Montana Courage (McCutcheon Family Series Book 9)

by Caroline Fyffe

  “I’ll get that,” Miss Ford said softly. “Be careful.”

  With his head into the raging storm, he stepped high and then sank up to his calf. Under the overhang, the snow wasn’t as deep as it was in the street. Dry, stinging snow slapped him in the face, and a bitter chill pricked around his eyes. Turning to make sure the door was securely closed, he saw Miss Ford watching at the window. With great effort, he plowed through the snow, intending to check the sheriff’s office first.

  Shad counted eight steps as he made his way into Brandon’s office door. Thankful to be out of the wind, even though only seconds had passed, he glanced around the empty room. A lantern burned on the desk.

  “Anyone here?” he called, thinking someone might be in the back. Wind whistled around the building. He strode to the woodstove and placed his hand on top. Barely warm. No one had been here for a while.

  Opening the iron door, Shad fed a few logs into the fire. With no time to stand around, he pulled his hat down and stepped out into the storm. He crossed the street and pounded on Berta May’s front door, leaning close to the wood. With the howling wind, she might not hear him.

  After a few seconds, he tried the knob, which was locked. He pounded again and a second later, the door opened.

  Berta May’s face split into a smile. “Shad. Come in.” She grasped his arm and dragged him into the fabric store, unmindful of the snow he brought along, and slammed the door closed. Same as at the sheriff’s office, only one lantern illuminated the room. “What on earth are you doing? My goodness.”

  “Checking on you.”

  “That’s mighty kind,” she said, her voice softening. Just like Miss Ford, she was wearing layers of garments as well as a heavy coat.

  “You have everything you might need for a few days, Berta May?” He blew hot breath into his gloved hands. “Food and firewood?”

  “I sure do. No need to worry about me. Have you ever seen such a storm? At first, I was glad the snow had finally arrived, but now . . .” She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know what to think.”

  “It’ll let up soon. I’m looking for Brandon, Francis, and a few others. They went out searching for some people that are believed to be stranded.”

  “And you’re getting worried?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m sorry, but no.”

  Disappointment descended, and he was anxious to be off.

  “I haven’t seen a thing,” Berta May added apologetically. “I’ve been working on my needlepoint upstairs in bed under the covers. But what about Charity?” She stiffened. “Is she stuck alone in their little house behind the jail? I hate to think it.”

  “No. She’s been out at the ranch for some time. Helping Rachel and Amy with the new babies.”

  “I see. That’s a good thing, to my way of thinking,” she muttered. “Better than to be snowed in here.”

  Shad turned for the door. “You have any problems, Berta May, you hang a piece of red fabric out your upstairs window. I’ll see it. I’m staying at the hotel for the time being. You’re welcome to join us, if you want.”

  “Thank you, but I’m fine here. Knowing you’re across the street gives me some piece of mind, though.” She touched his arm. “Be careful. Doesn’t take long for life to be sapped out right through the skin.”

  Back outside, he passed Y Knot’s small bank, the windows dark and empty. At the saloon, he gladly stepped inside.

  Abe looked up from his stool behind the bar.

  “Abe, you the only one here?” Shad glanced around, and then toward the upstairs rooms.

  “Just little ol’ me,” the bartender replied, swamped in his clothing with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. “You better come have a drink.” He set a shot glass on the bar with shaky hands and reached for a whiskey bottle. He filled the glass to the brim.

  “I like how you think.”

  Shad clomped forward as Abe refilled his own glass. Trying to stay his shivering, he reached for the glass and tossed it back. Whiskey had never tasted so good.

  When the fiery heat finally left his throat, he asked, “You see Brandon or anyone else today?”

  “At daybreak is all. Been only me since then.”

  “Fancy upstairs?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m making the rounds up and down the street. Tell her to get a few things together. On my return to the hotel, I’ll stop in and fetch her back with me, and that goes for you, as well. I’m sure she’d rather be with a few other folks at a time like this.” He glanced back up the stairway. “Besides, her room can’t be all that warm with this one measly stove down here to heat the whole building.”

  By Abe’s expression, the bartender had taken offense. “I provide for us well enough. I have ta stay here and guard my whiskey. If I leave, I might get looted.”

  “Suit yourself. I’ll be back for Fancy.”

  “Won’t people mind?” Abe’s mouth pulled down. “You know, living in the presence of a soiled dove.”

  “Don’t care if they do. The hotel’s a big place. If they take offense, they can stay in their room.”

  Abe picked up the coffee cup sitting next to his shot glass and took a sip. “Guess you’re right. I’ll tell her.” He reached under the counter again and brought up a flask. “You better take this along.” With difficulty, and an abundance of alcohol wasted on the bar top, Abe trickled whiskey into the small hole of the flask.

  Shad nodded his thanks and stuffed the offering into his inside coat pocket. “Good of you.”

  Back outside, Shad leaned into the dry powder and kept the brim of his hat pulled down, shielding his face. Pushing through the snow that had accumulated on the boardwalk and up the sides of the buildings, he pressed forward, being careful not to slip or fall.

  A building loomed up in front of his face. He tried the door. Finding it unlocked, he went inside.

  “Tracy, you around?” he called out toward the stairway leading to the telegraph operator’s upstairs living area. The dwarflike man was nowhere to be seen.

  “Who’s asking?” came a reply.

  “Shadrack Petty. You doing all right?”

  “Oh, Shad. ’Course I am. Come on in and warm yourself.”

  “Can’t. Have things to do. You see Brandon, Morgan, Francis, or Smokey recently?”

  “Did earlier,” Mr. Tracy hollered back. “Leaving the hotel after that wagon unloaded. But nothing since then. Them people gonna live?”

  “I ’spect so,” Shad answered. His unease over the whereabouts of his friends was growing stronger. “I’m staying at the hotel. You have any problems over here, or need help, you hang something out your upstairs window.”

  “Something? Like what?”

  “You got a bandanna?”

  “Oh, sure.”

  “I gotta move on.”

  “Thanks for stopping in.”

  Outside, Shad stuck his head briefly inside the quiet bathhouse to find it empty. He glanced across the street. A light burned in the leather shop window. Good thing Trent Herrick had come home a few months back to look after his elderly father.

  Lou and Drit’s boarding house was next. Wasn’t it just a few hours ago he was dreaming of Lou’s hearty beef stew, a warm woodstove, and some friendly conversation?

  With both hands, he worked the short gate forward and back a few times to get it open enough against the buildup of snow for him to get through, then proceeded up the walk. Before going in, he dusted off the best he could before making a beeline for the warm stove.

  Lou, sitting on the couch, looked up when he came in and smiled. “Why, Shad, I’m surprised to see you. You come by for a bowl of stew? I have some cooking.”

  “Not today, but thank you kindly. I was thinkin’ about your stew on my ride in, though. Everything all right with you?”

  She nodded. “Sure.”

  “You see Brandon, Morgan, and the rest? I’m looking for ’em.”

  She stood, wrapping the plaid wool blanket she’d
had on her lap over her shoulders. “Why, no, I haven’t. The sheriff came by this morning to check on Drit and me. You don’t think something has happened to ’em, do ya?”

  No, he didn’t, he told himself firmly. But being sure would ease his mind.

  “Not exactly. Brandon and Justin brought in a wagon of people with some children. The fella was drunk, but Brandon thought he’d mumbled something about others. I stayed back in the hotel to see to things there, and Francis, Smokey, Justin, and Morgan went out searching. Don’t know if they split up. Freezing temps are hard to take for long.”

  She stepped forward, wringing her hands. “You got that right. Drit said he saw a large wolf pack a week ago on his ride back from the sawmill. Was pretty rattled by the size. Now we got that to worry about too.”

  Shad nodded. “We saw signs on our ride in.”

  “The Lord’s watching out for our friends,” she said softly. “They’ll be fine.”

  And my brothers as well . . .

  She rubbed his arm. “Quit your worrying. I’ll be praying. Now, let me get you some hot coffee before you venture back out. You must be frozen.”

  “Thanks, Lou, but I’ll catch you next time. By the way, how many boarders you got staying?”

  “One fella named Ned Thompson, who took a room last week. I don’t know his business, but he’s riding cross-country with a couple of mules. Haven’t heard a peep from him today, though. The place is pretty quiet.”

  “Just keeping track of who’s who and where they are. I’m at the hotel for a few days, if you need anything.”

  “Thank you. If anyone turns up, I’ll send Drit down to let you know. He’s gone across the street to Lichtenstein’s for a few things—lamp oil the most important. Should be back soon.”

  “Maybe I’ll see him. I just have the Biscuit Barrel left before I cross over.”

  Shad sucked warmth into his lungs before heading back out. He wondered if Reverend Crittlestick was up at the church. Maybe the storm took him by surprise, as well. If it had, the preacher would really be in a tight spot since the building had no living quarters. No harm in checking before starting back up the street. If not, he’d wonder all day.

  “You stay safe,” Lou called. “The stew’s always on for you, Shad, and you know it.”

  And he did. He hoped Nick and Tanner were waiting out the storm someplace safe and warm. They’d like this town, if they got here in one piece.

  When Shad opened the door, the wind, whistling under the porch, buffeted his hat and face. They were fine, he told himself. He’d accept no other option.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sally paced the length of the living room worried about Roady. His safety was foremost in her mind. Growing up in St. Louis, she’d experienced snow, but not like this. Here, the wind bent the trees sideways as the tempest raced around the house with howling screams.

  “I think I’ll go and check on Hickory,” she said when Claire reentered the room. “He looked a little lonely when I left him.”

  Actually, he looked scared. Perhaps her time would be better spent reading with the boy.

  “That’s a good idea,” Claire said. “I’ve invited him to join us, but he’s still very shy. Feels most comfortable with Lucky and the men. Still, I insisted Luke bring him here. Little ones are easy to misplace in times like this.”

  Sally hurried to the library, the last place he was headed when she’d come down for tea. From the hallway, she glanced into the dim room. Two lanterns were burning, but she didn’t see him.

  “Hickory,” she called. “Are you in here?”

  A small sound drew her attention to the large leather footstool. With his back to the furniture, he sat on the floor facing the window. He looked like a caged animal that longed to be set free.

  “There you are.” Sally approached. “I’m sorry I took so long to return. Time just slipped away.”

  He regarded her with an earnest gaze. The look reminded her of the first days after Luke brought him home from Waterloo.

  “Shall we go into the front room where it’s warmer? The fire’s going strong.” The air was downright cold in here. She wondered how he stood it.

  “Naw, I like this room. Don’t want to get in anyone’s way.”

  “I see.” Sally got comfortable on a small couch. “Did you bring the book I lent you?”

  He shook his head. “Naw, I’ve been thinking, is all.”

  That’s a long time for a boy to be thinking. What could possibly be on his mind?

  He came and sat by her side. “You ever heard of werewolves?” he finally asked, studying her face.

  “Werewolves?” she repeated, surprised. Then she remembered the last story in the book. She hadn’t meant to cause him alarm. “Of course I have. But they’re just made up to scare people. They’re fictional.”

  “Fictional?”

  “Pretend. Have you heard the wolves howling outside?”

  He nodded, his anxious gaze slipping over to the window.

  “Don’t worry, Hickory. You’re safe here. No wolves can get inside.”

  Esperanza poked her head in the room. “The meal is almost ready.”

  “Thank you, Esperanza. We’ll be right in.” When the woman left, Sally turned her attention back to Hickory. “Shall we go wash up?”

  He nodded and climbed to his feet, his gaze straying for a moment to her growing belly.

  Even though she had no appetite, she’d be sure to consume a good portion for the baby. Just last week, she’d felt a slight movement. The feeling reminded her of the swish of a feather against her skin. The sensation had taken her by surprise, followed by a great surge of love. Love for a tiny babe conceived in an act of violence.

  Protecting him or her was utmost in her mind. Sally would never want her child to know, to hurt, to feel different.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Finished with her noon meal, Poppy carried her dirty dishes into the cramped kitchen and glanced about for a place to set them. The area was messy but warm, just like Mr. Petty had mentioned.

  Lenore stood at the counter, speaking with the cook. As Poppy approached, the waitress sanctimoniously lifted her brows and gestured with her chin to the sink.

  Feeling the fool for not even knowing this small fact, Poppy deposited her plate and teacup into the water and dusted imaginary crumbs from her palms.

  “I could have gotten that, Miss Ford,” Lenore said.

  Her taciturn tone grated on Poppy’s nerves. Oscar had fixed things so the woman would never forgive them.

  “I don’t mind. And actually, I came to get the food for the children. You said their plates would be ready when I was finished with my meal. I’d like to look in on them. Would that be all right with you?”

  I need to walk softly; do what I can. And in all honesty, the behavior feels like the right thing to do.

  Despite the cold, Lenore’s forehead was shiny from cooking and serving the few lunches that had been needed today. “The staff can deal with that, as well. No need to trouble yourself.”

  Poppy smiled, feeling a need to win over the cranky woman. Just because Poppy had had a privileged upbringing didn’t mean she couldn’t pitch in and help wherever she could.

  “I want to be of service, Lenore. Please, let me help. To lighten your load.”

  Make up for all the years I took Kathryn for granted.

  A vision of her sister churning butter in her farmhouse kitchen danced before Poppy’s eyes. Poppy was still getting used to seeing her older sibling doing for others. At first, Poppy had been repelled—a Ford acting like a servant just wasn’t natural. Then, as her stay at the farm continued, she’d begun to feel differently. See things in an altered light. Kathryn fairly beamed when Tobit complimented something she’d cooked or done. The feel of her country home was far superior to what they’d grown up with in their Boston manor.

  “Mr. Petty expects us all to pull our weight, including me. He told me that himself. If you don’t want me to tak
e the food to the newcomers, show me how to wash the dishes. Or maybe Miss Hallsey can give me another project. Is she around? I haven’t seen her since this morning.”

  Lenore took a plate from the cook and set it on a tray, followed by two more. “If you insist on helping, this is for the children and their parents. A plate for each adult, and one for the tykes to share. If you need more, just let us know.” She marched over and handed the large tray of food to Poppy.

  A job. Good. Purpose filled her chest.

  Two cloth napkins, two cups of what looked to be tea, as well as the three plates. One bowl of soup. The tray was heavy, but she worked to keep it level.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled as she walked out, concentrating not to spill or drop anything. “I appreciate it.”

  What would Father think? Her thanking a domestic for letting her help. How fast her circumstances had changed. Normally, she’d be in her hotel room, huddled under her blankets or in front of her fire, expecting a servant to bring her lunch.

  As she slowly started up the stairs, a gust of wind hit the lobby window with a smattering of snow.

  Where was Mr. Petty? Had he found the sheriff and the others? This was no joking matter. She remembered what Sheriff Crawford had said about getting turned around in the snow. Mr. Petty might be lost, stumbling around on the open prairie by now. The thought of him suffering in any way brought an unfamiliar lump to her throat.

  Why was she worried about Mr. Petty in particular? She felt no affinity toward the others. The thought was strange. Although, he was in charge of them now, until the blizzard subsided, and she was grateful for that. Was she only thinking of herself again?

  On the second floor, she stopped outside the appropriate door, wondering how to get in. Poppy glanced at the tray in her hands and then up and down the deserted hallway. She dared not set her burden down for fear everything would spill.

  Hildy appeared out of a room on the opposite side of the hall.