Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Hot and sweaty after five hours of hard but gratifying labor, Zinnia used the sink in the tack room to clean up before lunch. Her uncle had called Raquel about twenty minutes ago to say they’d be up at the house soon.
“Who was the first to put a sink in their tack room, you or Spence Bridger?” She glanced over her shoulder at her uncle, who was scrolling through pictures he’d taken of Banjo, who had a worrisome scab on his heel.
“Spence. But I was the one who thought of adding a mirror.”
“It’s a nice perk.” Peering into it, she took off her cap, finger combed her hair and pulled it back through the cap’s opening. Then she backed away to let her uncle use the sink.
Putting away his phone, he washed his hands, splashed water on his face and reached for the towel hanging on a small rack. “The sink was the important part, though. Spence was always dreaming up ways to make things better and more convenient. Like the electronic gates.”
“They’re snazzy, all right.”
“Raquel hated them.” He replaced the towel, pulled off his hat and took a comb from his back pocket.
“Really? Why?” She got a kick out of Uncle Graham fussing with his thick white hair, his only sign of male vanity.
“She didn’t like the look of those keypad posts.” He tucked the comb away before settling the hat back on his head. “Thought they were too modern, like this was some kind of gated community in the suburbs.”
“But he put them in against her wishes? That doesn’t sound like the guy you’ve described to me.”
“He eventually sweet-talked her into it. The code is her birthday.”
“Nice.” The more she heard about Spence the more she wished she could have met him.
“Ready to go?”
“Sure am. I’m hungry.” She followed him out of the tack room. “Bye-bye, horsies. See you in six weeks.”
“Or two days. You can pay ’em a visit when we come out for Monty’s party on Saturday.”
“That’s right, I could.” She had mixed emotions about that party now that she knew her uncle had hoped she and Monty would hit it off. Asking for his help with Speckles was the right thing for her horse. A celebration of his birthday was the wrong thing for her sanity. But Tex would love it.
She glanced over at her uncle. “Any ideas about what we can get him?”
“I’ll ask Raquel if he has the latest Rance McLintock book. It just came out, so he might not have bought it yet.”
“Isn’t that the author who wrote Tequila Shots in the Dark? M.R. Morrison’s son?”
“It is. You’ve read that one?”
“Sure have. And all of hers, too. Mari and I tried to get to their signing in Apple Grove last year, but we couldn’t make it happen.”
“I didn’t know you and Mari were fans.”
“We are, but we don’t keep up like we should. I didn’t know Rance had another book out. What’s this one called?”
“A Bullet Through the Beer Keg.”
She laughed. “I’d love to meet that guy. I’ll bet he’s a hoot.”
“You’re in luck. Once the new road’s done, they’ll make it over more often.”
“Rance and his mom?”
“The whole fam-damnly. Several of them were involved in renovating that purple Victorian outside of town so they could put in the bookstore.”
“No kidding. That’s a beautiful old house. I haven’t made time to pop in, but I want to.”
“Spence’s Grandma Lucy used to live there. The Bridgers are leasing the space to the McLintocks.”
“So they’re business partners?”
“And friends, which is why that new book would be a good gift. But he might have it or someone else might have already bought it for him. Hang on. Let me call Raquel. She’ll know.” He paused and pulled out his phone.
Zinnia grabbed the chance to look around. She’d been focused on Raquel and Monty when they’d driven in — well, mostly Monty. Then she’d been totally absorbed in shoeing those incredible horses. This was her first chance to survey the area.
The main house resembled others where she’d done farrier work—low slung with a long front porch and a couple of chimneys indicating they had at least two wood-burning fireplaces.
The outbuildings were familiar, too. The main barn, which she loved, had a nostalgic hip-roofed silhouette.
The other two were more pedestrian, one for the wild horses Luis brought in for training and potential adoption, and the other for ranch machinery.
A large pasture and a couple of corrals were also standard for a Montana ranch.
But nothing had prepared her for the rest. To her left, at the far end of the road leading into the ranch, stood an old-fashioned bunkhouse painted an eye-popping fuchsia.
Closer to her on the same side of the road were two almost identical Spanish casitas, complete with arched windows and low walls surrounding a front patio.
A path that wound behind them led to a large building that could be the indoor riding arena her uncle had described.
Facing the main barn again, she studied the house a few yards behind it. She wouldn’t call it a casita. Too big for that. More like a small version of a hacienda, which also had a low wall around a front patio.
On a hill behind it perched a Swiss chalet. Of course. Why not? Not far away a cozy cottage right out of a storybook was tucked into the landscape. A few yards to the left a log cabin peeked through the pines.
“Getting a sense of the place?”
She turned back to her uncle. “It’s mind-boggling. Did you say Spence built all these houses?”
“And loved doing it. When the kids got old enough, they helped.”
“Why so many, and why so varied?”
“It’s a long story. Get one of the Bridgers to tell it. They’ll do a better job than me.”
“Okay, but do you know why the bunkhouse is fuchsia?”
“Because that’s where the kids’ grandma and three great-aunties live. They call themselves the Dazzling Damsels and that’s their dorm.”
“Why on earth do they live in a—”
“Like I said, it’s a long story best told by one of them.” He tucked his phone away and set off for the ranch house.
“All right.” She’d ask a Bridger about the house, but not the Bridger who made her pulse dance the cha-cha. “Does Monty already have the new book?”
“No, ma’am. Raquel had planned to buy it for him but she’s fine with us doing it, so we’re all set for a gift.”
“Awesome. Thanks.” She wanted to ask which of the dwellings, if any, was Monty’s, but that would be a tell. Didn’t matter, anyway. She’d never be inside it.
As she climbed the porch steps, the aroma of vegetable soup tickled her nose and the sound of a man’s laughter stole her breath. The man didn’t have to be Monty. Family members often laughed the same way. But somehow she knew it was him. She loved the happy sound. Wanted to hear it again.
Her uncle rapped on the front door and opened it. “We’re here, ready or not.”
“Come on in,” Raquel’s voice came from the same direction as the mouthwatering scent of warm soup. “It’s only the four of us, so we’re eating in the kitchen.”
“That suits me just fine.” Uncle Graham left his cap on the coat tree and gestured for her to go through the door to her right.
She walked into the sunniest kitchen she’d ever seen and maybe the only one with a breathtaking view.
“Wow.” Her exclamation covered both the broad-shouldered cowboy setting placemats on the long trestle table and the towering majesty of Mt. Powell through the windows at the far end of the kitchen. Cowboys and mountains. What a combo.
He was hatless. A faint crease denting his thick brown hair made him more human, more approachable. Not necessarily a good thing.
He glanced up and smiled. “Since this is your first time here, you get the chair on the end facing the view.”
“I’ll happily take it, but can I help with anything?”
“We have it under control.” Raquel ladled soup into colorful pottery bowls sitting on matching plates.
“Your dishes are beautiful.”
“I love them, too. Tia Carmen got them in Mexico.” She tucked half a sandwich on either side of the bowl and handed Zinnia the plate. “Here you go.”
“Thank you so much. I’m starving.”
“I’ll bet.”
“How’d it go?” Monty pulled back her chair.
“Great.” She flicked a glance in his direction as she sat down. “Patient is such a sweetheart.”
“Yeah, he is.” His breath brushed the side of her face as he neatly slid the chair up to the table.
Awareness fizzed in her stomach. She managed a breathy thanks.
He responded with a soft welcome.
Oh, yeah, she felt completely welcome. He might not want to want her, but clearly he couldn’t help himself. He likely couldn’t bluff worth a damn at the poker table, either.
Uncle Graham took the chair on her left. At first she thought Monty would be within knee-bumping distance on the bench to her right. Then he scooted down one place and Raquel took that spot.
Just as well. Playing footsie with the guy, either accidentally or intentionally was not in her best interests.
Once they were all seated, he brought up the birthday party. “Your sister’s invited, too. I didn’t think to say that when we were down at the barn.”
“That’s very kind, and I’m sure Marigold would enjoy coming, but she’s bartending at the Raccoon and she’s got the Saturday night shift.”
“She’s working at the Raccoon? How does she like it?”
“She loves it. And since she just started last week, I doubt she’d want to ask for a different shift.”
“We’ll give her more notice for the next party,” Raquel said. “It’s been many years since I was the new girl in town, but I remember what that feels like. You both are welcome here anytime. And Tex, of course.”
Graham flashed her a smile. “How about me?”
“You know you don’t need an invitation.”
“Don’t I?”
“Of course not. You and Spence….” Then she met his gaze. “I see your point, amigo. You two used to do things together, but since he….” She trailed off. “You’re welcome anytime, too.”
“Good to know.”
Something in his voice made Zinnia wonder if… nah. She was projecting.
“Tell us about your little guy,” Raquel said. “What’s he like? What’s he into?”
“He’s into cowboys, maybe because Mari and I have country music on all the time. He already thinks of himself as a cowboy, which is why he insists we call him Tex.”
“That’s not his name?”
“Oh, no. His name’s Sebastian. But once he settled on being a cowboy, he wanted a cowboy name. He chose Tex.”
Raquel beamed at her. “And you didn’t fight him on it. I admire that.”
“I’m just hoping it’s not permanent. He’s named after my dad.”
“Oh, dear.” Raquel glanced over at Uncle Graham. “How are you dealing with the name change?”
“Y’know, he’s only five. He never met his grandfather. Even though we’ve told him stories, it’s not enough to make him love the name. I figure when he’s older, he might reconsider.”
“That’s very evolved of you.”
“I can relate,” Monty said. “I’m not crazy about Montgomery.”
Raquel’s chin lifted. “It’s a good name. It has gravitas.”
“That’s the trouble, Mom. It’s too fancy. I’m glad there’s a short version.” He turned to Zinnia. “Did your dad have a nickname?”
“Not really.” Zinnia couldn’t resist looking at him, soaking up the kindness in his gaze. “His friends tried, but nothing stuck, which was fine with him. He liked his name.”
“I suppose you could try Seb or Sebby,” Raquel said. “Or maybe Bastian or Bas.”
“I ran all those by him. He didn’t go for any of them. If you look online, you’ll also find Seabass.”
Monty grimaced. “Let’s hope some kid doesn’t come up with that one.”
“They probably won’t since we’re in Montana. Anyway, none of the choices sounded cowboy enough, so here we are.”
“Then Tex it is,” Raquel said. “I can’t wait to meet him. He should have a good time, since we’re chock-a-block with cowboys around here.”
She smiled. “So I’ve heard.” And one of them was seriously testing the limits she’d placed on herself.
Would it make sense for them to talk about it, get the situation out in the open? Her parents had taught her to meet issues head on and not let a problem fester.
He was coming out this afternoon to check Speckles. That might provide an opportunity to speak with him alone. It was the adult way to handle this inconvenient attraction. Yeah, she’d diffuse this bomb and remove the possibility of an explosion.