Montana Sky_Heartsong

by Lynn Winchester

  A soft tapping at the door made her stand. She walked to the door, flexing her toes against the plush rug beneath her feet, wondering at how anyone got her boots off without her waking up.

  She opened the door to find her sister-in-law, JoJo, standing there. Her fire-red hair glowed like flames in the hallway lamplight. “JoJo, come in,” Rhetta invited, standing back to allow the woman entrance.

  JoJo came in and Rhetta closed the door behind her. “Let me get us some light.” Rhetta walked across the room, barely missing hitting her shin on the tea table, and turned the knob on the lamb beside her bed. Suddenly, the room was dancing with shadows as the flickering lamp glow sent light promenading over the ceiling and bed.

  For some reason, she wondered, in that moment, if the shadows around that lonely tree stump were dancing…or if they were somber. She remembered coming upon that stump, and then Mac finding her. The clearing the way it was, it would be like a moonlit chamber, hidden in the dark heart of the forest. She wanted to be there. She needed to be there.

  She sat beside where JoJo had sat, and tucked her skirts in around her legs. She was nervous, and she couldn’t fathom why.

  JoJo reached out and took Rhetta’s hands. “How’re you doing? Do you feel rested?” The look on her face was exactly as Rhetta would expect from a mother; kind, concerned, and loving.

  “Honestly, I feel fine. My thoughts, however…” Rhetta answered, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I was on my way downstairs to see if the men had found anything at the overlook.”

  JoJo’s face fell. “Actually, they aren’t back yet. I would be worried but Tim can take care of himself.”

  “And Mac?” Rhetta queried. Was Mac capable of taking care of himself? Worry was ugly, but she couldn’t shake it—for her sister, or for Mac.

  JoJo shrugged. “Mac is a whole different breed.”

  Rhetta raised her eyebrows over her wide eyes.

  JoJo’s face turned a lurid red. She raised her hands in front of her. “No, no! That’s not what I mean. I could care less about where he comes from. I just know that he wasn’t hired just because he could sit a horse.”

  Rhetta motioned for JoJo to continue, suddenly very eager to hear what else JoJo knew about the man with the burning eyes.

  “Apparently, he’d worked as part of a special tracking, fugitive apprehension team in Billings for three years. He was one of the best men Colonel Matthis ever had. He was what was called a Lone Man, on account of there not being any men in the regiment that wanted to work with him…because...well, they were ignorant men, anyway, so Mac was better off without them. By himself, Mac tracked and caught over thirty wanted men. It’s actually pretty astounding.”

  Rhetta couldn’t agree more. Mac, the quiet, strong, intense man, had chased and caught some very bad men. So, maybe…he really could save Bernie. And those men who refused to work with Mac because he happened to have straight, black hair and copper skin, didn’t deserve to stand under the same sky as Mac Solomon.

  Rhetta, now standing, her nerves pushing her out of her seat, shook off the anger JoJo’s words had riled up. “So, he can shoot, too?” she asked, curious if the man was as much a crack shot as he was a quiet hunter.

  JoJo smiled then. “He can best me, and I was taught by the best.”

  That was high praise, indeed. She felt herself smiling, and she didn’t care if JoJo saw.

  Her sister-in-law smirked back, her gaze a knowing one. “What’s that grin for?”

  Rhetta smiled wider, some of the worry slouching off her shoulders. If Mac was capable of saving Bernie, then she needn’t worry about him, right? Except…she still worried. He and Timmy had left that afternoon and still hadn’t returned. Her smile died.

  “I wonder what’s taking the men so long,” she puzzled.

  The heavens were listening to her silent supplications because, just then, the sounds of horses galloping up the drive thudded through the room.

  JoJo shot up from her seat, her face shining with excitement. Goodness, but that woman certainly loved Tim, and that knowledge warmed Rhetta’s heart. “Well, let’s quit dawdling. Let’s go ask them what they found.” JoJo was the first out the bedroom door, and Rhetta didn’t bother putting on her boots before following right behind.

  The made it to the bottom of the stairs just as the door swung open and Timmy walked through it. He was covered in dust from head to boots, his face was weary-worn, and he looked about as defeated as any man could look.

  JoJo raced forward and threw her arms around him, and Rhetta stood back, letting the two have their reunion, as she watched the door for Mac. He was with Timmy, it only made sense for him to return with Timmy.

  “Where’s Mr. Solomon?” she asked, trying to keep the eagerness from her voice.

  Timmy shrugged. “It’s late. He headed back to the bunkhouse.”

  “Oh,” she replied. Disappointment rained down on her, and it took all her wherewithal to not let her shoulder’s slump. “I suppose the man needs his sleep if he’s going to go looking for those men.”

  JoJo stepped aside as Timmy came to stand before Rhetta. His warm, blue eyes gazed down into hers. “We went into town and talked with Sheriff Temogen. He and that Marshal, Gregson, asked us to keep them informed of anything we find. Said they’d gather some men from the town to do a search—real easy like—as to not spook those men into hightailing it with Bernie…”

  Rhetta heard the unspoken words…or worse. Terror dug down deep, clawing at her determination to remain level-headed. She couldn’t help Bernie if she were a weeping, wailing bag of nerves. She needed to be strong. For Bernie, and for herself.

  Chapter 9

  “So, did you find anything at the overlook?” Rhetta coaxed, trying to peel the information from Timmy’s apparently tight lips. “You can’t leave me out of this. I may not be able to track or shoot, but I can think of Bernie and I can pray.”

  She desperately needed to do something other than piddle around the large, garish house all day and night. Not when Bernie was tied up somewhere at the mercy of two filthy, despicable criminals.

  Timmy sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, Rhetta saw his exhaustion.

  “Mac and I checked the clearing where you’d picnicked. Belle was still there, your blanket and sack of food were there.”

  “I expected that. I didn’t have time to pack everything up, and I hoped Belle would be fine until one of us came back for her.”

  Timmy nodded. “But that’s not all we found.”

  Hope, that fickle little imp, started to grow again. “Go on.”

  “When we moved your blanket, we found cigarette stubs. Two of them were barely used, as if they’d just lit them and they were interrupted.”

  As realization dawned, Rhetta gasped. “Bernie and I interrupted them, didn’t we?”

  “Seems like. Mac thinks that maybe they were up there trying to figure out a way to get to Uncle Thomas—not knowing the man was already in prison—and when they heard you coming, they stomped out their cigarettes and hid in the bushes.”

  Humiliation flooded her cheeks. “They heard everything Bernie and I said to each other…” Their conversation was rife with awful, terrible, hurtful things. Rhetta hadn’t meant to be rude or mean, but she couldn’t stomach Bernie setting her sights on Mac. And now…Bernie could be hurt or dead. Why didn’t Rhetta just let her sister have Mac? Mac wasn’t hers, and he never would be. Not when there was Bernie to fall in love with. When he’d met Bernie, he seemed truly taken with her. His eyes grew big, and his expression turned contemplative, as though he were wondering what to do with all the feelings Bernie had churned up in him.

  “More than likely,” Timmy continued, “they figured you probably lived on the estate and decided they’d get their money by using you.”

  “The bastards!” JoJo hissed. Rhetta was shocked by the venom in her tiny sister-in-law’s voice.

  “Indeed,” Timmy agreed.

  “What
do we do now?” Rhetta asked, much too worked up to go back upstairs.

  Timmy sighed again, gathering his wife into his side. “For now, we get some rest. Tomorrow, Mac and I will look for a trail. If we find one, we follow it until we find them, then let the sheriff and Gregson know.”

  “Can’t you just rescue her?”

  He shook his head. “Not unless you want us to get caught in a firefight with two men who aren’t strangers to pointing guns at innocent women. We might as well sign Bernie’s death certificate ourselves.”

  Defeat beat in her chest. “So, we do nothing?”

  “Once we tell the sheriff, we can plan how to get her out of there without getting her hurt in the process. We can’t just rush in there, guns blazing, and expect to come back in one piece. We work it step by step,” he said, coming to place his hands on Rhetta’s shoulders. He looked down into her eyes, his familiar face a comfort to her. “I promise, Rhetta, we’ll get her back.”

  She swallowed the ball of tears and nodded.

  “All right, then. You go get some rest,” she said, forcing her mother’s tone into her voice.

  Timmy chuckled. “I will then. Goodnight, little sister.”

  “Goodnight, Timmy, JoJo.”

  They all hugged, and as JoJo and Timmy disappeared out the front door, Rhetta decided she couldn’t do what everyone else was doing. They could rest if they wanted to, but she needed to get out, find a place to think—or rather, not think—outside of those four walls.

  Still bootless, she watched out the window until Timmy and JoJo were inside their own house across the drive, and then opened the front door a crack. She peered through the opening and saw no one.

  Without a backward glance, Rhetta made her way around to the back of the house to the rise that would take her to the descent on the other side. The same descent she’d raced down just a day ago. The day she’d met Mac. Her feet, which were used to such abuse, dug easily into the rocky soil of the hillside and she made it to the top in minutes. At the pinnacle, she gazed down into the forest just down the hill. It was pitch black, no signs of cooking fires, which meant no kidnappers. Good. She didn’t want to have to worry about ending up in their clutches when all she wanted to do was find a moment of freedom.

  Taking a deep breath, she picked up her skirts and—this time—slowly made her way down the hill to the tree line. Though the night was dark just under the canopy, the moon shined down everywhere else. That meant that, in her clearing where the lonely stump sat, she’d be bathed in moonlight. The idea was marvelous!

  Ducking under a branch, she stepped into the thick copse of trees and took a deep breath. She smiled. Just as she remembered it…dead leaves, soil, and pine needles. Though she’d only been there the once, she could recall every path she’d taken to get to the fork. She could go down the right fork this time, see where it took her, but no. That clearing down the left fork called to her, pleading with her to come, sit, find peace.

  At the fork, she took the left path, careful not to trip on the roots she could just barely see sticking up out of the lighter-colored soil of the path. It was cooler under the canopy, but she didn’t mind the chill. It cleared her mind, pulling the muck of emotions with each breath. As she walked, she listened to the sounds of life—creatures awake and thriving in the darkness. They were intriguing sounds; some like music, others like calls, and some like forlorn mates, desperate to find one another again. Life was all around her, freedom under her feet, so why did she suddenly feel so…trapped?

  She came around a slight bend in the path and sidestepped a tree root. The clearing was just ahead. Her smile returned and the urge to hurry pushed her feet faster. She reached the edge of the clearing and stood just under the lip of the canopy, and stared out at a lone man, seated on the stump, his beautiful, familiar face pointed toward the moon overhead.

  Mac was there. Her heart slammed against her ribs and she stopped breathing. Why was he here? Timmy said he’d headed back to the bunkhouse. Was he waiting for someone? Perhaps…a lady friend? Feeling sick to her stomach, she turned to leave before he even noticed she was there. Her foot came down on a sharp rock and she gasped at the pain. Stiffening at what she’d just done, she turned back to the clearing to find Mac on his feet. The light of the moon shone down on him, as if telling her to look, to see. She couldn’t see much of his face in the shadows cast by the trees and, but she could see that he was staring at her with awe on his face. As if she were a ghost, emerging from the forest.

  He stepped forward slowly, as if trying not to scare her away. She swallowed, wondering if she should run, if she should just leave him there. In the moonlight. Sitting on the lonely stump. The heart that ached in jealousy a moment ago now ached with longing.

  “You came…” he said, the awe in his face flowing out in the deep whisper of his voice. “Please, thanáǧina, don’t run away again.” For a second, Rhetta saw the hurt flash in his dark eyes. She’d hurt him when she’d run away that first day…and in the barn. What was with her and bolting when things got uncomfortable? It wasn’t like her. She wasn’t that person with anyone else. Only with Mac.

  “Mr. Solomon, I didn’t know you’d be here,” she forced out through her trembling lips.

  “I come here often to think.”

  She nodded, the hint of a smile tugging at her mouth. “I can understand that. Please, don’t let me bother you. I’ll just go—”

  “No! Please. Stay,” he pleaded, holding one hand out and, with the other, he indicated the stump. “Join me. We can…think together.”

  She couldn’t help it, she chuckled. “Isn’t thinking best done alone?” she teased, liking how it felt.

  “It isn’t when the one I’ve been thinking about suddenly appears,” he said, his voice dropping to a smooth yet heavy intonation. A shudder crashed through her, but she fought it off with a forced laugh. He was joking, he had to be.

  He didn’t laugh as she thought he would. Instead, the darkness of his eyes in the shadows seemed to glimmer. Their intensity burning through her. She held her breath.

  But she didn’t run. She couldn’t, not when he stepped forward, took her hand, and pulled her toward him.

  Chapter 10

  Mac walked backward toward the tree stump, unable to take his eyes off of her face. He knew it was beautiful; her upturned nose, her glorious gold-green eyes, and her perfect lips…and in the moonlight, her face was breathtaking, as though she really were a forest spirit, blessed by the spirits of the sky. She didn’t know it, but she’d blessed him, too. He’d been sitting there in the silence of the forest, thinking about her, worrying about her. He worried that, for all his promised and bravado, he wouldn’t be able to save Bernadette. He worried that Henrietta wouldn’t see his worth, and that she’d only ever seen the man she’d run from in the forest. He worried that no matter what he did, he’d never have her heart. He couldn’t take his mind from her, though he hadn’t tried all that hard.

  And then she appeared, as if in answer to his unspoken prayers. A lovely vision with her hair spilling over her shoulders, her skirts loose and drifting lazily in the slight breeze, and her eyes, wide, yet…this time, her eyes weren’t filled with fear. They were brimming with curiosity, wonder…longing.

  Was it possible that she, too, was lonely? He couldn’t understand how that was possible. He’d been an only child and, as a half-breed, he wasn’t welcome to play with any of the other children in Runner’s Creek. He’d grown up, just he and his mother. And now that he was a man, he knew the depths of loneliness like no man should ever know.

  But Henrietta…she had her parents, her brother, his children, her aunt Melda, her cousins, and her sister…shoot! Bernadette! In that moment, warmth-sucking guilt pulled at him. Why was he up here, in a moonlit clearing, when he would be in his bunk, resting to go out and find Bernadette in the morning?

  For that matter…why wasn’t Henrietta in the safety of the house? Anger and fear banded together in the pit of his stomach,
radiating out to chill the air around him.

  He stopped walking, but didn’t let go of her hand. “Henrietta…why are you out in the dark? Don’t you think it’s dangerous to walk about when those men who took your sister are skulking like coyotes?”

  Her eyebrows shot up and her jaw fell to her chest. She recovered from her surprise quickly. “I thought about it and I didn’t care,” she replied, shrugging.

  His mind spinning at her carelessness, he ground out, “Are you mad? What if those men changed their minds and decided two hostages were better than one? What then?” He knew he shouldn’t let his anger rule, but Henrietta was putting herself in danger. And for what? A stroll in the woods?

  He admired the look of annoyance that made her all the more adorable, but then her eyes narrowed at him. At least she wasn’t running from him. He knew a moment of relief before she tried to wrench her hand from his grip. He held fast.

  “I didn’t think about it, not like that,” she said, her sharp annoyance turning into a pout. Good Lord, even her pout was lovely. He bit off a growl, his need to bend down and take her pouty lips with his was almost a ravenous need. Her proud shoulders slumped, and the desire to take her into his arms and soothe her drove him to step closer to her. But he stopped just shy of wrapping his arms around her.

  “What would happen if they took you, Henrietta?” How could he survive knowing she was with those men, those men who thought nothing of hurting women? He’d lose his mind…and then he’d hunt those bastards to the ends of the Earth to get her back. Fierce protectiveness forged an iron will; if she put herself in danger, he would do whatever it took to save her.

  “I don’t know…I suppose they would hurt me,” Henrietta replied, her face even paler under the moonlight.

  He shook his head. “No, I mean…what would happen to my world…if you weren’t in it?” He spoke as if he were talking to a skittish mare. He knew he was looking at her with too much emotion in his eyes, but he couldn’t help it. He’d never been good with feeling things and, with her…he just…felt more.