Montana Dawn

by Caroline Fyffe

  Ward reined up alongside the wagon. He nodded. “Thought you might.”

  Glancing at Joe, Faith saw his angry expression. “Just what are you saying, Faith—that you’re going off with this man? This stranger?”

  “He’s no stranger. He’s Colton’s uncle. I am sorry, though, to have been such a problem to you and the McCutcheons. I never should have run away after my husband was killed. But I thank you for all that you’ve done for me, Mr. Brunn. And for the children.”

  She held her breath. Would he believe her?

  Clearly unhappy, Joe turned his attention back to Ward. “You’re planning to just up and take this wagon back the way we’ve come? You don’t have enough supplies!”

  Ward nodded. “I’ve purchased supplies in town. We’ll pick them up tonight and then head out tomorrow.” As if annoyed at being questioned he added, “This is Faith’s—or should I say my deceased brother’s—wagon.”

  “These are the McCutcheons’ horses,” Joe shot back.

  “I’ll buy a new team in town,” Ward said. “I wouldn’t want to have anyone accuse me of horse-stealing.”

  He’d certainly thought of everything. Joe looked like he was wavering. Even if he didn’t approve of the choice, he wouldn’t stop her if she had a mind to go home.

  Home? The word made her heart beat fast. Home was Luke’s ranch, Luke’s arms. Home was the afternoon they’d spent in the grass.

  Clearly just having awoken from a snooze, Colton popped his head out from inside the wagon to see what was going on. His gaze flew from Ward to Faith and back again, astonished. He looked too scared to say anything. Thankfully, Joe didn’t notice.

  “Time’s a-wasting,” Ward called, and he turned his horse in the direction of town.

  He rode alongside Faith. The scent of cheap perfume and whiskey wafted up to the wagon seat. Ward began whistling.

  “Preacher’s waiting, too,” he said just loud enough for her to hear.

  Chapter Forty-nine

  LYING on his back, Luke solemnly studied the cracks of his bedroom ceiling. The scowl that seemed permanently etched on his face was carved into his heart. Faith hadn’t waited. She’d run off the very day he’d left the ranch. And on top of that, the telegram he’d sent from Kearney, telling his family to keep an eye on Ward and Faith until he returned, had been misplaced at the sheriff’s office and reached the ranch four days late. That damn deputy! Brandon ought to fire his…

  His shoulder wound was still very painful. He’d hidden the injury from his mother, knowing she would all but chain him to his bed if she knew the extent of it. He’d never seen her so hysterical as when he’d arrived. She’d gotten the telegram only hours before, when all the men besides Francis and Lucky were two counties over at a barn raising. The women had stayed home on account of Rachel and the new baby.

  Cursing to himself, he looked at the side table and the note from Faith. He’d read it fifty times, knew it by heart. Still, he reached over and unwrinkled it to read one more time:

  Dear Luke,

  I know I said that I would wait until your return, but that just was not possible. Joe Brunn came the day you left and that was my chance to get to Priest’s Crossing.

  Please believe me when I tell you that I really do want a new life. One where I am the provider for my children. You have a wonderful family and are very blessed, but to be a part of that is not my dream. Please respect my wishes and let me go. Don’t make this harder than it already is. I don’t want to have to tell you to your face that I don’t want you or any other man. I especially don’t want a half-breed for my husband. Or to be the father of my children.

  Thank you for all your help with Dawn and everything.

  —Faith

  It wasn’t quite the homecoming he’d envisioned. In fact, the more he thought about it, the less he believed it. He felt sure his suspicions were right: Ward was blackmailing Faith. So he had to concentrate on summoning the strength to get out of bed and back on his horse.

  There was a rapping on his door. “Luke,” Charity called softly as she poked her head inside his room. “I’ve gathered all the things you wanted, and a fresh horse is saddled.” She entered with a tray. “I brought you food. You hungry?”

  “Thanks.”

  As he picked up a slice of beef, he winced. Charity’s eyes went wide. “You’re hurt?” she asked. Instantly she was trying to see inside his shirt, but he waved her off. He had a time of convincing her, but finally she sat back and held her hands in her lap.

  “It’s nothing. Just a flesh wound,” he promised.

  Charity’s brow twisted in a frown. Clearly, she was upset. “Have a sip of milk. It’ll help fortify you,” she said, handing him a full glass.

  He cringed. “I don’t drink milk. Can’t stomach the taste.”

  Her expression turned hard as nails. “I don’t care. You’re hurt, and you need something in that belly of yours. Just humor me, please. Now drink it.”

  He did. Then he asked, “Will you do something for me?” He knew full well she would, though her eyebrows rose in speculation. “Don’t tell Ma about my shoulder. I don’t want her to worry.”

  “Worry? You’re just afraid she’ll not let you go.”

  “I’m going. She can’t stop me.” Cramming his meal into his mouth, he took one last drink of milk, just to get on Charity’s good side, and stood. “When the men get home from that barn raising, send them to…” He paused. Hell. He didn’t know where to send them. “Just tell them what happened and that I’m going to Priest’s Crossing to fetch Faith back.”

  Charity’s eyes went dark and she hugged him, being careful not to hurt his shoulder. “Be careful, Luke. I love you.”

  Her voice had a little catch in it, and Luke was afraid that she might start crying. He tipped her face up to his. “I love you, too.”

  “I know you still think of me as a little girl,” Charity whispered.

  “You are a little girl,” he interrupted with a growl. “A special little girl. My sister.”

  She rolled her eyes and tried again. “I just wanted to tell you that I understand what you were trying to tell me the other day when we went riding, about a woman following where her husband goes. I was foolish meeting Ward in that barn. It was just that…”

  He soothed the hair from her face, realizing that indeed she had grown up. “I know, Charity. We all get hankerings. But…your time will come. Just be sure that, when it does, it’s with the right man—and that you’re married first.”

  “I know. I know!” Her eyes were instantly filled with tears.

  “Shhh, don’t cry.” Luke drew her closer, ignoring the discomfort in his shoulder.

  “Was it true about Brandon and the schoolteacher’s niece?” she whispered.

  He didn’t dare tell her she had Brandon wrapped around her little finger; it would surely send her running for more adventure. Instead he said, “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. I reckon you’d best ask him yourself.”

  She leaned back, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I can’t,” she said, mortified. “What would he think?”

  Luke hid a smile. “You’re right, that would be pretty revealing. Still, I’m sure you’ll figure out a way of attracting his attention. Subtly, of course—and definitely not alone in the barn.”

  She caught his arm as he was going out the door. “There’s the old road to Priest’s Crossing. Don’t forget about that. If I was on the run, that’s exactly the route I’d take.”

  He kissed her again. “I can always count on you.”

  Colton retreated to the back of the wagon and refused to come out. He’d been shaken when Ward showed up on the trail. Now that he’d learned they were returning to their old home, he’d reverted to suspiciousness and hostility.

  Ward picked up supplies and purchased some new horses from the livery. He made arrangements to board the McCutcheon team until they were picked up. Now they drove up to a little building on the far side of town.

&nbs
p; The undertaker’s? Surprised, Faith kept quiet.

  “Jackson Bennett, sheriff and undertaker,” Ward read aloud. “He’s agreed to marry us.”

  Anger bubbled up inside Faith. She’d never expected this to happen so soon. Ward was robbing her of a future, throwing her back into the nightmare she’d so recently escaped. And what was in it for her? Her children would indeed suffer when they returned to Kearney, regardless that she’d be there to buffer them. What in heaven’s name was she doing?

  She took a deep breath. “No. I’m not going.”

  “Don’t start this, Faith. You don’t want to make a scene, do you?”

  “Take the farm, Ward,” she pleaded. “It’s worth some money. Sell it. I don’t care. Just leave me here.” Her insides had seized up, but Faith was determined to talk some sense into him.

  Several onlookers from the street stopped and watched with curiosity. Ward leaned close, so that only she could hear. “Don’t make me tell you again. Get your butt off that seat and get inside. I’ve already made arrangements with the sheriff. He’s expecting us.”

  “No.”

  Ward hopped down from the wagon and circled around. With a jerk he pulled Faith out, leaving her sprawled in the street. Her breath was knocked from her lungs and her thigh stung, and Ward’s eyes glittered dangerously. But though Faith’s limbs shook and pain radiated from her legs and up her back, she’d not marry him without a fight. She shook her head defiantly.

  Ward grabbed the collar of her dress and pulled her to her feet. He shoved her back against the wagon with force. Dizziness enveloped her, and from far away she could hear Dawn screaming. Also, what sounded like the whimpering of a small animal. Colton.

  She turned her head and stared at the building. Her resolution remained unchanged. She’d not step a foot inside. She’d make her stand here and now.

  “Colton, bring me that baby,” Ward called.

  Faith craned her neck to see the boy rocking Dawn in his arms, fervently trying to calm the screaming babe, fear etched on his face. And a hint of challenge.

  When Colton didn’t move, Ward strode to where the boy stood and took the infant. “Now,” he chuckled, “we’ll go inside.”

  Panic like she’d never known welled up in Faith’s throat. She reached for Dawn, who was squirming in Ward’s arms. What would he do if she refused to go inside? One toss could cripple or kill her.

  “Let me take Dawn, Ward. Please, she’s crying,” Faith said as she reached out.

  Ward turned, bouncing the baby in his embrace. “Nope. I’ve hardly had a chance to get to know my little niece. I think I’ll just keep hold of her until she settles down.”

  Faith gave in.

  Within minutes it was over and they were back in the wagon, Mr. and Mrs. Ward Brown. Townspeople watched as the conveyance rolled off down the street. Faith willed away her memories, telling herself it was not the time to think of them. Memories of dark, concerned eyes. Eyes that could make her insides go soft with just a glance. Luke’s strong arms, arms meant for comfort not causing pain. Luke, the night Dawn was born, crooning in encouragement.

  “Quiet now, little one.” She choked back tears and kissed her baby’s wet cheek. “Things will be fine.”

  Chapter Fifty

  LUKE made it to Priest’s Crossing in record time. His horse was spent, and he felt guilty about using him so hard. At the livery he rented a fresh one and asked around. The fast pace also took its toll on Luke. His shoulder wound had worsened, broken open and oozing, leaving him in an appallingly weak state.

  Fear and anger coiled deep inside him as he learned about the scene Ward created outside the undertaker’s. It was clear that Faith desperately didn’t want to marry Ward. So, why hadn’t somebody stepped forward and helped her?

  “Hang on, sweetheart. I’m coming,” he whispered as he gripped the saddle horn with his free hand and rode onward.

  After a short distance he reined up and pulled his hat lower to shade his eyes from the probing rays of the setting sun. It was getting harder by the moment to keep his seat and he swayed in his saddle. Touching his throbbing shoulder, he drew back his fingers and gazed at thick red blood.

  He should have found them by now, he admitted. It made him worried. He had no trail to follow, since the comings and goings of the townspeople had wiped it away. Guessing at Ward’s destination and route was the best he’d been able to do. And now…

  “You can’t do her any good if you bleed to death before you figure it out,” he chastised himself.

  The old road Charity had mentioned was a handful of miles south, and it was, as she’d mentioned, the best option for Ward if he wanted to stay out of sight. If he cut cross-country, Luke would meet up with it. He wouldn’t know if he was behind or in front of them, but he’d just have to leave that to luck. Right now he had to concentrate on staying atop his horse. On finding Faith.

  He rode on.

  Something skittered across his cheek. With a swat Luke sent it flying and opened his eyes. It was pitch-black, the clear night sky shining above with millions of bright stars. What the hell was he doing on his back in the middle of nowhere?

  Slowly everything came back to him. He must have passed out and fallen off his horse. Barely able to summon the energy to turn his head, Luke struggled until he did. His horse was several feet away, still saddled, reins loose on the ground. The beast was eagerly cropping at the grass.

  Luke extended his arm in the animal’s direction. He stretched, wiggling his fingers as if he might reach the reins from where he lay. “Come here, boy,” he croaked out, eyeing the canteen that hung from the saddle pommel. “Horse!” he called again, impatience with his own weakness curling inside him.

  The horse didn’t budge. What the hell was it the man had said its name was? He’d be damned if he could remember.

  “Sam?” His voice was raspy and weak. The horse ignored it completely. “Saint? Striker!”

  Seemed as if he recalled the name starting with an S. The effort was making Luke dizzy. He rolled his head back and closed his eyes.

  He swallowed, and the dryness of his throat made him wince. Frustration swept through him like a tidal wave. If he didn’t make it to the horse, he could easily die out here. Not only would that be letting Faith and the children down, but Charity would nail his hide to the barn door. Not that he’d feel it, he thought humorlessly.

  With enormous exertion, Luke rolled to his side and looked at the horse. “Stupid.” The horse stopped grazing and raised his head.

  “Good boy! Now, come on over here.”

  But, the horse wasn’t looking at him. It was listening to something far off to the west, and it snorted.

  Alarm hummed through Luke’s body. If he didn’t get to that animal soon, it would run off.

  Luke forced himself to roll to his stomach. He couldn’t stop the grunt, a result of pain that radiated out from his shoulder and coursed through his body. He squeezed his eyes shut and for a brief moment thought of Faith’s pretty smile, and the memory dulled the pain. He took a few hurried breaths. “Easy, boy. Easy now.”

  Dragging himself with his elbows, he focused his mind’s eye on the way she’d said his name their first night as they walked to her wagon, and it buoyed him enough to keep going.

  He was closer to the jittery flea-bitten gray. “Silver…? Is that your name? Keep eating that nice grass.” Luke kept talking. He didn’t know if it was to calm the horse or his own tremulous feelings. He actually smiled when Faith came to mind again as she tried to talk him into believing she had an aunt named Penelope. No doubt she’d been a distraction to him—in the very best of ways.

  “Salty! That’s it. Here, Salty. Be a good old boy, Salty, and stay there until I can drag myself over to you.”

  The horse’s head came up again, and this time Luke heard the distinct jingle of a harness and the crunching of wheels on dirt. The old road must just be over the rise! And who else could it be, if not Faith and Ward?

  Ne
cessity fueled Luke, giving him the strength to pull himself the last few feet to the horse. He gripped one rein, closed his eyes and groaned. Salty, agitated with excitement generated by the approach of other horses, danced around and almost stepped on him.

  Through sheer force of determination, Luke heaved himself up and caught hold of the stirrup and crawled into the saddle. Between huge gulps of air and bouts of nausea he rode toward the sound, wondering how he was going to keep Ward from seeing he was wounded. The cover of darkness could help. Possibly Ward wouldn’t see his weakened condition.

  He positioned himself behind a scrub oak but made sure he had a good view of the road. The moon shone softly on the lane, and he could make out a wagon, distant yet approaching at an even pace.

  Luke didn’t have to check his weapon. It was loaded and ready, and he took it from its holster so he wouldn’t have to be doing any fast-drawing in his condition. But he wavered in the saddle. Gripping the horn and gritting his teeth, he swore softly at the effort just sitting there took. That wagon had best hurry.

  “Brown!” Luke bellowed when the wagon was within fifteen feet. He could see Faith wrapped in a quilt next to Ward. Instantly, both figures straightened. Luke thought he saw Faith mouth his name, but his vision, blurry as it was, might be playing tricks. Ward dropped his hand to the edge of the wagon seat.

  “Keep your hands where I can see them,” Luke warned.

  Ward brought his hand back up and laid it on his lap with the other. “What do you want, McCutcheon?”

  “I think that’s pretty obvious. I told you to stay away from Faith.”

  “True enough. But, things have a way of changing. Faith is my wife now, so you don’t have no claim on her.”

  A cold chill descended on Luke, frosting his insides. A few moments passed while he wavered and fought the weakness that was threatening to overtake him, threatening to topple him from his saddle.