Trusting the Cowboy (7 page)

“And how is your work with Maddie Cole going?” Aunt Laura asked Jodie, as Lauren poured them all more tea.

Maddie was a professional singer Jodie had accompanied at a concert held before Lauren came to the ranch. Maddie had been so enthusiastic about a composition Jodie had written, they’d been working together since then.

“We’re working on a new set of songs that she wants to record, but I’m having trouble with a transition in one of them. Lauren and I are going to Bozeman tomorrow, and I’ll stay a few more days after that to work with her. But I’d like to have it figured before I go. Maybe you could help me?”

“Sure. Let’s go to the piano.”

Jodie and Aunt Laura stood up, and Lauren grabbed a couple of cookies and followed them to the living room, dropping onto the couch. She munched on a cookie, happy to listen to her sister and aunt talk music.

But in spite of her resolve, as she listened to Jodie and Aunt Laura trying out a new melody, a dull lonely ache clenched her heart.

Her aunt had warned her not to miss out on love. So why did a picture of Vic shift into her mind? Too easily she remembered his gentle touch as he wiped the mud off her face. The crook of his smile that, somehow, didn’t make her feel embarrassed at all.

She pushed the thoughts aside.

Don’t go there. You have your plans. They’re enough, and no man is worth sacrificing them for.

* * *

The noise of the people gathering in the fellowship hall of the church washed over Vic as he walked through the open double doors. He would have preferred to go directly home after church, but he had driven his mother to the service this morning and she’d expressed a desire to stay and chat.

Kids ran between adults, shrieking their pleasure as they played hide-and-seek or tag or whatever game they needed to burn off energy after sitting quiet for the past hour.

A little boy zipped past him, catching his toe in the carpet. He would have fallen if Vic hadn’t caught him by the arm.

“Hey, little guy, you might want to slow down.”

The little boy, his hair sticking up in spikes, his plaid shirt open over a juice-stained T-shirt, flashed a gap-toothed grin at him, then ran off. A child on a mission.

Vic chuckled as he walked over to the table where a huge urn sat, and poured himself some coffee. He glanced around the people milling about, laughing and talking, his eyes unconsciously searching the crowd for a certain tall blonde woman who had attended church today.

According to Jodie, Lauren wasn’t the most faithful churchgoer, so when he saw her come in and sit down in the spot where her father used to sit, across from where his parents always sat, he couldn’t help a second look. He knew she and Jodie had been in Bozeman the past few days, so he was surprised to see her at all.

Trouble was, he glanced over the same time she did. He knew he didn’t imagine the faint stir of connection between them. Or the fact that she didn’t look away right away, either.

“So how is the haying going?”

Vic glanced up from his coffee just as Lee Bannister joined him.

Tall, with dark hair and deep-set, intent brown eyes, a square jaw and a demeanor that commanded respect, Lee tended to stand out in a crowd. But Vic knew him to be a humble, caring man who had learned some hard life lessons.

“Coming along. The usual dog and pony show. Breakdowns and rain. But we should be okay. I’m cutting again tomorrow.” Vic stirred his coffee and set the used spoon in a bowl. “But should be a good crop.”

“You put up hay on the McCauley place, don’t you?” Lee asked as he poured some coffee for himself. “I heard you’ve been leasing it. How will that work now that Keith’s dead and the girls own the ranch? You able to make a deal with them?”

“It’s all up in the air right now,” he admitted, taking a sip of his coffee, wishing he could get a break from his own spinning thoughts.

“That’s got to make your plans complicated. I know you had figured on that place for Dean.”

“I did.” Vic shrugged. “I guess I’ll just have to take the pastor’s words to heart.”

This morning the pastor had preached on the need to trust and let go of the desire to control one’s own life. Vic knew, especially the past few weeks, that he struggled with precisely that. It was hard to let go when his own brother depended on him to help.

“Don’t we all,” Lee said with a light sigh. “I know I’ve had to learn to let go of my own plans.”

Vic nodded, acknowledging the wisdom he was sure Lee had gleaned from his time in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Yet the man wasn’t bitter. In fact he seemed downright happy.

Probably had something to do with the pretty redhead who joined them. Abby Bannister granted Vic a quick greeting then gently tugged on Lee’s arm.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I just got a call,” she said. “That photo shoot I had planned for later this afternoon got bumped up and I have to leave right away.”

“Of course. Let’s go.” Lee set his mug down and gave Vic a warm smile, clapping his hand on his shoulder. “I sure hope things turn out for you and Dean. He’s had a rough go.”

“He has,” Vic agreed. “Take care.”

As Lee left, Vic suddenly lost his desire for coffee and certainly didn’t feel like chitchat. His conversation with Lee was yet another reminder of the things he had hoped to forget. At least for the morning.

But just as he was about to leave, his mother called out to him, hurrying to his side. “Vic. There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” She rested her hand on the table as she caught her breath.

“You okay?” Vic asked, suddenly concerned.

“Just had to rush to catch you.” She gave him a quick smile, her frizzy graying hair catching the light coming in from the large floor-to-ceiling windows from one wall of the room. Her glasses sat askew on her nose. Her shirt was bunched up over the belt she wore and her ruffled skirt, a throwback to the 80s, hung crooked.

His dear mother always said she didn’t care how she looked and it showed.

“We’ve got company coming over for lunch,” she said, moving her hand to indicate the woman who now joined them.

Vic’s heart did a double flip as he took in Lauren’s restrained elegance. Fitted brown dress, white belt, shoes and purse, and a fancy necklace that sparkled in the overhead lights. She wore her hair loose, but it was smooth and silky, and as she tipped her head toward him it slipped away from her face.

His mother’s words finally registered. “Company?”

His mother gestured to Lauren. “Yes. I was talking to Keith’s girl and said she should come over for lunch. She tried to object, but I wouldn’t take no for an answer. I know her sister Jodie is gone to Bozeman this weekend and she doesn’t know anybody here anymore, so I told her she simply had to come. No excuses.”

“I’m sorry,” Lauren apologized. “If it doesn’t work out—”

“Nonsense,” his mother said, patting her on the shoulder. “Nothing to work out. Dean’s sulking at home and I could use some female company and we have lots of food. Besides, I promised her some daylilies and peony roots.”

Vic could tell that Lauren was trying to find a polite way to get out of the invitation, though he knew it was futile. Once his mother set her mind to something, she would not let go. And of late she’d been complaining about being lonely. He guessed Lauren had mentioned her desire to clean up the flower beds on the Circle M and his plant-loving mother had probably jumped at the chance to talk botany with another woman.

“Just come for a while,” he encouraged her. “It’s got to be lonely sitting in that house by yourself. Unless you need to plant your flowers,” he teased.

She smiled, which only served to make her more attractive.

“No. I’m letting them harden off before I put them in the ground.”

“You won’t need to do that,” his mother said. “It’s late enough that you could put them directly in. But we can talk more about that at home. You can follow us to our place. Just in case you don’t know the way.” Before anyone could make even the slightest objection, his mother bustled off again.

It was on the tip of Vic’s tongue to let Lauren know that she didn’t have to accept his mother’s invitation, but he stopped himself. It might not hurt his cause if Lauren could meet Dean again. Put a face to the reason he needed to buy the ranch.

Chapter Five

“S
o what kind of work do you do?” Vic’s mother pushed her empty plate aside and seemed more than happy to put off cleaning up until later. She tucked her curly hair back from her face and clamped it down with a hair clip that had been threatening to fall out.

Based on how casual Mrs. Moore seemed about her clothing choices, Lauren had suspected her home would be a reflection of that. But driving up to the two-story brick-and-sandstone home, Lauren shifted mental gears. The house was a beautiful mix of old and new. A wild array of flowering shrubs, perennials and potted plants softened the front of the house. Yet it didn’t look stilted or planned.

The inside of the house was equally surprising. The appliances were basic white, but the wooden cupboards were an updated dark walnut with brushed aluminum hardware. The floor was a gray laminate and the dining room table and chairs were an elegant mix of wood and stainless steel.

Clearly Mrs. Moore cared more about her home than she did about how she looked. Lauren admired the woman, knowing that she herself had spent far too much of her own life worrying about the correct image she needed to project.

“I work as an accountant,” Lauren said, wiping her mouth with a cloth napkin.

“My goodness. Numbers.” Mrs. Moore fluttered her hands. “Benny always said I was horrible with numbers and he was right. Balancing the checkbook to me meant being able to carry it and my groceries without dropping either.”

Lauren giggled, surprised at how comfortable she felt around the older woman.

“Good thing you don’t need to balance the checkbook anymore,” Vic chimed in, smiling at his mother. “Dean takes care of everything online,” he said to Lauren.

“One of the few things I can do,” Dean said, a grumpy note in his voice. He wore a plaid shirt that had seen better days, faded blue jeans with holes in the knees, a large leg brace and a sullen attitude.

The stubble on his handsome face didn’t soften the hardened look he seemed to have adopted. Lauren remembered another Dean. Cocky. Self-assured.

This young man seemed to have lost that part of his persona.

“But you have a good job for now until you are able to work on the ranch again,” his mother said with a smile for her youngest son.

“What do you do now, Dean?” Lauren asked, trying to draw the taciturn young man into the conversation. She remembered Dean well from the summers she’d spent here. He’d been a wild young man who lived a rough life. He’d also had a huge crush on Erin. But both Jodie and Lauren had warned her away from him. Thankfully she’d listened. Dean had hung out with David Fortier and Mitch Albon, both young men of questionable reputation. Now David was dead and Mitch was in prison. Dean, it seemed, had escaped that. Probably thanks to his stable family life.

“I work part-time as a finishing carpenter for Jan Peter. He’s a big time contractor out here. But I guess I’ll need to talk to him about full-time work.”

Lauren shot Vic a puzzled look. “I thought you ranched with Vic.” Hadn’t Vic told her that he had figured on buying the Circle M for his brother?

“If you want to call what I do ranching.” He released a bitter laugh. “And thanks to you, my life is going in a different direction.”

“Dean. That’s enough,” Vic said. “Lauren is our guest.”

Lauren’s heart shifted as Dean’s anger washed over her. Ranching wasn’t in his future because she was selling the Circle M ranch.

She shouldn’t have come.

Dean sighed, then turned to Lauren. “I’m sorry. I’m just in a lot of pain right now. That was out of line.” Dean pushed his chair away from the table and grabbed a crutch. “I gotta go lie down.”

He limped off, the thump of his crutch echoing in the silence.

Mrs. Moore watched him go, and Lauren saw the sorrow on her face. Poor woman, dealing with so many losses in one year.

“I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Moore said. “But please, don’t take it personally. He’s been bitter since the accident and then his father’s death.” Her voice wobbled and Lauren felt a rush of sympathy for her.

“I understand,” she said, reaching across the table to cover her hand in sympathy. “I have no doubt this has been a difficult time. For you, too.”

Mrs. Moore gave her a grateful smile. “You’re a sweetheart. It has been hard, but God has given us the strength to deal with it all. I don’t know what I would do without knowing that He’s watching over us.” Mrs. Moore squeezed Lauren’s hand. “I’m sure you feel the same way. What with your father’s death and all. You girls had your own struggles, I know.”

Lauren held her gaze, feeling a fraud by taking her concern, yet surprised at the affection she felt for this caring woman. Her own mother had been distant, dealing with her own sorrows. Yet here was this woman, a stranger to Lauren, feeling sorry for her.

“My faith has helped me through many of life’s trials” was all she could say, unwilling to let go of Mrs. Moore’s hand. It had been so long since someone other than her sisters, whom she seldom saw, had shown her affection. Had touched her like this. It warmed her soul.

Mrs. Moore gave her hands another squeeze, then sat back. “So tell me more about your work. You must be smart as all get-out if you work as an accountant.”

Not smart enough to stay employed
, Lauren thought with a too-familiar twinge of anger at her previous boss.

“I know how to work with numbers” was all Lauren could say.

“Will you be doing that here? In Saddlebank?” Mrs. Moore asked.

“No. I won’t.” Lauren couldn’t help a quick glance Vic’s way. She guessed from his mother’s surprise at Dean’s comment that Mrs. Moore didn’t know of her plans.

“So you’ll be supervising Vic’s leasing the ranch?” Mrs. Moore asked.

“I can’t make any decisions until I’ve stayed at the ranch for two months,” she said, keeping things vague. No reason to bring up the topic of her selling the ranch.

“Saddlebank is a good place to raise a family,” Mrs. Moore said with a melancholy smile. “Benny, my late husband, and I, were so thankful to be able to raise our boys here. I’m sure you would find the same if you gave it a chance. Being married and raising children is a wonderful thing.” Mrs. Moore gave her an encouraging look and Lauren felt once again the twinge of sorrow that Harvey’s breakup had caused her. The humiliation and the loss.

“Not everyone needs to find fulfillment in that,” Vic said. “That was your choice and it worked for you.”

“But it could work for you, too,” Mrs. Moore said. The touch of sorrow in her voice made Lauren realize that Mrs. Moore’s marriage comment was aimed at her son, not her. “That Tiffany girl was no good for either you or Dean. You were right not to go chasing after her.”

Lauren saw Vic’s lips thin and guessed his mother had brought up a painful topic. While part of her was curious, she knew it was none of her business.

“I understand you also had Finn Hicks living in your home awhile?” Lauren asked, steering the conversation to a safer topic. “Jodie told me that he moved in with you and your family when he was in his teens.”

Vic’s wry smile told her that he knew exactly what she was up to and that he was thankful for it.

“Yes. We did,” Mrs. Moore said, latching on to the subject. “That poor boy’s father had died and his mother was all over creation and he needed a home. But now he’s got his own place, and he and Jodie are getting married. Things work out the way they’re supposed to. And what about you? Any young man in your life?”

Mrs. Moore seemed determined to come back to marriage as a topic.

“No. No young man.”

“Well, now, that’s too bad.” Mrs. Moore leaned her elbow on the table, looking past Lauren to the wall behind her, where she remembered seeing a series of framed pictures. “Having someone to share your life with is special. Benny was my life. My anchor.” She paused and Lauren thought she might cry. According to Drake, her lawyer, it had only been about four months since Mrs. Moore’s husband, Vic’s father, passed away.

Then Mrs. Moore slapped her hands on the table and stood, as if putting her sorrow behind her.

“I need to lie down for a nap,” she said, glancing from Lauren to Vic. “And I don’t want to listen to the clatter of dishes, so I want you two to just leave them alone. Vic, why don’t you take Lauren out and show her where the lilies are? The peonies are over by the garage and there’s also some monkshood she’s welcome to take.”

“I don’t think I’ll need that much—” Lauren started to object.

“There’s pots in the potting shed,” Mrs. Moore continued, waving off Lauren’s comment. “And you can use the narrow shovel to dig them up and the wagon to cart them around. You’ll have to put them in your truck to bring them to her place. If you need help planting them, Lauren, let me know. And don’t even think about doing the dishes.”

Before either Lauren or Vic could say anything, she swept out of the kitchen and down the hall.

“Well, I guess I got my work cut out for me this afternoon,” Vic said getting to his feet.

“You don’t have to do this,” Lauren demurred. “I feel kind of silly coming here and taking plants from your mother. Like she said, it’s not the right time of the year anyway.”

“I wouldn’t fuss about that. My mother loves nothing more than to share the wealth of her garden and to know that the legacy of her mother lives on.”

“Legacy?” she asked as she followed Vic out of the house.

“My mom got most of the plants in the yard from her mother, who, apparently, got them from hers. She claims to have single-handedly brought rare Marcher daylilies to Saddlebank County.”

“Never heard of them,” Lauren admitted as she headed out the back door of the house and through a pair of patio doors onto a deck.

And as she did, she came to a sudden stop, staring at the garden in front of her. Shrubs and trees edged two acres of verdant green lawn. They, in turn, were framed by bricked-in flower beds holding flowers of varying heights and color. An old bicycle covered in ivy rested among two-foot-high delphiniums, lilies, monkshood, bleeding heart, daisies, marigolds and pansies in another flower bed opposite.

In the shade of a white pergola, tubs with geraniums, million bells, lobelia and sweet potato vine nestled against wicker chairs. A small creek bisected the garden, flowing under an arched bridge that held pots of brightly colored aspermums.

It was like a sheltered oasis. An English estate garden transplanted to Montana. She could hardly take it all in.

“Impressive, isn’t it,” Vic said, standing with his hands on his hips as he surveyed the garden. “Took Mom about fifteen years, a lot of nagging and sweat equity from me, Dean and my dad to get it to this.”

“It’s amazing.” Beyond the bridge Lauren saw a gazebo also hung with more pots. “How does she keep this all up?”

“It’s what she does. And it’s been good for her this spring. It’s kept her busy after Dad died. Gave her a focus.”

Vic wandered down the bricked path and over the bridge. Lauren followed him, but she felt the garden calling her to sit. Rest. Contemplate the beauty around her.

But Vic was a man with a mission, so she followed him past the gazebo, then through an opening in the row of trees at the far end of the garden. Once past the trees, the land opened up and she saw fenced pasture and fields rolling toward the mountains that cradled the basin.

Vic kept walking, following a pole fence that meandered toward a small garage. “Just wait here. I’ll get the quad and trailer,” he said as he pulled open the large double doors.

Lauren stayed where she was as she heard a small engine start up. Vic drove a small ATV out of the shop, pulling a trailer behind him.

“I’ll just get a shovel and we’re good to go,” he said, disappearing inside again.

He came out with only one shovel.

“We’ll need two,” she said.

“I’ll do the digging,” Vic said as he tossed the shovel into the large, open trailer. “You can tell me what you want.”

“Nonsense,” Lauren said. “I can help.”

“In that dress?”

“It’s fine. Plus, I’m wearing flats.”

“They’re white.”

“And washable.”

Vic gave her another quick look and she felt suddenly self-conscious. She had chosen her clothes carefully. Though she didn’t want to examine why, she had hoped, on one level, that Vic would be at church. But compared to his casual mother, she now felt like a vain fashion model.

She pushed past him, stepping into the dim interior. When her eyes adjusted she spied an entire array of gardening tools hanging neatly on one wall. She grabbed a shovel, stepped outside and gave him a look that dared him to say anything.

“Okay. I’ll just get some pots and we can go,” he said. He disappeared inside again and came out with a huge stack of empty pots nested inside each other.

She couldn’t imagine that she’d take that many plants.

“So where next?” she asked.

“Hop on and we’ll head over there.”

Lauren looked from the seat of the ATV to Vic now swinging his leg over the seat and settling onto it. She doubted she would fit behind him. And how was she supposed to get on in her narrow skirt?

“You’ll have to ride sidesaddle behind me,” Vic said with a grin.

“I can walk,” she said.

“Be easier just to ride. You’re not scared of me, are you?”

He said it with a teasing tone, but at the same time Lauren heard an underlying challenge.

She stepped on the footrest of the quad and dropped into the seat behind Vic.

But she had moved too quickly and became unbalanced and the only way to recover was to grab Vic’s shoulder.

His very large, muscular shoulder.

Vic took off and as she teetered on her precarious seat, wishing once again that she’d gone with her first choice of slacks and a blazer. But she’d wanted to look feminine this morning. Feminine and in charge. So she put on the dress that Amy called her power dress. The one she wore when she wanted to make an impression on clients.

Only she doubted it made any impression on Vic.

“I’m driving around to the side of the house,” Vic said over the noise of the engine. “But we need to go through the fields first to get to the road leading there. Just in case you think I’m kidnapping you.”