“Get that horse out of here,” Mr. Harwood yelled over the eardrum-piercing music.
Callie directed her horse to what she thought was out of the way of the band, when she nearly ran right into the Idaho potato float. The float veered away from her a little too quickly, causing the roly-poly potato people to literally bounce off the float and careen down the street with their hands and feet poking out of their costumes in a vain attempt to stop themselves from smacking into the crowds on the surrounding sidewalks.
“Save yourselves! Run for the hills,” Callie yelled as the townsfolk scattered out of the way of the swirling potato people heading straight for them.
The band stopped playing.
The 4-H club float behind the potato float screeched to a halt. The kids holding on to the animals atop the float looked panic-stricken. The clowns stopped tossing candy into the crowd. Instead they stared in awe as the entire parade of decorated cars, trucks, tractors, another school band and an assortment of themed floats came to a grinding halt.
As the chaos ensued all around Callie, she watched as cowboy Joel Darwood looked right at her with those smokin’ blue eyes of his, gave a little shake of his head, turned and swaggered off behind the crowd, holding a little girl tightly in his arms.
* * *
JOEL KNEW HE’D have to run into Callaghan Grant at some point now that he was living in Briggs, but never in a million years did he think she might literally run him over with an entire parade. He hadn’t expected her to have such an extreme reaction to his presence that she would cause a cataclysmic disaster in what was supposed to be a fun outing with his daughter and aunt.
Fortunately, no one was hurt, not even the people who were trapped inside the bouncy russet potato costumes.
Unfortunately, he was now officially scared to talk to Miss Russet Potato, aka Callaghan Grant. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t scared exactly, but certainly apprehensive. He remembered that Callaghan had always been somewhat high-strung, deliriously determined and incredibly resourceful, but this kind of disruptive behavior was way over the top. There was no telling what she might do when they physically met...push him under a tractor perhaps?
From the alarmed look on her face, she just might be capable.
“Callie seems a little intense,” Aunt Polly said once the parade had started up again. “Funny, but I don’t remember her being that unruly as a child.”
Joel had guided his daughter and aunt to a spot on the sidewalk completely hidden from Callaghan’s view. Emma stood up front where Joel could keep an eye on her, but out of earshot from their conversation.
“It was always Sarah who got them into trouble, never Callie,” Aunt Polly said. “She seemed cautious and reserved back then. Not that she wasn’t feisty—she was—but mostly it was Sarah who led the way, and Callie would follow. Of course, that was a lot of years ago. I think Sarah stopped coming out for the summers when they were around thirteen. I remember how heartbroken Callie was when Sarah didn’t show up that first summer.”
“Maybe this was a mistake,” Joel said, rethinking his need for a fresh start. Surrounding himself and his daughter with livestock and open spaces rather than city folk and tall buildings had never been his dream, but he knew he’d had to suck up his self-serving ego and become the father that Emma deserved. Problem was he’d moved to the one town in the entire country he and Sarah had avoided for good reason.
If anything he should have gone to a completely new town. Perhaps somewhere in Montana or Utah instead of Idaho, and more importantly, somewhere other than where Callaghan Grant lived.
“What? No. Kids love parades. Besides, no one was hurt. Emma’s enjoying herself. I don’t think she’s traumatized over a few rolling human potatoes.”
Polly had never been filled in on the details of Joel’s connection to Callaghan Grant. His wife had made a conscious decision to not tell her, and Joel had no reason to try to change Sarah’s mind. “I meant maybe this whole thing was a mistake...moving to Briggs with you.”
Aunt Polly turned to face him just as another marching band was passing by, the music loud and persistent. “Have you seen the look on your daughter’s face?”
Emma turned at that moment, holding her ears but grinning despite any discomfort she might have had from the music.
“I know. I know. She seems to love it here,” Joel told her, having to admit the obvious.
“It’s exactly where she belongs right now. You, too. And me! I’m happier than a pig in mud to be home again, and you made that possible.” She chuckled. “Ironic, but I used to hate living in this quirky little no-place town when my Daniel first moved me here from Boise. I thought I’d die of pitiful loneliness and boredom, but I didn’t. I adjusted while Daniel was alive. Once I was on my own again, I headed straight back to the city thinking I’d love it. For a long time I did, loved everything about it. Until a real emptiness set in, the kind of emptiness that weighs on you like an early frost in autumn, making everything cold and brittle. The ranch, this town and the people in it had taken root in my soul. Too bad it took me almost twelve years of living in Boise again to realize that. Now that I’m back, ain’t no way I’m ever leaving again.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have Callaghan Grant to deal with.”
“The Grants were always an ornery bunch, especially when they were kids, but like this town, they grow on you, and after a while, you can’t shake either the Grants or anybody else in this town. They become part of who you are.”
“If you say so.”
Joel wasn’t buying any of it. The mood he was in, he’d just as soon pack up right now and drive away...but watching Emma laughing and waving to the other kids in the parade, he knew staying put was the right thing to do.
Emma and her great-aunt had anticipated this parade for weeks and had even bought matching Western wear for the event, including Western hats. Emma had insisted on a pink one. Aunt Polly had drawn the line at a pink cowgirl hat, but otherwise the outfits were exactly the same: boot-cut jeans, blue checked shirts, wide leather belts with a shiny gold-colored buckle and brown boots. Ever since Emma had tried on her first pair of real cowgirl boots, she refused to wear anything else. Even when Aunt Polly managed to get a dress on her, she still wanted to wear her boots. If he didn’t know better, he would think his daughter had picked up some of Callaghan’s traits. Back in college, she rarely wore anything else on her feet. High heels or sneakers were the exception rather than the norm.
“I’m surprised she recognized you,” Aunt Polly said.
Joel had gone through a metamorphosis of sorts in the last few months. Not only had he shaved off his beard, he’d cut his hair short and swapped his ratty-looking clothes for new jeans, Western shirts and a gray cowboy hat. He was working on changing his negative disposition, as well. Flight used to be his standard reaction to a problem or situation he didn’t particularly want to deal with. Instead of handling the crisis, he’d leave the scene, hoping that by the time he returned—if he returned—the “crisis” would be resolved.
He could no longer afford that luxury.
He’d finally embraced the fact that he was a full-time single parent now, and his daughter depended on him not only for a decent roof over her head and food on the table, but for him to participate in her daily life. Instead
