Montana Grit

by Ramona Flightner

  She grabbed his arm, flushing as he jerked away from her touch as though singed by a branding iron. “I don’t ask solely for my sake.” She looked down at her daughter.

  He shook his head, sniffing in displeasure. “It is unfortunate that those among us will suffer due to your actions. However, I am unwilling to risk the reputation, the standing of my fine hotel, due to your presence. Please leave, madam.”

  She flinched as he said her name like the woman who ran the Boudoir, with a slight French accent. “Of course. Please forgive my presumption.” She hefted her bag and grabbed Hortence’s hand as she walked with her head high out of the hotel. Once again on the boardwalk, she stood for a moment with little idea where to go.

  “Mama, I’m hungry,” Hortence whispered.

  Leticia nodded. “Come. I defy her to deny me.” She walked with renewed vigor, cutting down a back alley. She nodded to those she passed, meeting the glares and stares with an impersonal smile. When she reached her destination, she knocked on the door. She took a deep breath as footsteps approached, and the door was inched open. “Hello, Annabelle. Hortence is hungry.”

  Annabelle stared at Leticia a moment before nodding and opening wide the rear door to her bakery. Annabelle frowned as she saw the large satchel clutched in Leticia’s hand. “I just took sweet buns out of the oven, and I have a glass of cold milk for both of you.” Annabelle ruffled Hortence’s hair and kissed her forehead. “I’ve missed you, Hortence.”

  “Mama stayed one day longer than she was s’posed to at our house, and Mr. Barclay threw us out today,” Hortence muttered as she leaned against Annabelle’s side for her hug.

  Leticia met Annabelle’s shocked stare and nodded her agreement. “We are looking for housing currently. It seems it will be harder to come by than I had hoped.”

  Annabelle scooped out a roll for each of them and poured glasses of milk, motioning for them to sit on stools across from her as she continued to work on her baked goods for the day. She sighed as a customer came in. After attending her customer, she returned.

  “I should pay you for the rolls,” Leticia mumbled, fumbling in her small purse.

  “Nonsense,” Annabelle said. “We’re virtually family.” She shared a long look with Leticia. “I hope someday we will be family.”

  “We should leave. When the townsfolk realize I’m here, they will boycott your bakery because of me.” Her fingers gripped and ungripped her fork as she fought her anxiety.

  Annabelle’s amused smile eased her tension. “If there’s one thing I’m not worried about, it’s the esteem of the townsfolk. They already judge me for my support of my sister.” She shrugged. “If I lose business, then I lose business.” She watched as Hortence moved into the small office area where a cot remained.

  Leticia also tracked her daughter’s movement, her shoulders stooping as her daughter left the kitchen. “She’s exhausted. Since Saturday she’s clung to me like a bur and hasn’t slept well. I imagine she’ll curl up on your cot and be asleep in a matter of minutes.”

  Annabelle nodded as she swiped her hands on a towel. She scooped bread dough from a bowl and onto a floured area to knead it. “Where will you stay?”

  “I have no idea,” Leticia whispered. “If I could, I’d leave and never look back.”

  Annabelle punched her hands into the dough and glared at her friend. “I never thought you were so spineless. How can you say such a thing? Don’t you know what that would do to Alistair?”

  Leticia swiped at her cheeks, scrubbing away a few tears. “He doesn’t want me. He’s already visiting the whores!” She flushed, unable to meet Annabelle’s gaze. “Irene told me where he went on the night of our wedding ceremony. I never thought … I always thought …” She blinked away tears as she met Annabelle’s stare. “He’ll never want me again. I misled him.”

  Annabelle snorted, earning a glare from Leticia. “Call it what it is. You lied. You failed to tell the truth.”

  “When you are on your own, with a baby on the way, you’ll do whatever you have to do in order to survive,” Leticia whispered. “Do you know how close I was to suffering the fate your sister has lived?” She met Annabelle’s shocked gaze. “By the grace of God, I found another way. Yes, I lied. Yes, I deceived, but I found another way. Hate me for being clever. Hate me for keeping some part of my self-respect. But don’t judge me.”

  Annabelle sighed, rubbing her forehead and smearing it with flour. “I never considered …” She looked at her friend with newfound understanding and the rebirth of respect. “Someday will you tell me the whole story?”

  Leticia nodded.

  “I’d prefer it if you told Alistair first.”

  “If he’ll listen to me,” she whispered. “I’ve never wanted anything more than to be his wife. To know I’d have such a man in my life, helping to raise Hortence.” She shook her head. “I hate that, if I’d been honest, if I’d had the courage to confront my past, we would have been safe to marry.”

  Annabelle frowned at that statement. “I can’t say I’m a proponent of divorce. But considering I contemplated one with Cailean last year, I can’t judge.” Her brow furrowed more as she thought through the wedding ceremony scene. “That husband of yours seems intent on securing you as his wife again. He sounded quite intent on finding you.” Her perceptive glance roved over Leticia’s blond hair pulled in a tight bun and her church-best cornflower-blue dress. “Where will you and Hortence stay?”

  “I wanted to rent a room at the Grand Hotel for a few nights.” Her lips pursed. “But Mr. Atkins was unwilling to risk the reputation of his fine establishment to house one such as I, even though the hotel is three-quarters empty at the moment.”

  Annabelle set the dough in a greased bowl and placed a clean towel over it so that the bread would rise. She pulled out another bowl to start a quick batch of cookies for the early afternoon crowd that would come. “You have nowhere to go, do you?”

  At Leticia’s quick shake of her head, she bowed her head as though in shame.

  Annabelle cracked an egg so hard that bits of the shell fell into the bowl. “Cailean may never forgive me.” She scrubbed her hands on her apron and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I failed to help Fidelia. I refuse to fail you.” She met Leticia’s guarded gaze. “You may stay in my back room. For as long as you need to.”

  Leticia bent forward, placing her head on her crossed arms. “I should say no,” she whispered. “I should refuse to be the cause of any rift between you and your MacKinnon family. But I don’t want Hortence living on the streets. Living on scraps of garbage.” She shuddered. “I can’t do that to her.”

  Her friend gripped her arm. “I don’t want you at the mercy of that man who calls himself your husband. You need a place where you can feel safe.” She squeezed Leticia’s arm once before releasing it. “I’ve braved the town’s derision already over my sister. Don’t fret about how they will react with you living here.”

  Leticia nodded and swiped at her cheeks. “Thank you. I thought I’d lost your friendship forever.”

  Annabelle smiled. “Give me a few days to break the news to Cailean and his siblings. Then you’ll resume working out front again to earn your room and board.” She smiled and winked at Leticia who fought a sob.

  Chapter 5

  That evening, Annabelle sat in one of the easy chairs in front of the windows in the bedroom she shared with Cailean. She waited for him, shifting in the chair in an attempt to stay awake. However, she drifted to sleep before he joined her upstairs. A tickling to her nose and a soft kiss to her shoulder woke her. She smiled before she opened her eyes, recognizing her husband’s scent.

  “What are you doing out of bed, love?” he whispered. “You need your rest.” He eased her up, helping her from her wrapper and then into bed. He shucked his clothes and settled behind her, tugging her against him.

  As she stroked his hand over her belly, she began to tumble into sleep before she jerked awake. “No,” she gasped. “We must t
alk.”

  “Hush,” he soothed, easing her back to her side and into his arms. “Whatever it is will keep until tomorrow.”

  She pushed and turned until she faced him. “No, it won’t. And I refuse for you to hear about what I need to tell you from anyone but me.” She looked into his eyes with a pleading gaze, sobering as he chuckled. “Please listen.”

  “You have to know there is little I would deny you. No need to look so worried.” He brushed hair from her cheek to kiss it. “Say what you must and then let me enjoy holding my wife.”

  She traced circles on his chest. “First, I discovered that the man who I thought was a miner who gave me flowers for free food was really her husband.” She felt Cailean stiffen underneath her as she alluded to Leticia but did not say her name. “I swear I didn’t know.”

  “Hush,” Cailean murmured. “Of course you didn’t. None of us did, and why would you suspect he was anything but a prospector?” He sighed. “What did you do?”

  “I barred him from my bakery.” She swiped her face over his chest and breathed in his scent. “I feel like I betrayed Alistair.”

  He kissed her head. “You didn’t. You were being kind, as you always are. I wouldn’t want you to change now because such a man tricked you.”

  “I hope you mean what you say.” She pushed until he was on his back, and she was balanced on his chest. “I saw Leticia today. She’s been thrown out of her home. She has nowhere to live.”

  Cailean’s jaw tightened at the mention of Leticia’s name, and his eyes flashed with anger. “I don’t see how that should concern us.”

  “Please don’t let your anger misguide you.” She cupped his cheeks with her palms. “More than we understand is at stake.” She took a deep breath and met his wary gaze. “I’ve allowed her and Hortence to live in the spare room at the bakery.” She pushed on him with all her might to keep him in place when he would have tossed her aside. “No! Stay and listen to me.”

  “How could you, Belle? How could you offer refuge to a woman who treated Alistair, our family, abominably?” His gaze was filled with confusion and hurt.

  “I would never act to hurt you or Alistair or any MacKinnon. I need you to understand that.” She waited until he gave a nearly imperceptible nod of his head. “However, Leticia is also my friend. She and Hortence are in need of help. There is much I don’t understand, and I refuse to judge her before I know the entire story.”

  She met her husband’s worried gaze. “I know this will hurt Alistair, and I can only imagine the choice words Sorcha will say.” She ducked her head. “I couldn’t throw Leticia and Hortence out when they stood on my doorstep, proud, hungry, and desperate. I betrayed myself six years ago when I failed to help Fidelia. I couldn’t do the same today to Leticia.”

  Cailean nodded, the rigidity in his muscles easing as he listened to her arguments. “I know you meant well, but I fear you’ve only brought more pain to Alistair.” He cocked his head and raised his gaze to lock on to hers. “However, the thought of Hortence homeless and hungry is …” He shook his head. After a moment, he ran a hand over the crown of her head before giving a subtle press to urge her to bend forward to kiss him. “I love you, Belle. I love how you care for all of us, better than we should be cared for.”

  She kissed him, easing to lie against him and snuggling into his side. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Once I overcome my rage, I’ll try to understand.” He kissed her head. “Be patient with me, my Belle.”

  “It’s not as though I’m not angry too. I am. I just can’t allow my anger to rule me and to hurt Leticia and Hortence. They are worth more than my rage.”

  Soft afternoon light entered the barn’s open doors, dust motes dancing in the rays. The scent of fresh hay filled the air as a soft breeze entered, bringing a hint of pine forest. Alistair worked with a horse, his crooning not as soothing as usual. He sighed as the horse nickered and shifted from side to side as though sensing Alistair’s personal turmoil. He ran a hand down the chestnut’s neck, his soft caress calming the horse’s nervous energy. “If only I could calm myself with such ease,” he muttered. He spent a few more minutes with the horse before leaving the stall.

  He stilled when he saw a figure in the open livery door, backlit in the shadows. His jaw tightened in recognition, and he moved with jerky movements farther into the barn to the room filled with tack. “No reason for ye to be here.” He heard her deep inhale of breath at his snarl and then glared at the row of tack on the wall as her footsteps followed his retreat into the barn. “Leave.”

  “No, I won’t leave. Not until I’ve spoken with you.” She stood close enough that he could smell the soft scent of lilacs she put on whenever she knew she would see him. He remembered her saying she never wore it to school, as it was a waste of good scent and hard-earned money.

  He kept his back to her as he blindly reached for a bridle. “Say what ye must an’ go.” When she softly traced a hand down his back, he spun to grasp her wrist. “Dinna touch me. Dinna think I need calming like one of the horses in a stall.” He flung her hand away from him, yet he could not control the tic of his jaw.

  “Alistair, please,” she gasped as tears tracked down her cheeks. “You haven’t attempted to speak with me. To hear my side.”

  “Ye lied! Ye lied to me!” he roared. “How could ye, after all we shared? After all the dreams I spun of us, for us, how could ye do that?”

  “I never meant for this to happen. You must believe me.” Her breath hitched as she fought a sob.

  “An’ why should I?” He cleared his voice of the gruffness, although his Scottish accent only thickened the longer he was in her presence. “Ye had years to tell me the truth, which ye never thought me worthy of. Why should I seek ye out now? Ye’ve had plenty of time to concoct yer lies.”

  “You can’t believe I would willingly lie to you.”

  He leaned forward, his forehead almost touching hers as he nearly panted with his anger. “Don’t, Leticia. Lorena. Whoever in God’s name ye are. Do no’.” He backed away until he brushed up against the tack. “For, aye, I do believe ye’d lie to me. Ye’ve given me nae reason to believe differently. For ye did deceive me. For years.”

  Leticia shook at the ridicule in his voice and gaze. “I know I’ve earned your mistrust. Please give me a chance to earn your trust again.” She wrung her hands. “He wants me back. He says he wants his daughter, but...” Her wild, terrified gaze met Alistair’s.

  “He’s yer husband. I canna see why that would surprise ye.” His anger faded with his expression becoming more aloof the longer he beheld her standing before him.

  She swiped at her cheeks and reached for him, only stilling her movements at the last second as he jerked his arm from her touch. “Hortence misses you.” She paused at the anguish in his gaze at her mention of her daughter. “Why won’t you help me?”

  He shook his head. “I canna. Not now.”

  She stared at him, unable to control the fine trembling in her limbs. “Not yet?” she asked hopefully. When he merely stared at her with an implacable gaze, she nodded. “I won’t bother you further today, Alistair. But I refuse to give up. Until you’ve heard my side of the story, I will never give up on us.”

  He watched as she spun on her heel and raced from the livery. He took a deep, shuddering breath before turning to the neatly hung tack and ripping it from the shelves. He heaved it over his shoulder, slamming it into a wall and onto the floor. When nothing was left to throw, he braced his arms on the barren wall, his shoulders heaving as he fought to calm his rage.

  Alistair walked out of town, ignoring the interested stares and murmurings that erupted as he strode by. He ignored the few who attempted to engage him in conversation and continued his walk past the Merc, the café, and eventually the Boudoir. When he reached the edge of town, he veered toward a small path that would take him toward a place he had discovered after his arrival in Bear Grass Springs with Cailean four years ago. Although other t
ownsfolk occasionally frequented the area, most continued up the main road to the mining town the locals had named Obsidian for its dark cliffs.

  After a few minutes on the small trail, he heard the quiet babble of the creek, and a little of the tension in his shoulders eased. A scarlet-headed bird with yellow markings flitted in the brush, his colors brighter than usual as he called to a mate and ignored Alistair’s presence. Alistair approached the creek—the air cooler, more humid, and mossy scented—and sat on a rock. Visions of Leticia danced in his brain, and he bowed his head.

  Leticia laughing as she rang the bell for school. Leticia giving him an impish grin as she teased him. Her blue eyes, filled with wonder and joy after their first kiss. Her tremulous smile after she agreed to marry him. “No,” he rasped, running his hands through his hair.

  “Mr. MacKinnon?” a female asked, her soft voice emerging from the nearby cottonwoods.

  He leaped to his feet and scanned the area.

  In the shadows stood a woman nearly a foot shorter than his over-six-foot-tall frame. She clutched the edges of her shawl as she met his perusal.

  “Miss Jameson.” He nodded his head but did not attempt a smile. “I’m sorry to have bothered ye.” He turned to leave, surprised when she rushed forward and grabbed his arm.

  “No,” Helen whispered. She met his startled gaze and seemed to accept the flush now spreading from her cheeks down her neck. “I wanted to speak with you.”

  He frowned as his gaze roved over her again. Where Leticia was lithe, Helen Jameson had a full figure, and he could not fail to notice the curve of her bosom or flare of her hips. She appeared to be wearing one of her Sunday-best dresses, the slightly faded royal blue enhancing the shine in her wheat-blond hair pulled in a bun. “We should no’ be found alone together. We are no’ courting.”