Mia Ross - Beneath Montana Skies

Heaving a sigh of his own, Dad got out and circled the old SUV to open her door for her the way he’d done since she was a child. “Stick with comments about God’s handiwork in there, and you’ll get a lot further than if you get into a shouting match with people who’re on the fence about land development.”

“Okay,” she agreed grudgingly. “You make a good point.”

“Flies and honey, sweetheart.”

Diplomacy wasn’t exactly her strong point, Morgan groused silently as they went up the wide front steps into the school. But the Mustang Ridge Conservancy was fighting for the very existence that generations of Whittakers had worked so hard to create. She wanted Allie and Hannah to grow up surrounded by the same view she’d loved from the time she could appreciate it. If the only way to make that happen was muting her characteristic drive, she’d just have to figure out a way to do it.

Inside, the auditorium was packed. Up on the stage that normally hosted student concerts and plays, there was a long table and several chairs. A man she didn’t recognize was talking with Kevin Carmichael, the town’s only dentist and their newly elected mayor. He was the developer everyone had been buzzing about the past few weeks, judging by his tailored suit and polished appearance.

Her father had artfully intercepted the man when he visited their ranch, respectfully hearing him out before sending him on his way. Mostly because he knew perfectly well that if the stranger had found Morgan first, she would have blown a gasket before throwing him off the property. Her beloved mustangs had nowhere else to go, and if the Whittakers lost their right to use the open rangeland where the wild ponies roamed, they’d be rounded up and sent to some random place where she wouldn’t be able to help them. The only way to save them was to get that land legally protected as wilderness forever. It was a tall order, even for a woman who’d never run from a challenge in her life.

“Hey, Morgan.” Hearing her name, she turned to find Dave Farley sitting behind her. “Any of those mustang yearlings ready to go yet?”

“A couple. What are you looking for?”

“An Appaloosa. A friend of mine in Billings just lost her mare after twenty-plus years and is looking for a youngster to take in. I told her about your rescue outfit, and she’s interested in meeting you.”

Finally, some good news , Morgan thought, smiling as she fished a card out of her purse. “Tell her she can call me anytime. I’ve got an App who should be green broke sometime this summer, if that works for her. If she sends me her info, I’ll take some pics and email them to her. He’s gorgeous, and the vet says he should top out around fifteen hands.”

“That’s tall for a wild one.”

“His daddy’s a big, strapping stallion,” she explained, feeling a jolt of pride that her small herd of wild horses and rescues was doing so well. “I’ll send your friend some photos of the sire and dam, too.”

“Thanks. I’ll let her know.”

He sat back, then stood and grinned at someone behind Morgan. “Hey, Ty,” he greeted their prodigal cowboy, offering his hand. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks, Dave. It’s good to see you. How’re Bonnie and the boys?”

“Good, busy. They’re both playing baseball this year, so she’s at their game tonight.” The proud father held up his phone. “She’s keeping me updated by text.”

“Great idea. Tell her I said hi.”

“Will do.”

Dave sat and started typing on his phone while Ty looked down at Morgan. “Mind if I take this seat?”

She shrugged. “It’s a free country.”

The moron actually had the audacity to grin at that, and once he was settled, he leaned in to say, “I’m not the enemy, MJ.”

“Y’know,” she shot back, her already unsettled nerves tightening like the overstretched strings of a fiddle. “No one calls me that anymore.”

“Yeah?” The grin widened, and he draped a muscled forearm over the back of his chair. “Then I guess that makes me special.”

Dad chuckled beside her, and she angled a look at him. “You think that’s funny?”

“Yup. You two are as entertaining as ever.”

“I’m so glad you’re amused by your daughter being harassed.”

“How’s Clyde settling into your new place?” he asked, pointedly looking over her head at Ty.

“Fine. He’s used to moving around, so being in a new barn doesn’t bother him a bit. The house, well, that’s a different story.”

Dad chuckled again. “Oily rags and a match might be your best option.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The two of them carried on that way, talking over the top of her as if she wasn’t even there, until Kevin called the meeting to order.

“Okay, folks, let’s all take our seats.” Once everyone was settled, he gripped the lectern in both hands as if he was preparing for a long, difficult night. “Since we all know why we’re here tonight, I’d like to turn the stage over to Mr. Reynolds, a representative of Cartwright Energy. They’re the outfit from Utah that’s interested in prospecting for oil and natural gas on the wild lands north of town, and he’s here to make a presentation about their proposal. After that, he’ll answer any questions you might have about their operation.”

Morgan had read the prospectus cover to cover—three times—so she knew what it contained. After several hours of discouraging research, she had a pretty good idea what they were up against. While she half listened to the slick performance unfolding up on stage, she kept a roving eye on the assembly to gauge their neighbors’ reactions to what they were hearing. Some looked intrigued, others were obviously fuming, but most seemed to be neutral.

At least for now.

Those who hadn’t yet made up their minds were the ones who gave her hope that their efforts to protect the ridge from development might actually have a chance at succeeding. When the man was finished, several people asked the usual questions about land values and potential for damaging the local environment. All of them were deftly handled by their guest, who clearly had a lot of practice dealing with local residents’ apprehension about his company’s activities.

When the comments dwindled into silence, Kevin stood to take his place at the lectern. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Reynolds. I’m sure we’ll be talking to each other again real soon.”

Their polite handshake was punctuated by equally polite applause, and the executive gathered up his materials and his designer briefcase and strolled out. His confident gait suggested to Morgan that he thought the presentation had gone well.

“He thinks we’re a bunch of uneducated hicks,” Ty muttered in unbridled disgust. “Just ’cause you’ve got graphs and stuff on a fancy laptop don’t mean that what you’re planning to do is okay. Anyone with half a brain can see that what they’re proposing is gonna destroy everything within thirty miles of that installation.”

Stunned by his quick—and very accurate—assessment, she stared at him in disbelief. “You really think that?”

“I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I know a song and dance when I see one. The front office executives sent this guy to pull the wool over our eyes, but I got news for him. We ain’t sheep.”

“All right, folks,” the mayor announced, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “What do we think?”

That was a mistake , Morgan thought wryly, as the general hum of comments escalated into a chaotic mess. After waiting a couple of minutes for the hubbub to die down, Kevin apparently decided it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Pleading for cooperation, he managed to regain control of the restless crowd and plucked his microphone from its stand. Handing it off to the town clerk, he said, “Polly, take this around to people who’ve got something to say. That way, we can all hear what’s going on for ourselves.”