Love Inspired August 2014 – Bundle 1 of 2 (12 page)

Was it?

Looking into his eyes, she read sincerity and warmth. And love?

Yes.

But that look told her more about herself than it did about Jack. It told her that
she’d never felt like this, looking at Billy. She’d never had her heart stampede the
way it did during that kiss. She’d never—

Realization clutched from within.

She’d been Billy’s wife for over three years, and had never enjoyed the wealth of
emotions stirred by kissing Jack again.

What kind of woman was she? Had she buried herself in books and work to avoid Billy?
Or did she never really, truly love him and married him because she longed for a happy,
comfortable ending?

How’d that work out for you? Not so well, I’m thinking.

Little Dill nickered again. She shoved her thoughts aside, knowing there would be
time to examine them more closely without tall, lanky Jack McGuire at her side, whistling
softly while they nurtured the cast-off horse together.

She’d think about Little Dill and Grandpa, both in need of warmth and affection. If
she focused on them, she might be able to see her choices with greater clarity. Stay
or go?

Her heart claimed “stay” and declared itself the winner.

Her head?

She filled the water trough, ignoring the flecks of cold water dotting her legs.

Her very logical head reminded her that assistant professorships in history weren’t
exactly a dime a dozen and if Montana State offered her a contract—which she expected
they would because they’d been nudged into a time-crunch situation by a professor’s
sudden and long-term illness—she’d be foolish to say no. And a single woman with no
job didn’t have the luxury to be foolish.

Chapter Eleven

“Y
ou survived.” Coach Randolph made the cryptic comment as he and Jack loaded baseball
gear into the back of the coach’s van after practice the following night. “No scars,
either. Good job.”

“I almost didn’t come,” Jack confessed, and the look on Coach’s face said Jack’s admission
was no big surprise. “Then I realized that if I’m really moving forward, it was time
to take charge again. And it was good.” He let his gaze wander the Ennis baseball
diamond as he tossed a ball into the air. “You’ve got a couple of nice prospects,
Coach.” He directed his attention to a group of players nearby.

“Three that stand out, although that Munoz kid could be a dark-horse contender. If
we can keep his head in the game.”

“And that’s tough when you’re working two jobs to help your mother make ends meet.”

“He does not take kindly to handouts, either.”

Jack understood the quiet message. Coach Randolph was in a position to offer help
from time to time, but Sonny Munoz wore pride like a cushioned saddle blanket. Jack
knew the good and bad points of that, but the kid intrigued him. “He makes it to practice
regularly?”

“Always. And then goes to work, catches some sleep and off to school when it’s in
session. And two little sisters who look up to him.”

“And I suspect the ancient car is a daily dilemma.”

“Yup. Will it start? Will it make it where they’re going?” Coach sighed. “We take
simple things for granted. Decent wheels, a roof over our heads, plenty of eats. Kids
like Sonny? For them, nothing’s a given, everything’s a trade-off and time gets short.
Real short.”

“Like Pete Daniels?” The former Legion ballplayer’s tough-guy attitude hadn’t served
him well on the field or off in his Bobcat-playing days. A talented second baseman,
Pete’s rude mouth and bad attitude labeled him with the umpires early on, and no amount
of coaching changed his attitude. Now, past his prime and angry at the world, the
twentysomething minimum-wage worker was always trying to show others up. Pete’s sour
take on life blemished a God-given talent.

The coach snorted. “No. Pete’s never had it easy, but he wants it easy and that’s
a big difference. His attitude trips him up and I think that’s why he never made it
into the minors. The baggage he carries made him an unlikely pick. If you’re the next
Derek Jeter, a coach might overlook some tough-guy attitude.”

“If you’re the next Derek Jeter, your coach wouldn’t need to,” Jack supposed. His
words made Coach grin.

“Jeter’s one of a kind, a born leader. But Pete, well.” Coach rubbed his jaw, then
shrugged one shoulder. “You have to want things badly enough to work for them, and
if you want them badly enough, it shouldn’t seem like work.”

Jack believed that, too. If you loved what you were doing, you welcomed the work.
He’d done that with baseball. And he’d done that with the ranch. In Chicago, sitting
at a desk, orchestrating financial futures?

No.

The realization made him pause as Coach waved goodbye.

He’d done an excellent job for Reiger, Stauff and Mitchellson. He’d hit bonus after
bonus, tucking away money at a time when there wasn’t a lot of leverage in the markets.
But had he loved it?

Not in the least.

He climbed into the truck, but didn’t turn the key right away. A light dawned in the
back of his somewhat dusty, trail-riding brain.

He worked hard and did well, regardless. And he’d always thought he came home because
his mother was ill. She needed him, and this was where he should be.

But he stayed in the aftermath, grieving. Working. Riding herd, mending fence, weaning
bawling calves from anxious mothers.

The mental illumination stretched brighter and longer. The lights of the baseball
diamond flashed on as a team arrived for a late-day game, but Jack’s newfound clarity
had nothing to do with the game or the banks of lights.

It was totally about him. He thought he’d stayed out of duty, to help his father,
to be a working partner with his mother gone.

A smile softened his jaw. His shoulders relaxed.

Yeah, he’d stayed to help his dad, but mostly he’d stayed because this was where he
belonged. Jasper Gulch was more than a little town bent on celebrating its roots.
It was an experience to be lived. Loved. Cherished.

Sonny Munoz’s face came to mind. A great kid, hardworking, applying muscle to the
task at hand. Unlike Pete, Sonny appreciated everything he worked for.

Jack started the truck, cranked the wheel and headed back to the Double M as a seedling
of a plan glimmered in his brain. He’d talk to his father, see if they could take
on another hand. If they put their heads together, they might be able to make a difference
in a young man’s life, a kid with great potential. A kid like Jack had been, thirteen
years before.

He drove home, ready to take another step forward. He’d survived practice, hadn’t
looked stupid, didn’t cave when he walked into that batter’s box to help the elite
young athletes with their field workout.

He’d made it through and enjoyed the experience, which made him realize he’d been
a jerk for way too long.

But no more.

* * *

“Jack. Got a minute?”

Jack was aiming left out of the Jasper Gulch Grocery the next day, but turned right
when the mayor’s voice hailed him. “I do, but just a minute. I’ve got to get this
cold stuff home. Ice cream doesn’t do well in this heat.”

“Me neither,” the mayor agreed. He pulled out a white hankie and swiped it across
his brow. “I’m hoping this hot spell breaks before your big game.”

Funny. The words
big game
had taken on a whole new meaning these past few weeks. He’d started out thinking
of the Old-timers’ Baseball Game in less complimentary terms.

Now? The term
big game
fit the occasion. “Can’t change the weather, Mayor. No matter. We’ll have fun.” He
directed his look to the bags containing frozen food, a silent reminder of his limited
time. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m a little worried,” the mayor confessed, and from the look on Jackson Shaw’s face,
Jack believed him.

“About?”

“The stuff that’s been happening. We don’t need trouble around here, we don’t need
a lot of outsiders coming in and telling us how to do things, and I don’t want the
rest of our celebration upset in any way. Our centennial has taken months of planning,
countless hours of implementation and a lot of resources. We can’t take that lightly,
Jack.”

Jack mused the list. Chauncey Hardman had inspired the hundred-year celebration, the
committee had devoted long hours to the planning and success. The mayor, personally?

Jackson Shaw had delegated responsibility and then took the credit himself, but Jack
refused to let the mayor’s self-centeredness spoil his own growing anticipation for
a great day of baseball. “Cal Calloway is playing that day, so we’ll have a deputy
sheriff on hand. But I’ve also asked the sheriff’s department to send extra patrols
around because of the influx of people. And with Hutch Garrison here signing autographs
and chatting with folks, we don’t want anything to threaten a new Major League Baseball
player’s career.”

Jackson paled. “I hadn’t thought about that. What if something happens to him? What
if he gets hurt? Can we take that responsibility? Can we afford to take it?” He stressed
the financial qualifier and Jack shrugged.

“He’s not playing, his MLB contract wouldn’t allow that. He’s here to greet people
and sign his name. He’ll be fine. I’ve also got the volunteer ambulance crew on standby,
just in case. If the weather stays hot and humid, a long day in the sun can be as
dangerous as a broken bat or foul ball.”

“I appreciate how you’re taking this seriously.” Once again the mayor swiped his brow,
but he didn’t look as reassured as he should, and that made Jack wonder why. “This
is big stuff for Jasper Gulch. Big stuff.”

“I hear you.” Jack raised the bags in his hand and moved toward the truck. “I’ll do
what I can, Mayor. Gotta go.”

“Of course. Good talking to you.”

Jack mulled over the conversation on the drive home.

Was Jackson unduly worried? Maybe not, considering the vandalism at the rodeo. Or
was it the disappearance of the settlers’ time capsule that had him in a tizzy?

Jackson Shaw was a lot of things, and he wasn’t one of Jack’s favorite people on the
planet by any means, but he wasn’t a worrier. So what had him worried now?

“Jack! Jack! Come see what we brought over!”

He climbed out of the truck, grinning. Brian Landry’s excitement erased all thoughts
of the mayor’s angst as the boy bounced up and down. “I’ll be right there, bud. Gotta
put this stuff on ice.”

“Okay!”

When Jack returned to the yard, he tipped his hat back on his head and whistled. “Brian
Landry, whatcha got there?”

“A puppy.” Brian breathed the words like the funny little pup was a thing of highest
regard, and the expression on the boy’s face said he was. “His name’s Blue.”

“Good name,” Jack remarked, hiding a smile.

“It’s a real good name for a blue heeler,” Brian agreed in a most serious voice. “Your
dad talked to my mom and they said I could have him if I keep him here because there’s
no one at my house to take care of him during the day.”

“Did they now?” Jack raised an amused look to his father as he reached out a hand
to the mottled-fur pup.

Mick scrubbed a hand to his neck, looking a mite uncomfortable, then he nodded. “Kids
and dogs go together. And old Molly could use some company until we get this little
boy trained up right to run herd.”

“Molly’s a cow.” Brian peered up at Mick from the ground. “Why does a cow need company?”

“Everybody needs company,” Mick told him, and the way he smiled at Carrie when he
said it said his father was growing serious about Carrie Landry. Jack glanced her
way as she twined her right hand with Mick’s left.

“They sure do.” She smiled at Mick, and Jack was surprised when his father bent and
swept a quick kiss to her mouth.

His father. Falling in love. Two sweet kids, fatherless. A little puppy, just taken
from his mother, needing a home. And Livvie, caught between two worlds, wondering
what to do. Where to go. Couldn’t she see the perfection of this scenario? Staying
here, staying with him, building a new life together? He squatted low and reached
out both hands. “May I hold him, Bri?”

“Well, sure!”

Here,
Jack decided as he stood upright, the pup in his arms. He wanted Liv here, on the
Double M, completing the circle of family renewed. Looking at Carrie’s and Mick’s
smiling faces, he knew Liv’s journey wasn’t easy at present. She’d made that clear.

But if he could get her to stay awhile? Gain more time? Maybe he could convince her
to give him the second chance he didn’t deserve, but desperately wanted. He played
with the pup, whistling as the boy and the little dog followed him around for the
next hour. He chatted with Brian about frogs and toads and big hairy spiders building
nests over the back light, but he thought about Liv the whole time.

They could build their own house on the slight knoll west of the original house. If
they broke ground in the spring, it would be done by late summer, next year.

Three bedrooms...no,
four,
he decided with a grin. Definitely four.

And when he rode out with two ranch hands to help move cattle to a new range, the
picture unfolded before him, a true Big Sky family enterprise. Two homes, extended
land, and if old Bo Trimmer decided to sell off some acreage, well—Mick and Jack might
be in the market to buy it.

He rode east smiling, alive with plans for a future he never thought he’d have. And
it felt good to plan once again.

* * *

Liv and Jane opened the doors to the recently dropped-off storage container sitting
along the edge of the backyard. The two women squared their shoulders in unison. “Okay,
then.” Jane faced the wall of goods as she muttered the words.

Liv slung an arm around her mother’s shoulders. “It’s hard to think of packing an
entire life into a storage trailer, isn’t it?”

“Extremely hard.” Jane’s jaw went tight, then she breathed deep. “But so much worse
for Grandma and Grandpa, so I’ll get a grip and we’ll dive into this together.”

“Liv?” Dave’s voice interrupted the moment. He came out the front door, dressed for
work at the highway garage in town, and handed off the phone. “Montana State University
for you.”

She accepted the phone, aware of her parents’ shared look of interest. She stepped
away, listening as the human resources representative explained a few things while
Liv’s heart beat faster with each word.

The rep detailed their potential offer, a good offer, without even meeting her. The
official word would come at her face-to-face interview on Monday.

The one-year sub position held the possibility of a tenure-track placement the following
year when two professors would be retiring. She’d step in for the professor on extended
sick leave and be in a prime position to stay or go. The year of work would pad her
bank account and give her a better idea of life in academia. She loved research, but
being home showed her the downside of being buried in the annals of history day after
day. She liked people. This would give her a chance to help young people explore the
value of history.

“We’ve got a second candidate lined up, Ms. Franklin, and in the interest of time,
the department would appreciate your decision when you meet with them on Monday.”

“Absolutely,” Liv promised. She disconnected the phone and turned. Her parents shared
a look before Jane cut to the chase.

“Something you want to tell us, Liv?”

“I think they’re offering me a job.”

“Which campus?” Dave asked, always quick to nail down facts.

“Bozeman.”

“That’s only an hour away.” Pleased, Jane moved forward to hug her. “That’s less than
half the distance you were before.”