Healing Montana Love: Bear Grass Springs, Book Eleven

by Flightner, Ramona

  “It’s just Bears, Missus,” he said with a smile, his white teeth flashing. The red of his shirt enhanced the beauty of his light-brown skin, heralding his half–Native American heritage.

  “I wanted to thank you again for the flowers.”

  He stared at her, as though understanding she wished to say more. When she remained quiet, he said, “I know many would have picked you twice as many flowers. But they will wilt soon enough, and we must leave flowers to seed for next year.”

  She nodded. “I have no complaint about the quantity.” She shifted from foot to foot. “What did you mean about the preacher’s blessing last night?” she asked. When he continued to stare at her with a patient understanding, she blurted out, “What more would I want than the preacher’s blessing?”

  He smiled then and nodded. “What more, indeed?” He motioned to the group gathered here. “Look around at the room, Missus. Everyone worked hard to ensure you had a wonderful day.”

  “No,” she blurted out. “They worked hard for Dalton. They esteem him.” She flushed. “I’ve done nothing to deserve …” Her words sputtered to a halt, and she lowered her head.

  “Deserve,” he murmured. “If I were you, I’d examine what that word means to you. And the hold it has over your ability to find happiness.”

  Her head jerked up, as she stared at him in bewilderment. “What do you mean?”

  Rather than expound on his idea, he stood quietly beside her, sipping a cup of overly sweetened punch for long moments. Finally he spoke in a low voice. “Do you believe a man cares for frilly things hanging from a ceiling? Or if the fine layer of dust has been swept from the floor of the Hall?” He shrugged. “We notice such things, but, for most of us, they won’t enhance or hinder our ability to enjoy ourselves.”

  He looked at the bright room, filled with decorations, and recently scrubbed to a sparkling clean. “All of this, except for the cake and music, was done for you. I happen to know most men of the family are very partial to Anna’s cakes.” He winked at her. “And I’ve yet to meet a man who doesn’t like holding his woman in his arms for a dance.” He nodded in Dalton’s direction, smiling. “Your husband already wants to waltz with you.”

  “I … I can’t imagine dancing in front of all these people,” she sputtered, flushing when she saw an expectant look in her husband’s gaze.

  “It seems you are wanted, Missus. Needed.” He paused as he gazed deeply into her eyes. “One day you will understand just how much you value being needed. For when he doesn’t need you, you will have lost something precious. Something you may never recover again.”

  “I don’t understand,” she murmured, glancing around the room in dawning horror rather than in appreciation. She latched onto the town’s kindness toward her, rather than the longing she had seen in her husband’s gaze. “I … I’ll never be able to repay the townsfolk. I don’t know what to do.”

  Placing a gentle hand on her arm, he gazed into her eyes. “They don’t want anythin’, Missus. A simple thank-you will suffice.”

  “That’s never enough!” she cried out, as she raced from the room.

  * * *

  Frederick slapped Dalton on his shoulder, giving it a good squeeze. He followed the cowboy’s gaze. “It seems she’s enjoying her conversation with Bears.”

  “Or he’s talking in circles again and confusing her when she needs clarity,” Dalton said with a shake of his head, focusing on his boss and good friend. Dalton hoped his wife would overcome her shyness and come to him. Display some outward sign of joy that they were married.

  Frederick rocked his head back and forth. “Have patience, and you’ll see that everything will turn out well. She may be … cautious right now. But she won’t stay that way. Give her time.”

  “How much time did you give Miss Sorcha?” Dalton countered.

  “Well, you know as well as I do that we’d been courtin’, in our roundabout fashion, for a few years.” He chuckled. “We were both impatient by the time the wedding night arrived.” He stared with solemn sincerity at his friend. “Don’t compare yourself with others, as that will only drive you mad. Find contentment with your own situation as it is.”

  After Dalton stewed a few moments on that comment, Frederick said, “Now, when we return to the ranch, I want you and your bride to head to the Henderson’s.”

  Dalton forgot about his growing concern with Charlotte for a moment. “Why?” He stared at the ranch hands, coaxing women onto the dance floor, and smiled when he saw Shorty dancing with the pastor’s sister. “Why wouldn’t we remain near the big house with so many around to ensure Charlotte is safe?”

  Frederick rubbed at his temple. “Well, that’s just it. I think you need time away as a couple. And she’ll be safe out at the distant homestead. No one will know where you are, except for a handful of us.” He paused as he looked at Charlotte. “I think you need time alone, away from Sorcha and Davina. Away from the men.”

  “It’s our busy time, Boss,” Dalton protested.

  “If you’re feeling guilty, you can dig some post holes,” he said with a smile and a laugh, slapping Dalton on the back again. “You only get one honeymoon. Enjoy it.”

  “A honeymoon,” Dalton murmured, as he stared at his bride. “Thank you, Boss.” He followed Frederick to join the MacKinnon men, Warren, and Ben, as they discussed the town. Although Dalton’s gaze continually flicked to his wife, he attempted to focus on their conversation about the new schoolteacher hired for the next year, the controversy about ranchers fencing so much of the rangeland, and the speculation that the Montana Territory would finally become a state.

  “How do you know this teacher will be any better than the last?” Dalton asked, as he attempted to focus on anything other than how his bride ignored him.

  Warren, who was a member of the Town Improvement Committee and also partially responsible for finding the town’s teacher, said, “I can’t make any promises, but her references and qualifications are far superior to those of Mr. Danforth. It’s a pity we’ve been without a teacher for a year, but I’m certain this new teacher will inspire our students. I believe she will be like Leticia.”

  Alistair, the second-eldest MacKinnon, smiled at that comment. “No one will ever compare to my Leticia.” He glanced at his wife, chatting with the other MacKinnon women. Leticia had taught the children of Bear Grass Springs for years before she had married Alistair.

  Warren chuckled. “Of course not. But we’ve chosen a … more mature teacher, and I hope that she will teach for many years here. Like Leticia.” He focused on Alistair. “It’s a pity you left the committee, although Ben’s done an admirable job in your stead.”

  Alistair shrugged. “Ye ken I want as much time with my family as possible.” He looked at Dalton. “Fetch yer bride. We all want cake.”

  Dalton nodded and searched for Charlotte. However, she was nowhere in sight. He approached Bears, who stood with his son, Jack, in his arms. “Bears, where’s my wife?”

  Bears stared at him in quiet commiseration. “She needed a moment.” Shaking his head, he lowered his mouth to kiss his son’s brow. “I wouldn’t seek her out. She’s muddled and needs to find her own way. Whatever you need to do, ask Anna to do it. She’ll smooth it over, and no one will care.”

  Dalton stared dully at the MacKinnons, watching their conversation with avid interest. “I care,” he whispered.

  Bears nodded. “Show her that, Dalton. Be patient and kind, as you always are. Find a way to prove to her that the man she married, that the man she trusts, isn’t intent on acting like Warren’s cousin.” He paused and shook his head.

  “No, tell me more. You clearly have opinions about her. Any of your wisdom is welcome, Bears. She doesn’t want my company.” He waved around, indicating her absence from their wedding reception.

  “Oh, I think she does, but she doesn’t believe she should.” He rocked on his feet, soothing his son with his motion and with his calm voice. “She has odd notions. About who sh
e is. What she owes others.” He shrugged. “Be patient.”

  With a resolute sigh, Dalton approached Anna and the flock of women standing near his wedding cake. Speaking in a low voice, he murmured, “Anna, will you cut the cake with no fuss? I can’t find Charlotte, and I don’t want there to be talk.”

  Anna gaped at him before nodding. “Of course, Dalton.” She motioned for Leticia, Fidelia, and Jane to follow her, and soon the beautiful cake had been sliced up with no fanfare and set out for the townsfolk to devour.

  Sorcha sidled up to Dalton, little Harold in her arms. “Here,” she murmured, thrusting the toddler into his hold. She shook her head when he would have protested. “Sometimes all we need are a few moments with a bairn to make the world right again.” She stroked a hand down his shoulder before motioning Davina to join her in the front. Soon their voices filled the Odd Fellows Hall, and few of the townsfolk had an inclination to wonder why the happy couple hadn’t cut the cake together. The crowd was too busily transfixed by the cousins’ beautiful voices.

  Frederick approached Dalton, a tender expression on his face, as he saw his friend holding his son. “That’s Sorcha’s gift to you,” he murmured. “She’d never want you to suffer the town’s censure as she did. As we did.”

  Dalton nodded, although he knew the true gift was having time with little Harold. For now he knew he had to have the courage to rekindle the deepest hope in his heart.

  Chapter 11

  Dalton paced the small space in the room beside the bakery. Although June, the evening remained cool, and he lit a small fire in the potbellied stove. Anything to keep his mind off the disastrous wedding ceremony and the mockery of a wedding celebration. Anna had warned him that, although she rarely opened on a Sunday, she would open for limited hours tomorrow because the bakery had been closed since Wednesday, and too many townsfolk had complained that they needed bread.

  “Not even my wedding night will be uninterrupted,” he muttered. He kicked at a piece of wood in frustration, as he stared at the sleeping space, now covered by a curtain. Although it appeared a door might have been there at one time, a curtain separated the space large enough for a double bed from the room he was in, which had a crib, a rocking chair, a comfortable chair, and a potbellied stove.

  When Charlotte remained hidden behind the curtain, Dalton spun and moved into the kitchen, where Anna had left a few plates of food and slabs of wedding cake. He hadn’t eaten much since yesterday, and he was suddenly starving. As he surveyed the small bounty of food, he felt guilty for excluding Charlotte. Poking his head back into the side room, he called out, “I’m eating dinner, if you want to join me.” When silence was her response, he moved into the kitchen, rummaging around until he found a plate, silverware, and a glass.

  He decided to sample everything, and he demolished half the food in quick succession. Arching his stomach out, he rubbed at his belly as he stared at the cake. One of his fondest wishes was to eat it with Charlotte. With another glance in the direction of the room his wife hid in, he tried first a bite of vanilla cake and then chocolate. “Oh, heaven,” he sighed, as he ate the chocolate. “I wonder if Anna would make us one to take home.”

  He set down his fork with a clatter at the thought of returning to the home he’d shared with Mary. The home that had known so much harmony and passion and joy. How was he to live there with Charlotte with such friction between them? He rubbed at his head, wishing he knew what had caused her to change.

  With a sigh, he rose. He had no desire to sleep in a chair on his wedding night. On cautious feet, he pushed open the curtain and poked his head in. “Lottie?” Even though he sensed she tried not to show any reaction to his presence, she stiffened. “Please stop ignoring me.”

  At the sound of her quiet sobbing, he sat on the bed, rubbing his hands over her back. “Is it that awful?” he whispered. “Being married to me?”

  “No,” she cried. “I … I don’t think I’m ready for … for more than friendship.”

  Sighing, Dalton pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s fine.”

  “It is?” she asked, rolling onto her back to face him. Her eyes shone in the faint light from the other room, filled with shock and disappointment. “I thought you’d at least try to convince me.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” he muttered. “I’ve never been any good with riddles. I’m a basic man, Lottie. Either you want me or you don’t. It’s that simple.”

  “Nothing is that simple.” She clamped her jaw shut, after snapping at him.

  He leaned forward, tracing a finger over her soft cheek, frowning when she froze, after enjoying his gentle caress for a few moments. “What happened to make you change? Why don’t you like my touch anymore?” He gazed into her eyes, as something that had been said to him today tickled his memory. “Who spoke venom to you?” He waited for her to say something, shaking his head in disappointment when she remained quiet. “Why won’t you tell me? I’m your husband. I will honor you in all things.”

  “I can’t tell you because I don’t know,” she said. “I …” She looked at him, her hand raising to play through his brown hair, before she snatched it down. “I don’t know what to do. How to act.”

  At her plaintive wail, Dalton smiled. “You don’t have to act or do anything, Lottie. Just be. Just feel.” He paused. as he ran a soothing hand over her arm. “What do you want?”

  “I want our marriage to be real,” she whispered. Her next words extinguished his burgeoning hope. “Our marriage isn’t binding until … until …” She shrugged and flushed.

  “Until we make love?” He nodded. “I suppose that’s true. But I’d challenge any man who dared think he could take you from me.” He paused. “As long as I knew you wanted to be by my side.” When his words caused fresh tears to well in her eyes, he shook his head. “I don’t understand you. You don’t want my touch. You’re only concerned that our wedding be binding but not because of any true regard for me.”

  He rose, pacing a step away before sitting again, this time not touching her. “You didn’t want me near you after the wedding. You disappeared when it was time for our dance, and we never cut the cake together.”

  Closing her eyes, she shrugged. “You should have your memories from your first wedding. Guard those.”

  Dalton jerked back, his heart bruised. “I wanted them with you, Lottie, and you stole them from me. What else will you steal, now that we are married?” He moved to rise again, stilling his movement when she grabbed at his hand.

  “No. Stay,” she entreated. “I … Please.”

  He froze, muscles bunched tight, as though fighting his instinct to leap away from her. “This is our wedding night, Lottie. If I remain, I can’t promise what won’t happen.” He waited, his breath leaving in a whoosh when she flipped up the blankets, inviting him into bed with her. He took a deep breath and rose, stripping off his outer clothes. “I’ll join you, love. And pray you won’t come to resent me too.”

  * * *

  Dalton stood at the paddock railing, watching as Bears worked a horse with Davina. He recalled Slims’s mention of his wife’s fascination with horses, and Dalton knew this was one way his foreman could show support to his wife. Dalton nodded to Slims, as the giant of a man approached with a cup of coffee.

  “Have you had a cup of Anna’s coffee?” Slims asked. “You won’t have better in the Territory.”

  “Don’t let Miss Irene hear you say that,” Dalton said with a smile. “Yes, I’ve had two already today.”

  Shaking his head, Slims stared at him a long moment, before focusing on his wife. “Ah, there’s a joyful sight,” he murmured with pride.

  “She’s keen.”

  “Aye,” Slims said. “More keen than you appeared to be to remain in your bride’s bed.” He watched his friend over the edge of his coffee mug, as he took another sip. “If I had time away from the duties of the ranch, I’d take advantage of every moment.”

  “It takes two to be eager,” Dalton muttere
d. He shook his head ruefully at Slims’s shocked expression.

  Taking two large swallows of coffee, Slims set down the mug and slung his arms over the paddock pole, mimicking Dalton’s stance. He bent down, so they were eye to eye, speaking in a low voice, so the conversation was solely for them. “What happened? I thought you would be happy with her. Like you were with your Mary.”

  Dalton shifted. “I think I expected too much, Slims. I thought we’d have what you and Davina have. Or share what Boss and Miss Sorcha do.”

  “And you don’t?” Slims asked with furrowed brow. “You’re the only man she ever wants near her. You’re the only man she relaxes around.” He shook his head, as though it were a puzzle he couldn’t decipher.

  “It’s nothing,” Dalton said. “It’ll resolve.”

  Slims snorted and shook his head. “Now I know you’re an idiot. Nothing ever resolves with a woman without talkin’ about it. That’s one thing I’ve learned. Besides, if you’ve got doubts, she’ll sense somethin’s wrong, and you’ll push her even farther away. Talk to her, Dalt.” Slims stepped away, calling out encouraging words to Davina, moving to intercept Shorty and Dixon, so as to gift Dalton more time alone.

  Dalton stood, staring into space, as he considered the previous night. He had promised himself nothing more than cuddling would happen. But then she had turned, pressing against him. Somehow they had begun to kiss. Long passionate kisses. Soft caresses turning into so much more. He clung to the memory of her whispering yes over and over again. Of the desire he thought he’d seen in her eyes.

  Although there had been passion, he realized he had yearned for so much more. Joy and laughter and the sense she felt the same sense of wonder as he did. That she marveled at her good fortune and gave thanks to be in his arms, as he gave thanks he had been blessed that she chose him. Instead he had felt a chasm growing between them.

  Rather than holding her in his arms, he had let her sleep apart, as she claimed she wanted. Rather than breathe in the subtle scent of her hair and feel its silkiness tickle his nose as he woke up, he had to settle for the dream of what might come. Rather than feel her stretch and arch up to kiss his cheek and to scrub her fingers over his stubble, he had to accept her tumbling out of bed to hastily change and scurry away.