Love Finds You in Pendleton, Oregon Read online

  BY MELODY CARLSON

  SummeRSIde

  PRESS

  Summerside Press™

  Minneapolis 55438

  www.summersidepress.com

  Love Finds You in Pendleton, Oregon

  © 2010 by Melody Carlson

  ISBN 978-1-935416-84-5

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

  The town depicted in this book is a real place, but all characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people or events are purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Kirk DouPonce | www.DogEaredDesign.com.

  Interior design by Müllerhaus Publishing Group | www.mullerhaus.net.

  Back cover and interior photos of Pendleton provided by Melisa McDonald and Melody Carlson.

  Summerside Press™ is an inspirational publisher offering fresh, irresistible books to uplift the heart and engage the mind.

  Printed in USA.

  Dedicated to Melisa and Joe McDonald

  (real Pendletonians)

  I want to express special appreciation to my sister,

  Melisa McDonald, for her equine expertise and Pendleton

  input during the writing and editing stages. And thanks to

  Tammy Knight (Yellow Hawk) for sharing her knowledge and

  insights in regard to the Umatilla Indian Reservation. Also,

  I want to acknowledge the Pendleton Round-Up and Happy

  Canyon Hall of Fame and the Tamástslikt Cultural Institute.

  LIVING ON A SMALL WHEAT RANCH THAT’S ACTUALLY LOCATED on the Umatilla Indian Reservation, my sister, Melisa McDonald, and her family embrace an agricultural lifestyle that many urbanites can only dream about. I’ve been fortunate to enjoy many memorable visits there over the years and have always felt that, with real cowboys and horses and Native Americans, it’s the perfect setting for an interesting story. A true “western” town in every sense of the word, Pendleton has been home to one of the world’s premiere rodeos since 1910: the Pendleton Round-Up. For one incredible week in mid-September, the schools close, a tipi village arises, and this small town suddenly plays host to around fifty thousand visitors. My husband and I have been to several Pendleton Round-Up celebrations over the years—“camping” in our motor home out by the horse pasture, putting on our cowboy boots and hats, and attending the various events. Besides the world-class cowboys and exciting rodeo events, some of our favorite unexpected Round-Up-week moments include the heart-stopping Blue Angels fly-by, the Happy Canyon Night Show, and the Hall of Fame Museum. We also love visiting the Pendleton downtown area, including Hamley & Co., the mysterious underground tours, and all the other delights to be found along Main Street. Pendleton, Oregon, really is one of our favorite places to visit!

  Melody Carlson

  Chapter One

  If anyone had told Sunny Westcott that she’d end up modeling for a clothing catalog in her mid-thirties, she’d have told them they were certifiably nuts. But sometimes, like when you’re not really looking, life pulls some strange tricks. And Sunny had not really been looking—or if she had, she just hadn’t been paying close enough attention.

  Only six months ago, Sunny had assumed her life was right on track. About to be tenured in the anthropology department in the small private northwest college where she’d been quietly teaching the past eight years, Sunny had felt confident about her future—both professionally and personally. Of course, she’d been wrong on both counts. Now it was the end of summer, and instead of looking forward to returning to a dignified campus and attentive students, she was modeling warm woolen outerwear for the Pendleton Woolen Mills clothing line. To make matters worse, it was a humid 95 degrees, and barely noon, in the historic park someone had chosen for the setting of the upcoming winter catalog.

  “Lean into the tree,” Tyrone, the primary photographer, yelled at her. He didn’t seem to enjoy the heat any more than she did.

  She took a deep breath. Maintaining a pleasant expression, because she knew anything else would simply prolong her agony, Sunny leaned her shoulder into the trunk of the Douglas fir, pulling the fur collar closer to her chin as if she were cold.

  “Good. Now look up into the tree,” he yelled after a few shots, “like you love the winter, like you think it’s about to snow.”

  “Or like you’re a real Oregon tree hugger,” her friend Aubrey teased from the sidelines.

  Sunny controlled herself from responding as she would’ve liked and instead looked longingly up at the green branches above her, trying to picture winter. But all she could imagine was ripping off the full-length fleece coat, throwing it at the photographer, and storming off of the shoot like some kind of overworked fashion diva. Unfortunately, she couldn’t afford a hissy fit right now. Finances were tight these days—and until she secured a real job, she needed this one.

  “Loosen up,” Tyrone yelled. “And look back at me now.”

  She slowly turned her head back toward him, wishing that this day would end.

  “Look happy!” he commanded in an irate voice.

  She already knew that he wasn’t supposed to “give direction” and that models were supposed to “know how to model,” but then she seemed to be that unfortunate exception for everyone today.

  She attempted a smile, but apparently it wasn’t believable because the director of the shoot came over, shaking her head with a frown. “That’s enough,” Marsha told her. “Next model!”

  “I’m so sorry….” Sunny opened the coat to let some cooler air rush inside. “But it’s so hot, and I’m just—”

  “It’s okay,” Marsha interrupted. “Go get some water and cool off—take a break.”

  The wardrobe girl removed the heavy coat from Sunny’s shoulders. Feeling strangely free in her perspiration-dampened T-shirt and shorts, which looked strangely incongruous with the tall, shiny leather boots, Sunny walked over to the refreshment table and stuck both hands into the ice chest. After a few chilly seconds, she extracted a bottle of water, which she slipped beneath the back of her long dark hair and pressed into her neck. After a bit, she ran it down her bare arms, holding it for a few seconds at each wrist—a trick she’d learned while doing thesis research in the Arizona desert during grad school. Cooling the pulse points helps to cool the entire body.

  “I’ll bet you’d like to kill me for getting you into this,” Aubrey said as she joined her.

  Sunny opened the water bottle, took a long swig, and forced a smile. “You can’t exactly take the blame for the weather.”

  Aubrey smiled sheepishly. “Unfortunately, this kind of thing happens all the time. I guess I should’ve warned you about it.”

  “Oh?”

  “We’re always shooting off season. You end up freezing your rear off in summer clothes during the middle of winter and then, well, you get days like today.”

  Sunny nodded, then took another swig. Maybe this had been a mistake.

  “But, if it’s any consolation, I heard Marsha talking to Tyrone just now. She said she wanted him to cut you some slack.”

  Sunny blinked. “Really? That was generous of her. Is it because this is my first modeling stint?”

  “No. Marsha would toss you out of here like last year’s stilettos if she wanted. She’s being nice to you because she likes your looks.” Aubrey’s eyebrows lifted with a knowing smile.

  Sunny pressed her lips together as she considered the meaning here.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking, Sunny. And you’re right. Marsha likes that you look Indian. That you look stunning in those Indian-patterned coats.
And she likes that the camera likes you too.” Aubrey made a face now. “And if I didn’t like you so much, I’d be totally jealous. I wish I were an Indian too.”

  Sunny flipped a long strand of hair back over her shoulder and squared her shoulders. She knew that Aubrey meant no offense, but because of Sunny’s background in anthropology, her reaction to being called an “Indian” was not positive. Although to be fair, her grandmother, who’d been full-blooded Native American, had never thought twice about the I word—whether using it or hearing it. Not that she did either much.

  “And”—Aubrey grinned—“it sounds like she wants to use you in future shoots.”

  Sunny frowned now. “But I’m not sure I want to do future shoots.”

  “I know and you know.” Aubrey lowered her voice and nodded over to where the fashion minds were at work. “But you don’t have to let them know.”

  “Right.”

  “Aubrey Lowenstein,” an assistant called, “you’re on deck.” “Break a leg,” Sunny said as Aubrey dropped her unfinished water bottle into the trash.

  Aubrey waved a finger. “That’s theater talk—not fashion.”

  “Okay, then break a nose.”

  Aubrey laughed, then turned away, striding with confidence over to the tent where the wardrobe area was set up. Aubrey and Sunny had been friends for only a few months—a somewhat unlikely alliance that began at the fitness club back before Sunny lost her job. With more leisure time on her hands now, the casual relationship had slowly evolved into coffee after workouts, and thanks to Aubrey’s unrelenting charismatic pursuit, the friendship had grown from there. Sunny knew that Aubrey had been modeling since her late teens and that, to her, this sweltering photoshoot with blaring music and hyper fashion people running about was normal. But for Sunny, accustomed to quiet collegiate structure and academic restraint, she felt she needed a passport. Nothing in life had prepared her for anything like this. It was bad enough having strangers attending to your makeup and hair, not to mention undressing and dressing in front of total strangers. But to take direction from a cranky photographer, striking pose after ridiculous pose while his camera snaps…well, it was way beyond Sunny’s comfort zone.

  “It’s easy money,” Aubrey had promised a couple of weeks ago when she’d first told Sunny about this great opportunity. “You should at least give it a try.”

  “But I’m too old,” Sunny had protested.

  “No, you’re perfect. You’re only a year older than me, and we’re both right in the center of their demographic. A lot of the models are even older than we are.” Then Aubrey handed her a printed page. “Look, this is what the agency gave me. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  And so, despite strong doubts and serious insecurities, Sunny had gone and done what Aubrey called a “go see.” After a brief interview and some quick photos, Sunny was offered the chance to participate in today’s shoot, which had started at eight in the morning, when the temperature was still in the seventies. But Sunny hadn’t realized her opportunity was related to her Native American roots. In fact, most of the time she forgot that she even had Native American roots. A sad truth that probably would’ve disappointed Sunny’s mother…if she were alive to know.

  Sunny’s mother, who hadn’t looked anything like a Native American, had been one-quarter Cayuse and one-quarter Nez Percé—and proud of it. And Sunny’s dad, with no native blood to brag of, had been proud of his wife and daughter. But her parents had both died in a plane crash over the Andes when Sunny was ten. Like Sunny, who’d followed in her parents’ steps, they’d been professors and had happily gone off for an archaeological dig during spring break. Meanwhile, Sunny had remained in the care of her grandmother—and there she’d remained into adulthood and beyond after her parents never returned from their expedition.

  Sunny did not want to think about how her education-driven parents would feel about what she was doing here in the park today. But this, Sunny reminded herself, was about survival. Surely they would respect that. Besides, she had been doing everything possible to find another teaching position. Unfortunately, cutbacks and reductions still seemed to be the general rule, and as a result, no schools appeared to be hiring. Or else, and this was something Sunny had recently started to suspect, her references from her old job were letting her down.

  Sunny gathered some fruit and a fresh bottle of water, then went over to a shady bench, where she sat down to watch the continuing photoshoot—determined to put her mind to it and to learn how this was done. But it was too late to focus on models and cameras. Her mind was already stuck on Reuben Hollister. Was it possible that Reuben had somehow poisoned everyone in his department against her, and that no one was willing to give a good reference when asked now? But wasn’t that childish—not to mention unethical and maybe even illegal?

  “You should not be with him,” her grandmother had advised Sunny more than five years ago when Sunny had first revealed an interest in Reuben. Grandmother had known that Reuben was Sunny’s superior and had adamantly, almost knowingly, warned that this man might use his power against her granddaughter. At first, Sunny had heeded this prudent counsel, but it seemed the more she resisted Reuben’s advances, the more persistent he’d become. Then her grandmother had died in her sleep one night, and lonelier than ever, Sunny had warmed to Reuben’s attentions. She couldn’t deny she was attracted to him—or that she admired and looked up to him.

  Intelligent, charming, and a confirmed bachelor, Reuben had been about forty when they’d first started dating—secretly, because they both knew and respected how it would rock the department’s boat. But the secrecy had only added to the allure. And for some reason, Sunny had believed she was the one who would hook this elusive guy. She actually had thought their relationship was special— and that if she played it all just right, they would be engaged after a year or so, then be married and possibly even having children by her mid-thirties.

  Of course, she’d been wrong. Wrong on all counts. When she’d discovered Reuben with one of his academic assistants in a very compromising position, she had lost it. And, as a result, she had lost everything. Oh, everyone said it was because of budget reductions, department cutbacks, the lack of a recovering economy—all the usual excuses—but she had known exactly why and how she’d lost her job last spring. And, despite a suspicion that she could fight this thing, she had chosen to quietly go her way. Really, what good would come of putting the whole thing out in the open anyway? She had been naïve to believe in him…and foolish to disregard her grandmother’s counsel.

  “Sunny Westcott,” the assistant called out. “You’re on deck.” Sunny stood and, relieved to exit her unexpected and unwanted sentimental journey, mentally prepared herself for her next photography session as she walked toward the tent. Really, she told herself as she was helped into yet another thick woolen coat, I should be able to handle a challenge like this. After all, she came from a long line of strong and resilient people. One afternoon of being roasted alive shouldn’t get the best of her.

  Of course, she wasn’t feeling quite as enthusiastic by four o’clock when someone finally had the sense to shut the shoot down before anyone succumbed to heatstroke. “I want everyone to be sure and check their e-mail tonight,” Marsha called out. “We’re setting up a new location for tomorrow’s shoot. Hopefully someplace on the coast, where the temperatures are better suited for winter wear.”

  A cheer rose up amongst the group, but Sunny remained quiet, wondering if it might be wise to bow out now. Her last session with Tyrone had not gone well. The more impatient he grew, the more uncoordinated she became, until it seemed their vicious cycle was rolling like a freight train. And as his language got more colorful, she honestly feared he was about to pick up his camera and hurl it at her head.

  “Are you okay?” Marsha asked Sunny.

  Sunny blinked and stood straighter. “Well, I was thinking I’m probably out of my league here. Perhaps it would be best for everyone if I just—”

 
; “No, no, no.” Marsha held up both hands. “Today was a bit hard on everyone. And, really, you didn’t do too badly.”

  “But I’m driving Tyrone to despair.”

  Marsha chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry about Tyrone. He hates the heat more than anyone. And it’s his nature to throw a fit at every shoot. He’d be sad if he didn’t have at least one model to snarl at.”

  “It’s true,” Aubrey told her. “Tyrone is a real drama king.”

  “So you’ll come again tomorrow,” Marsha said firmly. “I don’t need to remind you that you signed a contract.”

  “I’ll come if you want me,” Sunny promised.

  “Check your e-mail.” Then Marsha was off, snapping directions at the rest of her crew.

  “See,” Aubrey said as they walked back to Sunny’s car, “I told you she likes you.”

  “I told you she likes you,” Sunny imitated her back, like they were both in fourth grade.

  Aubrey laughed. “Hey, this is just the nature of the modeling game. Forgive me for being jealous of the newbie.”

  “That’s nuts, Aubrey. I watched your shoot. You actually know how to model.” Sunny unlocked her Prius, opening the door up to let the hot air escape.

  “Even so, if Marsha had to choose between you and me, I’d be out of there in a heartbeat.”

  “Well, don’t worry. I have no aspirations to make a full-time career out of modeling.”

  “Good, because at our age, that would be a challenge at best. Without my transcribing work, I’d never make it.”

  They both got into the car and Sunny hurried to roll the windows down. “I just wish I could find a teaching job.”

  “No luck yet?”

  Sunny shook her head as she started the engine. She was tempted to confess her concerns that Reuben was the reason, but saying it out loud sounded so paranoid.

  “I heard Marsha mention that she’s setting up another photoshoot in Pendleton in a couple of weeks,” Aubrey said as Sunny pulled out into the traffic.