*Amy had fallen in love with the mountains of Montana at first sight. They were rugged and craggy, imposing and spectacular. None more so than the peaks on either side of Paradise Valley. The Absarokas and the Gallatins. As Chet drove her south following the path of the mighty Yellowstone River, she was stunned by the beauty of it all.
“The Yellowstone is the longest undammed river in our country,” Chet told her. “And this land, nestled between the two mountain ranges, is some of the best ranching land anywhere. Certainly the most beautiful.”
Amy was dazed by the vastness of it all. Nowhere in the state of New York did the sky ever look so expansive, so blue, so fresh. This was called ranching country, and the homes were so far apart. For long stretches of time they saw nothing but undulating fields of wild grass stretching out to the forests growing on the flanks of the mountains. And then they’d pass a herd of cattle or horses. Several times they spotted mule deer, grazing right among the cattle.
“Do any of the ranchers grow crops like legumes and grains rather than raise cattle?” Amy asked.
“Most of this land is non-arable,” Chet explained. “Meaning even if the ranches weren’t here, the land couldn’t be used to grow food. Without cattle, you’d see more ungulates like elk and deer and moose. And bison.”
“We pretty much wiped those out, didn’t we?”
“They’re making a comeback. But the populations will never be what they were—in the millions I’ve heard.”
“Must have been something to see. Terrifying. But magnificent.”
“Right?” He shot her a smile.
Amy wasn’t ready for the drive to end when Chet started to slow his truck.
“Here already?”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I wish we could keep driving all the way to Yellowstone,” she admitted. She thought about her mother, making this trip all those years ago. No wonder she’d always spoken of Montana so fondly.
“I know that feeling,” Chet said. “Wanderlust. Montana always does it to me, too.”
As they drove through the Circle C ranch gate, she was impressed by the beauty of the two-story log home nestled amid some impressive tall pine trees. Chet drove past the house to a parking area near a grouping of freshly painted outbuildings.
Two horses came running up to the fence to meet Chet when he got out of the truck. Amy stayed where she was, watching, impressed by the beauty of the horses and the obvious connection between them and Chet. But also intimidated by their size and their energy.
Chet waved at her to join them. Every instinct she possessed told her to stay put. But she fought the fear and forced herself to leave the safety of the truck. Tentatively she moved closer to the fence.
Chet was petting the horses like they were friendly Labrador retrievers. But these weren’t dogs. They were huge animals. They tossed their heads and snorted, a message—she was certain—telling her to keep her distance.
“Bourbon is the sorrel, Hunter the chestnut,” Chet explained.
Amy nodded, trying to work out what he meant. Sorrel must be the one with the lighter reddish coat. That horse had a white mark on its forehead. The darker horse had no markings on the face but its front legs looked like they were wearing white socks.
“They’re very…big.”
Only then did Chet seem to realize how nervous she was. He looked like he was going to urge her forward, but then he appeared to change his mind.
“These guys are competitors. They have a lot of energy. Let’s go track down the mare Court suggested for you.”
“Okay,” she said reluctantly, wishing she had driven here in her own vehicle so she could turn around and leave right this second. She trailed Chet as he headed toward an enormous-sized barn—why did everything in Montana have to be so huge? Just then the barn door slid open and out walked a petite woman leading a sedate-looking black horse.
“Hey, Chet,” the woman said. “Saw you drive up and thought I’d saddle Moonstruck for you. She’ll appreciate a little attention and exercise. Amelia’s spending the day with her cousins in town.”
“Thanks.” Chet accepted the reins, patting the horse’s neck before making introductions.
“Callan, this is Amy Arden from Bramble House. Amy, Callan is Sage’s youngest sister. She and her husband Court run this place.”
“Court only thinks he runs it. It’s really me.” Callan winked as she shook Amy’s hand. “So you’re the New Yorker. Ever been on a horse before?”
Callan’s grip was strong, belying her small stature and delicate features. This woman was tough, Amy realized. Inside and out.
“First time,” she admitted. “And thinking maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all.”
“Aw, Moonstruck is gentle as a kitten. I wouldn’t trust her with my little girl if she wasn’t. And if you’re gonna live in Montana, you ought to learn to ride.”
Chet grinned. “That’s what I told her.”
“There must be lots of people in Montana who don’t ride horses,” Amy protested.
“Yeah, but think of all they’re missing. Come, get acquainted.” Chet beckoned her closer.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Callan said, turning back to the barn. “Have fun.”
As if, thought Amy. All she wanted was to survive the experience. With small steps she moved closer to Chet. At least this horse seemed much quieter than the others.
“So, approaching a horse,” Chet said. “First you want to make sure the horse sees you. Talk to her nice and low and quiet. Then approach from the front, at an angle.”
“Hi, Moonstruck,” Amy said, feeling awkward. “I’m Amy. Is it okay if I pet you?”
The horse responded by turning her head, just as Chet had said she would. Amy moved closer.
“That’s right,” Chet said encouragingly. “Now plant your hands on her shoulder. Come up nice and close.”
Amy hesitated. Then she took a deep breath and planted both her hands on Moonstruck’s shoulder. Nothing bad happened. Moonstruck’s hair was coarse, her body strong and warm. Amy stroked the horse’s shoulder. “That’s a good girl.”
The horse made a whickering sound and turned her nose toward Amy.
“Good,” Chet said. “You’re making a connection.”
Chet passed her a chunk of carrot. “Hold your hand flat and offer this to her.”
“Really?” Moonstruck had very big teeth, but Amy decided to trust him and do as Chet said. She only flinched a bit when Moonstruck took the treat.
“Great, you’re doing great. Now I’ll lead her into the pen and you can get in the saddle.”
Amy had to force herself to move forward. Never had she been more aware of her limp, and that reminded her of the accident, the terror and the pain, and the heart-wrenching losses that followed.
Petting and feeding the horse was one thing. Getting up on its back, another. Yes, Moonstruck seemed gentle. But she was still a huge animal.
“I don’t think I can do this, Chet. I’m terrified, and the horse is going to sense that.”
Chet waited for her to enter the pen, then shut the gate. Still holding Moonstruck’s reins, he turned to Amy. “Moonstruck is a calm, steady horse, and I’m right here beside you. That said, I don’t want you getting on this horse if you’re terrified.”
“Good.” He was letting her off the hook and she ought to feel relieved, but oddly what she felt was deflated.
“First though let me tell you what an older, more experienced cowboy once told me. Feeling scared is your choice. But you can also choose to feel brave.”
The words sank in slowly. And she saw the truth in them. The choice was hers. She’d faced it when she’d made the decision to get behind the wheel of a car again. And though it had been hard, she had done it. And each time she’d gone for a drive, she’d found it easier.
Then again, she’d been driving since she was eighteen. And she’d never been on the back of a horse.
Her gaze drifted to the pastures beyond the round pen, to the forested areas of the foothills. There was so much to explore and appreciate.
And suddenly her choice was clear.
“I want to try,” she told Chet.
“Okay.” He guided her through each step, calm and patient. And before she knew it, she was up on the horse, her boots in the stirrups, her legs molded to the curve of Moonstruck’s belly.
Instinctively Amy straightened her back. Engaged her core. For a few minutes Chet led her and Moonstruck around the pen then he said, “Enough of this. You’re ready to take the reins.”
After some brief instructions, she was on her own, just her and Moonstruck. For fifteen minutes she was content walking the horse in circles, then she gave a wistful look toward the open fields.
“Oh, no,” Chet said, guessing what she was about to ask. “I promised I would take things easy for your first lesson. But don’t worry. It won’t be long before you’re ready to go on a real trail ride. You’ve got great instincts. The way you sit in the saddle and steer through your core and legs.”
Hours later, after brushing down Moonstruck, cleaning the tack and then watching as Chet took care of his own horses, Amy thought this had probably been her best day in Montana.
And every good thing had happened because of Chet. Or maybe what had made everything so good was simply being with Chet. Amy felt he was opening up around her and she was doing the same with him. What was happening felt special to her.
Did it feel that way to him too?
She was about to thank him for the great day, when a message pinged on his phone. He took it out of his back pocket and frowned.
“What’s up?”
He stared out at nothing. Swallowed hard and then took a deep breath. “It’s my dad. He just pulled into Marietta. Wants to know if he can stay with me.”
*
Amy knew something was wrong as soon as Chet parked out front of Bramble House about an hour before sunset. Several people were gathered on the front porch and they looked worried. She recognized her guests, Dusty and Penny Murphy. But Carol Bingley was there too. And a man she didn’t recognize.
“What’s going on?” Chet wondered.
He’d been silent for most of the drive home. When Amy told him she didn’t mind if his father stayed in the room over the garage with him, all he’d said was, “Fat chance.”
He’d told her his dad had a drinking problem years ago, but Amy didn’t know if that was still the case. And she didn’t dare ask. Chet’s expression was flat and uninviting. He was even more of a closed book than when they’d first met.
Amy jumped out of the truck as soon as Chet put it into park. As she hurried toward the porch, she saw that everyone was standing around Penny, who was seated in a cushioned chair with her right leg supported on a stool. Dusty spotted her first.
“Hey there, Miss Amy. My wife’s had a little accident.” He turned to the other man on the porch, a man who Amy could now see was wrapping a tensor bandage around Penny’s ankle. “This is Dr. Gallagher.”
Amy barely glanced at the doctor. She went to Penny’s side and took her hand. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“Very much okay,” Penny answered brightly. “But it does appear I’ve injured my ankle.”
“You’d better stay off it for a few weeks,” the doctor said. “When you get home you might want to go for X-rays. But I’m almost certain it’s just a sprain.”
Amy’s head was spinning. “How did you fall?”
Penny and Dusty exchanged a glance. It was clear they didn’t want to say. But Carol Bingley had no such compunction.
“She tripped over a fold in the hallway rug. It’s much too dark in there. You really should replace that burnt-out light bulb.”
“Oh no. I’m so sorry.” Why, oh, why hadn’t she let Chet replace the light bulb when he’d offered? She glanced behind herself to see if he had heard, but he was still at his truck, watching the proceedings but obviously keeping his distance.
Amy thanked the doctor for helping her guest.
“No problem. I was on my way home after my shift when the accident happened. Carol recognized my vehicle and waved me over.” He turned back to Penny. “Not much more I can do for you now. Keep your foot elevated. Over-the-counter meds should be enough to keep the pain in control.”
While Penny added her thanks to Amy’s, Dusty drew Amy aside.
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to abort our trip. I can’t have Penny hobbling around the rodeo. She’ll be more comfortable at home. Is there any way you could refund some of our money?”
“Of course! I’m so sorry about that burnt-out light bulb.”
“Don’t you fret about that. Accidents happen. I’m going to leave Penny here to rest and go pack our bags. We’ll be on our way shortly. We have a good friend in Helena, who happens to be a nurse. She’s offered us a bed for the night. Then by tomorrow evening we should be back in our own home.”
Once Dusty left, Amy turned to Penny. “Can I get you something? Some water? A cup of tea?”
“I’m fine, dear. I’ll just lounge here until my husband has the car packed.” Penny sank back into the cushions. “After all this excitement, I’m suddenly exhausted. I’m afraid I’m going to sleep all the way to Helena.”
“Let me know if you change your mind. I’d be happy to pack some snacks for your drive.”
“We’re so full after our dinner at the Graff. Don’t you worry about us.”
Amy rose, feeling dreadfully guilty. This time when she looked for Chet there was no sign of him. Not only that, his truck was gone too.
Unfortunately Carol Bingley hadn’t gone anywhere. She took Amy by the arm and led her to the far end of the porch.
“It seems you’re over your head, young lady. With these old houses it’s important to stay on top of the regular maintenance and repairs. Never mind your yard. It took forever for you to finally mow your lawn and I don’t suppose you’ll ever get to the shrubs and flower beds. You really should hire some help.”
Amy’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. She was flabbergasted. First by this woman’s absolute gall. And then by the suggestion she hire help. Hadn’t Carol heard about the mass exodus? Perhaps the town gossip mill wasn’t as efficient as she’d thought.
“I would love to have help,” she finally managed. “But the entire staff quit on my first day.”
Carol blinked. “Really? That’s not the story going around town.”
“Oh?”
“I heard you let them go.” Carol frowned. “Or maybe it was the other way, come to think of it.”
Suddenly Amy felt as exhausted as Penny looked. She’d had enough of small-town gossip for the day. “Carol, thank you for helping my guests. But you’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got work to do.”
And first on the list was changing that darn light bulb.