The Bride Wore Denim (29 page)

Cole’s breath caught in his throat.

He’d spent enough time looking over the ranch finances with Joely to know that, with some sacrifices, good planning, and little help from above, they had a shot at keeping Paradise afloat. And if they did work with Mountain Pacific, within a year things could be looking downright positive. In his head, he’d already put his plan into action. He’d only been waiting for Joely to recover enough that she could start talking shop in the hospital.

She couldn’t pull the plug now.

“Joely, honey,” he said. “Being in a place like this, after what happened and with the kinds of injuries you have, is bound to be depressing. Don’t you think it’s the situation talking? You love the ranch.”

Her green-brown eyes filled with sadness. “I know all that. I even know I’m depressed. But that’s the key—I
know
. I’m not talking through anger or despair; I’m talking reality. I know I can’t run Paradise; I think I knew that even when I first offered to try. Of course I don’t want it to leave the family, but sometimes reality slaps you in the face and tells you to use your head instead of your heart.”

“Oh, Joely.” Harper pulled a chair next to the bed and sat as close to her sister as she could, holding Joely’s hand in both of hers. “Don’t make this decision now. Give it until you’re out of the hospital.”

“You don’t really have that much time. There are bills coming due in November and December that creditors won’t wait for. The lumber yard, the balloon payment on the barn that’s now ten years old—they’ve already extended that three times. You know all this, Cole.”

“I do. And the beef shipment looks good this time—better than our estimate. I’ve got a little bit saved I can lend the ranch until spring.”

Now where had
that
come from? His savings were sacrosanct. His living expenses—and two recent trips to Chicago—were all he’d taken from it. He’d never considered using his money to pay someone else to hang onto the property he wanted to buy with his money.

It made a backward kind of sense. He supposed.

“I wish it were enough for you to just buy the place outright.” Joely sighed and closed her eyes again. This was the most talking she’d done since the accident. “You’ve got the vision for Paradise Ranch, Cole. I saw that in those weeks we worked on books. But I don’t have vision or strength.”

“I wish I could buy it, too.” Cole’s words tangled surprisingly with a tide of emotion. The very real possibility that the ranch was slipping away was like having a noose draped over his neck. He’d never had this suffocating despair over Paradise before—he’d always seen an option for saving it. But with Joely’s pronouncement, his brain froze. Not a single solution came to him. The Crocket girls had ordained this moment the day each of them had walked away.

“There’s a lot for all of us to talk about.” Mia broke the silence that had fallen. “I believe you don’t want to take on the ranch, Jo-Jo, and I do understand. We’ll tell the triplets and see what they think.”

“But you’re the one who insisted we should sell.” Joely made the reminder in a flat, uncaring tone.

“I did. Maybe it would be best. But . . . ” Mia shrugged. “We’ve come this far. It feels like we owe Paradise at least another family meeting.”

M
IA STAYED WITH
Joely when Harper and Cole said good-bye so they could get to Skylar.

“Thank you,” Harper whispered to Amelia when they hugged. “You said everything right.”

“It’s the truth, that’s all. Say hello to Skylar. Tell her to get better.”

“Thanks, I will.”

“So what do you think is the next step?” Cole asked when they were out of the room. “We’ve come this far. I hate seeing Joely give up.”

“We’ll talk to the rest of the girls.” Harper shrugged.

“You still think you have to go back tonight?” he asked.

“I do.”

He looked askance. “Even in light of this? Don’t you think it’s time to finally work out the ranch’s future? We . . . ” He stopped to correct himself. “
You
keep kicking the can down the road.”

“I have a commitment to fulfill,” she said, letting his arm go. “And the reason for not fulfilling it no longer exists. Since nobody is going to buy Paradise Ranch in the seven weeks left to Christmas, I say we keep kicking until then.”

Cole felt a little like he was the embodiment of that can.

“Look.” He tried one more tactic. “Cecelia doesn’t have to know everything’s finished here. At least not yet. What if I’m not ready to let you go?”

She smiled. “I’m not thrilled about leaving you, either, but if I’m not honest about my promises, then I’m not much of a role model for the kid I’m about to go see. I made a big arrogant speech about respect to her mother. I have to learn to keep my priorities straight.”

“I agree. But don’t you feel like the emergency with Paradise is just as big a deal as the one with Skylar?”

“No.”

The one word cut him to the quick. “Wait. Let me understand. You’re on the ‘we should sell’ side now?”

She place both hands on his chest. “I’m not. But I don’t know what to think either. This is all like a freak storm—it roared in out of nowhere, and it’s blowing everything around so hard and so fast that I’m lost. We all are. I don’t want to talk about the ranch right now. Let the storm pass first.”

Reluctantly he opened the car door for her and watched her slip in. All he knew was somebody had to start talking about the ranch pretty damn soon.

“You know,” she said, once he was behind the wheel. “There could be a silver lining in all of this. If we sold the ranch, you could come to Chicago with no strings. Easy-peasy happily ever after.”

“That’s your idea of a solution?”

“Why so shocked? In a way, it’s perfect.”

“Oh really?” A huge block of anger broke free inside him, like an ice floe after a ship had hit an iceberg. “And what about the work I’ve put into this the past few weeks? No, years actually. What about my dreams for the future?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I must be remembering incorrectly. What happened to you deciding you’d follow me anywhere?”

He stopped, his anger refreshed at her attempt to call him on his own words. “Don’t turn that around. Of course I’ll follow you, but I didn’t think you’d truly ask me to give up my legacy. Is it okay for one person to sacrifice everything?”

He felt like that was honestly what she was suggesting he do. It seemed unbelievable, after all the emotion she’d expended on oil, back-to-the-past cattle roundups, and figuring things out with Mia. Now they’d flipped positions like two politicians, and he was caught in the fallout. He loved her stubborn hide, but the stones in his gut felt like betrayal.

“And if I stay here, I’m not sacrificing everything?” she asked.

“You can’t bring your brushes and paints here?”

She looked like he’d struck her, and he resented that, too. Wasn’t it the truth? Couldn’t she paint anywhere?

“Look,” she said before he could say more. “Nobody should have to sacrifice everything, but it seems like both people should be willing to and neither of us is willing. Clearly. This is precisely why I’ve said all along a relationship like this doesn’t work. It sorts out priorities pretty fast, doesn’t it?”

“Clearly yours is Chicago.”

“Clearly yours is getting the Double Diamond back.”

“What do you really want, Harper? I’ve asked you before.”

“I want to be who I am. Not who my father wanted me to be.”

“And have you gotten anywhere close to that independence?”

“I’m getting
dang
close.”

“Then by God you’d better stay the course until you’re all the way there. Nothing more to say.” He turned the ignition key, feeling for the first time since the death of his mother that he could weep for something about to be irrevocably lost. He headed out of the parking lot a little too fast.

“Y
OU CAME!
”

Skylar’s bullfrog voice and follow-up cough didn’t stop her from sounding like she’d won the lottery when Harper walked into her hospital room, with a mask over her nose and mouth and worry zipping through her veins. Only when she bent to the sick girl and got a forceful bear hug did she believe the child was going to be all right.

“I am so glad to see you,” Harper said.

“Yeah, me too,” Skylar replied. “Mom said you came all the way from Chicago.”

“We all do crazy things when we’re upset.”

“I’m supposed to say I’m sorry.” Skylar stared up at Harper, and Cole behind her, with wide eyes in a pale face that sported two brightly flushed cheek spots. “I’m sorry I got sick and made everyone worry.”

“Well, that’s something.” Harper wanted to be angry with Skylar, but she identified too strongly with her anger. The whole world was frustrating at the moment. Harper would have run off to a pup tent in the wilderness if she could have.”

“I know everyone’s mad at me, but I don’t care,” Skylar croaked. “I knew I would get in trouble for this, and I already told my dad he could punish me however he wants. I only wanted them to be mad enough to listen to me.”

“I actually know that, Skylar. I ran away for the very same reasons you did. Truth be told, you did it a little smarter than I did. I ran away for years instead of days.”

“But you came back.”

“Not to stay.”

“You’re going away again?”

“I have to go back to Chicago tonight.”

“Tonight? But I won’t get to see you. I wanted to show you some sketches.”

“I’d love to see them. I’ll plan to stay longer next time.”

“Sure. Okay.”

Skylar covered her eyes with the backs of both hands and held them there until it was clear she was hiding. To Harper’s dismay, a tiny rivulet of water dripped past the barrier and coursed across Skylar’s temple.

“Sweetie, sweetie, don’t cry. You’ll only feel worse.”

“That’s not possible.”

“But that’s why things seem so bad and sad right now. You feel lousy. And just because you did kind of what you set out to do, doesn’t mean you forgive your mom for taking away the prize for your painting. You will forgive her, but it still feels bad right now.”

She uncovered her wet eyes. “See. You’re the only one who gets it. Nobody else does.”

“Lots of people get it. They do. But I remember feeling exactly like this when I was your age.”

“Really?”

“My dad used to hide my sketchbooks so I’d focus on what he thought were the right things.”

“Am I, like, your long lost kid or something?”

Harper laughed. “No. An adopted sister, maybe. This just means there are a lot of misunderstood people in the world. So, we have to learn not to run away but to stand up for ourselves and still be respectful. I wasn’t very good at it. Your mom has reasons for what she decided. Talk to her about them.”

“But that’s the thing. I did. She already changed her mind.”

Harper sat upright, confused. “She did?”

“She said they can hang the picture, but there have to be rules. They can put my name with it and say I’m a local artist. But I can’t have my picture or my age with it.”

Harper’s immediate instinct was to rant that while Melanie had come close, she’d missed the mark. But she waited for her pulse to calm and reason to kick in.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“It’s a big change for her. She still doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get that I wasn’t thinking about sex or something stupid when I was painting the picture. She thinks the worst all the time. But, I guess I kind of won my point.”

“You did,” Harper conceded. “But don’t you go thinking you can do stupid stuff every time you want your way. This was a pretty dangerous thing you did. If Nate hadn’t remembered what you said about wanting to climb the mountain on your own, we might not have found you in time.”

“I know.” Her voice got small and tired. “I was scared. I couldn’t make myself walk or anything. And Asta came and found me, too. I left her at home, but she didn’t stay.”

“Really? That’s pretty incredible.”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“From now on promise me you’ll talk to your mom. Show her why she should respect you. Do what I never did while my dad was alive.”

“Okay.”

“And.” Harper winked over her mask. “There’s Nate. He likes you in case you haven’t figured it out.”

“He was here already.” The fever spots on her cheeks deepened.

“Having a trustworthy boyfriend and showing how you can be trustworthy, too, will help your mom a lot in the, you know, worrying-about-sex department.”

“I can’t date until I’m sixteen.”

“I’ll bet they’d let him come and visit. Or paint with you sometime.”

The thoughtfulness in her face proved how much she liked the idea. She glanced at Cole.

“Are you going back with her to Chicago?”

Harper swore Cole grimaced. “Not this time,” he said. “It wouldn’t be a good idea to leave right now. Lots of things are happening here, and Harper has too much work to do.”

She read his tone and wanted to smack him.

“Are you painting lots?” Skylar asked.

“I am. And meeting lots of people who want to share what I paint. I’m lucky to have the chance to visit with them. That’s where I’m going tonight—to a gathering I promised to attend.”

“You should go with her,” Skylar said to Cole.

“No. We learned that Joely is going to be away from working at the ranch for quite a long time. That means somebody has to help figure things out here.”

“Are you going to sell the ranch?”

Cole took a step back. “Why would you ask that?”

“Everyone thinks I’m a kid, but I’m not. I understand what my grandpa is talking about with my dad. I know what’s happening with the money and the bills. Kind of. Everyone is worried.”

“Yeah they are,” he agreed. “But it’s more complicated than deciding to sell the ranch. Nobody thinks about that lightly. There might not . . . ” He hesitated and then shrugged. “You’ll hear sooner or later. There might not be any other way.”

“There’s always a way.” Skylar’s croaking was deepening, but she struggled to a partial sit and studied the two of them as if she were the only adult in the room.

“Are you two mad at each other?”

Harper tried to find last ditch camaraderie in Cole’s eyes, but he only gave her a helpless look. Skylar’s eyes darkened as she waited.

“We have some differences of opinion,” she said. “That’s not really being mad.”

“I don’t know. I think you’re pretty mad at me,” Cole said.

“That’s not appropriate here.”

“That’s what I mean.” Skylar’s voice was now a squeak. “You think I’m too dumb to be honest with. You forgot that I saw you kiss each other. Do you think I can’t tell when you’re mad?”

“Sometimes money makes people very upset, because it’s so important,” Harper said. “It takes time to work things out.”

“Why is everyone freaked out about money all the time?”

“Skylar, you know why.” Cole admonished her gently.

“I know the ranch needs it. Everybody needs it. But so what? My parents are always telling me life is about doing things the best I can. Maybe you guys should stop worrying about money and work with what’s here.”

Good Lord, had the child aged ten years up on that mountain? Harper couldn’t reconcile the wisdom, idealistically naïve as it was, with the usually pouty fourteen-year-old who’d run away from home.

“Maybe you’re a little bit right, sweetheart,” she said. “But it really is more complicated than that. It’s not only about money. It’s about obligations and agreements grown-ups have to meet. We can’t always live the way we want to.”

“Like the agreement you made with that lady in Chicago?”

“Exactly.”

“Seems like ever since you told me about her, she’s been telling you how to be a painter. But you said nobody could tell us how to make our art. That the kind of artist we are comes from inside. Is your deal with that lady about money?”

Once again Harper wanted to be furious at the child. But her words slammed home like bullets with pinpoint accuracy.

“That’s not quite fair,” Cole said.

Skylar set her fevered little jaw. “But you care about money, too. You want the old ranch back. I know because Dad and Grandpa know. Everybody does. But I think who cares if you buy it back? It’s here. You have it. We used it. Just stay on the ranch and it’s yours.”

If she hadn’t been stricken herself, Harper would have laughed at the traumatized shock on Cole’s face. Skylar was possessed by some kind of holy fire of righteousness, and the weaker her voice got, the more pointed her arguments became.

“What if I told you you’ve given me a lot to think about?” she asked.

“Whatever. You probably won’t.”

Ah, good. There was still a familiar Skylar in there.

“I will.”

“You know, it was cool having you teach us. You get it. You should keep teaching people. Plus, you could paint here some more. I bet if you brought that bossy old bat here, she’d want a thousand paintings of the views.”

“Skylar!” This time Harper did cover her mouth to hold in laughter. “She’s not a bossy old bat.”

“I don’t know.” Cole’s eyes shone with fun for the first time since their angry argument. “Maybe she is. A bossy bat in sheep’s clothing.”

Harper wasn’t amused by him—he knew better than Skylar. But her brain and her heart were on fire with an agitation she couldn’t name. Some idea, some truth just beyond where she could wrap her mind around it, drained her of energy to waste on any more anger with Cole.

“Everybody’s worried all the time.” Skylar’s voice was nothing but a whispered scratch now.

“It’s all right,” Harper soothed. “You need to rest that voice. You got a lot off your chest.”

“I wasn’t getting it off my chest for me. It’s because grown-ups can be too stupid to live sometimes. They worry, worry, worry. My mom worries about me. You worry about money. Even a kid learns fast there will never be enough money. But you could do a hundred different things on this ranch besides what you do. Sell your paintings here. Or let people go fishing in the stream. Or raise sheep or something.”

“Or look for oil,” Cole said quietly.

“Or talk to the wind power people . . . ” Harper murmured.

Clarity struck like a thunderbolt from the Good Lord Himself—and out of the mouths of runaway babes. The answers were obvious. One whole big package of solution stared her in the face as solid and real as Wolf Paw Peak. It would take more concentrated effort in the next few days than she’d given anything but a painting in her life. And it would take all her diplomatic skill and salesmanship. But she knew it would work. Harper literally leaped so quickly from the chair that it crashed to the floor.

“What the . . . Harpo?” Cole cried out in alarm.

She planted a kiss through her mask onto Skylar’s forehead. She straightened and spun toward Cole. “Go home,” she said. “I’m going to Chicago. Don’t wait for me or worry about me or follow me.”

She might be certain, but she wasn’t going to promise anyone anything until it happened. She’d let adversity steamroller her for six weeks now without using her brain. It was time to change that. If everyone thought she was so much like her father, then she’d by gosh show them all how right they were.

“Harper, stop,” Cole said. “How are you going to get to the airport?”

“Let me worry about that. Skylar? Thank you, sweetheart. Thank you more than you’ll ever know. Now swear to me you won’t speak again unless you have to answer a question for a doctor or nurse. Your poor voice did its job and then some. I love you, kiddo. See you soon.”

She righted the chair and shot Cole a warning look to stay put as she picked up her purse and jacket and headed for the door.

Still he caught her out in the hall. “Come on, Harpo, don’t leave like this. I’m sorry. I spoke without thinking. I . . . Hell! That crazy kid completely blew me away in there. We need to talk—”

Harper held up her hand. “She’s not crazy. She’s a genius. And I’m not angry at you anymore. I don’t think. But I definitely will be if you follow me. I don’t want your help with this one.”

It killed her to ignore his look of desolation, but she couldn’t afford to get soft and mushy—which she’d surely do if she gave him one more second. Instead, she practically jogged down the hall toward the elevator.

“S
O YOU’LL DO
it?” Harper asked Mia as they pulled up to the terminal at Jackson Hole International. “You’re okay with this for sure?”

“I am totally okay. I’ll make the follow-up call tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been. I spent all that time hearing Cole tell me he was gathering information, and arguing with every single piece of it he got, that I never did my own. Like a dang hound dog sitting on a tack, too ornery to get up.”

Mia laughed. “One of Dad’s favorite sayings.”

“Laura Nestrud at Wind Power Solutions. She’s awesome. Be nice to her.” Harper smiled.

“Go.” Mia pointed toward the entry door to the terminal. “I’ll use my mix of bedside charm and bitch on her. Promise.”

“Great.”

Harper hesitated before opening the door. Impulsively she reached across the console and hugged Mia with all her strength. “Thank you. I’m scared to death—this is a lot in a few days. But I’ll be back Tuesday or Wednesday. I’ll call.”

“Go get ’er, Harpo.”

Mia hadn’t called her that in fifteen years.

C
ECELIA’S PARTY WAS
a huge success. Harper, who’d returned on time, and her newest unveiled painting were even greater successes, and after all the guests had gone, Cecelia herself was beyond ecstatic. It was personally and professionally satisfying and, more importantly, it was deviously helpful to her plan, Harper thought, as she waited for Cecelia to bring late night coffee into her parlor where Harper had asked to meet.

When it arrived, the hot, cream-drenched Columbian brew shored up the nerves jangling in Harper’s stomach. “Thank you for staying up with me,” she began. “I know it’s late.”

“It’s fine. Harper, dear, I’m concerned that you’re still upset about our conversation the other day.”