Montana Snowfall, page 14
part #7 of McCutcheon Family Series
He’d thought about Sally every night in his bunk, and tried to keep her from his mind during the days with his work. He’d forced himself to stay away from Y Knot, and especially the Klinkner mill where she lived. Now that there was a very distinct possibility of seeing her, it felt like a cornfield had sprouted in his belly.
They progressed down the boardwalk, passing handholding sweethearts and a few old duffers.
“There’s Francis.” He pointed to the tall, slender shadow in a group of young fellows standing in the middle of the street, all most likely too shy to go inside and talk to the girls.
“How can you tell it’s Francis?” Shad asked, his normally friendly tone amazed. “It’s too dark to see his face. They all look the same to me.”
Pedro chuckled. “His bent-up hat.”
They all laughed, and it felt good. Roady hoped it covered his growing nerves.
“Well, let’s get on down there.” Shad’s eyes were wide with anticipation. The new hand was taller than Roady by an inch or two, and had the wide shoulders to match. To his credit, he turned more than a few feminine heads.
When they were within a block of the mercantile, music started up, and the sound of boot heels and smooth leather on the mercantile floor wafted out into the street. Pulling open the fogged glass doors, Roady and the other ranch hands carefully shouldered their way inside, removed their hats, and stopped to take in the gaiety.
The front half of the store had been stripped of merchandise and shelves, which had been moved to the back. The dance floor was alive with ruby-faced townsfolk, dancing and stomping around to the music of the Twilight Singers, who’d come over from Pine Grove. The customary black vests of the four men and one woman had been replaced with garments of gold and green to signify the harvest. The woman fiddled away, and two of the men accompanied on guitars. Casper Slack, Y Knot’s mule-riding mandolin player, was slouched against the wall, his eyes glued to the group, the fingers of his empty hands moving as if he were playing. His enormous smile was proof he didn’t mind at all that someone else had the limelight for a few hours.
“Looks dangerous to me,” Roady said with a smile as relief flooded through him. Sally wasn’t on the dance floor. “Come on, let’s hang these hats.”
After a challenging moment, they found spots on the hat rack.
Roady let his two friends precede him into the multitude of finely dressed cowboys, distinguished businessmen, and young ladies clad in fancy gowns. There were singles, married couples, and children galore. On the outskirts of the dancers, Lenore Saffelberg, the waitress from Cattlemen’s restaurant, was in conversation with Lou, owner of the boardinghouse. Used to seeing the spinster in her black skirt and white apron, the colorful dress Lenore wore made him do an obvious double-take that she’d seen. Embarrassed, he nodded politely when he passed, ignoring her palpable look of interest.
“Roady, good to see you,” Tobit Preece, a local farmer, said when they came face-to-face.
Jostled from behind, Roady turned. He caught the apologetic look of Berta Mae as she walked by, her head close to some woman he didn’t know.
“Hazardous in here,” he joked after he turned back to Tobit and moved a few inches closer.
Tobit’s new mail-order bride from Boston held his arm, looking as elegant as ever. Kathryn Preece’s dress was one of the finest Roady had ever seen. The material was shiny, but looked crackly and stiff. Lengths of maroon fabric cascaded down in waves, almost giving the garment motion.
“Tobit. Mrs. Preece,” Roady said. “Looks like everyone has turned out tonight, eager for some entertainment.”
“Yes, Mr. Guthrie,” Kathryn replied with a saucy tip of her head. “An evening of fun before winter sets in. Tobit has warned me about the many cold months ahead, and the abundance of snow. He forgets I grew up in Boston, where we have harsh winters as well.” She glanced affectionately at her husband.
Tobit patted her hand. “But you had a mansion and servants to do all the work. Boston and Montana are as different as milk is to vinegar.”
“Anyplace is sweet with you,” she replied, her cheeks deepening in color as she tried to hide her telling smile. Whatever Tobit was doing, he was doing it right.
Roady glanced around. “Isaiah here?”
“Couldn’t keep him away.” Tobit nodded to the far wall.
Through the people, Roady caught a glimpse of Tobit’s wrinkled grandfather jabbering away to Mr. Herrick, owner of Y Knot’s leather shop. Seemed nobody wanted to miss Mr. Lichtenstein’s party. He spotted Luke, Matt, and Mark on the other side of the room, as well as their wives.
Roady’s gaze shifted to the left. When he saw Sally, his heart gave a jerk. She and Heather were surrounded by a handful of eligible men, all interested in the new girl in town. Shad hadn’t wasted a moment, for he stood across the circle, smiling like a fool.
Before Roady had a chance to react, he heard his name called over the music. He turned and smiled, truly happy to see an old friend. “Judge Wesley, good to see you!”
Judge Harrison Wesley, one of the circuit judges for the Montana Territory, reached out a hand. He wore his usual black woolen vest, string tie, and double six-shooters tied to his legs. Always said he didn’t want to get caught unawares by a disgruntled relative of someone he hanged. He was clean-shaven and tidy.
“Guthrie, it’s been too long.”
“That it has, Judge. I didn’t know you were in town. Does Brandon have someone locked up who needs judgin’?”
“No. Just on my way north and thought I’d stop over in Y Knot. I don’t pass up a chance to stay at Cattlemen’s, if I can help it. Gives me a chance to catch up with Crawford. I spent the afternoon at his office, talking business.”
Roady laughed. “And playing checkers?”
“Maybe a little of that too.”
“Then you heard he fired Jack Jones.”
The judge nodded. “I’m amazed Jack lasted this long. Proves Brandon’s willing to take up the slack. I plan to tell my son, Justin, about the opening. I can’t seem to talk him out of following in my footsteps.”
“Might be a good place for him to start,” Roady replied.
Harrison’s expression was resolute. “You may be right. I didn’t know there was a shindig tonight,” he said, looking around. “I couldn’t have planned it better if I’d tried.”
Roady again scanned the crowd to check on Sally. Charity and Brandon had joined the McCutcheon group, as well as Flood and Claire. “How long will you be in town?”
“I ride out on Tuesday.”
Roady grew serious. “I’m real sorry about your wife. My condolences.”
A dark look passed behind the judge’s eyes. “I appreciate that. At least she’s no longer in pain. That gives me a bit of comfort.”
“How’s your little girl?”
“As good as can be expected for a five-year-old who’s lost her mother. When I’m gone, Agnes’s sister watches Carlie for me.”
They clasped hands again and a silent connection passed between them. “I’ll be sure and come into town before Tuesday so I can best you a few times at the board.”
Judge Wesley nodded. “I look forward to it.”
Like a bear drawn to honey, Roady ambled closer to Sally’s circle of admirers. Sally’s pretty yellow dress fit her perfectly, and was a far cry from the men’s denims she’d worn in the cabin. Her cheeks were an attractive pink, either colored by the warm temperature in the room, or by something Trent Herrick had just said. Trent, the son of the leather shop owner, had just returned to Y Knot a week ago, and Roady had yet to catch up with him. Two others were brothers from Grassy Gulch he’d yet to meet, and a nephew of Mr. Tracy, the telegraph operator, but he was on the short side, making it difficult to hook her attention.
Heather caught Roady’s eye. “Good evening,” she said, waving him over. “We expected to see you around town this week. You must be busy out at the ranch.”
He nodded, then glanced toward Sally, giving his best nonchalant smile. He couldn’t help but notice how her lashes lowered, and the pleased look he knew so well from their time in the cabin. He’d missed her, and that was a fact. She was a prize to be won.
Trent gazed at Sally appreciatively, and Shad seemed smitten speechless. The two unknown brothers pushed out their chests, cocksure of themselves. He wondered which one Sally would choose.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sally’s face heated painfully as she smiled back at Roady. The minute she, Heather, and Hayden had arrived at the mercantile, she’d secretly observed the crowd for his arrival. After forty-five minutes, her hope had begun to fade.
For the past twelve days she’d struggled with her options. Every time she decided it was best to tell Heather the truth, her insides froze up. Her sister had married into a beautiful family with wonderful in-laws…the perfect life. How could she spoil such a fairy tale for her—not to mention what her news would do to Morgan? Laying her problems in her siblings’ laps was the very last thing she wanted to do.
There was one other way. And he was standing before her right now. Last night, from midnight on, she’d tossed and turned until she’d come to a firm decision. She wouldn’t turn back now just because her stomach felt as if a billion red ants had set up house. She blinked once, taking in his dear face, more handsome than she remembered.
Roady shifted his weight. “As they say, a cowboy’s work is never done.”
Heather laughed, but the coal in Sally’s stomach fanned hot. She forced a smile, and the other men groaned at the silly joke.
“I think it’s a woman’s work that’s never done, Roady,” Heather teased back. “Surely, you’ve heard that before.”
He chuckled. “Now that you mention it, I guess—”
“Roady?” Trent Herrick said, interrupting the flow of conversation. He stuck out his hand and Roady grasped it. The thirtyish man had stayed by Sally’s side once they’d been introduced, trying to get her attention.
“Sure is, Trent. It’s good to see you back home in Y Knot. I’ve been meaning to come by and say hello, but—”
“The ranch work, yeah, I know. Until I find other work, I’m helping Pa out in the leather shop. Come by for a cup of coffee and sit a spell. It’s been years.”
The men’s conversation offered Sally the opportunity to look at Roady—really look—when he wasn’t looking at her. His hair appeared trimmed, and his pressed green shirt brought out the depth in his eyes. His strong, square jaw brought a flutter to her tummy, as did his expressive dark brows. A small hitch disturbed her breath when she thought back to the time spent in the mountain cabin alone, just the two of them, surrounded by snow.
The tall, good-looking cowboy named Shad Petty leaned into the circle and handed her a cup of punch. “You looked a mite thirsty, Miss Stanford. I’d be pleased if you’d give me the next dance.” He smiled shyly. “After you finish your cup of punch, of course.”
Sally took a small sip, wetting her throat. When her eyes met Roady’s over the rim, she flashed back to their ride down the mountain with her arms snugly round him and her head on his chest.
“Miss?”
“Sally?” Heather whispered, nudging Sally with her shoulder.
She had to give the cowboy credit. He’d been the only one in the group to muster the courage to ask her for a dance. It would seem strange if she turned him down now.
“It would be my pleasure, Mr. Petty.”
His eyes brightened.
She took another sip from the dainty pink glass and handed it to her sister. “Would you mind holding this for me?”
“Of course not. Go and have fun.”
Mr. Petty tucked Sally’s hand into the crook of his arm and led the way to the front of the store, where the previous dance had just ended. Taking her out to the middle as a waltz began, she reached to his shoulder with her left hand and placed her right into his waiting palm. Hesitantly at first, and more confidently as they warmed up, they followed the circle of dancers, a respectable distance separating her from his tall form.
“This is nice,” he said, looking down into her eyes. “Thank you for accepting my invitation.”
She smiled. There was just enough light in the room that she could see the blueness of his irises. “You’re welcome. Thank you for asking.”
His hand tightened slightly. “How do you like Y Knot? I hope it’s not too remote for your taste.”
“I like it very much.”
He glanced away for a few seconds, and then back into her face. “You seen any of the sights?”
“I have. Heather, Hayden, and Morgan have kept me busy all week.”
A few more moments passed, but this time Sally felt the strain. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Shad Petty, it was just she had important things on her mind. Unfortunately, getting to know him—or any of the young men of Y Knot—wasn’t on that list. However, if she didn’t cooperate and look like she was having fun, maybe flirt just a little, her sister would want to know what was what.
“That’s good to hear. Like what?”
“Oh, let’s see,” she replied with a smile. “I’ve had tea at the Biscuit Barrel. Spent a few minutes at the fossil outcropping above town. We would have stayed longer, but a cold wind whipped up out of nowhere.” She looked away, thinking. “We also took a walk on the land where she and Hayden will someday build a home.”
The song ended. She and Shad stood in awkward silence. She glanced over her shoulder, looking for Roady.
“I can see you’re anxious to get back to your sister, Miss Stanford. Thank you. I enjoyed our dance.”
“I did as well, Mr. Petty. Thank you.”
When they got back to the circle, Roady was gone. Alarm gripped her, and she hastily searched the crowd.
Heather leaned close. “He’s over at the dessert table. If you hurry, you can catch him.”
How had Heather known? Sally hadn’t let on about her plan. All Sally knew after spending almost a week at the Klinkners’, and meeting all of Heather and Morgan’s friends, was she couldn’t bring this shame down on their heads. After all, they hadn’t invited her here; she’d come on her own. There was only one way that she could think of that might fix things. A solution that might lessen the tarnish she would inflict on the Stanford name. She owed it to her family to try—and time was of the essence.
She gathered the hem of her dress, looking around the circle of hopeful faces. “Will you gentlemen excuse me, please?”
“Me, as well,” Heather added. “It’s time I found my husband and claim a dance. The evening is half over, and I’ve yet to get on that dance floor.”
Sally made her way to the dessert table where Roady was eating a cookie. She fortified her resolve and took a deep breath.
When he saw her, his eyes widened in surprise. “Sally, you look mighty pretty tonight.”
“A bit more feminine than the pants you’ve seen me in.”
“I liked those too.”
My, Roady seems different.
“Has your dance ended so soon?”
“Yes. I’m a bit hungry and thought to come try this fudge I’ve been admiring all night.” She reached for the chocolate and picked up a cube-sized piece.
Roady nodded. “Looks good.”
He kept glancing around. Was he nervous? She nibbled off a corner. His smile was so charming, she couldn’t help but respond warmly. Something about him made her feel safe and protected. They were alone at the table, but that could change at any moment, so she pressed on.
“Roady, I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time. I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”
Again, surprise flitted over his face. “Of course. Go on.”
“It’s of a delicate nature. Do you think we might walk out into the street for a moment? Where we won’t be interrupted.”
Leaving the cookie behind, he turned and placed his hand on the small of her back. “Let’s get our coats and take a short stroll, all within the lamplight, of course. We don’t want to start any talk, or damage your reputation.”
She swallowed nervously. “No, we wouldn’t want to do that.”
Finally bundled and with a secure hold of his arm, she walked with him slowly past the doctor’s office and stopped in front of Morgan’s shop.
Roady looked around. “How’s this?”
His deep voice sent shivers down her spine. Or was that her fear at bringing up the subject at hand?
She glanced around too. “Perfect.” Turning, she looked up into his eyes. His earnestness brought a lump to her throat.
“Yes? If you don’t spit it out soon, we’ll both turn into snowmen.”
She tried to laugh, then rubbed her gloved hands together. “Roady?”
This was the most difficult conversation she’d ever had. The moment he understood her meaning, he’d think the worst of her. And why shouldn’t he? She felt each and every spot where his warm gaze touched her face.
“Sally?”
Unsure now, she dropped her gaze, staring straight ahead at the button on his coat. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t draw him into her troubles. They’d just met.
“Sally?”
Fear rippled slowly in her belly. She was out of options, and out of time.
“Roady, I’m in trouble.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Roady picked up her hands. “Trouble?” What kind of trouble could Sally have? Although she barely came to his chin and a strong gust of wind just might blow her away, a deep determination burned in her eyes. “With money?”
She shook her head.
“The law? Brandon Crawford is a good friend of mine. He’ll be able to help. He’s a—”
She shook her head again, cutting off his thoughts. If it wasn’t money or a problem with the law, then what? All of a sudden, he felt as if he’d been kicked by a horse.
“Please don’t tell me you’re dying.” The sadness in Harrison Wesley’s eyes a few minutes before made him shiver. After losing the love of his life, the judge would never be the same. The way Sally looked tonight, and the way he felt right now, he knew he’d be in the same plight if something were to happen to her. “Tell me it’s not that.”
