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WE TAKE CARE OF OUR own.
Travis’s words reverberated in Mari’s head while she prepared dinner. Not just his words, but the way he said them, his gleaming grey eyes fixed on hers. A mysterious quiver raced through her, even now, her skin becoming tingly and warm. Her reaction mystified her. She was glad to escape to the kitchen.
It was casserole for dinner again—sausage and mushrooms. When Squeak and Mutt shuffled into the cabin on socked feet, she asked them to carry the table and three chairs to the bedroom. Without her asking, Mutt set the table and carried in the salad bowl and biscuits.
When Mari came into the bedroom, casserole dish in her mitt-covered hands, Squeak was saying, “Both of ’em are waxing, but no sign of dripping milk yet. Grady’s coming down tomorrow morning to stay until they’ve foaled. We’ll fix a rotation.” To Mari, he said, “This’ll be the last night we eat dinner together. Hope you won’t mind us fixing up plates to take to the barn if we need to?”
“That’s okay.”
“I should have installed those cameras in the stalls like I planned last year,” Travis said with marked irritation. “Then I could at least see what’s happening. This damn leg.”
“Lady present,” Squeak reminded him.
“Sorry.”
“I’ve heard worse,” Mari said.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Travis said.
She smiled. “Are you still hungry after that bowl of soup?”
He patted his flat stomach. “Yes. But all this lounging in bed will make me fat.”
Peeking at the way his sky-blue, long-sleeved cotton shirt clung to his sculpted arms and torso, she doubted Travis had a spare ounce of fat on him. She swiftly lowered her eyelashes.
“You could stand some fattening,” Squeak said. “The way you’ve been working these past few months, it’s a wonder you found time to eat.”
“I made do.”
“What you need is a housekeeper. Like Hedda.”
Mari glanced up from the plate she was loading to catch an appalled expression on Travis’s face. “H—, uh, heck no. Last thing I require is some woman prettying up my house. Before you know it, all my clothes will smell like lavender, my jeans so starched I can’t sit in the saddle, and there’ll be vases of flowers everywhere.”
Mutt chuckled.
“Betcha wouldn’t have trouble finding one,” Squeak said, eyes twinkling. “Why, every single gal in Sweet Grass from sixteen to ninety will line up at your door soon as word got out.”
Mari carried the plate of food to the bed. As Travis set up the lap tray and took the plate, he said, “Don’t you start, you old coot. Now that Spence is marrying again, my mom’s breathing down my neck to get myself hitched too.”
Squeak was a picture of innocence. “Did I say wife? I was talking about a housekeeper.”
“Mm. This looks tasty.” Travis slanted a grateful smile to Mari before she turned away. “Who made this one?”
“Betty MacNally, according to the masking tape on the lid.”
“Good woman. Good cook too. Have you eaten at the Hideaway yet?”
“Not yet.”
As he filled his own plate, Squeak said, “It’d be mighty nice having a good cook around this place all the time. Especially when you hire on some full-time hands.”
“You’re like a dog with a bone,” Travis said on a growl.
***
AN HOUR LATER, MARI was standing at the sink washing dishes when Squeak came back to the cabin. A pair of dogs trailed him. The animals swung their heads in her direction; their tails wagged cautiously. They sniffed the air and then let out joyous barks before speeding into the bedroom. Travis’s delighted exclamations intermingled with the excited, whining commotion of the dogs greeting their master.
With a timid air, Mari poked her head through the bedroom doorway.
“Come in,” Travis said with a beckoning lift of his chin. His face was the most relaxed she’d ever seen it. “Come meet my friends.”
Both dogs lay sprawled on the bed, one on each side of him. His arms curved around them. “This is Stella.” He nodded at the brown and white dog on his left, then to the black and white dog on his right. “And this is Rocky.”
Cautious steps carried Mari closer to the bed. “They’re beautiful.”
“They’re Aussie shepherds. Descendants of the original pair my great-grandmother brought with her from Nevada the year she married my great-grandfather.”
“They’ve been off their feed these last couple days,” Squeak said. “Thought it might be a good idea they see for themselves you’re okay.” He threw an apologetic glance at Mari. “Hope you don’t mind. I wiped the gumbo off their paws before I brought ’em inside. They’re working dogs. Don’t come in the cabin much.”
“Just on the coldest nights,” Travis said. He caught Mari’s puzzled expression. “They were in the cabin on Christmas Eve, otherwise I would have known sooner there was someone in the barn.” His gaze lowered to where she held her hands clasped tightly at her waist. “Do you like dogs?”
She nodded. “Just haven’t been around them much.”
He motioned her closer. “These two are mellow. They love having their bellies rubbed.”
On cue, Rocky rolled onto his back, his tail wagging. Mari giggled, her nervousness evaporating. She ran her hand over the dog’s belly, threaded her fingers through his soft, thick coat. “Hello, Rocky. What a sweet boy you are.”
A cold nose nudged her arm as Stella begged for equal attention. Mari petted and rubbed, and spoke silly words, enchanted by their affectionate licks.
Travis petted the dogs too. From the corner of her eye, she observed the gentle, circular motions of his strong hands. Once or twice, they slid close to hers but didn’t touch.
“You never had a dog?” he asked.
“Once. Kind of. At one of my foster homes. I was ten or eleven.”
“What was his name?”
“Sparky. He was a mutt. Just like m—” She clamped her lips together.
Travis threw her a curious look.
Stella and Rocky’s happy, panting breaths filled the silence. Mari noticed Squeak had left at some point. She should leave too, give Travis time alone with his dogs. But her hands refused to move from their warm bodies.
“He was a little dog,” she said. “Not furry like this. He followed me everywhere; he liked to wait for me at the bus stop.” She shrugged. “Maybe it was only because I gave him treats. Food I stole from the kitchen when nobody was looking.”
“I bet it was more than that,” Travis said. “Dogs can sense a good person from a bad one.”
“I guess.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “One day, he wasn’t waiting at the bus stop. He got hit by a car. I felt like it was my fault. I shouldn’t have let him follow me.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
She turned away from his probing gaze. Head down, she said, “It’s almost dark. I need to get back.”
“All right. Drive safe.”
At the front door, she yelled, “Don’t forget to take a shower!”
***
MARI RETURNED TO JONATHAN and Pam’s house to find them cuddled on the living room couch watching TV. Pam muted the volume. “How’s he doing?”
“Good. Better. His cold’s getting better anyway. He’s still in a lot of pain.” Mari kicked off her shoes and plopped into the armchair.
“Bet he’s getting cabin fever,” Jonathan said. “I give it two more days before he’s working in the arena.”
“I hope not,” his wife said. “Not unless he plans on being a cripple the rest of his life.”
“He can’t ride a horse until the cast is off and he starts physical therapy. But he can supervise the groundwork from a stool. And there’s other work he can do, once he’s comfortable on the crutches.”
“The horses might shy from the crutches.”
“Some guy named Grady is helping Travis starting tomorrow,” Mari said.
Pam looked relieved. “Oh, good. Grady has a way with horses. Like Travis.”
“I’m surprised Mack would let Grady go,” Jonathan said, referring to the eldest Tanner brother who, with his brother and father, operated the JT Cattle & Guest Ranch about twenty miles west of town on the eastern slopes of the Crazy Mountains.
Mari shrugged. “Squeak said it’s only for a couple weeks. Until the mares have foaled.”
“Listen to you.” Pam grinned. “You sound like a ranching woman.”
Mari made a face. “I don’t know half the things they talk about. But it’s...not boring.”
“Oh, I had a call from Viv about an hour ago.”
“Yeah? Did she say something nasty about me sleeping at Travis’s? Because she knew about that. I don’t know how. Not that it’s a big deal, except in her head.”
“Bet she saw you driving past her house early this morning and connected the dots.” Pam shook her head. “But she didn’t say one word about that.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true. And it was the shortest phone conversation I ever had with her. She called to say what a nice young lady you are and how nice it is of you to help. After she said goodbye, I wondered if it was a prank call, I was that surprised.” She nudged her husband’s shoulder. “What do you think about that?”
His grunt sounded skeptical. “Wonders never cease.”
***
THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, Travis invited Mari to play cards with him to fill the time before dinner.
“I don’t know any card games.”
“What? None? Well, I can teach you.” He patted the empty expanse of bed beside him. “Sit here. It’ll be easier.”
She hesitated. Part of her worried she’d move around too much and jar his injured leg. The bigger part worried about the intimacy of sitting with him on the bed he slept in. What if Viv Jacobsen walked in?
He sighed with teasing woe. “Come on. I’m bored. Be a good nurse and keep me company.”
She rolled her eyes. “I thought that’s what I’ve been doing. Wouldn’t you rather play cards with the guys?”
“Grady’s riding colts. It’s Squeak’s turn watching the mares, and Mutt’s taking a nap.” He shuffled the deck of cards in his hands then slapped a few on the lap tray. “I’ll teach you how to play Rummy.”
“Is drinking involved?”
He chuckled. “No.”
Mari shifted her weight from one leg to the other while she assessed the situation. Travis focused on the cards with a casual demeanor. His cleanly shaven face revealed a firm, angular jaw and a dimple on each side of his mouth. He’d combed his thick, freshly washed, honey-blond hair behind his ears.
“Well,” she said. “Okay. Seeing as you took a shower.”
He flashed a dimpled grin.
Twenty minutes later, she sat cross-legged on the bed, immersed in the game. “This is fun.”
He quirked one eyebrow. “Wait until I teach you to play Texas hold’em.”
“Poker? Isn’t that played with money?”
“We can play with fake money.”
She pursed her lips. “Maybe. I’m liking this game right now.”
As he pondered his cards, Travis said, “Hollister got its name from a poker bet. Yep. Back in 1880. A game between my great-great-grandfather, three Norwegians, and a sheepherder named Frenchie Renard. The Norwegians dropped out, one by one. One lucky card decided if the name of the town would be Hollister or Frenchville.”
“And your great-great-grandfather won.”
“Nope. Jameson T. Hollister lost.” Travis selected one card from his hand and discarded it.
“Well?” Mari said when it appeared he would leave her in limbo. “What happened?”
He winked at her. “Frenchie traded the naming rights for Jameson’s prize ram. Turns out, that’s what he wanted all along. He was a sly one. Although, he didn’t know Jameson had made up his mind to sell off his own sheep herd that year anyway, and go all in on raising beef cows.”
“Huh. Good story.” She smiled. “I bet it was a big deal, growing up a Hollister in Hollister.”
“It had its advantages.” There came that dimpled grin again. “Worked well with the girls.”
“I heard you’ve gone out with every single lady in the county. Is that true?” Her audacity took her by surprise, but it appeared Travis didn’t mind her nosy question.
“My reputation as the local lothario has been greatly exaggerated.” He picked up a card from the pile and discarded it. “Sure, I had some wild years back when I was riding broncs on the rodeo circuit. But now my time and energy stays focused on this ranch. I will make it the best quarter horse training facility in the state.”
“You were in the rodeo?” Her cheeks flushed when she heard the awe in her voice; she sounded like a wide-eyed teenage girl gushing over a pop star.
Humor glinted in his eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, doubling down on the twang in his voice. “Silver buckles, latigo, western shirts with pearly snaps, Stetson hat. The whole kit and caboodle.”
“I’ve only seen rodeos on TV. It looks so dangerous. Did you ever get hurt?”
“Oh, yes. Broke my right arm once. Dislocated my shoulder a few times. Plus, the usual scrapes and bruises. After three years on the circuit, my mom said I’d better quit before I got my nose broke. She’s always been particularly proud of my nose.”
Mari watched as he traced one long finger down the perfect line of his nose. Her eyes lingered on his wry smile. She had to force her attention back to her cards. “Is that why you stopped?”
His easygoing nature turned pensive. “I was ready to quit by then anyway. Even with all the safeguards in place for the animals, I witnessed enough bad things to make me realize I was following the wrong path.” He rubbed his nose again. “Funny thing is, I almost did get my nose broke, but not falling off a bucking bronc. Happened when I got into a tussle with a so-called horse trainer I caught beating his horse with a steel wire rope.”
Mari gasped, her eyes misting at the horrible vision his words created in her head. “What happened?”
“Well, last I saw of that no good, son of a—pardon me—scum, was him hightailing his sorry backside out of town with half a dozen cowboys chasing after him. As for the horse, he’s likely nibbling grass in the eastern pasture right now. I’ll introduce you some time.”
Relief and anticipation filled her. “I’d like that. I’ve never seen a horse up close.”
“Well, it will be my pleasure to make the introductions.”
They continued playing cards in friendly silence for several minutes until he said, “So, you never played Crazy Eights as a kid? Go Fish? War?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I’m out.” She spread her cards on the blanket.
“Again?” His scowl was teasing. “Beginner’s luck. Another game?” At her nod, he gathered the cards and shuffled.
Her eyes fixed on his hands, she said in a low voice, “One house where I spent most of my childhood... All the kids had chores to do. Most days were school, chores, homework then bedtime...”
His hands paused for a few seconds. “No playtime?” His question sounded calm, almost disinterested. He resumed dealing the cards.
“Sometimes. We made up our own games. There was a closet filled with toys and board games. When the social worker showed up at the door, we rushed to open that closet and play. Things improved at the next house, but I’d grown too old for toys and games. I spent most of my time at the library. Away from the...noise.”
Listening to herself, she struggled to add brightness to her tone; the last thing she wanted was anyone feeling sorry for her. She’d done enough of that herself for too long; it accomplished nothing other than increasing her misery. “I love to read. When I first walked into Shawna’s Reading Room, I thought I’d gone to heaven.”
“It’s a nice place.”
“You’ve gone there?”
“A few times. I do most of my reading in the wintertime. The rest of the year, it’s work from sunrise to sundown, then bed.” He drew a card from the pile. As he pondered his hand, he observed in a casual tone, “Not that I don’t make time for fun. Poker with the boys, dancing at the Hideaway on a Friday or Saturday night. And most Sundays I head up to the Bar H for supper. There’s always something happening around Hollister. Have you been to the bingo or movie nights at the Grange?”
She sensed he already knew the answer to that. She shook her head.
“The Grange hosts a dance every Saturday night June through September. Live music. People come from all over the county. You’ll like it.”
“I’m not sure if I’ll still be here.”
It was his turn to draw, but he didn’t. She glanced up from her cards to find him watching her, an odd glint in his eyes. But he seemed merely curious when he asked, “Where are you planning to go?”
“I’m not sure yet. I don’t have a car. But I almost have enough money to buy a used one.”
“And then?”
She shrugged. “I thought somewhere else in Montana where I can find a better job? Or California? I’ve always wanted to see the Pacific Ocean.”
“Do you have family in California?”
“No. No family but the Redfoxes.”
“I think it will disappoint Jonathan if you left so soon after you found him.”
“Why? It’s not like we’re that closely related. He’s a third cousin, twice removed, or something like that.”
“He’s your cousin. Period.”
“With a wife. A baby on the way. I can’t stay with them forever. I can’t impose. And Hollister isn’t exactly a diverse community. I stand out a mile around here.” A familiar frustration and anxiety rose to her chest and tightened her throat. “Why are you pushing me to stay anyway?”
“Am I?” The twist of his mouth and the careless lift of his shoulders conveyed his unconcern. “If you want to go, then go. I’m only thinking of Jonathan. It thrilled him to find you, the last living descendant of an ancestor the Redfoxes assumed died the same year she ran away. You gonna run away like she did?”
She stared at him, infuriated at how he’d stirred up guilty feelings. This wasn’t any of his business.
One by one, he picked up the cards she flung onto the blanket. While he added them to the stack on the tray, he said in a quiet voice, “You can spend your whole life running away from bad memories, Mari, but they’ll keep on chasing you. Unless you tell them to leave for good.”