Montana Courage (McCutcheon Family Series Book 9)

by Caroline Fyffe

  “Good girl!” Shad called back. “Try the door. Is it locked?”

  She was so frozen she could barely grasp the knob, but the pride she heard in Shad’s voice kept her moving. Her fingers wouldn’t close around the cold steel. She had to make this work. She couldn’t go back now without Miss Aubrey. With both hands, she gripped the knob and turned. Her heart sank.

  “It’s locked!” She pounded on the door with her arms, the only thing she had left that would still work. “Miss Aubrey! Please, Miss Aubrey, answer me.” Poppy felt crushing disappointment, but she wouldn’t let it defeat her. She would save the poor woman, and herself, or die trying.

  A weak sound came from within.

  “I hear her, Shad! Open the door, Miss Aubrey. Please, open the door.”

  Clamoring sounds of digging in the rubble at the stairs echoed into the night.

  “Mr. Petty— Shad,” she called. “It’s locked tight.” Poppy didn’t realize she was crying until warm tears slid down her cheeks. “I—I don’t have the key.” She felt a moment of despair wedge inside. “I can’t get her out.”

  “Yes, you can. You’re smart and strong.”

  There it was again, the pride in his voice, the awe. She wanted to do this for Miss Aubrey, but also for Shad.

  Was there something in her own room that might help? She turned her head. The sun must be coming up. The sky above was brightening, and a few beams of light fell upon her bedroom door.

  Like a sickly peasant unable to straighten her own spine, Poppy stumbled forward and opened the door she’d left unlocked when she ventured downstairs in hopes of seeing Shad in the warm lobby. Her candle was still burning, much to her shame, but now joy. She couldn’t always be responsible. Had that been only an hour ago? The time felt like years.

  Her hands shook uncontrollably as the door opened wider. Her room was unaffected by the collapse with the ceiling still intact, and everything neatly in its place. With a numb mind, Poppy glanced around, searching for something she could use to open the door.

  In the dim light, she saw her ripped and torn fingernails, bleeding and purple. The sight made her stomach pinch with pain. She had to do something and fast. Time was running out. The giant meat lockers down at the Boston docks came to mind.

  Without the key, she was helpless. She blinked to clear her thoughts. She pushed one foot forward, and then another until she was at her nightstand. Taking her own key, she placed it in her pocket and looked around some more. Her eyes landed on the dark fireplace. And then on the few logs still on the hearth.

  That’s it! She didn’t know if her idea was futile, but she couldn’t think of anything else. The men’s voices and Shad calling to her rumbled in her mind.

  Finally with a purpose, she forced her legs to move. With difficulty, she grasped one log in her numb hands and started back the way she’d come.

  “Poppy. Are you still there?”

  “I’m here now,” she replied in a billow of frozen breath. “I was in my room. I’m trying something. Give me a moment.”

  Extracting the long silver skeleton key from her pocket, she paused. All the concentration she could muster was needed just to get the object in the small hole with her shaking hands. She narrowed her gaze and picked up the log she’d set at her feet. The weight almost toppled her in her weakened condition. Her head swam with dizziness.

  I can’t pass out. I can’t. Keep going. Keep moving.

  She had one shot at this, and she couldn’t mess it up. Please, Lord, let this work. I can’t do this without your help.

  With the weighty log in her battered hands, Poppy reared back and sent it forward with all her strength, aiming at the key. The jolt sent a shot of pain through her hands and up her arms, causing her to cry out. The log fell to the floor, narrowly missing her feet.

  “Poppy!”

  Shad, worried for me.

  With new determination, she swallowed back her pain. It seemed as if the key might have moved forward, but she couldn’t be sure. Was the blow hard enough to break the bolting structure inside the doorknob? She’d never tried to break into a room before. She had no idea if locks were strong or just for show.

  Breathing hard, she reached for the knob. “It turned,” she shouted with joy. “I’m going inside.”

  The room was shadowy with the coming sunrise. A cold wind whistled up Poppy’s cape and around her neck, numbing her ears and face.

  “Miss Aubrey,” she called. “Miss Aubrey, where are you?”

  “Here,” came a weak reply.

  Poppy weaved her way across the rug, avoiding the rubble on her way to the bed, but didn’t see the woman. Hurrying to the other side, she found Miss Aubrey on the floor. She knelt as fast as her frozen limbs would allow and picked up the saloon girl’s hand.

  “Miss Aubrey.”

  The woman opened her eyes. A large lump had formed on her forehead. “M-Miss Ford . . .”

  Poppy pulled on her arm. “You’ll have to stand, Miss Aubrey, because I’m not strong enough to lift you.” Hearing commotion, Poppy stood and moved to the window.

  A swarm of men were below with a ladder that only reached halfway up the building. No wagon was in sight.

  She hurried back to Miss Aubrey. “This is up to you and me,” Poppy said. She took a firm hold of Miss Aubrey’s arm and slug it around her neck. “Just think how good you’ll feel downstairs by the fire.”

  Heaving with all her might, Poppy dragged Miss Aubrey to a stand. How on earth could the woman crawl on her own those few long feet beneath the blockade? She’d have to if she wanted to get out.

  They lumbered a few steps. The saloon girl seemed to be getting stronger. The goose egg on her forehead looked painful. They crossed the room and were out in the hall.

  “I have her,” Poppy called out. “She’s alive but has a bad bump on her head. She’s wobbly and keeps almost passing out. I don’t know if she can crawl.”

  “We’ve been widening the tunnel on our side,” Shad called back. “If you can get her in, I’ll reach as far as I can and grasp her hands. It won’t feel good, but I’ll pull her out.”

  Shad pulling Miss Aubrey might work. Poppy quickly unclasped the hook and eye at her throat and laid her cape on the floor, pushing it as far as she could inside, underneath the rubble.

  “I’m going to lay you on your belly,” she said as she brought the woman down, trying to keep her from falling.

  When Miss Aubrey just lay there, Poppy gave her arms a firm shake. “Go on. You need to crawl as far as you can. Try to keep the cape under you if you can. Shimmy forward. When you can’t go any farther, hold out your hands and Mr. Petty will take them.”

  “I can do this,” Miss Aubrey said weakly.

  “I know you can. You have to.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Once Shad had a hold of Fancy’s icy hands, he pulled her through the opening in one swift swoop. Her face was blue, and a large knot sat on her forehead. As he pulled her out and lifted her into his arms, he noticed Poppy’s fur cape beneath her. That was why slipping her out had been easy. Poppy must be frozen. He swung Fancy around and set her in the first arms he found.

  Oscar sputtered.

  “Go! Put her in Hildy’s room. Pile on the blankets, use bed warmers, and feed her hot soup. As soon as I have Miss Ford, I’m right behind you. Have someone build up the fire in my room too,” he called loudly as Oscar, followed by Abe, Hildy, and Lenore hurried away.

  Alone now, Shad waited for Poppy, fear burning his belly. All kinds of things raced through his head. Would she be too weak or cold to crawl back? She’d been gone almost twenty minutes. Should he keep working on the tunnel, breaking it through? Or might that weaken the wreckage and cause it to collapse?

  That thought brought panic. He dropped to his knees and crawled in as far as the small hole would allow.

  “Poppy,” he called. “Poppy? Are you on your way?”

  “Um, I—am.”

  The response was low, shaky, her
breathing labored. He pushed in farther. “Put out your hands.”

  He splayed his fingers to grasp her hands. Once he had a good hold, he shimmied backward, pulling Poppy as he went. The movement was slow, and he felt as if they’d never be out.

  Finally lifting her to his chest, he gently smoothed back her frazzled hair as he gazed into her face. “You did good.” He was too emotional to say more.

  “Sh-Shad, I’m . . .”

  “Shhh,” he whispered. “Conserve your energy.”

  He held her tight to his chest, and then carried her down the steps, being careful not to fall. He went directly into his room, where Abe was hunkered down at his hearth. With one hand, he whipped back the covers and placed Poppy inside, pulling the heavy quilt up to her chin.

  He turned. “Bring me all the bed warmers that aren’t being used on Miss Aubrey.”

  “I’ve had them heating since this began,” Hildy said from the doorway and darted off. She returned a moment later carrying several cast-iron bed warmers, each with hot stones rolling around inside.

  Two he slipped in next to Poppy’s feet, and two more on the far side of the bed.

  “Look at her hands,” Hildy said. “They should be cleaned and disinfected.”

  “Not now.” He toed off his boots and pulled off his coat and shirt down to his undershirt. “Her body temperature is more important. We’ll work on one thing at a time. Are you seeing to Miss Aubrey?”

  Hildy nodded.

  Without a thought to Hildy or anyone else who mighty object, Shad climbed into the bed and gathered Poppy’s ice-cold body next to his. He cuddled her to his chest and pulled the blankets over her head.

  He caught Lenore’s gaze. “Until we can board off the third floor, I suggest everyone go to their rooms and climb in bed. Tell the men to bring in more firewood and distribute it around.”

  “Sheriff Crawford, his deputy, Harold, and Morgan Stanford just arrived with hammers and lumber. They’re setting to work right away,” Lenore replied. “But I’ll tell the women and children what you said.”

  Now that she mentioned it, Shad did hear voices talking and the sounds of pounding. Bandaging the collapse was one thing he wouldn’t have to handle, and he was glad.

  “Lenore,” he called. “Before you go, can you bring something hot for Miss Ford to eat or drink?”

  The woman looked at the motionless lump under the covers. “Is she capable?”

  “She will be. And if not, I’ll help her.”

  “Very good.”

  With the fire now blazing, Abe stood and stopped by the bedside. “Since the snowfall stopped, I’m gonna venture down to the Hitching Post as soon as it’s light. Gotta make sure no one has broken in and helped themselves to my whiskey, or anything else. I’ll be back ta help with the repairs.”

  Shad nodded, the cold from Poppy’s body seeping into his own. As immobile as she was, he could feel the comforting beat of her heart. “Take a gun and keep an eye out.”

  The skinny bartender nodded, pulling a derringer from his pocket. “Always do.”

  In the empty room, the crackling fire was easy to hear. Shad rested his cheek on the top of Poppy’s head, the quilt soft against his skin. He closed his eyes, realizing he was exhausted. The fact that nobody had been killed was a miracle.

  He tightened his embrace, thinking over a year had passed since he’d held a woman in bed. That brought a smile he couldn’t stop. Poppy wouldn’t like that. He pictured her eyebrow arching in censure.

  Fancy and he talked a good game, flirted up a storm, but that’s all their relationship was. Friendship—and a good one.

  This little soldier in his arms aroused more in him than thoughts of lovemaking, although she did do that in spades. Poppy brought a peculiar sense of home, one he hadn’t felt for a good ten years. Of being a part of something larger than his single life. About working for the good of another person. Giving of oneself. Seeing to their happiness.

  An image of his grandmother and grandfather tottering off to bed every night hand in hand, their knitted caps covering their gray heads, filtered through his mind. He heard their whispered words as they knelt together beside the bed to say their prayers. Their hopes and dreams for their grandsons, in a world that held little promise. His grandparents never spoke of his parents, or what had transpired. Shad always wondered if they’d gone bad. Been on the wrong side of the law.

  He felt the same way about his brothers as his grandparents had about them. He’d tried, and sometimes failed, to make things better for Tanner and Nick. Life is a gift, Grandma Girdy used to say. Don’t waste a second on fleeting whims. Every day is precious.

  Feeling an unusual sense of contentment, Shad chuckled softly, causing Poppy to stir. Had she been sleeping, or just too weak and cold to move or talk? Either way, he was anxious for her to awaken. A deep need to tell her what he thought of her risking her life like she had played upon his mind.

  He realized he’d begun to warm up, as well. The bed warmers by their feet were cooling, but still gave off heat. Someone walked by in the hall, passing his half-open bedroom door.

  Where had Oscar Scott gone? Was he helping to seal off the third floor? If everyone knew he was warming Poppy in his bed, they hadn’t voiced any objections. At least, not yet . . .

  Chapter Forty

  Why wouldn’t that darned woodpecker stop that racket? The sound was maddening. No matter which room Poppy tried to escape into, he was there. She wanted to scream. She put her hands over her ears to keep out the noise.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  “Miss Ford? Are you awake?”

  Poppy slowly opened her eyes to utter darkness. Well, that wasn’t quite true; the room was dark, but not completely. The air on her face was blessedly warm, and she was cuddled up against a solid cushion of heat. She stretched, her hands pressing up against the barrier.

  “Miss Ford?” The voice was filled with concern.

  Poppy drew the heavy quilt from over her head and blinked at the brightness of the room. She turned to see that her suspicions were correct. Shad was in bed beside her, sound asleep on the pillow.

  She remembered now. He’d hauled her out of the rubble and carried her down the stairs, all while she felt like a frozen toad. She’d thought she’d die. And now here she was, untold minutes or hours later, snuggled in a warm bed with the cowboy.

  “Miss?” Hildy stood in the door with a tray in her hands. “I’m sorry. If you’d like me to come back, tell me, and I can.”

  “No,” Poppy nearly shouted.

  She wanted to vault from under the covers, but hadn’t taken the time to see what she was wearing. Perhaps she’d been stripped of her dress and was only wearing her chemise and pantaloons. That would make this innocent situation out to be more than it was.

  “I’m sorry to wake you, but everyone seems to think it best if you were to eat this hot porridge, biscuit, and drink some coffee. You know, get your insides working and give you some fuel. The rest of you will warm more quickly with something in your stomach.” She softly cleared her throat. “I brought the tray about twenty minutes ago, but you and Mr. Petty were sound asleep, and I didn’t have the heart to wake you then. Would you like me to come back? I can keep this warm in the kitchen.” She glanced at the bowl on her tray and then back at Poppy.

  In the height of her embarrassment, Poppy found her voice. “No, please bring it in. That was very kind of you.” She glanced over to Shad, who still slept despite the conversation. A soft snore rippled out between his chapped lips.

  Relief crossed Hildy’s face. “Fine then, I’ll set this right here.” She lowered the tray to the nightstand. “Will you be able to manage with your hands? We’ve yet to tend to them.”

  Poppy pulled her hands out of the warmth to see that her nails were ripped and broken. The tips of most of her fingers were black with dried blood. The horrifying experience she’d been through came rushing back.

  “I’ll help her,” Shad said in a deep and steady voi
ce.

  Flipping the quilt back, he stepped out of bed, slipped into his shirt but left it unbuttoned, and then pulled on his heavy coat. After carefully replacing the covers to be sure she was completely protected, he went to the fireplace and tossed in two more logs.

  Hildy nodded. “I’ll just be going then.”

  The poor girl looked completely out of sorts, and Poppy didn’t blame her at all. Shad didn’t seem the least bit perturbed to be caught in such a compromising situation.

  “Please, wait,” Poppy called.

  Hildy stopped and turned.

  “How is Miss Aubrey?” That was the only thing she could think to ask, and she did want to know.

  Hildy smiled and came closer. “Doing better. Sheriff Crawford said we need to keep her awake because of the bump on her head. She’s finally warming up, even though she wouldn’t allow anyone in her bed to help, not like, uh, well, you know.” Hildy shrugged and glanced at Shad. “She’s in my room with a host of bed warmers and blankets. She’s eaten and is feeling better.”

  Poppy glanced to the hearth to see Shad listening closely. She fought a twinge of jealousy. He seemed to like the saloon girl very much. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  Directing her attention to the bowl of porridge, she was suddenly ravenous, even to the point of pain. She hadn’t eaten since last night’s bedtime biscuit. Her stomach growled loudly.

  “Please give her my—our—regards.”

  Shad nodded and made his way over to the tray with quiet footsteps as Hildy hurried away.

  Poppy chanced a peek over the edge of the bed to see his stockinged feet. My reputation is ruined.

  He smiled at her. “Hungry?”

  “Very, but I can serve myself.”

  She hated to lose any of the wonderful warmth under the covers if she sat up, but nothing could help that. She scooted against the headboard and stuck the pillow Shad had used behind her back, then pulled the covers to her neck. She reached for the bowl.

  He beat her to it. “No, you can’t. Your hands are a mess. As soon as you eat, that’s the next order of business.” He scooped a spoonful from the bowl, tested it on the side of his lip, and held it up to her mouth.