Big Sky Country

Slade rubbed the back of his neck, pondering Hutch’s words. He didn’t need a mutt any more than he needed the responsibility of looking after a sixteen-year-old girl, but he figured Hutch was right. For whatever reason, Jasper had appointed himself sidekick. For the duration, evidently.

Slade knew he’d welcome the company, though—he’d kept his life and his heart closed up tight since the divorce, doing his job, showing up, putting one foot in front of the other. Maybe it was time to open up a little, let somebody in.

Even if that somebody happened to have four feet and a tail.

It was a beginning, he supposed, though he wasn’t sure of what.

“All right,” he agreed slowly and shut the truck door with Jasper still inside.

“I’d swear that critter looks out-and-out relieved,” Hutch said drily. “And in case you’re wondering, I never mistreated him. Jasper was always a one-man dog, and Dad was that man. Now, I guess, the torch has been passed.”

Slade studied his half brother for a long moment. Hutch’s manner wasn’t exactly cordial, but he wasn’t waving a loaded shotgun and ordering him off the property, either. “Thanks,” he said.

“You given any more thought to selling me your share of Whisper Creek?” Hutch asked after waiting a moment or two.

“I’ve given it plenty of thought,” Slade answered, squinting a little against the last dazzling light of another summer day, “but I haven’t come to any decision.”

Hutch absorbed that response with a slight but oddly affable frown creasing the skin between his eyebrows. Then he gestured toward the house. “At the moment, the place is as much yours as it is mine,” he said, and there was no reading either his tone or his expression. Carmody would be able to hold his own in a high-stakes poker game, that was for sure, Slade reflected—and he wouldn’t need a hooded sweatshirt, a baseball cap or wraparound shades to manage it. “You might as well come inside and take a look around.”

Slade looked past Hutch, taking in the rambling lines of that house. He’d never set foot in the place, and now fifty percent of it was legally his. It was a hard thing to take in.

“All right,” he said after a long hesitation. He looked back at Jasper, who sat like a sentry in the truck seat, watching him through the partially rolled down window. The dog would be fine by himself, Slade decided, at least for a few minutes. He followed Hutch through that white picket gate, along the flagstone walk, up the porch steps.

He’d wondered about the inside of that house for as long as he could remember, though he’d never aspired to live there, or even step over the threshold. Now that he had a dog, and Shea was coming to spend what remained of the summer with him, however, he was a lot more interested in real estate.

Tomorrow was his day off—he’d check in with Kendra, maybe take another look at the Kingman spread. The house was nothing fancy, being nowhere near the size of this one, and it had sat empty for a long time. Still, with a little elbow grease and a lot of hot, soapy water, it would be livable.

They’d still be short one bathroom, though.

Inside Hutch’s domain, Slade was immediately impressed with the high-beamed ceilings and the open floor plan. Despite all those flowers in the yard, the interior was singularly masculine, with sturdy leather furniture, plain, heavy tables and zero clutter. A few Navajo rugs and some high-quality Western art provided muted splotches of color here and there. The space had a quiet, meditative quality that surprised Slade a little, given Hutch’s wild-man reputation.

What had he expected? Mirrors on the ceilings? A functioning saloon straight out of an old John Wayne movie or maybe a mechanical bull in the middle of the living room?

Slade indulged in a small, rueful grin, gone in an instant.

“Look around all you want,” Hutch said, in the same casual tone as before. “I think you’ll agree that as big as the place is, it won’t accommodate both of us.”

Slade grinned again, not about to let on that he felt a little sheepish all of a sudden, like he’d barged in or something. “You’re right about that last part,” he said. “And I’ve seen all I need to. It’s getting late, and Jasper’ll need some gear if he’s going to move in with me.”

Hutch assessed him in silence for a long moment, then said, “There’s a bag of kibble in the pantry, and Jasper’s got a bed and a couple of bowls and a few toys. You’re welcome to the stuff if you want it.”

“Sure,” Slade said, mildly embarrassed. It only made sense to accept Jasper’s belongings—the things would be familiar to the dog and therefore comforting, and besides, it would save a shopping trip to the big discount store out past the city limits. “Thanks,” he said again.

“This way,” Hutch said, turning.

Slade followed him through a set of swinging doors and into a big kitchen with dark-stained wooden floors, like those in the front part of the house, tall windows and a lot of gleaming steel appliances. The island in the center of the room was bigger than Slade’s whole kitchen back at the duplex.

Hutch disappeared into what must have been the pantry and brought out a big sack of kibble, still three-quarters full. He set it down near one of the counters—there seemed to be miles of them, all smooth gray granite—and gathered up two ceramic dog dishes.

“Jasper’s bed and the toys are in Dad’s room,” Hutch said. “I’ll get them.”

Slade nodded. “That’ll be good,” he replied, intending to lug the kibble and the bowls out to the truck while Hutch was fetching the other things.

Instead, though, he just stood there, after Hutch was gone, in that big kitchen.

He imagined his father reading the newspaper at the long table while he drank his morning coffee with Jasper at his feet.

Something about the image made Slade’s throat tighten painfully.

He collected the dog food and the bowls—one of which had Jasper’s name painted on it in jaunty letters shaped like bones—and got out of there, quick.

Jasper poked his muzzle out of the truck window and gave a little yelp of glad welcome when he saw Slade approaching.

Slade hoisted the bag of kibble into the back of the truck and placed the bowls at a careful distance from each other so they wouldn’t bang around during the drive back to Parable.

Hutch reappeared, carrying the fanciest dog bed Slade had ever seen. It was a large canoe, made of brown fleece, and, like the bowl, it was marked with Jasper’s name. There was a bright red leash, too, and a paper bag brimming with chew toys and other canine paraphernalia.

“Dad was downright foolish over that dog,” Hutch explained, seeing the look on Slade’s face and reading it accurately—as amused disbelief. He tossed the canoe-bed into the back of the truck, along with the other things, and dusted his hands together afterward, though not in a good-riddance sort of way. “The old man bought him Christmas presents and remembered his birthday, even.”

That was more than Slade could have claimed. Still, he chuckled and gave his head a shake. “I’ll give Jasper a good home,” he said, because he knew that mattered to Hutch.

“If I didn’t think that,” Hutch countered matter-of-factly, “you wouldn’t be taking him anywhere.”

Slade nodded and rounded the truck. He’d been in more than one brawl with Hutch Carmody over the years, but he’d mostly been indifferent to the man. Or so he’d thought, until now. Given the exchange of the dog, Slade was seeing his father’s son in a new light.

What kind of man was Hutch, anyway? The question would definitely require further consideration. Not that they’d ever be buddies, he and Hutch, let alone relate to each other the way real brothers would, especially if Slade decided to hold on to his share of Whisper Creek Ranch instead of selling out to Hutch—which was a distinct possibility.

It was clear, though, that there was more to this half brother of his than a hot temper, a penchant for partying and a reputation for leaving a trail of brokenhearted women behind wherever he went.

Hutch turned and went back inside the house as Slade shifted the truck into gear and headed for the main road that would take them back to Parable.

Jasper’s lips were pulled back against his jawbones, as though he was smiling. He’d gotten his way, and now he seemed to be gloating a little.

“Don’t go expecting presents at Christmas,” Slade warned the dog, glad not to be returning to that crappy duplex alone, as he had so many other nights. “Or a cake on your birthday, either.”

* * *

ALTHOUGH JOSLYN WASN’T supposed to start her job until the following Monday, she stopped in at Kendra’s office bright and early Friday morning anyway, because she’d already done her yoga routine, spiffed up the guesthouse and scanned her email. Without Jasper around to fuss over, she was at loose ends.

Kendra was on the phone when she came in, looking cool and blonde and beautiful, as usual, in a crisp pair of linen slacks and a simple, airy white top. She smiled at Joslyn and held up an index finger to indicate that she’d be finished with the call in a moment.

“That’s wonderful, Tara,” Kendra said into the receiver, rolling her eyes comically at Joslyn. “You’ll make a wonderful chicken farmer.” A pause. “No, really,” she insisted graciously. “How hard can it be? Yes. I’ll bring the papers by this afternoon, and you can take the weekend to look them over.” She nodded, “Yes,” she repeated. “And Tara? It’s short notice, I know, but I’d love to throw a barbecue in your honor tomorrow afternoon, here at my place. Can you make it?” Another pause, then a genuine smile. “Great! Two o’clock. No, you don’t need to bring anything except yourself and any guests you’d like to include.”

Joslyn, who couldn’t help overhearing, concluded that, one, Kendra had finally sold the chicken farm she’d shown so many times, and, two, she, Joslyn, would be expected to show up at the barbecue. Along with half the town, most likely. In Parable, parties weren’t generally private—they tended to be community events, because in some ways, the inhabitants were like one giant family.

She fought down a mild swell of panic. Her encounter with Daisy Mulligan the day before hadn’t been bad, but who knew how the next person might respond? On the other hand, that person—and many others—had to be faced.

Kendra ended the call and stood up, smiling. “If you’re here to start work,” she teased, “you’re a couple of days early.”

Joslyn sighed, looked around. The surroundings were certainly pleasant and less emotionally charged than the last time she was there. “I just stopped in to see if you needed help with anything,” she said. She tilted her head to one side, smiled back at her friend. “Congratulations are in order, it would seem. You sold the chicken farm?”

“Finally,” Kendra said with delighted emphasis. “No one can accuse Tara Kendall of making a snap decision. She’s been looking at that place on and off for a couple of years.”

“Is she from around here? The name doesn’t sound familiar.”

Kendra shook her head. “Tara’s from New York,” she replied. “She heads up the marketing department of a big cosmetic company, I think.”

“It’s quite a jump from a marketing job in the Big Apple to running a chicken ranch outside of Parable, Montana,” Joslyn observed, already intrigued by this Tara person. At least, as an outsider, she wouldn’t turn out to be one of Elliott’s many victims.

“She’s reinventing herself following a bad divorce, as I understand it,” Kendra said, starting in the direction of the kitchen and leaving Joslyn with no real choice but to follow. “I sure hope there isn’t a ‘reality’ series in the offing.”

Joslyn laughed, though she felt a little nervous as she stepped into the room where Opal had presided for so many years. “That would be the biggest thing that’s happened in this town since—”

Remembering what the last big thing in Parable was—Elliott Rossiter’s investment scandal—Joslyn let the sentence go unfinished, and the laugh died, aching, in her throat.

Kendra looked back at her over one shoulder. Clearly, she knew what had brought Joslyn up short. “Let’s have some coffee,” she said kindly.

Joslyn looked around, relaxed a little as the instant shame over her stepfather’s actions subsided. Kendra had made the kitchen her own, just as she’d done with the front room, where the office was now. There were no ghosts here.

“Does it bother you?” Kendra asked, approaching the coffeemaker—one of those flashy single-cup things—and pushed a couple of buttons. “Being in the house again after all this time, I mean?”

“I thought it would,” Joslyn admitted. “And I guess it did at first, but I’m over that, it seems. After all, it’s the people who live in a house, not the former occupants, who give it character—you’re here now, and the place reflects you, as it should.”

Kendra looked thoughtful, maybe even a bit sad, as she busied herself brewing coffee. “If you say so,” she said in a musing tone.

Joslyn waited, standing behind one of the sleekly modern chairs at the sleekly modern kitchen table. In the old days, the furnishings and appliances had been antiques, right down to the wood-burning cookstove Opal had insisted on using to prepare family meals.

Kendra looked in Joslyn’s direction and managed a feeble little smile. Gave a slight shrug of one shoulder. “Wasn’t it John Lennon who said, ‘Life is what happens when you’re making other plans’?” She set a steaming mug of coffee on the table and indicated that Joslyn should sit down. Then she sighed and shook her head, as though to fling off some unwanted thought.

“What were your ‘other plans,’ Kendra?” Joslyn asked gently, pulling back one of the huge chrome-and-glass chairs and sinking into the seat.

“The usual,” Kendra said, with an unconvincing attempt at sounding breezy and unconcerned. She prepared a cup of coffee for herself. “A husband. Babies. A great career.” She paused. “I guess one out of three isn’t bad.”

Joslyn knew her friend had been married, very briefly, to a wealthy Englishman with a title, but that was the extent of the information Kendra had been willing to share. As close as they were, both of them had their secrets.

“You’re young, Kendra,” Joslyn pointed out, treading carefully. “You can still have the husband and/or the babies if you want. There are a lot of options these days.”

Kendra brought her cup to the table and sat down opposite Joslyn. She looked down into her coffee, but made no move to drink it. “Call me old-fashioned,” she said very softly, “but if I’m going to have children, I want to be married to their father. And I’d have to believe in love to get married.”

“You don’t believe in love?” Joslyn felt a pang of sorrow. Kendra had always been the romantic; even with her 4.0 grade average in high school, she’d been voted Most-Likely-to-Live-Happily-Ever-After by the rest of the senior class.

“Not anymore,” Kendra said.

“Does this have something to do with Hutch Carmody?” Joslyn ventured, thinking of the odd charge in the air the day before, when Hutch stopped by to pick up Jasper.

Kendra’s cheeks flamed. “No,” she said very quickly and very firmly.

Joslyn winced slightly. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t seem to open my mouth without putting my foot in it.”

Kendra smiled, but her eyes remained sad. “I didn’t mean to snap at you,” she said. “But fair is fair, Joss. Why should I tell you my deepest secrets when it’s so obvious that you’re holding a lot of things back? We’re supposed to be best friends, aren’t we? And BFFs exchange confidences.”

“You’re right,” Joslyn said. “What do you want to know?”

“Why you came back to Parable, for a start. I know that someway, somehow, you’re behind all those big, fat checks that have been raining down on this town for the past couple of months, whether you’ll admit it or not. What I don’t get is why you’re so secretive about it—or why you would do something like that in the first place. Like I said before, you’re not responsible for what Elliott Rossiter did way back when.”

“Okay,” Joslyn replied, when the constriction in her throat loosened up enough to let a word pass. “Yes. I sold my software design company for megabucks, and I arranged for a law firm in Denver to track down everyone my stepfather stole from and see that they were repaid.”

“Why did I have to drag that out of you?” Kendra asked mildly, raising both her perfect eyebrows in an expression of perplexed good will.

Joslyn took her time answering; some soul-searching was required to translate a lot of confused feelings into words. “I don’t know,” she said after a few long moments. “Not exactly, anyway. Parable was always...well, it was home, and it’s been calling to me all this time to come back. I agree that what Elliott did wasn’t my fault, but it shouldn’t have happened—good people were all but ruined, after all—and since I had the means to make it right, I did.”

“Why keep it a secret, though?”

“Because I want to be accepted in Parable on my own merit, not because I bought my way back into the town’s good graces.”

“You have a very expensive conscience,” Kendra observed with a little smile that, though wobbly, was genuine enough. “But I do understand. And your secret is safe with me.”

“Good,” Joslyn said, relieved. “Now it’s your turn. Why don’t you believe in love anymore?”

Kendra’s eyes filled with such pain that Joslyn was immediately sorry for pressing the issue. Still, as Kendra herself had said, fair was fair.

“Because of Jeffrey,” she said. “My ex-husband.”

“What did he do?”

Kendra considered for a long time before replying, “He swept me off my feet, married me and promised me the moon. For a while, he even delivered. We traveled all over Europe after the wedding—it was a small, justice-of-the-peace ceremony—but oddly enough, we never got around to visiting his family in England. They didn’t approve of me, as it turned out, but Jeffrey said I shouldn’t let that bother me. Love conquers all, et cetera. We came back here, bought this house from the Rossiter estate and made plans to start a family of our own. He had plenty of money, and I was stupid enough to think I’d found someone to take care of me.”

“And?” Joslyn prompted, when Kendra fell silent.

“And a week after we closed on this monstrosity of a house, his father fell ill and Jeffrey flew straight home to London. Next thing I knew, he was calling to say so sorry for any inconvenience, but he wanted a divorce. It had all been a colossal mistake, our getting together. Several million dollars suddenly appeared in my personal bank account, and his ‘solicitors,’ as he called them, sent me the deed to this house. That was it. The fairy tale was over.”

“Ouch,” Joslyn said, reaching across to give her friend’s hand a light squeeze. “That’s brutal. Did Jeffrey ever give you a reason?”

Kendra swallowed visibly and shook her head. “He didn’t have to,” she replied presently. “I don’t know if his father was really sick, or it was just a ruse to get Jeffrey to come home, but once he got there, the home folks wasted no time convincing him that what we had together was just an unfortunate fling that must be curtailed at once, and damn the cost. Apparently, Jeffrey came around to their way of thinking. They raised the drawbridge and slammed the caste gate shut in my face and that was that.”

“The bastard,” Joslyn said with spirit.

“Amen,” Kendra said.

Joslyn bit her lip, hesitant to speak but in the end unable to resist putting in her two cents’ worth. “Still,” she said, “to give up on love seems a little rash, doesn’t it? I mean, how likely is it that that will happen again?”

“I loved him,” Kendra said simply.

“Yes, but—”

“I’d better get back to work,” Kendra interrupted. “I have to prepare the contracts for the chicken farm and get copies to both parties, and, of course, there’s the barbecue to plan.”

“Right,” Joslyn said, standing up and carrying her cup and Kendra’s to the sink.

“I could really use your help figuring out the food,” Kendra said.

Inwardly, Joslyn sighed. There was no way out—Kendra had given her a job and a place to stay, and, besides, they were friends. She’d have to join in the festivities, like it or not.

And she was more than willing to help.

“How many people are you inviting?” she asked in cheerful resignation.

“You’d better figure on at least a hundred,” Kendra said. “Probably more.”

By then, heading for the inside door, she had her back to Joslyn and probably thought her friend hadn’t seen her swipe at both cheeks with the heels of her palms as she dashed out of the kitchen.

* * *

SHOPPING WAS NOT Slade’s favorite way to spend his time off.

He and his newest deputy, Jasper, were on their way home from the big discount store that morning, in Slade’s pickup, when Layne called him on his cell phone.

“I think I’m insulted,” Layne said without preamble, as usual. “Shea wants to leave for your place by yesterday, at the latest. She’s all packed and every five minutes she wants to know if I’ve bought the tickets yet.”

Slade chuckled, though he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, too. He loved Shea, no question about it, but he wasn’t set up to give her a proper home, not yet, at least.

“You’re putting her on a plane, then?”

“Yes,” Layne replied. “If you’re still up for this, that is. Believe me, Slade, if you want to back out, I’ll understand.”

“We’ll make it work somehow,” he said.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll come along with Shea. Just to help her settle in and everything.”

Layne would probably take one look at his bachelor’s quarters and hustle her daughter straight back to the airport in Missoula and onto the first outward-bound plane, no matter where it was headed.

“Okay,” Slade said. He had to talk to Kendra, pronto, he decided. Even if he bought the Kingman place that day, which he didn’t intend to do, the deal wouldn’t close for at least a month. Maybe he could make arrangements to rent the house until he’d made up his mind about accepting Hutch’s offer to buy out his share of Whisper Creek, though.

“Try to contain your enthusiasm,” Layne teased. “I’ll only be in Parable for a couple of days, and your virtue is safe, cowboy. I’m madly in love with another man.”

Slade waited for the pang of regret Layne’s statement should have caused him—he’d loved her, once—but it didn’t come. He did wish he could have responded that he was “madly in love” with some hot woman, though.

One like Joslyn Kirk, say. He felt a stirring that did not bode well for getting out of the truck anytime soon, at least, not in the middle of town, where there were so many people around.

“I’ll reserve you a room at the Best Western hotel,” he said. “When are you planning on getting here?”

“Day after tomorrow?” Layne said, making it sound like a question.

Slade suppressed a sigh. “Shall I pick you up at the airport in Missoula?”

“Definitely not,” Layne answered happily. “We’ll rent a car.”

“Fine,” Slade replied. “I’ll make the room reservation. Text me your ETA when you can.”

“Will do,” Layne said.

Slade was about to say goodbye and hang up when she murmured his name.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Thanks,” Layne answered. “I’ve been at my wits’ end over Shea.”

Slade wasn’t a glib man. He was intelligent, and he was educated, but folks said he was as stingy with words as a miser was with money, and he couldn’t refute that. “Everything will be all right,” he said.

The call ended, and he headed for Kendra’s place.

Once there, he parked alongside the mansion in the blindingly white driveway and spoke to Jasper.

“I won’t be long,” he said. “Mind your manners until I get back.”

Jasper merely sighed.

Inside the big house, Slade found Kendra’s office empty.

“Hello?” he called, just to be sure.