Substitute Montana Bride: Bear Grass Springs, Book Thirteen

by Flightner, Ramona

  Substitute Montana Bride

  Bear Grass Springs, Book Thirteen

  Ramona Flightner

  Grizzly Damsel Publishing

  Copyright © 2021 by Ramona Flightner

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems – except in the case of brief quotations in articles or reviews – without permission in writing from its publisher, Ramona Flightner and Grizzly Damsel Publishing. Copyright protection extends to all excerpts and previews by this author included in this book.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. The author or publisher is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Cover design by Jennifer Quinlan.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Coming Soon! ENRAPTURED MONTANA BACHELOR

  Never Miss a Ramona Flightner Update!

  Also by Ramona Flightner

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Bear Grass Springs, Montana Territory; September 1889

  Purgatory is a small town in Montana Territory, Alvira Damon said to herself. She stood on the platform, watching the train steam away, as she fought the sense of being abandoned. Again. Although the sign read Bear Grass Springs, she had a sudden sense she was in the wrong place. Had she made the worst decision of her life by agreeing to travel to this tiny town in the Montana Territory?

  She turned at the sound of approaching footsteps, pasting on a placid expression, as she faced the man striding toward her. He had an air of authority about him, and he was dressed as well as any of the rich men she had seen in Minneapolis, when she had boarded the train there for Montana. His brown hair blew in the slight breeze, while his piercing blue eyes raked over her, as though looking for a flaw or blemish. Standing tall and accepting his perusal as a rite of passage, she met his unwavering stare.

  “Sir,” Alvira said, with a deferential nod of her head. She clasped her hands in front of her practical navy-blue dress covered in a light-blue jacket. Her black-and-gray hair was held back in a tight bun, no strands lose to blow in the wind, with her hat firmly pinned in place. She had long ago perfected a congenial distant stare that did not provoke any unwanted amity.

  He smiled and tipped his hat at her. Unlike the majority of the men she’d seen here, it wasn’t a cowboy hat but a fancy one that gentlemen of business wore. “Hello. I presume you are Miss Damon.” At her nod, his smile broadened, transforming him into a remarkably handsome man. “I’m Warren Clark, the town’s lawyer. I’m also on the school board. We’re delighted you agreed to teach the students of our town, Miss Damon.” He glanced at the three large trunks by her side and frowned. “Wait here.”

  Alvira watched, as he strolled away to speak with the stationmaster, waving his arm in her direction. With a sigh, she tilted her head up to the sun, relishing being outside of a moving train. At his quiet “Ahem,” and with great reluctance, she opened her eyes again and lifted one eyebrow, as she waited for his next instruction. Although she preferred to live a life free of entanglements, such as friendships, she knew she needed to maintain an amicable relationship with members of the school board. For, if she didn’t, they could easily find a reason to terminate her contract.

  “I think it best to leave your trunks with the stationmaster. Ewan will come by to pick them up and to deliver them to you.”

  “Ewan?” she asked, then walked with him, as he motioned for her to join him.

  “He’s a MacKinnon and runs a carpentry business. He has a wagon and never minds helping out.”

  Her mind swirled at the information. What did it mean to be a MacKinnon? “Thank you,” she murmured, having learned it better to not ask many questions. She smiled her thanks, as he hefted her small bag and walked out of the station. “I thought there was a town,” she blurted out, when she stood at the front of the station.

  He chuckled. “There is. It’s just around that corner. The station is a little way from town because it was easier to build the line here, and it’s not quite as noisy when a train comes through.”

  Walking beside him, she couldn’t battle her curiosity. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but you don’t sound as though you belong in a place like this.”

  He chuckled and seemed to take no offense at her words. “Oh, I’m from the East Coast. As I believe you are too.” He waited to see if she’d deny his assertion. When she shrugged, he said, “I’m from Philadelphia, but this town has always felt more like home. My wife and I will have you over for dinner soon.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t possibly impose,” Alvira stammered. “I’m certain I’ll be far too busy preparing lesson plans.”

  Warren stared at her for a long moment, stopping in the road to face her. “A word of caution. Don’t reject friendship when it’s offered, Miss Damon, for you’ll never know when you’ll need it.” Then he abruptly took off again.

  Alvira let out a stuttering sigh, focusing on the town as they entered it. A single road ran through the center of it, with prosperous-looking businesses on either side. Alvira noted that most of the townsfolk were men in rough clothes, many of them loitering outside of prominently marked saloons. Across the street from her, she noted a large establishment that seemed devoid of patrons on this fine afternoon. “Mr. Clark, what is that building for?”

  He gave her a sidelong glance and flushed. “That’s what the townsfolk call the Boudoir.” He lifted a brow, as though waiting for her to nod in understanding. When she shook her head in confusion, he bit back a smile and appeared chagrined. “The, … ahh, … house of ill repute, ma’am.”

  “Oh,” she murmured, her gaze looking at everything but him. She glanced down the boardwalk, ignoring the busy Stumble-Out Saloon they were passing, and focused on the café and the large mercantile on the other side of the street. “Is that where I should shop for my groceries?”

  Warren nodded, both in answer to her question and to the man standing in front of the store. “The Merc is the best store in town, although we have another one.” He motioned with his arm to the smaller store they had just passed. “It’s not as grand as the Merc, but it might have what you need.”

  Alvira nodded, noting his office and the fine hotel that they were now passing. She accepted his help off the boardwalk and crossed the street, thankful for his support, as her foot lodged in a wagon rut, and she tripped. Warren kept a firm hold of her, and she merely stumbled rather than fell to her knees. She blushed, as she noted the man standing in front of his store, watching her with avid interest. The broad-shouldered man with brown hair mixed with gray and a splotchy beard held a broom, although he did little sweeping with it, as he continued to stare at her. “Doesn’t he have anything better to do?” she asked.

  Chuckling, Warren shook his head. “It isn’t every day a pretty woman arrives in town, and Tobias likes t
o know firsthand the goings-on in town. You’re the most interesting person to arrive here in some time. Not since the new pastor and his sister arrived last spring have we had a new resident who’s stirred so much curiosity.”

  “I’m not a circus act,” she grumbled, earning another laugh.

  “Of course not. You’ll have to forgive the townsfolk, as they never mean any harm, but they are intrigued about a woman your age, arriving here to teach their young ones.”

  “I’d hardly think a spinster would merit such fascination.”

  Giving her a warning glance, he murmured, “Then you’ve spent little time in small towns. And I hope you are more patient with them than you are with me.” He motioned her to the school, passing the church with the rectory behind it. “Here’s your school, and your cabin is behind it.”

  Alvira stood with a hand on her heart, as she stared at the whitewashed structure that looked solidly built. She bit her lip, momentarily overcome with emotion. Finally she’d have her own school again. “It’s very fine,” she whispered. Her mind overflowed with visions of school days filled with children eager to learn. “I can’t wait to start.”

  Warren nodded. “Yes. We have dances every year to ensure there’s money for school improvement projects.” He motioned to the building itself. “Ewan and his men just reroofed it, as the old one was leaking.” He cleared his throat. “I fear you won’t have eager students until after the harvest.”

  Alvira glowered at Warren. “There’s no need to wait to start the school year. I understand there is a ridiculously low requirement for school days in the Territory, but I do not feel compelled to keep to such a low standard. Those who can attend when school commences will be welcome, as will any child at any time.”

  Warren shrugged. “As you wish. It’s your position, and I bow to your expertise.” He motioned for her to walk past the school. “Come. I’ll show you to your home.”

  He handed her a key and waited, as she unlocked the door. “I believe you will be comfortable here. If you have any concerns, please feel free to speak with me.” He gave her another nod but didn’t come inside. “As I said, Ewan will be by with your trunks this evening.”

  Alvira watched as the lawyer sauntered away, pausing to converse with those he passed. He seemed to be a popular man in town. Perhaps she should accept his offer for supper with his family.

  Placing a hand on her growling belly, she recalled the café they had passed and hoped they served decent meals. She didn’t have the energy to cook this evening. Nor did she have any desire to venture into town and interact with the inquisitive shopkeeper.

  Stilling, Alvira’s eyes widened in surprise at the overflowing basket on her small kitchen table. Beside the basket was a short note.

  Welcome, Miss Damon! We are delighted you have joined us here in Bear Grass Springs and are hopeful you will soon have dinner with us. Food for dinner tonight is in your icebox, along with butter and milk.

  You are very welcome!

  The MacKinnon Women

  Alvira looked through the basket, amazed at the cookies, bread, and meat pies awaiting her. She bit into a cookie and sighed with pleasure. “Oatmeal raisin,” she breathed. It had just the right amount of cinnamon and brown sugar, and she had to force herself not to gobble down another cookie right after she finished the first one. Staring in wonder at the bounty in front of her, she marveled at the women in the town who would welcome her so warmly, even though they knew nothing of her.

  Her gaze rose, and she noted a small kitchen area against one wall. Turning around, she found a comfortable living space, with a rocking chair, high-backed chair, and sofa. Poking her head through the inner doorway, she sighed with pleasure to see a large bed with pillows and a red-checkered quilt on top. This was the nicest home she had ever lived in. Perhaps her luck had finally turned.

  * * *

  Tobias Sutton attempted to conceal his immense curiosity at the woman walking beside Warren. He knew Warren to be an honorable man, content in his marriage to the town’s midwife, Helen. Thus, the woman with Warren must be the new schoolteacher. Although Tobias had been informed the woman was older, in her midforties, she appeared no older than thirty-five, although her jet-black hair was peppered with a touch of gray. He smiled as he recalled her glaring in his direction, when she had tripped over a wagon rut. She would need a feisty spirit to wrangle the children who’d fill her classroom.

  With a sigh, he reentered his store, the Merc. It was the larger of the two stores in town, and he prided himself on obtaining everything his customers desired. He readily accepted special orders, although lately that had mainly been for spices for Annabelle MacKinnon, as she concocted new recipes at her bakery. As his daughter, Jane, worked at the bakery, he enjoyed testing their experiments. Very few were failures.

  His mind drifted back to the newcomer. He knew he’d meet her soon. The welcome basket left by the MacKinnon women would only last her a few days, and then she’d need supplies. He wondered what color her eyes were and if she would be friendly or curt. In the end, he knew it didn’t matter. Even though he was fifty-two and healthy, he was destined to be a bachelor for the remainder of his days. However, he would never deny himself the pleasure of flirting with an attractive woman.

  He focused on the patron entering his store, smiling blandly at the hotel proprietor. As he studied the man, Tobias thought the term beanpole had been invented with this man in mind. A spineless beanpole. “Hello, Mr. Atkins,” he said in a deferential manner. “Your order has not yet been delivered, although the train did arrive today on schedule. Perhaps in a few hours?” Tobias said.

  “Oh, that’s not why I’m here,” Anthony Atkins said. “Did you see her?” he asked, his eyes glowing with excitement, as he swayed to and fro, like dancing, without moving his feet. His brown mustache twitched, as he said, “She’s finally arrived, and she seems quite genteel.”

  “Genteel,” Tobias murmured, as he smirked, thinking about her glaring at him, while he stood watching her cling to Warren’s arm. “Quite. I imagine you look forward to dancing with her at next month’s Harvest Dance.”

  Anthony couldn’t hide his smug smile. “Considering I’m the most eligible bachelor her age, I have little to concern me.” He gave Tobias a pitying stare. “Once she learns about you …” He shrugged.

  Tobias stiffened but refused to engage the man. “As I said, Mr. Atkins, I’ll deliver your order as soon as possible.” He watched as the man a decade younger than him sauntered out of his store, a bitter regret nearly overwhelming Tobias. For, if he hadn’t been such a fool, Tobias knew he would have had a chance with the newly arrived schoolmistress. However, for all their sakes, he understood he had to keep his distance.

  Chapter 2

  Two days later, Alvira carried her basket looped through her arm, as she walked into town. It was a beautiful fall day, with a clear blue sky and a slight breeze, and she knew she should cherish such moments. She should be thankful she had time to settle in before starting her teaching schedule. However, the cabin was tidy and clean, and she had little to do, nothing new to read, no one to send letters to.

  Alvira refused to admit she was bored, even though she longed for something more to do. She yearned for the freedom to swing the basket on her arm. To venture into the hills and to find a patch of late-season wildflowers and run through them. To find a stream and to soak her feet in it. Anything to make her feel more alive and more in harmony with this wild place she had moved to.

  With a jolt, she had a thought. Will I lose my decorum—and my position—simply by moving to this small town with its diversions?

  Instead she clung to how others perceived her, dreading the thought of putting a foot out of line and being deemed unsuitable for her role. At forty-five, she did not want to start over again. She wanted to set down roots. To find a place that could be home.

  The welcome basket from the MacKinnon women was wholly unexpected but appreciated. She remained uncertain who the MacKinno
n women were, but Alvira was determined to thank each one who had ensured her arrival was less chaotic by filling her larder for a few days.

  She had met a MacKinnon when Ewan delivered her trunks. A friendly man who always seemed on the verge of laughing, Ewan MacKinnon had mentioned his wife, Jessamine, was the town reporter. Although he seemed like a jovial man, Alvira was uncertain if he had been joking when he said his Jessie looked forward to writing about Alvira. She shuddered at the thought. She had no wish to be fodder for any gossip. Thus she knew she had to maintain her dignity at all times and to attract as little attention as possible.

  Now she had to leave her cozy little cabin on the edge of Bear Grass Springs and venture into town to the store. To the Merc or whatever it was called. She only hoped the owner was congenial.

  She pasted on her impersonal expression that prevented anyone looking at her from garnering the opinion she was unfriendly, but that also precluded anyone from desiring to approach her for a conversation. She had perfected this look many years ago, and she found it invaluable, especially in towns where men vastly outnumbered women.

  After passing the church, she approached the Merc, thankful it was on her side of town. However, she already had a craving for the treats she hoped were available at the bakery, and she knew she’d find herself there after her visit to the Merc.

  She opened the door to the store, absently noting the sparkling glass in the door and in the display windows. A bell jingled overhead, and she stared at the man who sat on a stool at the back of his shop. When he refrained from approaching her, Alvira moved around the store, perusing fabric, baking tins, and other items for her home.