A Taste of Heaven (26 page)

“Mrs. Ross! Ma'am, are you asleep, over
there?”

Libby was jolted back to the four drab walls
of the railroad station. She turned sharply on the bench, and saw
the young clerk frowning back at her from behind the counter. “I'm
sorry, I must have dozed off,” she lied. Her face felt as hot as a
branding iron.

“Ma'am, your train is boarding now. You don't
want to miss it.”

She looked out the window and saw the huge,
gaseous beast that would carry her east, and grim reality set
in.

She was not Tyler's. He was not hers.

Rising from the bench, she adjusted her new
hat, the one small luxury she'd permitted herself. Then she went
outside into the mild spring sun. Montana was never meant to be her
home. She had to keep reminding herself of that, because the hope
that had carried her all these months was now failing her. Her
heart was as heavy as a millstone.

She walked down the crowded platform, passing
men in suits, women, children, and cowboys. Apparently they were
all coming home. She, on the other hand, didn't have a home
anywhere. At this realization, her throat became so constricted she
feared she'd begin weeping right here in public.

And now her ears were playing cruel tricks on
her, too, much as they had the night of the storm. Somewhere above
the racket of human voice, horses, wagons, and the hissing
locomotive, she thought she heard someone calling her name.

She put her head down and hurried toward the
conductor, who was helping an elderly man make his way up the steps
of the passenger car.

“Libby!”

With each passing second, her eyes burned
with tears, and she felt panic enveloping her. The old man ahead of
her was making little progress. Was she asking so much to put this
place behind her with her dignity intact? She inched closer to the
steps.

“Libby, wait!”

Reflex made her turn toward the direction of
the voice, but she was completely unprepared for what she saw.
Bearing toward her were Tyler Hollins and Joe Channing. They dodged
pedestrians and freight goods, and despite the din on the platform,
she heard their boot heels and spurs. She gaped at both of them,
but her eyes fixed on Tyler. The urgency in his expression was
unmistakable, and her heart began pounding. Something must be
wrong.

Joe hung back a step, looking relieved, but
Tyler plowed forward and grasped her shoulders in his big hands. He
was a little breathless and he swallowed.

“Jesus Christ, we've searched all of Miles
City for you. I went to the hotel, Rory and Possum went to all the
restaurants, Kansas Bob and Noah stopped in every goddamned shop on
Main Street—”

“Why? What's wrong? Has there been an
accident?”

“Uh, no—” Tyler ground to a halt. He turned
and glanced at Joe, but the foreman only backed up against a
hitching rail and took out his makin's.

“You're on your own, cowboy,” Joe advised,
and crossed his ankles.

Tyler released her shoulders and searched her
face, then he drew a deep breath. “Look . . . I know that Heavenly
isn't Chicago. God, it isn't even Miles City.” He gestured around
them. “But I was thinking, well—” It was the first time she'd ever
seen him so tongue-tied. Even his ears were tinged with red. “The
boys like your cooking and you don't have anything in particular to
go to. And—it wasn't so bad having someone to look after us.
Anyway, do you still hate it in Montana? Would you consider coming
back to the Lodestar? The pay is the same as on the trail.”

“All aboooarrrd!”

Libby looked behind her at the train. “But
they have my trunk,” she replied, as if that settled matters.

“Will you come home with us?” Tyler asked
again, louder this time.

Home. The peaceful hush, the sense of family
and belonging, this man—“Well . . . yes! Yes, I'll come.” She felt
almost faint with relief.

“Joe!” he fired without taking his gaze from
hers. “Get Libby's trunk from them.”

Joe jammed his half-rolled cigarette into his
pocket and bolted off in the direction of the baggage car.

Tyler grinned down into Libby's face, then
leaned forward and put a quick peck on her forehead. His broad
smile was one he'd rarely shown, and she thought she'd never seen
anything so good. His eyes seemed more alive, his face more rested.
He was the best-looking cowboy in this town.

“I don't hate Montana anymore,” she said. “It
just took me awhile to appreciate it.”

He kissed her forehead again. “Come on, let's
go find those boys before they wear themselves out from searching
for you. Most of them have headaches I wouldn't wish on anyone,” he
said, and put his arm on her shoulders to turn her toward the
center of town. “It's a good thing you said yes.”

“Why?”

He grinned again, this time a bit sheepishly.
“Well, because I promised them that you would.”

She pulled away slightly and gave him an arch
look. “So sure of yourself, were you?”

His smile faded slightly, and he shook his
head. "Not at all, Libby. Not at all."

*~*~*

Once more Libby found herself on the high
seat of the chuck wagon, but this time Tyler drove. When they'd
finally rounded up the crew, they met down at a stand of
cottonwoods on the edge of town where the horses waited in the rope
corral. The men were so glad to see her she knew she'd made the
right choice to stay.

“Miss Libby, what are we havin' for supper
tonight?” Rory asked, his face lighted up.

“Maybe she'll give in and fix us
rattlesnake,” Noah chuckled. He ran a brush through his sorrel's
mane.

“If it means I have to be the bait again,
forget it,” Tyler said. They all laughed.

Libby grinned and held up her hands. “No, no,
as much as I like you all, you'll have to settle for something less
exciting.”

Joe leaned forward and put his forearm on his
pommel. “I looked in the back of that chuck wagon—we might be down
to snake tonight if we don't stock up for the trip home.”

“Libby and I will do that,” Tyler
volunteered. “We'll meet you back here in an hour, then we'll head
for home.”

There was that word again, Libby thought,
tucking her skirt around her. Home. It gave her a warmth she'd felt
very seldom in her life. And the scent that had been so noticeably
absent a few weeks ago, of spring and things newly green, was
strong in the air today.

Tyler turned the wagon and they drove down to
the general store, where they loaded up on enough provisions to see
them through the seven or eight days it would take them to get
home.

“Seven or eight days!” Libby exclaimed, as
they headed back to the wagon. “It took us almost three weeks to
get here.” She listened to the drumming of his boot heels on the
plank sidewalk, and the clink of his spurs, and she smiled. She
liked the feeling of walking next to him, but she wasn't fooling
herself. She knew better than to think of her return to the
Lodestar as more than a job. Disappointment loved to visit people
with lofty expectations. No one was more aware of that than she
was.

“Our work will really be cut out for us when
we get back. And I think we'll have some extra calves to brand. I'm
not sure how many but—”

His words cut off so abruptly that Libby
turned to look at him. He was staring straight ahead at an older
man who approached on the sidewalk and blocked their path. Though
she wasn't touching him, she sensed that every muscle under Tyler's
shirt and jeans was tight. If he'd been a wolf, the crest of fur on
the back of his neck would have bristled. Almost unconsciously, he
pulled her back and put his shoulder in front of her.

They stopped within ten feet of the man.

“Tyler?” she said. He didn't respond, but she
felt blood climb into her own cheeks when the approaching stranger
looked her up and down with insulting contempt.

He appeared to be in his fifties, with a
fringe of gray hair that was visible beneath his hat, and a red,
jowly face. His sizable girth was most obvious in a big belly that
overhung his belt.

“Well, well, Hollins,” he said, and raked
Libby again with narrowed, bloodshot eyes. “Got a replacement lined
up for my little girl?”

Tyler stared at the wreck of a man standing
in front of him, both repelled and angered. “You're drunk, Lat,” he
said, keeping his voice low. He could smell the whiskey from where
he stood.

He laughed. “Drunk? Yeah, I am. But, then,
Jenna was only your wife—guess you don't know what it's like to
mourn a dead child, Hollins. It makes a man drink.”

Tyler felt his hand close into a fist. He
knew that nothing the man had to say was valid, but the accusation
infuriated him. He'd grieved for his wife until grieving was nearly
his undoing, and all he had left. In the end, he'd settled for
blaming himself for her death.

“I mourned her, too, but it didn't bring her
back. It only made me crazy.” Maybe the rumors were true, Tyler
thought. Lat Egan did act like he was unhinged.

“It wasn't enough that you let my Jenna die,”
the older man raged on. “You turned my only living son against me,
too. That boy never comes to see me—I bet Rory wouldn't even talk
to me now that you've poisoned his mind against me.”

Tyler took a deep breath to keep control of
his temper, and wondered why he continued with this conversation.
Libby was pressed against the back of his arm, and he could feel
her shock. Goddamn it, why had this happened now, in front of her?
He hadn't seen Egan in more than two years. “Rory is free to leave
the Lodestar any day he chooses.” He grabbed Libby's hand and
pulled her past his former father-in-law. “He's just never wanted
to.”

Behind them, Egan yelled, “Lady, if you're
his wife, I feel sorry for you.”

Tyler pulled her along toward the wagon. His
stomach was in knots and, unthinkingly, he squeezed Libby's hand
she hard she cried out. He let her go but pushed her ahead of him.
A couple of people on the sidewalk turned to look first at them,
and then beyond them to Egan.

When they got to the wagon, Tyler vaulted
into the seat and pulled Libby up next to him. He flapped the reins
viciously and the mules took off with a startled lurch. She stared
at his granite profile as she clutched her hat. His face was fixed
as though cast in stone.

Her heart pounded so hard in her chest, she
could feel it against her breastbone. She tried to make sense of
what she'd just heard but her mind was whirling. Jenna? He'd had a
wife named Jenna? And how did Rory fit into this?

“Tyler, who was that?” she asked, feeling
oddly winded. She'd never seen him so angry or so frightening, not
even on the first morning he found her in the kitchen.

“I'm sorry that happened, Libby,” he said.
His words and voice were tightly controlled. “I would have
prevented it if I could have.”

“But who was that man?”

He wrapped the reins around his gloved hands.
“Lattimer Egan. He's got the spread next over from the Lodestar,
about ten miles east. His daughter, Jenna, was my wife. She died in
childbirth five years ago.”

She struggled to get her breath. “A-and
Rory—Rory is—”

“Her brother,” he finished.

He lapsed into silence then, and as much as
she wanted to, Libby dared not ask any more questions. As they left
the buildings of Miles City behind them, Libby realized how very
little she really knew about the man sitting next to her. Still,
though a lot about Tyler was a mystery to her, it was clear that
pain lay beneath his gruff exterior and hard manner.

The crew was still lively and joking when she
and Tyler reached them.

“About time you two got back,” Joe teased.
“We were near ready to come lookin' for you.”

Tyler ignored the remark and tied the lines
around the break handle. Pulling his bedroll out of the wagon, he
jumped down.

“Rory,” he called. “You climb up here and
drive the wagon for Miss Libby. Possum, you and Hickory can see to
the horses.” He strode over to a cottonwood where his pinto waited,
saddled and nibbling on the new grass. After tying his bedding
behind the cantle, he mounted the horse and wheeled it around.
“I'll see you at the ranch.”

He spurred the pinto and took off at a gallop
across the field.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Joe
demanded of no one in particular. Then he turned to study Libby,
apparently searching for an answer to Tyler's abrupt mood change.
She knew she looked as startled as everyone else who'd watched him
ride away.

Staring openmouthed at Tyler's diminishing
form, Rory walked around and got into the seat next to Libby.
“What's ailin’ him?”

“Rory, I think I met your father in town. I
didn't know that you were Tyler's brother-in-law.” She recalled a
conversation they'd had their first night on the trail. He'd said
his father knew where he was. Now she understood why.

Rory let his hands rest on his thighs. “Aw,
dang,” he sighed, and offering nothing more, unwrapped the
lines.

“Oh, Jesus,” Joe added. “That explains it
all. Well, we'd better get movin'. We've lost most of the day as it
is.” The contingent moved forward out to the open grassland.

Libby sat in baffled silence, watching the
buffalo grass and sage roll by. The information she'd provided
about Tyler and Rory's father explained the situation to everyone
but her.

T
he trip back
to the Lodestar was shorter, and easier for Libby with Rory
driving. But it seemed strained by Tyler's absence. During the day,
as she and Rory bounced along in the chuck wagon, she tried to
learn the reason for the malevolent animosity between Tyler and his
father. Why on earth would he blame Tyler for letting his sister
die? But Rory, in a departure from his usual outgoing friendliness,
proved as unwilling to discuss the situation as his
brother-in-law.