Mary Connealy

by Montana Marriages Trilogy

  Wade’s smile shrank to something grim. “It had to be done. That’s not the same as being glad.”

  “Then that’s a difference between us, Sawyer. Because my only regret is that he wasn’t hurt worse and that he was gone this morning and I didn’t get my hands on him in that jail cell.”

  “We’ll never follow tracks in this rocky soil.” The sheriff rubbed the white bandage on his head.

  Elders were respected in her tribe, and she had to force herself to mind the sheriff. Men had pride, and Abby doubted the sheriff would thank her. But he wasn’t up to chasing outlaws and that was a fact.

  “Let’s follow the trail back toward Divide. Study it, see if we can get a feel for their horses,” the sheriff suggested.

  “You don’t even know it’s the right men.” Wade raised his Stetson and ran one hand through his hair before putting his hat back on.

  “No, and that’s the plain truth.” The sheriff stared at the tracks. “But why sit in the woods and watch you go by? It’s suspicious behavior, enough to make me wonder. I’ll follow the trail back into the woods, see where it leads.”

  Abby watched the sheriff and his men leave. Wade, Tom, and Abby were left alone.

  Wade nudged his horse forward, and the three of them rode abreast. “I didn’t go into details yet, Tom, because we just haven’t had time, but someone tried to kill Abby after she came to the M Bar S. He shot an arrow at her, tried to make it look like an Indian attack.”

  Wade and Tom exchanged a long look that excluded her, as if they were in charge of her protection. As if she couldn’t protect herself well enough. As if, when things got bad as they were sure to do with murderers on the loose, she wouldn’t probably have to save herself and both of them, too. It made Abby want to bang their heads together.

  “So does this have to do with the massacre or the rustlers?” Tom looked at Abby as if he was counting all the reasons someone would want to kill her.

  Wade shrugged. “I don’t know. I brought her to town with me today mainly because I don’t like her being alone out there, even with Gertie. I think someone tried to kill Pa and make it look like an accident. I’ve been trying to never let her go anywhere alone. That’s another good reason she should stay with me. With the house she’s got some protection. At your place she’d be out in the open all the time.”

  “She could stay inside at my place.” Cranky Tom was not a woman’s dream of a brother.

  “Your house is a falling down shack.” Wade sounded as bristly as a porcupine. “She’d go crazy in there before the first day was over and be outside doing something.”

  “Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here.” Abby was tempted to smack them both in the back of the head.

  “I’ve already told my men to start leveling ground for a bigger house.”

  “Good for you. About time. I hope you’ll be very happy living there alone.”

  “Shut up, Sawyer. It’s for Abby. And I can afford to make it real nice.”

  “Better make it a tepee or she’ll start insulting you just like she does my pa.”

  Wade smiled at Abby and she shook her head. Why did her insults to his father cheer him up?

  “It won’t be a big dumb house like the one you built.”

  “My pa built it, not me.”

  “But it’ll have plenty of room. I’ve just never bothered when it was only me and my cowpokes.” Tom turned and studied Abby with eyes that surprised her. Kind eyes. They didn’t go with the gruff man. “I want to talk to you about our life. I’ll help you remember everything. Leastways everything I know about. And that falling down shack I’m in is where you lived. It’s the house Pa built before he died. I—I—” As Tom fell silent, Abby wondered what it was he couldn’t say. He’d shown no shortage of words up until now.

  “You what?”

  “I love you, baby sister.” From the strained look on Tom’s face, Abby sensed that the man didn’t talk much about feelings. In that way he was far more like Wild Eagle than Wade.

  Abby stared, trying to absorb the words. “I remember you so slightly and all in bits and pieces. I know I loved my white family. I imagine that includes you. I would love to talk with you about the early days of my life.”

  Tom jerked his chin in a satisfied nod. “Good. I told my men I might be a couple days coming home, so we can really spend some time together.”

  “Well, have fun,” Wade said. “I’m going to be busy with roundup.”

  Tom did a poor job of covering a laugh. “I can’t believe you’re not done with roundup ….”

  Wade kicked his horse into a ground-eating gallop, leaving Abby and Tom in his dust.

  “I wonder what’s the matter with him?” Abby decided to ride faster, too, rather than be left with her grouchy, confusing brother.

  CHAPTER 22

  Are you still here?” Wade came into the house and his mood dropped so low he’d need to get a shovel and dig for it. And he’d been cheerful a second ago. The roundup was finally done.

  “You said I could stay and get to know my sister.” Tom smiled, as content and lazy as a housecat. The lazy lug was sprawled in one of the kitchen chairs watching Abby and Gertie get supper.

  “Did you get done, Wade?” Gertie tapped a heavy metal spoon against a pot bubbling on the massive black stove that took up an entire corner of the kitchen.

  Shaking his head, Tom said, “I can’t believe you’re just now done—”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, done with roundup, I know!” Wade jerked his gloves off and tossed them onto the floor below a row of elk horns. He hung up his hat and turned back to the room, running ten fingers through his hair to smooth it, and since his hands were busy, it also kept him from strangling their houseguest. Vermin could have moved into the house and been better company than Tom Linscott.

  Pa rolled his chair into the room. Wade noticed that the old grouch was getting around pretty well in the contraption. “You about done with the roundup, Wade? I can’t believe you’re still—” “We’re done, Pa.” Wade cut him off and slid his eyes between his father and the king-sized rodent who had moved in. “I haven’t been nagged like this since you tried to teach me how to rope a maverick calf.”

  “You were hard to teach roping?” Tom rolled his eyes heavenward. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “I was five years old at the time. And Pa’s idea of teaching was mainly yelling his head off and swinging the back of his hand. Roping lessons aren’t exactly my favorite childhood memory.”

  Tom looked sideways at Pa with contempt. Wade’s mood further deteriorated. A stubborn, short-tempered grouch like Tom Linscott knew better how to raise a child than Wade’s pa. Didn’t that just beat all?

  “Supper’s ready.” Abby brought a stack of plates to Gertie, who began scooping beef stew, thick with potatoes and carrots and onions.

  Working from can-see to can’t-see for all this time had left Wade thin and hungry and cranky. Right now that stew smelled so good it was all he could do not to dive headfirst into the boiling pot.

  He washed up quickly at the kitchen sink, and his heart warmed when Abby brought his plate first. By rights she should have served Pa first, then Tom because he was company. Abby wasn’t too interested in polite ways, and anyway, it was fitting he got the first plate. He was the only man at this table who’d worked a hard day.

  “Abby and I are done with your pa’s ramp now,” Tom announced.

  Okay, so maybe they’d done a little something.

  Abby put a plate in front of Pa next.

  “And we got the old buckboard out and tore out the tailgate and the seat so Mort can roll right up and grab the reins.” Tom watched Abby with the affectionate eyes of a brother, a grouchy brother.

  Maybe Tom had done more than just a little. Wade started eating to reassure his growling stomach that his throat hadn’t been cut.

  “And with the ramp done, Mort can roll straight out the kitchen door onto the thing and drive easy as you please.” />
  Fine, they’d put in a good day, then. Big deal. How many thousand-pound longhorns had they wrangled?

  Tom got his food and dug right in. “And Mort took the buckboard for a ride around the yard, didn’t you?”

  “Sure did. Felt great.” Pa sounded happier with Tom than he ever had with anything that Wade had done since birth. “I might ride into town in a few days. Oughta build up some strength in my arms first, though. Hard to get back to working when a man’s been sitting around for weeks on end.”

  Wade sat at the foot of the table, Pa at the head. Tom was on Wade’s left with his back to the wall. Gertie and Abby took up two seats on Wade’s right. Abby next to Wade. He could have reached out and touched her.

  Tom might have pulled his six-shooter and killed him. It was obvious the man was watching their every move. But it was nice to know she was within reach. Now if Wade could only get a few minutes alone with her, just to talk. He’d little more than exchanged greetings with her since Tom had as good as moved into the house. And he’d thought Gertie was a tough chaperone.

  He sighed and continued shoveling in the stew.

  “So how soon until we can do the drive?” Pa was a mighty bossy man for someone who’d been outside for the first time all spring just today. “It’s almost time now.”

  Wade had to quit wolfing down his food to answer. “We’ll leave the cattle on the closest pastures for the next week. We’ll move them around so the grass stays thick for them, try and get the yearling calves fattened up before we cut the herd and drive them to Helena.”

  “They should have been on those pastures a month ago.” Pa glared at Wade.

  “Yes, they should have, Pa. Why weren’t they?”

  “Because you weren’t here.” Pa pounded the table with his fist, but the silverware didn’t jump. No doubt the man would build up to that if he kept talking.

  “No, because you hired someone incompetent to be your foreman. What’d you ever sign Sid on for?” Sid was still living in the foreman’s cabin, too. Wade and Chester both had been too busy to evict him. But that was no longer true. Wade could see to that right away.

  “He looked good to me.” Pa picked up his fork and scooped up a savory helping of stew. He clearly didn’t want to take any responsibility for the mess Wade had found, so having his mouth stuffed full of food seemed like a good way to stop talking. “I was hurting. If my son had been here, if you hadn’t gone off in a pout—”

  “Do I eat my meal here, Pa, or should I go out to the bunk-house? It’s not enough I’m working eighteen-hour days—I’ve got to come in and get whined at by all of you? I swear, sometimes I feel like I’ve got four nagging wives.”

  Pa slammed his fist on the table.

  “You’re comparing me to a wife?” Tom roared.

  Gertie let her head fall back so she could stare at the ceiling.

  Abby laughed.

  Wade wished he could get rid of Tom something fierce. But he loved having Abby here at his table. She wasn’t exactly his dream woman, true. Not one bit like Cassie Dawson to be sure. But her strength drew him as well as her reckless disregard for what anyone thought of her. He needed to learn that. She could teach him. He noted that she was sitting sideways to the table, faced toward him, with her legs crossed and in her bare feet. Beautifully arched feet. He could see her ankles again, too. She had one elbow on the table, and she plucked a chunk of meat out of her stew with her hands, sucked the gravy off it, and then ate it.

  He could maybe teach her a few things, too.

  “Tomorrow’s Sunday. Red will be in town for church services. Anyone want to go with me?” Wade looked at Tom. He’d never heard a word about believing from Tom Linscott, and he’d never seen him in church. The man was a heathen and that was a fact.

  “Waste of time, church.” Pa hit the table again. Wade wondered how the furniture stood up under the assault.

  “I’ll take that to mean you’re not going.” Wade expected it. In fact, he was looking forward to a day that included neither backbreaking work nor his pa’s endless complaining. But as much as he wanted a day of peace, it always hurt to think how lost his father was.

  “I’d think a man who’s had a brush with death like you oughta figure out where he wants to spend eternity. If you ever decide to ride along, you’re welcome. I’d even let you drive us.”

  Pa turned back to his plate with a scowl, eating with the grace of a wild dog.

  “Have fun, Sawyer.” Tom’s refusal hurt, too. “I want another day or two here with Abby before I head home.” As annoying as the other man’s company was, Wade had a burden on his heart for any unbeliever.

  “I’ll go.” Abby reached for the biscuit plate and helped herself.

  Tom frowned.

  Pa muttered.

  Wade smiled. “Good. Gertie, you in?”

  Pa stiffened visibly. Wade could see he was worried Gertie would leave.

  Gertie shook her head. “Your pa shouldn’t be here alone.”

  Wade knew Gertie refused the offer of church to keep peace in the household. But he wasn’t so sure of where her soul stood with God. Not that it was his place to judge, but Gertie spoke of God and there was a Bible on a shelf in her room. But he’d never seen her read it, and she’d steadfastly refused to attend church.

  Now Wade had the whole ride to town and back alone with Abby. His mood lifted.

  “I guess I’ll go, too.” Tom as good as tossed a bucket of brackish pond water on Wade’s mood. “If Abby goes, I’ll go.”

  Wade’s sogged-up mood fell straight back down with a splat. Tom wanted to attend church. Wade should be glad of that.

  One look at Tom’s smirk told Wade that big brother threw in to keep an eye on his sister, not out of any desire to worship God. Well, fine. Maybe Red would say something that would drill its way into Tom’s hard head.

  Wade quickly washed up and headed for bed, hoping he could get enough sleep to keep going through another day.

  Thank You, Lord, for a day of rest.

  CHAPTER 23

  Wade came into the kitchen the next day in his best black pants, wearing a black leather vest and his newest white shirt. He’d found the clothes in his old room or he’d’ve had nothing after his winter in the mountains.

  He should count it a blessing his father hadn’t dragged his clothes out onto the ground and burned them to ashes.

  After he’d worked four hours on the morning chores, taken a bath in the spring, dried off, and dressed, he’d come in to shave and comb his hair at the kitchen sink.

  “I’ve got water boiling and your razor laid out, Wade.” Gertie was at the stove scooping eggs and bacon onto a plate. The house smelled so good, Wade decided to eat first and then shave. No sign of Pa or Tom. It was too much to wish they were gone for good, though.

  Abby added two biscuits to Wade’s plate and set a ball of butter and a dish of preserves on the table beside him.

  “Gertie tells me there is a proper way to dress for church.” Abby frowned but she didn’t go for her knife, so Wade took that to mean she’d cooperate. “I can see that you’ve put on special clothes, so I must, too, then.”

  A cup of coffee was added to Wade’s meal by Gertie; then the two women hurried off, with Gertie talking, possibly giving Abby pointers on church behavior. No one had ever threatened to stab anyone at church before. It might be a day to remember.

  Gertie and Abby disappeared into the back of the house where they slept.

  The food went down fast and Wade shaved quickly, not wanting anything like a weapon in his hands lest Tom Linscott made an appearance. Could the man be sleeping this late?

  Up in his room, Wade found his best Stetson, the one with the shiny silver hatband and a small feather on the side of the band. The feather made him think of Glowing Sun—Abby—as she’d been in her doeskin dress and moccasins. She was dressing in gingham and calico now, but she wore her civilization very lightly. Wade would like to see her in that beaded dress she’d had on
the day he’d found her after the massacre. He’d fallen in love with her in that dress.

  There was nothing left of this day, until evening chores, except to attend church and do his best to find a few minutes alone with Abby. He held out little hope he could accomplish the latter.

  Abby came out of her room seconds later, her hair untied from its braid, curling about her shoulders with the shine of sunlight. She was wearing a dress Wade had never seen before. The fit wasn’t perfect, but the sky blue gingham sprigged with yellow flowers made her sun-bronzed skin and white-blond hair glow like—Wade couldn’t see it any other way—like a glowing sun.

  Wade pulled his eyes away from Abby when Tom entered the room. He’d only brought one set of clothes, and he didn’t seem inclined to go home anytime soon and clean up. “Is it time for church yet?” He sounded like a choir boy, eager, good, sincere.

  Wade wasn’t fooled. “Don’t you have a ranch to run?”

  Tom just smirked. “Good thing I got done with roundup…about a month ago.”

  Wade had no response to that fit for a Sunday morning—or any day.

  They headed for the corral. The three of them, always together.

  As they approached the nearest horse pen, Abby whistled to the pinto mare grazing in the far corner of the corral. The half-wild pony perked her head up, whickered, and trotted toward Abby.

  She’d done the same thing the morning they’d ridden to town to inspect the herd Red brought in. Wade had to keep his mouth clamped shut. He’d ridden that pinto. It was small, but it was mean and fast. Blue blazes as a cow pony, if you could stick on her back long enough to calm her down.

  Catching the pinto usually involved a fast-moving horse and a cowboy with a lasso. Now Abby had the little stinker eating out of her hand. And she hadn’t lost a finger yet.

  Tom’s shining black stallion lifted his head, too, in a neighboring corral. Wade had taken to moving his best mares into the corral with the stallion. Maybe he’d get some good foals out of the beast.

  He’d pointed out what he was doing to Tom, hoping the man would throw a fit and go home. Tom didn’t seem to care one whit.