Montana Actually (12 page)

“I sure did enjoy myself. Thank you so much for inviting Hunter and me. It got me thinking, though . . .”

Katrina put her mug down. “How’s that?”

“In comparison to branding and to how you and Josh treated Sam, making coffee must seem pretty dull.”

“Oh, I don’t know . . .” Katrina ran her finger distractedly around the rim of her coffee cup. “Sometimes a girl needs dull.”

“Dull’s safer, for sure.”

Katrina’s head jerked up. “That sounds like the voice of experience.”

Shannon liked Katrina, and since moving to Bear Paw she’d been working so hard she hadn’t had the time to make any friends. Not that she usually self-disclosed much at all, but today it felt right. “Back in the day, I had this thing for bad boys. Let’s just say it took me a while, but I finally worked out they don’t mix so good with a kid, so I gave them up.”

A deep line creased the bridge of Katrina’s nose. “But what about good guys?”

“I never met one to give up.”

A stunned look crossed her face. “That’s so sad.”

Shannon didn’t want sympathy. “Hunter’s my priority right now.”

“I get that, but I want you to know, Shannon, that some of the guys you met at the branding are good men.”

She thought about every guy she’d been with since she was seventeen and had trouble making connections. “You’re telling me they actually exist?”

“Of course they do. My dad’s a good guy. Ty Garver is a great guy.”

What about Beau?
She pulled her mind back fast. Good guy or not, he was only ever excruciatingly polite to her, and even if he’d shown some interest, she had her hands full with Hunter. “What about you? Why do you feel the need to do dull? You’re single and there has to be someone in this town you can have sex with?” she said, enjoying the girls’ talk. “I suppose there’s Josh, if that kind of wound-up, tight-jaw tension is your crack.”

Katrina spurted coffee out of her nose.

She laughed and handed her a napkin. “Good point. If you got sick, he’d be your doctor and
that
would be totally awkward.”

Before Katrina could respond, Shannon’s cell beeped with a text and she instantly recognized the school office’s number. Her heart sank. “I’m sorry, Katrina, but can you stay and do coffee for the Mommy-and-Me group? I have to go to the school.”

—

BEAU
was driving back from the feed store. He had the radio blasting and was singing at the top of his lungs. His dog, Scout, howled in either protest or participation; Beau was never quite certain which. The irony of it all was that despite how bad and off-key Beau’s singing was, his stutter vanished whenever he belted out a tune. If he could go through life singing and only talking to animals, he’d never stutter again. Sadly, that would probably land him in the asylum.

Sun glare poured through the glass, showing just how badly the outfit’s windshield needed cleaning. He squinted around the greasy residue and in the distance saw what looked like a calf on the side of the road. As he got closer, he realized it was a kid dressed all in black with a baseball cap pulled down low and he was trudging along the edge of the blacktop. The boy turned at the sound of the engine and shoved out his thumb.

Beau slowed, wondering who he was. Town was five miles back, and a local kid would have gotten a ride from someone. He couldn’t imagine anyone from Bear Paw not driving a kid to the ranch gate. He applied the brakes and wound down the passenger’s window. “You need . . . a ride?”

The kid nodded and then looked up from under his cap.

Beau recognized Shannon’s kid immediately. “Hunter.” He leaned over and opened the door. “You lost?”

The kid didn’t say anything. He glanced around at the flat, grassy plains that stretched for miles as if seeking an answer and then he seemed to slump.

A thought struck Beau and a thread of anxiety wound through him. “D-did your mom’s car . . . break down? Are you w-walking . . . for help?”

Hunter stared at the tops of his skate shoes.

Breathe.
“Is your mom . . . okay?”

The boy nodded. “Yeah.”

Relieved that Shannon wasn’t stranded or hurt, he wondered why her son was so far from the diner. He patted the seat. “Get in.”

Hunter didn’t move.

Beau thought back to when he was fourteen, which in many ways seemed a lifetime ago and in other ways only yesterday. The kid was out here for a reason, and he obviously didn’t want to go back to town, but at fourteen, he had no choice. Beau didn’t want to force him into the vehicle, but he had to get him in somehow, so he used logic.

Stretching out his arm, he said, “Nothing but cows . . . and ranches that way.” He moved his arm forty-five degrees. “Rocky Mountains, bears . . . elk . . . and sh-sheep if you go there.” He pointed across his chest. “Canada but . . . they talk f-funnier than I do.”

Hunter’s head jerked up, his eyes round as if he couldn’t believe Beau had just made a joke against himself.

“So, buddy . . . I guess that . . . leaves Bear Paw.”

“That blows.”

Scout had edged forward and was now trying to get Hunter’s attention by sticking her nose under his cap.

Beau was about to say, “Down, Scout,” when Hunter laughed. Maybe the dog was the way to get him to come back to town. “She wants you . . . to scratch her . . . under the chin.”

“What’s her name?”

“Scout.”

“Hey, Scout.” Hunter rubbed her ears with both hands, and Scout’s tail went wild, thumping hard on the seat.

“She’s gonna wh-whine if you don’t come with us.”

Scout barked as if she’d just read his mind.

Hunter looked at Beau and then at Scout and slowly swung his backpack onto the floor and hauled himself up onto the seat. “Do you need any help on the ranch?” he asked, his voice full of hope. “I could do that first before I go back.”

He felt for the kid, but it was close to suppertime and surely he was expected home. “I’m guessing . . . your mom doesn’t know . . . you’re out here?”

Hunter stuck his face in Scout’s fur and didn’t say another word.

Beau grimaced. A virtually silent teen and a stuttering cowboy. It was gonna be a fun ride back to town.

—

THE
burning pain radiating from Shannon’s solar plexus was a constant reminder that Hunter was missing. Hours had passed since she’d arrived at the school expecting to collect him from the principal’s office for yet another infraction, but when she’d walked in, Hunter wasn’t there. Instead, a concerned yet resigned Gary Folger had told her that after lunch, Hunter hadn’t returned to class. Then he’d asked her if she knew where he might have gone.

After she’d ruled out home and the skate park, she’d drawn a blank. Despite her encouraging Hunter to bring friends home, he never had, and she wasn’t certain which boys he hung out with. If the students in his class knew where he was, they weren’t saying. She’d spoken to Mitchell Hagen, the sheriff, but he hadn’t been unduly concerned. He’d given her a critical look and asked how things were at home. She’d told him that home wasn’t the problem, but school was an issue. He’d said he’d keep an eye out for Hunter but that kids usually turned up around suppertime.

Shannon had wanted to yell at him, “Obviously you’re not a father!” but she’d realized there was no point. Plenty of fathers took no interest in their kid’s life—Hunter’s dad being a perfect example.

She glanced at the clock. Six thirty. Suppertime and still no Hunter. How much longer did she have to wait before the sheriff took her seriously? Hunter didn’t know enough people in town to be visiting anyone, and even if he was, surely their parents would be home by now and the boys would have been discovered.

She heard the squeak of the back door and her breath caught. “Hunter?” Rushing into the hallway, she stopped short, surprise and anxiety making her dizzy. Beau McCade stood in the small and narrow space, completely filling it.

He jerkily pulled his hat off his head, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “Ma’am.”

It made no sense that he was in her house and hope sprouted. “Is Hunter with you?”

She heard the clatter of nails on wood and then Beau turned and she glimpsed a black dog with tan ears followed by Hunter. “Oh, thank God.” She pushed past Beau and wrapped her arms around her rigid son. “Are you okay?”

Hunter tried to shake free of her maternal grasp. “I’m good.”

“You’re good?” Her voice rose as anger skated in over relief. “You’ve been missing for hours, Hunter, and no one knew where you were. You can’t just disappear like that.”

The dog barked at her loud voice.

“Quiet, Scout,” Beau said firmly.

Shannon tried hard to lower her voice. “I’ve been worried sick.”

Hunter shrugged his thin shoulders. “I’m back now. What’s for supper?”

Fury at his cavalier attitude exploded inside her. “Supper?” She couldn’t keep the shrillness from her voice. “Supper? I haven’t cooked any supper. Do you have any idea how desperate I’ve been? I had no idea where you were. For all I knew you could have been hit by a car and lying in a ditch.”

“None of that happened.”

It was like talking to a brick wall, and tears pricked the backs of her eyes, threatening to spill over. How could he not see that what he’d done was wrong? She wanted to shake him and make him see how his behavior affected her, but she was worried she’d just end up a blubbering mess. Digging deep, she ground out, “I’m too angry to talk to you right now. Go to your room.”

He glared at her before bending down to the dog. “Bye, Scout.” He scratched the canine behind the ears before looking up at the cowboy. “Bye, Beau.” Ignoring Shannon completely, he walked down the hallway and out of sight.

Her heart, battered and bruised by the afternoon’s stress, wobbled in her chest. Where had her dear little boy gone? She heard the sound of someone clearing their throat and suddenly remembered that Beau McCade was still standing in her hall. He’d been a silent witness to her brooding and resentful son and her complete meltdown. She wanted to die on the spot.

Somehow, she managed to pull herself together. “Thank you for bringing him home.”

Beau’s fingers played around the brim of his hat and he gave her a curt nod. In that small movement, Shannon felt his criticism of her parenting circle her with condemnation. Throughout the afternoon she’d had the unspoken censure of the school principal and the sheriff—she was the single mom unable to control her increasingly disconnected kid. She surely didn’t need disapproval from a childless cowboy who, from the very first time she’d met him, had only ever spoken the bare minimum to her—just to be polite.

Her fingers curled into her palms. “Where did you find him?”

His nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath. “Near . . . Pioneer Road.”

Shock socked her in the chest. “But that’s miles away. How did he get all the way out there and why didn’t you call me as soon as you found him?”

A slight frown creased his forehead. “I don’t . . . use phones.”

His slow and deliberate words mocked her. “What are you? Amish?” Her voice rose again. “So I’m left scared out of my wits for an extra half hour because you don’t use phones?”

His cheekbones suddenly seemed stark on his face as tension turned his entire body rigid. “He . . . was . . . safe.”

She threw up her hands, not able to believe him. “Yeah, well, my crystal ball didn’t tell me that.”

His gaze dropped away and he didn’t say anything—it was Hunter all over again and she saw red. “You think that by saying nothing, you don’t have an opinion, but you do.” She pointed an accusing finger at him. “It’s in your stance, on your face and in your eyes, so why not say it? Come on, spit it out.”

He raised trouble-filled chocolate brown eyes to her face and three beats of silence passed. “He’s . . .”

Her jaw was so tight she could barely get the words out. “Just. Say. It.”

“He . . . he’s not h-happy.”

She barely heard him over the deafening thumping of blood in her ears. “You think I don’t know that? You think that I want him to run away, that his misery doesn’t eat at me and tear me apart? It’s fine for you to stand there all superior, thinking you know best, but you don’t know anything at all. I want you to leave. You need to leave, now.”

A pained expression crossed his face, and his dog came and stood next to him, gazing up at him as if to check whether he was okay. “I . . . kn-kn-kn-” He dragged in a breath as his face turned red. “I . . . kn-kn-kn-” His hand slammed against the wall. “Fuck!”

Shannon jumped at the fury behind the yelled expletive, fright making acid burn the back of her throat.

Then she gagged.
Oh God
. What had she done? Beau McCade wasn’t the judgmental asshole of few words that she’d just accused him of being. The reason he spoke slowly and deliberately and used very few words was because he was working hard to conquer a stutter. And she’d just made him lose control.

Spit it out
. Her words reverberated in her head so loud and hurtful that she wanted to sink through the floor and hide from them. From him. “Beau, I . . .” But before she could say more, he’d stormed past her, pushed open the door and disappeared outside.