Montana Untamed (Bear Grass Springs, Book One): Bear Grass Springs, Book One Read online

  “He never saw ye as I did,” Alistair murmured. “And he wouldna have liked what he saw.”

  Cailean made another low sound in his throat as though in agreement and stared out into the darkness. “I know none of you understand. Not completely.” He tapped his fingers on his thigh. “I’ve a horrible fear of not making it out of the darkness were it to happen again.”

  Alistair gave a soft grunt of understanding. “I’ve a better idea of what ye mean now that I’ve found Leticia and Hortence.” He paused and listened to the soft evening sounds of distant laughter from the saloons and an owl hooting in a nearby tree. “She would have wanted more for ye than this.”

  Cailean froze at his brother’s words. He shook his head and stuttered out a breath.

  Alistair rose and shivered. He tapped out his pipe before he slapped his brother on the shoulder. “No grief should be clung to as though a shield.”

  He slipped inside, leaving Cailean to his thoughts as the evening’s darkness deepened.

  Chapter 2

  The following morning Annabelle walked down the boardwalk in the small town of Bear Grass Springs. After crossing the street, she passed in front of the General Store, a barbershop, and an Odd Fellows Hall. She made a wide berth around one of the most popular saloons in town, the Watering Hole, fighting her curiosity to peer inside. The most popular saloon in town, the Stumble-Out, was across from the Boudoir, on the opposite side of town as the school, church and livery.

  After walking past the entrance to the café, she paused to sit on a bench placed outside—for times when customers had to wait for a seat—and studied her new home. She read the large signs over the businesses that lined Main Street, noticing that a few of the storefronts were empty. There were numerous saloons, a butcher shop, and the hotel. The Boudoir and the bank were farther down the same side of the street as the café. When she left the hotel, she had heard a bell toll and then the delighted voices of children as they were called into the school that sat beside the whitewashed church with its short bell tower. The school and church were across the street from the livery, with the pastor’s rectory behind the church

  On the opposite side of the street, nearly across from the Merc, stood the livery with a paddock behind it, and a two-storied house. She heard the sounds of a blacksmith working at an anvil, his shop next to the livery. The train station was a short distance from town.

  The overly friendly manager of the hotel had informed her that the doctor’s office was in a small room alongside his private residence a few doors down from the hotel, should she ever be in need of one. A lawyer had an office along the opposite side of Main Street, and the sheriff and jail were nearby. She heard a bell toll and then the delighted voices of children as they were called into school. Behind each business and home stood an outhouse.

  Although the most prosperous businesses appeared to line the town’s main street, she had seen wagons weighted down with logs, as though to be delivered to a nearby sawmill. Between every third or fourth business, alleyways had formed, linking Main Street to the scattered rows of houses behind the main thoroughfare. Clumps of trees attempted to grow, although they appeared little more than shrubs on this cold March day.

  The muddy streets had dried up, and a thin coating of dust rose with each wagon or horse that passed through town. The raised boardwalk on either side of the street helped with the mud—but did little for the dust—and allowed for greater ease of walking during inclement weather. Weak rays peeked out from behind the clouds, a shaft of light shining on the storefronts across the street. On the lower part of the nearby hills, snow had begun to melt with the day’s milder temperature, and brown tufts of grass poked through the melting snow after lying dormant for the winter.

  An idea nagged at her as she paused to study the vacant buildings along the boardwalk. A small building sat empty near the General Store and not far from the café, but a fair distance from the saloons and Betty’s Boudoir. Annabelle smiled with purpose as she crossed the street, dodging wagons and horses, to enter the lawyer’s office. She waited a few minutes until the attorney, Mr. Clark, was free to speak with her.

  “It’s highly irregular what you’re proposing, ma’am,” Warren Clark said as he leaned back in his chair. His white shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his black waistcoat well fitted, with a matching jacket slung over the back of his chair. A stove in the corner of the room pumped out heat, and a cup of coffee sat on one corner of his tidy desk. He stared at her a moment before glancing out his front window and down the street at the empty storefronts. “However, I know the owner is anxious to see the property in use. I will speak with him.”

  Annabelle murmured her thanks before pinning him with an earnest stare. “Would you be so kind as to only inform him that you represent an interested party and what I’m planning to do within the space? I would prefer for him to give me a decision not based on the fact I’m a woman.”

  The lawyer played with the edge of his mustache, his gaze unwavering as he studied her dressed in her finest clothes. “That’s dishonest, ma’am, and I’ve known the people of this town for quite some time.”

  “I understand your concerns, but I hope you can understand mine. I would hate for the owner to deny considering my tenancy simply because I am a woman. Too often, rental rates are higher simply because the owner knows I am a woman. So I would prefer to be treated fairly.” She met his cool gaze. “I have the money to open this business, and I am certain I’ll succeed.” Annabelle tilted her head up as she met his gaze filled with doubt and a touch of admiration. “I ran a similar business in Maine with success, and the town was devastated to see me leave.”

  The lawyer twirled the end of his mustache, his piercing blue eyes assessing her. “I assume you have some paperwork to give proof to such a claim?”

  She nodded and extracted a letter from her purse. “This is from the mayor of the town.”

  Mr. Clark’s eyebrows rose as he read the mayor’s effusive praise of her character and of her abilities before setting it aside. “Here is what I am willing to agree to. I will negotiate on your behalf. However, if he asks, I won’t lie to him.”

  “That’s all I can ask for.”

  Warren studied her. “Will you do any improvements on the building or use it as is? In its current state, it is one large room.”

  Annabelle frowned. “I will need to build a kitchen, separate from the front area where I sell my goods. Why do you ask?”

  “It seems to me that you will do improvements to a rather simple building. You should be compensated for such work.” He paused. “If Dan is amenable to renting out the space, I’ll attempt to negotiate a few months’ rent in lieu of the costs of your improvements. Is that satisfactory to you?”

  Annabelle beamed. “That is most generous and fair. Thank you.” Annabelle rose and held out her hand to the lawyer.

  He stared at it a moment before giving it a perfunctory shake.

  “I will return in a few days to determine if you have any news.”

  She left the office, ignoring the lawyer’s interested stare as she departed and wandered down the boardwalk, impulsively entering the café. She smiled at Harold who acted as a waiter today. He smiled when he saw her and rolled his eyes when his wife pushed him out of the way so she could attend Annabelle.

  “Miss Evans. Wonderful to see you again and to see you weren’t run out of town after your disappointment yesterday.” Irene filled her coffee cup, leaving just enough space for milk if she desired it.

  Harold bustled off to attend a few other stragglers in the café in between the busy mealtime hours.

  “Do you want more than coffee?”

  Annabelle shook her head. “This is perfect.” She took a dainty sip. “I’m hopeful I’ll be a part of your town for quite some time.” She was unable to hide the excited glee from her eyes.

  Irene set down the heavy metal coffee carafe with a thud. “Really? How wonderful. We always need new blood in a town like ou
rs.” She speared her with an intense stare. “Don’t disappoint me and take up Madam’s offer.”

  Annabelle blushed as red as a beet. “How do you know about a private conversation?”

  “Word spreads in a town like ours. That’s your first lesson about living here. Even what you want to keep private won’t stay private long.” She raised an eyebrow and laughed at Annabelle’s distress. “I can’t imagine it was much different where you came from.”

  Annabelle took a sip of coffee and spoke as though carefully choosing her words. “My town was well-established. If there was a … a place like the Boudoir, it was not advertised with pride.”

  Irene laughed. “I know all about you folk from back East. You think because you don’t proclaim your vices, means you think you don’t have ’em. We all have the same inclinations, Miss Evans. It’s whether or not we’re honest about it.” She grinned as she watched Annabelle squirm in her seat. “How many saloons did your town have?”

  “Alcohol wasn’t sold in my town,” she whispered as Harold joined them.

  “Oh, this town must be quite a shock to you, with its four saloons,” Harold said. He elbowed his giggling wife in her side. “She might laugh, but she don’t countenance a frequent visit to the saloon.”

  Irene clasped Annabelle’s fisted hand. “Did it keep men from drinking?”

  Annabelle shook her head. “No. Nothing will stop a man from drinking if his thirst is strong enough.” She flushed again and bowed her head as Irene frowned at her statement.

  “Well,” Harold said with a smile for Annabelle as he changed the subject, “what I’d like to know is why you were pesterin’ Mr. Clark. Warren’s a busy man, and he seemed right perturbed after you left him.”

  She let out a sigh, and some of the tension left her shoulders. “I have an idea for a business, and I asked if he would be willing to work as an intermediary for me. He said he would.”

  Irene snorted as she noted the few miners in the back were ready to leave. As she was about to heave herself up to wait on them, she said, “Warren would be a darned fool to turn away a new client. Anyone with sense can see you know what you’re about.”

  Harold watched as his wife strode off with the carafe of coffee to refill coffee cups at a couple tables and moved on to chat a moment with the miners as they paid their bill. Then she headed into the kitchen, and a low singing was heard. “She’s as curious as can be about what you have planned. If you take my advice, don’t tell her.” He winked at Annabelle. “A little intrigue would do her good.”

  He levered himself up, joining his wife in the back. Annabelle smiled, her tension disappearing upon realizing she was making friends in this town. The café was peaceful, and she enjoyed having it to herself in the midmorning lull. She watched as the door opened again, and she frowned. The man who entered reminded her of the man she had inadvertently offended the day before, but his hair and eyes were a darker brown. She paled as his gaze fixed on her.

  “Ma’am,” he said as he passed her table.

  Harold bustled out of the kitchen area and gave a slap to the back of the man who had seated himself near Annabelle. “Alistair. I never thought to see you in here now that your sister’s arrived.”

  “If ye tell my sister that I came in here, I’ll never speak to ye again,” he said, laughter in his voice.

  Annabelle raised her gaze, surprised to see his serious expression, although his eyes twinkled.

  “I take it her cooking isn’t improving?” Harold poured the man a cup of coffee.

  “Ah, heaven,” Alistair said. “Nae, it’s worsenin’. And today she somehow ruined the coffee. Tasted worse than burnt horse dung. I thought Cailean would have to put down a riot when Ewan tasted it and spit it out.” Alistair took another sip, his eyes closing with pleasure. A chuckle emerged as though against his will. “Sorcha was this close to bangin’ Ewan on the head with a fryin’ pan. An’ it was hot.”

  “You need a cook,” Harold said as he chortled.

  “No need soundin’ so pleased with yerself.” Alistair’s lips turned up slightly at the corners. “Sorcha was to help us. I think Cailean’s rethinkin’ that plan.”

  “So we were informed yesterday. Seems he was to marry.” Harold watched as Alistair covered his mouth as he choked.

  He continued to choke and cough at the same time for a few moments. “Damn rumors,” he gasped out as he glared in Annabelle’s direction.

  She made to rise but sat down as heavy boots sounded when Cailean MacKinnon entered the café. She saw the man note the café was virtually empty before he joined his brother and Harold.

  “Damn it, Al. We can’t have Sorcha knowing we hate her coffee too. It’s bad enough she was about to bludgeon Ewan with the pan this morning.” Cailean smiled as Harold handed him a cup with a wink. He drained it in two sips.

  Her breath caught at Cailean’s smile. Yesterday he had glowered at her and seemed foreboding. Today, with a lightened spirit and his focus on teasing his brother, she realized how handsome he was. Tall, with muscles in his arms rippling with movement under his flannel shirt, his light brown hair was cropped short. It enhanced his inquisitive eyes, sharp cheekbones, and the dimple in his chin.

  When she realized she was staring, Annabelle slouched into her chair, attempting to become invisible. She knew she had failed when Cailean turned, and his gaze narrowed at the sight of her.

  “Miss.” His voice lost all warmth as he addressed her. His gaze roved over her pinned-up hair, flushed cheeks, and demure evergreen wool dress. “How is your sister?”

  Her eyes widened a moment before she cleared her throat. “She is as well as could be expected.” She frowned when she saw Cailean glare Harold into silence when he chuckled at her response. “It was a joy to see her after five years.”

  “I can imagine.” He nodded at her and turned to focus on his brother. “Are you ready to head back to the livery?”

  The two brothers departed, and Harold picked up their cups, depositing them in a small bin. “Those are two fine men,” he murmured, as though to no one in particular. “Their dedication to family is legendary.” When Annabelle raised a questioning eyebrow but remained quiet, Harold said, “Took out liens against their successful business to ensure their siblings were with them. Cost them a pretty penny to send for them all the way in Scotland. Sent first for their brother, Ewan, as the mother was still alive and they didn’t want to leave their mother without their sister’s aid. He’s been here over two years now. The sister, Sorcha, arrived only a month ago. Wouldn’t consider being separated from them.”

  “And their mother?” Annabelle murmured.

  “She died nearly six months ago,” Harold said. “Took them a few months to obtain the lien and send for Sorcha. But Cailean wouldn’t have the family divided.”

  “How long have they been here?” She bit her lip as the question burst forth against her will.

  “They arrived in 1881. Three years ago now. Although it seems as though they’ve always been here.” He chuckled as he saw her fight her curiosity. “Of course Alistair is with the schoolteacher, but she doesn’t seem interested in marrying. Makes me wonder how long he’ll wait for her. But the eldest, Cailean, well, … he has no one special.” He hefted up the bin filled with dirty dishes and entered the kitchen, leaving Annabelle to her thoughts.

  Annabelle twirled around the empty storefront, giggling like a girl. A chuckle sounded along with a knock on the open door as she came to a halt. “Oh, forgive me.” She brushed at her hair and smoothed a hand over her skirt. She cleared her throat in an attempt to regain her composure. “How may I help you?”

  “I’m here to help ye, Miss Evans.” The man leaned his tall frame against the doorjamb, his brown eyes filled with mirth. His blondish hair seemed to shimmer in the light, and she realized it was due to fine particles of dust.

  “Are you the carpenter?” At his nod, her blush deepened. “I hadn’t expected you to arrive so early today.”

 
He laughed. “I should think no’.” His voice held a hint of Scotland. “I’m Ewan MacKinnon.” He held out his hand and shook hers. “Do ye have a vision for this space?” He looked around the large bare room as though seeing possibilities.

  She motioned for him to follow her, and he shut the door behind him. “I have ideas sketched out.” She led him to a table with two stools in front of it. “MacKinnon? Are you related to the livery owner?”

  He smiled and winked at her. “Aye, and ye’re infamous in our house.” His laugh echoed around the room as she fumbled with the papers on the table. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Cailean as flustered as the day he met ye.”

  “It was a terrible misunderstanding,” she said as she pointed to her sketch.

  “I should think so, advising a man he’s to marry a who—” He caught himself just in time as he seemed to recall the woman in question was her sister. He focused on her drawing and frowned. “What in God’s name is that?” He reached around her and grasped a pencil and a blank sheet of paper. “I’ve no idea what ye’re hoping for by lookin’ at that. Describe for me what ye want.”

  She looked around the room a moment before closing her eyes. At first her words were halting, but then she spoke with more fluidity as her vision emerged.

  “So ye want to cut this large room into three spaces?” At her nod, he tapped her on the shoulder with her pencil, and she opened her eyes to look at his drawing.

  “Oh, that’s perfect,” she breathed. “I’m afraid it will cost too much money though.”

  Ewan shrugged. “It willna be cheap, but, if ye’re willin’ to lend a hand with sandin’ and paintin’, it won’t be too dear.” He rose and slipped the pencil behind one ear. “I’ll be by in a day or two with a quote.”

  He smiled and waved as he departed, shutting the door behind him.

  Annabelle smiled, glancing around the large space that she would call home in Bear Grass Springs.