by Kari Trumbo
She closed her eyes as he led them and remembered the letters, especially the early ones. They would get along just fine. Their letters had been enough to tell her that. Though, in person, he sounded so different than he’d been in his letters. Not as refined. In letters, it was easy to put on airs, and that had to explain the difference.
While she was certain they would suit if he would just continue talking to her, would she fit well with him in other ways? He couldn't even kiss her, or hold her, without stooping. That would only serve to remind him every time he was with her that she was all wrong, just as Beau had said.
Blast it, May. Don't give up before you've even started.
"Mr. Montague, what made you decide to go into ranching?" Though his clothing was very well-made, he just didn't have the appearance of a man who owned a ranch. The man walking her around the conservatory seemed more the kind to be a hard-working hand, with lots of labor and long difficult days.
He avoided her question. "Did you see the size of those flowers? I've never seen anything like them."
Why would he dodge a question about his ranch? She couldn't understand. How would they ever determine if they were good for one another if he didn't share anything? "I didn't notice them until you pointed them out." She'd been too busy noticing him. But, as usual, she was forgettable, this time to a shrub.
"It's a wonder that they can have so many plants in here, and it sure is warm."
For April, it was stifling in the glassed-in area. Fountains lined the walk, the water dancing to its own muffled music, and flowers perfumed everything. May wouldn't normally ignore such beauty, but she only had five days to convince this man that she was serious and wanted to be his bride. There was no time to be discussing flowers.
"Is there anything I should know about your ranch?" She slipped her hand from his arm and clasped them behind her back, hoping that if she wasn't touching him, she might think more clearly.
He frowned and glanced down at her. "I'd rather not talk about the ranch. Why don't we talk about you?"
Before Beau's cutting remarks, she'd never had much issue talking about herself, but now...
"Well, as I said, I work at the Sweet Shoppe in Cutter's Creek. My brother is my only living family, and he lives in South Dakota with his wife and her seven sisters."
His eyes grew wide. "My, that's quite the family, can you imagine having that many young ones?"
Oh, she hadn't when the whole family had lived in Cutter's Creek for a short time, but now she could. "I thought so before," she glanced up at him to gauge his reaction, "but I don't think so now."
His Adam's apple bobbed, and he turned back to the greenery. "Well, I didn't really think we'd broach the subject of children so quickly." Mr. Montague pulled on his collar. He seemed so ill at ease in a suit and even more so with the subject. She sighed and tried to ignore the hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. He didn't want children. She'd hoped and prayed that he would, but it wasn't meant to be.
May tried to keep her face impassive, but it took all her effort. "Mr. Montague. I'm quite tired after my trip. I think I'd like to retire to my room, if you don't mind?"
Relief washed over his face. He was glad to be rid of her, and that hurt even more. Her whole trip would be a waste if he couldn’t even stand to spend an evening with her.
"I'm sorry you had such a tiring journey, Miss Rockford. Go, have a restful evening. I'll see you in the morning."
May waited for a moment for him to tell her where they would meet and when, but he turned back to the flowers as if she were already gone.
What about her had changed so much that she couldn't keep a man's attention for a few hours? Not even one who'd traveled hundreds of miles just to see her? Her lip trembled as she mounted the stairs to her room. Love was no longer on the horizon. In fact, it was in total eclipse.
#
He'd been sent there to let her down, so why did the accusation in her eyes bother him? He wasn't supposed to get tied up, and he shouldn't care. But along with his guilt, his consideration to stay had to change. If he remained in Sweetwater Springs to spend time with Miss Rockford, it might be hard to make her go on home, but he still had to. Montague had changed his mind and even if the lady was nice enough, that wasn't enough to change it back.
His boss should've just written her a letter and let her down easy. Having her travel so far, thinking she was going to be a bride, wasn't right. And after meeting her, it felt doubly wrong. He scrubbed his hands down his face and sighed, drawing the attention of a couple walking past.
"Good evening." The man tipped his bowler and bowed slightly, his suit puckering at the waist to account for his girth.
Randolph had forgotten he was in a suit. People never treated him like that when he was working. He bowed likewise to both the man and his wife. "To you, as well."
The man patted his wife's hand. "Why don't you head on up, dear. I'll be there shortly." She smiled at him and headed for the stairs.
Randolph waited, as he didn't recognize the man, but it was obvious he wanted to talk.
"Couldn't help but notice your frustration. There are benches out back where a man can have a smoke and watch the sun set." He turned and motioned for Randolph to follow him.
He didn't want to be rude, but there wasn't much he could tell the older man. He wasn't even himself. Which was the bulk of the problem. He followed the man out the back door to a small grassy area with a few wooden benches and pots that would be full of plants when the weather warmed. It was chilly and a bit uncomfortable with the evening breeze, but they were alone.
"Now, why don't you tell me why the foreman for Montague Enterprises is in Sweetwater all dressed like a banker? Don't tell me you saved up for those pinstripes just to attract that woman who just raced away as we were coming in? I wouldn’t believe it. Montague wouldn’t pay you enough in a year of Sundays to afford it, or the bride."
How had he been recognized? "I don't know you, Mister. How do you think you know me?"
He laughed. "I don't doubt that you don't remember. I was at the ranch last summer, visiting with Desmond. He introduced us, but you were quite busy at the time. I don't often meet people as tall as a draft horse, you see."
Randolph frowned and kept his mouth shut. His boss had been so certain he wouldn't be recognized, and he hadn't wanted to bring anyone else into confidence about such a delicate matter. His boss didn’t want to admit he’d had to look for a bride he didn’t know.
"I'm afraid I'm here on Mr. Montague's business, and that's all I can say."
The man scratched his chin. "And does he know that you're here meeting with a woman?"
Now, he couldn't answer that without this man, who had yet to introduce himself, knowing his business was the woman.
"Montague knows she's here." It was the most he could say without telling him anything. If this stranger ever asked Montague, his boss could clear up the misunderstanding, if he wanted to.
"Alvin Hob. Since you don't remember me. And you're Randolph Cade. If you need any help with the young lady, you only need to ask." He laughed as he pulled out a card and handed it to Randolph. "And whatever business Montague thinks he might have in Sweetwater Springs ... he can take it elsewhere. I don't need his type coming in here and disturbing the peace. You should probably take your lady friend elsewhere to meet."
Alvin strode out of the conservatory and Randolph glanced down at the card. Alvin Hob, Attorney at Law. The address on the card wasn't Sweetwater Springs, but that didn't matter, the lawyer obviously had ties to the town.
Was it possible that Montague didn't have cold feet about Miss Rockford ... just meeting her here? But if that were the case, why not just change where they would meet? Morgan's Crossing wasn't far away; maybe only two days' ride by buggy. He slid the card into his vest pocket and headed for the stairs, trying to think what his boss would do. He laughed. His boss hated confrontation, he'd turn tail and run, leaving Miss Rockford to wonder what had happened. T
hat just wasn't an option.
There was also the charge Mr. Hob had leveled against his boss. What could it mean? Randolph had always kept to the work side of the business, never really caring what Montague did as long as he got his pay. Was there a side of Montague he hadn't seen? One that people in the decent little town wouldn't like? He couldn't say.
The only way to find out was to stick around. He'd have to rush Miss Rockford off quick and then stay put to nose around a bit at Mr. Hob. Randolph had been in the employ of Montague for as long as he could lift a pitchfork, and that would come to an abrupt end if the man made dirty deals. His reputation was all he had, but he wouldn't just trust the word of some lawyer. Randolph would need to investigate the matter himself before accusing his boss of anything.
Chapter Four
May considered the two dresses she'd brought, both of them were designed more for a party, and certainly not morning attire. Montague would know she wasn't properly dressed for anything before noon, but her simple walking suits wouldn't attract him. Her blue silk, over bustle and gold under skirt with an evening bodice, also had a day bodice. The other dress was the color of a ripe orange with cream accents. Both had been chosen as gowns that would best entice a husband—and Mr. Montague still needed to be attracted.
The evening before had been going along so well, or so she'd thought, and then he'd simply ignored her. Just like every other man. She had no idea where to meet him that morning, when, or even if, he would come down. There were a few coins in her reticule, but certainly not enough to feed herself at every meal, should the man who invited her choose to ignore her. The slight stung her already bruised pride.
The orange dress was much livelier, and he couldn't possibly miss her in it, could he? She fingered the soft fabric. Anything was possible. Since she'd closed herself off in embarrassment after Caruso left, she hadn't tried to do much of anything to make herself look appealing to men. There wasn’t a single man in Cutter's Creek that turned her head or her heart. And, as she'd told Mr. Montague, she now felt pulled away from Cutter's Creek.
After cinching her stays and slowly putting on the orange dress, she approached the mirror and took a long look. It had been many a month since she'd bothered to try to impress anyone. It had become habit to look at her hair while she was doing it instead of her face, or kept her focus on her dress to make sure all was as it should be. She hadn't looked at her whole self in a long time. After Caruso's betrayal and her brother's words, she made sure to quiet down, quit gossiping, and act like a woman should. It had cost her, because she could no longer look herself in the eye, and the loneliness was an ache she didn't want to live with anymore.
May made her way to the stairwell, hoping that this morning, she wouldn’t be ignored.
"Excuse me, miss?" An older man called to her from behind.
She turned to glance at him, as there wasn't anyone else in the hall. "Yes?" She hesitated. What could he possibly want with her?
"Mr. Hob, Attorney. Are you having a pleasant visit to our lovely little town?"
A strange man had no business speaking to her out of nowhere. Her skin tingled with apprehension. "I just arrived yesterday, sir. I hope to have a pleasant visit, thank you." She tilted her head to turn away and he grabbed her arm tightly just above the wrist, his cool skin chilled her from head to toe.
"Just what is your business with Randolph Cade?" His fingers dug into her arm, but she was too frightened to scream.
Who was Randolph Cade, and why would this man be asking her about him? Had he mistaken her for someone else?
"I'm afraid I don't know who you're talking about. Please, release me. You're hurting my arm." She tugged, but his nails dug in deeper.
"Don't pretend like you don't know. It isn't as if—"
"Hob! You leave her be."
May gasped as Mr. Montague appeared in the hallway.
Mr. Hob dropped her arm and glanced between the two of them. "I don't know what you two have planned, but I'll figure it out. See if I don't." He jogged down the stairs, leaving May with an angry Montague.
May's heart thundered in her chest and she rubbed her wrist, red marks already marred her light skin. "He asked me about Randolph Cade. Do you know who that is?"
He flinched, and glanced away from her. "Cade is my foreman."
It made no sense. Was no one who they seemed in Sweetwater Springs? First Montague was nothing like she expected, now this man had Montague confused for someone else completely.
"You must look a lot like your foreman. He was certain you were Cade." She sighed, glad that he'd come out of his room when he had. Now he could take her down to break her fast. "Shall we go downstairs and start our day?"
He shook his head and still avoided her eyes. "Miss Rockford, I've made a terrible mistake."
She sucked in her breath and captured her lip between her teeth, loathing the tears gathering behind her eyes. How she hated her own weakness. She'd studied to be a woman who could live on her own, yet, she didn't want that. Here it was, again … the moment she would be left behind.
"I just don't think that we could ever suit."
She had to do something, anything. Drastic or not, she was not going home alone!
May grabbed him by the shoulders and tugged his head down to meet hers. His hair was much softer than she expected, but his lips surprised her more. He was a solidly built man, but his soft yet firm lips left her breathless. Before she could think through what to do next, his strong arms were around her and he was kissing her right back. The heady ache in her chest spread at a fever pitch until she was warm from her head to her toes.
So much for not suiting.
A door opened farther down the hall and a woman gasped. "Well! I never!" She slammed the door as May jumped away from Montague.
"I—I didn't want to lose you." She ducked her head. "My life has been so lonely. Your letters, they're the only happy thing in my life. Please don't send me back to Cutter's Creek. I didn't plan to ever go back."
#
Randolph stood in the third-floor hallway of the Livingston Hotel and wanted to let off a whoop. Miss Rockford might be trouble, but the woman had lit his soul on fire. Shame reddened her cheeks, and her words had caused tears to streak down her face.
His own pride reared inside his head. If it had been the real Montague standing there, telling her he'd had a change of heart, would she have thrown herself at him? Or had it been their gentle, tentative connection from the evening before? Nothing he'd done to turn her away had worked, she been sweet and attentive to him the whole evening. Montague wouldn't have responded. In that way, he'd been a horrible imitation of Montague.
"Miss Rockford—"
"I think after a woman throws herself at you, you have every right to use her first name," she snipped.
What was her name? Had she written it in the letters? He'd focused so much on the things she'd written within the letters themselves, he hadn't focused on her signature.
"It's probably best if we don't." He didn't mean that, but he had to say it, it’s what Montague would want him to say. He'd worked so hard helping his boss build his ranch and fortune, he hadn't thought about his own life. If one kiss could tell him anything, it told him there could be more between him and Miss Rockford, if only he were Montague. Or, if only he'd been honest with her from the start. She would turn and run if he broke the truth to her now.
Her shoulders fell in defeat. "I suppose the only thing left to do is pack my trunk and head ... somewhere. I'm not going home."
He couldn't just let her wander, not with Hob hankering for knowledge Miss Rockford wouldn't have.
"Don't you think you'd be safer in Cutter's Creek?"
She turned, and her pink-tinged eyes cut him worse than fresh straw.
"What does it matter? Thank you for meeting me, Mr. Montague. I had a very pleasant evening last night." She swished her dress slightly and flicked an imaginary speck from the folds of her skirt.
He'd hurt her a
nd that didn't sit well at all. "Miss Rockford, wait. The least I can do is take you down to breakfast. You shouldn’t go without eating first."
He should leave well enough alone, but he'd been taught not to upset a woman, and he had to live with himself, no matter what his boss thought. If his mama knew...
"There's no need." She notched her chin in defiance and it made her even more appealing. "I'll be on my way, and I'm sorry for my unseemly behavior."
May! Her name was May.
He was to her in two strides and whirled her to face him. "May, I'm sorry. I truly am. I wish I didn't have to do this to you. If I was a half-decent man, I wouldn't have even asked you to come." There, he'd voiced how he really felt about something. Her plump lower lip trembled, and he couldn't stop watching it, wanting it. She was sweeter than molasses on snow.
"Please don't cry."
She yanked her arm from him and stomped her foot. "You ask me to pack my trunk just so, spend a week in the nicest hotel I've ever seen, hours away from home, decide to send me back without even spending one whole day with me, and now you're sorry? I trusted you. Even though I was nervous, your letters were my joy, and I trusted that everything would work out. You could have been anyone, a murderer! Don't think I don't know that doesn't happen, I studied law.”
She took a deep breath and when she let it out, it seemed to deflate her. “I was certain that my circumstances would finally change, that someone would see me. But no, I can't even hold your attention for a full morning, not even when I act like a trollop. Frankly, I..." She threw her hands up with an exasperated sigh. "I don't know. I just know that I can't expect you to pay for me if I'm not here to become your bride, and I certainly can't afford to stay on my own. Good day, Mr. Montague."
Her tirade told him more than her letters ever did. May had spunk and heart. Montague was a fool. Randolph couldn't let her leave like that. "May, I'd be happy to take you. It doesn't matter if we don't suit. I still asked you to be here and I would be a heel if I didn't make sure you were taken care of." And make certain she made it to the train without Hob speaking to her again.