Mystic Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series Book 6)

by Debra Holland

  Kael Kelley had been following his parents’ conversation. Then he seemed to be distracted by something or someone outside of Maggie’s view. A dazed expression crossed his face, followed by a frown.

  She leaned forward to see Sophia Maxwell holding court in a circle of male admirers. Kael Kelley is not immune to the Songbird’s charms, either.

  Like Maggie, Sophia wore purple—although hers was low-cut mauve satin with darker purple in a three-layered ruffle across the bottom. A wide sash of velvet trimmed her waist and tied with a fat fringed bow. Velvet banded the enormous balloon sleeves that ended in white lace ruffles above her elbow. She wore long gloves of white satin and carried a lacy fan. A broad choker of purple satin, wrapped around her neck, was adorned with two large mauve flowers, one under each ear. Amethyst and diamond earrings sparkled on her ears, and in a bracelet on each wrist. On any other woman, such a get-up would have looked ridiculous, but Sophia carried it off with aplomb.

  Maggie noticed the singer’s waist wasn’t as tiny today. She’s probably worn her corset looser to give herself breath enough to sing. She glanced at Caleb to see if he was watching the opera singer, but instead, found him gazing down at Charlotte with a fond smile. Her heart crimped.

  The Muths moved forward to congratulate the Nortons, and then their turn arrived.

  Maggie took Delia’s hand and leaned to kiss her friend’s cheek. “I know without a doubt that the two of you will be happy together. May God bring you many blessings.”

  The sparkle in Delia’s hazel eyes made them look jewel bright. “Thank you, dearest Maggie. Your friendship has been a blessing, indeed, and I look forward to that deepening.”

  Maggie moved on to Reverend Joshua and extended her best wishes.

  Reverend Joshua gave her a serious look. “I know life has been hard for you these last few years. You will have my prayers for your happiness.”

  Feeling moved by his words, Maggie pressed his hand. “This is your day,” she playfully scolded. “You aren’t supposed to be thinking of me.”

  “What better time than when we are face-to-face, and I am filled with love and gratitude. How much poorer would I be if I could not extent those feelings to others?”

  Her throat tightened, and she could only nod and press his hand before moving on to greet his parents and Andre Bellaire.

  In the same way as Reverend Joshua had expressed, Maggie’s heart was filled with gratitude for the kindness and love she’d received since moving to Sweetwater Springs. She took several steps away to bring her emotions under control before turning to look at Caleb holding her daughter. The comfort of loving friendship will have to be enough.

  After greeting everyone in the wedding party and receiving knowing looks from others around him about Charlotte cuddled in his arms, Caleb searched for Maggie and found her standing about ten feet away. He saw Michael and Prudence Morgan heading her way and moved to meet them, knowing he owed an apology for not showing up when he’d promised to be in Morgan’s Crossing.

  Knowing the formidable Mrs. Morgan, Caleb also wanted to be at hand in case Maggie stood in need of his protection. He moved quickly to flank the trio.

  Charlotte awoke and wiggled, sending a sleepy glance his way.

  Caleb stopped within earshot just to the side of the three of them.

  Mrs. Morgan greeted Maggie with a hug. She was a plain woman, who carried herself with an air of assurance. Her previously thin body and bony face had filled out from bearing four children. Her pale blue eyes were her only interesting feature, changing color depending on what she wore. Today, they’d darkened to match the periwinkle color of her dress.

  Mrs. Morgan peered into Maggie’s face. “You poor thing! I heard what happened. Oh, dear me. How very dreadful. I heard you were horribly cut and bruised. But you seemed to have healed well.”

  Maggie lifted the bangs from her forehead to expose the cut. “Better than before.”

  “I’ve always thought you had a strong streak of resiliency.”

  Maggie pulled up her lips in a wry smile. “I had to in order to survive Oswald.”

  “Exactly.” Mrs. Morgan nodded.

  Michael Morgan, a canny business man with graying dark hair and handsome features, frowned at Oswald’s name. “We will, however, express condolences for your loss. Oswald was a hard worker and a good miner. . . .” He obviously searched for something else positive to say. “I’m sorry,” he said with genuine sympathy. “That day we argued over his mistreatment of you, and he lost his temper and tried to attack me, only to have some of the miners grab him.”

  Maggie shook her head. “You had to fire Oswald. I’m surprised you allowed him to work in the mine for as long as you did.”

  He smiled at his wife. “I wouldn’t have. But as you know, my wife lacks tolerance for bullies, one of her most appealing qualities. While we know from experience with a few other couples that we can’t stop husbands from abusing their wives, we do what we can to protect the women. Mrs. Morgan wanted to keep you in Morgan’s Crossing under her eye. Her wishes prevailed until I could no longer condone Oswald’s behavior.”

  “Thank you both. I am well, and so is Charlotte, and that is due to Mr. Livingston.”

  Mrs. Morgan glanced at Maggie’s empty arms. “But where is your baby?”

  “Mr. Livingston has appropriated her.” Maggie turned to glance around, obviously looking for him.

  Time for my entrance. Caleb strolled up. “Are you looking for us?”

  Seeing him carrying Charlotte made Prudence Morgan raise an eyebrow. She leaned over to view the baby. “Oh, she’s delightful.” She straightened. “Now, tell me, Maggie. . . . Do you want to come back to Morgan’s Crossing with us when we leave?”

  Maggie inhaled a sharp breath.

  Caleb’s stomach tightened. Absolutely not! He held in the words. This wasn’t the place to talk to Maggie about the future he envisioned for them.

  Mrs. Morgan tapped her chin. “You could work with Mrs. Rivera at the bathhouse. Then, too, with all our miners, there are plenty of opportunities to remarry.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t possibly—”

  Caleb stiffened in protest.

  “Of course, it’s too early to imagine yourself married again. But you do have to keep your future in mind. Your daughter should have a father. A good father.” She glanced up at her husband with a loving smile that softened her face and made her look almost pretty. “I can’t tell you the comfort and the. . .joy of watching your dear husband with his children.” She turned back to Maggie. “I wish that for you, my dear.”

  So do I.

  Prudence eyed Caleb, and a speculative expression crossed her face.

  Caleb could see the matchmaking wheels turning in the matron’s mind. Good to know the woman is on my side.

  Mrs. Morgan patted Maggie’s arm. “You can think about it. We’re staying at the hotel tonight, and tomorrow, we’re traveling on the train to Crenshaw. We’ll be staying in the city for a few days. Shopping for the family—” she made a moue “—the whole of Morgan’s Crossing really, for we have a long list for the store. We’ve brought along the children’s nanny. Mr. Morgan and I hope to have some time to ourselves, as well—see a show, dine out. . . . You can give us an answer when we return.”

  “Thank you,” Maggie murmured.

  Caleb waited, hoping she’d turn the woman down flat.

  But Maggie said nothing more.

  Her silence worried him. Very well, I’ll have to act. Caleb started to make plans. He would have preferred to wait and give Maggie an extended courtship, but Mrs. Morgan had just forced his hand. By the time the Morgans return from their shopping expedition, Maggie’s future with me will be settled.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  After breakfast the following morning, Maggie sought out Caleb before he left for the bank. Everyone had slept late because the festivities—dinner, Sophia and Blythe’s performance, chatting with friends—had lasted well into the night. She found him in
his study, sitting at his desk, pen in hand, and frowning at a ledger and some papers.

  Her pulse quickening, she paused in the doorway, taking a minute to soak in the sight of him. Once she left the house, such opportunities would be few and far between. If they ever come at all. The thought made her heart ache.

  Even looking tired, with lines furling his brow, he was handsome enough to make any maiden swoon. And I’m not immune to his masculine charm.

  Caleb looked up, and his frown cleared. “No Charlotte?” He jabbed the pen back into the inkwell.

  “Yesterday must have worn her out. She’s still asleep.”

  “I think yesterday wore us all out.”

  “In a good way, of course.” Maggie looked at his papers. “Do you have a few minutes, or am I disturbing you?”

  He sighed and tapped the ledger. “I’m working on the foreclosure of Wood’s bathhouse. Sad, really, because it used to be a going concern.”

  Relieved he’d brought up the very topic she wanted to discuss, she asked, “How do you know he won’t pay you?”

  “I woke up early. Since I couldn’t sleep, I figured I’d go check on the place. I found the door wide open, Wood passed out on the floor, reeking of whiskey. When Hardy’s Saloon opened up after the reception, the man probably spent all his profits.” He lifted his hand in a helpless gesture. “So I’m forced to take the next steps.”

  Although relieved the bathhouse was available, Maggie couldn’t help feeling sorry for Mr. Wood, and even more concerned about Caleb, for she could see the situation was taking a toll on him.

  He tapped the papers. “I need to finish these up and then deliver them. But there’s no hurry.” Caleb stood, glancing out the window that looked onto the front yard and the street. “We have another beautiful spring day,” he said in a determinedly cheerful tone. “But who knows how long this streak of sunshine will last. Let’s go outside, into the backyard, and you can tell me what’s on your mind.” He came around from behind the desk.

  She placed a hand on his arm. “This must be an awful situation for you.”

  “Perhaps I’m not mercenary enough,” he said with a wry smile. “Many of my colleagues would be rubbing their hands with glee at acquiring another business dirt cheap.”

  “You are making light of the situation, Caleb—” Maggie squeezed his arm “—but I can see how much this bothers you.”

  He let out a sigh and placed a hand over hers. “If this were just a case of plain old drunkenness or laziness. . .I wouldn’t feel so bad. But the root of the man’s problem is grief. Wood and his wife had one of those enviable marriages—obviously loving and supportive. They doted on each other, although they never had children. . . .”

  “That’s probably why he’s taken his wife’s death so hard. He’s alone.”

  “Does Mr. Wood have other family members he can go to?”

  “He has a brother living in Crenshaw.” Caleb’s somber expression brightened. “I can pay for his train ticket to travel there.”

  “Maybe leaving this town will be good for Mr. Wood—being away from the constant reminders.”

  Caleb looked down at her, tenderness in his eyes and cupped her cheek. “Thank you, Maggie. Your comfort means more than you know.”

  “You’re always so busy running things, and you’ve certainly given me comfort and support many times.”

  He brought her fingers to his lips before tucking her hand around his arm and guiding her out of the room. He stopped and released her for a moment to lift her red shawl off a hook and returned to drape it around her shoulders. He took her hand, and from there, they moved down the hall, through the solarium, and into the yard.

  Maggie knew she should pull away, but she treasured this moment, knowing this occasion might be the last time they touched with affection. She knew he wouldn’t be pleased with her business proposal.

  Dew still lay on the grass, and the air was chill. Maggie was grateful for the warmth of her shawl. She tilted her head in the direction of the gazebo. “Let’s go sit.”

  They strolled down the walkway and reached the white structure.

  This is it. “There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

  “Sounds ominous.”

  Maggie gave him a quick smile of reassurance and stepped into the gazebo, pulling him in after her. “Not at all. Exciting, I think.”

  “I’m all for exciting, Magdalena Petra,” Caleb said in a low voice, drawing her into his arms.

  Pressed against him, she felt her heartbeat flutter like a bird’s.

  “How’s this for exciting?” He lowered his head and kissed her.

  The touch of his lips on hers felt soft, coaxing, not at all like the brutal assault of Oswald’s mouth. His kiss asked permission, instead of demanding.

  Maggie started to relax into him, sliding her hand up his chest to his shoulder, before remembering her purpose and reluctantly pulling away.

  He grabbed her hands before she could retreat.

  She spoke over the sound of her pounding heart. “I’ve been thinking about what I need to do next.” She took a fortifying breath. “I’d like to run the bathhouse. I could take it over, clean it up, keep it spick-and-span. I know I could make the business successful, Caleb.”

  Still holding her hand, he stared at her with a dumbfounded look on his face. “What are you saying, Maggie? You want to leave me? I had a very different plan in mind for the future.”

  She was sure he did, knew he wanted to generously support them, perhaps for years. I can’t allow myself to be so beholden. Caleb has done enough—more than enough. “I need to make my own way.” She put every ounce of her determination into her tone.

  “I bring you out here for some kisses and flirtation, and you want to talk to me about running the bathhouse—a place patronized by naked men? Absolutely not!”

  Surprised by his tone, she pulled back her hands. “Caleb, the bathhouse in Morgan’s Crossing is run by a woman.”

  “A crone missing half her teeth.” He paced several steps away.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Don’t be so nasty.”

  He swung around. “I’m not being nasty toward the woman. I barely know her. I’m pointing out that she won’t have advances directed at her the way you—” he flung out his arm in a gesture toward her “—a young and beautiful woman, would. In many towns, the bathhouse is also the whorehouse. And you’d be prime bait for men who don’t know better.”

  Although learning how her working at the bathhouse could be misconstrued sent a shiver of apprehension through her, Maggie stubbornly raised her chin. “I can take care of myself.”

  He shook his head. “Not in situations like this one.”

  “This is Sweetwater Springs. The men will know different.”

  “Don’t be naïve. You are putting yourself at risk.”

  “Caleb—”

  “You could even be defiled, Maggie.”

  The ugly word hung in the air between them, making her chest tight and her stomach clench. But she couldn’t let fear stop her from earning a living and providing for her daughter. “I’ll have my rifle.”

  “A rifle is no good at a close range, although the sight might prove a deterrent. Will you carry it everywhere? Can you tote a gun and a baby at the same time?” Caleb let out a breath of obvious frustration and ran his fingers through his hair. “Now that the hotel is open, with bathrooms on every floor, there’s not really the need for a bathhouse anymore.”

  “I don’t agree. People riding in from farms and ranches might not plan to stay at the hotel. Or perhaps they can’t afford to. Those are the customers who will use the bathhouse. I don’t need to make much. I know how to get by on very little.”

  “I said no, Maggie, and I mean it.”

  “Very well, then.” She crossed her arms. “How much to purchase the business? Name your price.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You don’t have any money.”

  “Name your price.” She annunciated ea
ch word.

  “Fine. That run-down shack. Tiny lot. I’d let it go for twenty-five dollars. And I know for a fact you don’t have twenty-five cents.”

  The taunt stung. Maggie uncrossed her arms, reached up, and undid an earring, then the second. She extended them toward him.

  Caleb didn’t move.

  She grabbed his hand and slapped the earrings into his palm.

  “Maggie, these aren’t worth a quarter, not even a nickel, much less twenty-five dollars,” he said in obvious exasperation.

  “Underneath the brass coating, they are solid gold,” she said coldly.

  He shot her an incredulous look.

  “Gypsies hide their wealth in their jewelry. Without the protection of a tribe, my grandparents went a step further to disguise their gold. These are my last pieces. So tell me, will the earrings cover the price of your bathhouse?”

  He hefted the earrings. “Without a scale, I can’t be sure. But I imagine so, with a bit left over.”

  “Then I’ll buy the place.”

  “And if you do. . .even if things work out, what about Charlotte? In a few years, will you want her around naked men?”

  “Once the business is successful, I can sell it.”

  “I won’t sell it to you, Maggie. Don’t be so stubborn.”

  She fisted her hands on her hips. “Don’t tell me what to do or how to be. If you won’t sell to me, then I’ll find someone else who will buy it for me.”

  “Very well. I’ll consider it,” Caleb said in clipped tones. He thrust the earrings at her and turned, taking long strides down the brick path as if he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

  Maggie stared after him in despair, her insides churning, hating that she’d angered him and knowing she’d hurt his feelings. Caleb was a handsome, wealthy man who, even when confronted with delivering the baby of a stranger, the body of a dead man nearby, hadn’t lost his polished self-confidence. It was easy to forget he had feelings, too.

  Caleb’s opinions aside, I still need to earn a living.

  Maggie’s request for the bathhouse slammed Caleb’s heart into his chest. The pain wrapped around his rib cage, the binding making it difficult to breathe. He’d listened to the rest of her offer in shock and disbelief. He couldn’t believe she was rejecting him for the uncertainty of trying to manage a dirty run-down bathhouse.