Wild Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series)

by Debra Holland

Nick slowed their spinning, and, as Elizabeth's toes touched the ground, he kissed her like he'd never let her go.

  Elizabeth clung to him, returning his kisses with a passion not at all ladylike.

  Breathlessly they pulled apart. Then Nick's palms cupped her cheeks, and he gave her a last soft kiss. Dropping an arm around her waist, he guided her toward the house.

  "Look." Elizabeth pointed upward.

  In the misty space between clouds, a rainbow soared across the sky. Nick stopped and pulled Elizabeth back against his chest. Resting her head on his shoulder, they stood and watched the heaven-sent omen of hope for their future.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Elizabeth shifted her weight in the saddle and leaned over to pat Belle's neck, grateful to ride quietly with Nick. For the first day in weeks, the constant tension she'd lived with had vanished. Finally, Lizzy had regained enough strength to be allowed out of bed, enjoying a near full recovery. The long dark period of her illness had finally ended.

  As Elizabeth breathed in the brisk pine-scented air, she reveled in her contentment. She looked up at the afternoon sun, its rays no longer the enemy, but a gentle friend, and enjoyed the warmth on her face. For this ride, she'd deliberately left behind the hat that matched her riding habit. Sometimes hats weren't very convenient....

  She glanced sideways at Nick and caught him watching her, his green eyes warm and tender.

  "Admiring the sky?" he asked.

  "Those clouds look like upside down sheep," she said pointing at a cluster of puffs in the cerulean sky. "Heavenly sheep grazing in a limitless blue pasture."

  "Enjoy the sunshine and the blue sky. Winter will be here soon enough. Although you'll miss most of it being in Boston."

  "I received a letter from Sylvia today. She talked to Genia's doctor. Dr. Sherman told her that Genia's fine, just too high strung and hysterical--hence the bed rest. But now, I know I don't have to rush home because she's seriously ill. I'll be there for Genia's last month. That's enough to be away from everyone ... from you."

  "More than enough time. I'm going to have to stay too busy to think about how much I miss you." A mischievous smile crossed his face, and his eyes shone with excitement. "Our destination is just over this last rise," he said, pulling ahead of her and guiding Outlaw around a towering pine tree.

  Elizabeth took a moment to admire the broad set of his shoulders and the way his muscles moved under his shirt, before giving Belle a kick.

  Together, they crested the rise. Reining in the horses, they looked down into a crescent-shaped amber valley. In the middle, a small lake sparkled like the sapphire jewel in the golden crown of grassland.

  "What do you think?" Nick asked.

  "Beautiful."

  Pride flashed in his eyes. "It's mine."

  "Yours?"

  "Been buying' pieces of it off Widow Thatcher for the last few years. Bought the last parcel just before Lizzy took sick."

  "Oh, Nick." Elizabeth's heart swelled with happiness. She'd fallen in love with a ranch hand and planned to live a simple life with him. But to learn Nick was a landowner ... what an extra blessing!

  "This valley will only support a small herd of cattle ... and of course my horses. But I'll be able to keep my family in comfort." His eyes searched her face for her reaction.

  Elizabeth knew her smile radiated love and reassurance.

  Nick smiled back in relief. "Come on." He kneed Outlaw into a canter.

  Elizabeth urged Belle to follow him. They descended into the valley. Wheat-pale tufts of dried grass rustled and rippled in the breeze, undulating over the hillocks like waves of the sea--an earthen ocean of warm colors instead of cool greens and blues.

  Nick headed to a hill overlooking the small lake. When they reached the top, he reined in. He waved his arm. "I think this site has the most beautiful view of the valley."

  "Oh, yes. In fact, it would be perfect for a house." In her imagination, she could see a large white house with the inevitable Montana porch running across the front. She'd plant a large garden just like Pamela's and have---whoa, girl. He hasn't asked you yet.

  With a smile, he dismounted. Tying Outlaw's reins to a bush, he reached up for Elizabeth, waiting while she unlocked her leg from the saddle and slid into his arms.

  He held her for a moment, resting his cheek against her hair, both of them enjoying a quiet minute together, free of the fears and dangers that had haunted them for the past few weeks.

  Then he pulled away and looked at her. "No hat?"

  Elizabeth tried for a demure simper, but playfulness widened her mouth into a flirtatious smile.

  Running a feather-light finger over her lips, he said, "I'll have to take advantage of that freedom, but first there's something I want you to see."

  He took her hand and led her to the highest part of the hill. "I was going to build a log cabin right here." He pointed ahead of them. "This was going to be the doorway," he said, dropping her hand and pacing it out. "We're standing on the porch."

  "Was?"

  "Instead, I've decided to build a frame house." He turned to face her and took both her hands in his. "It might take a while, but when I've finished it, will you marry me, Elizabeth?"

  A shiver started deep in Elizabeth's body, and she trembled with excitement. Too full of emotion to speak, her eyes welled with tears of love.

  But the apprehension in his gaze tugged the words from her. "Of course," she whispered.

  Relief swept across his face. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a ring, and slid it on her finger.

  At the sight of the sapphire stone surrounded by tiny diamonds, she gasped. "Nick, it's beautiful!"

  "It was my mother's. My father mined that stone here in Montana. He spent one entire summer searching for the right sapphire for her ring."

  Elizabeth inhaled a tremulous breath. Good thing she wore a corset. Otherwise, her joy might burst her heart entirely out of her body. She reined herself in enough to speak. "This ring is very special. I'll be proud to wear it."

  "It'll probably be two years before I can afford to build a house fit for you to live in."

  "We don't have to wait. I have some money. It's not a great fortune, but enough to help build and furnish a house and maybe buy more land or livestock."

  A strange look crossed his face. He shook his head, released her hands and half turned away. "I didn't realize you had money, Elizabeth."

  Her stomach knotted. Had she offended him? Surely she wouldn't lose her newfound happiness because she'd offered him her inheritance? She'd always thought her fortune wasn't large enough, and now Nick was rejecting it. "What's wrong, Nick?" she whispered.

  "A man has his pride, Elizabeth. He wants to know he can take care of his family."

  "Nick, you wouldn't let money come between us. Not after everything we've been through?"

  "I don't want your money, Elizabeth. I just want you."

  She stepped toward him. "Since I've come to Montana, I've learned what's really important to me, Nick. I want a family like Pamela's. I know you do, too."

  He nodded.

  "Life is so fleeting. We've both lost people dear to us." Her voice faltered, and she blinked back tears. "What's important is that we love each other, not which of us has more money." She went to him and slipped her hand around his elbow. "I want babies, and I want you to be their father." She pulled at his arm. "I don't want to wait to start a family."

  Nick turned to face her again and took a deep breath. "I guess you're right about the money." He shook his head. "We have lost too many we've loved. Pride's a fool thing when you're facin' a grave."

  "So, we don't have to wait?"

  "Only 'til I get the house built."

  "I'm sure we'll have a lot of help. It will go up in no time."

  He tenderly brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face. "Would you give me a daughter with your beautiful blue eyes?" he whispered, his face near hers.

  "First I want a son with your green ones."
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  Nick cupped her cheeks with his hands, leaned forward, and kissed her gently. Straightening, he smiled down at her.

  Elizabeth touched his cheek. He captured her hand, turned his face, and planted a kiss on her palm. Warm tingles raced up her arm and spread throughout her body, making her lightheaded.

  Nick scooped her up in his arms.

  She gasped and locked her arms around his neck.

  "In that case, my dearest, let me carry you over our future threshold."

  Nick took several steps with her before setting her down. He picked up one of her hands, turned it over, and kissed her palm again before placing it against his chest.

  Her heart melted in response, and her knees threatened to follow.

  He turned her so they could look out their imaginary doorway to the beautiful panorama spread before them. "I'll start building our home tomorrow."

  THE END

  ###

  About the Author

  Debra Holland is a psychotherapist and corporate crisis/grief counselor who lives in Southern California with her two dogs and two cats. Debra has had three of her romances final in the Romance Writers of America Holden Heart contest. Wild Montana Sky won in 2001. In addition to sweet historical romance, Debra also writes fantasy, science fiction, as well as nonfiction. Debra has published The Essential Guide to Grief and Grieving with Alpha Books. Look for her other fiction and nonfiction books online. You can download her free ebooklet: 58 Tips For Getting What You Want From a Difficult Conversation on her website: http://drdebraholland.com.

  Thank you so much for buying Wild Montana Sky!

  You can contact Debra at:

  Twitter: http://twitter.com/drdebraholland

  My blog: http://drdebraholland.blogspot.com

  TURN THE PAGE TO READ THE FIRST CHAPTER OF STARRY MONTANA SKY

  CHAPTER ONE

  ARGENTINA, 1894

  Samantha Sawyers Rodriguez read the letter from her uncle's banker, the words first blurring into illegible chicken tracks. Then the meaning trickled through the haze of her disbelief.

  Freedom.

  Not only could she escape the restrictions and unhappiness of her current situation, but also fulfill her long-held dream of raising orphan children--just like her favorite heroine in Little Men and Jo’s Boys. Her son, Daniel, would finally have the brothers he'd always wanted.

  She pushed her well-worn Louisa May Alcott novel off a brocade-covered chair, collapsed into it, and reread the letter, barely able to concentrate over the excited beating of her heart.

  Finishing, Samantha clasped the telegram to her chest, staring out a glass window framed by red-velvet curtains. She barely registered the familiar vista of the miniature Falabella horses grazing in the grassland around the hacienda.

  She offered up a prayer of thanksgiving, her heart too full of gratitude to even utter any words. But she knew the Lord understood.

  Nine-year-old Daniel, came into view, frisking with his favorite horse. Little black Chita, only thirty-six inches high, trotted next to the boy. The two kicked around a brown leather ball stuffed with rags. Samantha smiled at the sight. The playfulness of the tiny horses never failed to amuse her.

  Eager to share her excitement, Samantha bounced off the chair and rushed through the door of the ladies' parlor into the marble-tiled entryway. Then realizing her haste might be witnessed and chastised by her father-in-law, Don Ricardo Rodriguez, she smoothed her black silk skirt, and schooled herself to a more ladylike walk. Her outward appearance might exhibit the feminine compliance demanded of her, but her heartbeat danced with an elation she didn't dare let her feet show.

  Throwing open the carved wooden doors, Samantha blinked from the strong sunshine. She crossed the brick courtyard and hastened around the corner of the hacienda to the grassland where the Falabellas grazed.

  As she neared her son, the late afternoon sun caught the auburn highlights in Daniel's dark hair and burnished his golden skin. His blue eyes sparkled with laughter, and he leaned over and hugged the little black horse around her neck.

  "Daniel!" She waved the letter. "I have news," she called in the English she always used with him.

  Her son straightened up from the horse. "What, Mama?"

  Eager expectancy glowed in his blue eyes, and for a moment he looked so much like his father that a familiar pain pierced her heart and tempered her excitement. From long practice, she shoved her sadness aside. "I've inherited Uncle Ezra's ranch in Montana."

  A puzzled look crossed his face.

  Samantha laughed and hugged him. "My Uncle Ezra moved west when I was a child. I vaguely remember him as having a long beard and carrying me around on his shoulders. We exchanged letters every Christmas. He died and left his ranch to us."

  Daniel's blue eyes clouded over. "Died? Like Papa?" He tilted his head, studying her. "Are you going to cry?"

  Samantha swallowed the lump in her throat. She leaned over, pulling her son into her arms and resting her cheek against his silky hair. "Not like Papa. Uncle Ezra was very old. And he wasn't very happy the last few years of his life. Now he's at peace with God in Heaven."

  "With Papa?"

  "And with Papa. And with your grandmother and grandfather." She hugged him. "Now we're going to live on his ranch, except it will belong to us."

  "Will Abuelo come, too?"

  She saw the wariness in his eyes. "No, your grandfather will stay here."

  Relief washed over his features, only to be replaced by fear. He twisted in her hold. "Will Abuelo let us go?" His voice quavered.

  Sudden anger knotted her stomach. "It's not for your grandfather to say. We're going."

  Once again, she'd be butting heads with that domineering old man. He'd never forgiven his youngest son's choice of a Protestant American for a wife, so he continued to treat her with disdain. Samantha hated every minute of her cloistered life. Now she had the key to her gilded cage. And no matter what, she was not going to let Don Ricardo stop her and her son from flying free.

  #

  For three days Samantha had plotted, planned, and worried so all the details of their escape would be in place before she faced her formidable father-in-law. She paused outside the carved wooden door leading to Don Ricardo's study, mentally girding herself, then tentatively raised her hand to knock. Over the last two years she'd learned to use her imagination defensively, keeping her true self protected from the bitter barbs the arrogant old man hurled at her.

  Today, instead of entering Don Ricardo's male bastion with sinking spirits, she felt buoyed up by the letter in her hand, knowing she'd be able to face the coming encounter with a stronger heart than she'd shown in the past. But she still dreaded the interview. Her father-in-law wouldn't easily relinquish control over her and Daniel.

  Soon, she promised herself. Soon these scenes will be only bad memories.

  With resolution goading her, she knocked on a smooth circle edged by carved rosettes.

  "Pase," he called.

  She pushed open the door and stepped into the room. Don Ricardo sat at his large mahogany desk perusing some papers, the inevitable gourd-shaped silver mate of his favorite yerba mate tea resting near his elbow.

  Samantha had never acquired a taste for the bitter Argentinean beverage, especially when passed around in a communal mate and sipped through a tube-like bombilla. With her father-in-law, she knew she'd be spared the ritual. He had never favored her with the social privilege of sharing his yerba mate.

  She waited for him to notice her--not that anything escaped him. Don Ricardo often made her wait like a servant until he saw fit to acknowledge her.

  It’s the last time. That thought kept at bay the anger she always felt in his presence. Sometimes the effort of containing her feelings would cause her to fidget, bringing a rebuke to his lips and putting her at a disadvantage. But not today.

  Samantha studied him. The same aristocratic features--high cheekbones, thin nose, and winged eyebrows that she had so loved in her husband's face,
and now her son's--had withered in the older man's features to skin over bone. A true reflection of the unforgiving spirit dwelling within. Her Juan-Carlos would have never have aged in the same manner. Even as an elderly man, he would have had laugh lines around his eyes.

  Don Ricardo looked up, a frown crossing his face. "I'm extremely busy."

  "This won't take more than a few minutes."

  He nodded permission.

  "I've received a telegram from Montana informing me that my Uncle Ezra has died and willed his ranch to me."

  The frown lines between Don Ricardo's eyebrows smoothed. His face eased into the first hint of approval she'd seen directed at her in a long time. "This is good news, indeed. Give me the information, and I'll make arrangements to have the property sold. I'm pleased Daniel will receive an inheritance."

  That’s because you don’t want to provide one for him. Only for your other grandsons. "Actually, I plan to take Daniel and move to Montana."

  The eyebrows snapped together, and he shot her a look of outrage. "Absolutely not!"

  "I know you'll be glad to be relieved of your responsibilities toward us."

  He stood up. "I forbid it."

  Familiar fear leaped into Samantha's throat, but she stood her ground. "I've made arrangements. There's a ship sailing next week. Daniel and I will be on it."

  "No."

  She pretended she hadn't heard him. "We will be packed and ready in time."

  "You are not taking my grandson away from me." He waved his hand. "From his heritage."

  Sharp anger lanced through her fear. The man never paid any attention to Daniel except to criticize him. Now he was trying to claim him. "You've never been interested in Daniel--never approved of my son."

  "He is the son of my son."

  "You have other ... more favored grandsons," she said fighting to control the resentment that had been amassing for the past nine years. "You've done nothing but ignore him. Now he will learn of his other heritage. My heritage."