There was a wooden floor, a fireplace with small roof opening, one long table and four solidly constructed chairs. Nate had proven to be skilled at making rudimentary furniture and had fashioned two bed frames upon which were laid some straw filled mattresses. From town, Bethany had bought some sheets for the beds.
She’d also purchased necessary items for food preparation, as well as dishes, cutlery and other basics. Although everything was rudimentary, especially compared to the luxury she’d seen on display at the Cameron place, she was proud of the way she and Richard had forged a life for themselves and Noah. It was all they needed. They were self-sufficient, or as much as could be expected in the circumstances. In any case, Bethany had never had much taste for fancy things. What she had here in her mountain sanctuary suited her just fine.
Behind a wall at the far end of the cabin were two separate spaces partitioned by a thin wood panel wall. Noah had his own little room. In her own cramped room, Bethany had struggled to come to terms with sleeping alone on the bed she’d once shared with Richard. The nights were still too long. She wondered if the loneliness would ever. They laid the bags out on the table. She and Noah spent a while unpacking the By the time they’d finished, it was dark outside. Standing at the open door for a moment, Bethany gazed out across the valley upon which a full moon cast its silvery light.
In the distance she heard the sounds of animals, calling out in the growing darkness. There was no movement in the valley. Most importantly, there was no sign of any wild horses. That was the real reason Richard had chosen this place to live. When he’d discovered this place, he also found herds of wild horses which had made their way up the canyon and used the valley as a place to gather, feed on grass and take water from the mountain stream.
And that had been the reason why Richard had brought Bethany and Noah here. The wild horses were valuable, and Richard was sure that no one else knew about the valley. He’d had a dream of capturing the finest of the horses and trading them for what he needed so that his family could live what he considered to be an idyllic life in this beautiful mountain retreat. It had been a fine dream and an ambitious one.
But he hadn’t lived to see his dream come to fruition. A fever had taken Richard away with a terrible suddenness. And now all Bethany had was her son, this cabin and a determination to honor Richard’s memory by making the most of the life she had in this hidden sanctuary away from the world.
Bethany gazed along the length of the valley. There were no horses. But they would come. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day.
They always came.
CHAPTER FIVE
“His name is Curtis Shadley,” Sam, the livery owner said to Brodie. “According to what I’ve heard he’s one of the biggest horse dealers in the territory.”
“That so?” Brodie said.
Sam and Brodie stood at the entrance to the livery. It was a week after Bethany’s visit to the ranch and Brodie had come to town to seek some answers. He’d figured Sam might know about the three men who’d followed Bethany.
“Shadley came to town a couple of weeks ago,” Sam continued. “He’s been asking around and buying up some stock from a few of the ranches. He’s got a business over in Billings. Supplies horses to anyone willing to pay a price that makes him a profit. Word is he doesn’t always play things straight.”
“You saying he’s crooked?”
“He tried buying some of my stock, and I didn’t figure he was playing fair.”
“Shadley hasn’t come anywhere near our place,” Brodie said.
Sam grinned. “Maybe he’s heard that you’re not so easy to deal with.”
Brodie lifted a brow and grinned. “You saying I’m not just about the nicest man in town, Sam?”
Sam chuckled. “You know what I’m talking about.”
Sam and Brodie had traded horses plenty of times in recent years. Their bargaining had always been friendly and a fair price had usually been the outcome. Brodie trusted Sam. If he said Shadley was someone to be concerned about, that was good enough for Brodie.
“Where does Shadley hang out?” Brodie asked.
Sam pointed along Main Street. “The saloon.”
It was late morning. “Even at this hour” Sam nodded. Brodie hitched up the collar of his heavy jacket. “Guess I’ll have to go and speak to him.” Brodie squinted at Sam. “Anything I should know about Shadley?”
Sam frowned. “He’s an ornery critter. Doesn’t shout much. He’s slippery. Can be rude at times. And he drives a hard bargain.”
“Some of that sounds a bit like me, after all,” Brodie joked. “Although I don’t think I’m slippery.”
Sam rested a hand on Brodie’s arm. “Shadley’s got some men who hang around with him. Men with guns. Just be careful, Brodie.”
“I saw them when they followed Bethany Hoxton out of town last week,” Brodie said and scowled.
“You reckon they wanted to cause Bethany some harm?”
“I don’t know. Someone like Shadley will sure want to know where she’s getting such fine horse stock.”
Sam ran a hand through his hair. “If she won’t tell me, then I’m sure she won’t tell someone like Shadley.”
“Not willingly,” Brodie murmured.
“You don’t think Shadley would do anything to her, do you, Brodie?”
Brodie said nothing and just gave Sam a steady look.
Sam eyes widened. “I’d sure be sad if anything happened to that fine-looking lady.”
Brodie gritted his teeth. “Ain’t nothing going to happen to her, Sam. Not if I have anything to do with it.” Brodie touched the brim of his hat. “See you around.”
Brodie made his way to the saloon. Pausing at the batwings he peered inside. There were about a dozen men in there, seated at round tables. Some of the men were playing cards. No-one stood at the long bar which stretched the length of the room.
Brodie sighed. Normally, he wouldn’t be seen dead in a place like this. He didn’t drink alcohol, nor did Aiden. Their father had made sure both of his sons had grown up to abhor liquor and its effects.
Pushing the batwings aside, Brodie entered the saloon. Unaccustomed as he was to the smell of alcohol, its stench caught his nostrils. He leaned against the bar. Arnold Vaughn, the portly owner of the saloon, was cleaning a glass. His bushy brows rose. “Brodie? I ain’t seen you in here for a while.”
“I think you mean ever,” Brodie stated. He twisted to look at the men seated at the tables. They were a motley crew of scruffy-looking men. They were typical of the men who passed through town. Inspiration was a quiet town. Drifters and troublemakers didn’t usually linger long.
Brodie recognized one of the men from Sam’s description. Amongst the trio playing cards, one of the men, better dressed in a dark suit and broad-brimmed hat, glanced quickly at Brodie. The man lowered his head when Brodie met his gaze. The man’s angular features were aquiline and almost reptilian. He had snake eyes, narrow and dark. A thin pencil mustache clung to his upper lip. This was Shadley.
Brodie guessed Shadley to be in his forties. The other men at the table glanced nervously at Shadley, perhaps waiting for him to make his play.
Brodie wandered over to the table and halted. “I’m looking for Curtis Shadley,” Brodie announced, getting straight to the point.
The man in the suit squinted up at Brodie. “I’m Curtis Shadley. Who are you?” His voice sounded tight, as if someone was holding him by the neck.
“Name’s Brodie Cameron.”
Shadley laid his cards down on the table, drawing puzzled scowls from the other two men. “Cameron? I’ve heard that name.” Shadley rose and came around to face Brodie. “You’ve been bringing horses to the market in Helena this past couple of years, haven’t you.”
“Yup. What of it,” Brodie snapped.
Shadley extended his hand. “I like meeting fellow dealers in horse flesh.”
Brodie hesitated before taking Shadley’s offered hand. “That ain’t exactly the wa
y I think about horses. And I don’t deal in them. I just sell off some of our excess stock from time to time. It goes with running a ranch. Our spread is growing year by year.”
Shadley released Brodie’s hand. “Sounds like dealing to me.” Shadley’s brows furrowed. “Say. Your name is Cameron. That’s the name of the town sheriff. You ain’t related to him, are you?”
Brodie shook his head. “Maybe we are distantly related. I don’t rightly know.” He tilted his head. “You done something that might make the sheriff take an interest in you?”
The bright good humor which had filled Shadley’s eyes suddenly faded. “Now why would you say a thing like that, Mr Cameron. I believe my reputation is second to none in these parts. Especially when it comes to fair dealing in horses.”
One of the men at the table scoffed loudly which drew a sharp look from Shadley. “You wanted to speak with me about something?” Shadley said as he led Brodie over toward the bar.
Brodie leaned his elbow on the bar and peered at Shadley. “I hear you’ve been taking an interest in a woman who brings some fine horse stock to town.”
Shadley peered steadily at Brodie. For a moment Brodie felt like Shadley was sizing him up. “What gave you that idea?”
“I’ve been asking around.”
Shadley’s eyes narrowed. “Have you now? You some kind of deputy?”
Brodie shook his head. “Let’s say Mrs Hoxton is a friend of my family.”
“That’s nice,” Shadley said in an acid tone. “Just your family? Or would you have some personal interest of your own, Mr Cameron.”
The accusation was plain and clear. Indignation seized Brodie as he considered what Shadley was saying. It was time to lay his cards on the table, Brodie told himself. Leaning forward he spoke in a lowered voice. “I saw what you did, last week, Shadley.”
The other man’s features were blank and unreadable. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You and your men followed Mrs Hoxton when she left town. I was here and saw the whole thing. Me and my brother followed you until we lost you when the snowstorm hit.”
“You followed me and my men?” Shadley asked slowly.
Brodie nodded once and said nothing. He fixed his gaze on Shadley, waiting to see what the man had to say next.
Shadley’s features remained impassive. He was apparently unmoved by Brodie’s accusations. Sam was right, Brodie reflected. Curtis Shadley was a smooth operator.
Shadley ordered a whiskey. Brodie refused the man’s offer of one. Shadley swigged down the whiskey and then laid the empty glass on the bar top. “Let me tell you something, Cameron,” Shadley said softly. “I’ve been in the horse business for a long time. And I’ve been successful.” He tugged at the lapel of his well-tailored dark jacket as if to emphasize his point. “More successful than any of my competitors. And if there is one thing I know about, it is horse flesh.”
“Is that all they are are to you, Shadley? Pieces of meat to be traded?” Brodie snapped.
Shadley shook his head. “On the contrary. I appreciate the beauty of horses more than anyone I know. How else could I have done so well for myself if I hadn’t known how to spot a prize animal? And I’ve heard that Mrs Hoxton has been bringing some extremely valuable wild horses to town for a very long time.”
“What business is it of yours what she does?”
Shadley continued calmly. “Horses that fine are rare. Of course, there are wild horses in these parts. And I buy them whenever I can. Supplies have been dwindling lately. Things ain’t what they used to be. But there’s a rumor that Mrs Hoxton is finding those horses in a way which is quite unusual. I don’t know what that is, yet. All I know is she’s bringing some valuable stock into town.”
Brodie stretched himself up to his full height. “Who’ve you been talking to?”
Shadley grinned sarcastically. “You’d be surprised how easy it is to get folks to talk.” He chuckled. “Inspiration is just like any other town I’ve been to. Gossip travels fast. Especially if it is rewarded.”
“You’ve been paying people for information about Bethany?” Brodie worked hard to contain his indignation.
Shadley’s brows rose in a line. “Bethany, is it? If you’re on first name terms, you really are close friends, aren’t you.”
Brodie’s fists clenched. Shadley glanced down at Brodie’s hands, taking note of the reaction. Then, slowly and casually, Shadley loosened the front of his jacket and swept it open, revealing the holstered pistol hanging on his belt.
Over at the card table, the two men stood and walked slowly into the middle of the room. Brodie looked long and hard at them. Now he had three men facing him, and each was armed. The other customers were watching silently from the other tables.
One of the two men walked slowly to the batwings and took up a position which Brodie could only assume was meant to block his exit from the saloon.
Brodie peered at Shadley. “Your men are well trained.”
“They’re my business associates,” Shadley said dryly.
One of the men chuckled. The saloon owner looked wide-eyed at Brodie. “Don’t want no trouble, gents,” he said trying to sound stern.
“Mr Cameron and me are just having a friendly talk,” Shadley declared. “Ain’t that right?”
Brodie didn’t reply. Glancing once more behind him, figuring he should make a judgment about whether he could make a safe exit, his heart stopped when he saw a rider on a pinto leading a packhorse by a rope along Main Street. A disbelieving breath eased out of him.
It was Bethany Hoxton.
Brodie’s mouth opened, instinctively ready to call out to her. Then she was gone from sight. Shadley’s man, standing at the doorway, hadn’t seen Bethany. He’d been too busy staring at Brodie. And that was fine as far as Brodie was concerned.
Bethany was heading in the direction of the mercantile. Brodie assumed she must have just arrived in town and had already sold a horse to Sam at the livery.
This wasn’t the time for trouble, he told himself. But he would have to keep a watch on Shadley and his crew. Maybe it was time to talk to the sheriff.
Brodie extended his arms, making it plain he had no intention of drawing his gun. Backing up slowly, he walked to the saloon door. Shadley watched every one of Brodie’s steps. There was a pleased expression on the horse dealer’s face.
“Nice to have made your acquaintance, Cameron,” Shadley said sarcastically. “I’ll keep you in mind.” Those last words, even though they’d been spoken with a smile, contained a threat, Brodie told himself.
Brodie gave Shadley one last look and then he pushed through the batwings, out onto the boardwalk, making sure he didn’t turn his back on the men in the saloon.
Then he started to make his way quickly across Main Street in the direction of the mercantile.
He had to see Bethany.
CHAPTER SIX
“Bethany!” a deep voice called out as she started to enter the mercantile. She froze, resting her hand on the open door with the sound of its overhead bell still tinkling in her ears.
She turned and saw Brodie Cameron standing on the boardwalk. His features were pale and his eyes were filled with obvious concern. “Brodie? Hello.”
Brodie glanced abruptly across in the direction of the saloon, then came to her and pushed past her into the mercantile. She followed him inside and closed the door. Bethany was taken aback by the suddenness of what he’d done. He was acting very strangely.
Lucius, the owner, was standing behind his counter. He patted the front of the apron he was wearing. “What can I do for you, Mrs Hoxton?”
“Just here for my usual, Lucius,” she replied. “I won’t take long.”
Lucius looked quizzically at Brodie, as if he was surprised to see him with her. “Take all the time you need, ma’am,” Lucius said.
Bethany squinted at Brodie. He was breathless, as if he’d been running. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
He cup
ped her elbow in his hand and led her to the tall shelves at the far end of the mercantile. As she followed Brodie, she recalled the fine stallion she’d just sold to Sam at the livery. With that money she hoped to buy some necessary supplies and leave before midday. Thankfully the sky was clear today and there was no threat of snow.
Now that Lucius could no longer see them, she peered up into Brodie’s eyes. Here, in the shadows of the high shelves, Brodie’s eyes shimmered with an intensity she hadn’t seen before. There was a look of real determination in them now. Whatever he had to say to her, she was sure it was bound to be serious.
“Has something happened?” she asked him.
“How long have you been in town?”
“I just got here?” she replied.
He seemed relieved by that. “You need to leave. And soon.”
She frowned at Brodie. “Why?”
“I can’t tell you why. All I’m saying is, I think you should try and stay away from Inspiration for a while.”
“I can’t do that. I need to come into town regularly,” she countered. “I have to buy supplies.”
He looked quizzically at her. “Don’t you have enough laid up for the winter? I mean, wherever you live.”
She knew she still hadn’t told him about her mountain valley home. He seemed perplexed, but she could sense that he was trying to be helpful. “Is there something I should know?” she asked him.
He dragged a hand across his stubble-covered chin and was quiet for a moment. Even in the semi-darkness at the back of the mercantile she could still see that Brodie Cameron was a handsome man.
“I don’t know where to start,” Brodie said.
“Does it have to do with me?”
Brodie peered at her and seemed to deliberate for a moment. “Maybe.”
Frustration welled up inside Bethany. “Either it does, or it doesn’t concern me. You’ve got me worried, now.”
He frowned. “That wasn’t my intention.”
Finally, the frustration burst out of her. “I don’t have time for mysteries,” she scoffed. “I have to buy what I need,” she said and started to move past him, but he shifted and blocked her way.
Montana Mountain Valley Bride (Western Romance) Page 4