Mary Connealy

by Montana Marriages Trilogy

  “Getting married like we did was a crazy thing to do, I reckon, but we’ve done it and now we’re going to build a life together, doing our best to love and honor and cherish and obey. So don’t be embarrassed about anything, Cass. There shouldn’t be anything a wife can’t say to her husband, okay?”

  Cassie nodded, and the heat of tears burned behind her eyes. She had the strange sensation of the china doll Cassie and the screaming, childish Cassie drawing together until they were nearly one. She pressed her hand more firmly over Red’s, which still touched her stomach, and wanted to say something as nice to him as he had said to her. Maybe that she liked him to touch her and she’d be glad to obey him—he didn’t need to worry about that.

  At that moment the baby kicked. Red pulled away with a gasp, then he stared at her stomach. “It moved!” He laid his hand on her again.

  After a second, Cassie pressed both of her hands over his. “Try over here.” She guided him to where there was more movement. The baby kicked harder this time.

  He looked up from staring at her stomach. “Does it do that all the time?”

  Cassie nodded and couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Until this moment she’d thought Red must know everything about babies. But she remembered that he’d started this off by asking her questions. Now, with that little kick, she realized she knew lots of things he didn’t. Eagerly, she said, “The baby kicks a lot. Sometimes I can’t get to sleep at night for the kicking and rolling around it does.”

  “Rolling?” Red asked, his eyebrows arching to near his hairline.

  Cassie nodded. “It sometimes feels like she’s trying to beat her way out. Sometimes the whole top of my stomach stretches back and forth and I can picture the baby’s head bunting me. Or over here.”

  She moved Red’s hands slightly to her right side, at waist level. “I’m sure that is her feet.” Cassie looked up at him. “The movement is littler but harder, if that makes any sense.”

  “Her, huh? You think it’s a girl?”

  Cassie hadn’t realized she’d said “her.” Imagining the baby to be a little girl was something private she wouldn’t have admitted to if she’d been thinking. “Men want boys, I guess,” she said, feeling her cheeks heat up.

  The baby kicked again and Red moved his hand to find the source of this activity. “Is it exciting to think about a little person living in there?”

  Cassie had never thought about it that way because Griff didn’t want her behaving like a giddy girl, so excitement was something she controlled. But now that Red put it like that, she decided it was very exciting. “It’s strange isn’t it, to think that he—”

  “Or she,” Red interrupted.

  Cassie smiled. She wanted it to be a baby girl so badly. “That he or she is in there, alive and waiting to get out. Nine months—no one ever told me that. That’s only two more months. I’ll have a baby by Christmas.”

  Red had both hands on her stomach now. He moved them around, searching for more movement. He looked up at her and lifted one hand to lay it on her cheek. “We’ll have a baby by Christmas, Cass. We’re in this together from now on.”

  Cassie’s eyes burned with tears again, and she had the strange sensation of feeling safe. She’d never been safe with Griff, because she was always waiting for him to find fault with her and punish her. Now, at the surge of safety, hot tears spilled onto her cheeks.

  Red wiped them away with his thumb. “Don’t cry, Cass honey. I know you miss your husband and—”

  Cassie kissed him. She leaned forward, only really thinking about making him stop talking because she was so ashamed at her disloyal thoughts about her newly dead husband. Her hands were full holding Red’s on her stomach, so all she had left was to bump her mouth into his.

  The kiss was over before it started, but it had the desired effect. Red quit talking.

  Cassie jumped to her feet when she realized what she’d done. She knocked the chair over behind her as she backed away and might have fallen if Red hadn’t caught her arm.

  “It’s okay, Cass. I know it’s…I understand you’re still in mourning.” Red pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. She stiffened against him, but he didn’t do anything but hold her and smooth her hair. It felt so wonderful that she slowly relaxed against him. But relaxing was a mistake because the minute she did, she started to cry.

  Red’s arms tightened. The first tears were for Griff, and those tears flowed faster when she thought of her cowardly decision this afternoon to die, denying her baby life. The tears deepened into sobs over her fear of Mort and Wade Sawyer and all the men who had touched her. She wept over her terror of Red’s anger about her bills. Then her body shuddered from the relief that he hadn’t punished her for them, even though she knew he and every other person in town blamed her for Griff’s financial straits.

  She cried until she wasn’t aware enough anymore to know why she was crying.

  And always Red was there. He rubbed her back and brushed her hair off her forehead and crooned sweet words into her ear, surrounding her with strength and kindness.

  The storm started to wane at last, and she became aware that she was sitting on Red’s lap. Her cheek was pressed against his coarsely woven shirt and her arms were around his neck as if he was the only steady thing in a reeling universe.

  She pulled her arms away from him, ashamed of the closeness between them. Slipping sideways, she tried to stand.

  Red didn’t let her go. “Just rest another minute, Cass. You needed to cry those tears. You’ve been through a terrible time. Just let me hold you.” There was an extended silence while she relaxed back into his arms, ashamed of herself for using his strength when she should have her own.

  At last the trembling weakness receded. “I need to clean the kitchen, R–Red.” She stumbled over his name again. Odd that she was having trouble saying it.

  Red tilted her chin up with one finger. “You’re going to sleep, little mother. I’ll clean up in here.”

  Cass said, “This is my job. I’ll do the—”

  “Do you know how to milk a cow?”

  The question struck her as so strange she didn’t answer.

  He smiled. “Would you be willing to learn? And I’d like you to gather the eggs, too. There are a few things left in the garden, some beets to dig and a few pumpkins that I left, hoping the frost would hold off and they’d ripen. I’d be obliged to you if you’d tend to those things, and most of the time, I’ll be thrilled if you clean up after meals. But I’m used to doing for myself, and when you’ve had a hard day, I’m willing to pitch in.”

  Cassie was amazed that Red had framed his offer to help so perfectly. It was as if he knew she’d want to do her part, and he was reassuring her that accepting his assistance this once didn’t mean she couldn’t contribute. The words could have come from her own mind. They were possibly the only words that would have made her leave the kitchen to Red.

  “I’ll be proud to help with the milking, Red. I’ve never done it. We didn’t have a milk cow, but I’d try real hard to learn. I’ll help wherever you need me. I want to be however you want me to be, Red. Just tell me what to do.”

  “Right now, I’m telling you to go to bed. We can start worrying about chores tomorrow.”

  Cassie nodded and eased herself off Red’s lap.

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” Red went to the saddlebags he’d brought into the house with him when they’d first come home. “Muriel said you’d need this tonight.”

  Cassie looked at the brown paper package and vaguely remembered Muriel saying it was a wedding present. She unwrapped it and found a snow white nightgown. It was embroidered around the neck and made from the softest flannel Cassie had ever touched. She thought it was more beautiful than the finest silk.

  She remembered it was not an appropriate piece of apparel to look at in front of Red and blushed as she folded it quickly and held it against her chest. She looked nervously at him and expected him to say something about immodesty as
Griff would have. But he was smiling at her as if he were reading her mind and found her embarrassment at looking at a nightgown in front of her husband funny. Another one of those new rules she needed to learn.

  “I’ll go on to bed then,” Cassie murmured.

  Red nodded. “Good night, Cass. Sleep as late as you need to in the morning.”

  Cassie hung her only dress on a nail in the bedroom and donned her nightgown quickly in case Red would come in. She crawled into bed. Her muscles ached as if she had been beaten. Her eyes were as scratchy as sandpaper from all her tears. The white nightgown wrapped around her, touching her almost as warmly, not quite but almost, as Red’s hands.

  Her husband had been buried today. She’d been married today. Already her new husband was superseding thoughts of the old, and she supposed that made her as stupid and childish as Griff had always said she was.

  The day was finally over, but she was afraid the guilt and confusion would last the rest of her life. This had to be the worst day of her life, but she had survived it. Tomorrow would have to get better. Tomorrow Red was going to let her help him. It was something she had longed for with Griff, but he’d never given her the chance to prove herself.

  She fell asleep planning a wonderful new life where all her dreams would come true.

  CHAPTER 8

  Red’s life was a nightmare. And he was never going to wake up.

  “Cassie! Don’t open that …”

  Cassie started screaming and flapping at the escaping chickens.

  …gate!

  Cassie screamed and started yelling, “Shoo, no, stop! Shoo, chickens!” and frantically waving her skirt at the escaping hens. Her noise and flapping skirts only served to make the chickens run out of the coop faster.

  It bothered Buck, too. It was just pure bad luck that when Buck started crow hopping, Red was on one of the chancier spots on the steep path down to the spring where his animals watered.

  Red was watching Cassie instead of minding his horse. So he was unseated—and slid over the edge of the cliff. The drop-off wasn’t sheer, and there was some brush growing. He grabbed it and dangled for just a few seconds before he clawed his way back from the brink. There were lots of stunted evergreens on the slope, all the way down, so Red figured if he’d missed the first bushes, he’d have caught the later ones.

  As he dragged himself back onto the trail, he saw Buck run off, kicking his heels. Once he’d landed himself on the level ground, slightly panicked at the close call, he admitted he hadn’t been that close to death. The last drop-off, which was thirty feet straight down to jagged rocks, was still quite a ways away when he’d stopped sliding.

  Cassie, as near as Red could tell, hadn’t noticed him fall, because she was busy jumping and screaming and flapping her skirts to try and stop the chickens from flying the coop.

  He rushed over to calm her down. “Cass, honey, calm down.”

  She whirled to face him, looking terrified. She didn’t seem to register his dirty jeans and torn shirt or his scratched-up arms and face. Or the fact that his hat now had a horse’s hoof-print stomped straight into the crown.

  “Red, I’m so sorry. I—I didn’t mean to let them go.” Cassie turned to him with fear in her eyes.

  He had scolding words pressing to get out, but he couldn’t say them. How could he yell at her when she looked so scared? Instead of shouting, which had been his natural inclination, he said, “Don’t worry, Cass. They get out from time to time. They used to do it to me.”

  That was the truth, strictly speaking. They’d gotten out just this same way when he’d gathered eggs for his mother.

  He was five at the time.

  He’d learned his lesson then, and he reckoned Cassie had just learned hers, so there really wasn’t any point in talking about it.

  “Don’t worry, Cass. Just remember to always close this outer gate before you open the inner gate. Then close the inner gate while you’re inside, and on your way out, make sure all the chickens are in the inner yard before you open this outer one.”

  She’d left both of the gates wide open. “Yes, Red. I’ll never leave them open again.” She pressed her hands to her chest, and he could have drowned in those big, scared eyes.

  “Most of them will come home to roost come nightfall.” He patted her arm to get her to calm down. “I let them out to scratch most days in the spring and summer.”

  In the spring and summer when there were weeds to pick at and bugs to chase. In the fall they’d wander far afield looking for food, then they’d roost wherever was handy. Red didn’t tell Cassie all that.

  “Gather the eggs and go on back in and start breakfast. I’ll milk Rosie and bring in the bucket.”

  Cassie still looked nervous. She said with an almost pathetic eagerness, “Didn’t you say last night that you wanted me to milk the cow?”

  Red’s stomach sank at the thought of what Cassie might do to his precious Rosie. Rosie, a big-boned black and white Holstein, had followed him out here from Indiana, tied behind his covered wagon. He’d raised her from a calf. Rosie was one of the gifts Red’s pa had given him when he’d first gone out on his own. It was one of the last things his pa had done before he died. In short, Red had known Rosie a lot longer than he’d known his wife.

  “Sure, I want you to learn.” Red propped both gates wide open and scattered cracked corn around the inner yard, hoping some of the chickens would come around scratching for food. “But I’ll be done by the time you’ve hunted up all the eggs, so I’ll take care of her this morning.”

  Cassie nodded and entered the little chicken yard. “Ugh!”

  He turned from his hurried trip to the barn to get Rosie milked before Cassie could help. She had a sickened expression on her face as she scraped her foot. Red wondered what kind of person didn’t know to watch her step in a chicken coop.

  Turned back to the barn and his milking, Red noticed Buck loitering around the corral, still loose. The horse looked eager to enter his pen but turned contrary when Red tried to catch him.

  “Get back here, you old galoot.” Red hustled after the stubborn critter and finally cornered the beast.

  By the time he got to Rosie, she was overdue for milking and kicked him a couple of times to remind him to keep to a better schedule.

  “Do you want me to try?” Cassie had leaned down over his shoulder.

  He jumped. Rosie, startled, kicked over the nearly full bucket of milk. The bucket skittered across the barn floor and slammed into the hay bale where the lantern sat. Kerosene spilled across the hay.

  “Cassie, fire! Get out of the barn.” Red raced toward the burning hay with a feed sack.

  Cassie didn’t get out. She charged the haystack with her bare hands. Her skirt caught on fire.

  Red grabbed her and pulled her to the barn floor. “Roll, Cassie. That’ll put the fire out.” He swatted at her skirt until the flames were gone, and then he turned back to the crackling barn.

  Red had dropped his burlap bag. He retrieved it and dunked it in the spilled milk and doused the flames.

  Red turned to ask Cassie what in heaven’s name she’d been doing with a lantern in the barn in the full daylight. She stood behind him, tears streaming down her face.

  Red’s anger fizzled away as surely as the fire. “Now don’t cry, honey.” Red went and slung an arm around her trembling shoulders. “We’re fine. The fire’s out.”

  He glanced down at her charred skirt. Her one and only dress. He shuddered to think of how badly she could have been burned. He tipped her chin up to look at him.

  “Everything’s fine now, Cassie. I want you to stop that crying, okay? The important thing is that you weren’t burned. There’s no damage except to a little bit of hay, and I have plenty. It was pure clumsiness on my part to let Rosie knock that bucket of milk over. I’ll be more careful next time.”

  Cassie pulled herself together and squared her shoulders. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have startled you. I shouldn’t have brought t
he lantern in with me. I was trying to learn to light it and I wanted to ask you if I needed to turn the wick down. I’ll never bring a lit lantern into the barn again. That hay catches fire too easily.”

  “That’s a right good idea. I think we oughta make that a rule. I’ll never bring one in here either.” Red wanted to say, “Only an idiot brings a lantern into a barn full of hay and leaves it sitting close behind a cow like that.” But he figured she’d learned everything his yelling would teach her. And besides, he wasn’t much of a yeller.

  Red smiled down at her pretty, sad face. “It was my fault and you’re sweet to try and take the blame, but I won’t have it. Just go on back to the house now and start breakfast.”

  Please, dear Lord, let her go back to cooking. She has a knack for that.

  Cassie sniffled for another second and the terror faded from her eyes. She nodded and headed out of the barn.

  With a sigh of relief, Red turned to untie Rosie. Just as he let Rosie out into her corral, a piglet squealed, Cassie screamed, and it was all drowned out by the bloodcurdling roar of an angry mama sow.

  Red raced out of the barn, took in the situation in a glance, and dived between Cassie and the furiously protective mother. “Drop the pig, Cassie,” he roared.

  Harriet slammed, with slashing teeth, into Red’s leg. He rolled and dodged her, kicking at her gaping fangs.

  Cassie dropped the piglet, and it ran toward the pen. Harriet whirled away from trying to kill Red and chased after her baby.

  Red scrambled to his feet and rushed to the gate Cassie had so casually left open. Apparently the woman had decided she wanted to cuddle a cute but unwilling piglet. He glanced down and saw two long slits in his pant leg. Before he could check for bites, he needed to make sure the gate was secure. When he had it tightly wired shut, he turned, his temper simmering, to brace Cassie about being so reckless. He took one step toward her, and his ankle, still sore from his fall off the horse, almost gave out on him. He caught the gate to keep from falling, then decided to turn his attention to his ankle until he quit wanting to holler at his wife.