Moon Over Montana (McCutcheon Family Series Book 5)

by Caroline Fyffe

“Of course. We have big things to talk about.” He leaned in close. “I wish I could kiss you.”

  “I know. Me too.”

  “And we can’t make the announcement until I speak with Flood. It wouldn’t be proper.”

  Charity couldn’t stop this odd feeling that something was going to go wrong. Somehow, some way, their intentions would be jumbled. Just like all the other things that had kept them apart through the years.

  “You’ll speak with him today, at the party, right?”

  He gave her a smile that had the power to send her stomach somersaulting. Since the hayloft in Rio Wells, her awareness of Brandon had changed. Grown deeper. She’d experienced a sliver of what husbands and wives held special. The secret power that connected them. She couldn’t wait to be man and wife.

  “That’s our plan. Now go inside and get comfortable,” he said. “I’ll be right in. I’ll take Flood aside and do the asking. You don’t think he’ll say no, do you?”

  “Charity and Brandon, are you going to stand out there all night?”

  Her mother had come outside looking for them. The light shining in her eyes said she knew exactly what they were discussing.

  “We’ll be right there,” Charity called. She gave her mother a smile and turned back to Brandon. “Say hello to Jack for me.”

  At the mention of his deputy, Brandon gave an exasperated sigh. “He’s the only one I’m not anxious to see.”

  Chapter Two

  Brandon covered the ground between the hotel and the sheriff’s office. It was good to be back in Y Knot. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the place. He paused, taking a good look down the street. A few horses dozed in the sun in front of the Hitching Post Saloon. Farther down at Lou and Dritt’s boardinghouse, someone swept the boardwalk in front, pushing the dirt into the street. He grinned. In one day the dust would settle right back onto the wood. Glancing across to Lichtenstein’s Provisions, he wondered how the feisty German fared, as well as his timeworn clerk, Mr. Simpson. That old codger hadn’t missed a day since Brandon had taken over as sheriff.

  These were his people. He’d been looking out for their welfare for a good number of years. They were his friends, and the only family he knew. And of course, there were the McCutcheons. They’d be true family once he and Charity tied the knot. He swallowed down a small lump of emotion. A vision of Charity maturing over the years brought a smile to his lips.

  Charity. My girl. She’d finally said yes.

  The door of Berta May’s sewing shop opened and Berta May stepped out. Her smile transformed her face into a glow of happiness. “I thought that was you, Sheriff Crawford! Welcome back. Seems like you’ve been gone forever. How long has it been?”

  “Over two months.”

  “Everyone is sure going to be glad to see you back. I know I am.” She drew out the word I, and then smiled shyly. “Let me know if there’s anything you need. Anything at all.”

  He couldn’t miss when the handsome, aging seamstress batted her lashes at him, and he smiled. “Thank you, Berta May. It’s darn good to be home. If I think of anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “You do that, Sheriff. Still, I’m baking you a pie tomorrow. Yes, sir, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I hope you like apple—Brandon.”

  He nodded. “My favorite.”

  “That settles it. Look for it bright and early.”

  Stepping across the threshold of his office, Brandon stopped short. The disarray hit him like a board in the face. Jack Jones sat behind Brandon’s desk, asleep. The deputy’s muddy boots were propped up over a mountain of papers, and his hat covered his face. A long, rippling snore almost woke him, but not quite.

  Brandon stepped over and knocked Jack’s boots off the desk. When the deputy’s feet hit the floor, his head jerked with an angry growl. He blinked several times, as if he thought Brandon was a mirage.

  Brandon’s smile was tight. “What? You thought I wasn’t coming back? That I was leaving the good citizens of Y Knot in your care forever?”

  “Brandon! When did you arrive?” Jack stood, smacking his lips as he pushed his scraggly hair out of his eyes.

  Brandon looked around. “Where’s Craig?”

  “Quit the week after you left.”

  Anger twisted up Brandon’s spine, but he took hold of his temper. “And you didn’t see fit to let me know?”

  “I couldn’t. The telegraph line in Rio Wells was down. You said that yourself when you telegrammed from San Antonio.”

  “A week after I left Y Knot, I sent you three telegrams from Denver—before I left Colorado for Texas.”

  Jack had the decency to look ashamed. “Guess it slipped my mind.”

  “More like you enjoyed your unchallenged authority around here. Did you run Craig off?” Brandon went over to the wall where the wanted posters hung. It only took a second to see that a couple were outdated; he recognized the faces of criminals already arrested or killed. He looked over his shoulder. “Where are the new flyers?”

  Jack tipped his head toward a chair behind the door. “Over there. I’m switching ’em out later today.”

  Resigned, Brandon nodded. “Well, why don’t you get to it while I go through this mess on my desk.” He pushed some papers aside with his finger and sat. “Anything important happen in my absence?”

  Jack pulled the pins from the corners of a poster. “I helped solve a crime that almost killed old man Klinkner.”

  Brandon looked up from his chair. “Oh?”

  “Yeah, his steam engine blew up and his leg got broke. Lucky he and Hayden weren’t killed. At first, everyone thought it was an accident, but after snooping around, me and the sheriff in Pine Grove discovered different. Turned out Abner Lundgren’s wife didn’t like losing business to the Klinkner mill in Y Knot.”

  Brandon nodded and stood. He needed to get back to the restaurant. Ten minutes had already passed and Charity would come looking for him any moment. Ever since she’d agreed to marry him, things had been going along well. He didn’t want to start this new chapter off on the wrong foot. “That was good work, Jack. I appreciate you taking the reins while I was gone.”

  “You’re not mad at me?”

  “I’m plenty perturbed.”

  Jack cast his gaze to the floor, where a light coat of dust crunched under Brandon’s boots. “I’ll get this place cleaned up right away.”

  Brandon took a step toward the door. “I’ll be over at Cattlemen’s having supper.” He’d crossed the threshold when Jack called him back.

  “I almost forgot. You got some important-looking mail while you were away.”

  By the battered envelope Jack handed him, it seemed his deputy had been curious as to the contents.

  “Thanks,” Brandon said, taking the post.

  “I couldn’t help but notice it’s from a US marshal in Kansas City.”

  Brandon stared at the logo stamped on the front. “So it is.” His nonchalance was difficult to keep up.

  The job. Months had passed since he’d sent the letter. When he hadn’t heard anything, he figured James Timberlake had forgotten who Brandon Crawford was. Deputy to a US federal marshal, especially one as famous as Timberlake, would be a huge step up in his career.

  But one that would take him away from Y Knot. Would Charity go with him? The ranch was everything to her and all she ever talked about.

  He’d known things with Charity were too good to be true. They should have gotten married in San Antonio, the same night as John and Lily. Then she’d have to go with him. Torn, he stepped outside and gazed up into the sky, not knowing what to think. He didn’t want to miss this opportunity, but he didn’t want to lose the love of his life either. Seemed hard choices had come home to roost.

  Wait a minute. I haven’t gotten the job yet. Maybe Timberlake’s turning me down. There had to be more than a few men interested in such a good position.

  Disappointment registered at the possibility. He’d dreamed of a federal career since the d
ay the silver star of Y Knot had been pinned to his vest. Why he felt so strongly about it, he wasn’t quite sure—except that it had been a federal marshal who had avenged his parents’ murder.

  With a sigh, he started for Cattlemen’s.

  When he was halfway to the restaurant, Charity opened the door and hurried out to meet him. He folded the envelope and stuffed it in his back pocket.

  “I thought you said you’d only be gone a moment,” she said, laughter in her voice. “I can see I’m going to have some stiff competition for your affections now that we’re back in Y Knot.” He’d closed the remaining space between them. “I won’t be jealous, though, I promise. I know there’s enough of you to go around.”

  Charity’s strawberry-blond hair flowed around her shoulders. Even after days in a stagecoach, she was still the most gorgeous woman he’d ever set eyes on.

  She cocked her head as she looked up at him. “Is everything all right? You seem funny.”

  He wasn’t ready to tell her. Not yet. She’d been so happy during their travels home. And now today. It wasn’t right to burst her bubble before she had a full chance to enjoy it.

  Brandon patted his stomach. “I think I’m just hungry. I haven’t had a good meal in days.”

  She looped her arm through his and hugged it to her. They went together into the hotel. “You’re not getting a good steak yet, cowboy. You still have some important business with my father to take care of. You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

  He hadn’t, but had fate changed it for him?

  Chapter Three

  Charity all but floated across the dining room floor. With Brandon at her back and the gaze of her whole family on her, she glided into the seat next to her mother. Brandon helped push her in, then settled next to her.

  Lenore Saffelberg came forward, pad and pencil in hand. “Ready to order?” she asked, looking at Claire McCutcheon.

  Charity reached under the table and found Brandon’s hand. If she didn’t know different, he almost looked scared to death. But that wasn’t possible. Brandon didn’t fear anything. She’d learned that firsthand in Texas. He enfolded her hand in both of his and gave it a warm, comforting squeeze. When she cut her gaze over to her father, she found him smiling at them with pride.

  “Patience, sweetheart,” Brandon whispered. “Just as soon as Flood orders his dinner, I’ll speak with him.”

  When Lenore finished with Claire’s order, she came to Charity. “Welcome home,” she said. A twinkle in the waitress’s eye made her look pretty. “What would you like for supper?”

  “Thanks, Lenore. Since this is a celebration, I think I’ll have a filet. Petite cut, please. Not quite on-the-hoof red—but pretty close. Just make sure it’s not dead broke. Broke is okay—green broke too.”

  Her brothers chuckled at her old girlhood shenanigans. She glanced across the table and winked, waiting to hear the soft tsk-tsk she expected from her mother any second. She wasn’t disappointed.

  Lenore’s eyebrow arched as she wrote on her pad. “Very well.” A curious smile curled her thin lips. “Mashed potatoes or rice?”

  Charity liked Lenore. Even though she teased her sometimes, she knew the sentiment was mutual. The twenty-six-year-old spinster kept to herself and rented one of the small rooms behind the hotel. Her life was somewhat of a mystery, except that she’d come into town alone and was rarely seen anywhere but right here in this dining room. Tonight, her soft-looking mousy brown hair was braided with a yellow ribbon that matched her apron and twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck. She had a sharp tongue at times, but that was mostly with the men.

  “Rice, please.”

  Lenore moved on to Evie Holcomb. With everyone’s attention shifted to Chance’s new wife, Charity took the opportunity to glance at Brandon. Oh, how she loved this man. With his hat off—a rare occasion—she admired his wavy dark hair, thick and trimmed around his ears. Now she knew why he’d ducked into the barbershop in Denver when the stage stopped. The plans for this welcome-home party must have already been put into motion before then. His return gaze caressed her face, making her insides tingle. As his wife, she’d get to spend hours alone with him. The thought was heady. Imagine that. Day and night in his arms and it would all be perfectly respectable.

  Feeling her face heat at her naughty thoughts, she almost giggled. Now she understood her sisters-in-law’s excitement when her brothers were scheduled to return home. They’d spend hours on their appearance, changing their dresses so many times it seemed foolish. Charity used to think they’d lost their souls to her brothers. Now it made perfect sense that what they anticipated was freely given and cherished.

  Brandon gave Charity a nod and pushed his chair back. Lost in her own little world, she was surprised to find Lenore had finished and now walked quickly toward the kitchen. Brandon circled the table and whispered into her father’s ear. Flood’s gaze met hers for one split instant, then he nodded and followed Brandon into the hotel lobby.

  Charity could hardly breathe. She reached for her water but drew her hand back quickly, as its tremor would surely slosh water onto the tablecloth and everyone would want to know why. She’d best wait until Brandon and her father returned. When Jackson came up to the table with a bottle of wine and a white cloth draped over his arm, she let go a calming breath. The manager’s brow crinkled, looking around for Flood.

  “I’ll try the wine,” Matthew McCutcheon said. As the oldest brother, Matt filled in whenever their father wasn’t around. “Pa had some important business he needed to attend to.”

  Mark chuckled, and Amy and Faith exchanged expectant smiles. “He’ll be back in a few minutes, I’m sure.”

  “Very well,” Jackson said. The dining room host made a show of presenting the bottle to Matt. After her brother nodded, Jackson set about with the corkscrew. He poured a small amount of wine into Matthew’s glass and waited while her brother tasted it.

  “This will do very well, Jackson. And I’m sure we’ll need another bottle. This one will barely give us all a taste.”

  “Yes, sir.” The short man went around the table to the women first. After he’d finished pouring Charity’s glass, her mother leaned in close.

  “You look beautiful, sweetheart. The Texas air agreed with you.”

  The compliment soothed away some of Charity’s nerves. “Rio Wells was nice while I was there, Mother, but I can’t tell you how much I missed Montana. There’s nothing like our high mountain air—it’s so clean and fresh. I found myself longing for it more times than I can count.” Especially when the hot-spring gases drifted over, making the whole town of Rio Wells smell like rotten eggs.

  Claire’s smile was understanding. “I so agree with you. But was it just the Montana air that you missed? If you say yes, I’ll be sad.”

  “Of course not! I missed my family and friends the most—from the bottom of my heart. Y Knot is all I’ll ever need. I never want to leave again, unless it’s just for a visit. And look what happened while I was gone. Chance has up and found a wife. I’m still amazed.” Chance and Evie were in discussion with Luke and Faith. Charity was certain she and her mother wouldn’t be overheard. “Evie is beautiful. It’s hard for me to picture them together, him being such a shy bachelor when I left.”

  Her mother nodded. “Evie was a mail-order bride. She came all the way from St. Louis.”

  Distracted, Charity didn’t immediately pick up on what her mother had just said. How many words does it take to make a man’s intentions known and then ask permission to get married? She glanced at the lobby entrance in hopes she’d see her father and Brandon returning. Tapestry drapes, carpet, and the shimmering lanterns were her only view.

  The comment about Evie finally sank in. “Mail-order bride! I remember seeing the advertisement in the paper sometime in the spring. Well, I’ll be. Chance is braver than I thought.”

  “I’d say Evie is the brave one. To leave everything familiar to venture west and marry a man she didn’t know.” Cl
aire shook her head. “That thought is quite amazing. Brave for Chance too, I guess. But not quite the same. With a man outweighing a woman by twice as much sometimes, one has to trust completely.”

  Charity didn’t quite understand her mother’s point, but she noticed a slight shadow cross her usually bright eyes. Before she had time to wonder overly long on the matter, her mother smiled. “Look at Chance now. I guess loneliness will do that to a fellow—make him take up the pen and write to a bride agency.” Her mother laughed quietly and patted her hand. “Love is a beautiful thing, sweetheart. And I have more to tell about Hayden Klinkner. We’ll save that for girl talk tonight.”

  Shock registered in Charity. “Hayden!” That flirt had promised he’d never settle down. Before she could say any more, Brandon and her father returned from the lobby.

  Charity held her breath as they took their seats. She reached over and clutched Brandon’s hand. From the corner of her eye, she saw him swallow.

  Flood took his wineglass and stood, holding the goblet high. “I’d like to propose a toast to Brandon and Charity’s return. Y Knot was much too quiet without them. Welcome home.”

  Everyone looked at him expectantly, surely thinking he was going to say something else. A moment of fear sliced through Charity’s heart. Welcome home? She gripped Brandon’s hand but couldn’t make herself look at his face.

  Murmuring filled the silence as the group picked up their glasses, again welcoming the two home. Charity could hardly stand the suspense. Was her father torturing her on purpose? Had Brandon changed his mind at the last moment and chickened out? Her sisters-in-law gazed at her now, as did Evie and her mother.

  “And,” her father went on in his booming voice.

  At the word, everyone let out a collective sigh of relief and some even laughed. They sat straight in their chairs, waiting for Flood’s announcement.

  “I’m so proud to offer my congratulations to my beautiful daughter, Charity, and my soon-to-be son, Brandon, on their upcoming nuptials. I couldn’t be happier about it if it were my own wedding to be planned.” He glanced at his wife and winked. “May they be as happy as Claire and I have been for all these years!” Flood waved his arm until Jackson came running. “We’ll need a couple bottles of your best champagne.”