Healing Montana Love: Bear Grass Springs, Book Eleven

by Flightner, Ramona

  Dalton shrugged. “I care for her, Fred. You know I do.”

  “You’ve been mooning after her for months.”

  Dalton chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, that about sums it up. But I never planned to marry again. And she’s young. She could do better than an old cowpoke like me.” He ran a hand through his brown hair with no hint of gray.

  Staring at Dalton with sharp intelligent eyes, Frederick shook his head. “There’s more to it than that. There’s more to it than your fear, even though I understand that would seem insurmountable.”

  “What more is she hiding? Why won’t she talk about Warren’s role in all this?” Dalton asked.

  Frederick nodded. “I see.” He paused. “You asked her to marry? You weren’t coerced?” When Dalton rolled his eyes and shook his head, Frederick paced away and then back to him. “Fine. We go to town as planned and talk to the preacher. However, if you’re not satisfied with what Warren tells you beforehand, don’t marry her.”

  Sputtering, Dalton gaped at Frederick. “I can’t abandon her at the altar. That would be worse than … worse than lettin’ just any old cowpoke have her.” He waved in the direction of the bunkhouse and the numerous men there.

  “Aye, but a life forged on lies would be far more cruel. For you. And you’re family, Dalt. I won’t have my family harmed.” Frederick gripped his shoulder and then slipped from the barn, leaving Dalton deep in thought.

  * * *

  Dalton sat on the front porch, listening to Charlotte work in the kitchen. Now that he and Charlotte were engaged, he knew no one would comment on him remaining in the kitchen after dinner. Heck, none but Shorty or Slims would have dared comment before he was engaged. However, he needed a little time to consider what he wanted to do.

  With a long sigh, he tilted his head back and stared at the darkening sky and the first glimmer of stars. This time of year, it would take a while before the sky darkened enough for him to fully enjoy the brilliant splendor of the night sky. His focus returned to the conversation he’d had with Frederick and the restless feeling it evoked.

  Now that he’d asked Charlotte to marry him, their union was all he could think about. The small intimacies that came with marriage. Brushing out her hair. Holding her hand under the table, as the men chattered around them. Sharing a secret look that only they understood. Evoking a smile or a laugh. Small moments that created a life to be cherished. None of it would be possible if there were secrets between them.

  The door squeaked open, and Dalton met Charlotte’s hesitant smile. “Hello, love,” he murmured, holding out his hand for her. Rather than easing her into her own chair, he tugged her to him, so she’d settle on his lap and in his arms. “You’re not heavy.”

  Soon she had relaxed in his embrace, her head coming to rest on his shoulder, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck.

  “How was your day?”

  “Wonderful,” she whispered. “I spent a good portion of it with Davina and Sorcha. They’re sewing me a wedding dress.” She ran her hands over his strong shoulders, frowning at the tenseness she detected. “What’s the matter?” She nuzzled the side of his neck, earning a shiver.

  Kissing the top of her head, he closed his eyes. “You’re too perceptive.” He ran a soothing hand down her back. “It has nothing to do with work. I spoke with Frederick today.” He frowned when he felt her tense.

  “He doesn’t believe we should marry.” When he remained quiet a breath too long, she rasped, “He knows you could do better than me and advised against you making such a foolish decision.”

  A quivering tension ran through her, and he wrapped his arms tighter around her. “No. That’s not how Boss is, and I’d think you’d know that by now. Besides, Sorcha’d knock him on top of his head with a skillet if he interfered with the wedding she believes she brought about.” When Charlotte giggled, he let out a sigh of relief. “No, Lottie, he brought up another concern. One I’ve tried to ignore.”

  Wriggling until she had maneuvered so she could see his face, she whispered, “What?”

  “I can’t marry you—”

  She thrust out her elbow, hitting him in his neck and nearly cutting off his airflow. While he gasped for air, she heaved herself off him.

  “Lottie, damn it,” he gasped, as he rose, catching her as his arm snaked out to wrap around her waist and to yank her back against him. “Stop fighting me.” Dalton coughed a few times, holding her close. “Listen,” he pleaded into her hair that had come loose from its braid. “Please, Lottie, listen.”

  “I have no choice because you hold me prisoner here,” she snapped in a petulant tone.

  “Prisoner?” He loosened his hold and took a step away. “If that’s how you feel, please leave.” He backed up again, until he was steps away from her, and it felt as though an impenetrable chasm was between them.

  She looked over her shoulder and froze, her gaze meeting his tortured one. “Dalton,” she pleaded. “Don’t play with me.”

  “I’m not. I don’t understand what just happened.” His blue eyes shone with frustrated regret. “One moment I was holding you in my arms. The next you were beating me to get away.”

  “You said you didn’t want to marry me.” Her voice came out in a plaintive wail, her eyes glowing with unshed tears.

  “No, I didn’t.” He closed his eyes a moment, as though praying for peace. “You didn’t let me finish what I was going to say.” He waited to see if she would bolt, but she remained in front of him. In a gentle voice, he said, “I can’t marry you, Lottie, if there are secrets between us.” He paused, taking a cautious step toward her. “I can’t marry you not knowing why Warren sent you here. I can’t protect you and our family if I don’t fully understand.”

  She let out a deep breath and nodded. “I can’t tell you.” She held up a hand, pleading for understanding. “It’s not my secret to tell. Not wholly. Will you trust me, please?” Her voice broke on the please, and she lowered her head, as though believing she wasn’t worth such emotion.

  “Lottie,” he breathed in a soothing voice.

  “Trust me until we can talk with Warren? Together?” She took a deep breath and met his gaze.

  “Of course.” He stroked the backs of his fingers over her cheeks. “Knowing you are willing to share this with me eases my concern, Lottie.” He took a deep breath. “If Warren doesn’t want to tell me, I’ll need you to choose me, love.”

  She nodded. “I know. I will. But only Warren can tell you these things. Things I still don’t fully understand. If he’s willing to talk with us …” She shrugged.

  “Whatever he says will ensure I’m better able to protect you and to alleviate your fears.” At her breathed, “Yes,” he pulled her close, burying his face in her silky hair. “Thank you for trusting me, Lottie.” He felt her shudder and feared she was crying. “I promise I won’t betray it.”

  She gripped his back, holding him tight. “You have it backward, Dalton. You trust me, which is such a miracle.”

  “Ah, love, that’s what marriage is all about.”

  * * *

  Davina arrived at the bunkhouse early that Saturday, almost a week before they were to head to town for the Founders’ Dance. She poked her head into the kitchen and smiled at Charlotte. “He did no’ tell ye, did he?” she asked, as she tied an apron around her waist.

  At the sound of her voice, Charlotte jumped, a skillet rattling on the stove. “Oh, you scared me.” She held a hand to her waist and stared at Davina with wide eyes. “Please, don’t sneak up on me.”

  Nodding, Davina walked into the room with an even step. “Aye, I’m sorry. I remember you nearly stabbin’ Dalton recently. I should have kent better.” Her gaze was filled with remorse. “I promise. I willna ever sneak up on ye again. I’ll make enough noise to sound like a herd of buffalo.” She smiled when Charlotte giggled. “Come. Let me help ye.”

  Charlotte stared at her quizzically. “I don’t understand. I’ve been making breakfast for the men for months. W
hy should I need help now?”

  “Well, ye never were engaged to one of ’em afore,” she said with a wink. “An’ I’m no’ goin’ to ruin the surprise.”

  Standing with a befuddled look on her face, Charlotte held a spatula in one hand and the other fisted on her hip. “Surprise?”

  Dalton entered the kitchen, his brown hair wet from a recent dousing and his blue cambric shirt enhancing the blue of his eyes. “Hello, love,” he murmured, smiling his thanks as he accepted the cup of coffee she gave him. “I hoped we’d have time together today. Davina is going to help here, while we are away for a few hours.”

  “Away?” Charlotte asked, paling. “Why would we leave?” A subtle tremor moved through her.

  Dalton ignored Davina, who had taken over the preparations for breakfast, setting aside his coffee cup to gently clasp Charlotte’s shoulders. “Lottie?” he murmured, bending forward, his sole focus on her. “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m safe here,” she gasped out. “In the bunkhouse. In the kitchen. I’m safe.” She waved an arm out, indicating the rangeland and the world outside the ranch. “I’m not out there.”

  Dalton ran a thumb over her cheek, waiting for her panicked breaths to calm. He stared deeply into her beautiful sherry-colored eyes, his calm and quiet acceptance of her panic soothing her. When she relaxed, he murmured, “I will be with you. I promise nothing will happen. But, if you prefer to remain here, we can have our picnic on the kitchen floor.” He smiled as she was unable to fight a startled chuckle of laughter. “Or in one of the nearby fields.”

  She gazed deeply into his kind and understanding gaze. “What did you envision?”

  He smiled. “The wildflowers are starting to bloom, and I wanted to take you to one of my favorite spots. A place I’ve only ever gone alone. To share it with you.” He caressed her cheek again. “It’s about a half-hour ride, maybe a little more, from here.”

  Stepping forward, she pressed into his chest. “Yes, I’ll go there with you,” she breathed. “I want to be brave.”

  He chuckled. “You are, Lottie. You always have been.”

  * * *

  A few hours later, he rode beside Charlotte with the ranch behind them. Rather than head toward the mountains, he rode toward the hills in the distance. Soon all they heard was the sound of the breeze through the long grass and the birds serenading them. He grinned at her, his smile deepening to see her unfettered delight as she looked around the rangeland. After the snowmelt and the spring rains, the rangeland and surrounding hills were a deep green. Trees blossomed; flowers bloomed, and birds busily built nests.

  “It’s so beautiful,” she breathed.

  He shifted in his saddle, as he looked around with pleasure and pride. He would always feel grateful that he was a trusted member of Frederick’s crew. “Yes. This is one of my favorite times of the year. These are nurturing times. There’s plenty of grass for the cattle, and the worry about a drought is still a ways off.”

  “Would you ever consider raising sheep?” she asked, smiling as she saw him scowl at her question.

  “Cattlemen don’t have much use for sheep,” he said with a shake of his head. “Although I have heard Miss Sorcha badgering Boss about getting a small herd. She’d like to raise her own source of wool.” He shook his head, as though that were a blasphemous idea.

  “Who owns this land?” she asked as she looked over the wide expanse of the valley. Cattle dotted the distant rangeland.

  “Boss and his family,” Dalton said. “They own almost everything you can see.” He motioned to a spot in the distance. “Except that other ranch house over there.” When she nodded at a farmhouse far away from them, he said, “The Evers family. They’re our closest neighbors. A good half hour ride away. Maybe a bit more.”

  Charlotte looked around the largely empty expanse of land. “Why do they need so much land?”

  Dalton shifted in his saddle. “Do you recall the fierce winter from a few years ago?” At her nod, he said, “Well, we—Boss—almost lost it all. Thought he’d have to sell up and to find some other work. Damn near broke his heart. He worried about his marriage, about not being able to provide for his wife, his children.” He sighed as he shook his head. “Shorty saved everything by ridin’ in with a herd of healthy cattle that he’d wintered with in an upper pasture. But Boss knows times are changin’. We won’t be able to just let ’em roam free like we’ve done, sharing land with all our neighbors. He’s been studying and learnin’ all he can. He knows, instead of letting the cattle roam free to graze, that we have to find a way to raise enough hay to feed the cattle over each winter. And that we can’t have our neighbors’ cattle eatin’ our feed. So we have to build fences.”

  She looked at the largely unspoiled valley and frowned at the thought of fences marring the beautiful undisturbed landscape. “It sounds as though everything has to change.”

  Dalton nodded. “It does, Lottie. Boss is a good horseman, and he’d be able to live off the sale of his horses, if he’d be willin’ to sell any of ’em. But the cattle ranch is his family’s heritage, and he doesn’t want to fail. He’ll find a way.”

  She smiled at Dalton, stretching her arm out until her fingers reached his for a quick caress. “He won’t fail because he has men like you supporting him.”

  Dalton’s blue eyes gleamed with the promise of joy at her soft praise. “Ah, Lottie, thank you,” he whispered. They rode in silence for many minutes. He led her around a knoll and beamed as she gasped with delight. All around them, yellow flowers sprouted up in clusters, nodding in the sun.

  “Are they sunflowers?” Her gaze shone with awe.

  “Sort of. I guess you’d call them Montana’s version of a sunflower. I’m not sure what they’re called, but I’ve heard the native people used them for medicine and ate the roots.” He hopped down and helped her dismount, so she could wander among the flowers. Taking both horses by their reins, he tied them up at a nearby bush. He held his hand out to her, breathing a sigh of relief as she clasped his.

  She paused when they stood a short distance from the horses, her eyes filled with wonder. “Thank you for bringing me here. For wanting to share this with me.” She ducked her chin, suddenly shy. “For arranging Davina’s help today.”

  He ran a soft hand down her arm. “She understands my desire to spend a little time with you before we wed.” He waved an arm out to the field around them. “These wouldn’t be here for me to show you in a few weeks.” He smiled tenderly. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s to grab at these moments of joy, for we’re never promised they’ll be here tomorrow.”

  She sobered as she met his earnest gaze. “What happens when there is a tomorrow and a tomorrow after that one? Will you be disappointed that you are saddled with me?”

  Dalton shook his head once, before swooping down to kiss her. He pulled her close, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and back, digging his fingers in her hair and dislodging her hat. Everything but their embrace faded from his consciousness. No birdsong, no gentle breeze, no horse neighing in the distance interrupted his deep pleasure of cradling her in his arms again.

  Releasing her, he backed away, his gaze fervent as he stared at her. “No, Lottie,” he gasped, his hands caressing her shoulders. “Never. It’d mean my every prayer had been answered. To have a future …” He paused, swallowing back words.

  She stepped forward, breaching the small space between them. “I understand you’re leery after the death of Mary.” She said his first wife’s name in a reverent tone. “What more aren’t you telling me?” She stilled when she saw a flash of pain in his gaze. “What more should I know?”

  He backed away, reaching for her hand. “Come. Let’s gather our items for lunch.” He ignored her irritated huff of breath as she walked beside him. He matched her cautious steps, walking at a slow pace to the horses. After extracting a blanket, sandwiches, and a canteen of water, he urged her again. “Come.” Then he led her to a small area of shade.r />
  He spread out the blanket, settling the food down before resting near her. With a long sigh, he finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Lottie. I know you have questions about me, just as I do about you. We’ll be discovering truths about each other for as long as we’re together.” He stared at her panic-filled gaze. “Which I hope will be the rest of our lives.” He smiled as her breath whooshed out in relief.

  Dalton sat, munching on a sandwich, watching her nibble at hers. She picked at the crust, taking tiny bites. “It’s fine to have an appetite,” he said with a wry smile. “I won’t think less of you because you don’t eat like a sparrow.” He smiled when she flushed. After finishing his first sandwich, he leaned back on his elbows, kicking his legs out to rest on the grass in front of them. “What would you know, Lottie?”

  Her eyes rounded, as she nearly choked on a larger bite of sandwich. After taking a hasty swallow of water, she set her sandwich on the fabric of her dress. She sat with her legs crossed, and fine wisps of hair escaped from her braid down her back, making her appear much younger than twenty-seven. “Why do you avoid talking about your past?”

  He sighed. “Much the same as you, I expect. If somethin’ brings you pain, you avoid discussin’ it.” He shrugged as he chewed on a piece of grass. “Or I reckon that’s what most folks do.” He paused. “I was born in Ohio. We were poor, but we never felt it. Ma and Pa worked hard, and we always had food, although not always enough.” He tugged out another piece of grass and twirled it in his fingers. “When the War came, I was too young to go fight. I was only eleven. I thought I’d burst with pride as I watched Pa ride off to join the battle.”

  Dalton paused again, his gaze distant, as though envisioning that long-ago scene. “We waited every day for word of him.” He shook his head. “Never thought we’d never hear anythin’.”

  His voice had gone flat, as had his gaze. “Ma couldn’t keep up the farm without Pa, and soon we were forced off our land. Life isn’t kind to those who are poor.” His gaze met hers, and he saw understanding and empathy in hers. “Too soon we were living in a shack, with Ma taking in mending and other menial tasks to try to earn money. But we were all poor in our town. Wasn’t much to do.”