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

by Misty M. Beller

  Claire studied Bryan from the corner of her eye as he examined the stitches on the side of her palm. He was so much more handsome than she'd thought that first day. His strong jaw, those piercing green eyes, every one of his masculine features crafted the most attractive man she'd ever met.

  But that was crazy thinking. Her future wasn't here, but his was. She'd come to this territory to help Gram. And soon, Gram would be married, and there'd be nothing left for Claire to do. Except pay off Gram's bill at the dry goods store. Then go back home.

  But what then? Help Pa with his medical practice? Plan another benefit for the Charlotte Ladies Aid Society? It all seemed so dull, so routine compared to every moment in these beautiful Montana mountains.

  Compared to this moment…with this man. She swallowed to bring moisture back in her throat.

  Bryan glanced up and gave her an off-kilter smile. He reached for a clean bandage and the salve. Had he read her thoughts? Lord, no. Heat flooded her face.

  "Did I tell you we have a new dentist in town?" His baritone drawled like one of the old men playing checkers back home.

  Claire blinked, trying to catch up with the topic so very different than her thoughts. "A dentist?"

  “Mm-hm." He caught his tongue between his teeth as he tied off the bandage.

  "Will that be bad for your business? You know, competition?"

  He looked up with an earnestness that clenched her chest. "Not at all. We have more work than Alex and I can handle. Unfortunately. And dental work is…a specialty." He cocked his head. "I just hope the man knows what he's doing."

  A rich, yeasty scent drifted on the breeze, tugging at Claire's senses. "My bread." She jumped to her feet and lunged toward the door.

  The top surface of the loaves was a darker brown than she would have liked, but not officially burnt. She loosened the bread from the sides of the pans and emptied them onto the counter, then refilled the metal tins with the dough for the last four loaves.

  After she slid them into the oven, she turned and offered Bryan a smile. "Sorry about that. Would you like a slice of warm bread? I think we may have a smidgeon of blackberry jam left."

  His eyes lit like Marcus' had as a boy opening birthday gifts. "Sure."

  Claire turned away to hide her grin at his reaction. She pulled a knife from the jar where Gram kept them, and positioned it over the bread.

  "Wait." The command made her jump, and Bryan was by her side in less than a second. One of his hands cupped her shoulder while the other tried to extract the knife from her grip. "I'll do it."

  Part of her wanted to sink her elbow in his side, but the rest of her couldn't help a smile as a warm, fuzzy feeling crept into her chest. He was trying to protect her. "I can do it, you know." It wouldn't be fun to give in too easily.

  "Humor me this once." He was so close, one arm practically around her shoulders and the other hand covering hers on the knife handle.

  She chanced a sideways glance at his face. And froze. Her breath stopped as her gaze locked with his, falling into the depth of those eyes. Normally more green, they'd darkened to almost the richness of coffee.

  His breath caressed her face. At least he could breathe. His hand slid from her shoulder down to her waist. She turned into him, resting her hands on his chest, as he lowered his mouth to hers.

  Sweet mercy. She was lost the moment he connected. Who would have thought a kiss could consume every part of her…so completely?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sweet maple sugar. Bryan savored the richness of her, running his hands up her arms, into her hair. She poured passion into her kiss the same way she did every other part of life. So much better than he'd dreamed.

  She released a little moan, and it surged through him. He had to get control, or he was going to lose himself completely.

  With every ounce of his strength, he tore himself away. At least a few inches, as his forehead dropped to rest on hers. She seemed to struggle for air as much as he.

  He slid his palms down to cup her face. "You're beautiful." His chest ached just watching her. His body held strong to the memory of that kiss. Too strong to apologize for it just yet.

  "Bryan." His name came from her in a breathy whisper. Good or bad, it was more than he could stand. He went back for another kiss, this one slow and lingering.

  When he finally pulled away, he held her close, one hand at the small of her back, the other cupping her cheek. Her face was still upturned to him. As her eyelids fluttered open, they held a dreamy, unfocused look. Her parted lips were plump from the rush of blood. Tempting. So tempting.

  His gaze wandered back up to her eyes, starting to sharpen now. "I should probably apologize."

  One of those beautiful eyebrows lifted. "You should?"

  His mouth pulled in a grin. "I'd rather not."

  Her chest rose and fell in what might have been a mind-clearing breath. Then she stepped back. "I, um… I'll get the jam if you want to slice the bread."

  He had to blink. Bread. Right. Bryan sawed three slices from the loaf. He needed to say something to ease the awareness sparking between them. "At least I didn't let you hurt yourself with the knife."

  She had no visible reaction to his words, just reached down to pull two plates and a spoon from a lower shelf. With deliberation, she straightened and turned to face him squarely. Her lips pursed, but a twinkle flashed in her eye. "Your methods, sir, are suspect."

  Bryan didn't even try to hold back his grin. He was going to like getting to know this woman.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Here you go, gentlemen. You won’t find a better beefsteak anywhere in the territory.” Claire passed out each of the four plates from the tray propped in her left hand.

  “Nor a prettier server.”

  Claire raised a brow at the man to hide the heat crawling up her neck. “Now, Mr. Lincoln.”

  The town’s wiry postmaster raised a hand in defense, ducking behind it. “No offense intended, Miss Sullivan. Just statin’ facts.”

  Mr. Hauswirth elbowed the man in the ribs. “Hush, Frank. Let the woman serve the food.”

  Claire chuckled as she scanned the table. “Just call if there’s anything else you need.” Mr. Lincoln nodded through a mouthful of steak and potatoes, and one of the men across from him raised a thumb in the “all’s well” sign as he stuffed a biscuit between his jaws.

  The bell at the door jingled, and Claire turned with her empty tray to greet the newcomer. She’d not seen the man before, so she gave him a pleasant smile and her official greeting. “Welcome to Aunt Pearl’s Café, sir. Take a seat wherever you’d like.”

  The man removed his hat with a nod. “Thank you.”

  Claire ducked behind the curtain into the kitchen and set her tray on the counter beside the stove. “Do we have more coffee ready?”

  “You can take these two.” Aunt Pearl stepped away from the stove to allow access to the pitchers. “You need the tray refilled, too?”

  “Just one plate for now. A new man I haven’t seen before.” Claire grasped the handles of the two coffee pots by the towels tied around them and backed away.

  “A miner?”

  “Looked like a businessman.”

  “Don’t have time to introduce myself.” Pearl poured gravy over the plate of beefsteak in her hand. Lilly and Dahlia were both feeling poorly today, so Aunt Pearl had told them not to come back after the lunch meal. Lilly’s quick efficiency was sorely missed tonight, though. And keeping up with the patrons really did take three sets of hands. How had Pearl and Lilly managed for so long with only the two of them?

  “Let me pour coffee, and I’ll come back for his plate.”

  As she filled the stranger’s coffee cup, Claire tried not to stare at the man’s curled handle-bar mustache. “Supper tonight is beefsteak and mashed potatoes with gravy and a biscuit. Aunt Pearl makes the best beefsteak in the territory. She’s filling your plate, so I’ll have it out shortly.”

  “Thank you, Miss…” He waited f
or her to fill in her name.

  “Sullivan, sir.” She bobbed a curtsey.

  The man nodded. “Miss Sullivan. I’m Doctor J. W. Beal. I’ll be opening a dental clinic here in town.”

  Claire stepped back as excitement surged. “I heard there was a new dentist in town. That’s excellent.” She barely bit her tongue before she asked if he was any good. Truly, she needed to focus on thinking before she spoke.

  Humor touched the man’s eyes. “I’m glad you think so. I hope the other townspeople feel the same.”

  Claire backed away from the table. “I’ll be back with your plate shortly.” She stopped to refill coffee mugs at two tables before returning to the kitchen. The bell jingled, and she looked up.

  Bryan. Her chest thumped as butterflies flitted in her stomach.

  His gaze found hers, and a grin spread across his face. He turned his steps toward her, and Claire could do nothing but stand in the middle of the aisle and watch him approach. He was so handsome.

  For a moment, it looked like he might step close and kiss her. Her heart beat faster.

  But he stopped a couple feet away, his gaze hovering on her face. “Good evening.”

  “Good evening.” She couldn’t have said how long they stood there, staring at each other.

  “Howdy, Doc.” The greeting forced its way through the fuzz in Claire’s mind.

  Bryan glanced behind her. “Hello, Simon. How’s the hotel doin’?”

  “Just fine. Had to get outta there for some quiet, though.”

  A smile touched Bryan’s face and he turned back to her. “Do you have an extra plate left?”

  The words jolted Claire. “Of course. Have a seat.” The poor man had come to eat and she’d kept him standing in the aisle. “There’s a table in the corner, or…” She stepped closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Our new dentist is sitting right there.” She nodded toward the man sipping coffee.

  Bryan raised both brows at her. “Guess I should introduce myself.” As he turned toward the man, Bryan cupped her elbow, brushing his thumb across her upper arm for a quick moment. It was a simple gesture, but the contact sent a skitter of bumps up her shoulder.

  Scurrying back to the kitchen, she gathered two plates and a clean mug on her tray. When she reentered the dining room, Bryan sat across from Mr. Beal. The two chatted easily as she approached.

  “I’ve been at Alder Gulch for the last ten years or so,” the dentist was saying. “I’ve missed a larger town, though. The way they say Butte’s growing, I imagine it’ll be quite a city in a few more years.”

  Bryan glanced up with a soft smile as Claire filled his mug. “Harris, the superintendent of The Anaconda, came by way of Alder. And Lockton from The Original. Is the gold still flowing there the way it did in the sixties?”

  As the dentist responded, Claire slipped away. She didn’t often see this side of Bryan. The part of him who was comfortable debating with any businessman. Who not only knew the names of the most influential men in town, but knew the men personally. Knew their stories.

  With Bryan so near, it was hard to keep her focus on work, but the demands of the coming and going patrons soon had her scurrying.

  Both Bryan and Mr. Beal had finished eating when she made it back to their table to refill coffee mugs. “Are you ready for dessert?”

  Mr. Beal leaned his tall frame back in the chair. “None for me tonight. The food was as good as you said, though.”

  "Thank you, sir." She smiled politely and turned to Bryan.

  His gaze dripped with remorse. “I’d better not. Need to stop by Alex’s before it gets too late.”

  “Another time then.” Or maybe she could wrap a piece for him to take. Surprise him with it.

  After thanking them both, she scurried back to the kitchen and prepared a generous slice of the pecan pie.

  “I can do that for ya.” Aunt Pearl turned from the sink where she was elbow deep in wash water.

  “I’ve got it. Doc Bryan doesn’t have time to stay for dessert, so I’m sending a piece with him.” She glanced up to make sure Aunt Pearl was fine with the idea.

  The woman bobbed her head. “Good.”

  When Claire pushed through the curtain doorway, her eyes landed on the table where the doctors sat. Empty. She scanned the room. Bryan wasn’t there. The front door was just closing, however, and she sprang forward. Maybe she could catch him on the porch.

  As she charged through the door, the two men on the porch stopped conversing and turned to her. Oops. She hadn’t meant to be quite so eager. “Sorry, I…was trying to catch Doc Bryan.”

  Doctor Beal tipped his hat. “I’ll take my leave then. And thanks for the information, Doctor Donaghue.”

  They both watched the dentist descend the stairs and stride down the quiet street.

  “Seems like a decent fellow.” Bryan’s deep baritone merged with the sounds of the crickets.

  “I’m glad.” She held out the bundle in her hands. “I wrapped a slice of pie for you to take. It’s pecan.”

  One of his long steps brought him closer, a few feet separating them. “Thanks.” A smile laced his voice, but shadows hid his face. “I was pretty disappointed I wouldn’t get a piece.”

  As he took the package, his fingers brushed the side of her hand, shooting warmth up to her elbow.

  “Claire?” The uncertainty in his voice grabbed her attention. She searched out his gaze, but the darkness made him impossible to read.

  “Yes.”

  “Would you…like to go for a ride with me on Sunday? We could take a wagon and see some of the prettier views in the mountains or…” His brows furrowed. “Do you know how to ride horseback?”

  Claire’s heart sped, and her head seemed to lose half its weight. “I love to ride and…” She stopped to inhale a deep breath. Cool it, Sullivan. “I would enjoy seeing the mountains.” Her mind ran through the coming Lord’s day. “I have to serve lunch, but the café’s closed for dinner, so I could leave right after.”

  A flash of his white teeth showed in the darkness. “Good.”

  He stood quietly for a moment. What was he thinking? Did he remember their kiss? The memory still lingered in all of her senses. Did he want to repeat it?

  The sound of male voices drifted on the breeze. They came from the direction of Main Street and grew louder. Claire’s shoulders sagged. No privacy now.

  Bryan stepped back as the men meandered into sight. “I’d better go.”

  Claire tried to force a smile, even though he probably couldn’t see it. "All right."

  As Bryan strode down the stairs, he passed the newcomers on the street. His polite “Gentlemen” drifted through the night air, and she couldn’t help but cling to the sound as she watched him walk away.

  Sunday was just two days away. It couldn’t come soon enough.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bryan rubbed his damp palms against the sides of his jacket. Even in Montana, men shouldn’t be expected to wear a suit and tie in the middle of July. He clenched his fist to keep from tugging at the knotted string around his neck.

  What would the men think of his proposal? These three mine owners held the fate of three quarters of the miners in the grip of their whim. Would they hear him out? It’d been a near act of God to get the three of them to meet with him. Together.

  But maybe that hadn’t been wise. Peer pressure could work against him just as easily as for him. Should he talk about the cost of the masks right away? Or wait until they asked? Forthrightness had always been his policy. Showed men you weren’t hiding things.

  The door opened and an older woman wearing an apron stepped out. “The gentlemen will see you now, Doctor.”

  He picked up the breathing mask and pushed to his feet. “Thank you, Miss Percy.”

  The woman’s smile shone across her ebony face as he passed by her through the doorway. “You keep yer chin up, Doc Bryan. You’s doin’ a good thing.”

  The whispered words sent a warmth through his
chest. Miss Genevieve Percy was one of the most big-hearted women he’d ever met. Martin Daly better know what kind of gem he had in her.

  Bryan strode across the large parlor to greet the men seated around a long, low table. They stood to shake hands with him. One would never know by watching the group they were fierce competitors.

  When they’d settled back in seats, Martin held up a brandy glass. “What’s your drink, Doctor?”

  Bryan scanned the various bottles and decanters on the tray beside the man. He had to take something. There, a silver coffee urn. “Coffee. Thanks.”

  While Martin poured, the other men turned their full attention to Bryan. Best get started. “I appreciate the three of you meeting with me.”

  William Clark nodded. “You said it was important to the health of our workers.” He spread one hand wide. “So, naturally, we’re interested.” Clark was too much of a politician to make everything he said believable, but that might be a card Bryan could use. The man would want to keep up the appearance of goodwill toward his men.

  Bryan leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, his eyes roaming to hold each man’s gaze as he spoke. “The men working in the mines have been suffering from an increasing amount of lung conditions. Usually showing as congestion that worsens over time, then develops into fever and frailty a few weeks before they die. So far, this has been the cause of death for at least thirty men over the past year.”

  He paused for breath and to let that sink in. “I’m currently treating hundreds more for the same symptoms, all suffering in various stages of the disease.”

  Daly rested his drink on his knee, the lines deepening across his broad forehead. “What do you think is causing the illness?”

  “I think it’s something they're breathing in the mines. It may simply be lack of quality air. Or might be a component in the dust that coats everything down there.”

  “Are you seeing it more in any particular trade? The blasters, perhaps?” Martin sounded as if he really cared.

  “No.” Bryan thought through the jobs of the men who were especially sick. “It’s not constrained to the men working with explosives. I’ve seen it across all trades, I think.”