The engine caught, sputtered, and died.
She tried again. This time, the engine revved for a hopeful moment... then clunked to silence.
“You need a hand, Mrs. Wilder?” The gravelly voice came through her open window. “I’m sure Helen will let you call Red from the store phone.”
Claire looked out the window to see Grace Miller standing on the sidewalk. The woman wore men’s jeans and a long-sleeved shirt even in the August heat. A well-worn cowboy hat shaded her lined face and two silver braids glinted in the sunlight.
She did indeed need a hand, much as she hated to admit it. “Mrs. Miller”—Claire raised her voice over Jenny’s cries—“would you mind holding Jenny for a moment?” Claire scooped Jenny out of the hot-as-a-furnace cab and deposited her in Grace Miller’s arms. Miraculously, Jenny’s cries ceased and Claire let out a breath of relief. Her daughter was always fascinated by a new face, even a scowling one like Grace Miller’s.
“Well.” Grace Miller looked down at Jenny’s tear-wet cheeks and wide blue eyes. “I think she likes me.”
Claire reached into the truck bed for the crescent wrench, her thoughts returning to Dell and Beth Henshaw. And Red. Grace Miller had lived in West Yellowstone all her life... but it didn’t seem right to pry about the Henshaws. Or about her own husband.
As if Grace Miller had read her mind, she shot Claire a sideways glance. “Shame about Dell Henshaw.”
Claire nodded.
“Pete and Iris lost their older boy in Korea,” Grace Miller said. “Now with Dell gone, it’s just the two of them.”
Claire stopped her task with a rush of sympathy. “Oh, how horrible.” To lose not only one but both of their children.
Grace sighed. “And Beth, a widow so young.”
Claire pushed up the heavy hood of the truck, propping it with the metal rod like Red had shown her, her thoughts on the couple she’d met almost two years ago—the summer she’d come out to Yellowstone and met Red. She’d seen in an instant that Beth and Dell were crazy about each other.
“You know Beth’s parents disowned her when she married Dell?” Grace Miller went on as if Claire had asked her to elaborate. “So did her uncle.” Grace rescued her leather stampede strings from Jenny’s grasp before she was able to get them to her mouth. “’Course, Wormsbecker isn’t known for his soft heart.”
Claire climbed up on the truck’s front bumper and leaned over the engine to reach the carburetor. She was well acquainted with Walt Wormsbecker’s hard nature, but she hadn’t known about Beth’s parents. Claire hit the carburetor none too gently with the wrench. And she didn’t know what had happened between Dell and her husband to end their friendship. When she had arrived in Riverside—newly married to Red and blissfully happy—she’d set up housekeeping and suggested to Red they invite Dell and his young wife over for dinner and a game of bridge. “We had a falling-out,” was all Red said. The way he’d avoided her eyes and went silent kept her from asking more. She knew some things were hard to talk about.
Grace Miller came around the truck to watch her. “Dell and Red used to be as thick as thieves before all that business, you know.”
Claire froze, the wrench raised for another blow to the carburetor.Thick as thieves. Best not poke the bear. All that business.Why did it seem like the residents of West Yellowstone spoke in code and she didn’t have the secret decoder ring? She bit down on the urge to ask aboutall that business. Red should be the one to tell her what Grace Miller—and Helen Eagle—were hinting at.
Claire climbed back in the cab. Her denim pedal pushers were smeared with oil, and her sleeveless cotton blouse was damp with sweat. She turned the key and tapped the gas pedal. The engine sputtered, caught, and roared to life.
Thank the Lord.She revved it a few times to be sure. She just wanted to get home and get Jenny down for her nap, then get dinner ready for Red. Even if they hadn’t spoken in years, Red would grieve for his one-time friend. She slid out of the truck and held out her hands for Jenny.
Grace Miller wasn’t ready to give Jenny up.
Grace smiled down at Jenny’s wide-eyed stare and talked to her in a slightly higher-pitched voice. “Heard your daddy and Dell got into it at the Slippery Otter a couple nights ago.”
Claire frowned and glanced at the West Yellowstone watering hole across the street. That couldn’t be. Red didn’t go to the Slippery Otter, and he would have told her if he’d had an argument with Dell Henshaw. Wouldn’t he?
She took Jenny from Grace Miller’s hold and held her close, her heart tripping up a notch. The question left her mouth before she could stop it, ending her attempt to not pry. “What night was that, Mrs. Miller?”
Grace’s brows went up in surprise. “Sunday evening, from what I heard.”
The sick drop of her stomach made her falter. She turned abruptly and settled Jenny on the bench seat of the truck. “I need to get her home. Thank you for your help, Mrs. Miller.”
“Nice talkin’ to you, Mrs. Wilder,” Grace Miller drawled.
Claire put the truck in gear and jerked into the flow of tourist traffic. Her mind spun with questions. Shouldn’t she know her husband better than Grace Miller and Helen Eagle? Her father’s words—uttered just before he refused to walk her down the aisle to marry Red Wilder—echoed in response.
You don’t even know him, Claire. Don’t make the biggest mistake of your life.
chapter 2:RED
Red sat at the bar in the Slippery Otter with a beer he didn’t want, surrounded by people he didn’t particularly like. He forced a gulp of beer past the knot in his throat, the bitterness lingering in his mouth.
