Far from enough to buy Conrad’s ranch. And he’s not inclined to divide his property for us. We hoped your leverage...” She didn’t finish as all the members shook their heads.
“It’s too bad he won’t work with you,” a man said. Others rose and began leaving. The chairwoman waited. “I’ll have one of our wildlife biologists inspect your nesting site when he’s out west. We’re aware snowies are migrating and adapting. In fact, we’re following a group in Michigan. I’ll email you a list of birder groups to contact.” With that she opened the door and called the intern to escort Jewell out.
Numb with disappointment, Jewell trudged out. Why hadn’t the person she’d emailed with told her this? It would’ve saved money and time spent on this useless trip.
Out on the street she caught a cab. Frankly, she was so disheartened she wanted to catch the next flight home. But she’d promised Mark Watson she’d check the stallion. And while more than ever she’d prefer to skip Saxon’s concert, it was probably not the time to let Leland down.
Not until after she changed into clothes suitable to visit the horse farm did Jewell remember her first cab driver’s warning about the weather. It was one o’clock. The sky looked the same. She took a moment to phone Tawana to share the bad news and see how her friend was doing.
“I hope I’ll be released from the hospital tomorrow. Gosh, Jewell, I can hear how upset you are. When you return, let’s call the Artsy Ladies together and figure out a next step. Hey, I saw on TV that DC may get socked by a hurricane. Are you in danger?”
“It’s not certain where or when the storm will land. Don’t worry.”
“Okay, be careful.”
Jewell said goodbye and turned on the TV as she donned her boots. A local station showed three places the storm might make landfall. But they said Althea had slowed and it’d probably be midnight before she came ashore.
Jewell snagged her jean jacket, then hurried to the parking garage to reclaim her rental. She hadn’t driven far before she fervently wished for the wide-open spaces of home. However, once she reached Maryland, the countryside became awash with fields of lush grass and white rail fences, and she relaxed.
But even with a GPS, she somehow got off on a wrong freeway and ended up in West Virginia. She had to stop and phone the owner of the horse farm. Thankfully, he provided her better directions.
As it turned out, the owner and his wife were delightful. They had beautiful horses. Jewell had completed ordering the sperm sent to Mark when the owner mentioned the hurricane.
“Montana gets a lot of wind and snow, but I’ve never been close to a hurricane.”
The owner’s wife checked the weather on her cell phone and told Jewell the storm was spinning offshore. The couple assured her she’d have ample time to drive back to DC.
Jewell didn’t volunteer that she was making a side trip about an hour away. Perhaps the storm warnings were telling her she should skip Saxon’s concert. But Leland had paid for her ticket.
Stopped at a crossroad, Jewell studied the blustery sky. She didn’t know how much of the pewter color was due to the late hour and how much to an impending storm. She snapped on the radio. A woman said the hurricane had stalled. A man interrupted to say it had gathered strength. Nothing in their banter sounded so dire to Jewell that it would hurt her to swing by the town hosting the concert. If reports worsened, she could run in and give Leland’s letter to someone associated with Saxon and hurry back to her hotel.
After meandering for another hour through horse country, Jewell spotted the rustic theater advertising Saxon’s concert on its marquee.
Not detecting any change in the weather, she paid to park in a lot a block away but didn’t immediately get out. Her stomach churned at the prospect of seeing Saxon. Probably it was good that she’d skipped lunch.
Even now she had trouble understanding how she and Saxon had gone from best friends to lovers to virtual strangers. She’d followed his career for a while, until she began to see him paired with a pretty blonde singer. Only then did she date. She had even briefly been engaged to the son of a local rancher. But there was no spark, so she’d returned his ring.
Gripping the steering wheel, she hung on tight. From the time Saxon arrived in Snowy Owl Crossing, they’d been inseparable. She was his shoulder to lean on. He and his uncle constantly clashed. She always took Saxon’s side. And he had spent every minute he could at her home. It was where he developed a love of music. Her dad had owned a guitar. Saxon spotted it and spent hours teaching himself to play, often missing chores his uncle gave him.
Jewell had always had a crush on Saxon. She’d been the one to first convince him to play and sing for friends. Later she found him gigs at county fairs and rodeos—anything to keep him in her sphere and give him a break from Leland’s nagging him to knuckle down on the ranch.
Looking back with more clarity than she’d had when they’d split, Jewell realized it shouldn’t have shocked her to learn near college graduation that nothing on earth could entice Saxon to return to his uncle’s. Not even her.
Maybe if she hadn’t been so single-minded, so deep in her own studies and plans for the future, she’d have anticipated how it’d end when he left agriculture and switched to a music track.
The awful truth didn’t register until he announced that he was going to Nashville. He assumed she’d go along to support him. He even said once he signed with a label, she could enroll in vet school in Tennessee. But Nashville wasn’t Snowy Owl Crossing, and Tennessee wasn’t Montana. Looking back, she saw it was obvious their love hadn’t been strong enough.
Rain began striking her windshield. Jewell released her death grip on the steering wheel and found a tissue to blot her tears.
Assuming she wouldn’t get close enough to Saxon to hand him Leland’s letter, she figured she could ask someone on his staff to deliver it. She’d come this far. And a sick man back home counted on her. At least, Doreen Mercer, who owned the café and kept tabs on Leland, claimed he wasn’t well.
Dashing to the theater, Jewell dug out her ticket. She was maneuvered into a line of noisy people filtered between two sets of velvet ropes.
Making sure the letter hadn’t fallen out of her purse, she peered around two women directly in front of her and her breath stuck in her throat. Saxon stood up ahead cordoned off by the left rope. He appeared to be greeting concertgoers, thanking them for coming and handing out T-shirts bearing his likeness.
Panic gripped Jewell. She should flee before she made a spectacle of herself and fainted or threw up. But she was hemmed in by the boisterous crowd. The line inched forward. Everyone wanted to speak to Saxon. Most wanted his autograph.
Jewell forced herself to think. This could be her chance to hand over Leland’s letter, duck under the rope and escape. Except her feet wouldn’t move, and she pawed in her purse and couldn’t find the letter. Nor could she take her eyes off Saxon. He looked the same yet different. He’d shot up to six feet early in his teens, but he used to be runner thin. Now he had filled out nicely in his chest and shoulders. While his dark hair had always had a slight curl, tonight it looked wonderfully mussed. Probably styled.
Admittedly, she’d viewed him online a few times. But, wow, he was way more potent in person. So darned good-looking it played havoc with her vow to see him in the trappings of his trade and once and for all...flush him
