Mountain Wild

by Stacey Kayne

  “Then it would seem you have a chance to set things right.”

  “No. Not me.”

  “You can choose to appoint someone to oversee the estate. I’m sure your intended will know how to go about doing so.”

  Her intended? Maggie stared at the parcel, her mind reeling at the thought of owning…anything.

  When she didn’t move to accept the documents, Chance took them.

  “Should you need advice or anything, my door is always open.”

  Maggie didn’t want anything from him. She just wanted to leave.

  “This has all been quite traumatic for her,” said Chance.

  “You can use my chamber as long as you need,” he said, taking a step back. “Mr. Daines is taking care of some paperwork but should be here shortly. Mr. Morgan. Mr. and Mrs. Morgan.”

  Garret was safe. That had been her only reason for coming here. She couldn’t stand another moment of it, this room, the people, these clothes….

  “Maggie?” said Skylar.

  “I’d like to be alone,” she said, not caring if her request was rude. She couldn’t breathe.

  “All right. We’ll be right outside.”

  The moment the door shut she began tugging at shiny buttons and satin ties.

  She couldn’t do it. She didn’t belong here.

  His magpie had taken flight.

  It was a sharp slap of rejection, staring at the pile of blue fabric heaped on the judge’s desk. A breeze swirled in from the open window above a bookcase.

  She’s going to make me chase her.

  “We shut this door not fifteen minutes ago,” said Tucker.

  Garret picked up a stack of bound papers from the folds of silky fabric. “What’s this?”

  “Titles to Strafford’s estate most likely. Judge came by and told her she’d inherited all he had. She seemed pretty shaken by the announcement. In fact, she tried to give it back to him.”

  “No wonder she ran.” He hoped it was the titles and this town she’d run from—not him.

  “She ran because she’s wild,” said Chance, “and being stuck in this room was driving her crazy.”

  “She’s not wild!”

  “The hell she’s not. She was ready to claw these walls down to get out.”

  “I felt the same way in that damn jail cell.”

  “I’m not trying to put her down, Garret. I know you care about her. I’m calling it like I see it. Just because she’s softer beneath the surface than she appears doesn’t change who she is.”

  He grabbed the clothes and documents and shoved them at Chance. “I love who she is. If I have to live in the wild to be with her, so be it.” He paused beside his sister, giving her a quick squeeze. “I’ll send word when I get home.”

  “What do you want me to do with this?” Chance called after him.

  “Put it in a safe place.”

  He knew where to find Maggie.

  The mountain.

  Garret rode into the yard and could hardly believe his eyes. Several miles back he’d stared at the shift in direction visible in the pitted ground, not sure he wasn’t merely seeing what he wanted to see—Maggie’s tracks leading him home. In the fading light of dusk he saw Star in the paddock beyond the bunkhouse.

  Leaving his horse in the yard to find water, he hurried toward the light shining through the window on the back door. Through the curtains he saw her sitting on a kitchen chair, petting the dog relaxed at her feet. She sat back, pushing her tangled hair away from her red-rimmed eyes as he stepped inside.

  “Garret.” She went to him and he opened his arms, holding her tight as she fell against his chest. “What took you so long?”

  He smiled against her hair. “I came as quickly as I could. I thought you’d gone home to the mountain.”

  “I wanted you.”

  His hold tightened as her words eased his fear. She was his. “Magpie.”

  He’d never loved anything the way he loved her. She’d been through so much today. When he thought of how close he’d come to losing her, her mountain hideaway didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

  “I tried to wait for you,” she said, “but I couldn’t breathe in that town.”

  “I know. It was a brave thing you did, going in front of all those people. I can’t say I’m sorry Nathan’s dead, but he was still your brother. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  “I can’t grieve for him. I don’t want his things. I don’t know what to do.”

  “You don’t have to figure it out today. All you have to deal with right now is me.”

  She relaxed against him. His hands moved over her back, melting the tension beneath his palms.

  “Will you marry me, Maggie?”

  She eased back, her lips quirking with a smile. “I will.” Her smile didn’t last a full second. “I don’t know anything about babies, Garret.”

  “A few days in my sister’s house will fix that.”

  “One night was enough to terrify me.”

  “Ten kids is a lot to take on at once,” he said with a laugh. “I’ve had enough diapering experience for the both of us.”

  His assurance didn’t ease her worried frown.

  He touched his forehead to hers. “We can do this, Magpie. We can do this.”

  “I believe you.”

  Her open trust dissolved the last remnant of his worry. “We likely have bigger worries here than diapering, anyhow.”

  “Such as?”

  “With your ebony hair and my cotton top, our kid’s liable to come out zebra-headed.”

  She laughed.

  “It’s a worry,” he said, kissing her smiling lips.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too. I’d do anything for you, even live up in that wild country if I had to.”

  Her eyes hazed with moisture as her smile brightened. “I find I’m rather partial to sleeping beneath your lace canopy.”

  Seemed what he thought to be a useless weave was good for netting magpies. “My saving grace,” he said, and lifted her into his arms.

  She tightened her arms around his neck as he carried her from the kitchen. “What now?”

  “I’m getting you into a warm tub while I’ve got you wooed.”

  “Do you have a mind to love me?” she asked, her smiling lips seeking his.

  “I surely do. For the rest of my life.”

  Epilogue

  Six years later—Strafford Estate

  I t had been twenty years since she had stood on the front steps of her childhood home. Maggie had been surprised to discover the large house she remembered was in fact a mansion. The massive Victorian now stood at the center of a large township, and moments ago had been revealed as the new Strafford Music Center—the many rooms and parlors converted to classrooms and performance theaters.

  She smiled up at the ornate gold placard on the door proclaiming the name of the music center in memory of Thomas Strafford. She held a plaque presented to her during a lovely dedication ceremony. The moment the planning council had approached her with interest to purchase the estate, she knew this was something her father would have wanted. She was glad Garret had talked her into attending the opening. Their boys had enjoyed the train ride across Wyoming and had been on their best behavior all afternoon, an amazing feat for her three-year-old and five-year-old sons. After two days of travel and an afternoon of tours, ceremonies, pleasantries and finger sandwiches, her boys were likely as exhausted as their mother. She was ready to shed the cumbersome lavender gown Cora had sewn, adding extra pleats at the midsection to accommodate six months of pregnancy.

  “Mrs. Daines.” Mr. Hudson, head of the music council, took her gloved hand in his. “Thank you again for your generosity. Your donation means so much to this community.”

  She pulled her hand away. “I’m glad my father’s house will be of good use,” she said for the hundredth time today. While she meant it, she was anxious to be on her way.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to find my
family.” Holding the dedication plaque to the tight bulge of her belly, she started down the steps, searching for her husband in the hundreds of guests spanned across the grounds. Her crew of cotton tops was easily identifiable on the lawn. Garret waved, bringing an instant smile to her face. She started through the crowd, never losing sight of Garret.

  He looked dashing in the dark tailored suit, his pale hair a ripple of incandescent waves over the back of his collar. Oblivious to the number of admiring gazes fixed in his direction, he held Jonathan’s hand and appeared to be in deep conversation with Zachary. Her oldest stood a few feet off from his father, his hands tucked into his trouser pockets, the hard curve of his mouth suggesting he’d rather be in a saddle than all slicked up and standing in the yard of his grandfather’s estate.

  He caught sight of her approach and his blue eyes brightened.

  “There’s our girl,” said Garret. “Let’s see it.”

  She held out the plaque for the boys to see. Garret crouched between them.

  “Shiny,” said Jonathan.

  “Will look real nice on the mantel,” said Garret.

  “We get to take it home, Mama?” asked Zachary.

  “We do.”

  “On the train?” Jonathan asked.

  “On the train.” Both her boys beamed excited smiles.

  “Aunt Maggie!”

  She turned to see eight-year-old Callie Mae approaching with her parents and the entire bouquet of Morgan girls. Cora and Chance had brought Skylar’s daughters. Maggie had been so touched that they’d all made the long journey to share this day with her. The ceremony couldn’t have come at a worse time, the Morgans’ preparing for a colt sale and Garret in the midst of spring roundup. Yet they’d made an event of it, sewing a flurry of new spring dresses just for the occasion.

  “You really grew up in that house?” Callie Mae asked, flouncing to a stop in front of her.

  “I did, but they’ve made a lot of changes.”

  “It’s so pretty, and huge.”

  “It really was a lovely ceremony,” said Cora. “Seems a fine school.”

  “Can we go look at the birds on the pond now?” asked TJ, tugging on his father’s jacket sleeve.

  “Sure,” said Chance.

  “Can Zach and Jonathan come, too?”

  “Can’t,” Zachary said, his expression mournful as he shook his head.

  “Why not?” Maggie asked, shocked that her son would decline a chance to explore the willows and grasses around the wide stretch of water curving around to the backside of the mansion. She’d spent a good deal of time chasing ducks and picking flowers along those shorelines.

  “Promised Daddy to not get dirty on account it’s your special day.”

  “I see mostly grass around that pond. You should be able to stay fairly clean.”

  Hopeful blue eyes shifted to Garret. At his daddy’s nod Zach and TJ set off across the lawn.

  “Don’t get wet,” Maggie called after him.

  He came to a hard stop and looked back at them. “What if I get pushed in?”

  Garret chuckled.

  “TJ,” Chance said dryly, his arm sliding around his wife’s shoulders as they strolled after the boys, “don’t be pushing your cousin into the pond.”

  Blond curls swayed above wide brown eyes as TJ shook his head. “I won’t.”

  “Come on, Jonathan,” Grace said, holding her hand out to him.

  Her youngest took his cousin’s hand and followed the rest of their clan.

  “You do realize Zach will find a way to get wet?” Garret said as he pulled her into his warm embrace, discreetly caressing the rise in her belly.

  Maggie smiled and leaned against his side. “Most likely. He’s a lot like his father.”

  “How ’bout you, Magpie, you want to go see the birds?”

  “I’m ready to head for the hotel,” she whispered. “But it’s been a nice day.”

  “It has.”

  “Thank you for making me come here.”

  “You wanted to come. You just needed a little nudge.”

  Garret was sure the fancy crowd milling around them would likely be surprised to know his wife preferred cotton over silks and rarely socialized with anyone outside of the family and her business contacts for their ranch. Yet she’d gone before several hundred strangers with the poise and grace of a duchess to help commemorate her father.

  “Your father would be proud of you, Magpie. I am, too.”

  Her smile never failed to set his heart racing.

  “Would it be highly improper for me to kiss you right now?”

  Her eyes widened. “Yes, it certainly would.” She lifted onto her tiptoes, whispering, “Kiss me anyway.”

  “Still my wild woman,” he murmured, before giving his wife a purely improper kiss.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-3584-1

  MOUNTAIN WILD

  Copyright © 2009 by Stacey Kayne

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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