Page 28 of All in with the Maverick Montana

Josh opened his mouth to say something, but Amy plowed on.

“The weird thing is he never actually buys anything.”

Josh snorted. “All right. All right. I get it.”

Amy bumped his arm with hers. “To be clear, I don’t mind.”

“Good. I didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

They emerged onto a wider trail, this one running along a trickling stream. Josh inclined his head, and she followed him downstream.

“You gonna tell me where we are now?” Amy asked. “Or where we’re going?”

Josh gestured to an old, weather-beaten sign. “This is one of the trailheads that would have connected to the Tenacity Trail. When I was a kid, there was this big plan to revitalize it and really put the town on the map.”

“And that never happened?”

He shook his head. “No. There was an incident. The money meant to fund the revitalization disappeared. And when the money disappeared, so did the folks interested in restoring the trail. Soon one small business after another folded. It was a really hard time for folks. A lot of people had to leave town, try their luck elsewhere. Most young people took off for cities with actual industry in order to find jobs.”

“That’s horrible,” Amy said.

“Watch your step.” He held his hand out, helping her over a downed tree. “Those who stayed struggled to make ends meet. I guess in a lot of ways that hasn’t really changed.”

“I didn’t realize.” They climbed down a short embankment, using the tree roots like stairs. “Tenacity has so much small-town charm.”

“That’s the people,” Josh said. “They make all the difference and look out for each other. It isn’t until you really start to look around that you see how run-down the town actually is.”

Amy considered that as they came upon a pond. Streams of sunlight broke through the canopy of leaves overhead, spotlighting growths of new wildflowers.

“Oh, Josh,” she said, taken aback at how pretty and peaceful the place was. “This is…wow.”

“I used to walk the overgrown trails as a boy and stumbled upon it one day. In the summer I’d hunt for crawfish along the banks.” He bent down to pick up a stone from the edge of the water then skipped it across the surface. “I don’t get out as much now, with all the work responsibilities, but next to the ranch, I think it’s my favorite place in the world.”

She could understand that. He was the kind of person who valued quiet, or at least a good place to think, and she couldn’t imagine anywhere better.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“I’ve never brought anyone else here.” He looked back at her, and Amy’s heart skipped a beat. “Sometimes I’m selfishly glad that the revitalization never happened. I might have had to share this place with other people.”

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” she said softly. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

Amy didn’t know what to say to that, so she just nodded and let her hair fall in front of her face, hiding her blush. Once they’d had their fill of the burbling stream and the chilled, honeysuckle-tinted breeze, they made their way back to the trail.

She let Josh help her up the embankment. She didn’t need it, but it was an excuse to hold his hand, and she took it any chance she could. At the start of the trailhead, Josh lifted her down from the gate once more, and Amy committed the thrill of it to memory. Her heart hadn’t beat this hard for someone in a long time.

Maybe ever.

They passed behind the squat brick buildings along Central Avenue and cut through that alley next to the Little Cowpokes Daycare Center. People came and went from a few of the businesses, and Amy considered how difficult life must have been since the plan to revitalize the trail fell through. Still, they smiled and waved, and Josh lifted his hat. The people here were bonded by much more than by being neighbors. They were bonded by hardship.

“Do you ever wish you’d left Tenacity like a lot of the other young people?” she asked.

“It’s not something I wished for necessarily. But when I was younger, I did wonder if there was another life out there I was meant to live. You know…just travel and wander and see what happens.”

“As someone who did a lot of traveling and wandering, the thought of belonging somewhere, of having roots and familiarity… It’s kind of nice. I really have no idea what it’s like to walk down a street and look up and know the person you’re passing. Or what it’s like to be able to ask them about their family and their kids.”

“That is nice,” Josh agreed. “Being somewhere people know your history. Where friends feel more like family.”