Josh (35 page)

“I don’t know why I kept it all these years. Just sentimental, I guess. And when you said you were going to be married in denims, I just couldn’t help myself.” She touched a hand to Sierra’s tiny waist. “It’s hard to believe I was ever this slender in my youth.”

“I bet it would still fit,” Sierra said.

She turned to Ela before touching a hand to the feather that adorned her long hair. “And this is perfect, since I didn’t want to wear a veil.”

“The eagle feather suits you.” The old woman studied her critically before smiling. “Eagles fly higher than most birds. So do you and Josh. This is a symbol of your flight together.”

Sierra felt her eyes fill. “I wanted to give you both something special on my wedding day.”

Phoebe chuckled. “The bride is supposed to get gifts, not give them.”

Sierra removed the contents of the envelope and handed each of them an enlarged photograph, showing the four women giggling together in the Paintbrush salon, showing off their freshly oiled and pampered hands and feet.

“Oh, look at us.” Phoebe turned to Ela with a laugh. “I’ll never forget that day as long as I live. It was such fun.”

“So was this.” Sierra handed them a second photo of Phoebe and Ela standing proudly on the front porch, surrounded by their men. Big Jim and Cole on either side of them, with Quinn, Josh, and Jake behind them. The women looked flushed and happy; the men proud and content.

“I took it the day of the roundup, as Cole was thanking all the wranglers for their hard work.”

“Oh, Sierra.” Phoebe hugged her. “These are perfect. I’ll treasure them.”

Old Ela brushed away a tear before saying gruffly, “It’s a good likeness.”

“I want you to know how much I treasure both of you. You’re the mother and grandmother I’d always wished for.”

Then, before she embarrassed herself by giving in to the tears that threatened, she linked her arms with theirs and said, “Come on.”

With a laugh Cheyenne joined them. “I say it’s time we made this girl a legal member of the family.”

Josh was laughing with his brothers at something Jake had said when he caught sight of Sierra approaching, surrounded by the flutter of female skirts.

He handed Jake the tumbler of whiskey and moved forward just as the women stepped aside.

Sierra was all he could see. For several long moments all he could do was stare. When he found his voice he managed to say, “I thought we agreed to keep it simple.”

She looked down at the slim column of white silk, swirling around the white satin sandals. “Oh, this old thing?”
She sighed. “Phoebe talked me into trying on her wedding gown. Once I saw it, I knew I had to wear it.”

“It’s perfect.” He touched a hand to her cheek. “You’re perfect.”

She felt the heat of his touch all the way to her toes. “Will you tell me that in ten years?”

“I intend to tell you that in fifty years.”

She closed her eyes and gave a long, deep sigh. “I intend to hold you to that, cowboy.”

Josh caught her hand and leaned close to whisper, “Did you pack your hiking gear?”

She nodded. “Did you tell anyone where we’re going on our honeymoon?”

“Are you kidding? If the word got around, I’d probably get a call from the ranger station asking me to find some crazy hiker while I was up there.”

She touched a hand to his cheek. “One crazy hiker is all you can handle, cowboy.”

“Don’t I know it?” He paused to draw her close for a long, slow kiss. “Now let’s go speak those vows before you get cold feet.”

“No cold feet. I’m not afraid of tradition anymore.”

“That’s good to hear. Baby, I intend to spend the rest of my life making you glad you didn’t walk away.”

“I’m already glad. Oh, Josh, I love you so much.”

Sierra paused to look at the people who had gathered to celebrate. Cole and Phoebe stood beside Big Jim and Ela. Josh’s brothers, standing on one side of the preacher, would now be her brothers. And Cheyenne, standing on the other side of the minister, would be the sister she’d always wanted.

Despite their differences, they accepted her as she
was. And actually loved her. Wasn’t that amazing? And wasn’t that what family did?

Family.

The very thought brought tears to her eyes.

They were now her family, and she was theirs.

Big Jim stepped forward and offered his arm. In an aside he whispered, “Join the preacher, boyo. I’d like the privilege of giving away the bride.” He turned to Sierra. “I hope you don’t mind?”

“Mind? Oh, Big Jim.” She squeezed Josh’s hand as he turned away to walk toward the preacher, and then she leaned close to press a kiss on the old man’s cheek. “I can’t think of anyone I’d like right here beside me. I hope you’ll always be here for me.”

“Count on it, sweetheart.” As she placed her hand on his arm he stood a bit taller and closed a hand over hers before proceeding toward the preacher and Josh.

Cole, standing between Phoebe and Ela, was absolutely beaming as Sierra and Josh spoke their vows.

Along with the traditional promises to love and cherish, they surprised the family by adding their own words to the ceremony.

Josh took Sierra’s hands in his and said solemnly, “Since I was a boy, the mountain has always been my refuge. But when I went to the mountain to rescue a lost hiker, I never dreamed I’d be the one rescued. Sierra, you saved my life. I give you my solemn vow. As long as these mountains stand, I will love you. And when I leave this life, like the mountains, my love will continue on for all time.”

Sierra blinked back tears as she looked into his eyes and said, “I didn’t even know I was lost until you found me. I didn’t know what real love was until I saw it here,
alive in this place. And so I promise you, wherever you go, I’ll be right there beside you. I’ll be your hiking partner. I’ll be your life partner. I want to spend the rest of my life right here with you.”

To the cheers of the family, they sealed their vows with a kiss.

Josh looked over at Big Jim, who had long ago encouraged him to follow his heart.

Who would have thought that finding a lost hiker in a frozen wilderness could lead to this—the greatest adventure of his life?

Paintbrush, Wyoming

Present Day

T
hanks, Jake.” The grizzled rancher pumped Jake Conway’s hand hard enough to have him wincing. “Figured old Scout here had seen his last sunset. I tried every home remedy I could think of.” The old man grinned. “Hated having to give in and pay a vet. You know how it is.”

Jake nodded in understanding. Every rancher in these parts knew how to birth a calf, treat a lame horse, and cure the hundred and one things that could go wrong with ranch animals. A veterinarian was called only in extreme situations, or when an animal had to be put down and its owner couldn’t bear to do the deed.

“Looks like I’d better start calling you Doc.” The old rancher winked at his teenage granddaughter, who was practically swooning over the handsome young veterinarian as though he were a Greek god. Not that he was surprised. The women in his household all sighed over the youngest son of Cole Conway. Word in the tiny town of Paintbrush
was that Jake Conway had the same effect on every female there from sixteen to sixty. It had been that way since Jake was twelve or thirteen, and still trailing his older brothers around town, wearing a sweaty T-shirt, dusty denims, and one of his grandfather’s cast-off frayed, wide-brimmed cowboy hats. As he’d matured, he’d grown into a tall, muscled cowboy, whose rugged good looks were enhanced by a spill of curly black hair always in need of a trim, and devilish blue eyes that sparkled with unmistakable humor. A big part of his charm was that good-natured, rogue smile. Women just gravitated to him like bees to honey.

“I guess what I’ve heard around town is the truth. You’re some kind of miracle worker.”

“Not me. I’ve got miracle drugs.” Jake smiled and patted his pocket before tucking away the syringe and vial. “Just doing my job, Will.”

“The way I see it, thanks to that fancy vet school in Michigan, you’re doing it even better’n old Doc Hunger did. And that’s saying something.”

Jake couldn’t hide his pleasure at the compliment. It meant the world to him that the ranchers accepted him without question. Not an easy task when they still thought of the youngest Conway son as a lightweight compared with his father, grandfather, and two older brothers.

At his truck, the two men shook hands again before Jake climbed inside and started toward home.

As he drove along the dusty road he played back his phone messages. One was from Phoebe, their housekeeper, reminding him that Ela was baking her famous corn bread to go with the ham she put in the oven and he’d better not be late.

His mouth watered as he played the second message,
this one from his brother Quinn, reminding him of dinner Saturday night as a surprise for his wife’s birthday, and that if Cheyenne had so much as an inkling of what was planned, he’d know it was all Jake’s fault for having a big mouth.

Jake was still grinning as the third message began. A woman’s breathy voice, sounding either stressed or annoyed.

“This is Meg Stanford. I’m at my father’s ranch to dispose of his estate, and there’s a colt out in the barn that appears to be lame. I’m not sure there’s anything you can do for it, but I’d like you to…” The voice paused for so long, Jake thought the call may have been interrupted. But then the message continued: “… do whatever it is you do with animals that are beyond help.”

Unsure of what he’d heard, he played the message a second time before making a sharp U-turn and heading toward the Stanford ranch.

As he drew near, it occurred to Jake that though Porter Stanford had been his family’s nearest neighbor, he’d never before set foot on the property. He and his brothers had been warned when they were just boys that they were to stay clear of the rancher, whose volatile temper was well-known around these parts.

In the town of Paintbrush gossip spread quicker than a prairie fire, and the juicy tales about Porter Stanford before his sudden death days ago had all been negative. Folks around these parts just shook their heads over his hair-trigger temper, the hellish life his two ex-wives had endured at his hands, all of which they’d been eager to share with anyone who would listen, and of the fact that his third wife had been young enough to be his granddaughter. She’d died
two years ago of a brain hemorrhage, leaving Porter with a young son.

Jake wondered about the woman claiming to be Porter’s daughter. He could vaguely recall hearing about a wild child who matched her father in looks and temperament. But that was years ago, before Porter’s very public first divorce, when she and her mother, Virginia, had taken themselves off to parts unknown.

Jake turned his truck onto the lane that lead to the rustic ranch house. Nestled on a bluff, the house overlooked some of the richest grazing land in the territory. Now in early spring, the land was just turning green and was dotted with buds of Indian paintbrush and towering cottonwood. No wonder Porter Stanford had thought of himself as a king and all of Wyoming as his fiefdom. Maybe, Jake thought with sudden insight, that was another reason why Stanford had a particular dislike of the Conway family. Not only were they his nearest neighbors, but they owned all the land around him, leaving him unable to expand his kingdom.

Jake followed the curving driveway to the back door of the house and stepped out of his truck. A sleek candy-apple-red rental car was parked beside the porch.

He climbed the wide porch steps and knocked.

A sexy female voice called, “Come in.”

He stepped into a kitchen offering a spectacular view of the Tetons in the distance. Finding no one there, he stepped through the open doorway into a massive great room, where a woman was just walking toward him, carrying a cardboard box that was bigger than she.