“Clay,” she whispered, tears pricking her eyes, “I don’t know what else to do.” The words came out in a rush. She sounded desperate, she knew, and it killed her to have him—have anyone—see just how dire her situation was.
“I’ll help.” His voice was soft. “I will. We’ll find a way...a place for you. A job. Something.” He was closer now, without her even realizing it. Almost face to face.
Madeline couldn’t breathe. She felt so strange...
Then he was there—his lips on hers. Soft, gentle. His hands cradling her face, stroking her cheek. She found her hands moving on their own, reaching up, her arms wrapping around his neck. Her head was spinning, she was breathless, and all of her awareness focused on the feel of his lips against hers...moving...tasting...
His arms stole around her waist, pulling her to him. The feel of his chest pressed against hers set off blooms of heat within her. Then his kisses grew more insistent, firmer, as he crushed her to him. She could feel his need—some deep, dangerous need, and could somehow tell he was at the edges of his restraint.
So was she.
“No!” Madeline broke away, pushing back from Clay’s embrace. The sound of the slap echoed through the barn before she even registered that it was she who had done it—and not gently, as her hands were ungloved. She stepped back, gasping for air, as much from her own fear as from the breath that his kisses stole away. She was overwhelmed, near tears.
“What the...?” Clay stepped back, shocked.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her fingers touching her lips. “I...”
“A simple ‘no’ would have done it, Madeline,” he snapped, rubbing his cheek, which showed the mark of her slender hand.
The sharp remark fanned her temper. “A bit of respect for a lady would have done it, as well, Mr. Porter! I am Mr. Croft’s betrothed, not yours. Now I see what drives your campaign to end my engagement—and it is not your concern for me, that is clear. No, you are driven by something far more base and lewd.” She was shivering now, from the cold, and trembling from anger...and something else that she couldn’t quite place.
“Really? I hate to break it to you, Princess Madeline, but there are plenty of women in Helena ready and willing to give me what you seem to think I want to take from you!”
“Ha! Ready to charge you for it, more like.” She pinned him with a cold glare.
“Do you know how many women people have tried to match me up with? A dozen at least. And those women were helpful! They knew how to cook and clean and tend house and raise children! They weren’t useless little snobs who complain about everything and go catatonic every time things become ‘too much’ for them! I didn’t need them, and I definitely don’t need the likes of you,” he spat.
Madeline opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut in horror. Fury welled within her. “You are a dreadful, awful man! You act as if everyone is trying to marry you off, but all they’re probably trying to do is get rid of you and your pathetic, pitiful ‘poor me’ attitude! I doubt any of those women truly wanted to marry you, and if they did, it could only have been because they didn’t know what a miserable wretch you are. It’s a wonder your wife ever married you!” The words tumbled out before she could stop them.
The barn echoed in the silence that followed. Only the sound of the wind and the grunt from a cow in a stall could be heard. Madeline’s eyes widened, knowing she’d let her temper take her too far. Much, much too far.
“I...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No! No, I shouldn’t have.” He was seething now, his voice quiet and dangerous. “Shouldn’t have bothered trying to help a woman who knows nothing of the real world and cares for no one but herself.” His face was drained of color and devoid of emotion.
Anger and shame warred within her. Madeline was speechless.
“I’ll talk to Ben,” he went on, “and offer to pay him to take you the rest of the way. I wish you good luck, Miss Barstow. God knows you’ll need it.” He stalked out of the barn, slamming the door, leaving his coat and the lantern behind.
Madeline was mortified to think that she could say something so callous and inappropriate. In shock, she wandered over to the wooden box where Clay had tossed his coat, and fell in a crumpled heap upon it, sobbing silently.
Chapter 9
Stalking into the house, Clay didn’t even wipe his feet, he was so furious.
“Clay!” Cara chided, but he cut her off.
“Of all the stubborn, stuck up, nasty, rotten, ignorant things I’ve ever heard...!” He fumed for a full minute, spewing angry words and stopping to pound on the log walls a time or two.
Cara tried to interrupt, but he wouldn’t let her. He heard her say something about the children, but ignored it. He was too angry. Furious. How dare she?! She had no idea of the pain, the suffering, the loneliness! She was barely more than a child, and a spoiled, sheltered one at that. Who cares if she had suffered a few recent setbacks? Let her go to bed at night hungry, every night, only half-fed because there wasn’t enough to eat, as he had as a child. Let her do that every night, for weeks, sometimes months on end! She had no idea. She had no right.
His sister spoke calmly to him whenever he paused for breath, trying to draw him out, to puzzle out what had happened.
Finally he turned to her. “The woman is a devil. A devil, I say! She has done nothing but criticize, irritate, and insult me since the moment we met. She would drive the staunchest Christian minister to become a drunkard! I can’t spend another minute with her, Cara, not another minute.”
He paced the floor.
“Clay!” snapped Ben. “Sit down! You’re making me nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.” He leaned back in his chair, at the head of the table, and opened a door on the pie safe. He snagged something inside it, and pulled it out, setting it on the table. “Sounds like you need a drink.”
Clay stopped pacing and came to the table. “Good idea. Like I said—she could make a minister become a drunkard. Only a half-bottle of whiskey could make you forget a woman like that.”
He saw Cara and Ben exchange glances, but ignored it.
“Let’s start with just a finger or two, Clay.” Ben unscrewed the cap while Cara fetched a glass. He poured two fingers of whiskey for his brother-in-law, then refilled it when it disappeared in one swig.
“Clay, where is Madeline?” his sister glanced worriedly at the door.
“In the barn. I left her my coat. And the lantern. She’ll come in when she’s good and ready. Though that could be a while, as stubborn as she is.” He rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on.
“I think I’ll check on her, just the same.” Cara slipped into her coat and took Madeline’s coat with her.
When his sister was gone, Clay turned to Ben. “You have to help me. I can’t stand it. I don’t care if I got double, I wouldn’t take that woman another foot in my sleigh.”
“Clay, you have to, you were—”
“I know, I know, he paid me already.” He leaned forward, eager to free himself and entice Ben. “But you could take her. You’re always talking about how you could use a little extra cash—”
“I don’t think so. I don’t want to get in the middle of this.”
“In the middle of what?” Clay pounded the table. “She’s my passenger, not my girl. You’re not in the middle of anything. And I’m sure she won’t cause you any trouble. You’ll hardly say a word, knowing you. She can’t start an argument if you don’t talk!” He grinned, spreading his arms wide. “It’s perfect!”
Ben shook his head. “I don’t know. I have a feeling Cara...”
“Forget Cara. I’ll sweet-talk her for you. I’ll offer to fix that rickety barn ladder you’ve been promising to fix for ages—”
“Hey!”
“Oh, come on, Ben, I was just in the barn. You haven’t touched it, and you promised to fix it last summer.”
Ben stewed a minute. “Oh, alright. But I want half your ta
ke, and you have to actually fix the ladder.”
“Deal!” Clay slapped the table, happy as a clam.
“Ssssh, the kids!” Ben hissed. “I can’t wait til you have kids someday, so I can come over to your place and wake them up at night.”
Clay glowered and pushed his glass at Ben. “I told you. Never happen.”
Ben eyed him, and filled the glass one more time. “Yeah. I know. I wish it would, though. It’s a long life, to spend alone.”
“An easier life, though.” He frowned, and tossed back the whiskey, wincing as it burned its way to his gullet. “Easier than the alternative.”
He pushed his chair back. “I’m heading to bed. Thanks for the whiskey. And I owe you for this.” He headed for the ladder that lead up to the boys’ loft.
“Yeah, you do,” said Ben muttered.
***
“Madeline?” Cara pushed open the barn door, spying the poor girl lying curled up on the wooden box that contained the horse blankets and bridles. Her heart went out to the poor girl, shivering in the dim light of the lantern. She pulled the door shut behind her, blocking out the bitter Montana winds that whistled eerily in the dark night.
Madeline pushed herself up, wiping at her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I just needed a minute.” She clutched Clay’s coat around her, shivering.
“Oh, honey,” Cara rushed over, wrapping the coat she’d brought around Madeline. “Let’s go in before you catch your death.”
“No! No, not just yet.”
“Alright.” Cara put an arm around Madeline to help warm her up. “You want to talk about it?”
Madeline shook her head, sniffing.
“Let me guess, my boor of a brother said something to upset you?”
Madeline looked away.
“Oh, it’s alright. I love him to death, but the boy has a stubborn streak a mile long. And you do too, I suspect.” She grinned. Oh yes, this skinny little woman had, no doubt, held her own in whatever words were exchanged. If she hadn’t, Clay wouldn’t be so steamed.
“I don’t know what I was thinking, coming out here.”
“You’re not the first woman to say that after stepping foot in Montana Territory. You won’t be the last. But it grows on you. You’ll probably find someday that you’ve grown to love it, as I have.”
“It’s not Montana. Or not just Montana. It’s everything. I left Boston because I was stubborn. Proud. I didn’t want to marry beneath my station and become the joke of society. So I subjected myself to a cross-country trip and promised myself to a man I didn’t even know. And now this trip has turned out to be so terrible...nothing has gone right since leaving Boston.”
“It’s not too late. You can turn around now. Get back on a train to Boston.”
Madeline smiled through her tears. “It’s not that easy.”
Cara gave her a knowing look. “We can help you get the money together.” It didn’t take a brilliant mind to figure out that Madeline Barstow had seen better days, financially.
“Oh, no! No, please. You’ve done enough letting me stay here for free. I’m not even your passenger.”
“Oh honey, don’t fret about that. My brother will leave a little something for us when he leaves. I’ll insist that he doesn’t, he’ll pretend to give up trying, then he’ll leave a little money somewhere, and I won’t find it for a day or so. That’s how he is.”
Madeline looked surprised. “Still, I can’t intrude on your kindness. This is my problem, not yours.”
“Madeline, I’m a Christian woman, and you are too, I assume. When we see our Christian brothers or sisters in trouble, it’s our trouble, too. Others have helped Ben and me out when times were tough, and I’m happy to pass on a little assistance when I can. We don’t often get the chance, out here.”
“I appreciate it, but it’s too much. And I...” she didn’t want to say it, but found it spilling out of her anyway. “I can’t go back. I mean, I could, but it would be too humiliating, and my uncle wouldn’t be pleased to see me show up on his doorstep again, asking to stay with my mother. And there would be the train fare, and reimbursing Mr. Croft for my passage and Clay’s pay, plus the fee he paid to the marriage agency who made the arrangements.”
“Oh my.”
“You see, then? I have no choice.”
“Oh Madeline...I just don’t have a good feeling about this.”
“I know Clay has told stories about Mr. Croft, but I just can’t believe they are true. They are probably from disgruntled former ranch hands. I can only imagine how they must talk when they are in their cups.”
“True,” Cara admitted, “but I know Clay. He’s solid, and he doesn’t traffic in gossip. If he believes it, then he has good reason to.”
She saw Madeline’s expression.
“I won’t ask what happened between you—”
She saw the girl blush.
“—but whatever happened, I know Clay has your best interests at heart. He told me himself that he felt mighty guilty about not telling you straight off about Croft’s reputation.”
“Yes, and he also told you I’m a spoiled, conceited brat. I don’t see that he has all that much concern for me if he feels that way.”
“He told you that?” Cara was shocked. Why would he say such a thing to her?
Madeline blushed again, looking at her feet. “Not exactly...I...this sounds awful, but I followed you out to the barn—”
“—and overheard us,” Cara finished.
“Yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I mean…I suppose I did, really. And I got what I deserved, hearing what he had to say about me. What he thinks of me.”
A laugh bubbled up, and Cara couldn’t contain it. “Oh, sweetie, that is not what Clay thinks of you, trust me.”
“I heard everything he said, and he sure meant it. And by the look on his face when he found out I’d heard, he must have said a lot worse after I walked back into the house.”
“How much did you hear?”
“The things I mentioned, and a couple of other lovely adjectives. That was enough.”
Biting her lip, Cara debated whether she should say anything or not. Her first loyalty was to her brother...but her gut told her that something needed to be said. “Madeline, you probably left right around the time I was confronting Clay about...” she chose her words carefully “...the possibility that maybe—just maybe—he cared about you more than he was willing to let on.”
Madeline’s mouth fell open. “You must be joking.” So that’s what he was rambling on about in the barn! But Madeline found it hard to believe—he was so adamant about not wanting a wife. She suspected that it was really all just physical attraction. The man had, after all, been married…and now with his wife dead, he had no way to satisfy his needs. But Cara was his sister, and wouldn’t want to see it for what it was.
Cara shook her head. “I know my brother. I saw the look in his eyes the day he met Tabitha. She was all he could think about. I overheard him mention her briefly to Ben one day—and for him to do that, I knew he had to be crazy about her. He’s not one to talk much about feelings.”
“I don’t know about that. He seemed quite capable of communicating how he felt about me.”
Madeline folded her hands primly, but Cara could see the whiteness of her knuckles as she clenched her fingers together, and could feel the tension in Madeline’s arms.
“Oh my dear,” she soothed, rubbing Madeline’s arm, “that’s just how he felt in the moment. Madeline, you’re disturbing the neat little life he’s created for himself. The comfortable sameness, the cocoon he’s built around himself since Tabitha died. He’s blocked everyone out except Mr. Kirschner, Ben, and I. Then you come along, and jar him from the emotionless existence he’s tried to maintain. You’re making him see that there might be more that he wants out of life, and it’s scaring the trousers off the poor boy.”
“I don’t see how that can be. I...provoke him. He can’t bear being around me.”
“Exactly
! He can’t bear to be around you, because you’re making him feel things that he hasn’t allowed himself to feel in years. You’re breaking down his barriers. He looks at you, and he feels things he thought he’d never feel again.”
Madeline raised a perfect eyebrow. “Rage?”
Cara laughed. “Yes, maybe a little. But not really at you. At himself. At the world. Maybe even a little at God, for taking his wife away. But he’s also feeling pain.”
“Pain?”
“You’re getting ready to hand yourself over to a man who Clay believes will treat you poorly. He knows he should do something, but he’s afraid to put himself out there—to let himself care about you. If he lets himself care, even a little, he just might let himself fall in love. And that scares Clay more than anything.”
“Because he loved Tabitha, and he lost her.”
Cara nodded. “He lost her, and he feels like it’s his fault, and it ate away at him for years.”
“Was it?” she asked. “His fault, that is. He never said how she died.”
“No.” A small tear escaped and trickled down Cara’s cheek. She swiped at it. “It was an accident. He couldn’t have predicted it—no one could. She...well, it’s a long story, but she was kicked by a horse. Clay was right there when it happened. She died instantly. He didn’t even get to say goodbye. One moment she was with him, right beside him, and the next...she was gone.”
“Oh, that’s awful. I had no idea.”
“Of course not. He never talks about it. Never talks about her.”
“He did, tonight. He told me how they met.”
“Really?” Cara’s heart skipped. “Oh, Madeline, you have no idea how glad I am that you’re here.” She hugged her tightly, and Madeline looked confused and embarrassed.
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m sorry, you must think I’ve lost my senses,” Cara giggled, feeling like a schoolgirl, and let Madeline go. “Don’t you see? Clay didn’t talk to anyone about Tabitha for years. No one. He wouldn’t speak of her, wouldn’t allow us to speak of her in his presence. It was hard. She was like a sister to me.” Cara’s throat closed, choking her with emotion, but she took a deep breath, then let it out. It wasn’t a time for sadness.
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