Moon Over Montana (McCutcheon Family Series Book 5) (14 page)

“But we just got back from Texas,” she said, placing small kisses around his lips. “What’s this about, Brandon?”

• • •

Charity’s fingers stilled, and she pulled them from Brandon’s hair at the nape of his neck. A flutter deep in her belly made her long to pull him closer. She hated to change the subject from kissing, but Brandon’s talk of a honeymoon far from home had come out of nowhere. A little confused, she said, “Why would you want to go to Kansas City?”

Instead of answering her question, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her neck, making her shiver. He tried to gather her closer.

“Oh no, you don’t, you sly dog.” She laughed. “You’re trying to distract me—which isn’t hard to do. You can’t make me forget my question. It can’t be done.”

She felt him shake his head. He sat up and brought her with him. “I guess you’re right. Why Kansas City?” he repeated, as if she had indeed forgotten in the span of two seconds. “Just thought it might make you happy.”

She knew Brandon better than that. The whole way home in the stage, he’d complained about the stuffy air, his clothes sticking to his warm skin, the bad food at the stage stops. He’d sworn that once he got back to Y Knot he wasn’t going anywhere far for a good long time. That was only a few days ago. What had transpired to change all that?

One of the cowhands’ laughter floated out over the field from the bunkhouse. The moon, still large and orangey pink, hung low over the far mountains; it was a sight to see. She’d remember this day for the rest of her life.

Brandon’s face was solemn as he gazed at the moon.

“Brandon, you’re scaring me.”

He turned and smiled. “Nothin’ to be frightened about. And nothin’ we can’t work through.”

At his words, Charity stilled. This sounded serious. Not some silly whim. She didn’t want more trouble on top of what had landed in their laps tonight. She wanted to know, and yet she didn’t. With a gentle touch of her fingers and a leap of faith, she turned him to face her.

“Tell me,” she whispered, feeling as if she’d just stepped backward off a high cliff.

He sighed. “The day we got home from Texas, I had a post waiting for me in the office. From a federal marshal in—”

“Kansas City,” she finished.

He nodded. His thumb skimming across the top of her hand did little to calm her nerves. “Months ago, I learned this marshal would be hiring two new deputies. I’ve known Timberlake from when I was a kid, when I lost my parents. You and I were arguing, and you’d sworn you didn’t want to see my face ever again. It seemed like things between us were never going to go anywhere, no matter how much I hoped.”

She pulled away and looked at him. He’d told her he had no recollection of his past. That he’d been so young when he lost his parents, but maybe that wasn’t the case at all. That had always felt a little peculiar to her, but she’d not questioned him—didn’t want to cause more pain where she could already see it lingering in his eyes.

“Charity?”

She tried to push away her hurt that he’d used their on-again, off-again relationship as an excuse to do something so important. Besides, they always argued. It made the making up so sweet. She’d never had doubts about them. Their affection for each other had always been true. At least, that was what she’d believed.

“I was just angry enough at the time to think I didn’t have a snowflake’s chance in July to marry you. But then you ran off to Denver and Texas, and I went after you. Time passed, and I forgot all about it until the day we arrived back into Y Knot.”

It took a moment for his comment to register. She’d been expecting some silly answer that would make her laugh, like
I knew you’ve been dreaming of time away
. Or
I have tickets to the Kansas City Opera six nights in a row
—something, anything, other than the truth. She swallowed down the fear clogging her throat.

She’d been right and her mother had been wrong! Brandon
had
been acting abnormal. He’d been torn over their engagement and had other things on his mind. She hadn’t imagined it at all. She knew him better than anybody. She’d never second-guess her intuition about him again.

“Charity, say something.”

“I don’t know what to say. You made a major, life-changing decision without even considering what it would do to us? Without talking to me? I’m astounded, but I’m also heartbroken. Do you even still want to get married?”

“Charity.” He pulled her to him, but she pushed against his chest. “You know I do. You know it!”

“I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t understand about this lawman, Brandon. You’ve never said anything about him before, or wanting to be a marshal.” It was more than hurt, it was shock—and a good dose of anger. All these years, they’d never discussed marriage, but she’d been firmly committed to Brandon in her mind. All her brothers had known how she felt. She thought Brandon understood how serious she was about him. Maybe she’d been wrong.

“I’ve never told you this before, but when I was just a boy—”

“Charity!” It was her pa’s voice, and he sounded mad. “Charity, where are you?”

She rushed to stand, but Brandon grasped her arm. “Wait, let me finish. I have to explain why it means so much to me. When I was—”

“Brandon?” Claire McCutcheon called. “You bring Charity in this instant. You’re not married yet!”

Her mother’s normally pleasant voice sounded strained and harsh.

“I’ve got to get back before the whole bunkhouse gets sent out on a search party.”

In reality, she couldn’t bear to hear what Brandon was about to say. Here they were again. Another reason to wait—argue, have hurt feelings. Another round of arguments, making up, only to start all over again. Perhaps their future wasn’t written in the stars, like she’d believed her whole life. Maybe it was time to let Brandon go.

Chapter Nineteen

M
orning came early. Luke climbed out of the warm bed in the dark and pulled the blanket up around Faith’s shoulder before slipping into his pants and a shirt. He couldn’t lie in bed one minute longer. Too many thoughts were rolling around in his head like prickly pears in a barrel. He’d been awake for hours, since before Holly’s two o’clock feeding. When his daughter’s small cries began, it wasn’t but a moment before Faith crept quietly out of bed and pulled on her wrapper. This was her favorite feeding, she’d told him more than once. The house was dark and quiet and she had Holly all to herself.

He’d listened as she cooed to the babe, picked her up, then crossed the floor to the dresser to change her soggy drawers. Then they sat in the rocker for a good forty-five minutes. When Holly was finished, they’d played for a while, with Faith’s whispers and Holly’s gurgles making a happy sound in the dark. Every once in a while, he’d hear Faith laugh softly, then speak in that way only a mother could do to a babe in the wee hours of the night.

He’d learned a lot of things since becoming a father.

As he’d listened, he’d been thinking about Fox Dancing. The sight of the Cheyenne sister he hadn’t known he’d had, lying in that bed, so close to death, had rocked him. He guessed most of the family in the room had probably thought he was upset with her arrival at his ranch. It wasn’t that at all, although he did worry about how his pa and mother would handle the situation, how they would navigate through this sudden disruption in their marriage. It wouldn’t be easy. Especially after his mother had confided in him last year that her life with his real father hadn’t been horrible, and that her feelings for him had grown during their time together. At first, he’d been mystified at Fox Dancing’s appearance, then filled with wonder. Here was his chance to learn more about his father. Here was the gift of another sister.

Luke carefully closed the bedroom door. He briefly looked in on Dawn as he made his way down the hall toward the stairs. She slept soundly, worn out from the shindig yesterday. In the upper hallway, he opened the last door to confirm Colton was indeed fine. Across the hall from his son’s room was where Fox Dancing slept. He wondered if she was awake.

He’d sat by her side most of the night, then around one had been relieved by Roady. Tired, he’d trudged off to bed. Faith had offered to take a shift, but with Holly and Dawn to attend to, Luke insisted she get her sleep.

Taking the knob in his hand, he carefully opened the door. The room was quiet. Roady’s legs stretched out in front of the chair, crossed at the ankles. Limp arms rested on his stomach, and his chest made a pillow for his chin. He took a deep breath that wasn’t quite a snore.

When Luke’s gaze moved to his sister, he was surprised to see her eyes open and watching him. He nodded and smiled. Three steps brought him to Roady’s side. He nudged his shoulder and Roady opened his eyes.

“Morning,” Luke said low.

“Is it?” Roady replied. “I just now fell asleep.”

Luke nodded. “Indeed. Fox Dancing is awake. I guess she’s stronger than the doctor thought.” He sent a reassuring look to Fox Dancing, who regarded him with curious eyes.

Roady sat up straight and ran his hand through his rumpled hair.

“How is she?”

Roady shrugged. “She still doesn’t trust me. After you left last night, we pretty much had a staring contest. She was tired, but she didn’t dare close her eyes until I did. When I finally caught on, I closed my eyes and pretended I was asleep. It wasn’t but two shakes of a lamb’s tail before she was out like a lamp.”

“I appreciate you staying.”

His longtime friend grunted, then his signature grin split his face. “What’s for breakfast? I feel like my gut’s been empty for a week. I think I was dreaming of a platter of steak and eggs with a side of potatoes, and a waffle.”

“A platter, huh? That’s good, because that’s partly what you’ll be getting from the leftovers from the barn dance last night. I’m on my way to the kitchen now to put the coffee on.” He went to the opposite side of the bed and placed a palm on Fox Dancing’s head. She closed her eyes at the contact. She was still running hot. As much as he wanted to feel some relief, it was too soon to think his little sister was out of the woods just yet.

Roady stood and stretched. A pained expression crossed his face when he twisted his back one way and then the other. “What time is it anyway?”

“Almost five thirty. Faith would’ve been up by now, but she just got back into bed an hour ago. I want to have the house warm before she does make it down.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Seems Holly thought it was her time to play after her parents and all the neighbors had their fun last night. That little sprite knows how to charm the socks off a horse.”

“Fine. I’m coming with you.” Roady preceded him to the door.

It took a few minutes to get a fire going in the kitchen stove, and a handful more to perk the coffee. Soon, the brew’s savory aroma filled the room.

“What do you make of her, Luke?” Roady asked, taking the mug of coffee he offered.

“It’s a shock, all right, but not to me. Ever since hearing the truth about my heritage, I’ve wondered if I had brothers and sisters out there somewhere. Now I know.”

Roady regarded him with his stoic gaze. “Seems your pa’s taking it pretty hard. It was mighty uncomfortable last night when your ma surprised us talking Cheyenne. I’ll tell you, my jaw almost hit the floor when the first word popped out.” He shook his rumpled head. “Stands to reason, though, that she’d know the language. She was there for about a year.”

Luke tossed him an aggravated look as he sliced a roast, laying strips of beef in the hot skillet. “You sure seem to know a lot about it.”

Their ranch foreman shrugged. “That’s not my fault. Every time a new man is hired on, the talk goes around the bunkhouse. It’s natural, Luke. The men don’t mean any disrespect to your mother. Why, every single one would risk death to keep her safe.”

The butter in the hot skillet turned brown as the meat fried. Luke pushed it around with a fork, understanding what Roady said was the truth. “I know—”

He glanced over when Colton walked into the room. He nodded at the boy before replying low so Colton couldn’t hear as he took a crock of milk from the icebox. “Still don’t make it any easier to think your mother is the topic of bunkhouse talk.”

• • •

Fox Dancing lay in the softness of the snowy cloths of the bed as she watched the men leave the room. She marveled over the feel of the fabric. Normally, she’d wake to the prickly softness of animal skin next to her nakedness. This material was smooth and cool, almost wet feeling. At the thought, she glanced down in alarm, checking to see if they’d stripped her in her weakness and taken away her buckskins. Relief washed through her when she saw she was still dressed in her breeches, but her shirt had been changed for one of soft cotton.

Brother sun sent beams of yellow light streaming through the sparkling glass window; they landed on the covering of her bed. The window at the Indian agency was so gummy with smudges, she’d hardly understood they were for peering through. This was beautiful. She slowly reached out and touched the shimmery glow of warmth.

Thinking of her brother, satisfaction slid through her veins like baby fish in the streams. She’d accomplished her quest. Met him in the flesh. Her father and grandfather would be proud of her. Making the trip alone had been a great accomplishment. She’d proven herself worthy.

She wondered what Painted Bear Stone would think when he knew what she’d done. She pictured his laughing face—and then him scowling, trying unsuccessfully to frighten her. Her heart warmed a little, recalling all the times he’d been only one step behind, thinking himself her protector and guardian.
Does he wonder where I am? What I’m doing? If I’ve gone to the great hunting ground in the sky? Does he
—

She slammed her eyes shut, appalled with the course her thoughts had taken. She didn’t care what that proud, strutting brave thought. Once he’d asked her father to marry her, everything had changed. She’d never marry any man! Especially not Painted Bear Stone.