Montana Sky_Laced By Love

by Linda Carroll-Bradd

  A moment of silence passed.

  Then exclamations rang out.

  Torin let out a sharp whistle and held up his good hand. “Now, wait a minute. We agree to a marriage of convenience for the duration of getting to my ranch. Nola helps me get the mustangs there. Driving the herd will take close to two weeks—the conditions will not be easy. Cooking over a campfire, pulling night watch, sleeping in a bedroll on the ground. Once you’re at the ranch, your payment will be a train ticket to the destination of your choice. Back to Omaha or down to Denver, or I’ll figure out a way to transport you back here.” He winked in Cinnia’s direction. “Back to your sister. If that’s what you decide you want.”

  Her eyes shining, Nola gazed up at him. “Hard work doesn’t scare me. I want to do this, Torin, and I agree to the marriage.” She turned to Cinnia, her mouth shaped in a sad frown. “I could never have stayed for six months in this small town. What could I possibly do here to earn my keep?”

  Cinnia leaned forward, ready to make her plea that they’d find a way because they always had, but she was stopped by Nola’s upraised hand.

  “I know I promised, but you caught me by surprise. Before a week was through, you would have dragged me into helping you in the shop. And you know how I hate needlework.”

  Dorrie grabbed her hand. “Oh, Nola, you’re breaking up the trio. What will I do without you and the dogs?” Tears welled in her eyes, and she sniffled.

  Brows pinched tight, Torin cleared his throat. “The dogs won’t be coming.”

  “Not take my dogs?” Nola dropped her jaw and stared. “I don’t know if I can agree to that.”

  The devastated expression on Nola’s face helped Cinnia make her decision. That, and the fact the dogs had never minded her very well. “They can go along if you take the wagon.”

  Nola blinked fast. “Really? I can have the wagon?”

  “The shop has a loft, so I’ll have a place to sleep.” Cinnia met Torin’s gaze and really looked at the man who would be taking away her sister. Of course, she wanted the best for these two in this unusual circumstance. “Won’t driving a team be easier on your wrist?”

  “Probably.” Torin nodded.

  “You’ll have shelter at night, and the dogs can stay with their owner.”

  Nola leaned her forearms on the table. “I don’t know about splitting up. You’ll be by yourself.” Then her eyes lit up. “I know. Come with us, Cinnia.”

  Gratitude that Nola was still thinking of them staying together softened the pain a bit of how everything was changing. Cinnia shook her head. “Here in Morgan’s Crossing is where I want to be. No more always looking to another place, driving to the next town. Not for a while, at least. I want to set down roots, like we had when we were young.” She forced a smile. “The shop had its first paying customer today.”

  Nola turned to her right. “Dorrie, you could come.”

  “Me? Stuck on a horse all day? No thanks.” Dorrie shook her head hard enough to make her strawberry-blonde curls fly. “After what happened with the show, I think I agree with Cinnia. This town is just as good as the next one. Besides, I enjoyed my time today with the miner named Janus.” A blush colored her cheeks as she glanced around and shrugged. “He wants to see me again tomorrow.”

  Cinnia smiled, relieved her friend would still be close by. “Dorrie, that’s wonderful. You’ll have the gold-and-black wagon, but you’re welcome to share my living space. We can figure out how to fit. Heavens knows, we’ve lived in smaller quarters.”

  Nic walked back into the room, holding a steaming coffeepot, and paused behind Dorrie’s chair.

  Dorrie nodded and slid her mug to the edge of the table.

  Cinnia frowned. When did he leave?

  “I think Torin and Nola have come up with a reasonable solution.” Nic moved to Nola and poured. “So, my question is directed to Dorrie and Cinnia. How will you deal with the attention from the miners? You know more days like today will occur. You heard what Torin said about the miners at the saloon. How they watched a simple walk down the street. Are you ready for that?” He stood at Cinnia’s right side and leaned close to fill her mug. “Or would you rather not have to worry about it?”

  The heat from Nic’s body warmed her arm and her back. “Today’s chat with Mr. Bemeere wasn’t as bad as I thought, but I made sure to conduct the meeting outside on the porch.” Cinnia shuddered. “Can’t do that when winter sets in.”

  “What about me?” Dorrie looked around the group. “I have no work. Contrary to popular thought, I refuse to sell tickets for rehearsals.” She folded her arms over her chest and squinted toward Torin.

  With his hand laid over his heart, Torin dipped his head. “Miss Dorrie, I meant no disrespect. You have to know that. I think Nola slipped something into that headache remedy that loosened my tongue.”

  Laughter filtered around the group.

  Nic filled his mug and set the coffeepot on the tray that rested atop the stew pot. After a sip, he leaned close. “Cinnia, I didn’t make myself clear.” After glancing around the table, he frowned. “And I don’t want to explain here.” He stood and extended his hand in her direction.

  Questions buzzing through her mind, she rose and slipped her hand into his.

  “Excuse us.” Nic walked them over to her shop and opened the door. “You need to keep this locked.”

  “I will, as soon as the landlord gives me a key.” Cinna hurried to the small table, selected a parlor match from its box, struck it, and lit the lantern. “What did you want to discuss that needs such privacy?” She looked at him, but his expression was so serious. Her gaze wandered to the beam of moonlight streaming through the window.

  “What if I want an arrangement with you like Torin and Nola have just agreed to?”

  A gasp escaped, and she clamped both hands over her mouth. Her heartbeat sounded in her ears. Did I hear him right? “What are you asking?”

  He stepped close and reached for her hand, stroking a thumb over her knuckles. “I want to see you succeed. One way to help that happen is if the miners know you’re no longer available to be courted. They won’t be wasting your working time, and you’ll get relief from men popping up around every corner offering assistance.”

  “You saw that at the meeting hall with the props, did you?” She forced herself to keep the tone light, because she couldn’t believe this was really happening.

  “I like you, Cinnia. I like your smile, your willingness to look on the positive side, and your determination to meet your goal. We’ve only known each other three days, but I think we are compatible. Put any conditions on the marriage you want, and I’ll abide. Most important is that I give you the protection of my name.” He reached up and stroked his hand along her cheek.

  Looking up into his eyes, she squeezed his forearm and laid a hand on his chest. The thumping under her fingers matched the rapid beat of her own heart. “I want that, too, Nic. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  A smiled flashed across his lips right before he leaned close and brushed his mouth over hers.

  His kiss was light, but still her lips tingled like when she cooked with too much pepper. The sensation was exciting and comforting at the same time. Warmth from his palm infused her cheek, and she leaned into his gentle touch.

  When he eased back, he touched his forehead to hers. “I hoped it would feel this good.” Then he cupped both of her cheeks and tilted up her head. “Are you ready for this much change in your life, Miss Cinnia York?”

  “I think so, Mr. Nic Andrews, especially with you by my side.”

  Nic stretched to grab the lantern and then wrapped an arm over her shoulders. “Let’s go tell the others.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Before the sun was fully above the horizon Friday morning, the grassy area in the center of Morgan’s Crossing buzzed with activity. The first jingle of a horse’s harness bolted Cinnia upright, even though sleep had been long in claiming her the night before. Thoughts of what this trip meant had her a
lmost too keyed-up to sleep. From her sister’s deep sighs, she knew Nola suffered the same trouble.

  She nudged Nola. “Time to get moving. We have so much to do.”

  “Look at who is eager for a trip.” Nola lifted both arms over her head, groaning as she stretched.

  How can I not be, when a wedding waits at the other end? She scooted off the mattress and padded directly to her cupboard. Dorrie had moved her belongings to her own wagon late last night, leaving the aisle clear of the sleeping hammock. “Nola, please get up.”

  “Why? I don’t have to pack anything.” Nola bunched the pillow under her head.

  Blowing out an exasperated sigh, Cinnia turned and glared. “Because you love me and want to help along the process so we can get on the road.” She moved to the cupboard at the end of the wagon and pulled out two tattered carpetbags—one a burgundy paisley and the other a navy stripe. “Which one do you want?”

  “You chose, I don’t have a preference.”

  Both had seen lots of wear, but the brass closure on the burgundy one wasn’t as scratched. Cinnia placed it on the settee and moved to her drawer. “Oh, I wish we’d had a chance to do laundry.”

  “So wash what you want and put it on the rod that holds the banner.”

  Cinnia shuddered at the image that suggestion put into her head. “I will not start out on the trip with our dresses flapping from the wagon.” As she held up her clothes, she realized that the selection was pitiful. For the past five years, the focus had been on her performing costumes, and she’d given little thought to those she wore off-stage. Clutching her two best blouses to her chest, she turned to face her sister, who had snuggled back into the pillow. “What will we wear to be married?”

  Nola sprang to a sitting position. “You’re right. We wore our best dresses in Sweetwater Springs last weekend.” She waved her hands in a shooing motion. “Pack up what you need for the trip and take the rest to your shop or Nic’s. Then bring back two of those clothes hangers. I’ll wash the dresses and rig up some way to hang them inside to dry.”

  Minutes later, Cinnia lugged her overflowing carpetbag to the shop, thinking about where she’d put the clothes she was leaving behind.

  Down the hill from the mine came Nic driving a wagon with his two stunning horses in the harness.

  Seeing him made her heart sing, and she waved before setting down the satchel and pulling her cape tighter against the chilly morning air. “Where do you store the wagon?”

  “Morning, Cinnia.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “On the other side of that hill is where my tanning vats are. I park the wagon and store a few supplies nearby. After we get back from the trip, we’ll take a ride there so I can show you that and the springbox in the creek where I have a food stash.”

  A little thrill passed through her as she heard him talk of the two of them as “we.” The wagon had a high seat with arched metal braces underneath that she knew would help cushion the ride. The wheel spokes were painted yellow, swirling lines of a matching shade outlined the box, and varnish coated the colors with a shine. Quality was evident in every detail. She glanced from the wagon to the window where his shop name was displayed. “Did you paint your window sign?”

  Nic hopped down and walked around the front of the horses, giving each a rub on the muzzle. “I like keeping busy.” He waved a hand at the satchel of clothes. “Is that what you’re taking on the trip?”

  “No, this is what I’m moving out of the wagon.” Heat flashed in her cheeks. Should she ask where to put the items in his shop? Or should she wait for him to invite her to do so?

  After reaching over the side of the wagon, Nic pulled out two wooden crates. “I brought these for your things. Let’s put everything on the floor of your shop and sort it out later.”

  My shop? She accepted the crate he extended, pushed open the door, walked to the opposite wall, and set it down. Upending the satchel seemed easiest—everything would have to be laundered, anyway. Keeping her face averted to hide her disappointment, she hurried back to the wagon for the next load.

  “Uh, Cinnia?”

  Taking a deep breath, she turned, clamping the satchel to her chest.

  “Which horses belong to you and Dorrie? I’ll stable them while you finish packing.”

  She glanced toward the almost-empty rope corral. “The roan with the blaze on her forehead. Dorrie’s is the black with stockings on her back feet.” When she returned to the wagon, she saw Nola and Torin harnessing his pack horse, Banan, next to Captain. For a moment, she wondered how Skipper would do without the buddy she’d been with for the past five years. Then she shook her head. Saying goodbye to people was hard enough, she shouldn’t worry about goodbyes between animals.

  The skirts, blouses, and nightgown she packed were folded and layered into the carpet bag. Her personal items—hairbrush, jar of toothpaste, toothbrush, metal tin of hairpins, silver box holding her few items of jewelry, and a few ribbons—filled her quilted toiletry bag which sat on top. A final quick peek into all the cupboards and drawers revealed only Nola’s belongings remained.

  Nic climbed the stairs and extended his hand. “I’ll carry that. Do you have everything?”

  As she glanced around, she was surprised at the flash of hot tears that brimmed her eyes. “E-except for my heavy coat, boots, gloves, and scarves.” She lifted an elbow toward the bed. “They’re in that cupboard, but I’ll get them when we s-say…” Her chin quivered, and she ducked her head.

  Nic walked close and rubbed a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll make sure you have them before Torin and Nola head north.”

  At the sound of hoof beats and shouted goodbyes, Cinnia dashed down the steps and hurried to the front of the wagon. The four wagons rolled past, and the occupants waved.

  Nola stepped close and slipped an arm around Cinnia’s waist.

  She mirrored the gesture and waved with her free hand. “Good luck, travel safe.”

  The front window of the parked gold-and-black wagon opened, and Dorrie stuck out her head, hair in disarray. “Goodbye, friends. If you see ol’ H.P., give him what for.”

  The wagons made the left turn at the crossroads and disappeared.

  Dorrie looked around, spotted the sisters, and smiled. “Having a wagon to myself is great. No roommates to wake me before I’m ready.”

  Nola laughed and walked close. “If you want to see us off, you better get dressed. Torin gave me a fifteen-minute countdown. I’m walking the dogs one last time and then rolling up and stowing the pen.”

  Nic stepped up on the other side of the wagon. “Dorrie, I’ve arranged for one of the Copelin teens to feed and water the horses while I’m gone. So don’t worry if you see a young man back there.”

  Dorrie stifled a yawn. “Go off and have a good time. Don’t worry about me. I’m making friends with Bertha at the boarding house and hope to convince her to train me as a cook’s assistant. If I hang around her kitchen, I may finally learn how to cook.” She laughed. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

  “Appreciate the reminder, Dorrie. Be right back.” Nic saluted and then jogged down the street.

  Nola scurried around to the back of Dorrie’s wagon and went inside.

  Cinnia figured to give them privacy as they said their farewells. She walked over to stand next to Nic’s team and stroked a hand down the dun’s neck. “I know I’ve heard your names, but I’ll need to be reminded.” The more she looked at the craftsmanship of the wagon, the more she realized it was one of the finest she’d seen. She took a step back to take a good look at the horses. They were sturdy, well-fed, their coats gleamed, and their hooves were in good condition.

  How much did all this cost? Too busy worrying about saving a nickel or two here or there, she’d not paid attention to how much other professions earned. Could be a saddler made a better living than she thought when she first saw his shop.

  Nic appeared with a crate of jars, crocks, and paper-wrapped packages. “I ordered food from the boarding h
ouse for the trip.” He set it in the back of the wagon, behind the seat, and pulled a woolen blanket over the top.

  “That was thoughtful.” Cinnia saw other bulky items in the wagon bed covered with blankets and wondered what Nic had packed.

  Torin emerged on horseback from the side of Nic’s shop and turned toward the crossroads, the string of mustangs trailing.

  “All set?” Nic moved to her side and grasped her elbow to steady her as she climbed.

  “Ready.” She glanced ahead, saw Nola scramble into the driver’s seat, and gave Dorrie an answering wave. “See you in four days.”

  With much less fanfare than when they arrived, the York sisters departed Morgan’s Crossing. Nola set off after the mustangs, and Nic used the now-empty space where the showman’s wagons had been parked to turn their wagon. When only a hundred feet or so separated the two wagons, Cinnia spotted Nola’s solution for drying their best dresses. They weren’t flapping in the breeze, but her emerald green shirtwaist with the jet buttons and Nola’s rust shirtwaist hung from the overhang on the back porch, the hems clamped onto the railings.

  From experience riding with Nola, Cinnia knew to keep silent while the initial maneuvers were handled and until the horses settled into a steady pace.

  “You’re so quiet.”

  She shot Nic a sideways glance. “Don’t you need to concentrate on the team to make sure everything’s okay?”

  “Checked everything before we started.”

  So maybe Nola wasn’t quite the expert she’d appeared to be. “Good to know.”

  “I noticed your carpet bag has seen a lot of use.”

  She bit back a laugh. “Everything I own has its share of wear-and-tear.”

  “Lucky you know someone who can make you a replacement out of sturdier material.” He jerked his head toward the wagon bed. “How would you like one like that?”