Charlotte reached out, her hand stroking his knee. “What did you do?”
He stared dully ahead. “I was fourteen by then. Said I’d go to the big town, four hours walk away. Find some work and come get Ma and my sisters.” He stared again into the distance, his gaze unfocused.
“What happened?” she whispered, her hold on his leg tightening, instinctively understanding tragedy had struck his family.
“I returned to find they had been enticed into working in a place similar to the Boudoir.” He saw her eyes widen with shock. “My mother wouldn’t acknowledge she knew me when I tried to force her to leave.” He rubbed at a spot on his head. “Got my head bashed in and had to squander the little money I’d earned on the doctor so he’d patch me up.”
“And your sisters?” she whispered.
“They were in another establishment.” His voice was low. “Mortified to have me find them there but unwillin’ to leave. They knew that I couldn’t support all of us and that they’d soon have to return. And that, when they did, they’d be treated even worse for having the temerity to leave.”
“Oh, Dalton,” she breathed, crawling forward. She traced her hands down his chest before leaning forward to rest against him. When he didn’t push her away, she wrapped an arm around his waist.
He fell backward, pulling her with him and earning a startled shriek. “Come, Lottie. You’re fine. Let me hold you.” He relaxed when she nestled her head against his neck, kissing the tender skin there. “There’s no need to worry about me.”
“Of course there is,” she said around a sniffle. “You lost your family at such an early age.” Pressing up, she gazed at him with wonder. “Rather than be bitter and angry, you’re a good man.”
“How could I be otherwise, love?” he asked, his voice roughened, as though fighting tears. “I loved my ma. My sisters. I couldn’t dishonor them by dishonoring other women.”
A tear leaked out, and she gazed at him with remorse. “Oh, I wish what Miss Sorcha said had been true.” At his quizzical expression, she flushed. “That you’d gone to the far homestead last summer. Perhaps everything would have been different.”
He smiled tenderly at her, bending an arm to rest his head on that elbow. “From where I’m at, my Lottie, things have turned out well.” His expression clouded for a moment. “I hate what you suffered. I resent you knowing a moment of fear. But I can’t be sad about holding you in my arms right now.”
She nodded but refused to allow his attempt at levity to sway her from the serious conversation. “It’s why you were so protective of me from the moment I returned.” She raised a hand to cup his cheek, flushing when he turned his head to kiss her fingers.
“Yes,” he murmured. “All I could think of was my sisters and what happened to them. I didn’t know your story, but I knew you’d been hurt. I suspected you’d been taken advantage of. It’s too common a story.” He ducked his head. “I needed to find a way to make amends.”
“Amends?” she gasped. She pushed up, her elbows digging into his belly. Ignoring his protestations, she scrambled away from him. “That’s what you see when you look at me? A charity? A … a … pathetic woman who couldn’t manage to care for herself?” She edged away from him after he rose, batting at his hands to keep him from grabbing her. “No!”
“Lottie,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing. “You know that’s not how it is. How it was.” He stilled his movements, his hands fisted at his sides. “Dammit, I don’t know how to explain. What to say.”
She lifted her chin, her shoulders back, ignoring the tears dripping off her chin. “Tell me how it was. Make me understand.”
“Do you know what it is to live with regret every day of your life?” he asked in a low voice, the words raspy, as though ripped from his soul. “Do you know what it is to wonder, every day, what you could have done differently? If you could have been a better son? A better man? Anything to protect and to care for those you love?”
He ran a hand through his brown hair, sending a few strands sticking up on end. “I did. Every day from the moment I rode away from them, I worried about Ma and my sisters—although I know they’re probably dead by now from some horrible disease. But the not knowing is another form of agony.”
He paused, his jaw clenched, as he let go of that anger with a few deep breaths. “I knew peace, Lottie, during the years I had with Mary. Something about a woman who’s got a good soul can calm the doubt. Ease the never-ending ache.”
Dalton looked at her with a fiery passion. “When I saw you, sobbing on your knees in the barn in February, I wanted to kill whoever dared hurt you. When I knew you’d lost your child, I wished I had the right to offer you comfort. When you defied Boss and insisted on earning your keep by cookin’ for the men, I couldn’t allow another to offer you the sense of security I wanted you to find only with me.”
“Why?” she whispered. “I’m not like your Mary. I’m not good and pure and worthy.”
He shook his head, taking a few hesitant steps in her direction, noting she didn’t back away from him. “Don’t you see that you are?” he whispered. “You are a decent, kind woman, who fell for the lies spouted by an evil man. You’re strong and beautiful.” He swallowed as his hand shook when he raised it to stroke her cheek. “I wish I knew more about you before you came to the ranch.”
She gazed at him with panic and fear. “Will you wait until we speak with Warren? If you still want to marry me, after he answers your questions, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
Dalton studied her a long moment, his thumb tracing the silky curve of her cheek. “Someday you’ll have faith, Lottie. Faith that nothing you do will cause me to leave. That nothing you have done would make me lose my esteem for you.” He kissed her softly, fleetingly, on her lips. “Someday.”
Releasing her, he backed away a step and sat again on the blanket. “Come, love. Rest against me, as we enjoy our time away from the ranch.”
* * *
Charlotte stared at Dalton, as he rested on his back, waiting patiently for her to join him. After a moment of indecisiveness, she dropped to her knees and scooted closer to lay her head on his shoulder. When his fingers played in her hair and trailed down her shoulder to her arm and back up again, she felt a deep tension ease inside her. She was unaccustomed to a man meaning what he said.
Tentatively she wrapped her arm around his waist, resting more heavily against him. Snuggling down, she pressed one ear against his firm chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The gentle cadence lulled her, and she soon found herself on the verge of sleep. Never had she felt so untroubled. So safe.
“Is this all right?” she whispered.
“No,” he murmured. When she stiffened and acted as though she would roll away from him, Dalton tightened his arm around her. “This is heaven. Holding you in my arms. You wanting to be here.”
“I should feel guilty,” she mumbled, relaxing fully against him.
“Why?” he whispered, kissing her head.
“Another is doing my job, and I’m just lying about,” she said with a deep, contented sigh. Her eyelids felt heavy, and she fought falling asleep.
“Think of it as one of Davina’s wedding gifts to you, darlin’.” He kissed her head again. “And try not to feel guilty when she and the others continue to do nice things for you. It’s just their way.”
She fidgeted, her fingers playing with a thread on his shirt. “I worry I can’t repay her for her kindness.”
He chuckled. “None of them want repayment. Except for you to be happy.”
“I am,” she murmured in a sleepy voice. “Happier than I ever thought I’d be again.” She tumbled into sleep, as the birds serenaded her, and Dalton’s steady heartbeat reassured her all was well in her world.
Chapter 8
Charlotte sat beside Dalton on the ride to town in the back of one of the wagons. The early June weather was beautiful, although the deeper green of May was already fading. Too soon
the land would be baked a dull brown from the unremitting summer heat. Charlotte focused on the distant mountains, trying to still her roiling nerves, as each stride by the horses took her one step closer to the woman who wanted her dead. Although she sat with her hands clenched together on her lap, she desperately needed Dalton’s steadfast support. His affection.
She released her clenched hands, moving the one closest to Dalton so that it would brush against his. When he jerked at her soft contact with him, she flushed and yanked her hand away. “I beg your pardon.”
“No, Lottie,” Dalton said, reaching out to grip her hand. “Here,” he said, lacing their hands together. When he felt the tension in her, he released her hand, slinging an arm over her shoulder to pull her closely to him. “I’m sorry we are in the back of the wagon and not riding on the front seat. Or on horseback.”
“No,” she gasped. “I didn’t want to make a scene with my entrance into town. I prefer to arrive unnoticed, if possible.”
He chuckled, the sound echoing in the ear pressed against his chest. “Ah, love, someday you’ll realize you are a woman meant to be noticed. You are a woman who will always stand out.” He kissed her head. “Because of your remarkable beauty and because of your indomitable spirit.” When she said nothing, he spoke in a low voice, meant only for her. “Never doubt that I admire the tremendous courage it has taken for you to venture into town with us today.”
She pressed into his side, her arm wrapping around his waist. Holding him like this, being embraced in this manner, had quickly become her favorite way of feeling cherished. She recalled the afternoon they had played hooky, waking from a deep slumber in his arms. Rather than ridicule her, as she had feared, he had kissed her head, and coaxed her into finding shapes in the clouds, as he regaled her with tales about Slims, Shorty, and Dixon. Laughter, peace, and a growing sense of connection were her overarching memories from that day.
“Never forget. You are not alone. You are not the woman who had to face them without support last winter, Lottie. You have all of us now.” He made circles on her back. “I fear you don’t fully understand what that means, as you’ve never experienced the full force of a MacKinnon gathering. But you will today.”
“They have no reason to accept me,” she murmured, her hold on him tightening. “I am nothing to them.”
He made a soothing sound, his breath on the soft skin of her nape provoking a shiver. “No, darlin’, that’s where you are wrong. Sorcha cares about you, and, because of that, they will too.”
She pushed back to stare at him, confounded by his words. “It can’t be that simple.”
Smiling tenderly, he nodded. “For them, it is.”
Charlotte peeked over the edge of the wagon, noting they were on the edge of town. They had passed a sawmill a few moments ago, and the church was just coming into view. “We’re almost there.” She saw Shorty and Dixon, who were riding on horseback, move closer to the wagon, as though flanking them and protecting her.
After passing a church and a school, the wagon came to a halt at the livery across the street. Dalton eased her from his arms and vaulted out to help her down. She stood back as two men emerged from the livery, smiles bursting forth at their arrival.
“Finally ye’re here,” Alistair MacKinnon proclaimed, opening his arms wide to pull Sorcha in for a hug. He kissed little Harold’s head, before embracing Davina and stroking a finger over Mairi’s cheek. “We thought ye were comin’ tomorrow.”
“Nae,” Sorcha said. “We ken there’s plenty of work to do afore the dance, an’ we wanted to help.” She leaned into her eldest brother, Cailean’s, embrace, whispering something in his ear. Whatever she said had him glance intensely in Charlotte’s direction.
After extricating himself from Sorcha’s hold, Cailean approached Charlotte. “Miss,” he said with a deferential nod. His astute gaze took in Dalton’s possessive hold. “I fear I’ve yet to make your formal acquaintance, although I do recall seeing you at the Harvest Dance.”
Charlotte flushed. “Hello, sir. I am Charlotte Ingram.”
“My fiancée,” Dalton said with a note of challenge in his voice.
“Truly?” Cailean asked with a shocked smile. “Oh, congratulations to you both!” He shook hands with Dalton, before awkwardly patting Charlotte on her arm. “I hope you’ll be very happy. When’s the wedding?”
Sorcha approached and slipped her hand through Cailean’s arm. “This weekend, if the pastor is amenable. ’Twould be better to no’ spark any more controversy about the latest MacKinnon associate to marry.”
Cailean nodded. “Aye.” He smiled at Charlotte. “Welcome, Miss Ingram. I know Belle will be happy you’re here, and we have a room upstairs for you.” He looked at Dalton. “We’ll find someplace for you.”
“I’m used to sleeping in the hayloft when we come to town.”
Shaking his head, Cailean turned to greet the others, leaving Charlotte and Dalton alone. “Hayloft?” Charlotte whispered. “Is that comfortable?”
He winked at her. “If you were in my arms, it would be more comfortable.” He urged her forward to follow the group to the side door of the nearby house, stilling any further questions for the moment.
* * *
Warren looked up from his papers, his gaze filled with concern, although he smiled in greeting. “Dalton. Miss Ingram. Always a pleasure to see you.” His office was a short distance from the livery, with the jail and the sheriff’s office next door. Across the street was Annabelle’s bakery, while a little farther down the boardwalk was Jessamine’s print shop and the bank. Warren liked being in the center of town for both professional and personal reasons.
Originally from Philadelphia, Warren had made Bear Grass Springs home in 1881. Although he was an honorary member of the MacKinnon family, he would never be confused for a Montana cowboy, as a polished, urbane air clung to him, even though he no longer followed the most recent fashions. However, he made frequent trips to the barber to avoid the local custom of wearing his hair long. His mustache was always neatly trimmed. And he never succeeded in hiding the innate curiosity in his piercing blue eyes. Today those eyes were clouded with worry.
Dalton studied the lawyer. Although Warren was as put together as usual with a fine suit, waistcoat, and tie, he had an air of unease about him. “Lawyer,” Dalton said with a nod of his head. He took off his hat and hung it on a peg by the door. “We have a matter we need discussin’ with you, and we thought it better here than with too much of the family around.” He paused as he saw Warren become even more leery. “In case there were things you didn’t want everyone to know.”
Warren nodded. “Please, sit.” He motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk, as he settled into his comfortable swivel chair behind his desk. “Coffee?” he asked, as he motioned to a small stove in a corner behind them. At the shakes of their heads, Warren laced his fingers together over the pile of papers in front of him and gave his most impersonal smile. “What brings you in today?”
Charlotte cast a quick glance at Dalton before taking a deep breath. “Mr. Dalton and I are to marry.” She smiled at the flash of delight in the lawyer’s gaze. “However, he won’t marry me unless he understands why you sent me to the ranch in February.”
Warren sat back, the only sound in the room the creaking of his chair as he moved. “I see.” He remained quiet as he studied Charlotte’s intended.
“Do you?” Dalton asked. “If you do, you’ll understand my need to know everything, so I’m able to protect my wife. My family.”
Warren nodded. “An admirable desire. Although to understand everything might take days.” He sighed and shook his head, raising his left hand to massage his temple as he closed his eyes. He appeared deep in thought for long minutes. Finally he said in a whisper-soft voice, “Thank you for your patience and for not peppering me with questions.”
Warren looked at the couple across from him, his sharp gaze taking in the fact Charlotte had leaned closer to Dalton, and they no
w held hands. “I can’t answer your questions now.” He held up his hand as Dalton began to argue with him. “I will answer them. I promise. But the family deserves to know too. I enlisted Frederick’s aid, and I could have endangered a MacKinnon.” He sighed. “After all they’ve done for me …” He shook his head in regret. “Tonight, at Cailean’s. I promise.”
Warren watched Charlotte soothe Dalton’s instinctual impatience and need to know more, so that he could safeguard her from any harm. For a moment, Warren felt his spirit lighten at the man she had found for herself. A man far superior than any she had encountered in Warren’s family.
* * *
Charlotte sat in the MacKinnon living room, bursting at the seams with occupants. She recognized many from the recent family dinner, although a few had arrived after dinner. All were treated like family, although she knew it was impossible that all were related, as there were only four MacKinnon siblings and one cousin, while gathered here were at least seven or eight couples and their respective children.
For some reason, two of the older children, Mildred and Hortence, had clung to Charlotte like a burr, and she now sat with one by her side and the other in front of her. She idly braided Mildred’s silky black hair, while Hortence bristled with impatience for her turn. Mildred, also known as Bright Fawn, was Fidelia and Bears’s eldest daughter, while Hortence was Leticia and Alistair’s eldest. They were cousins and best friends.
“Unless you object to braiding hair my color,” Hortence said in a low voice.
“Why should I?” Charlotte asked, as she tied off Mildred’s braid, tapping her on the shoulder so the girls could trade places. She ran her hands through Hortence’s beautiful red hair. “Can I let you in on a little secret?”
Healing Montana Love: Bear Grass Springs, Book Eleven Page 9