Mary Connealy

by Montana Marriages Trilogy

  “My family died.” She could hear the stilted tone of her voice. She had rediscovered her white language almost completely. She wondered if one day soon she wouldn’t be able to remember her Indian family just as she had forgotten her white family. How did her mind do that? Separate her from her past like this? “Wade came along and helped me. I have nowhere to go.”

  “I told her there would be work for her. What about it, Gertie? Could you use a hand?”

  Gertie looked Abby up and down. Her eyes had the sage look of the oldest women of the Flathead village. Finally, Gertie nodded. “I can always use help. I’d be glad to have you, Abby ….” Gertie fell silent, letting the phrase hang.

  Abby shrugged.

  “Salish.” Wade gave Abby a look of apology like it was his fault that she’d been cornered into telling a lie. “Her name is Abby Salish.”

  Gertie nodded. But Abby saw those sharp eyes and knew the strange exchange between Abby and Wade hadn’t been missed.

  “Well, Abby, you might as well go on into the kitchen. No need for you to listen to Mort’s poison.”

  Wade’s arm snaked out and grabbed Abby. “No, I’ve told her about Pa, and she’s been giving me a hard time for not honoring my father. I want her to see Mort Sawyer in action.” Wade turned, challenging Abby with a look.

  Abby lifted her chin. “I would love a chance to have my father back. You should appreciate him more.”

  A roar sounded from upstairs. “Gertie! Get this slop away from me!ȍ

  Wade arched his brows at Abby as if daring her to honor that angry man.

  “Let’s go meet your father.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Once when he was a young teenager, Wade and a couple of cowhands he rode with had surprised some rustlers using a running iron on a calf. Wade’s horse had been shot out from under him in the chaos. He’d used that dead horse as a shield from flying bullets.

  Now he was the horse. Or at least he felt like the poor beast must have as he led the way up to his father’s room with Gertie and Abby hiding behind him.

  Pa’s shouting got louder, maybe because they were closer, but Wade thought the rage was building, too.

  Abby straggled behind. Wade already knew she wasn’t one to hide. But Gertie very definitely had Wade smack in front of her.

  The coward.

  Wade reached for the doorknob.

  “You get up here!” The door seemed to shake under the impact of his pa’s anger.

  “Gertie! Gertie, you’re fired. You worthless—”

  Wade stopped as the tirade grew more hateful. He looked behind him at Gertie’s wide eyes.

  “You get fired often?” Wade whispered, as if, if Pa didn’t hear his voice, he still had a choice of running. The threats and insults continued.

  “About six times a day,” Gertie whispered back. “Until he needs something. Then he starts in shouting for me to fetch for him.”

  Mort let loose a stream of language that made Wade want to cover Gertie’s and Abby’s ears. His own, too. But he was short on hands. Wade shook his head in disgust.

  Then he noticed Abby’s contemptuous expression. “This is how a man speaks to his woman? This is what passes for strength in a white man’s world?”

  Wade noticed she didn’t whisper. He also noticed his father quit hollering.

  “I’m not his woman,” Gertie said.

  Wade thought he saw a pained expression in Gertie’s eyes. Had she nurtured dreams, ever, that Pa would marry her? He should have, Wade realized. Gertie had cared for Pa, his child, and his home faithfully for over a decade. But Wade had never seen so much as a breath of romance pass between the two.

  Sucking in a deep breath, Wade twisted the knob and swung the door open. His father sat up in bed. Their eyes met.

  Silence.

  Wade stepped in, braced for the insults and threats. He decided to start first. Chances were, once Pa got wound up, he wouldn’t hear anything Wade said anyway. “I heard you sent for me, Pa. Well, I’m here. Here to help if you’ll have me, with your care or your ranch, wherever you need me.”

  Wade hadn’t meant to say that. In fact, until Gertie’s pleading at the front door, Wade had fully intended to come, listen to whatever spiteful things his pa had to say, and leave. Most likely he’d be ordered to leave. But Gertie had asked, and the sight of his pa in that bed was shocking. Pa’s strength of will was still there, but he no longer had a body to back up his threats.

  Pa was a shadow of his former self. He’d lost weight, his shoulders were narrowed, his chest caved in. Jowls hung from his cheeks. His legs were as slender as twigs under the single coverlet.

  “Wade?” Pa was nearly six and a half feet tall, but his prone position stole even that commanding height from him.

  Bracing himself for the explosion, Wade advanced into the room.

  “Whom shall I fear? Whom shall I fear?”

  Wade knew exactly whom he did fear as he watched his father’s expression go from surprise to anger. He shouldn’t have, not according to the Bible, but he feared his own earthly father, God forgive him.

  “Decided to come home, huh, like a whipped pup?” Pa’s fists clenched as if he were dreaming about throwing punches.

  Doing his best not to flinch, as he would have in the past, Wade prayed silently for the courage he’d gained from knowing a better, kinder Father. God in heaven was on his side. He turned as always to Psalm 27.

  “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?”

  An almost supernatural calm eased into Wade’s muscles and bones. “I came home because there is a God-given commandment to honor you, Pa. I am here out of obedience to God. Now, do you want to spend the first moments we’ve seen each other since you threatened me on the trail last fall telling me what a disappointment I am? Or, since I’m your only living family, should we try and talk to each other?”

  Pa’s fists opened and closed. His jaw clenched as if he was physically trying to hold back the rain of words. It might be the first time he had ever exerted an ounce of control over his temper, and, even doubting it would last, Wade was encouraged.

  “I cut you out of my will.” The words were harsh, but Pa didn’t shout. “If you’re here to watch me die then take over my ranch, you’re wasting my time.”

  “Good, I’m glad you did.” Wade crossed his arms to cover up the deep pain in his belly. Not because he’d been disinherited, but because he had a father who would do such a thing. “Keep it that way. Then you’ll know I’m here to help, not for the money. That’s settled. Now, do you want to tell me what you need done around the ranch?”

  “You don’t know how to run a ranch. A ranch takes strength and guts. You’ve got neither.”

  “If you’re happy with your foreman, I’ll just help care for you. Give Gertie a break. I also brought someone home to help. She’s—”

  “You’d stay to the house like a woman?” Pa roared.

  The clenched jaw hadn’t held.

  “You’re the one who sent for me, remember? You just said you don’t want me working the ranch.”

  “I didn’t say that. I said you don’t know how. I said you don’t have any guts. And you just took it like a weakling.”

  “Being cruel to your son isn’t a sign of strength, Pa. It’s a sign of weakness, to my way of thinking. Being kind to an old tyrant who doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t want it, and doesn’t thank you for it—now, that takes strength.” Wade felt his temper slipping. His pa had taught him that anger was strength, but God had taught him better. Yes, Jesus got angry, but mostly He stood right in the face of powerful people and remained calm. There was great strength in self-control.

  Pa fell silent.

  Wade waited.

  Gertie began straightening the covers on the massive oak-framed bed.

  That’s when Wade looked back at Abby. She stood by the door, studying Pa with narrow eyes.

  Wade reached ou
t his hand. “Come here. Meet my father.” Abby snorted, not quietly either.

  “Who’s she?”

  Wade turned to see his father now watching Abby.

  “Her family is dead. She needed somewhere to go. I told her she could stay here, work with Gertie.” “Now I’m running an orphanage?”

  “No, you’re hurt. Caring for you is more than one person can do. Gertie, you can use some help around here, right?”

  Gertie grunted as she tugged on a sheet. “I’ve told you how things are going to the dogs around here, Mort. I’ve got all I can do to carry food up and down these stairs. I’m not getting my cleaning done in the rest of the house, and I can barely keep up with the laundry. I haven’t planted a bit of the garden yet, and we’ll be pinched for food this winter if I don’t get something done. Having help will keep the rest of the house from going to wrack and ruin.”

  She’d always had a way with Pa that Wade couldn’t understand. She didn’t seem to mind his rages, his insults. She’d just soldier on, do what was asked and then some. How many times had she diverted Pa’s temper and given Wade a chance to scoot into some hiding place? Then she’d come and find him and tell him to come on out. It was safe. She’d come after Wade’s mother had died, and Gertie had been a mother to him in every way but blood. Of course, many times she hadn’t been able to divert Pa’s fury. Then she’d come and find Wade and bandage his wounds.

  “I’ll be dead by next winter anyway.”

  Abby made the rude noise again.

  Pa turned his attention to her. “You got something to say, girl?”

  “Wade told me you were a tyrant. I’m not afraid of a strong man. My father was strong. But Wade was wrong. I come here and see a man whining.”

  “Abby.” Wade stepped to her side.

  She tilted her nose up at Pa. “I see self-pity and stupidity. Your son comes home with an offer to help and you insult him. Your woman waits on you hand and foot and you snap at her like a yellow dog.”

  “She’s not my woman.”

  Odd that Pa would think to object to that.

  “I will stay here because Wade has asked me to, but I work for a fool and a weakling. Better I should tend a crying child than a man such as you.”

  “A weakling!” Pa punched the bed.

  Flinching from the raised voice, Wade stepped closer to Abby.

  “Yes, a weakling. A man in my tribe once lost the use of his legs and he dragged himself around the camp working, helping to skin deer, prepare the food. He knew it was better to work with the women than to not work at all. He refused to be lazy and worthless like you.”

  Gertie gasped.

  Wade braced himself.

  Pa’s face turned a shade of purple Wade hadn’t ever seen on a human being before. “You get over here, you spiteful little shrew. I’ll show you worthless.” Pa sat forward as if he planned to throw himself at Abby.

  She laughed. “Come and get me, old man.” She turned to Gertie. “Why is he in bed all day like an infant?”

  Pa threw aside his blankets and used his arms to swing his legs around. They dropped, lifeless, bending at the knees. Before he fell out of bed, he stopped and looked at his legs.

  Silence iced over the room.

  Pa stared as he ran his hands up and down his withered legs.

  Tension wrapped like fingers around Wade’s neck. He glanced at Abby, every inch Glowing Sun right now, her arms crossed, her eyes too wild and fierce for a lady. But so brave. And honest, too. Wade felt his spine strengthen as if he drew courage straight from her.

  At last Pa looked up, straight at Abby. “Get out of my room. Get out of my house.”

  “A man’s house is only his if he can hold it. I have a job here and I’ll keep it unless you actually throw me out. But I will gladly leave your presence.” Abby whirled and left the room.

  Wade stared after her then turned back to his father, his spine working better than usual. “I hired her. She stays.” He marched out, too.

  When he’d prayed to God, “Whom shall I fear?” it never occurred to him that God might bring someone into his life who could give him lessons. Or who could be even more fearful than Pa.

  “It’s that wild woman.” Paddy ran into the bunkhouse.

  Sid looked up from the saddle he was mending. “What wild woman?” But Sid only knew of one wild woman.

  “The one Harv tried to take. She’s dressed in gingham now and her hair’s tied back neat, but it’s her. I just saw her go into the house with a man.”

  “What man? The one who shot Boog?”

  Boog had come riding into the ranch with them, not showing a single sign of weakness. He’d made his excuses then ridden out again, heading for a line shack to spell the men who kept watch over that far corner of the M Bar S. In truth, he was going out there to heal. But if that wild white-haired woman was here, she’d recognize Harv for sure.

  Harv lay stretched out on his bunk. They’d made up an excuse about rustlers and Harv getting the worst in a knife fight. Everyone here at the M Bar S was too stupid to know the only rustlers around were Sid and his gang.

  This woman could ruin everything. “We’ll lay low awhile. Harv’s the only one they saw, and Boog with that gunshot might have given ’em a clue. But I can just walk right in that ranch house and give Mort the report like always. It’ll look wrong if I don’t.”

  “But how long can Harv stay hidden?” Paddy glanced nervously at Harv.

  Sid forced himself to think about the gold. Harv was starting to be a burr under Sid’s saddle. Only that treasure kept Harv alive.

  “I’ll have to tell Mort about the rustlers. Then Harv’ll have an excuse to stay in the bunkhouse. Maybe the woman and man are just passin’ through. They’ll stay the night and move on. We’re not doing anything to tip our hand.”

  “And what if she doesn’t move on?” Paddy hissed. “You know she’s gotta die sometime. She can’t be around Divide, let alone the M Bar S.”

  “Well, we know how to stage a fall off a horse, don’t we? When we did it before, no one suspected a thing, not even Mort.”

  Paddy smiled. Then he giggled and plunked himself down on his cot. “We do know sure enough. This time, I’ll come in after just to make sure she’s dead. I shoulda never left Mort lying there alive. I heard a wolf pack and figured he wouldn’t last the night. I didn’t want anyone seeing a bullet hole in him.”

  “You’re the man we want to dry-gulch a woman, Paddy.” Sid didn’t even try to hide his contempt. Paddy had his uses. There was nothing too low for the man. Nothing too dirty. He enjoyed watching people die. He’d especially enjoy killing a woman, and Sid knew he’d done it before.

  Paddy didn’t even react to words that would have made Boog draw his gun. Well, Paddy did react. He grinned and started humming an Irish jig.

  Sid was tempted to draw his own gun.

  CHAPTER 8

  So then I got a hoof right in the belly.”

  Cassie had talked every second since Red had come in for dinner. She hadn’t scolded him yet, but he’d earned the sharp side of her tongue several times since they’d left Silas and Belle’s. He remembered how quiet she’d been when they were first married. How careful to be obedient.

  Those were the good old days.

  After a week with Belle, Red’s wife was now just looking for an excuse to yell at him.

  It was all Red could do not to be ornery, just to let Cassie have her fun. Honestly, it was all pretty lightweight as far as bossiness went. His sweet little wife just didn’t have a mean bone in her body.

  Cassie gently wiped mashed potatoes off Susannah’s face, wrinkling her nose to get the toddler to smile.

  Red had added onto their little soddy, made a log house about three times the size of the first cabin. Of course three times the size was still about half the size of a normal home. They still used a cave as their bedroom and a second, smaller cave with a chilly spring running through it for a cold cellar.

  “You think w
e need to make the house bigger, Cass honey? Does the baby keep you awake at night?” Red took the cloth from Cassie. “Here, let me do that. You’ve got your hands full. We could add on a bedroom like we did for Susannah and move him just that little bit farther away from us if you’re tired. I wake up faster’n you at night, and I’d be able to go cheer him up most of the time.”

  Cassie finished with Susannah then looked at the wriggling little boy in Red’s lap with a fond smile. “He is a terror, isn’t he? Why will the child not sleep through the night?” She ran her hand over Michael’s curls and Red felt as if she were touching him. She’d been so thrilled when the little boy had his daddy’s hair.

  Between her cute, newfound toughness and the way she touched little Michael, Red hated to ruin the moment. But he respected her enough to be honest. “Cassie, I’ve waited until we’re about done eating to tell you something important.”

  His Cassie had a sensitive soul. She looked up straight into his eyes, knowing this was serious. “What is it?”

  Red turned Michael against his chest so he could pat a burp out of him, also to stall a few seconds. He wished so much he could smooth out all of life’s bumps for his wife and family. “I’ve…I’ve got cattle missing. Someone from the Jessup ranch stopped in every day while we were gone to do chores and check the herd. Walt, the Jessup foreman, came by this morning, not knowing we’d gotten back. He told me he found a carcass that had been butchered right on the range. Well, a cow can wander off, but Walt thinks several head are missing. It’ll take awhile to run a tally, but Walt’s a mighty knowing man. If he says he’s worried, then I’m worried, too.”

  A line formed between Cassie’s pretty, dark brown eyes. Red regretted laying any trouble on her, but she needed to know. “I’ll do some tracking and hopefully pick up a trail and get to the bottom of it. But you need to be on guard.” Then Red thought of a way he could maybe cheer her up. “You’d better always keep that blade Belle gave you close to hand.”

  Cassie sat up straighter as if almost hoping she’d get a chance at having a knife fight with a rustler.