Montana Sky: The Rancher And The Shepherdess (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Loving A Rancher Book 2)

by Caroline Clemmons

  But, she hoped he’d grow to love her. He appeared to be a good man. Security and shelter were good, but she wanted more from him. A lifetime was a long time to spend with someone you didn’t love.

  Alas, he made no response to her comment about growing to love one another. “When we come up over this rise, you’ll be able to see the ranch.”

  Chapter Four

  Gormlaith sat up straight and peered ahead. Cows grazed in a field. They must be Garrett’s cattle. At the top of a small rise, he stopped the wagon.

  With a flourish, he gestured ahead. “There it is, Mrs. McDonald, your new home.” He sounded proud.

  The reason was obvious. “All this is yours? Why the barn is huge. And surely that home is large enough for several families.”

  “The Pickens family had nine children before two died while they lived here. His wife’s mother also lived with them but she passed away in the winter. Took a lot of room for twelve people.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Pfft. Not in the tenement where I lived. They’d all crowd into a flat and be fair tripping over each other.” She thought also of the small cottage her folks had and the seven people still living there. Wouldn’t they be shocked to see this place?

  “Pickens had plenty of children to help him on the place. Someday I’ll have more cattle and hire a man or two to help. Right now I can’t afford that. Billy’s help is a strain.”

  She put her hands on each side of her face. “Ack, and you’ve spent so much for my clothes. ‘Tis sorry I am to have let you pamper me so. How will I ever make the cost up to you?”

  His pleasant expression changed to a perturbed frown. “Look, I told you not to worry about that. Your things went on account and I pay the bill only once a year. A hired hand must be paid at least once a month. I’m what’s called cash poor, land rich. Other than the little I have on hand, I only have cash when I sell cattle or hay.”

  “I see.” As they drew closer, the house loomed like a castle. Excitement overwhelmed her. “Oh, hurry man and drive, I want to see inside the house.”

  With a whoop, Garrett clicked the reins to urge the horses faster. They rolled up to the front hitching post. He set the brake and turned to her.

  “Mrs. McDonald, you’re home.” He hopped out and came around to help her descend.

  She was still admiring the outside of the house when he took her waist and swung her down. “Oh, ‘tis a palace. I never dreamed I’d live in such a grand place.” She hurried up the steps and waited for him.

  He opened the door. “I don’t think palaces are made of logs, but this does seem like one to me.” Scooping her up, he carried her across the threshold.

  Laughing aloud for the first time in longer than she could remember, she held on to her husband’s shoulders. When he set her down in a small entry, she hurried into the larger room and stood clasping her hands to her chest as she peered at each detail.

  A large stone fireplace at one end would heat the entire room. A somewhat lumpy brown couch, two upholstered brown armchairs that had seen better days, and two ladder-back chairs combined to provide seating for six or seven but there was only one small table. An oil lamp set on the mantel and another on the table.

  Two large windows provided light but had shutters to close against storms. The ticking of a pendulum clock on the wall caught her attention when it struck the hour. Imagine such luxury.

  Apparently he caught her staring at the clock. “That was a gift from Amanda Kincaid when I moved in. They’re fine people and I know you’ll enjoy knowing them.”

  “And I’ll enjoy knowing the time of day in such a beautiful way.”

  He took her hand. “Of an evening, I sit here in the parlor. There’s not a separate dining room but the kitchen is through here.”

  A separate room for the kitchen? Everywhere she looked she saw something amazing. She raced from one thing to the other, unable to believe her good fortune in living here.

  “Look at that cook stove the size of a wagon. I’ve never seen anything so large and fancy. Water pumped in at the kitchen sink. The table would seat a dozen. Oh, so many cabinets.”

  He caught her hand as she twirled by. “There’s a root cellar below the kitchen and the entrance is here in the hall by the pantry.” He showed her the cellar door. “There isn’t enough water to make a cold room and no way to get ice for an icebox, so perishable food has to be kept in the cellar or the smokehouse.”

  She couldn’t help gawking as if she were an idiot. “And you have furniture. Did the Pickens family abandon everything?”

  “I told you they’d lost two children and then after his wife’s mother died of pneumonia, the family took a notion to travel to California. Less cold would mean less sickness, they said. Although they had two wagons, nine people’s belongings and essentials left little room for their furniture.”

  Her heart broke for the poor woman. Didn’t she know herself how it felt to leave everything dear behind when she left Ireland? “I do feel sorry for Mrs. Pickens. I hope she truly wanted to leave and isn’t grieving for her lost possessions. Often a wife has no say in whether the family moves or not.”

  “Come on and I’ll show you through the rest of the house. This bedroom off the kitchen was where the mother-in-law slept so she didn’t have to climb stairs. I guess it would make a nice sewing room.”

  “Aye, that it would.” She gave a joyful shout. “Oh! A sewing machine.”

  “That machine is the one thing Mrs. Pickens cried over. I felt real sorry for her, but the wagons were overloaded as it was. I’m sure they had to abandon things along the way to get over the Rocky Mountains.”

  “That’s sad, for with all those children she must sew a lot. Poor woman. Her loss is my gain but I feel guilty for rejoicing.”

  He led her to a room across the hall from her sewing room. “This is my office where I keep ranch records.”

  Behind the desk, a bookcase held a couple of dozen volumes. His desk was littered with papers and a ledger. A large chair behind his desk suited his size and a straight chair faced the desk.

  From there they climbed the stairs. He showed her four bedrooms he called small but they looked plenty nice to her. Only one contained a bed, but the others could be fixed up someday when needed.

  He paused in front of one door. “This is the master bedroom where we’ll sleep and the largest room upstairs.” He opened the door and tugged her inside.

  Seeing the room where they’d sleep together caused her face to heat in a blush that soon turned to wonder. “Such a large room and what lovely things. Surely the Pickens didn’t leave this furniture, did they?”

  “No, I had Gideon Walker build it. He’s a gifted craftsman who lives between here and Sweetwater Springs. He built a couple of rooms of furniture for Preston Kincaid and I remembered what fine quality they were. I wanted this room to be special. I know I should have saved the money, but I was so happy to have the ranch that I didn’t have good sense.”

  She ran her fingers along the side of an armoire. “I’ve never seen such fine work. He’s even masterfully carved the decorations that match on each piece. Buying this showed good sense to my way of thinking for it’s beautiful and will last for generations.” She remembered he didn’t want children. Who would he leave his ranch to when he passed?

  The blonde furniture consisted of a huge bed, two bedside tables, a dresser, a washstand, two chairs, and an armoire. A folding screen stood in the corner.

  “The Pickens left the screen. The chair in the corner is really a commode.”

  He demonstrated that the seat raised to expose another seat with a hole in the center and a chamber pot underneath. No need to squat to relieve herself.

  “In cold weather and at night, such a convenience will be a blessing.”

  She strolled to look out the window. “What a lovely view of the mountains.” She turned to address her husband. “They don’t look any closer than when I saw them from Sweetwater Springs yet we’re two days ne
arer.”

  He shifted from one foot to the other. “Have to tend to the horses. I’ll get the wagon unloaded and set the chickens loose in the barn until I can build their coop.”

  “I’ll help with the wagon. I’m excited to see what we have.” She was so happy she thought she must have died and gone to heaven.

  Working together, they soon had everything into the house or barn. While Garrett brushed down the horses, she returned to the house to sort through the packages.

  To have so much food at one time astounded her. She realized the need to plan ahead for the winter as her parents had done, but the quantity here still seemed a surplus—and the variety a surprise. She held a can of peaches, convinced he’d splurged on luxuries. By the time her husband came back into the house, she had put away the food, carried the fabric to her sewing room, and put away her clothes upstairs.

  In the kitchen, she gestured to a large wooden keg with a fitted lid. “I know these are beans, but I don’t know how to prepare them. If you’ll show me once, then I’ll be able to serve them whenever you wish.”

  “I don’t wish, but that’s mainly what I’ve lived on. Beans are the staple of ranchers and cowboys.”

  “They’re new to me. I bake good bread, that is, if I can master this giant stove.”

  “I’m not sure there’s much food left in Mrs. Norton’s basket, but we can finish it off for supper. There’s a smokehouse with beef and venison hanging and that’s where we’ll store the hams I bought. We have to keep the door securely locked or lose it to animals.”

  “I’ve not seen a smokehouse so you’ll have to show me. I know I’m telling you I don’t know a lot of things, Garrett, but I did live on a farm, just not as prosperous one as this. I can cook and clean and take care of chickens and pigs and milk a cow. You should have pigs because they don’t take much space and yet they provide meat.”

  “I’d planned to buy a few but I’ve not been able to manage yet. I’ve had so much to do that I’ve yet to get many done. There’s a pig pen ready. Come on, I’ll give you a quick tour of the buildings before dark.”

  She donned her new outerwear, grateful to have such warm things to wear.

  He opened the large barn door, causing squawking from the hens inside. “There’s a hayloft for storage, a tack room at the other end, and stalls for horses.”

  He stopped and stroked the head of a beautiful dun. This is Chief.” He moved to the next stall where a lovely sorrel nudged Garrett’s shoulder. “This is Sundown. They’re for riding. You can see Billy checked on their water and feed as I asked. You’ve met the two for the wagon, Brutus and Caesar. That leaves six empty stalls for the future.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “And, enough room for two milk cows.”

  He laughed. “Yes, there’s room for a couple of milk cows.”

  He fastened the barn door securely, locking in the hens and horses. “The next shed is the smokehouse. I keep a small fire going. Just enough to keep the coals hot enough to smoke the meat.”

  He gestured to a thin trail of smoke. “Looks as if Billy tended this for us, too.”

  She gingerly touched a lethal looking point. “Why are there spikes all over it?”

  He chuckled. “To keep out bears. They smell the meat and try to get inside. I didn’t know to use spikes and don’t think anyone else around here does. Mr. Pickens knew someone who’d been to Alaska and told him that’s how they kept bears away.”

  She scanned the area. “Have you seen a bear?”

  He put his arm around her shoulders. “Not close, and I’d like to keep it that way. They’re around, but they keep more to the trees and near the river. But, I’ve seen wolves, coyotes, bobcats, and cougars. A cougar is also called a mountain lion.”

  He turned her to face him. “This is serious, Gormlaith. You’ll have to carry a gun whenever you’re outside the house. You’ll be wise to have one handy when you’re inside in case of an uninvited guest.”

  She figured her eyes were the size of dinner plates as she met his kind brown gaze. “I see I need to learn to shoot but ‘tis foreign to me.”

  The thought of all the threats intimidated her at first. Then, she thought about New York and all the dangers she’d faced there unarmed and unaided.

  She raised her chin. “Sure and I can handle being a rancher’s wife.”

  “Here’s the pig pen that Pickens used. A few boards need replacing, but the rest seem sound.”

  She surveyed the pen’s fence and the small shelter. “Aye, this would be good for five or six pigs.”

  “There’s a privy around back of the house. The building down there is a bunkhouse for ranch hands but of course it isn’t used now. I sweep it out occasionally and keep vermin out. Also, make sure there are no leaks in the roof or windows to cause damage.”

  He grabbed her hand. “Let’s go into the house now. The animals have been fed and watered and now it’s our turn.”

  Oh, she knew she could handle ranch life. But, this man she’d married puzzled her. He spoke of being short of cash yet he’d bought her a treasure’s worth of clothes and stocked the kitchen with more food than she could imagine. He worked to build a dynasty yet wanted no children to keep the ranch going for generations.

  Thoughts of the coming night sent her mind reeling and set her nerves on edge. Recalling her other wedding night, she shuddered. Garrett appeared a reasonable man, but was he?

  Chapter Five

  Garrett woke with a sense of completion. He’d forgotten how good snuggling up to a woman after passionate relations could be. His wife lay spooned with him, soft and warm.

  Loathe to leave her side, he slid from bed to dress and go care for the animals in the barn before he took hay to the cattle on the range. He pulled on his clothes in the dark and fumbled for his boots.

  Gormlaith rolled over and sat up, rubbing her eyes. “If ‘tis morning you should have roused me.”

  Now that she was awake, he lit the lamp. What a picture she made with her glorious auburn hair around her shoulders and her wearing not a stitch. With a gasp, she appeared surprised she was in her birthday suit. She grabbed her nightgown and held it to her.

  Chuckling, he stuffed his feet in his boots. “I’ll go see to the horses. Ring the triangle by the back door when breakfast is ready.” He kissed her soundly and left the room.

  He mucked stalls and put down fresh straw, fed and watered the horses, and did the same for the chickens. He’d see to walling in the last stall for the chickens’ pen later today. Too cold for them anywhere but in the barn.

  Thinking back over the last few days, the changes in his life amazed him. He’d set out for Sweetwater Springs with no more intention than stocking up on supplies before another snowstorm hit. Within a few hours of arriving in town, he was married and headed home with his new wife and a wagon loaded with extra things like chickens and wire and feminine clothes and doo dads.

  Last night, she’d been terrified until he’d coaxed her gently. Her first husband must have been a brute for she acted surprised by their relations. She’d responded to him with passion. He figured he was a lucky man in that department, but suspected he was in for other surprises from his wife.

  The clanging of the triangle snapped him out of his woolgathering. He laughed at the term. He hated sheep, so he should give a new name to his daydreaming.

  ***

  Gormlaith was beside herself with worry. Though she was certain the stove was a wonder, she hadn’t learned to regulate the beast. After she set the food on the table she wanted to break out in tears. She’d so wanted to impress her husband.

  He came in and hung his coat and hat on pegs by the back door. “I’m hungry as a bear coming out of hibernation.”

  She wrung her hands. “Sit down and let me explain.”

  He took his chair and stared at the food. “Well, this looks different.”

  She poured his coffee and set the coffeepot on the table. “I had a little trouble figuring out this fancy stove. I
’ll learn to use it, but… well, today didn’t turn out so well.”

  He picked up a biscuit and dropped it onto his plate with a thud. He met her gaze and raised his eyebrows. “I thought you said you were good with bread.”

  “I am… I was in New York… and in Ireland. In those places, the stove was tiny and hardly compares to this one. I thought this big one would be easier and I’m sure the beast will be once I get used to the thing, but there’s more to regulate and figure out.”

  “Sit down and we’ll eat what we can.” He took a piece of bacon so crisp it broke when he tried to pick it up. “I do like my bacon crisp, but this is overdone even for me and likely to break a tooth. How are the eggs?”

  She twisted her napkin. “They turned out a bit better than the rest. And we have potatoes fried with onion. There are a lot of potatoes in the cellar and quite a few onions also. I remember you bought more potatoes so I thought you must like them.”

  “I do. I guess any Irishwoman knows how to cook potatoes.” He picked up his fork and dug into his food—except the biscuits.

  Throughout breakfast, she kept glancing at him but he didn’t speak. She picked at the meal on her plate. After he’d eaten his fill and had a second cup of coffee, he pushed away from the table.

  He rose and put his hand on her shoulder. “Save all those biscuits and put them in a basket by the door.” He kissed her on the head. “We can use them for ammunition if we’re ever attacked.”

  He donned his coat, clamped his hat on his head. She picked up a biscuit and threw it him. The missile hit him on the thigh.

  He used his hands as a shield, but he was laughing. “Ow, ow, mercy, please. If that had hit my head I’d have a concussion.”

  She threw another at him but he sped out the door, his rumbling laughter drifting her way. Ammunition indeed. She’d show him. She’d learn to deal with this beast of a stove and cook the best food he’d ever eaten.

  Still, she was relieved at his reaction to their poor breakfast. She’d prepared for him to yell and hit her. Instead, he’d made a joke. What an unusual man.