Montana (19 page)

“You'll have to ask him.”

Gramps was hiding something from her. Molly was convinced of that, and it angered her. She was his flesh and blood. His granddaughter. And apparently he didn't trust her enough to tell her the whole truth about a hired hand.

“Fine. I
will
ask him.” She was going to have so many questions for Sam she'd have to start a list. “The man responsible for keeping the law in this county looks at Sam as if he isn't to be trusted and you're pushing me to
marry
him. What kind of message does that give me, Gramps?” She didn't allow him an opportunity to answer. “It says you're so desperate to see me married off that you're willing to throw me to anyone. Even a man you hardly—”

“Enough!” Gramps pushed the deck of cards aside. “You ask me what I know about Sam Dakota. I know he's decent and honest. I know he cares for those boys of yours and he'd make you a damn good husband. That's what I know. As for his trouble with the sheriff, you can think what you will, but it was nothing Sam did.”

“All Sam's interested in is the land you offered,” she said. It still offended her that Gramps had dangled part of
her
inheritance as an inducement.

“Did Sam tell you himself that he'd only marry you if I threw in the land and cattle?” Gramps asked.

“No,” she admitted. “But he didn't have to say it,” she added sarcastically. His attitude had said it all.

“Do you honestly believe I'd suggest you marry a man I don't trust?” Gramps asked her quietly.

“Why him?” she cried. “Do you think I'm incapable of finding my own husband? What if Sam marries me, sucks the ranch dry and then leaves me?”

Gramps shook his head. “I told you before, Molly, that isn't going to happen.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He sighed deeply and looked away. “Without Sam, I would have lost the ranch last winter.”

“Any hired hand would have saved the ranch,” she argued. “Sam was there when you needed him, but it could have been anyone.”

Again Gramps shook his head. “No. For one thing, he got the cattle sold off in time to pay my bank loan. I'll grant you another foreman might've managed that for me. But the other thing he did…” Gramps rubbed at his eyes. “He pawned his silver buckle to pay back taxes. Those things are worth a lot, Molly. Remember I told you he was a world-champion rodeo rider until his accident? It was his prize that he hawked for the ranch. He didn't tell me about it right away, either. I found out when I went in to the assessor's office to ask for some extra time. That was when I discovered Sam had already been in and paid the bill. The only reason he told me was I pressured him into it.”

Sam had done that? Molly felt a sudden need to sit down.

“I'd been having a bit of a problem with money,” Gramps said, and Molly understood how difficult it was for her grandfather to admit this. “I put off thinking about it as long as I could, but when the dunning letters started coming in, I knew it was time I faced the music.”

“You told Sam?”

“No!” This was said with vehemence; she realized it hurt his pride to talk about his financial failures. “Sam was the one who brought in the mail. He saw the final-notice envelope himself.”

“How much was it?”

Gramps named a substantial figure. “He hawked the most precious thing he owned to help me. Despite what you think, Sam Dakota is a good man. Give him a chance to prove himself, Molly girl. You might be surprised.” Gramps hesitated and his voice grew gentle. “You should have seen him when he first arrived. He was mad as hell and the chip on his shoulder was the size of an oak. But after a while, when he got to working the land, he changed. The land will heal you, too, Molly. If you let it.”

Molly
wanted
the land to heal her. She wanted the contentment of a life lived close to the earth. She wanted the sense of accomplishing something real.

“Sam paid the taxes without telling me what he'd done,” Gramps whispered. “He's that kind of man. You won't go wrong marrying him. He'll be good to you, Molly, and a decent father to your sons. I won't be with you much longer.” He held up his hand to stop her when she started to protest. “Think about marrying him. I promise you, you won't be sorry.”

Molly spent the evening doing just that. Thinking. Much later, while the house slept, she was still wide awake. Worrying. Wondering. What would she do without Sam? Who could she trust? Was it
right
to marry him?

Staring out at the moonless night, she felt alone and afraid. Someone was trying to frighten her off her land. Hurt her family. If ever there was a time she needed a strong ally, it was now.

Was that enough for a marriage, being allies?

The house was quiet and dark as she hurried downstairs. The clock on the stove said it was after midnight. She wasn't sure what prompted her to look out the kitchen window, but she did, and the first thing she noticed was that Sam's light was on.

Before she could lose her nerve, she pulled on a sweater and a pair of boots and made her away across the yard.

She knocked twice before he answered.

“Yeah? What is it?” He raked back disheveled hair as he opened the door.

“I…I thought you were up,” Molly apologized.

“I must have dozed off in front of the television.” He didn't invite her in, which was just as well. She'd say what she had to say quickly and be done with it.

“Two things.” She straightened holding her head high, and forced her voice to remain calm and unemotional. “First, I've decided to approach you about Gramps's suggestion.”

He didn't say anything for perhaps a minute. Just stared at her. “You're willing for us to get married?” he finally asked. He didn't sound like he believed her.

“Yes,” she said, and nodded once for emphasis. “Are
you
willing?”

“I'm willing.” No ands, ifs or buts. No questions or hesitations, but then she'd doubted there would be.

“All right. We can get the license later this week.”

He nodded. “You said two things.”

“The next one is a question. Please be honest. Would you have agreed to marry me without Gramps's offer of the cattle and land?”

“No,” he said, steadily meeting her gaze.

If nothing else, she appreciated his honesty. “That's what I thought.”

S
am was sitting at the kitchen table when Molly came downstairs the following morning. The coffee was made, and she glanced his way before helping herself to a cup. His silence grated on her nerves. The night had been miserable. She'd slept, but only intermittently. Her dreams had been full of strange fearful scenarios. She remembered one in which she was at her wedding—except that the groom turned out to be Daniel and the preacher Sheriff Maynard.

Judging from the dark shadows beneath Sam's eyes, he hadn't slept any better. Neither spoke, although Molly knew he was as aware of her as she was of him. For two people who'd agreed to marry, they didn't appear to have much to say to each other.

She noticed that he waited until she'd had time to drink half her coffee before he spoke. “Have you changed your mind?”

Molly's gaze flew across the room. “Have you?”

“I asked you first.”

If he was trying to make her feel like a fool, he was definitely succeeding. “No. I'm willing to go through with a wedding if you are, but—”

“I am,” he interrupted, not giving her a chance to finish. He stood and reached for his hat.

“But,”
she continued as though he hadn't spoken, “I'd prefer the marriage to be strictly a business arrangement.”

Sam's eyes narrowed. “You already know my answer to that. We'll be man and wife in every sense of the word, or the whole thing's off.”

“But you said…you admitted you'd never have agreed to the marriage if it wasn't for Gramps's offer.”

“Think of that as my guarantee.”

“
Your
guarantee?” she flared.
She
needed a guarantee if anyone did. This was no love match, after all. Even if her husband-to-be thought they were going to share a bed. That issue wasn't resolved yet, as far as she was concerned. “Your guarantee?” she repeated. “Of what?”

“Who's to say that a couple of years down the road, after I've worked my fingers to the bone, you won't file for divorce and kick me off the place?” Sam asked coolly.

“Who's to say you won't sell off the cattle and abscond with the profits?” she threw back.

They glared at each other across the room.

Sam was the one to break the tense silence. “It would help, don't you think, if we could agree to trust each other? The only person who's shown any confidence in our ability to make a go of this marriage is Walt. For his sake—if not our own—let's put aside our doubts and agree to make the best of it. Can we do that?”

This was more difficult than she'd thought it would be. Faith and trust didn't came easily. “All right,” she whispered at last.

He relaxed then. “Good. I'll get Pete and Charlie set for the day and then we can drive into town and apply for the license.”

“Already?” she gasped.

“Is there a reason to wait?”

No one knew about this yet, not even Gramps or the boys. Molly needed time to discuss it with her children. It wasn't fair just to spring a stepfather on them. They had the right to express their opinions and concerns first. Not that either boy was likely to object.

“I have to tell my family. Phone my mother in Australia.” Molly nervously brushed the hair from her face. “But other than that I don't suppose there's any reason to wait.”

“We'll both need a blood test.”

She tightened the belt on her dressing gown.

“I thought we could have the test done, get the license and make an appointment with a justice of the peace for tomorrow afternoon.”

Molly inhaled sharply. A justice of the peace made the entire proceeding sound so…calculated. This might not be a love match, but she still wanted her wedding to take place in a church.

“What's wrong?”

“What about having a minister marry us?”

“Seeing that we aren't getting married for the normal reasons, saying our vows before a man of God seems somewhat hypocritical, don't you think?”

He was right of course, and Molly was unable to come up with an adequate justification for a church wedding—although she still wanted one. She nodded unhappily.

“Smile, Molly,” Sam said with sudden amusement. “It could be worse.”

Molly wasn't sure that was true. She was about to pledge her life to a man who didn't love her, who openly admitted he was only marrying her for five hundred acres and fifty head of cattle. Worse, she was going into the marriage for selfish reasons of her own. She needed his help, to run the ranch and to
keep
the ranch.

Truly what you'd describe as a marriage of convenience.

With such odds against them, it seemed doubtful they'd manage to stay married for more than six months, Molly thought with sudden pessimism.

“It's a business agreement—and more,” Sam clarified, and waited for her to agree.

“And more,” she concurred reluctantly.

Sam left after that, while she lingered over her coffee in the kitchen and prayed she was doing the right thing.

Tom and Clay wandered down for breakfast a few minutes later. Molly gave them time to fill their bowls with cereal and sit down at the table. “What would you say if I told you I was thinking about getting married again?” she asked, avoiding eye contact.

“Who?” Tom asked suspiciously.

“Yeah, who do you want to marry?” Clay echoed.

Molly drew in a deep breath. “Sam.”

Tom grinned and punched a fist into the air. “Yes!” He nodded. “I figured it had to be.”

“Cool, Mom!”

“Neither one of you objects?” Although it seemed pointless to ask.

“I
like
Sam,” Clay said without hesitation.

Molly looked to her oldest. Tom was still grinning widely. “If I'd handpicked a new dad, it would've been Sam.”

“I see.” Molly could hardly claim to be surprised. And, of course, Sam's closeness to her boys was one of the reasons she'd agreed to this.

“What's all the shouting about in here?” Gramps asked as he slowly made his way into the room.

“Mom's marrying Sam!” Clay burst out.

Gramps went silent as if he wasn't sure he should believe it. “Is that true, Molly girl?”

She nodded.

“Praise be to God.” Gramps clasped his hands together. “I haven't heard better news in fifteen years. You won't be sorry, Molly, I promise you,” he said again.

What she didn't tell her grandfather was that she already had regrets. An uneasiness in the pit of her stomach refused to go away. Despite the reasons that had led to the decision—sound
convenient
reasons—Molly couldn't shake the feeling she was making a terrible mistake. She still knew next to nothing about Sam, and he barely knew her.

Well, she was committed now. She'd given her word. She'd just have to make sure they learned a little more about each other. And soon.

 

An hour later, when Sam returned to the house, Molly was dressed and ready for the drive to town.

“I've got to stop off for some supplies,” he announced as if that was the main reason for this trip into Sweetgrass. Anything else, he seemed to imply, was just a trifling errand. Or worse, an annoyance.

Once in his truck, she barely had the seat belt snapped before Sam took off down the driveway. He drove as if he couldn't get this whole thing over with fast enough. They bumped over potholes and rocks at a speed well above what Molly considered safe.

“Stop!” she shouted just before they hit the paved highway.

He slammed on the brakes. “What for?” he demanded.

The seat belt was all that kept her from pitching forward into the windshield.

Sam's arms remained on the steering wheel. He waited for her to speak.

“Why are you so angry?” she asked.

“I'm not.”

“Is there some logical reason you're driving like a wild man?”

Her question seemed to bring him up short. “I'd like to get this done as quickly as possible so I can get back to work.”

Molly had the almost irresistible urge to cover her face and weep. “I realize we're not in love,” she said, surprised by how small her voice sounded. “But I'd like us both to treat this wedding as something more than a business agreement. Since you insist you eventually want a real marriage—with a shared bed—then I insist on something, too.” Her voice gained confidence as she spoke. “I agree to your stipulation.” Molly stared straight ahead of her. She
did
agree; she'd come to a decision about it. She
would
sleep with him. Maybe not right away, but when they felt more comfortable with each other. She'd do anything she could to make the marriage work. “But,” she went on, “I have a stipulation of my own.”

“All right, what is it?”

“A real wedding.”

He went stock-still. “You want a wedding?”

“Yes. One that's more than a five-minute civil ceremony.”

“So, what exactly do you want?”

“I want a minister to perform the wedding.”

“All right. But I don't know any ministers.”

“I'll find one.” She could tell he wasn't thrilled with her request; nevertheless he was willing to agree to her terms, just as she'd agreed to his.

“Okay.” He glanced at her. “Can I drive again now?”

“No.” She had to tell him about Daniel; he deserved to know that much. But she found it excruciatingly difficult.

“No?”

“I have to tell you something.” She clenched both hands. “My first marriage wasn't a good one.”

“So I gather.”

“You know about Daniel? The boys told you?” It made sense when she thought about it. The boys had probably told him. That was fine. She wanted him to understand her fears—that her inability to judge character had scared her to the point of being afraid to marry again.

“Yes,” he said. Then, “What were they supposed to tell me?”

They hadn't. Molly stared out the side window. “He's…in prison.”

Sam was silent so long she wondered if he'd heard her. “What's he in for?”

“Fraud. He cheated a lot of people out of their retirement income. Especially older people. Pensioners.”

“Bastard.” Sam grimaced. “What's his sentence?”

“He got twenty years with no possibility of parole,” she said. “The trial went on for weeks. People can be so cruel. They asked the boys questions. Kids taunted them.”

“I'm sorry, Molly.”

“Yeah, well, it's all water under the bridge now. But I thought you should know.” It amazed her how much better she felt for having told him. At least it was out in the open and they could discuss it.

“Are you okay now?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.” And she was. For the first time since this morning, she felt good about their decision. Not just resigned but genuinely optimistic. Perhaps, with a bit of compromise and a lot of hard work they could make a success of this marriage.

Sam did drive more sensibly after that, but he remained silent. So did she. Twice she caught Sam shifting his attention from the road to her. As they neared town, he slowed the truck down to well below the speed limit. For someone in a hurry, he suddenly seemed to have plenty of time on his hands.

He tapped his index finger against the steering wheel; she could tell he had something on his mind.

“Before we apply for the license,” he began, then hesitated.

“Yes?”

“I've lived damn near thirty-six years on my own,” he said, as though this was new information.

“I realize that.” She didn't mention that other than a four-year marriage, she'd been on her own, too.

“I've lived a…varied life, Molly. For a long time I followed the rodeo circuit.”

Although she knew that, it was the first time he'd mentioned it.

“There were plenty of women in those days, and—”

So this was confession time. Frankly Molly didn't want to hear about his groupies and all the women he'd loved. Or slept with. It would be just one more piece of baggage in a marriage that would be burdened with enough.

“Don't tell me,” she said, stopping him.

He pulled his gaze off the road long enough to look at her. His brow knit in a puzzled frown. “What do you mean?”

“I don't want to hear it.”

“But there're things about me you should know—things that could change your mind about this marriage business. I haven't lived the life of a saint.”