Moon Over Montana (McCutcheon Family Series Book 5)

by Caroline Fyffe

  “What do we do for her?” Claire asked. Something about his mother’s concern put Luke on edge. What was she thinking? She hadn’t stopped hugging herself since Brandon had carried the Indian maid down from the loft, as though a deep chill had settled in her bones.

  “All you can do is help her fight the infection by feeding her fortifying food when she’s able to eat. I’ve cleaned and disinfected the wound.” The doctor glanced at her gauze-wrapped arm. “I’ll be out early tomorrow morning to check on her progress. It’s bleeding pretty good again from my probing and washing. Removing the bark and dirt was vital. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have healed until every wood particle festered out. By then, infection might have taken her arm, or her life.” He gave them all a stern look. “Her chances are iffy, at best. If she’d been found yesterday, the outcome might have been different.”

  Charity stood on the opposite side of the bed, still holding Brandon’s hand. “She’ll wake up, doctor.”

  The stubborn tilt to her brows, which Luke knew all too well, said she believed it.

  When Dr. Handerhoosen had gathered his things and left, Flood stepped away from the wall. “Amy, Rachel, go gather the children. I’ll get the wagon ready to take you all home. I’m sure they’d like to wake up in their own beds.”

  When he slung his arm over Claire’s shoulders, she gazed up at him. “I’d prefer to stay a while longer, Flood. Help Luke and Faith with the—” She shut her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, she stared at the drawn face on the pillow before looking to her husband. “I’d just feel better. If I go home, I won’t sleep a wink.”

  Flood straightened up to his full height. His mouth turned into a hard, flat line. “You’re worn out, woman. First Charity, then this party. You’ll get sick yourself if you don’t take some rest.”

  Claire stepped out from under his arm and walked over to the end of the bed, as if making her stand. “I’m staying—for a while longer at least. I’ve made up my mind and you won’t change it.”

  Her tone was hard. This might be the only time Luke had heard his mother refuse a request.

  Luke found Faith’s gaze, and her brows lifted. Rachel and Amy sought their husbands’ comforting arms. Tense moments between his mother and father were rare. Tonight had all of them on edge.

  The rustling of the sheet snapped everyone’s attention back to the bed. The girl’s unharmed arm moved slightly on the white linen, then her fingers gripped the fabric, balling it in her fist.

  Roady stepped closer to the bed, reached up and brushed back a strand of ebony hair that had fallen across her face. He gently tucked it behind her ear.

  That odd feeling, the one Luke had experienced the night Roady came to tell him about the lumpy jaw, gnawed at his gut. The image of the door’s lock bar and what it represented to him—his mother’s abduction and her inability to save herself—filtered through his mind.

  He swallowed, unable to drag his gaze from the girl’s flawless olive skin and the black lashes that fanned over her high-set cheeks. There was something about her that pulled him to her like a magnet. Was that happening with his mother too? Was she reliving her captivity in the Cheyenne village? Surely that was what Flood was doing.

  “Look,” Charity said, leaning forward. “I think she’s waking up.”

  Perhaps this scrapper would prove the doctor wrong. Luke hoped she would.

  “There,” Faith said. “Her eyelids fluttered. She’s waking up. I’m sure of it.”

  Roady went down on one knee next to the bed. “Wake up,” he said softly. Luke wasn’t the only one mesmerized. “Wake up. You’re safe. No one’ll hurt you.”

  Like the wings of a hummingbird, her eyelids fluttered again, this time for all to see. His mother moved to the side of the bed next to Roady. She reached out and gently ran a moist cloth over the girl’s forehead, then smoothed down her hair.

  “Wake up, Indian princess,” his mother crooned, taking in every aspect of their visitor with a careful eye. “Wake up and tell us who you are. And why you’re here.”

  When she opened her eyes, Luke couldn’t look away. Her steady gaze—totally devoid of any fear—went around the faces until she came to his. She swallowed, blinked a few times, then, much to his surprise, the corner of her lips twitched, as if she were trying to smile.

  Roady shifted, and she looked at him. “Hello,” he said. She took him in, then turned back to Luke.

  “Who are you?” his mother asked. Then she did the strangest thing, something she’d never done, ever, in his recollection. She spoke several Indian words. The girl turned her head, seeking the source of their origin.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Charity sucked in a breath when the peculiar words came from her mother’s mouth. Of course the whole family knew the story of how her mother had been abducted as a young woman, barely over the age of nineteen. How she’d spent a year in a Cheyenne camp before Flood located her and bartered for her release. How she’d come home pregnant by her Indian husband, and several months later Luke was born.

  To Charity’s knowledge, her mother had never spoken about her captivity to anyone—surely the memories were just too painful. The topic was off-limits. Over the years, Charity had wondered all sorts of things but had never been brave enough to ask anyone, not even Luke. As time passed, she’d tucked her curiosity away, resigned that her mother had no intention of ever telling anyone.

  Charity couldn’t stop herself from glancing at her father’s stricken face, and then at Luke’s.

  “Mother,” Matt said in an abnormal, strangled voice, alarming Charity even more. What would this girl’s sudden appearance do to her family? Seemed no one was immune to the pain etched on their parents’ faces. “You’re tired. Let Father take you home.” He stepped forward and took her arm, but she gently pulled free.

  “I’m fine, Matthew, and I’m staying. I don’t need to be coddled, so please just stop.”

  The tension in the room made Charity want to disappear. Run out the door with Brandon and be alone with him in the moonlight. She’d never felt such division between everyone at the same time—all caused by three foreign words. Not even when Luke had pressed his difference into everyone’s faces, day after day. Defiant. Belligerent. Begging anyone to bring up his half-breed heritage and give him a reason to fight. Sometimes he’d pushed so hard, his brothers would fight him until their pa broke things up, but they never did what he was after, which was to call him a half-breed.

  Thank God Faith had come into his life. It seemed after he’d met her and they married, that whole part of his past was put to rest. He seemed so much happier, content.

  Now, this Indian girl would dredge up all that unpleasantness.

  And Flood. Charity didn’t know how their father would handle the situation. Her heart broke for him the most.

  In halting sounds, the girl uttered a few words. Claire leaned down and picked up her palm. With her eyes, she asked her to repeat what she’d just said.

  “I believe her name is Fox something,” Claire said matter-of-factly. “Fox Sitting, maybe Fox Moving. I’m not sure. It’s been many years since I’ve heard the Cheyenne tongue. I do believe I got the first word correct, for I remember it distinctly because of a robe I made—” She closed her mouth quickly and kept her gaze on the hurt girl.

  Her mother was so straightforward with all of this, her soft side all but gone. Charity inched closer to Brandon and he put his arm around her shoulder, bolstering her heart. In the other room, Holly started to cry and Faith immediately excused herself and left.

  The girl tried again, this time more slowly. Then she said something else. Her mother shook her head, as if she didn’t understand that either. With great effort, the girl took her hand from Claire’s and made a sign.

  Claire tipped her head.

  The girl signed again, and this time pointed at Luke. Everyone in the room turned to look at him. Her brother’s expression masked, but something in his eyes made her blanch.

&
nbsp; A second ticked by and then Claire sucked in a deep breath. She covered her mouth with her hand, just staring at the wounded girl for several long moments before lifting her gaze to the others. “Brother,” she finally said, and then sagged back into Matthew’s strong embrace.

  The girl nodded.

  Flood, still halfway out the bedroom door, looked as if he couldn’t decide if he was coming or going.

  “Luke is her brother,” Claire whispered.

  Shocked, Charity searched Luke’s face. He just stood there staring at the girl on the bed, who stared back at him. Now the resemblance jumped out like a slap in the face. Luke’s dark hair wasn’t quite as black as hers, but their olive-colored skin and gorgeous, mysterious eyes were a match if she’d ever seen one. Luke resembles her more than he does me. This Fox Something was as much his sister as she was. Charity and Luke shared a common mother, and this Indian girl and Luke shared a common father.

  Pain sliced Charity’s heart. All these years, she’d been Luke’s prized little sister, as if she and Luke had an invisible bond between them that the rest of the family didn’t share. She the only sister, he the only half-breed. As horrible as that sounded, it was the truth. She’d reveled in that difference all these years. Now Luke had another sister. One who resembled him much more closely.

  “B-broher.” The girl’s pronunciation was off, but there was no mistaking what she’d said. She looked around, unsure for the first time. Her lips wobbled.

  “Luke?” Roady said, his brow questioning. “Aren’t you going to say hello?”

  Luke swallowed and stepped forward. He regarded his mother. She made a sign with her hand, and he slowly followed suit.

  Instantly, the girl began signing back. She moved her hand slowly, then looked at Claire to see if she had caught her meaning.

  “She says hello. Says it’s medicine—good medicine,” she corrected, “that the two of you are finally meeting. Says she’s wanted to come see her great white brother for many seasons.”

  Flood turned and left the room.

  The sound of him descending the staircase was like a death knell to Charity’s heart.

  “Are you all right, sweetheart?” Brandon whispered into her ear. “You’re shaking like a leaf. You want me to take you home?”

  Shaking like a leaf? An earthquake was mild compared to what twisted her gut. Her whole world had been snatched out from under her feet, tilted sideways, and then turned upside down. Her brother ripped away and her father’s heart shattered.

  Never before had she seen that look in her pa’s eyes. He was a brave man, powerful and self-reliant. But this was one demon he couldn’t fight, couldn’t protect himself from the torment of knowing his wife had lived with another man for a whole year while her small sons back home cried for their mama. This girl must look a lot like her father, because she’d never seen that look in her mother’s eyes either.

  “No, not yet,” Charity whispered back.

  Brandon pulled her closer. “You just say the word.”

  “She’s getting tired,” Claire said. “We don’t want to wear her out. She needs rest to recover more quickly.”

  As Claire turned, the girl reached out and grabbed her wrist. She made a few more signs.

  Charity’s mother shook her head and the girl tried again.

  “Fox D…Danc-ing,” the girl said.

  Her mother smiled. “Her name is Fox Dancing.” She signed back to the girl, who smiled and then closed her eyes.

  Matt and Mark escorted their wives out of the room. Brandon stopped at the foot of the bed. Charity didn’t want to leave Luke’s side. Roady edged out of the room, his hat still in his hands. He stopped in the hall, looking back in.

  Charity gave Luke’s hand a tug. “What are you thinking?” she asked quietly when he looked down at her.

  He rubbed a palm over his face and shrugged. “Life has just taken an interesting turn.” His gaze cut to Brandon. “My brother-in-law-to-be is thinking Fox Dancing is the culprit who killed the calf in Pine Grove. And I’d have to agree with him. Her injured arm would explain the wobbly arrow wounds Sheriff Huxley observed. We’ll pay restitution to the rancher involved and hope that satisfies him, but I don’t think they’re going to like that an Indian who is supposed to be on a reservation has turned up here. And is killing stock. It may stir up trouble.”

  That startled her. She’d forgotten about the trouble in Pine Grove.

  “But what about you, Luke?” Charity asked. “How do you feel about all this?” He was her main concern. All the rest would work itself out the way it was supposed to. Luke had been hurt and angry for so long. She didn’t want to see him slip back into his morose moods.

  He gave her a tender smile. “Don’t worry about me, Char. Ma and Flood are going to need us now more than ever.”

  She nodded. “Surely Pa will understand Mother hasn’t made this happen. As hard as it’s going to be on him, it will be more difficult for her, with the memories of her captivity for all those months.”

  “Just keep what I said in mind when you get back to the ranch. Be patient.”

  Charity snuck a glance at her mother, still gazing at Fox Dancing as if no one else were in the room. “I will.”

  Faith came back into the room and went to Luke’s side. “Should I put the kettle on for tea?”

  He shook his head. “I’m sure everyone would rather go home.” He kissed her temple. “And I’m going to make sure my mother is one of them.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  A huge buck moon lit the horse corrals and barn as Brandon led Charity through a copse of trees. They emerged into a meadow lush with thick Montana grass and flowers, in bloom all around. When they’d left Luke’s house for the ranch, Flood had been waiting in moody silence in the wagon for Claire and Charity, having already taken the others home.

  No one said a word as he helped them into the conveyance. Brandon mounted up and followed alongside, back to the main ranch house, feeling the edgy tension on his shoulders like a thick fog. When they arrived, Charity’s parents had said their good-nights and disappeared inside to go to bed.

  Brandon tugged on her hand and Charity turned into his waiting arms. The cool night air eased away his tense thoughts. They stood that way for a few minutes in silence, him just enjoying the feel of her finally in his embrace. He kissed her temple and ran his hands down her arms. Her stray hairs tickled his face. He’d never tire of the feel of her.

  “What’re you thinking, sweetheart? You have me worried.”

  With a sigh, she turned and rested her back against his chest to gaze up at the moon. He cocooned her in his warmth, trying to give her the support she needed. Time to gather her thoughts after the troubling evening. Everyone knew Mrs. McCutcheon’s history—to a point. This couldn’t be easy for any of them.

  “I don’t know what to think. I’m confused. And worried. My parents have never acted so peculiar. Pa’s despondent, and Ma… I don’t know what she is. Defiant? Driven? What?” With a sob, she turned back to face him, burying herself in his arms. Her clean lavender scent made him close his eyes. Another sob followed, then the wetness of her tears on his neck.

  “Shh, honey. It’s not all that bad. It’s just different. Think of it as your family’s growing. I’d love to discover family I didn’t know I had.”

  He’d rarely seen Charity cry true tears in all the years he’d known her. He’d seen her fit to be tied. Embarrassed. And cry out of frustration when she couldn’t have her way, but never tears of true sadness or uncertainty.

  “I’m sure everyone will get over the shock by tomorrow and things will feel a whole lot better.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Not for my pa. Fox Dancing is a constant reminder of what my mother underwent at the hands of that girl’s father—Luke’s father. I can’t even imagine what he’s feeling right now. This can only bode trouble. We all knew about my mother’s suffering, but we never, ever talked about it. Now the whole thing is right in
front of our faces.”

  Brandon took her hand and walked out farther into the field. He shrugged out of his light jacket and placed it on the ground. “Want to sit a while?”

  He still needed to tell her about his plans. Kansas City was never far from his mind. How he’d do that, now that her emotions were so fragile, he hadn’t a clue.

  She seemed uncertain. “They might come looking for us.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not tonight.”

  In a swoosh of fabric, Charity sat, pulling her pretty green party dress to the side to make room for him. “You’re right. What am I thinking? Me compromising myself out in the dark is the furthest thing from their minds now.”

  He lowered himself down beside her and drew her back into his arms. He couldn’t stop a chuckle at her overdramatic simplification of the situation.

  “Don’t be silly. You’re the first thing in their minds and hearts—now and always. Especially with the wedding less than a month away.”

  She made a sound of unbelief her throat, then she shrugged.

  “That sounded pretty self-centered, and that wasn’t my aim. I just want things to be good for my parents, and Luke too. Do you think that girl had anything to do with killing that calf in Pine Grove?”

  “Probably everything to do with it. When I finally found some tracks, they led me here—to her.”

  “She’ll get in trouble.”

  He nodded. “Luke’s assumption that they’ll just be able to make restitution may not be the case. But we’ll have to wait and see. Just because she’s Cheyenne and she was in the barn, doesn’t make her guilty of that crime. Could be coincidence. There’s too little evidence to say either way until she’s better and we can talk to her.”

  “But if she did, what will happen to her?”

  “You know the answer to that, Charity. She’ll have a trial. But it’s way too soon to be thinking about anything like that.”