Montana Standoff

“Hold still,” he said, as he set the basin down and bent over her. “I’m going to remove the stinger and dab this poultice of baking soda and water on your cheek. It should help with the swelling.”

She held obediently still for his first aid. “Thank you,” she repeated when he had finished. He didn’t reply, but went back to the kitchen. Soon she could smell intriguing aromas. He returned and laid another log on the fire, then disappeared back into the kitchen and made more domestic noises. She thought it was extraordinary that a man she hardly knew was cooking supper for her, especially under the circumstances. She took another sip of her drink and touched her fingertips to the poultice that Young Bear had applied to her swollen cheek. He was right. It already felt better.

“I hope you like shrimp curry,” Steven said, coming from the kitchen with a plate of food and setting it onto the coffee table in front of her.

“Never had it,” Molly admitted. “I’m a corned-beef-and-cabbage kind of a girl, but it smells wonderful.” She set her drink down, picked up the fork he’d laid beside the plate, and in a matter of minutes had cleaned it of the last grain of rice.

“More?” he said.

She sat back with a flush of embarrassment at how quickly she’d devoured the meal. “No, thank you. That was delicious and once again I can’t thank you enough.” She hesitated. “Forgive me, but I have to ask. Do you always wear a tuxedo when you go to public hearings?”

“Only when they’re important,” he said.

Molly laughed. “I have only one more favor to ask. Could you please call me a taxi to take me into Bozeman?”

He picked up her plate and took it into the kitchen. “You’re welcome to stay in the guest room,” he said over the sound of running water. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. Most law offices are closed, but the auto parts store will be open and we can pick up a tow rope. My Jeep should pull your car right out of that ditch.”

Molly sat up, gripping her gin and tonic and wondering if she’d heard him right. “That’s way too much to ask,” she finally managed to say. “I’ll just take a taxi to the airport hotel. You’ve done more than enough as it is.” She rose to bring her glass into the kitchen but he beat her to it, appearing in front of her, taking it out of her hand, and replacing it with a plate.

“Finish off the rest of the curry so I can wash the pan, and I’ll fix you another drink,” he said, as if offering her a fair trade.

Molly sat back down, plate resting on her knees. She should insist that he call her a taxi, but the combined lure of the cheerful fire in the fireplace, the peaceful ambience of the house, and the company of this extraordinary man won out. “Thank you, Mr. Young Bear.”

“Steven,” he corrected. “And you’re welcome.”

STEVEN POURED HIMSELF another cup of coffee, dropped back into his chair and bent over the text he was studying. He took a taste of the strong black brew, read for a little while and then glanced up at the kitchen clock. Nine a.m., and not a peep from the guest room. He didn’t know if he should be relieved or concerned. Perhaps she was a late sleeper, or maybe she was allergic to bee stings and during the night had slipped into an irreversible coma. He walked into the living room, where he paused for a long moment outside the guestroom door, listening. Nothing. He gave a light tap. No response.

“Molly?”

Silence answered him and his anxiety deepened.

The door opened smoothly when he turned the knob. She was lying on her back with the covers drawn up to her chin, fingers curled around the edge of the blanket, and red hair hiding the pillow beneath its fiery cascade. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing evenly. He closed the door, satisfied that she was alive but wondering how to wake her. He had work to do. He wanted to get her situated in her own world again so that he could concentrate on formulating a battle plan to fight this New Millennium Mining proposal.

In the kitchen he lit the propane burner and put the cast-iron pan over it to heat. Within moments, thick slabs of smokehouse bacon were beginning to sizzle. The sweet hickory aroma mingled with the sharp, rich fragrance of fresh-brewed coffee. Surely the smells of breakfast cooking would rouse her from slumber land.

In the meantime, he’d keep studying.

MOLLY WAS IN ATHENS, standing among tall, bone-white pillars. A long gown of the finest silk whispered in the breeze off the Aegean Sea and brushed against her long, slender legs. Her magnificent hair was long and thick, the deepest chestnut, just as she’d always wanted. His was a shade of ebony that shamed the night and his eyes were dark, as they were in life. He lifted a powerful, beautifully muscled arm, beckoning her to the top of a mountain where men swarmed like ants carrying rocks out of a shaft and running to the bottom. Thousands of rocks being carried by thousands of men, all of them running, running….

“They’re stealing our soul,” he said in his deep, masculine voice. “They’re killing our mountain.”

Her mother was calling her to breakfast. “Molly? Time to get up. Rise and shine, lass, you’re burning daylight.”

Molly’s eyes flew open. She stared up at the blur of white ceiling, moved her head toward the rectangle of light in the unfamiliar room. Her momentary disorientation was quickly replaced by the pleasant memories of the night before. She relaxed and stretched beneath the covers. It was so quiet here, and so gloriously peaceful. The smell of bacon tantalized, and her stomach growled in response. She pushed the covers off and sat up, reaching automatically to try and subdue her wild hair. Hopeless.

She stood and went into the bathroom, stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her face looked almost normal. The swelling had gone down overnight, but there was no mistaking where she’d been stung. She sighed with relief and glanced down at the vanity. Steven had left her a brand-new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste. She brushed her teeth, washed the baking soda poultice off her cheek, and was drying her face on a hand towel when she heard a knock.

She padded barefoot across the room and opened the door. Nothing. The knock came again and she realized that there was someone at the front door. She waited a moment for Steven to answer it, but apparently the loud spatter of frying bacon had drowned it out. Still holding the hand towel, Molly crossed the room, slid back the dead bolt, and opened the front door. Sunlight spilled over her bare legs but the chill air negated any warmth. She blinked with surprise as a very pretty young woman with eyes and hair as black as Steven’s stared back at her.

“Yes?” Molly said. “Can I help you?”

PONY YOUNG BEAR was struck speechless by the sight of the woman who stood in her brother’s doorway, dressed in what she had to assume was one of Steven’s white shirts…and apparently little else. The young woman’s hair was a shoulder-length flaming mass of curls that took on a life all their own. Her left cheek was red and slightly swollen, and she was holding a hand towel as if she’d just come from the bathroom.

“I… I’m here to see Steven,” Pony managed to say, wondering if the poor woman was a victim of domestic violence. Steven was always rescuing people from less fortunate circumstances.

“Oh.” The woman lifted one hand in a futile attempt to corral her hair. “He’s cooking breakfast. I’ll tell him you’re here. And you are…?”

“His sister.”

“Oh! Well, please, come in….”

“Pony?” She heard Steven’s voice as he appeared in the entryway, holding a spatula. “You’re just in time for breakfast,” he said, his expression betraying nothing. “This is Molly Ferguson. Molly, my sister, Pony.” Pony shook hands with the redhead, whose grip was surprisingly firm.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” Molly said. “And now if the two of you will please excuse me…”

Pony noticed how Steven watched the young woman walk across the living room. Then he turned back to her with a faint grin. “Nice legs, huh?” he said.

“Steven, why didn’t you bring her with you to Leona’s wedding?”

“Because I only just met her last night.”

“Oh.” Once again she was struck speechless.

Steven drew her inside and closed the door behind her. “So. What brings you to my humble abode?” he asked as he returned to the kitchen to turn the bacon.

She trailed after him, noticing the drink glasses on the coffee table in the living room. She looked at her brother. “I just wanted to tell you that you looked really handsome in that tuxedo.”

“You told me that yesterday.”

“I wanted to ask you if you could wear the same thing on my wedding day.”

“You already asked me, and I told you I would.”

Pony sighed. “All right. I was worried about you. You were so quiet, and you left the reception so early.”

“We’re talking about Jolly John Johnson’s wedding reception. At least I went, didn’t I? And I’m always quiet, remember?”

“Yes, but yesterday was different.” Pony sat on a stool at the counter and teased her brother with a smile. “Today, though, I can see that you’re doing okay.”

“Yeah. I went to a bar and picked up a woman. I did good, huh?” He grinned over his shoulder. Steven lifted the bacon out of the pan and laid it on a paper towel. “How many eggs do you want?”

“I can’t stay. I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

Steven drained the bacon fat from the pan. “You’re not. She got stung in the face by a bee yesterday and drove her car into a ditch. I offered to give her a ride home from the public meeting in Moose Horn which, by the way, we both attended. As it turns out, she’s the New Millennium Mining Company’s legal rep and she lives in Helena. You see? No hanky-panky going on.” He gave her a long significant stare and then repeated, “How many eggs?”

“One. So, she’s the high-priced attorney representing the corporate giant, and no doubt you’re representing the penniless environmentalists.”

“Some things just never change. Over easy, or sunnyside up?”

“Over easy.” Pony rested her elbow on the counter and her chin in the palm of her hand. She gazed speculatively at her brother. “And so. She spent the night?”

“It was late by the time the meeting adjourned. We were both hungry and she needed some first aid. Today we’ll pull her car out of the ditch and she’ll be on her way. Story over.”

Pony smiled as she slid off the stool. “Chapter one is over,” she corrected. “I’ll make the toast.”

MOLLY’S CAR WAS OUT of the ditch by eleven. The day was a beautiful blue-and-gold celebration of September, and though Molly was a city girl, she found the mountainous terrain compelling. She was almost disappointed when Steven’s Jeep pulled the Mercedes onto the roadway so easily, and she almost hoped he’d find something wrong with it, some reason why she couldn’t possibly drive back to Helena.

“She’s as sound as a dollar,” he said, levering himself out from beneath the vehicle where he visually checked the oil pan and the undercarriage. “These German cars are built like tanks.” He stood, dusted off his hands, and gave her a look she couldn’t interpret. “You shouldn’t have any trouble driving home.”

Molly rummaged in her purse and peeled out a hundred dollars in an assortment of crumpled bills. “For food, first aid, and lodging,” she said, extending the offering. “I can’t thank you enough for all you did.”

“I don’t want your money,” Steven said.

“Please,” she pleaded. “If you don’t take it, I’ll spend the rest of my life feeling guilty for taking advantage of your incredible kindness.”

“I helped you out because I wanted to,” Steven said. “The only thing you should feel remotely guilty about is trying to sell the citizens of Moose Horn on a project like New Millennium Mining.”

Molly felt the sting of his words and replaced the money in her purse. Her chin lifted. “You see things a little differently than I do, Steven, but there’s nothing wrong with giving fair representation.”

“How long have you been working with mining companies?”

Molly’s chin crept higher and she felt her cheeks flush. “Eleven months.”

“Ah,” he said, as if her answer had effectively ended the conversation. He turned toward his Jeep.

“Listen, I know how you feel about New Millennium,” Molly said, “but technology really has made great strides. Responsible mining companies have learned from past projects how to better protect the environment. Times have changed.”

He glanced back. “Mining companies don’t give a damn about the environment or the resident human population, and they’re powerful enough to break all the laws and get away with it. The profits far outweigh the cost of a good conscience or the fines levied against them.”

“It’s not like that,” Molly protested.

“Isn’t it? You have a lot to learn. Maybe you should take a look at one of Condor International’s mines that’s currently operational to know that some things will never change. The Soldier Mountain uranium mine would be a good example of their ethics.”

“Where’s that?” she said, embarrassed once again by her ignorance.

“Just east of the Rocky Ridge Reservation on federal lands.”

“Show me.”

“It’s a long drive.”

“You said I have a lot to learn. I’d better get started, hadn’t I? When can we go?” Molly knew she was being blatantly forward, but she also knew she wanted to see this man again, very much, and he wasn’t trying to make that happen. No doubt he thought she was as incompetent as the rest of them did. Well, she wasn’t, and somehow she had to create the chance to prove that to him.

“You should see the pit on a weekday, while they’re working it.”

“All right. How about this Wednesday?”

Steven hesitated. “You don’t really need me along. Your credentials will get you through the gate.”

“Yes, that’s true. I could go alone, or I could ask Brad to take me. Brad’s already shown me two sites and both were very interesting. He pointed out what he wanted me to see, told me what he wanted me to know. If you really want me to understand this issue from your point of view, you need to do the same. I really want to see both sides of this coin, Steven. It’s important to me, and it should be equally important to you. Thursday?”

“I don’t know,” he hedged. “I’ll have to see what’s on the books.”

“Tomorrow, then…?”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday. You wouldn’t get the full effect.”

“I have an incredible imagination.”

He hesitated again, obviously reluctant to commit.

“If we leave here by 9:00 a.m., we should be in good shape, time-wise. I’ll pack the lunch, buy the gas, and drive.” She tossed her purse onto the passenger’s seat and climbed into the Mercedes. “I live at 244 Prospect Street, apartment four. Brick building, second-floor walk-up,” she said, turning the key in the ignition. The engine purred smoothly to life. Steven stood watching her, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, wearing the same inscrutable expression. She eased out on the clutch and the Mercedes moved forward. “Thanks again for everything, counselor,” she said, hoping he’d respond with something like, “See you tomorrow.”

But he didn’t. He just stood in silence and watched her drive away.

THAT AFTERNOON, as soon as she arrived back in Helena, Molly arranged to meet her best friend at their favorite café. Though the wait wasn’t long, she’d already shredded four paper cocktail napkins into confetti before she spotted Dani breezing through the door. “Thanks for coming so quickly,” she said as her friend dropped into a chair across from her.

“No problem at all. I happen to be starving, I didn’t eat breakfast this morning, so this works out well for me. What’s up?” She leaned forward suddenly, eyes widening. “My God, what happened to your face? Did John hit you?”

“If you’re referring to my cheek, it’s just a bee sting. Waiter? Another mai tai cocktail, please.”

“They don’t serve mai tais here,” Dani said with an exasperated shake of her head. “Are you all right? When did you get stung?”

“Yes, I’m fine, and they serve mai tais here now. I just taught the bartender how to make one, and it’s delicious.” Molly glanced around to make sure no one was listening and lowered her voice. “Dani, I need to ask you a big favor.”

Dani’s eyes narrowed. “From the telltale glow, I have a feeling this favor has something to do with a man, but if the man is Stradivarius John, the answer is no.”

Molly was startled that her agenda was so obvious. “This isn’t about John.”

“Good. Who, then?”

“I met someone last night, at a public hearing,” Molly said.

Dani shrugged out of her blazer and draped it over the back of her chair. “Was this before or after the bee sting?”

“Almost simultaneously.”

“What’s the favor?”

“Could you please lend me your emerald earrings?”

Dani laughed and looked around for the waiter. “Hurry with that drink.”

“This is serious, Dani. With any luck, I’ll be spending the day with Steven tomorrow and I want to look especially nice, so any advice you have on what I should wear would be most appreciated. Fashion is definitely my failing.”

“Yes, I know that, but you’ve never taken my advice before, especially regarding fashion.”

“I always listen to what you have to say.”

Dani nodded her thanks to the waiter who delivered her drink. “No, you don’t. I advised you not to date John, remember? He was just one month divorced from his third victim when he asked you out.”

“Well, yes, you did warn me,” Molly admitted, beginning on another cocktail napkin, “but he seemed nice, and it’s not like there was anything serious between us. We went out once in a while, that’s all. It was better than eating dinner out alone, and I wasn’t looking for anything more serious than that. At least, not until yesterday.”

“Okay, so John’s history. That’s a relief. You got stung by a bee and met an incredible man at the same moment, and you’re thinking you may have just experienced love at first sight. Am I right?” Dani’s voice was as cynical as her expression.

Molly sat back in her chair, exasperated. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“Are you going to tell me the whole story from the beginning?”

Molly did, speaking bluntly and not sparing herself in the least. “So you see,” she concluded, “I had no idea that Steven was the attorney representing the citizens of Moose Horn, and I made a complete idiot of myself in front of him…and in front of everyone else, too, for that matter.”

“Moose Horn?” Dani raised her drink for a taste and grimaced. “Uck. What on earth did you tell the bartender to put in this concoction?”

“Skelton will probably fire me after this.”

“It isn’t your fault that Tom gave you the wrong file. What a rotten thing for him to do! I warned you about that guy, too, remember?” As Dani spoke, she held her glass up to the light to study the contents. “He used to work with the Downing firm, but they dismissed him after several clerks complained of sexual harassment.”

“He’s asked me out a couple of times,” Molly admitted. “I think giving me the wrong file was his way of getting back at me for not saying yes.”

“Slimy creep,” Dani said, trying another sip, making another face. “He’s the one who should be fired.”

“Actually, he’s being transferred, but I really don’t want to talk about Tom.”

“No, of course not. You want to talk about the wonderful man you met last night. Steven. Continue. You made an idiot of yourself, and then what happened?” Dani looked around again and waved to the waiter. “I’ll have my usual,” she called across the small room. “The avocado, vegetable and sprouts wrap, no mayo.” The waiter waved back, acknowledging the order from across the small room.

“He rescued me from the hostile citizens after the meeting and gave me a ride to his place…”

“Hold on. Do I really need to hear how he had his way with you on your first unofficial date?”

“…because my car was stuck in a very deep ditch, which I drove into after being stung by the bee, and it was late, so he thought it would be better to pull it out in the morning, after…”

“After he seduced you,” Dani finished.

“He fixed me a drink, fed me dinner, let me sleep in his guest room, cooked me a delicious breakfast in the morning, and pulled my car out of the ditch. He wouldn’t even take gas money from me. I thought all the knights in shining armor died in King Arthur’s time, but I was so wrong.”

“Hmmmm.” Dani frowned. “This sounds serious. And you’re spending the day with him tomorrow?”

“Well, maybe. It’s not exactly a date. More like a professional courtesy. He might take me to see what an open pit mine looks like.”

“Wow, sounds romantic. When will you know if this professional courtesy is a happening thing?”

“If he hasn’t arrived at my apartment by 9:00 a.m., I guess it isn’t. But I want to look nice just in case he does, especially after how I looked yesterday.”

Dani drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “So let me get this straight. You want to wear my emerald earrings to tour an open pit mine with a man who already sounds like he’s afraid to commit?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so, Molly. ‘Nice’ doesn’t include a pair of two-thousand-dollar gems going on a ‘maybe’ date that’s more like a professional courtesy. Besides, it isn’t a woman’s jewelry that catch a man’s eye.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Molly gestured with frustration. “Look at you. The way you dress, the way you do your hair, the way you walk. Everything about you is naturally perfect. You’re the outdoorsy Julia Ormond of the estate-planning world. You’d look glamorous in a sweatshirt and blue jeans. I’m not that blessed.” She leaned forward intently. “Look, I know I’m acting a little bit out of character, but this is important. I’m twenty-six years old and I’ve never felt this way before. I may never again meet another man that makes me feel this way.”

Dani gave her a bemused look. “Okay. I’ll help you coordinate an appropriate wardrobe for possibly viewing an open pit mine, but we’ll save the emerald earrings for your first definite dinner date. Deal?”

Molly sighed with relief. “Deal.”

STEVEN SAT at the kitchen table gazing down at the open page of an environmental law handbook but he wasn’t concentrating on the text. He was thinking about the handful of people in Moose Horn who had the nerve to stand up to a multinational conglomerate and say “No!” loud and clear, knowing they’d probably be bulldozed into the next century. He was thinking about money. It took lots of money to wage a successful campaign, and money was always hard to come by. He would make a series of calls first thing Monday morning and get things going on the financial front, but it would be tough because the times themselves were tough, and purse strings were drawn pretty tight in an uncertain economy.

He was thinking that in the morning he would have to drive to Helena to pick up Molly and take her to view one of New Millennium’s mines. He turned the page of the textbook and wondered why the idea of spending the day with Molly Ferguson didn’t bother him. It should. It wasn’t as if he’d volunteered his time to further her education. It wasn’t as if he’d asked her to go on the trip. He should be thinking about ways to get out of it.

But he wasn’t. He was thinking that it would be good to see her again, though he couldn’t for the life of him fathom why. He shook his head and sighed and tried to focus on the page, but all he was seeing was Molly Ferguson, remembering the bravado that didn’t quite mask her shyness…and the glory of her beautiful red hair.

CHAPTER THREE

BY NINE MINUTES past nine o’clock the following morning, Molly’s morale had hit an all-time low. StevenYoung Bear wasn’t coming. She’d known all along that he wouldn’t. And why should he? He had no obligation whatsoever to help her out any more than he already had. She’d made a fool of herself yesterday, putting him on the spot, pressuring him that way, and now she was paying the price. Not only was she probably going to lose her job because of her poor performance at the Moose Horn town meeting, but she’d messed up any chance she might have had to further her acquaintance with StevenYoung Bear. She’d asked him to do something he obviously hadn’t wanted to do: chaperone her on a field trip to an open pit mine. If she’d asked him to dinner, he might have said yes. It would have been a far more diplomatic move, since, after all, she owed him one. She could have offered him a good, old-fashioned Irish corned-beef-and-cabbage feast.