Montana Hearts Page 3

  Accidents happened.

  Digging through her shoulder bag, she took out the business card Jace had given her and stared at the telephone number beneath his name. Did she dare call and ask how Rio was doing?

  Delaney had slipped away when he and the vet loaded the horse into the trailer to go to the animal hospital. She’d told herself it was to make sure Sammy Jo hadn’t gotten herself into any real trouble. The angry vendors forgave her friend when they took a look at her big shiny barrel-­racing belt buckle. But the real reason Delaney had slipped away from Jace was because she hadn’t wanted to talk to him again. It appeared the horse would be properly taken care of and her mission was complete. There had been no more need for interaction and maybe it was best to keep it that way. Even if she was anxious to hear news of the gelding’s condition.

  She wavered back and forth for several long moments trying to decide what to do, then dropped the card back into her shoulder bag. She wouldn’t call. She’d go into town and buy the local Sunday paper instead. No doubt if there was any news about his horse, she could either find it there or listen to the gossips hanging around the general store.

  After letting her ma know what she was doing, she grabbed the keys to the family’s red rusty pickup. In a small two-­block town like hers, news traveled fast and she got an earful, all right. Except the chatter coming from the towns­people’s mouths wasn’t about Jace or his horse. It was about Fox Creek Outfitters and how the owner, Gavin McKinley, was trying to put her family out of business.

  JACE COULDN’T ESCAPE. The local reporters hounded him wherever he went. They called, they flooded his social media, and even pounded on the door of his hotel room. He hadn’t ventured out much for fear of being followed, but when he did, he saw the photos.

  The front page of the newspapers featured large images of him hanging upside down off the side of his horse, reminding him of his failure again and again. They even showed a close-­up of the tangled leather straps around his boot. He thought of the slender, pretty blond he’d met and wondered if any of the photos were from Delaney Collins’s camera.

  He hoped not. At the time, she’d appeared more concerned about him and his horse than winning a prize shot for her magazine. And he’d like to think that at least one person had more consideration for his predicament than these other bothersome cameramen and reporters. Even if it was her job.

  And to think he’d dedicated that ride to her, hoping to get her attention. He got it all right, along with every other media source chronicling the rodeo community. It had been one of those days when he would have welcomed a do-­over. Too late now. What was done was done and all he could do was move forward.

  Except, not with Delaney. He’d been touched by the look of concern on her face when she rushed in to take a look at his horse, but then she rushed out again afterward without saying goodbye. She probably thought he was a self-­righ­teous jerk and with good reason. He’d acted like one. He’d lost more than a large cash purse at that rodeo. He’d lost the soundness of his horse, he’d lost a chance at her, and maybe even his rodeo career. His friends had all urged him to continue riding, told him what happened was an accident and that they believed in him. Some even offered up their own horses for him to ride in future events.

  But Jace didn’t want to have to learn the quirks of another animal right now. He didn’t want to have to think about cues or how best to communicate with someone new. He and Rio were a team, and besides, he could use this time to think about what he wanted to do with his future. Sooner or later, his body would give out, too, and he would have to find a different career.

  Jace put his sunglasses on, and keeping his head down, he walked from his hotel room to the local restaurant for a bite of food. He glanced at his watch. Almost two p.m. The main lunch crowd should have cleared out by now, giving him the privacy he craved, but the Bozeman Stampede had drawn hundreds of visitors into the area. He’d be a fool to think he could remain hidden for long. He’d have to eat and run before anyone recognized him.

  It was because he kept his gaze turned toward the wall of buildings that he caught sight of Gavin McKinley’s big bold outfitting poster tacked to the bulletin board outside the hardware store, and recognized Delaney’s last name hanging out below. He stopped short to look at the advertisement and realized there were two posters on top of one another.

  Gavin’s poster contained photos of hunters with an elk head, a black bear, and a mountain lion, and proclaimed that if you wanted to hunt there was only one outfitter to choose—­Fox Creek Outfitters: The Best in the West. Except whoever had put it up hadn’t done a very good job and the bottom fragment of the Collins Country Cabins advertisement still stood out.

  Curious, he tore Gavin’s poster away and gazed at the one beneath featuring a beautiful two-­story log lodge, with a row of outlying guest cabins beside a fantastic fly-­fishing river. There was also a stable, a small arena, and an octagon gazebo “perfect for weddings.” Jace thought that the dude ranch—­surrounded by pockets of green trees, open fields rising into soft rolling hills, and panoramic views of the distant mountains—­seemed perfect for anyone.

  Glancing across the street, he spotted several other posters and realized Gavin McKinley hadn’t just covered one of the Collins posters, he’d covered all of them. And this wasn’t even either of the two rivals’ hometown. They were both located in Fox Creek, a good half hour from Bozeman, which meant Gavin may have spread his posters across the entire region. No doubt the bothersome outfitter thought he could drum up business while wiping out his competitor’s at the same time.

  His hunger forgotten, Jace tore each of Gavin’s offensive posters down, stuffed them under his arm, and deposited them into a nearby dumpster. Then he jumped in his truck and headed straight for the animal hospital to check on Rio and receive the test results.

  The veterinarian at the hospital was more encouraging than the one he’d encountered at the rodeo. “The good news is that Rio’s injury should heal just fine,” the doctor told him.

  Jace released his breath and relaxed as a truckload of worry eased off his shoulders. “Thank God for that,” he told the doc. “I don’t want to lose him.”

  “There’s no break, but he’s strained the tendons all along the side of his leg and will be out of competition for the rest of the season,” the doctor warned.

  “I already figured as much.” Rio nuzzled his nose against Jace’s side and he gave the horse’s sleek neck an affectionate pat. A year ago the prospect of dropping out of a winning streak, giving up his chance at the championship, and holing up in Montana would have aggravated him to no end, but lately he’d found himself thinking he might need a vacation. “I guess we’ll head back to Arizona and catch up on some sleep. Get ourselves some decent home-­cooked meals.”

  Maybe he’d even look into buying his own ranch.

  The doctor shot him a hesitant look. “Rio will need stall rest for several weeks before it’s safe to travel.”

  Jace hesitated. “Weeks?”

  “You can trailer him to a nearby stable, but I wouldn’t recommend you take him all the way to Arizona until he regains some of his strength. A long trailer ride bouncing along the highway could do even more harm to the affected area. Maybe damage his leg permanently.”

  “Can’t he stay here until he’s ready to leave?”

  The doctor shook his head. “Our stalls are limited and I need the space for other incoming patients. How about your mother’s place or your friend Bucky’s?”

  Jace shook his head. “Bucky’s family doesn’t have a stable. And my mother sold our ranch years ago and bought a house in town. It’s perfect for her, but there’s no room for horses.”

  “That’s too bad.” Frowning, the doctor said, “I can give you some names, but the number of stables out here are few. Most ranchers keep their horses outside in the fields, not in stalls. However, I’m sure that i
f you drop your name they will make room for you.”

  In other words, use his fame. Jace glanced at Rio’s swollen leg and then up into his trusted rodeo pal’s eyes. “I’ll do whatever is best for the horse.”

  DELANEY ENTERED THE noisy dining room of the main house and searched the scores of ­people sitting at the rectangular tables for a familiar face. She found only a few. The new guests for the week had arrived, and had apparently brought their appetites along with them. Her mother and grandma stood behind the serving counter, along with the seventeen-­year-­old Walford twins, dishing out portions of roast beef, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, biscuits, and gravy onto pinecone-­patterned porcelain plates.

  “You’re late for dinner,” her mother said, shooting her a worried look. “You know what your father would say.”

  “That I need to be here to help the family,” Delaney replied. She waved the rolled poster she’d confiscated from town. “Ma, I have something I must show you.”

  “Not in the middle of dinner.” Her ma handed her an apron. “Now set whatever you’ve got there aside and get to work.”

  Delaney hesitated and glanced across the room at her older sister, Bree. Would she let the news wait?

  “Delaney!”

  Her attention snapped back to her ma and she quickly tied the apron around the waist of her overalls and slipped the accompanying bandana over her hair so no wayward strands would end up as an added surprise in the guests’ food.

  “I’m not sure I like this new cook we hired,” Grandma complained, picking up a piece of chicken from the bowl with a pair of tongs. “I use cornflakes to bread my chicken, not seasoned bread crumbs.”

  “The cook insists on using her own recipes,” Delaney’s ma whispered. “At least give her a chance. You can’t cook every meal. You’ll wear yourself out.”

  “What do the guests think?” Delaney asked, serving the person in front of her in line for seconds.

  “They love it,” her ma answered, arching a brow.

  Grandma scowled and Delaney fought to hide a smile. Her headstrong grandmother didn’t like change any more than she did. And now that they were all back under one roof living together again, there had been many changes.

  This time around Delaney, Bree, and their brother, Luke, had each been given a portion of the ranch. One-­sixth to be exact. Their grandma, mother, and father held the other three shares. Which meant they each needed to do their part to help Collins Country Cabins succeed, despite the trouble they’d been having with others who wanted to put them out of business.

  Another change occurred when just weeks after her return Bree got engaged to their weekend wrangler, Ryan Tanner, who had a seven-­year-­old son. Her older sister would be a mom. Like her. Now they’d have lots to talk about and that three-­year gap between them wouldn’t feel so large.

  And just last month, her older brother, Luke, proposed to their friend and next-­door neighbor, Sammy Jo. Never in a million years had Delaney expected to see him anxious to marry. But stranger things had happened.

  Like her divorce to Steve. She’d once thought he was the one for her. She’d never been so wrong. And now . . . well, she wasn’t sure of anything anymore. That’s why it was better for her to leave most decisions to the other older and wiser members of her family. They always knew what to do.

  Just like Grandma did, when Delaney let her see their rival’s poster and explained where she’d found it. Her grandmother’s bushy white brows drew together, and after scrunching her face into a sour expression, she commanded in a half snarl, “Everyone get to the kitchen!”

  No one questioned Grandma. The matriarch of the family even got Delaney’s father’s attention. However, that didn’t stop him from coming down hard on her.

  “Delaney, what the devil is this about?”

  Ugh. She hated having everyone’s eyes on her. Her chest tightened, her palms grew sweaty, and the back of her throat closed up as she tried to speak.

  “Spit it out, girl,” her father shouted. “We haven’t got all day.”

  Instead of trying to explain, she unfurled the rival outfitter’s poster and held it up in front of her, hiding her face.

  “Gavin McKinley went and put his posters over all the ones we spent our hard earned money on,” Grandma told them.

  Delaney heard Bree gasp first. Then Ma let out a high-­pitched squeak. Luke and Sammy Jo’s voices murmured back and forth, followed by a deep, guttural growl that could only have come from Delaney’s father.

  “Who does he think he is?” Jed Collins demanded.

  Delaney peeked around the poster and grimaced. “That’s not all. I think he’s spreading rumors. Several ­people in town are saying they heard Gavin McKinley call Collins Country Cabins a second rate lodging facility that is constantly having trouble staying open.”

  “That’s not true!” Bree protested. “Ever since we hosted the Hamiltons’ wedding a few weeks ago, business is booming. Every cabin is booked several weeks out.”

  “That’s not true either,” Ma said, her tone rising into a high-­pitched squeak. “This morning we had several cancellations.”

  “Most likely due to this smear campaign,” Luke said, his jaw tightening.

  “This is an outrage,” their father thundered. “What makes Gavin McKinley think he can run our name through the mud?”

  “Maybe the fact he’s the sheriff’s son,” Sammy Jo pointed out.

  “I could talk to the sheriff about him,” Grandma offered.

  Delaney thought that might work. Her grandma and the sheriff had grown close and were on the brink of “officially” dating.

  “But why would he do this?” Ma asked, her face going pale.

  Delaney sighed. “He’s mad we’re staying open for fall.”

  “We only decided to do that a week ago,” her father said, narrowing his gaze. “Who told him?”

  Delaney swallowed hard. “I did. Yesterday. At the Bozeman Stampede. Now Gavin thinks we’re going to steal away his business.”

  “He would have found out one way or another,” Grandma sympathized. “But how was he able to produce so many posters so quickly?”

  “Stores can print them up in less than an hour,” Bree informed her.

  “What about us?” Ma asked. “Can we print up more of our own advertisements?”

  “We’d do better with a good endorsement from a reputable source,” Bree said, and snapped her fingers. “What about the Tanners? Everyone knows they have the largest cattle ranch this side of Fox Creek. Ryan could issue an endorsement.”

  Delaney thought that might work, too. Another possible solution to their problem.

  “As thrilled as I am to have him as my future son-­in-­law, his personal reputation went through the ringer last month when the newspaper printed that suggestive photo of him in the stable with those three young visiting females pretending to be CEOs,” her father reminded them.

  “He was set up,” Bree defended.

  “Ryan’s endorsement wouldn’t count because he’s engaged to Bree and working here on weekends. ­People would say he’s playing favoritism,” Ma added, backing up their father.

  Luke agreed. “We need a reputable person from the outside, someone not associated with our family. We can invite them to our ranch for a two-­week stay and ask for an honest, unbiased review.”

  Grandma’s face lit up. “Someone famous. Like Clint Eastwood?”

  Del smiled. “Then you would finally get to meet your hero.”

  Her eighty-­year-­old grandma loved the western movies the actor had made, which might be why she found Sheriff McKinley attractive, even if he was ten years younger than her—­he was a protective gunslinger fighting for justice.

  “How about one of those rodeo cowboys you were photographing for that magazine?” Delaney’s father asked, his gaze boring into her.
“Didn’t you meet that guy from Arizona who’s in the boot commercial on TV? The one whose mother lives here in Montana and is running for governor?”

  “Jace Aldridge,” Sammy Jo said, answering for her.

  “That was the name on the card I found on the floor,” Ma said with a frown. Pulling a white business card from her apron pocket, she asked, “How do you think this got here?”

  Delaney’s mouth fell open as she glanced into the adjoining dining room and spotted Meghan playing with the contents of her purse.

  Sammy Jo followed her gaze and smirked. “Looks like Meghan found the card Jace gave Delaney, the one with his phone number. He was flirting with Del at the rodeo.”

  “Shh!” Delaney warned, giving Sammy Jo a stern frown.

  “Is it true?” Bree’s eyes widened. “Why, he’s the biggest thing to hit the rodeo circuit in the last five years. The press follows at his heels. ‘Where Jace goes—­’ ”

  “ ‘The media follows,’ ” Sammy Jo and Bree quoted together, and smiled.

  “His reputation is clean,” Luke agreed. “He doesn’t have throngs of women hanging all over him like some of the other rodeo stars.”

  “Are you suggesting we invite Jace Aldridge to our ranch?” Delaney asked. Her voice cracked on the last word and had risen almost as high as her mom’s.

  “He’d be a prime candidate,” her father said, his tone suddenly upbeat. “And since he already has his eye on you, there’s a very good chance he’d say yes to our proposal . . . especially if you are the one who asks him to come.”

  Delaney gasped. “Me?”

  Bree nodded. “You can be our new public relations liaison.”

  This was not a good idea. Not after she refused to give him her phone number. Besides, as ranch manager, shouldn’t her sister be the one to call?

  “I think we’d have much better success if you do it, Bree. I’d rather just stay with the horses.”

  Ma shook her head. “Bree’s engaged. So is Sammy Jo. He already likes you and you’re the only gal around here free to flirt with him.”