Montana

by Debbie Macomber

  They glared at each other across the room.

  Sam was the one to break the tense silence. “It would help, don’t you think, if we could agree to trust each other? The only person who’s shown any confidence in our ability to make a go of this marriage is Walt. For his sake—if not our own—let’s put aside our doubts and agree to make the best of it. Can we do that?”

  This was more difficult than she’d thought it would be. Faith and trust didn’t came easily. “All right,” she whispered at last.

  He relaxed then. “Good. I’ll get Pete and Charlie set for the day and then we can drive into town and apply for the license.”

  “Already?” she gasped.

  “Is there a reason to wait?”

  No one knew about this yet, not even Gramps or the boys. Molly needed time to discuss it with her children. It wasn’t fair just to spring a stepfather on them. They had the right to express their opinions and concerns first. Not that either boy was likely to object.

  “I have to tell my family. Phone my mother in Australia.” Molly nervously brushed the hair from her face. “But other than that I don’t suppose there’s any reason to wait.”

  “We’ll both need a blood test.”

  She tightened the belt on her dressing gown.

  “I thought we could have the test done, get the license and make an appointment with a justice of the peace for tomorrow afternoon.”

  Molly inhaled sharply. A justice of the peace made the entire proceeding sound so…calculated. This might not be a love match, but she still wanted her wedding to take place in a church.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What about having a minister marry us?”

  “Seeing that we aren’t getting married for the normal reasons, saying our vows before a man of God seems somewhat hypocritical, don’t you think?”

  He was right of course, and Molly was unable to come up with an adequate justification for a church wedding—although she still wanted one. She nodded unhappily.

  “Smile, Molly,” Sam said with sudden amusement. “It could be worse.”

  Molly wasn’t sure that was true. She was about to pledge her life to a man who didn’t love her, who openly admitted he was only marrying her for five hundred acres and fifty head of cattle. Worse, she was going into the marriage for selfish reasons of her own. She needed his help, to run the ranch and to keep the ranch.

  Truly what you’d describe as a marriage of convenience.

  With such odds against them, it seemed doubtful they’d manage to stay married for more than six months, Molly thought with sudden pessimism.

  “It’s a business agreement—and more,” Sam clarified, and waited for her to agree.

  “And more,” she concurred reluctantly.

  Sam left after that, while she lingered over her coffee in the kitchen and prayed she was doing the right thing.

  Tom and Clay wandered down for breakfast a few minutes later. Molly gave them time to fill their bowls with cereal and sit down at the table. “What would you say if I told you I was thinking about getting married again?” she asked, avoiding eye contact.

  “Who?” Tom asked suspiciously.

  “Yeah, who do you want to marry?” Clay echoed.

  Molly drew in a deep breath. “Sam.”

  Tom grinned and punched a fist into the air. “Yes!” He nodded. “I figured it had to be.”

  “Cool, Mom!”

  “Neither one of you objects?” Although it seemed pointless to ask.

  “I like Sam,” Clay said without hesitation.

  Molly looked to her oldest. Tom was still grinning widely. “If I’d handpicked a new dad, it would’ve been Sam.”

  “I see.” Molly could hardly claim to be surprised. And, of course, Sam’s closeness to her boys was one of the reasons she’d agreed to this.

  “What’s all the shouting about in here?” Gramps asked as he slowly made his way into the room.

  “Mom’s marrying Sam!” Clay burst out.

  Gramps went silent as if he wasn’t sure he should believe it. “Is that true, Molly girl?”

  She nodded.

  “Praise be to God.” Gramps clasped his hands together. “I haven’t heard better news in fifteen years. You won’t be sorry, Molly, I promise you,” he said again.

  What she didn’t tell her grandfather was that she already had regrets. An uneasiness in the pit of her stomach refused to go away. Despite the reasons that had led to the decision—sound convenient reasons—Molly couldn’t shake the feeling she was making a terrible mistake. She still knew next to nothing about Sam, and he barely knew her.

  Well, she was committed now. She’d given her word. She’d just have to make sure they learned a little more about each other. And soon.

  An hour later, when Sam returned to the house, Molly was dressed and ready for the drive to town.

  “I’ve got to stop off for some supplies,” he announced as if that was the main reason for this trip into Sweetgrass. Anything else, he seemed to imply, was just a trifling errand. Or worse, an annoyance.

  Once in his truck, she barely had the seat belt snapped before Sam took off down the driveway. He drove as if he couldn’t get this whole thing over with fast enough. They bumped over potholes and rocks at a speed well above what Molly considered safe.

  “Stop!” she shouted just before they hit the paved highway.

  He slammed on the brakes. “What for?” he demanded.

  The seat belt was all that kept her from pitching forward into the windshield.

  Sam’s arms remained on the steering wheel. He waited for her to speak.

  “Why are you so angry?” she asked.

  “I’m not.”

  “Is there some logical reason you’re driving like a wild man?”

  Her question seemed to bring him up short. “I’d like to get this done as quickly as possible so I can get back to work.”

  Molly had the almost irresistible urge to cover her face and weep. “I realize we’re not in love,” she said, surprised by how small her voice sounded. “But I’d like us both to treat this wedding as something more than a business agreement. Since you insist you eventually want a real marriage—with a shared bed—then I insist on something, too.” Her voice gained confidence as she spoke. “I agree to your stipulation.” Molly stared straight ahead of her. She did agree; she’d come to a decision about it. She would sleep with him. Maybe not right away, but when they felt more comfortable with each other. She’d do anything she could to make the marriage work. “But,” she went on, “I have a stipulation of my own.”

  “All right, what is it?”

  “A real wedding.”

  He went stock-still. “You want a wedding?”

  “Yes. One that’s more than a five-minute civil ceremony.”

  “So, what exactly do you want?”

  “I want a minister to perform the wedding.”

  “All right. But I don’t know any ministers.”

  “I’ll find one.” She could tell he wasn’t thrilled with her request; nevertheless he was willing to agree to her terms, just as she’d agreed to his.

  “Okay.” He glanced at her. “Can I drive again now?”

  “No.” She had to tell him about Daniel; he deserved to know that much. But she found it excruciatingly difficult.

  “No?”

  “I have to tell you something.” She clenched both hands. “My first marriage wasn’t a good one.”

  “So I gather.”

  “You know about Daniel? The boys told you?” It made sense when she thought about it. The boys had probably told him. That was fine. She wanted him to understand her fears—that her inability to judge character had scared her to the point of being afraid to marry again.

  “Yes,” he said. Then, “What were they supposed to tell me?”

  They hadn’t. Molly stared out the side window. “He’s…in prison.”

  Sam was silent so long she wondered if he’d heard her. “What’s he in f
or?”

  “Fraud. He cheated a lot of people out of their retirement income. Especially older people. Pensioners.”

  “Bastard.” Sam grimaced. “What’s his sentence?”

  “He got twenty years with no possibility of parole,” she said. “The trial went on for weeks. People can be so cruel. They asked the boys questions. Kids taunted them.”

  “I’m sorry, Molly.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s all water under the bridge now. But I thought you should know.” It amazed her how much better she felt for having told him. At least it was out in the open and they could discuss it.

  “Are you okay now?” he asked.

  “Uh-huh.” And she was. For the first time since this morning, she felt good about their decision. Not just resigned but genuinely optimistic. Perhaps, with a bit of compromise and a lot of hard work they could make a success of this marriage.

  Sam did drive more sensibly after that, but he remained silent. So did she. Twice she caught Sam shifting his attention from the road to her. As they neared town, he slowed the truck down to well below the speed limit. For someone in a hurry, he suddenly seemed to have plenty of time on his hands.

  He tapped his index finger against the steering wheel; she could tell he had something on his mind.

  “Before we apply for the license,” he began, then hesitated.

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve lived damn near thirty-six years on my own,” he said, as though this was new information.

  “I realize that.” She didn’t mention that other than a four-year marriage, she’d been on her own, too.

  “I’ve lived a…varied life, Molly. For a long time I followed the rodeo circuit.”

  Although she knew that, it was the first time he’d mentioned it.

  “There were plenty of women in those days, and—”

  So this was confession time. Frankly Molly didn’t want to hear about his groupies and all the women he’d loved. Or slept with. It would be just one more piece of baggage in a marriage that would be burdened with enough.

  “Don’t tell me,” she said, stopping him.

  He pulled his gaze off the road long enough to look at her. His brow knit in a puzzled frown. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “But there’re things about me you should know—things that could change your mind about this marriage business. I haven’t lived the life of a saint.”

  “Neither have I.”

  He ignored that. “I’m not proud of my past, and as my wife you have a right to know what you’re getting in the husband department.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Some of it does,” he said. The stiffness in his back and shoulders made her wonder what that might be.

  “Are you healthy? Are there children you’re supporting? A common-law wife?” Those were the important issues.

  “Yes to the first question—I had enough blood tests in the hospital to be sure of that. And no to the others. To the best of my knowledge I’ve never fathered a child and I’ve never had a wife, common-law or otherwise, but my past—”

  “Is past,” she interrupted. “Confession might be good for the soul, but in this instance…I think not. Let’s start with a clean slate, shall we? What’s in your past has nothing to do with the future, and the same applies to me.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “You’re sure about this?”

  “Very sure.” She smiled. “There’s lots I want to hear about your life—your family and your childhood, your glory days in the rodeo, where you’ve worked since. But anything you feel guilty about, you can keep to yourself. Okay?”

  He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I intend to be a good husband, Molly. I realize these circumstances aren’t the best, but if we both try, we can make this a good marriage.”

  Was it possible? Molly didn’t have an answer to that, but she was beginning to feel real hope.

  Three days later at five o’clock in the afternoon Sam stood with Molly in the office of Reverend Ackerly at Sweetgrass Baptist Church. Tom, Clay and Walt crowded around them. Sam couldn’t help smiling at Walt’s attempt to appear suitably solemn—as befitted a member of the wedding. He and Mrs. Ackerly had agreed to be their witnesses.

  Molly wore a floor-length dress in a pretty shade of pink with big buttons and a wide belt. She wore the cameo that had once belonged to her grandmother and pearl earrings. Her auburn hair was freshly cut and curly. Sam had never seen her look so pretty and had difficulty not staring at her. Although he hadn’t said anything, it pleased him that she’d wanted to make something special of this wedding. It boded well for their marriage.

  What didn’t help was that she knew nothing about his prison record. He’d tried to tell her, but had backed down when she’d insisted she didn’t want to know about his past scandals. Her insistence had relieved him, because he was afraid that once she heard the truth, she’d change her mind. Not that he’d blame her. She sure wasn’t getting any bargain.

  Someday, he promised himself, he’d tell her about that part of his past. But not now. When the trust between them was firmly established, then and only then would he feel safe enough to reveal the darkest shadows of his own life.

  Before the wedding ceremony they’d stopped at the jeweler’s and purchased simple gold bands, but Sam’s gaze had wandered over the diamonds. A year or two from now, when he could afford it, he’d buy Molly the diamond she deserved. Maybe by then he’d be the husband she deserved, too.

  He quickly reined in his thoughts. Although they both wanted the marriage to work, fooling himself into believing this was a love match would only lead to trouble. He wasn’t stupid. He knew why Molly had developed this sudden desire for a husband. She was scared and, frankly, he understood that. Especially when someone—some unknown person—was after the ranch and willing to go to just about any lengths to obtain it.

  Sam didn’t mean to be so distracted by these problems in the middle of his own wedding, but the worry was there. When it came time to say his vows, he had a few of his own he intended to silently add. He would protect Walt, Molly and the boys or die trying.

  On the minister’s instructions, he spoke his vows. His voice was strong, firm, clear. The words came directly from his heart. It’d taken him thirty-six years to marry, and he only intended to do it once.

  He didn’t know if what he felt for Molly was love. He did know he genuinely cared for her and her children. He knew he wanted her in his life and longed to be part of hers.

  Molly repeated her vows in a voice just as strong and confident as his. Sam instinctively recognized it as bravado and admired her for it. He respected this woman for a number of reasons. Her love for her grandfather. Her courage in coming to Montana—and in marrying him. The fact that she loved her children and worked hard to be a good mother. His own mother had been a teenager when he was born, little more than a child herself. Her husband, Michael Dakota, had adopted Sam as his own son. Through the years, his stepfather hadn’t played favorites among the children, and neither would Sam. If sometime in the future Tom, Clay and Molly were willing, he’d like to look into adopting her boys. He only hoped he could be as good a stepfather as his own had been.

  He thought about Michael with renewed sorrow and genuine regret. He wondered about his mother and the rest of his family. He’d call or write them soon….

  Then the ceremony was over, and they signed the documents, witnessed by Gramps and Mrs. Ackerly. When they finished, Gramps shook Sam’s hand and said he’d have Letson draw up the paperwork on their agreement.

  “What about dinner?” Gramps said as they walked out of Pastor Ackerly’s study. “My treat.” The old man looked pleased with himself, as well he should. Sam suspected that Walt had planned this wedding for quite some time.

  “What do you say, Mrs. Dakota?” Gramps asked, smiling at Molly.

  Mrs. Dakota. They’d discussed the possibility of her keeping the name Cogan, if for no other
reason than it was the name she shared with the boys. Molly had declined. This was Montana, and while it was common practice for women to keep their surnames in other parts of the country, it wasn’t here. Besides, she had no loyalty to Daniel or his family.

  Mr. and Mrs. Sam Dakota.

  Not only did Sam have a wife and two stepsons, but he was a husband now. The unencumbered life was forever behind him. And Sam was glad of it. He felt nothing but gratitude to an old man who’d had the insight to suggest this marriage—and the shrewdness to offer him the right incentive.

  Gramps chose the restaurant, claiming he wanted to eat at the new steak house. Sam smiled at the way Clay eyed the dessert platter the minute they entered the place. The hostess greeted them warmly. “Congratulations, you two!” she said. “We’ll be bringing you some complimentary champagne and appetizers.”

  “Thank you,” Molly murmured, then cast Sam a puzzled look.

  “How’d she know?” Sam asked once they were all seated.

  Gramps cleared his throat, looking spry and happy. “I called the radio station and they announced it.”

  “Gramps!” Molly groaned, and Sam watched the color brighten her cheeks.

  “It isn’t every day my granddaughter snares herself a husband. I wanted folks to hear the news.”

  Actually it didn’t bother Sam one bit that the town knew he’d married Molly.

  “They talk about weddings on the radio?” Tom asked, shaking his head in wonder.

  “Between the beef prices and the garage sales,” Gramps said with a chuckle. “And after bingo.”

  That launched a conversation about Clay’s most recent bingo success; he’d gotten to the phone fast enough this time and won himself a big five dollars.

  “I suspected I’d find you in here,” Ginny Dougherty called out as she made her way across the restaurant. She wore clean blue jeans and a red plaid shirt. “So how’s the happy couple?”

  “Married,” Walt answered on their behalf. “I imagine you’re looking for an invitation to join us. Damn snoopy neighbors,” he grumbled.

  It was all for show, Sam realized with a grin. He caught a glimpse of Molly’s twinkling eyes. Every time he looked in her direction it was hard to pull his gaze away.