Mountain Dreams Series: Books 1 - 3: Mountain Dreams Box Set 1

by Misty M. Beller

  "Feel how soft, Clara Lee."

  Claire forced herself back to the present. Gram held up a folded piece of blue damask silk, a smile lighting her worn face so it shone. Claire's own heart lifted.

  She reached to finger the material. Much softer than she'd expected. "It's lovely, Gram. Truly."

  "It came all the way from Japan. Across the Pacific Ocean and over the mountains. Wasn't it special of Mose to bring it?"

  Claire glanced up at the man, who stared at Gram as if every word she said were better than water in the desert. "Yes, it was very kind, Mr. Calhoun. However did you come by it?" And what in the Book of Genesis was going on between the two of them? Some kind of adolescent courting ritual?

  "Please, Miz Sullivan. Call me Mose. Everyone does." He darted a glance at Gram. "Or Ol' Mose. That's the way most people say it." A flush crept into his cheeks.

  "All right."

  Gram’s hand slipped into Claire's, squeezing gently. Claire ran a thumb over the wrinkled surface of Gram's skin and squeezed back. This man was special to her grandmother. The least she could do was get to know him.

  Ol' Mose shuffled his feet. "Well, much as I'd rather stay an' keep company with the two prettiest ladies I'se ever seen, Zeb an' Zeke've been awful patient after this long trip. I'd best get'm settled in."

  Gram released Claire's hand and pushed to her feet, then reached out to the man.

  He took her hand in his and slipped her fingers through his elbow as though they were a young couple out for a moonlit stroll. "Miz Claire, I'm awful glad you're here. An' I'm especially glad you was here to help Miz Alice when that stove tried to fight back." He tossed a wink over his shoulder at Claire.

  Claire tried her best to keep the amusement from her face. "I'm glad I was, too."

  When the pair reached the door, Claire tried not to be conspicuous while she watched them.

  Ol' Mose turned to face Gram and pressed a kiss to her good hand. "I'm hopin' you'll let me to pick ya both up fer dinner at Aunt Pearl's. You'd sure be the best comp'ny I’ve had since I was here last, an' I can't wait ta taste them blueberry pies you made."

  A jolt ran through Claire. Aunt Pearl. Scurrying toward the sleeping chamber, she grabbed a fresh apron and glanced at herself in the mirror above the wash basin. One more pin would help contain her hair for the long evening ahead.

  That done, she strode from the bedroom to find Ol' Mose and Gram still standing by the door. The man took a quick step away from Gram. Had he been whispering in her ear? Or something more? He held Gram's hand in his as he shuffled from one foot to the other.

  A smile pushed its way onto Claire's face. She should probably be worried, but the two were so cute. "I have to get to the café. Will I see you both there for dinner?" Claire strode toward them and touched Gram's shoulder.

  "Yes, dear. Moses is going to come back after he's taken the mules to the livery. We'll walk over together."

  Claire glanced out the open door at the animals. "Sir, you may want to help Mr. Jackson. He took a fall today and needs to rest his shoulder."

  Mose stepped onto the porch, settling his hat on his head. "I'll do it. Usually take care o' Zeb an' Zeke myself anyways." His mouth twitched as he gave her a sideways glance. "They tend ta get orn'ry if things ain't done jest so."

  That toothy grin of his was hard to resist.

  "Good. I'll head on now."

  Claire lengthened her stride as she followed the path between Gram's house and the café. It was a blessing she’d delivered the blueberry pies earlier, as soon as the last ones came out of the oven. And good thing she'd made that last delivery for Aunt Pearl, or she wouldn't have come upon Doc Bryan and Mr. Jackson at the livery. Wouldn't have been there to tend the doctor's wound. She swallowed down the butterflies attempting to take flight in her midsection. Would he come into the café for dinner tonight? Did she want him to? And what about his wife? Would she accompany him?

  Customers in the café were unusually scarce that evening. Maybe partially due to its being a Tuesday. By the time Gram and Mose came in, she'd served meals to the patrons and was refilling coffee cups.

  "I've saved a quiet table here by the window for you." She motioned toward the corner, and Mose escorted Gram to where she pointed. Claire followed them over to help Gram settle into the chair, but Mose was already on the job. Easing her down, sliding her chair in. Interesting that Gram allowed him to do all that coddling. Definitely something going on between them.

  After Gram was settled to his satisfaction, Mose moved around to his chair across the table and perched on the edge, taking Gram's good hand in his. It looked very much like the two had slipped into their own little world.

  "I'll go get your food." Just in case they weren't too love-struck to eat. Claire spun and headed to the kitchen.

  Aunt Pearl and Lilly worked-side by-side at the stove. Claire stopped at the counter beside them and loaded two plates of pork and cabbage onto her tray. "Do either of you ladies know a man named Moses Calhoun?" She tried to make the question sound casual.

  Pearl tilted her head. "Calhoun. Oh, you mean Ol' Mose?"

  "Yes, he said some people called him that."

  The older woman chuckled. "Honey, everybody calls him that. Your grandma's the only one he lets call him Moses to his face. Didn't even know he had a last name until I heard her mention it." Aunt Pearl's gaze grew distant, her thin lips softening in a smile. "They sure are a sweet couple. Both of 'em with hearts o' gold. It's about time for him ta be back in town, I think."

  Claire nodded toward the dining area. "He's out there now, treating Gram to dinner. For some reason, I didn't know about him." She raised her brows at Aunt Pearl. "Seems like a nice man, but I had no idea he was so important to Gram."

  Aunt Pearl only shrugged. "'Tweren't my news ta tell. Far as I've seen, they've both been smitten since the day Doc Alex's wife introduced the two of 'em."

  The words took several seconds to sink in. Doc Alex's wife? She felt like smacking her forehead. What a simpleton she was. How had she forgotten Bryan had a brother who also worked here as a doctor? And Gram had even told her that first morning how glad she was he'd married a sweet mountain girl. Hoisting the tray onto her shoulder, Claire spun and pushed through the curtain to hide her burning cheeks. Surely people would assume the flush was from the heat of the kitchen.

  As she approached the table where she'd left Gram and Ol' Mose, Claire blinked to clear her vision. Another man had pulled up a chair. His tall back and broad shoulders were all she could see as he sat at the short end of the table facing away from her. But that familiar profile sent her chest into a heavy thumping.

  Bryan? He wore a dark blue shirt now, not the white cotton with the torn sleeve he'd had on earlier.

  As she approached the table, he turned and settled those greenish-brown eyes on her. The butterflies flitted in her stomach again. No need to be nervous around him. He was just a man. Same as Ol' Mose or Papa or her older brother Marcus. Of course, this man didn't have decent manners like the others. Couldn't keep a civil tongue in his mouth.

  The doctor's chair scraped as he slid it back and stood with a respectful nod. That was a little mannerly. Ol' Mose followed suit, and she motioned them both down again.

  "I only brought two plates, but I'll go get another." She kept her gaze focused on the tables so she didn't make eye contact with him.

  "I'd appreciate it."

  The richness in his voice pulled her attention despite her best efforts. Claire's gaze took in the roguish tilt of his mouth, the way one brow raised a little higher than the other. The strong curve of his cheekbones. She swallowed and spun away. "I'll be back."

  She couldn't have said whether she spoke to Pearl or Lilly in the kitchen, but as she approached the table in the front corner again, her ears strained for any words in their conversation. Ol' Mose was telling a story with animated expressions, his hands spreading to add emphasis to his words. He was humorous to watch, with a demeanor that brought a smile
no matter what her mood. Too bad Gram couldn't see him.

  Claire's eyes flickered to her grandmother. Gram's milky gaze stared ahead, a smile tickling her mouth as she listened to every nuance of Mose's voice. Sight or not, she enjoyed this man. That much was obvious. A warmth washed through Claire, but a pang quickly replaced it.

  She'd always clung to her only memory of Grandpop, from that time they visited North Carolina when she was five. Gram and Grandpop had so many wonderful years. Gram's letters had always shared news and messages from him. Now that it'd been over a year since his death, was it that easy for her to move on? Claire counted back the months in her mind. Almost two years really. Gram must be lonely in the house by herself. And how much easier would it be for her with another person around?

  But this man was a freighter. A man who drove his wagon across the Montana Territory for a living. How could Gram ever have a life with him? Did Gram even want that?

  Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. Maybe Ol' Mose was just a friend who Gram liked to visit with when he came to town.

  A laugh burst from the table. Gram gasped and clasped her hand to her mouth, but she couldn't contain another chortle. Bryan's deep baritone joined in, and Claire's feet carried her forward of their own accord.

  She placed the plate in front of the doctor and eyed the three of them. "Something must be funny here."

  Gram wiped tears from her eyes as she continued to chuckle. "Moses tells the best stories. I declare."

  "Jest sharin' life experiences, darlin'."

  Chapter Seven

  "But is it safe for you to ride alone in the wagon with that man?" Claire placed a hat pin in Gram's hand and watched her feel along the brim of the straw bonnet and insert the long metal rod. "Where's he taking you?"

  Gram might think it was harmless, but riding by herself with a strange man was not safe. Especially when she couldn't see where they were going.

  Gram reached out, and Claire slipped her hand into Gram's. "Clara Lee, I trust Moses. He's a good man. Most of the people here have known him for years and would trust him with their lives. I trust him with my life." Was the hitch in her tone only the quiver of an aging voice? "You go to the café like you normally do. I'll be enjoying the beautiful sunshine and the pleasant company."

  Running her free hand over her hair, Claire sighed. "All right. But I'm going to ask him where he's taking you."

  A chuckle followed as the older woman gripped her cane and thumped from the sleeping chamber into the kitchen.

  While Ol' Mose assisted Gram into the wagon, Claire extracted from the man every possible route he might take to each destination he planned. By the time he shuffled back around the front of the mules, she couldn't think of any other questions.

  He stopped in front of her and slipped his hands over one of hers. "Miz Claire. You rest assured I'll take the best care o' yer Gram I ever could. She means more ta me than I'm willin' ta say jest yet. I'm awful glad she agreed ta spend her day with me, and you can bet I don't want t'either of ya worrin'."

  Staring into the man's face, she could see he cared. The stark earnestness outlined in his eyes by the deep grooves couldn't be simulated. "All right. You two enjoy the pretty day."

  When the wagon drove away, Claire stepped back inside the house. What now? She'd dusted and swept and scrubbed the place again this morning, so there wasn't much else to do in the little cottage. They'd already baked the bread for lunch at the café, and there wasn't enough time to bake the pies for after dinner. Maybe Aunt Pearl would be okay with her coming early to the café. Lilly worked so hard to prepare the meal. Surely she'd appreciate an extra set of hands.

  Gathering the two overloaded crates of bread, Claire traipsed to the back door of the café and let herself in. Lilly glanced up from her seat by the work table, and a hint of a smile touched her face when their eyes connected. That was progress. Even the glance was more than the woman usually gave.

  "I hope it's okay that I'm early. Gram went out with a friend, so I thought I could help." Claire heaved the boxes onto the counter by the stove and brushed her hands as she turned to scan the room. "Where's the little one?"

  Lilly paused from slicing ham and pointed the carving knife toward a pallet of blankets in the corner.

  Claire searched the quilts in the dim area. At last her gaze found the sweet little face, eyes closed and fist balled near her mouth. So serene. "She's beautiful, Lilly. When does she turn two?"

  "August twenty-second." The woman's speech was so perfect, her enunciation distinct, but with just enough lilt to sound forced. Like she was trying to be something she wasn't.

  "I know you're proud."

  Lilly ducked her head to focus on the meat as she sliced. Claire pulled a loaf from the top crate and settled in the empty chair beside Lilly to slice it.

  For a while, they worked in companionable silence. What could she ask that wouldn't sound like prying and wouldn't make the woman uncomfortable? Claire pursed her lips. There was such a mystery about these two. A tragedy just under the surface. A need she wanted so much to fill.

  "How long have you worked here with Aunt Pearl?" That should be innocuous enough.

  "Two and a half years."

  "My. That's quite a while. Did you live in Butte before that, or had you just come?"

  "A couple months before." Lilly's hand sawed faster at the meat.

  A nervous reaction from being questioned? Or anger as she remembered a story from the past? Either way, Claire should stop pressing for details Lilly obviously didn't want to share.

  After Claire had sliced all the bread in her first box, a movement from the corner caught her attention. Dahlia reached forward in a cat-like stretch, then sat up, her fine dark hair rumpled on one side. Adorable.

  Claire set down her knife and circuited the table to crouch in front of the little girl. "Hi, Dahlia. Did you get a good sleep?"

  The little head bobbed, eyes wide until a yawn took over her face.

  "Would you like to come have a slice of fresh bread and butter? I made the bread with my Gram."

  The nod was slighter this time, and Dahlia ducked a little at the end, like she wasn’t sure she should have said yes.

  "Come over here, then." Claire held out her hand, and Dahlia's little fingers slid into it. Warmth started in Claire's palm where the precious little hand trusted hers, and the heat crept all the way up to her chest.

  Claire sat at the table and settled Dahlia in her lap with a still-warm slice of bread spread with blackberry jam. The jam was a splurge, but Aunt Pearl doted on the child and surely wouldn't mind.

  "Where is Aunt Pearl today?" Claire asked the other woman.

  "She took food to the doctor's clinic for sick patients." Lilly brushed a lock of Dahlia's hair behind her ears before she resumed slicing the wedge of cheese in front of her.

  Claire's attention jumped to alert at the mention of the doctor. "I suppose you've met the doctor several times, since you've lived here so long."

  "Yes. Doctor Alex and his wife are very nice. Miriam is kind to my Dahlia."

  Hmm… "I haven't met them yet, actually. Although I'd like to. I've only seen the other brother, Bryan."

  A real smile actually bloomed on Lilly's face. "Doctor Bryan is an angel. A gift from God. He helped my Dahlia come into the world, and for that I'll always be grateful."

  An angel? That had to be stretching it a bit. Still, Lilly seemed to have few people to rely on. Being grateful to the man who helped with the successful birthing of this little cherub was natural. Although the glow on Lilly's face at the mention of the doctor was a little much. Interesting.

  ~ ~ ~

  A large hole in the ground loomed in front of Bryan. Cables rising from the bottom all the way to the massive pulleys dangling from the top of the headframe, about fifty feet in the air. All was quiet except a periodic rumble that sounded a bit like snoring.

  With the pack over his shoulder, Bryan stepped through the open door at the base of the towerin
g wooden structure.

  A clatter sounded from the raised platform where the elevator operator worked.

  "Halsten?" Bryan craned his neck to see up.

  The noise of wood on wood, boot thuds, then a head of dark, bushy hair and beard peered over the edge. "Doc. Didn't 'spect ta see you today."

  Bryan held in a grin. "Need to go down an' see a few men. Do you mind?"

  "Naw." Halsten's head disappeared from the platform edge. "Jest give me a few minutes ta bring 'er up."

  "Appreciate it."

  Within a quarter hour, the top of the elevator cage appeared, rising up from the murky hole like a slow-moving geyser. Bryan slid between the wooden slats onto the swaying platform. "Ready."

  The rickety contraption shook and creaked and swung about as it lowered. The ride up or down always seemed to take hours. It helped if he took his mind off the cage that carried him, and he had to force himself not to think about whether Halsten had inspected the cables recently. He shifted his stance to make up for the extra weight of the pack on his shoulder. The whole enclosure rattled and groaned with his activity. He stilled. No more movement until he reached the bottom of this pit.

  Bryan inhaled a steadying breath. At least the extra heaviness in his bag was exciting. The masks Alex had commissioned from friends in Montreal finally arrived. They were a new design, made with a filter to cleanse the air of impurity as the person wearing the mask inhaled. The exhaled air was routed by a flange through a different opening, similar to the way a human's epiglottis allowed air through the windpipe but redirected food through the esophagus. An amazing design. Lord, please help these masks work. Help the men be willing to wear the things.

  When he stepped off the elevator at the floor of the main shaft, Bryan greeted the miners he met by name. He'd worked hard over the last two years to build trust and rapport with the men. It helped that they didn't have to pay for his services, thanks to the generosity of Gideon and Leah Bryant, who paid his wages. Good people, the Bryants were. A special breed.