by Bella Bowen
The skin around the white fluffy hair turned deep red. “What say you?”
“Bah!” Connell waved a dismissive hand. “Ye need to have them change the headstone, Father.”
“What headstone?” The old man started backing toward the door, his face still glowing red.
“Alexandra Campbell's.”
“Oh?” He kept backing. His son advanced.
“Aye. Because the only thing buried in that box is my love for all things McDonald!”
The old man stopped. “Now, see here. No son of mine—”
“Ye're right about that, ye bastard. I am no son of yers.”
~ ~ ~
It was a mere ten minutes later when John and Connell McDonald rode away from the old man who was more intent on stomping his hat into the dirt than watching his son ride out of his life.
John was a little surprised to see that Connell didn't seem the least bit upset, so he asked him about it.
“Auch, well, my bonny Alexandra is alive. What more is there to grieve about?”
John felt duty-bound to point out that the woman may well have married in the past three months. After all, at least twelve dozen men had gone to Sage River in that time looking for a pretty bride. And if Miss Campbell had given up hope that Connell would ever find her, she might have moved on.
“Does it matter?” Connell asked. “My Alexandra's alive. Alive! And if she's married to someone else...” The big man's eyes finally betrayed his emotions, and fat tears splashed down his cheeks. “Well, whoever he is, the poor man will have to find another wife, that's all.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Mary’s shovel dug into the cold stream bed one last time and came up with a satisfying load of sand and pebbles. She added it to the half-full bucket and called it good. If she loaded the pair of buckets too full, her back would be hurting in the morning.
She fixed the yoke over her shoulders and sighed. She shouldn’t have come for another load after all. She would be sore for days. But when she thought of all the mud at the bottom of her front porch steps, she decided the pain was well worth it. The pebbles and sand would save her scrubbing the floor three times a day until summer dried things up.
Spring in Wyoming was a magical time…except for the mud.
The cabin her brothers had purchased twelve miles west of Sage River was twice as big as the ones she’d been raised in. The summer place had been the largest with its open porch. The winter cabin had been a quarter the size of her new home and she tried to keep that in mind every day—and tried to keep out of her mind how large Stoddard House had been. Or Carnegie House, where her boss had lived… Or Tucker House, where she’d roomed with the rest of the staff…
Every day made it easier to believe her stay at Diamond Springs Ranch had only been a dream. It had been nearly four months since she’d left with her brothers. Four months to remember who she was, or had been.
There was something comforting about that—knowing your place in the world. And when she remembered how it felt to not know who you might marry, or where you might eventually end up, she told herself it was a frightening state of mind and she was well rid of it.
Exciting? She used to think so. But no more. Now she realized she was meant to care for her family. She always had been.
And her home was solid. Dry. Close to clean water. She had her own bedroom, and her brothers were happy to sleep in the loft. Everything she remembered from her mother’s shelves had been brought down from the summer place. She couldn’t have felt more at home.
And there would be much less mud on the floor now.
She came over the lip of the creek bank and looked toward the precious house, trying to decide just where the last bit of sand and rocks needed to go. But a large dark form blocked the path between her and the house that stood another two hundred yards away.
A bear.
She slowed her steps, but the weight of her load made it impossible to stop silently, and the animal turned to face her.
She lowered the buckets to the ground but kept the yoke on her shoulders, hoping she would appear larger that way. She moved her leg, searching for the heaviness of her revolver in her skirt pocket, but it wasn’t there. Her stomach sank when she remembered leaving it on the porch to avoid the added weight. After all, she’d only been headed to the creek.
If she survived, she’d never make that mistake again.
Something dark hung from the bear’s lip. Either it was something dead, or the animal had gotten inside her smokehouse.
“That had better not be mine,” she shouted.
The bear looked away, then back at her. Hoping maybe it was too satisfied to want a fight, she shouted again.
“You keep your stinking carcass out of my smokehouse, do you hear?”
The bear sniffed in her direction.
One end at a time, she dipped the yoke up and down, up and down, hoping she might resemble a giant dragonfly, or at least something befuddling. She shouted nonsense, but it did no good. Undaunted, the bear started for her—the deranged woman that smelled much like the smokehouse—just a large, noisy piece of Elk jerky.
Mary cursed and lifted the buckets off the ground. Then she started turning in circles. It wasn’t smart to show a bear her back, but she was facing it again soon enough. And her buckets, now much lighter in her terrified state, swung out in a wide circle.
At ten feet away, the bear pushed off his front paws and stood. It was huge! She had to resist the urge to stand and stare. She had to keep those buckets flying!
The animal’s head moved back and forth as it watched the buckets pass a scant yard from its face. It was watching for an opening.
Dizzy now, she nearly toppled. She struggled to spin faster, hoping it would see no opportunity to attack. But the damn thing was smart. It sat back on its hind quarters and waited.
Mary knew she wouldn’t last much longer. A slip of her foot would mean the death of her. She had no choice. She had to attack the bear. If she was lucky, she’d hit it with both buckets before the momentum was gone.
She made small adjustments. A little closer with each turn.
The bear stood again. The head was far too high for the buckets to hit. But on its feet, she could maybe knock it over!
Closer…
Now hit him hard!
She screamed as she put her all into the first bucket. It hit the bear’s arm and it knocked it away! It took all the momentum out of the second bucket, so she swung it around in the other direction. If the bear was going to get her, it wouldn’t matter if she was facing it or not!
But this time its head was low enough. She gave one last surge of effort and the bucket struck true. Sand and pebbles spilled across the animal’s face and into his ear. It stopped advancing and shook its head.
She swung back the other way again and struck the other side of its head with the first, nearly empty bucket. The rocks rattled and the animal startled.
“Go on you yellow-bellied monster!”
Facing it, she was able to spin the yoke over her head, the buckets all but empty.
The right bucket flew off behind her.
The bear, poised to flee, reconsidered.
“Oh, no you don’t!” She got hold of the bare end of the yoke and swung the remaining bucket while she advanced. Maybe it wouldn’t know how useless that nearly empty pail was. “Go on!” she demanded.
The bear took its sweet time deciding. But if she retreated, it would come after her again. She simply held tight to the long narrow yoke and prayed.
The empty bucket struck. The sand spilled. The rope lifted off the notch and the bucket bounced harmlessly away.
The bear considered her curved stick, then took a step forward and growled—a sound that came all the way from his toes.
And while it growled, she jabbed hard at its throat with the yoke.
The sound cut off. A massive arm came around and knocked the yoke away.
It growled again.
With not
hing left between them, Mary screamed like a woman who had just discovered someone had stolen a pie from her windowsill.
The bear sniffed once like its feelings were hurt, then miraculously turned away.
She resisted the urge to chase it, but stood her ground as it wandered up toward the road. Something caught her eye and she jumped, worried another animal was coming after her. But it was a man dripping with fur and raw leather. With an arrow aimed at the retreating bear, he advanced. Only when the animal caught wind of him and turned his way did he fire.
The first arrow stopped the beast. The second arrow brought him down.
With a third arrow at the ready, the man circled sideways until he stood within an arm’s length of Mary.
“Are you all right?” he asked without looking at her.
She realized she was shaking, but kept her voice steady. “You didn’t need to kill it. I’d scared it away.”
The man shook his capped head, his weapon still aimed at the motionless black form on the ground. “It would have come back.” Finally, he lowered the weapon and smiled. “One whiff of you and I’d have come back. Smokehouse?”
She nodded. “Then I guess I should thank you.”
The man winked. “I could have brought it down sooner, but you just kept dancing with it.”
Her mouth fell open, but she was still too shaken to be clever.
“Nothing else you could have done,” he said, “unless you had a gun.” Before she had a chance to explain, he dropped the bow and pulled out a large hunting knife. He walked toward the road and approached the creature carefully at first, but must have seen something to tell him it was dead. With his menacing blade, he reached down and cut the animal’s throat, then wiped his knife on the grass and came back to face Mary.
“Bear skin’ll bring a good price,” he said.
She shook her head. “Your kill, your pelt.”
“Ah, now, if I’m going to have any kind of reward, I’d rather have something else…”
Mary nodded and smiled pleasantly, then walked straight for the porch where she’d left her gun. The smile was gone when she turned back and cocked the pistol. “And I’d rather not dance with any more bears today, thank you.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Mary!” Fritz bellowed outside. “Mary!”
He’d hollered a third time before she had a chance to answer, or to reach the door. Then she had sense enough to step away before Fritz barreled through the wood.
“I’m here, Fritz!”
Her brother grabbed her by her shoulders and looked her over.
“I’m hale and hearty. You see?”
Fritz shook his head. “Blood. Next to the road.”
“Oh, that’s from me,” William said from the table where Fritz had yet to notice him. “I skinned a bear.”
Fritz’s face lit up for a minute, then fell like a heavy raincloud. He looked from Mary, to the mountain man, and back again. “You let a stranger inside?”
“Well, obviously he’s not a stranger to you. And next, I have my gun in my pocket ready for whatever beast comes at me. And last, the man saved my life. The least I could do was offer him a meal.”
“She’s lying, Radley,” William grinned. “I didn’t save her life. At least not today. She’d already scared the bear away. I only made certain he wouldn’t be coming back looking for your smokehouse again.”
Fritz was not appeased. “Why didn’t you shoot the bear? I thought they taught you how to shoot and protect yerself at that dad-blamed ranch!”
William laughed. “Oh, she protected herself just fine. And with nothing more than a couple of buckets and a stick.”
Her brother growled. “Stay out of this, Bill.”
The mountain man nodded and tried to hide his amusement behind his beard.
“This seals it, then.” Fritz nodded at Jens and Max who had followed him inside. “She’s going back.”
“Back?” Mary put her hands on her hips and spread her feet a little, kind of like Fontaine did when she sensed she’d stepped into a fight. And oh, how she was prepared to fight.
It had taken nearly four months for her to get her old skin back on and to finally feel at home once more. She wasn’t about to go back to Diamond Springs Ranch and face that uncertainty again. And she definitely wouldn’t risk the heartbreak of never finding a man she could love.
What’s more, she couldn’t possibly go back and ask Mrs. Carnegie to allow her to work on the ranch again. The woman had bent enough rules for Mary’s sake. She wasn’t about to ask her to bend again. She didn’t care if she had to fend off a bear, or a mountain man, every day of her life. This was her home, and she’d defend it. And she’d defend her right to stay in it, even if it put her and Fritz on opposing sides once again.
“Mary. It’s not safe here for you. Too close to town. Too many…passers by.” Fritz gave William a dirty look. “I thought you were dead.”
The man looked surprised. With the hand not holding a spoon, he patted his chest and grinned. “Nope.”
Mary laughed. “Don’t feel bad. He has a habit of thinking people are dead.”
Fritz growled at her that time. “I won’t be able to concentrate on my work if I’m worried about you all day.”
“Easy to fix that,” she said. “Just stop worrying.”
Fritz shook his head. “Old man Hermann would send us all packing when we have to come check on you in the middle of the day.”
Her brothers had come to town to sell pelts to Rebel’s father and ended up working for the man instead. As it turned out, Fritz’s carving skills earned him a good paying position that kept him out of the winter cold. And since Hermann’s business was booming, thanks to the orders from his son in Boston, he was building a big house in the new part of Sage River. So he’d needed the younger boys to work there. With so many new buildings being constructed, men were thin on the ground, and Jens and Max had a good start as carpenter apprentices.
It was only her father who had no desire to come down from Snowy Range. He’d visited twice since Christmas, but he’d never spent the night under the new roof. Mary suspected he was hiding from Mrs. Carnegie, like he thought she might pop out of the woods and demand her twenty-five dollars back, since Mary had failed to land a husband. No matter how she assured him that she’d put in well over twenty-five dollars’ worth of work on the ranch, he hadn’t believed her.
She pulled the pot of stew from the stove and set it on the table. “I won’t go back, Fritz. You do whatever you have to do, but I’m home now.”
He grunted in frustration, then chewed on his lip like he had something to say but not enough courage to say it. Finally, after another snort from William, he found his tongue.
“You’ll never meet a husband holed up in here all day.”
She hid her surprise and pointed teasingly at the rumpled mountain man. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the right fellow will come along, since there are so many passers by and all.”
Fritz’s eyes grew wide. Jens and Max kept sniffing at their supper but didn’t dare move close enough to their larger brother in order to sit at the table.
William tried not to smile, but failed. “I don’t know. I might be of a mind to take a wife if’n she’s able to fend off a bear with her bare hands.”
Mary felt her face heat along with Fritz’s.
“You’re going back, Mary. Prepare yourself.”
As her brother marched out of the cabin, she called out. “And prepare yourself for disappointment, brother. If a bear doesn’t scare me, what makes you think you can?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The next day, Mary was surprised to find another rough-looking character at her door in the middle of the day. It was Fontaine. The woman’s hair was longer and her clothes looked newer, though she still wore britches and a pair of guns on her hips. The way her eyes darted around, she wondered if the gunslinger had come looking for Fritz.
“Hello, Fontaine,” she said. “What brings you o
ut this way?” She couldn’t think of anything west of town unless the woman was hunting. And most hunting was left to two other women at Diamond Springs.
“Mrs. Carnegie sent me with a message,” she said as she stepped inside. She walked around and poked her nose in the bedroom as if she thought someone might be lurking behind the door.
“We’re alone,” Mary assured her, but the woman kept on snooping. Mary poured them both a drink of water, then sat at the kitchen table and waited for Fontaine to join her.
“My brother’s aren’t here,” she said.
“Of course they’re not. They’re working for the tanner, ain’t they?” The woman sat down and took a long drink. Then she smiled. “Killed any bears today?”
Mary sobered. “My brother sent you.”
“No. He didn’t. I heard it from Billy Fortune. Two buckets and a stick?” Fontaine snorted. “Thought we taught you better.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to explain, if that’s why you’ve come.”
The woman sighed and her smile fell away. “Mrs. Carnegie needs you to come into town tomorrow.”
“Hmn. Wednesday night? She’s short a bride? I don’t believe it. She’s never short a bride.”
“You know why she’s short?”
Mary tilted her head and waited.
“Because your friend, Alexandra Campbell, who can’t cook worth a damn, by the way, decided she was ready to be a bride again—a real bride. Married and everything. Her Highlander finally found out where she was and came to collect her. So yes, for the first time, Mrs. Carnegie is short a female.”
Mary was thrilled to hear that at least someone was going to live happily ever after with the man she’d actually fallen in love with.
At least one of us…
She pushed the thought of John out of her mind. She had chores to do and a guest to send on her way. If she was lucky, she might even keep her eyes dry until the gunslinger was gone. “Give Alexandra my best, would you?”
“Give it yourself tomorrow night. Along with the dance, the Scots are throwing a party. The rest of the ranch is invited too.”