Man From Montana

“Damn.” Connor frowned. “That’s gotta be tough.” He was silent a moment. “I don’t remember the accident that put me in this chair.”

Kara watched as he navigated around another rut, was careful to keep her tone casual. “No?”

“Uh-uh. I was only two when it happened.”

How hard that must’ve been for Derrick—and Connor’s mother. Connor said he didn’t remember the accident, but surely Derrick had told him the details. Kara started to press the boy for more information, then decided it wasn’t her place. She wanted to ask him where his mother was, and who she was. She remembered he’d said something about his dad having moved out of his apartment.

Did Connor live with his mom?

“By the way, that’s a sweet-looking Ford you’ve got.”

“Thanks,” Kara murmured. “It was my husband’s.”

“And you’ve got a horse?”

“Yeah, an Appaloosa.”

“Cool. I like horses.”

“Well, maybe you can come to my boarding stable and see her sometime.”

They’d reached the side entrance and, deftly, Connor bumped his wheelchair up and over the threshold into the bar.

“I’ll grab us a table,” Kara said. “You can join me after you get your elbow cleaned up.”

“Okay.” Connor wheeled across the hardwood toward a hallway near the bar.

The room looked about the same as she remembered. The bandstand along the far wall, a scuffed but polished dance floor in a horseshoe in front of it, tables barely big enough to hold drinks—with as many chairs crammed around them as possible—scattered everywhere. Off to one side, the divider that opened up into the dining area stood open, and Kara could see bigger tables over there. She sat at one, then decided it was too far away.

Shouldering her purse, she chose a table with four chairs, close enough to get a view of the band, yet far enough from the dance floor and bar to avoid traffic.

“Hey there. What can I get you to drink, hon?”

Kara looked up at a familiar face. The waitress—a woman about her own age—smiled at her. She wore a sparkly western shirt, short, denim cutoffs and red cowboy boots. Kara couldn’t remember the woman’s name, but her dark red hair—sprayed and teased into a wild mane—was hard to forget.

“I’ll have a Coke,” Kara said. “Actually, make it two. I’ve got a friend joining me.” Then she added as an afterthought, “And maybe an order of super nachos, if you still serve them.” Connor might like some. The kid deserved a treat after what had happened outside.

“We do.” The waitress scratched her order on a notepad, and Kara saw the gold heart pinned to her shirt with her name on it—Tori. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

“Thanks.”

Tori brought the Cokes just as Connor got to the table. “I ordered some nachos,” Kara told him, “but I wasn’t sure what you’d like to drink. Is Coke okay?”

“Sure. Man, I love the super nachos.” He gave her a crooked smile, dimples in his cheeks.

“So do I.” Connor was a cute kid, and he looked a lot like his dad.

They sat in companionable silence, watching Derrick and his band set up. He looked their way once, and Kara quickly turned away. She was about to ask Connor what grade he’d be going into next fall, when she heard a voice she knew well.

“My, my. Look what the proverbial cat dragged in,” Danita said.

Kara turned and groaned as she saw Beth and Hannah as well. All three were dressed in their country-western finest.

“I thought you didn’t do the bar scene,” Beth accused her.

“And I thought you were all coming here last night,” Kara replied.

“We were,” Beth said, “but Hannah had an emergency call, so we postponed until tonight.”

“And I’m glad we did.” Danita leaned over, squeezing Kara’s shoulders from behind. “We’re happy you could make it, girlfriend, but isn’t your date a little young?”

The boy looked embarrassed.

“Ignore her, Connor,” Kara said. “She’s old and senile.” She laughed as Danita lightly punched her in the arm. “Danita, meet my neighbor, Connor Mertz. Connor, this is Danita—my former best friend.”

“Mertz…are you Derrick’s son?” She gestured toward the stage.

“Yeah.” Connor glanced at his dad.

“Well, no wonder you’re so handsome.”

The boy took a long pull on his straw, red in the face.

Danita and Beth sat down, and Hannah pulled up an extra chair and squeezed in as well.

“Hope you don’t mind sitting with girls,” Hannah said.

Connor shrugged. “I guess not.” He kept his eyes down on the napkin he was shredding into ever smaller pieces.

“Just wait a few years,” Beth said. “You’ll be ecstatic to have so much female attention.”

Connor’s face clouded over. “I don’t think so.”

But before Kara could ponder his reaction, Hannah said, “So, Kara, what made you decide to come here after you told us no?”

Kara fingered the cuff of her lacy Western blouse and hoped she wasn’t blushing as much as Connor. “I changed my mind, that’s all.”

“And you didn’t call to tell us?” Hannah pretended to pout. “I’m crushed.”

“Me, too.” Beth waved over at the bar for service.

“I would have, but I thought you’d be partied out.” She squirmed. For her, this was a big step, one she’d needed to take solo. “I just decided you all were right. I should get out more.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Danita said. “Now if we can get you drunk and dancing, my night will be complete.”

“It’s family night, remember?” Kara said. “And besides, I don’t get drunk.”

“It’s family night until eight,” Danita emphasized. “Cover your ears, kid. We’re about to be a bad influence.”