Moon Over Montana (McCutcheon Family Series Book 5) (6 page)

“What happened?”

“Before Jack could get here—he’s always a bit slow; that is, if you can find him—the two drunkards drew on each other. Both had a snoot full, so no one was kilt, just wounded. Doc Handerhoosen took the plugs out and stitched ’em up. A week later, they rode out of town together as if nothin’ had happened.”

Sometime during Abe’s storytelling, a prickle crawled up Brandon’s spine. He glanced discreetly in the large mirror. No one back there was paying him any mind. He glanced out the door, but the street was dark. He mentally shrugged the thought away.

“You want a beer, Sheriff? It’s on the house.”

Sated from dinner, wine, and the champagne as well, Brandon shook his head. He needed to get home and face whatever was in that letter. “No, thanks, Abe. But I appreciate the offer. I’ll finish my walk around and get home. I’ll take you up on your generous offer another time.”

There it was again, making his nerves tingle.
I haven’t stayed alive this long by ignoring my gut. Someone is watching me, and I want to know who
.

He turned. What had raised his suspicions? Every man in the room had his head down. Reading a fistful of cards, admiring his whiskey-filled shot glass, or asleep on the table. A sound made him glance at the stairs leading to the second floor. A beautiful woman stood on the halfway landing. When she was sure she had his attention, a seductive smile curled the corners of her strawberry lips.

“That’s Fancy Aubrey, our new saloon girl,” Abe said from behind him. “Arrived just after you left town.”

Saloon girl? Didn’t he mean woman? No miss in Brandon’s lifetime had ever looked like
that
. A blue satin dress clung to her hourglass shape, and her blond hair was done up on her head, an abundance of curling tendrils framing her perfectly shaped oval face. Her chin was set just so, and her posture reflected years of practice. He could see the vivid blue of her eyes all the way from where he stood.

“Really.” That was all he got out before the woman gracefully descended the stairs, glided across the scarred wood floor, and stopped at his side.

“Who’s this handsome man, Abe?” she said, using her voice like a velvet weapon. She ran her hand down Brandon’s arm as he took her stock. Her blue stone earrings glinted in the light of the lanterns against her powdered skin. “You new in town, sugar?”

Abe sputtered and reached out as if to personally take her hand from Brandon’s arm. “This is Brandon Crawford, Fancy. Sheriff of Y Knot. And you best keep your hands to yourself or Charity McCutcheon may come in here and give you what for.”

Amused, Brandon touched the brim of his hat. “Miss Aubrey. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” He glanced at Abe. “I keep meeting all sorts of pretty ladies just come to town. Maybe I should leave more often.”

“That must be Evie Holcomb you’re referring to,” Fancy said. “I saw her on the boardwalk this afternoon with that handsome husband of hers. That girl has a heart of gold. She can’t understand why women cross to the other side of the road when they see me coming.” Fancy laughed, but Brandon didn’t miss the slight wobble in her lips.

“You and Chance’s wife are friends?” He wasn’t judging, just surprised.

“Yes, we are, Sheriff. Chance too, as a matter of fact. Does that shock you?”

Things are getting more interesting by the second
. “Maybe.”

The saloon doors swished open and Francis, the young cowhand who worked for Charity’s family out at the ranch, came striding in. The seventeen-year-old’s face brightened when he saw Brandon.

Brandon took a step away from Fancy Aubrey to put a decent amount of space between them, since she didn’t seem so inclined. If anything, he’d felt her inching closer.

“Francis,” Brandon said. He came forward and the two gripped hands. “It’s darn fine to see you.”

“You too, Brandon. I’d heard you and Charity arrived this afternoon.” The color of Francis’s face deepened, and he kept his eyes trained far away from the seductive saloon girl by Brandon’s side.

“Aren’t you going to say hello, Francis?” Fancy said in mock hurt. “You’re breaking my little heart. I thought we had something nice going.”

Francis stammered, then said, “Hello, Fancy. You sure look purty tonight.”

She batted her lashes. “Thank you. I’m delighted you noticed. Abe, give Francis a beer on me.”

Was that true? Did the two really have something going? She was years older than the lad.

Francis scuffed his boot nervously and brought his attention back to Brandon. “I’m here picking up a couple of horses from the livery. Threw some shoes.” His clean face and slicked-back hair would be wasted on a couple of horses. Brandon also detected the warm, spicy scent of the aftershave Lucky made in the bunkhouse from rum boiled with bay leaves, cinnamon, lavender, and other odd spices. His way of combating the unpleasant aroma of manure-covered boots and dirty clothes.

“This late?”

“June knows I’m coming.”

Abe set a foamy mug on the bar. “Here you go, son.” The bartender looked speculatively at Brandon. “How’s Charity doing? Word’s got around town how she snuck down to Rio Wells to see John, and how you had to fetch her back. I’m sure Luke and the rest are plenty glad to put that fiasco to rest.” Abe looked at Fancy when her shapely eyebrows lifted. “Charity is the youngest McCutcheon and only girl. She and Brandon…”

Fancy pursed her lips. “Are?”

“Engaged,” Brandon supplied. Lenore and June knew. Tomorrow, the whole town would be talking.

Abe slapped the bar. “Congratulations, Sheriff! That’s just dandy. We’ve had a bet going ’round to see if the two of you’d come back hitched, or fightin’ again. Seems none of us were right. We’ll have to roll that over into a new pot to bet on. I wish you both the best of luck.”

Something in the man’s eyes said they were going to need it. Brandon tried not to respond in anger. He supposed Y Knot’s interest in his and Charity’s relationship was understandable. They’d been putting on a show for years. At least out at the ranch, Charity didn’t have to contend with the teasing every day like he did.

Francis picked up his beer and took a long guzzle. He’d been sweet on Charity for as long as Brandon could remember, unmindful of her being three years his elder.

“Congratulations, Brandon,” Francis finally said. “Good luck and all that.”

“We appreciate your good wishes, Abe, Francis. And it was my pleasure meeting you, Fancy Aubrey.” He touched the brim of his hat. “If you need anything, just let me know. Or if anyone gives you a hard time, I want to hear about it. I like to keep Y Knot peaceful for everyone.”

Fancy arched her back and gracefully placed a hand on her hip. “Thank you, Sheriff. I’ll be sure to do just that.”

Brandon had put off the correspondence from Kansas City for as long as he could. Trying doorknobs to be sure they were securely locked, he made his way down the boardwalk toward the sheriff’s office and his small house out back.

What would the letter say? If he’d gotten the job, it would surely tip his chance with Charity right out the window. And if he hadn’t gotten the job, he’d always wonder where his life could have gone if he had. Neither option seemed to satisfy. But knowing would put a rest to this endless questioning.

At the end of the alley behind his office, Brandon unlocked his door and pushed it open. Cool, musty air hit him in the face as he hung his black felt Stetson on a peg, then walked through the darkened room into the tiny kitchen, where he lit the lamp.

Home sweet home.

The simple domain wasn’t much, but it was plenty enough for him. It had been his home for the past six years—and he liked it. He’d be lying if he said different. The place was clean and tidy. Extra pair of boots sat in the corner by the back kitchen door. Dishes clean and stacked on the counter; no sense using energy to put them in the cupboard when they were handier right there. One chair at the small, beat-up old wooden table. Yep, perfect for a one-man show.

Charity had only been inside once. She’d ridden into town with Luke and they’d come looking for him when the sheriff’s office was empty. He’d been lounging in the front room, boots off, eating a plate full of beef and beans and a hank of fresh bread ripped from the loaf Berta May had baked him that morning. Charity had been thirteen and hadn’t been able to mask her surprise at his small, threadbare bachelor pad.

Brandon chuckled, remembering her expression. Over the years, he and Luke had gotten many good laughs recalling the stunned surprise on his little sister’s face. It didn’t feel quite so funny anymore.

No more stalling. He pulled the envelope from his back pocket and scooted out the wooden chair. He opened the post. The salutation was brief, addressed to Brandon Crawford, Sheriff of Y Knot, Montana Territory.

I do indeed remember you, son! So many years have passed since that fateful and sad day that took the lives of both of your parents, that I dare say you probably will not recognize me. I have to say I am surprised to get this letter, but delighted as well. So, you are a lawman too. That stands to reason. Moreover, I am relieved I will not have to explain anything about the job to you—the dangers and the fact many lawmen do not reach their fiftieth birthday. I will make my final decision after I meet the men interested. Come to Kansas City by
…

Brandon blinked, then looked away in deep thought. July 26th was only two weeks away. If he’d gotten the post when he should have, he would have had a good month and a half to break the news to Charity and plan the trip. As it was, he’d be lucky to make the appointment on time.

Luke’s shindig was in a few days. Maybe he could pull together his travel plans and then speak with Charity the day before. He wouldn’t spring it on her at the party. They’d need time alone to talk.

Brandon had never been to Kansas City. Images of streetcars and businesspeople going about their day filled his mind. Horses, men’s clubs, telephones…all the things he’d read about in the Y Knot
Sunday Herald
. Perhaps it would be like San Antonio, bustling with activity.

Maybe he was blowing this all out of proportion. Charity had liked her time in Rio Wells. Said how much she enjoyed the travel and experiencing how the rest of the country lived. Would she consider accompanying him to the interview? Excitement warmed Brandon’s insides. No—better yet, they could marry first. Make it a true honeymoon.

He smiled—a real smile—for the first time since Jack had handed him the letter. What was the saying about having one’s cake and eating it too? It could happen. Charity had grown up so much on this last trip. With the way she’d pledged her love to him over and over, there was no way she wouldn’t be as happy as he was for this big chance.

What the devil was he thinking? Nothing ever went as planned when it came to Charity. She was a force to be reckoned with, and then some. Maybe that was why he loved her so much. She kept him on his toes. Even if this was his big break, predicting her response was iffy, at best. He could suggest eloping to Missouri, but after agreeing to Mrs. McCutcheon’s request for a month, going back on the word he’d given only hours before felt wrong. He’d hate to anger his mother-in-law and start the marriage off on the wrong foot.

What to do? There didn’t seem to be an answer that would make everyone happy. More likely, the opposite would happen, leaving a trail of broken hearts. And losing Charity would break his heart most of all.

Chapter Eight

C
harity fairly flew down the long staircase to find her mother and father alone at the dining room table. “Good morning,” she sang happily.

“Good morning, dear,” her mother replied. “I can see that you slept well. Was it good to be back in your own bed?”

Her father set his cup in his saucer as he waited for her reply.

“Did I. And yes, it was. I opened my window and all the fresh air had me feeling like a baby. I’m so well rested and ready to make plans for the wedding. Mother, your suggestion to wait was a good one. I’ll only have one wedding and one opportunity to plan. The next few days will be fun.”

“Well, whatever you and your mother talked about last night made all the difference,” Flood said. “When I retired, I was a little worried that you were having second thoughts.”

“Never,” Charity said quickly, drawing a look from her father. “I can’t wait to marry Brandon. He is everything to me. I want to have a big family, just like you two.”

Esperanza came into the room carrying a plate and the coffeepot. “I hear your voice, Miss Charity.” She smiled and set the ham and eggs in front of Charity, then filled her coffee cup. “I will be right back with some juice and cream for your coffee.”

“Thank you so much, Esperanza. You’re a jewel.”

Claire laughed. “How I wish I could bottle your enthusiasm.”

Unable to wait for the cream, Charity took a drink of the aromatic coffee. “I was thinking of riding into town today—” She raised her hand when Claire opened her mouth to object. “Just to see Brandon for three minutes. We were together so much in Texas, even one day feels like torture without him.”

Flood leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “How together were you?”

She tamped back a jab of irritation. “Not together like
that
.”

Flood sat back and reached for his coffee cup. “That’s a relief.”

Claire quieted him with a look, then directed her attention back to her daughter. “You do what you want, but if it were me, I’d give him some time to miss you. Absence makes men’s hearts grow fonder. It’s true.”

Flood nodded. “Your mother knows what she’s talking about. He’ll be swamped with business for a few days—and your appearance might not have your desired effect. Let him get settled and back in his routine. It’s not that he won’t want to see you, but he’s a very steely young man. He takes his responsibilities seriously, like everyone should.”

And then some
, Charity thought. Brandon was a lawman through and through.
Something I love about him very much.
She cut her ham and ate a slice. When Esperanza returned with a glass of orange juice and a small pitcher of cream, Charity doused her coffee with a more-than-generous dollop and added a teaspoon of sugar.
It’s so wonderful to be home.