mean Sierra’s missing?”

“You met her?”

Luke’s brows knotted. “She’s— What happened? Tell me now.”

Dylan frowned at Luke’s urgency. “What’s going on?”

“Just tell me what happened! Stop the truck.”

Dylan gave Luke another look, then pulled into the parallel slot in front of the Mocha Moose.

“Annie and her sister got into it last night, and Sierra took off with some guy in a blue truck.”

“A boyfriend?”

Dylan shook his head, eyeing Luke. Something was going on here. “Don’t really know. Annie tried calling her sister; no answer though. You know something, Luke? If you have information—”

“No, but we have to find her! Did Annie call the sheriff?”

“Sierra’s an adult, and she left of her own free will.”

Luke looked out the window. “With a stranger!”

“A stranger to Annie. What’s this all about, Luke? I thought I asked you to stay away from Sierra.” Last thing he needed was to give Annie another reason to be cross with him.

Luke pressed his lips together. “I don’t want to get into it right now. We just need to find her!”

“All right, all right, settle down.”

“An old blue truck? You know about everyone in town, don’t you?”

“Annie thinks it might be someone from MSU.”

“That’s in Bozeman, right? We should look there.”

“Luke, we don’t have time for this. You have a flight in two hours.”

“I don’t care about my flight. I’m not leaving until we find Sierra.”

Dylan looked at his brother’s set jaw. His brother who, by all appearances, seemed smitten with the girl. But how was that possible? He’d been in town less than a month. They’d been apart much of the time. He supposed it was possible he’d been seeing Sierra.

“What are you waiting for?”

Dylan put the truck in reverse and pulled onto Main Street. “It’ll be a needle in a haystack. Bozeman isn’t exactly Moose Creek.”

They could drive around the campus, around the housing area.
Most of the students in residence were surely on campus by now. How else could he find that truck?

A service station. His old buddy, the one he got parts from, ran one near the campus. Maybe the guy got it serviced there or filled up there regularly. If he went to MSU, it was likely.

He pulled out his phone.

“Who you calling?”

Dylan held up a finger. “Is Matt in?” he asked when someone answered.

“One minute.”

“Calling a buddy of mine over there.“

“Hello?”

“Hey, Matt, Dylan Taylor here.”

BOOK: The Trouble With Cowboys
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