“I see. Well, I guess we best change the subject.” She gave him a smug smile. “We don’t have to agree on everything, you know.”
He knew that very well. He thought about the soft feeling he’d experienced for Miss Ford a few moments back, and almost laughed aloud. “That’s true. What do you want to talk about?”
“I don’t care. Anything.”
Let her be peevish. Shad stretched back in the chair and closed his eyes. The late hour was closing in on him. The fire was stoked and pumping out the heat.
“I wonder if your employer misses you,” she finally said. She pulled her feet up under her cape and got comfortable in the chair.
“I’m sure they have enough on their minds not to be worrying over me. But I wonder about you and your parents. Are you expected home?”
Now, why did I ask about her? I don’t want to know any more than I already do. She is Kathryn Ford Preece’s sister.
He remembered the expensive gown Tobit’s wife had worn to the harvest party held in Lichtenstein’s store a few months back. Whooee . . . The dress probably cost more than a cowboy’s yearly salary. And Oscar Scott had dropped enough information the last few days to fill in what a pampered life Miss Ford had led up until they’d arrived in Y Knot.
Now Shad had gone and opened the floodgates. He glanced at her. Or had he?
She hefted a deep sigh.
“Something wrong?” he asked, again against his better judgment. He couldn’t believe she hadn’t seized the opportunity to use his question for a chance to brag about her mollycoddled existence. Still, he couldn’t stop picturing her walking down the hotel hall with the little cherub, April or May Sanger in her arms, and the other two Sanger siblings at her side.
“By now, my father is furious with me. I have plans to go to France in April, and a good possibility exists, after my visit to Kathryn and my delayed return, he may renege on his promise to send me. I would be deeply disappointed if he did.”
France! The disparity between them was worse than Shad had imagined. He didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t even have the ability to conceive how privileged her life really was.
He pulled his coat tighter. “It’ll work out,” he mumbled from the side of his mouth.
“Pardon me? I didn’t hear that.”
Irked with himself, Shad straightened. She’d been doing and fetching around here just like Hildy and Lenore. She’d helped cook, serve, and even bathed the Sanger children. In all of her efforts, he’d forgotten she was practically royalty. An image of Miss Ford in Virginia after the hunt, laughing with the other women as he and his men fought with Redbud, made him scowl.
“I’m sure it’ll work out just like you want it to, whatever your plans. That is, if you get home by April.” Now that was downright mean.
Her forehead crinkled and she bit her bottom lip. “Do you think it’s a possibility I won’t? Father will be fit to be tied. I can’t imagine that happening.”
“Anything’s possible. Why’re you going to France? That’s a long way away, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” She gave a small laugh. “I’ve been there already, and other places in Europe. However, I want in the worst way to attend an art school there. I’ve been dreaming about it for years, and I’ve been after my father for about that long to let me go.”
“You mean pay your way.”
Miss Ford smiled as if that was obvious. “Of course I mean pay my way. Isn’t that what fathers do?” She lifted her chin. “Plans and reservations have been made, most of them nonrefundable.”
“So, you’re an artist too? Why aren’t I surprised?”
“You’re very sarcastic tonight. The smugness doesn’t suit you.”
“Really?”
“You’re mocking me.”
Shad rubbed a tired hand over his head, suddenly feeling exhausted. Why did everything she say hit him like a personal attack? She had no idea how spoiled she was, and he’d never be able to explain it away.
“Sorry. Your circumstances are not of your making.”
“Circumstances?” she said calmly. “What’re you talking about? Have I been behaving badly around here, wanting special favors, putting you out? I’ve done my best to do my share and not be a burden. I think you’ve painted a picture of me of how you think I should act, not as I have.” She smiled and took a sip of her tea.
Was Miss Ford right? Was he judging her so unfairly just because he felt his own inadequacies up to his ears?
Chapter Thirty-Seven
As Poppy sipped from her cup, she studied Mr. Petty from under her lashes. He’d not get her goat, not in this lifetime or the next. She had lots of practice dealing with her father. Her face wouldn’t give away one iota of her feelings.
The fact that her attempts to fit in had gone unnoticed by him, and probably everyone else, hurt. She might as well take to her bed and demand Hildy and Lenore wait on her hand and foot. What difference did her behavior make? She’d never change their perception of her.
Well, she wouldn’t think about the situation right now. She looked forward to these times alone with Mr. Petty. She didn’t want to spoil tonight by being angry. They didn’t have many nights left.
“Thank goodness the snow has stopped. I never knew the clouds could hold so much.” She glanced at him.
“Safer ground?”
“Yes.”
No more snow meant the sooner she’d be able to check on Kathryn. She knew Tobit would take good care of her sister, but until she saw that fact with her own two eyes, the seed of doubt never quite left her mind. Kathryn had changed so much in the few months she’d been married. Or perhaps Poppy had just never had such a private opportunity, away from her parents and the household servants, to get to know her properly. Maybe they could have more of the same.
A bud of unfamiliar happiness stirred in her chest. Amazing. She liked the feeling very much.
“Something tickling your fancy?”
Mr. Petty’s deep voice drew her gaze from her cup back to his face. In the dark, quiet lobby, the cowboy, as well as the rest of the world, seemed so different. They were comfortable with each other’s company. Her mother would be mortified, and her father would have forbidden her to speak to him.
“I was thinking about Kathryn.”
“Are the two of you close?” he asked quietly.
She thought the question was mostly just to pass the time, but when he looked into her eyes, she realized he was sincere. “No, not really. At least, we weren’t until this trip. Growing up, we were very different. I liked to travel, and my father encouraged me. Not so with Kathryn. I wondered why, but never asked.”
“Now you feel differently?”
She gave a small laugh. “Are you sure you’re a cowboy? You seem to have the knack for asking just the right questions. I’m amazed.”
This time it was Mr. Petty’s turn to smile. “I was responsible for my two younger brothers when we were all boys. I learned to dig deeper. Usually when they were telling me one thing they really meant something else.”
“And where was that?”
“Wyoming Territory. We lived with my grandparents for as long as I can remember.” He took a sip from his cup. “You were saying about Kathryn and this trip.”
“We did grow closer. At least, to me it seemed we had . . . and I’m glad. She appears genuinely interested in me and my future. I admire her. How she left a pampered life to make something more meaningful of her own. She abandoned everything for an unknown future. That takes courage, Mr. Petty. Much more than I would have, I’m afraid.”
He crooked a brow, and the gesture made her smile.
“I’ll admit I was more than skeptical when I heard she planned to be a mail-order bride. People of our standing don’t do that. I shuddered at the thought, but now that I know Tobit, I’m ashamed of myself. He’s a good man, and she’s very happy. Happier than I’ve ever seen her in my life. She’s in love.”
“Different doesn’t have to be bad.”
&n
bsp; “And so I’ve learned, although Oscar doesn’t agree. He thinks her the utmost of fools.”
“Consider the source.”
Poppy couldn’t stop a quiet laugh. “I even chastised Kathryn when she went against our father and refused to marry Oscar. He and I have always been friends, but he was pledged to Kathryn since they were both very small children.”
Again, the sardonic expression. Mr. Petty was holding back to spare her feelings.
“Go on,” she said. “You can say it. My family is quite strange.”
He twisted in the chair to glance at the window. It wouldn’t be long before the sun rose. “I didn’t say a word.”
“But you were thinking it.”
“Maybe so. But most families aren’t what they appear on the outside. Everyone has their secrets.”
Shame for acting so immature the first time she’d seen him in Virginia brought heat to her face. Her actions had been childish—and wrong. Did he remember? If he did, he never let on. Should she clear the air? She felt dishonest remembering and not saying anything. If she apologized, perhaps she wouldn’t feel so guilty. And it was the right thing to do, she lectured herself.
“Mr. Petty,” she began and stopped, still uncertain. She didn’t want to ruin their friendship. “Do you mind if I call you Shad?”
His lips twitched. “Not at all.”
“Thank you.” Was this right? She didn’t want to embarrass him. “I remember why you seemed so familiar when we met at Kathryn’s. Actually, I remembered a few days ago. You were in Virginia. With a group of cowboys.”
The pleasant expression faded from his face, and his gaze shuttered. He was like a completely different man sitting across from her.
“Am I correct?”
“That’s right.”
The gruffness of his voice surprised her.
“We were picking up a bull named Redbud. He was a mean cuss better suited for a bullet in his brain than breeding.”
“That’s horrible!”
Maybe that wasn’t nice to say, but that animal had changed Shad’s life forever. Bulls were smart creatures, but not all were calculating man-killers. In his way of thinking, he wouldn’t pass that bloodline on for nothing. No matter how large the bull’s offspring grew or how fast they matured. The McCutcheons had a handful of bad-tempered bulls, but none tried to get you in a corner and smash you to death. The pain of that fateful day rippled through his thigh and lower body, making his skin heat with anger and remorse.
“I can see you haven’t lived out west long enough to know—animals have their place. They aren’t cuddly creatures for pleasure, like you spoke of the bunnies at the Preece farm. Those rabbits are raised to sell to the butcher. To feed people, hungry people, and to earn money. By now, your sister knows that, but most likely didn’t want to tell you.”
Poppy straightened. Her pretty, kissable lips were now white in anger. She didn’t like what he’d just proclaimed. Well, that was just too bad.
“Thank you for correcting me. I guess I’m just naive. I hope Redbud didn’t hurt you. I saw a scuffle down at the corrals, and some of the women were talking about going down to watch. Then we were told one of the hands had gotten hurt.”
“I did. But not badly.” At least, not on the outside.
“I just want to say how very sorry I am. The whole episode was juvenile.” She chewed her bottom lip. “When I remember back, I’m mortified at myself. I hope you will forgive me.”
He shrugged. “Sure. All’s forgiven.” Actually, her words did bring a sort of calming.
Now that he’d given her absolution, she brightened.
“But what a small world we live in, don’t you think? I’m from Boston, you’re from Wyoming, but we first meet in Virginia, then again in Montana. What are the chances of that happening? It’s almost like destiny brought us—”
A deep rumbling above made them both glance up at the staircase. The vibration caused Poppy to drop her cup to the floor, and a loud groan was followed by the snapping of boards.
Shad jumped to his feet, but Poppy grasped his arm, halting him.
“What was that?” Her large eyes looked to him for answers.
“Stay here,” he commanded, and took the stairs three at a time. He approached the second-story landing where Lenore met him, bundled in her nightclothes and coat.
“What’s happening?” she asked, her voice wavering with fear. “It sounded like the roof buckled.”
“That’s exactly what happened,” he called over his shoulder. “Stay put until I check it out. More than the roof might be coming down.” A gust of frigid air cascaded down the stairway.
What about Fancy? Had she been killed? Shad didn’t like to think of her buried under the weighty snow and wood. Wouldn’t she have called out if she could?
Everything was deathly quiet except for him clomping to the third floor. When he was almost to the top, a flurry of snowflakes hit him in the face. Looking up, he saw a glittering of stars through the rooftop. Fancy Aubrey was nowhere to be seen.
He cupped his mouth. “Fancy! Where are you? Are you all right?”
No reply.
Sounds from behind made him look over his shoulder to see Poppy following close behind. “What’re you doing? Go back downstairs.”
“I won’t. That’s my room up there. Besides, Miss Aubrey needs help.”
A blockage of splintered wood, debris, and mountains of snow made going forward impossible. The below-zero temperatures ripped at Shad’s face, and he was sure Miss Ford would soon scamper away.
“What should we do?” she asked from beside him. She searched the wall of wreckage as if she didn’t feel the cold. Taking hold of a splintered board, she gave a jerk, but nothing moved.
Footsteps pounded to a halt behind him.
“Can we get through?” Harold asked with Cook at his side.
Shad grasped a beam that protruded into the stairwell and pulled, but the weight of the snow kept it firmly in place. He turned to the men.
“Harold, run to the livery and get a ladder. Cook, you round up any tools in this place—shovels, saws, anything—and bring them back here. Get the other men. And be quick about it!”
Harold grasped Shad’s arm. “The ladder only reaches to the second floor.”
“Then get a wagon to set it in,” Shad barked.
Harold shook his head. “That won’t happen in this snow. You know that.”
“Just figure it out, Harold. Do something!”
Frustration squeezed Shad’s insides. If Fancy was injured and covered in snow, she’d freeze to death in a short time.
“We need to get to Miss Aubrey. She may be unable to speak or worse.” Again, he heaved the beam with the same result.
Harold and Cook bounded back down the stairs.
“Look here.”
He turned to find Poppy on her knees, pulling snow from beneath the blockage with her bare hands. Violent shivers racked her body, but she kept working. He hauled her to her feet, none too gently. This was dangerous. More of the roof could give way. She needed to get back down where it was safe.
“What are you doing?” she screeched. “I see a small passage. I’m sure I can get through.”
“No, you can’t. Cook will be back soon with some shovels and the other men.” At least, I hope so. “We’ll dig her out.”
“By then, she could be dead.”
“She might be dead now.”
“Let me try. I know I can do this.”
Shouting sounded from below, and Shad turned. Cook, Abe, and Oscar had several shovels and something else in their arms as they clambered up the staircase. Thank God. They could set to work.
“See?” he said. “They’re back . . .”
He turned and when he saw Poppy was gone, a deep fear almost knocked him from his feet.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Lances of cold fire ripped along Poppy’s hands and arms as she dragged herself through the narrow channel of snow and broken boards
. She clenched her teeth to keep from crying out. Everything was frozen. The muffled voices behind were undistinguishable. Her cape caught on something stopping her progress.
“Poppy,” Shad called in a panicked voice. “Get back here.”
She tried to find where she was stuck, but that was impossible in the cramped tunnel. She would die if she didn’t keep moving; that was the only thing she knew for sure.
Shad had been right. This was no job for a girl, but she would prevail. Miss Aubrey’s life depended on it—and so did hers.
Poppy slid her hand down the side of her body and took hold of her cape, tugging hard. Nothing. She’d have to back up. Cold pressed in from all around. Her fingertips felt wet, and she thought they were bleeding. What if the snow and boards on top of her let go? Would her life be crushed away?
Inch by agonizing inch, she slowly backed up. The effort seemed to take hours before she found the place her cape was caught on a nail. How something so small could cause such difficulties was frustrating.
Once she was free, she resumed her forward crawl. She had to hurry. Soon she would be too cold to move. All she could think about was the few times she’d run into the beautiful saloon woman who kept herself tucked away from the rest of them. Her eyes had held such curiosity and humor. Poppy had wanted to start up a conversation, but she’d held back.
“Poppy. Can you hear me?” Shad called out.
The desperation in his voice made her wince. She and Shad must only be a few feet apart, but the wreckage made seeing her impossible.
“Come back. We’ll get Fancy. You can’t do this on your own. Please,” he called now in desperation.
Feeling a gust of wind on her face, Poppy blinked and looked up. She was coming out into the hall. Miss Aubrey’s door must be someplace in front and to the right. But the area was dark and difficult to see.
“I’m out,” she cried, pure joy filling her. “I’m out, Shad. On the other side. I can see her door.”
She tried to climb to her feet, but she was stiff and so cold. Her knees wouldn’t bend, and she had to go slowly. The doorknob, still a few feet away, jerked in front of her face from her shivers.
Montana Courage (McCutcheon Family Series Book 9) Page 18