Montana Wrangler by Charlotte Carter Page A

both to some degree?
    Perhaps it was the five-year difference in age that had made it so difficult for them to communicate.
    Taking a deep breath, Paige opened the bedroom door. She imagined Krissy was there, playing a game of hide-and-seek as she’d loved to do as a child. Any moment she’d jump out trying to frighten Paige.
    The fact that wasn’t going to happen ever again stoked an ache in Paige’s chest that felt like a red-hot poker.
    She drew a painful breath and looked around. The room shouted that a determined tomboy lived here. One who was far from being neat and tidy.
    A black-and-white striped quilt had been carelessly thrown across the double bed. Photos of horses, cowboys and western scenes covered the walls. Clothes had been tossed unmindfully on a maple rocking chair; shoes and boots were left where they had fallen.
    Paige shuddered, comparing her pristine and orderly condo where she rarely left anything out of place with her sister’s living space. One thing was clear, they would have driven each other crazy if they had been roommates.
    A few years ago when Paige had been visiting, she and her sister had gone shopping together in Missoula, the largest town around, two hours south of Bear Lake. Their taste in clothes was so opposite, the trip was pretty much a disaster.
    Feeling like she was snooping, Paige opened the walk-in closet door. Granted she and her sister were built differently—Krissy with a far more feminine figure than Paige’s almost nonexistent curves. Still, there might be a pair of jeans that would fit and maybe boots.
    The thought of wearing her sister’s clothes made Paige feel ghoulish, but she wasn’t going to be here long. Her finances were such that she didn’t want to waste a lot of money buying new clothes she’d probably never wear after she returned to Seattle.
    The closet wasn’t any better organized than the room. Clothes were hung in random order, jeans next to silk blouses, sundresses stuck in wherever there was room. The closet floor was a jumble of shoes and boots and fallen garments.
    Kneeling, she pawed through the pile of shoes. She found one red tennis shoe, only a half size bigger than Paige wore. Now, if she could only find the matching one.
    When she uncovered that, she dug in to find a pair of boots that might work for her. After that she searched for jeans. The ones she tried on were a bit baggy, but they would do for the next few days.
    Taking a deep breath, she looked around Krissy’s room. The thought of clearing out and disposing of all of her sister’s things knotted in her stomach. She’d have to talk to Grandpa. And Bryan, she realized. It might be better to leave things as they were until the shock of losing Krissy had faded.
    Surely there was no rush, and for Bryan’s sake, Paige didn’t want to erase the memory of his mother.
    Returning to her room, Paige got the paperwork together that she needed to file for Bryan’s guardianship.
    Then she called her boss. As she expected, Mr. Armstrong was not thrilled with the news that her return to Seattle would be delayed.
    * * *
    After the eighty-mile round trip to Kalispell, plus an hour dealing with the court clerk and filing her request to be Bryan’s guardian, Paige was tired and hungry.
    As she drove by the barn, through the wide open door she noticed a young man and Grandpa inside. Parking in front of the house, she grabbed Krissy’s red tennis shoes, slipped them on and got out of the car. She left her high-heel pumps on the front seat.
    The smell of hay and animals struck her as she walked into the barn. Several bales of hay were stacked by the open door. Nathan, a lanky twenty-something, hefted a bale and carried it inside.
    Sitting to the side near the tack room, Grandpa was working on a saddle. She caught the scent of ammonia and saddle soap.
    â€œHi, Grandpa. How are you feeling?”
    He glanced up at her. “I’m