“What about, what did you say the cook’s name was? Mercy? I don’t know the woman but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind helping you out. Women tend to be naturals at setting up house.”
“That’s a pretty sexist statement.”
“You’re right. But you’ve already admitted that neither or you or any of the ranch hands have any taste in decorating.”
He laughed. “True. But you said you wanted to make it up to me,” Brody said.
“I thought I already had.”
His eyebrows stretched up on his forehead. “You think giving me a bowl is compensation enough for nearly putting me in jail?”
“It’s a gesture,” she said, shifting uncomfortably as she had when she’d started her apology tour, which given Brody’s request, was likely going to continue unless she put on the brakes.
“I want you, Tara.”
Her eyes flew open wide. “I beg your pardon?”
Sweet Montana Outlaw: Chapter Seven
The shocked looked on Tara’s face would have made Brody laugh if not for the assumption she’d jumped to.
“Do you really think that I’m capable of something so sinister?”
She cocked her head to one side. “My brother is dead. My shop was broken into. Forgive me if I’m a little cautious.”
Anger surged through him. She had a right to feel what she felt. But he was tired of having to defend himself endlessly for his part in it.
“We’ve been through this.”
“I know. You had nothing to do with the break-in.”
“I’d prefer to move on from the past,” Brody said. “Aren’t you a little tired of living in that moment?”
She was about to protest, but then held herself back. “You did your time.”
“I did.”
Tara hadn’t agreed with him. Maybe it was too tall an order for her to move on the way he longed to do. In the barn, she’d admitted her brother’s death was in part because he’d been so high on drugs that he barely knew his own name that day. Well, she hadn’t exactly said that. But she’d admitted to Doug’s past, something she hadn’t done years ago.
The prosecutors had used experts that had tried to squash evidence of Doug’s drug use on the day of the accident. His parents had pushed for it. They’d been unsuccessful, which ended up being to Brody’s benefit and was probably the source of why Tara had been unable to move on the way he had. He’d known the truth and accepted it. Losing a loved one because of their own actions made it much more difficult to move on for those left behind.
Tara looked around the shop. “If you want to look around the shop, I can tell you a little bit about each of the pieces. But I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go out to your house.”
He chuckled. “Why not?”
“I’m not a decorator.”
“You know the pieces. You said so yourself. Besides, I don’t really need to have you tell me about the pieces. I’m Native America. Half anyway. My father taught me a lot even thought we didn’t live on the reservation our entire lives. I’ve seen a lot of this type of work. My problem is I don’t know what to do with it. And that’s where you come in.”
She cocked her head to one side. “You didn’t live on the reservation? I thought you were living there when—”
“Yes, I was living there ten years ago,” he said quickly, knowing what she was getting at. “We’d only just moved there after my mother died. My father thought that living with my grandmother would keep my sister from running wild. I was on the rodeo circuit, mostly traveling with Hunter and a few other locals. But my grandmother suspected Marie was using drugs. She begged me to come home and help her.”
“So you did.”
“Of course. My sister was in trouble. I helped as best I could. It didn’t work.”
Her mouth dropped open in surprise, and then she abruptly shut it. “No, I guess not,” she said quietly.
She watched him as he walked around the shop, pausing at pieces of pottery and interesting trinkets that reminded him of pieces he’d seen in his grandmother’s house. It brought back memories of a time when he didn’t worry about what people thought of him. And he hadn’t.
Growing up, his mother had taught him to be proud of his Native American heritage as well as his Irish heritage which he got from her. He never thought there’d be a reason to not be proud of being Sioux. Until he’d gone to a local public school and saw bigotry first hand. It was never from the kids. It was the parents who somehow didn’t understand that he was a kid just like their kid.
Marie had a much harder time dealing with it then Brody had. Brody had done what most boys did when teased. He fought back. Marie couldn’t do that.
He stopped at a table that had some teapots and cups. “My grandmother had something like this in her house.”
“Is she Lakota?”
“Yes. Was. She died five years ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. She had a good life. One that she loved. I was out of prison before she died, so I had a chance to spend some time with her. I would have regretted it had she died while I was still…”
He’d forgotten whom he was talking to. Tara had no reason to sympathize with him.
But she didn’t jump on it or dwell on it. For that, he was glad.
“Are there any pieces you’re drawn to here?”
“Lots. But not as much as I’d been to Shana’s work.”
She smiled. “Most don’t have a story. I love Shana’s work because she always has a story with her work.”
He turned to her. “You said she’d brought a few pieces the other day. Where are those?”
She sighed. “Unfortunately most of what I had was lost during the break in. I had them prominently displayed because I love her work. She was heartbroken when I told her about the destruction. That’s why
