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“You didn’t tell my mom, did you?”
“No. I thought you and Ace should be the ones to tell her if you think she should know. I was worried the news might upset her.”
“Is he okay?”
“Hard to say. I asked when he was coming home, but he didn’t know.”
Colt stubbed the ground with the toe of his boot.
“I suggested he call your mom, but—” Beau shrugged.
“I’m not one to judge. I didn’t always uphold my share of responsibility around the ranch through the years, but I kept in touch with my mother. The least Tuf can do is call home once in a while.” Colt hopped into the front seat of the truck. “Thanks again for your help.”
“Sure thing. Enjoy the movies.”
After Colt departed, Beau stood in the cold, staring into the distance. Today was Sunday and he had a hankering for beef sirloin tip roast—Sunday special at the Number 1. He’d return to the house and help his father with ranch chores, then shower and head into town to do some more chasing…of the two-legged variety.
Chapter Three
Sierra climbed the steps of the hidden staircase inside the diner’s pantry and entered her living room. There were only two ways into the upstairs apartment—the staircase and the fire escape behind the building.
“It’s me, Aunt Jordan. I brought you a late lunch—baked potato soup and a roll.” She set the food on the kitchen table.
Her aunt’s seeing-eye dog, Molly, ventured from the guest bedroom first, followed by her owner. Sierra was amazed at how quickly Jordan had learned the layout of the apartment and could navigate the space without bumping into any furniture.
“Have you been a good girl, Molly?” Sierra scratched the yellow lab behind the ears. Jordan washed her hands at the sink then sat at the table and confidently familiarized herself with the items before her—take-out soup container, wheat roll inside a paper towel, butter dish, knife and spoon.
“This was nice of you, dear.” Her aunt buttered the roll. “What time did you get in this morning? I didn’t hear you.”
“Early.” Sierra disliked being evasive but she’d been on pins and needles, worried Beau would drop by the diner and demand an explanation for her bizarre behavior last night. She owed him the truth, but facing reality took more courage than she possessed at the moment.
Hoping to dissuade her aunt from prying into her whereabouts, Sierra asked, “What did you do last night?” Several of Jordan’s friends from high school lived in the area and often invited her out to eat or shop.
“Joshua helped Irene close the diner, then we watched a movie up here.”
“Watched…?” Her aunt possessed a wicked sense of humor regarding her blindness, but Sierra didn’t see a darn thing funny about having to live in the dark.
“Joshua watched. I listened.”
Since returning to Montana, Jordan had been spending a lot of time with her old boyfriend, which Sierra couldn’t be more pleased about. She’d love for her aunt to sell her condo in Florida and relocate to Roundup.
“This tastes similar to your mother’s recipe, but there’s something different…”
“Rosemary. I used it a lot in cooking school.” Sierra poured two glasses of iced tea and joined her aunt at the table.
“Your mother was so proud when you graduated from that famous Cordon Bleu program,” Aunt Jordan said.
“Mom always envied your talent for dancing.”
Jordan reached across the table and Sierra clasped her hand. “I wish your mother were still with us.”
“Me, too.” Sierra’s parents had died in a plane crash five years ago. A former Air Force pilot and captain for United Airlines, her father had survived near misses and engine malfunctions, yet it had been a summer thunderstorm that had brought down her parents’ twin-engine Cessna while flying to their cabin along Musselshell River.
“Do you have any regrets, moving from Chicago to Roundup?” Jordan asked.
“None.” After her parents’ funeral, Sierra had decided to use her inheritance to renovate the old newspaper building in town and turn it into a diner where she could put her catering recipes to good use.
“Your mother would have loved helping you run the diner.”
Sierra was sad that she hadn’t been able to share her business venture with her parents, but at least they’d been spared the agony of watching their only child face monumental, life-altering changes. Then again, Sierra would have appreciated their support when the going got tough…tougher…toughest. At least her aunt was by her side, and Sierra hoped she would remain so for a long time to come.
“Don’t feel you have to keep me company,” Jordan said. “I imagine it’s busy downstairs.”
“Irene has everything under control.” Sierra’s second in command ran the diner like a military mess hall. Even the two high school students Sierra employed toed the line when they worked with Irene. “Mind if I ask you a personal question, Aunt Jordan?”
“Not at all.” Her aunt’s smile erased ten years from her age.
“How serious were you and Joshua when you dated in high school?”
A wistful expression settled over her aunt’s face. “We were very much in love.”
“What happened?”
“I wanted to go to college and see the world, and Joshua was content to remain in Roundup.”
“Mom said she never regretted leaving town, but I think that’s because she and Dad spent their summers at the cabin. Do you wish you would have stayed closer to home?”
“No. I needed to spread my wings. I knew if I wanted a dancing career that I’d have to move to California.”
“Then you met Uncle Bob in Sacramento.”
“And Bob showed me the world through the military.”
Did her aunt realized how fortunate she’d been to be able to see all her dreams come true before her eye disease had caused her to go blind?
You’ve seen your dreams come true.
She’d become a chef and had opened her own business, honoring her great-grandfather who’d died in a flood at the Number 1 Mine outside Roundup. But what about her wanting to marry and have children? The odds of that wish coming true were a long shot.
“What happened to your dance career after you married Uncle Bob?”
“I cut back on my performances, then eventually quit when we decided to have children. I knew I’d have to put on weight before I became pregnant.” She paused. “In the end, my weight didn’t matter. I couldn’t get pregnant.”
“I’m sorry, Aunt Jordan.”
“I had just talked your uncle into agreeing to try in vitro fertilization when I noticed something wasn’t right with my eyes.”
“How old were you?” Sierra asked.
“Thirty-three.” Jordan sighed. “After the doctor confirmed that I’d eventually go blind, Bob insisted we stop trying to have children.” Her aunt waved a hand before her face. “Life goes on. Speaking of which, you need to make an appointment with an ophthalmologist.”
“I’ve got time.” Sierra wasn’t ready for an official diagnosis.
“Sandra—” Aunt Jordan’s high school friend “—was in the diner last week and said you walked right by her without saying hello.”
Since Jordan helped in the diner once in a while, the place had become a coffee klatch for her gossipy friends. “I wasn’t rude on purpose.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
“I’m sure I was distracted.” Sierra would rather believe that than admit she had trouble with her peripheral vision.
“You don’t have to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid.” Sierra was scared—bone-chillingly terrified of going blind. “Are you sure you won’t miss spending the holidays with your friends in St. Petersburg?” Her aunt had rented her condo to a businessman until the end of the year.
“Is that a polite way of telling me I’m cramping your style?”
“Not at all.” It was Sierra’s way of conveying that she didn’t want her aunt to leave Roundup. Ever. Jordan had leaned on her husband as her eyesight had worsened through the years, but Sierra had no one to guide her down the frightening road ahead. “It’s just that Montana winters are long and cold.”
“I remember them, dear. I’m looking forward to snow for the holidays.”
“I’m sure it will be nice to spend Christmas with Joshua.” If her aunt and former boyfriend really hit it off, Jordan would have another reason to remain in Roundup.
“Thank you for reminding me that I need to make a Christmas list. I have no idea what Joshua would like.”
Sierra took her glass to the sink. “I’m sure he’ll be pleased with whatever you choose for him.” It was obvious that Joshua was crazy for Jordan—not a day went by that he didn’t visit her or call.
“I think I’ll read this afternoon,” Jordan said.
As much as Sierra loved her aunt and needed her encouragement, there were times when she grew weary of being impressed by the woman. Jordan had taught herself to read braille before she’d completely lost her eyesight. “Would Molly like a walk before I leave?”
“I’m sure she would, but she’ll have to wait until three.”
“I forgot about her schedule.” Molly was on a set timetable for eating, walks and bedtime. “Holler if you need anything, Aunt Jordan.”
“I won’t, dear.”
That was the truth. No one had been more surprised than Sierra when her aunt and Molly had ridden a Greyhound bus clear across the country by themselves. From the very first day in town, her aunt had demonstrated her independence. It didn’t take long to learn Jordan became perturbed when people did things for her without asking if she needed their help. Sierra was counting on her aunt to teach her how to be just as gutsy and courageous.
Sierra took the back stairs down to the diner. Sunday was her favorite day of the week. Roundup’s spiritual citizens attended morning church services at the various places of worship, and afterward many of them stopped by the diner for lunch. Folks were usually in a congenial mood after listening to God’s word, and her employees swore tips were better on Sundays than any other day of the week.
When Sierra entered the kitchen she found her waitresses sharing a piece of peach cobbler. “Taking a break?”
“Yeah. Mr. Humphrey finally left,” Amy said. “The old fart drives me crazy.” The teen snorted. “Who leaves a tip in nickels?”
That her waitress found Mr. Humphrey an odd duck amused Sierra. Amy possessed her share of interesting traits, such as short, dark hair with hot-pink bangs. Tattoos covered Amy’s right arm from wrist to shoulder, and she wore numerous silver rings in her ears and fake diamond studs pierced her nose and eyebrows.
“Mr. Humphrey is one of my faithful customers. Please be nice to him,” Sierra said.
“I always am,” Amy grumbled.
Amy was a nice girl, but she ran with a rough crowd and had gotten caught shoplifting twice this year. Dinah Hart-Wright, Roundup’s sheriff, had asked Sierra if she’d give Amy a job to help keep her out of trouble. The teen’s first few weeks at the diner had been a challenge, but Susie, an honor student at the high school and one year younger than Amy, had befriended the delinquent teen and shown her the ropes.
“When you girls finish your dessert, please clean off the mustard and ketchup bottles, then fill the salt and pepper shakers on the tables.”
“Sure. But Sierra,” Susie said. “I checked the storeroom this morning and we’re out of salt.”
“Okay, thanks for letting me know.” Sierra had taken inventory a week ago and hadn’t noticed they were low on salt. Had it been an oversight on her part or had she not seen that the salt canister had been missing from the shelf?
“Did you enjoy your visit with your friend?” Irene asked when Sierra joined her behind the lunch counter.
“What frien—” Sierra caught herself. “Um, yes. Thanks for closing up last night. I’m sorry it was such short notice.”
Irene waved her off. “We all need a little downtime. Speaking of which, Karla agreed to work the rest of my shift this afternoon.”
“Aren’t you feeling well?” Because Irene’s husband was a long-haul truck driver, she often worked more than an eight-hour day so she didn’t have to sit at home alone. Maybe the long hours were catching up with the fifty-year-old.
“Ed called. His run to Boise got canceled. He’s coming home tonight.”
“That’s great news. Be sure to fix a plate of food for each of you before clocking out.”
“Thanks, Sierra. The less time I spend in the kitchen the more time Ed and I can spend in the bedroom.” Irene winked. “I’ll finish getting the potatoes ready and put the pans of sirloin into the oven before I leave.” Irene returned to the kitchen, leaving Sierra alone in the diner.
The rumble of a truck engine caught her attention and she glanced out the front window. Beau’s red Dodge pulled into a parking spot across the street in front of Wright’s Western Wear and Tack. He got out of the truck and glanced over his shoulder. Sierra ducked behind the counter, hoping he hadn’t caught her spying. After counting to five, she stood. Beau strolled along the sidewalk, his cocky swagger tugging a quiet sigh from her. She loved the way he filled out his Wranglers.
Go talk to him.
She owed Beau an apology and a plausible explanation for why she’d spent the night in her car—as soon as she got up the courage.
* * *
“HEY, AUSTIN,” BEAU called out a greeting when he entered Wright’s. He’d driven into town to speak with Sierra but at the last minute had decided to check on his saddles.
“Heard you took first place in the bull-riding competition yesterday.” Boot heels clunked against the wood floor as Austin wove through the racks of clothing.
Beau shook hands with his cousin’s husband. “Word gets around quick in this town.” How long would it take for people to gossip about him and Sierra if he persuaded her to go on a date with him?
“Colt phoned Dinah a while ago. Good thing you two caught Midnight before he escaped the boundaries of the ranch.” Austin shook his head. “My wife doesn’t need the aggravation of working a second missing-horse case on that stallion.”
“Is Dinah’s pregnancy making her moody?”
“No comment.” Austin grinned. “Hey, before I forget.” He reached into his shirt pocket and removed a business card. “This guy’s interested in having you make him a saddle.”
“He didn’t like either of those?” Beau glanced at the saddles in the front window.
“He wants a cutting saddle with a shallower seat and a higher horn.” Austin motioned to the business card in Beau’s hand. “Jim Phillips is the new foreman at the Casey Beef Ranch south of Billings.”
“Did you give Phillips one of my cards?” Beau asked.
