Man From Montana Read online

  But he was so proud of Connor. Thank you, Kara.

  As the song ended, a rancher he knew cut in. Derrick handed Hannah over and tipped his hat, before going to sit down again. Beth and Danita had ordered another round of soft drinks.

  A moment later, Kara accompanied Connor back to the table. She gave him a quick bow.

  “Thanks, kiddo. You’re the best dance partner I’ve had in a long time.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Connor said. He took a sip of his Coke, hiding his pleasure. “Hey, how about you, Dad?”

  “Naw, I don’t want to dance with you.”

  Connor threw a straw at him. “Dork.”

  “Excuse me, ma’am.” A tall, blond cowboy wearing a pair of tight Wranglers and a belt buckle big enough to kill two ducks with one swing tipped his hat to Kara. “Would you care to dance?”

  Derrick glared at the guy. To his surprise, Kara shook her head.

  “Thanks, anyway,” she said. “But I’m taking a breather.”

  “No problem.” The guy turned to Beth. “How about you, pretty lady?”

  “Sloppy seconds, huh?”

  The man’s face reddened. “No, ma’am, I—”

  “I’m kidding,” Beth said, standing. “Let’s go, cowboy.”

  The guy whirled her out onto the floor. Derrick wished he could have a few minutes alone with Kara, to thank her. “You’re a mighty fine dancer,” he said, hoping his eyes communicated his gratitude.

  “Why, thank you.” Her smile said she got it.

  Derrick glanced at his watch. Less than ten minutes left of his break. Before he could ask her to dance, the jukebox rang out a popular line dancing song, and Danita grabbed Kara by the hand.

  “Come on. You’re not sitting this one out. You, too, Hannah.”

  Kara gave him a “What’s a girl to do?” shrug.

  “You can join us, Derrick,” Danita said.

  “Naw, thanks. I’ve gotta get ready to go back on stage shortly.”

  He watched as Kara moved out onto the floor, her hands tucked against her trim waist. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she wriggled her cute butt in time to the music. He’d never much cared for line dancing, but maybe there was something to it after all. Kara looked sexy in her jeans, western-cut blouse and boots. With her hair in a French braid, she looked young enough to be carded.

  Derrick still had a hard time grasping the fact she was a widow. Widows were supposed to be gray-haired senior citizens. He wondered what her husband had been like. Was he the reason Kara didn’t seem interested in dancing with any of the cowboys in the bar? The skinny guy in the spray-on jeans hadn’t been the first to ask her.

  The line dance ended, and he stood. “You doing all right, son?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Need any more money?”

  “I’m good.”

  “See you next break, then.” Derrick paused beside Kara just before she reached the table.

  He spoke into her ear. “Thanks for dancing with Connor.”

  “Are you kidding? He’s a great kid.”

  “Yeah, he is.” Derrick fought the urge to stall for time. His band was waiting. “See you in a bit.”

  “Will do.”

  Her smile stayed with him the rest of the night.

  DERRICK FELL INTO BED, feeling the rewarding sort of exhaustion that always came after a night of performing. A glance at the clock told him he needed to be asleep. The sun would be up in about four hours, and he didn’t like sleeping in late when Connor was around. He’d rather be with his son, who’d never been the kind of kid to lie in bed ’til noon.

  Derrick stretched out, lacing his hands behind his head on the pillow, letting the late-May breeze coming from the open window wash over him. He took pleasure in knowing that tonight his son slept under his roof and not Shelly’s. Still, thoughts of Kara wouldn’t let him sleep.

  There was something about her that left him curious, wanting to know more.

  He knew what it was, making him feel that way—that she’d lost her husband at such a young age. They’d both suffered the trauma of an unexpected accident. She’d lost her husband, and he’d lost the right to be a full-time father.

  Derrick wished Shelly would give him more time with their son. Shelly had filled the primary role of raising Connor and that cut him deeply.

  No matter.

  He laughed dryly and pulled the blanket up over his waist. He was a living country song.

  KARA GOT UP EARLY Sunday morning and dressed for church. Her attendance was sporadic, but Liz had phoned two days ago and asked if Kara would join her for this service, it being Memorial Day weekend.

  “I’m just not up to driving today,” she’d said. “And you know Memorial Day was always so important to Bill.”

  Evan’s father had spent years in the armed forces, and had died from health complications caused by his stint in Vietnam.

  When would Liz realize she wasn’t the only grieving widow in the family, the only person with needs? But as soon as the thought was out, Kara felt guilty. The least she could do was be there for her mother-in-law, and playing chauffeur was not a lot to ask.

  As Kara slipped into her old summer dress, she wondered if she wasn’t hoping to atone for her sin of the night before—thinking things about Derrick she had no business thinking. She’d been unable to get him off her mind all night. His voice had sent delicious shivers up her spine.

  Being such a huge country music fan, she couldn’t believe she was lucky enough to have a neighbor who crooned to her. At least, that’s what it had felt like as Derrick sang.

  What are you thinking?

  Kara cringed.

  She reached for her bible, then headed out the door.

  Minutes later, she pulled up in front of Liz’s modest brick house. To Kara, the place always seemed swallowed by the enormous lawn—something else Kara took care of for her mother-in-law. The riding lawn mower Bill had left behind terrified the older woman.

  A whiff of Chanel Number Five preceded Liz into the truck. Kara greeted her, then headed for the small, white-frame church in Sage Bend’s four-block downtown.

  “Want to get a bite to eat?” Kara asked after the service.

  Liz pulled a compact from her purse and checked her coral lipstick. “I don’t know…I felt a bit clammy earlier. Do you think I look pale? I was hoping this new lipstick would help put some color in my face.” She touched her cheek. “Blush, too.”

  “You look fine,” Kara said.

  At fifty-five, Liz was a pretty woman with a curvy figure. Her auburn hair—thick and wavy like Evan’s—was cut in a neat low-maintenance bob. Liz was as smart as a whip and, when she put her mind to it, she had a sharp sense of humor. In spite of her neediness, Liz was quite a catch. Kara was sure the many good qualities she saw in her mother-in-law were things men were also bound to notice and find attractive.

  Yet Liz had chosen not to remarry. As far as Kara knew, she’d never even dated another man after Bill died.

  Suddenly, Kara saw her own reflection in Liz. Would she, too, end up alone for the rest of her life?

  Except she wouldn’t even have a daughter-in-law to lean on. Just Indio and Lady.

  “Kara?”

  “Huh?”

  “Do I look pale?”

  “Oh, no…you don’t. Did you take your medication today?”

  Liz nodded.

  “If you aren’t feeling up to lunch, I can take you home and fix you some tea and toast.”

  “Well, maybe I could manage some soup, or a salad,” Liz said. “But there’s bound to be a long wait for a table at the diner, this being Sunday.”

  “True.” Kara thought of the steakhouse adjoining the Silver Spur. “We could go for a steak sandwich or something.”

  “Where?”

  “Um, the Silver Spur.”

  “Oh, Kara.” Liz looked at her in a way that made her want to sink into her seat. “That’s a bar.”

  “Not on Sundays,” Kara said, fee
ling suddenly defensive. She’d done nothing wrong last night, and there was nothing wrong with having a steak sandwich at the Spur, either. “People take their kids to eat there during the week, too.”

  “Well,” Liz said, clearly pained, “I guess it would be all right.” Then she laughed. “Besides, Bill always did like his cold beer.”

  Bill Tillman hadn’t been a churchgoer, though he hadn’t been one to hang out in the bars, either. He’d been a boisterous, fun guy who’d felt like a father to Kara, and she missed him something awful. No one could listen to that man laugh and not want to join in.

  Minutes later, Kara parked her truck.

  And felt her heart stop as she spotted Derrick’s pickup.

  Had he left it here last night and rode home with his band? Maybe the Chevy wouldn’t start or something.

  But as Kara reached the side door to the Silver Spur, a step behind Liz, Derrick walked through it on his way out.

  “Well, hey there, stranger,” he said. “What are you doing back so soon?”

  Ignoring Liz’s stare, Kara managed a smile. “Just having a bite to eat. I didn’t know you worked on Sundays.”

  “I don’t.” He held up a fancy guitar pick. “I lost it backstage. Had to come find it. It brings me luck.”

  “Yeah?” Her brain refused to work.

  “You look nice,” he added.

  She couldn’t answer.

  “Who’s your friend, Kara?” Liz asked, studying Derrick.

  Kara found her voice. “I’m sorry. Liz, this is Derrick Mertz—my neighbor. Derrick, my mother-in-law, Liz Tillman.”

  “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

  He even tipped his cowboy hat, but the old-fashioned gesture had no effect on Liz.

  She smiled coolly at him. “You play in the band here?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I see. Well, we’d better get a table, Kara.”

  Kara’s stomach rolled. She no longer felt hungry.

  “See you later, then,” Derrick said. He spoke politely, but his eyes fastened on hers in a way that made her wish she could fade into the sidewalk.

  “Bye.” Hurriedly, she followed Liz inside.

  At a table in the dining area, Liz sat across from her, not looking at her open menu. “Kara, what did he mean, ‘What are you doing back so soon?’”

  “I, um, came here last night to hear Derrick’s band. He’s the lead singer of Wild Country.”

  “Isn’t that the band you and Evan used to listen to here on occasion?”

  Liz’s question nearly did her in. “It might’ve been. I really can’t remember.”

  Liz leaned forward and covered Kara’s hand with hers. “Honey, what were you doing in a bar—alone—for heaven’s sake?”

  “I wasn’t alone,” Kara hedged. “I was with friends.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes.” Kara drew her hand away as unobtrusively as possible. She refused to let Liz make her feel worse than she already did.

  She really hadn’t done anything wrong.

  “Well, it still doesn’t look right,” Liz said. “Kara, I’m old-fashioned enough to know the way of small towns.” She sat back in her seat. “Evan’s only been gone eight months. People will talk if you’re out partying.”

  “I wasn’t partying,” Kara said gently. She opened her menu. “I was with the women from my riding club.” The half truth came out more easily than she would’ve thought. “And I drank Coke.”

  Liz smiled sadly. “I know you’re still young, sweetie, and I want you to have fun. I just don’t want to see you get hurt. You’re at a vulnerable point in your life right now.”

  “Yes, I am,” Kara said. She gave Liz’s arm a squeeze. “And that’s why I’m so glad I’ve got you to lean on.” No matter what, she’d never let Liz down.

  Liz raised one eyebrow. “I think we both know you’re full of blarney.”

  Kara laughed. “Seriously, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” That much was true. “Now, what looks good?”

  Derrick Mertz.

  Kara shoved the thought from her mind.

  TUESDAY AT THE BANK was crazy busy after the three-day weekend. Kara worked the drive-up window, and the traffic coming through made the morning fly. Things slowed down somewhat after lunch. Just as she served the last car of three, Derrick’s silver Chevy S-10 pulled in behind it. Since when had he opened an account here?

  Uncomfortable after the chilly brush-off Liz had given him Sunday, Kara pasted a smile on her face as he pulled up to the window.

  “Good afternoon,” she said through the microphone.

  “Hey, there.” Derrick smiled back at her and put a deposit slip and check into the window tray. Kara slid it inside.

  “I didn’t realize you banked with us,” she said, not wanting to look at his check or handle the transaction. She shouldn’t be privy to how much money he made. But what choice did she have? She could call another teller over, but it would make for an awkward scene.

  “I just opened an account here last Friday.”

  “Oh. I didn’t see you. Guess I was out to lunch.” When she put Derrick’s receipt back in the tray, she noticed he was looking at a poster taped to the inside of her teller booth. It was an ad for an upcoming classic car show, to be held in the parking lot of the local burger joint.

  “Are you taking Connor to the car show?”

  “No.”

  Surprised by his abrupt answer, Kara raised her eyebrows. “Why not? I’ll bet he’d love it.” She remembered how Connor had commented on her truck. “They usually have a lot of cool pickups, not to mention good ol’ muscle cars.”

  Derrick snatched the receipt from the tray. “I said no. See ya.”

  With that, he pulled away. Kara stared after him.

  “What’s his problem?” Nadine, a fellow teller asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  But she meant to find out.

  A short while later, Kara stood at his front door. It was open, the television tuned to a news program. Derrick sat slumped in a recliner in front of the TV. Kara rapped on the screen, pretending not to look inside.

  He saw her and stood. “Hey.”

  “Hi. May I come in for a minute?”

  He opened the screen door with what seemed like reluctance. Puzzled, Kara stepped into the living room.

  “Have a seat.” Derrick indicated the couch.

  “Thank you.” She sat perched on the sofa’s edge, wondering where Connor was. “Look, I’ll get right to the point. If you were short with me today at the bank because my mother-in-law was rude to you yesterday, then—”

  “That had nothing to do with it.” He turned down the TV’s volume with the remote control, then sat on the far end of the couch.

  Kara waited, but he offered no further explanation. She couldn’t let it go. She felt sorry for Connor.

  “So, if you don’t want to take Connor to the car show, can I take him?”

  “If you want to ask me out, Kara, just do it.”

  Her jaw literally dropped. “Lord, give a guy a guitar and he thinks he’s God’s gift.” She folded her arms. “I’m asking Connor out, not you.”

  What had happened to the carefree guy she’d seen at the Silver Spur? A guy who seemed attracted to her.

  Derrick glanced in the direction of what Kara assumed was Connor’s room. He lowered his voice. “Connor is the reason I said no.”

  “I don’t understand.” Kara stared blankly at him.

  Derrick nodded toward the side porch. “You want to go outside for a few minutes?”

  “Fine.” Confused, Kara followed him to the porch. To her surprise, he shut not just the sliding screen, but the glass door as well.

  He motioned for her to take a seat, then sat in the chair beside the round patio table. “Kara, I like you a lot,” Derrick said. “So, I guess I need to be up front with you.” He sighed. “I didn’t mean to be rude to you at the bank, or now, either. It’s just that…well, me and classic c
ars don’t mix very well anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He took a breath. “It’s my fault Connor’s in that wheelchair.”

  “What?” Of all the things she’d expected him to say…

  “Yeah.” He laced his fingers together, leaning forward in the chair to rest his elbows on his knees. For a long moment, he didn’t look up. “On my nineteenth birthday, I took Connor out for a drive. He was two.”

  Kara couldn’t hide her surprise. “My God—you were just a baby when he was born!”

  “But I grew up quick.” Derrick’s eyes darkened. “I had a ’68 Ford Gran Torino. My grandpa and I had souped it up, and I was out cruising around, mad at Shelly—Connor’s mother—for sticking me with him that night. I let some guy I’d gone to high school with goad me into a drag race.”

  Kara bit her lip. The sound of birds chirping in the shrubbery seemed like a travesty, in light of Derrick’s words.

  “I ended up rolling the car. Connor received severe spinal injuries that caused him to be paralyzed from the waist down. All because I was so stupid.”

  “Dear God.” Kara sat, stunned. “Derrick, I don’t know what to say…. That must be awfully hard to cope with.”

  “Yeah. I take it day by day.”

  She nodded. “What happened to the other boy? Did he wreck, too?”

  “No. He drove off and left us in a cow pasture.”

  Kara sucked in her breath. “You’re kidding. Did the police charge him with anything?”

  “Leaving the scene of an accident. He got a slap on the wrist, and the boy riding with him got off scotfree,” Derrick said bitterly. “They went back to their college dorms that fall, while I faced charges of reckless driving, and the loss of my parental rights.”

  “Oh, Derrick.”

  “I had supervised visitation for a long time. Then finally, I got to bring Connor home with me every other weekend. Now he gets to stay two weeks out of four during the summer.” He didn’t seem to see her, just stared straight ahead at the old tree swing the previous owners left behind. “He’s all I’ve got. My parents are close to Connor, but they don’t speak to me. Guess I can’t blame them.”