Substitute Montana Bride: Bear Grass Springs, Book Thirteen

by Flightner, Ramona

  “Not until late January or early February. Right now, that feels like an eternity.” After ladling out a healthy portion of stew, she set it and a large slab of corn bread by Alvira, along with a crock of butter. “Would you like honey?”

  “Honey?” Alvira whispered. “Butter is an extravagance.”

  The woman laughed. “If you’re eating dinner in my kitchen, you can have butter and honey, if you like.” When Alvira nodded, she set the small pot by her guest and then turned back to the stove. “I’m Philomena, Peter’s wife.” Her mostly gray eyes gleamed with curiosity, as she gazed at Alvira. “What has you hiding away in my kitchen?”

  Alvira flushed. “I was to have supper with Mr. Atkins.” She paused when she heard Philomena chuckle. “I, … ah, found I didn’t have an appetite when I was with him.”

  “You mean, you didn’t have an appetite to listen to his prattle,” she said, with a knowing grin, as she set out a few bowls of stew with smaller pieces of corn bread. At Alvira’s nod, Philomena laughed. “Oh, he’s not a mean man, just foolish and doesn’t know better.” She swiped at her forehead, before stirring the pot once more and sitting across from Alvira. “What did he say to upset you so much that you raced away before eating his food?”

  Alvira took a bite of stew. “In my defense, it didn’t smell nearly as good in his dining room as it does here.” When Philomena shrugged, as though to indicate that was obvious, Alvira blushed ruby red. “He assumes we’re a couple. That I arrived in town for the sole purpose of meeting him.”

  Groaning, Philomena moved around so her back was against the wall. “Oh, the man is pompous as well as fanciful. I’ve always thought his imagination wasted on him. It should have gone to someone writing novels or poetry.” She grinned as Alvira snickered.

  Philomena watched Alvira closely. “You have no interest in the man.” At Alvira’s quick shake of her head, Philomena said, “Although you seemed to enjoy the dance last weekend.”

  “I wasn’t myself,” Alvira protested. “I should have known better than to lose myself to the music and dance as I did.”

  Frowning, she shook her head. “I don’t understand. Dance like you did? Like a woman enjoying herself?” Philomena gazed at her in confusion. “You are allowed to enjoy yourself, Miss Damon. We all are. You hurt no one by dancing with him, although Uncle Tobias was saddened when you raced away from him as though he had the plague.”

  “Uncle Tobias?” Alvira whispered, her spoon held halfway between her bowl and her mouth. “You’re related to him too? Is he related to everyone in town?”

  Philomena laughed. “No, although he is related by marriage and friendship to many of the residents. You’ll find the MacKinnons are not particular about who they consider part of their clan.” She paused and let out a slow breath. “Forgive me, the little one was just letting herself be known.” She patted at her belly. “Let me help sort out everyone, as I know how confusing it can be to understand how everyone is related.”

  Philomena pointed to herself. “I’m married to Peter, who is Tobias’s nephew. Jane is Tobias’s daughter, and she’s married to Ben. Jane is Peter’s cousin. Peter’s brother, Frederick, runs a ranch outside of town called the Mountain Bluebird Ranch, and he’s married to Sorcha MacKinnon. Due to that, we’re related to the MacKinnons. And also Ewan and Ben work together, so Ewan considers Ben an honorary brother.”

  Alvira sat in silence for a long moment, her finger waving around, as she tried to make sense of what Philomena had just said. “How are Mildred and Hortence related?”

  Smiling, Philomena said, “Hortence’s da, Alistair, is a MacKinnon. Bears is Mildred’s father and Fidelia’s husband. Fidelia’s sister, Annabelle, is married to a MacKinnon. Fidelia is Mildred’s mother.” She shrugged again. “And all MacKinnons consider Bears part of their family.”

  Alvira sat back. “They really don’t care much about direct blood ties, do they?”

  Philomena chuckled. “No. If they like you, they’ll claim you.” She frowned when she saw Alvira pale at that thought. “You’d be lucky if that were to occur.”

  Shaking her head, Alvira clasped her quivering fingers together on her lap. “No, I think that would be a grave misfortune. For when they revoked their friendship, the sorrow would be nearly unbearable.” She ignored Philomena’s gasp of concern and glanced up to see Peter Tompkins watching them. “Could you walk me home now, sir?”

  At his nod, Alvira rose. “Thank you for the fine meal and for the company.” She slipped out the back door, only remembering when she arrived home that she had forgotten to pay for her supper.

  * * *

  Saturday evening, Alvira entered the Sunflower Café again and smiled at Peter. “Mr. Tompkins,” she murmured, “I hope this is not an inconvenience.” She attempted to act as though Wednesday night had not occurred.

  He smiled warmly. “Of course not, although I feared we had scared you away the other evening.”

  She flushed, as she understood he would not allow her to act as though her supper in the kitchen had not occurred. “I assure you that I am stronger than I look.” She followed him to a table near the front that was also close to the kitchen door. “Sir,” she said in a low voice. “I realized when I arrived home, I had forgotten to pay for my supper.”

  He shook his head with a smile. “Those who eat in the kitchen don’t pay.” He winked at her and motioned for her to sit.

  After sitting down, and ordering the chicken potpie, she pulled out a letter from her pocket. She ran her fingers over the envelope, hesitant to open the missive.

  “From another admirer?” Tobias asked, earning a muffled shriek. His eyes glowed with remorse at having startled her. He stood beside her table with an inquisitive expression.

  Waving at the empty chair across from her, she silently invited him to join her. “An acquaintance I never expected to hear from again,” she said in a soft voice, tucking the envelope into her pocket. “Why are you here?”

  He huffed out a laugh. “Contrary to popular opinion in town, I am welcome here again.” When she stared at him in confusion at his statement, he sighed and relaxed into his chair. “For supper, as I imagine you are.” He smiled at Peter, as he emerged from the kitchen. “Hello, Peter.”

  “Uncle,” Peter said, with a broad smile, as he set the chicken potpie in front of Alvira. “Would you like the same?” At his uncle’s nod, he wandered to check on other patrons, before moving to the kitchen.

  “Uncle?” Alvira asked, deciding to feign ignorance, as she didn’t want Tobias to know she had gossiped about him with Philomena. Alvira poked her fork through the flaky crust, watching as steam emerged. “I thought you had no family except your daughter.”

  He rested an arm on the table and settled into his chair, at ease, as he watched her play with her food. “No, I have a lot of family in the area. My aunt and uncle used to run this café, and another nephew runs the Mountain Bluebird Ranch, not far from here.”

  Alvira frowned, as she attempted to cipher through what she had heard about the ranches in the area. “The successful one the MacKinnon sister married into.” At his nod, she murmured, “You’re a MacKinnon relative?”

  He chuckled. “I knew you couldn’t resist talking about me.” He winked, as she flushed. “Yes, I’m related in a roundabout way. They have a penchant for expanding their clan, and they never seem as delighted as when someone new joins their group.” He shrugged. “Someone new who they also deem worthy.”

  Alvira took a small bite of her supper, closing her eyes on a soft moan of delight. “Oh, delicious,” she breathed. “I like to think I can cook, but this is …” She sighed with pleasure. When she saw him watching her avidly, she flushed. “Forgive me.”

  He shook his head and cleared his throat. “There’s nothing to forgive, Miss Damon. It’s a wonder to see you take such joy in a simple thing like supper.” As her flush deepened, he chuckled. Smiling his thanks at Peter, who set his supper in front of him, he picked at the top of
his potpie and breathed in the flavorful aroma. “Peter was lucky to marry a woman who’s as good a cook as my aunt Irene. They’ll have a successful café and life.”

  Alvira took another bite of her food, before she spoke in a soft voice. “They seem doubly blessed, as they are to have a child soon.”

  Tobias grunted. “Yes, sometime after the New Year. Another reason for our family to celebrate. Quite a few babies are to be born soon.” He smiled and shrugged. “I find I enjoy being a great uncle.”

  She stared at him for a long moment. “I envy you,” she whispered, her eyes widening in horror, as though she had spoken without meaning to. When he stared at her quizzically but remained quiet, she whispered, “I envy you your family. You watched your daughter grow and have those memories. You’re a very fortunate man, Mr. Sutton.”

  He flushed and ducked his head. “I fear you know little about me, although I must agree that I am a fortunate man. My daughter is the best part of me, and I give thanks for her every day.”

  Alvira frowned for a moment, before lowering her gaze. Her food had cooled enough that she didn’t have to wait so long between bites, and soon she had eaten her chicken potpie.

  Tobias ate slowly, as though savoring every bite. He watched her with curiosity, nodding at the empty plate in front of her. “How’d it compare to the fine grub you ate at the hotel?”

  She sighed. “I was cornered into having dinner with him.” Glaring at Tobias as he gave her a mocking look, she sighed. “And I’m certain your nephew informed you how I ran away. I hid in the café kitchen and ate dinner, while talking with Philomena.”

  Tobias shook his head. “I didn’t know. I saw you enter the hotel and assumed you had supper there.” At the shake of her head, he murmured, “What happened, Miss Damon, to make you so uncomfortable as to flee supper?”

  She flushed. “He spoke nonsense about me arriving in town solely to meet him. I dislike the assumption I had no free will.” Her flush brightened, as she saw the delighted gleam in his gaze.

  “Well, it’s a pity you didn’t eat supper there. I’ve always been curious about his food, although never curious enough to pay his prices.”

  She leaned forward, as though imparting a great secret. “I’m certain his food isn’t half as good as that served here. No delicious scents wafted from the kitchen. I think he fills his dining room by charging room and board.”

  Tobias chuckled. “I suspect you are correct. Astute and correct.” He sighed. “Atkins was ornerier than a rabid cat when he discovered just how good a cook Philomena is. He thought that he could finally entice customers away, after Aunt moved back to the ranch.” He set down his fork with a satisfied sigh. “Why didn’t you join the MacKinnons for supper on Thursday?” he asked, as he took a sip of water.

  Alvira paled. “I knew that wasn’t a sincere invitation. You only said that at the dance to help me evade a supper with Mr. Atkins.”

  Shaking his head, Tobias sighed. “No, it was a true invitation, and Annabelle was peeved you failed to show.”

  Alvira paled further. “Oh no,” she whispered. “I never meant to offend her. I know we’ll never be friends, but I had hoped we’d at least be acquaintances.”

  Tilting his head to one side as he studied her, Tobias furrowed his brows. “You have the oddest notions, Miss Damon. Of course you could be friends with her or with any of the MacKinnons. They’re not denying you their friendship. You are denying them yours.”

  She sat in stunned silence for a long moment.

  When it seemed as though the silence would be interminable, he asked, “How about cake?” He looked to his nephew and nodded.

  “Cake?” Alvira exclaimed. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly. That’s an indulgence and …” Her protestations died away as a slice of chocolate cake with thick white frosting was set in front of her. She met Tobias’s amused stare.

  “What was that about indulgences?” Tobias asked, as he took a large bite of his own piece of cake. “I believe you need to let your hair down a little, Alvira. You’re living in a small town in Montana Territory, and the folks here have accepted you.”

  Closing her eyes, Alvira breathed in the rich scent of chocolate, a sigh of absolute pleasure leaving her. She opened her eyes and looked at Tobias. Her gaze gleamed with delight. “I’ve only had cake a handful of times in my life.”

  “What? Why?” Tobias asked, as he sat in momentarily stunned silence.

  She shook her head. “That was my life.” She motioned in the direction of the bakery a few doors down the boardwalk. “I’ve never lived near a bakery like this. Most women had to cook everything themselves.”

  He studied her for a long moment and shook his head. “No, I imagine you didn’t believe in the indulgence of spending that money on yourself.” She flushed at his assessment, although she remained quiet and refused to confirm or deny his statement. “You would believe it frittering away your money and would deny yourself the treat.”

  “Not all of us are blessed with family and support, Mr. Sutton,” she snapped, her breath emerging in short rasps, as she battled her anxiety because he pushed too close to memories she wished to keep buried.

  “If you were to align yourself with a man like Atkins, he’d ensure you had cake whenever you desired it.”

  Alvira took another bite of the sweet treat, her eyes closing, as though momentarily blocking out Tobias and any talk of Mr. Atkins, relishing the sweet taste of chocolate. With a sigh, she acknowledged him again. “I’m not marrying Mr. Atkins or anyone. And I certainly wouldn’t be induced by cake.”

  Tobias chuckled, his smile brightening his expression, making him look years younger. “A woman of principles.”

  She fought a smile, although the side of her mouth quirked up. “Yes. I’m not so easily seduced.” She gasped and covered her mouth in horror, as he burst out laughing. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

  He shook his head, his eyes now glowing with delight, and, if she knew him better, she’d think it was tenderness. “You can’t take it back once it’s said,” he teased. “Many men in this town will endeavor to discover what it takes to entice the fetching Miss Damon.”

  She played with her fork, running it through crumbs on her plate. “Would you join them?” she asked in a low voice, looking up at him, even though her head was downcast.

  “No,” he said, any teasing disappearing as he pushed back from the table. “I’m a bachelor, and I’ll be one until I die. Good evening, Miss Damon.” He rose, nodded to her, and entered the kitchen.

  She sat in stunned silence, quietly replaying the scene between them. Had she imagined him flirting with her? Did he truly have no interest in her? She bit her lip, as she thought through his reaction to her having supper with Atkins and his delight that she had fled supper. Why run from her now? Her fork landed onto her plate with a clunk, and she sat back in stunned silence.

  Alvira realized she wasn’t the only one clinging to secrets.

  Chapter 6

  A few days after her impromptu supper with Tobias, Alvira sat in her rocking chair after a hard day of work at school. Tommy continued to create problems where none existed, and she suspected he couldn’t read. However, she couldn’t persuade him to remain after school, so she could spend time with him one-on-one. His defiance will cost him dearly in the future, she thought to herself.

  With a sigh, she rested her head against the back of her rocking chair, allowing the soothing motion to ease her roiling emotions. Her mind continued to puzzle over her last interaction with Tobias, and she couldn’t understand what she had said or done to offend him. Perhaps he was tired of women attempting to entice him to marriage.

  Her breath caught. Marriage? She couldn’t possibly consider any relationship, let alone marriage to a man who irritated her. With her eyes closed, she envisioned what a life with him would entail. Rather than strife and constant conflict, she felt at peace. She remembered him coming to her aid with Atkins at the dance and then encouraging her to express
her joy. He hadn’t attempted to stifle her. What would life be like with such a man?

  Shaking her head at her ludicrous notions, she took another deep breath and pulled the unopened letter out of her pocket. After fingering the familiar handwriting, she ripped it open.

  Miss Damon,

  I heard you left precipitously, once you had finally found a new post. A post where they weren’t as picky about the recommendation of your previous employer. I never thought you would be so cruel as to leave your students here after ten years with no replacement, and you should know you are not welcome to return. No one misses you.

  Did you think my mother and I didn’t know, Miss Damon? It’s been eight years, but never fear. We’ll hate you forever.

  I saw how you looked at him. How he looked at you. And I know you imagined yourself in love. He never would have married you, Miss Damon. He would have done his duty to his family—my family—and married to enhance the family farm.

  How does it feel, knowing your selfish attachment led to his death? My mother and I will never forgive ourselves for having welcomed you into our home. For having rejoiced at your friendship. You are not worthy of our friendship.

  My only hope is that you are miserable and alone forever in your new post.

  Sally

  Alvira sat in stunned silence, her rocking stopped, as her breath sawed in and out of her. She had hoped their bitterness had faded. She had prayed they’d come to realize how much his death had hurt her too. Not even eight years had eased their acrimony.

  She rose, setting aside the letter, as she paced around her small living space. She wished she were a man, allowed to escape her demons with rotgut or whiskey or whatever they drank. She wished she could go to a saloon and seek out meaningless conversation or companionship. Instead she had to pace this room, alone, as her memories haunted and taunted her, with everything she could have had and all that would forever be denied her.