Chapter One #3
Beau’s arrival was when Jayce’s problems began.
Still the worst cowboy on record, and a lousy country singer to boot, Beau had stolen Belle from under Jayce’s nose.
He didn’t know how it had happened, but there were less than two weeks until the wedding, and he had to fix things with her before then.
Speaking of weddings…
“Sheik Ali has RSVPed,” Benny said. By RSVPed he meant paid. “He’s bringing his baby sister with him, and he wants her entertained. Jayce, you’re good with children. How about you take her on?”
“Sure.”
Whatever. Jayce didn’t care, so long as he wasn’t expected to help with the wedding. Besides, he did like children. His heart curled into a tight, miserable ball. Belle would have made a fantastic mother for the next generation of Hansons who were relying on him.
Discussion of the wedding ensued. Beau was playing some concert in Memphis, so he’d left all the planning to Belle, Mavis, and Leon. Jayce tuned it out.
The meeting finally ground to an end.
Jayce leaped to his feet, prepared to lay on the charm. “May I walk you home?” he said to Belle.
“Of course.”
She dazzled him with her beautiful smile, and his heart poked its feet out of the fetal position.
Outside, the sun’s glow bathed the mountains in red as it began to prepare for the night.
The sky shifted from deep blue directly above them to mixed shades of purple where it touched the horizon.
Snow capped the mountain peaks even though it was June.
Runoff from melting snow fed mountain streams throughout summer.
Birch, ash, fir, and pine, interspersed with open grasslands for cattle grazing, and sheer, rocky cliff faces where nimble-footed bighorn sheep liked to climb, dappled the mountainsides.
Jayce tucked his hands in his pockets. Belle looked so pretty in her blue calico dress and neat, flowered apron.
The nineteenth century lifestyle suited her, as did her role of town doctor.
She planned to stay on as Burning Scrub’s doctor, although she’d travel with Beau when he toured. She was wasting herself on that clown.
Their walk took them past the saloon, a two-storied log structure with six rooms for rent, and a second-story balcony overhanging the street.
Next to the hotel was the bakery, followed by the jail, then a false-fronted mercantile.
Belle’s house, where residential housing began, cornered Main and Jenkins streets, the latter named after the town’s current founder and Belle’s great-grandfather, Benny.
Belle’s house also served as the town’s medical clinic. Longer than it was wide, with the short end facing the street, its window frames and front door were painted a blinding shade of green. Early flowers spilled out of wooden window boxes.
Jayce had walked this same route with Belle many times in the past. She’d joined Burning Scrub a few years ago, right after she finished her residency in family medicine.
She hadn’t known until last year that she was related to Benny and Mavis, and to say the revelation came as a shock would be a gross understatement.
She was the reason Pearl needed the Kevlar. She’d adjusted, however.
She would have adjusted with far less drama if Beau Jones hadn’t stuck his nose in town business.
They were almost at her house. This was Jayce’s last chance to convince her of the huge mistake she’d be making by marrying someone so far beneath her. If she had any doubts, no matter how slight, he’d jump in and save her.
“So. The big day. Excited?” he asked, trying to sound as if his heart wasn’t riding on this.
Belle touched his arm. “You and I,” she began in her soft, pretty voice, and he had a brief flash of hope.
You and I… That showed real promise.
“We would have been so boring together,” she ended. Her shoulders rose and fell, as if she couldn’t find the right words to explain. “Someday you’ll find what Beau and I have. Then, you’ll understand.”
Hope died, engulfed in a brushfire of regret. He didn’t want to find what she had with Beau. He wanted what she should have had with him. If only he’d made his move faster…
But he believed in taking things slow, and properly romancing a woman, especially a woman like Belle, who was perfect.
Besides, how did he put into words that the sun and moon revolved around her?
That one of her smiles was worth a million of these mountain sunsets?
That he’d give up ten years of his life to spend one year with her? Poetry wasn’t his strong suit.
They’d reached the foot of her steps.
He dug deep for something positive to say. “If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you. You’re sure about Beau?” Because he couldn’t help asking.
Her smile lit up the mountain and burned a hole in his chest. “I’ve never been so sure of anything.”
She kissed his cheek—he caught a faint whiff of vanilla—then she skipped up her steps and disappeared into her house. His dreams died with the firm latching of her front door.
He’d blown it. Again. The next generation of Hansons was doomed.
He’d never find another woman this perfect for him.