Good Together (9 page)

But there were still many hurdles to get over before that could happen. First among them was talking to Wes. If he was serious about leaving her then they had to break the news to the twins. Hopefully together.

The secret of her mother’s affair, however, had given Mattie new hope. If her parents had weathered such a big storm in their marriage, maybe she and Wes could too. Other than that key and the phone call from the strange woman, she had no reason to believe he was having an affair. Despite all his travel, she knew he’d never slept around. Gossip traveled fast on the rodeo circuit and she and her family had a lot of friends. If Wes had been a cheat—she would have heard.

For all she knew he was already regretting what he’d done and was too ashamed to make the first move. Later today, after Sage left to drive back to Marietta, she was going to be the bigger person and call him. She had to at least give him a chance to make things right.

* * *

N
at had been expecting to hear from Wes Bishop. Still he felt unprepared when he saw his neighbor’s name on his phone display. Nat was in his office, reviewing blueprints with Timothy Dundas, the architect he’d hired to make modifications to the sprawling ranch home he’d inherited from his parents. The two of them had been talking for over an hour and gone through three cups of coffee each. At this point they were pretty much done.

He pointed at his phone. “Sorry, Tim, I need to talk to this guy. The plans look great. Thanks for dropping them off.”

“No problem. Let me know when you’re ready to start the work.”

Nat handed over an envelope containing a progress payment toward the project and then the two men shook hands. From the outside they were as different as two Montana born men could be. Nat was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in work clothes and boots that had a little caked mud between the soles and the leather, whereas Timothy was thin and sophisticated, with wool trousers and a cashmere sweater and loafers that looked fresh out of the box.

Despite their outer differences, they shared an appreciation for aesthetics and Nat knew he’d hired the right man for the job. He clapped his shoulder and thanked him again, before opening the office door.

Eadie Johnston, Nat’s housekeeper of fifteen years, was waiting in the hall to see Timothy out. Eadie looked after the five-thousand square foot house, plus made him dinner four nights a week. Kept her recipes and her opinions to herself—best job security going, she liked to say, usually with a grin, because she knew how invaluable she was around here.

Nat closed the door behind his departed visitor and hit the “Talk” button on his cell phone. “Hey there, Wes.”

“Nat. How are you?”

The question was meant as a pleasantry and that was how Nat answered it. “Fine. You?”

“Not bad.” Some background noises escalated, then a door slammed shut and there was silence. “Sorry. Just got myself a coffee, now I’m back in my truck.”

“How’s the weather?” Nat asked, wanting a clue as to the man’s location.

“Skiff of snow. Cold. Usual Montana shit.”

So he was still in the state, at least. “No snow here. At least not yet.”

“Won’t be long,” Wes predicted. “Anyway, the reason for the call is I was thinking of selling Bishop Stables. Of course you’d be my first choice as a buyer. Any interest in expanding? Barns are all in good shape. And you can’t beat the views, as you well know."

“This is kind of sudden.” And, then, he couldn’t resist adding, “What does Mattie think about it?”

“She doesn’t own the land. I do. And you shouldn’t be surprised. I never took to the horse breeding operation the way my folks did. I figure I’m best to clear out while I’m young enough to try something new.”

He’d bet serious money Wes wasn’t just talking about a career here, but a different woman, too. If the man had been standing in front of him, Nat would have been tempted to punch him in the nose.

“You might miss it more than you think. Maybe you should sleep on this idea for a bit.”

“Is that your way of saying you aren’t interested?”

“I never said that.” Last thing he wanted was to have the Bishop’s land end up with some unknown third party.

“So...?”

“Let me think on it.”

“I’ll give you a week. Then I’m putting the place on the market.”

“Don’t rush me, Wes. No one will give you a fairer price than I will.”

“That’s why I’m talking to you first. But I can’t wait forever, Nat. Think fast—okay?”

And then the call was over.

Nat placed his phone on the gleaming surface of his walnut desk. He was an orderly man, one who kept his papers in file folders and knick-knacks to a minimum. So he had a lot of clear desk space. Which helped him to think.

He spread his large, work-roughened hands over the smooth walnut, and thought back over the generations of Diamond men who had sat at this desk and made decisions about the future.

What would his father, or grandfather, have done if they’d been in this situation?

He had no doubt about the answer. They would have put in an offer on the spot. And they would have started low.

After all, Wes Bishop wasn’t in the best bargaining situation. First of all, he was in a hurry. Disadvantage number one.

Second, his chances of finding a buyer who wanted to continue breeding Tennessee Walkers was close to zero. Horse breeding was a dying business and had been for years. Wes might get lucky and find a family to buy the house. But the barns, the arena and other outbuildings? Those would be mostly worthless.

To everyone but him.

He could convert the barns—use them for cattle. The extra land would mean he could increase the herd. His dad, his grandfather, they wouldn’t have hesitated. But Nat wasn’t in the same situation as they had been. And not only because he didn’t have any children to pass this on to. The last few years he’d been doing the opposite of expanding. Nearly thirty percent of his land was currently leased and his herd was smaller than it had ever been.

So no. Buying this land would not be a logical move.

After a few more minutes reflection, Nat picked up his phone and called a woman whose husband had once worked for him. Bernie Howes had been pregnant with their first baby when her husband started drinking on the job. Nat had considered firing him. That was what his foreman, Seth Richards, had wanted him to do. Instead, he’d counseled the guy, talked him around to attending the local AA meeting. Found him a sponsor.

Now Bernie, who worked for the most successful realtor in Flathead Valley, thought he walked on water.

“Hey there, Nat. What can I do for you?”

“Just wondering if you’d heard any rumors about the Bishop place going on the block?” There was a reason he’d chosen to talk to Bernie and not one of the realtors who worked at the firm. Bernie understood the merits of discretion. He could trust her not to use his call as a basis for starting a rumor.

“Not a word,” she answered, an edge of speculation in her voice. “Have you?”

“Maybe. But this is just between you and me.”

“Understood.”

“If you
should
hear anything, though...”

“I’ll give you a call right away.”

“Text message would be fastest.”

“You got it, Nat.”

“Thanks.” He ended the call and placed the phone in his pocket this time. He ought to get out to the barn. Plans for the roundup happening in just four days needed to be finalized with Seth. But he couldn’t seem to clear his head.

He’d never doubted that the problems between Mattie and her husband were real. But hearing from Wes directly, well, that cemented things.

There’d been a time when he might have considered moving in on what Wes no longer appreciated. But that option wasn’t open to him now. The best he could do was protect her interests. And if that meant buying land and outbuildings that he had no use for—so be it.

* * *

S
age departed for Marietta shortly after they’d polished off the leftover butter chicken, around two in the afternoon. Mattie hugged her sister tightly before letting her climb behind the driver’s seat. “You’re dangerous for my waistline, but amazing for my state of mind. Thanks for being here, Sage. It meant a lot.”

“That’s what family’s for. But next time, you come up to Marietta. It would be good for you to get away for a while.”

Sage’s intentions were good, but she was wrong. Mattie always kept her visits to the Circle C few and far between for one reason. Her father Hawksley. She didn’t think it was her imagination that Hawksley was harder on her than he was on the other girls. And that was saying something, since he wasn’t exactly easy on any of them.

Of course part of the reason their relationship was so fractious was because she’d always blamed him for being so hard on Mom. Now that she knew there’d been another side to that story, maybe she could be more tolerant of her father’s rough ways.

But that was a theory to be tested when she felt stronger.

“I’ll be in touch,” she promised her sister, side-stepping the subject of a visit.

When Sage started the engine, Mattie picked up Tuff who had followed them outside. She didn’t want to risk the little puppy getting run over. Tuff wriggled and squeaked until Sage was out of the lane and driving toward the highway and finally Mattie was able to set her down.

“Do your business,” she told Tuff, rewarding the pup with a treat when she did.

Though her mind was on the call she intended to make to Wes, Mattie decided to put it off until later and spend a few hours working with Rosie. She took Tuff out to the barn with her—the dog might as well start getting used to the horses now, since she’d be living her life with them.

Hopefully.

Mattie pushed aside the worrying possibility that the ranch might be sold. For now she’d try to stay positive. Sage’s visit had left her with hope and she was clinging to it as long as she could.

After saddling up Rosie, she took her into the arena where she put the mare through her paces. A well trained Tennessee walker had three characteristic gaits, all of them smooth and fast, requiring a special pattern of motion whereby no two hoofs touched the ground at the same time. After a brief warm-up, she soon had Rosie in a spirited flat-footed walk. “That-a-girl, Rosie.” She eased back into the saddle and let Rosie do her thing, until they’d completed about twenty circuits.

Next she cued Rosie into a running walk, and fifteen minutes after that, a canter. Rosie was much more responsive than she’d been even yesterday—proving yet again the benefits of consistent training.

Mattie had just dismounted and was leading Rosie to the grooming area for a shower and rub-down when her phone vibrated in her front pocket. Out of habit she glanced at the screen even though she had no intention of answering.

It was Wes.

Damn. He’d caught her unprepared. She’d intended to phone him when she was sitting in the family room with a cup of herbal tea and some soft classical music in the background to keep her calm.

But who knew if she would reach him an hour from now. She’d better take this opportunity while she had it.

She sucked in a deep breath. “Hi Wes.”

“How are you Mattie?”

If only she could see his eyes. She couldn’t tell from just his voice if he really cared what the answer to his question was.

“I’ve been better.”

He didn’t say anything for the longest time. Then, his voice quiet, he said, “I’m sorry about that.”

A powerful longing swept over her, a desperate need to feel his arms wrap around her as he said those words. But she was alone in a barn with only a talented horse and a mischievous puppy for company. She supposed it could be worse.

“Where are you?”

“I’m staying with friends.”

“Friends” being a euphemism for “another woman?” She had to know the truth. “A woman called me yesterday from your phone. Is that the
friend
you’re talking about?”

He swore. “She’s just someone I was having coffee with. She must have used my phone when I went to the washroom. But forget about her. I’m still staying at the Wilkinson’s guest cottage.”

So he was in Montana, not far from Billings. Peter was one of Wes’s oldest friends, also a rodeo cowboy. They’d been traveling buddies for years before a shoulder injury sidelined Peter into a career in his family’s lumberyard. While Peter and Wes stayed in close contact over the years, they’d never done much socializing as couples. Probably because she and Marg had little in common. Marg worked as an accountant at the lumberyard and she and Peter had never had children. That meant they enjoyed a lot more freedom, including the ability to travel almost anywhere at a moment’s notice. A few times Marg and Peter had suggested the four of them take a jaunt to Las Vegas, but while Wes was tempted, Mattie had to remind him that it was hard enough to find someone to watch over the horses—let alone find a sitter for their daughters as well.

That had been a mistake on her part, Mattie suddenly feared.

If she’d made more of an effort to do things with Wes as a couple maybe they wouldn’t be in this situation now.

“That’s kind of them. How are they doing?”

“The lumber business is thriving. So much so that Pete offered me a job.”

Mattie felt as if he’d planted a fist in her gut. “You’ve taken a job?”

“It’s just casual labor. For now.”

Mattie let go of Rosie’s reins, then sank to the floor of the arena, her knees pressing into the soft dirt. She brought both of her hands to the phone, cupping it like it was a delicate object that might disintegrate if she wasn’t careful.

“Wes, I want you to come home. We need to talk.”

He didn’t answer.

“I need to understand what happened to us.” She held back on the word
please.
She wouldn’t beg. She deserved this much. What he was doing—it wasn’t right.

“I don’t know what I would say, Mat. I just need time away.”

“How much time?”

She could picture him shrugging. She knew this man so well. The way his right shoulder always hitched up a little higher than the left.

“I can’t answer that.”