Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
The final run-through before tomorrow’s pageant. One last chance to get it right. Or one last chance to torch her entire career.
Megan carried a stack of freshly printed scripts to the stage, the paper still warm from the copier. She typed the correction that morning, rewriting her mother’s pageant and her mother’s myth. She couldn’t let the lie stand another year.
She went to the back of the stage to find Holden crouched beside Einstein’s portable pen, currying the little gelding’s back.
Tessa dropped him off earlier, leaving him for Holden to look after while she and Cade took the rest of the minis to a Rent-a-Reindeer Christmas event.
Einstein nosed through his hay, tail flicking, ears twitching at every sound.
“You ready for this?” Holden asked without looking up.
“Not even close.”
He stood, brushing off his sleeves. “They’ll follow your lead.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“They’ll do fine.”
His calm steadied her more than she wanted. Inconvenient, considering she needed every scrap of nerve to wrangle twenty-four fourth graders.
She squared her shoulders and stepped back into the gym. “Students, front and center.”
Scarves loosened. Coats unzipped. Parents settled into bleachers with coffee cups.
And in the front row sat Hillary Paige, cell phone poised on her knee, that bright PTA smile promising pushback.
“New scripts. Same story, one major change," Megan said.
The chatter faded.
She drew a deep breath. No going back. “The man who rode out during the 1870 blizzard wasn’t Captain William Murray as we’ve all been told. The real hero was a man named Holden Reed.”
Einstein snorted.
A scuff of boots came from the back. Holden watching her. Hearing his name spoken aloud.
Ethan frowned. “But I’m playing Captain Murray. I’mthe hero.”
Megan put a hand on his shoulder, reassuring him. “You’re still the rider. Only the name changes. Holden Reed’s the man who made the ride. You’re playing him now.”
Ethan studied the page. “Holden Reed is the real hero?”
“He is.” Always was. Always should have been.
A parent said, “Since when?”
“Since proof surfaced.” She held up the article. “Bozeman newspaper, December 1870.”
Zahara piped up. “That’s the same name as Mr. Holden’s name.”
Oh boy. Here we go.
“Yes,” Megan said, using the lie she’d fed Braxton. “Mr. Holden Reed is the great-great-great-grandson of the man who made the ride. He’s in town to help set the record straight.”
Silence. She didn’t look toward the back of the stage, but she felt Holden there.
“Convenient,” Hillary said.
Megan met her gaze. “Are you insinuating something, Mrs. Paige?”
The room hushed. Hillary’s smile stayed fixed, fingers tightening on her phone. “Heavens, no. Only noting the coincidence of our new hero sharing a name with the transient who’s been spending so much time with you of late.”
The word “transient” slapped harder than any accusation. Like Holden was a stray drifter instead of the most decent man Megan had ever met.
Murmurs swept the gym.
“He’s volunteering for the pageant,” Megan said. “That’s all.”
“Of course,” Hillary purred. “Some might wonder about your timing. Changing the story the day before the show. Upending our long-held tradition.”
“We’re teaching the correct version now.”
“That’s adorable,” Hillary said. “But surely you don’t expect children to learn new lines in one day.”
Megan’s jaw tensed. “It’s one name.”
“It’s not just the children, dear. People hate losing what’s familiar. Your mother understood that better than anyone.”
There it was.
The kill shot.
Invoke Tina Collins. Make Megan the disappointing daughter.
“The story’s the same.” Megan gritted her teeth. “Only the credit has changed.”
“Hm.” Hillary adjusted her scarf. “Well, I’ll let Superintendent Buffington know.”
“Please do.”
A few parents hid smiles.
“How noble of you,” Hillary said. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
“Enjoy the show.”
“Oh, I intend to.”
Megan clapped. “Places. From the top.”
The rehearsal rolled. Movement, cues, scattered focus. Hillary watching like a judge waiting for the wrong answer.
The kids hit their marks. The new lines fumbled at times, but they got it. Every time the name Holden Reed echoed through the gym, Megan felt it grounding her.
By the end, the kids were breathless and proud.
Parents applauded.
Hillary remained seated, scrolling her phone with the dedication of someone filing a formal complaint.
Megan dismissed the kids. Parents filtered out. Snow began falling outside the windows.
When the gym emptied, she headed to the back of the stage. Holden stepped out of the shadows.
“You done good,” he said.
“Hillary’s contacting the superintendent.” She sat at the edge of the stage, legs dangling.
“I reckon she is.”
“He’ll think I did this for you.”
Holden studied her face. “Did you?”
“I…” She swallowed. “I don’t know.”
He eased down beside her, their shoulders almost touching. “Why’d you change it?”
“Because it was the right thing to do.”
“Is that the whole of it?”
She didn’t know how to answer.
Holden glanced toward the stage—the scattered props, the mess from the run-through. “Your ma run these rehearsals alone?”
Megan blinked. “What? No. Of course not. I helped. Every year. The two of us handled everything.”
Holden nodded. “It’s meant for two people.”
A simple observation. Nothing more, but something shifted inside her. A memory clicking into place:
Her mother straightening a backdrop while Megan collected scripts.
Ma giving cues while Megan soothed nervous kids. Tina Collins shaking hands with parents while Megan fixed whatever broke.
They’d always done it together.
And this year…
She’d been trying to do both halves by herself.
Her chest tightened. She looked away fast. Not tonight. She couldn’t unravel tonight.
“Some people won’t see what I did as brave," she said.
“Some people ain’t worth listening to.”
She huffed out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “You’ve known me since Saturday.”
“And I’ve seen enough.” His tone warm, certain in a way that made her throat ache.
He didn’t see her failure. He saw her work.
“Thank you."
“My pleasure.” He tipped his hat like the gentlemanly cowboy he was.
* * *
Holden finished cleaning up after Einstein while Megan shut off the lights. He made sure the mini had plenty of hay and water. He’d be staying overnight for the performance tomorrow. Holden would muck his stall early in the morning.
The gym dimmed to a soft glow from the string lights along the backdrop.
She turned toward him. “Ready to go?”
“Yessum.”
Boy howdy, she carried herself like someone born to face storms head-on. Beautiful didn’t begin to cover it. He could stare at her for the rest of his life and still not get his fill. She deserved a whole army behind her for everything she did.
“Tomorrow will be a lot.” She shrugged into her coat.
“You did something brave tonight.”
Megan sighed. “Some people won’t see it that way.”
“Those people aren’t worth your time. You were right to tell the truth.”
She studied him for a long heartbeat. “Thanks for helping today; it means a lot.”
What should he say? That he wanted to spend the rest of his days helping her, doing for her, being with her? But no, too dangerous because they came from different centuries, different worlds.
“My pleasure.” A magnetic force drew Holden closer. “Miss Megan?”
She lifted her eyes to him. “Yes?”
“May I take your hand?” He held out his hand and caught his breath, waiting. Would she take it or shy away?
The tip of her tongue flicked out to touch her upper lip. “Holden, I’d be honored.”
His heartbeat kicked up like a galloping pony. She opened her palm, and he laid his hand against hers. Her skin was so soft, so delicate. He intertwined their fingers, and she leaned closer to him.
Holden didn’t have much memory of his ma, but he did recall how it felt to hold her hand. Safe. Loved.
In a lightning strike moment, the same sensation shot through him now. His chest tightened, and aching for more, he squeezed her hand. Gentle, but firm enough to show her how much she meant to him.
She squeezed him back, letting him know she took comfort from him too.
A sappy grin took over his face. He peered over at her and spied tears shining in her lovely blue eyes, and alarm bloomed.
“Miss Megan? What’s wrong?”
She dabbed at her eye with a finger and sniffled. “I don’t really know…sorry.”
“You don’t owe me an apology. You did something honest tonight. Took a lot of courage.”
He was still holding her hand. He lifted it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. He’d carry every one of her burdens if she let him. He raised his head and looked to find her crying even harder.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed your—”
“No, it’s not that.” She laughed behind the tears. “Aww, you’re sweet to make me feel better. No, I was thinking I might lose everything tomorrow.”
“If you do, you’ll rebuild and come back tougher than ever because that’s how you are, Megan. You’re a fighter.”
She searched his face like she was memorizing something in him. “Holden…”
“Yes?”
She pursed her lips and leaned in closer.
Did she want him to kiss her? Lord have mercy, he wanted to kiss her. He took a deep breath and cupped her cheek with his palm.
She didn’t draw back.
He lowered his head, his heart knocking hard in his chest. Her breath carried the scent of peppermint, her cheek soft and warm against his palm as her pupils dilated.
From inside her pocket, her cell phone buzzed, demanding her attention.
He froze, his mouth inches from hers.
The phone buzzed again.
“I better answer that,” she said.
Nodding, he straightened, the opportunity for a kiss lost.
She pulled out her phone, stared at the screen, and a surprised smile spread across her face. “It’s Fiona. An impromptu Christmas party at her apartment. All the other time-traveling cowboys are attending. She says to bring you.”
“Huh. What do you know.”
She met his gaze. “Do you want to go?”
“I do if you do,” he said.
“That settles it.” Smiling, she tapped a message into her phone. “I told Fiona we’ll be there with bells on. C’mon, the party starts in an hour.”
He offered her his elbow, and when she took it with a happy laugh, he forgave the good Lord for interrupting him before he found the courage to kiss her.