In Your Arms (Montana Romance)

by Farmer, Merry

  “Morning, Charlie,” Christian touched the brim of his hat to her. “Where’s that beautiful baby girl of yours?”

  “Phin’s got her over at the bank,” Charlie replied, lifting her box higher to wedge between a pair of shoppers. “It’s easier for Eloise to take a nap over there than in this noisy place. You can hear every sneeze down here from the apartment.”

  Christian snorted at the idea of his friend Phineas Bell running a bank and taking care of an infant at the same time.

  “Charlie, you shouldn’t be lifting that,” Michael scolded his wife. “Here.” He stepped away from the register, taking the box from Charlie’s arms and shooing her behind the counter.

  The barely visible bump of Charlie and Michael’s next bundle of joy stood out as Charlie leaned towards the counter to help Mrs. Folsom. Christian grinned in spite of himself. Michael and Charlie hadn’t quite been married for a year and a half and they were already working on their second child. Christian and his friends, Phin Bell and Eric Quinlan, half the town really, had started placing bets on how many children the two would have before they quit. Christian’s money was on eight.

  Thoughts of all those kids pulled him back around to the mess of the day before.

  “The point of the whole thing,” he resumed as he followed Michael down the store’s central aisle, dodging past Jed Archer with a nod, “is that as much as I like Sturdy Oak and his family, I don’t think it’s a good idea right now for Indian children to attend school with the other kids. It stirs up too much trouble.”

  “Says who?” Michael shrugged, then set the box on the floor and began stocking shelves without looking at Christian.

  Christian let out an impatient breath. “You saw what I saw yesterday.”

  Michael arched an eyebrow. “I saw a bunch of boys fighting. I also saw their teacher breaking up the fight, as teachers do. What makes that different from any other schoolyard in America?”

  Michael’s too-casual reply sent a flare of irritation rippling down Christian’s back. “That’s the other thing. In the middle of my rational explanation of how we could preserve the peace in Cold Springs by finding alternative solutions for the kids, Lily Singer challenged me to a bet.”

  “Did she?” Michael grinned as he worked.

  “Yes. You know these academic games the school is having next week?”

  “I do. The school asked me to be the moderator.”

  “Well, Lily bet me that she can put together a mixed team of Indians and other students and that they will win.”

  Michael chuckled. “So what are you going to lose to her?”

  “If her team wins, I have to take a turn teaching civics to her class.”

  “Then you’d better start planning your lessons right now.” Michael straightened and thumped Christian on the back. “Miss Singer is the best teacher this town has ever seen. If she says she’ll win, my money is on her.”

  Christian scowled, dread filling his gut. Michael had a point. Lily could teach a stone to say it’s A-B-Cs.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Christian caught Jed Archer staring at him. He met Jed’s stare with a scowl. Jumpy as a ferret, Jed jerked away as if Christian had barked at him and scrambled to the other side of the store.

  “What’s his problem?” Christian asked Michael under his breath.

  Michael shrugged. “He still can’t find steady work since Eric fired him.” He shook his head and went back to work. “Why are you so wrapped up about a schoolyard fight anyhow?”

  “I’m not. I’m upset about what it leads to.” Christian latched back onto something he knew. “You know Samuel Kuhn is convinced it was Indians who robbed him.”

  Michael snorted. “People have been blaming crimes on Indians since the Boston Tea Party. You know as well as I do that people around here are touchy and prejudiced, but I haven’t seen any massacres yet.”

  “Those boys yesterday,” Christian argued on. “They are almost as big as Lily now. Can you imagine what they’ll look like by the end of the school year? Have you seen what a thug Bo Turner is? His kid was involved, and Lily rushed into the middle of it. What if she gets hurt next time? What if she’s walking down the street and some numbskull, like Bo, gets it in his head to go after her?”

  Michael stopped, the can he held in mid-air. He straightened and blinked at Christian as though all the stars in the universe had just aligned. He chuckled and put the can on the shelf. “Now I understand.”

  Christian scowled. “What do you understand?”

  Michael shook his head. “All this talk about little fights leading to big ones and boys in the schoolyard turning into thugs in the streets.”

  “What of it?”

  “You’re worried about her.”

  “It’s my duty to be concerned about everyone in Cold Springs.”

  Michael stared at him over the top of his glasses. “And you all said I was blind when Charlie first came along.”

  Christian’s scowl deepened. “What does Charlie have to do with any of this? I’m talking about trouble at the school here. I’m talking about order and safety in this town.”

  “Sure you are.” Michael smirked. “Just like I’m sure you were adamant about hiring Miss Singer—in spite of half the town council’s objections over her native heritage—for her ability to handle obstreperous students.”

  He sounded a little too smug for Christian’s comfort. “I was adamant about hiring her because of her teaching experience. That’s all.”

  “Right.” The grin on Michael’s face stayed firmly where it was. He shifted from one foot to the other, that enigmatic spark lighting his eyes. “You know what you should do to ensure that peace and order are maintained?”

  “What?”

  “You should coach one of the teams for the academic games.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. They’re taking volunteers from the community as coaches.”

  “How would that help anything?”

  “It would give you an excuse to be at the school more often, interacting with these dangerous, troublemaking students you’re so anxious about. You could make sure none of them attack Miss Singer. I’ve got some shining armor upstairs you can borrow for the job.”

  Christian sent Michael a flat stare. Now he was just teasing.

  He did have a point though. If he was at the school more often he could stop the trouble at its source and keep a sharp eye on Lily. He could see her every day, get close.

  “And I could coach a team that would beat Lily’s,” he spoke his final thoughts aloud, taking it one step further. “Kill two birds with one stone.”

  “Is that what you’re after? Killing birds?” Michael was enjoying his concerns far too much. “Well,” he nodded at something past Christian’s shoulder, “why don’t you discuss the idea with the charming Miss Singer herself?”

  “Miss Singer is about as charming as a mountain lion with a toothache,” Christian grumbled.

  “Then you’d do well to step aside so I can get past you and reach the tooth powder, Mr. Avery.”

  The sound of Lily’s voice hit Christian like a lightning bolt down his spine. His legs suddenly weren’t strong enough to support him. He whirled around to find Lily standing right behind him in the crowded store. Her arms were crossed, a half-filled basket draped over one of them. A dark frown creased the smooth sand-brown skin of her face. Some women were only beautiful when they smiled, but Lily glowed when she was irate.

  “What do you think, Miss Singer?” He feigned cool ease, though his heart was pounding up near his throat. “Should I coach a team for the academic games?”

  She turned away from him to study the shelf of canned beans Michael had just arranged. “Only if you’ve developed a taste for defeat, Mr. Avery.”

  The challenge sizzled through him like an electric current.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that you’re not a teacher, Mr. Avery. You’re a man with a distracting alt
ernative agenda.” She spared him a sideways glance. “One that is not conducive to organizing children and leading them to excel.”

  “Are you saying I couldn’t win?” The gauntlet had been thrown.

  “Can I help you with something, Miss Singer?” Michael intervened.

  “I’m looking for chamomile tea,” she said. “You seem to be out.”

  Michael adjusted his glasses and scanned the row of shelves. “I’m sure we have some in the back. If you wouldn’t mind waiting for just one moment.”

  “Not at all,” Lily nodded.

  Michael brushed his hands on his apron and dodged around Christian. He warned him to behave with a look, then wove his way through the store to the back room.

  Christian straightened and thrust his hands in his pockets. He watched Lily as she continued her shopping, willing himself to settle down. Lily stood straight as a schoolmarm as she scanned the store shelves, but there was nothing mousy or prissy about her. She may not have been particularly tall, but the trim lines of her body in the nondescript dress she wore were formidable. When she snuck a sideways look at him he couldn’t help but smile.

  “Have you recovered from last night?” he asked.

  Last night, when he had put his arms around her, when she had rested against his shoulder. Last night, when he had felt the pounding of her heart, even though it was through layers of wool. Last night, when she had gripped his coat and almost not let go.

  The muscles in her face twitched and softened and tensed again so fast he could have imagined it.

  “I will recover when I no longer have to worry about my students being denied the education they deserve, Mr. Avery.” She pushed past him, reaching for a can of beans but changing her mind.

  She swayed close to him to avoid a woman with a small child in tow. The scent of warm lavender caught him. He could reach out and sweep her into his arms right there, carry on where they had left off last night.

  If he was a fool, that was.

  “No one’s trying to deny anyone anything,” he said, twisting to follow her when she ducked around him to a display of sugar sacks. “And why don’t you just call me Christian?”

  She blinked, her composure slipping then snapping back into place.

  “It wouldn’t be appropriate.” She stepped away, focused on her shopping instead of him.

  “Says who?”

  “Says….”

  Her brow knit into a frown. Her long fingers paused in mid-air as she reached for a jar of cinnamon sticks. She let her hand drop and turned to face him.

  “I’m not going to engage in frivolous arguments with you,” she said and cut around him to a larger spice rack.

  He pressed up against the display of sugar sacks as she passed. Her arm brushed his chest. He felt the swish of her skirts against his legs as she swerved to avoid another shopper. He raised his hands, ready to catch her if she tripped. When she didn’t, he followed her around the corner to the next aisle.

  “No,” he said. “I expect you want to save all your arguing for the academic games. You know you’re going to lose now that I’m coaching a team.”

  She froze, bristling, and turned those dark, fiery eyes on him. Yes, he thought, punish me, lash out at me, show me that fire. He could already feel it coursing through his body in deliciously inconvenient ways for a public place.

  “You either grossly over-estimate your own intelligence or underestimate mine,” she said with measured calm. “I warn you, both are dangerous positions to take.”

  “Believe me, I do not underestimate your intelligence,” he said, “or anything else of yours. But you might want to stop and consider that you’ve flitted between five different shelves without putting a single thing in your basket before you go throwing accusations at me.”

  The dark flush on her cheeks was all the proof of victory he needed. Her jaw was hard as stone as she snatched a tin of spice from the shelf.

  “Anise.” He snorted. “You would pick something pungent like that.”

  “It soothes the stomach, Mr. Avery.” She threw it into her basket with enough force to dent the tin. “My stomach has been unusually upset lately.”

  His lips twitched with the effort not to smile. He liked her. A lot.

  “Then I’ll just have to—”

  “I’m looking for Michael West!”

  The statement—made in a booming voice by none other than Samuel Kuhn—stopped Christian’s comment and every other conversation in the store. The sudden silence was as startling as a gunshot. Samuel stood in the front doorway, brushing a dusting of snow off of his black wool coat with one hand and holding Lewis Jones, the stationmaster, fast by the sleeve with the other. He was every bit as irate as he’d been when he slammed the door on Christian the night before. Lewis was easily six inches taller but stood stooped, like he expected Samuel to hit him at any moment.

  “Well?” Samuel demanded when the startled shoppers did nothing but stare at him. “Where is Michael West?”

  Several sets of eyes turned to the curtained storeroom door as Michael emerged. He took one look at Samuel, adjusted his glasses, and glanced to Charlie. Charlie shrugged.

  “Can I help you?” Michael asked, stepping around the counter.

  “I most certainly hope you can.” Samuel dragged Lewis to meet Michael in the space between the counter and the door.

  “This man tells me the station office was robbed last night,” Samuel began.

  “A window was broke and the till was cleaned out when I got in this morning,” Lewis explained. His shoulders were slumped and he eyed Samuel sheepishly.

  “It was the same Indians that robbed my house last night,” Samuel said.

  A ripple of gasps and murmuring flew through the store. Christian grimaced. He stepped away from Lily and toward the front of the store to stop Samuel’s nonsense before it infected the whole town.

  “I’m sorry to hear about this,” Michael said with a frown. “Theft is a serious problem.”

  “A string of thefts, more like.” Samuel finally let go of Lewis’s sleeve. “I demand you call a town council meeting so that we can vote to bring in the U.S. Army to stop these marauding Indians!”

  More whispers and gasps filled the store. Jed Archer stumbled out the front door, probably on his way to start rumors.

  “Those weren’t Indians who robbed your house last night, Samuel, and I doubt Indians robbed the station office either,” Christian said loud enough for everyone eavesdropping to hear.

  Samuel rounded on him as though he was trying to pick his pocket. “We have a crime spree on our hands and the justice of the peace refuses to act!”

  “I’m not refusing to act, I’m refusing to start a witch-hunt!”

  Samuel swayed towards Christian.

  Michael held up his hands to stop a fight. “Did you talk to Kent Porter about this?” he asked Samuel.

  “That miserable excuse for a sheriff wouldn’t know what to do with a thief if you dangled one in front of him.”

  “I take that as a no,” Michael said.

  “I want a town council meeting called,” Samuel pushed on. “I want the army to come in and take care of this problem. I want all Indians within a fifty mile radius sent packing, starting with that one!” He raised his voice and pointed behind Christian.

  Christian turned to see Lily standing with her back straight, her expression neutral, and her basket held in front of her like a shield. He saw red.

  “Leave Miss Singer out of this!” He rounded on Samuel.

  “Why?” Samuel wasn’t cowed. “She’s the heart of the problem. She allows savage children into the schools like they’re the same as other children. It emboldens the rest of their lot. I want her dismissed.”

  “We’re not firing Miss Singer,” Michael said without hesitation. “Talk to Kent. Get him to investigate the robberies. We’ll go from there.”

  “So you refuse to listen to reason?” Samuel’s moustache quivered in indignation.

 
; “On the contrary,” Christian growled, “Michael’s the only reasonable person I see!”

  “We’ll just see about that!” Samuel said.

  He didn’t wait for more. Without a good-bye, he turned and marched out the door into the light morning snowfall. The door shut with a loud clap behind him. The customers who had overheard the conversation muttered to one another in amazement. Lewis stayed where he was, shoulders slumped and eyes twice as wide as they should be.

  “I guess I should go after Jed and see if he can fix the broken window for me,” he said.

  “I guess so,” Michael answered with a shrug.

  Lewis turned to go. Mrs. Folsom walked out after him asking, “Did I hear you right? Indians are attacking people in Cold Springs?”

  Christian writhed with anger. “You’re just going to let a nasty rumor like that get out?”

  Michael handed the box of tea he carried across to Lily. “It will die down,” he insisted. “Talk to Kent, light a fire under his a—” He glanced to Lily and cleared his throat. “Convince him of the importance of catching the thieves as soon as possible. Get the town focused on something more productive.”

  “Like the academic games,” Lily said.

  Christian whirled to her, not sure whether to argue the point or support it.

  “What better way to calm ruffled feathers and encourage cooperation than by focusing on the town’s children and helping them to shine?” she said.

  She muscled her way around Christian to plunk her basket on the counter. As she let go, Christian noticed her hands shaking. She was quick to hide it, but her shoulders were bunched and her lips were pressed in a line.

  “Good idea, Miss Singer.” Michael nodded. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “This will do.”

  Lily stared straight ahead while Charlie added up her purchases. More than one of the other shoppers eyed her with suspicion, as though she might rob the store at any moment. It was exactly the kind of nonsense he’d been afraid of. One false accusation and suddenly Lily’s brown skin and dark eyes made her a target instead of a treasure. Worst of all, he could tell by the way she stood that she knew it. Samuel Kuhn had frightened her.

  He wanted the man’s head.