Montana Renegade

by Ramona Flightner

  She traced his waistcoat and shook her head. “Mr. Hawke said he had something planned. Perhaps we should trust him?”

  “I’d feel better about trusting him if I knew what was coming,” Warren murmured.

  “But then you couldn’t plead innocent if there is a disaster,” Annabelle said with a wink, earning a reluctant chuckle from Warren. “We’ll all be there tomorrow, even Dee. We’ll support you in any way we can.” She smiled, although her worried gaze roved over the couple.

  After a moment Warren and Helen left the bakery and headed across the street. Rather than return home alone, she coaxed him to walk home with her. She shut the front door and gripped his hand, staring into his worried eyes. “Will you sit with me as I read his letter?”

  He cupped her cheek and nodded. “Of course, my love.”

  She sat beside him with the letter from her father and bit her lip. “I don’t know why I’m so afraid to open it.”

  “If I were to receive a letter from my father now, I would feel the same,” he whispered. “Hopeful yet afraid of having that hope dashed again.” He rested his arm along the back of the settee as he studied her downturned face. “Nothing that is written in that letter will change how I feel.”

  She sniffled, darting a grateful glance at him and then broke the wax seal. After a deep exhalation, she read in a shaky voice,

  My darling daughter,

  It has been ten years since I left your life. Ten years without seeing your smile. I know I have no right to regret the loss of you, as I am the one who left, but I do.

  I was a bear to be around. I know that now. Drink and anger fueled me during the days I lived with your mother. There is no one to blame. We were poorly suited and should not have married. I have little hope that your mother has not turned you against me, but I pray you are able to see, now that you are grown, that things are not always as we remember them. Or as those around us tell us how it was.

  I have found great joy with my second wife, Jane. I wish you could meet her. I wish I could have seen you when I was free of drink. To tell you all this in person. But your mother wouldn’t allow it.

  However, my greatest wish for you, Helen, is that you marry a man worthy of you. I know your mother has plans for you to marry a man to further her sense of security. I fear that prevents you from finding the happiness I know you deserve. Your presence never failed to brighten my day, even when all I wanted was to drown in my own sorrow. Please don’t make the same mistake I did.

  Your Father,

  Tata

  She sniffled as she lowered the letter.

  “Why Tata?” Warren whispered.

  “I called him that when I was a girl. I had trouble saying Dada and it came out as Tata.” She sniffled again. “I thought he’d forgotten me.” She lowered her head as she tried to swallow a sob but then burst into tears when Warren pulled her against his chest.

  “He didn’t forget you, Helen. You were precious to him, even though he didn’t know how to tell you at the time.” Warren pulled her close. “His anger was with your mother, never with you.”

  “I hate that I never got to see him when he was free of drink. That my mother kept me away from him.” Another sob burst forth, and she shuddered in his arms.

  “Let it all out, my Nell,” he whispered. “Be thankful he left you a letter. Now you know he loved you. That one of his last dying thoughts was of you.” He stroked a hand down her back as her sobs turned into gasping breaths. “He wouldn’t allow your mother to deny him that.”

  “I will never forgive her,” Helen whispered.

  Warren murmured his agreement as he held her while she calmed. “Her desperation makes more sense now though. Once your father died, his money stopped coming. I always wondered how she lived better than the desperate widows eking out survival off the charity of those around them.”

  “Why does she have no regard for me?” Helen whispered. “I will never understand.”

  “I don’t know, love.” He kissed her head and held her close.

  Chapter 15

  NEWS AND NOTEWORTHY

  It has come to this reporter’s attention that our estimable lawyer suffered a slanderous attack a few months ago. I recently received a letter of commendation from none other than the Chief Justice of the Pennsylvania Supreme Court, Mr. Daniel Elliott. In polite terms, he was irate that the citizenry in a small town in the Montana Territory doubted the legitimacy of his favorite protégé. Mr. Clark is as honorable, and qualified, as this reporter has always believed him to be.

  The following evening Warren and Helen walked into the Odd Fellows Hall together, her arm looped through his. They had donned matching relaxed smiles for the townsfolk, although he felt her tremble as she met the residents’ curious stares.

  “Many are still not used to seeing you with me,” he teased. “They are accustomed to me mooning over you at such events.”

  She laughed and batted at him with her free hand, her nerves forgotten. “You never realized I was just as desperate for any sight of you,” she whispered. Her eyes glowed as his arm stiffened beneath her hand at her comment. They shared a long look, and she nodded at his hopeful expression. “I always wanted to see you, Warren. I just acted like I couldn’t stand you.”

  She broke their gaze and smiled as they approached the MacKinnons’ small cluster against one wall. They exchanged hugs and embraces as though they had not seen each other for weeks. “It’s wonderful to see all of you.” Helen’s smile broadened as she nodded to Fidelia, looking uncomfortable next to Annabelle.

  “We are delighted to be here,” Annabelle said, ignoring her sister’s sniff of disagreement. “Isn’t Dee’s dress beautiful?”

  Helen smiled with longing at the blue dress that nearly matched Fidelia’s eyes. It had lace at the collar and wrists. “It is. A testament to her and Sorcha’s abilities.” She ran a hand over her cranberry dress, thankful she had worn her best dress this evening.

  “Is that Helena lawyer here?” Jessamine asked. “I’m anxious to meet him.”

  “Now, Jessie,” Ewan said, “there’s no need to look for another story. The town’s already talkin’ about the letter ye received from that lawyer in Pennsylvania.” Ewan gave an incredulous shake of his head as he looked at Warren. “Why’d ye no’ tell us ye kent such a man?”

  “He’s a friend and a mentor. I should have realized his status would be as invaluable as his knowledge of my past,” Warren said with a shrug.

  “Well, if Jessie needs more news, she can look to today’s events. The incident at the recital was interestin’ enough,” Ewan said with a wink at Helen.

  “There’s always room for news, Ewan,” Jessamine said. “Tall tales can wait to be printed.” Her eyes twinkled as she met Helen’s curious glance. “Although it will be some time before Mr. Danforth loses the black lipstick.”

  “What? They never!” Helen gasped. She looked around for the teacher, but he was nowhere in sight.

  “Ye ken the man’s addicted to his coffee?” Ewan said with a shake of his head. “Seems a few of the rascals filled his cup with warm ink and …” He chuckled. “It is no’ a sight one will soon forget. A grown man spewin’ a mouthful of black liquid all over Mrs. Henderson’s finest dress. Her son, Ephraim, was shocked speechless.”

  Helen fought a giggle and failed as a laugh burst forth. “Oh, how terrible. What happened next?”

  “The singing came to an abrupt end, as anyone near the poor man tried to escape his range,” Jessamine said with a wry smile.

  “Now ’tis to be seen who the culprits are.” Ewan shrugged. “I’d suspect the lot of ’em. They’re always up to somethin’ every time I pass the schoolhouse on my way to the sawmill.” He kissed his wife on the cheek and stepped away toward the punch bowl.

  “Do you think he’ll last longer than this year?” Helen asked. “We can’t have a yearly search for a teacher. Word will get out, and no one will want the post.”

  “Oh, I suspect he’s made of
sterner stuff than you give him credit for,” Warren murmured. “He’ll be back, and those children will rue this day.” He nodded. “Seems the ink is more permanent than he would like.”

  Helen followed his gaze and smiled at the schoolteacher, whose mouth was rimmed in black ink. When he spoke, his teeth had a grayish tinge, as though decaying. She turned her back to feign focusing on Warren and fought a giggle. “Oh, the poor man.”

  Ewan returned with two cups of punch and handed one to Jessamine and the other to Helen, then was off again to the punch bowl.

  Jessamine nodded, covering her smile with a sip of sweet punch. “Yes. A more serious piece to balance out the ludicrous events from the recital would be perfect for the upcoming newspaper.” She looked at the punch in her glass. “Seems Mrs. Guerineau didn’t sugar this as much as usual. It’s almost drinkable.” She paused and looked at Warren. “Did you hear about Mr. Finlay?”

  Warren shook his head. “No. I must admit I’ve been distracted lately.”

  Jessamine nodded as she saw Helen flush. “It seems he has found another town he’d rather bestow the presence of his bank on.” She huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes. “Good riddance, I say.”

  “He’s like a pestilence, bringing misfortune wherever he goes,” Warren said. He speared Jessamine with a severe look. “And that is not a quote for the paper.” He relaxed when she laughed. “Do you know where he is going?”

  She shook her head. “Some town in Idaho where he has family.” She took another sip of punch and tapped her foot to the music. “What will happen to the old bank building?”

  “I would think the new bank owner would take it over rather than having to build a new one. Works out well for everyone,” Warren said.

  Helen shook her head. “Let’s hope he is more charitable than Mr. Finlay.”

  Ewan rejoined them with three more cups of punch which he gave to Leticia, Fidelia and Annabelle. Then he nudged Jessamine. “Come, love, dance with me.” He set down her glass of punch at the nearby table and whisked her onto the dance floor.

  Helen saw Sorcha dancing with Mr. Hawke and Frederick tracking her with his gaze. “It appears the brothers might have been right about Frederick. He’s more interested in her than he’d like to be.” She nodded to Leena, dancing with Karl. “Frederick has little interest in Leena.”

  “I doubt the man would be so reckless as to desire a woman who is as good as married.” Warren watched Frederick exchange greetings with a few of his men and then some of the townsfolk before wandering to speak with his grandparents. “They will be sad to see him leave tomorrow.”

  “I was surprised he was able to remain here for as long as he did,” Helen murmured.

  Warren shrugged. “He loves his grandparents, and I think he was worried about his grandmother after she spent so much time in the Obsidian Mine camp last month.” He frowned. “I don’t know what this town would do without her.”

  Helen gripped his arm. “I hope we don’t have to know for quite some time.” She watched as the dance ended, and Sorcha led Mr. Hawke to their group.

  “I believe this lawyer was helpin’ ye, Helen,” Sorcha said, slightly breathless and pink-cheeked after twirling around the dance floor.

  Helen nodded and smiled her welcome to Sorcha and Mr. Hawke. “I’m glad you were able to remain for the day’s festivities,” Helen said to the big-town lawyer.

  “I was convinced I should remain to bid on the delicious treats made by your local bakers.” He nodded his thanks as Alistair gave him a cup of punch.

  “Someone has to,” Alistair said. “The town canna expect the MacKinnons to bid on our own goods.” He ran a hand over Leticia’s back, soothing her as she leaned into him.

  Jessamine joined them, breathless and happy after her dance, while Ewan spoke with his foreman and friend, Ben Metcalf, near a smuggled-in keg of beer. “Are you the lawyer from Helena?” She held out her hand. “I’m J.P. MacKinnon.”

  “The reporter?” he asked, smiling and looking years younger as he did. “Good. I’m in need of your services.”

  “I would like a moment of your time, Mr. March,” Clarence Hawke said as he approached Bertrand, who stood next to Walter. The townsfolk disliked Bertrand as much as they did Walter and had left a wide berth around both, thus allowing their conversation to be private in the midst of a crowd. Warren, Jessamine and Ewan stood behind Clarence.

  Bertrand scowled at the Helena attorney and tongued the wad of chew in his cheek. “I’ve told you many times, lawyer. I’ve nothin’ to say to you.”

  “That may be, but Judge Tollefson requests your presence in his courtroom.” He slapped a letter on Bertrand’s chest. “You’ve been summoned, and only a fool ignores Judge Tollefson.”

  “I’ve done nothin’ wrong,” Bertrand said. “And you aren’t forcing me back to Helena before I’ve decided it’s time to go.” He scowled as Jessamine took notes on a small pad of paper.

  Clarence stood tall, nearly as tall as the MacKinnons and taller than Bertrand by inches. His eyes darkened with hatred, and he flushed with agitation. “You’ve been beaten, Bertrand,” Clarence said. “You thought she was dead. You left her for dead, but she survived.”

  Bertrand froze for a moment before he scowled. “You’re talking nonsense, just like all lawyers do.”

  Clarence leaned forward, and those behind him took a step closer to overhear clearly what he said. Jessamine frowned with concentration as she listened intently. “You might get away with killing the other women. I haven’t found a way—yet—to prove you killed Miss Parker and Miss Deene. But you failed to kill Miss Hawke.” His eyes gleamed. “Were you so naive as to not realize she is my sister?” He smiled with enmity at outwitting his foe. “Did you truly believe I’d forsake her because she’d fallen into your clutches?”

  A bead of sweat had formed on Bertrand’s forehead and trickled down the side of his face. He looked at the group around him and then paled as he saw Sheriff Sampson watching him with interest. “I’ve never harmed anyone! I thought you’d know better than to slander a man’s name.”

  Warren snorted and shook his head. “No one in this town would believe you, March. You’re an evil man, even worse than the one standing next to you.” He leaned forward. “And you have a perverse way of respecting the law when you need it to be in your favor.”

  “No one will accept the testimony of a whore over an upstanding man of town,” Bertrand said, puffing out his chest.

  Clarence stilled from attacking Bertrand as Ewan and Warren grabbed his arms. “She was your wife!” He took a deep breath. “They’ll believe my testimony and thus hers.” His voice lowered with the depth of his hatred. “They’ll believe the policemen who worked with me, who listened to her when they found her. They’ll believe the doctor who treated her afterward. They’ll believe us, Bertrand. And, when they do, they’ll see you hang for what you did to her.”

  Walter chuckled. “You already admitted the damn woman didn’t die. It’s not a hanging offense if no one died.”

  “Well, find a good lawyer, because you’ll need one,” Clarence said. He nodded to the sheriff who walked toward them.

  “I hope there won’t be an altercation during this fine gathering the townsfolk have arranged for our children,” Sheriff Sampson said. “Mr. March. You’ve been a guest of our town for months. I believe it is time for you to return home. Alone.” His voice brooked no argument. “We don’t like how you treat women who no longer interest you.”

  Bertrand glared at the group. “Nothing you say will stick. It never does.” He stormed off with the sheriff and Walter on his heels.

  “What happened to your sister, Hawke?” Warren asked as Ewan and Jessamine watched.

  “Imogene was—is—a sweet girl. But she’s naive to the ways of men. Or she was. He saw her and wanted her and sweet-talked her into marrying him.” He frowned. “I’ve learned that their marriage might not have been legal. I’m uncertain that his previous wife was already dead bef
ore he married Imogene.” He paused and closed his eyes.

  “He resented her family having any contact with her. He isolated her. And then she disappeared. He said he had sent her to Minneapolis to shop for clothes, but I knew the miserly bastard would never have done that. And no ticket had ever been sold to a woman of my sister’s description.” He sighed. “Thus, I searched for her and eventually found her locked in the basement of one of his buildings.” His eyes blazed with hatred. “After he’d departed for this town. He never meant for her to be found alive.”

  “Why do you believe you can put him in jail?” Jessamine asked. She held up her hands in front of her. “I won’t print this. I’m merely curious.”

  “There are facts I am aware of that I did not care to share with him and that I am not at liberty to share with you. Suffice it to say, when he returns to Helena, he will not leave that city alive. His downfall will come because he believes himself above the law and believes his wealth should exonerate his name.” Clarence Hawke nodded to them. “If you will excuse me, I want to ensure I depart on his train and return to Helena with him.” He strode from the room in the direction of Bertrand and the sheriff.

  Jessamine’s eyes glowed. “Well, whenever that story arrives from the big city, I’m certain it will interest the fine citizenry of Bear Grass Springs.”

  “No need to sound delighted when reporting about a man’s demise, Jessie,” Ewan murmured. He kissed her head and tried to share a smile with Warren but noted his friend was distracted as he watched Helen interact with her mother.

  “Dance with me, Miss MacKinnon,” a man murmured in Sorcha’s ear, his voice deep, as she stood watching Warren and members of her family form a circle around Helen’s brother and cousin.

  “Why should I be bothered by ye now? Can ye no’ see I’m busy?” She nodded in the direction of the quiet confrontation, sighing in defeat as Frederick stood in front of her.