Big Sky Cowboy (Montana Marriages #1)

by Linda Ford

  Lonnie made no secret of examining the array of desserts. “You sure there’s going to be lots?”

  One of the men said, “Not if I get there first.”

  Wyatt laughed along with the others.

  Cora’s heart beat more smoothly than it had all morning. Perhaps she’d only imagined that Wyatt objected to the visitors.

  Everyone settled on the grass except Pa, who sat on a chair next to Ma.

  Cora wanted nothing so much as to sit next to Wyatt, but it would be unseemly. When Anna whispered in her ear, “Let’s sit over there,” and pointed to a spot close to Wyatt, Cora shook her head. “I’m going to sit beside the twins.”

  Anna pouted a little but followed Cora.

  After the food was put away, Cora looked longingly at the garden, but she could hardly turn her attention to hoeing while they had company. She suggested they go for a walk along the river, but Anna begged off.

  “My shoes are too tight.”

  Cora silently groaned. “What do you want to do, then?”

  “Sit here and watch. And don’t tell me you don’t want to do the same thing.”

  Cora quirked an eyebrow. “I guess there’d be no point if you have your mind set on believing otherwise.”

  “Exactly.” She plopped down in a spot that allowed them a view of the men shingling one side of the barn. Of course, one of the men was Wyatt, Lonnie at his side.

  Cora observed for several minutes and began to notice something. She sat up straighter so she could see better.

  Anna nudged her and laughed.

  Cora ignored her and kept her attention on Wyatt. The other men talked and laughed and called to each other. Wyatt did not.

  Why had he withdrawn?

  Chapter Fourteen

  The barn stood with its roof finished. Apart from doors and the interior, it was done.

  Wyatt admired the job along with the rest of the men. They filed past and shook his hand, and he thanked each one. They hadn’t been helping him specifically, but he was grateful Cora wouldn’t feel bound to climb up to the roof to help.

  Their arrival had been a surprise—a mixed blessing, to be sure.

  He’d meant to avoid meeting any more people and instead was surrounded by them. Friendly, inquisitive people who wanted to know everything about him. At first, he’d been able to answer without revealing anything of importance. The men liked to hear of his horses. When he said he was headed north, several offered suggestions for a good location.

  But when the talk turned to the robberies occurring in town, he knew he’d better watch his every word.

  The men loaded up their wagons and in short order they were driving their horses out of the yard. Wyatt had been aware of Cora’s concerned looks all afternoon. As if she wondered at how he’d pulled away from the conversations around him. He’d seen the determination on her face and guessed she meant to question him. But he could not give her an answer. At least, not one he cared to share.

  He decided the best thing would be to pass on supper and return to his camp, even though his stomach growled at the thought. Before he could escape, Cora appeared at his elbow.

  “I expect you’re relieved to see the barn done.”

  “Uh-huh. Aren’t you?”

  “Of course I am.”

  They were both talking to avoid saying what they really wanted to say. He wished with all his heart he could tell her the truth. Would she run away from him if he did? Or would she comfort him with words and touches?

  At the thought, his mouth dried so much that he almost choked.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” she said, and headed for the river.

  He meant to say no. He knew a dozen reasons he should refuse. Instead, he walked at her side.

  “It’s nice that you have friends to help,” he said. Would you accept me as a friend if you knew the truth? Would they?

  “Both Stu Maples and Mr. Frank said no one would help because of the Caldwells. I guess they were wrong.”

  “It seems the Caldwells have less power than they think.” These people were willing to stand up to the Caldwells. Would they be as ready to stick by the Bells if they were associated with a jailbird?

  As they walked, Cora paused occasionally to caress wildflowers.

  He glanced at the flowers, but they weren’t as beautiful or beguiling as Cora. Had she thought him silly to say the Bell sisters were like a summer bouquet? A long-forgotten memory sprang to mind and it tumbled from his mouth before he could put the brakes on his words.

  “These flowers remind me of a time when Lonnie was about three—which would make me eight. Our pa had just moved us to a new farm with his horses. Lonnie and I were out exploring and we found a whole meadow of flowers.” He remembered the vivid colors. “Bluebells and purple spiky things and little red flat flowers and tiny white lacey ones.” He smiled as he recalled the details of that day.

  “Lonnie laughed and spun around like crazy in the flowers. Said they were as pretty as a rainbow. A butterfly flitted about and Lonnie tried to catch it. He called it a butter bee. You know, mixing up butterfly and bumble bee.” He smiled clear to his socks as he thought of the joy of that moment.

  “Of course, we picked an armload of flowers and took them home to Ma. She found a Mason jar and filled it and put it in the window. ‘Now it’s really our home,’ she said.”

  His smile disappeared and his insides turned brittle. He did not want to remember what happened next.

  Cora slipped to his side and rubbed her hand up and down his arm, easing some of the tension. “It sounds like a beautiful day.”

  He nodded. He kept his gaze focused on the horizon, knowing if he looked at her she would see his pain and he would pull her into his arms, seeking her comfort.

  “Something happened to turn it into a bad memory, didn’t it?” she asked quietly.

  He sucked in air until his lungs could hold no more, but it didn’t release his heart to beat with normal regularity.

  “Wyatt.” Her voice was soft as the brush of butterfly wings. “What happened?”

  A shudder shook him from head to toe.

  Her arm pressed about his waist and steadied him.

  “Pa was in a rage about something. I suppose he was angry he’d had to sell the old farm, though it was nothing to do with me. Or Lonnie.” He swallowed hard. “He came in as Ma was arranging the flowers and grabbed me. Cuffed my ears for wasting Ma’s time.” His head had rung the rest of the day.

  “I’m so sorry.” She pressed her cheek to his arm.

  “That wasn’t the worst part.”

  She held on to him.

  He knew he should hold himself tight, not let go of his emotions lest they drown him. But he raised his right arm, wrapped it around her shoulders and breathed deeply of wildflowers.

  “He slapped Lonnie so hard—” His voice tightened. “So hard Lonnie fell to the floor screaming. Ma tried to stop him, but he pushed her aside and said if she ever interfered again he would boot her out on the road.”

  He’d forgotten that Pa had said that. Remembering it helped him understand why Ma never did anything to stop the beatings.

  “Wyatt, I am so, so sorry for both of you. That isn’t the way God meant for families to be.”

  “I know. I see how your family is. You’re very fortunate to have them.” He pressed his cheek to her head and let her comfort wash through him.

  “Thank goodness you and Lonnie had each other. You take good care of your brother.”

  Wyatt released her. “Seems Lonnie thinks I’m like Pa. I’m not, you know. I’m not.”

  She caught his hand. “I think he knows it. He’s just afraid to trust.”

  “I’m his brother. He should trust me.” He couldn’t disguise the pain in his voice. Didn’t
even try.

  “I guess some hurts take a long time to heal.”

  “I guess so.”

  She tugged at his hand. “Wyatt?”

  Slowly he brought his gaze to hers. In her eyes he found a store of comfort and understanding, and he allowed himself to soak it in.

  “What about you?”

  “Me? What about me?”

  She smiled gently, chidingly. “What about your hurts?”

  “My hurts?” At first he didn’t understand, then he realized he’d let his barriers slip and she meant to step into forbidden territory. He pulled his hand away. “I’m fine. I’m older. Been away from home for a bit so I got over Pa’s meanness.” In prison he’d met people even more cruel than Pa and learned to stay out of their way, though he’d never stood by while they’d picked on someone smaller or weaker. Guess that grew out of his attempts to protect Lonnie from their pa. Jimmy Stone turned out to be more vindictive than Pa had even been.

  She grabbed his shoulders and faced him squarely.

  He settled his gaze on a lacy flower over her right shoulder.

  “I don’t know if you truly believe that or not. But I don’t. Wyatt, I see before me a man with a whole lot of secrets and hurts. You need to let go of them and let people care about you.”

  His gaze met hers. Soft and inviting, full of comfort.

  “Cora.” The word grated from a tight throat. “You don’t know what you’re asking.” No, that said too much. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He stepped away, put enough distance between them so she couldn’t reach for him. Heaven help him, if she wrapped her arms about him and asked the source of his hurt, he might well blurt out the whole ugly truth. Would you still be so sure people should care about me?

  Would you care about me?

  He couldn’t live with the alternative—having her turn her back on him, knowing others judged her because of him.

  “We need to get back.” He waited for her to fall into step with him but made sure to keep a good, safe distance between them.

  When they reached the house, Rose stepped outside.

  “I was just about to come looking for you,” she said. “Supper’s ready.”

  “Thanks, but I need to check on Fanny. Make sure she’s okay. Tell Lonnie there’s no need to rush back.” He strode away without a backward look, even when Cora called his name.

  A can of cold beans and some jerky would have to suffice. At the least, it’d serve to remind him to guard his heart and his words more closely.

  * * *

  Saturday dawned with a festive feel in Cora’s mind. The barn was almost finished. She sang as she milked the cows. Today they would go to town. She meant to steal a few minutes of Wyatt’s time and take him around on her own. She planned to show him the house they used to live in, now occupied by another family. They’d go by the school and the little grove of trees in the back of it where she and Anna had spent many happy hours.

  She hurried through her daily tasks so they could get away in good time. Yet part of her watched the trail that would bring Wyatt and Lonnie up from their camp. What was taking him so long? He usually arrived before she finished the chores, but today the milking was done, the milk put to cool, the wagon loaded with produce to take to town and still neither Wyatt nor Lonnie had appeared.

  She was about to suggest that someone should check on them when a figure loped toward them. Lonnie. But where was Wyatt?

  Lonnie reached the wagon. “Wyatt says he can’t go to town. He says he’s neglected the horses and wants to tend to their needs today.”

  “That’s fine,” Pa said. “Is there anything he wants me to pick up for him?”

  “He didn’t say.” Lonnie shifted from one foot to the other.

  “Did you want to come?” Pa asked.

  “Can I?”

  “Certainly. Unless Wyatt needs you.”

  “He said I could go if I wanted.” Lonnie scrambled into the back of the wagon and sat beside Cora.

  Cora smiled a welcome even though her heart felt as if it had been gouged with a handful of spikes. But perhaps this was another way to get through to Wyatt. She’d go through Lonnie.

  But as soon as the thought came, she dismissed it. She would not use such devious methods. Instead, she joined in the general chatter with her sisters and Lonnie. All the while, more than half her brain and most of her heart lingered back at the farm.

  If it wouldn’t be inappropriate and forbidden by her parents, she would have asked to stay behind, as well. But all she could do was laugh and smile through the day. She did her best to do so, but a day in town had never felt so long.

  Or so unwelcome.

  They arrived back at the farm in time to prepare supper.

  Ma said what Cora longed to hear. “Lonnie, bring your brother up for supper. I don’t like to think of him eating on his own when we have such abundance.”

  Lonnie ran to do her bidding and Cora ducked her head over the salad she prepared lest anyone see the anticipation on her face.

  But if she hoped for a chance to talk to Wyatt alone after supper, she was disappointed. The girls were full of news from town that they were eager to share with him. Neither of them appeared to notice the distance in the back of his eyes.

  The evening flowed past until Ma and Pa announced bedtime, and still she hadn’t had a moment alone with him.

  She crawled into bed, pulled the covers to her chin and closed her eyes. God, how can I help him deal with his inner hurts? Oh, I know I am powerless to help him in any way, but I do want to see him open up. Please help him, and if You can, please use me to help him.

  Tomorrow was Sunday. She prayed Pastor Rawley would have words to minister to the brokenhearted, meaning Wyatt. That Wyatt would have ears to hear the words and readiness to apply them to his life.

  She sat straight up in bed. What if he refused to go?

  The moonlight through the curtains revealed both girls looking at her.

  “What’s wrong?” Rose asked.

  “What if Wyatt chooses not to attend church tomorrow?”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Why didn’t he go to town with us?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I get the feeling he’s wanting to leave.” Or at least distance himself from them—or her. She swallowed the thought as if it were bitter gall.

  Lilly sat up. “Surely not. Fanny and Bell Flower aren’t strong enough yet.”

  “You’re right, of course.” She lay down, not comforted in the least.

  “I expect he’d come if you ask him nicely.” Rose’s innocent-sounding words didn’t disguise the teasing.

  “I agree,” Lilly said. “Ask him.”

  She would.

  And the next morning she did. And he agreed.

  She smiled all the way to church.

  * * *

  Wyatt had meant to find an excuse for staying home Sunday. But when Cora came to the camp, looking like a pretty blue flower and asking him to accompany the family, he couldn’t say no.

  Nor did he regret it.

  Pastor Rawley spoke about the prodigal son. “I know some of you have prodigal sons or daughters. Are you ready and willing to welcome them home? Perhaps some of you are prodigals. Return to those who love you. It is never too late or too early to start over again. To receive the love and acceptance offered you. Often the first step is the hardest. But I urge you, don’t keep running. Isaiah 55:7 says, ‘Let him return unto the Lord and he will have mercy upon him.’” The pastor then went on to admonish each one to be prepared to welcome and accept prodigals. “Make this church and community a place where repentant sinners and returning prodigals find a home.”

  Wyatt listened to every word, his heart hungry for such acceptance. Would he find it in this c
ommunity if they knew the truth? He believed the pastor would live up to his words. But what about the others?

  For the first time since his release from prison, he allowed hope to creep into his heart.

  Hope rooted and grew throughout the day as the Bell family lazed about on a warm, sunny Sunday.

  Cora suggested a walk and he readily agreed, wanting to talk to her about the sermon.

  “I’m glad you came to church with us,” she said as they wandered along the river.

  “I am, too.” They paused to watch a crow and a sparrow dueling in the air, amazed at the boldness of the smaller bird. Then they continued on until they reached a row of boulders and sat down.

  “What did you think of the sermon today?” he asked.

  “I agreed with every word. People should be accepted for who they are. Backgrounds shouldn’t make any difference if the person is honorable and good.”

  His heart did a happy flip. “Even if the person carries a bad reputation?”

  “If the person is ready to leave that behind, people should accept that and allow that person to start over.” She turned to study him. “Are we talking about anyone in particular? You, perhaps?”

  He took one step into dangerous territory. “The past can’t be erased.”

  “It can’t even be forgotten.” She stared down at her hands twisting in her lap.

  She had a loving family and belonged in a supportive community. He couldn’t imagine she’d ever done anything she’d be ashamed or embarrassed about. “What’s in your past you want to forget?”

  Her posture pulled at his heart. Why should the subject distress her?

  She looked at him with her brown eyes bleeding pain. “I want to forget that my papa left the three of us in the middle of the prairie and rode away, never to return.”

  As he stared at her, his heart drained of all feeling. With each beat it filled again—with shock, surprise and wrenching sorrow. He could not ignore her pain and sidled closer to wrap an arm about her shoulders and pull her against his side.