And Then You Fly Read online

  “Whaddaya say we head up to Stanley for a bite to eat?”

  Bree felt the air leave her lungs.

  Chapter 3

  They made the ten mile drive north in more silence.

  “Stanley Bakery okay with you?”

  “That’s fine.”

  “It’ll be crowded, but me and the boys got a table in the back. There’ll be two seats open.”

  She nodded but barely heard a word Red said. The last time she was in Stanley was with Zack, five years ago.

  ***

  Bree and Zack had driven from Colorado up through Wyoming, into Montana, and then down into Idaho. They spent one night in Stanley on that trip.

  The night before they’d been in Butte, Montana. Which, in its heyday, between the late nineteenth century and about 1920, was one of the largest and most notorious copper boomtowns in the American West, home to hundreds of saloons and a famous red-light district.

  She remembered the shock of driving into the desolate city after the extraordinary beauty of the rest of Montana and Wyoming.

  They spent that night at the Copper King Mansion, now a bed and breakfast, originally built by William A. Clark. Between 1884 and 1888, Clark constructed the thirty-four-room, Tiffany-decorated, multi-million dollar home, incorporating the most modern inventions available, including a shower which the innkeeper referred to as a plumber’s nightmare. It looked more like an instrument of torture, with water shooting from all sides.

  Without a wide range of options for dinner in such an economically-depressed place, she and Zack ended up in a bar, Mahoney’s, where they spent the rest of the night talking to the authentically-Irish bartender.

  Bree vividly remembered their drive to Stanley the next morning because they were both so hungover. It was pouring rain, and they barely had enough energy to stop for lunch before they stumbled into another bed and breakfast.

  That night they’d been lulled to sleep by the sound of the rain hitting the old tin roof of the one-time boarding house. The bed was small, and the box springs creaky. If she closed her eyes, she could remember the feeling of the two of them being as close as two people could be.

  ***

  As Red predicted, there was a line out the door at the bakery. He took her hand in his big one, and pulled her past the crowd to the room in the back where the locals had their permanently-reserved table.

  “Boys,” Red began, “I’d like you to meet the woman I spent the morning fly fishing with. Who, I humbly admit, out-fished me two to one.”

  The men stood, and Red introduced her to them one by one. “Zeke, Emmet, Virgil, Branson…” Bree lost track of the names that sounded as though they could be the list of characters in an old Western. Each one tipped his hat and shook her hand, before sitting back down.

  “Where did Red take ya this mornin’? I’m bettin’ mile marker 189,” said the one she thought was Zeke. She looked over at Red, who was grinning.

  “To his secret spot you mean?”

  Her answer was met with laughter. “I take it isn’t a very well kept secret.” she continued.

  “You got it girl,” said the one named Virgil.

  Red chuckled and ran his hand over his whisker-covered chin. “I’m curious about somethin’,” said Red.

  Oh, no. Would he bring up her husband here, in front of all these strangers? “What’s that?” she stammered, hoping he wouldn’t.

  “Every fish you catch, right before you release it, you hold it up real close to your face, so close I could swear you’re kissin’ the damn thing. What’s that all about?”

  Bree’s cheeks flushed. “It’s a little ritual. I tell them I’m sorry for hurting them before I send them back.”

  Bree supposed every man at the table figured she was bat-shit crazy after that story, especially given the way they were still staring at her, and not saying a word.

  “Well ain’t that cute?” Zeke laughed. She couldn’t tell whether he was confirming her insanity, or if he truly did think it was cute.

  She looked at Red who was shaking his head, but still grinning from ear to ear. If nothing else she’d just given them another story they could tell for the next twenty years.

  “What’s good?” Bree asked.

  “The sticky buns are world famous,” answered one of the cowboys. That sounded too sweet for Bree’s taste. When Red ordered corned beef hash, she ordered the same.

  “I know it’s well past breakfast,” he said, “but it’s about the best I’ve ever had.”

  She finished every bit of hash on her plate, and agreed.

  ***

  Jace’s days settled into a routine of physical therapy followed by a ride around the ranch. There wasn’t much he was up to doing, but it gave him the chance to make a list of the things that needed to be done when he recovered enough to start tackling them. He learned more and more about the land, and tried not to let his mind wander.

  He didn’t know what to do about the situation with his brother. Tuck had every right to be angry. He had every right to hate him. Which was why Jace was hesitant in pursuing a reconciliation. What he’d done was unforgivable. How could he ask Tucker to forgive him when he couldn’t forgive himself?

  He spent as much time thinking about Bree Fox as he did his brother. The harder he tried not to think about her, the more he did.

  He saw her break down over the death of her husband only twice, and both times, he was the one who gave her comfort. He wondered who gave her comfort now. He hoped someone was.

  He wanted to call her, but the last time they spoke, she accused him of using her to intervene with Tucker on his behalf.

  “You can’t blame me for wondering about your motives,” she’d said the day he told her about the accident. How could he explain that his motives were about her? As much as he wished Tucker could forgive him, he needed Bree’s forgiveness too.

  “How about a break for lunch?” his mother said, riding up next to him.

  “Mama, if you keep this up, I’m gonna weigh three hundred pounds before my leg heals.”

  “Nonsense. You’re still as active as you were before you got hurt. If anything, you’re losing weight.”

  She was right, and that was why she persisted in bringing him meals. He didn’t have much of an appetite, so if she didn’t, he wouldn’t eat.

  “Your daddy doesn’t want to ask,” she began as she laid out a picnic lunch for them.

  “Ask what?”

  “There’s a bull he’s interested in Idaho. The folks at a place called Idaho Rocky Mountain Ranch contacted him about a bucker they were given.” The ranch wasn’t interested in getting into the rough stock business, so they were looking to sell him. She told him they’d sent his father a video, and based on what Hank had seen, he thought the bull would be worth taking a look at.

  “He has to stay here and oversee the stuff you aren’t able to yet, but he wants to get a look at this bull before someone else makes a bid on him.”

  It was a six hour drive from their place outside Helena to Stanley, where the ranch was. If he stopped every hour or so and stretched his leg, he could probably handle it. It was the least he could do since his father had been picking up so much of his slack.

  “Sure, I can do it. I’ll talk it over with him when we get back to the house.”

  “Good. He’ll appreciate the offer.”

  Each time he tried to ask his dad about the bull over dinner, he changed the subject. When he asked to see the video he muttered, “You don’t make a decision about a bull by watching a video.” He glared at Carol when he said it.

  Jace couldn’t figure it out. Maybe his father was irritated that his mom asked him to go. When he offered to let him go instead, his dad waved him away.

  “You go,” he said.

  Jace set out the next morning just after dawn. He’d be to Stanley by mid-afternoon. When he asked his dad whom he should ask for when he got there he told him to ask his mother. As if the whole thing could get any stranger.
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br />   “Ask for Red,” she told him before he got in the truck and drove away.

  ***

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said the ranch manager when Jace asked him about the bull. “But that doesn’t mean much. Red doesn’t tell us everything he’s got a hand in.”

  “Could you ask him?” Jace ran his hand through his hair. His leg ached, and more than anything he wanted to get this over with so he could get back home and rest it.

  “He won’t be back until tomorrow. He’s in Salmon at a fishin’ tournament. I think he said he’d be back around lunchtime tomorrow.”

  Jace didn’t know what to do. According to this guy, there wasn’t any way to get in touch with Red. But if his daddy really wanted this bull, Jace knew it only made sense to wait until tomorrow when he got back.

  “Can you recommend a place to stay?”

  “Sure. See that cabin over there? It’s what we call a two-fer. Got two sides to it. One is occupied by the lady Red’s off fishin’ with. We try not to book the other half, so she can have her privacy, but seein’ how she’s gone anyway, you can bunk there for the night.”

  “She his girlfriend or somethin’?”

  “No, no,” the man sighed. “She showed up here in May, on some sort of sabbatical. That’s why we don’t book the other half of the cabin. She cries somethin’ fierce at night. Lost her husband a while back in the war. I doubt she thinks anyone hears her, but we do. Red took her under his wing right away. They spend a lot of time fishin’.”

  “Who is this Red guy anyway?”

  The man waved his hand in a sweeping circle. “Red owns every bit of land as far as your eye can see. He owns this place too.” He laughed then. “Folks would pay good money to have Red as their fly-fishing guide for even a couple of hours, but he refuses to do it. For her, he does it for free.”

  “Why?”

  “Can’t say, but he seems to be enjoyin’ himself so who are we to tell the boss to stop.”

  “Think he’s got a thing for her?”

  “No, no,” he said again. “It’s more a father-daughter situation. Or grandfather-granddaughter would be closer to it.”

  The man kicked at the dirt. “Red lost his wife about a year and a half ago. We been worried ’bout him since. He’s a generous boss, and all-around good guy. If he feels like fishin’, he can fish.”

  The ranch manager, whose name Jace learned was Wyatt, asked him if he wanted to go on a trail ride with the other guests. There’d be a chuck wagon dinner, and considering he had nothing else to do, Jace agreed to go along. Wyatt told him to meet him at the main barn at six, and he’d get him seated on horse.

  “I spent a few summers working a dude ranch,” he told Wyatt as they were saddling the horses.

  “Oh yeah, where at?”

  “In Colorado. A place called Black Mountain Ranch. Ever heard of it?”

  “No, can’t say as I have. Nice place?”

  It was nice, but nothing like this place. Idaho Rocky Mountain Ranch was situated in the Sawtooth Valley, with a spectacular view of the mountains by the same name. The front porch of the main lodge offered a view of Heyburn and Horstman Peaks as the backdrop to Pettit Lake, where their sunset ride would take them.

  Jace happily gorged himself on applewood-smoked baby back ribs and soy-glazed local salmon, which were the offerings of the fanciest chuck wagon dinner he’d ever had.

  “Damn, this is good,” he said to Wyatt.

  “Red likes the best.”

  Jace found himself looking forward to meeting Red more than seeing the bull he had for sale.

  ***

  “Can I ask you a question?” Bree said to Red.

  “Ask away. I’m an open book. Ol’ Red Dugan only keeps his fishin’ spots a secret, everything else is fair game.”

  “You aren’t very good at keeping those a secret either,” Bree smiled. “You’ve spent almost every day of the last couple weeks playing my fishing guide. And it isn’t that I don’t appreciate it, but are there things at the ranch you’re supposed to be doing? I mean, other than babysitting me?”

  “First of all, what makes you think you aren’t babysitting me?”

  Bree raised her eyebrow at him.

  “And second, they’re pretty good about lettin’ me do whatever I want over at the ranch. Ain’t like I’m much of a hand anymore at my age.”

  “You could probably run laps around any of the other cowboys over there, and you know it.”

  It was Red’s turn to laugh. He threw his arm around Bree’s shoulders. “You’re good for this ol’ guy’s ego, but I know better.” He stopped and opened the door for Bree, who put her hand on his shoulder to climb up into the truck.

  “My daughter used to do that,” he murmured.

  When Bree turned to look at him, she could see the pain in his eyes. “Tell me about her.”

  “She was a lot like you. Tiny, but feisty. Smart as a whip. Could out-fish me any day of the week. Could out-ride and out-rope me too. Whatever she set her mind to, that girl could do.”

  Red closed Bree’s door and walked around the front of the truck. He climbed in, but didn’t start it up right away. Bree waited.

  “The only thing she couldn’t do was beat the damn cancer.”

  Bree recognized the quiver in Red’s voice. She heard it in her own so often. She also knew that he’d continue when he wanted to, and that might mean never. She wouldn’t ask anything more. If he wanted to talk, he would.

  They were almost to the fishing lodge in Salmon when Red pulled off the side of the road.

  “See that there?” he pointed.

  Bree could barely see, dusk was easing quickly into nightfall. “What is it?”

  “Looks to me like a grizzly.” He pulled out a pair of binoculars from under the seat of the truck, and looked in the direction of the hillside. Bree still couldn’t see what he was talking about.

  Suddenly there was movement and Bree realized a herd of antelope was scattered on the same hillside Red was looking at.

  He handed the binoculars over to her. “Look that way,” he pointed again. “She’s stalking them.”

  Bree moved the binoculars back and forth until she caught sight of the grizzly. “How do you know it’s a female?”

  “Look there,” he said.

  Bree lowered the binoculars and looked where he pointed. When she raised them, she could see a bear cub staying just off to the side.

  “She’s goin’ in,” he said. And sure enough, the grizzly bounded forward and caught one of the smaller antelope. Bree lowered the binoculars, not wanting to see the rest.

  “Circle of life young lady,” he said, putting the binoculars back under the seat and starting the truck.

  “I know,” she answered with a sigh.

  “She would’ve done the same thing. Watched to a point, then set the binocs down.”

  “How long has it been Red?”

  “Goin’ on thirty years now.”

  “She must’ve been very young.”

  “Twenty-seven. ’Bout your age, if I’m right.”

  “You are.”

  When Red asked Bree to enter the tournament with him, she knew she’d be fishing the same places she and Zack once fished. It would be good for her, she tried to convince herself.

  What it ended up being was gut-wrenchingly painful. And it started as soon as they drove up to the main office of Salmon Creek Outfitters. She’d taken her first fly-tying class right here. She wondered if Annie and Dave, the owners, would recognize her.

  When Red introduced her, Annie pulled her into a bear hug. “Bree Fox, is it ever good to see you! Where is the devilishly handsome husband of yours? Parking the car?”

  Bree took a deep breath. She looked at Red, whose soft eyes told her he was right there with her.

  “Annie,” she began, hoping her voice wouldn’t quiver. “Zack was deployed to Afghanistan two years ago. His convoy hit an IED, and Zack didn’t make it.”

  An
nie gasped and threw her hand over her mouth. “Oh Bree,” she said, pulling her back into a hug. “I’m so sorry sweetheart. I don’t know what to say.”

  There, thought Bree, she’d done it. She said it out loud and she hadn’t fallen apart. Red rested his hand on her shoulder and squeezed tight.

  “Let me go get Dave honey. He’ll want to see you. Wait, how do you know Red?”

  “Kind of a long story, I’ll wait until you get Dave, and fill you both in,” Red answered for her.

  “How ya doin’ Bree?” Red said when they walked back to the truck.

  “If I said I was fine, would you believe me?”

  “Nah. But I wouldn’t question ya ’bout it either.”

  The next morning they got out on the water early. Bree walked further downstream than she normally would’ve when she was with Red, but today she needed time alone. She and Zack had fished this very stream. She hadn’t told Red. It might have made him feel bad about bringing her here.

  “This is what I’m here for,” she told herself. She looked up at the sky, “I’m gonna do this Zack.”

  She closed her eyes and cast, imagining that he was standing close enough to put his hand on her waist, to gently guide her as her body twisted just slightly, and slowly came back around. She could feel his breath on her neck, whispering how well she did.

  Right away, she felt a tug. It was almost too much. Through her tears she brought the fish in.

  “Back to mama,” she said before releasing it back into the stream.

  She dropped back on the rock behind her, put her head in her hands, and cried. What had she been thinking coming here? Why had she thought it was necessary to immerse herself in her grief? What hadn’t she just let it happen naturally?

  She felt a hand resting gently on her shoulder. She knew it was Red. She didn’t need to look.

  “I can’t do this.”

  “Come on then. Let’s go.”

  “It’s okay, you can fish. I’ll just walk back to the truck.”

  “Let’s go, Bree. We’re done for today.”

  Bree didn’t argue. She let Red guide her. He didn’t drive back into town, he went south toward the ranch instead.