Montana Standoff (17 page)

She pulled away from him then, to help Pony with the final cleanup of Ramalda's kitchen, to say goodbye to Bernie and Guthrie and Jessie, to accept the somber bow and the kiss on the cheek from both Badger and Charlie as they departed to overnight on the ranch in parts unknown, and to follow Pony down the back hallway to the guest room where she'd be sleeping. Steven trailed along behind, curious. It was a small room with rose-printed wallpaper, a small bed, bureau and desk, with a braided rug on the floor. “It's lovely,” Molly said. “Thank you.”

“You'll be sharing the bathroom with the boys,” Pony said. “Let me know if they're a problem. You will find a new toothbrush in the cabinet above the sink.”

“I'll be fine. Thank you so much. The party was great. Tonight's been just perfect.”

Pony smiled. “Steven will be sleeping in the living room on the couch. If he gives you any trouble, just call out and Ramalda will see to him.”

Molly's soft laugh brought the heat to Steven's face. He followed his sister back out into the kitchen and waited while she added a few sticks of wood to the stove and shut the dampers down. She met his gaze then and the faintest of smiles warmed her expression before she dropped her eyes and turned toward the door. She opened it and started out onto the porch, then paused and glanced back. “I left blankets and pillows on the couch in the living room.” She paused again and the silence stretched out while he patiently waited. “I like her,” she concluded. “I am glad you both stayed.”

He nodded. “I'm glad you asked us to.”

M
OLLY AWOKE
in the little bedroom with the cabbage-rose wallpaper and the 1930s vintage furnishings. It was early, dark early, and she opened her eyes slowly, roused by the fragrant aroma of coffee. She stretched and yawned and felt that same warm, peaceful feeling fill her that had filled her the night before, and thought that she could live like this forever as long as Steven was near.

Steven…

Her smile widened as she remembered how she'd crept into the living room after Pony left, while the ranch house slept and the moon rose ever higher to cast its celestial light through the old, rippled panes of glass. She'd been able to see plainly enough to walk in the unfamiliar darkness to the place where he slept. Or, as it had turned out, didn't sleep. When she'd entered the living room, her eyes searching for his form on the sofa, she was startled to see that it was empty, that the room was empty, and that the door leading out onto the porch was ajar. She'd found him sitting on a bench in the chill of the earliest of morning hours, gazing out across the moonlit distance.

“Steven?” she had whispered, and he had turned his head and held out his hand to her. She had joined him,
clad only in the oversize T-shirt that Pony had given her as a nightgown. It floated to her knees in a baggy, shapeless cotton tent and once upon a time she would have died before being seen like that by a man she cared about, but that had been another time. With Steven she'd never given it a thought, just let him pull her down next to him and wrap her in his warmth.

The sound of a horse whinnying and a boy's voice shouting roused her from her reverie. Molly got up and was startled to see that neatly folded on the chair by the door was an entire outfit suitable for a long ride up into the September mountains of Montana, obviously delivered while she slept. She dressed hastily after the prerequisite scrub up in the bathroom, which, due to the apparent lateness of the hour, she had all to herself. When she entered the warm kitchen, Ramalda was washing dishes at the sink while firewood snapped in the cookstove and a pot of coffee steamed enticingly.

“Good morning, Ramalda,” she said. “I'm sorry I'm late….”

“Breakfast long over,” Ramalda said, swinging her formidable bulk about and giving Molly her darkest scowl.

“Yes, I'm sorry I overslept, but I ate too much yesterday. Your food was so delicious I couldn't get enough, and eating so much of it made me very sleepy, and so this morning I overslept.”

Ramalda's face softened. “Yes,” she said. “So. He sleeps still.” She nodded toward the living room. “He ate too much, too,
si?
My food is very good.”

“Your food is wonderful. I'll bring him coffee,” Molly offered, and Ramalda poured two cups from the pot that was pushed to the back of the woodstove. Molly
carried both into the living room and paused when she saw that Steven was, indeed, sound asleep, lying on the couch on his back, fingers laced across his stomach. No blanket, fully clothed. The murky light made the cuts and bruises on his face look even worse. She sat on the very edge of the couch and he opened his eyes and moaned.

“It's too early for it to be morning,” he said.

“We're on cowboy time now, Young Bear, remember?”

“I'm an Indian. I don't subscribe to that foolishness.”

“You still have time to change your mind about the horseback ride.” She smiled.

“Never,” he said. “And don't say I didn't warn you. It's a hard ride up that mountain. Monday morning you'll be on your hands and knees.”

“Never,” Molly echoed, chin lifting. “I brought you a cup of coffee.” She set the steaming mug on the table beside the couch. “I'll see you around lunchtime. Try to sit out in the sunshine today. It will help heal your bruises.”

“Really?”

“Really. It's a good thing to know if you should ever happen to get beat up.” She leaned over, kissed Steven very gently, and rose to her feet. “They're waiting for me. I'll see you later.”

She carried her coffee with her to the pole barn, sipping it along the way and admiring the clear yellow band of light that defined the mountain peaks to the east. It was cold, and she was glad for the warm clothing, especially the sheepskin jacket and the fleece-lined leather gloves. She could hear the murmur of voices as she drew near the barn. The boys were in a huddle around
one of the horses in the corral and several other horses were all saddled and ready to go.

“No, stupid,” she heard one of them say. “Red Hair's legs are long. Lengthen the stirrup straps a little.”

The huddle immediately dispersed when they heard her approaching footsteps and the boys lined out, facing her, five pairs of somber eyes no doubt measuring her worth as a cowgirl. “Good morning,” she greeted, leaning against the fence. “Sorry I'm late.”

“Oh, you ain't late.” The reply came from inside the barn as Badger emerged, leading a horse. “We're just trying to scare up enough saddles so's none of us has to ride bareback. Roon could ride thataway, but I sure as hell cain't.”

“Nor I,” Molly said. “I need that thing on the front of the saddle to hang on to.”

“It's called a saddle horn,” one of the boys volunteered. “And this is your horse. His name is Amos.”

Molly crawled between the fence rails and approached the little brown gelding that the boys had been surrounding. “Is Amos gentle?”

“He used to be my horse,” Jimmy said, “until I rode better. I ride that dun over there now. His name's Comanche and he's a real cow horse. I hope to ride him in the rodeo in Livingston next Fourth of July. We're going to compete in the team penning.”

“Really?” Molly let Amos take a deep sniff of her hand before stroking his velvety nose. “Hello, Amos. I've never ridden a horse before, so please be extra patient with me.”

“All right, boys, crawl aboard them hay burners. Daylight's wastin' and we got us a herd of buffalo to hunt
up,” Badger said. He walked back inside the barn and reemerged with a five-gallon bucket, which he upended next to Amos's shoulder. “Step up on that and put your left foot in this stirrup,” he said to Molly. “Throw your other leg over the saddle. There, that's good. Amos here's a good steady horse, fine for a first ride. Your stirrup leathers look a hair short. Slip your feet out of 'em and I'll fix 'em proper.”

“I thought Pony and Caleb were planning to come along,” Molly said while Badger fussed over her stirrups.

“Oh, they left half an hour ago, with Guthrie and Jess,” he said. “They were planning to stop for coffee up by the holding pens, so more'n likely we'll catch 'em up there.” He swung open the corral gate and the boys rode out first. As Molly passed him, the old cowboy spat a mouthful of tobacco juice, wiped his chin on the sleeve of his coat, and said, “Sure hope they brung along some of Ramalda's bear sign.”

 

A
FTER A MILE OR SO
of steady climbing, during which Amos behaved himself like the truly gentle horse he was reputed to be, Molly began to relax and take note of her surroundings. The higher they climbed, the more spectacular the view. She drew great lungfuls of the cold, clean air and looked this way and that, and thought how romantic it was to be riding a horse into such a beautiful mountain morning. “The only thing missing is the man,” she murmured into Amos's swiveling ears. If Steven had come, the day would have been perfect.

They rode until the trail flattened out in a big meadow that seemed to reach out to the very base of the mountains themselves. On the near side of the meadow
was a series of big sturdy corrals and chutes built of pipe. “For the buffalo,” Roon told her. “We can hold the herd here when we need to give them vaccinations or test the cows to see if they're pregnant. Pony designed the corrals. She knows a lot about buffalo, more than any of us. She learned from Pete Two Shirts. Pete manages the Crow's tribal herd.”

Molly was relieved to hear from Badger that they would stop here to give the horses a breather and have some refreshment. The trail thus far had been demandingly steep, and already her thigh muscles were cramping from the effort of staying in the saddle. She looked forward to taking a break and having a second cup of coffee. It was high time for a rest.

As Badger had predicted, Pony and Caleb were at the corrals, along with Jessie and Guthrie. They were sitting on some bales of hay, enjoying the sunrise and sharing a Thermos of coffee. They broke out another Thermos and treated the boys to hot chocolate while dispensing Ramalda's strong cowboy brew to Badger and Molly, along with one of the most delicious doughnuts she'd ever eaten. She sat down next to Pony and took a big bite. Then another. Two more and the entire doughnut was gone. “Thank you! That was delicious.”

“That was Ramalda's bear sign,” Badger said.

Pony handed her another. “Bear sign is cowboy slang for doughnuts.”

“Best bear sign I ever ate,” Molly admitted, biting into the second. She took another sip of coffee and massaged a sore muscle in the calf of her leg. “How much farther is it to where the buffalo are?”

“Oh, hell,” Badger snorted. “We ain't even got started
yet. The trail gets pretty steep from here on out, soon as we cross the meadow.”

“Steeper than what we've already climbed?” Molly asked with a lurch of anxiety, and the boys' laughter was answer enough.

“So, you couldn't talk Steven into coming,” Pony said.

Molly finished off the second doughnut and tried to calculate how far across the meadow was and how high that pass that they had to ride through could possibly be. “No,” she said. “And I'm beginning to understand why.”

 

T
WO HOURS LATER
she was well beyond wishing she'd stayed behind and snuggled on the couch with Steven or just plain died outright in his arms. She'd long since dropped Amos's reins on his neck and was devoting all her energy to clinging with both hands to the saddle horn, murmuring repeated Hail Marys beneath her breath and promising God that if she ever survived this awful experience, she would never mention the words
horse
or
buffalo
again.

Ever.

Her death grip on the horn was so fierce that when Amos suddenly stopped and she lifted her head to look around, she couldn't loosen her fingers. “It's all right, Molly,” she heard Pony say through her fog of exhaustion. “We're at the line camp on Piney Creek. The worst of the climb is over.”

Molly nodded that she understood as Badger helped her out of the saddle. Her legs could barely support her and he assisted her to a bench in front of what appeared to be a very old, weather-beaten log cabin that she hadn't even noticed moments earlier.

“You ladies rest up,” he said gallantly. “The boys and I'll hunt up the herd while you eat.” Molly was certain she was the only lady who needed to rest, but she wasn't about to argue the point. She rubbed her hands against her thighs and looked around. In front of the cabin was what she assumed was Piney Creek, and beyond it a large, tree-dotted meadow rimmed with mountains that were flanked with the golden colors of fall. It was, she supposed, an idyllic western setting, but all she could think about was that horrifyingly steep trail they'd just ridden in on, nearly vertical in places, and how equally terrifying the ride back to the ranch was going to be.

She didn't have the strength to make it back to the Bow and Arrow. No way. Her legs were like rubber, and her hands… She held them up to examine them. They looked normal, but… “Here,” Pony said at her elbow, startling her. “It's a ham sandwich and a cold soda. The food will help. You should have eaten breakfast.”

“Next time I'll know better,” Molly said with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“It's a tough haul if you aren't used to riding,” Jessie spoke up from Molly's other elbow as the two women shared the bench with her to eat their lunch. “Guthrie and I spent our honeymoon up here. It was just perfect except for a run-in with a grizzly two nights into the stay. It spooked the horses but Guthrie fired a round from his rifle and scared him off. There was no trouble.”

“A grizzly? You mean, a bear?” Molly said, sitting up a little straighter and glancing warily around.

“One of the biggest bears on the North American continent,” Jessie agreed. “Beautiful, too, but they can be dangerous.”

Molly felt comforted by the solid log wall she leaned against. Surely no bear would attack them here. She thought about taking a bite of her ham sandwich but didn't have the strength to lift it to her mouth. “I don't suppose this honeymoon retreat of yours has a hot tub?”

“No,” Jessie said with a sympathetic laugh. “Just a very cold creek, though there's a place about a quarter mile downstream where a hot spring makes bathing quite comfortable.”

“That's a quarter mile too far for me, I'm afraid,” Molly murmured. The sandwich was so heavy she had to rest it in her lap. Two thick slices of Ramalda's most excellent homemade bread, two equally thick slices of ham bracketing a thick slice of cheese. She was hungry, starving, famished, but her arms, like the rest of her body, lacked all strength. She wasn't at all sure she'd be able to stand up ever again. She was contemplating closing her eyes and passing out when she heard one of the boys shout.

“Buffalo! We found the buffalo!”

She heard the drum of hoofbeats and looked to her right. The boys were racing their horses toward the cabin, Roon in the lead. They crossed the creek in wild plumes of spray and drew rein practically right at their feet, the horses tossing their heads and snorting.

“Where?” Pony said calmly, never flinching.

“In the little valley just above this one. It looks like they're heading over the next pass to Horseshoe Pond and the headwaters of the Silver.”

Jessie brightened. “Good news. That's less than a mile from here. Let's eat and ride.”