Montana Grit_Bear Grass Springs_Book Two Read online

  “As she’s my wife, I can do as I please with her,” Josiah said, his deep voice ringing throughout the room.

  Cailean nodded. “Aye.” He flicked a glance at Leticia as she gasped at Cailean’s easy acquiescence to Josiah’s proclamations. “That’s what many would say, and much of the law agrees with you.” He took another step into the room. “However, I don’t agree. The woman wants nothing to do with you. Leave her be, or you’ll have the MacKinnons to answer to.”

  Josiah laughed, his hand lashing out to grab Leticia’s arm to hold her close before she could scurry away to safety. “She’s nothing to you. She’s not family. Why concern yourself with her or her br … child?”

  Cailean took another step forward, stilling as Leticia gasped when Josiah’s grip tightened. He bit his jaw, biting back what he would say before speaking in a low tone. “You’re not helping your case, Mr. Fry. Let her go. Let her soothe her daughter. If you are to gain what you wish, you’ll need the support of townsfolk. Antics like this will hardly help you.”

  Josiah laughed, thrusting Leticia’s arm away and shaking his head in disgust as Leticia stumbled. “She’ll come around. When she sees she has no option but me, she’ll understand I’m better than what will otherwise befall her.”

  He met Cailean’s intense gaze filled with warning before he sidled from the room, slamming the back door of the bakery behind him. Cailean waited a moment to ensure Josiah had truly left before facing Leticia. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she gasped out. “He doesn’t like being interrupted. Not by someone from your family.”

  Cailean frowned as she massaged her forearm and walked behind the counter. “You should lock both doors when you are here alone, Lettie.” He waited until she nodded. “What did he say that upset you?”

  She took a deep breath before meeting Cailean’s gaze with a panic-struck expression. “He wants me back. Wants the life we used to have. Says that nothing has gone right for him since … we’ve been apart and that only I can turn things around for him.” She swiped at the corner of one eye.

  Cailean shook his head. “I don’t understand, Leticia. None of us do. Won’t you explain it to Alistair and then to us?”

  “No use speaking to a man who won’t listen,” she snapped. “And I refuse to beg. I’ve done enough of that in my lifetime.” She spun away as the back door opened again.

  Annabelle entered, her joyous smile at the sight of her husband dimming as the tension in the room enveloped her. “Is it too much to hope that you aren’t bickering?” she murmured as she gave her husband a scolding look.

  “Hello, love,” he said. “We need to talk.”

  “I had a lovely day. Thank you for asking. We sold out of everything, and Leticia has been a wonderful help since she began working here again. I don’t know how I survived without her aid.” She smiled at Leticia’s shuddering back before glowering at her husband. “I’ll find you at home where I will look forward to our discussion.”

  He lost this battle with a smile and earned a startled shriek from her as he yanked her close for a quick kiss. “See you soon, love.” He stroked a hand down her cheek before casting a glance at Leticia’s back. He frowned. “Be sure to look in on Hortence,” he whispered to Annabelle before he departed.

  Leticia accepted Annabelle’s offer to watch Hortence for a short while and slipped out the back door to go on a walk. The previous days had teased of the warm summer weather to come, and the afternoon approached a stifling heat. She walked the heavily traveled road that led to the miners’ camp, pausing after a few minutes as she left town and the incessant racket of a multitude forging their lives. She cut off the main road and approached a creek that leaked from the mountain, its stream of water a little less each day, and sat on a rock in the shade.

  The rippling, gurgling sound of the water soothed her while the fresh scent of an in-bloom honeysuckle bush wafted in the air. She breathed deeply, dipping her hand into the water and shivering at the cold temperature. Long stalks of grass waved in the subtle shift of the wind, while a white and black butterfly flitted around her. She pulled out her handkerchief, dropping it in the water before wringing it out to scrub at her face. A goldfinch flew back and forth across the creek as it hunted insects.

  “Do you shiver because you’ve been found out?”

  Leticia jerked, turning on her rock to face Fidelia Evans, Annabelle’s sister who worked at the Boudoir. “The water is cold.”

  “I imagine you’ve become quite adept at manipulating a story to suit your needs.” Fidelia’s kohl-darkened eyes were filled with scorn.

  Leticia rose and stumbled over a few rocks before she stood on firm ground to face Fidelia. “I’ve done nothing to earn your contempt. You have little right to judge me.”

  An angry flush overshadowed the liberal coating of rouge, causing Fidelia to look like an overripe tomato. “You have no idea how much right I have to judge you.” She took a step toward Leticia. “You, who obtained a respectable position by lies and deceit, when you had no right to it.”

  Leticia squared her shoulders and met Fidelia’s derisive glare. “It is a common practice to presume someone dead after a seven-year absence. Our separation was the same as a death.”

  Fidelia snorted. “You can justify it any way you want, but you know you lied. You deceived. You took a position deserving of respect in town, denying someone worthy of the post.” She shook her head as though mystified. “You entangled yourself with a decent man and then caused heartbreak and embarrassment.”

  “I had my daughter to consider.”

  That statement earned no sympathy from Fidelia, and her expression hardened further. “Don’t expect that to earn any compassion. Annabelle would tell you that I have none.” Fidelia paused a moment. “It will be interesting working with you as a colleague.”

  Leticia’s breath emerged as an oof as she shook her head. “I’m not working at the Boudoir. I’ll never work there.”

  Fidelia shrugged her shoulder, the loose sleeve slipping down to bare her upper arm. “So you say. So said every woman and girl working there. But we’ll see.” She backed away, disappearing down the short trail to the road that led to the brothel.

  Leticia moved a few steps to collapse on the rock. The bucolic scene no longer offered succor, and she wrapped her arms around her waist. Her body trembled slightly again when she heard more footsteps. “Please leave. There can be nothing more for you to say to me today.”

  “I hadna realized I’d yet said anything to ye today,” Alistair said.

  She jerked to her feet. “I beg your pardon. I spoke with … someone earlier, and it wasn’t a pleasant conversation.” Her gaze roved over him, and she frowned at the despair in his eyes. His clothes hung on him, and she feared he had not been eating.

  Alistair watched her with a yearning and yet anger-filled gaze. “Why are ye here?”

  “This is where we always came. To talk. To … be alone.” She flushed and shrugged.

  “Aye. This is my place.” He glared at her. “Can ye no’ leave me in peace?”

  Her eyes flared with anger. “I never thought you a coward!” She slapped a hand over her mouth as the words popped out.

  “I’d be careful what I said,” he rasped. His brown eyes were lit with hurt and disappointment.

  “In all the time I knew you, you fought for what you wanted. You cajoled and you persisted. You weren’t charming like Ewan, but you were steadfast.” She shook her head in confusion and disappointment. “Now that you’re faced with adversity, you slink away, as though a wounded animal to lick your wounds.”

  “Ye have no right to be disappointed in me,” he whispered. “Not when ye had every opportunity to tell me the truth! To spare me the infamy of accusations that ye are a liar and a murderess—at my own ceremony no less!”

  “When was I to do that, Alistair? After you spoke of honor and truthfulness and your inability to esteem those who deceived? When would I have ever felt I co
uld tell you my greatest fear? My greatest shame?”

  “So this is my fault?” His brows furrowed as he beheld her blond hair falling from pins and her hat askew.

  “Why can’t you accept that we both are at fault?” she whispered, reaching out a hand. A tear leaked down her cheek when he failed to raise his hand to meet hers, and she let her arm drop to her side.

  “If I had spoken to ye yesterday when I stopped by the bakery, would ye have told me the whole truth?”

  She looked down before she could hide her guilty look.

  He shook his head in frustration. “Or would ye have prevaricated and told me more lies?”

  “Alistair …” she whispered as her voice faltered.

  “Ye ken I learned from Warren last night ye were a fugitive? That ye had a warrant out for yer arrest?” He frowned as she did not feign a response but stared at him woodenly. “Ye already kent this?”

  “I learned of it recently.” She swallowed. “From … him.” They shared a tortured stare.

  “Will ye return to him?” he asked, his gaze boring into hers.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. He has … conditions to returning to him that I find hard to accept.” She gasped as Alistair breached the few steps separating them until he was close enough his coat brushed her dress.

  “Do ye prefer him to me? Is that why ye tried to forestall the wedding? Because ye hoped he’d return and find ye?” His gaze burned with insecurity and embarrassment.

  “Oh, Lord, no,” she whispered. “Never.”

  “Then why consider returning to him?” The intensity of Alistair’s gaze remained, although a reluctant concern replaced his other emotions.

  She closed her eyes. “No one will acknowledge my existence in town. Except for Annabelle and Mr. and Mrs. Tompkins. I walk as though a ghost down the boardwalks and on the streets, when before they called out to me, doffed their hats, moved aside in deference.” She sniffed. “Now I’m barreled over as though I were a speck of dust, with little concern when I stumble or fall.”

  She opened her eyes as he made a deep grunting noise in his throat as though in anger or agreement. She squinted as she studied him but could not decipher which. “I want more for me. For Hortence.” In a small voice, she whispered as she looked at her feet. “I’ve been advised she won’t be accepted to attend school here next year. That a child with such a mother should not associate with the deserving children of the town.”

  She heard him swear and felt him move away. Her gaze tracked his movement as he approached the creek and picked up small pebbles.

  “The townsfolk hold a lot of anger against ye.” After a long pause, he chucked a pebble upstream and then another. “They want me to pay for yer deception.”

  “What are you talking about?” Leticia whispered. She moved toward him, raising a hand to run down his back, remembering at the last moment his bellow to not touch him the last time she had attempted a soft caress. Her hand dropped as she awaited his response.

  “I’m surprised the likes of Mrs. Jameson could hold back from spewin’ her angry plan at ye.” His mirthless chuckle melded with the babble of the creek.

  “What’s going on, Alistair?”

  He stared at the water gurgling through the rocks. “She, and probably others on the school board, is determined to be repaid all the money they paid ye. An’, seein’ as ye’re as poor as can be, they’re lookin’ to me to pay the perceived debt.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  He spun to look at her. “For what? For causin’ me financial ruin? For lyin’ to me? For destroyin’ my dreams for us?” His gaze filled with anguish. “For never truly trustin’ me?”

  She raised her eyebrows as though to keep from crying and pursed her lips. “All of it.”

  “Aye. I’m sorry too. Sorry I ever took a shine to ye. I could be wed now, to another, with a bairn or two already.” He pushed past her, stopping as he heard her stutter in a breath as she stifled a sob. He paused as though waiting for her to say something and, when she failed to speak, stomped away.

  She followed behind him, her pace slower and more erratic as her tears marred her vision. As she approached the outskirts of town, she swiped at her cheeks and tilted her head high. She passed the café, surprised when Harold looked up from sweeping the boardwalk.

  “Miss Browne.” He doffed his hat. “I’d be most pleased if you could come to the café tonight with Hortence.”

  She flushed. “What a generous offer, Mr. Tompkins, but I’m afraid we cannot tonight.” She jumped when his broom slapped the boardwalk in front of her, impeding her forward momentum.

  “If you refuse to sit in the front, like a valued customer, come to the back. Irene and I want to talk with you.” He pinned her with a severe stare, his rascally grin returning when she nodded her agreement.

  She murmured her thanks before slipping away, ignoring the glares of a few townsfolk who pushed past her.

  Annabelle sat outside on the back porch, breathing in the evening air as it cooled. The hills shone a brilliant gold as the early evening rays slanted across them. When the kitchen door slammed shut, she turned her head as her husband joined her.

  “No welcoming smile for me?” he teased.

  “Why were you rude to Leticia today?” she asked as she continued to frown at him. “She was so upset after your visit that she went for a walk.”

  Cailean tugged his wife into his embrace, holding her so that her back was to his front with her head tucked under his chin. “She wasn’t upset with me. That man who claims to be her husband visited while you were away.” His arms tightened around her waist as she gasped. “Thankfully I had agreed to spend time with Hortence, and I was still there.”

  “Why won’t he leave her alone?”

  “Do you mean he’s bothered her before today?” He pushed on her shoulders until she turned to face him.

  She leaned against the banister at her back. “Yes. He is there most days, badgering her. There’s little I can do as he comes in as a paying customer.” She flushed. “Although I told him that he was barred, he ignores me. Doesn’t give much credence to what a ‘silly woman with more beauty than sense’ has to say.” She glowered as she mimicked the man before she clasped Cailean’s hand. “I’ve spoken to the sheriff, but he says I can’t bar a paying customer who has done nothing worse than flirt with the staff.”

  “Why have you said nothing to me about it before now?” He traced his fingers down Annabelle’s cheek before resting them on her shoulders.

  “I know how upset you become when I attempt to talk about her. The MacKinnons feel betrayed by her, but I think she has been equally betrayed. Not by us,” she said when he began to protest. “But by that man. By life.” She shivered. “I can’t help but have a sense of Fidelia about Leticia.”

  “Someday you must give up that guilt, love,” Cailean whispered as he kissed her forehead.

  She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his waist as she rested her head on his shoulder. “When my sister is free of the Boudoir and that life, then I might let the guilt go. I’m afraid that, until then, I will always feel a sense of loss.” She rubbed her face against his shoulder. “It’s been four months since she left our care, and returned to her life at the Boudoir. I live in constant fear that the customer who nearly killed her in February will attack her again.”

  “Aye,” he murmured, running a soothing hand over her back.

  “I thought she’d seek me out before now.” Her breath stuttered as though quelling a sob. “I’ve done what she asked though. Even as I wait in fear every day to be informed of her death, I’ve not pestered her at the Boudoir.”

  He tsked in her ear. “You’ve never been a pest. Instead you’ve shown her that you are willing to honor her wishes. And you are giving her time to realize how foolish she is to turn her back on family and your love.”

  After a few moments, he eased her away and grabbed her hand. They walked to the far end of the empty paddock next
door. She fought a teasing smile. “This isn’t the best place for a tryst, husband.”

  He flushed. “Don’t tempt me.” He let go of her hand and slung his forearms over the top rail of the paddock. “I need to talk with you, and I need privacy. I want to be outside and not stuck in our room. It’s too nice an evening to be inside.”

  Any levity fled, and she sobered. “What is it?”

  “Alistair is threatened with financial ruin due to his association with Leticia,” Cailean said as he described the threat against his brother in a succinct summary. “Which means we could lose the livery.”

  “No one in town will stand for this,” she stuttered.

  “They can and they will. Someone is fueling their anger, and it’s more than Mrs. Jameson. I don’t yet know who it is.” He took a deep breath as he looked out at the sky with clouds streaked in pink. “We need money, Belle, to fight the challenges coming our way.”

  “Surely the livery makes a good profit,” she said with a frown.

  “It does, for a life here in a small town in Montana. But I had to take out loans to pay for Ewan and then Sorcha to travel here, and I’ve not yet paid them off. Alistair used all his savings for the house he built Leticia.” He looked at the livery. “We’ve a good business. We have a home, aye, and we won’t be hungry. But we’ve no ready money.” He looked at her expectantly.

  She froze and backed up a step. “No. You can’t ask me that. You agreed. You promised!”

  He nodded. “I know what I promised. I signed the damn papers.” He took a deep breath to calm his temper. “I had hoped you would consider aiding us.”

  “It’s not my money, Cailean,” she whispered.

  He frowned as he watched her. “Of course it is. It’s from your father. He wanted you to have it.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve always considered my inheritance from my parents to be the bakery in Maine. I used the money from that sale to start the bakery here. I’ve been fortunate that it’s a success. I set aside almost everything else from my father for Fidelia. It wasn’t right that she be left nothing. That she be ignored in his will as though she never existed. You can’t expect me to treat her with such little regard.”