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WHEN SHE ENTERED THE building, her eyes landed on Samuel Pettersen who was helping a customer at the counter. He gave her a nod. She hadn’t spoken more than a dozen words to him since Shawna introduced him back in February.
Mari recalled her first impression of him. With his towering height, thick, muscular build, blond hair and ice-blue eyes, he looked like a Viking. She learned from Shawna that he was, in fact, Norwegian, a descendent of one of the first families to settle in Hollister. “And proud with it too,” the woman added, but her tone was tongue-in-cheek.
Mari strolled to the hardware section towards the back wall. She scanned the shelves for paint options. She was looking at colors on a card when Samuel approached.
“You planning to do some painting?” he asked, his tone gruff.
She tried to swallow down her nervousness. “A crib,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
He leaned closer. “I didn’t catch that.”
She took one step back. “The crib,” she said a little louder. “For Pam’s baby.”
Samuel cupped a hand to one ear. “I’m sorry. I can’t hear you.”
“She said she’s painting a crib,” a calm male voice said.
Mari twisted around. The voice belonged to Chey, the curly-haired cowboy who’d helped her pick up the spilled dishes the other day.
He smiled at her.
“Sorry,” Samuel said. “I’m hard of hearing in one ear. Ice fishing accident when I was a teenager.” He sidled around Mari. “There’s some milk paint here that’s safer, in case the baby chews on the furniture. It’s premixed. Just comes in these colors.” He showed her the small selection of cans. “Pick one, and I’ll put it in the shaker.”
She pulled her gaze from Chey and stepped closer to the shelf. Chey came to stand next to her. “Will it be a boy?” he asked. “Or a girl?”
“They’re keeping it a surprise.”
“Yellow,” Samuel said. “That’s a good, neutral color.”
Chey pointed to one can. “I’d go with a lighter shade of yellow. In my experience, the colors dry darker than what you see on the label.”
“Buttercup’s a good one,” Samuel said. “How much do you need?”
Mari sensed nothing from either man other than the willingness to help. Her nervousness melted away. “I’d better get a gallon.” Her voice strengthened. “I need primer too. Jonathan sanded the furniture down to bare wood.”
“Thought he’d have finished by now,” Samuel said. He collected two one-gallon cans from the shelf and carried them to the paint counter.
“He has everything done but the crib,” Mari said. “I thought I’d do it for him, so he can spend more time with Pam.”
“I heard she had to go to the hospital last week,” Chey said, angling his tall frame around to face Mari.
“It was just a false alarm.”
“I’m Chey,” he said, holding out his hand. He raised his voice when Samuel switched on the paint shaker. “I’m not sure you caught my name yesterday.”
She shook his hand. “I remember.”
He looked pleased. “My full name is Cheyenne Little Wolf.”
She allowed her eyes to travel over him in quick assessment. He wore a long-sleeve red-checkered shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans. His hands were tucked inside his front pockets. Returning her gaze to his face, she took in the warm, light brown tone of his skin and the dark brown color of his friendly eyes. “I thought Indians had straight hair,” she said without thinking. She clapped a hand to her mouth, an embarrassed flush surging to her cheeks.
Chey laughed, his eyes twinkling. “That’s a myth. Lots of us have curly hair, just like white people. You didn’t learn about Crazy Horse in school?”
Her flush deepened. “No.”
“He was Sioux. He had light skin and curly hair.”
“Are you Sioux?”
“No. I’m Cheyenne. My dad says he chose my name in case I forget.” He winked.
Mari relaxed in the face of his good-natured demeanor. He seemed like a nice guy. “I’m part Blackfeet,” she said. “Jonathan’s working with the tribal council to accept me as a member.”
“I bet they will.” He hesitated before asking, “How would you like to go to dinner with me next Friday? I’d like to get to know you, Mari.”
The paint shaker stopped. Chey’s words seemed to echo in the sudden silence. Reminded of Samuel’s presence, she said in a rush, “I’m not sure. We’re all super busy with the baby coming...”
“No worries. I’ll settle for seeing you at the café. I stop in for breakfast sometimes on my free weekends. You could spend your coffee break with me?”
“Okay.”
“Paint’s ready,” Samuel said.
***
JONATHAN EXPRESSED surprise and pleasure when Mari showed him the can of paint after dinner and offered to paint the crib. “You don’t have to do that. But it would be a big help. The rocking chair’s taking more time than I planned. All those spindles.”
Pam loved the color. “I would’ve chosen the same one,” she said. “It’ll look nice with the white and green.” She made herself comfortable on the living room couch. “Go have fun,” she said as she reached for the TV remote.
Mari and Jonathan headed for the garage where they painted together in an easy, friendly silence until Mari asked, “Do you know Cheyenne Little Wolf?”
Jonathan paused mid-brushstroke, tossing her a swift glance before resuming his task. “Yes. He’s a wrangler at JT Cattle & Guest Ranch, the Tanner’s ranch. He’s worked there about three years.”
“I met him today. He asked me out to dinner.”
Another pause. “Did you say yes?”
“No.”
Her cousin finished painting one spindle before saying, “I’ve heard nothing bad said about him. The Tanners do a good job vetting their employees. I’ve seen him at the Hideaway a few times. He’s popular with the younger crowd. Good dancer.”
“I’m not used to guys asking me on dates.”
Jonathan continued painting, not looking at her, giving her the choice to continue.
“Good guys, I mean,” she said. “I sense Chey is genuinely interested in me as a person. He wasn’t just asking me out so he could, uh, try to get me into his bed.”
“What was your gut instinct when he asked you?”
“I’m not sure. It wasn’t fear. I guess I felt flattered?”
They worked in silence for a while longer. Then Jonathan said, “I think it would be good for you to have dinner with Chey.”
“Okay. Maybe I will.”
***
SHE SPENT ALL OF MONDAY and Tuesday painting the baby crib. There was no more talk of Chey, but the man didn’t stray far from her thoughts. Her old companions, doubt and fear, found their way to the surface. Had Chey been sincere? Were his intentions genuine? Was he attracted to her? She wasn’t sure if it was attraction she felt, or if the emotion he stirred inside of her was simple curiosity, and perhaps a yearning for the kind of conversation she could only have with someone who shared a similar heritage.
On Wednesday, the café seemed busier than usual. Mari didn’t have time to think. She concentrated on writing up legible orders and then serving them without tripping over her own feet.
Most of the morning had passed when she became aware of Travis Hollister’s name cropping up in conversations throughout the café. She perked her ears, catching bits of information as she passed each table.
“So sad...”
“That was his first horse. I remember him riding it in the Fourth of July parade. He was five. Such a cute boy.”
“Said it was a clean break. Could’ve been worse...”
“I heard he’s caught that cold that’s been going around too.”
What had happened? Mari looked at Jonathan who stood over the griddle, his profile grim. Sage was at the register, speaking with an elderly couple. Her smile seemed brittle; her usual cheerful glow gone. She’d been late to work today, not arriving until after nine o’clock. None of them had come up for air since then.
Mari’s curiosity conquered her desire to remain unobtrusive.
As she refilled Squeak Farris’s coffee cup, she asked, “What’s all this about Travis Hollister? Is he hurt?”
The old cowboy nodded his grizzled head. “Had a bad fall up near Otter Creek. Broke his left leg.”
Her stomach lurched. “When did it happen?”
“Yesterday afternoon.” He took a slow sip of coffee, then smacked his lips. “Coffee tastes better than usual today. Did you make it?”
“Yes.” She struggled to keep impatience out of her voice. “I heard someone say he’s got a cold too?”
Squeak’s expression turned shrewd. “Why are you so interested? Thought the pair of you didn’t get along.”
She stepped back from the counter. “I can’t help it if everyone’s talking about him. Sounds like it was more than a broken leg.”
The man’s shoulders sagged. He set down his coffee cup, a heavy sigh escaping his downcurved mouth. “He had to put his horse down. It’s one of the saddest tasks a cowboy has to do.”
A hard knot lodged in Mari’s chest; it grew bigger when she noticed the sheen of moisture in Squeak’s faded blue eyes before he blinked it away. He appeared lost in his memories, and they weren’t good ones.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a soft voice.
Squeak cleared his throat. “Well, that’s ranch life. Living and dying. Season after season. Lot of folks don’t think past those cute little lambs and calves and spring flowers. Folks who’ve never worked on a ranch don’t see the muck and the blood.” With a glum shake of his head, he pushed his stool away from the counter. “Listen to me, talking all poetic-like. Gotta get back to work. I’m helping at Travis’s outfit until he’s back on his feet.” He slapped a five-dollar bill on the counter. “That’s your tip, young lady. Keep making the coffee like you did today. See you Saturday, Lord willing.”
It wasn’t until closing time that Sage could share the complete details with Mari and Jonathan. Tears filled her eyes as she spoke. “Spence was out yesterday morning gathering horses from the winter pasture when he found a break in the fence and noticed Tash—Travis’s horse since he was five—wasn’t with the herd. He searched for a while and then phoned Travis.” She grabbed the tissue Mari handed her and dabbed her eyes. “Thanks. I feel so horrible for Spence too... He wanted to continue looking, but he needed to return to the calving. This is one of the busiest times of the year on a ranch,” she explained to Mari. “Spence has over a dozen cowboys helping, but cows give birth on their own schedule, and I’m learning they don’t always choose the safest places to do it. Anyway, he didn’t have time to search for Tash. So, Travis hauled his trailer up as far as possible and then rode out to search. From what he could tell us, he saw Tash at the bottom of a canyon near Otter Creek. The horse was alive but injured.” She swallowed a sob. “When Travis climbed down the canyon wall, he slipped and fell. He broke his left leg. It’s a good thing he remembered to bring his cell phone. He called Spence after... They had to medevac him out. He had a slight concussion too, so they kept him overnight at the hospital. Spence stayed with him all night.”
“How bad is the leg?” Jonathan asked.
“It’s a closed fracture. The tibia. A clean break that didn’t need surgery, thank God. That’s looking at the bright side... It can take two months for the bone to mend, and the doctor advised at least three months of physical therapy, considering Travis works on his feet or in a saddle all day. He says Travis needs to keep the leg as immobile as possible for the next three to four days.” Sage shook her head. “You can imagine how that went over.”
“Is he home now?”
“Yes. But now it looks like he has that same cold Danny had. The poor man. It seems like it’s just been one bad thing after another for him since Christmas.” She gave a little gasp and darted an apologetic glance at Mari. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—”
“It’s okay,” Mari said. She hesitated before asking, “Is someone with him now?”
“Not at the moment. He was asleep when I left. I stayed with him for a couple hours this morning after Spence brought him back from Livingston. That’s why I was late. I made him some breakfast, but he wouldn’t eat. Spence and I tried to convince him to come stay at the Bar H so Hedda can look after him. That’s Spence’s housekeeper,” she added for Mari’s benefit. “But Travis insists on staying at the cabin. He refuses to be away from his horses. I’m so worried he’ll be walking around on that leg before he’s supposed to.”
“Squeak told me he’s helping until Travis is better,” Mari said.
“Yes. Him and his brother Mutt. They’re bunking in the barn. They’ll handle the ranch work as long as Travis needs them. His mom and dad weren’t planning to come here until early May. They’re on a cruise right now. Caroline’s heartsick she can’t be with her son. Viv’s women’s group has volunteered to take turns cooking meals for him and the Farris brothers. Viv’s putting a schedule together. I’ll do everything I can to help too.” Her brow knotted. “It’s just... With all the pie orders coming in for Easter, the spring calving, Danny’s after-school activities, the wedding plans...” Her shoulders drooped. “We’re all stretched thin.”
“I’d ask Pam to stay with him during the day,” Jonathan said. “But the baby—”
“I know. Don’t worry.”
“I can help,” Mari said.
Two pairs of eyes stared at her, both holding the same astonished expression.