Montana Grit_Bear Grass Springs_Book Two Read online

  He kicked at the post before bending over and resting his head on his arm on the paddock rail. “Dammit.” He pushed away, pacing a few steps before returning.

  She bit her lip. “I’d feel like I was stealing from her, when I already refused to help her once.”

  “Does she know you’ve set aside money for her?” He watched her as the tic in his jaw became more pronounced.

  She nodded. “I told her about it when I first arrived. She has no interest in it. I remain hopeful she will someday.” She shook her head in frustration. “I want to help, Cailean, but you can’t ask me to betray Fidelia. Not again.”

  He nodded. “Aye, I understand.” He studied her intently. “Why did you not tell me the truth when you had that agreement written up?”

  She closed her eyes a moment before tilting her chin and meeting his gaze. “I knew you had little regard for the women in the Boudoir. And you barely knew me. I feared you would not have as much concern for my sister as you showed to me.” She gripped his arm. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now. I never realized we were still in arrears.”

  The tension slowly eased as he let out a pent-up breath. “I understand, Belle. And I know Fidelia better now. I want her away from the Boudoir because that will be good for her and because it will bring you peace.” He stroked a hand over her cheek as respect lit his gaze. “I always knew you were smart, but I never realized how good at strategy you were until now.” He kissed her quickly and pulled her close for a moment. “I thought you were saving the money for you, in case something happened to our marriage. Or I was a rascal and abandoned you. Or for our daughter so that she too had her own money. Instead, you were saving it for your sister.” His eyes shone with pride as he looked at his wife before his gaze roved over the livery. “I’ll make a list tomorrow of what we have in excess and see what we can sell.”

  “No!” she gasped as she grabbed his arm and pushed away to meet his gaze. “I make a nice profit at the bakery. I’ve a small sum saved at the bank, in an account I set up before we married.”

  “How much, Belle?”

  “A little over $200.” At Cailean’s shocked expression, she smiled. “I don’t pay for any of the household bills, and I make a decent profit most days.” She sighed. “Besides I didn’t use all the money from my bakery in Maine. I kept a little back in case the business floundered.”

  “I’ll repay you when I can.”

  She stroked a hand over his cheek, her fingers rubbing over the stubble there. “No, my love. I want to give it to you, … to us, to help Alistair.” She rose on her toes and kissed him softly. “Thank you for not pressuring me to use Fidelia’s money.”

  He tugged her to him. “I admire your loyalty, and I don’t wish to be the cause of any further misunderstanding between your sister and you.” They stood together, holding each other for long minutes. “Come to bed, love. Tomorrow morning comes early.”

  Leticia knocked on the back door to the Sunflower Café, her hand on Hortence’s shoulder. She followed Hortence inside after Irene opened the door and ushered them in. Set along one wall of the cramped kitchen, a small table stood with a clean tablecloth and plates. Wild daisies in the vase brightened the table, while a piece of paper and a pencil sat next to Hortence’s seat.

  “We thought you could draw us a picture,” Irene said as she ran a hand over Hortence’s head. “We haven’t seen you in far too long and miss your drawings.”

  Hortence smiled and sat at the table, her face scrunched up in concentration as she considered what to draw. “I’ll draw you a bear!” she said, her youthful triumphant voice ringing out.

  “Wonderful,” Harold said as he entered the kitchen.

  Leticia sat at the chair across from Hortence so that Harold and Irene could move around the kitchen without her in the way. They worked in silent harmony, and she jerked back in surprise when a bowl of soup was set in front of her.

  “Eat,” Irene said. “You haven’t been eating enough from the looks of you.” A basket of freshly cut bread was placed on the table, and another smaller bowl of soup was set before Hortence.

  Harold and Irene continued to work, making dinners, serving and clearing tables, while chatting with their customers. After Leticia and Hortence had eaten their fill of fried chicken and mashed potatoes, Leticia lingered over a cup of coffee.

  “Don’t even think of leaving,” Harold barked. He nodded as Hortence crawled onto Leticia’s lap and fell asleep.

  After the evening rush had quieted, Harold and Irene joined them at the table. “I have some of Miss Annabelle’s cake,” Irene said. She smiled at Hortence when the mention of cake failed to rouse her. “Poor dear. She’s tuckered out.”

  Leticia kissed her daughter’s forehead as she tugged her more securely onto her lap. “She saw Cailean today.”

  “That’s not the only one who visited you today,” Harold said around a mouthful of cake. “That no-good husband of yours sniffed around again.”

  Leticia sighed. “He refuses to understand that, after so much time apart, we no longer suit.”

  Irene watched her intently. “Why didn’t you divorce the man?”

  “I worried he would find me when I had to divulge where Hortence and I were in order to process the divorce. I’ve come to realize he would have found me anyway, no matter where I was.” She blinked away tears. “I was a fool to wait and waste any time I could have had with Alistair, and fools must pay the price.” Her voice trembled, and she exhaled deeply.

  Harold grunted in agreement before slurping down a sip of hot coffee. “The only foolish thing you did was not trust that man of yours. He deserved better, and so did you.”

  “There’s little he could have done,” Leticia whispered, as she buried her face in Hortence’s hair.

  “Hogwash,” Irene snapped. “He could have helped you obtain a divorce. He and that Clark boy are bright and would have found a way to free you. Thataways you wouldn’t have had to hope fate would continue to be kind.”

  Leticia sniffled. “Fate’s rarely been kind, Mrs. Tompkins.”

  Harold took another sip of coffee and speared her with an intense look. “What did that husband of yours mean when he said at your wedding ceremony how you’d miscalculated?”

  Leticia flushed, glancing at Hortence to reassure herself that she truly was asleep. “I was pregnant with Hortence. I knew I must flee to protect my baby. I mixed a sleeping draught in his whiskey and snuck away.” She kissed her daughter’s head. “He thought I meant to kill him.”

  Irene snorted. “He’s even more of a fool than I realized. You’re no murderer, although you were desperate.” She tapped her fingers on the tabletop in agitation. “Since that time, you’ve hoped everything would turn out fine without any more work on your part. Seems to me the passive route didn’t work for you. Now you must decide on what you want and be an active participant in your life. Stop wishing and waiting for things to turn out as you hope. Work for it, and you may yet obtain what you want.”

  Harold grunted, agreeing with his wife’s words. “Unlike other places, divorce is easy to obtain here in Montana, Miss Leticia. I’m surprised you didn’t know that.”

  “Not having a newspaper has decreased the news from around the state,” Irene said. “Our grandson Frederick and his brothers keep us informed. Seems divorce is nearly as common as marriage in the big cities, like Helena and Butte.”

  “It would scandalize the people here,” Leticia whispered.

  Irene chuckled. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Mrs. Jameson is divorced. As is our nephew, Tobias. And so is Mr. Barclay.” She paused. “I’m sure I could think of many more. It’s hard to keep a wife in the mining towns. And many women want the right to seek a better provider than the man they first married.”

  “I doubt Alistair would look fondly on a divorced woman,” she whispered.

  “Divorced or widowed,” Harold said, “you’ve lived your life with dignity since you came to town. Ain’t no reason to be asha
med for wanting a man like Alistair MacKinnon. That Mr. Fry seems a scoundrel.”

  Leticia shivered. “That’s one way to describe him.” Her arms tightened around her daughter. “I’m afraid I don’t have as liberal a view on divorce as you do.”

  Harold watched Leticia with growing concern. “You were desperate to leave him seven years ago. Why do you believe you’ll feel any differently this time?” He met her startled gaze and then growled with impatience as she remained quiet. “It’s still not too late to seek a divorce. Many reasons would be acceptable to a judge.”

  “I fear parts of my story will shock you, as nothing is always as it appears.” Leticia breathed in Hortence’s scent as she slept on her lap. “Thank you for your counsel. Thank you for always being my friends.”

  Irene and Harold shared worried glances before Harold spoke. “No need for you to thank us. We stand by our friends. The townsfolk are feeding off your misfortune with Tobias fanning the fervor of their discontent, and I have to hope they’ll soon find another scandal to entertain them. You’ve suffered enough.”

  She shared a watery smile with them. “I should get her home.” She eased to stand with Hortence in her arms. When they waved away her offer to pay for dinner, she blushed. “Thank you for dinner. And your kindness.”

  Chapter 8

  Before the sun had yet risen, Cailean joined Alistair on the back porch, blowing on a steaming cup of coffee. “I’ll have to remember to thank Belle for leaving the coffee ready for Sorcha to brew this morning.”

  “Ye should ask her to do it every day,” Alistair said, his gaze raised as the sky lightened. Long wispy clouds changed from light pink to yellow to white as the sun rose over the mountains. Alistair ignored the back door opening and closing as Ewan joined them, sitting on an uncut piece of firewood. “I saw her yesterday,” Alistair said.

  Cailean hitched his hip onto the banister and leaned against the porch post. “What did she say?”

  “She apologized.” The words brought no visible comfort as Alistair continued to brood. “Seemed she thought that would make a difference.”

  Cailean took a sip of coffee and studied his distraught brother. “Did you give her the chance to explain?” When Alistair shrugged, Cailean sighed with frustration. “What more can she do than explain? You must hear the truth from her.”

  Alistair glared at Cailean but remained quiet.

  Ewan yawned as he attempted to wake, slurping down a few sips of coffee as he listened to his brothers talk.

  “Do you want her to become a social pariah? Because she’s succeeded in that. Do you want her to be financially ruined?” Cailean waited for some emotion from his brother but frowned as Alistair continued to stare at the distant mountains. “For she’s successful there too.”

  Alistair closed his eyes. “I ken what yer doin,’ Cail. An’ I can’t say I wouldna do the same to ye.” He let out a deep breath. “It’s as though I’m gutted every time I see her. She didna trust me enough. Didna trust in us enough. An’ I canna forgive her.”

  “Do ye want her to beg?” Ewan asked. He met Alistair’s glower. “Do ye want to ruin any chance of reconcilin’ by makin’ her feel worse for actin’ on her fears?” Ewan shrugged as he had an all-over body shake and stifled a yawn. “I kent she failed ye. She left ye open to ridicule and scorn and pity.”

  “Aye,” Alistair said. “I don’t ken if I’ll ever forgive her.”

  “If ye can no’, then one of ye should leave town. At least for a time. For while ye’re both here, the townsfolk are speculatin’ about ye.” Ewan met Alistair’s irate gaze. “The saloons are taking any number of bets.” He raised his hand as he ticked them off. “How long until ye forgive her? How long until ye woo her? How long until ye … bed her?” He raised his eyebrows at Cailean’s incredulous laugh. “How long until ye move on to another?”

  “Fools, the lot of ’em.” Alistair snorted. “I’m sure ye heard worse bets, but ye’re refusin’ to tell me what they are.” He frowned as his carefree brother remained serious.

  “Ye spoke of Cail not holding on to his hurts too tightly last fall with Annabelle. The same is true for ye, Alistair.” Ewan set his now-empty cup of coffee on the porch floor. “Ye are no’ a bitter man, an’, until ye understand why she acted as she did, ye willna have peace. Even if she’s no longer in this town.”

  “He wants her back,” Alistair rasped, his head dropping until his chin hit his chest. “He’s her husband. I’ve no right to prevent their reunion.”

  “Horse dung,” Cailean snapped. “The woman I saw yesterday had no wish to be with that man, husband or not.” He met Alistair’s glare. “I saw him with her. I saw him manhandle her, backing her into a corner with his taunts and jeers. If how he treats her now is any indication of her life with him then, I can’t condemn her for doing whatever she had to do to start over. Especially with her bairn.”

  Alistair frowned as he listened to his brother. “Did he hurt her?”

  “Aye. Bruised her arm.” He watched as Alistair frowned and battled concern for her. “But more than that, he tried to destroy her spirit.” He slapped Alistair on his back. “Find peace with your anger, Alistair, and talk with her. Truly talk with her.” He reentered the kitchen for another cup of coffee, the door slamming shut as he retreated.

  Ewan shifted, standing in the place Cailean had vacated. “She’ll hear the rumors soon.” When Alistair stared at him blankly, Ewan shrugged. “That ye are courtin’ another.”

  “Who am I to be courtin’?” He shook his head in frustration. “Damn small town. Makes me want to leave an’ become lost in a city.”

  “Don’t leave, Al,” Ewan said. “Not when we’re all together again.” His hand gripped the banister a moment, relaxing as he stared at the paddock and distant mountains.

  Alistair heaved out a large sigh. “I won’t. I might want to, but I willna. I promise.” He nudged his youngest brother in the shoulder. “Now, who am I courtin’?” He took a sip of coffee after asking his question.

  “Helen Jameson.”

  Alistair spewed his mouthful of coffee into the yard, coughing as he tried not to choke.

  Ewan slapped his brother on the back a couple times to help. “Seems Mrs. Jameson is walking around like a stuffed pheasant, as pleased as could be about how things are progressin’ for her daughter.”

  “Christ,” Alistair swore. “I met her once, in the woods. I went to my thinkin’ place, and she was waitin’ for me. Ambushed me with crazy ideas.” He paused until Ewan made a noise to continue. “She wanted me to court her now that I was done with Le … her. I declined.”

  Ewan shook his head. “Seems ye were no’ as emphatic as ye needed to be. That mother is a menace and found out ye met. God help ye.” He paused. “And God help Leticia when she hears the news.”

  Alistair shivered. “Aye. She’ll have no reason to believe I havena started up with another.” He bent his head forward. “I havena treated her as I should.”

  “Whatever ye do, speak to Leticia soon. Ensure she understands ye still care for her.” Ewan met Alistair’s defiant gaze. “Ye ken ye do. Stop actin’ like an ass.” He slapped his brother on his arm, leaving him to his thoughts.

  Alistair entered Warren’s office, his hat in his hands as he waited for Warren to emerge from the back room he used as a private office and file room. After a moment, Warren poked his head out and smiled.

  “I thought I heard someone enter. You are as quiet as a cat.” He motioned for Alistair to sit and then joined him, sitting across from him at his large desk. Warren’s jacket was slung across the back of his seat, and he began to unroll his shirt sleeves.

  “No need on my account,” Alistair said with a humorous gleam in his eyes.

  “The heat is stifling today, and there’s no breeze,” Warren muttered as he relaxed into his swivel chair. “What brings you by?”

  “I dinna ken if Cailean spoke with ye?” Warren nodded and Alistair frowned. “Can ye aid me, even though I
dinna have much money?”

  Warren sighed. “Cailean is one of my best friends. Of course I will help you, Alistair. Besides, I hate to see an injustice perpetrated against someone who is most likely a victim.” He watched as Alistair flushed with what seemed like shame. “As is what I imagine is the true situation with Miss Browne.”

  Alistair shrugged, and Warren pinched the bridge of his nose. “God save me from stubborn Scotsmen,” he muttered. “I take that to mean you still haven’t spoken with her?” He rolled his eyes as Alistair shook his head. “If you want to defeat that man who claims to be her husband, you must convince her that you are on her side. Otherwise she’ll have no reason to believe you. No reason to remain in this town. No reason not to leave with him. Legally she is wed to him. Not to you.”

  Alistair gripped his thighs with his hands as he fought escalating tension. “I ken what ye say is true. My brothers just told me the same thing.” He paused a moment as though thinking through all he had learned since that disastrous wedding ceremony. “Do ye know any more than what ye’ve told me?”

  Warren watched him. “I’ve made further inquiries, but I’ve yet to hear back from my colleagues.” He speared Alistair with a severe stare. “I understand the desire to know the facts. The need to better understand what happened.” He frowned as his gaze became haunted. “I know what it is to love and lose and to regret what I might have done.”

  He leaned forward, the chair squeaking with the movement. “All the evidence in the world shouldn’t matter, Alistair. Either you believe her or you don’t. Something in the future will cause you to doubt her. If you continue to hold on to these doubts, this bitterness, you will never be free of that one single day. That one hour in the church.” He sighed. “Which isn’t fair to you or to her.”