Montana Grit_Bear Grass Springs_Book Two

by Ramona Flightner

  Irene’s shrewd gaze met Annabelle’s. “And he loves another.” Her smile spread at her friend’s nod of agreement. “Good. That’s as it should be.” She rose. “If he has any sense, he’ll catch tomorrow’s train. Have him stop by before he leaves, and I’ll have a basket ready for him. You’ll be busy with the bakery, and I don’t want to add this chore to what you already have to do.”

  Annabelle swallowed her protest. “I will graciously accept your help.” She rose, grabbed the handle to her now-empty basket, and headed back to the bakery to reload for another delivery.

  Sorcha walked down the boardwalk, intent on completing her morning purchases early since she needed to care for Hortence so Alistair could return to the livery. She paused when she saw Mrs. Jameson, smiling with glee at her daughter. Sorcha slipped in between the café and a saloon so as to remain hidden and to overhear Mrs. Jameson’s conversation with Helen.

  “Isn’t it wonderful news?” Mrs. Jameson crowed as she clung to her daughter’s arm. “That man left town with that wicked woman, and now Mr. MacKinnon’s free for you. Just as I planned.”

  When Helen paused in front of the café, it allowed Sorcha to overhear the rest of their conversation. “What do you mean, you planned this?” An undercurrent of anger was woven through her voice.

  “You need a chance to show that man your charms without the distraction of that shameless hussy. I did what I had to do to ensure she left town.”

  Sorcha stifled a gasp as she canted forward to better hear their furtive whispering.

  “How, Mother?” A small stomp of a foot matched Helen’s terse question. “I thought we agreed yesterday to cease pestering him and to leave her alone.”

  Mrs. Jameson patted her daughter on her cheek. “You are so innocent in the ways of the world. A man such as Mr. MacKinnon would never look to another while continuing to be tempted by that harlot.”

  Helen held her hands on her hips as she leaned toward her mother. “Have you heard nothing I’ve said the past few days?” At her mother’s dismissive sniff, Helen said, “I’d prefer not to marry rather than trap a man who’d rather be with another.”

  “I merely gave fate a shove. Any mother would do what I did.”

  “What did you do?” Helen grabbed her mother’s arm to prevent her from storming away in indignant glory.

  “Your grandmother’s pearls were only gathering dust. I pawned them to ensure that man had the funds he needed to leave with her.”

  Sorcha’s eyes rounded as she heard Helen’s horrified gasp.

  “Those were mine—to wear on my wedding day!” Helen said.

  “Mr. Finlay was reasonable in the price he gave me. He was most desirous of them for his wife,” Mrs. Jameson said in dismissal. The town’s banker, whose reputation as a miserly, miserable man, remained unchallenged. “You’re beautiful enough you don’t need pearls.”

  “And you’re vicious enough that you’ll never see what you’ve lost,” Helen snapped as her footsteps sounded on the boardwalk.

  Sorcha eased from her hiding place. Mrs. Jameson stood with her back to her, watching as Helen stormed away.

  “Seems as though ye did no’ plan that well,” Sorcha murmured.

  Mrs. Jameson spun, her glare intensifying as she saw Sorcha. “How dare you listen in on a private conversation.”

  Sorcha laughed. “I wouldna call it private if ye are discussin’ it on the boardwalk for all to hear.” She took a step closer until she was nearly nose to nose with her foe. “How dare ye force Leticia out of town? Ye had no right.”

  “I had every right to save this town from such a woman’s presence. If I had the ability to rid us of the refuse at the Boudoir too, I would.” She held her head high at her proclamation.

  Sorcha’s mocking laugh provoked an irate blush. “Yer son would lose his prime means of entertainment were ye to accomplish that.”

  “My son is none of your business,” Mrs. Jameson rasped.

  “Just as my brother is none of yers,” Sorcha hissed. “Leave me and mine alone, an’ we might get along. If ye do no’, ye’ll have to deal with our wrath, Mrs. Jameson, and it’s no’ pleasant.” She waited a moment before she pushed past her. She stopped in at the butcher shop and the Merc before heading home.

  She paused as she entered the kitchen area to find Alistair, sitting at the table. “Where’s Hortence?” she asked.

  “Playin’ marbles.” He pointed to the parlor across the hall and frowned when Sorcha pushed on his shoulders so he remained seated.

  She set the basket of food on the floor with a loud thunk and sat across from him. “I have news.”

  “There’s nothin’ to say. She left. I was stupid to even consider chasin’ after her.” He gripped his fingers around a cup of coffee, his gaze as bleak as she had ever seen it. “She chose him rather than me. I shouldna have been surprised after Ewan told me that he saw her kissin’ him Saturday night.”

  “No, I don’t believe that is true. I think she was forced to leave. Or coerced. I don’t believe she left of her own free will.” She met his surprised gaze as she defended Leticia. Sorcha held up her hand and glared at her brother when he began to protest. “Ye ken I’ve never been supportive of Annabelle takin’ her in. Never wanted to see Letitica have another chance at hurtin’ ye.” She took a deep breath and flushed. “But I think I was wrong.”

  Alistair frowned. “What changed yer mind?”

  “I overheard Mrs. Jameson speaking with Helen today. The vicious woman pawned family jewelry meant for Helen to give to Leticia’s husband so that he’d have funds to leave town. With Leticia.”

  Alistair shook his head. “I dinna understand what ye just said.”

  “Mrs. Jameson funded Leticia’s husband. She is the reason that man had the money to leave with Leticia.” She met Alistair’s horrified stare. “Ye know that man had to have said or done something horrible for her to agree to leave Hortence behind.” Her eyes gleamed with anger. “Even I would never criticize her as a mother. She’s dedicated.” Sorcha swallowed as panic replaced anger. “He must have threatened her with somethin’ awful to convince her to leave wee Hortence.”

  Alistair nodded. “Aye.” He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I refuse to look a fool again.”

  Sorcha grabbed his hand and waited until he met her indignant gaze. “Would ye rather look a fool and be with Leticia? Or would ye rather hold on to yer mangled pride and be alone and separated forever from the woman ye love and be a greater fool?” She huffed out an agitated breath when he remained silent. “Would ye condemn her daughter to a life without her mother?” Her eyes held an echo of such an agony.

  “Ye dinna ken what ye ask, Sorcha,” he whispered. “I’ve already been …” He shook his head.

  Her eyes filled as her grip on his hand turned into a gentle clasp. “I will never say I understand what ye went through. Witnessing it was horrible enough. But don’t give up, Alistair. I ken ye love her, even through yer anger and rage and wounded pride.” She relaxed when he nodded.

  “Aye,” he whispered. “I never stopped.”

  She smiled at his confession. “What will ye do?” They shared a long look before he rose and marched out the back door. She sat a moment before she stood to put the cold items in the icebox. After a deep breath, she pasted on a bright smile and joined Hortence in the parlor.

  Alistair burst into the livery. “I have to go.”

  Cailean leaned on his pitchfork as he waited for his brother to continue. He watched as Alistair paced the long hallway, stopping to kick at a stall door before turning around. “Where would you go?”

  “They must have left on the train. I’ll ask the stationmaster if he remembers their destination and follow them.”

  Cailean raised an eyebrow. “Seems a lot of effort for a woman you were determined never to forgive.”

  Alistair tugged out a stool and flopped onto it. “Don’t, Cail.”

  His brother sighed and rubbed at his foreh
ead. “I can’t go with you. I need to stay here to run the livery.” His gaze sharpened. “I know now is not the time to make such a decision, but what do you want to do about Jack’s offer?”

  Alistair shrugged. After a moment he closed his eyes and took a deep breath as though focusing on the pressing problem of money. “What did Warren say?”

  “He can write up a contract that is favorable to us, although he agrees with me that $5,000 is excessive. He’s concerned that, if we accept that much money, John will be the majority owner.”

  Alistair looked around the livery. “I dinna ken if it’s even worth $5,000.”

  Cailean shrugged and nodded. “Exactly. Warren thinks we should accept part of it, and keep the rest in a fund for John, although Warren does agree that it should technically be in our name. Finlay will never do business with John, and that greedy banker would find a way to lose the money or rob John blind if possible.”

  Alistair grunted. “Why is it that bankers are always miserly bastards?”

  Cailean laughed. “I don’t know, but it’s as true here as it was on Skye.” He sobered as he watched his brother. “I’ll speak with Jack, let him know what we’ve decided. However, you must focus on Leticia. We should see if Warren will travel with you. I have a feeling you’ll need a lawyer before this is all over, and I’d rather you have a lawyer we trust by your side.”

  “We dinna have the money yet.” He ducked his head in shame. “How am I to pay for travel, hotels, and food, never mind the presence of a lawyer?”

  Cailean waved away his brother’s concern. “There’s money. Go to the station, determine when you’ll leave, and then return for a while so I can go to the bank.”

  Alistair frowned as he watched his calm older brother. “How can there be money when we are in arrears? It’s why we’re makin’ a devil’s bargain with Jack.” He shook his head. “We’re still paying off Sorcha’s and Ewan’s travel.”

  “Belle has money,” Cailean whispered. “The bakery is profitable, and we haven’t used any of it.” He glared at Alistair, silencing his protest. “Your happiness, Leticia’s safety, and her daughter’s future are more important than any money in the bank, Al. And now I know I can repay Belle with what we’ll receive from our new partnership.”

  Alistair nodded and cleared his throat. “Aye. Ye’ll be takin’ it out of my share.” He rose, stopping when his eldest brother gripped his shoulder.

  “You need never repay me,” Cailean rasped. “You brought me back from the brink more times than I care to remember. It’s what family does.” They shared a long look of understanding before Alistair slapped him on his shoulder and slipped from the barn and headed to the train station on the edge of town.

  After the short walk back to town from the station after purchasing two tickets for the following morning’s train, he saw Helen crossing the road. “Miss Jameson!” he called out. He hurtled off the boardwalk and dodged a carriage and a horse rider as he approached her. “I hope ye and yer mother are happy.”

  She blanched at his caustic words. “She is. I am not. I would never wish anyone to be consigned to a loveless marriage.”

  He laughed as he shook his head, incredulous. “Except me. An’ yerself. For that’s exactly what ye had planned for us.” He took a deep breath. “I ken what ye hoped, but it willna come to pass.”

  She grabbed his arm as he attempted to storm past her. “Mr. MacKinnon, I was a fool. I realized that, after we spoke the other evening. I tried to convince my mother that I no longer agreed with her. But she would not be persuaded.”

  Alistair looked at Helen with a mixture of pity and loathing. “I hope ye learned this lesson well, Miss Jameson. Yer mother isn’t one to take advice. If ye want something in yer life, ye’d better act afore she can mangle yer dreams.” He nodded once before he walked away.

  Chapter 12

  Leticia scooted next to the window on the train, intent on keeping as much distance as possible between her and her dissolute husband. He snickered at her movement, spreading his legs wider and keeping one thigh in contact with her leg. Her position placed her closer to the open window and the thick coal smoke puffing from the steam engine. She swiped at her cheek, grimacing when her finger came away blackened from the soot.

  The train slowed to stop, and she looked out the window for any sign that they were approaching Helena. Instead a small hamlet appeared with a wooden water tower. She sighed with frustration as the train had stopped numerous times to reload water for the steam engine. She watched as men called out to those on the train, sharing gossip and snippets of information about track conditions as the tank was efficiently filled. Soon the men waved goodbye, and the train lumbered into motion again. She turned her face from the window as a fresh blast of coal smoke billowed back from the engine.

  “You can’t escape me, Lorena,” Josiah breathed, his eyes closed as he rested his head against the back of the seat. “You’ve made your choice, and you must accept what you’ve done.”

  She gripped her hands together, jerking when he reached to hold one of them. She yanked until she was free from his touch. His chuckle made her shiver.

  “You always were a naive, stupid woman to believe what you were told.” He relaxed further in the private compartment he had reserved for them. “Even when we were first married, you were dumb enough to believe the tales I spun.”

  “Why did you want to marry me?”

  He shrugged, his hand now on her knee. “I saw you and watched you. It was unfortunate you were not easily led astray as you demanded marriage before I could partake of any … pleasure from you.” He smiled as he felt her shudder at the word pleasure.

  “Why me?” she rasped, unsuccessful in her attempt to force her knee from his clasp.

  “I needed a woman to aid in my endeavors. Your beauty and innocence were perfect foils for what I had planned.” He turned his head and looked at her. “And you were malleable. Pathetic little orphan, desperate for love, with only an ancient aunt peddling her favors to aged gentlemen.” He raised a mocking eyebrow.

  “I was not malleable!” she protested.

  He laughed. “Lorena, by the time you realized what I was doing, you were in so deep, you had no option but to continue your lying ways.”

  “I am not a liar or a thief,” she snapped. “And my name is Leticia.” She gasped and struggled but lost the battle to free herself when he slung an arm over her shoulder and hauled her next to him.

  His fingers dug into her shoulder, stilling her squirming as the pain slowly intensified. “You are what I tell you that you are. You are of my making.” His grip on her shoulder increased until she gasped in pain, and he turned her to the side so she faced him. “You ran once. You drugged me.” He leaned forward, his fetid breath fanning over her face. “You won’t have a second chance.”

  “Who really attacked you the night I left?” she asked.

  He snorted and laid his free hand over his abdomen. “You remember that bastard Mitchell?” He turned and met her gaze, nodding when he saw recollection in her gaze. “He must have figured out my scheme wasn’t all I’d made it out to be. And I miscalculated because he was attempting a scam on me.”

  She shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

  “You and I worked as a pair. We had a pattern, and we followed it. We never hurt anyone.”

  “Except for robbing them of all their money,” she said sardonically.

  He ignored her sarcasm and said, “Mitchell had a gang of men working with him. When he realized I was the same man who had robbed one of his men a few months before, he was displeased.” Josiah shuddered this time. “Displeased was his favorite word. It’s what he said as he had his men carve me up.”

  Leticia trembled.

  Josiah smiled at her. “It’s nice to know you still care.” His voice lowered, as though unable to speak of such evildoings in a normal voice. “Be thankful you weren’t home. They had plans for you too. As for me, they wanted me to bleed
to death slowly.”

  “Why didn’t you?” She jumped as he gripped her arm.

  “So you don’t care for me? You wish I had died?”

  She stared at him blankly, refusing to answer.

  “I didn’t die because they got bored and left while I still bled. I managed to bind my wounds and ride a horse to a doc in a neighboring town.”

  She shook her head and frowned in disgust. “Sounds like another story you’ve made up in an attempt to swindle me into caring for you again.”

  When he lowered his lips to kiss her, she jerked her head to the side so his lips brushed against her cheek.

  “Don’t touch me!” she pleaded as she wriggled in his arms.

  He threw her away from him with such force that her head thwacked against the window. “One day, when that bastard of a liveryman has faded from your memory, you’ll beg me for my touch.” He traced a finger over her quivering cheek, seeming to take delight in the tears coursing down it. “You’ll have to hope I’m still in a receptive mood.” He smiled as she shook at his words.

  His hand dropped as he noted the train slowing again. “Dry your tears, Lorena. We’re arriving in Helena, and I refuse to have our arrival remarked upon because of your hysterics.”

  Leticia scrubbed at her cheeks as she took deep breaths, swallowing her sorrow and despair. When the train shuddered to a halt, she followed him, grabbing her meager bag. She clambered down the stairs unassisted and trotted after him.

  Although a warm summer day, she pulled her shawl around herself at the lascivious, curious stares of many of the men as she walked behind Josiah. As they departed the depot, he reached backward and grabbed her arm, looping it through his. Men who had been on the verge of approaching her stepped back, disappointment evident in their expressions.

  “Don’t even think about finding a new protector,” he muttered as he tugged her alongside him. “I know enough about your past to ruin you and put you in jail for years.”