Montana Grit

by Ramona Flightner

  “Aye.” His gaze roved over her, no longer filled with disdain and disappointment but with wonder. He smiled as it elicited a shiver from her.

  “What about the other woman you are courting?” At his frown, she breathed, “Helen?”

  He shook his head and ran a soothing hand over her head. “Dinna worry about Helen, love. I fear she is misguided. I ken now is not the time, but I want to hear yer story. The real story.” He bent forward and kissed her softly on her lips.

  “What if you don’t want me after you hear the truth?” she asked as a tear leaked out.

  “If I learned one thing during this wretched time, it’s that I’ll always want ye. I promise ye this.” He looked into her eyes with a fierce intensity. “I will listen. I will try to understand. And I will no’ judge ye.” He traced her cheek. “I can see how ye’ve suffered, an’ I’ve no right to judge what ye did all those years ago.”

  “But I’m still married to him,” she whispered.

  “After we speak, we’ll continue to work with Warren to free ye of that bastard ye married.” He ran a finger over her cheek as she breathed in a stuttering breath. “Then I’m certain all will be right again.” His eyes gleamed with reborn hope as he watched her.

  She took a stuttering breath and then jumped as she heard someone walking down the street. “Don’t take too long to come speak with me,” she whispered before she slipped by him and raced away.

  Alistair braced a hand against a wall of the house he dreamed of sharing with Leticia one day and took deep, restorative breaths. When he turned for home, hope filled him for the first time since his wedding ceremony had been interrupted.

  As he slipped through the quiet streets, he paused, sensing he was being watched. He froze and moved into the moonlight when he saw Helen Jameson approach him. “What do ye want, miss? I believe ye’ve already caused enough mischief.”

  She shivered as she pulled her shawl tighter around her. “I wanted to speak with you, but we are never alone.”

  “An’ ye’re a fool to believe we’re alone here. Any number of townsfolk could be witnessin’ our conversation.” He nodded to her in what he hoped looked deferential rather than dismissive and moved to walk past her.

  “You really want her, don’t you?” she whispered.

  He paused and met Helen’s wounded gaze. “Aye. As it should have been obvious to ye from the beginning. She’s the one I will always want. Will always desire.”

  Anger and hurt warred in Helen’s gaze before she backed away a step. “I will never understand you. You could have had a willing woman you could trust.”

  “When ye’ve felt what I’ve felt, then ye can talk to me. Then ye can dare judge me. Good evenin,’ Miss Helen.” He scooted past her, ignoring her sniffles. He breathed more fully when he arrived at his brother’s home and closed the door behind him.

  A warm breeze blew, easing the summer evening’s stifling heat. Leticia scurried along the shadowed alleyway behind Main Street, intent on returning to her room at the bakery, her mind filled with Alistair. She tried to batten down her hopes for them, but her breath hitched at the thought of reconciling with him. She jolted as a shadowy figure emerged in front of the bakery’s rear entrance. She froze at the voice.

  “Did you have fun during your little interlude with your Scot?” Josiah asked as he blocked her access to the door and her easy escape from him.

  “You have no right to spy on me!” She gasped as he grabbed her and spun her around until she was backed against the door.

  “You seem to like this position,” he jeered.

  “Let me go,” she hissed.

  “Scream or make a loud sound, and I will ensure you never see your daughter again.” His gloating smile spread as she stilled in his arms. “Remember, I am in control. You aren’t, and you never have been.”

  “She’s your daughter too,” Leticia protested. She lowered her voice to a barely discernible whisper as his hold on her tightened further.

  “I highly doubt that. I know how you carried on with other men when you didn’t think I was watching.” He manacled her wrists with one of his hands, holding them behind her back and thrusting her chest out. “You always were a fine-looking woman, Lorena. I can’t blame men for taking notice of you.”

  “That is not my name.”

  “It is the name I gave you. The name you accepted when you married me. It is the name you should use.”

  She shivered at the possessiveness in his tone. “I never cheated on you. It’s insulting you would think I did.”

  He chuckled as he tugged her closer, ignoring her instinctive stiffening. “You tried to kill me. Why wouldn’t you attempt to trick me with another man’s bastard child?”

  “I never tried to kill you. And I have never been unfaithful. That’s not who I am.”

  “Oh, but you were a con artist. You seem to have forgotten that. It will be one of life’s greatest pleasures to remind you of who you were and lead you down that path again.” He breathed into her ear before nibbling on her earlobe. “Do you really believe he’d want you, when he could have a pristine woman like that Miss Jameson?”

  “Let me go!” she said as she bucked against him.

  “You know how I liked it when you struggled.” His hold tightened as she pushed against him. He leaned forward and kissed her, growling at her when unable to deepen the kiss. “Dammit, kiss me back,” he rasped.

  She pushed against him, resolutely keeping her mouth shut as she evaded his kisses.

  After a few more unsuccessful attempts, he leaned away. “You may think you’ve been successful this time. But I will have you again. As my wife and all that entails.”

  He chuckled as she shivered. “Don’t for one moment believe my plans for you, for us, have changed. If you return to that worthless Scot, I will follow through with my plans for your brat. That is a promise.” He met her devastated gaze. “And you know I always keep my promises.” He ran a finger across the sensitive skin of her hairline in a mocking imitation of the way Alistair had touched her earlier, before Josiah released her with such swiftness that she collapsed to her knees. “Sleep well, darling wife.”

  She watched as he sauntered away before she rose on shaking legs to wrench open the bakery door and lock it behind her.

  “What has you so quiet?” Cailean asked Ewan the next day as they worked side by side at the livery. Sunday was Ewan’s day off as a carpenter, but he often helped out at the livery. “Are you angry with Alistair?” He glanced outside to watch his brother training a yearling in the paddock.

  Ewan grunted. “I should be. He interrupted my play last night.”

  Cailean sighed as he speared hay with a pitchfork to spread out in a stall. “Do you ever consider he was right to interrupt you?”

  “Don’t start,” Ewan snapped. “I’m having a small losing streak. It’ll turn around soon enough.” He glared at his brother’s grunt of disapproval. “I dinna ken if I should talk about somethin’ I saw last night or let it go.”

  “Would it hurt the person you told?” Cailean asked. He paused in his work as he saw his brother’s tormented expression. “Aye, I can see it would. Well then, would it make a difference in how they acted or what they did?”

  “Aye,” Ewan said, staring at Alistair, crooning to a horse like he used to before his failed wedding. “I’d take away his newfound joy.”

  “Dammit,” Cailean muttered as he heaved a pile of hay into another stall. After a few minutes of hard work, he paused, rasping for breath. “Tell him. He’ll understand you did it out of concern as a brother. Not because you’re angry about last night.”

  Ewan nodded before taking a deep breath and setting aside his pitchfork. He stood along the adjoining paddock fence as he watched his brother work. “Ye’re in good spirits,” Ewan said as Alistair joined him.

  “Aye, I’ve worked that yearling hard enough today. He’s spirited and a joy to work with. I just wish he were mine.” He swiped at his forehead with the sl
eeve of his shirt. He met Ewan’s gaze, his eyes lit with a deep joy. “An’ I ken things will work out between Leticia and me. ’Tis a wondrous day.” After a moment he sensed Ewan’s discomfort. “I canna apologize for interrupting yer game last night.”

  Ewan shook his head. “I should be angry with ye. Not speak with ye for a week. But that’s not why I’m standin’ here, like a fool, havin’ trouble speakin’.” He continued to study the yearling. “Cailean believes I should tell ye what I saw. But I fear ’twill only bring ye pain.”

  Alistair stood facing his baby brother, fighting a frown. “What are ye sayin’? Ye’re speakin’ in riddles.”

  “I saw Leticia last night, kissing a man.”

  Alistair let out a relieved laugh. “That man was me. I rambled by our house, an’ she was there. We … enjoyed an embrace.” He couldn’t hide his broad smile.

  “Nae.” Ewan cleared his throat. “This wasna at yer house, Alistair. But at the back door to the bakery. An’ she was in the man’s embrace for quite some time.” He waited as Alistair remained stock-still next to him and silent. “I was too far away to hear anything they said. And I left before they saw me. I think it was her husband.”

  Alistair shook his head as though attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. “I … How could she? After what we shared an’ what I promised?” He spun on his heel and strode into the barn.

  Ewan grimaced as he heard a stall door slam. He followed Alistair, squinting as his gaze adjusted to the dimmer light in the barn. Cailean nodded to the far stall in the corner of the barn, and Ewan walked in that direction. “What will ye do?” he murmured, ignoring Cailean’s arrival as both focused on Alistair.

  “Leave this damn town and travel. There’s naught keepin’ me here!” He kicked the wall. “Burn the bluidy house!” He threw a pitchfork against the wall and leaned against his outstretched arms, his breath sawing in and out.

  “I’d miss ye, were ye to leave, Al. Even if ye do interfere when a man plays cards.” He frowned as Alistair failed to respond to his teasing.

  “Belle and I will buy the house from you if you’re interested in selling,” Cailean said. He grunted when Ewan jammed an elbow in his waist.

  Alistair’s breathing calmed, although he remained with his back to his brothers. “I’m no’ certain what I want to do with the house. If I do decide to sell, I’ll sell it to ye for a fair price.” He took another breath. “An’ I’m no’ leavin’ town. No’ when we’re finally all together again.”

  Cailean made a grunt of agreement. “I never doubted that.”

  Alistair pounded a fist on the wall and spun, his eyelashes spiked with unshed tears. “I envy ye,” he rasped. “I wish I could say I lived without doubt. That I had such trust in another.” He rubbed at his face, clearing it of sweat and tears. “I thought I’d begun to regain it yesterday, but I’ve been played for a fool again.”

  “You can’t know that,” Cailean protested.

  “When a woman leaves my arms to jump into another man’s, I ken I’m a fool. Or not the man I thought I was.” He flushed at the last admission.

  Ewan huffed out a breath. “I think it means ye still are no’ in full possession of all the facts. Speak with her, Alistair. Ye ken ye want her after last night. Discover why she acted like a shameless hussy.”

  Cailean choked on a laugh. “Leticia? A hussy?” He shook his head. “There’s no way you’ll convince me that she’d rather be with the man she deserted seven years ago than with you, Alistair.” He met his brother’s irate gaze. “But I otherwise agree with Ewan. Talk with her. For once, talk with her and have it all out in the open.”

  Alistair sighed. “Aye, I will. But not today. Not while I’m so filled with rage that I’ll say somethin’ I’ll regret.” He relaxed as he picked up a pitchfork. “Tomorrow we will have our reckoning.”

  Chapter 11

  The next morning, Annabelle opened the back door to her bakery, creeping inside in an attempt not to waken Leticia. She smiled with success when the door to the small room remained closed, and she began to work on the breads and rolls for the morning. A few hours later, she glanced at the still-closed door and frowned. Leticia should have emerged to help as opening time neared. “Something’s wrong,” Annabelle muttered, swiping the back of her hand over her forehead.

  She approached the door and tapped on it. When she heard no answer, she pushed it open. Upon initially seeing someone covered up on the bed, she instinctively backed away. However, she paused when she recognized the small figure all alone. “Hortence?” she whispered. She moved to the cot, noticing Hortence was alone and asleep.

  Annabelle spun to scan the room. A note with Annabelle written in an elegant hand on the front rested on her small desk. She snatched it up, leaving Hortence in her ignorant sleep.

  She ripped open the letter, scanning it in horror. Her gaze jerked to the door and Hortence and then back to the letter that she reread. After a moment’s indecision, she raced out the back door to the livery.

  “Cailean!” she gasped as she arrived a few minutes later. “Alistair,” she breathed, holding on to a post as she caught her breath. She waved the letter, keeping it out of Cailean’s hold and handing it to his brother.

  Alistair studied her for a moment before reading the letter.

  Annabelle,

  I will always be thankful for the constancy of your friendship. During the most difficult times, you were my friend even though you were also a MacKinnon. I have one last selfish request. Please care for her as though your own.

  Your friend,

  Leticia

  “No!” Alistair roared, racing from the livery and in the direction of Annabelle’s bakery.

  “I have to return to the bakery. Hortence,” Annabelle whispered to her husband.

  Cailean grabbed his wife’s arm before she could pursue his brother. “What did her letter say?”

  “Leticia left town.” She shook her head in stupefaction. “But she left Hortence. She wanted me to care for Hortence as though she were my own.”

  “She went with that man?” Cailean rasped.

  Annabelle shrugged as she fought tears. “For some reason, she left Hortence. I don’t believe she has any intention of coming back.” She rubbed at her belly. “She’s abandoned her beloved daughter.”

  Cailean flinched, breaking his gaze from hers as an early morning customer entered the livery. “Go to Alistair. I must stay here.”

  Annabelle squeezed his arm and walked in a sedate manner to her bakery. She noticed a small crowd gathered outside and grimaced. When she entered the back, she found a piece of paper and scribbled on it Closed for the Day. After stuffing it in one of the windowpanes, she ignored the groans of disappointment outside and returned to the rear rooms.

  She crept into the back room to find Alistair on his knees, bent over Hortence as though in prayer. When Hortence woke, asking for her mother, tears coursed down Annabelle’s cheeks.

  “Yer mother has gone away for a few days,” Alistair whispered, tugging her onto his lap as he moved to sit next to her on the bed. “She’s asked us to care for ye while she is away.”

  “But she will come back?” Hortence asked, snuggling into Alistair’s embrace. When Alistair nodded, the child relaxed. “I’ve missed you, ’Stair.”

  “Aye, as I’ve missed ye, Little Bug,” he whispered, his voice thickened with tears. “Come. Let’s have ye away home so we can care for ye properly. I know yer aunts have missed ye.” He wrapped her in a blanket and hefted her into his arms. Her giggle eased the tension around his eyes, and she curled into his embrace.

  “How long until you’re my papa?” she asked.

  “Too long.” He shared an intense look with Annabelle.

  “I must bake for the hotel, café, and Boudoir. Then I’ll be home.” She squeezed his arm and watched as he left through the back door.

  Later when Annabelle arrived at the back door to the café, Irene grabbed her by the wrist and hauled her inside.
“You are not simply dropping off the buns today and disappearing. You must stay for a chat.”

  Annabelle shook her head and released her wrist from Irene’s tight grasp. “I don’t have time today. At the house, we have …”

  “A child who’s been abandoned, yes,” Irene said as her eyes sparkled with fury. “We’ve heard.”

  “How?” Annabelle whispered. She set the basket on the kitchen table and sat at a chair. She absently nodded her thanks as Irene placed a cup of coffee in front of her and joined her. “We haven’t told a soul.”

  “When Alistair is seen leaving with Hortence in his arms from the back of your shop, and you shut the bakery for the day, the townsfolk take notice and speculate. It didn’t take long for the stationmaster to mention that Miss Browne had departed with that ne’er-do-well early this morning.”

  Annabelle leaned against the back of her chair. “Did he say where she was headed?” She shrugged at Irene’s confused expression. “It would help narrow the search.”

  “You’re serious about bringing her back?” The older woman ran a hand over her calico skirt as she sat at the table with Annabelle. “Why? Alistair wanted little to do with her.”

  “He was working through his anger. He never wanted her to leave. To never see her daughter again. Even if he wanted nothing to do with her, he would never wish that for her.”

  Irene’s eyes gleamed with triumph. “Which means that cantankerous puff of hot air will be foiled again.”

  “I never realized you disliked Mrs. Jameson as much as you do,” Annabelle murmured.

  “Oh, I have my reasons.” She tapped the table. “However, now that she thinks she has her claws into a man like Alistair MacKinnon, he’ll have to be wily to free himself.”

  “Even if he has to be as blunt and rude as Cailean was famous for before he married me, I know Alistair would find a way to evade marriage to Helen. He doesn’t want her, and he’s feeling cornered by her. Something a man never likes to feel.”

  Irene’s shrewd gaze met Annabelle’s. “And he loves another.” Her smile spread at her friend’s nod of agreement. “Good. That’s as it should be.” She rose. “If he has any sense, he’ll catch tomorrow’s train. Have him stop by before he leaves, and I’ll have a basket ready for him. You’ll be busy with the bakery, and I don’t want to add this chore to what you already have to do.”