Moon Over Montana (McCutcheon Family Series Book 5)
Page 12
Her father’s village was one of the last to refuse to be moved. Because of it, the angry white dogs were always hunting them. Stealing her people away one by one, to lock them away on the reservations, where the dry, crippled land was devoid of any game and her people had to live on handouts.
Hunger and death were synonymous with a broken heart.
Fox Dancing’s stomach let out a loud protest when a warm, enticing smell floated underneath her door. She closed her eyes and took it in, her mouth welling up with saliva. If she had the strength, she’d climb from this bed and search out the source. It had been days since she’d had more than a bite of jerky. And where was her horse? She couldn’t remember where she’d left her. Or her bow and quiver.
There was no question as to who the woman was last night, the one who had known the Cheyenne words. Luk’s mother, and still beautiful. Her father had told her that Luk’s mother was the strongest woman he’d ever known. She’d taken the gauntlet with the courage of a bear. She’d not been cowed when the others pulled her hair and slapped her face.
Her mistreatment stopped when she was given to Fox Dancing’s father, Netchiwaan, an important warrior of the village, with two wives already and a handful of children. Her father used to smile fondly when he’d shared those stories, and Fox Dancing got the impression she was the wife of his heart.
Others told her how her father had grieved after Luk’s mother had gone away. He left the village for almost a full year. When he came back, others said that he’d changed.
A squeal of laughter made Fox Dancing open her eyes. The sound was followed by the calm, soothing voice of the child’s mother, quieting her. Footsteps, and then a tiny scratching, alerted Fox Dancing to someone outside her door. The round doorknob turned and the door came open a small way.
Squinting, she didn’t see anything at first. Not until she lowered her gaze to below the level of the bed. An eye peered through the crack. The eye blinked.
A child. Happiness lifted her soul as if it had wings. The eye widened when the child noticed he or she had been spotted. Fox Dancing willed her mouth into a smile.
“Come in,” she said softly in her Indian tongue. “Come keep me company.”
The eye blinked several times more before the door opened a little farther. As she had suspected, it was the little girl she’d caught a glimpse of last night. She was holding some sort of toy, she presumed, for it resembled the dolls her people made by sewing together scraps of deerskin and stuffing them with grass.
The child looked to be about three or four years old. This must be her brother’s daughter, the one her father had seen on his last trip, when she was just a baby. Her hair sparkled like the morning sun, and her rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes said she was robust with good health.
The girl came forward. She stopped several arm’s lengths away from the bed, so Fox Dancing couldn’t get hold if she so wanted. Smart. She’d not be caught unawares.
Fox Dancing smiled and wiggled the fingers of her good arm. That drew a small smile from her. She looked at the ceiling and then wiggled her nose. That won a soft giggle. A moment later, Luk came through the door with a tray in his hands.
Luk drew up short when he spotted her. His smile ebbed away. “What are you doing in here, darlin’?”
The child pointed to Fox Dancing lying in the bed. “I wanna see the Indian princess.” Her head tipped to the side. “Where’s her crown wiff jewels?”
Amusement, not anger, flashed across her brother’s eyes. He was patient. Kind with his offspring. He set the tray on the dresser and scooped his daughter into his arms, giving her a kiss on her cheek. A moment later he set her back on the floor. “Run along to the kitchen.” The girl scampered out the door.
Luk retrieved the tray and set it on Fox Dancing’s lap, gesturing to the food. “Can you eat on your own?” He made some gestures of bringing the food to his mouth.
She nodded.
The food on the tray looked strange but smelled wonderful. She was doing all she could to be polite and not grasp a handful and stuff it into her mouth. Life here was different, and she hadn’t been farther than this room. What would it be like when she could get up to explore? What stories would she have to take back—stories that, had she married Painted Bear Stone, she would never have known?
Chapter Twenty
Tuesday morning was Brandon’s first opportunity to ride out to the Heart of the Mountains. He was anxious to straighten things out with Charity. He needed a chance to explain his reasons for wanting to go to Kansas City. Since their ill-fated walk in the moonlight, he’d not been able to think of anything except the hurt in her eyes and the anger in her voice that she’d been unable to disguise. For all he knew, she was fed up with their unpredictable relationship. If she were, he could hardly blame her.
At the ranch, he dismounted and tied his horse at the hitching rail in front of the bunkhouse. He strode to the front door of the main house and knocked, more nervous than he’d ever been in his life. Had she said anything to anyone else?
It wasn’t but a moment before Esperanza came to the door and greeted him. The housekeeper wore her usual smile and happy glint in her expressive dark eyes.
“I will let Miss Charity know you are here.”
It was early for a visit, only six o’clock, but he hadn’t wanted to miss her going out to the cattle. This had to be dealt with today. It was already two days overdue.
The maid hurried up the stairs.
Claire emerged from the kitchen and pulled up short. “Brandon. Good morning. What a nice surprise.” It wasn’t her usual over-the-top warm welcome. Of course Charity would have shared the information with her mother. Then again, maybe it was still Luke’s new sister that affected her so. He remembered Flood’s reaction.
He turned his hat in his hands. An abnormal drop of sweat trickled down his temple. “Good morning, Mrs. McCutcheon.”
“Have you eaten?” Claire asked.
“Actually, no.” He glanced up at the staircase, where Esperanza descended. “I wanted to be sure to catch Charity before she went to work. I hope my barging in unannounced isn’t a problem.”
Claire tipped her head. “A problem? That’s an odd thing to say. You’ve been eating breakfast with us for years. Why would it be barging in now, especially since you and Charity are engaged?”
He shrugged, wishing he felt more relieved that Charity hadn’t told her. She smiled and patted his back, then hurried away. “I’ll get another setting,” she called as she disappeared into the kitchen.
Brandon paced to the big window, wishing Charity would hurry up. He didn’t want to get caught with the whole family before they spoke in private. He glanced up the stairs again. A few loud voices from outside made his decision for him. Taking the stairs two at a time, he reached the second floor and disappeared around the wall just as the front door opened. He approached Charity’s door and knocked.
“I’ll be right there, Esperanza.”
The sound of her voice was a balm to his hurting soul. He would have come sooner, but the poker tournament at the saloon had turned into a brawl and he had two fellas locked up.
“It’s me, Charity. Open up.”
The door opened instantly. “Brandon?”
She was dressed in her riding clothes. The ponytail hanging down her back reminded him of their time in Texas. He wished they could turn back the hands of time.
Clearly, she hadn’t expected his arrival. Her puffy red eyes contradicted the straight, stubborn line to her lips.
“What are you doing up here? I was just on my way down.”
“I wanted to talk to you in private. Downstairs is ready to explode with people coming inside to eat. We need to work this out before another day passes. I don’t want to sit and make small talk with your parents and brothers when the whole time all I want is to kiss you.” He leaned in to kiss her lips, but she pulled back just far enough that all he got was air. Embarrassed, he straightened. “Charity?”
“I didn’t say I was moving to Missouri.”
When he tried to enter the room, she held him off with her hand to his shoulder. “Father will be angry if he finds you in my room. I don’t want to add to his problems.”
A bit irked, Brandon took her wrist. The least she could do was let him explain. “Fine. Then come over to Mark’s old room. You can sit in the chair and I’ll stand. That’s innocent enough.”
He didn’t wait for her response, but pulled her like a cranky colt across the hall. He left the door ajar, just enough to keep her parents happy in case they were to venture up.
She sat in the big leather chair by the window and looked at him, waiting for him to speak his mind. “With everyone downstairs, don’t you think this could wait?”
“Maybe, but I feel the ticking clock.”
She lifted her chin and shifted in her seat. He was in for a battle.
“Fine, then. Go on and say what you have on your mind. I won’t stop you.”
He’d rehearsed the lines on the ride over here this morning, but faced with her clear blue eyes that had always held so much love for him—and still did even in her anger—the words evaporated right out of his head. This was Charity he stood to lose. He better get his act together, and get it together quick.
“I don’t know why I didn’t mention the job before now. Maybe it was because I believed I didn’t stand a chance of getting it. Or maybe I was afraid this would happen.”
“You still intend to go?”
That shocked him. He’d never suggested he’d given up on his chance at deputy marshal. “That’s why I’m here. I have to leave tomorrow to make it on time. It’s just an interview, but I want you to go with me, Charity. We can ride into town and get married by—” He stopped. Reverend Crittlestick had left town yesterday and wouldn’t be back until next week. That only left Jack Jones. “Jack.”
She shook her head, every hurt she’d ever felt wafting across her face. He didn’t want to add another to the list. “You never answered my question from the other night. How could you apply for such a job if you thought we had any future together at all? As hard as I try, I don’t understand that one bit.”
“Be reasonable, Charity. Just say yes and marry me today so we can get on with our lives. We’ll have a nice time.” He held out his hand in supplication. He was still dying for a kiss, but didn’t want to go there until he felt her soften.
“Reasonable? Like you were, Brandon?” Her voice took on a hard clip. “You made a life-changing decision without a by-your-leave to me? To the woman you claim you love? The job certainly means more to you than I do. And if not that, the moment you received that letter, you should have told me. I’d been dancing around for days, as if on air, dreaming about my Prince Charming and the upcoming wedding.”
Brandon strode to the window and looked out, wrangling with his anger. Yes, she was right. He should have mentioned it. Talked about it. But he hadn’t. How many times over the years had she played tricks on him or told half truths? He’d been pretty darn patient, come to think of it.
“You don’t want to go there, Charity. You were the one who ran off to Texas without telling a soul. That was unforgivable. I wasn’t the only one scared to death for your safety, but your whole family. You could have been killed several times, or been forced to live a life you’d hate. Isn’t the pot calling the kettle black?”
She bolted to her feet. “Is this how you win a conversation? By attacking me and bringing up past incidents that you said you had forgiven? You’re just trying to draw the attention from what you’ve done and pin the guilt on me. Well, I’m not having it, Brandon. You can just go to Missouri, for all I care. Actually, I’m glad this whole chapter of my mixed-up life is over!”
Before he could catch her, she flew out of the room and he heard her footsteps descending the stairs.
The chatter downstairs stopped. He left the bedroom and pulled the door closed. He stopped in the hall, where he couldn’t yet be seen. If there were any other way out of the house, he’d take it. He didn’t care if it was cowardly.
Chapter Twenty-One
Charity rushed into the middle of family—her mother, Matthew, and Luke, and Roady was there too. Six place settings adorned the table. Again, no Pa. For the past two days he’d taken his breakfast and gone out riding before anyone else was up. And her mother, she could act all she wanted, but Charity could see her emotions simmering on her face every time her father walked into or out of the room. It hurt seeing the strain between them.
“No, thanks,” Luke was saying to their mother. His brows arched when he caught sight of her. “Roady and I ate over at my place. We’ll have coffee, though, before we start treating the cattle…”
He caught her by the shoulder when she tried to scoot by. “Char, is everything all right?”
Charity silenced the clamor in her mind by chomping down on the inside of her cheek. A tinny taste touched her tongue. “Fine, Luke.”
All eyes shifted from her to the staircase, and tension filled the room. Brandon was on his way down.
“What’s going on?” her mother asked. Her concerned gaze made Charity’s insides freeze up.
So much for her acting abilities. When she was little, she’d have been able to pull this off with ease. But not now. Not with her entire life crashing down around her shoulders. Not with the three-foot knife that was slicing away at her heart. And especially not with Brandon in the same room.
She heard his footsteps, felt his presence behind her. If she could only turn back the hands of time, back to Texas when they were happy—without all these problems. Oh, why hadn’t she married him then? Glancing into the kitchen, she longed to disappear out the back door.
“Morning, Brandon,” Roady said. He looked around at everyone, a confused expression pinching his face. “You’re out early.”
“Had things to discuss with Charity.” The hard edge of anger in his voice was new.
Her mother wrapped her arm around Charity’s shoulder. “I wondered where you’d gone off to, Brandon. You two aren’t…”
Unable to hold in her feelings any longer, Charity burst into tears. She pulled out from her mother’s arm and raced back up the stairs. It didn’t take but a second for Claire to follow behind.
• • •
Luke watched until Charity disappeared into the upper hall. Was this a case of jittery nerves caused by the upcoming wedding? It was possible, but by the look on Brandon’s face, he’d bet it was a lot more than that.
With Charity and his mother gone, and him and Roady already having eaten, Matt was the only one to take a seat at the table. “I’ll be with you men as soon as I wolf this down.”
Esperanza’s expression said she was not pleased with everyone deserting the meal.
Luke headed to the door, and Brandon and Roady followed him outside. Roady beat a fast retreat to the bunkhouse. “Let me know when you’re ready to get started,” he called to Luke.
Luke waited until Roady was well out of earshot. “What’s going on now?”
Brandon looked away for several seconds. When he turned back, his gaze was flinty hard. “You just had to toss that in, didn’t you?”
“Toss what in?”
“The ‘now.’ You and everyone else just love to throw that in our faces every chance you get. The fact that we seem to argue a lot.”
Luke took a step back. “Hold on. I didn’t mean anything by what I said. You’re stewing for a fight, Brandon, but you won’t get it from me.”
Brandon didn’t answer. He just looked off into the pasture as if he were contemplating some big issue. Surely Charity was being overly sensitive, the way women could be sometimes—a lot of the time, he corrected. Men just had to be on the lookout and know when to cut their losses. Pick their battles. Brandon had a lot to learn about
the fairer sex.
“What’s the problem? Is she insisting you wear some flowers in your hair at the wedding, or something similar? Talk to me. Maybe I can help.”
When Brandon turned, the anger in his eyes startled Luke. “What?”
“It’s nothing like that. Actually, I thought Charity might have already told you, but I can see now that I was wrong. She usually comes running to you for everything.”
That comment went right up Luke’s back. Why wouldn’t she? She was his sister. He looked out for her. Then, now—and would continue to do so in the future. Nothing would change that, not even her getting married.
“I’m going to ignore you just said that, because I can see that you’re fuming mad and upset. But you had no call. I hope Charity never stops coming to me for advice. Now, are you going to spit out what has you riled, or am I going to have to beat it out of you?” he said half-jokingly.
Brandon scoffed.
“Well? You being so close-mouthed leads me to the conclusion that Charity may be in the right and you in the wrong. Am I getting warm?”
“It’s not like that. Neither is right or wrong. Just that I have a chance to be a federal deputy marshal, albeit a small chance, but I need to go to Kansas City. I want Charity to marry me and come along. Make a real honeymoon out of it.”
Luke had to clench his jaw to keep it from falling open. Federal deputy marshal? Where had that idea come from? He’d never heard Brandon speak about leaving Y Knot. No wonder his sister was in a world of hurt.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. This feels totally out of the blue.”
“Maybe to you, but not to me. I’ve always had the desire.”
“You just never mentioned it to anyone, least of all Charity?”
Brandon pointed a finger at Luke. “Does my job change her feelings for me? I thought it was me she was supposed to love, not where we lived or what I did to make a living.”