Montana Courage (McCutcheon Family Series Book 9)

by Caroline Fyffe

  Luke preceded them through the door.

  Lucky was the first to stand and come forward. The others crowded around behind.

  “Men,” Luke began, still feeling heavyhearted about Uncle Pete. His unexpected passing felt like a bad dream. Made a man realize that he was mortal, and best be prepared to meet his maker at any given point. “This is Nick and Tanner Petty, Shad’s younger brothers. We’ve known they were on their way, but just didn’t know when to expect ’em.”

  “Howdy.” The middle-aged cook held out his hand in welcome. Lucky’s face, wan and lined with fatigue, was missing his characteristic smile. Uncle Pete had been a good friend to them all. “Welcome aboard,” he added as an afterthought. “You let me know about your birthdays, and I’ll bake ya a cake.”

  Nick and Tanner smiled, their saddlebags still slung over their shoulders.

  Luke pointed around the room. “That’s Francis. Don’t tease him about his name, or he’ll take it to fists. That’s Jonathan or John, whatever you like, Ike, Smokey, and Lucky. We have a little cowpoke named Hickory, but during these storms, he stays in the big house with my folks. And a hand named Pedro, but I believe he’s in the barn.”

  When Luke glanced at Francis in question, he saw the young man nod. “I explained why Shad isn’t here at the moment,” Luke went on. “He got recruited by Sheriff Crawford to fill in for a few days at the hotel. We don’t really know when to expect him back, so we’re playing the situation by ear.”

  “Howdy,” each brother said to the men, looking around the room. Both appeared dirty, unshaven, and heavy-lidded from their long, difficult journey.

  “We’re real sorry to hear about your friend,” Nick said, and Tanner nodded. “That’s a real shame.”

  The ranch hands dipped their chins or mouthed some quiet response, but for the most part, they just stood there.

  Luke caught the Petty brothers looking at the fire a few times. They must be frozen all the way through, even after the time spent in the house. Their getting here in the midst of the storm said much about their character and stick-to-it-ness, a quality all the McCutcheons admired in anyone.

  “Lucky will show you which bunks are free,” Luke said, unable to stop his gaze from tracking over to Uncle Pete’s empty bed. The bedcovers had been changed and done up with fresh linens. The rest of the beds around the room were made, but all looked laid upon, or mussed.

  Luke remembered the time Uncle Pete had short-sheeted Ike’s bed when a tipsy Ike returned after a few too many drinks from his day off visiting the Hitching Post. Luke had heard the story more times than he could count, and it still made him laugh. All the men pretended to be asleep as Ike tried his darnedest to get into his bed, to no avail. Ike mumbled as he fell out the first time, and second, and third, and then let rip a streak of words to make even a cowpuncher blush when he realized he’d been had. They’d ribbed him for a year after that, praising Uncle Pete for the entertainment, all done in good fun.

  Enough woolgathering. Luke jerked his attention back to introductions. “Smokey, how far up to Covered Bridge did you and Ike get today?” Best to get everyone’s minds back to work. “See anything unusual?”

  “Halfway, boss,” Smokey replied, looking comfortable with a coffee mug in one hand and his other elbow rested on the fireplace mantel. “Some places the drifts are just too deep to ride, as we suspected. Found following the north fence line helped. We caught a glimpse of some of the cattle.”

  “And?”

  “Some still digging around, trying to find feed, but others seem to have given up.”

  Sick to heart, Luke nodded. He’d seen the same on his ride from his homestead. “As soon as you can make it the whole way, release all the hay stored in the loft. The amount is not near enough to last the winter. Hell, it won’t last more than a couple of weeks, but something is better than nothing. We can hope for a warm wind, or better yet, a long, warm rain.” That was what could come to the rescue, if anything at all.

  Another look at the Petty brothers told him they were trying to look alert and interested but were dead on their feet. They had a strong family resemblance to Shad.

  “As I said before,” Luke said to Nick and Tanner, “for now, Shad is stuck in town. Not sure when he’ll make it back. Roady Guthrie, our foreman, will be in a bit later to lay out what we’ll be doing for the next few days. Normally, we have a routine, but with this weather, we take it day by day.”

  Seeing the men were still holding their saddlebags, Luke said, “Come on, Lucky, get these men situated. They’ve had a long, hard ride, and I’m sure they’d like nothing better than to stretch out and get some shut-eye.”

  “Sure thing, boss.” The cook started for the far wall and waved the men over. “These two will do ya fine. Ya don’t need ta be right next ta yer big brother, I presume?”

  A ripple of laughter moved around the room.

  Good. A little humor.

  “’Course not,” Nick bit out.

  Luke hid his smile when Tanner Petty cut a disgusted look at his brother for taking the bait. Maybe their arrival was good timing. The men’s attention would turn to a little friendly hazing for the next few days. At least, that activity was something to get their minds off Uncle Pete and the hungry livestock.

  Luke pulled his hat down tight and headed toward the door. “You’re in good hands, boys,” he called behind him. “Get settled in. If you have questions, take ’em to Roady. If he’s not around, Smokey can help. Welcome to the Heart of the Mountains. You’re now riding for the McCutcheons.”

  Alone, Luke paused on the bunkhouse porch. The house, the snow-covered pines, and the snowy pastures beyond were all as still as a graveyard.

  Tired, he scrubbed a hand over his face and shoved away the gruesome thought. The ranch would get through this. They would survive. As much as he hated to think so, he believed many ranches would not.

  Question was, what would the territory look like come spring?

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Sitting alone in the dining room, Poppy waited for the noon meal, the only true meal she’d have today. Her belly growled. She sipped her watered-down coffee with delight. It was good, and sweet, no matter that the drink looked more like brown dishwater from the sink.

  She pulled her tattered cape more closely around her shoulders, thinking about the Sanger children. Three days ago, learning of their birthdays had given her hope. For what, she wasn’t quite sure. And today she felt optimistic. Good things were on the horizon.

  Her gaze wandered around the dining room and stopped on Oscar sitting alone on the far side of the restaurant, barely seen in the dim light. Since the roof collapse, he’d not said more than four words to her, a fact that didn’t make Poppy feel all that bad, if she were honest with herself.

  But that thought did make her repentant. Am I really that unforgiving? I’ve known Oscar all my life. I should feel at least something now that I know his true character doesn’t fit what I thought of him. Or perhaps feel sad that our relationship has come to a bad end.

  She wished she could go back to the farm and stay with Kathryn until the snow cleared enough to take a stage to Waterloo. The town that was a stopping point for all folks who were headed to Y Knot and beyond was much larger than this small cattle-ranching settlement. Waterloo had shops and restaurants aplenty. She and Oscar wouldn’t stumble over each other at every turn as they did now, and would continue to do in town once they were allowed to get out some. At the moment, her sullen friend, if she could still call him that, slowly spooned in the watered-down soup Cook had served them preceding the noon meal.

  She dropped her gaze to her cup when his regard wandered her way. His words of devotion the other day had hit her like a ton of bricks. She’d never gotten the feeling that he loved her. As children, they were best friends, getting into one situation after the other, sneaking snacks from their family’s two kitchens, running off to the Boston docks to watch the ships come in. Then, after being found out, the
y’d find a way to bail out each other and get on the good side of their parents. The challenge was exciting. Even though Oscar had always been promised to Kathryn, he gravitated to her, his friend. She’d even scolded her sister for turning him down.

  His words echoed in her mind. “I’ve always loved you, Poppy. Right from the very start.”

  Had she been wrong not to recognize that Ossy’s feelings for her were warmer than the friendship she felt for him?

  Feeling the heavy weight of guilt, she took another sip. How unfairly she’d treated Kathryn—and yet her sister had always been Poppy’s most ardent champion. Then and now. Will I ever make up for the past? That was a question she didn’t have the answer to, but she desperately wanted to try.

  She glanced again at Oscar. The man couldn’t wait to throw her into the fire at her father’s feet. Perhaps he’d ventured out already and sent a telegram. She’d not ask him and risk another dressing-down. For him, everything was either black or white, as she herself used to think. Now she was beginning to see hues of gray in her life, as well as pinks, blues, and yellows.

  At her silly thought, she smiled to herself. She’d try to send her own telegram today, if she could get over to the telegraph office. She’d been out of touch with her parents for a few weeks. Maybe she could soften them by explaining that she hadn’t had a choice in the matter of the collapse and the situation afterwards.

  A shiver of longing trickled down her spine as she remembered being in bed with him, snuggled against his side.

  Another daydream. Stick to reality. He’s a cowboy, and I’m leaving as soon as travel is possible.

  Poppy sighed and took another sip of coffee.

  Shad had returned to the hotel last night with a good-sized sack of sugar, a gift from Trent Herrick and his father. Seemed citizens who found themselves with a surplus of a food item shared with the hotel staff since they had so many more mouths to feed.

  Mel and Bonnie Grant were at their normal table on the right side of the room in front of the window that looked out back. Lenore hustled back and forth, collecting dirty dishes, and Hildy went about with the coffeepot, topping off cups.

  Today was Poppy’s day to help with the dishes, an activity she’d found she actually liked to do. Something was comforting about taking a dirty object and washing until it was sparkling clean.

  Cook had admonished her for taking so long and using too much water, but she didn’t care. She enjoyed her time in the kitchen. She was making up for the days she’d had her hands bandaged and couldn’t do a thing.

  Miss Aubrey appeared in the restaurant doorway, drawing everyone’s attention. She wore a borrowed dress just like Poppy. The homespun fabric looked out of place on the elegant woman who normally wore fabrics suited for entertainment. The wide cream-colored sash accentuated her small waist, though, and looked pretty. The length, a bit too long, caused her to hold up the skirt as she walked so she wouldn’t catch her boot toe in the hem. This was the first time the saloon woman had joined them in the dining room.

  After taking stock, she sashayed over to Poppy’s table, making the everyday dress look exceptional. “Good afternoon, Miss Ford,” she said in a soft, alluring voice.

  Poppy wished she could speak like that. “Good afternoon, Miss Aubrey,” she replied. Then, without even giving a thought to her already damaged reputation, she put out her hand and gestured to the seat opposite her. “I’d be ever so honored if you’d take this meal with me. I’m starved for conversation. How are you feeling?”

  “You sure? Might not be in your best interest, consorting with the likes of me.”

  Poppy followed the woman’s line of sight to see Cook standing in the doorway of the kitchen, watching with curiosity. Behind him, Harold and Lenore stared.

  What in the world was wrong with everyone? They knew Miss Aubrey well enough from the saloon. From what she’d heard, Miss Aubrey was friends with Harold. Why was he staring? He gawked as if she’d grown an extra head overnight.

  Fiddle-faddle. Let them be offended, if that’s the way they wanted to be. By Poppy’s way of thinking, they were all in this together.

  “Absolutely. I’ve been wondering about you. Hoping you’re doing better. Now I have a chance to find out firsthand.” She glanced at Miss Aubrey’s forehead. The lump had subsided under a shadowy bruise.

  “In that case, thank you, sugar.”

  As Miss Aubrey sat, Poppy chanced a quick look at Oscar, who gaped, his spoon frozen in midair. Why, the big two-faced ox. He’s known Miss Aubrey in the saloon but won’t acknowledge her outside those protective walls. Disgusting.

  Poppy felt like marching over to toss her coffee in his face. If the beverage were in plentiful abundance, she just might. At the mental picture, she began to laugh.

  Miss Aubrey, now situated in the seat across from her, looked up.

  “I’m sorry,” Poppy said. “I couldn’t help but notice Oscar Scott is about to burst his seams in indignation. He’s such a phony. Some people, I just can’t abide. And now, much to my surprise, he’s one of them.”

  Hildy approached. She smiled and poured Miss Aubrey some coffee, giving her a conspiratorial wink. “That’s a pretty frock on you,” she said quietly.

  Poppy waited until Hildy was gone. “Her dress?”

  Miss Aubrey nodded. “What I brought is still boarded off on the third floor.”

  “Mine too,” Poppy replied, feeling comfortable with the woman. She wondered where Shad was today, hoping he didn’t miss the one meal. She took a sip of coffee, smiling at Miss Aubrey, and then set her cup into its saucer. “I’ve been making do by the generosity of others, as well.”

  The saloon woman smiled in response. “I’m going home today, and wanted to thank you before I left. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t come to my rescue, much to your own detriment.” She glanced at Poppy’s hands. “I’m indebted now and forever. Not everyone would do what you did for a woman like me.”

  “Nonsense,” Poppy sputtered. Miss Aubrey’s acknowledgment was the last thing she was expecting. They’d sent word back and forth during their recoveries, but hadn’t spoken in person. “You would have done the same for me, I’m sure. I am just glad I was able to help.”

  Lenore arrived with a tray. She set it on a stand and served Poppy.

  The plate had two small slices of beef, a side bowl of rice covered in something that look like it was meant to be gravy—she didn’t want to know what Cook had used to make enough for everyone—and two small biscuits. She’d not look a gift horse in the mouth.

  Next, Lenore set a bowl of the soup like Poppy had just finished in front of Miss Aubrey.

  “Thank you,” Miss Aubrey said, lifting her spoon. She waited for the waitress to walk away before taking a taste.

  “Home? Where is that?” Poppy placed the biscuits into her napkin and carefully wrapped them.

  Miss Aubrey’s eyebrow tented. “For our little darlings?”

  Poppy nodded but waited for the answer to the question she’d just asked.

  “Why, home is the saloon, of course,” she replied in her sultry voice. The woman had two different voices she saved for different situations.

  Poppy reached out to touch her arm, but withdrew her hand. “You don’t have to go yet, just because the snow has stopped. Stay here where you have some company, and the rooms are warmer.”

  “I can’t. Abe left a week ago. By now, I’m sure some men are back to drinking and playing cards. He’ll need my help. Besides, I’ve been through harsh winters before.”

  Poppy took a bite of her meat and chewed. The size was small, but the portion was tasty.

  “I’m going stir-crazy staying in that room,” Miss Aubrey added. “I’ll enjoy doing something instead of reading and gathering dust.”

  What did the saloon girl think about? Where was she from? Poppy wondered if anyone knew. Dare she ask?

  Giggling and indistinguishable words marked the Sangers’ arrival for lunch. Mrs. Sanger ca
me through the door first, carrying one of the twins. Poppy was too far away to tell who.

  July came next, the other twin cuddled in his small arms. They took the table farthest away—as usual—and set each of the girls on a chair of their own, their tiny faces barely peeping over the top of the table. Mr. Sanger was nowhere to be seen.

  Poppy waved, and July waved back.

  “He’s so cute,” Miss Aubrey said.

  “He is.”

  Poppy wished she could do something to help the children who seemed so sad when with their parents, but were bright and happy when they were with her. For now, she’d just have to bide her time—even though a niggling down deep told her not to wait too long.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  With the noon meal over, most of the dining room had cleared. Mr. and Mrs. Grant stood, gave Poppy a polite nod, and tottered out of the room. Miss Aubrey had left several minutes ago.

  Poppy slowly sipped the remainder of her coffee, making it last. She was waiting, hoping to see Shad. Even though she’d been embarrassed to do so, she’d asked Hildy if she knew his whereabouts. She actually missed him, or was it just the conversations they shared? The room was quiet except for the clink of utensils at the Sanger table. Poppy was just about to go over and say hello when Mr. Sanger’s voice came bellowing from the lobby.

  After several angry shouts, he burst through the dining room door, stopped on spread feet like a pirate on his deck, and searched the room.

  He’s intoxicated. Where did he get the whiskey? Surely, Mrs. Sanger won’t let him near the children in that condition.

  When he spotted his family, he tramped angrily forward, making July cringe in fear.

  The little girls leaned so far away, Poppy was afraid they’d fall off their chairs. Alarmed, she pushed her to her feet. She didn’t care if the man was twice her size; she’d not allow him to hurt July or the girls.