Fervent Montana Devotion: Bear Grass Springs Book Fifteen Read online

  Fervent Montana Devotion

  Bear Grass Springs, Book Fifteen

  Ramona Flightner

  Grizzly Damsel Publishing

  Copyright © 2022 by Ramona Flightner

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems – except in the case of brief quotations in articles or reviews – without permission in writing from its publisher, Ramona Flightner and Grizzly Damsel Publishing. Copyright protection extends to all excerpts and previews by this author included in this book.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. The author or publisher is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Cover design by Jennifer Quinlan.

  Contents

  About Fervent Montana Devotion…

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Sneak Peek at Reluctant Montana Husband!

  Never Miss A Ramona Flightner Update!

  Also by Ramona Flightner

  About the Author

  About Fervent Montana Devotion…

  A surprising reunion. A plea for forgiveness. A yearning for forever.

  * * *

  After dedicating his life to the Tompkins family, Shorty is content to act as surrogate uncle to the children on the ranch. He believes the marital happiness surrounding him will forever elude him, as his friends marry, and he remains alone. When he dances with a fetching stranger, he is spellbound by her beauty and spirit. However, he knows an old cowboy will never be good enough for a woman as fine as she. When he discovers her identity, he is shocked to learn she is the woman he loved and lost and never thought to see again. Why has she tracked him down?

  * * *

  Rose MacGregor knows the risk she takes traveling to Bear Grass Springs with only a fleeting hope and distant memories to guide her. Expecting hesitation from Shorty, she never dreams of his disdain and distrust. Now, alone in a town where she knows no one, she must struggle to rebuild her life while clinging to hope that she will have a future with the man she loved. Someday.

  * * *

  Shorty never expects to see Rose again, not after their disastrous encounter in town. However, when he is forced to see her again, he is unable to deny the strong emotions he has still for her. He must help her through her fear, and overcome his doubts, for any hope of a future between them.

  * * *

  When Rose is forced to confront her past, will she have faith in the stalwart man who offers her a resplendent future? Will Shorty have the patience and determination to win her heart?

  * * *

  Immerse yourself in pioneer Bear Grass Springs, Montana!

  Never miss an update, bonus epilogue or sneak peek! Join my newsletter today!

  Chapter 1

  Mid-June 1890; Bear Grass Springs, Montana Territory

  Music wafted out of the open doorway to the Odd Fellows Hall, acting like a siren call to Shorty as he entered. He only wished he had someone waiting for him. Instead he sidled up to his friend and fellow ranch hand, Dixon, who leaned against a wall, watching as miners and townsfolk danced, while Shorty pushed aside memories he knew he’d do well to forget. It never helped to focus on the past. He watched as Boss Cole received slaps of congratulations after marrying Wilhelmina today, his Winnie, and Shorty battled a gnawing envy that he’d forever be denied such joy. “Same as usual,” he muttered to his good friend.

  Dixon shrugged and grinned at him. “Perhaps. But she”—he nodded his head in the newcomer’s direction—“ain’t been here before, and she’s as pretty as a picture. And don’t tell me she’s too old for me.”

  Shorty followed Dixon’s gaze and froze. The woman dancing with a miner was a mere slip of a woman. Petite, with a fragile air about her, she laughed as she tripped over her partner’s feet and gripped the miner’s arm so she didn’t fall. Her smile was breathtaking, and tendrils of her mahogany-colored hair, with just a hint of gray in it, framed her face.

  “Hazel,” he muttered to himself, before sharing a grin with Dixon. “I bet her eyes are hazel colored.”

  “I bet they’re blue,” Dixon said, as he slurped some of his punch. Dixon focused on his friend for a moment and frowned. “Why’re you studying her like that, Short?”

  Shaking his head, Shorty murmured, “I feel like I’ve met her before. I can’t shake it. But it makes no sense. We’re in Bear Grass Springs. How would I have met her before?” He continued to stare at her, as he battled the wish that it were her. That she had found him.

  Dixon shrugged. “You just want to claim her as yours to keep the rest of us away.”

  Shorty huffed out a laugh and shook his head. As the dance wound down, Shorty pushed away from the wall, resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “My turn,” he said, with a wink. He sauntered up to the woman and smiled at her, fighting the growing sense he’d met her before. “Hello, miss. I’m Shorty. Would you care to dance?”

  She held a hand to her heaving chest and shook her head, her eyes wide as she gazed at him.

  Was that recognition in her gaze?

  “Oh my, not so soon. I need something to drink.”

  Battling disappointment to be denied a dance with her, he grinned at her. “Of course, miss.” She smiled, as he spun and walked away in search of a glass of punch for her. When he returned, he was surprised she hadn’t been coaxed back onto the dance floor but remained on the side, opposite Dixon, watching as others twirled around. “Miss,” he murmured, handing her a glass.

  She beamed at him. “Thank you. I should never have imposed on you and just gone for my own drink.” She took a sip and sighed. “I’d heard it would be overly sweet, but this is delicious.”

  “The women of the party committee saw sense and cut back on the sugar,” Shorty murmured. “At least that’s what Sorcha said.”

  “Sorcha?” she murmured.

  “Aye, my boss’s wife.”

  She looked him up and down and bit her lip. “What do you do, Mr. Shorty?”

  He flushed, and his chest puffed out a little with pride. “I work on the MBR. The Mountain Bluebird Ranch. It’s not far from town.” He gazed into her eyes and smiled when he saw they were hazel, as he had suspected. They were just like … “Where are you from, miss?”

  She pasted on a bright smile and set down her now-empty cup. “I believe I owe you a dance, sir. You were most gallant in bringing me a glass of punch when I was ever so thirsty.”

  Shorty frowned at her attempt to deflect his question and the false way she spoke with him. He wanted the natural woman back, who had smiled freely. He offered his arm and led her to the dance floor, intrigued by this woman. Who was she, and what did she have to hide? Why did she remind him of the woman he could never forget?

  As they joined the other townsfolk on the dance floor, the musicians started to play a slow waltz, and Shorty
wanted to cheer with joy. He could hold her close and talk with her too. “So, miss, you know who I am.”

  “I’m … Ruth McGill,” she blurted out and flushed.

  He nodded. “It sure is nice to meet you, Miss McGill.” He twirled them around the dance floor, enjoying holding her in his arms. Too often the women he danced with were taller than he was, but this woman was just the right height. If so inclined, she could rest her head on his shoulder, and he knew they’d fit together perfectly.

  Almost as perfectly as … He stiffened for a moment, as he forced away thoughts of the woman he’d loved and lost as a young man. It never did any good to remember her, and he’d been thinking about her too much tonight. Clearing his throat, he murmured, “And where are you from?”

  “It’s taken me quite some time to travel here,” she said, ignoring his question. “I thought the train would never arrive.”

  “Be thankful you didn’t have the adventure that Boss Tompkins had.” Shorty nodded in the direction of Cole. “He and his bride were in a train wreck when they approached town last winter and were separated.”

  “Oh, how cruel,” she whispered, as she stared at the handsome man who’d just married.

  “But they found each other again and are now wed.”

  She flushed. “I shouldn’t really be here. I’m a newcomer and not a townsfolk.”

  Shorty chuckled. “Any attractive woman is welcome at a dance.” He paused. “And, if you live here now, you’re a member of the town.”

  The song came to an end, and Shorty stifled a groan at having to let her go. He saw Dixon approaching and smiled at the younger man. “Dix will twirl you around now, miss. Enjoy.” He smiled at his young friend, as Dixon charmed Miss McGill and had her pealing with laughter within minutes.

  Moving to the side of the room, Shorty leaned against the wall and watched her with a fierce intensity. She’d refused to answer the few questions he’d asked her. He understood the desire to come to a new place and to restart a life. To start fresh, where no one knew you and where there were no prejudices against you.

  He continued to study her, as he sipped at the drink Ewan MacKinnon had slipped into his hand, one spiked with whiskey. Thank God for Ewan. Focusing again on the mysterious woman twirling in Dixon’s arms, Shorty frowned. He couldn’t shake the sensation that he already knew her. That he had known her. But how was that possible?

  As she tossed her head back and laughed, his breath caught. Mesmerized by her unaffected joy, he was reminded again of his first love. Of her unabashed refusal to suppress her joy. God, how he’d loved her for that.

  Watching Dixon, he knew his friend was already half smitten with Miss McGill. With a sigh, Shorty knew one thing for certain: whoever she was, wherever she came from, this woman would only bring trouble.

  Rose watched, as Shorty kept his gaze on her while she danced with his friend, Dixon. She was unable to fully focus on his friend, although Dixon was charming and funny. With a sigh, she’d never expected to see Shorty so soon. She thought she’d have a few days to settle in, before seeking him out.

  Casting a glance in his direction, she battled a feeling of disappointment that he hadn’t recognized her. Or the name she’d given. But then, if she’d searched for him by his real name, none would have known who she searched for either. It seemed everyone knew him by Shorty, rather than Timothy.

  Forcing herself to focus on Dixon, she laughed at something impertinent he said, thankful the dance was lively and not a waltz. After waltzing with Shorty—for she forced herself to think of him as such—she couldn’t imagine dancing a waltz right away with another man. Not when the man she dreamed of slow dancing with was holding up a wall.

  Her dance partner saw her glance in Shorty’s direction and grinned. As the tune wound down, he led her to the side of the room, where she waved away other men’s offers of dances. “You seem mighty taken with my friend, Short.” He grinned at her. “He’s a heartbreaker. He’s never shown much interest in many women here, although he’s always liked dancing.”

  “Why is that?” She smiled—in what she hoped was a friendly manner—although she sensed Dixon assessing her, as if to determine she were a woman trying to trap him or his friend into marriage.

  “He keeps his secrets to himself, miss. If you want to know them, you’ll have to speak with him.” He nodded at her, before strolling away to laugh and to talk with a giant of a man, who held a baby in his arms.

  Rose watched the people around her, understanding that long-held friendships and loyalties would always trump the curiosity of the newcomer. Although thankful that those in Shorty’s life were loyal, she couldn’t help but wish his friend were a little more loose-lipped.

  With a sigh, she accepted a dance with a miner and attempted to ignore the man who continued to watch her every move, wondering when he would figure out who she was. She only wished she knew the answer to the question circling in her mind. Would that bring her joy or heartache?

  The following morning Shorty wandered from the large barn at the MacKinnon livery—where he’d slept in the haystack—to the nearby café. Although closed that morning to the public, it was open to all the family who had come to town for Cole’s wedding. Thankful he was considered family, Shorty entered the café kitchen, helped himself to a cup of coffee, and moved out to the main dining room, where one table was laden with breakfast food. Plates were to one side, so everyone could help themselves to what they wanted, buffet-style.

  He sipped at his coffee, as he watched the extended MacKinnon family gather. Sorcha sat near Annabelle, their heads together as they gossiped about the goings-on in town. Fidelia soon joined them, their children nearby and playing in a corner. Although the women were intent on their chatter, they always kept a close watch on their children.

  Dixon, smiling as he always did, listened to Ewan and Ben teasing each other, while Cailean, Bears, Alistair, and Warren talked in low voices in a huddle.

  Sorcha called out to Dixon, who sat at another table, interrupting the private conversations going on around her. “Dixon, ye seem taken by the newcomer.” She grinned at him, as he blushed. “Although ye ken she looks a wee bit older than ye, aye?”

  “An older woman wouldn’t be too much for me to handle,” the younger ranch hand proclaimed, with a jaunty tilt of his head. His blond hair was still wet from a quick wash, and his brown eyes gleamed with mischief. At everyone’s chortle of laughter, his smile broadened.

  Shorty watched Dixon with an amused smirk. Thirteen years younger than Shorty’s forty-four, Dixon had a youthful exuberance and a willingness to laugh at almost anything. Shorty’s best friend, Slims, had called Dixon a puppy more than once for his boundless energy. Studying his younger friend, Shorty knew most women would be attracted to a man like Dixon, rather than him.

  Shorty ran a hand over his newly trimmed black hair, knowing he wouldn’t bother with taming it again for months. He’d be too busy out on the range, moving cattle to the summer pasture. His hands were callused, his skin weathered from so much time out on the range, and his legs bowlegged—due to too much time on a horse. Not a very attractive package for a woman.

  Focusing on the discussion around him, Shorty glanced at Slims’s wife, Davina, who entered the room with her husband and wee Elise in her arms.

  “Ach, anyone named Rose MacGregor would be a handful for any man.” Davina shared a mischievous smile with Sorcha.

  Shorty gasped at the name and dropped his coffee cup to the floor. At the sound of the splintering cup, everyone spun to stare at him. “Rose MacGregor?” he gasped out. “Why would you call her that?”

  “’Cause that’s her name, ye ken?” Davina said, with a perplexed frown, as she studied the seasoned ranch hand who was best friend to her husband. “I spoke with her for a few minutes last night. She might have a proper Scottish name, but she’s been raised in this country. She’s no’ blessed with our ways.”

  “Our accent, ye mean,” Ewan teased his cousin. The M
acKinnon siblings, Cailean and Alistair, had settled in the Montana Territory nearly a decade ago, with Ewan and Sorcha arriving soon after. To their surprise, their cousin, Davina, tracked them down a few years ago, and now lived happily on the ranch, married to the foreman, Slims.

  “Aye,” Davina said. She looked to Shorty. “Ye danced with the woman. Are ye sayin’ ye didna ken the name of the woman ye held in yer arms?”

  He ran a shaking hand over his forehead and looked at her in a dazed manner. “She said her name was Ruth McGill.”

  Frowning, Davina stared at her family and then at Shorty again. “Now why would the woman tell ye one name an’ me another?”

  “Short?” Slims murmured.

  “She thought I’d recognize her. She was upset when I didn’t.” Shorty muttered something under his breath and spun to leave the room.

  Slims grabbed his friend’s arm, preventing him from storming onto the porch outside, and shook his head. “No, Short, tell us. We’re your family, and we deserve to know what’s goin’ on.”

  Shorty gazed at his best friend with impotent fury and then nodded. He met Harold’s relieved gaze and saw Irene watching him with her steady compassion and knew none would judge him or condemn him.

  “I loved a Rose Smith, when I was a young man. I thought we’d run away and have a life together. But she … married another. So I left. And spent my days wanderin’, until I found the Tompkinses.” He nodded to the older couple who sat at one of the tables, Harold and Irene. They’d owned and run the MBR when he arrived, giving him a job. More than that, they’d gifted him with a home, friendship and a family.