Montana Sky: Baling Wire Promises (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Entertainers of The West Book 4)

by Linda Carroll-Bradd

  Probably looking forward to one of the cook’s hearty meals. Cinnia wouldn’t mind having Bertha Brungar cook for her. The morning sickness phase of her pregnancy had passed, but as yet, she hadn’t regained her appetite. The door to her husband’s leather shop stood open, and she walked inside. “I picked up a surprise at the mercantile.”

  The tall blond man looked up from the saddle he stitched. “Something piqued your interest for supper?”

  Nicolai, my love. A smile burst onto her lips every time she saw him. She waved a rectangle of paper in the air. “Maybe I should have been more specific. You received a telegram. El Davis relayed an apology for the delayed delivery. A new clerk substituted for Jack Waite for a few days, didn’t recognize your “old” name, and set it aside.” She walked across the floor and laid down the paper on the workbench then pointed. “See the address reads Nic Andrews.”

  Nicolai wiped off his hands on a rag and broke the seal on the folded paper. “From Coeur d’Alene, Idaho Territory, who do I know?…ah, from my older brother Petya.” His gaze scanned the short message then he turned to Cinnia. “We’re to expect his visit within the month.”

  She rested her hand on the bump at her waist. Each time the baby kicked, she wanted to experience the movement inside and out. “How long ago did he write that?”

  Nicolai glanced at the paper then back at her, his gaze focusing on the placement of her hand. “Sent on the thirty-first of last month.” He stepped in front of her and cupped a big hand on her abdomen. “He’s moving, right?”

  “Yes, she is.” No matter that Nicolai let his preference for a boy be known, she was adamant about reminding him that might not come true. “So, two weeks have gone by, which means he could show up any day. Good thing the new house has a guest room.”

  Nicolai frowned. “Petya’s a bit of a loner, so he might opt to sleep upstairs here.”

  She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Either way, I’m glad you heard from him. I know you were worried, even if you tried to hide it.”

  “Dorrie?” Narrowing his eyes, he cocked an eyebrow.

  “Yep.” A laugh escaped. “You must know by now that she weasels everything out of Valerik.”

  ****

  The first rays of dawn lightened the window from deep black to smudged gray. Fantine carefully slid away Nara’s hand and lifted off Kittie’s arm before scooting down the mattress. Erin curled at the far edge, facing the wall. The opportunity to wash clothes with hot water and soap was not to be missed. Especially after she spied a wash tub with a mechanized dasher and an attached wringer in a small room off the kitchen. Tip-toeing across the plank floor, she gathered the girls’ dirty clothes in one arm and used her free hand to grab the bag with her belongings. All shoes had been left along the base of the staircase wall on the first floor—a Hakon family rule. Inside the house, she’d felt safe enough to take her jackknife from her moccasin and tuck it into her bag.

  By the time the sun was golden yellow, Fantine had freshened herself using warm water and milled soap that smelled of lavender and put on her last clean blouse and skirt. The girls’ clothes soaked in the wash tub, and she studied the pole that ran through the lid and attached to a metal hand crank at the front. So that must go up and down. Her hands would be saved from rubbed the clothes on a washboard.

  The creak of a floor board signaled someone’s arrival.

  She leaned back and saw Pete enter the kitchen. His shirt hung open with the suspenders swung loose by his knees. She glimpsed a smear of dark hair covering defined chest muscles before averting her gaze.

  “You’re up early.”

  Her cheeks heated, and, hoping he hadn’t noticed her stare, she pointed toward the tub. “Lots of dirty clothes to wash. Are you mechanical? Do I have to do anything other than simply turn this crank with the lid closed?”

  Pete stepped close, ran his fingers along the metal bar, and kept his hand in place while he lifted the lid. “Looks like that gear moves this arm in an arc so partial rotation happens, too. Intriguing.” He manipulated the crank to watch the movement.

  She’d scooted out of his way, but now struggled to watch his face instead of sneaking peeks at his masculine form. Her pulse raced. “Wonderful.”

  “Fantine, about yesterday…” He scrubbed a hand over his face, and then started buttoning his shirt.

  “Excuse me, I really need to get this working.” She grabbed the handle and yanked, but the heavy crank barely moved. Turning her body, she used both hands and pushed away from herself, and the crank inched along. “Gears might need oiling.”

  “Let me get out my statement before we’re interrupted by something one of the kids needs.”

  At the snap in his voice, she stopped and faced him. “All right. You mean to give me an explanation about your name? From what I understand, lots of people change their names when they come to America.”

  “True, but probably not because they’re part of a family holding a much-sought-after tanning secret.” He leaned a shoulder against the door jamb and crossed his arms. “For generations, here and in Russia, my family has been famous for our leather products. Almost three years ago, my father got word spies were hatching a plan to steal the secret. He wasn’t sure how or in what way that could be managed. Rather than have me and my brothers—who all worked in the family business—at risk, he sent us to three different regions where we lived under false names. The Americanized versions of our birth names. Meanwhile, Papa worked on getting the patent for the process.”

  Her head swam. Famous family. Spies. Theft. Patent. “What you’re saying sounds like an adventure novel. This is your Andr…um, how did you pronounce it?”

  “An-dru-sha.”

  She repeated the three syllables until they rolled smoothly. “So your part of the family business was being a trapper like you mentioned a few days ago. Is that what got you the beating?” She maintained eye contact as she moved the crank in an arc one way until it stopped and then back in the other direction.

  “I haven’t trapped since I learned Papa acquired the patent.” His mouth tightened. “Mostly, I’ve been using my tracking skills on other quarry.”

  She thought of her music lessons and nodded. “I wasn’t always a healer. As a child, I studied music whenever we lived in a town and wanted to go to a school in Ohio until…” Even to the sisters at the orphanage, she’d never revealed her true reason for wanting a job at that particular place. Did she trust him with that personal information?

  Footsteps on the stairs and raised voices interrupted.

  “Our privacy has been invaded.” Grinning, Pete pushed off from the door jamb and waved a hand toward the machine. “I’ll wager you can figure out a game to entice the younguns to help.”

  “Good idea. Oh, I found barley in the pantry and am cooking a big pot for breakfast.”

  “Mmm.” He turned and disappeared into the front room.

  After he left, she wondered if she should have shared her dilemma. But what was she to say? That after a full three years of being with the children every day, she still hadn’t figured out which of the five-year-old girls was the child her sister gave up for adoption? Was her niece Kittie or Nara or poor Evelyn who’d perished in the fire? Even if Fantine did know, was she prepared to adopt that child herself or have her parents do the same? Within moments, she was surrounded by five talkative children who wanted to know what she was doing. Contemplation fled as Fantine was swept up in getting the children fed. Even as she moved around the kitchen, she kept an eye on Garth and Kerr, who sat close together.

  The day passed in a flurry of activity, but Fantine was content about every completed task. Being in a house made all the chores easier. And having an outhouse nearby was a luxury that she would never overlook again. Pete was right about enlisting the younger children’s help with the washer. He cajoled the older boys into adding their clothes and all the bed sheets to the growing pile. But the most fun was had with the wringer, and the children turning the handl
e and watching the clothes be forced through the rollers and come out flattened. Thankfully, the weather cooperated and remained sunny with a gentle breeze. By the time, she hung the last bed sheet on one of the ropes strung between trees, she’d passed what remained of the family’s garden a couple of dozen times.

  Just as Fantine stepped toward the wire fenced enclosure, she heard a light tinkling sound. Pure joy expressed in a child’s laugh. Shading her eyes with a hand, she looked around the farm yard. Past the barn, several children were gathered in a circle under an oak tree. A rope swing hung from a nearly flat branch, and one of the little girls held on tight as Pete pushed her. Flying blonde braids and the muddy brown dress identified her as Kittie. Fantine closed her eyes and send up a prayer of thanks. Maybe the little girl would soon speak again.

  Late that afternoon, Fantine carried the clean sheets upstairs. Hesitant about entering the parents’ bedroom where Pete had slept, she makes up the other beds. In the room used by Garth and Kerr, she stopped a moment to study the books on a shelf and a box holding toys to get insights into what they liked. Adventure stories, a picture book of insects, tops, a metal train engine, a length of rope with several knots. She tried to remember what her older brother, Denys, had played with when they were children but couldn’t. Older by four years, he’d always shadowed Père’s footsteps outdoors. Months had passed since she’d received a letter from Fort Macleod where he served with the Mounted Police. Soon, she’d need to write.

  Grabbing the last set of sheets, she crossed the hall, entered the biggest bedroom, and surveyed the room. Wooden bed frame, armoire, bureau. A quick opening of drawer and doors revealed adults clothing. As she smoothed on the sheets, she noticed a covered boxy object tucked in the corner farthest from the bed. Curiosity drove her feet across the floor. She pulled up a corner of the quilt of multi-colored strips, revealing a light wood side with curved moldings at the edges.

  Her heart pounded. Could it be? Gasping, she tossed off the rest of the covering to reveal a small upright piano. Once seated at the accompanying bench, she flexed her fingers then set them on the ivory keyboard. Closing her eyes, she was lost, playing the instrument, not caring that it needed tuning. Her fingers remembered the songs she practiced so many times. Mozart, Liszt, Chopin, Beethoven. One tune blended into another until her fingers ached and she slumped on the bench, happiness at reconnecting with this part of life tightening her throat.

  Applause rolled through the open door.

  Sucking in a breath, she jumped up to look into the hallway where everyone stood listening. The opinion she most cared about was Pete’s, and she saw pride shining in his gaze. To hide the embarrassed flush heating her cheeks, she curtsied, pulling out the side of her skirt as she swept her right hand before her body. “Thank you.”

  Kerr leaned his head around the door jamb. “Our ma used to play, but her tunes weren’t so fancy.”

  “I wanna play.” Nara danced on her tip-toes.

  “Maybe later. Right now, I need to talk with Garth and Kerr.” She connected with Pete’s gaze and jerked her head to the side. When the three were alone, she turned and moved to the armoire and opened both doors. Inside hung their parent’s clothes from several hooks. “From what I’ve seen of this house and the farm, your family had a good life here. I believe you loved your parents very much. Please know I mean no disrespect, and I don’t want to do anything that will hurt you.” She studied their expressions, hoping not to see either of them becoming upset.

  Both boys stood with hands jammed into pants pockets, only giving the armoire’s contents sideways glances. “As you’ve probably noticed, the other children have only the clothes they wear every day. One of the skills I learned at the orphanage was to reuse what was donated or outgrown. All of the children learned to share what was available. When cut down to size, these garments will provide much-needed clothes for them and for you, if you choose.”

  Garth stepped forward and fingered the sleeve of a green calico dress. “This one was Ma’s favorite. Pa always said the spring wildflowers had nothing on her when she wore it.” He turned and swiped a hand at his eyes. “Take them.”

  “Yeah, we don’t need them.” Kerr shuffled after his brother.

  The sound of their tight voices made her doubt if she’d pushed too hard or too soon. She gripped the edge of the door and watched them walk down the stairs, shoulders slumped. Oh, why hadn’t she paid more attention to Sister Catherine when she handled such matters?

  ****

  Outside, Pete watched from the back porch as the children played a game that only they knew the rules to. Didn’t matter, they were doing what kids were supposed to—running and skipping, jumping off a tree stump, and laughing. He was glad Julian’s feet had healed enough for him to wear shoes. Finding that swing in the tack room reminded him of his childhood, and he’d wanted to give the orphans that simple pleasure. Their delighted laughter convinced him he’d made the right choice. Garth and Kerr scoffed that they’d outgrown the amusement years ago. But Pete had seen them each sneak a turn after the younger ones ran off to a new pursuit.

  The door opened with a crash.

  The two brothers bolted across the back porch and ran toward the barn.

  Pete lowered his boots from the rail and stared after them. What in the dickens?

  Fantine hurried to the doorway and stopped, hands clasped at her waist.

  Standing, he noted her wrinkled eyebrows and tense stance. “What set them off?”

  “I did.” She heaved a sigh and then turned toward him. “The armoire in their parents’ room is filled with clothes that I suggested be cut down for the younger children. They agreed, but…”

  The uncertain note in her voice got to him more than what she’d revealed. As natural as if he’d done this often, he stepped close and slipped an arm over her shoulders. “The hurt is still raw. Give them time.”

  “I know.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “But sewing new clothes can’t be done overnight.”

  He liked how their bodies fit together and took a couple of slow breaths to enjoy the sensation. “Are you saying we should stay here a while?”

  “Could we?” She turned to face him, resting her hands at his waist. “I hoped to bake fresh bread for the journey. Did you know I found rings of hard bread hanging on a rod near the pantry ceiling? The boys said their ma was of Finnish descent, and the breads often lasted all winter.”

  “Staying another couple of days will give me time to repair the farm wagon. The rims are loose on the spokes, and every junction needs greasing.”

  “Another wagon?” Her eyes widened. “I really should come out and inspect the barn, but I’ve been busy. And there’s so much yet to be done.”

  He cupped her cheeks and gazed into her hazel eyes. “Relax, Fantine. Everyone is safe, and thanks to you, we are fed and have clean clothes. That’s a lot.” Before he took her into his arms like he wanted to, he brushed a kiss on her forehead and stepped back. “I’m taking the boys fishing.”

  “Good, you need to relax. Fish would be a nice change.”

  Squinting at the setting sun, he nodded. “If we aren’t lucky, I found a smokehouse and will bring back something for the table.” A promise he’d kept so far.

  Later that evening after a fine trout, mashed potato, and green bean supper, Pete sat on the sofa opposite the fireplace, starring into the dancing flames. Fishing with two novices had proved challenging, and Garth and Kerr drifted a bit away to improve their chance for success. The biggest surprise Pete discovered was he enjoyed acting as instructor as Ander and Julian baited their hooks then set them into the water. Once they figured out the process, they insisted on doing it themselves. He’d dipped in his own line and before long had a string of ten trout.

  Once Julian’s line got tangled, and Pete had to cross the stream to get it off a bush. The sight of fresh horse hoof prints in the mud startled him. Although they were in an area he knew none from their group had ridden, he told
himself many reasons could be true for why they were present. His bounty hunter logic warred with his wish to discount their importance and stole the fun from the fishing excursion.

  He picked up the farm journal he’d found on a shelf and flipped to a new article. Fantine had shepherded the last of the seven through a mandatory bath and sat in a rocker, stitching on a dress in front of the firelight. “I hate to say it but this setting reminds me of my parents. Now, I understand why they were content with quiet activities in the evening.”

  She looked up and smiled. “And they had only three children.”

  “Five actually. I have two younger sisters.”

  “Oh?”

  A cry sounded from upstairs.

  Pete set aside his journal. “I’ll go.”

  Shaking her head, Fantine held out a staying hand. “Wait. I want to see if she’ll get back to sleep on her own. She has to learn.”

  Pete was halfway through an article on crop rotation when he heard a stair tread creak.

  Kittie walked to the foot of the stairs and stood rubbing a fist in an eye. Then she looked between the seated adults and headed toward him.

  In disbelief, he watched as the little blonde girl crawled into his lap and nestled against his chest. After shooting Fantine a wide-eyed look, he rested a hand on Kittie’s back and smoothed a circle, imitating what he’d seen Fantine do. The trust from this little girl wrapped around his soul, and he lowered his head to sniff in her clean scent. What would happen if their group simply stayed here on the farm?

  Chapter Eight

  Two mornings later, Fantine awoke with heavy twinges in her belly. Her monthly courses would soon arrive. Already overtired from all the travel preparation and sewing, she fretted over how she could continue with the expected schedule. On the first day, she normally stayed in bed, her aching body curled around an India rubber hot water bottle. Well, that wasn’t possible this month.

  As she eased her way down the stairs, she was grateful for the time spent hiking with the girls yesterday to collect herbs, leaves, and bark to replenish her remedies bag. Knowing her time was coming, she was happy they’d encountered several bushes of late-fruiting red raspberries. The leaves, when bruised and steeped, made a concoction that eased cramping. So far, the brewed tea hadn’t taken hold. While tidying yesterday, Fantine discovered a length of flannel in the parents’ bottom bureau drawer—complete with two oblong safety pins—and now sat sewing basting stitches on rectangular pads to keep the layers from shifting.