Montana Rose (10 page)

“No, you must have chores to do if we’re staying away overnight. I’ll get things straightened in here and come help you as soon as I can.”

Red nodded. “I’d better get going then.” He practically ran out of the house.

“He’s always in a hurry,” Cassie murmured to herself. “I wish I could help him more.” She cleared the last bit of the kitchen quickly so she could get to her outside chores.

“I’ll get a horse saddled for you, Cass honey.” Red tried to saddle Buck for her, planning to ride another horse himself, but she’d approached Buck then backed away with one excuse or another until she’d practically been dancing around the horse. Then Buck had started acting spooky.

“Uh ... would it b–be all right if I just rode with you, like we did last week?” Cassie gave him a look of such longing, like the idea of sitting so near him really appealed to her. Buck had held up well being ridden double home from town last week. But Red was worried about working the horse too hard.

If Red didn’t share with her, she’d have to ride Buck, because he was the best-trained horse Red owned, but truth was, Buck hadn’t ever calmed down much after Cassie and the chickens had scared him. Red was afraid he was permanently spooked now and would never be as good a mount. Red had a remuda with a dozen horses, but they were green broke—rough horses born on Red’s ranch or rounded up from the wild, well suited to cutting cattle when guided by a firm hand but not saddle ponies for an unskilled woman. The buckskin had come with him from Indiana, just like Rosie, and was almost as much a pet as Rosie. But he’d taken a skittish turn since he’d met Cassie, and Red was worried about Cassie riding him alone. Riding double solved that problem.

It took him a full hour to figure out Cassie had never ridden a horse before, or at least not much. She was terrified but doing her best not to let him see that.

He thought about hitching Buck up to the wagon. It was slower but it would have been okay. Unfortunately, he figured out about Cassie’s fear when they were a long way down the road to Divide. It was too late to go back.

Cassie had started out sitting sideways on the saddle while Red rode behind the cantle. But that proved to be not only uncomfortable for them both, but Buck didn’t like Red sitting back so far and proved it by bucking every few feet. Cassie had nearly fallen off a few times. Red fixed that by moving into the saddle and holding her firmly on his lap just as she had been after their wedding. Red found this arrangement to be no hardship.

Even after Red moved, Buck was fractious.

“Is this how it usually is to ride a horse, Red?” Cassie tried to sound calm, but Buck wasn’t cooperating. Now Cassie’s flapping skirts and her constant squirming around on Red’s lap weren’t making his horse a bit happy.

Red was happy ... just not his horse.

“Buck’s a little jumpier than usual, I reckon. He’ll calm down once we’ve ridden a ways.” Red hoped.

Cassie’s constant nervous fluttering wasn’t bothering Red at all. He liked the feel of her against him, and every time she moved, he realized that being married was a wonderful thing. But Buck wasn’t married to Cassie, and he probably didn’t think she was heart-stoppingly beautiful, what with Buck having his own standards of beauty that included four legs and gigantic teeth. So Buck didn’t like her one bit.

They’d been on the trail a far piece when Cassie said, “I’d like to learn to ride a horse, Red.”

“Learn to ride? What’s to learn? You’re doin’ it.”

“This is only the third time I’ve been on a horse in my life. I should know how to do it if I’m going to be a rancher’s wife. Shouldn’t I?”

Red’s stomach sank at the thought of what lay in store for him if Cassie got her mind set on the death-defying task of riding a horse. Then under the fear, he registered what she’d said. “Only the third time? How did you live in Montana for two years and come across the prairie in a covered wagon without riding a horse?”

“We had the carriage and Griff said riding was not ladylike. So I never...”

Red felt a little stir of his temper. It usually wasn’t too much trouble, but sometimes he had a little problem with it. “Cassie, Griff told you not to ride. Griff told you not to talk about the baby to the point you don’t know a thing about what’s to come. Griff told you a woman was unclean when she was carryin’ a child. Griff mortgaged all your family heirlooms without telling you so you could have a useless new silk dress every year. Excuse me for speakin’ ill of the dead, Cass, but your husband wasn’t very smart, was he?”

All Cassie’s fluttering and squirming stopped. She sat frozen in his arms.

Red tensed up when he realized he’d gravely insulted his new wife’s dead husband. It wasn’t a good way to endear himself in her eyes. He started to apologize, but he wanted to see her face first to judge just how hurt and angry she was.

Before he could get a peek at her she said, “Do you really think Griff was wrong about all those things?”

“Now, Cass honey, I shouldn’t have said that. I know you loved him and you...”

“Answer me!” All the softness was gone. She sounded almost frantic.

“Well, don’t you?”

Another silence, longer than the first, stretched between them. “You mean I get to decide if I think he was smart or not? Surely that’s not a woman’s place.”

“I don’t rightly know if Griff was
smart
or not. I just said he did some things and told you some things that weren’t smart. No one can know everything. I’m sure Griff was real smart about lots of things, but he was wrong about some things, too. He shouldn’t have said you were unclean. But maybe that’s somethin’ he was raised with. Some people have funny notions. And he should never have mortgaged your things. I know all about the law and how it treats property between a husband and wife, so legally those things were his. But there’s right and wrong, too, Cass. Morally those things were yours. Maybe you would have agreed to mortgage them, but I’m bettin’ you’d have said, ‘I want my family Bible more than I want a new dress.’ Now isn’t that right? Isn’t that what you’d’ve said?”

It took a long time, with Cassie staring at her hands, before she answered. “I’d have parted with the Bible for food, for something we really needed. Well, maybe not. No, not the Bible. I wouldn’t have parted with that ever. That book was something my mother treasured. I’d have gone hungry before I parted with that big old book....”

Her voice faded and Red was afraid he’d made her cry. He felt like a brute to have reminded her of her precious belongings. He’d hurt her with his words when she was the most precious thing in the world to him.

“But the pearls and the portrait frames, I would have held on to them if I could, but I would have let him have those if it was for something that was important to the ranch. But I’d have never mortgaged them for a dress. I had two other black silk dresses. Griff wanted me to always have new things. He said we needed to keep up the right appearance.”

Red tried to distract her from her keepsakes. “And as far as not thinkin’ a lady should ride a horse, why honey, I’ve never known a lady in Montana who
didn’t
ride a horse. Even in Indiana most ladies rode. Surely Illinois isn’t much different. Griff was just plain wrong about that.”

“When he was dying, Griff kept insisting I not go for help.” Cassie looked up at Red, her eyes brimming with tears. “I didn’t know how to catch the horse, so it was easy for me to mind him. Then I waited too long. When I finally did catch one, I couldn’t make the horse obey me. It went back to the house at least six times before I got it going toward town. But it didn’t matter by then anyway; Griff was dead. I stood by and let my husband die rather than ride for help. I didn’t do a thing to save him because I was a coward. A stupid, cowardly child. That was one thing Griff was right about.” The tears overflowed and Cassie looked as if she hated herself for failing that idiot Lester Griffin. Like she still wished he was alive so she could be married to him.

Red knew all the stories about redheads having fiery tempers. And he knew, in his own life, that there was some truth in that. He didn’t get angry very often, but on occasion he really blew up. Listening to Cassie say Griff called her a stupid, cowardly child set him off like dynamite detonated inside him. He clamped his jaw tightly shut and didn’t let the words escape that were roaring around inside him. He’d already insulted her husband once today. He knew he didn’t dare do it again. He’d remember her tears of grief for Lester Griffin if he lived to be a thousand.

Red prayed for restraint. He’d wrestled with his temper all his life, and the grace of God had helped him gain pretty good control of it. He froze his jaw solid and prayed and tried not to let his fury spread to his body for fear he’d squeeze Cassie so tight she’d squeak. And he asked God to forgive him because he was sorely afraid that if Lester Griffin had been standing in front of him right now, he’d have beaten him to within an inch of his worthless life.

Cassie seemed to be lost in her guilt about letting that no-account husband of hers die, so Red was free to struggle with his temper. He finally felt controlled enough to say through clenched teeth, “You’re not stupid, and you’re not a coward, and no woman who’s gonna have a child any minute counts as a child herself. So Griff was wrong about that, too. Now, hold on ’cuz Buck is rested and we’re gonna gallop.”

He kicked Buck in the sides before she could respond to him, because he was very much afraid that if she called herself stupid and Griff smart again he was going to say something he’d regret. Buck broke into a ground-eating gallop. Red felt his horse’s enjoyment of the hard run in the way Buck relaxed between Red’s legs. Buck forgot about the fidgety woman who had been annoying him for the last week.

Red wasn’t so lucky.

He had the jolting realization that he’d just fallen completely in love with his wife. His wife, who was still in love with the village idiot.

With murder in his heart, Wade watched Dawson and the china doll ride away.

He’d learned the woodlands around the Dawson place so well he could come within a hundred feet of the house without being seen. He didn’t have his rifle today. Today he had other plans.

He saw the way Dawson held Cassie. Wade pulled the flask out of his hip pocket and tried to soothe the inferno of jealousy with the bitter whiskey. He touched the pearl handle of his six gun. He wasn’t after Dawson today. He walked up to the front door of Dawson’s decrepit shack and went inside.

He’d loved walking around inside the Griffin place. He’d loved to run his hands through the china doll’s silks. He’d touched her combs and jewelry and kept strands of her hair until he’d gathered enough to make a little braid of it to keep in his pocket.

Now he needed more of her. It had been too long since he’d had her alone, as he sometimes did at Griffin’s when her foolish husband went to town. Wade knew the fear he sensed in her was fear of her attraction to him. Any decent, married woman would be afraid of such stirrings. If he had just had his chance and the china doll wasn’t bound to someone else, she would have turned to him.

He wandered through the house looking for signs of her. He didn’t find a single dress. There was no silk or satin anywhere. She had no mirror or hair combs that he could find. He gathered several strands of hair from her pillow, but there was nothing else.

“You’ve come down in the world, china doll. First you were married to a man who hurt you. Now you’re married to a man who can’t give you nice things.” Wade took a long pull on his flask and savored how eager she would be to come to him.

“And maybe Red Dawson hurts you, too.” Wade thought of Red putting his hands on the china doll and fury burned in his gut. “I want to rescue you from this.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled a handkerchief out. It was so delicate that his calloused fingers snagged it when he rubbed it between them. He thought of leaving it for her. But he knew better than to let Dawson know he was around. And besides, he didn’t want to give up this latest memento he’d claimed from the Griffin house. Most of the things had been taken out and sold to pay off the bills that no-account Lester Griffin had run up. There wouldn’t be any more pieces of Cassie to collect. Wade rubbed the handkerchief and smelled the beautiful scent on it and pitied her.

Drinking deep of the whiskey fueled his anger, and he wanted to lash out and destroy this ugly home she’d been imprisoned in against her will. He raised his fist to smash the lantern, shouting, “Red Dawson stands in our way!”

Something almost echoed in the decrepit excuse for a house and Wade paused without wrecking the lantern. He listened again. The echo he’d heard wasn’t his own voice. It was something else, something far away and quiet and small, but it seemed to burrow into him deeply. It was all wrong. He knew the way he was acting wasn’t reasonable. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the china doll. It ate at his gut to think of her trapped here, like Wade was trapped with his father. Wade wanted to run off, start a new life without Pa telling him every breath to take. But he couldn’t leave the china doll. He had to save her. Then they’d run together.

Whatever that echo, it calmed him enough that he didn’t smash the house to pieces and burn it to the ground. But he didn’t stay and listen for it again either.

Instead he took a long pull from his whiskey bottle and stormed out before he did something stupid.

He needed to plan.

He needed to set her free.

“Where’s Anthony, Ma?”

Lindsay lightly touched her roan’s neck with the reins and used her knees to steer the horse close with its travois on the back, then swung down to help with the harvesting. Blond and pencil slim, thirteen-year-old Lindsay was as tough and competent as a seasoned cowhand.

Breathing a prayer of thanksgiving that none of her girls took after their pas, except in looks, Belle looked up from where she plucked a pumpkin off the vine. “I haven’t seen him since the noon meal.”

She set the pumpkin on the growing pile. The last of her fall garden was nearly stripped clean. She straightened and rested one hand on her back. Good thing the baby would come by spring. She didn’t want to do branding while she was expecting. Her belly got in her way.

“What do you need him for?”

“These pumpkins are heavy, but it’s not like it’s really
hard
work. I thought maybe he’d pitch in.” Lindsay pulled her pumpkin free with a
snap
of the crisp, dead vine.

Belle chuckled. “Well, you are a dreamer, youngster. I suppose you can hope, but it’s not likely to happen.”

“I saw him.” Sarah came walking up from the derelict cabin they lived in. “He was sitting under the Husband Tree again. Did you ever tell him he was sitting on one of the husbands’ graves?”

Belle straightened and looked up the long slope to the bluff that towered over her house. A lone oak where she’d buried William and Gerald. “Too bad he doesn’t die up there and save me the work of hauling him up.”

“He might live, Ma. Just because you’ve chosen men who proved to be rickety in the past doesn’t mean Anthony won’t last.”

Belle knew that to be the absolute truth, but she could hope. The only good thing about being married to Anthony was it kept other men from coming around the place.

She settled her eyes on the oak tree, its branches swaying in the brisk fall breeze. Winter came early up this high. The first snow could come any time.

“And he doesn’t get drunk near as often as my pa did.” Sarah was too young to remember her pa, but Belle made sure Sarah heard all about him.

“And Anthony’s never come after you with his fists.” Lindsay picked up another pumpkin and set it in the heavily laden travois.

The horse snorted and shook its head, jangling the traces. But the animal stood still, trained well by Belle and Lindsay and Emma.

“I think he’s just too plumb lazy to get after anyone.” Belle grabbed the heavy orange pumpkin, remembering how heavy Gerald’s fists could be. But he hadn’t landed many blows. A well-placed frying pan had proven to calm him considerably. And once he knew she’d use it, he’d quit with the fists anyway, unless he was powerful drunk. And then he was easy to best.

“I like him up there better than on the roof.” Lindsay stared at the man barely visible, leaning back against the tree trunk. “It gives me the creeps the way he sits up there like a turkey buzzard.”

“Where’s Emma?” Belle looked around, not alarmed, just curious. Her girls were completely competent around the ranch. She didn’t spend too much time fussing after them.

“She’s dragging windfall limbs out of the spreader dam. She wants to clear the water paths before they freeze.”

“I’ve a mind to ride over to see the Dawson place one of these days.”

“You’re still worried about that woman they forced into marriage.” Sarah straightened with a pumpkin nearly her own weight in her arms.

Belle smiled. Her girls knew how to
work!
“I just ... well, honestly it’s bothering me day and night. That little girl looked so trapped and scared.” Belle shook her head, wishing she could dislodge the image. But even her dreams were haunted by Cassie. What if Red Dawson used his fists? Belle could protect herself, but Cassie wouldn’t know how.

“You can get away once the fall garden is cleared.”

“No, I’ve got three herds left to bring down from the high pasture. And the snow will close us in before you know it. What if I rode out and the snow came before I got back? I could be shut out until spring.” The thought terrified Belle. Her girls stuck in here alone all winter. Oh, they’d survive. They were tough as all get-out. But it would be a hard, cold winter for them.

“How far is it? You could watch the weather. And the cattle, well, just because a snow closes the pass doesn’t mean you can’t still bring in cattle. It stays nicer in the valley than it does up on the gap.”

“I think I’ll do it.” Belle rested her hand on her stomach and thought of the long, hard ride up to her high pasture. She wished she’d dared to skip it this year. She’d have to be out overnight, and the ground seemed to be harder than when she was younger. Smiling at herself, she decided maybe she would wait until spring to ride up. If the cattle up there got hungry, they’d come down closer to the ranch. They knew where the hay was stacked.

“Maybe I’ll ride over there in the next few days. There’s one pasture that closes up early, and if I don’t bring those cattle down, they’ll have to spend months up there and the grass might not hold out. But most likely the cows will be all right. I don’t think many cattle went up that high. And it’ll bother me all winter if I don’t go check on Cassie.” Belle straightened and rested both hands on her back. Carrying pumpkins when she was round as a pumpkin herself was hard work. “And girls, I’ll warn you right now. If I don’t like what I see, I might just grab that girl and bring her back with me.”

Lindsay brightened. “That’d be great, Ma. I’d like another sister.”

Belle smiled. She’d seen the possessive look on Red’s face. He wouldn’t give up his property without a fight. But maybe she could check on the girl, and if she didn’t like what she saw, she could pretend to leave, then watch the ranch, and when Red left, snatch Cassie and bring her home. The mountain gap would snow shut, and by spring maybe Belle could teach the girl how to handle herself. Give her a frying pan of her own. Belle had a spare.

Satisfied with her plan, she said, “I think I’ll do it. We most likely have a few weeks before the first big snow, so I’ll put off fetching down that one herd ... maybe until spring. I’ll make sure it’s a fine day then just run over to the Dawson place and back.”

“You rescue her if you’ve a mind to, Ma. It’d be fun to not be the oldest for a change.”

Belle felt as righteous as a fire-and-brimstone preacher as she bent to pick up another bright orange pumpkin, thinking of the misery she could spare that poor little Cassie Dawson.

Cassie had never had so much fun in her life.

She laughed as the buckskin ran full out into the cool fall afternoon. What a wonder. Her husband
liked
her to laugh.

Red held on to her so tightly that she didn’t think the baby had been bounced around much at all. He’d ridden straight to the general store, which surprised her. She expected him to go to the stable first and see to Buck. He’d jumped off the horse and lifted her down without a word. Then he’d caught her by the hand and dragged her into the store and found Muriel.

“Cassie needs somewhere to spend the afternoon,” he snapped at Muriel.

Cassie turned to look at him, wondering where that angry voice had come from.

“She doesn’t know the first thing about having a baby either. Could you talk to her?”

Cassie felt her cheeks grow so hot with embarrassment she half expected her head to ignite. She dipped her chin down so no one could see her red face.

“Hmm...” Muriel said no words, but the sound, well, Cassie glanced up at the woman and saw some strange kind of satisfaction on Muriel’s face as she looked between her and Red.

A smile lurked behind Muriel’s understanding nod. Cassie didn’t have time to beg Red not to leave her because he must have taken that noise to be agreement on Muriel’s part. After his abrupt request, he took off like the building was afire.

Cassie looked after him, worried that it was something she’d said. “Maybe I should—”

“He’s a man. Ignore him.” Muriel caught Cassie’s hand and pulled her toward a table full of gingham. “We’ll just have a nice chat. I don’t get to visit with womenfolk much.”

“He’s a man. Ignore him”?
Cassie thought those words might well qualify as blasphemy before God. Griff would have certainly said they did.

“I just got a shipment of dress goods in on the noon freight wagon. Can you help me stack them on this shelf over here, Cassie?”

Cassie was relieved to be asked to help rather than be given a lecture on the details of something so personal as childbirth. “I’d be glad to help.”

Long before Red came back, Cassie and Muriel were fast friends. Cassie couldn’t believe this nice lady had lived so close to her for two years and they’d never spoken beyond polite niceties.

Libby Jeffreys came over to put in her usual weekly order and pick up a few necessities that couldn’t wait until Red delivered the supplies. Seth came in and out of the store, filling Libby’s order, and left the women alone.

Muriel poured coffee, and Libby stayed for over an hour, drinking coffee and laughing over the comings and goings of Divide. Leota Pickett came just as Libby was leaving, and Libby settled back into the rocking chair, one of four Muriel had by her potbellied stove, and accepted another cup of coffee.

Cassie realized all of them were hungry for talk with another woman. She’d never known it before today, but she was hungry for it, too.

They all gave her polite words of sympathy for Griff and asked avidly how life was with Red. Somehow, without her noticing, they started talking about babies. Libby had two sons, grown and on their own, both bachelors living nearby. Leota Pickett had five young’uns at home, the littlest still in diapers. Muriel surprised Cassie when she talked about two children she’d lost in a diphtheria outbreak just before they moved west. There were never any more children for her and Seth. Muriel’s grief was old, and Cassie had the impression it was almost a comfort to her because it was all she had left of the two toddlers she’d lost.

The ladies started talking about how they brought the children into the world, giving shockingly specific details, then laughing wildly over things they’d said and done during their laboring. Cassie was only vaguely aware that she was learning dozens of things she needed to know about delivering a baby. And Muriel promised she’d come and help bring the baby, saying she’d done it many times, including for Leota’s youngest. All Cassie had to do was send word. Cassie wasn’t sure how she’d do that, but Muriel mentioned that there was a ranch owned by a family of bachelors only a thirty-minute ride from Red’s holding. Red would have plenty of time to ride to the Jessups’ and one of the Jessup hands could come to town.

They had everything settled, and Muriel had even come up with a swatch of cloth that matched Cassie’s singed dress. After Libby left, Muriel and Leota sewed on a patch while Cassie was still in the dress. She sat and watched them.

The two older ladies had dozens of suggestions for housekeeping that were a revelation to Cassie. And with a little encouragement, she told them about her week, including the array of mishaps that had befallen Red.

The ladies laughed hysterically until they couldn’t keep stitching. Cassie didn’t understand their wild laughter at Red’s expense, but they wouldn’t let her feelings remain wounded. They teased her until she was laughing with them and told her little ideas for handling livestock and gardens and lanterns. Cassie absorbed every word.

Leota overstayed the time she should be away from her children. She explained to Cassie about Red taking over some of the stable chores so Maynard could come in from work early on Saturday, and how Leota cherished her few minutes at the general store with Muriel and her long evening with her husband at hand for a change. Then Leota hurried off.

Muriel propped a sign on the counter that said customers should holler for help. She took Cassie into the back to start supper. Cassie was able to help Muriel, but Muriel had lots of little tips for preparing dishes. Cassie remembered working beside her mother in the kitchen occasionally when she was a child, but her mother had employed a cook, so preparing meals was a special event. Her mother’s advice returned to her some because Muriel had the same patient way of talking.

The general store had a busy time later in the afternoon, and Muriel couldn’t visit with her anymore.

“I think I’ll start delivering Libby’s supplies to the diner,” Cassie said.

Muriel shook her head as she filled an order. “You just leave that for Red, now, Cassie. I’m not allowing you to tote bags and boxes.”

“But I want to help,” Cassie insisted. “I feel guilty letting Red pay all our bills. Red told me work and money are the same thing, so it’ll be like I’m paying for my dresses myself.”

“You’re a sweet girl to want to help, but—” The bell rang and another customer came in. Muriel didn’t have time to talk. “Go ahead then. Libby’s things are stacked by the back door. But just take small things, and promise me the minute you get tired, you’ll stop. Any little thing you take will lighten the load for Red later.”

“I’ll be sure to quit when I get tired.” Cassie hurried to the back door, feeling like she was really contributing to the ranch at last. Then she saw the mountain of food Seth had set aside for Libby. Cassie’s inclination was to forget about helping, but she’d made too big a deal about it, and remembering Muriel’s words that even a little bit would help, Cassie decided she’d just carry one thing at a time.

Cassie appeared in Libby’s Diner with a fifty-pound bag of flour in her arms. “Where do you want this?”

“What in the world are you doing carrying that heavy thing?” Libby rushed to lift it out of her arms. “You’re in a delicate condition. Red would have my head if I let you deliver my groceries.”

Cassie didn’t want Libby to get in trouble. “I’ll just carry lighter things from now on. I’ll leave the big loads for Red. I promise.”

She hurried away before Libby could forbid her to help. She crossed Main Street, went through the alley to the back of the general store, and went in. The door didn’t close behind her, and she turned to see a crowd of men. Each of them scraped their feet a bit and apologized for following her and picked up a case of this or a crate of that. They delivered Libby’s groceries in one trip.