Montana Snowfall, page 9
part #7 of McCutcheon Family Series
“Good morning, Señora Amy,” the maid offered shyly. Her perfectly pressed dark blue dress flowed around her legs underneath a white lace-trimmed apron.
“Good morning, Esperanza. The coffee is exceptionally good this morning.” She lifted her cup.
Claire pulled out the chair of her customary seat on the right hand side of Flood’s. Settling herself, she turned her cup over and poured from the silver coffeepot in the center of the table. “I would have thought my hungry grandsons would be here already cleaning out the kitchen. I’ve hardly seen them since they arrived.”
At the mention of her boy cousins, Cinder perked up and looked in the direction of the front door. “Adam!” she said enthusiastically. “Colton!”
Amy and Claire laughed.
“Actually, they were all here about ten minutes ago,” Amy said. “Lucky fed them in the bunkhouse. They were preparing to ride out in the fresh snow with Pedro and a couple of the other men to check on the cattle. I didn’t stop them. Perhaps I should have?”
Claire waved off her concern. “Oh no. They’ll be perfectly safe with the ranch hands. I’m certainly glad to see the clouds clearing. I enjoy the snow each year, but not until December or January. There is still too much to accomplish before winter sets in.”
Before Amy could respond, Faith, Rachel, and their toddlers appeared at the top of the stairs. “Good morning,” they called out in unison.
“Morning, Grammy!” Dawn sang out with gusto. She struggled to get free of her aunt Rachel’s restrictive hold so she could scramble down the stairs like a mountain goat—a common occurrence when the child was unattended.
A knock sounded on the front door by the time everyone was off the staircase and in the dining room, scooting in around the large rectangular table.
Francis let himself in, pausing in the entry, his hat dangling in gloved hands. He wore cream-colored chaps and a leather coat. At his neck, a glimpse of his usual red bandanna could be seen behind a turned-up collar.
“Good morning, Francis,” Claire said. “Would you like to join us for breakfast?” She indicated several open seats at the end of the table next to Dawn and Beth. “I haven’t seen Flood yet, but I’m sure he’ll be down shortly.”
“He’s already in the barn, ma’am.”
Claire’s brows rose in surprise. “Well, he’s a slippery one this morning, I didn’t see him come down.”
Dawn and Beth giggled, hiding their smiles behind their hands, clearly excited to see him. Amy almost laughed when Dawn fluttered her eyelashes at him. Poor Francis. He wouldn’t dare accept Claire’s invitation. The young man’s face had already turned three shades of pink at the spectacle of so many female eyes trained on him.
Mark had told her Flood had found Francis in Butte as a child, after driving a herd north to the railhead. Flood and his crew had ridden all the way home with the boy taking turns behind their saddles. He’d been with the McCutcheons ever since.
As expected, Francis shook his head. “Oh no, ma’am, but thank you kindly. Lucky has me full to overflowing. Just wanted to let Miss Faith, Miss Rachel, and Miss Amy know I’m heading out to their places momentarily to feed the stock and check on things. ” He dipped his head, then turned and secured his hat.
“’Bye, Francis!” Dawn called, making him turn back. She waved when she had his attention.
He smiled and winked. “’Bye, Miss Dawn. You be a good girl.”
Amy watched with delight, but couldn’t stop her thoughts shifting once again to her brother Cade, all alone in her house. People did change, she chastised herself. She should at least give him a chance until he proved himself untrustworthy.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sunday morning dawned to a cloudless sky. Sally stood in the doorway of the cabin wrapped in a heavy blanket, feeling truly optimistic for the first time since boarding the train in St. Louis. Maybe the beautiful snow-covered scene before her had changed her mood. Or perhaps it was a small reprieve from God. A heart could only take so much. She hoped Roady was right about the other passengers—that they had been found and were now safely in Y Knot.
Nestling deeper into the covering, she admired the view. Dazzling rays of sunshine glimmered through the stands of alders and pines. It was so unearthly it almost stole her breath. I want to remember this place just as it is right now.
Things would work out. Life would go on. Hers would change, but there was nothing she could do about that now. A giddy, sweet feeling made her smile. She’d warmed to the idea of being a mother, of having a child of her own. She hugged herself, thinking how wonderful it would be to hold her very own son or daughter in her arms.
“Good morning!”
At the sound of Roady’s voice, she searched the far bank of trees until she found him emerging on his horse. His face was alight, and his smile stretched from cheek to cheek. It didn’t take long for his mount to push through the snow and arrive at the door in front of her. He dropped a bundle of quail at her feet. “Rounded up breakfast.”
“So you did. Would you like me to take care of them from here?” She could. All of her brothers were hunters.
Beneath the brim of his brown felt cowboy hat, one brow arched up in question. “Would you mind?”
“Not at all.”
“Look at this weather,” he said cheerfully. “Not a cloud in the sky for as far as the eye can see. A perfect day to make our escape.” He extended his arm and gestured to the wintry wonderland. “Just as soon as we fill our bellies, that is. That should make you happy.”
Y Knot. Heather and Morgan. It did make her happy, but unsettled as well. Her plan to arrive as a grieving widow wasn’t possible anymore. She’d have to think of something else before she started to show.
“Sally?”
“Yes. It pleases me very much,” she hurried to say. She hefted the string of birds in her hands. “Give me a half hour and I’ll have these roasting over the fire.”
By nine o’clock, with a stomach warm with sustenance and his spirits riding high, Roady had the animals packed and the cabin put to rights. He’d dismantled Sally’s privacy blanket and folded it with the others. The cot hung in the rafters, the few pots scrubbed and stacked, the fireplace divested of ashes.
“Sally,” he called into the cabin. Seemed to him she’d been dragging her feet. “You ready to mount up?”
“Here I am.”
She stepped out the door, bundled to her chin. He repressed a smile of pride at the picture she made. Her scarf wound around her neck and up over her mouth. So caught up in her eyes, he forced himself to look away. They were dark blue and reminded him of a meadow full of bluebells he’d ridden through once in Texas. At the time, he’d thought it the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Now he knew different.
“I’m glad to see you’re prepared for the cold. I’d rather not stop if we can help it. We should arrive at the McCutcheons’ somewhere around eight or nine tonight.”
He followed her around to Dolly’s side.
The one saddle between them had been the topic of discussion all morning. And boy, did she know how to discuss. Every reason he had for her using it was met with a better excuse why she shouldn’t. When he finally insisted, she’d flatly refused and wouldn’t hear another word.
He leaned over and cupped his hands, easily boosting her aboard the folded pad he’d fashioned out of one of the blankets that belonged in the cabin. She grimaced in pain as she got settled.
“Still sore?”
She nodded.
“You sure about the—”
She waved him off. “If something happens on the trail, you’re the one who’ll need the saddle. So you can give chase after whatever tries to attack us.”
He liked her spunk. In reality, there wasn’t much about Sally Stanford he didn’t like. “Attack us?”
She glowered. “Yes, attack us. Didn’t you tell me you were hunting a bear? That you’d seen sign of a wolf pack and the prints of a cougar? We could encounter any one of those animals. I, for one, won’t be doing the chasing, I’ll tell you that right now.”
He checked the door one last time to make sure it was firmly closed. Gathering his reins, he mounted up. “I guess I did. I better watch what I say from now on.”
He clucked to Fiddlin’ Dee and his mare dutifully started out of the yard, stepping through the knee-high snow. After a few strides, he glanced over his shoulder. Dolly still stood in front of the cabin door, Sally thumping her heels into the animal’s side for all she was worth.
Roady circled back around. As he did, he unwound his rope and without dismounting, secured one end to the side of the mule’s bit.
“I can do this,” Sally said, her eyes snapping with agitation. “It just takes some effort at first.”
“I ’spect you’re right, but you’ll use too much energy doing it.” He sensed she was about to argue this out as well. “We have a helluva long day ahead of us, Sally. Let’s just cut to the chase and say I won this one. It’ll be much easier that way.”
Was she worried about their arrival? He was. He didn’t want her reputation to be ruined on account of the stage accident, something she had no control over. Didn’t matter that she’d acted a perfect lady the whole time. There would be people in Y Knot who would judge her wrongly no matter what.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Roady reined up in front of the bunkhouse by the light of the moon. All was quiet. A welcoming glow emanated from a lantern Lucky kept burning on the far side of the porch. Snow had begun to melt in the common areas at the lower elevation, but plenty still remained around the trees, outcroppings, and pastures.
He looked down at Sally cradled in his arms and took a moment to study her sleeping face, the gentle slope of her brows, her rosebud lips. A deep ache filled his chest, and he felt a sad smile play around his lips. He’d miss their time in the cabin. Too bad they were so unsuited. Her with her highfaluting vocabulary, and him just a plain old cowpoke.
In his push to get off the mountain and back to the ranch, he’d opted for carrying her when she’d become so cold she could barely hang on to Dolly’s back. Her chattering teeth hurt him all the way down to the soles of his boots. Of course, she’d resisted his suggestion, but after an agonizing ten minutes of debate, he’d finally won out.
Getting her aboard had been awkward. Her limbs were stiff with cold and wouldn’t cooperate. He scooted back in the seat and put her sidesaddle in front of him, where he could make sure she didn’t fall. She’d been embarrassed when there wasn’t anywhere to put her arms except around his middle and lay her head upon his chest. That done, he’d folded his coat around her ice-cold body, then covered that with a blanket the best he could.
To her credit, she’d complied without too much of a fuss. It didn’t take her but a minute to snuggle in and fall asleep. That had been hours ago. His own back ached painfully, but he pushed that aside. It was Fiddlin’ Dee and the extra weight she had to carry through the snow that had him worried. All that, in addition to his horse’s empty belly. She’d done well. The Heart of the Mountains was a truly welcome sight.
He pursed his lips and softly whistled. A moment later, the bunkhouse door opened.
Francis came out. “Roady, that you?”
“Yeah,” he responded softly. “Come over here and take Miss Stanford. Try not to wake her.” Even in the dim light, he was able to see Francis’s eyes go wide.
“Did you say Miss Stanford? We’ve been searching for her all day. Her sister is ’bout crazy with worry. And Morgan. They didn’t know anythin’ about her comin’ to Y Knot.” He glanced about. “Some men are still out searchin’. Flood sent me back to the ranch to feed the animals and do the night chores around here, then I’m supposed to go back out. How’d you find her?”
He came around to the left side of Roady’s horse and held up his arms.
Roady hesitated. “On second thought, you run over to the big house and knock on the door. Ask Mrs. McCutcheon if Sally can stay overnight. There’s no way she can make it all the way into town.”
“It’s past midnight, Roady.”
“That won’t matter.”
Francis just stood there.
“She can’t stay in the bunkhouse, Francis.” Roady tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. He was tired, cold, and past starving. His stomach felt like a crater. Claire would be annoyed if they didn’t ask on Miss Stanford’s behalf. “Of course, Mrs. McCutcheon will welcome her. She welcomes everyone! Or do you plan on putting her in your bunk?”
“’Course not! Just let me get my jacket.”
In the blink of an eye, Francis darted into the bunkhouse and was back out again, striding across the ranch yard toward the house.
Dolly stood peacefully by Roady’s side, her big eyes blinking in the moonlight. He rocked back in the saddle, holding Sally like a baby. He liked the feel of her in his arms.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he whispered, memorizing her face. He reached up and stroked her cheek, something he’d wanted to do since he’d first seen her asleep on her pillowed hands in the cabin. “We’re here, Sally, although I don’t mind holding you a little longer. You’re only a mite bit heavier than a baby bunny soaking—”
“Who’re ya talkin’ to?”
Roady had been so lost in Sally’s sleeping face, he hadn’t heard Lucky limp out the door. Apparently Lucky hadn’t yet noticed Sally in his arms.
“Don’t go sneaking up on me like that,” he barked testily, embarrassed he’d been caught sweet-talking a sleeping woman.
“I ain’t sneakin’ up on no one, and I’ll ask you the same damn question I just did. Who’s that?”
The sounds of a conversation at the house floated over on the night air. He glanced over and Mrs. McCutcheon, dressed in her night robe, waved him over.
“Gotta go, ol’ man. I’ll be inside in a few to answer all the questions busting your craw.”
He reined Fiddlin’ Dee around and started for the ranch house with Dolly trailing dutifully behind, even though Roady had dropped her tether. Francis met him with outstretched arms. Roady could hardly refuse with Mrs. McCutcheon looking on. He handed Sally over, dismounted, and then took her back.
“Is she all right?” Mrs. McCutcheon asked with concern, trying to see Sally’s face. Esperanza stood at the threshold of the door with a lantern.
“She is, Mrs. McCutcheon. Just cold and tired, ” Roady replied. “Francis, would you mind taking care of Fiddlin’ Dee and the mule? They haven’t eaten for several days, so don’t give ’em any grain, just hay and water. Take extra care of their legs. Rub ’em with liniment and double wrap both.”
“What about me going back out?”
“Ask the next cowhand you see to ride into Y Knot and leave word to call off the search.”
“Will do.”
“Thank you, Francis,” Mrs. McCutcheon said with a warm smile. “Bring her in, Roady. My daughters-in-law have been staying for a couple nights and only left today. But John’s room was undisturbed. We’ll put her there.”
He carried Sally through the door and across the darkened living room. The large house was quiet, with just the sound of Esperanza following behind. “They were staying here, Mrs. McCutcheon? I didn’t know. Has there been some kind of trouble while I was away?”
She offered him a soft smile as they ascended the stairs. “Flood and I just wanted to have all of them close during the snowstorm. With the boys gone, we felt better having them here.”
He followed Mrs. McCutcheon through the hall and into John’s room. She pulled back the cover on the bed, and Roady laid Sally down.
“I can take it from here,” Mrs. McCutcheon said. “You be sure to come by in the morning for breakfast, so you can tell us how you found her. The whole town has been abuzz since the rescue party returned and they learned there was a woman who’d gone for help.”
“You sure you don’t need any help?” He looked at the door. Felt a responsibility to see things through to the end, even as ridiculous as that sounded. “She’s pretty tuckered out, ever since—”
“Roady?” Sally opened her eyes and looked around.
Before he thought it through, he picked up her still-cold hand and held it between his own. He leaned over to get closer. “I’m here, Sally. We made it to the ranch. You’re upstairs now with Mrs. McCutcheon. Tomorrow, just like I said, we’ll get you to Y Knot and into the arms of your family.”
He looked up to find Mrs. McCutcheon watching him with a perplexed expression. “Why, Roady. It’s very sweet of you to want to make sure Miss Stanford isn’t frightened.”
Carefully setting Sally’s hand to her side, he straightened.
Sally sat up. “Are the other passengers safe? Little Fredrick, his mother and grandmother…”
“They’re fine, dear,” Mrs. McCutcheon said. “The sheriff of Y Knot retrieved them and they’re in the hotel right now. I heard say they’re traveling on as soon as they can. Rest assured, everyone came through in one piece.”
“And Mr. Slater?”
“Him too.”
The small smile that appeared on Sally’s face was a balm to Roady’s heart.
“I apologize for being so sleepy. I can’t seem to make my eyes stay open. ”
She began to stand, but Roady stopped her with a touch to her arm. “You stay put. Today’s ride would sap the strength out of most men I know.”
“Roady, you’ve turned into a regular chatty squirrel,” Mrs. McCutcheon said, all smiles as she looked between the two. “I think I can handle things from here, though. You go get yourself something to eat, and we’ll see you in the morning.”
He nodded. They would see him bright and early. Just as soon as the sun came up.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Some ranch hands were just riding into the yard when Roady closed the door to the main house and headed for the bunkhouse. A few more men loitered on the porch, and called to him as he drew closer. Smokey and Ike slapped him on the back when he was within reach.
