The Montana Way

“I have a list of firms to cold-call,” Shae admitted before sipping the water again. “I’ve posted my résumé on the job-search sites.” Her mouth tilted down at the corners. “I want my old job back. I liked it. And Mel, I was ten months away from being vested in retirement. Ten months!”

Mel reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “If you need a reference, I can give you one.”

“Meaning Wallace won’t?”

“I don’t know. Depends on Miranda.”

“Yeah.” Shae pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment. She’d get past this. Mel finally finished off the shot and set the glass on the table.

“I have a study session. Are you going to be all right here? Because I can cancel and stay.”

“Don’t do that,” Shae said. She would have liked the company, but she was beginning to think some alone time wouldn’t be bad, either. She’d had enough hard truths for one night.

Mel picked up her purse, then gestured to the tequila bottle. “Maybe you should do yourself a favor after I leave...pour the rest of that bottle down the sink.”

Shae flashed her friend a frown. Damned if she was pouring good tequila down the sink. Shae picked up the bottle, putting the stopper back in and pressing it down hard before handing it to Mel. “If it makes you feel better, take custody. I really need to be alone.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. I want you to stay and tell me about how I had my head up my ass for months.”

Mel smiled. “Call if you need me?”

Shae closed her eyes. Mel was the best friend she’d ever had. And the most sensible. Maybe this was the time to tell her that her head had been where the sun didn’t shine, while she was still reeling from shock. That way it didn’t ruin yet another day. “I’ll call,” she said. “Will you be available to answer? I know how you are when you study.”

“I’ll leave the phone on.” She gave Shae a quick hug. “Call.”

“I will.”

Once Mel’s footsteps faded into the distance, the apartment was too quiet. So quiet that the lack of sound seemed to press in on her. Where were the noisy neighbors when she needed them?

The phone rang then, the vibration making it dance on the glass coffee table. Shae glanced at the number. Vivian calling for the second time since hearing Shae’s most recent bad news. Shae wanted to ignore the call, but if she did, her stepmother would be there knocking on the door, probably with her father in tow.

The phone rang again. One more ring and it would go to voice mail....

Taking a deep breath and suddenly regretting the lack of readily available tequila, Shae picked up the phone, forced a smile and said hello. Her father’s voice, heavy with concern, answered her.

“Shae, honey. We’re in Missoula and Vivian wants to stop by, if it’s not too late.”

In Missoula? At this hour?

“Dad, I’d love to see you,” Shae said. There was no way she could turn them away after they’d obviously driven in from their home a good hour away.

“We’re right outside. I thought it might be too late, but we passed Mel as we turned into the cul-de-sac.”

“Come on in,” Shae said, picking up the shot glass and carrying to the dishwasher, where she popped it in out of sight. “See you in a few.”

She hung up, raced into the bathroom and quickly gargled some mouthwash. If Vivian thought she was drowning her sorrows, no telling what steps she’d take. Seconds later the doorbell rang.

Vivian hovered for a moment, then said, “I can’t help it,” and threw her arms around Shae. “I’m so sorry, sweetie.”

Shae tried to smile as she gently eased out of Vivian’s embrace and then hugged her father.

“I called around,” her father said. “Checked with some buddies to see if they’ve heard of any openings. No luck yet, but I’m sure it’s just a matter of time.”

“The problem is the real-estate market,” Vivian lamented, taking Shae’s hand and leading her to the sofa.

“I know,” Shae replied gamely.

“Of course, we’ll help you with the bills until you get back on your feet,” her father said. Shae started to say thank you, but he held up a hand. “No arguments.”

“I appreciate that,” Shae said. The bills were her big concern at the moment. She’d charged an entire trousseau and had yet to see the final damages. And then there were the living expenses, which were going to catch up with her soon, since she’d been living paycheck to paycheck, spending every dime she had, as well as several dimes she didn’t have, on the wedding. “I’ll pay you back, of course.”

“Of course,” Vivian said, shooting a glance toward her husband that Shae couldn’t quite interpret. “Whenever you can.”

Her father sat down on the sofa, pulling a list out of his jacket pocket. “Here are the guys I contacted for you. You should check back in with them periodically. Several of them owe me favors. The ones without check marks are people I couldn’t get hold of.”

Shae stared down at the list, a bit overwhelmed. Her parents were in full rescue mode, and even though a small voice inside her protested, it was soon overpowered by logic and necessity. These were her parents. This was what they did, and Shae wasn’t about to stop them.

CHAPTER TWO

JORDAN MADE IT as far as Wisconsin before trouble struck in the form of a faulty alternator. Since it was impossible to travel without headlights, he’d stopped in the first town he’d hit at dusk. On a Saturday evening. When no garages were open, or even due to be open, until Monday.

The first night he’d slept in his car in a campground, putting the seat down to open up the cargo space and make just enough room for him to almost stretch out. The second night he thought, Screw it, and rented the cheapest motel room he could find, smuggled Clyde in and settled for the night. Less than three hours later he woke up fighting, his breath coming in short, painful gasps, his body covered with sweat.

Shoving the tangled sheets aside, Jordan stumbled out of bed, his head swimming as he regained his feet.

Whoa, shit.

Jordan wiped the sweat off first his forehead and then his upper lip with what was left of his now-healed hand, feeling the unwelcome scrape of overly dry skin across his damp face. He paced to the window and stopped, staring at the brown plaid drapes. Clyde shadowed his movement, keeping a distance away, as if not wanting to crowd him.

The dog understood.

Jordan tried to clear his throat, found it impossible on the first try. He hadn’t cried out. Usually he woke up yelling, but not this time. This time he’d felt as if he was drowning. Suffocating as water filled his lungs.

What the hell?

He turned away from the window, scrubbing both hands over his face. It’d been months since he’d had a nightmare, months since he’d cautiously weaned himself off the prazosin, which had been prescribed to help him deal with the symptoms of post-traumatic stress and had stopped the dreams cold.

There was no point in going back to bed, so Jordan slumped down into the uncomfortable armchair next to the window and stared into space until Clyde jumped up into his lap.

The dream had to be stress related. The alternator. The trip home. Having no means of support except for his disability check. All of his instincts were still urging him to go back to Montana. He needed to go home.

But since his dad was dead, what was he going home to?

The question had niggled at him more than once on the drive and he had no answer to it. Maybe it was because the High Camp, the remote ranch he and his dad had co-owned, was one of the few places where he’d felt a modicum of peace after Miranda had come into his life; it was the one thing she hadn’t poisoned. Not that she hadn’t tried. When he’d proposed to Becky Christopher just before he’d gone into the service, Miranda was the one who’d suggested that he and his father create a formal lease, so that Hank could continue to farm the land if something happened to Jordan and Becky inherited. She’d referred to Jordan’s possible demise so often that he’d gone overseas with the distinct feeling that Miranda hoped something did happen to him.

Well, Miranda had gotten her wish shortly after Becky had called it quits—and he was still suspicious about Miranda’s influence with his former fiancée. Something bad had happened to Jordan, but he hadn’t died. His father had, so now he owned the place outright and there wasn’t one freaking thing she could do about it.

It took three days to get the alternator repaired, then Jordan made it as far as North Dakota before finally pulling off the highway and following the frontage road until he found a gravel lane leading off into the hills. He followed it for a ways, then pulled off. Clyde woke up as he slowed to a stop and they both stepped outside to pee before once again making themselves as comfortable as possible in the Subaru. Jordan debated before reaching for the bottle of pills in his jacket pocket. He’d hate himself in the morning when he couldn’t wake up, but he’d hate himself more if he woke up in a cold sweat gasping for air in an hour or two. He’d wait until he got home, then wean himself off the pills once again.

* * *

SHAE CLOSED HER apartment door and let her designer bag drop to the floor with a thud. Would it have killed any of the people she’d cold-called to give her a smidgen of encouragement?

Apparently so, because even the people she knew well—come to think of it, especially the people she knew well—had been pretty damned blunt about the possibility of employment. True, her firm had been unique, combining real estate and guest-ranch management together, but as far as she could see, that gave her experience in two fields, which should have doubled the job opportunities. Not so. Three days of looking and not much hope. Meanwhile, bills for things she’d forgotten buying had started trickling in. She needed to find a job before the trickle became a flood.

The way people had reacted to her cold calls, even the ones on her father’s list, made her wonder if word of why she’d been let go had spread through the small real-estate community. Had Miranda blackballed her?

And if so, why? It wasn’t as though she’d done anything heinous.

Shae reached into the fridge to pull out her last bottle of chardonnay. She’d just started working on the cork when a knock sounded on her door.

Opportunity, perhaps?

Her mouth twisted as she pulled the cork before abandoning the bottle and crossing the living room to look through the peephole. Her younger brother, Brant, stood on the other side.

Shae opened the door and without hesitation walked into her brother’s arms, hugging him close. His arms closed around her and for a moment they just stood. The last time Shae could remember him hugging her was when she’d lost the Miss Rodeo Montana crown by one and a half points. She’d needed moral support then and she needed it now.

“How was Texas?” she asked as she eased out of his embrace.

“Flat and humid, but I won some money.” He pulled off his hat as he walked into her apartment. “I hear you’ve had some life changes since Liv’s wedding.”

Shae nodded as she closed the door behind him. “Want a beer?” she asked.

“You know I do.” He put his hat on the table, then took a seat on the sofa while Shae went to the fridge.

“Is Black Butte okay?” she called. She had two bottles left and once those were gone, yet another reminder of her three-year relationship with Reed would be history. After that she never wanted to see another bottle of Black Butte Porter again.

“Fine,” he called. She popped the top on the beer, poured herself a glass of chardonnay—although at this point in the day she could have easily chugged from the bottle—and brought both out into the living room. Brant took the beer from her, lifting it in a salute as he always did when they drank together. Shae did the same, glad that he didn’t feel the need to toast anything in particular. What could she toast right now? Here’s to all the sucky things that are happening?

“Want to talk?” her brother asked.

“No,” she said candidly. “But I will.” She took a sip of wine, which was sweeter than she liked, but adequate for helping her through yet another recital of how her life had gone so terribly wrong. “I got dumped and lost my job.”

Brant looked at her over the top of the bottle. “Anything else?”

“I can’t find another job?” She sank back farther into the sofa cushions, staring across the room. “Bills I’d forgotten I had are starting to pile up?”

“What happened with your old job?”

“Reduction in force.”

“I didn’t think you were lowest in seniority.”

“I’m not sure how they picked who got canned.”

She shot him a sideways glance and could tell that he didn’t believe her, but he let it pass. “So how’s the...wedding canceling going?” he asked.

“Not good. I’ve lost all of the deposits. Reed paid for his half, though.” Brant nodded over his beer and there was something in the way he was studying her that seemed...off. “Vivian is really upset, as you can imagine. She’s put a lot into this.”

“Yes, she has,” Brant said slowly, and Shae’s radar kicked up a notch.

“What’s up?” she asked.

Brant met her gaze dead-on, his expression solemn. “Don’t take any money from Vivian and Dad, okay?”

“What?” Shae asked, startled at the unexpected request.

“If you need money to tide you over, come to me, but not them. I know they’ll offer—it’s the way they are—but don’t take it.”

Shae closed her eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t take their money.” She thought of the check from her dad that was nestled in the bottom of her purse, the godsend she’d hoped to live on while she found a decent job, because the way things were looking, eight weeks of severance wasn’t going to cut it. Not if she was going to keep making her car payment.

“Shae...you always land on your feet. You know you will this time, too. I’ll help.”

Her eyes snapped open and for a moment she simply stared at him, stunned. Really? He thought it was that easy? She’d just jump to her feet, dust herself off and carry on?

“I know no such thing.”

“Tell me a time you haven’t.”

“Brant...maybe you don’t quite get what is going on here. My fiancé walked out on me six weeks before the wedding I’ve been planning for almost two years. Then my boss fired me—”

“I’m here for you, honestly I am. But Shae...I don’t know if you realize how much you depend on other people to bail you out of your problems.”

Again she stared at him, a slow burn starting deep inside of her. “First Mel and now you. Why are you adding fuel to the fire?”

“What?”

“Mel stopped by the day I was fired to tell me it was my fault, and now...” She didn’t finish because there was no need. He knew where she was going with this. “Why are you doing this?”

Brant considered for a moment, then said, “Because it’s something that needs to be said. And it’s time.”

“It’s time. Now while I’m down is the time to give me another swift kick?”

“No. I’m not trying to kick you while you’re down.” He set down the beer and slid across the sofa to sit next to her, his voice earnest as he said, “If you need a loan, I’m happy to give it to you. Just...don’t take anything more from Vivian and Dad, okay? They’ve dipped into their retirement for your wedding and they don’t need to be dipping again.”

Shae’s head was starting to throb. “I’ll pay them back,” she muttered, putting a hand to her forehead. “They insisted that I take it. I told Dad that Reed and I were paying for everything, but he insisted on helping with my half. He said it was his duty as a father.”

“And maybe,” Brant said softly, “Since you knew they were trying to save for retirement, it was your duty as a daughter to say no.”

She set her wineglass down abruptly, sloshing chardonnay over the glass tabletop. “I care about my family,” she said.

“Yeah, I know, Shae. But do you think about us?”

“Yes.” Shae pressed a hand to her forehead. “Yes, I do. I’ve just... The wedding... Crap!”

Brant reached out to pull her hand away from her head and held on for a moment. “Like I said, Shae, I’m here for you. It’s a rough time. If you need to depend on someone, depend on me.”

Shae pulled her hand out of her brother’s and reached for her wine. “Thank you. I appreciate the offer.” But at that moment she was pretty damned sure that she wasn’t going to depend on anyone to bail her out of her problems.

Brant hung around long enough to finish his beer and reiterate his offer of help, then took off to meet his girlfriend, Sara, for dinner.

Shae waited only a few minutes after he left to get on the phone and call Wallace—at home—and request a face-to-face meeting.

“I need closure,” she said.

“Closure?”

“And to talk.”

“Shae...”

“Please? I can come in early before anyone gets there. Or I could meet you at a coffee shop.” She swallowed drily. Begging was so not her thing, but neither was feeling this desperate. She picked up a Macy’s bill—the one she’d been afraid to open—then dropped it back down on the counter. “Ten minutes. I’ve gone the extra mile for you, Wallace. Please.”

“You haven’t gone the extra mile during the last year, but...” Shae bit her lip, held her breath. “Ten minutes. At the coffee shop across the street.”

“Thank you.”

Shae hung up, feeling as if she might have a toehold. Wallace had always had a soft spot for her. Maybe...just maybe...

* * *

“I’M NOT GIVING you your job back, Shae.” At the last minute Wallace had called and asked her to meet him at the office after hours, which had made Shae hopeful that perhaps he was reconsidering. He was, after all, allowing her back on the premises, and he’d seemed more human than the last time she’d spoken to him.

Now that he’d made his proclamation, Shae wasn’t feeling one bit hopeful, but she had him there and she wasn’t giving up this easily.

“Not even in a probationary capacity?” Wallace picked up the pencil lying on top of a pile of spreadsheets, looked at it instead of at her. “It was Miranda who made the decision to let you go. I went over the performance evaluations with her, but it was obvious from the beginning that she’d already decided you were the one going.”

That stung. “I don’t understand. Why me? It isn’t like I was slacking off while she was around, and you gave me a satisfactory evaluation.”

“That,” Wallace said pointedly, “was a gift. And—” he tapped the pencil again “—she didn’t need to be at the office to see you.”

“Meaning?”

“The cameras.”

Shae’s heart jumped. “She’s using them?” The cameras had come with the building when the company had first moved in four years ago and as far as she—or anyone she worked with—knew, they’d never been turned on. Well, guess again.

“I did my job,” she said stiffly.

“And a lot of other stuff.”

“I didn’t think a phone call here and there would matter.”

“It did, and it was more than a few phone calls, Shae. Miranda’s not happy, and she’s making an example of you.”

Shae let her head fall back. “A little warning would have been nice.”

“I dropped some hints.”

“When?” Shae asked, perplexed. Wallace pressed his fingers to his forehead as if staving off a headache and she abandoned the topic. “What about the good things I’ve done? Before the wedding plans,” she added quickly. “What about the Tuscan Canyon Ranch? I put most of that purchase agreement together. I found the property, which wasn’t even for sale, if you remember right, and matched it to the perfect client. We made a great commission and then we got the management contract on top of that!”

“You’re good, Shae, when you focus.”

“And I will focus. The wedding... I let it get out of hand.” It was finally starting to sink in just how far out of hand she’d allowed it to go.

“But what if something else comes up?”

“I’ve learned my lesson.”

Wallace gave her a doubtful look. “I’m not certain that would reassure Miranda.”

Shae leaned forward, placing her palm flat on the desk. “I made a mistake. I can change. I need a job.”

“Then you should have taken care with the one you had.”

“And that’s that?” she asked softly.

“Afraid so, Shae.”

It can’t end this way.

“Sorry,” Wallace said.

“Yeah.” Shae got to her feet, gave him a faint smile mustered from the need to hold on to a few shreds of her dignity, then turned to go, her stomach so tight she felt as if she was going to throw up. She was almost to the door when she glanced at the aerial map on the wall, then stopped. She slowly turned back, wondering if Wallace had indeed shrunk back in his seat as he met her speculative gaze or if she’d imagined it. “What about this?” she asked, pointing at the faded fluorescent-pink circle drawn around a mountain property.

“What about it?” Wallace asked slowly.

“Remember how Miranda was slated to sell it, but found out she couldn’t?”

“Vividly,” Wallace said. The sale had fallen through after she’d discovered she was not the sole heir to the place and apparently had been unable to hammer out a deal with her stepson, the other heir.

Shae was not surprised. Her own dealings with Jordan Bryan, brief as they’d been, had not gone well, either.

“But what if it made her some money while it was sitting there?”

“How so?” Wallace asked, his pale eyes narrowing, but Shae saw a spark of interest there.

“What if I could shape it into a guest ranch? Miranda has the operating rights.” A fact she’d gleaned from office gossip and speculation after the sale fell through. “Why not use them?”

“Have you seen the place, Shae?”

“Mel and I went there once during college to collect a horse she’d bought from Miranda’s husband. So yes, I’ve seen it.”

“And how did it strike you?”

“Isolated. Run-down.” Shae had excitement in her voice as she said, “But there were cabins there that the family had rented to miners during the gold strikes. Think how cool it would be if those could be refurbished. And there were quite a few other buildings, if I recall.”

Wallace looked over his shoulder, as if checking for a camera or perhaps a recording device, before leaning across his desk to say in a low voice, “If it had any moneymaking potential, don’t you think she would have thought about that?”

“Not if it’s isolated and run-down.” Shae pointed to the map. “Look—it’s surrounded by Forest Service land. Perfect for riding. Fishing. But in a more—” she smiled slightly as a thought struck her “—manly environment than at Miranda’s other two ranches.” Both of which were sprawling properties with rich histories as working cattle ranches. Lots of little niceties included in the vacation package. Spas, babysitting, crafts classes for kids, riding lessons.

“Manly.”

Shae walked back to his desk, plans already taking shape in her head. “Yes, manly. A more rugged experience. Not for sissies, that kind of marketing. Kind of a one-percenter ranch.”

Wallace shook his head. She could see he was intrigued, but didn’t want to admit it, so she gave one more small push.

“Come on...it’s a great idea. Run it by Miranda.”

“It’s not bad,” he agreed grudgingly. “She’ll probably give the project to someone else if I pass it along—like, say, someone who works here?”

“I’ll contract the job for eighty percent of my previous salary,” Shae said, “for three months. I’ll evaluate the property, make recommendations for renovations, handle any permitting nightmares. I’d hand her a finished product for less salary than she’d pay a regular employee.”

“And if you succeed...?”

“It would put me in a position to discuss getting my old job back. I heard that Risa’s not doing as well as hoped.”

Wallace fiddled with the pencil he held, then exhaled slowly, his breath fluttering the spreadsheets in front of him. “I’ll run it by her. No promises.”

“None asked,” Shae said feeling a faint welling of confidence. If she could get this second chance, it meant she could stay on her career path. And more than that, maybe she could prove she wasn’t the loser that everyone apparently thought she was. Rebuild one or two of those bridges she’d obliviously burned.