by Lily Reynard
That seemed to please Jim, because he gave her one of those heart-stopping smiles. "Just about, I reckon. In addition to the horses and mules, we have a hundred head of beef cattle and a herd of bison, as well as a few dairy cows, goats, chickens, ducks, and a flock of ornery geese."
Dan added, "I've even seen those geese drive off a black bear when the bear got too close to the goslings. But it's worth putting up with 'em for goose down to stuff quilts and pillows with."
"I imagine I would be ill-tempered, too, if I were seized at intervals and my feathers cruelly plucked out," Abby remarked.
Jim and Dan both chuckled.
Jim said, "You've got a point. But if you're still here when winter comes, I predict you'll be mighty grateful for a featherbed and a down quilt. This is God's own country from May until October, but the other half of the year, it'll feel like the wrath of the Almighty has descended in a blizzard, and the wind will cut the nose right off your face."
Abby was no stranger to snow, so she devoutly hoped that she'd be given the opportunity to judge for herself whether Jim was exaggerating about the severity of the weather.
If not, then even the thick woolen stockings and the winter dress and petticoats that I packed might not be adequate.
She looked around again, impressed with the stunning scenery of wide green pastures, rolling hills covered with a dense, dark blanket of pine forest, and towering snow-capped mountains rising beyond the hills.
"How long have you owned this ranch?" she asked.
"Well, our family has lived in this area for a long time," Dan answered. "Grandpa Joe, our grandfather on our mother's side, came out west in the thirties to work as a fur trapper. He married Grandma Kanti, who belonged to the Blackfoot tribe." He sighed. "Both of them died a few years back, and they're sorely missed. I regret that Chris will never have the opportunity to get to know them."
They had an Indian grandmother? Abby thought, noting the affection in Dan's voice when he mentioned her.
She had only ever read about Indians in novels and magazine stories about the frontier, and they were always portrayed as bloodthirsty savages, consistently hostile towards white settlers and soldiers.
She looked at the brothers again, with their sculpted features and shining dark hair, wondering if she should be nervous. Instead, she felt a renewed surge of attraction.
Well, none of the stories she had read about frontier life had prepared her for Twin Forks or this spectacular scenery. Maybe they were wrong about Indians, too.
Jim added, "Our dad came over from Ireland just before war broke out between the north and south. He was seeking his fortune in the gold fields, but quickly realized that there was better and steadier money to be made supplying the miners with beef and mounts. He homesteaded the original heart of our ranch. Grandpa Joe and Grandma Kanti were his neighbors, and that's how he met our mother Nadie."
"So, your ranch is a combined homestead inherited from your parents?" asked Abby.
Jim nodded. "More or less. Dan and I negotiated a steady contract with the US Army to supply cavalry mounts and baggage mules to our local fort, plus all of the mules and donkeys we sell to the miners in Twin Forks. And having the railroad coming out to these parts has been really good to us. We now ship mounts and cattle to a number of other army forts as well."
Dan said, "And that's how we've been able to buy out all of the neighboring homesteads and triple the size of the ranch."
They continued to describe the property to her, with its all-male staff of ranch hands, carpenters, leatherworkers, wranglers, and cooks.
A short time later, the wagon rolled up to a set of massive wrought-iron gates set between a pair of stacked fieldstone pillars. The gate itself featured a stylized, intertwined "P" and "S," topped by a motif of forked antlers.
"Here we are…home sweet home," Jim announced.
Chapter 4
At the end of a long, graveled drive, Jim halted the wagon in front of a big two-story white house with a roofed porch that ran the width of the house.
Abby was relieved and pleasantly surprised by the sight. She was aware that the Brodys were well-to-do by Montana standards, but after seeing Twin Forks, she had been wondering whether she'd be sleeping in a crude log cabin or a one-room wooden shack tonight.
Dan leaped lightly from the bench, landing next to the wagon with a crunch of gravel and with cat-like grace. "Here, let me help you down."
"Thank you." Abby rose and hesitated, trying to figure out the best way to step down in her narrow, draped skirts while still maintaining some semblance of modesty and decorum.
Dan solved that problem for her when he put his hands at her waist and lifted her effortlessly, swinging her down and placing her gently on her feet.
The unexpected display of raw strength sent a thrill through her.
"You probably want to freshen up a bit after your long trip, but can I give you a quick tour of the house, so that you'll know where everything is?" he offered, reaching into the back of the wagon, where her suitcases sat next to an assortment of sacks and crates.
"That sounds like a great idea," Jim said, looking like he was ready to drop his reins and leap down from the wagon. "And don't forget the stables and the barns. We have a few colts and fillies I'm sure she'd like to meet."
"Whoa there!" Abby didn't miss the exasperated look that Dan shot his brother. "Have you forgotten that it's your turn to unharness Castor and Pollux and brush them down?"
Jim scowled.
Dan added, "You can give Abby a tour of the stables and barns tomorrow. I'm sure she's exhausted right now and just wants to find her room."
He was right. After three days of trying to sleep while sitting upright on the train, the prospect of curling up in a real bed tonight made Abby want to weep with happiness.
"I'd love to see the ranch tomorrow," she told Jim. "But it has been a long journey. And I was hoping to meet little Christopher first."
Jim nodded but looked disappointed. "All right. You get acquainted with the little nipper before Isaiah fixes supper, and I'll show you around our place tomorrow morning after breakfast. You ride?"
Abby shook her head. "I'm afraid I'm a city girl."
At his surprised look, she added, "I like horses, though. I used to give the milkman's horse an apple when he made his deliveries. And I always felt sorry for the horses that pull the streetcars."
The brothers exchanged another one of those glances of silent communication, and Abby's face grew hot. Had she made a fool of herself?
Then Dan said, "Well now, Abby, it's nice to see that you've got a kind and tender nature. Bodes well for your care of our nephew. We'll be happy to teach you to ride, if you're so inclined."
He picked up her suitcases and led the way into the house.
As she followed him into the sparsely furnished foyer, she tried to suppress the wicked mental image that followed his innocent remark. They can't ever find out what kind of dirty thoughts run through my head!
Trying to distract herself, she looked around at her new home.
The foyer wall to her left had a long bench, underneath which a row of boots, shoes, and moccasins were neatly lined up. A long board fastened to the wall above the bench held pegs and metal hooks festooned with hats and a collection of coats, including waterproof oilskins. To her right, a sturdy-looking wooden staircase ascended to the second story.
Straight ahead of her, a doorway led into the house's interior. The door stood open, revealing a hallway with plain white walls and pine floorboards bare of carpets or even a rag rug.
Dan thumped her suitcases down at the foot of the stairs and motioned her through the doorway. "Let me show you where we'll be eating supper."
Once inside the house proper, she realized that it wasn't nearly as spartan as it had first appeared.
The first room they passed looked like a proper parlor, with pictures hung on a wallpaper-covered wall. It was furnished with a sofa and chairs in dark walnut with yellow
cushions. There was even a large Persian carpet in rich reds and blues. It looked as elegant as any parlor back home, if rather dusty.
The hallway ended at the living room, which was definitely a bachelor's domain.
As Abby entered, she met the glassy stare of a bull elk with an impressive rack of antlers. His head was mounted on the wall behind another sofa, this one considerably more battered than the one standing in the parlor.
Books and newspapers were stacked on every flat surface. A mountain of firewood had been piled next to an enormous fireplace constructed from rounded river stones. The hearth looked large enough to roast a buffalo, and it dwarfed the black cast iron Franklin stove standing inside the cavernous space.
A carved wooden cradle on rockers had been placed near the fireplace. Its headboard was painted with a brightly colored frieze of stylized elk and pine trees.
The remaining furniture consisted of an eclectic collection of wooden chairs, a tall grandfather clock in dark wood, and bookcases crammed and overflowing with books and papers as well as a collection of Indian arrowheads, the polished skulls of small animals, and several tightly woven baskets with geometric patterns.
At the back of the living room, a wide cased opening led to a dining room. Beyond that, another door presumably led to the kitchen.
"Well, this is pretty much it for the ground floor," Dan remarked with a crooked grin. "It's not fancy, but it's nice and warm in the winter."
"It's very nice. But you and your brother live here by yourselves?" Abby asked, looking at the big oval dining table with enough chairs to seat ten people.
"There used to be more of us," he replied quietly. "The Grim Reaper's taken a heavy toll on our family over the past few years."
"I'm so sorry," Abby said, regretting her tactless remark.
In the haze of fatigue that dulled her thoughts, she had somehow forgotten the recent tragedy that had robbed the Brodys of their sister and her husband.
He shrugged. "Let me show you to your room and the nursery."
Abby followed him back to the foyer.
"I won't lie to you," Dan remarked as he ushered her up the stairs. "With Clara and Eddie gone, and just us two bachelors living here now, this place could really use a woman's touch."
"I'll do my best," Abby said on impulse as she began to climb.
"And speaking of the fact that we're bachelors," Dan said, sounding uncomfortable as he lifted her suitcases and began to ascend the stairs in her wake. "I noticed the way that Jim was looking at you earlier. I should warn you that he, uh, tends be a flirt. You might want to be careful."
Abby's blood ran cold. She stopped halfway up the stairs and turned to look over her shoulder. She had noticed those flirtatious looks, too—but from both of the Brodys.
In her bitter experience, it didn't matter if a man was the aggressor in an improper situation. It was always the woman who suffered the loss of her reputation or worse. And it was always the woman who was blamed for the impropriety.
And I'm going to be living here all alone with the two of them? Was Mother right to be worried?
Her trepidation must have shown on her face, because Dan added hastily, "Now, Abby, I don't mean to worry you. My brother's not to the type to force himself on an unwilling woman. It's just, well, if you give him an inch, he'll try to take a mile. I thought I should caution you."
He cleared his throat and gave her one of those heart-stopping smiles before continuing earnestly. "You seem like a real lady, and I don't want you leaving us and little Chris because of a misunderstanding. If Jim should, uh, happen to be less than gentlemanly, tell me right away and I'll make sure he remembers his manners."
And what about you, Dan? Because you're looking at me every bit as hungrily as your brother.
And most unnerving of all, that hunger had been stirring up unsettling desires of her own. Dan's words were a bracing reminder that she could not afford to act on those desires. She had already paid the price once.
I can't ruin this chance at a fresh start. No matter how handsome and charming these two brothers are.
In uncomfortable silence, they reached the landing. Dan led her down a short hallway to a pair of doors. He opened one of them to reveal a spacious room with a slanted ceiling, a large window and clean, white-painted board walls.
It was luxuriously furnished, with a large armoire, a dresser with a beveled mirror, a marble-topped washstand with a bowl and pitcher, and a sturdy looking brass-and-iron bedframe big enough to hold a double mattress. There was even a small writing desk tucked into one corner, and a couple of candle lamps with glass chimneys.
Abby noticed a few feminine touches in this room, including a set of framed cross-stitch pictures of flowers and crocheted lace trimming the plump feather pillows on the bed.
"It's beautiful," she said, ready to weep with relief.
"This room belonged to Clara and Eddie," Dan said soberly as he placed her suitcases down at the foot of the bed. "Since it's next to the nursery, Jim and I thought it be best if you stayed here. But if you'd rather not, we could put you in another bedroom. Lord knows we have more bedrooms than family members at this point."
She turned to look at him and glimpsed the unguarded desolation in his expression.
It moved her to do something she would never have done at home—reach for the hand of a man with whom she was barely acquainted.
"My deepest and most heartfelt sympathy for the loss of your dear sister and her husband," she said, squeezing his fingers.
Dan gripped her gloved hand with the bruising strength of a drowning man.
"I keep expecting to see her in the nursery or sitting by the stove downstairs, reading." His voice was almost inaudible. "How can she be gone forever?"
The pain in his eyes ripped at her heart. On impulse, Abby threw her arms around him in a comforting embrace.
He returned the embrace without hesitating.
They stood locked together for a long moment as Dan's shaking breaths and the tight muscles of his back and shoulders communicated his struggle to control his emotions.
He smelled of horses and sweet hay and the lemony fragrance of shaving soap. The hard planes of his body against hers confirmed what she had already guessed from the effortless way he had picked up her heavy suitcases and lifted her from the wagon. Daniel Brody was all muscle and taut strength.
"Thank you," he whispered.
His warm breath caressed her ear and sent a pleasant shiver through her.
I wonder what it would be like to kiss him, whispered the wicked voice in her head. It was the same untrustworthy voice that had convinced her to yield to Arthur's blandishments.
As if sensing the turn that her thoughts had taken, Dan released her and stepped back, looking self-conscious.
Abby instantly missed the firm pressure of his embrace and despised herself for her weakness.
He cleared his throat, and Abby noticed that his cheeks were flushed under his tan. "When we heard you were coming, Jim and I cleared all of Eddie's clothes and books out of the room. I left Clara's clothing, and seeing how you're about the same size, you're welcome to anything of hers that fits you. Come winter, you might want her buffalo robe."
"Thank you," Abby said warily.
"Oh, if you're worried about possible contagion, you set your mind at rest," Dan said quickly. "After Clara and Eddie…passed…Jim and I burned their old bed and everything on it, along with all of the clothing that my sister and her husband had worn after they fell ill. It was a regular funeral pyre." His mouth quirked in a not-quite-smile that did nothing to dispel the grief clouding his eyes. "I assure you that this mattress is brand-new. Never been used."
Abby nodded, touched by her new employer's thoughtfulness. "It looks very cozy and welcoming. And you were correct—I'd prefer to be as close to Christopher as possible, in case he wakes during the night."
This time, Dan's smile was genuine. "Would you like to meet Chris now?"
◆◆◆
He remained in Clara's old bedroom a moment longer, trying to control the storm of emotions that had blown up inside him like a summer thunderstorm on the high plains.
Life on the ranch was a hard existence, and it had toughened him. But Abby's compassion had nearly undone him just now, and it made him ache with loneliness.
At the age of twenty-three, he'd resigned himself to remaining a bachelor in a place where the men far outnumbered the women.
Abby's embrace had shaken him to the core, and not only because of those sweet curves pressed against him all too briefly. She had fitted perfectly into his arms, her head tucked neatly under his chin.