Man From Montana Read online

  THAT NIGHT, Kara lay against her pillows on the bed she’d shared with Evan, and stared at his picture. Here she was, out of her mind missing her husband, while Danita was cursing hers and wishing him dead. Life sure didn’t seem fair.

  Oh, Evan, how can you be gone? Please, God, let me wake up tomorrow morning and find it’s all been a bad dream. She lifted the five-by-seven photograph from the nightstand and clutched it to her breast, letting the tears come. She’d loved Evan since junior high, and they’d had a good life—a great life—together.

  Kara closed her eyes, and images of Evan’s funeral came back as clearly as if it had been yesterday. Snow falling from a lifeless, gray sky…Evan’s friends acting as pallbearers. Big, macho construction workers who’d broken down and wept like babies over their friend’s coffin. And Evan’s mother, Liz—a widow herself… The poor woman needed tranquilizers.

  Why? The question was one Kara still had no answer to.

  She visited Evan’s grave every week, often with Liz. But somehow she felt foolish, sitting beside a cold, marble stone. Evan wasn’t there. His spirit was here, with her—always.

  But tonight the bedroom felt empty.

  The knock on her front door startled her. Lady barked and raced for the living room. Quickly, Kara dried her eyes, and placed Evan’s picture back on the nightstand. Who would be knocking at this hour? It was nearly nine-thirty. She hurried after the collie.

  Kara peered through one of the glass rectangles on either side of the door. A man stood on her porch.

  Leaving the safety chain in place, she flicked on the porch light and opened the door a few inches. Her gaze immediately met his. He was good-looking beyond reason, his sandy-brown hair just long enough to touch the collar of the denim jacket he wore over a fancy western shirt. Tall, he looked down at her.

  “Hi.” He smiled. “I’m sorry to bother you at this hour, but I saw your lights on and thought you might not be asleep.”

  Kara stared at him through the crack. “Can I help you with something?” she asked.

  “Actually, yes. I’m Derrick Mertz. I live over there.” He gestured toward the mint-green house diagonally across the street from her. “And I’m afraid my kitten is stuck in the tree in your backyard.”

  Didn’t serial killers often use the ruse of a missing pet to lure their victims? Later, the body turns up in the woods, bones scattered by wild animals. The news reporters always marveled that a crime like that could happen in such a quiet, close-knit community.

  “I wasn’t aware the house had sold,” Kara said, preparing to slam the door in his face. She couldn’t remember if the realtor’s sign had still been there when she’d driven past today.

  His smile disarmed her. “Actually, I haven’t got much of my stuff moved in yet. But I brought my cat over, and he got out the back door. He’s going to make me late getting to work if I don’t catch him quick. Mind if I go into your yard?”

  What could she say? “I guess that would be fine. I mean, sure. The gate’s on the other side of the house.”

  “Thanks.” He turned and hurried down the steps.

  Kara closed and locked the door, including the dead bolt. “Some watchdog you are,” she said to Lady as the collie merely wagged her tail. “You could’ve at least growled at him.”

  Kara hurried to the kitchen and peeked through the curtains at the well-lit yard, spotting a dark orange, half-grown kitten in the branches of her cottonwood tree.

  Kara pulled on her Tony Lamas and stepped outside, Lady at her heels. Derrick stood at the base of the tree, speaking in a gentle, coaxing tone. His voice gave Kara goose bumps, but she told herself it was only the chilly night air.

  “He’s cute,” she said, nearing the tree. “Hey, kitty.”

  The cat meowed, the bell on his collar jingling as he stretched hesitantly toward the next lower branch.

  “Come on, Taz,” Derrick coaxed. “I’ve got to go back to work, buddy.”

  “Where do you work?” Kara asked, folding her arms against her chest for warmth. She should’ve grabbed a jacket.

  “The Silver Spur,” he said. “I’m a bartender and aspiring country singer.”

  Kara couldn’t help but smile. “You play in the band?”

  “Every other Saturday, and most Fridays. Tonight I’m just bartending. I’m on my dinner break. Wasn’t really hungry, so I thought I’d run out here and finish unloading a few things…check on Taz.” He turned back to the kitten. At about six foot one or so, Derrick was able to stretch his long arms up and finally grab the wayward Taz.

  The tabby yowled and dug its claws into the front of Derrick’s shirt, hissing and spitting as it caught sight of Lady. “Ouch, you little varmint.” Derrick cradled Taz against his chest. “Thanks again.” He held out his free hand. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  Hesitantly, she took it. “Kara Tillman.” His hand was strong, his fingers callused from playing the guitar.

  “Nice to meet you, Kara.” He eyed her boots and jeans. “A cowgirl, huh?”

  “Well, a wanna-be anyway.” She smiled again. “I’ve got a horse, though.”

  “Do you like country music?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why don’t you come on down to the Silver Spur? The band that’s playing tonight is good.” He winked. “Of course, next weekend when Wild Country is playing, the music will be even better.”

  Suddenly she felt sick to her stomach. How many nights had she spent dancing with Evan to the beat of some country tune? “Thanks, but I’m not really into the whole bar scene.”

  “Well, if you change your mind, the invitation’s always open.” He patted Lady’s head, then scrambled to clutch the kitten once more as it nearly got away from him. “Nice meeting you, Kara. Take it easy.”

  “You, too.”

  He disappeared into the shadows on the far side of the house, and Kara heard the gate swing open, then click shut as he latched it.

  She stood for a moment, listening to the wind stir through the trees. Then, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, Kara called Lady back into the house and closed the door.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Late May

  DERRICK OPENED the curtains near the foot of Connor’s bed to let the sunlight stream in. Today was the last day of school, and Connor would be home at Shelly’s in less than an hour, ready for Derrick to pick him up. He wanted everything perfect for his son at their new house.

  He raised the window, letting the fresh air blow through the long-closed bedroom. Taz promptly jumped up on the windowsill and stared through the screen at the birds on the lawn, flicking the end of his orange tail.

  Derrick laughed. “Bird buffet, huh, Taz?” He scratched the kitten’s ears, enjoying the view himself. An apple tree grew near the window, its branches loaded with pinkish-white flowers. Their fragrance drifted in, mingling with the scent of damp soil and dust. A comforting, earthy smell. Home. So much better than that damned cramped apartment, where the neighbors constantly complained about his guitar playing.

  Whistling, Derrick snapped open a fitted sheet he’d taken from the dryer a moment ago, and set about making up Connor’s twin bed. He’d wanted to buy something better, a double bed for sure, but money was tight. Connor’s medical bills and physical therapy had been an ongoing expense, and a not-so-famous country singer/bartender didn’t make the sort of money Toby Keith and Brad Paisley likely brought home.

  With the bedsheets and a dark blue comforter in place, Derrick surveyed the room. He hadn’t hung a lot of stuff on the walls—he wanted Connor to make the place his own. Just a couple of things he thought the boy might like, including an autographed poster of Shania Twain one of the guys in his band had gotten for Connor at a recent concert.

  The room looked kind of plain, with only the twin bed, a secondhand chest of drawers and a computer stand for Connor’s laptop in the corner. Derrick had paid for Internet service, even though he didn’t have any use for it himself, didn’t even own a computer. But h
e couldn’t expect the kid to spend every waking minute with him, even though Derrick would’ve preferred it that way.

  His time with his son was precious. The days between his weekend visits seemed an eternity, while the two or three days he had with Connor sped by. Even the longer summer visitations seemed far too short. But it beat the hell out of the supervised, three-hour visits he’d once had.

  Satisfied the room was as good as it was going to get, Derrick got the keys to his truck, and his guitar and headed out the door. He couldn’t wait to pick Connor up. Their every-other-Friday-night ritual of stopping by the local burger joint was something he looked forward to. And tonight, he had band practice. Since a love for country music and double cheeseburgers seemed to be two of the few things he and his son shared these days, Derrick intended to make the most of it.

  As he neared his pickup, he spotted Kara, struggling out her front door with an armload of tack, including a heavy-looking western saddle and thick saddle pad. The pretty strawberry-blonde had bumped the screen open with one hip, and now attempted to pull the door shut behind her, her collie at her heels.

  Derrick was across the street in a few loping strides.

  “Hang on. Let me help you.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him and grimaced. “Thanks, but I’ve got it. I’m used to doing this.” But she let him hold the screen and finish closing the door for her. “Make sure it’s locked, please.” She watched as he jiggled the knob. “Thanks.”

  “Going riding?” Then he laughed, bending to pat the dog. “Well, I guess that’s obvious. Taking advantage of the longer daylight hours, huh?”

  Her freckled nose crinkled as she smiled. “Yep. I go every chance I get.”

  “Really? Maybe I ought to get myself a horse.”

  Immediately, Kara stopped smiling.

  “I hate to be rude, but I’m in a hurry.” She swung the saddle and blanket into the back of her pickup—a sharp-looking, black Ford. “I’m meeting some friends.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” She didn’t have to knock him over the head with a riding crop. He leaned against the truck bed, and glanced at the bridle and grooming tools she’d already loaded. “Don’t they have a tack room at your stable?”

  “Yes. But things tend to grow legs and wander off. Or so I’ve heard. I prefer keeping my stuff at home.”

  “Ah. I can understand that.”

  “You’d better get your guitar,” she said, softening her words with a half smile. “Before it grows legs.”

  He’d forgotten he’d set it down in the middle of his driveway. “Yeah. I’ve got practice with the guys tonight. We’re playing tomorrow.” He hesitated. She hadn’t taken him up on his invite last weekend…should he ask her again?

  “Have fun.” She opened the truck door, and the collie jumped in.

  “You, too.”

  He watched Kara drive away.

  Going riding?

  Hell.

  Maybe instead of band practice, he ought to relearn how to ask a woman out.

  KARA PULLED AWAY from the curb, her eyes drawn to Derrick Mertz in the rearview mirror. He waved, and she immediately averted her gaze, embarrassed he’d caught her looking. Twice. What the hell was wrong with her? I’m sorry, Evan.

  She leaned back in her seat, steering the Ford with one hand, resting her other wrist lightly on top of the wheel.

  Evan had fixed up the truck himself, painting it gloss black, redoing the engine…the interior. He’d washed and waxed the Ford regularly, and she’d loved helping him.

  They’d done everything together. On the weekends, they often went cruising, Kara snuggled next to Evan, his arm around her as though they were still dating. Six years of marriage had changed nothing in terms of romance. For them, the honeymoon hadn’t ended once they’d fallen into the everyday aspects of married life, the way it had for many of their friends.

  Friends who’d drifted away after Evan’s death. A single woman—a widow—did not fit neatly into the group. Thank God for Danita, and even Liz, who had lost a husband and a son, and depended heavily on her. Liz had always been like a second mother to Kara. She and Evan had even moved to Sage Bend to be near her when Evan’s dad died.

  But at times she wished Liz would lend her a shoulder for a change. With Kara’s own parents living back in Colorado, she often felt homesick. She’d lost so much when she’d lost Evan.

  And now, here she was ogling a good-looking cowboy singer in the rearview mirror of her husband’s pickup.

  Guilt-ridden, Kara slipped on her sunglasses to shield her eyes from the glare of the late afternoon sun, then placed both hands firmly on the steering wheel. She’d ride her troubles away, just like she always did.

  At the stable, Kara led Indio to a hitching post and began to brush her, while Lady nosed around the area. Her informal riding group had decided to take an early evening trail ride, since rain was predicted for Saturday. Within minutes, Danita arrived and got busy saddling her mount, soon followed by Beth Murphy, another of the Ride Away members.

  “Hi,” Kara greeted her.

  “Hey,” Beth said, blowing a strand of her short blond hair out of her eyes and giving Lady a pat. Beth was forty-three, but she looked much younger. “How was work today?”

  “Busy. Fridays are always crazy. Thank God I didn’t have to stay to work the drive-up window.” She saddled her Appaloosa, waving to Hannah Williamson, the fourth—and final—Ride Awayer, as she pulled up, horse trailer in tow. The local large animal vet, Hannah took care of the horses at the boarding stable, and owned a twenty-five-acre ranch not far from there.

  While Beth went into the barn to get her horse and Hannah unloaded Ricochet, Kara seized the opportunity to question Danita. “Are you doing okay, hon?” She’d been worried about her friend, keeping tabs on her all week by phone.

  “I’m hanging in.” Danita shrugged. “Trying to focus on repainting the house. I might as well make a few changes, now that Phillip has officially moved out. He picked up the last of his stuff yesterday.” She set her jaw. “The rat. He’s already got a new place with a swimming pool. I hope he gets skin cancer.”

  Kara couldn’t help but chuckle. “I didn’t know rats liked water.”

  “Sure they do. That’s why the ones in New York hang out in the sewers.” Danita laughed, too. “Speaking of men, I passed by your house on my way home from the store before I came out here, and I saw Derrick Mertz in your yard.”

  “You know him?”

  “Sort of. Phillip and I used to go to the Silver Spur once in a while.”

  “I didn’t know that.” Personally, she’d never paid much attention to the band when she’d gone with Evan. She’d only had eyes for her husband.

  “So what was he doing at your place?” Danita arched an eyebrow.

  Kara squirmed. “He’s my new neighbor. He helped me load my tack into the truck.”

  “Uh-huh.” Danita licked her lips and smiled. “I waved at you as I passed, but you drove right by me. I think you were too busy looking in your rearview mirror to notice.”

  “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Done what?”

  “Lusted after another man.”

  “Mi hija.” Danita laid a soothing hand on her arm. “Evan’s gone. You can only be alone for so long.”

  Kara knew her friend meant well, but didn’t want to ever replace Evan in her heart. “I miss him so much.” She bit her lip.

  “Of course you do. But you’re young, and so pretty.” Danita gave her a hug. “You’ll find happiness again. Unlike me, a middle-aged janitor with wrinkles and gray hair.”

  “I heard that,” Beth said, as she led her chestnut mare, Sundance, toward the hitching rail. She elbowed Danita in the ribs. “I’m older than you, and you do not have gray hair.”

  “Thanks to my hairdresser.” Danita grimaced. “Too bad he’s gay. He’s really good-looking.”

  Hannah walked over, leading her saddled gelding. “That’s always the way it goes,
” she said. “But you stop putting yourself down.” She frowned at Danita, tossing her brown ponytail over one shoulder. “You run your own cleaning business, woman. And you’re smart, beautiful and in the prime of your life. To hell with Phillip.”

  “That’s right,” Beth said. “As soon as the men in this town find out you’re single, they’ll be flocking around like ants at a picnic.” She tightened her cinch. “And you might as well start tonight. Hannah and I are going to the Silver Spur. Come with us. You, too, Kara.”

  Kara shook her head, gathering Indio’s reins. “I’m not much for the bar scene.”

  “All right, I’ll go,” Danita said. “But I’m not cruising for guys. I need another man like I need another twenty pounds of fat on my ass.”

  Kara laughed.

  Horses tacked up, the four women set off along the bridle path. Hannah moved Ricochet up beside Indio, as Danita and Beth rode ahead. “I wish you’d change your mind about coming tonight.”

  Kara wished her friends would quit pressuring her. “I don’t think so.”

  Hannah’s hazel eyes held compassion. “I know you’re still grieving, and that you need time. But be careful not to let it consume you, either. Life’s too short, kiddo.”

  “Tell me about it,” Kara snapped. She couldn’t help but resent Hannah’s comment. What did she know about losing a husband? Twenty-nine—the only single woman in the group—Hannah had her whole life ahead of her. Evan hadn’t even been around to celebrate Kara’s thirtieth birthday. “My time with Evan flew by. Like that.” She snapped her fingers.

  “I’m sorry,” Hannah said. Her gaze held Kara’s, full of such sympathy, Kara felt like a bitch.

  “It’s okay.” She fought the familiar, choking ache in the back of her throat. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back.

  Hannah’s words had hit home.

  Kara’s biggest fear was being exactly like her mother-in-law…grieving forever.