around and find somewhere else to be.
She told herself that these women would be her family soon, and she’d be living up here at this ranch with them. She best get to know them now.
“Hello,” she said as she approached.
Arizona looked up, her eyes widened, and then she jumped to her feet. Jumped might have been an overexaggeration, but she got up fast. “Dot,” she said. “Come sit with us.”
“Yes,” Montana said, sliding her chair back. “Sammy is going to be so mad she’s not here yet.”
Arizona dragged over another chair and put it between her and Willa. “Yep, she is.”
“I’ll text her,” Willa said. “And Oakley.”
“Why?” Dot asked as she sat down. “What’s the big deal?”
Arizona exchanged a glance with Montana, who started tapping on her phone.
“She says they’re ten minutes out and to please wait.” Willa looked up. “We can wait, right?”
“I’m dying,” Arizona moaned.
Dot looked around at the three of them. “I’m so confused.” They each wore a look of keen interest in their eyes, and while she wanted to be one of them—she would be one of them once Ward asked her to marry him properly—she wasn’t sure what they were talking about.
“Ward sent this on the family text,” Montana said, passing over her phone. “Zona, put her on the wives string.”
“Oh, I’m not a wife,” Dot said.
“We put Charlie on when she wasn’t even talking to Preacher,” Willa said. “I’m adding her right now.”
“Good,” Zona said. “Because I can’t seem to add people to the group chat.”
Dot stared at Montana’s phone, sure she’d read the message wrong.
“What’s your number, Dot?” Willa asked, but Dot’s brain wasn’t functioning properly.
“It’s that stupid SIM card you have,” Montana said. “You know who you should talk to? June.” She half-stood, which was impressive for someone with the size of her pregnant belly. “Judge said he was bringing her tonight.”
“I’m not talking to June,” Zona said. “Judge would fillet me alive.”
“He would?” Willa asked. “Why’s that?”
Dot finally looked up from Montana’s phone and handed it back to her. “He sent that to everyone?”
“Mm hm.”
I’m real sorry if I’ve been short with any of you. Or acted arrogant. Or demanded something. Dot put me in my place, and I’m going to do better.
Questions had come in after that, along with reassurances that Ward hadn’t done anything wrong.
“So,” Montana said. “We’ve all been dying to hear how you put the mighty Ward Glover in his place.” Her bright blue eyes held more sparkle than all the tinsel and streamers currently decorating the barn.
Because I love her, and she expects me to be better than that.
That had been his answer when someone had asked him why he needed to do better.
I love her.
“Oakley says she’s just going to bring Wilder, so she’ll be here with Sammy. And yes, she wants us to wait if we can,” Willa said. She put a friendly smile on her face. “Tell me about your family, Dot.”
“Okay, well.” She slid her hands down her thighs, glad she’d worn jeans tonight. “I have this really annoying older brother named Tyson. Once, when I was kissing this really amazing man in the parking lot, he flashed his police siren and lights….”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Liberty Bellamore loved to dance. She’d been on a team growing up, and she’d danced in high school too. She’d only gone away to college for one year—two short semesters—but she’d been on a folk dance team there too. In fact, that had been the hardest thing to give up when she’d returned to Three Rivers and her family’s ranch.
She laughed as she danced with Beau Peterson. He’d never asked her out, and he wouldn’t either. He was far too old for her, and they both knew it. So many people had come to the party with a date, though, and the choices for single men to dance with were slim.
Her eyes automatically moved over to where Mister stood with his brother, Preacher. He sipped something out of a clear plastic cup, and Libby’s throat was suddenly so dry.
Beau spun her, and she squealed, coming right back into his strong chest and arms. The song ended, and they both separated to clap though there wasn’t a live band.
“Thanks, Libby,” he said, reaching up to touch the brim of his hat. “I’m gonna sit the next one out.”
The song started to play, but it wasn’t a quickstep or a upbeat tune. A ballad. A love song. Libby turned away from Beau, only to come face-to-face with Mister Glover.
“Oh.” Her hand