Montana Fever

She inhaled a deep breath, waiting for the courage to climb the stairs to the front porch, to go through that door, to do what she had come to Montana and Rocky Ford to do.

“Oh, God,” she moaned. She could never leave town until she accomplished her goal, and here was a perfect opportunity to do so. He was all alone in that big house. Why couldn’t she get out of this car?

Her mind raced, looking for answers. Was it because she still didn’t know enough about Charles Fanon? Enough about Lola? Maybe he had more children than Lola. If so, where were they? Where was his wife?

There were too many questions confusing her. She could not do it tonight.

The decision was relieving. Her body lost some of its tension.

When the lights went out in the front part of the house, she started the car and slowly drove away.

The second Duke paid for their admittance to the Lockland Grange, he pulled Lola onto the dance floor. Surprised, she laughed but fell into the steps of the waltz being played by the people making music on a piano, guitar and fiddle.

She glanced around in amazement while they danced. “It’s exactly the same.”

“Told you it was,” Duke said.

“Yes, but after so many years I expected some change. The ladies still have their tables of snacks and drinks to sell along that west wall, and the piano is in the exact spot it always was.”

“Some things never change,” Duke said.

“Very few.”

“Have you noticed changes in the area since you returned?”

“Lots of them.”

“And you don’t like change?”

“To the contrary, I’ve always enjoyed change. Actively sought it, to be honest. Until recently,” she said. “I’m talking about personal change now,” she added after a moment.

“So you were a changeable woman and now you’re not?”

She nodded. “Something like that.”

“How’d that happen?”

Good question, she thought, and gave a small shrug in response. “The band members can’t possibly be the same people who were here when I was a teenager, but they seem the same,” she said, instead of replying to Duke’s question.

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