The big dipper gleamed down at him, the first constellation he'd learned. He'd been a youngster when his pa had traced the lines in the sky for him. Later, Pa had taught him the others. And he, in turn, had taught Mark and Sara. For a minute the memories distracted him from his feelings. The night, although cold, shimmered with beauty. He wished he could share the experience with Elizabeth.
He imagined her on the rock beside him, his arm slipping around her while they looked at the stars together. Did she know the constellations? If not, he'd teach her. And after the lesson, he'd kiss her and hold her sweet body close. New lessons. Lessons in love. Together they'd share in the learning.
He sighed. Stick to reality, cowboy.
Elizabeth would probably never choose a ranch hand. But at least he'd known she'd be around. And he thought he'd have time. Time to quietly woo her ... to show his love through his deeds. It was too hard to get words around the crippling shyness he felt. Or, like what happened on their horseback ride, they seemed to be the wrong words.
The chill night air pricked at his skin. Livingston had words, plenty of them. And an attitude to match. How dare that highfalutin' Easterner deny Red Charlie a loan. Remembering the dinner conversation angered him all over again, and the heat of his feelings protected him from the cold.
It'd taken everything he had not to make a spectacle of himself by hauling off and punching the man. Wouldn't that have wrecked Miz Carter's fancy party? Probably wouldn't have been too good for his chances with Elizabeth either. Not that he had much of a chance with her anyway. He tried to swallow down his anger but couldn't. The thought of her as the wife of that dull stick Livingston stuck in his craw.
His mind drifted to Harriet Stanton. She'd embarrassed him, suggesting he was better with horses than Red Charlie. Did she have to make her feelings so obvious? He'd never asked for them and certainly didn't return them. And it didn't have anything to do with Elizabeth. He just wasn't attracted to Miss Stanton.
He'd been waiting for someone to come along who'd make him feel the way Elizabeth did. He laced his fingers behind his head, cushioning it from the rock and grinned at the stars. A woman worth waiting for. Worth fighting for.
He'd handle the problem of Miss Stanton by avoiding her. He could easily skip church for the next several weeks with the excuse of the mares-in-foal needing him. Maybe Miss Stanton would turn her interests to someone else.
He continued gazing at the stars and tried to formulate a prayer, but he couldn't put his desires into words. Instead a melody came to him, drawn from the beauty of the stars, his longing for Elizabeth, and his connection with God. He spun the notes out in his mind until he'd composed the entire piece and knew he wouldn't forget the music in the morning.
Maybe he'd play it for Elizabeth and let the music speak to her in ways he couldn't. Somehow, he knew she'd love his composition. They'd shared that minute, right after he'd finished "Lizzy's Theme," where they experienced a musical bond--until Livingston broke between them.
The boy shows talent. The overheard words still rankled. Boy! At twenty-four! He'd like to see that banker do a man's work around a ranch. He'd have blisters on those smooth hands inside of two hours. Not to mention how he'd feel after a long day in the saddle.
Elizabeth wouldn't be happy with Livingston. He knew it. True, the man had money, a large house, and a purebred pedigree--all the things she probably wanted in a man. It wouldn't be enough.
He had instincts about her in the same way he knew horses--what they needed, how to touch them. In the last week, there'd been times when she'd thawed and shown her feelings. He'd bet anything a special woman lurked beneath her proper Boston exterior. With Livingston, that woman would never emerge.
He straightened and ground a fist into his palm. He couldn't step back and let Livingston waltz away with her. It wouldn't be right. He'd have to change. Force himself past his shyness. Force himself to open up.
Nick wasn't sure how he'd do it. Aside from what he'd learned from Miz Carter, he'd not had any training in proper society manners. Now, he'd seen for himself how different things were in the East. But something in Elizabeth had touched him, something that went beyond social barriers, and he knew she'd sensed it too. He might not have much wealth to offer, but there were other things he could do to make her happy, and he'd love her with all his heart.
She might still choose Livingston, but I’ll put up a damn good fight for her first.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Sunday morning, Elizabeth dressed with care in royal-blue silk with a black lace overdress. Black velvet trimmed the sleeves, waist, and hem. A black velvet bow circled the high neck. Her pearl brooch, pinned to the bow, added the final elegant touch. She smiled at herself in the mirror, imagining Mr. Livingston's reaction, how his brown eyes would light up at the sight of her ... just like Richard...
No, not today. I won’t think of Richard.
Swinging her hat by its royal-blue ribbons, with her skirt held higher than considered proper, Elizabeth skipped down the stairs. She peeked into the empty parlor, then continued down the hall searching for Pamela.
The tantalizing smell of frying bacon and the sound of voices lured her to the kitchen. Inside, Annie deftly turned strips of bacon, sizzling in a huge cast-iron pan.
Pamela, holding a white porcelain pitcher of milk, spoke with Nick. "So you don't mind if we leave the children with Dawn?" Her tone sounded uncertain. "I'm sure they'll be out pestering you and the foal."
"I don't mind. There's another foal on the way." He waved his hat in the direction of the barn. "The children will probably want to watch." He caught sight of Elizabeth, and his eyes widened in obvious approval. "Morning, Miss Hamilton."
"Good morning."
"You look mighty nice. The reverend will have a hard time keeping his mind on his preachin'."
"Thank you." Whatever had gotten into Nick this morning? Elizabeth hoped Pamela wouldn't notice the pink creeping into her cheeks. For distraction, she pounced on what she'd just overheard. "You can't mean the children will watch the foal being born?"
Nick lifted an eyebrow at Pamela, deflecting the question to her.
"On a ranch you can't keep children ignorant of the birthing process," Pamela said, a placating note in her voice. "The children have already seen all kinds of animals being born."
Elizabeth shook off her prudish reaction. Of course birth would be a familiar part of their life. "I'm sorry," she apologized to both of them. "I didn't think before I spoke." She looked at Nick. "You won't be attending church with us?"
"Not today. I make it a rule to be around when a mare's foaling. She might need my help."
Elizabeth abruptly changed her mind. "I know this might sound a little unusual based on what I just said, but sometime I'd love to watch the birth of a foal. It would be an interesting experience." She shot a mischievous glance at Pamela. "Imagine what Genia would say if she knew."
Pamela smiled and raised one shoulder.
"You'll probably miss this one," Nick said. "But there'll be plenty more. They're often born when no one's around. Although if I think there are going to be difficulties, I'll bed down in a nearby stall."
He laughed at the uncertain look that must have shown on her face. "It's all right, Miss Hamilton. I promise not to wake you in the middle of the night. I'm sure there'll be another daytime arrival."
Annie rang the triangle for breakfast, and Elizabeth turned away to hide her second blush of the morning. She couldn't imagine why the thought of Nick awakening her caused her to have such a reaction. She walked from the room with outward composure, resisting the need to put her hands up to cover her warm cheeks like a silly schoolgirl. She hadn't blushed in years.
What’s the matter with me?
#
The morning sun shone with enough warmth for John to drive the buggy instead of the closed carriage. The three of them together on the seat made a snug, but not uncomfortable, fit. Preoccupied with thoughts of Caleb Livingston, Elizabeth
absentmindedly answered John and Pamela's comments about the surrounding countryside.
"Elizabeth." Pamela chided her. "I think you're still half asleep. Or is your mind occupied with other things--a handsome banker perhaps?"
Elizabeth resisted the impulse to give Pamela an unladylike elbow to the ribs. She didn't want to be teased about Caleb Livingston in front of John. John loved to joke with his family and friends. Her feelings for Mr. Livingston felt almost sacred, not in the least bit humorous, and she protectively guarded them.
"Forgive me for being inattentive. I didn't sleep well and I'm still tired."
As Elizabeth knew she would, Pamela changed from teasing to solicitous. "I hope nothing's wrong."
A little guilty for being evasive, Elizabeth reminded herself that she had stayed awake late into the night. She'd been thinking about certain Montana men.... And she would have felt tired this morning, if she didn't have anticipation--like champagne bubbles coursed through her body. However, she'd keep such thoughts to herself!
"No, nothing's wrong," she said. "I was just musing about my new life. We've been so busy since I arrived, I simply haven't had much thinking time."
The conversation lapsed, and they drove the rest of the way in a companionable silence.
A few scattered frame houses complete with porch and rocking chairs, marked the outskirts of Sweetwater Springs. Elizabeth barely remembered the town from her exhausted arrival, and she looked around with interest. Most of the wooden false-fronted buildings also had porches. The only brick buildings in sight were the bank and Cobb's mercantile store. She noticed several buildings with "Saloon" written on the outside window.
Seeing her glance at them, Pamela remarked, "It's a shame that we have three saloons in Sweetwater Springs." She glanced playfully at her husband. "At least John doesn't spend much time in them."
"Much time!" John said with mock indignation. "How about rare time. You keep me too busy." He leaned forward and winked at Elizabeth. "That's the problem around here, not enough men have wives to keep them on the straight and narrow."
Pamela elbowed him in the ribs, and they all laughed.
Soon they arrived at the white frame church. Unadorned except for the bell tower with a cross on the top, the windows held plain, instead of stained, glass. Although very different from the imposing edifice where Elizabeth worshiped in Boston, it showed a simple charm that appealed to her. She didn't see a large brick house anywhere nearby, and she didn't want to ask. She'd see Caleb's house soon enough.
John reined in the horses and applied the brake. Elizabeth scanned the small crowd outside the church, but didn't see Caleb Livingston. Her champagne feelings flattened with disappointment. For the last few days, she'd been imagining how happy she'd feel as he clasped her hand with that special signal and guided her down from the buggy.
Perhaps he’s already inside.
She greeted her new acquaintances, suppressing her impatience. She acknowledged the introduction to an older couple, trying to hide her haste to get into the church.
Finally Pamela and John, with Elizabeth following, strolled inside. She discretely glanced around, under the guise of examining the church, but didn't see the banker.
"That's where we usually sit," Pamela whispered, nodding to a pew near the front.
Elizabeth followed her up the aisle, looking around with interest. A simply-carved cross affixed to the wall over the white-linen draped altar was the only religious symbol in the room. Red tulips set in a green glass vase made a bright splash of color. A plain wooden pulpit stood to the right of the altar, and to the left, an organ, positioned to face the congregation.
Elizabeth smiled at the Cobbs, seated across from the Carters. The stuffed finch decorating the crown of Mrs. Cobb's straw hat bobbed forward when she nodded in return. Again, she seemed to scrutinize Elizabeth's apparel.
Elizabeth seated herself next to Pamela near the center aisle, leaving just enough room in case a certain eligible bachelor decided to join her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Mr. Livingston arrive and take a seat behind the Cobbs.
Disappointment stabbed her at his choice. She turned to smile at him.
He gave her a slight bow and smile.
She nodded back and then quickly looked straight ahead, pretending to study the church. She didn't want to make her interest too obvious.
I wish he’d have chosen a different seat. Then I’d be able to study him during the service. So much for the entertainment I’d expected during the sermon.
The Nortons entered the church together. Mrs. Norton, wearing the same black dress she'd worn to the party, seated herself at the organ, while Mr. Norton strode to the pulpit. "'Amazing Grace' will be our first hymn," the minister announced.
Elizabeth loved to use her well-trained voice to "make a joyful noise." Singing hymns made her feel connected to God, and being in church gave Elizabeth an opportunity to sing strongly instead of modulating herself as she did in social situations. Her unladylike loudness usually blended into the many other voices raised in song.
Today, with a smaller congregation, her voice sounded more obvious. She thought about modifying the volume, but decided to hold her course. Singing in this way was special to her, and she didn't care how anyone might judge her.
In spite of her reservations, Elizabeth enjoyed the service. To her surprise she found Mr. Norton's sermon contained no hint of fire and brimstone. He tied biblical examples to current day situations, making the old precepts seem relevant. Elizabeth found the sermon simple, yet wise, and her estimation of Mr. Norton rose considerably.
At the conclusion of the sermon, with a feeling of virtue, she noted that, for the most part, she'd put Mr. Livingston to the back of her mind. She followed the Carters down the aisle and out of the building, a sense of peace wrapped around her like a shawl.
Once outside, the Carters and Elizabeth kept busy greeting people. Several minutes passed before Mr. Livingston approached them.
"A most interesting sermon," he said to all of them. Then turning to Elizabeth, he took her hand. "I know that church services in Montana are different than Boston. I hope you don't judge us negatively?" His finger brushed across her palm, releasing those champagne bubbles inside her.
"On the contrary, Mr. Livingston." Elizabeth reluctantly eased her hand from his and strove for a tone of normalcy. "The buildings may differ, and the congregation is smaller, but the hymns are the same, and the Lord is still present. I agree that the sermon was interesting. I enjoyed it very much." She smiled at him with just a hint of flirtatiousness. "I will look forward to Sundays."
He returned the smile. "I usually walk to church when the weather's pleasant. Today, however, I drove. Would you like to accompany me to the house? It's only a short distance."
Elizabeth glanced at Pamela and John to check if the invitation was all right with them. At Pamela's nod of acquiescence, Elizabeth smiled at Mr. Livingston. "I'd love to."
He extended his elbow to escort her to the waiting vehicle. She tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. How long since Richard had offered this familiar gesture, sending a thrill through her? For so many years a man's arm had just been a guiding prop to lean on. Except for that horrible dinner party in Boston. Nick's arm had offered her support then. She shoved that memory out of her mind.
She caught a reproving look from Mrs. Cobb and smiled graciously at her in return. Grumpy woman. Does she disapprove of everyone?
At the sight of Caleb's buggy, Elizabeth lifted her chin in approval. The shiny black equipage, drawn by two matching brown horses, appeared newer than the Carter's.
Mr. Livingston caught Elizabeth's admiring glance. "I bought the horses from John Carter," he told her with a proud smile. "Carter's horses are quite admired in these parts." He helped her into the vehicle, then walked around to the other side and climbed in beside her.
"They're beautiful." She gave him a sideways glance. "I'm learning more about horses than I e
ver dreamed I would."
"Horses are important in the West."
The smile he directed at her caused a lump to rise in her throat. She couldn't get over how like Richard he appeared--and how he moved her. Richard's smile had been equally charming. Although when her fiancé had flashed her his gamin grin, his eyes full of mischief, she knew a prank or joke was sure to follow. Richard had always been so full of life. She suppressed a sigh. Would he have matured into a more serious man like Mr. Livingston?
Would I have wanted him to?
She swallowed to clear the constriction in her throat. "I never paid attention to our horses at home unless I was riding. And that wasn't very often."
"There aren't many opportunities to ride in Boston. I usually rode on one of the estates of my Cabot cousins," he said.
"A baby foal was just born a few days ago at the ranch. I quite fell in love with it." She almost told him about the hug and kiss she'd given the foal, but changed her mind. The idea sounded too strange. And after all, this man wasn't really her Richard, in whom she had always confided all her thoughts.
Caleb drew the buggy to a stop before an imposing three-story brick mansion. A brick and iron fence surrounded a large front yard blanketed by thick grass. Against each side of the steps to the house, yellow daffodils bloomed in white planter boxes.
"Your home is beautiful." The perfect residence for a successful banker.
"I'm glad you like it. I wanted something that reminded me of the East."
"Then you didn't grow up here?"
"We lived in several parts of Montana. However, I also spent a great deal of time with my grandparents in Boston. I'm a relative newcomer to Sweetwater Springs."
Wild Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series) Page 13