Montana Grit_Bear Grass Springs_Book Two Page 6

  She smiled while maintaining her hold on his arm. “That’s just it. We could court. Now that you’re no longer with Miss Browne, there are possibilities for us.”

  His confused gaze sharpened as he shook off her hold on him. “Ye were waitin’ for me?” His frown turned into a glower at her nod of agreement. “Why?”

  She clasped her hands together in front of her, as though hoping to exude a quiet confidence. Yet gripping and ungripping her fingers belied her nervousness. “I know how my mother is. I know how you and all the townsfolk talk about her.” She ducked her head.

  “Aye, ’tis no secret the majority consider yer mother a manipulative busybody,” Alistair said with no trace of regret or apology in his voice. “I dinna ken how this affects ye bein’ here this afternoon.”

  “If we were to court”—she swallowed—“and wed,” she whispered, “I know I could convince Mother to cease in her plans for Miss Browne.”

  He shook his head as though she spoke a foreign language. “Yer mother’s plans are rarely successful,” he said with a roll of his eyes, “an’ I dinna ken what she thinks she can do.” He paused as he saw Helen flush. “Ye’ve never convinced yer mother of a single thing in yer life. Why would she listen to ye now?” His eyes gleamed with anger. “That woman would still ruin Le … her life an’ gloat to the townsfolk about her new son-in-law while making my life a living hell.”

  Helen’s hazel eyes flashed. “So I must be judged and condemned because of my mother? You don’t believe I have the ability to do what I promise?”

  Alistair heaved out a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose before taking a step farther from her. “Ye can speak as bravely as ye’d like. I ken what it is to face a bully and win. I doubt ye do.” He nodded deferentially in her direction and turned to leave. “Ye need to find a smaller battle to start yer bid for freedom from yer mother. She’s canny and fierce.”

  “Do you think I don’t know what my mother is?” Helen asked. “Or how she treats those she deems less worthy than herself?” She fisted a hand on her hip, her shawl slipping unnoticed to the forest floor. “Don’t you dare attempt to tell me what I know better than anyone else!”

  Alistair fought a smile at her show of temper, his eyes gleaming with reluctant admiration. “Ye have no’ had the chance to prove yerself yet, lass. Ye will. One day.”

  “I don’t expect love,” she said as she trotted after him. “I’d understand if you still loved someone else. Or if you needed to visit the Boudoir.”

  He spun to stare at her, his brown eyes lit with incredulity. “How can ye say such things and speak of marriage?” His gaze roved over her, quivering subtly as she stood with pride and determination in front of him. “I understand marryin’ out of necessity. With good fortune, love will grow.” He saw she understood he spoke of his brother, Cailean, and his wife, Annabelle.

  He paused as he took a step toward her. “What a brave lass ye are.” He stopped a pace away from her. “Whatever ye may want to do to spite yer mother—or to be free of her—dinna settle for a man who wouldna care for ye as ye deserve. Ye’re worth more than that.”

  Her composure cracked, and she blinked as her eyes became shiny with tears. “You can’t imagine what it is like, being judged to be just like her simply because she is my mother.”

  “Aye, I canna.” His eyes shone with compassion.

  She whirled away from him to pick up her shawl. After whacking it against a tree stump a few times to rid it of dirt, she lowered her head into a hand as she fought tears. “I have one dream. To be free of her.”

  Alistair sighed. “Ye have to want more from a man than the exchanging of vows. If ye dinna expect much from him, ye’ll be sorely disappointed and willna ever receive what ye want. Or ye deserve.”

  Helen’s shoulders stooped, and she clutched the shawl to her as her dress gaped with the change in her posture. “Why can’t you agree? It would solve both of our problems.”

  He gave a mirthless chuckle. “Ye’re smart enough to ken it would only triple them.” He paused as he watched her battle for composure. “I thank ye for what ye offered to do for … her. It wouldna have worked, but I thank ye.”

  “You still love her,” she breathed. “After what she’s done and the lies and the humiliation in that church, you still love her.”

  Although he remained silent, his eyes gleamed in agreement with what she said. After a few moments of silence, where the only sounds were the breeze through the branches and the creek water falling against rocks, he murmured, “Love doesna end, or begin, easily, Miss Jameson. If it does, then it wasna love.” He nodded to her before spinning on his heel and departing the place he had always considered a sanctuary.

  Chapter 6

  A week after the failed wedding, Alistair joined Warren Clark and Ambrose Finlay at the Sunflower Café for lunch. The three men formed the town’s improvement committee. Alistair nodded to Harold as he entered the café and moved to the rear table, reserved for the meeting. Warren raised an eyebrow as he listened to Ambrose, the town’s banker, drone on about bank security.

  “I’ve read about improved safes that are much harder to rob. That way you don’t have to rely on men to guard the bank.”

  Warren winked at Alistair as Ambrose puffed out his chest in dismay.

  “That costs good money! As you know, I am not one to throw around my money after every new harebrained idea.” He ran a hand over his expensive new waistcoat before hooking a finger into the gold loop of his pocket watch. “I believe in thrift at all times.”

  “Aye, of course ye do,” Alistair said as he rolled his eyes. “Can we have a quick meetin’ today? I’ve left Cail alone at the livery, and there’s plenty of work to be done.”

  “Do you think the bank runs in an efficient manner when I’m not present?” Ambrose demanded. “Of course it doesn’t. But the townsfolk saw fit to vote us onto this committee, and we must honor them and do our due diligence.”

  “They also expected us to do something other than argue about expenses!” Warren snapped, his blue eyes flashing before he took a deep breath. “Many pressing issues face our town, and we must find a way to meet them.”

  “The fact remains that we have no income. We have no town taxes. We have no revenue.” Ambrose nodded in a regal manner as Harold thunked his plate of food in front of him.

  Harold set down the other plates more gently in front of Alistair and Warren.

  “There is little point discussing all we need until we find a revenue stream.”

  “If we are to become an incorporated town, we must show the legislature we can manage growth in a responsible manner,” Warren said.

  “I was not elected to impress the territorial legislature so that we could become incorporated. I was elected because I have sound business sense.” Ambrose waved his fork at Warren. “There is no discussion until you find a revenue stream.”

  Alistair took a bite of the chicken fried steak covered in gravy and then swirled his fork in the mashed potatoes. “I’d eat up,” he muttered to Warren.

  Warren shook his head and ate slowly to savor the delicious meal in front of him. “You know that we need two teachers now that there are over forty children. We need a water tower, which means we need a way to get the water to the tower. A windmill would help power it.” Warren continued to tick off ideas for improvement. “We should consider starting a volunteer fire department, but we need more than a bucket brigade. If we had an actual horse-drawn fire engine, that could induce men to join.”

  Ambrose set down his fork, having cleaned his plate in the short amount of time Warren had spoken. “We have no revenue. All these ideas will remain ideas until you have a way to fund them.” He rose, nodding to Harold as he departed.

  “I told ye to eat faster. Ambrose always leaves us with the bill,” Alistair grumbled.

  “It’s impossible to eat as fast as that man unless you want to choke and die in the process.” Warren glared at Ambrose’s retreating back. “
Is it possible to get him voted off the committee?” He sighed when Alistair shook his head. “And whose idiotic idea was it that we must be unanimous before we can act?”

  Alistair half smiled. “That would be Tobias. He was irate not to be elected and wanted us to look like fools. I think we can change that provision.”

  Warren leaned back in his chair. “Things won’t alter much for us until we obtain statehood. Congress denied our request this year, even though the voters overwhelmingly approved the idea last November.”

  Alistair shrugged. “Those in power dinna like sharin’ it.”

  Warren rolled his eyes at Alistair’s cynical opinion based on his experience as a Scotsman during the English’s Clearances and changed the subject. “I’m surprised you decided to come to the meeting today.”

  “I’d always planned to come.” Alistair ate a bite of mashed potatoes. “I had hoped to be a married man at today’s meeting.” He glared at the curious townsfolk who cast glances in his direction. He leaned toward Warren who swiped at his face as he finished his meal, acting as though he were in a deep discussion with the town lawyer. “I canna abide the town’s pity.”

  “Have you spoken with her yet?” Warren murmured as he took a sip of water.

  “Nae.” He met Warren’s gaze. “I ken I need to.”

  Warren watched him, compassion and understanding shining in his eyes. “She should be at the bakery now.”

  Alistair set down a few coins, enough to pay for his lunch and Ambrose’s and rose. “Ye paid for the miserly bastard’s lunch last time. It’s my turn. I’ll see ye soon.” He nodded to Warren and left. When he exited the café, he turned to walk toward the livery but stopped after a few steps. He spun on his heel and approached the bakery.

  The bell on the bakery door jingled as he entered, and he frowned as Leticia failed to come to the front area to serve him, although the shelves were virtually bare. After a moment he poked his head into the kitchen. “Hello, Annabelle,” he said as he found his sister-in-law washing dishes. “Is she here?”

  Annabelle failed to hide her surprise, and then a delighted smile bloomed. “No. She’s making deliveries. I suspect she might be some time as Irene had a few things she wanted to discuss with her.”

  “I worked myself up to speak with her for nothing,” he muttered.

  “Are you ready to forgive her?” Annabelle asked in a low voice.

  He shook his head and then shrugged. “I dinna ken. But I need to understand.” He shared a tortured look with Annabelle. “I may be naive, but I canna base what I believe solely on what that man said in the church.”

  Annabelle nodded. “I agree. And, before you ask me, I don’t know anything. I told her that I didn’t want to know until after she had told you.”

  “Papa!” Hortence screeched as she raced from the back room. “’Stair!” She latched onto his long lean leg, hugging him.

  “Oh, Little Bug,” he breathed, tugging her free and pulling her into his arms. He hefted her until she rested her head on his shoulder. “How is my girl?”

  She sighed with happiness a moment before she leaned away and glared at him. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in a week! And I never did get cake.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, that is a shame. Ye should always get cake.” The glance he sent Annabelle was filled with wry humor. “Although I’d think yer aunt Annabelle would fill yer belly with sweets every day.”

  Hortence let out a dramatic sigh and settled her head on his shoulder again. Her small fingers played with the dark-brown hair at his collar. “Mama says I should have sweets once a week.” She groaned, and he chuckled. “How can Mama be so cruel when I’m finally living in a sweet shop?”

  “I dinna know, my Little Bug. Ye’ll have to ask her about it.” He kissed her head.

  She looked at him from under her eyelashes. “I thought you could speak with her. She never says no to you.”

  Alistair flinched and fought stiffening while holding her. “Yer mother an’ I are no’ friends right now, Hortence.”

  She pulled back a bit and patted his cheek, her brows creased with confusion. “Is your tummy still upset? I can hug you and help make it better.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tight.

  “Oh, Bug,” Alistair choked, gripping her to him. “I’ve missed you.”

  “And I miss you, Papa,” she said as she began to cry. “Get over your mad. Please. Mama’s so sad. She cries herself to sleep every night. And she hardly ever laughs, not like she used to. Nothing’s good without you.”

  Alistair swiped at her cheeks and took a deep stuttering breath. “I wish it were so simple. It is no’, my darling.”

  “You love my mama, and she loves you,” Hortence proclaimed in the righteous voice of a six-year-old proclaiming a truth. “Why does it need to be compicated?”

  He chuckled. “Life is complicated, Little Bug. Adults aren’t sensible like you.” He kissed her forehead and then set her down. “I should head back to the livery. I have work I must do.”

  Annabelle, who had remained quiet during his time with Hortence, spoke. “Won’t you wait for Leticia?”

  He shook his head. “No. Not today.” He ran a hand over Hortence’s red hair and chucked her under her chin. “I love you, Little Bug. Never doubt that.” He frowned as he saw her chin quiver. He nodded to Annabelle and slipped out to leave through the front door.

  A few hours later, Alistair entered the parlor of his family home to find both his brothers and Warren present. Although Cailean’s age, Warren seemed older due to the air of responsibility that hovered around him. Unlike some in town, he was discreet and had an ability to show empathy where others were callous. Warren was also one of Cailean’s closest friends in town. “I didna ken ye had a guest. I’ll leave ye to it.”

  “Alistair, sit,” Cailean demanded, motioning his brother to one of the empty chairs near the dormant stove. The open windows allowed the evening air to enter and cool the room after a hot June day. Cailean stared his brother down and gave a grunt of approval when Alistair acquiesced to his order.

  “I won’t take up more of your evening than is necessary,” Warren began.

  “Of course you’re staying for dinner,” Cailean said. “Annabelle would be upset if you ventured to the café instead of joining us.”

  “I wonder what she baked for dessert?” Warren shared a smile with Cailean and Ewan before sobering. “The reason I’m here is because I’ve received disturbing news about Leticia. While we are aware that she had another name, for the purpose of simplicity, I will continue to call her Leticia so there is no confusion.”

  He met Alistair’s startled gaze. “I just received this information this afternoon. I did not have it before our meeting today with Ambrose.” He waited until Alistair gave a jerk of his head in agreement. “I wired colleagues in Kansas in an attempt to determine if the accusations of Josiah Fry were credible. It seems he married a Miss Lorena Leticia Browning in November of 1877. Although quite a bit older than she was, I received no evidence that she was coerced into marrying him.”

  Warren rubbed at his temple, pushing hair out of the way. “In June 1878, he disappeared. Seems there was discord, and he wasn’t seen again. Not until the day of your wedding ceremony.”

  Alistair nodded. “What date?” At his brothers’ confused stares, he said, “What date in June did he disappear?”

  “Late June. As far as can be determined, it was June 25, 1878.” Warren scratched his head and said, “The story from Kansas neighbors is muddled. In one letter I received, she disappeared on a train before any indication of a struggle was found or any concern voiced about the husband. In another, she was served with a warrant for her arrest, and she evaded that issuance.” Warren shook his head with a confused frown. “I’m inclined to believe she left town, and then a warrant was issued.” He raised his gaze to look at Alistair sitting in a daze. “One thing I am certain of is that a warrant was taken out for her arrest. However, just as he
r husband disappeared, so did she.”

  Alistair dropped his head into his hands. “All this time, there’s been a warrant for her arrest?” He groaned. “I’ve been engaged to a fugitive?”

  Ewan spoke up. “Better than a murderess.” He grunted as Cailean kicked him in his leg. “Sorry, Al.”

  Warren cleared his throat and shrugged before he continued to speak. “Seems she’s been deemed a dangerous fugitive by the authorities. The home they were living in was a scene out of one of those gothic novels. Bed bathed in blood but no body. By the account I consider the most credible, they thought it was her doing as the stationmaster remembered her boarding a train, alive and well, but nervous and acting furtive. Thus the husband was deemed dead, although they never discovered the body.”

  “What truly happened?” Alistair asked.

  “I don’t know. I suspect only Leticia and her husband do.” He stared at Alistair and then Cailean. “And I’m not traveling to Kansas in an attempt to unravel this muddle. Since they are both alive and well, I’m fairly certain that all warrants and charges will be dropped. We should be thankful no bounty hunters came searching for her.”

  Cailean waited a moment to see if his brother would speak. “At least her name was virtually her own.”

  Warren mumbled his agreement.

  “What else worries ye, Warren?” Ewan asked. His cheerful countenance absent, he watched the lawyer with intense scrutiny.

  After clearing his throat, Warren took a deep breath. “The old warrant should be easy to refute as the man she stood accused of murdering is alive and well. It makes you wonder why she would have felt inclined to murder the man.” He shared a long look with Alistair who refused to comment. “The most pressing concern right now has to do with our townsfolk. Members on our esteemed school board are claiming that Leticia obtained her position as teacher to the children in this town through deceit and malice. One in particular is calling for all her past salary to be repaid to the town as damages.”