Moon Over Montana (McCutcheon Family Series Book 5) (21 page)

“You know, you’re free to go anytime you want. I can understand how you’d like to meet him face-to-face. That you’d have questions. That’s understandable of any fellow. We’ll watch over Faith and the young’uns.”

Luke cut his gaze away. He couldn’t look another moment upon the desperation in the man who’d raised him, loved him, and stood up for him when townsfolk called him a half-breed. It ripped his gut more than a bullet would. Flood was the most courageous man he’d ever met, and he considered him his father—his
only
father. Flood might not have sired him, but he’d raised him with love and respect, and Luke owed everything to him. Sadness gripped him each time he thought Flood was hurting. That hadn’t much crossed his mind before.

“Pa,” Luke began, but stopped when his voice cracked. “Pa,” he said again, feeling all of six years old, when he’d broken the lamp off his father’s desk, the one his mother had given to him at Christmas. Luke reached out and grasped Flood’s arm. “Fox Dancing is as much a surprise to me as she is to you and everyone else. Especially Ma. I hope you understand I don’t try to cause strife in the family—at least not anymore. Those days are behind me. But here I am again, just like when I was a boy. You and Ma always had your hands full, but you never made me feel different. I made myself do that. I never—”

“Hush, Luke. That’s life. Just when you think you have it figured out, or believe that things are smooth sailing from years of work, circumstances take an unexpected turn and knock the wind from your sail.” He shook his head and gave a sad chuckle. “I guess things would get pretty boring if they didn’t.”

Flood turned toward the barn, but Luke caught his arm. “What about you and Ma?”

His father straightened. “What about us?”

“There’s just this thing between you—ever since Fox Dancing showed up. I can feel it.”

Flood nodded slowly. “Just another incident of life I—
we
—have to deal with. As hard as it is for me to think of Claire during the time she spent in captivity with the Cheyenne, I have to remember she was not at fault—for any of her actions or feelings.”

Luke wondered at the way Flood said the last word. Maybe his father knew more than his mother thought he did.

“We’ll work it through, son. We always do.” He shrugged. “But I appreciate you asking.”

Flood was a fighter. He hadn’t built this wild land into the successful ranch he now owned by being a pushover.

Changing the subject, Luke said, “I still can’t get over how Fox Dancing found her way here by herself. Most whites still believe the only good Indian is a dead Indian.”

“I wonder who the young buck was. With the trouble over in Pine Grove, the whole community is sure to be riled when word gets out.”

Luke nodded. “She knew him. The look on her face said it all.”

“We best keep our eyes open and our noses to the ground. Perhaps we can avert any trouble before it happens.”

Luke felt a smile pulling across his face. Here was the man he knew. Always looking on the right side of getting things done. If he could be half the man his pa was, he’d die a happy cowboy. “I’ll spread the word around the hands.”

Flood clapped him on the back and they started toward the house. Luke hoped it would be that easy, but his gut told him that wasn’t the case. Added to this trouble, if he could call it that, was Brandon and Charity. The Heart of the Mountains was once again the eye of the storm.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

B
y the time they arrived at the Biscuit Barrel, there was hardly a table left to find. Charity glanced around with a fake smile plastered to her face. Her mother had absolutely forbidden her to stay home.

She spotted Luke’s table in the far corner, next to Matt’s growing family, and Mark’s smaller table on the opposite side. Chance and Evie sat with Tobit at a table next to Norman, Ina, Hayden, and a pretty, dark-haired woman who must be his wife. She was chatting with Evie, seemingly delighted to be together again. Charity didn’t see Fox Dancing. Luke must have realized she’d cause a stir and left her home. But not even her tough cowboy brothers could withstand the barrage of their children and wives begging to attend the Wednesday night special at the café.

She followed her parents across the room toward the other McCutcheons, happy, and yet melancholy too. She’d never feel whole again until Brandon returned, if he ever did.

Faith waved. “Over here, Flood and Claire.” She gave Charity an extra-special smile. “We saved some places at our tables, but you’ll have to split up. It’s a full house already, even though it’s still early. Make up your mind quickly and order, before they run out of boysenberry.”

Faith knew that was Charity’s favorite. Several servers scurried around the room, pouring water, coffee, and in some instances, milk. Each wore a blue plaid peasant dress and had her hair fashioned on top of her head. The owners, Mr. and Mrs. Larson, prided themselves on having pretty young woman working for them—a ploy to draw in the men. Charity sometimes wondered if that was one of the reasons her family, dominated by men, had chosen this place for their weekly get-together. She wouldn’t doubt it. That, and the sweet aroma in the warm room smelled heavenly.

Luke stood and pulled out the chair next to Faith and seated her. Her ma and pa split up between Matt’s and Mark’s tables.

“Where’s Fox Dancing?” she asked, leaning close to Faith. Colton was to her left, and Dawn sat next to him on Luke’s other side. Luke also held Holly.

“Luke thought it best if she stayed home tonight, and she agreed. Lucky promised to stop in to see if she needed anything in an hour or so—so she won’t feel so alone or get frightened.”

Charity laughed. “I don’t think much scares her.”

“That’s probably true. Still, she’s young and in an unfamiliar place. Did she ever say if she knew the Indian brave?”

Charity nodded. “Yes. I asked her in the barn today after it happened. From the little I could understand, he is from her tribe, and may even be a suitor. Or was. I’m not quite sure. From her reaction, I could tell she didn’t want to talk with me about him. Maybe she thinks we’ll do him harm. I don’t know. She was just as surprised as we were when he showed up.”

It had been a while since Charity had seen the Biscuit Barrel this busy. The sight of Reverend Crittlestick brought thoughts of the wedding and almost cemented a lump in her throat. But she was learning she was a heck of a lot stronger than she thought she was when Brandon rode out. She gave a wave when the reverend looked over and smiled. Berta May, sitting with him, was set to come out to the ranch tomorrow for a second fitting of her mother’s wedding dress. Charity wondered if she should call it off until she knew more.

Several minutes later, the waitress brought dishes laden with large slices of pies of all kinds. She and Faith had gotten the last two slices of boysenberry.

“Hello, Charity.”

Brandon!

A dark shadow of whiskers covered his square jaw, and his dark, expressive eyes were hooded. What did that mean? Had he taken the job? Fear mingled in her stomach with excitement and joy. The chatter in the room quieted. Seemed everyone was anxious to hear what he had to say.

She struggled to swallow quickly. “Brandon.”

He held out his hand. “Can we speak outside?”

How could she say no? She fought the urge to seek out her mother’s face, or Luke’s, or anyone else in her family. She had to stop running to everyone else to make her decisions for her. Nodding, she let him help her up and walked through the quiet room, everyone’s gazes still glued to their backs.

• • •

Fox Dancing ran to her bedroom window when she heard a stone tap against it, followed by another. She struggled to get the contraption open, but when she couldn’t seem to make it work, she placed her warm palm on the clear barrier and looked out into the night. It didn’t take long to spot Painted Bear Stone standing below her window. He must have watched everyone leave in the wagon earlier.

Their gazes locked, and a chill slipped up her spine. Never in her wildest imaginings had she expected him to follow her. But he had. And he was here. When she’d seen him in the struggle with the white boy-man, she’d nearly flung herself on him to get him to stop. If he’d killed the white man, he’d have been hung.

Turning, she ran through her room, down the hall and stairway, and flung open the front door. Once she was outside, she stopped and gathered her runaway emotions and approached Painted Bear Stone slowly, stopping a few feet away. Anger, and something else, burned deep in his wide-set eyes.

“You are
my
wife, and you run off like a child,” he said in their native tongue. It wasn’t a question, only an angry complaint. “The agreement was made and horses delivered.”

He stepped forward, but she held her ground.

“You have disgraced me. I have the right to kill you this moment if I choose it so.” He pulled his long knife from its sheath. The blade glimmered in the moonlight.

She held her head high and nodded. “Yes!” she retorted. “And I will disgrace you
again
if you try to take me back. Go find another wife from among the young women of the tribe. Someone who desires to be trapped inside a tepee to cook your food, sew robes to hang over your shoulders, or have your children. Because I do not! I am also a warrior—just like you! I have made my vision quest and killed a bear on my own.” She thought of the scar that spanned her back from approaching the animal she thought dead. “That should prove to you that I am serious. You should have taken my word when I told you I had no interest, before asking my father.”

Why doesn’t he look convinced?

He came a step closer, his eyes glittering, but she was not frightened. This was Painted Bear Stone. He would do anything to keep her safe, as he had since childhood, even follow her through the white man’s land where they were not welcome. His mouth pulled down and his eyes took in every detail. She felt her spirit bending toward his, and she jerked her thoughts away.

“We will leave now. Before the rest return.”

“Did you see him?” Fox Dancing asked, unable to keep her excitement over Luk quiet another moment. “He’s just like Father said, an important white man among his people. He’s kind too. Though he was surprised when—”

“I saw not a white man and not a red man,” he interrupted curtly. “I saw a man with one foot in both worlds.”

His tone cut like flint and she winced. He didn’t care about her brother, only about getting her back to the village, where she would become his property. Before she knew what he was about, he reached out and grasped her wrist, pulling her to the hard muscles of his chest.

“Don’t put up a fight, Fox Dancing. It is time to return to your world.”

At the sound of hoofbeats, Painted Bear Stone looked around.

Not knowing who it was, she placed her hand on his arm; the warm sensation under her fingertips surprised her. Fear for him made her voice hard. “Go! You are not safe!” Using the distraction, she jerked out of his grasp, darted into the house, and slammed the door.

Chapter Thirty

A
s soon as they walked out the door, Charity vaulted into Brandon’s arms. Keenly aware of everyone watching through the windows, Brandon took time to hold her, relishing the feel. For a moment he closed his eyes, thanking God for this beautiful woman who still loved him even though he’d gone off half-cocked on a wild goose chase all the way to Kansas City and back.

“You’re back so soon,” she said against his neck. “I wasn’t expecting you for another week, or more.”

“You complaining?” he teased.

“Never.”

“Good.” He set her away. “Walk with me. Everyone’s watching. I think we’ve given them enough gossip fodder for a year, and then some.”

He took her hand in his and started down the street.

“It didn’t take but a few minutes in Kansas City for me to know I had to get back to Y Knot—and you—or lose my mind,” he said as they strolled down the boardwalk. “When I finally came to my senses, there was still an early train Monday morning, and I wasn’t going to let it leave without me.”

They stopped in front of Lou and Dritt’s boardinghouse. He turned and went up the walk. The inside of the inn was dimly lit, with one light burning in the window. He heard a murmur of voices from inside.

“Let’s sit out here on the porch. Lou won’t mind.”

He sat Charity in one chair and pulled another chair close. “First things first,” he said, finding her lips. The strength with which she kissed him back surprised him. He gathered his emotions, then pulled back.

“I couldn’t do it, Charity. The moment I arrived, I started wishing you were there. Everything I saw, I wished I was sharing with you. Deep in my heart, I knew it wouldn’t be right to take you from the ranch, even if you would go. You belong out here.” He glanced down the walk at the quiet street, the only sounds coming from the Hitching Post Saloon a couple doors to their right or the Biscuit Barrel on their left.

He liked it. The quiet. And the multitude of stars he could see overhead. “Kansas City was dirty and crowded. Every place I went, every person I met, I was comparing it to what I have here.” He looked deep into her eyes. “Tell me I still have you, Charity. That you still love me. That’s been my deepest fear, that I’d come home and you would have changed your mind.”

A beautiful smile graced her face, meant only for him. “I love you with all my heart, Brandon. I never stopped, and I never will. I prayed every night you’d come home, but still, I only wanted that if it would make you happy.”

Unable to stop himself, he wrapped her in his arms again. “That’s music to my ears, darlin’. You’ve made me a happy man. I know my place and I won’t ever doubt again. The feelings I was imagining about Timberlake were only that. Figments of my fancy. Wishes of what I’d lost as a boy and what never could be again. I’m not a kid anymore, and I don’t want to be. You’re the only thing that is important to me. Wherever you are, I’ll be happy.”