The scene was magical, now that the foal looked healthy and Tashunka nurtured the new life she’d brought into the world. Yet Cathleen’s heart hadn’t quite slowed its racing.
A gentle stroking against the back of her hand worked its way into her awareness. She still gripped Reuben’s hand. Or rather, her hand still nestled in his stronger one. And the touch of his thumb as it slid across her skin sent a shiver up her arm.
She swallowed. The urge to say something forced her to clear the muddle from her throat. “You were right. He’s beautiful.”
A soft chuckle drifted from beside her. “Tash is a good girl. Knows what she’s doing. Any time I try to help her, I usually end up making things worse.”
She couldn’t help a glance at his face. “I can’t believe that’s true.”
He gave a half shrug, almost self-deprecating. “We have a sort of mutual respect, I guess. She knows I’m here if she needs me, but I give her the respect of dignity if she doesn’t.”
As those words soaked in, clarity washed through her mind. That was the way he interacted with his mother, too. All those times she’d wondered why he stayed distant. Why he didn’t step in and help his Mum but left the older woman to do it herself. He was allowing Mrs. Scott the dignity to try things on her own while he stayed close enough to help if needed.
Except Cathleen probably ruined that for him most times. She’d developed a habit of hovering over Mrs. Scott any time the woman wasn’t ensconced in a chair doing something safe—sleeping or crocheting or just buttering bread at the table. Was she hindering the older woman from living fully in her remaining days? Not giving her the respect she deserved? Not allowing her dignity during every moment possible?
They’d shared some rather uncomfortable situations due to the incontinence challenges of Mrs. Scott’s condition. Dignity was hardly a word she often associated with the woman.
But now the unfairness in that approach glared at her. The cruelness even. Moisture burned her throat as it traveled up to sting her eyes. “I’m sorry I’ve not had faith.”
The pressure tightened on her hand. “Everything worked out just fine.” And when Reuben said it like that, it made her believe things always would.
With a final squeeze, he released her hand and bent low to gather a quilt from the ground. She’d not even noticed it there.
“I need to help dry this fellow off before he catches cold.” Reuben slipped into the stall, leaving a void greater than even his large frame.
“I should go inside and help your mum to bed.”
He glanced up from where he crouched by the foal. Disappointment touched his eyes. “If you come back out later, you can see him stand. Maybe pet him a while.”
Did he want her to stay? Oh, she’d love to stand here all night and watch him interact with the horses. His touch was magic. As if he spoke their language. Even now, Tashunka nuzzled his shoulder, affection clear in the easy way she allowed him to stroke her foal.
But Mrs. Scott needed her. The woman depended on her, and that wasn’t something she could set aside. But she could help Reuben’s mum age with dignity.
~ ~ ~
IT FELT SO strange to carry Pa’s tools without the man walking alongside him.
Reuben glanced toward the edge of the woods where the cross rose above the unblemished snow. What did his father think about things now as he peered down from heaven? Mum’s condition surely saddened him. Had he seen it coming before his death? He had to have. He and Mum were like two sides of the same coin. Always looking out for each other, filling in the gaps where needed, even when the need wasn’t spoken. True helpmates.
As he mounted the porch steps, he eased the tools and wooden pieces onto the floor. They made a sizeable thunk when they landed.
He straightened and tugged at his collar. The chinook wind that blew in earlier had driven away the cold faster than he’d seen in years. If this warm temperature kept up, the snow would be gone in a day.
Only in Montana could the weather change from snow to balmy in a quarter hour.
But he’d been through too many mountain winters to trust how long this warm spell would last. A day. Ten days. They’d best enjoy it while they could.
Noises drifted from inside the cabin. Cathleen was likely deep in some project by now, with all the chores finished from breakfast. She was a whirlwind, that one. Got more done in a day than he’d ever have suspected from a city girl. Kind of like Mum during her younger days. And it was a wonder what she accomplished while still caring for Mum. Maybe she’d like a break?
Pushing the cabin door open, he stepped inside and allowed his eyes a moment to adjust to the shadows.
Cathleen sat at the table, bundles of dried, leafy plants spread out around her. She looked at him with one of those smiles that sent a warmth through him. The woman was pretty at any time, but those smiles lit her whole face and made it hard to keep from stepping closer. Close enough to touch. Maybe even taste.
He looked away quickly before that line of thought could take hold. “Is, uh, Mum around? Thought she might like to sit in the sun while I work on the porch.”
Cathleen stood and started toward the back room. “Isn’t this weather terrific? I never imagined February could be so warm in these mountains. Your mum’s in her room, but I’ll see if she wants to join you.”
While voices murmured from that chamber, Reuben grabbed one of the kitchen chairs and carried it to the porch. Only a minute passed before Cathleen’s voice drifted louder toward him.
“Wait till you feel this weather outside. It’s almost like summer.”
“Really?” Mum’s voice seemed strong this morning. “Must be a chinook blowin’ in. Too bad Quinn’s out in the fields. He always likes to sit on the porch with me an’ whittle when the weather turns nice.”
Reuben met them at the door and took Mum’s hand from Cathleen. “I’ve got a nice spot ready out here, Mum.”
Cathleen gave him that smile again, then turned back toward the house. “Would it be all right if I leave the door open? The cabin could use a good airing.”
“Of course.” Not that he’d deny her anything, but with him working in the doorway itself, this might give him occasional glances of her.
Mum mostly hummed while he fitted boards together to form brackets and a brace to hold the door shut. She seemed to do a lot of humming these days. He could remember times from his upbringing when she would sing while she worked, but not nearly as often as these last few weeks. Maybe she’d always done it and he hadn’t noticed.
At last, he stepped back and studied his work. Fairly simple really. A wooden brace and pockets for it to rest in, one on the door and two on the frame. Pa would have built something more elaborate. More precise, too, with the wood lining up exactly. Perfectly level.
Reuben had spent his first eighteen years trying to follow in Pa’s shoes. He’d not been successful then, and he wasn’t likely to accomplish that miracle now. He eyed his handiwork again. This would get the job done.
A glance inside showed Cathleen standing at the work counter, her back to him as she stirred something in a bowl. What was she working on now? Would she think him nosy if he asked?
“How were the animals today, dear?”
Mum’s voice turned him away from his thoughts, pulling him back to the sunshine and the glitter of melting snow dripping from the trees around the yard. He eased down on the porch step near her chair.
“The animals all seem fine, Mum. We had a foal born last night. A sorrel colt. I’ll take you out to see him, if you want.”
She gave him one of those rare smiles, shining with pride. “You always were good with the horses, son. Just like your pa.”
He had to swallow down the lump in his throat formed by those words. “It’s Tash’s baby. She gives us the good ones.” He turned back toward the scene in front of them. The opening in the trees on the left still afforded a view of the distant mountains, rising in splendor. His winter camp lay out there somewhere.
Cold and vacant unless some other trapper had taken up residence for the rest of the season.
And that was likely the way it would stay if he took on his father’s responsibilities here. As he should. The conversation with O’Hennessey yesterday filtered through his mind again. The man had given him a nice option out, but should he take it? Could Mum be happy anywhere other than this place where she’d made a home for over three decades now? Could he really ask her to leave it all and go with him on his trapping routes? Later, he could decide. There was time.
He glanced at her again. She’d stopped humming, but pleasure lined her face as the sun’s rays splashed across it. Maybe now would be a good time to test the waters. “Mum, I went to check on our cattle yesterday. Mr. O’Hennessey’s been feeding them for us with his own stock.”
Her eyes turned a bit glazy as she looked at him. “Oh?”
He kept on but watched her for signs of understanding. “The animals look good for such a cold winter. He’s offered to keep them on till spring.” For payment of a decent chunk of the herd, but he didn’t need to go into that now.
Besides, it felt like he was needed most here, not out feeding livestock half the day. Even though he wasn’t as useful as he’d like to be, there was still plenty to be done to restock the place.
Not to mention their safety. After the wolf attack yesterday, he hated to leave the women alone for even an hour. And he’d been dead serious about teaching Cathleen to shoot a rifle. That was one critical skill she was sorely lacking. And one of the only areas he could actually help.
Another glance at Mum showed her eyes drifting shut. He’d not finished what he needed to say, though.
He cleared his throat. “Mum, I was telling you about Mr. O’Hennessey’s offer to keep up with the cattle through spring.”
She blinked and stared at him.
He trudged on. “He also offered to buy us out if we’re open to it.”
The lines across her forehead deepened. “Buy us out? What d’ya mean?”
“Just the cattle. I’m not saying we have to sell. I’m just saying that might be an option to make things easier around here.”
If it were possible, those frown lines deepened, spreading around her eyes and mouth. “Quinn, are you sick? I know that fever was hard on you, but if you’re feelin’ poorly you should say so.”
An arrow to his chest. Reuben swallowed. How did he break the news gently, so she didn’t fall apart like she’d done last time? “Mum, it’s me, Reuben. Pa’s not here.”
Her eyes fogged over. “Not…here? Where is he?”
Dare he say it? Was it better for her to live in a lie? He softened his tone as much as he could. “Mum, Pa didn’t make it through the fever. He’s in heaven now.”
Her chin quivered, and she drew in air with a raspy breath. “What?” The childlike fear in her voice reached into his chest and squeezed it like a vise.
Water formed in her eyes, then rolled out in huge tears. “What do you mean?”
What did he do now? He should have kept his mouth shut, but now he had do something to fix this.
But before he could move, Cathleen was there. Kneeling beside Mum, stroking her hand and wrapping an arm around those frail shoulders. Mum leaned her head on Cathleen’s shoulder and sobbed, while this angel of mercy murmured sweet sympathies in her ear. It was the balm he needed, too.
No matter how inadequate he felt, at least Cathleen was there, tending to Mum. Being the daughter she needed. The thought didn’t stab like it had the first few times he’d felt it. Not as much anyway.
After a minute, Cathleen started to hum a song. One he’d heard them singing last night when he came in from the animals. That seemed to pull Mum from her sorrow more than anything, and she leaned back in her chair and hummed along. Cathleen’s voice rang like an angel’s compared to Mum’s shaky vibrato, but the joined harmony seemed right.
They’d only gone through a verse or two when Cathleen straightened and patted his mother’s hand. “Do you know what?”
Confusion washed Mum’s eyes as they roamed Cathleen’s face. “What is it, dear?”
“There was a baby foal born last night.” She cut a glance at him, a pert smile on her lips. “I was hoping Reuben would take us to see him. Shall we ask him now?”
That he could do. Rising to his feet, he stepped closer and extended a hand to each of them. “Let’s go.”
Cathleen slipped fingers into his, her gaze finding his, then sliding down a notch. Surely that wasn’t embarrassment pinking her smooth cheeks. From what? The warmth of her touch flowed up his arm, and he didn’t let go right away, even after she’d stood and turned to help Mum from her chair.
At last, she gave a little tug to pull from his grip. He stroked his thumb across the back of her hand before releasing it. Something about this woman brought to life places inside him he’d not known existed. Like the desire to touch her so often. Last night as they watched Tash foal. And now.
He had to squelch that urge. She came from a different world, and would be going back to that place. He’d better keep his hands—and emotions—in check.
Chapter Thirteen
REUBEN FUMBLED WITH his clumsy hands around Mum’s frail arms as he and Cathleen got her up and positioned between them. Down the steps they hobbled as a threesome, then they continued a painfully slow walk toward the barn.
Cathleen kept up a steady conversation with his mother as they walked, but it wasn’t incessant babble, just light banter. And Mum responded with rapt attention, answering and commenting in the slow cadence she’d developed since he’d left in the fall.
As they entered the barn, Cathleen’s voice dropped to a loud whisper. “Wait till you see this young man, Mrs. Scott. He’s all legs.”
The colt was napping when they drew near his stall. Tash stood over him and had probably been enjoying her own rest but perked her ears at their approach.
Reuben stepped into the pen to pet the mare while Cathleen stood with Mum at the fence.
“He is good-lookin’, son. Let me come see that boy.” Mum pushed through the stall door before Cathleen could stop her, like a woman ten years younger.
Cathleen shot him a wide-eyed, worried look, but he could only grin. This was the Mum he was used to seeing. Full of zest and ready to charge through wherever she aimed to go.
The colt scrambled to his feet, and Mum slowed her approach. “Hey, boy. You are a tall fellow.”
He sniffed one of her extended hands and let her come close enough to stroke his neck. “You’re a fine lad, aren’t you, son.” Mum kept up a steady monologue to the horse as she scratched the itchy spot at the base of his neck, then the top of his back. “You jest need some lovin’ is all.” That hint of Irish brogue had drifted back into her voice, just like he remembered from his youngest childhood days. It was good to hear. Good to see her come back to life as the woman he’d always known.
His gaze wandered up to Cathleen. She’d stepped into the stall and hovered beside Mum. Probably to jerk her away should the horses put her in danger. Ever the stanch defender, the loyal caretaker. Thank you, God, that she’s here.
She met his gaze, a half smile lighting her eyes even in the dimness of the barn. A streak of dark brown lined her left cheekbone, marring her usual flawless face. Cinnamon, maybe? She smelled faintly of the rich aroma.
Tashunka was the only barrier between them, and with the mare’s head lowered, he could just reach across to brush the mark from Cathleen’s cheek. Her eyes widened as his hand approached, but she didn’t back away.
The touch of her skin was every bit as luxurious as he’d imagined. His hand cupped her cheek while his thumb stroked it clean. Her eyes held the faintest look of confusion, and he tried his best not to let the bliss of the touch show too strongly on his face. “You had a streak of something. There.” He stroked the spot again, and if he wasn’t mistaken, a little tremor unsteadied her. Did she feel the tension between them? Could she possibly care anything at all for
him?
It wasn’t possible, was it? He dropped his hand but couldn’t do the same for his gaze. This woman deserved far better—was worth far more—than a back country trapper like him. He was fooling himself to let these thoughts meander through his brain.
He turned away, and Cathleen didn’t speak. Soon enough, she gathered Mum and coaxed her toward the house. “I’m making a vinegar pie for tonight and was hoping you could help me with the crust. I never can get the thickness right like you do.”
He stood at the stall door and watched the two of them, arm in arm, as they walked away. If he didn’t do a better job of guarding his heart, he was going to be in a mess when she walked away for good.
~ ~ ~
REUBEN SAT ON a crate in the barn, cleaning his Sharps rifle while his mind filtered through his upcoming task. As much as he had to keep his distance from Cathleen—Miss Donaghue. It would be easier if he thought of her that way. She had to learn how to shoot a rifle. Without that skill, she’d be easy prey in these mountains. He’d lost himself in his work on the furs for a couple hours that morning, but he couldn’t put this off much longer.
He’d just have to get it over with and try to keep the damage to his heart contained. She’d need to learn how to load and fire Pa’s old Springfield breech-loader eventually, but this first time should be with his Sharps. The queen of rifles with its dead-on accuracy, even at long distances. Not to mention how quick and simple it was to load. She’d be spoiled for sure, but she deserved it. This first time anyway.
Once he had the rifle fitted back together, he grabbed the pouch holding his cartridges and propped the gun over his shoulder. As he passed Tashunka’s stall, the colt inside startled at his appearance, jumping the way foals always did until they figured out this new world.
“It’s all right, fella. You’re in good hands.” He had the sudden urge to whistle as he stepped from the barn into warm sunlight. He shouldn’t be looking forward to this at all, much less so much that the beat in his chest quickened like it was. The prospect of spending time with his Sharps and a pretty gal, who wouldn’t be excited? Maybe for just this next hour, he could forget about the future and enjoy the moment.
The Lady and the Mountain Call (Mountain Dreams Series Book 5) Page 10