Montana Sky_A May Bride

by Kari Trumbo

  #

  After Randolph sent May up to rest, he waited in the lobby, watching for Mr. Hob and thinking a little too much about kissing May again. He shouldn't have done it, but she was so tempting, and her banter had set him off. If she wanted to be kissed... Montague would be unhappy about dragging the situation on longer than he needed to, but it was darn near impossible to say no to the beautiful woman. Especially when she'd practically asked him to do it.

  He let his gaze wander over the lobby again, but Hob hadn't shown up. If the lawyer was planning to leave before Randolph and May, he'd have to hurry. May would be down any minute and they would make the short walk over to the livery, then Hob would be too late. Unless he'd already left and was waiting for them outside of town.

  It was possible that he'd taken Hob's comments in the wrong light. Pleasant company wasn't something he engaged in often. He might believe that, if his feeling was based on just what Hob had said to him. But when he'd left his room to find the man manhandling May, he'd wanted to pummel the wily lawyer into little more than pulp. The red marks on her arm had infuriated him and he'd had to focus on anything but, during their breakfast.

  Too late to hide his own shock, May appeared in the doorway from the upstairs. Her flowing white and light blue summer gown seemed to float around her like a cloud. May was an angel. She moved with steady, graceful steps, her poise unnerving. He had no right to stare, but he couldn't have stopped if he wanted to.

  "Good day." She gave a slight curtsy. Up until then, she'd addressed him as Montague, but not now. Had she finally figured it out, somehow?

  He could hardly get the words past his throat. Lands, she was beautiful. "Good ... day. You look beautiful, May." His praise brought a healthy glow to her cheeks. How was he going to stop himself from enjoying their outing when he might never get such a chance again? He worked his fingers to the bone at the ranch, which meant he never had time to seek out the company of a woman. Yet, today he could.

  She took a parasol from behind her and leaned on it slightly. He hadn't even noticed she carried it until then, he was so consumed with looking at her. The parasol was a white lace, with some type of backing that would guard her smooth skin against the sun. Though it was April, she wasn't dressed near warm enough, though looking at her would keep him plenty cozy.

  "Are you ready? I'm rather excited." She smiled at him and tilted her head. Her hair was done differently than before, tighter to her head and coiled expertly. He wouldn't be able to get his fingers in it as he had earlier, and he found himself wanting to pluck the pins out and unfasten her plait.

  Randolph chastised himself for the thought. He couldn't have May. She needed to go home. She couldn't know that Montague had sent him instead, at least she couldn’t hear that confession from Randolph's mouth. She already felt unworthy of a man's attentions, and he wouldn't crush her like that. If Montague wanted to break his trust and tell her the truth, there was nothing he could do about it. The lie bothered him, more than he thought it would, but he was trapped.

  He held out his arm and she took it, using the parasol like a walking cane. He adjusted his stride to match her shorter one and they strolled up the street and over to the livery. Everything in Sweetwater Springs was easy to find, all on one street, so he hadn't had to ask. The livery was in plain view by the school and blacksmith.

  With the measured exception of yanking him into a kiss, May had been somewhat timid. That wasn't surprising since she'd come to meet someone who was little better than a stranger. But today, she'd come into her own. Her shoulders were back in defiance, and her cheeks were a rosy pink. Her eyes fairly gleamed with a captivating inner strength. Whatever she'd done while up in her room, had turned her into a woman to behold, and every man in the street noticed. And he didn't like it.

  He slowly moved his stride closer to her, so all would understand that she wasn't available to any of them. Jealous anger built in his chest and he couldn't explain it any more than he could explain what made the blood flow through his veins or made the winter turn to spring.

  They arrived at the livery and an open carriage waited for them. It was black with gold scroll work painted on the side, and a little door with three ladder steps to get inside. It was pulled by a single gray mare with a lofty bearing.

  One of the liveryman opened the door in the side of the carriage and waited for them. Randolph stopped for a moment, confused as to how they knew who he was, but May was already moving for the ladder and he had to help her up, or risk looking like an uncouth fool. He held her hand as she held her skirt and climbed in. As she was situating herself and arranging all that fabric, he turned to the liveryman.

  "How did you know the carriage was hired for me?" He'd never been a man to do much questioning, but he wanted to know what Hob had told them.

  "Mr. Hob told us to watch for a tall man and a finely dressed woman. You're the tallest man we've seen yet." He smiled, tipped his hat and went back to his business.

  So, the locals knew Hob. That didn't mean he lived there, just that he was there often enough. But what was the connection, and why was Hob so worried about Montague doing business in the area? It made no sense why a lawyer would worry about such a thing. If only he could remember Hob's visit to the Montague ranch in the past. He might remember something.

  The carriage waited, with May inside. She did her best to look nonplussed, but he could see the excitement in her eyes. She deserved this little bit of fun, since he'd have to take her to the train station the next day. His heart protested, but he had to think of his job. Montague had employed him faithfully. Didn't he owe it to his boss to do the job set before him, even if it meant he’d be lonely?

  Chapter Seven

  Her heart fluttered as Randolph—she now couldn't think of him as Montague—climbed into the carriage, his weight lowering the one side and set it to creaking. She focused on remaining seated and not sliding into him, at least until he was comfortable. Then she could slide as close as she pleased.

  Once he was seated and clutching above his knees like he didn't know what to do with his hands, May slid a little closer to him and held onto his elbow as the driver in front of them released the brake and flicked the lines. He was warm and solid. The air was still a little too chilly for the gown she'd chosen, but he didn't seem to mind as he bent his elbow to offer her a better grip. The farther they rode from the city, the more Randolph relaxed until he held his hands together, clasped in his lap, and gazed over the countryside.

  She tore her own gaze from him to enjoy the scenery. Montana was a wonderful mix of prairie and hillock that led to the majestic snowcapped mountains. The mountains were a little farther away in Sweetwater Springs than in Cutter's Creek, but the beauty was just as breathtaking.

  After about an hour, riding past a few large ranches and beyond, out in the open, they stopped by a small river. The driver glanced over his shoulder as he pulled the lines and the carriage slowed.

  "This is a good place to stop for a bit and rest the horse. There's a blanket under your seat and some water in the jar. There’s a spot down a bit, if you want to sit by the river. It makes a nice break from the heat of the sun and gives shelter in the long grass."

  She'd already enjoyed her day, but the driver was right. It would be nice to get down and warm up a bit. But for the fact that Randolph was silent and far too keen on keeping his eye on the countryside, and not her, it had been a most pleasant drive. There would be no way to lure him in if he never even bothered to glance at her.

  He dug under the seat for a moment, then sat back up, holding a lightweight checked blanket. Randolph stood and climbed down from the carriage, then offered his hand. As she clasped it, a jittery excitement burst within her. He flinched slightly, and she could feel him pulling his scarred hand away. She impressed his skin lightly, afraid that the old wound still pained him, but refused to allow him to think she was bothered by it. When her feet touched solid ground, she didn't let him go. He led her, hand in hand, a wa
ys off from the carriage to a little spot that was secluded from view by the tall grasses framing the river.

  Randolph let go of her only long enough to spread the blanket and set the jar nearby, then offered his hand so she could lower herself gracefully. He wasn't Montague, couldn't be, but that didn't seem to affect his manners. She curled her legs beneath her and took in the beauty of the little creek while he folded himself onto the small blanket beside her.

  Short bursts of birdsong drifted to her on the breeze, the dry scent of dead grass before it gave up and became food for new life, and the soft caress of Randolph's thumb on her hand exhilarated her. Water rushing over rocks created a soft, constant whisper, and bees stuttered over nearby flowers. It was all so relaxing and pleasant, and if Randolph had anything to say about it, it would be over too soon. He wanted her gone already, their little foray out was already asking more of him than he wanted to give. She took a drink from the jar and winced, it was bitter and warm.

  "Thank you for allowing me this, it will be something I can look back on with fond memories."

  She didn't say when I'm old and alone, but she felt the impending hurt and loneliness encroaching over her.

  "You seemed to want to see it, and I saw no reason to deny you. I did make you come all this way ... for nothing."

  She snorted, so very unladylike, and shook her head. May Rockford wasn't a genteel lady. She was a little brash and feisty, and Mr. Cade didn't know that yet.

  "You didn't make me do anything. I told Mr. Montague that I was ready to meet him, and he agreed ... hesitantly. But you would know that, if you were Mr. Montague."

  He shook his head. "So, you think I should remember every bit of your letters, is that it?"

  His words stung. There hadn't been all that many letters and she'd committed his to her heart. Maybe the real Montague had done the same, but Randolph Cade didn't care for her, didn't know her. Yet.

  "When are you going to tell me what happened to Montague, Mr. Cade?" She sat up as straight as she could and refused to look away from his eyes, not that it was much of a chore.

  His eyebrow arched up at her. "So, now I've got you calling me Cade, too?" His shoulder dropped slightly, almost in defeat, then he moved closer to her and reached for her. As much as she wanted his kiss, she wouldn't be put off again, and he was using it to hush her questions.

  "I think not." She held up her hand. "I already wonder if I haven't gone too far with a dangerous man. Tell me about Montague or I'll send a telegram to the sheriff in Ruby as soon as we get back to Sweetwater Springs."

  His jaw tensed and he stared at her, hard. His thoughts weren't on romancing her anymore, but on self-preservation. She could see him mulling over his thoughts in his intense hazel eyes.

  "Fine, but you can tell no one, not even Montague. If you do, I could lose my job, and it's all I know how to do."

  That might be true. Acting certainly wasn't one of his gifts. "Out with it. Should I be worried about Mr. Montague?"

  "No, you shouldn't be concerned about him. You should be angry as a wet hen with him. He sent me here to meet you because he got cold feet and couldn't face you. I'm sorry I lied and I'm sorry that I've got to send you home."

  At least Montague was safe, it was something. It would seem Cade was honest, despite their past. It did nothing to cover the hurt that quickly consumed her. She'd put all her eggs in a basket marked Montague and he'd tossed them out with the rubbish. May stood and turned her back to Randolph, facing the river, in case her tears would spill. He didn't need to see them. He was little more than a stranger, and she'd thrown herself at him. Just another embarrassment to add to her growing list.

  He appeared at her back and gently grasped her shoulders, imparting support without forcing her to look at him.

  "I really am sorry. I should've just sent you right back that first night, but he wanted me to be kind about it. He wanted me to make it seem like we wouldn't suit, so that you wouldn't write more letters, and so that it wouldn't hurt you. He never wanted to hurt you. He felt so guilty..." Randolph's words dropped away, but it didn't matter, the truth of them still hung in the air like a stench, ruining the whole feel of the glen. It wasn't just that Montague didn't want her, he wanted her out of his life completely.

  "I'll go wait in the carriage. I've seen and heard enough." She tried to walk away, but his strong grip held her in place.

  "It isn't you, May."

  She wanted to cry at the depth in his voice, but it wasn't for her, not really. All they had shared was a few minutes' walk and two kisses, all when she'd thought he was someone else.

  "I don't see how it could be anything but."

  He tugged her tightly against his chest and held her for a moment in his steady embrace. "You questioned my identity almost from the start, because you knew my boss from the letters he wrote. You knew his feelings and had an expectation of who you would be meeting. I didn't meet that. But I guarantee that he would do the same if he were here with you. Your letters were sweet, mild, engaging ... but lifeless. Nothing like the real May. If he had seen what I see ... he'd never send you away."

  May closed her eyes and let his words work like a balm over her soul. He was right. Randolph, for all his lies to her, had forced her back into herself.

  "And are you as much of a fool as he is?" She had to know, did she have any chance at all to find love, or was her last hope just as false?

  Chapter Eight

  Was he as big of a fool as his boss? As he looked down at the braided halo around May's head, he couldn't think. It was too soon, far too quick. No one could love that fast. But, did it matter? His mama had said love was a choice you made every day to stay with the person you got along with the best. May would challenge him, but he'd yet to see better than the woman right before him.

  "I don't know if I'm a fool or not. But I know I'm having a tough time getting you sent off on that train. Much as I'm supposed to."

  May's form beneath his hands went slack and he gripped her tighter, afraid she might just fall into the river. "May, talk to me."

  "She can't. That pulp I put in the jar of water finally worked. Now that she's quiet, let's talk, Cade."

  Randolph scooped up May's limp form and prayed whatever Hob had put in the water was only temporary.

  "Put her over on the blanket, she'll be back up soon enough, I should think." Hob thumbed the hammer on his Colt and motioned Randolph back to the blanket with its barrel.

  With May there, he didn't have much choice. He couldn't put her in danger. He laid May down where she'd been sitting a few minutes before and then dumped the rest of the jar on the ground.

  "What do you want with me, Hob. I already know you're not from Sweetwater Springs, I asked." He prayed that Hob would think long and hard about the fact that he'd asked about him, made that connection with someone who could trace any harm done to him back to Hob.

  "I want to make sure that Montague doesn't think he can nose his way in this far east. Land out here is at a premium. Lots of new ranches springing up all over. But I've got my eye on a spot out near Morgan's Crossing, and I don't need him coming in here and buying it all up."

  Was that all? The lawyer sure was risking a lot for a piece of land. "If you want it so bad, go buy it. You're slipping dangerously close to kidnapping here, Hob. I don't think they'd grant you the land if you're in jail."

  "I can't just buy the land, I've got nothing to put on it yet. Once my herd arrives, then I can. But if my cattle comes and the land is gone ... I'll be forced to sell them right off."

  It was all about greed and the one commodity that wasn't renewable, land. "We aren't here to buy anything. Montague asked me to come to see this girl, right here. That's the only reason I'm here. Go, get your land and prepare for ranching, if that's what you want to do. We won't be in your way, and neither will my boss."

  Hob's eyes gleamed. "She isn't from here. Why would both of you come out of your way unless there was a reason? A reason like you needed it to
look like you were here to see a lady, but what you really wanted, was land. You didn't look interested in her at all that first night when I found you, in fact, you said you had woman trouble. You didn't even look at her most of the evening."

  He had avoided her and had said that, mostly because he’d had woman trouble. May had been, and still was, too beautiful, engaging, and attractive. He'd had to ignore her or risk being drawn in. There was no way he'd admit to Hob that his boss had made a mistake. That would only fuel the accusations.

  "Then, there's the little matter of your acquaintance here not knowing your real name. That's also quite interesting and makes me question your story. So, try again, Cade. Why are you here?"

  His job wasn't worth his life, and it wasn't worth May's, either. "Wire Montague. He'll confirm what I've told you."

  Hob laughed. "And just what can I do with two lovers until I find out if what you say is true?" He tilted his head. "An old friend has a line shack just to the north of here. Grab the lady, you're going for a walk."

  If not for Hob's gun and May's presence, he'd punch the lawyer, just to see that smug grin fly right off his face. Randolph wrapped the blanket around May. It was still only April and the temperature would be dropping soon. Hopefully they didn't have far to walk and he could take care of her once they reached the shack.

  He carefully lifted her, but there was no way he could carry her far. He was only a man. Hob mounted his horse and waited.

  "Where did the carriage go?" He hadn't heard it leave, but it wasn't there.

  "I picked this spot on purpose. With the river and the surrounding grass, you can't hear anyone approaching, or leaving. I sent them on back, telling them that you'd planned for a little private time out here."

  Hob had all the advantages. He had friends, knew the terrain, was armed, and had planned in advance. Randolph was out-maneuvered in every way. Worse, he'd allowed May to get tangled in this mess. He should've sent her home as he'd planned.