Montana Mountain Valley Bride (Western Romance)

by Maya Stirling

“Seems like I got the wrong idea, what with the way you spoke in the mercantile, and that ring on your finger.”

  “It’s fine.”

  Brodie frowned. If Bethany had no husband, did that mean she was living alone somewhere? He couldn’t figure it out. He was completely shocked that she was a widow.

  As if she had read his mind she said: “In case you’re wondering, I don’t live on my own. I have a son, Noah.”

  “A son?” Brodie exclaimed. “How old is he?”

  “Seven.”

  Brodie schooled his features. “That’s wonderful.” The more he got to know Bethany, the more questions he had.

  Bethany smiled proudly. “He’s a big help to me.”

  “That’s good.”

  Brodie watched silently as Bethany started saddling her pinto. Her sudden revelations had only intensified his curiosity.

  “Does he help you catch the horses?” Brodie asked.

  Bethany was suddenly made of stone. Then she turned to him. “Sometimes.”

  “I’m assuming they’re wild.” In spite of himself, and her narrowing eyes, he continued: “Where do you get them?”

  The instant the words had left his mouth Brodie knew he’d made a fatal mistake. He’d crossed one of her boundaries. Her brows furrowed into dark ridges. Breathing out one huge sigh, she took a step away from Brodie.

  “I have to go,” she announced sharply.

  Feeling like he was losing all the gains he’d made since she’d arrived at the ranch house, Brodie blurted out. “You know that’s why those three men were following you, today, don’t you.”

  Bethany said nothing to indicate she’d heard a word he’d said.

  “You need to be more careful in future. Those men were on your trail.”

  She glanced inquiringly at him. “Do you know who they were?”

  Brodie shook his head. “I can’t say that I do.” He hadn’t seen the men around town before today. “But, I reckon you should still be careful. You might have lost them today, thanks to the snow, but you don’t know what they’ll do when they see you again.”

  “Are you worried they might cut you out of any deal about my horses?”

  Brodie gasped. “No! That’s not what I meant.”

  Bethany squinted at Brodie. “Then are you saying you want to help me? To protect me against anyone who wants to steal my horses?”

  Brodie was taken aback by the forcefulness of her words and the sudden irritation in her voice. She looked at him just like she’d done back at the mercantile. Defensive and indignant. Coldness filled her stern gaze.

  “I know how to use a rifle, Brodie,” she said bluntly. “And I’m a pretty good shot with a pistol.”

  “I didn’t mean to suggest you can’t take care of yourself.” Quietly, Brodie told himself that was exactly what he meant, even though he didn’t want to come right out and say it.

  Bethany nodded her head emphatically. “Then we understand each other,” She took the reins of her horse.

  She quickly checked her saddlebags and then lifted herself up onto the pinto. “Thank you for everything you did today,” she said as she twisted the reins in her hands.

  Brodie wanted to say more. As far as he was concerned the situation hadn’t been resolved. He desperately wanted to help, but still didn’t know how. “When will you be back in Inspiration?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I can’t say.” Her lips formed a thin line and he knew she wasn’t going to say another word.

  Brodie stepped aside as she rode the pinto and packhorse out of the stable.

  Bethany paused. “Thank you for your help, Brodie. I guess we might see each other again.” She hesitated and then added with a note of finality. “Sometime.”

  With one final wave she dug her heels into the pinto’s side and rode across the yard. Moments later she was lost to sight around the corner of the ranch house.

  Standing outside the stable, Brodie felt a mixture of disappointment and concern. The impulse to follow her, to find out where she lived, awakened inside him. All he needed to do was saddle up and ride after her.

  He resisted the impulse, figuring it wouldn’t be the right thing to do. She deserved her privacy. He’d stepped over enough lines for one day, he told himself as he started back toward the ranch house.

  But he was sure of one thing. It wouldn’t be the last time he’d be seeing Bethany Hoxton.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Bethany headed north, away from the Cameron ranch, driving her horse at a steady canter. The snow-covered rangeland proved to be tricky to navigate, but she knew this land like the back of her hand. The only reason she’d gotten lost in the first place was because the snow had reduced visibility. The three riders had pushed her to take action to elude them. Riding along, she wondered who were the men who’d followed her. They were strangers, but she knew what they were after.

  The knowledge about where to find the wild horses.

  Bethany gritted her teeth and set her jaw firmly, focusing on the northward trail. If she had her way, no-one was ever going to find out where she got the horses, she told herself. Her existence and that of her son depended upon that fact remaining a secret.

  She made steady progress for about an hour across the flatland. In the distance she saw the mountain range with its snow-covered peaks and range of trees rising up to the timberline. She was seized by a familiar and very powerful longing to be home. The mountains were her home. Peering at the towering peaks and the steep slopes she sighed. That was where she belonged.

  From time to time, she checked her back trail. There was no sign that she was being followed. She was relieved that Brodie hadn’t taken it upon himself to come after her.

  Bethany thought about the brief couple of hours at the Cameron ranch. Those people were kind, she reflected, and she was grateful for the help they’d given her. Of course when Brodie had shown up things had gotten awkward. He’d taken a strong interest in her, but he’d also shown some respect for her privacy. He hadn’t asked too many questions and she was glad about that.

  At the end, though, just when she’d been about to leave, standing in the stable with Brodie, she’d seen evidence of just how concerned he was for her safety. She’d had to be direct. And she’d even told Brodie about Richard, her beloved husband, long deceased and greatly missed. Brodie had seemed genuinely shocked by the revelation that she was a widow. He still didn’t know the whole story, she reflected with sadness. If she had her way, he never would.

  One thing was for sure. Brodie would have been amazed if she’d described to him her current circumstances. Living in the mountains, like she had been doing for the last year, wasn’t the kind of thing a widow normally did. But then her life hadn’t been anything like normal for a very long time.

  Bethany rode on. The sun was beginning to sink below the western hills. She reached the lower slopes of the mountain range, riding carefully across the talus and into the thin covering of trees which stretched for miles along the entire length of the mountain slopes.

  Within the shelter of the trees, she found a stream and halted, giving her horses a rest and a chance to take water before the long climb. While she waited, Bethany checked her back trail once again. Thankfully there was still no sign of anyone following her.

  She mounted up, and started the long climb, weaving through the pine and fir trees, following the narrow trail she knew so well. The light was fading and beneath the shelter of the tree cover the air was getting cold. Bethany hunkered inside her coat and tugged her hat down over her ears. This was the hardest part of the journey.

  Onwards she climbed, stopping every once in a while to allow the pinto and the packhorse to rest. Near the edge of the timberline, where aspen and juniper trees grew in abundance, she found the narrow trail which followed the path of the uppermost covering of trees.

  She rode slowly westward, making sure the pinto stepped carefully as the trail narrowed. She rode slowly until she came to a cluster of massive rock formation
s through which the trail wound its way. Here she left the timberline behind and took the trail higher on the mountainside. The light was fading. Bethany quickened the pinto’s pace, knowing how treacherous the way would become once the sun had set.

  Both the pinto and the packhorse began to labor, their breaths forming clouds in the cold mountain air. Once, Bethany paused on a high ridge and gazed down across the distant rangeland. Over there she could see some of the ranch houses, like a child’s toy set, spread out on a carpet. And even further in the distance she saw the little town of Inspiration, almost impossible to make out from such a high vantage point.

  Resuming her progress, Bethany guided her pinto and packhorse along a trail which edged perilously along a sheer drop into a deep valley. This was the hardest part of her journey and it required every ounce of concentration. Her heartbeat skipped when, more than once, the pinto slipped on the trail’s edge. Thankfully Bethany and her horses didn’t take a fatal tumble.

  Bethany sighed with relief when she reached a flat plateau upon which were scattered Alpine larch trees which spread and grew on the side of a steep incline. Reaching the far side of the plateau, Bethany halted by an outcrop of large boulders. Some tall loose, broken branches had been placed between two of the boulders. Bethany pulled them to one side and gazed into the dark gap between the stones. The entrance was about ten feet wide and led straight into the side of the mountain.

  A gust of air swept over Bethany from within the gap as she took hold of pinto’s reins. Then she proceeded to lead the animals into the semi-darkness of the pathway between the rocks. Neither of the animals flinched as Bethany led them along the confined path. This wasn’t the first time they’d entered the narrow passage and they trusted Bethany’s sure guidance.

  The light faded as she walked deeper into what might have seemed to the casual viewer as nothing more than a mountain cave. But this was no simple cave.

  Bethany pressed on, feeling a cool breeze against her face as she carried on. Behind her the packhorse nickered in protest, but Bethany soon persuaded the animal to continue. Above her head, the opening in the passageway allowed some light down into the fissure. Onwards Bethany continued, thankful that, in spite of the delays caused by the sudden snowfall, she had made it to the cutting which led to her final destination.

  Finally, Bethany saw some light up ahead. She was almost at the end of the passageway. Relief swept through her as she led the horses out of the semi-darkness and into the place she called home.

  The valley.

  It was more than just a valley. It was a hidden place, a secret refuge, unknown to anyone else except Bethany. This was Richard’s true legacy to her, along with their son, Noah.

  After the civil war, and being determined to give his family a fresh start, Richard had brought Bethany and Noah to live in Helena, Montana. But town life had not suited Richard and soon he had become restless. During his wanderings in the mountains, two years ago, Richard had found this valley. He had been the one to bring her and Noah to live in this place, far away from what Richard had called the awful, corrupting dangers of frontier town life. He’d believed it was impossible to create a happy family life in any of the towns.

  So, after much deliberation and late night discussions, they had come to this hidden sanctuary. Bethany drew in a deep breath and let all the tensions of the day ease from her body and mind. It felt wonderful to be home.

  Bethany paused and gazed out across the place which had been home for almost two years. She was standing on a flat rock which hung over a sheer drop of around a hundred feet. From down there a broad plain of grassland stretched for half a mile to the opposite side of the valley. Right now the grassland was partially covered in snow.

  The exit from the fissure through which she had just led the horses was at the northern end of a long expanse which ended about a mile away to the north. The cliff walls enclosing the grassland rose high, hundreds of feet in places. To her right, the cliffs loomed, rising to an even more dizzying height. The valley was a natural formation, a cleft connected to the northern slopes by a long, narrow canyon which emerged out onto the northern plane.

  Groves of juniper and larch trees were scattered all across the valley. A waterfall, sourced from higher up in the mountain range, tumbled down a cliff to her right. The water gathered in a large pool. And there, alongside that pool, and close by a stream which wound its way toward the lower ground at the southern end of the valley, was a small, flat-roofed log cabin.

  That was where she and Noah lived.

  Bethany’s heart swelled with love and anticipation when she saw movement near the cabin. A small figure was busy tending to some chickens.

  “Noah!” Bethany called out. As her voice echoed across the valley, the boy lifted his head. Even from this far away, Bethany could see the smile on Noah’s face.

  “Mama!” Noah cried.

  Bethany started down the path to her right, leading the horses. Her heart was pounding with excitement. Relief at being home had loosened all the tension in her shoulders, too. Her footsteps seemed lighter now.

  Following the path through a grove of trees she emerged onto a flat plain which led to the cabin. Noah was running toward her. An eternity seemed to pass before Noah leaped into her outstretched arms. She hugged him, glad to be back in the one place where she felt truly safe. And where she felt truly happy.

  Bethany ruffled Noah’s hair. “Have you done all your chores?”

  Noah nodded. “Just like you told me to.”

  Noah took after his father in so many ways. He had the same dark hair, bright blue eyes and even features. Richard hadn’t had the freckles sprinkled across Noah’s cheeks. As far as Bethany was concerned, those freckles were the cutest thing in the world. Noah was growing fast and stood taller than most seven year old boys. He was wearing a buckskin jacket, woolen pants and boots.

  Noah took the reins of the horses. He and Bethany walked to the cabin. As Bethany and Noah unpacked the saddlebags, she ran her gaze around the valley.

  Just as she was about to ask Noah a question, the door to the cabin opened and a figure emerged.

  “There you are, Nate,” Bethany said.

  Nate Guthrie grinned back at Bethany. “You didn’t think I’d wander off and leave your boy to fight bears all on his own, did you?” Nate asked and grinned, showing his white teeth.

  Bethany looked, panic-stricken, at Noah. “Bears!”

  Noah giggled as he lifted one of the saddlebags from the packhorse. “Two huge bears attacked us this afternoon.” He smiled mischievously at Nate. “Ain’t that right, Nate?”

  Nate lifted a brow and peered at Bethany. “We’re just joking, Beth,” he stated in his distinctive drawl, an accent Bethany had come to love listening to in the two years she’d known the mountain man.

  For that was what Nate Guthrie was. He was an honest-to-goodness mountain man, the kind she’d read about in books.

  Nate had been living in the mountains for almost twenty years. There wasn’t anything he didn’t know about wilderness living. Nate had found Richard when Bethany’s husband had been trekking in the Montana mountains a couple of years ago. The two had struck up a deep friendship. And when Richard had found the hidden valley, Nate had helped Richard build the cabin and set things up so that Bethany and Noah could come and live here. Now that Richard was gone, Nate Guthrie was a real and important connection to her departed husband.

  “Has Noah been behaving himself while I’ve been gone?” Bethany asked as she handed one of the saddlebags to Nate.

  Nate glanced at Noah with a good-humored glint in his eye. “I reckon so,” Nate replied. “What do you say to your ma, Noah?” Nate lifted a brow. “You been following my orders?”

  “I think so,” Noah said, although he didn’t sound too sure.

  “What have you been doing?”

  “Chores,” Noah announced.

  “Uh-huh,” Bethany said uncertainly, and gave Noah an inquiring look. “Saw you feed
ing those chickens,” Bethany said. “Did you do anything to clean up the cabin. It was a real mess when I left this morning.”

  “You asking your boy if he did some housework, Beth?” Nate asked sounding serious for a moment.

  “I sure am, Nate.” She lifted her brows in a straight line. “Or maybe you did the cleaning up yourself.”

  Nate scoffed. “Beth. You know me. Housework just isn’t the kind of thing I do. I’m an outdoors man. Plain and simple.”

  “I forgot. You just like hunting bears, elk and fighting off wolves,” Bethany joked.

  Nate laughed, although he looked inquiringly at Bethany as if trying to tell whether she was being serious. Nate probably hadn’t cleaned the inside of a cabin for years, she told herself. He was used to the wild life, and knew places to shelter in these mountains that even a bear wouldn’t know.

  Nate had never told Bethany his true age but she reckoned he was around sixty years old. His stocky build was evidence of the physical demands of his life in the mountains. Nate stood around six feet tall and had even features, deeply ridged brows and just about the friendliest eyes Bethany had ever seen in a man. There was always a mischievous glint in Nate’s eyes. He possessed a good-humored nature and was well read, always ready with a tale for Noah. Bethany had never asked Nate about his past but she figured he’d come from somewhere back east. He lived in his own small cabin at the far end of the valley near the opening to the canyon.

  “I did make the beds,” Noah offered as Bethany and her son walked to the cabin.

  “Well that’s something, I suppose,” Bethany said.

  She went inside the cabin, giving the interior a quick once-over, just to check what had been done in her absence. Not much, was the answer she got.

  Still, although the place was in a bit of a mess, Bethany was proud of the cabin. Herself and Richard had put the finishing touches to the place, with some expert help from Nate. The cabin was about twenty five feet long and fifteen feet wide. They’d used logs from nearby trees to construct the frame and filled the gaps with some chinking, the mixture for which Nate had provided.