He’d never had much affection for the old woman. When he’d headed home after twelve years, he’d hoped to find her frail and fading, ready to surrender her ownership of the ranch. But no such luck. She was as sharp as a tack and as tough as old boot leather. For all he knew, she would outlive him.
On the front porch, he took a moment to watch the dust storm sweeping across the lower pasture. Business was good, with plenty of customers showing up in the dead of night. But his store of liquor was getting low, and the shipment he’d ordered appeared to be stalled somewhere. Next week, if nothing had shown up, he would make a trip to the Western Union office in Miles City and use their telephone service to make a call.
Meanwhile, he was due for a little old-fashioned fun. The town’s annual Fourth of July celebration would be going on this Saturday. He could show up at the dance and twirl the ladies around the dance floor—give them a thrill. He might even steal a few kisses from that pretty little Anderson girl. Blue Moon didn’t have much to offer in the way of a good time. But who knew? He might be pleasantly surprised.
The storm was getting close. Opening the front door, Mason braced himself to ride it out with his mother and those damned dogs.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE PASSING STORM HAD LEFT A PATINA OF BROWN DUST EVERYWHERE—a portent of disasters to come, people said. By Saturday, however, most of the dust had either been swept up or blown away. Blue Moon was dressed in its festive best with bunting and banners strung along Main Street.
The festivities would begin at eleven o’clock with a children’s parade from the log schoolhouse to the site of the picnic and dance, which had been set up at the far end of Main Street. The children, dressed in their holiday best, would wave miniature flags and march in unison to the beat of a toy drum, played by Miss Britta Anderson, who would follow along in the rear to keep them in line. When they reached the bandstand, they would sing several patriotic songs and lead the audience in the Pledge of Allegiance. Even the ranch children who were homeschooled, like Elsa and Annie, were invited to take part.
Lunch would follow, served from a lavishly laden buffet table. Afterward there would be family activities and a baseball game set up in a vacant lot. After a break, the band would tune up, and the dance would begin.
Kristin had arrived early to cheer her nieces as they passed in the little parade. She was also hoping to find Blake and make peace with him. Growing up, despite their age difference, they’d been close. And Hanna was like a sister to her. They were all the family she had. It was time she moved to mend the rift between them.
She was scanning the crowd for her brother when she heard the children’s parade coming from the far end of the street. She stood at attention, hand on her heart, to show respect for the flags and the youngsters who carried them. The sixth-grade boys—Joseph, Cully, Buck, and Chase—were missing. They’d declared themselves too grown-up to march with the younger children. According to Gerda, Britta had excused them; but she’d made it clear that they wouldn’t be sharing the cookies and punch that were waiting to reward the marchers after the program.
Gerda would be here today, doubtless looking her prettiest and keeping an eye out for Mason. Every time she thought about the girl, Kristin wanted to shake her. Not that it would do much good. The little fool thought she was in love and there was no convincing her that she’d made a bad choice.
Kristin had promised to keep Gerda’s secret if she ended the relationship. But every instinct told her that the girl was still sneaking around. Somebody—maybe Blake—needed to corner Mason and read him the riot act. Or better yet, maybe she and Blake should confront their half-brother together.
The children were lining up in front of the bandstand to sing when Kristin caught sight of Blake and Hanna. Slipping through the crowd, she managed to reach them before the program started.
Blake gave her a sidelong glance as she came up to him. “Are we on speaking terms yet?” she asked.
His gaze narrowed. “That depends. Where’s Webb?”
“Do you see him anywhere?”
“Oh, stop it, you two. We’re family.” Hanna reached out and gave Kristin a hug. “We’re always glad to see you.”
“And just so you won’t have to ask,” Kristin said. “Webb hasn’t gone away. We’re friends. But I’m not giving him any encouragement. My hopes are that he’ll get tired of waiting and give up on me. Meanwhile, maybe it’s time the two of you shook hands like grown-ups and ended your fight.”
“That’s what Logan Hunter told me, too,” Blake said. “But you can’t shake hands with a rattlesnake. As for Logan, he’s been fair with me, but he’s got Calder blood, too. I know better than to trust either one of them.”
At the mention of Logan’s name, Kristin’s pulse quickened. But her expression betrayed nothing. “Blake, I need to talk to you about our brother,” she said.
“If it’s about Mason and Gerda, we already know,” Hanna said. “Britta found out and told me. I’ve tried to talk sense into the girl, but she won’t listen, not even to me. She says he’s changed and that she loves him.”
“Then you and I need to talk to Mason, Blake,” Kristin said. “I’m hoping he’ll show up here today. If he does, are you with me?”
“Of course,” Blake said. “But we won’t be here tonight. The girls will be tired, and we don’t care about the dancing. If Mason doesn’t show up before then, you’re on your own.”
“I understand,” Kristin said. “If I see him, I’m prepared to tear a strip out of his hide.”
The children had begun singing “America the Beautiful,” ending the buzz of conversation as the short patriotic program began. Once the songs and readings had ended, people collected their children and, along with latecomers, flocked to enjoy the luncheon buffet of donated casseroles, sliced ham, rolls, salads, and desserts. There were a few tables, but most families ate in their buggies or on blankets spread on the dry grass.
Kristin glanced around for Webb. Last week he’d told her that he was busy at the ranch but might come for the food and the dance. It was a relief not to see him here. She wasn’t looking forward to his clashing with Blake. She didn’t see Mason either. If past history was any indication, he would show up to dazzle the ladies at the dance, but otherwise he wasn’t much for mingling with the townspeople.
Gerda, in a blue dress that matched her eyes, was here with her parents and sister. Her gaze searched the crowd, her expression first anxious, then disappointed.
The line for the buffet table was thinning. Kristin was about to fill her plate and join Blake’s family when a well-remembered figure caught her eye. Her pulse skipped.
Logan was standing at the fringe of the crowd, his Stetson tilted to shade his eyes from the sun. His face was in shadow, but she could tell he was watching her.
The surge of yearning was so powerful that her knees weakened beneath her. How long had he been here? Did she dare go to him, or should they do as they’d agreed and pretend to ignore each other in public?
But her feet had already answered that question. She was weaving her way through the crowd, her heart pounding as she neared him. She’d told herself that she could keep him out of sight and out of mind. But she’d been wrong.