The Bride Wore Denim (11 page)

“Thanks for it,” Skylar said.

“My French Mint Marshmallow was good, too, and you’re very welcome. Anything else you need to do while we’re here?”

“No. The film is turned in. Do you need to shop more?”

“I’m done. I don’t have too much more time anyhow. It’s one o’clock. I need to leave for Jackson by four.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go.”

The statement took Harper aback. The girl barely knew her, and although Skylar clearly craved friendship, Harper wouldn’t have expected a teenager to choose an adult.

“Thank you. It’s hard to leave.”

That was somewhat a lie. It hurt to leave things she felt so strongly about in the fate of other hands. Joely, however, was doing her best to seriously look at the books with her mother, research cattle with Leif, and research fairly the likelihood of Mountain Pacific finding oil on the ranch.

Maybe she’d find a way to pull off her ascension to the job of Paradise boss.

What Harper found less hard to leave was Cole and the confusion he caused in her emotions. In all honesty, his lie of omission was minor. People worked for oil companies. It wasn’t a crime. The thought that he didn’t see her any differently than anyone else did—as someone who was so single-minded of focus and so fragile of emotion that she couldn’t be treated with the truth—however, hurt.

“Will you be back soon?”

“I don’t know, sweetie. I don’t have any specific plans right now.” A prick of pain she didn’t quite understand spread through her heart. “I’ll come back if my mother needs anything. And I’ll be back to visit. But I have a lot of exciting things going on in Chicago.”

“Yeah. I get it.” Her dull voice said she really didn’t.

They left Ina’s, Harper’s mood slightly subdued and Skylar’s slightly mopey. Mild temperatures had given western Wyoming a perfect summer this year, or so Harper had heard. Today the temp sat lazily in the low eighties, but a slight, fresh breeze kept the air from overheating. In hazy sunshine, they walked past stores Harper had known her entire life, as well as a smattering of brand new businesses. And they passed military families galore—the new heart of Wolf Paw Pass’s demographic.

Thanks to the ten-year-old Veteran’s Administration Medical Center between Wolf Paw and Jackson, along with the venerable military, fire, and police combined training facility west of Wolf Paw, the town’s once-tiny population of several hundred had swelled to nearly two thousand.

Skylar barely paid attention to the businesses. The Have You Any Wool? yarn shop, next to A Piece-able World fabric shop got curious glances but no window shopping. They passed Wolf Paw Pass Office Supply, New Rags Clothing Boutique, Nelson Brothers Plumbing and Heating, and Wanda’s Wolf Paw Gifts. They were almost past Wanda’s elaborate Victorian door when Skylar stopped.

“Look.” She pointed to a bright blue-and-green poster in the window.

They read it silently together.

               
The Wolf Paw Pass and Jackson Lions, along with Wolf Paw Pass Middle School and Jackson Southwest High School, present the third annual Warren A. Brenner VA Medical Center Art Exhibition and Competition. Participants from Jackson Hole Area Public Schools arts programs will be featured in a gallery-like showing combined with a fund-raising event for the arts in the public schools initiative. Winners will be chosen in five categories. Each winner will receive a $500.00 scholarship prize. One grand-prize winner will have the winning piece permanently displayed in the Brenner VA Medical Center. Tickets $5.00. Raffle tickets $3.00 to $25.00. Sunday, September 24th.

“Oh man!” Skylar rocked back and then peered again at the poster. “I’ve never heard about this before.”

“It sounds really cool. I’m glad the schools are doing something like this.”

“This is the problem with your mom being your teacher. We don’t get to do anything cool like this. See, it says ‘public schools.’ ”

“Maybe your mom could contact them and see if you could participate, too.”

“She won’t. She’s on the homeschool co-op board, and they wouldn’t do something where the money goes to the public schools.”

She was definitely a quick analyst, Harper thought. She studied the teen’s face and a sudden punch of recognition took her back. She’d once been right where Skylar was. Not maybe shut out of a contest, but shut out of acceptance. Thank God she’d had a great high school art teacher. She wasn’t sure Skylar even had that.

“It can’t hurt to mention it anyway,” she said. “Maybe you guys could at least go to the exhibition and see what it’s like. That might give your mom some ideas about things you’d like to do.”

“Sure. Maybe.”

Skylar shuffled on without another word. After a momentary flash of excitement while looking at the poster, she now let her shoulders hang with defensive apathy. A block farther along Main Street, they reached the car, her dad’s old green Subaru Forester, parked in front of the Credit Union and a vacant lot that served as an access to Centennial Park and a network of hiking trails surrounding the town.

“Sorry the trip ended in a downer,” Harper said.

“It’s not a downer. It’s the same stupid stuff.”

“Yeah. There’s a lot of stupid stuff, isn’t there?”

She turned when a strange, high-pitched whine followed by a dull, uneven thumping, echoed from the lot. A random box bumped along the wall of the Credit Union.

“Oh my gosh, look at that!” Skylar took off toward what Harper could now see, three-fourths of the way along the building, was an animal.

“Be careful!” she called. “You’ve seen enough wild creatures on the ranch to know not to touch it.”

Her words fell on deaf ears. Skylar knelt, hiding the thing from view, but clearly scooping it into her arms. Harper started across the grass. She met the girl along with the most pathetically eager black-and-white puppy that licked Skylar’s face from the cradle of her arms.

“Goodness, what have we here?” Harper asked.

Skylar’s angry face was back. “He was tied by a piece of clothesline around his neck to the punched-out handle on that cardboard box back there.” She held out a piece of crumpled white paper. “This was on the box.”

“Free to good home,” Harper read. “He must have gotten loose from somewhere.”

“There’s nobody around.” Her lip curled in scorn. “A puppy tied to a box wouldn’t be that hard to catch him. He could have strangled if the rope got caught.”

Once again, Harper caught a flash of herself at that age: the would-be champion of underdogs.

“I’m glad you got him free of it. We should probably take him to the police or maybe to Dr. Ackerman, the vet.”

“Whatcha got there?”

Harper spun at the familiar, deep voice calling from the sidewalk. Cole leaned against the side of the bank like a poster boy for tight T-shirts and sexy jeans, with his hair mussed as usual, his arms crossed at his chest. Her ten seconds of arrhythmia gave way to annoyance at his cheerful insouciance.

“A puppy.” Skylar recovered from her speechlessness first and started toward him, with a shy smile. “Someone left it here.”

“Seriously?” Cole straightened. “How do you know?”

“We don’t for sure,” Harper said. “We’re about to take it to the vet’s I think.”

“What will they do with it?” Skylar asked.

“If they can’t find an owner, they’ll bring it to the shelter in Jackson. Or find a foster place.” Cole peered down at the dog in Skylar’s arms. “Do you know if it’s a male or female?”

“I didn’t look.”

“Can I?” He held out his hands.

“I think we can deal with this.” Harper’s temper lit. He didn’t need to take charge of the moment as if she couldn’t handle this either.

“I’m just takin’ a peek,” he said. “Or I’ll hold him up so you can do the honors. I’m sure you know how to sex baby animals.”

As if someone had tossed a red slushie in her face, Skylar turned bright pink. The lunatic, Harper thought, didn’t he know what kind of trouble he could get into with a fourteen-year-old girl by blathering so carelessly. Besides, she’d warned him about the teen’s crush.

“Knock it off, Cole,” she said. “Give me the dog.”

“What are you two so pissy about?” They both looked at hot-faced Skylar, whose fourteen-going-on-age-twenty persona took charge with sarcasm that she used to try and mask her embarrassment.

“Nobody’s pissy,” Cole said. “Harper is having a hard time leaving me behind.”

“Cole is delusional because he’s going to grieve when I’m gone.”

“That’s probably true enough.” He forced his mouth into sad pout made ridiculous by the twinkle in his eye.

“Here.” Skylar turned the puppy over to him.

“Traitor.” Harper scowled but bumped her with an elbow, careful to show she wasn’t annoyed with her.

It was pretty hard to stay annoyed with Cole either, watching his big hands with the little black-and-white pup. He roamed them across its back, feeling for any injuries or spots that might indicate it had been abused. She knew this because she’d seen him do it countless times on an injured calf or wild animal.

“This is quite a nice little border collie,” he said. “I can’t imagine someone abandoning a dog like this.”

“My dad doesn’t like border collies,” said Skylar. “He says they’re too intense. He likes Australian cattle dogs.”

“You had collies growing up.” Harper caught his eye, remembering, and understanding now why he’d taken such a quick interest in the dog.

“Jeff, Smitty, Lucy, and Turk,” he agreed.

Carefully, once the pup had settled in his arms, Cole flipped it over and held it on its back.

“A little girl,” he said. He stroked her tummy and handed her back to Skylar.

“Hi, girl.” She cooed at the dog. Then she looked up, and for the first time in their short acquaintance, Harper didn’t see the muddled light of a teenage crush in her eyes. “I don’t want to take her to the vet. I’m taking her home.”

“Whoa,” Cole said.

“Oh, Skylar, I don’t know—” Harper spoke at the same moment.

“We were supposed to find her.” Skylar set her jaw and prepared to dig in her heels on the point.

“I can’t let you come home from a field trip with me bringing a dog.” Harper tried to make her denial lighthearted. “Your mom will ban me from playing with you.”

Skylar was having none of it. “There are already three dogs around. What will anyone care if there’s one more?”

“Border collies aren’t like normal dogs,” Cole said. “They take a lot of work and training. And puppies can mess up a lot of carpets and furniture before they’re trained. That’s a commitment a parent has to agree to.”

“I’ll get them to agree.”

Harper exchanged a desperate look with Cole. She didn’t have the authority to say no anymore than she had the authority to say yes, but he didn’t look any more certain than she felt.

“Here’s the thing,” he said. “Even if you do keep her, she has to visit the vet and get shots and deworming and make sure she’s healthy. That’s expensive. And you really should check around town and make sure nobody still owns her or has claimed her.

“Well if they claimed her, they don’t deserve her.” Skylar held the dog more tightly, and it licked her face, whining and squirming to get closer.

“How about if we take her to the vet’s, find out what she needs, and if your folks say you can keep her, I’ll bring you back to pick her up tomorrow? Maybe Doc Ackerman will know where she came from.”

“She can’t stay alone in a cage. What if she had brothers and sisters and now she’s missing them? She needs to be close to someone who’ll keep her company. I’m taking her home, and my dad will bring us back tomorrow.” Her features hardened into stubbornness.

“I don’t know what to say.” Harper sighed.

“I’d say you’re bringing a dog home.” Cole shrugged. “All we can do is look around the park a little bit and see if anyone’s searching for a puppy before we go.”

Harper checked her watch. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to spend looking, even though I think you’re right. I need to be at the airport in Jackson in three hours. Almost ninety minutes of that is travel time now.

“Nobody’s looking for her.” Skylar turned to Cole for support.

“I can help her look,” Cole said. “If you thought it would be okay that I take her home.”

“I don’t know.” That thought worried Harper considerably. Not because she didn’t trust Cole, but because she wasn’t sure she could trust Skylar to know how to act. One bit of fanciful reporting about time spent with “the only guy around here hot enough to date,” and Cole could be in trouble. “I should probably be responsible for her.”

Or maybe she’d lived in a big, dangerous city too long. She sighed.

“Yeah, probably,” he said.

“What are you doing here anyway?” she asked.

“Your grandmother went looking for her favorite tea, and it turned out the crowd used it up the day of the funeral. Sadie looks tired today, I felt like she deserved her tea, and since you’d already gone, here I am.”

He really was a nice guy. The jerk.

“I have a plan.” Skylar interrupted.

She and Cole both turned. Harper was going to get whiplash trying to focus on the girl’s sudden changes in emotion. She now looked like that thoughtful twenty-one-year-old.

“Okay,” Cole said.

“We take her home. I’ll get my mom’s permission to keep her if we can’t find any owners. I’ll make up some flyers to put around.”

Harper narrowed her eyes skeptically. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I won’t be here to check up on you.”

“Oh, but I will.” Cole shot Skylar a huge grin, which apparently was contagious, since she returned it without hesitation.

“Fine.” Harper sighed. “It’s on your head, chickie girl.”

“Yup,” Skylar agreed.

Cole touched Harper on the shoulder. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

She hadn’t totally forgiven him, even though the hottest flame of her anger had died. “I’m sure you will.”

“Harper?”

“What?”

“I should have told you.”

“Yeah.” She softened one notch more. “You should have.”

T
WO DAYS AFTER
arriving home from Wyoming, Harper thought she would have been over jetlag, over homesickness. Over Cole. Chicago had been home for four years now, and if she lived there forty-four more, she doubted she’d see all there was to see in the iconic city. The endlessly changing vibes always invigorated her, inspired her, kept her sane.

Not this week.

This week the lights at night blinded like interrogation spotlights from an old film noir. The 2.7 million inhabitants all seemed to be crabby and obnoxious on the same day. And the air reeked of gasoline fumes. The best moment of that second day home came on her way to a meeting with Tristan and the owners of the gallery, when she passed a small manure pile left in the street by a mounted police officer’s horse. She actually slowed her pace to pass it, and if she hadn’t feared being picked up for dangerously insane behavior, she’d have stood still beside it for a moment.

She couldn’t deny it. She could barely hide it. She missed Wyoming. She missed the horses, her mother, even her sister. She missed Skylar and wondered about the stray puppy.

She missed Cole.

Her anger toward him had been infantile. They were grown-ups; they’d disagree. He’d apologized, but she’d blown it off. What had happened to her brain while she’d been there? She’d told herself a hundred times, she was better off here in the anonymous city.

Her mood improved when she reached Crucible and the warm, supportive enclave of her true peeps—as Tristan loved to say.

“Are you ready for this, darling?” Gil asked, when she’d joined them around the conference table in his office.

“I’m very excited,” she agreed. “It’s pretty surreal.”

“Well, look what we got.” Gil handed her a glossy brochure. “This’ll make it real.”

The informational brochure—about her! She held it almost reverently. Her portrait filled the front panel, and inside every one of her eighteen paintings that were to be displayed was reproduced and described.

“Oh, Gareth,” she whispered. “You did this? It’s . . . ”

She had no words—she’d never been treated this professionally and respectfully in anything she’d ever done. Tristan patted her hand.

“Nice, isn’t it, babe?”

“Thank you. This is so much time and expense. I don’t know what to say. I feel like I won the lottery.”

“You did,” Tris said. “If you get these two on your side—you’re golden.”

“I’m beginning to see that.” She hugged each of the owners in turn. “What can I do now?”

“Take a few of these. Pass them out to your friends, your enemies, your grocer, your cleaning lady, your—”

“Cleaning lady.” Harper laughed. “Sure. She’ll take a dozen and pass them out to the rest of my household staff. Sorry, I’m so excited I’m goofy. Of course I’ll pass them out.”

“Then, starting tomorrow you can come and begin supervising the hanging of the paintings.”

“Me? You could hang them in the bathrooms and I’d be ecstatic.”

All three men shared indulgent smiles.

“Don’t make fun of me,” she said. “I’m a total newb.”

“You won’t be by the time we’re done with you,” Gil said. “Now, let’s talk about how you’re going to circulate in the gallery.”

She left Crucible an hour later, her head swimming with information and instructions. She could have been a queen being prepped for a coronation ceremony for all the protocols. How many people could this possibly involve for a brand-new artist? She’d be blown away if ten people showed up. But, whatever Gil and Gareth wanted she would do naked if they asked. Even for ten people.

She breathed a little easier with her stash of colorful brochures in her purse. Four more days to the showing and there was plenty to do. She’d start at the local library, move to a couple of her favorite window-shopping boutiques, and maybe make the rounds of her neighborhood businesses. Somebody would put up a brochure.

The spot in the street where she’d passed the horse manure had been cleaned. It was probably for the best, she thought. She didn’t need horses, dogs, sisters, or old childhood friends on the brain. And it did no good whatsoever to wonder if she ever in a million years would have been able to talk her father into coming to see her now.

She’d never know. And that, too, was probably for the best.

C
OLE HAD GOTTEN
his slender but muscular build from his father, Russ, and now at sixty-two, his dad kept in shape primarily by walking the halls of his condominium complex, helping with odd jobs whenever anyone needed him, and by flying his Cessna 172 whenever he possibly could. He made a tidy sum helping with cattle gatherings, wild mustang roundups for the Bureau of Land Management, and ferrying folks on occasion to meetings or gatherings if they were willing to pay for a pilot. In truth, he’d done well for himself since selling the Double Diamond.

Cole sat in his dad’s sparsely furnished living room and lifted a beer, looking up when his father entered the room carrying two plates, each bearing a sandwich of thickly sliced roast beef. The man wasn’t starving himself either.

“Thanks, Dad,” he said. “Better than a feast.”

“It’s pretty unfancy for this being our reunion after an entire summer. Not counting the funeral, of course—but there was no time to catch up then. Damn it’s still unbelievable. Sixty-eight and a heart attack out of the blue. How are the Crocketts doing?”

“Getting along. Finances aren’t great for them either,” he said vaguely. “Joely is going to try taking over the reins from Sam. I’ll give her a hand along with Leif and Bjorn. But everyone else has had to go back to her home.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” His father shrugged. “All those girls and not a rancher among them.”

“Yeah, don’t even get me going. But, this arrangement might work for Joely. She and Bella are taking a trip to California. They’ll pack up Joely’s stuff and move her out here.”

“Hmmmm,” his father said.

“Yeah. Sad. Sounds like she and her husband are separated.”

“Shame. Hate to see that.”

“Anyway, things will be quiet for a few weeks there. I’ll help however I can.”

“And the others?”

“Mia is the same. Fine, organized.”

His dad laughed. “Gotcha. I love that girl, but she is one focused little filly.”

Cole had to agree. He’d never been able to keep up with Mia. For every step he’d taken, she’d taken six. They’d never been in sync enough to make real sparks. “The triplets all went back to Denver,” he said. “Their place is doing real well; they’ve opened a new location. It takes all three to run them both.”

“Good for them. And Harper?”

“Uh . . . ” His thoughts tangled up with each other as he sat there. What was she doing? Was she grateful to be back in the city? Would her little gallery opening be fun or a bomb?

“Cole?”

“Oh, Harper. She’s doing great, too.”

He told his father about the gallery show. About their ridiculous chicken adventure. About her new connection to Bjorn’s daughter. When he finished, his dad was sitting deep in his armchair, wearing a definite grin.

He had a good relationship with his father now. For a while, after the ranch had been sold, he’d been angry. He’d never been given a say in his home’s fate. But over time he’d grown to understand. Russ Wainwright was a proud man, and he’d done his absolute best by the Double Diamond. Selling had nearly killed him, Cole remembered. He almost admired his father more now for having weathered his personal tragedies with dignity and stoicism.

“What are you smilin’ about over there?” He took another swig of beer.

“I’m your father—I watched you grow up with those girls. You’ve always had an eye for little Harper.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“All right, if you say so. But either way, you’ve got a thing for her now. Let’s skip all the girlie denying and admit it. I know it’s true. And for what it’s worth, I approve.”

“Aw, hell. Fine, Dad. She’s beautiful. She’s funny. She’s grown up to be a kind, deep-thinking, nice woman, and I was attracted the minute I saw her. But, and this is the truth, she’s also complicated. She’s got a thing about going out with me because of loyalty to Mia. Don’t ask me to explain. I can’t.

“She’s also a progressive from the get-go, and while that’s absolutely fine, she’s pissed as all hell at me because we’re talking about letting Mountain Pacific survey for oil and gas. So—there’s not much hope for us.”

He sighed. He missed her, damn it. He didn’t want to—who needed the hassle? But even after being around her for one week, the world was black and white without her.

“Bah, ranch couples never agree on things,” his dad said. “Politics, how to treat animals, where to burn the trash. All that doesn’t matter if there’s respect. You already sound like you have it for Harper.”

Cole let out a choppy laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m going to New York this weekend. Flying in and out to an oil producer’s conference. I promised Bella and Joely that I would get all the information I could on modern drilling techniques. I actually thought about making an overnight stop in Chicago to catch Harpo’s gallery show. Talk about ironic. She’s already mad at me. What if I surprise her, and she finds out she’s a stop on the way to an oil conference.”

“Hell, son. You’re afraid of a little argument with your girl?”

“Dad . . . ”

His father laughed. “Okay. I’m giving you shit, sorry. But now I’m serious. I would give anything I own to have one more fight with your mama. Anything. I’m telling you. Go and pack your bags.”

To his embarrassment, Cole found his palms sweating and his heart pumping adrenaline in sudden anticipation. The idea had been a random thought, which he’d pretty much dismissed. Now it seemed the only logical thing to do.

“You’re serious.”

“You bet I am. I can see you want to try this. Well, if you don’t start with a spark, you’ll never have a campfire.”

“You’re nothing but an old romantic.” Cole chided his father, hoping to get a little masculine indignation from him.

“Why thank you,” he said. “I do my best. Now finish your beer and sandwich and go start packing.”

Cole snorted and picked up his beer. He had three days. There was probably time.

T
HREE DAYS LATER
, Cole pulled open the seven-foot frosted glass doors to the gallery Crucible. He hated big cities, but he had to admit, the glitter-studded gallery party was danged impressive. And it was only a gallery showing for one unknown artist. He couldn’t imagine how they’d treat a Picasso.

It hadn’t dawned on him, however, that he’d need a tuxedo. He’d never needed one in his life, and he’d been picturing a little hole-in-the-wall shop that sold paintings, not the art gallery equivalent to a farm club for the Louvre. At least he’d left his work boots back at home and worn his dress hat. He scoffed at himself, catching his reflection in one of a dozen mirrored surfaces.

A trim man of about fifty approached, with thinning hair and a manner like a funeral director crossed with a high school English teacher. He assessed Cole’s black dress jeans, white dress shirt, and gray woolen sport coat, with eager, curious eyes.

“Good evening, sir, and welcome. Is there anything special I can show you tonight? Would you like a brochure that introduces Miss Crockett’s works?”

“I would, thanks.” Cole took a glossy tri-fold pamphlet from the man’s proffered hand.

“Are you familiar with her paintings?”

“Her very early ones,” he replied solemnly. In truth, he hadn’t seen much Harper had painted since high school. He was almost afraid to look around now for fear she was one of those weird-ass modern artists he didn’t understand.

“We do have a few of her early pieces. We’re honored to have her with us. Be sure to say hello. If you have any questions, I’m at your service; and should the situation arise, I can furnish you with a price list.”

A price list? How frickin’ much could a painting be that you couldn’t put the price sticker on the side of the frame?

“Thank you.” His eyes searched the small rectangular gallery without seeing anyone who looked like Harper. “Can you tell me where I can find, uh, Miss Crockett?”

“I believe she’s on the second floor where her Paradise collection is located.”

Paradise collection?

Cole looked straight up. Sure enough, he could see through white wrought iron railings into the next level.

“Spiral staircases are located on both ends of the room. There’s an elevator around the corner if you’d prefer. I’m Gil Hargreaves, one of the owners of Crucible.”

“Nice to meet you.”

What did you actually say to the owner of a place like this? Nice paintings you have here? Do you have an ATM somewhere? Where’s the sale room?

“I’m an old friend of Harper’s. Thanks for showing her paintings.” That seemed appropriate.

“We’re very excited to have them.” Gil Hargreaves gushed with enthusiasm. “We absolutely adore launching new artists. It’s so satisfying to watch careers take off. Mark my words. Harper’s is not in doubt.”

Cole thanked him again and made for the wide spiral staircase to his left. After a quick climb he emerged onto the second floor to find it a starker space than the main gallery downstairs. Pale oak flooring and off-white walls reflected brightness from abundant recessed lighting. Floor-to-almost-ceiling walls served as separating screens to form three or four small rooms.

His heart thumped in anticipation. Harper had no idea he’d come, and he wasn’t entirely sure how she’d react. He thought he’d managed to smooth a few of her ruffled feathers before she’d left Wyoming last week, but she’d still been plenty pissed off. The assignment bringing him off the ranch and through Chicago wouldn’t necessarily help matters, but his father had been right. If he didn’t pursue the spark now, he might as well give up on any kind of campfire. And giving up before he admitted to her how endlessly she stayed on his mind and how he hated the unhappiness he’d caused her, wasn’t possible. He’d had to come. Besides, he’d never truly told her how proud he was of her blossoming success.

Judging by the scene around him, it was far more success than she’d led him to believe.