Page 23 of Montana Justice

Lachlan

Twenty minutes later, I was loading Caleb’s carrier into my truck while Piper stood beside her beat-up Honda, wringing her hands.

“I don’t have anything nice to wear,” she said for the third time.

“Whatever you have is fine. It’s Garnet Bend, not New York City.” I secured the carrier and turned to her. “This isn’t a test, Piper. It’s just dinner.”

But I could see in her eyes that everything felt like a test to her. Every kindness was something to be suspicious of, every gesture potentially hiding some darker motive. It made me want to find whoever had taught her that lesson and introduce them to my fists.

No doubt it had started with Ray Matthews, but now that she was an adult, who was responsible?

“We’re going to have a good time,” I told her. “Follow me home?”

She nodded, climbing into her car with movements that spoke of resignation rather than anticipation. Not exactly the reaction a man hoped for when asking a woman to dinner, but I’d take what I could get.

An hour later, after we’d both showered and changed, I found myself staring at Piper in my hallway and forgetting how to breathe.

The dress was simple—navy-blue cotton that had seen better days, a little loose at the waist and short in the sleeves, like she’d bought it when she was heavier. But on her, with her blonde hair pulled back in a loose bun and a hint of color on her lips, she looked beautiful.

“It doesn’t fit right,” she said, tugging at the waist. “It’s my only dress, and I haven’t worn it since—” She stopped, shaking her head. “We don’t have to do this.”

“You look beautiful.” The words came out rougher than intended, but they were true. “Absolutely beautiful.”

If anything, that made her sadder. Like compliments were weapons designed to wound. I didn’t understand it, but I was determined to show her they could be something else. Something real and freely given.

The drive to Rosario’s was quiet except for Caleb’s contented babbling from the back seat. He’d been fed and would probably sleep through dinner, which was perfect. I wanted this time with Piper, wanted to see if I could bring back even a hint of that happiness I’d glimpsed in the barn.

I wanted to get to know this woman who was the mother of my child. I should’ve started before now.

Rosario’s was Garnet Bend’s attempt at upscale dining—checkered tablecloths, candles in wine bottles, and the best Italian food in three counties. As we walked in, Piper immediately tensed.

“This is too expensive?—”

“It’s really not.” I put my hand on the small of her back, gentle pressure to keep her moving forward. “Trust me.”

The hostess, Maria Rosario herself, looked up with a welcoming smile that froze the moment she saw Piper. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

“Sheriff Calloway,” Maria said, her voice carefully neutral. “Table for two?”

“Three, actually.” I gestured to Caleb’s carrier. “Though the little one will probably sleep through it.”

Maria’s gaze stayed locked on Piper, recognition clear in her eyes. “I see. Right this way.”

She led us to a table in the back corner—not the nice booth by the window I’d been hoping for, but I didn’t argue. Not yet. Piper was already shrinking into herself, that brightness from the barn completely extinguished.

As we settled in, I noticed other diners glancing our way. Conversations stopping mid-sentence. Heads turning to whisper behind hands. Small-town curiosity was one thing, but this felt different. Hostile.

“They know who I am,” Piper said quietly, not looking up from her menu.

“Let them look.” I reached across the table, not quite touching her hand but letting her know I was there. “We’re here for dinner, not their approval.”

But as our water glasses were slammed down rather than placed, as our server took our order with barely concealed disdain, I couldn’t ignore it. The Rosarios had been one of the families Ray Matthews had swindled. They’d lost their entire savings, had nearly lost the restaurant.

And now they had to be thinking Ray’s daughter was sitting in their establishment like she had the right to be there.

“We should go,” Piper whispered after the server walked away without asking if we needed anything else. “This was a mistake.”

“No.” The word came out harder than I’d intended. “We’re not leaving. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m a Matthews. That’s wrong enough for them.”

Before I could respond, I heard familiar voices at the entrance. Lucas and Evelyn, along with Daniel and Emma Clark, were being seated at a table near ours. Lucas spotted me and waved, his face lighting up with genuine pleasure.

“Lachlan! Good to see you out and about.” He glanced at Piper with curiosity but no judgment. “This must be Piper. Lark’s mentioned you—says you’re doing great work with the horses.”

“Everyone, this is Piper,” I said, standing to make introductions. “And this is my son, Caleb.”

Emma immediately cooed over the carrier. “Oh, he’s precious! How old?”

“Almost six months,” Piper answered softly, some of the tension easing from her shoulders at Emma’s genuine warmth.

“You should join us,” Evelyn suggested, already flagging the hostess. “We can push tables together.”

Under normal circumstances, I might have declined, wanting the alone time with Piper. But tonight, the united front felt necessary. “That would be great.”

As we relocated, our server appeared again with our drinks—water for Piper, beer for me. He set them down with enough force to slosh water onto the table, his sneer directed entirely at Piper.

“Careful there,” Lucas said mildly, but his eyes had gone sharp. As a former Navy SEAL, he could project authority without raising his voice. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think you were being deliberately rude to paying customers.”

The server’s face flushed. “Of course not, sir.”

“Good.” Daniel’s smile was friendly but didn’t reach his eyes. “Because that would be a shame. We so enjoy coming here, but we’d hate to have to find somewhere else if the service isn’t up to standard. Hate to tell all the Resting Warrior crowd to do the same.”

The threat was politely delivered but unmistakable. Rosario’s couldn’t afford to lose regular customers, especially ones connected to Resting Warrior Ranch, which brought significant business to town.

The server mumbled something and retreated, but not before shooting another venomous look at Piper.

“Well,” Emma said brightly, “that was unnecessarily dramatic. Now, Piper, Lark tells me you have a real gift with the horses. Are you planning to pursue equine therapy training?”

And just like that, the conversation shifted. They included Piper naturally, asking questions but not pushing when she gave short answers. I watched her slowly relax, even managing a small smile when Evelyn shared a story about her own mishaps when first learning to handle horses.

But the reprieve was short-lived. As our food arrived—delivered by a different server who was polite but cold—Maria Rosario herself approached our table.

“I hope everything is satisfactory,” she said, but her gaze was fixed on Piper. “We pride ourselves on serving good, honest people here.”

The implication hung heavy in the air. Lucas set down his fork deliberately.

“Are you suggesting someone at this table isn’t good or honest?” His tone was conversational, but I recognized the steel underneath.

Maria’s lips pursed. “I’m simply saying that some family names carry weight in this town. The kind of weight that comes from stealing people’s life savings.”

“That’s enough.” I started to stand, but Piper’s hand on my arm stopped me.

“She’s not wrong,” Piper said quietly, finally meeting Maria’s gaze. “My father did terrible things to your family. To lots of families. I know that. I’m sorry for it.”

“Sorry?” Maria’s voice cracked. “You think sorry fixes anything? We nearly lost everything because of him. My husband had to come out of retirement, work eighteen-hour days just to keep the doors open.”

“I understand?—”

“And now you waltz in here with the sheriff like you belong? Like being Ray Matthews’s daughter doesn’t mean anything?

” Maria’s voice was rising, drawing attention from other diners.

“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?

Look at you—baby but no wedding ring. Just like your father, taking what you want without thought for consequences. ”

The words hit Piper like physical blows. I saw her crumble, saw the last of her walls collapse under the weight of accusation and old shame.

“That’s enough.” I stood now, my voice carrying the authority of my position. “Caleb is my son. Mine and Piper’s. And if anyone has a problem with Piper or with my child, then they have a problem with me.”

The restaurant went silent. Every eye was on us now, but I didn’t care.

“She’s not her father,” I continued, my voice steady but firm. “She doesn’t deserve to be punished for his crimes. And I won’t stand by while anyone tries to do exactly that.”

“Lachlan is right,” Lucas added, standing as well. “I’ve seen plenty of people judged by their family’s actions rather than their own. It’s wrong, and it stops here.”

Daniel and Evelyn stood too, creating a united front. Emma remained seated but her hand found Piper’s under the table, squeezing gently.

Maria looked between us, her righteousness faltering in the face of unified opposition. “I… We have the right to refuse service?—”

“You do,” I agreed. “But think carefully about whether you want to be the kind of place that punishes children for their parents’ sins. Think about what that says about you.”

The standoff stretched for long moments before Maria finally stepped back. “Enjoy your meal,” she said stiffly, then retreated to the kitchen.

Conversation gradually resumed around us, though I could still feel the weight of stares and whispered judgments. We sat back down, and I noticed Piper’s hands trembling as she reached for her water glass.

“Hey,” I said softly. “You okay?”

She nodded, but I could see the tears she was fighting back. Emma kept hold of her hand, and Evelyn started a determined conversation about the upcoming holiday craft fair, drawing Piper in with gentle questions about whether she might like to help with the Resting Warrior booth.

The rest of dinner passed quietly. Our food was good despite the circumstances, and by the time dessert arrived—tiramisu that Emma insisted we all share—Piper had even smiled twice. Small victories, but I’d take them.

As we prepared to leave, Lucas pulled me aside while the women gathered their things.

“She’s been through something,” he said quietly. “I recognize the signs.”

“I know.”

“If you need anything—resources, connections, or just someone to talk to—you know where to find me.”

I gripped his shoulder in thanks. “Appreciated.”

Outside, Piper transferred a sleeping Caleb into his car seat while Emma and Evelyn exchanged phone numbers with her, making plans for coffee that I hoped Piper would actually follow through on.

“Thank you,” Piper said as we drove home, Caleb snoring softly in the back seat. “For standing up for me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did.” I glanced at her in the dim light from the dashboard. “I meant what I said. You’re not your father. You’re not responsible for his actions.”

She was quiet for so long I thought the conversation was over. Then, so softly I almost missed it, she said, “Sometimes the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, no matter how hard it tries to roll away.”

I wanted to argue, to make her see herself the way I saw her—struggling but strong, damaged but not broken, worthy of so much more than she believed. But I recognized the bone-deep belief in her words, the kind that wouldn’t be swayed by simple reassurance.

So instead, I reached across the console and took her hand. She let me, her fingers cold and trembling in mine. We drove the rest of the way in silence, but she didn’t let go.

And for tonight, that was enough.