Since she’d ventured to Montana, she’d become a different person. Happy. Carefree. She and Kathryn hadn’t been this close in years. Getting reacquainted away from Boston and their father’s continual attempts at sabotaging their relationship was refreshing. Why he acted that way, she didn’t know. It was puzzling, to say the least. Last night, she and Kathryn had stayed up until all hours reminiscing, laughing, and clearing the air on years-old grievances.
Kathryn Ford Preece was a remarkable woman. Even though she had been raised as opulently as any princess, she’d actually learned how to milk a cow, churn butter, preserve food, and cook—all within a few short months. Poppy didn’t know how she’d done it. Since becoming a mail-order bride and marrying Tobit Preece, her sister was a changed woman, a caterpillar that had transformed into a beautiful butterfly. She was happier and laughed all the time. Poppy had no trouble seeing Kathryn loved her husband with all her heart, even though he was only a farmer.
Poppy couldn’t keep the smile from her face, and she didn’t want to. She really didn’t understand this magical feeling inside her heart. She finally felt free, with a mountain of hope that nothing could hold her back. Her one regret was that she’d allowed Oscar Scott to accompany her.
When Ossy, as she and Kathryn called him, had discovered her intentions to travel to Montana Territory, he’d begged to come along so he could see to her safety. The long train ride followed by a stagecoach trip wasn’t something a beautiful young woman should attempt on her own, especially as late in the year as she was planning. He argued he’d traveled to Y Knot in July, knew the route and the routine. When his idea was rejected, he hinted that perhaps her father wouldn’t be pleased if he knew about her plans. To him, Kathryn was dead.
Besides all that, Poppy was enrolled for next semester’s art course in Paris, at great expense. Something she’d been pleading for from her father for three years. Perhaps he’d renege on his promise when he found out her plans to sneak to Y Knot.
Ossy had threatened, and she’d complied. Indignation pushed up at the man’s meddling. She wouldn’t think of him now, not on a brand-new afternoon that held all kinds of possibilities. He was keeping to himself and mostly staying in his room.
At the bottom of the stairs, Poppy stopped at the front window and looked out across the yard toward the large barn. The air here in Montana was so clean and fresh. The land stretched as far as the eye could see until it butted up to a large stand of purple-blue mountains. She would never have believed she could feel this way about the wilderness.
Well, Y Knot wasn’t quite wilderness. The small town had a handful of charming stores and a throng of well-meaning citizens. But it wasn’t Boston. Or London. Or Paris.
As crazy as it sounded, after three weeks here, she understood completely how Kathryn could trade everything from her former life to wed and stay. This morning, Poppy would bundle up and venture out to the barn with a handful of carrots from the root cellar. She loved the way the bunnies’ noses twitched as they chewed. Their long ears flopped forward and back. And she adored their soft coats. She didn’t like the fact that Tobit raised the darling creatures for their meat and fur. That was unthinkable.
I’d like to take the whole lot home with me when I return.
If I go.
The thought hit her out of nowhere. She lifted a hand to her throat, knowing her staying here would kill her father. But she liked the slowness of life on the farm. The lack of judging eyes and critical comments was appealing.
Sounds from the kitchen drew her attention. She hurried forward, thinking that a cup of tea would taste so good. Placing her palm on the swinging door, she was just about to push in when she heard her name spoken.
Poppy jerked to a halt. Dropping her hand, she moved back a step, then slowly turning, she placed her shoulder to the door and her ear to the crack. Tobit’s harsh tone had her breath lodged in her lungs.
“Please, Tobit, be reasonable,” Kathryn begged softly.
Kathryn and Tobit. Discussing me? Fire rushed to Poppy’s face, and her stomach pitched forward like it had on the stagecoach ride to Y Knot.
“Kathryn, you know I don’t mind your sister showing up unannounced. I love Poppy.”
His tone didn’t sound like he loved her at all. In fact, the exact opposite sounded true. The long, strained silence cut Poppy to the quick.
“I do, Kathryn. You know I don’t lie.”
He’s trying too hard to make Kathryn believe his words. His tone isn’t natural.
“If that’s the case,” Kathryn went on in a whisper, “I wish you’d just drop this whole conversation and start over. Do it for me.”
“I can’t abide the way she measures your every move. Calls out your mistakes. Finds ways to undercut your confidence.”
“She’s just being playful, Tobit,” Kathryn replied.
Poppy pictured her older sister’s supplicating outstretched hand. Kathryn had done enough groveling in her dealings with their father.
“She’s young, high spirited. I don’t mind. She’s finally finding her way, and I’m so thankful for that. I promise you; she doesn’t mean any harm.”
The mountain scene painting across from where Poppy stood wavered in and out, and her heart shuddered.
Tobit doesn’t like me.
What Kathryn said was true. Growing up, Poppy had sometimes piggybacked on their father’s critical ways. She hadn’t meant any harm . . .
Hogwash. I’m snippy and arrogant. But I can’t seem to stop myself. It’s who I’ve been for so long, I don’t know how to be any different.
“What you say may be true,” Tobit bit out. “But bringing Oscar Scott along was thoughtless. I can’t abide that intolerable windbag. He’s pointed out everything on our farm that needs fixing, and the shortcomings of our home compared to Boston. Living under the same roof with him has my gut in a knot.”
“Tobit, please.”
“You said you’d written to Poppy, told her everything that transpired with him before we married. How he’d tried to use your amnesia to trick you into marrying him. She should have known better. Surely she didn’t think we’d welcome him with open arms.”
I thought about those facts briefly and promptly disregarded any problems his appearance might cause. I was only thinking of myself. Worried over what Father would do about my Paris trip. I couldn’t chance it.
“He’s a cheat and a liar,” Tobit went on. “I’ve been patient and hospitable. Endured his backhanded insults. Tolerated how he looks down his long nose at everything only because Poppy said they were staying three weeks and would leave before Christmas. If you haven’t noticed, it’s January eighth.”
“I know, Tobit, I know. But Poppy and I have been having such a fine time, the days got away.”
“You say that now to defend her, but whenever she ‘teases’ you, it pains me. You’re my wife, and I love you. I’m angered each time I see it and don’t speak up in your defense. I don’t like anything or anyone who hurts you. That’s just a fact of life I can’t change.”
“I’m sure they’ll only stay a few more days.”
“If the snow starts in earnest, they’ll be stuck. Here. In this house, for months.” Tobit’s granite-hard tone was brutal.
Stuck? Paris flashed before her eyes.
“They will? Why?”
“The stage can’t go through deep snow. Surely you know that. And in Waterloo . . .”
Tobit must have paced the length of the kitchen and turned his back, because Poppy couldn’t hear the tail end of what he’d just said.
Her insides crushed with hurt, thinking how much she’d taken to Tobit when they’d met. He was handsome, young, and so very nice. She had a brother-in-law, the only one she’d ever have. Like a brother. And what a man he was too.
She could understand how Kathryn had fallen so deeply in love, even though that meant living and working on a farm, something Poppy knew little about. Kathryn’s life was very different from the way they’d
been raised with nannies, cooks, and servants to do their bidding. Still, Poppy had never heard her sister utter one word of complaint.
“I’m begging, Tobit. Please be patient a little longer. The situation isn’t all that bad. I’m thrilled Poppy came to see me. She’ll be overseas all of next year. Who knows when we’ll be together again? To tell you the truth, I’d thought she’d forgotten me completely.”
Poppy pushed her palm to her lips, holding back the anguish that almost slipped out.
“Every time I see Oscar looking at you, sweetheart, I want to go another round with fists, like we did at Ina’s—”
“Please lower your voice. I’d hate for Poppy to hear. She’s only eighteen.”
“Ha! That’s a grown woman. And if you remember, she can’t hear me. She’s upstairs getting her beauty rest.”
Shame heated Poppy’s face as she recalled her egotistic words from this afternoon. She’d laughed and patted her hair as she said it. How horrible.
“She won’t be down for a good hour,” Tobit went on. “Eager for her supper. And leaving all the cooking and cleanup to you—as usual.”
Help cook? Help clean? Those thoughts had never crossed her mind, Poppy realized shamefully.
“You’ve been helping, Tobit. I’ve enjoyed that very much.”
“You’re missing the point. She should be helping, shouldering some of the responsibility. She’s taking advantage of your good heart. To be sure, Scott won’t be down before it’s time to pour himself a pre-supper whiskey. What does he think this is? We don’t have cooks to churn out five-course meals every night, but he never tires of telling you how much better everything is in Boston.”
That was true. Ossy had been insufferable to Tobit, even in her estimation. The man had grown up more a brother to her and Kathryn than the son of their father’s friend and business partner. Poppy took Ossy’s words with a grain of salt—but now she knew Tobit hadn’t. She bossed Ossy around and couldn’t care less what he thought. But that didn’t mean Tobit would.
She should have told Ossy to go to her father if he wanted. Laughed in his face, and her father’s too. Mostly, she should have thought of her sister and her new husband, instead of being concerned about herself. How selfish I’ve been. Kathryn’s letters had mentioned the man’s shenanigans in Y Knot, but Poppy hadn’t paid that much attention, too busy gallivanting around the countryside with their aunt Alice.
Just one more example in the ever-growing list of how she was thoughtless and unfeeling. Hearing clomping on the front porch, Poppy stepped away from the door. She pushed her pain deep inside and put a smile on her face. Waiting, she knew who would be entering any moment.
The door opened and Isaiah, bundled from head to toe, stepped inside. He yanked off the wool hat that protected his bald head and then peeled off his gloves, tossing them on the floor. He shrugged out of his coat and hung the worn garment with shaky hands. When he saw her, his eyes lit with pleasure—almost bringing her to tears.
“It’s dang cold out there, missy. I suggest you stay indoors until spring.” His old eyes twinkled as he made his way slowly across the room.
Kathryn and Tobit stepped out through the kitchen door. They both pulled up when they saw her.
“I didn’t know you were up,” Kathryn said, her brows crunching down. “Did you have a nice nap?”
Unable to answer, Poppy nodded.
“How’re the animals, Grandpa?” Tobit asked a bit gruffly. “The critters doing all right out there?”
Tobit had yet to meet her gaze. His mouth was set.
“Oh, you know how it goes, Grandson,” Isaiah said, his gravelly voice loud because of his deafness. “Them animals don’t feel the cold like we do. I had a hard time getting Billy into the barn. That goat is as cantankerous as I am.” Isaiah laughed at his own joke. “If he keeps testing my patience, he’ll end up in this Sunday’s supper pot—you mark my words.”
“But you did get him in, correct?”
“Said I did, didn’t I?”
Tobit crossed his arms. His overalls were clean since there wasn’t any field work to be done on the farm these days, as she’d been told. During planting season, Kathryn had shared he’d return from plowing covered in dirt from head to toe.
Poppy had a hard time imagining that picture. On any other day, that thought might make her smile. But not today. Not now. Knowing what her brother-in-law really thought of her was like a bucket of ice water over her head.
“What about Blue Boy and Sergio?” Tobit asked.
“Them horses are munching away in their stalls.” He eyed Tobit suspiciously. “You haven’t checked up on me this much since you first arrived and didn’t know I was plenty capable. I ain’t senile yet.”
Tobit’s gaze caught Kathryn’s.
He’s rambling because he doesn’t know what else to say.
“I’ve been running this farm far longer than you have, boy.” Isaiah squinted and leaned toward his grandson. “If’n somethin’ is eating ya, speak your piece.”
“Nothing’s eating me,” Tobit bit out. “I’ll do the milking and other barn chores tonight after supper.”
Isaiah scratched his head and lifted a shoulder. “Just like you always do. You sure are talking queer. Thanks for letting me know.” He pushed past his grandson and started for the kitchen. “What do I smell cooking in there?” He winked at Kathryn. “Is that pork roast?”
“It is, Isaiah.” She rubbed his arm affectionately as he walked by, and Tobit followed. “Should be ready around four o’clock.”
Was what Tobit said about the stage closing down true? Poppy had lost track of the days. Would she and Ossy be stranded in Montana until spring? Her ship’s passage was booked for April. She’d been begging her father for this chance for years. She wasn’t a great artist, but that didn’t matter. Her return to France had been her utmost dream, until she came here.
And now Poppy was a strain on her sister’s six-month marriage. She needed to pack her belongings and get to town. Catch the next stage to Waterloo, and on to Boston. Money wasn’t an issue. She had plenty of funds to do whatever she liked. Maybe that was the problem. She was spoiled, just as her friends used to tell her. Her father had indulged her all of her life. She’d never wanted for a single thing—except this art class—and he’d finally given in.
“What is it, Poppy?” Kathryn asked softly, coming to her side. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost. Are you feeling well? Is something wrong?”
Gazing into Kathryn’s eyes, Poppy willed herself not to cry. When she was young, she’d looked to Kathryn as her shield. Her sister hadn’t stopped protecting her as they grew older until Poppy had asked her to in a not-so-nice way.
She pushed away another round of shame and hardened her heart. She could never be as compassionate and caring as her sister. Everyone knew that fact. Charity wasn’t her virtue, and why Kathryn thought so highly of her, she didn’t know.
“Nothing at all. I think I just woke up a little too soon. My head feels woozy. I’ll be fine as soon as I have a cup of tea.”
“Oh yes. I was just about to suggest that.”
Kathryn hooked her arm through Poppy’s and headed for the kitchen just as their dogs, Duke and Duchess, set to barking. Both girls turned back toward the front door.
“Someone must be coming. It can’t be my piano student,” Kathryn said. “It’s much too cold for Lael’s mother to bring her out. Saturday is her usual lesson day, but still.” She went to the window and peered out. “No, I see a single rider. I wonder who it could be?”
Poppy swallowed down her hurt and followed her sister to the window. A tall cowboy sat his saddle like a king as his horse loped easily forward.
She’d met more than a few people when she’d ventured into town with either Tobit or Kathryn, but she didn’t remember this fellow. To her, all the cowboys looked the same. But as he got closer, something about his face drew her, the pull, the attraction, and it wasn’t his high cheekbones, reddened
by the cold, or his strong chin.
Seeing him look at the house made her take a small step back.
It was his eyes. Poppy was positive she’d met this man somewhere before. She’d have remembered him if they’d met in town. Any woman would.
Chapter Five
Shad had lingered at the Holcombs’ far too long, enjoying three cups of coffee and two slices of crumb cake. On his way out, Evie asked him to drop off a healthy slice to the ranch hand in his living quarters in the barn. Lovell had a cozy room that he and Chance added to the back of the barn when he was hired, complete with a woodstove, a window with a view of the back pasture, and corncob insulation.
Riding into the Preece farmyard, Shad spotted Tobit’s two large dogs bounding out to meet him. They barked and circled his horse, excited to have a visitor. When one sniffed too closely at his gelding’s hind fetlock, his horse, no lover of dogs, kicked out missing the animal by a few inches. Frightened, he let out a yip and jumped back, unhurt.
“Let that be a lesson to you,” Shad said as he dismounted, a cold shiver going up his spine. His words came out in a puff of frosty breath, his boots crunching on the frozen earth as he tied his mount.
Mounting the steps, he rapped on the front door, his leather gloves muting the sound. A burst of wind whistled around him. He hunched his shoulders against the dropping temperature. The wind from the north was picking up.
Kathryn Preece opened the door. Her light brown dress matched her eyes and reminded him of the hot cocoa Lucky sometimes made as a treat. Shad knew her less than he knew Evie Holcomb, but he remembered they’d both been mail-order brides from St. Louis. He’d met Kathryn in town and enjoyed her Boston accent, so different from Tobit’s soft Southern drawl.
When Mrs. Preece smiled, two dimples appeared, taking him by surprise, as much as they had the first time he’d met her. For a moment, he lost his train of thought.
“May I help you?”
He whipped his hat from his head as fast as he could move his cold arm. “Uh, yes, ma’am,” he said, feeling a drip forming in one nostril. The wind had taken its toll. “I’m Shadrack Petty from the Heart of the Mountains.” He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his nose. “Is your husband here?”
Montana Courage (McCutcheon Family Series Book 9) Page 3