Lassoing A Montana Heart

by Flightner, Ramona

  Rather than help Shorty unhitch the horses and rub them down, Slims stood behind Frederick, watching the interaction between his boss and Davina MacQueen. Unwillingly, Davina fascinated Slims. Her bursts of bravado wedded to an air of fragility acted as a siren’s call for him. One he feared he’d have trouble ignoring, if she were to remain for long on the ranch.

  He watched as Davina’s astute gaze roved over Frederick, taking in his tall broad-shouldered frame, as he loomed over her. Frederick’s black hair blew in the gentle breeze, and Slims moved to the side to see his piercing blue eyes wholly focused on the woman.

  “I’m Frederick, and, for your purposes, I own the ranch.” He paused, as though seeing if she would react to his words. When she continued to stare at him innocently, he sighed. “Why are you here?”

  Davina’s gaze flickered to Slims a moment and then back to Frederick. “I was told yer wife was Sorcha MacKinnon. She’s my cousin.”

  Frederick relaxed a little at the unmistakable Scottish accent, so similar to his wife’s. “Aye, she’s my wife. Where in Scotland are you from?”

  “The town of Portree, on the Isle of Skye,” she said, glancing to the mountains in the distance. “Never did I think to find mountains to rival the Cuillin’s. I doubt ye have fairies here, aye?”

  Frederick laughed. “Depends on your definition of fairies.” He smiled and motioned for her to follow him. “Come. I’ll introduce you to Sorcha. Slims, why don’t you join us?”

  Slims nodded, a battle raging inside him. Part of him hoped Davina would be proven a fraud and forced to leave the ranch. The part he did not want to acknowledge hoped that she was truly Sorcha’s cousin and that he would have a reason to see her. Every day. He sighed, for he feared he had just lost his mind.

  * * *

  Davina followed the cautious, yet reluctantly friendly man called Frederick into the large house. Fighting trepidation at her cousin’s reaction to her precipitous arrival, Davina held her shoulders back and her head high, pasting on a calm expression. She saw Slims stare at her curiously as she passed him, but she ignored his mocking smirk.

  After ascending the steps and crossing the threshold to the house, she fought a sigh of relief to enter a warm space. Even Leena’s home hadn’t been this warm. Glancing around the large living area, Davina saw a fireplace on one wall, with crackling wood burning within. She battled the urge to approach it to warm her hands and feet. Instead she stood demurely by the door. A soft singing could be heard from a room down a long hallway, a song Davina recognized from her childhood.

  “Come. Be comfortable,” Frederick murmured, as he motioned for her to sit by the fire.

  She watched Frederick walk down the hallway before she sat on a settee. She tried to act nonchalant as she squirmed her feet closer to the fire, but she saw Slims staring at her with an amused gleam in his gaze and knew she had failed. “My feet are still wet,” she muttered with a flush.

  “I imagine they are, ma’am. When things are settled, you’ll be shown to a room and can freshen up.” He frowned again. “Although I didn’t retrieve your trunk. Where is it?”

  Davina sighed. “It was too heavy to tug after me. I left it at the station. The stationmaster said he’d look after it for a day or two.”

  Slims swore under his breath. “You’d better hope the weather holds. If it doesn’t, there’ll be nothing left but the trunk when we return.” He shrugged. “He’ll see it as abandoned property after a few days and sell the contents for profit. It’s how he augments his meager wage.”

  Davina’s eyes rounded with shock. “I thought he’d act more honorably.”

  Slims shrugged again. “You did leave it behind. And honor is all a matter of perspective.”

  “’Twas too heavy!” She stomped her foot, looking at him as though she wished she could stomp on his. “Ye ken as well as I that I couldna have dragged a trunk in the snow.”

  Slims fought a chuckle at her indignation. “No, but you could have waited. Or spoken with someone. The MacKinnons are a welcoming family. They would have aided you.”

  “I’m bluidy tired of needin’ aid,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Crouching to be at her eye level, Slims watched her closely. “Oh, but that’s exactly where you are, ma’am. You’re here, needin’ Boss’s and Miss Sorcha’s aid. Because you claim to be her long-lost cousin come to call. It makes me wonder why you were so eager to leave a little town like Bear Grass Springs behind with such haste. What are you running from?” He paused as he stared for a long moment into her tormented brown eyes. “Or who?”

  “Slims, leave her be,” a woman called out.

  “Miss Sorcha,” Slims said, as he rose, his voice filled with warmth and affection, as he stood between the two women. “I meant no harm.”

  Sorcha chuckled as she ran a hand down his strong arm. “Aye, but ye ken what it is like to be among strangers for the first time. It can muddle yer wits and scare ye, so ye dinna ken what’s up nor down, aye?”

  “Aye,” the big man said with a smile. He stepped back, allowing Sorcha to stand in front of Davina.

  Sorcha Tompkins was a short woman, barely over five feet tall. However, she had a strength of will and a matching personality that ensured all near her eagerly followed her every wish, even the giant of a man standing beside her. Her husband, Frederick, had teased her that it was because she was part Fairy Queen, but he and all the men of the ranch knew it was due to her compassion, her constancy, and her consideration for others that they felt an overwhelming loyalty and love for her. Her red-brown hair shone more red than brown as she stood in front of the fire, and the sky-blue wool of her dress enhanced the natural beauty of her blue eyes.

  Her inquisitive gaze looked over Davina with a frown. “Ye dinna look like any cousin I ever met. Ye canna be a MacKinnon.” She frowned as she motioned for Davina to stand up.

  Davina rose, standing slightly taller than Sorcha, her blond hair falling loose from its pins and cascading down her back.

  “Ah, ’tis beautiful,” Sorcha whispered. “As are ye, Miss … ?”

  “I was born a MacQueen,” Davina breathed, so nervous she could barely speak. She pulled and pushed at her hair until she had knotted it at her nape again.

  “MacQueen,” Sorcha rasped, stumbling. She murmured her thanks, as Slims reached forward to grab her arm, ensuring she didn’t fall. “I didna ken any MacQueen was willin’ to acknowledge me.”

  “I’m Davina. My da is Baldwin MacQueen, the patriarch of the family and your uncle.” She paused as though uncertain if she should say more. After another hesitation, she blurted out, “Your mother’s brother.”

  “Aye, Mairi’s,” Sorcha said.

  Davina heaved out a deep breath, as though her tension left with it. “You know about Mairi?”

  Sorcha made a motion for Davina to sit and nodded to Slims, who left the room. She sat on the settee, facing Davina, Frederick standing behind her, his steady hand on her shoulder, as Sorcha grasped his hand and squeezed it. “Aye, another man who claimed to be brother to my mother visited me afore I left Scotland and told me about her. I never kent her.”

  Davina frowned. “That must have been Uncle Fergus. He’s always enjoyed goin’ against Da’s commands.”

  “Why are you here?” Frederick asked.

  Sorcha made a sound of disgust in her throat. “Too direct, love,” she murmured. “The Scots prefer a roundabout way of approachin’ things.”

  He rolled his eyes and sighed as he settled onto the settee, urging Sorcha to lean against him. “As long as we know what’s going on by the time the twins wake up.”

  Davina looked at the two of them and smiled. “Twins?” she whispered. “You have twins?”

  “Aye, a boy and a girl,” Sorcha said, unable to hide the pride in her voice. “Wee Harold and Mairi.”

  Davina made a soft sound of surprise. “Oh, how beautiful. You named her after your mother. She would have loved that.”

 
Sorcha sat up, leaning forward urgently. “You knew my mother?” At Davina’s nod, she looked at Frederick. “She knew my mother.”

  “Shh, it’s all right, Sorcha,” he whispered, as he traced away a tear that flowed down her cheek.

  Davina sat in wonder as she watched the couple, their love for each other starkly evident in the way he cared for her and her trust in turning to him. Davina battled envy and regret to never have known such devotion in her life. She feared she never would.

  Frederick cleared his voice, interrupting her thoughts. “As I was reprimanded, I know I am acting inappropriately. However, why are you here? You’re upsetting my wife, and I’d like to know why.”

  Davina froze. She watched as Slims returned with a tray filled with mismatched cups and plates, a teapot, and a cake to slice up, which he left on a nearby table. He pulled out a chair and sat, watching them. In that instant, she felt as though she were on trial. “I had thought Sorcha dead,” Davina whispered. “That is the story Da told us, ever since I was a girl, ten years old and mournin’ the death of my favorite aunt Mairi and the child she was to have.” She looked at Sorcha. “I had hoped to have a girl cousin. I’d only had brothers and boy cousins.”

  Sorcha’s breath caught on a sob.

  “For years, I believed the lie. Until I was pushed into a corner and desperate. I ransacked my da’s private library and found correspondence that proved ye had lived. Ye hadna died with my beloved auntie.” She closed her eyes. “And I no longer kent what to believe. Who to believe. I was lost.”

  “So you traveled to America?” Slims asked with a shake of his head. “Seems a drastic measure to take when you could have written a letter.”

  She half laughed, half sobbed, as she covered her mouth a moment. “Aye, I ken. But I couldna be forced into a loveless marriage. No’ by a man who had shown such disloyalty to his sister. How could I believe my da’s reassurances that he’d ensured my well-bein’ in the marriage contracts when I kent him to be a liar?” Davina shook her head. “I couldna risk a life of misery. I couldna. So I ran. An’ I ran. An’ I’m here.”

  “Oh, Davina,” Sorcha whispered, as she eased from Frederick’s hold to move to her cousin. “Oh, I’m so sorry for how you suffered.” She wrapped an arm around her cousin’s shoulders. “I wish … I wish I could have done somethin’ more for ye before now.”

  Davina sat with shoulders stooped and battling sobs. “I’m sorry for appearin’ unwanted on yer doorstep.”

  Laughing, Sorcha pulled her cousin into a tight hug. “Oh, ye wee daft woman, if there’s one thing we MacKinnons yearn for, ’tis more family.” She held Davina as a sob burst out, holding her close. “Shh, cousin, ye’re safe now.”

  * * *

  Slims strode into the barn to find Dalton currying horses. He heard Shorty talking with the youngest ranch hand, Dixon, in the tack room, and Slims approached Dalton. After grabbing a brush, Slims began to work on a horse. During the long winter months, only the four of them remained at the ranch to keep it running, along with Frederick. Many more men arrived in the spring to work the spring-to-fall seasons, hoping to earn enough to survive until the following year. Slims knew that he, Shorty, Dalton, and Dixon considered themselves the most fortunate of men to have year-round employment on a ranch with employers who were like family.

  “What’s she like?” Dalton asked. He stood a few inches shorter than six feet, with a wiry frame. His brown hair was longer than usual in midwinter without a recent haircut, and his blue eyes glinted with curiosity.

  “Feisty, like her cousin,” Slims muttered. When he brushed too hard on the chestnut filly’s hindquarters, and she shifted her legs, he murmured soothing words to her. “Easy.”

  Dalton leaned against one of the barn’s poles, tossing his brush from hand to hand as he studied his boss. “Seems to me that she’ll liven things up on this ranch this winter. It’s been mighty boring.” When Slims did little more than grunt his agreement, Dalton laughed. “Well, Shorty said she wasn’t for him, and Dix is too young for her, so it seems I might have a chance at a new bride.” His gaze turned distant, as though remembering his wife, Mary, who had died three years ago in childbirth.

  “You’d never know a moment’s peace,” Slims said, as he stepped out of the stall. “She’s impetuous. Traveling all the way from Scotland, not even knowin’ if she would be welcomed here. And she’s a determined one. Thought she would walk here from the train station.”

  Dalton stilled as he watched his friend and foreman. “Oh, I see.”

  Staring at his friend, Slims shook his head, as he attempted to step past him. “There’s nothin’ to see. The woman interrupted our trip to town, and now we have to wait for the weather to clear again. Another storm’s blowin’ in as we speak.”

  Dalton stepped in front of him, stopping his huge friend from sidling past. “No, Slims. I remember well the winter Sorcha came to us. The winter we nearly lost it all.” He waited as Slims stood tall, breathing hard, although he’d hardly exerted himself. Dalton watched his friend closely, and he suspected it had nothing to do with the memories of the harsh winter where a warm day was twenty below zero and when they could do nothing more than pray that the cattle would survive out on the prairie. Instead he suspected Slims’s agitation had everything to do with the new arrival. “I remember you saying the only woman who would ever interest you, could ever interest you, would be Sorcha MacKinnon’s cousin.” Dalton grinned. “Well, it seems she’s finally come callin’.”

  “Fool,” Slims snapped, as he stormed past Dalton. Slims ignored Dalton’s chuckle, moving to the water pump to fill buckets of water to bring to the horses. Although this was work usually completed by Dixon, Slims needed the physical distraction, and he planned on mucking out stalls, either here or in the other barn. Anything to take his mind off the new arrival.

  A few hours later, he paused, as he pitched hay into a stall for their milk cows. Leaning on the pitchfork, he stared back at the peaceful, contented face of the Jersey cow, named Sunset for its rich gold coat. He leaned forward and patted it on its side. “You don’t have any concerns, do you, girl?” He sighed when he heard a chuckle.

  “Seems the woman’s already been successful if she’s drivin’ you to talk to Sunset,” Shorty said, as he joined him.

  Slims set aside his pitchfork and stood staring into the darkened interior of the secondary barn that held the pigs, goats, and milk cows. It wasn’t as grand a space as the large barn that housed the horses, but it had a more intimate feel. “She’s the boss’s cousin. And I’m too old for any woman.”

  Shorty belted him in his arm, as though that would knock sense into him. “You barely know the woman. Perhaps she’s an imposer.” He ignored Slims’s muttered comment, “Imposter,” correcting his misspoken word. “Perhaps she’s stark raving mad. You shouldn’t be this tied up in knots after only spending a few minutes in her company.”

  Slims shrugged, his vision filled with the memory of her blond hair falling free of its pins and cascading down her back. Oh, how his fingers had itched to run through those silky strands. How he wished he had the right to do it. Shaking his head and heaving out a deep breath, he pushed aside such fantasies. He shared a rueful smile with his best friend and shrugged once more. “You know what a longing does to a man’s soul, Shorty.”

  “Yes, but you don’t know if she’s worth havin’ a hankerin’ for. Give it time, Slims.” He paused before saying in a soft voice, “You don’t want to make the same mistake as …”

  Slims stilled and shook his head. Any infatuation had been replaced by a steely cold resolve at the reminder of his past transgressions. “No. But I might have already committed the gravest sin, Short. I delivered her here, and they’ve welcomed her in. If anything were to happen to Frederick, Miss Sorcha, or the little ones …” He let out a deep breath, as he refused to relive the tragedy that had struck the last time he had trusted a woman.

  Chapter 2

  Upon awakening, Davina had
found dresses and underclothes on the chair beside the bed, along with towels and fresh water in the ewer on the bureau. Although the clothes weren’t a perfect fit, they were close enough, and she was grateful for her cousin’s kindness. After washing up a bit and changing into new clothes, Davina had ventured downstairs to the living room, uncertain if she should seek out her cousin.

  Having slept through supper, Davina was surprised a plate of food had been saved for her in the warming oven. However, Sorcha had acted as though it were normal behavior to set aside food for someone who had missed a meal.

  Now Davina rested on the settee in the living room near the fireplace, gazing into the flames, her thoughts a jumbled mess. She had never thought to be so unhesitatingly accepted by her cousin. Davina fought a sinking sense of shame that she would not have so readily taken in Sorcha had she arrived on Davina’s doorstep, destitute and desperate for aid.

  With a deep sigh, Davina attempted to calm her racing thoughts, forcing herself to think about the beautiful scenery she had passed during the sleigh ride to the ranch. However, her mind wandered to consider the man who had so easily managed the horses, and she struggled to forget him.

  “Was the man so horrible?” Sorcha asked in a quiet voice. She sat beside her cousin, her knitting needles clacking, as the fire crackled in front of them. Meanwhile Frederick could be heard muttering in his nearby office.

  Davina gave a small jolt, out of her memories and back to the present. “Nae,” she whispered. She met her cousin’s patient gaze with a hint of curiosity and shook her head. “Nae,” she whispered again.

  Sorcha calmly watched her, waiting to see if Davina would say more.

  “He never seemed upset that he had to return to the ranch with me.”