Montana Rose (23 page)

Then Cassie said, “Griff
was
a bad rancher, wasn’t he? He didn’t check the cattle hardly ever. He said they’d forage on their own, but you check them once or twice a day.”

“Well, yeah. You have to check ’em or they wander off or die. Every rancher knows that.”

“Griff didn’t know it. We had chickens, but they all ran off or got eaten by varmints. He blamed everything on bad luck or dishonest people, but our land was as good as yours. He wouldn’t listen to advice from anybody, most especially me. And he couldn’t do everything himself, but he wouldn’t let me help, so lots of things went undone. Even the fence that he cut himself on was badly repaired because he had done a sloppy job of mending it.”

Cassie sat halfway up in bed. Red saw lines of distress deepen around her mouth and eyes, but when he reached out to her to urge her to lie back, she resisted him. He decided her opposition to his wishes was something to be encouraged at the moment.

“I’m not stupid, Red. I was always a good student in school. You’re right about that. Why did I let him convince me I was?”

“He was a violent, domineering man, and you were so young that you couldn’t stand up to him. Your mother trusted him to care for you, but he betrayed that trust and only cared for himself. He took all of your money by marrying you and squandered it.” It made Red furious to think of the way Cassie had been robbed and cheated. “Then he died and left you with a baby on the way, all his bills for a high life he couldn’t afford, and no way to care for yourself.”

Cassie’s eyes had dropped to the middle of Red’s chest while he talked. Red tilted her chin up to see how she was handling his blunt truths. Her eyes blazed into his. She opened her mouth then stopped whatever words were working their way out.

“Say it. Even if you think I won’t like it. Even if you think it’s a stupid, mean thing to say. I’d love to know what’s going on in your head.”

She closed her mouth and opened it again as if the words just wouldn’t emerge.

Red waited, afraid to push her any further.

Finally the worst of the fiery anger faded from her eyes and she looked over at her sleeping child. “I’m thinking a lot of things, Red. They’re all so jumbled I can’t seem to get any of them to come out, but the main one is”—she looked back at him—“I’m glad I’m your wife. I’m glad you’re Susannah’s father. I think ... I think God knew just what He was doing that day in the cemetery, and I’ll thank Him every day of my life for letting me be with you.” She launched herself the few inches that separated them and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Red didn’t have to think a second before he was holding her snug against him.

Cassie pulled away for just a second. “I’m going to try and say what’s on my mind, Red. And God help you when I do because you may not like some of it. But be patient with me, and we’ll see if I can ... start to believe I’m smart and that what I think matters. Maybe the Cassie who’s been hiding inside of me all these years isn’t such a bad person.”

“I like everything about you, Cass honey. I only want to know more.”

“Well then, the first thing that’s on my mind, now that I’ve turned over a new leaf is ... go away and let me get some sleep. I’m exhausted.” Cassie leaned back against her pillow with her chin lifted ever so slightly in the air as if she were daring him to tell her to stay awake. She tugged at her covers, and since he was sitting on them, she gave him a disgruntled look.

He stood and helped her smooth them.

“When I wake up, I might demand you make me something to eat. How would you like that, sir?” She sounded very bossy, but a smile escaped her prim lips.

Red smiled right back. “It would be my pleasure to serve you, ma’am. You tell me how your want your eggs, and they’ll come out scrambled like they always do.”

Cassie nestled herself amid her blankets. “That sounds just fine.” She was asleep the instant her eyes closed.

Red looked back as he left the room. He stood for a minute and reveled in the beautiful sight of his family. His two beautiful women, Cassie and Susannah. Sleeping. Trusting him for their care.

It was a moment of crystal-clear clarity. A moment with a value beyond price. They were all bound together with a generous supply of love. And, with God’s help, that love would overflow into every corner of their lives. He couldn’t bring himself to leave immediately and he almost climbed into bed with Cassie just to hold her close. He would soon.

Fatigue tugged at his sleep-deprived brain, but he had something to do first. He stepped out of the room, a room he’d barely left in the last day, to spend a few moments in communion with God.

He knelt by the fire, his Bible clutched against his chest, and prayed the most sincere prayer of his life.

Thank You. Thank You, heavenly Father, for the gift You’ve given me. And thank You, thank You, thank You for my life with Cassie, and this joy and perfect peace.

Cassie declared war.

She spent the next three days ranting and raving at him as if he were a slave, and a slow, ignorant slave at that.

He served her perfectly good scrambled eggs and ham for every meal. She told him it was burned, and he was pretty sure, if he hadn’t moved quickly, she’d have thrown it at him.

She barked at him when he was slow. She snarled at him if things weren’t done to her specification. And if he ever dared to disagree with her, she cried.

Red thought he was losing his mind. Cassie had given birth to more than a baby. She’d given birth to a shrewish temper.

The only time she was cheerful was when she held the baby in her arms, and the little one wasn’t cooperating there. Susannah slept all the time, just waking up to demand food or when her diaper needed changing. Red wished fervently she’d keep Cassie a little busier. Red was a little surprised to find out changing diapers was his job. But since it was the only time Cassie would let him touch his babe, he got to liking it.

He also gave Susannah her first real bath. He sneaked her out of the bedroom late one afternoon when Cassie was napping and spent a cheerful hour washing Susannah in carefully warmed water by the fire and telling her all about the ranch. Susannah went so far as to open her eyes just a slit on one occasion, and Red saw that they were a light blue just like his. He enjoyed that for a moment because Cassie’s eyes were a dark, shining brown, before he remembered that none of his blood flowed in little Susannah’s veins. Then he decided if he wanted to think she looked one tiny bit like him, he’d just do it and that was that.

He had Susannah back in her bed before Cassie woke up. Red was relieved he hadn’t gotten caught. “I’ve created a monster.”

Cassie kept nagging him and finding fault with everything he did for her. When Red confessed about the bath, she had some choice comments about his handling of the situation, even though the little’un had obviously survived and was clean and sweet-smelling in Cassie’s arms.

Red kept telling himself that this might be part of those riotous emotions Seth had warned him about. He wanted to talk to Seth about it. He wanted to talk to someone about it before the walls closed in around him. He thought at this very moment he heard the roof creaking under the weight of Cassie’s constant emotional turmoil.

Red willed the weather to clear. The sleet that had locked him and Cassie inside together while Susannah was born had changed over to snow. There was no snow like a Montana mountain snow, and this looked like a prime example of nature’s worst.

Red struggled out to check his cattle every day. He’d found most of them placidly waiting out the storm in a sheltered canyon just as he’d expected, but there were always a few idiots who wallowed their way into trouble, broke through the frozen creek, or hurt themselves slipping on ice.

He’d found one steer with a broken leg and found one calf born out of season. He was able to rescue the calf and reunite it with its frantic mother. The steer couldn’t be saved, so Red shot it and dragged its carcass back to the house, wearing all the ginger out of old Buck in the process. Then he’d had the steer to skin and butcher and the brown and white spotted hide to tan.

That, plus the barnyard chores, kept him busy because he was battling five-foot drifts and whipping winds every step of the way. Then he’d get inside as quickly as he could, even though he wanted to drag his heels, and there would be Cassie, ranting at him for abandoning her.

The blizzard lasted three days. When the snow stopped, the storm seemed to ease inside Cassie, too. Red came inside from watering Rosie one afternoon about sunset and found Cassie dressed and at the fireplace cooking.

He shut the door quickly to keep the heat inside, and she whirled around to greet him with a big smile on her face. Red was struck by the smile. It wasn’t the beautiful, serene smile he’d come to expect from his demure little wife, and it sure as certain wasn’t the perpetual scowl that he’d learned she was capable of in the last three days. It was a smile full of joy and sass.

Cassie’s eyes snapped with pleasure at seeing him. She hurried over to him and started unwrapping the strips of leather that held on his cowhide robe. “You’d better plan on building some kind of entryway so the winter wind doesn’t come straight into the house. It gets twenty degrees colder every time that door opens.”

“Good idea.” Red was struck by how much that would help. Why hadn’t he thought of it? “Should you be out of bed? I don’t want you to overdo it.”

She fussed at him, tugged at the frozen leather, and shooed him toward a chair facing the fire. “Sit down and let me help you with your boots. Your fingers are near frozen. Poor man to be out in such weather. The least I can do is help you warm up.”

She had his outer clothes off in a minute, then she studied his face for a long second. “You’re going to frostbite your nose if you’re not careful. Here, let me warm your face.” She laid her open hands over his cheeks, and the warmth of her touch made his skin sting.

Red stirred under her touch. “No sense both of us being cold, Cass. Let me sit by the fire. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

She ignored his protests and touched her thumbs to his nose. “Just sit still and let me help you.”

Red almost reached for her hands and pushed her aside, so alarmed was he at the chill she might be catching, but he thought of the change in her from the china doll to the shrew to whoever she was now and decided he’d just mind her for a bit.

It really did make Red’s face feel better to have Cassie’s hands on him, and on a sudden impulse, he pulled her onto his lap. “There, warm my face from there, darlin’.”

Cassie squeaked with surprise, but after a second of forgetting where her hands were as she flapped them at him, she returned them to his cheeks.

“This feels great, Cassie. Thank you. Are you sure it’s okay for you to be up?”

Cassie shrugged. “I woke up from my afternoon nap feeling restless, so I took it a step at a time and got up. I’ll quit if I get tired and dump everything right back on you.” She gave him an impudent grin and raised one hand to lay it on his forehead.

“I’m fine now. I’ve been thawing out single-handedly for years, you know.”

Cassie nodded. “I know.” She left her hands right where they were. “But you’ve got white spots on your cheeks. I noticed them yesterday, too. I’ve never seen them before. It’s a terrible cold day, isn’t it?”

“As bad as it gets, I reckon.”

“And you’ve been out with the cattle even in this blizzard.”

“The worst is over. And all this snow will fill the creeks and ponds in the spring.”

Cassie bobbed her chin silently as she studied his face. She lifted her hands away. “It’s better, just red now. I’ve seen frostbite, Red. It’s nothing to fool around with.”

“It’s worst on fingers and toes, and I’m careful with them.”

Cassie smiled. “Good for you. Now let me up so I can get your supper finished.” She pressed her hands on his shoulders.

His hands, which had been resting lightly around her waist, tightened. He could have sworn they did it of their own accord because he didn’t remember thinking it through. And he definitely didn’t plan in advance to kiss her.

Red hadn’t done much kissing in his life. But somehow, with Cassie, he found a surprising talent for the activity. At least he thought so if Cassie’s response was any indication. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her head tilted just enough so their noses didn’t bump, and she settled herself firmly against him, or at least she didn’t object when he urged her close. He wasn’t sure who was moving first because they were both going exactly the same way. He thought maybe, just maybe, they were both the most talented smoochers who ever lived. He’d have liked to study the question more thoroughly, but Susannah picked that moment to start hollering from in the bedroom.

Cassie leaped off his lap as if a lightning bolt had struck her. She hustled from the room without a backward glance and went to fetch the baby. She came out with the squirming bundle in her arms and a smile big enough to light up a long Montana winter night on her face.

She didn’t look at him and he experienced a pang of jealousy, until he decided that she was
not
looking at him too thoroughly and just maybe she was disconcerted by what had passed between them.

“Take this chair.” He stood. “I want you and Susannah to be warm while she eats. I’ll get supper, and tomorrow I’m gonna build you a rocking chair.”

“Oh, Red.” Cassie looked up at him, and the pink flush on her cheeks told him he was right about her embarrassment. She seemed to forget it now that he’d turned her attention. “You’re so busy. You don’t need to do another thing for me. I’ll get supper.”

“Sit, woman.” Red lifted the chair and set it back down with a firm
crack.

Cassie reacted by smiling at him. “Yes, sir. If you insist. I was going to make one of the steaks you brought in from the steer.”

“I can do steaks,” Red said. “Were you going to use the spit in the fireplace?”

Cassie shook her head. “I’d planned to fry them.”

“Let me show you how we eat ’em on a cattle drive. It’s primitive but it’s good. Cattle drive cookin’ is about all I know besides eggs and ham.”

Cassie sat, dividing her attention between the baby and Red’s cooking efforts. He had the sizzling steaks ready by the time Susannah was done and well burped. Cassie changed the baby’s diaper while Red moved the crib out near the fire and debated with Cassie about how close it should be. Then the two of them sat and ate with the baby lying nearby, kicking and making an occasional little noise.

Susannah got bored and fell asleep. Red noticed Cassie’s eyes growing heavy. He insisted she go back to bed, and although she protested, he won the round and settled her and the baby in the back room.

He cleaned up the kitchen without paying attention to his work. He was busy reliving Cassie warming his face with her hands. And with her lips.

He realized that, with Cassie at his side, he could learn to love the bitter Montana winter.

Belle struggled to her feet after milking the cow. The animal was as round as Belle and would have her calf around the same spring date as Belle got herself her last child. She swore to herself it would be the last.

God, please let it be a girl.

Anthony chose that moment to stroll into the barn from the bitter outside. The man was a living, breathing, walking, talking testament to the general worthlessness of men—Red Dawson notwithstanding. Coming close enough to see how awkward she was, fat with their child, Anthony never so much as offered her a hand, and he certainly didn’t say he’d do the milking. The rat didn’t even offer to carry the bucket of milk.

Belle didn’t snap at him as she would have at one time. Making a serious effort, she kept the scowl off her face. Instead, she smiled. “Let’s walk back to the house and talk about what we’re going to name the baby. There should be hot coffee and I ... uh ...
we
could use a cup.” She could use the coffee, because she’d been freezing in the bitter cold of the barn and had been outside working all morning. Two hours before breakfast, and now two hours since. She had three more hours to go before time for the noon meal.

Anthony, on the other hand, had gotten out of bed to eat then had gone back to sleep for a while. He claimed his back would fail him completely if he got up and moving around too early in that cold little cabin. And it was too cold to sit under the Husband Tree or atop the house.

She mentioned none of that. She was a changed woman. A woman trying to do her best to be a good wife. As if doing all the work didn’t make her good enough.

Sorry, Lord. I didn’t mean to let slip with evil, unwifely thoughts.

At least, with the gap snowed shut, Anthony hadn’t been able to go to town. Which saved him wheedling a dollar out of her. Of course that meant he was underfoot all the time. His absence was well worth the dollar she gave him twice a week.

She didn’t say that either. But oh, how she wanted to. Inhaling slowly to regain her self control, she smiled at Anthony. “Now then, about the baby...”

“Her name will be Caterina. It was my ma’s name and it’ll be my child’s if it’s a girl. It’s likely a useless hope that you can birth a son. I’d prefer it but I hold out little hope. If it’s a boy, it will be named after me—Antonio.”

“Antonio is your real name?” This was beyond bad that she’d never known. She’d always thought it was Anthony.

“Yes, I adopted an American form of it and my son can, too, but I am named for my father and now my son will be named for me.”

God, please let it be a girl. Please, Lord. Please, please, please.

“Those names will be fine.” Caterina was no decent name for a child. And if, God forbid, she had a son—
God, please let it be a girl
—she would do her best to train him up to be less useless than the average man and she’d call him Tony. She realized she was assuming Anthony would be dead and would have no say in the child’s name. There were, of course, no guarantees. It was most certainly a sin for her to hope against hope.

They reached the house and entered.

Sarah was hard at work on dinner. She had a stew cooking, savory and warm.

Belle smiled at her daughter and handed over the milk.

“Thanks, Ma. Coffee’s hot.” Sarah poured a cup, giving Anthony a doubtful smile. The child had to work on her false politeness.

Belle hoped her own attempts at being nice were more successful.

“We’ve just been talking about the baby. Anthony wants the name Caterina if it’s a girl and Antonio if it’s a boy.”

“You think you might have a boy?” Sarah frowned little furrows into her forehead. She pulled the cloth out they used to strain the milk and worked as she talked.

“Most likely not,” Anthony sneered. “Your mother doesn’t seem able to produce a proper male child.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “Those are weird names. Can’t we call her something normal, like Elizabeth or Ann?”

“It’s settled.” Anthony took the cup from Sarah as she extended it toward Belle.