Big Sky Cowboy (Montana Marriages #1)

by Linda Ford

  She did so. There was no denying the stings hurt. He held her chin as he plastered mud on the three on her face.

  Her face grew warm. Surely he would put it down to the aftereffects of the stings, not to the sharp awareness of how gently he spread the mud, how firm his cool fingers were on her chin. Yet she felt no fear. He would not hurt her. How could she possibly know that? Hadn’t she learned not to trust so easily? But none of her lessons applied to Wyatt. Or was she blindly ignoring what her head told her?

  He released her chin and picked up her hand.

  She quietly drew in a calming breath and watched him apply mud to the backs of her hands. “You must have had a good mother.” The words came out of their own accord.

  She waited, wondering how he’d respond.

  He shook the rest of the mud from his hands and wiped them on the grass, then he raised his gaze to hers.

  “I did. But how do you know?” His eyes were almost black as she looked at him, silhouetted against the bright sky behind his head.

  “Because you have a gentle touch.” Again, she spoke the truth from her heart without any thought to how he would react.

  His gaze held hers, unblinking and as dark as a starless midnight.

  She held her breath, waiting for him to speak or shrug or somehow indicate he’d heard and maybe even show what he thought about her words.

  He laughed.

  She stared. Of all the reactions he might have had, this was the most unexpected. “Why is that funny?”

  He stood to his full height and grinned down at her. “Here I was thinking you would find me rough. After all, you have a mother and sisters who would normally tend your needs. I kept expecting you to tell me I was a big oaf.” He laughed again. “A gentle touch, you say. I will never forget that.”

  He squatted in front of her. “How is your head? You took quite a fall.”

  Her head buzzed from the swirling confusion of her thoughts. Not from hitting the ground.

  “I’m fine.” She pushed to her feet. “What about you? Didn’t you get stung?”

  He shifted his gaze to a spot over her shoulder. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

  “Really? And yet you drag me over here and plaster mud on each bite?” She tried to sound teasing, but her voice caught with an overwhelming sense of tenderness. “Let me see.” She grabbed his chin just as he’d done with her and felt him stiffen. He wasn’t a lot different from his brother. Afraid of touches. Expecting them to be cruel. If he stayed here long he’d learn otherwise. Ma and Pa were the gentlest pair ever.

  She saw no sign of stings on his face but detected three on his neck below his ear. “You have been stung. I’ll get some mud.” But when she tried to stand, he shook his head.

  “There’s some here.” He pointed toward a clump that had fallen from his hands.

  She loaded her finger with some and applied it to his bites. Beneath her fingertip his muscles knotted. She ignored his tension. Being this close gave her plenty of chance to study him more closely. Tiny white lines, from squinting in the sunshine, fanned out from the corners of his eyes. His black whiskers roughened suntanned skin.

  When the stings were well bathed in mud, she wiped her fingers in the grass.

  She turned her eyes toward him. His gaze jerked away as if uncomfortable with all the touching of the past few minutes, even though it had been impersonal for both them. Hadn’t it?

  Swallowing hard, she put eight more inches between them.

  “Are you feeling up to walking home?” he asked.

  His tender look caused her throat to tighten. Then some little imp made her press the back of her arm to her forehead dramatically and wobble slightly.

  His arm came around her shoulders and steadied her.

  “Do you think you could carry me all the way?” She managed to make her voice quaver.

  “I think I’ll go get my horse.”

  She laughed. “I’ll walk. I’m fine.”

  He nodded, a wide grin on his face. “I figured you were.”

  They gave the area of the hornet’s nest a wide berth.

  “I’ll be sure to tell the others its location.” She surely didn’t want anyone else to be attacked. Though, on second thought, if Ebner or some other troublemaking Caldwell cowboy got a sting or two, it sounded like justice to her.

  As they neared home, she slowed her steps. “Wyatt, why would you leave Lonnie with your pa, knowing what he was like? I need to understand. I want to understand.”

  He stopped, faced her squarely. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything more. I had to, and that’s all I can say.”

  She sighed. It wasn’t enough and yet she couldn’t believe his reasons had been selfish. Or was she letting his taking care of her for a few minutes erase her sense of caution?

  Chapter Five

  Wyatt kept his gaze straight forward as they returned to the farm. His fingers tingled from touching her tender skin. His neck muscles twitched at the memory of her ministrations.

  When he’d seen the hornets attack her and then heard her head smack the ground, his heart had raced. He’d had to force himself to release her when he got her to the river. Something almost primitive had urged him to hold her and protect her.

  He swallowed a snort. If Mr. Bell learned the truth about Wyatt, he would reveal his wrath. How would the man do that? In Wyatt’s experience the only way was with fists and boots.

  Rose was in the garden when Wyatt and Cora tramped by. She looked up, saw the mud on her sister’s face and her mouth fell open.

  Wyatt would have slipped away to avoid being questioned, but since Cora had banged her head hard he couldn’t leave until he’d informed her ma.

  Rose trotted over to join them. “Looks like you fell into some mud.”

  “I stepped on a hornet’s nest,” she said. “The mud takes out the pain.”

  Rose turned to Wyatt. “You got stung, too?”

  He nodded. “It’s nothing.”

  “Ma will want to check on you both.” Rose hustled them toward the house. “Ma,” she called.

  Wyatt glanced over his shoulder. “Lonnie will wonder where I am.” But before he could escape, the Bells crowded around them, all asking questions at the same time. Cora explained about the hornet attack and where the nest was.

  “Wyatt rescued me.”

  Mr. Bell eyed Wyatt closely.

  Wyatt couldn’t tell if the man was grateful for the rescue or wondering if Wyatt had been too forward. He didn’t intend to hang around waiting to find out, and edged past Lilly.

  “Did Ma look at your bites?” she asked.

  “I’ve got to get back to Lonnie,” he mumbled.

  “I’ll let him know you’ve been detained.” Before he could utter a single word in protest, Lilly trotted away.

  He groaned. Lonnie would not welcome a visitor.

  Mrs. Bell caught his attention. “You did the right thing in applying mud, but I have an ointment that will help even more. You wait here while I get it.” She hurried over to the shed near the garden.

  Wyatt shifted from foot to foot and looked longingly toward escape.

  Cora patted his arm. “Relax. Ma’s remedies are the best.”

  He nodded. How could he hope for her or anyone to overlook the fact he’d been in jail? If the Bells ever learned the truth, Wyatt would be run off the place. And yet...yet...what was the harm in enjoying the ministrations of a loving family until they learned the truth? Perhaps they never would. The depth of his longing frightened him, and his mouth puckered with the anguish of such futile hope.

  Mrs. Bell returned. “You two come in the house and let me take care of those stings.”

  Cora smiled at his helpless shrug. “It won’t hurt a bit, I promise.”

 
He nodded. It might not hurt now, but it would eventually. There was no point in hoping for any other outcome. But he allowed himself to be shepherded inside, where Rose washed Cora’s stings. Mrs. Bell cleaned away the mud on his neck and applied the ointment while he stared at the floor. Every touch of the older woman’s cool fingers reminded him of Cora’s gentle touch and tightened the tender strands of hope about his heart.

  Lilly burst into the house. “I brought Lonnie back with me.”

  Wyatt jerked to his feet and stared at his little brother hovering at the open door.

  Lonnie’s eyes were wide, his fists curled into white-knuckled balls.

  “Come right in and join us,” Mr. Bell called from the end of the table where he watched the proceedings.

  Lonnie slid in and plopped on a chair next to Wyatt. “Heard you got stung. You okay?”

  So worry over Wyatt’s well-being had spurred him into joining them. It certainly made a few hornet stings worthwhile. “I’m fine. Nothing that requires all this fuss.”

  Mrs. Bell tsked. “The girls will tell you fussing is what I do best.”

  “That’s right,” her daughters chorused, and Mr. Bell added a deep chuckle.

  Mrs. Bell moved away toward the stove. “Let’s have some tea and cookies.”

  “There’s more.” Wyatt remembered what had brought him here in the first place. And it wasn’t to share tea and cookies with Cora’s family, as appealing as that sounded. “Cora fell on her back trying to get away from the hornets. She banged her head pretty hard.”

  Mrs. Bell shifted direction toward Cora and the twins rushed to her side.

  “Let me have a look.” Mrs. Bell took Cora’s chin in her hands.

  Wyatt squeezed his hand into a ball. He’d done the same thing, and despite his genuine concern about her injuries, longing had risen within him. A need to hold and comfort her. A desire to let her see into his heart, to confess his secrets and receive her understanding. Fortunately, he’d been too busy to give in to such foolish thoughts.

  “Where did you hit?” Cora’s ma asked her.

  “Back of my head.”

  Mrs. Bell’s fingers explored through Cora’s hair, loosening wisps from the braid to feather around her head.

  Wyatt ducked his head to keep from staring at the shiny strands.

  “I feel quite a knot,” Mrs. Bell said. “How does your head feel?”

  Cora laughed. “Like someone messed my hair.”

  The twins laughed and Mrs. Bell made a dismissive sound.

  “You be sure and let me know if you feel sick or have a headache.”

  “Yes, Ma.” She grinned at Wyatt then turned back to her mother. “Didn’t you say something about tea and cookies?”

  Mrs. Bell hustled away with Rose at her side, and soon the goodies were placed on the table.

  “I saw the rest of your horses,” Lilly said.

  Cora groaned. “Lilly, he’s been on the road. They won’t look like horses kept in a pasture and fed oats every day.”

  Wyatt leaned back. “Did you think I neglected my horses?” Did Cora think the same? After he’d stopped his journey to care for Fanny? After he’d personally taken care of Cora’s bites?

  But when he saw Lonnie perched on the edge of his chair, his fists on his knees, Wyatt sat back. He knew it would only take one loud word for his brother to jump to his feet and race out the door.

  Cora’s hands grew still.

  He guessed his question had caught her off guard.

  “I guess I didn’t know what to expect.” Her voice was low as if she meant the words as a warning.

  He took them as such. She wasn’t prepared to trust him until all her questions were answered. And he couldn’t answer most of them. That left a vast, uncrossable chasm between them.

  “I saw them for myself and they look well cared for,” Lilly said.

  Mr. Bell murmured approval. “How is Fanny?”

  “No foal yet,” Lilly and Lonnie answered at the same time.

  Mrs. Bell poured the tea and passed the cookies.

  It was nice. Like a family ought to be. But Wyatt had to work to keep from jiggling his legs. Families talked about everything. Asked all sorts of questions. At least, that was what he’d seen with his friends’ families when he was a youngster. He had to get out of there before the questions started. He ate his cookie in three bites and drank his tea in four swallows with little regard for the way it burned on the way down. Then he pushed to his feet.

  “We need to get back to the animals.” It seemed an excuse that the Bells would approve of. “Thank you for the tea and cookies and ointment. Come on, Lonnie.”

  The boy was already on his feet, headed for the door.

  “Wait.” Mrs. Bell pushed her chair back.

  Lonnie reached the door and made his escape.

  Wyatt’s breath stalled halfway up his throat. Was she about to demand to know more about them? After all, they’d sat around her table. Didn’t that require a certain amount of honesty and openness? He considered bolting after Lonnie.

  “I’ll send some ointment with you. Put it on if your stings hurt and for sure in the morning.” She handed him a small jar.

  “Thank you again.” He strode toward the door, grabbing his hat on the way out. Not until he reached back to shut the door did he realize Cora had followed him.

  “I’m sorry for sounding as though I thought badly of you,” she said.

  He twisted his hat round and round. “No need to apologize.”

  “I believe there is. You rescued me from the hornets and knew enough to plaster on mud, and I repaid you by being doubtful of you. I’m sorry.” She planted herself in front of him so he couldn’t escape.

  He met her look for look, banking his surprise and the thrill of her fledgling trust. But despite his best intentions, her look probed deeper than he wanted. He feared she would see into the depths of his heart. See his secret. Perhaps even see the shame and sorrow he carried as a daily burden. With a great deal of effort, he shifted his gaze away.

  He meant to say again that there was no need for apologies, but the words that came out of mouth were “Glad I could be there to get you out of trouble.” Where had that come from? Certainly not from any spot in his brain that he was familiar with.

  She laughed, bringing his gaze back to her. The bite below her eye had swelled a bit, making her smile somewhat crooked, and he laughed in spite of himself. She stepped aside. “See you tomorrow?”

  “Yup. Got a barn to build.” His words were filled with amusement, anticipation and a dozen other things he should be better at resisting. Things like enjoyment of a young lady’s company.

  “Good night, then,” she murmured.

  “Good night.” He had to force his feet to move, but once started they hurried after Lonnie as though he couldn’t wait to get away.

  Which, to his dismay, couldn’t have been further from the truth.

  * * *

  Ma and Pa waited at the table for Cora to return. Rose and Lilly had already gone to the bedroom the three girls shared.

  “Good night, Ma and Pa,” Cora said, crossing the room to give them both a hug. “Have I told you lately how grateful I am that you found us and adopted us?”

  Ma kissed her cheek and Pa squeezed her to his side.

  “We love you like our own,” Ma said.

  “I know it.” Perhaps God in His mercy had saved them from a father like Wyatt’s.

  She kissed both their cheeks, then went to her bedroom.

  “Is he as nice as he seems?” From where she sat on the side of her bed came Rose’s voice, filled with longing. Cora knew Rose hoped for a beautiful future. Of course, if any of the three could hope for such, it would be Rose. She was as beautiful as her name. Her red h
air attracted lots of attention, some good, some not so good. But most of all, Rose had a loving heart.

  Cora studied her sisters.

  Rose, intent on fixing things. Lilly, clinging to the present, sure it alone provided happiness. They couldn’t have been more different in their outlooks.

  “Wyatt seems like a decent man. He told me his father beat them. That’s why Lonnie is so nervous.”

  Both of her sisters gasped.

  Rose spoke first. “It always amazes me how cruelly people can treat their own flesh and blood.”

  Lilly shifted to her twin’s side and hugged her.

  They all understood Rose meant more than a man like Mr. Williams. Their birth father had been so cruel as to leave the girls, never to return.

  After a moment, the girls sighed and crawled into their separate beds.

  “Cora, Lilly, do you dream of getting married and having your own family?” The silence lengthened as Rose’s question hung in the air, quivering with hope, yet so full of risk and danger.

  Lilly sighed heavily. “People always want to know who our real parents are. I can’t remember them. Ma and Pa are the only parents I want.” She paused, a moment full of heaviness. “Or need.”

  Rose persisted. “Are you afraid to fall in love?”

  “Maybe.” The word from Lilly beat against Cora’s thoughts.

  “I thought I loved Evan,” she said. “But he left. Just like our birth father.”

  Cora’s reminder silenced them. She had to say something to lift the pall. “Wyatt says Grub looks as if he’s grinning all the time.”

  Her two sisters chuckled at the idea. For a few minutes they laughed about their silly, useless—but well-loved—dog. Then silence settled about them, filled with contentment. Here they knew they were loved, and Ma and Pa would never hurt them.

  Cora shifted, trying to get settled. Her thoughts drifted to Wyatt. Despite his confession that his father beat them, she saw something more hidden in his gaze.

  As she lay there waiting for sleep, her thoughts flooded with the memory of Wyatt’s touch. She touched her cheek where the hornet had stung her and where Wyatt had so tenderly applied mud.