Chapter Two
Jordan eased carefully out the revolving door of the Golden Nugget Hotel, her small backpack over one shoulder. Folks sat elbow-to-elbow in camp chairs while they chattered like a flock of sparrows. Kids took turns sitting on the curb or dashing into the street to see if the parade was coming.
The historic three-story hotel provided a lot of shady sidewalk, making it prime real estate for parade watching. She had no place to stand without blocking the hotel’s entrance.
Two sixty-something men sporting identical handlebar mustaches leaned against the building along with several others without chairs. Motioning to her, they made room for her between them.
“Thanks.” She squeezed in and cradled the backpack in front of her. Both men had clearly applied plenty of shaving lotion this morning. A little overwhelming, but she was grateful for their hospitality.
“Visiting?” asked the one on her left. The logo for the barbershop next door featured a handlebar mustache. She had a hunch that was no coincidence.
“Yes, I’m visiting. My name’s Jordan.”
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Jordan. I’m Marv and he’s Harry. We?—”
“Let me guess. You own Shear Thing, the place next door.”
Marv’s eyes twinkled. “Smart lady.”
“You’re the smart ones, branding yourselves with those awesome ’staches.”
Harry laughed. “It’s corny, but our customers love it, just like they love that twirling barber pole out front. Nostalgia works in this town.”
“I’ll bet. How come you’re not watching from the front of your shop?”
“We were planning on it.” Marv glanced in that direction. “Then customers arrived with two ratty camp chairs that looked ready to collapse, so we set them up in our chairs and moved down here.”
“That was nice of you.”
“Our customers are like family,” Harry said. “What’s your specialty?”
“I conduct horse-training clinics.”
“Excellent! Doing any around here?”
“Just finished one in Missoula which made it convenient to come for this celebration.”
Marv nodded. “You won’t be sorry. You should stay for the book signing tomorrow at L’Amour and More. M.R. Morrison will be there, which is so exciting.”
“I know. I get Morrison’s newsletter and that’s another reason I’m here. She’s my favorite author.”
“Well, Harry, I think we have us a winner. She admires Morrison’s books and our branding. Stick around as long as you want, Jordan.”
“That would be lovely, except my business keeps me on the move. I have a clinic in Bozman next week.”
“Our loss, their gain,” Harry said. “But just so you know, on Labor Day the town?—”
“They’re coming! They’re coming!” A little boy in the street hopped up and down and pointed as Stars and Stripes Forever ended the waves of conversation. Everyone stood.
She was five-eight and she’d worn boots with two-inch heels or she would’ve been blocked. It helped that all the cowboys took off their hats when the two lead horses approached bearing the US and Montana flags.
Both horses behaved beautifully considering the blue and gold bedecked color guard twirling flags behind them and the band’s extremely loud rendition of the Souza tune. Several members of the crowd, likely band parents, whooped and cheered as they drew closer.
Was that Adam Bridger on the roan gelding? She’d checked out the Mustang Valley website last week and that sure looked like the town’s new mayor. If it was, then the redhead riding the white horse had to be his wife, Tracy. Luis had said his family was kind of a big deal in this town. Clearly.
If it weren’t for M.R. Morrison’s newsletters, she wouldn’t be here. When Morrison had promoted the Hearts & Hooves digital adoption program, she’d adopted three horses.
Then came the announcement of the book signing on July fifth. Her clinic in Missoula ended on July second. Had the Universe been telling her to spend the Fourth of July weekend in Mustang Valley?
