Montana Dreaming. Karen Rose Smith
when she was vulnerable, as Juliet had been. And the man should have been there for her when the chips were down. Like he’d promised.
“When I found out I was pregnant, I broke the news to him. I knew he’d be surprised. Like I was. But I assumed we’d make the most of it.” She offered Mark a wistful smile. “You know. That we’d get married and live happily ever after.”
Mark could guess the end of the story. “Apparently, Kramer wasn’t into marriage.”
“Oh, but he was.” Juliet smiled wryly. “He and his wife of fifteen years were planning a Mediterranean cruise to celebrate their wedding anniversary.”
Mark might be hell-bent on remaining single after his disappointing divorce, but that didn’t mean he approved of married men having affairs. A commitment—if a man or woman were inclined to make one—ought to mean something.
Juliet peered at him with misty eyes. “If Erik would have been honest with me, if I’d known he had a wife, I never would have slept with him. He gave me every reason to believe that he was free to pursue a relationship. That he loved me.”
“He lied to you. The guy’s a bastard, Juliet.” Mark wished Kramer was standing before him so he could knock his lights out. “I hope he’s agreed to pay you child support.”
“He gave me nearly a thousand dollars in cash, telling me to get rid of the ‘problem.’ Then he encouraged me to get a little something for myself with what was left over.”
Mark reached out, took her hand and gave it a squeeze. But it didn’t seem to be enough.
“The pregnancy had come as a surprise to me, too,” Juliet said, caressing her womb again. “But there was no way I’d consider aborting my baby. He or she is the only family I have left.”
“So you left San Diego. But what about the lawsuit?”
“For that reason, I’ll eventually call and give his law firm my address. But I wanted to put some distance between us. Emotionally, as well as physically.”
It made sense, he supposed.
“I didn’t want the baby to find out that its father didn’t want him or her, that he had another family that didn’t include us. So I pocketed the money he’d given me, gave notice at La Cocina, had a garage sale, packed my belongings into Manny’s truck and headed north. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but I was eager to create a family of my own.”
“And you ended up in Thunder Canyon.”
“I wanted to find a small town where people knew their neighbors, where there were no secrets, no one who could betray my trust.”
Mark wasn’t so sure she’d found that here, but he wasn’t about to splash a wave of cynicism on a young woman struggling to embrace a buoy of hope.
“That’s probably way more than you wanted to know,” she said. “But I didn’t want you to think I’d intentionally hook up with a married man. That I’d normally be that stupid. That my father and the church hadn’t taught me better than that.”
Mark flicked a strand of hair away from her cheek, and cupped her jaw. His thumb made a slow, gentle stroke of her skin. “You’re a special lady, Juliet. And someday, a lucky man is going to figure that out. And then you’ll have a family again, the family you deserve.”
Funny thing was, Mark the cynic actually believed that to be true.
For her.
But unlike pretty Juliet, a family wasn’t in his cards. He’d tried to recreate his broken family once, but his ex had doused that dream years ago.
Not about to go another round with the kitchen or the stove for at least another day, Mark ordered two take-out dinners from The Hitching Post. He hoped Juliet would be pleased with his choice—pork chops, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans and lemon meringue pie.
He carried the cartons of food upstairs and, while Juliet turned off the television, set the dinette table. The doctor had said she could get up to use the bathroom, so Mark figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit for a couple of minutes.
As he poured them two glasses of milk, she crossed her arms over her belly and arched a brow. “What? No bourbon?”
“Not tonight.”
It’s not as though Mark was a lush, even though he could understand why she might think so. She’d seen him having nightly cocktails ever since he’d arrived in town. But that was liquid courage to face the memories he couldn’t seem to shake while in Thunder Canyon.
And this evening, he had an intriguing young woman to keep his thoughts off his past. Off the rebellion that had led to his sister’s death.
Juliet reached for a butter horn roll, tore off a piece and popped it in her mouth. When she swallowed, she placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “So, tell me about the assignment that’s going to write itself.”
“Actually, it’s going to be a big spread. A Sunday paper special.”
“Impressive.” She smiled, and he felt a surge of pride, of pleasure. “What kind of spread? What will be the focus?”
“I’m going to write about the gold rushes, past and present. The willingness of naive miners to pursue a hopeless dream.”
“Why not focus on the positive, on the excitement, the thrill of striking it rich?”
Maybe because Mark’s hopes and dreams had died in Thunder Canyon, and he’d had to move away to get his life back. To make a future for himself.
“Do you realize how many miners actually hit pay dirt?” he asked.
“Some do. That’s what makes it so exciting, so interesting.”
“Come on, Juliet. You really don’t believe anyone is going to find any significant amount of gold in Thunder Canyon, do you? By the early 1900s, the mines in the area had played out.”
She took a bite of the crab apple garnish. “There could be another vein of gold. And someone might find it.”
“Do those rose-colored glasses ever fog up?”
A grin tugged at her lips, creating a dimple on one cheek. “I choose to look on the bright side of life.”
That was growing more and more apparent. “The chance of a big strike is pretty slim. Ever since the 1860s, when the first gold rush started in this area, miners swept the hills, finding nuggets here and there. And yes, some people did get rich. But there weren’t too many big fortunes made for the little guys. And most people were disappointed, if not devastated after gambling their savings on lady luck.”
“You’re more pessimistic than most of the people around here.”
She wasn’t the first woman to point out his cynicism. But he liked to think of himself as realistic.
“When I was in high school, I wrote a paper on Fourteen Mile City, a stretch of settlements amidst the gold fields.” Mark had received an A+ on that report, along with a budding interest in journalism. “My history teacher praised me for pointing out the downside of mining and exposing what greed did to people. Back then, gullible investors bought stock in fraudulent ventures, sometimes bankrupting themselves. And I won’t even go into what the gold rush cost the Indians and the Chinese.”
“I can see that there’s a downside. But I think most people would rather read about dreams, possibilities, hopes.”
“The best I can do is write realistically. But it should make you feel better to know that I’m going to also include the history and the legends of Thunder Canyon.” He stole a glance at her.
A growing fascination lit her face. “What kind of legends?”
“Supposedly, this canyon was sacred to the Indians, although I’ll have to research that for accuracy. And