Big Sky Mountain

chapter THIRTEEN



KENDRA STIFFENED IN her chair, staring at the computer monitor and the picture of her and Hutch, feeling as though she’d been slapped across the face. She clicked back to the main body of Joslyn’s email and read, “Now they’ve gone too far. This means war.”

The second message, from Tara, was similar.

The anti-Hutch campaign was one thing, as far as Kendra’s two closest friends were concerned, but dragging her into it was one step over the line. Clearly they were prepared to do battle.

She sat back, drew a few long, deep breaths, releasing them slowly, and reminded herself that this wasn’t such a big deal—the page was a petty outlet for people who apparently had too much free time on their hands, not a cross blazing on her front lawn or a brick hurled through her living room window.

She answered both Tara’s and Joslyn’s emails with a single response. “I’ll handle it.” Then, calmer but no less indignant at some stranger’s invasion of her privacy, she printed out a copy of the webpage, folded it carefully into quarters and took it back to the kitchen, where she’d left her purse. She tucked the sheet of paper away in the very bottom, under her wallet and cosmetic case, looked in on her daughter once more and retreated to the bathroom for that long soak she’d promised herself.

The warm water soothed her, as did the two over-the-counter pain relievers she took before crawling into bed. She hadn’t expected to sleep, but she did, deeply and dreamlessly, and the next thing she knew, sunlight was seeping, pink-orange, through her eyelids.

Her thighs and backside were sore from the horseback ride, but not sore enough to matter.

She threw herself into the morning routine—getting Madison up and dressed and fed, making sure Daisy went outside and then had fresh water and kibble. She skipped her usual coffee, though, and sipped herbal tea instead.

“You look pretty, Mommy,” Madison said, taking in Kendra’s crisp linen pantsuit. Lately, she’d been wearing jeans.

“Thank you,” Kendra replied lightly, pausing to bend over Madison’s chair at the breakfast table and kiss the top of her head. “I have an appointment this morning—a client is coming to see the other house—so hurry it up a little, will you?”

“About my boots,” Madison began.

So, Kendra thought wryly, she’d been right to suspect that, while genuine, the compliment on her outfit had its purposes.

“There will be all sorts of vendors—people who sell things—at the rodeo this weekend. We’ll check out the boots then.”

Madison beamed, but then her face clouded over. “But I still have to say sorry to Miss Abbington and Becky,” she recalled.

“Absolutely,” Kendra said firmly. “Suppose Becky had taken your boots, without permission, and then refused to give them back. How would you feel?”

“Bad,” Madison admitted.

“And so?” Kendra prompted.

“Becky felt bad,” Madison said. Then something flashed in her eyes. “But I didn’t wear Miss Abbington’s shoes. Why do I have to say sorry to her?”

“Enough,” Kendra said, softening the word with a smile. “You know darn well why you need to apologize to Miss Abbington.”

“I do?” Madison echoed innocently.

Kendra simply waited.

“Because I was misruptive in class,” Madison finally conceded.

“Bingo,” Kendra said.

* * *

AN HOUR LATER, with Madison at preschool and Daisy minding the office, Kendra showed the mansion to the second client, a representative of a large investment group with an eye to turning the place into an apartment complex.

Kendra knew right away that there would be no actual sale, but that didn’t matter. The real estate business was all about showing places again and again, until the right buyer came along. Generally, she had to bait a lot of hooks before she caught a fish.

Work was the furthest thing from her mind anyway, with that printout of the webpage burning a hole in the bottom of her purse.

At lunchtime, she locked up the office, loaded the always adventuresome Daisy into the Volvo and headed for the neighboring town, Three Trees.

She didn’t know Brylee Parrish well—the two of them were barely acquainted, with a five-year gap in age, and they’d grown up in separate if closely linked communities—but she knew exactly where to find her. Brylee, with her flourishing party-planning business, was the original Local Girl Makes Good—she had a large warehouse and offices just outside Three Trees.

During the drive, Kendra didn’t rehearse what she was going to say, because she didn’t know, exactly. She doubted that Brylee personally was behind the webpage photo and the remark about Hutch being up to his old tricks, but she’d know who was.

Arriving at Brylee’s company, Décor Galore, Kendra rolled down one of the car windows a little way, so Daisy would have air, and promised the dog she’d be back soon.

A receptionist greeted her with a stiff smile and several furtive glances stolen while she was buzzing the boss to let her know that Kendra Shepherd wanted to see her.

“She’ll be here in a couple of minutes,” the receptionist said, hanging up. Now, for all those sneak peeks, the young woman wouldn’t look directly at Kendra. She nodded toward a small and tastefully decorated waiting area. “Have a seat.”

“I’ll stand, thank you,” Kendra said politely.

When Brylee appeared, opening a side door and poking out her head, Kendra was immediately and oddly struck by how beautiful she was, with those huge hazel eyes and that glorious mane of chestnut-brown hair worn in a ponytail today.

“Come in,” Brylee said, and her cheeks flared with color, then immediately went pale.

Kendra followed Brylee through a long corridor, through the busy, noisy warehouse and into a surprisingly plain office. The furniture—a desk, two chairs, some mismatched file cabinets and a single bookcase— looked as though it had come from an army surplus store. There were no pictures or other decorations on the walls, no knickknacks to be seen.

“Sit down—please,” Brylee said, taking the chair behind her desk.

Kendra sat, opened her purse, dug out the folded sheet of paper and slid it across to Brylee.

Brylee swallowed visibly, and her unmanicured hands trembled ever so slightly as she unfolded the paper and smoothed it flat.

Kendra felt a brief stab of sympathy for her. After all, losing Hutch Carmody was a trauma she well understood, and it had probably been worse for Brylee, all dressed up in the wedding gown of her dreams, with all her friends and family there to witness the event.

Brylee, meanwhile, gave a deep sigh, closed her eyes and squeezed the bridge of her nose between one thumb and forefinger. Then, rallying, she squared her slender shoulders and looked directly at Kendra.

“I don’t expect you to believe me,” she said with dignity, “but I didn’t know about this.”

“I have no reason not to believe you,” Kendra replied moderately. She drew in another deep breath, let it out and went on, feeling her way through her sentence word by word. “Some people—maybe a lot of them—would say it’s just a harmless photograph and I ought to let it go at that. If this is as far as it goes—fine. I can deal with it. But I have a four-year-old daughter to think about, Ms. Parrish, and—”

Brylee put up a hand. She still looked wan, but a friendly sparkle flickered in her eyes. “Please,” she interrupted. “Call me Brylee. We’re not enemies, you and I—or, at least, I hope we’re not—and I totally get why this bothers you.” She paused, bit her lip, studying Kendra’s face with a kind of broken curiosity. “Really, I do.”

“Then we don’t have a problem,” Kendra said, wanting to be kind and at the same time picking up on just how much Brylee wanted to ask if she and Hutch had some kind of “thing” going. “Just ask whoever put this up on the web to take it down, please, and leave me alone.”

Brylee arched one perfect eyebrow. “What about Hutch?”

“What about him?” Kendra countered mildly.

“Never mind,” Brylee said miserably, looking away for a long moment.

Kendra was relieved when Brylee didn’t press the point. What about Hutch? Indeed. She had no idea what, if anything, was happening between her and Hutch Carmody. Sure, he’d kissed her, and made her want him in the process, but he was on the rebound, after all. He must have cared for Brylee at some point or he’d never have asked her to marry him.

The realization struck her like a face full of cold water; she grew a little flustered and fumbled with her purse as she rose from her chair. “I’d better go—my dog is in the car and—”

Brylee stood, too, her smile sad but real. “I’m sorry, Kendra. About the webpage, I mean. It seemed pretty innocent at first—all my friends were mad at Hutch and so was I—but enough is enough. I’ll see that they take the page down.”

To Kendra’s mind, Hutch was a big boy and he could fight his own battles; her only concern was that she’d been featured. “Thank you,” she said.

Brylee walked her back along the corridor, through the reception area and out into the parking lot. She smiled when she saw Daisy poking her snout through the crack in the window, eager to join in any game that might be played, but Kendra felt edgy. She knew there was something else Brylee wanted to say to her.

Sure enough, there was.

“I don’t think Hutch ever really got over you,” Brylee said quietly, and without malice. “I should have paid more attention to the signs—he called me by your name once or twice, for instance—but I guess I was just too crazy about him to see what was happening.”

Kendra felt another tug of sympathy, even as all the old defenses rose up inside her. “Thanks again,” she said, and climbed into her car.

Daisy whimpered in the backseat, either because she needed to squat in the grass or because she’d taken a liking to Brylee, or both, but the dog was going to have to wait. No way was Kendra going to let Daisy christen Brylee’s parking lot right in front of the woman—it might seem, well, like a symbolic gesture.

Brylee waved, watching as Kendra drove away and Kendra waved back.

Thoughts assailed her as she pulled onto the highway leading home to Parable; she heard Brylee’s words, over and over again. I don’t think Hutch ever really got over you—he called me by your name once or twice—

“Stop it,” Kendra told herself, right out loud.

Daisy whimpered again, more urgently this time.

Kendra pulled over when she came to a wide spot in the road, got out of the car, leaned into the backseat to hook Daisy’s leash to her collar and took the dog for a short walk in the grass.

By the time they were on their way again, she was starting to feel foolish for confronting Brylee with that printout at all. She’d probably overreacted.

Before pulling back onto the highway, Kendra got out her cell phone and called Joslyn.

“Were you asleep?” she asked, first thing.

Joslyn laughed. “I’m a new mother,” she said. “We don’t sleep.”

Kendra laughed, too. “Is your mom still visiting?”

“She left this morning,” Joslyn answered. “Mom was a lot of help—Callie has been, too—but it’s time things got back to normal around here. Besides, Slade and Shea are great with the baby.”

“Good,” Kendra said.

“You called to find out if I was sleeping?” Joslyn teased. “Is this about that stupid webpage? Five minutes after I hit Send, I wished I hadn’t just sprung the thing on you like that. Tara feels the same way.”

“It’s all right,” Kendra said, watching as cars and trucks zipped by on the highway. “But, yeah, that’s the reason I called. I’ve just been to see Brylee.”

“Come right over,” Joslyn commanded cheerfully. “Immediately, if not sooner. I want to hear all about it.”

“Nothing happened,” Kendra put in lamely. It wasn’t as if she and Brylee had gotten into a hair-pulling match or anything; they weren’t a pair of junior high schoolers fighting over a boy.

“Be that as it may,” Joslyn replied, “you obviously need some BFF time or you wouldn’t have called. Come over.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Kendra capitulated, grateful.

“Good,” Joslyn answered.

When Kendra and Daisy arrived at Windfall Ranch, Tara’s sports car was parked alongside the main house, next to Joslyn’s nondescript compact. Slade’s truck was nowhere in sight—maybe he’d driven his mother-in-law to the airport.

Joslyn and Tara both appeared on the back porch as Kendra got out of the car and freed Daisy from the confines of the backseat. Lucy, Tara’s dog, was on hand to greet her and the pair frolicked, overjoyed at their reunion.

Joslyn smiled and waved, but Tara looked worried.

“Have I just made a world-class fool of myself or what?” Kendra fretted as she approached the porch. By now, of course, Joslyn would have told Tara about the visit to Brylee’s office.

Tara finally smiled. “I’m not sure,” she joked. “Come inside, and we’ll figure it out over coffee and pastry.”

They all trooped into Joslyn’s recently remodeled kitchen, including Lucy and Daisy, who greeted Jasper, Slade’s dog, and were roundly snubbed by Joslyn’s cat.

Baby Trace lay in his bassinet, gurgling, his feet and hands busy as he tried to grab hold of a beam of sunlight coming in through a nearby window.

Joslyn smiled, tucked his blanket in around him, and bent to plant a smacking kiss on his downy head. “I love you, little cowboy,” she said softly.

The backs of Kendra’s eyes scalded a little, in the wake of a rush of happiness for her friend. Joslyn had built a successful software company on her own, sold it for a fortune and righted an old wrong that wasn’t even hers in the first place. But this—Slade, his stepdaughter, Shea, the baby, the ranch, all of it—was her dream come true.

And it had been by no means a sure thing.

Now, though, she absolutely shone with fulfillment.

Tara, following Kendra’s gaze, smiled and said quietly, “There she is, the world’s happiest woman.”

Kendra nodded and blinked a couple of times, and they all sat down to enjoy the tea Joslyn must have brewed in advance. There were doughnuts with sprinkles waiting, too.

“Do you miss your mom, now that’s she’s gone home to Santa Fe?” Kendra asked Joslyn, deciding to skip the doughnuts because her stomach was still a little touchy.

“Of course I do,” Joslyn said. “It was lovely, having her here, but she has a life to get back to and, besides, we’re sure to see her again soon.”

“We shouldn’t have forwarded that webpage to you,” Tara interjected, looking fretful again. “I don’t know what we were thinking.”

“It’s all right,” Kendra said truthfully. “I would have seen it sooner or later anyway, and it was better that it came from the two of you.”

“You really went to see Brylee Parrish?” Joslyn asked, wide-eyed.

“No,” Kendra joked. “I just said that to get a rise out of you. Yes, I went to see Brylee, and I feel like an idiot. One of those people who are always on the lookout for something to raise a fuss about.”

“I’d say you had reason to raise a fuss,” Tara said, loyal to the end. “Sometimes things like that picture of you and Hutch being posted with a snarky comment start out small and then mushroom into a major hassle.”

“Well, anyway, it’s done,” Kendra went on with a little shrug. “Brylee is actually a very nice person, you know. She’s going to make sure the page gets taken down—so no harm done.”

“Did she ask if you and Hutch are involved?” Joslyn asked. No sense in pulling any punches; cut right to the chase—that was Joslyn’s way.

“She wanted to,” Kendra said, “but she didn’t.”

“Are you?” Tara prodded.

“Am I what?” Kendra stalled.

“Involved. With. Hutch. Carmody,” Tara said with exaggerated patience.

“No,” Kendra said, thinking, not if you don’t count that hot kiss by Whisper Creek yesterday afternoon.

“I heard he bought a pony for Madison,” Tara persisted.

“Who told you that?” Kendra wanted to know.

“Word gets around,” Tara said.

“Opal,” Kendra guessed, and knew she was right by the looks of fond chagrin on her friends’ faces.

“Don’t be mad at Opal,” Joslyn was quick to say. “We were talking on the phone and it just slipped out that Hutch bought a pony for Madison to ride and, well, it’s only natural to draw some conclusions.”

“Which, of course, you did,” Kendra pointed out sweetly. “It just so happens that you’re wrong, though. Hutch bought the pony because the people who owned it before said it was lonely, with their kids grown up and gone from home.”

Tara and Joslyn exchanged knowing looks.

“Every hardworking cattle rancher needs a pony named Ruffles,” Joslyn observed dryly and with a twinkle.

“It means nothing,” Kendra insisted.

“Whatever you say,” Tara agreed, grinning.

“You two are impossible.”

“At least we’re objective,” Joslyn said. “Unlike some people I could mention.”

Kendra picked up her teacup and took a measured sip. “You are so not objective,” she said at some length.

“We want you to be happy,” Tara said.

“Well, I want you to be happy, too,” Kendra immediately replied. “So why aren’t we trying to throw you together with somebody—like Boone Taylor, for instance?”

Tara turned a fetching shade of apricot-pink. “Oh, please,” she said.

Joslyn, comfortably ensconced in her own marriage and family life, grinned at both of them. Happy people could be downright insufferable, Kendra reflected, especially when they were trying to make a point. “There was a time,” she reminded them, “when I couldn’t stand Slade Barlow. And look how that turned out.”

“Oh, right,” Tara said grumpily. Her teacup made a clinking sound as she set it back in her saucer. “We’ll just go out and find men we absolutely cannot abide, won’t we, Kendra, and live happily ever after. Why didn’t we think of that?”

Joslyn’s eyes shimmered with mischievous amusement. “You might be surprised if you gave Boone even the slightest encouragement,” she said before turning her gaze on Kendra. “And as for you, Ms. Shepherd, we all know that Hutch Carmody makes your little heart go pitty-pat, so why try to pretend otherwise?”

Kendra sighed a long, sad sigh. “Maybe he does,” she confessed, almost in a whisper. “But that doesn’t mean things will work out between us. They didn’t before, remember.”

“You do feel something for him, then,” Joslyn pointed out kindly, patting Kendra’s hand.

“I don’t know what I feel,” Kendra said. “Except that he scares me half to death.”

“Why?” Tara asked. Her tone was gentle.

“Once burned, twice shy, I guess,” Kendra answered. She glanced down at her watch, partly as a signal that she didn’t want to talk about Hutch anymore. “I’d better get back to the office,” she added, “before people decide I’ve gone out of business because I’m never there.”

Nobody argued. Both Tara and Joslyn rose to hug their friend goodbye.

Kendra called to Daisy and within minutes the two of them were on the road again.

When she reached the office and checked her voice mail, Kendra learned that three prospective new listings were in the works. She called back each of the people who’d decided to sell their property, arranging meetings for the afternoon, glad to be busy.

The first of the three was a modest ranch-style house with a big yard, a detached garage and plenty of space for flower beds and gardens. The owner, an aging widower named John Gerard, had decided to share a condo in Great Falls with his brother. The place had been impeccably maintained, but it needed some upgrading, too—it would make a good starter home for a young couple, with or without a family.

Kendra and Mr. Gerard agreed on an asking price and other details, and papers were signed.

The second property was commercial—a spooky old motel that would be difficult to sell, given the dilapidated state it was in, but Kendra liked challenges, so she took that listing on, too, mainly because it was in a good location, almost in the middle of town.

By the time she visited the third offering, a double-wide trailer in her grandmother’s old neighborhood, she was getting anxious. She had to be at the preschool by three o’clock to pick up Madison, that being the present arrangement, and she couldn’t be late.

The owner—in her distracted state Kendra hadn’t connected the dots—was Deputy Treat McQuillan. His face was still colorfully bruised from the set-to with Walker Parrish the other night at the Boot Scoot Tavern. By now the incident had assumed almost legendary proportions in and around Parable and she wondered, a little nervously, if Deputy McQuillan had followed through on his threat to press charges against Walker for assault.

In uniform, McQuillan was waiting on his add-on porch when Kendra pulled up in her car. She’d dropped Daisy off at home on her way over and, at the moment, she was glad. There was something about this man that made her feel slightly overprotective, of Madison and her dog.

“Hello,” she sang out pleasantly, a businesswoman through and through, leaving her purse in the car and unlatching the creaky wooden gate that opened onto the rather hardscrabble front yard. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”

“Some things,” McQuillan drawled, letting his gaze drag over her in a way that was at once leisurely and sleazy, “are worth waiting for.”

Kendra felt profoundly uncomfortable and not just because her last encounter with this man, when he’d warned her about Hutch at the Butter Biscuit Café, still irritated her. Her grandmother’s old place was just two doors down, on the other side of the unpaved road, and the old sense of futility and sorrow settled over her as surely as if she’d stepped back in time and turned into her childhood self, abandoned and scared.

“You’re planning to move?” she asked sunnily, pretending this was business as usual. McQuillan was, after all, a sheriff’s deputy and, even if he had stepped over the line with Brylee over at the cowboy bar, there was no reason to paint him as a rapist on the prowl for his next victim.

“I’m not sure yet,” the deputy replied, keeping his eyes on her face now, instead of her breasts. “Maybe I’ll buy a patch of land and build a house, if I can get the right price for this double-wide.”

Kendra approached confidently, with her shoulders back and her spine straight. “I see,” she said. “What if it sells right away, though? Where would you live in the interim?”

He favored her with a slow grin that made her skin crawl a little and stepped down off the porch to put out a hand to her. “I haven’t thought that far ahead,” he admitted, gesturing toward the trailer behind him. “I’m just taking things as they come.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m on duty in a few minutes,” he went on, handing her a ring with two keys dangling from it. “You go on in and take a look around and, if you wouldn’t mind, lock up on your way out. I’ll pick up the keys later on and we’ll work out the details.”

Kendra was used to being alone in houses and apartments with people who made her uneasy—that was part of being in the real estate business—but she was wildly relieved that McQuillan meant to leave her to explore on her own. The idea of being confined in a small space with this man made her more than edgy.

She smiled, though, and nodded. “I’ll be back at the office around three-thirty,” she said. “You could stop by any time after that.”

“Fine,” he said, and walked on toward the gate. With a jaunty wave of farewell, he left the yard, crossed the sidewalk and got into his personal vehicle, a small green truck, clearly old but polished to a high shine.

Kendra waited until he’d driven away with a merry toot of his horn, before starting up the porch steps.

The front door stood open, but there was a sliding screen, so she moved that aside to step into a living room exactly like her grandmother’s.

Her stomach curled around what was left of her quick lunch, a fruit cup and some yogurt hastily consumed at home while she was getting Daisy settled, and she instructed herself, silently and sternly, to get over it.

She wasn’t a little girl anymore and this wasn’t her grandmother’s mobile home.

Deputy McQuillan’s living room was shabby—the carpet, drapes and furniture had all seen better days—but every surface was immaculately clean, like the outside of his truck.

She made a hasty circuit, checking out the kitchenette, the fanatically neat bathroom, the three bedrooms, two of which were desperately small. The master bedroom boasted a water bed with a huge, mirrored headboard, and the coverlet was made of crimson velvet.

Cringing a little, Kendra backed out of that room. It was a silly reaction, she knew, but she had to force herself to walk—not run—through the kitchenette and the living room to the front door.

Outside, she sucked in several deep breaths and resolutely took a tour of the yard. There was a tool shed, a detached garage and a small rose garden encircled by chicken-wire that was painted white. The blossoms inside seemed timid, somehow, like prisoners waiting to be rescued.

Now she was really being silly, she decided.

It was a relief, just the same, to get into her car, shut and lock the doors and drive away.

* * *

“I ’POLOGIZED!” MADISON announced when Kendra picked her up at preschool. “Becky and me are friends now! She invited me to sleep over sometime—and she has horses at her house—”

Kendra bit back the correction—Becky and I—and smiled as she strapped Madison into her car seat. “That’s wonderful,” she said. “Did you apologize to Miss Abbington, too?”

Madison nodded vigorously, but a frown creased her forehead. “Where’s Daisy? You didn’t give her back to that lady at the shelter, did you?”

Slightly stunned, Kendra straightened. “Daisy’s at home,” she said gently. “And of course I didn’t give her back, sweetheart. Why would I do that?”

“Sometimes people give kids back,” Madison ventured.

Kendra swallowed hard, worked up another smile. Madison had been shunted from one foster home to the next during her short life, so it wasn’t difficult to figure out the source of the child’s concern, for Daisy and for herself.

“You’re staying with me,” Kendra said carefully, “until you’re all grown up and ready to go off to college. And even then, you’ll always have a home to come back to, and a mommy, too.”

“You won’t give me back? Not ever?”

“Not ever,” Kendra vowed, fighting tears. “And the same goes for Daisy. We’re in this for the long haul, all three of us. We’re a family, forever and ever.”

“It would still be nice if there was a daddy,” Madison mused, though she looked appeased by Kendra’s promise never to leave. It was one she’d made a thousand times before, and would probably make a thousand more times in the future.

“I guess,” Kendra allowed, getting quickly behind the wheel and starting up the car so they could head for home.

“If I could pick out a daddy, I’d choose Mr. Carmody,” Madison went on.

By then, Kendra was beginning to wonder if she was being played, but she didn’t hesitate to give her daughter the benefit of a doubt. Carefully, she put the car in gear and drove away from the community center, waving to other mothers and fathers coming to collect their children. “Unfortunately,” she explained, “it doesn’t work that way.”

“How does getting a daddy work, then?”

Kendra suppressed a sigh. “It’s not like baking cookies, honey,” she said. “There’s no recipe to follow. No formula.”

“Oh,” Madison said, and the note of sadness in her voice made Kendra ache.

They drove in silence for a minute or two.

Then Madison spoke up again. “It’s not fair,” she said.

“What’s not fair?” Kendra asked patiently, concentrating on the road ahead.

“That my daddy’s in heaven instead of right here in Parable with us,” Madison replied succinctly. “I want a daddy I can see and talk to.”

Kendra didn’t trust herself to answer without bursting into tears, so she held her tongue.