Good Together (17 page)

She shifted up and studied the room. It was decorated in upscale western style, with a log-framed poster bed and an original oil painting above the polished oak bureau. Color scheme was gold and blue. Nice. She swung her feet out to the floor, wincing at the throbbing in her head. Her stomach felt pretty crappy too.

In the ensuite bathroom, folded on the counter, was one of Nat’s oversized flannel shirts and a thick pair of woolen socks. She put the shirt over her wrinkled dress, doing the buttons up to her neck. For a finishing touch she slipped on the socks. Quite the ensemble.

She avoided her reflection as she made her way sheepishly out of the room.

Down the hall and to the right, she found the kitchen. Nat was helping himself to a cup of coffee. He looked up. Smiled.

She felt self-conscious about her bare legs—somehow her stockings had gotten several ghastly runs last night, she didn’t recall how it happened, but she’d had to toss them in the trash this morning.

“Morning Mattie.”

Suddenly she remembered how it had felt to have his arms around her when they were dancing. He’d held her so properly, but his touch had still created a heat in her body quite unlike her reaction to having Ryan Gerry pull her close.

She shuddered, remembering. Boy, she hadn’t handled that very well.

“Sleep okay?” Nat asked.

“Better than I deserved.” She slipped onto a stool at the butcher block island, about three times the size of her own at Bishop Stables.

Everything at the Double D was bigger. And more beautiful. Nat’s house could have been the lodge for an upscale mountain resort, and yet he rarely entertained, so she’d only been inside a handful of times in the past nineteen years.

Two pain pills were on the counter, along with a glass of water. When Nat nodded at them, she said, “Thanks,” and swallowed them down. Glancing at the microwave, she winced at the time. It was almost nine o’clock. She’d slept through his morning chores and her own. Not that there was much in the way of chores for her anymore. There was plenty of hay in the shelters for the eight horses that were left. When she got home, she’d check and make sure the water troughs weren’t frozen. But since Jake had just repaired all the pumps in October, the chances of that happening were slight.

“Where’s Tuff?” Her voice came out hoarse. She took another drink of water.

“In the mudroom with Buffy. Probably flaked out. They exhausted themselves playing in the new snow this morning.”

“Mind if I go say hello?”

“Be my guest.” He pointed the way.

She vaguely remembered coming into the house through the side entrance that led in from the garage last night. Just beyond the kitchen was a rather forlorn-looking dining room—she’d bet it hadn’t been used since Julia left—and then the hallway opened up to a large gracious foyer. Straight ahead was the main entrance, and to the left a corridor that led to a bathroom and the mudroom. Here she found Tuff and her sister curled up together. So adorable, she wanted to scoop them up, but puppies were like babies. When they were sleeping, only a fool disturbed them.

Quietly she backed out of the hall and from this vantage point noticed that the door to Nat’s study, on the other side of the entry, was open.

Feeling a little snoopy, she couldn’t resist a peek.

The room was masculine, but cozy, decorated in navy blue and chocolate browns. Dominating the space was a massive, walnut desk. On top of the desk were blueprints, curling up at the edges.

“Everything okay?” Nat had come to check on her. His gaze went from where she was standing, to where she was looking.

“Have you got a new construction project in the works?” she asked.

Nat closed the door to his office. “Just some minor renovations to the house.”

While Nat had been married, Julia had done a complete update of the place. Fortunately, while she had no interest in living in a ranch house, she’d had excellent taste in decorating one. “Really? It looks perfect just the way it is.”

“Oh, you know, just a few changes here and there,” he said vaguely. “Hungry?”

“Honestly? No.”

But she followed him back to the kitchen and watched as he sliced some cantaloupe, then arranged it on a plate with two slices of toast. He slid the plate across the gleaming wooden surface to her.

“I’m bit foggy on some of the details from last night.” She picked up the buttered rye toast and took a nibble. “How did you happen to be at the Smoke House? Was it a coincidence?”

“No. I was looking for you. When you didn’t answer your phone, I called Jake and he said you’d mentioned going to the Smoke House.”

He must have wanted to speak to her urgently, if he hadn’t been willing to wait for the morning. “Is there a problem?”

Nat’s forthright gaze slipped a little to the left. “Wes called here last night after supper. He sounded pretty serious about finding a buyer for your ranch.”

Mattie gasped, then choked on the piece of toast she’d just swallowed. She gulped down more water. “That bastard. He phoned me around five o’clock yesterday to tell me he’d sold the horses—fat lot of good that was, since I’d already seen Guy Medley drive off with them thirty minutes earlier. I told Wes he’d better not pull the same stunt with the ranch.”

A request he’d obviously point-blank ignored.

Nat refilled his coffee cup, then took a seat to her right. Leaning forward, he turned his head in her direction. “And what did he say to that?”

She hesitated. “He told me to hire a lawyer.”

“You’re right. He
is
a bastard.”

“He wants a clean, fast break, that much is clear. But he’s such a coward. Just once I’d like to have him look me in the eyes and explain why he has to not only end our marriage, but sell all our horses and our home, too.”

“But he won’t,” Nat predicted. “That would require him to admit that he’s the bad guy here.”

“Well, maybe I shouldn’t give him a choice. He’s been calling the shots for too long. It’s my turn.” Mattie straightened her shoulders. Finished off the water. “Could you give me a lift home, Nat?”

“I could. But what’s your plan? You’re cooking something up. I can see it in your eyes.”

“If he won’t come to me, then I’m going to find him.”

“In a few days, you mean?”

“Now.”

“Have you looked out a window today?”

She had, briefly, but now she turned to the large picture window behind her. The view was almost entirely white. The predicted blizzard was in full onslaught.

“I’ve driven in storms before. I’ve got good tires. I’ll be fine.”

“Do you even know where to find him?”

“A month ago Wes told me he was staying with some old friends of his, Peter and Marg Wilkinson. They have an acreage up near Billings. I’ll start there.”

Nat processed this. Then looked deeply into her eyes. “You’re really determined to do this?”

“I am.”

“You know... I wouldn’t mind having a few words with Wes myself.”

This was interesting. She narrowed her eyes as she studied him. “About buying Bishop Stables?”

Nat nodded. “Finish your breakfast Mattie. We need to get on the road.”

“You sure?”

“Yup. Even if I didn’t have my own reasons for this trip, I sure as hell wouldn’t let you drive to Billings alone.”

Maybe she should have been insulted by his alpha male attitude. But she liked the idea. Nat would be a good person to have along if anything went wrong.

And even if it didn’t.

* * *

A
t home Mattie took a quick shower, then threw some jeans, sweaters, underwear and her toiletry bag into a duffel. Nat had made arrangements for Eadie to take care of Tuff and for one of his men to check on her horses and the barn cats. Mattie didn’t know what would happen when the buyers Wes had lined up to purchase Whiskey Chaser and the rest of the families’ horses came by. There’d be no one here to sign any paperwork, so they could hardly just drive off with them, even if they had already forked over their money.

But that was Wes’s problem.

She felt so much better now that she had a plan of action. She was sick of waiting and praying for Wes to get in touch, being on edge to see what he would do or say next.

Nat insisted that he would drive, and that they’d be taking his truck. She didn’t argue, knowing there would be no point.

He was waiting for her out there, now, checking the address she’d given him for the Wilkinson’s on his GPS.

On her way out the door, Mattie paused for a final check over her shoulder. She didn’t often leave her home unattended, but she knew she could count on Nat’s men to watch over everything.

Snow pelted the exposed skin on her face as she dashed from her door to the passenger side of Nat’s truck. Gratefully she jumped up to the heated seat and stared out the windshield to an almost complete white-out.

“Sure you don’t want to wait this storm out?” Nat’s hands were on the steering wheel as he turned to look at her.

“I’ve driven in worse.” And she knew he had too. You couldn’t live your entire life in Montana without driving in less than optimum conditions a lot.

But she did feel guilty for taking Nat away from his comfortable home. “I can handle this. Really. You don’t need to drive me.”

She didn’t expect him to capitulate, and he didn’t. He just eased the truck out of park and pushed through the snow drifts toward the main road.  What was normally a seven hour drive was going to take a lot longer today.

But she didn’t mind. Nat had his iPod hooked up so they could listen to tunes. And despite the raging storm outdoors, it was warm and cozy in his truck.

Surreptitiously Mattie studied the man beside her. Nat had a gorgeous profile, with his straight nose, firm jaw and chin and perfectly proportioned lips. Despite the dreadful conditions he seemed perfectly at ease behind the wheel.

She had to laugh at the incongruity of the situation. “Three months ago—if someone had told me you and I would be driving to Billings in a blizzard, I never would have believed it.”

“Yeah. Life can turn on a dime. I’ve experienced it, myself.”

Was he talking about his ex-wife? “Do you and Julia keep in touch?”

“She sends me an e-mail every now and then. It’s usually about three pages long, telling me everywhere she’s been and all the people she’s met. She never did marry again. But she keeps looking.”

“She’s a beautiful woman.” Mattie wasn’t insecure about her own appearance, but being around Julia had always made her feel like plain, beige wallpaper.

“I once thought so.”

“Not anymore?”

“Disillusion warps a guy’s perspective. Not that I blame her for what went wrong between us. I was a fool to marry her. It was like I’d made a list of qualities I wanted in a wife, then went out and looked for someone who had none of them.”

The rhythmic swish, swish, swish of the windshield wipers, blended with the sweet voice of Alison Kraus singing about not letting go, now that I’ve found you. Mattie leaned her head back and thought about what Nat had said.

“What were those qualities you wanted?

“Someone who could be happy with the simple things. That’s a key one. Love animals. Nature. Not afraid of hard work, or getting her nails broken.”

“I see those kinds of people every day.”

“Me, too,” Nat agreed. “One in particular is so beautiful, she puts Julia to shame.”

Mattie felt a zap of pleasure, tinged with surprise... and sexual awareness. Was he talking about her? He smiled, but said nothing further. And she didn’t dare open her mouth, either.

Neither one of them was compelled to fill every minute with chatter. Yet, about ten minutes later, it felt completely natural to Mattie to continue their conversation.

“I was so young when I met Wes. I never gave a thought to what qualities would make a good husband. My dad told me I should insist Wes give up the rodeo and focus full time on the ranch. I ignored him, but it was pretty good advice. Of course, I never dreamed that nineteen years later Wes would still be bulldogging for his living...”

Now she couldn’t help wondering if the reason Wes had stuck with the rodeo for so long was because he hadn’t been happy at home.

With her. The ranch. The girls.

Was it one of those things more than the other? Or all three that he’d tired of?

Mattie felt anger heating up in her midsection again. Wes could quit ranching. He could divorce her. But he couldn’t opt out of being a father. It would kill her to see him hurt the girls that way.

But of course, they’d already been hurt.

And it might get worse...

* * *

A
t Missoula they stopped for coffee and sandwiches. The little local coffee shop had Wi-Fi, and seeing all the customers with their laptops and smartphones, made Mattie think of something.

Wes must have been paid a lot of money for those horses he’d sold.

Had he deposited the funds into their bank account?

“Nat, did you pack a laptop with you?”

“Need to check your e-mail?”

“Actually, I want to access my online banking. I’m wondering what Wes did with the money he got for our horses.”

Nat’s eyes narrowed. “Hang on. I’ve got an iPad in the truck.”

Five minutes later, Mattie was logged in and able to see all of her and Wes’s account balances, checking account, as well as savings. The balances were just what she’d expected.

“The money isn’t here.” She logged out, then handed Nat back his iPad.

“That isn’t right. Half of that money belongs to you.”

Suddenly not hungry, Mattie tossed the crust of her tuna sandwich, then picked up her to-go coffee mug. Nat was ready, as well, and soon they were back on the road, listening to Blues Traveler Legend sing about mountains and not doing much talking. Mattie sensed Nat was just as angry as she was.

They needed gas and a bathroom break by Butte. All the while, the snow never gave up, not even for a minute, and Nat refused Mattie’s offer to share in the driving.

“I’m not tired. Besides, I make a cranky backseat driver.”

“Yeah, you and every other male over eighteen in the state of Montana,” she muttered.