The Christmas Challenge Page 16

  “Fifteen when she ran off,” another woman jumped into the conversation, and Laird realized he’d opened a can of worms with his innocuous statement. “And I’m sure she had a reason. Probably a biiiiiiig reason.”

  “No, Sam brought her back home all grim faced and there she was thin and no baby and as wild as ever. That’s what Sam got for marrying a woman half his age with Cherokee blood,” the first woman said as if that was that.

  “No she was Sioux I think, and she must have had a baby because that bachelor fella last April, you know the soldier everyone always makes such a fuss about, was the baby all grown up. And he went to school here, played football, but Sam Wilder had nothing to do with him as far as I know. He grew up I think as a ward or nephew of Samson Meizner, who never recovered from the death of his own little boy. Never the same when his boy fell out of that treehouse he was trying to build. His wife never forgave him. I think he thought taking care of his sister’s son for a while would help, but …” she trailed off and must have realized Laird’s bewilderment. She looked up at him with a smile. “Where you from dear?”

  “Boulder,” he said, curtly, kicking himself for ever opening his mouth.

  “That’s a pretty part of the world.”

  “Yes it is,” Laird said, thankful to end the conversation although it had been more like a historical ramble down a mean street.

  He ground his teeth, looked over his shoulder at the historic courthouse. Was it worth it? He sucked it up and paid. These ladies probably handed around the offering plate every Sunday with no sense of irony whatsoever.

  Then something they said percolated through his haze of trying to ignore them.

  “I haven’t met Luke’s mother yet. She must be coming to his wedding. I’m cooking the brunch.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do a lovely job dear.”

  “Now that’s a rushed wedding,” one of the women leaned forward and whispered.

  Shit. He didn’t want to get them going again, but if anyone had info they were willing to share it was these three Harpies. How did he ask the next part? “Luke’s brother Colt is also getting married in a joint ceremony.”

  “And adopting that sweet little boy who’s so good at soccer I heard.”

  “I heard from Judge Maloney’s clerk that Colt is changing his last name to Wilder, same as his two brothers now that they’re all reunited. Can you imagine that? That name has a history in our valley and none of it good,” she nodded emphatically. “He learned he was adopted so he’s going back to what it would have been. No real daddy ever except old Samson Meizner, and he tried his best,” she sighed softly and shook her head. “That boy and Samson never got on. Not surprising. Can’t replace one child with another, and after his wife…” a cleared throat and a stern look shut her up. “Well, Samson did his duty.”

  All three women nodded their head, satisfied with their facts.

  Colt was near his age. Laird swallowed hard, feeling all kinds of stupid. This could be it. His impulse was to get away from all this gossip. He felt dirty. A voyeur into Colt’s life. But he’d come for answers. He’d made his challenge, and if he could get his answers, maybe he’d feel closure so he could move on.

  “Colt had a twin, didn’t he?”

  Blank stares. “No. Just him. Samara ran away again with the same cowboy so Luke came two years later. And then she had another son, Kane three years after that. He’s a famous bull rider. Sad. These girls with no mothers.”

  All three of them nodded, and Laird was suddenly reminded of the three witches in Shakespeare. Three Fates. He had to get out of here. He felt like he needed to take a shower just from listening to all the dirt. And he’d even asked a few questions, gossiping about people who’d been kind to him.

  It would have been too easy, Laird told himself. The question had taken a lot out of him somehow. He stared dumbly at the three women smiling at him and thought how those socially polite smiles would change if they knew that he too was a product of an unplanned and unwanted pregnancy. He too could be gossiped about like Luke and Colt’s mother. And he bet this group had really laid into Tucker. He remembered the woman Carol-something they’d run into at the market. Like these women were so pure.

  No, Laird thought. Everyone had secrets. You just had to dig. But he was discovering he didn’t have the stomach for it.

  He needed to let it all go. Not try to insert himself into an established family just because he had been the result of faulty or ignored birth control. Be who he was. Become who he wanted to be.

  But his twin was out there. Maybe. Someone like him. Lost. Or maybe they too didn’t know they were a twin. Adopted. Did he have the right to screw up their life with his own quest?

  Feeling queasy he left.

  He ran into Tucker who was walking quickly down Main Street carrying two large brightly colored bags from a store that blazed out Married in Marietta in curlicue letters.

  “Congratulations,” he said blandly, taking the two bags from her unresisting fingers.

  Because she wore sunglasses, he couldn’t tell her expression.

  “What?”

  “On your upcoming nuptials.”

  “Ugh,” Tucker shoved her glasses up through her tumbled hair. “This is another peace offering that I am sure will be shoved back in my face with her pinched expression like I smell bad or something.”

  “You smell great.” He bent towards her and sniffed. “Actually you smell fantastic and are making me super hungry.”

  “It’s the huckleberry pancakes and bacon and eggs I made with you this morning so you can’t blame me for your sudden appetite.” Tucker smiled like he hoped she would.

  He loved the light that danced in her eyes when she talked. She was so full of energy and life, and actually he could blame her for his appetite. He was having more trouble with the just-friends boundary, and the ball tickets burned in his pocket.

  “I hope there’s a dress in there for you,” he said.

  “Yes,” Tucker reached in the bag and pulled out something that appeared way too small to be a dress. She unwrapped the tissue and out spilled a swath of emerald green material that slid thorough her fingers. She held it up and it was indeed a dress, but he had a hard time picturing what it would look like on since it looked to be backless and part of the front was missing, a slit maybe?

  Desire punched hard and he tried to shift not too obviously in his jeans. If just imagining Tucker in the dress did this to him, imagine what looking at her would do.

  “Then I saw this, and couldn’t resist!” She pulled another dress out the bag. It was a pale green sheath style dress that would cling and it dipped low in the back and had chiffon scarves that trailed down behind it.

  “Beautiful,” Laird said because clearly she expected a comment. “Elegant.”

  Seemed a bit subdued for Tucker, but she could rock a trash bag.

  “And I don’t care what Tanner says. I’m dressing up for her wedding.”

  He could hear the hurt behind the bravado.

  “I don’t know much about weddings,” he touched the thin flowing fabric that even now seemed to come to life as an icy breeze tumbled down from Copper Mountain making the fabric and tendrils of Tucker’s loose hair dance. “But I do know you are not supposed to eclipse the bride.”

  “I won’t. Check this out. I ordered it from a designer in Los Angeles, and it just arrived at the post office. I stuck it in with a dress I bought for Tanner to wear to the ball because she will probably wear a sun dress and not think twice about it.” She pulled out another dress from the bag and shook it out. Unlike the Emerald City–green of Tucker’s dress that had almost hurt his eyes to look at when surrounded by so much white—the snow pushed into piles along the curb—Tanner’s dress was white only it was covered with tiny sequins that reflected a bit of light giving it a faint glitter. The dress was a soft, form fitting material. “Taaaadaaaa!”

  “You bought your sister’s wedding dress?” he asked carefully. He didn�
�t know much about weddings, but he was pretty sure a wedding dress was highly personal.

  “I had to. She won’t. And she’ll look amazing in it if she gives it a chance, which she won’t but really how can she claim to love Luke and to want to have her wedding at the ranch when it’s hardly a wedding? She’s not getting flowers or a dress or a band or a…” Tucker bit her lip down hard.

  “I always pictured us up there together. You know. Sisters. And she’d pledge her love to a handsome cowboy while Daddy sat in the front row and wiped tears out of his eyes and I’d hold her bouquet and see all her happiness shining in her eyes like it used to before.”

  “Before?”

  “Before the accident,” she said softly.

  “Ah.” He’d heard about the fall as a teen barrel racing. He’d noticed Tanner’s limp.

  Before he could think too much about it, he dropped to one knee in the snow on the sidewalk in front of Tucker still holding the dresses.

  “Tucker McTavish, would you please do me the honor of attending the ball with me next Saturday?”

  He held up the tickets. She took them, leaned over, and kissed him lightly on his mouth. He wanted more and his lips parted, and he tangled his hand in her hair to pull her closer, but she laughed and stood upright.

  “Oh no,” she shook the tickets at him playfully. “You’re not getting me to be gossiped about in town. I’m halfway to not making any public scenes or causing any outraged feelings, at least publicly. Take me for a drink at Grey’s, I desperately need one.”

  She hauled him to his feet, and again he was surprised at her strength when she was so slim. He followed a little behind as they walked the several blocks to Grey’s Saloon.

  “Doesn’t the town look beautiful?”

  “Amazing.” But he was looking at her ass in her tight jeans, and so appreciating the bomber style jacket she was wearing today that emphasized her small waist and slight flare of her hips, and he should not be ogling her like this publicly.

  “Why are you walking back there?” She spun around.

  Guilty.

  “Great view,” he admitted.

  Some women might be offended. Not Tucker. She just grinned.

  “So you’re a back-view guy.”

  “I’m an all-view guy if it’s you on view.”

  “For that objectifying comment, you’re buying.” She tucked her arm in his.

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Tucker.”

  He opened the double doors to Grey’s curious to see what it was like. He’d heard about the saloon but hadn’t made it here.

  “Hi, Jason,” Tucker called out.

  “Hey, Tucker, heard you were in town,” the bartender greeted her, his voice low and a bit bored. “Bets were that you’d be in here stirring up some trouble on day one. Congratulations,” he nodded at Laird and then did a double take.

  “On what?”

  “Saw the proposal when I took out the trash through the alleyway. Hope you don’t think that’s gonna stay quiet for longer than it takes this girl to toss back her first whiskey.”

  “Actually,” Tucker popped her ass onto one of the barstools and reached into one of the condiment trays and plucked out an olive. “It was an invite to the ball, smarty pants, so you can just put your cell phone away and get me a Pellegrino with two limes and a lemon.”

  “Pellegrino?” Jason sounded disgusted.

  Tucker tossed her head. “I know you have it because more tourists from LA are coming through here and trying to go all city-slicker cowboy on us and they are not drinking from the tap. And the Greys may take pride in their surly attitudes, but the drinks are kick ass.”

  He pulled out a bottle of Pellegrino and ignored Tucker’s triumphant smile and head toss with a sullen, “Behave.”

  “I do,” she said. “Badly,” they chorused at the same time.

  “I missed you,” Tucker climbed across the bar and hugged the bartender who did not hug back. “The bars in LA are all themed and the bartenders are nice and want to please their customers.”

  Jason ignored her and looked at Laird. He was scanning the beers on tap and he automatically reached out to steady Tucker as she slid back over the bar and onto her barstool. Not that he needed to. She was an athlete like he was, but he liked touching her. A lot.

  He’d once had a brewmaster on a climb he’d lead, and after the climb he had visited him in Portland, Oregon, and hung out with him for a few weeks learning about making beer. He’d liked the chemistry behind it and the art and science and individual preference behind it. Working a few harvests in Australia and Eastern Washington and Oregon’s Willamette Valley had gotten him interested in wine as well.

  “I’ll have Big Sky Scape Goat Pale Ale, and why do you keep staring at me?”

  Jason pulled the beer. “You look like a guy I threw out rodeo weekend. Just want to make sure you’re not him.”

  Tucker laughed. “You throw people out daily just because they are too cheerful,” she teased. “I’m sure you can’t remember them all, but which one, Luke or Colt? Tanner said you bounced both, you hard ass.”

  Jason just grunted and mostly ignored her, loading the small dishwasher for glasses that was tucked under the counter.

  She pulled Laird’s hair back tight away from his face.

  “Ouch, Tucker. It is attached.”

  She eyed him critically. “What do you think Jason? If his hair were shorter and darker and no beard he’d look kinda like Colt, but Colt’s so bulked up. Maybe more like Luke?”

  “Colt,” Jason said.

  Laird waved Tucker off his hair. No way would he have a tight haircut like that ever, although even for him his hair was pretty long. He’d let his hair go when his mom got sick and he usually had a pretty thick scruff as he didn’t shave when guiding, and it was less scratchy if he just let it grow a bit. Maybe it was time for him to go for a more mainstream look. Lose the beard although he liked that it covered up the puncture wound scars on his cheek and jaw; not that he was vain about the scars, but he hated explaining how stupid he’d been.

  “Colt was the dreamy one in high school,” Tucker swung around and around on her bar stool. “All the girls wanted him to notice them except he kept his head down all the time so it was hard to get his attention without tripping him. He never spoke unless you forced him and even then it was like he was spitting bullets,” Tucker said. “That hasn’t changed. I had the total hots for him then and he set my ass straight in a hurry.”

  “Only one who had the balls then,” Jason shook his head. “You would have been, what, a freshman? Please. Wish more of those cowboys had set your ass straight a lot more often,” Jason grunted.

  “I wish I’d been here earlier that weekend,” Tucker still spun around on the barstool. “I could have witnessed the family drama up close.”

  “Yeah, and I would have sold popcorn,” Jason moved away, wiping down the counter and checking in with a couple of cowboys who sat at the end of the bar. “Samara Wilder’s a witch. Hasn’t aged.”

  “Ahhh that means you liked what you saw,” Tucker teased popping another olive in her mouth.

  “I’d rather swallow drain cleaner.”

  Jason moved the container away from his mixing station.

  “Why was there drama?” Laird asked.

  “It was awesome. Like a movie. I’ve had so many different people explain it to me these past couple of weeks that it’s like twelve different versions rolling around in my head.” She continued to move around on her bar stool.

  “Tucker, you’re making me dizzy. Give me the basic, most truthful version.”

  “Sorry nervous energy. Talon was there, and she started the whole thing unintentionally. Luke came into town for the rodeo. He’d never been here before and was checking out Grey’s where he was to meet his mom, who grew up here, but ran away as a teenager. Talon saw Luke from behind and thought it was Colt going into the bar because she was supposed to meet him at the bank and was wondering why he was g
oing in the bar so she followed him in and felt him up, only it was Luke who turned around so she freaked out and ran out and then Colt, who was waiting for her, saw her all freaky so he rushed in thinking some idiot cowboy had grabbed her ass or her boob so they went at it. Fists flying. Jason bounced them both. It sucks that I missed it.”

  Laird felt a little bewildered by the story, but Tucker’s pleasure in its narration struck a chord deep inside him.

  “You really have a fun attitude about life, Tucker,” he said.

  “Lord knows I need it.” She sipped her sparkling water. “Frizzante. I love that word. That’s what they call sparkling water in Italy. ‘Frizzante.’ I need to find ways to build it into conversation, daily. Especially with Tanner. No one can stay pissed at you if you say ‘frizzante!’”

  Her inner light dimmed, but then she smiled at him and winked and clinked her glass with his. “Frizzante, Laird Hunter. May you nail your challenge this month and find the answers you seek.”

  “Luke,” he said trying to understand. “I heard he and his brother grew up in Phoenix, but Colt grew up here? But he was adopted.”

  “Yeah. I don’t know the whole story. My sister was pretty pissed with me at the time, as the whole town witnessed, and she’s holding onto the biggest grudge in history, but it was basically me being me again and making a date with too much whiskey.”

  She shot a look at Jason. “Which someone sold me a whole bottle of the night of the rodeo steak dinner.”

  Jason scowled more. “You were just complimenting my business skills,” he said. “Besides I said no twice before you hopped over the bar nearly flashing things that shouldn’t be flashed in a bar full of cowboys, and took it.”