“Yes. The interval hasn’t been all that long since our hurried wedding.” She gave a small laugh. “And now I’m a happily married woman.” Claire hadn’t known about the growing babe inside her. She hadn’t known how much Roady had sacrificed to help her.
“And now you’re expecting.” Claire patted her heart. “I can’t wait to hold that little one. I have a feeling you’re going to have a boy.”
Sally nodded and touched the front of her skirt. “Yes, I think that, as well.” For some odd reason, Sally’s thoughts flew to the unopened letter sitting on the highboy. Why hadn’t she taken one moment and at least opened it? Who was it from? No one could hurt her now, or her little one.
I didn’t want to keep Claire waiting.
Not so, her conscience whispered. It’s something else. Something is in that letter I don’t want to read.
“Well, sit and drink your tea. It must be cold by now. I can take it into the kitchen and get some warm water, if you’d like.”
Sally made herself comfortable, enjoying the heat of the fire on her face. “Oh no, this is fine. I like my tea lukewarm anyway, so this will be perfect.”
“While you were getting settled, Flood stopped in. All the horses have been divided between the ranches and put in the barns.” Claire picked up her stitching and began to work. “Next year, when we build another, we won’t run into this kind of problem. That will be a blessing.”
Taking a sip of her tea, Sally listened. She had a lot to learn to become a proper rancher’s wife. They’d put the horses inside. What would happen to the cattle that had to stay out?
“I’ve been thinking about my sister Heather. I hope they were prepared for this storm. I wish there was some way to contact them. Having a telephone would be nice, like some do in large cities. Can you imagine just calling someone up and asking?”
“I know what you mean. But don’t worry. The Klinkners have lived in Y Knot for years, and they know how to weather a Montana winter. They’re snug enough in their house. All you need to do is rest and relax, and anticipate the coming of your little one. How is Roady adjusting to married life? Every time I see him, he has a smile on his face.”
“I believe he’s satisfied with the way things are,” she said, taking another sip of the warm brew. She hoped he was. He said he was, but could he say different if that weren’t the truth?
Claire smiled and snuggled deeper into the blanket on her lap. “I thought as much. Have you heard from home? How’s your family? Your sister Melba? I know you and Heather are concerned for her fragile health.”
“The last I heard, she is still doing well. Before I came out, she said she would be the next one to venture to Y Knot. This coming year, in fact. I don’t believe my mother will go along with that idea, but my little sister can be very persuasive when she wants to be.”
“Perhaps our mountain air will be just the thing to get her completely well.” Claire’s brows lowered. “How old is she?”
“Going on sixteen.”
“That’s plenty old enough. You should encourage her visit. I was a married woman by that age.” Claire’s eyes twinkled in the firelight, a silly expression pulling at her lips.
Sally couldn’t imagine Melba a married woman. For that matter, imagining herself a wife and mother-to-be was difficult. Where had the time gone? She wouldn’t trade her life for another, if she were offered. As long as things stayed as they were now, with her and Roady, and the little one to come.
Again, the letter moved into her thoughts. This was silly. She needed to open it and put all her fears to rest. And she would. Just as soon as she ventured upstairs.
Chapter Twenty-One
Exhausted, but happy with the progress of the cold, frightened children, Poppy made her way up the squeaky stairway to the third floor, intending to change out of her damp dress and clean up. She’d gone into the kitchen and retrieved a pan of warm water, which she balanced in her grasp along with a candleholder and lighted candle.
The hallway was dark and cold. Although as leery with her surroundings as a cat in a barn full of dogs, Poppy was too worn out to worry overmuch about the painting of the hag on the second-story landing or anything else. Keeping her gaze glued to the steps so she wouldn’t stumble on her hem, she slowly climbed the stairs.
She, Hildy, and Lenore had stripped the three frail children of their damp clothing and bundled them into garments they’d gathered from their own belongings and donations from other guests. The attire was much too large but would work to warm the children up. Then they’d put them in one large bed together and laid a blanket over top while Mr. Petty brought the fire to its capacity.
The poor befuddled mother could do little more than sit in a chair, shiver, and wipe the tears that never stopped. When they’d offered her dry garments, she’d refused, saying she’d be fine now that they were out of the storm.
The heavyset fellow was a different animal entirely. Poppy didn’t like him. She’d seen his kind before, down at the Boston docks. Drunken, coarse, with a gaze as sharp as a knife’s edge, even if he was inebriated. To endanger his family as he had was unforgivable. The children were lucky to be alive. He was in the same room, sleeping on a pallet close to the fireplace.
At the third floor, Poppy stepped onto the upper landing, noting someone had come up and lit one of the hall lanterns. She jerked to a halt when she saw Shad Petty stacking wood at the foot of her door. Startled, she glanced around the dim landing. Outside the window, what could be seen of the sky had darkened, even though it was yet midday. The snow had not let up.
“Mr. Petty, I didn’t expect to find you here.”
“Well, I expected you. I heard you squeaking up the stairs from the first floor.” He smiled.
Her heart gave a small squeeze. His clothes, rumpled from the last hour of work with the rescued family, looked almost as bad as her own.
“Just wanted to make sure you had wood to last. I told your friend, Mr. Scott, to bring some up, but just as I thought, he hasn’t gotten around to the chore yet.” He glanced to the window. “Now that you’re here, if you open the door, I can stack it inside.”
“I can do that.” She glanced at her full hands. “No need for you to—”
“Nonsense. We all need to pull together. Actually, seeing you here today was a surprise.”
“I was trying to get home to Boston, only to find the stage has stopped running.”
His eyes met hers with a look of amusement. “I’m afraid you’re stuck for the time being. After lunchtime, you should stay down in the dining room where it’s warmer, just until the storm breaks.”
The long frigid hours of last night had been agony. She set the candleholder on the small table and cupped her hands around the warm pot of water. “I suppose you’re right. What about the others? The men who went out searching in the storm? I’m worried about them. Shouldn’t they have already returned?”
His brow furrowed. “Yeah, I expected them back too. A body can’t stay out too long in this. I suspect they’ve holed up somewhere else.” He strode to the hall window, even though there wasn’t much to see but white. “Herrick’s Leather Shop, the mercantile, maybe back at the livery or the sheriff’s office by now. Just as soon as I’m finished here, I’m going out to take a look.”
Mr. Petty glanced down at her since she’d followed in his tracks. He didn’t look all that confident.
She resisted the impulse to lay her hand on his arm. “You should eat something first, to keep you warm.” Seeing his expression in the shadowy hallway was difficult, but she thought she saw a small smile on his lips.
He shrugged. “Do you know where your friend has disappeared to?”
“My friend?”
“Mr. Scott. Everyone needs to pitch in. He didn’t bring the wood upstairs, so I’ll take him with me when I go. No telling what we might find. I may need some help.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t. But he’s never been one to help. I think you’ll be disappointed.”
With no defense for Oscar, she turned, set the pot of water on the table, and fished in her pocket for her room key. After unlocking the door, she took up the candle and pot and stepped inside. “No, I wouldn’t think so.” She glanced over her shoulder and had to look up to see his face.
He waited at her threshold. “You mind if I bring in the wood?” He gestured to the pile of logs he’d deposited by her door.
“Not at all. I appreciate your help very much.”
Not wasting any time, he stacked the wood by her fireplace and soon had a fire burning.
Ice crystals had formed on the inside of her window and her mirror. The air was so frigid, you could store meat anywhere you’d like.
“It’s darn cold up here. I think it best to ask Hildy to move you downstairs, where it’s warmer. Not much heat reaches up those stairs.”
“I’m fine here, thank you.”
“What’s going on?”
Poppy swung around to Oscar’s angry voice. He stood in the doorway, his hands fisted at his sides, his face a picture of jealousy.
In a swift movement, Mr. Petty stood. “What the deuce does it look like, Scott? I’m doing your job. You’ve had plenty of time to get the task done, and yet not a single room has the supply it will need for tonight. Where have you been, and what have you been doing? Hiding out to avoid work?”
Disdain oozed from Oscar’s expression. “I don’t answer to you.”
“You sure as hell do.”
Poppy put out her hands in an effort to calm the situation. She didn’t want things to get out of control.
Oscar’s chin jutted. “I don’t like you in Miss Ford’s room.”
“Oscar, you have no right to speak to Mr. Petty that way. And you have no authority over me or to speak for me.” She pointed a finger in his face. “I demand you leave this instant.”
“I’ll do no such thing while he’s still in your room. Your father would be appalled to think that you’re—”
Poppy threw back her shoulders. “What? Trying to stay warm? Trying not to freeze to death? I don’t think Father would fault Mr. Petty for watching out for me, do you? For bringing me firewood when you refused to?”
Mr. Petty straightened his rumpled shirt, stained with grime. “Question is, Scott, what’re you doing up here? I don’t see any wood in your arms. And you never answered my question. Where have you been hiding out for the last few hours? I checked your room, but it was empty.”
Oscar’s lips curled, purpled by the cold, and his shoulders shivered. His eyes widened when the cowboy stepped closer. “I was in the kitchen.”
“Helping? Or eating and making a pest of yourself?” Mr. Petty’s voice held a mountain of disbelief. When Oscar didn’t answer, he said, “Just hanging out in the warmest place available, but ducking out of sight when I came around? How fitting for a man like you. Question is, what are you doing up here? Your room is on the second floor.”
Without another word, Oscar glared at Poppy, then turned on his heel and stalked away.
Mr. Petty followed to the door and called after him, “I’m going out to check on the others. You’re going with me!”
Poppy was still in disbelief. What did Oscar expect of her? That she’d just fall in line? They’d never had a relationship like that. He was supposed to marry Kathryn from as far back as she could remember. She and Ossy had just been pals, never anything more. Was he angling to find a place in their family, one way or the other?
“He’s a pleasant one,” Mr. Petty said once they were alone. “I can see why you like him.”
Poppy couldn’t help laughing. What else could she do? He was right. The flames were building, and she looked forward to cleaning up. Lenore had said Cook would be serving meat and potatoes anytime they were hungry.
He glanced around the room and then lifted a shoulder. “Is there anything else you need?”
“No, thank you.”
“Fine, then. I best get back downstairs.”
“Will you be staying here, Mr. Petty? In the hotel, I mean? Do you need to go back to the ranch?”
“Under the circumstances, I won’t be going anywhere for a while. The McCutcheons will know we got stuck here, I’m sure. They sent us to do what we could for the townsfolk, and that’s what I’m doing.” He gave her a shy smile. “I’m staying on, at least until we can get around town without too much trouble.”
Relief washed through her. Poppy hadn’t realized how much she was depending on his presence and his help. She trusted him.
“You’re very good with the children,” she said, delaying his departure. The fire felt good; she moved closer and held out her hands to the crackling flame.
“I have two younger brothers I practically raised when our grandma died. Mothering just comes natural.”
She could see that. He’d been easy and calm with the youngsters today, and they’d clung to him like a lifeline, although not so with their own mother.
“I envy you. Kathryn is my only sister. We were close when we were young, but then we went our separate ways, it seems. I’m not really sure why.”
They’d grown up in that big, empty house, playing with nannies and housemaids. Given everything except what really mattered most. She sighed, sorry that he would soon leave.
He ambled to the door, looking eager to be away.
“Go on; I’m fine. I’ll see you downstairs for the noontime meal.”
“Miss Ford.” He tipped his hatless head and was gone.
Poppy closed the door and rested her back against the barrier. The room felt a bit cozier with the fire. A few flecks of heat were melting the inside ice crystals. Now that Mr. Petty was staying on, watching out for them all, she could relax.
At her dresser, she discovered the pot of water had gone tepid. She dipped in her washcloth and washed her face. Once the snowfall ended, they could shovel a path to the mercantile, and perhaps the telegraph office. Things wouldn’t be bleak for long, and for that, she was thankful.
This was the adventure she’d been craving—and she should make the most of her time. Before long she’d be back in Boston, and then on her way to France, on a slow-moving steamship enjoying unimaginable luxuries. Just think, the trip of her dreams . . .
Still holding her washcloth, she moved to the window to see the flakes had become smaller and she could now make out a building or two. The wintery picture before her eyes was serene. Yes, she was looking forward to home and going abroad. Why then did the thought of leaving bring such a hollow feeling to her heart?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Fifteen minutes later, after consuming two large helpings of meat, potatoes, gravy, and biscuits, Shad layered on clothes by the light of a single candle. It wasn’t as tasty as Lou’s, but it sure filled his belly in a good way.
He could wait no longer. He needed to find out what had happened to the others. While the rest of the hotel occupants took their noon meal, he’d head out, being careful not to get turned around in the thick-falling snow. Shrugging into his waterproof leather duster that reached almost to the floor, he pulled on his hat and exited the small first-floor room Hildy had given him.
The lobby was empty. A few soft-spoken voices lilted out from the dining room. Almost at the door, Shad paused as a loud squeak from the staircase announced someone’s arrival.
“Mr. Petty?”
He turned. Poppy Ford had changed and looked as if she’d layered on a few more garments, as well. Her hair was pulled back instead of piled on her head as he’d seen it before, matching nicely the color of her expensive-looking beaver-skin cape. Wrist-length leather gloves covered her hands, and she held the candleholder he’d seen before.
She hurried forward. “What’re you doing?” she ask
ed in alarm. “Aren’t you taking Oscar?”
“Decided I can cover more ground without him.”
“But that’s dangerous. Sheriff Crawford said so himself. You could get turned around.”
Impatience moved him a step closer to the door. “I’m only going to inquire up and down the street. I won’t get lost. If I have to go farther, I plan to come back and get your friend.”
When her mouth pulled down, he couldn’t discern what displeased her more—his situation, or him calling Scott her friend. But he couldn’t stop to wonder right now. The others had been gone too long, and he could feel the minutes floating down around him as quietly and relentlessly as the snowflakes in the storm outside.
“I see.” The candleholder quivered in her hand.
“You go on and get some grub, and then stay in the kitchen or dining room where it’s warmer. I don’t expect I’ll be back for some time, maybe an hour.”
Her eyes widened.
“I won’t be out in the storm the whole time. I’ll be checking at the businesses. If I don’t come back, don’t come looking.” He narrowed his gaze. “Just means the task is takin’ longer than I thought. Or I’ve run into someone who needs help. You understand?”
Miss Ford nodded, looking like she didn’t want him to go. He breathed deeply, pushing that warm thought away.
“I just checked on the little tykes,” he said. “They’re sleeping, and their hands don’t look like frostbite set in. You did a good job.”
“Thank you, Mr. Petty. We were just following your orders. As soon as they wake, I’ll feed them more hot soup and tend their fire.”
He nodded and started for the door. Funny, a couple of nights ago, out at the Preece farm, she didn’t impress him as the kind of girl who would take to children—especially little ragamuffins who needed a good scrubbing—but that’s exactly what she’d done. Trying not to think too long on that fact, he secured his scarf over his nose and mouth. When he pulled open the door, a pile of snow fell into the room. He glanced back.
Montana Courage (McCutcheon Family Series Book 9) Page 10