Montana Dawn (21 page)

W
HAT’S
the news in town, Sheriff?”

Charity glanced at Brandon with the most innocent, beguiling look, and Luke cringed. Brandon just seemed taken aback that she’d addressed him. He wiped his mouth on his napkin, and swallowed.

“Not much new in town, Charity. It’s been mighty quiet this past month.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that.” She let her statement dangle, leaving not only the sheriff wondering what she meant by it, but also everyone else at the table. Everyone except Luke.

“Well, the new dry goods place did finally open up for business. They had themselves a little shindig commemorating the occasion.”

“Ah, good,” Flood commented. “Someone needs to give old man Swanson a little friendly competition. He’s had it
too easy for too long. I don’t like the way he treats some of the people in town.” The family all nodded in agreement.

Charity said, “Oh, I wish I could have gone. It’s been so long since I’ve had a party to attend.” The statement, and the way it was gushed with gooey sweetness, drew many surprised looks. “I suppose
everyone
in town was there?”

Brandon looked to Luke in silent question. Luke shrugged.

“I reckon.”

“And Miss Langford. She was there and brought her niece?”

Brandon swallowed his food. Again he politely wiped his mouth. Thinking for a moment, he nodded. “Yes, they were both there.”

“I’ll bet she was just the belle of the ball,” Charity continued, as if unable to stop herself. Most at the table had now guessed that she was in some sort of jealous snit, but poor Brandon hadn’t a clue. “With her beautiful flaxen hair”—Luke’s eyes went wide at the fanciful description he’d not given her—“and charming smile. Did she flash her baby blues your way, Sheriff?”

Brandon almost spit his water all over the table.

“Charity, mind your manners!” Mrs. McCutcheon scolded. “Mr. Crawford is our guest tonight, and you’ll treat him accordingly.”

“Well?” Charity pressed, as if she hadn’t heard her mother.

Irritation flashed in Brandon’s eyes. “Yes, as a matter of fact, she did.”

Resembling the trial lawyer the family had once seen in Bozeman, Charity seemed to be satisfied with his answer and let the subject drop.

The women settled in the parlor with little Beth, leaving the men to venture outside for a smoke. Flood lit his cigar and puffed a few times, creating a cloud around his face. “So, Crawford, what have you learned about the calf?”

Brandon took the cigar that Flood held out, rolled it
between his fingers. He smiled. “I think you’ll be pleased to know I have two men in custody for maiming your bull.”

“What!” the three McCutcheons said in unison. “Who?”

“Do the names Earl Morton and Will Dickson ring a bell?”

“Earl? That no-good bastard,” Luke growled.

Flood shook his head. “I’d expect something like this from Will Dickson, but Earl? You sure? We were pretty certain we knew who did it.”

“Heard it with my own ears. Tilly overheard them laughing about it in the saloon. I stood in the liquor room and listened through the wall. By the way, Luke, Tilly said she’d have my hide if I didn’t remember to tell you hello. She misses you.” He chuckled a moment, then continued. “When she heard Earl murmuring the McCutcheon name to some of his cronies, she got suspicious. That’s when she came and got me.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Matt said. “I suppose he was taking his revenge for being fired off the drive.”

Brandon’s face was serious, so Luke asked, “What else?”

“That’s it.”

“I know you better than that,” Luke said. “There’s something you’re not telling us.”

Brandon hesitated a moment. “By the time I arrested him, he’d had a snout full. He said no half-breed was going to fire him and get away with it.”

Luke shrugged, unaffected. He was through feeling different. From now on he’d wear his heritage proudly, for all to see, whether they liked it or not. That’s why he was wearing his buckskins tonight. And because he wanted Faith to know full and well who he was. Eagle Gray had dropped them off at the bunkhouse years ago, encouraging him to embrace his heritage, but he’d never before felt compelled to wear them.

“Well, I guess a half-breed
did
fire him and get away with it. But then that poor bull had to suffer. That’s a crime I won’t forgive. What was Will Dickson’s part in this?”

Brandon shook his head. “Since when does Dickson need a reason? Seems he was just out for some sport.”

Mark spoke up. “When will the judge be through town?”

“Possibly next week.”

“Good. Let us know when they have their hearing. We’ll be there,” Luke promised.

Matt dropped his cigarette and ground it out with his boot. “I’m for joinin’ the women. How about you?”

Nodding, the men went inside.

They hadn’t missed much. Luke was always amazed at how long women could stare at a baby. First the females of his family had stared at Billy, then Adam. Now they acted just as excited about Beth.

“Here, Sheriff, you hold her,” Charity suggested as she handed the child to Brandon.

Luke chuckled as his friend took her, a look of terror on his face. “Charity, take her back. She looks like she’s goin’ to cry,” Brandon said.

“Don’t be silly. She’s as content as can be.” Then Charity flounced away, leaving Brandon with the four-day-old squirming in his arms.

“Take her, Luke,” the sheriff said, trying to hand the baby over.

“No, sir. I’ve done more than my share of baby-holding these past three weeks. You need a chance to catch up.”

The lawman made a face. “I guess you don’t want to hear what I know concerning…” He let his statement go unfinished but looked at Faith, who was chatting with Rachel and Amy. Dawn lay contentedly in her mother’s lap, her head resting on Faith’s knees.

“What did you find out?”

“Take this little tyke first and I’ll tell you.”

His insides humming with anticipation over what information his friend might have for him, Luke took Beth from
Brandon’s arms and gave her to Rachel. He led Brandon to a secluded part of the dining room, where they wouldn’t be overheard by anyone and prompted, “So?”

“From what I’ve learned, there is some question over how Samuel Brown, her husband, died,” Brandon explained softly. “There’s a possibility she killed him.”

“Impossible.” Luke’s heart slammed in his chest. This wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“Not so,” Brandon argued. “They had a troubled marriage. It was thought that maybe he beat on her on occasion, when he’d had too much to drink. But, from what I gather, a real investigation hasn’t happened. For whatever reason, I’m not sure. It’s more rumor and speculation from certain individuals.”

Despair for Faith’s circumstance washed over Luke. He couldn’t stop himself from looking over at her as she laughed with his two sisters-in-law. He was mad at her, and she was as stubborn as a mule, but there was no way she could kill a man and not have it eating her alive.

But, what if the man were beating Colton? He’d seen her protectiveness over the boy. What then?

“I have a few more leads I still have to investigate,” Brandon admitted, interrupting Luke’s thoughts. “The marshal from China Gap is heading over in that direction this week. He owes me.”

Hell. Should he call off the investigation? If she had killed Samuel and was on the run, did he want to inform the law where she was? They wouldn’t just let her off scot-free. Females were prosecuted under the law same as a man. He’d never considered that she’d done something like this, if indeed she had.

“Call off the marshal,” he said.

“What?”

“I said to call him off. I’ll go myself and investigate.”

Luke’s friend gave him a long, hard look, then gazed around the family gathering. He shook his head. “Not advisable,
Luke. You could be getting yourself into a lot of trouble. Aiding and abetting is a serious crime.”

Luke jammed his hand through his hair. Frustration vibrated through him. “Dammit, Brandon, look at her. You tell me she killed her husband.”

At that moment, Dawn began to cry. Excusing herself, Faith ascended the stairs with the infant in her arms. At the top she paused and for a brief moment looked back down. Luke saw the questions in her eyes. Then she turned the corner and was out of sight.

“We’ve been through a lot together, Luke. I don’t want to see you makin’ the biggest mistake of your life. You know better than anyone else I can’t look the other way if a crime has been committed. Especially murder. Not for you, not for any of the McCutcheons or anyone else.”

Even though it angered him, Luke knew his friend was right. “How long do I have?”

“A week.”

“Fine. But wire the marshal and call him off. Tell him you’re sending someone else to look into things, that you’ll let him know if he’s needed. Just make darn sure he knows that you’ll be handling this yourself. And we
will
handle it. I promise you.”

Brandon shook his head. “I hope she’s worth it, Luke. I really do.”

F
OR
the hundredth time, Luke went over the facts that Brandon had delivered. Each time he did, the same feeling of sick helplessness consumed him. Leaning back against the corral post, he looked at the night sky. The vault of the heavens enveloped him, all-consuming, and the sight that usually
filled him with wonder now only turned his insides cold and black.

Was it possible that Faith really did love him but with so much at stake was afraid to trust him or let her feelings show? Yesterday, lying in the grass, she’d shown her desire, and he believed she’d meant it. But, what if she were guilty? What if she had killed Samuel and skedaddled out of town before anyone found out? What then?

He’d cross that bridge when he got there.
If
he did. He still felt that this was one hell of a mix-up and that she was what she said she was: a woman on her own, out to start fresh, not wanting or needing a husband.

Not wanting or needing him.

“Luke?”

He turned at the sound of his mother’s voice. She was making her way toward him in her night wrapper, her hair unbound. She was still a very beautiful woman, with her petite size and ageless skin. But it was her gentleness, her goodness that made her the special woman that she was.

As she got closer, he could see the question in her eyes.

“What is it, Ma? What brings you outside this time of night?”

“You do, Son. I got up to get a glass of water and noticed your door ajar. I wondered where you’d gone off to.”

“I just needed a little fresh air is all.”

She smiled that smile he remembered well from his childhood and stroked his cheek, letting her hand linger. “Such pain in your eyes, Luke. What is it?”

“Just something I have to work out on my own.” His voice was hoarse, his throat tight.

His mother surprised him by climbing up on the corral rail and sitting down. She had to go slowly so she wouldn’t catch her wrapper under her feet and fall. Luke chuckled and climbed up next to her.

“You comfortable?” he asked.

“It’s been a while since I’ve sat up here. I used to love to watch Flood as he rode the wild mustangs.”

“You should have seen me the other day,” Luke said, shaking his head. “I let a mediocre ringtail throw me into the dust.”

“I was going to come out when I heard the commotion and cheering, but then I noticed that you already had yourself an audience.”

Luke gazed at the dark sky, remembering. Had it been only a week ago? “I reckon I did.”

“She’s a lovely girl,” his mother said softly. “I watched as she ran out when she thought you’d been hurt. Even that angry horse wasn’t going to stop her.” Her laughter sounded like bells. “Really, Luke. You should be ashamed for scaring her.”

Luke smiled at the memory. Then he looked at his mother’s profile as she gazed out over the tall pine trees toward the mountains. “How did you know I wasn’t really hurt?”

“Flood. He used to pull that trick on me all the time. Whenever he was feeling that you boys were getting all the attention he’d let himself get pitched off a horse, then wait until I came running. I never let on that I knew his game. I just kept fussing over him when he needed the fussing. It’s a natural thing, you know.”

Luke sat in silence, just absorbing the bigness of his surroundings.

“So, what are your plans?”

Startled, Luke looked at his mother. “What do you mean?”

“Faith. You’re not just going to let her slip away, are you?”

“She has secrets. A past she won’t share. Every time I ask her about it, she lies.” He snorted. “It’s complicated.”

“How complicated can it be for two young people in love? I see it in both your eyes. The question is, how much are you willing to bend?”

Bend? His temper flared. He’d been bending ever since that night he found her in the dilapidated wagon, about to give birth. What more could he do if she didn’t want his help? “I
would bend if she’d be honest with me. But she’s hiding things that are big. Things that she needs help with but won’t ask. I want a marriage like you and Pa have, one built on honesty and trust. Without that you got nothing.”

“Fear’s a funny thing, Luke,” his mother said, placing her hand on his thigh. “It can change things around in your head until you believe them wholeheartedly. Maybe she’s scared.”

Maybe she was. If she was innocent, he’d go to Kearney and clear her name if it was the last thing he did. But that didn’t mean they were suited. If she had come to him in the beginning and been truthful, maybe they would have stood a chance. But now, he just didn’t see it.

“Look at me,” his mother scolded. She took his chin and twisted his head in her direction. “You are definitely the stubbornest man on this ranch. You come by it naturally, though, from the Cheyenne blood flowing in your veins. They didn’t come any more hardheaded than Netchiwaan, your real father.”

Shocked, Luke stared at her. Never before had she made reference to the fact that he was different because of his Indian blood—or even mentioned his father’s name.

“As you know, I was very young when I married Flood. By the time Mark came along, I was still only nineteen years old. This ranch was just a small cabin, a couple of corrals and as many steers as Flood could afford to buy. Wilderness surrounded us on all sides.” Her voice took on a dreamy quality, as if she were reading a novel of the most wonderful adventure. Luke would have thought memories of the abduction would haunt her. But that didn’t seem to be the case.

“I won’t go into detail, but one day when Flood was out and I was here with my two little boys, a band of Cheyenne warriors came through the yard. After I’d pushed Matt and Mark into the cabin but before I could lower the bar, one grabbed a hold of my hair, dragging me onto his pony. I scratched him up real good but was unable to get free.”

Luke held up his hand. “Ma, you don’t have to tell me this,”
he said, his head reeling. He’d never before asked for any information because he’d wanted to spare her the pain of remembering.

“Oh, yes I do. I’m sorry Luke, I should have told you years ago. I didn’t realize how much you needed to hear.”

And then she told him everything.

When she got done, he was speechless. Luke had expected to hear an account of rape, hardship and torture. But that hadn’t been the case at all. Although her heart was broken when she’d been ripped from her husband and children, and she never gave up trying to escape, the months in captivity hadn’t been all bad. After one month of living as a slave to the chief’s oldest wife, and unharmed in any physical way, she’d been given to a young brave named Netchiwaan. He was kind and they grew fond of each other…and a small part of her still loved him. Luke had been a very special gift.

She’d been Netchiwaan’s second wife, and since he was a warrior of great standing, the other Indians treated her well. After she’d been rescued and she realized that she was carrying the warrior’s child, she’d worried over what it would do to Flood. But Flood, being the man that he was, accepted Luke as his own, loving him exactly like his other boys.

“You were and still are very special to me, Luke,” his mother whispered. “When I see you, with your flashing black eyes, your pride as big as a Montana sky, and even your stubbornness…I remember. Please don’t misunderstand, I was beyond happiness when I returned home to my husband and family, but I carry guilt about something: if I’m completely honest with myself, I have to admit that I did, in a way, love Netchiwaan.”

It was unbelievable, what his mother was telling him so calmly. All these years, she’d loved a man other than Flood.

“So, Luke. Do you think I could have been completely honest with Flood, telling him my Indian captor was sweet and charming, with a wonderful sense of humor? That he
was a passionate young man who loved me fiercely? That he has his own little spot in my heart that I cherish? Flood’s a very understanding man, forgiving to a fault. But would he forgive me for what I feel? Could he live well knowing that truth?”

“No,” Luke responded thoughtfully. At least, he couldn’t imagine himself being that understanding where Faith was concerned.

“So you see, things are not always easy. They’re not always what they seem. The human heart is a complicated and mystifying thing; as hard as we try, we can never fathom its depth and capacity. Faith may have something so frightening in her past that she thinks she can’t share it with you—and maybe she’s right to do so. Don’t shut her out because of it. Give her a chance. And if she doesn’t ever tell you, let it go. If you get together, focus on the love you share. That’s all that matters.”

They sat silently for some time. Astounded, Luke couldn’t picture what his mother had just confided. Was she thinking about his Indian father now as she sat beside him?

“I’m getting a mite chilly,” she said at last. “I think I’ll go back to bed before I’m missed.”

Luke hopped off the rail and reached up, taking his mother by the waist and lowering her to the ground. “Thanks, Ma.” He laced her hand into the crook of his arm and covered it with his own. They walked silently back to the house.

“Get some sleep,” she suggested. “Things will be brighter in the morning.” Then she disappeared into the dark doorway.

Sleep? He’d not get any of that tonight. His mind whirled from what she’d just told him about his biological father. Sweet and charming? A man with a wonderful sense of humor? Fiercely passionate! Everything he’d ever believed had been shattered in the blink of an eye. The secret his mother kept was not one of shame, but of love.

Suddenly, Luke’s heart spread its wings and soared like a mighty eagle. For the first time in his life, he didn’t curse the
Cheyenne blood that made him different but yearned to feel it strong and true. With a mighty war cry he bolted through the yard. Throwing a bridle on his horse, he vaulted astride bareback and galloped off into the night.