Wyoming stared at him. “Get here at seven thirty?” she parroted. “Don’t you mean, ‘Please, Wye, could you come babysit my daughter at seven thirty tomorrow morning? I’ll love you forever if you do.’”
“Oh, come off it. It’s not like you have anything better to do. You don’t have a job or anything, right? You got canned.”
“So you think I’m at your beck and call?” His accusation stung. Yes, she’d been laid off, and yes, she was having trouble finding a new job. That didn’t mean he had to be rude to her. Nor did it mean she was responsible for his child.
“My wife is gone, Wye. Disappeared. I can’t believe you’re acting this way.”
Wyoming gave up. She supposed she could do one more day, but she hoped Mindy decided to come home soon. She had a feeling Ward couldn’t do this on his own—and as much as she loved spending time with her niece, she really did need to find a paying job. “Are you going to be okay tonight?” she asked despite her better judgment.
“You think I can’t handle my own kid?”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. You look tired. Did you talk to Cab today?” The sheriff should be able to track a runaway wife.
“He said she has to be gone forty-eight hours before they can do anything,” Ward said. “But he’ll keep an eye out. Nothing like the whole town knowing your business,” he added tiredly.
Wyoming softened. She knew her brother loved his wife, and he had to be worried about her. “I’m sorry this is happening. I’ll be here tomorrow at seven thirty.”
“Thanks,” he said grudgingly. “See you tomorrow.”
On her drive to Two Willows, Wyoming tried to shake off the bad feeling that had settled in her gut. Her confrontation with Ward reminded her of living with her father—his foul moods and the way he believed that no one suffered quite as much as he did. Back then she’d had no escape. She had taken afterschool jobs in order to save enough money so she could move out as soon as possible, but it was years before she accumulated enough to create the kind of savings that would keep her from ever having to return home. Besides, no one would rent an apartment to her until she was seventeen. Even then it had taken some fast talking to persuade a landlord to take her on.
Now somebody else’s drama and bad choices were sucking her in again. Neither her father nor Ward ever seemed to grasp the connection between their actions and the consequences.
She would never marry a man like that, she promised herself. Never marry at all.
Her thoughts turned to Emerson. He’d been on her mind all day—except for the last two hours when her anger at Ward’s thoughtlessness had overpowered everything else. Ward got off work at four. He hadn’t brought home any groceries—she’d done the shopping. She knew he’d stopped in to see Cab on the way to work—so what had he been doing since he left the radio station, besides renting a car?
Had he driven around town looking for Mindy? Or had he gone to a bar? She hadn’t smelled alcohol on his breath. Who knew what he’d done to fritter away the time?
Would Emerson leave a woman hanging like that?
She didn’t think so—but men often sweet talked until they got what they wanted, then they showed their true natures.
She should have refused Emerson when he brought up marriage. Should have told him in no uncertain terms she wouldn’t have him—even if the standing stone decreed she’d marry him on New Year’s Eve. She wasn’t a Reed. She wasn’t bound by the same ties to Two Willows that they were. Even though the General was home, she noticed Cass and her sisters still unconsciously made sure one of them was always on the ranch, the way they and their mother before them had when the General was away serving his country. She came and went without ever giving it a thought.
And she wasn’t going to marry anyone now that Ward had reminded her the way men acted when they had the upper hand.
As soon as she got back to Two Willows, she’d seek out Emerson and tell him to back off.
An image of him leaning against the doorjamb last night filled her mind, and Wye shook her head to try to dislodge it. Why hadn’t Emerson simply asked her out? They could have had a good time for as long as it lasted rather than saddling their relationship with the weight of forever. How much easier it was to simply divide your things, load up a car and drive off if love didn’t last. For her and for any man she chose to spend time with.
Not that she could see Emerson packing up and driving off when times got tough. She had to admit he exuded staying power. There was something about him that said he’d honor any commitment he made.
It was kind of hot.
Wyoming let out a gusty sigh, disappointed with herself. Enough of that, she thought.
As soon as she got home, she would tell him no.
Chapter 3
‡
“The General’s phone,” Emerson said, taking the call late that afternoon when the General’s cell phone piped a military tune.
“Myers? Is that you? Buck Mayflower here,” a man’s voice said on the other end. “You’re the person I’m looking for, actually.”
“What’s up?” Buck was one of the reservists he and the General were training, a hearty, friendly young man who was also a volunteer fireman and worked as a cook for his day job.
“Wanted to know if you’d heard about any apartments in Chance Creek? I’m moving in with my girlfriend, and neither of our places is big enough. She’s starting work at the bank there, anyway, and I don’t want her commuting from Billings during the winter. I know you’ve settled there with the General, and I thought you might have the inside track on a situation.”
Emerson thought about it. “I haven’t heard about any apartments,” he said slowly, making sure the General wasn’t paying attention. He turned his back and lowered his voice. “But I might have a line on a trailer. It’ll need some fixing up, though. Let me get some more information and get back to you.” He hadn’t discussed his ideas about the trailers with the General yet. The General had been surly since he’d left the kitchen table, and he had been muttering over paperwork ever since.
Emerson wanted to cut this conversation short until he’d had it out with the General—and the General had had it out with everyone else.
“A trailer? Does it come with any land?” Buck asked.
Emerson looked over his shoulder and caught the General watching him. “Possibly,” he said tersely into the phone. “Don’t want to get your hopes up, though. It’s far from a done deal.”
“Thanks, man. I’ll wait for your call.” Buck’s excited tone said Emerson’s warning hadn’t sunk in.
Emerson hung up.
“Who was that?” the General demanded.
“Buck Mayflower. He’s looking for a place to stay.” Emerson hesitated but decided he might as well push forward. “I mentioned we’ve got several trailers sitting empty down at the Park. I could fix up one to rent him. Help bring in a little money—if I’m staying.”
“Of course you’re staying. We’ve been over that.”
Emerson shrugged. “You need to work out a few things with your daughters before that’s a done deal, sir.”