His Montana Sweetheart. Ruth Logan Herne
run a half-million-dollar beef-and-horse ranch with your father and you can’t put together a local ball game?” Doubt deepened her voice. “Really, Jack?”
“Mostly really, but maybe I made that up because I didn’t want that cowboy hitting on you and I’d have grabbed any excuse in the book to walk over here and put a stop to it.”
Her eyes widened. Her gaze faltered. To his dismay, a quick sheen of tears made him want to either snatch the words back or reach out and draw her into a hug he thought they both could use. “You’re working on the town-history thing, right?”
She nodded, still quiet.
“Well, baseball and Jasper Gulch go hand in hand. While so many of the big towns latched on to a football mind-set, small-town baseball leagues helped settle these parts. There’s almost no other place in the country that produces as many strong contenders without a public school baseball program as Jasper Gulch, Montana. And that goes straight back to the first settlers. Two of the original Shaw cousins played major-league ball, then came back and helped set up the Legion ball programs. There’s a lot of bat-and-ball history here in Jasper Gulch.”
The sheen of tears had disappeared. Her mixed expression said she longed to say yes but wanted to say no. He stopped talking and hoped she could move beyond the wrongs of the past....
His wrongs.
And give him a hand. Because working side by side with Livvie again would feel good and right, and not much in Jack’s world felt like that of late.
“You’re sure of your facts? That two of the boys played ball in the majors?”
“Twins. Chester and Lester, yes. The family called them Chet and Let. Chet played for Chicago and Let played left field for the Dodgers when they were still in New York. He actually coached Jackie Robinson for a couple of years before retiring to Florida where he worked spring training for the Dodger organization until they moved to L.A.”
“There’s a part of me that hates baseball, Jack.”
Her words sucker punched him because of course she’d hate the game. He’d dumped her because of baseball. Correction, he’d dumped her because of his stupid, self-absorbed reaction to not being able to play. “Liv, I—”
“But—” she held up a hand to stop him, so he quieted down and listened “—I do see a direct link between the game and how things settled out here with the Shaw side of the equation. If those guys had raised families here, the makeup of the town would be entirely different. How do you know all this when you declared baseball off-limits eight years ago?”
“Coach Randolph.”
The mention of the esteemed coach’s name softened her expression. “I haven’t seen him since I’ve been back. How is he, Jack?”
“He’s all right. The senior league had a bunch of away games this past week, so he’s been gone most nights. He lost his wife to cancer about the same time my mom died. The kind of thing that pulls folks together around here.”
“Bound in grief.” She thought for a few seconds before accepting. “I will help you, but on one condition.”
“And that is?”
“Strictly business. No flirting, hand-holding or long, sweet looks allowed. Got it?”
“I understand. Let’s shake on it.”
Doubt clouded her expression as she reached out her hand, and he could tell the minute their fingers touched...clasped...that she was in over her head and knew it. He leaned down, easing the height difference between them and kept his voice soft. “Mind, Liv, I didn’t say I agreed to your terms. I said I understood them. That’s a whole other ball game.”
“I—”
He left her sputtering as he turned to cross the street. “I’ll come by tonight and we’ll go over the plans, okay? Probably close to seven-thirty by the time I’m done working.”
He didn’t give her the opportunity to protest unless she chased him down, and he’d known Liv Franklin a long time. She wasn’t the guy-chasing, make-a-scene type. But she’d be prepared to give him an earful tonight, and knowing that made him look forward to hurrying the day along.
* * *
He grabbed a bouquet of wildflowers from one of the upland meadows just before six o’clock. He could have stopped at the florist nook tucked inside the Middletons’ grocery store. But if Rosemary Middleton saw him buying flowers after talking to Liv on Main Street, the entire town would be making wedding plans by sundown.
He didn’t need that. Neither did Liv. But the thought of sitting side by side with her tonight, setting this baseball plan in motion...?
That notion had lightened his steps all day. When a bossy cow pushed her bovine friend into the electric-fence wire and knocked the system out, he fixed it.
When the radio offered a country tune laden with angst and dismay, he reached right over and turned it off. The ensuing silence was better than the twanging lament on life and love.
And when his father reminded him that the horse auction was coming up, his first thought went to Liv, wondering if she’d like to ride along with him to Three Forks and see what was available. The Double M was in the market for a couple of new mounts. They could grab food in town, then trailer the horses back home, together.
Shouldn’t you see how tonight goes first?
He should, Jack admitted once he’d cleaned up and headed for Old Trail Road. This evening’s session might be a bust. But even if it was, he had tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that, because Liv said she was going to be in town for a while.
Which meant he’d have more time than he probably deserved, but as he steered the truck up and off the ranch property with a bouquet of yellow and purple wildflowers by his side, he figured a guy had to start making amends somewhere. This seemed as good a chance as any.
Jack rethought the whole flower thing when he spotted Dave Franklin coming out of his wood shop holding a high-torque nail gun. Not that he thought Liv’s father would actually shoot him full of metal brads—
He’d had plenty of opportunities these past years if that was Dave’s intent.
On the other hand, Liv had been living hours away in Helena, and married.
Now things had changed and even the nicest father could be stretched too far when his daughter’s husband leaves her for another woman. In any case, he left the flowers sitting on the front seat of the pickup.
“Mr. Franklin?”
“Jack.”
No welcome, but no animosity, either. Jack counted that as a plus and nodded toward the house. “Liv and I are going to work together on the Old-timers’ Baseball Game scheduled for the end of the month. I hope that’s all right?”
“You asking permission?”
For a split second Jack thought he glimpsed a sheen of humor in the older man’s eye, but when Dave faced him square, he saw nothing but calm, steady interest. “Do I need to?”
Dave sighed, glanced skyward, then drew his attention back to Jack. His face said Jack should ask permission and beg forgiveness, but his voice said something else. “No. But think hard, Jack. Real hard. You get my drift?”
He did, and couldn’t disagree. “I do, sir.”
“Dad? Jack?” Livvie stepped onto the porch, and when she did, the melon-rinsed tones of the westward arching sun faded, she was that pretty. “You giving him the third degree, Dad?”
“The temptation’s mighty strong, Liv.”
“But?” She met her father’s