“That’s amazing.”
Their curiosity was understandable. Separated and reunited twins weren’t common, and Tara knew she might be equally curious in their shoes.
“Tara,” Lauren said, “this is Vanta Cooper, she’s an attorney, and that’s Mark Corson, and this is Rob Mueller...”
The introductions continued and Tara lost track of the names; it seemed as if her sister knew everyone in town.
Vanta Cooper leaned toward Tara. “Don’t worry, nobody expects you to remember who we are. Lauren gets to know us at the clinic and other places.”
Nevertheless, Tara was getting distinctly edgy. How had her sister become friends with so many people? She’d only lived in Schuyler since last October. Maybe it was a Montana thing, the open ranges and isolation drawing everyone together. Or it could simply be that Lauren made friends easily.
Tara’s smile got harder to maintain as the introductions continued. She hoped nobody expected her to be like her twin, because she wasn’t. Life as a foster kid had taught her there were risks to getting close to people. As an adult she’d spent two years in each country where she’d worked but couldn’t claim to have friends in any of them; knowing she was leaving made it seem best to keep her distance. Naturally she had acquaintances, though she rarely kept contact with them once she moved on to a new position.
After what seemed like ages, folks returned to their seats while she and Lauren found a table along the wall.
“You’ve obviously gotten to know a lot of people here,” Tara commented after they gave their order to a server.
“Medical personnel are popular in Schuyler,” Lauren explained. “And my best friend married into one of the oldest families in town, so that helps. Everybody knows the McGregors.”
Tara frowned thoughtfully. “I thought Emily married someone named Hawkins.” Her sister had sent Emily’s name as an emergency contact after moving to Schuyler.
“She did, but Trent’s mother was a McGregor. When his parents died, he and his sister, Alaina, were adopted by their maternal uncle and aunt. The family is terrific and everybody here is so nice. I was really impressed when I came for the wedding, and since Emily loves the place so much, I decided Schuyler would be a good place to live.”
“I see.”
Just then the café door opened and in walked the wounded jackass from the clinic. He looked around, probably searching for an empty spot in the crowded restaurant, and Tara hoped he didn’t expect to join them, because while sparring with him might be interesting, she was sure it would make her sister uncomfortable.
“Hey, Lauren,” he said, stopping nearby.
“Hey, Josh.” Lauren looked at his bandage before focusing on his face. “What happened to the sling?”
“It’s in my pocket. I want to thank you for taking care of me. Sorry I was so abrupt.”
“No worries. I, um, should properly introduce you to my twin sister.” She gestured. “Josh McGregor, Tara Livingston.”
McGregor?
Oh, great.
For a moment Tara wondered whether Lauren might be sweet on the guy; that might also explain the “lecture.” If so, her move to Montana made sense. But if they were involved romantically, Tara knew she might cut her stay short—watching someone careening toward an emotional train wreck wasn’t her idea of fun. Her sister was far too quiet and shy to deal with Josh McGregor’s volatile personality. Work was the only part of Lauren’s life where she seemed confident.
“Hello,” Tara muttered, and he gave her a short, almost imperceptible nod.
“Please keep your arm elevated as much as possible,” Lauren urged him. “That spot on the hand is especially vulnerable to infection. And take it easy. You need to let it heal.”
“You bet. Thanks.”
When they were alone again, Lauren leaned forward. “I realize Josh was in a rotten mood when you met him earlier, but he isn’t always that way. Emily says he’s a good guy,” she said softly.
“Deep, deep down, right?” Tara guessed, deciding that Lauren wasn’t interested in Josh, after all, except as a patient.
“He can be difficult, but from everything I’ve heard, he’s going through a rough time right now.” Lauren nervously adjusted her water glass. “Anyhow, I was thrilled when you said you were coming for an extended visit, but can you afford to be off work that long?”
“It isn’t a problem.”
Tara wasn’t accustomed to sharing personal details with anyone, and didn’t elaborate on her financial situation. For ten years she’d enjoyed generous salaries, a full living expense allowance and hefty bonuses. She’d bought company stock and was well fixed. Employment wasn’t about earning a paycheck any longer; it was about seeing and living in new places and getting better at her work in accounting and records management. She’d specialized in both.
Their food came, and as Tara ate, she saw Josh McGregor inhale an enormous hamburger so fast he probably didn’t even taste it on the way down. The corner of her mouth twitched as she saw a splash of sauce from the burger hit the neat bandage on his hand. He wiped it quickly and got up, tossing money on the table.
On his way to the door he gave her another polite nod, but Tara wasn’t fooled. Whatever had been burning under his facade was still smoldering.
THE THIRD NIGHT after he’d cut his hand, Josh wished he’d filled the prescription for painkillers from Lauren; instead it was still in his wallet. He’d decided to tough things out.
He lay in bed for another few minutes, listening to the sounds that drifted in through the open window—cattle lowing, the neighs from the horses...a night breeze through the trees. Finally, he rolled out of bed and took two aspirins before dropping into the living room recliner.
The house Josh lived in was a couple hundred feet from the main house. His choice to stay in the foreman’s residence, instead of with Walt, was another source of tension between them. Walt thought his grandson should be at his immediate beck and call, though not because of uncertainty over his health. He just wanted to yell that the barns needed to be checked or to do some other task...usually something Josh had already handled or assigned to someone.
Josh’s mouth tightened.
Unreasonable expectations were why the foreman’s house had been empty. Grandpa was an old-school rancher who believed in running things with an iron fist, and no foreman worth his salt was willing to be treated as a glorified flunky. Walt had never kept anyone for more than a few months.
Belatedly recalling the recommendation Lauren Spencer had made, Josh raised his injured arm and draped it above his head.
Maybe if he hadn’t repaired the corral his hand wouldn’t be throbbing so much, but he couldn’t take any time off to let the gash heal—there was too much to do.
Now
