Montana Sky: Hearts In Rhythm (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Entertainers of The West Book 5)

by Linda Carroll-Bradd

  That night, he filed into the ranch kitchen behind the other hands. Finding reasons to avoid being alone with Savina became harder each day. The evening meal passed with the usual conversation about ranch chores and genial ribbing of each other among the group. Estefan sat diagonally across the table from Savina and lost count of how many times his gaze slanted her way.

  “Tasty supper, Savina.” Trent scooted away his plate and rested his forearms on the table. “The corn on the cob really hit the spot.”

  Savina held out her hand to collect Gordon’s plate. “I’m g-glad you b-brought the ears home from the mercantile. We p-probably have D-dorrie to thank.”

  Grinning, Hans nodded. “That lady’s garden does produce.”

  “My favorite was Miss Savina’s wild plum cobbler.” Durham saluted her with his coffee cup. “Hoo-wee, that sweet-sour taste can’t be beat.”

  Smiling, she pressed a hand over her heart and dipped her chin.

  Leaning back in his chair, Estefan glanced around the table. In a short time, he’d become acquainted with these men who shared the work and appreciated the equine species like he did. He’d never have this kind of camaraderie when he joined the race circuit. Everyone he’d encounter there would be a competitor.

  Trent stood. “When you’re finished here, Savina, please find me in the den.”

  “All right.” A frown wrinkled her brow then she turned and moved toward the counter.

  “Estefan, may I have a word?”

  “Sure.” He stood and followed Trent down the hallway then got comfortable in the padded armchair across from the desk. “Do you need an update on the breeding program?”

  Trent lifted a letter from the desktop and glanced at the writing. “I heard from my father today about the transportation of the mustangs. He’s suggesting we share the cost of a separate railroad car from Sweetwater Springs to North Platte. From there, you’ll have to make your own arrangements. I’ve worked the figures, and this rental makes sense, especially with the inclusion of Savina’s two horses. Those bring the total up to an even dozen.”

  “What’s your opinion about her plan?” Discussing the details made the upcoming split all the more real. Estefan leaned his elbows onto his knees.

  “Don’t like it. Never have. I couldn’t tell you exactly how many people live in New York City, but I know the number is too high.” Trent leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach. “She’ll be too far from her family’s helping hand.” He shook his head. “But she’s a free spirit, always has been, and has lived on her own for years before her injury.”

  Hearing that didn’t make him any less concerned. “Tomorrow, I’ll ride into town and consult with the stationmaster in Sweetwater Springs about a route to Kentucky. Several transfers will be involved, and I need to know how much time to plan for. Then I’ll put down the deposit on a livestock car.” As hard as it might be, making definite plans was the next step. “There and back will take me two full days, maybe into a third. You’ll make sure my horses are tended?”

  “I will. Get a receipt.”

  “Of course.” Estefan stood and headed out, almost bumping into Savina as she came through the doorway. He braced both hands on her shoulders to steady her. “Excuse me.” But that was a huge mistake. Being this close and smelling her spicy orange scent jeopardized his self-control.

  **

  “My fault.” Savina’s cheeks flushed, but she kept her gaze averted. Honoring Estefan’s obvious attempt to put distance between them was harder than she expected. But the logic couldn’t be denied. Their stated goals took them on separate paths.

  “Come and have a seat, Savina.” Trent gestured toward the emptied chair.

  Before she sat, she glanced over her shoulder and spotted Estefan lingering in the doorway, watching. Her breath caught. How she wished he wouldn’t do that. “What d-did you need, Trent?”

  “I picked up a letter for you today.” He extended an envelope. “From my mother.”

  “Thanks.” She grasped the other end and tugged it from his grip. “I’ve b-been waiting for this to arrive.” Although anxious to learn Aunt Kay’s response, she preferred to read it in private. She lowered it to her lap. “Anything else?”

  “I’m concerned you haven’t thought through your plan.” His hazel eyes drew into a squint. Leaning forward, he braced his forearms on top of the desk. “New York is a big city, and you’ll arrive not knowing a single soul.”

  “I know all this, b-but d-don’t you see?” What explanation would make sense? She licked her lips. Explaining to Estefan was easy, because he had goals that didn’t involve staying on a plot of land forever. “The life I trained for is g-gone. My foot c-can’t withstand the rigorous rehearsals needed to d-dance b-ballet. Trying for a p-place in the Wild West show lets me use that training. D-dancing is p-part of what makes me who I am. Without it, what would I do?” Really, the question is, who would I be? She sucked in a breath and reached out to cover Trent’s hand. “D-didn’t you wonder if you c-could manage the ranch?”

  His brows wrinkled before he nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

  “Well, I wonder if I c-can make a new c-career.” Especially since her stutter kept her from becoming an actress. Being a member of a theatrical community was the only paying job she’d ever had.

  “Understood. Now, next topic. Estefan and I are making arrangements to transport the mustangs and his horses to North Platte. You and your horses will accompany us to that point. I estimate we’ll be leaving within the week.” Eyebrow lifted, he pointed toward the envelope. “Unless something my mother wrote changes that.”

  Nine days later, Savina looked out the window of the eastbound Central Pacific train and watched the buildings of North Platte, Nebraska disappear from sight. While on the Rolling M and anticipating this journey, she’d figured striking out on her own again would be easy. Previously what lay ahead had always been the lure that kept her focused forward. Waving goodbye to Aunt Kay, Uncle Perry, and Trent at the depot proved tougher than she imagined. The day’s layover on the North-Cody ranch accomplished her objective of demonstrating her routine to her relatives. Their compliments of “exciting” and “thrilling” boosted her confidence, but Trent’s statement about her not knowing a soul in her destination nagged her thoughts.

  True to his promise in the last letter, Uncle Perry provided a groom by the name of Bud Johnson to help with the horses. His assistance would prove invaluable when train transfers had to be made. Aunt Kay pulled her aside and stuffed money into her hand, saying, “In case of an emergency.” Trent lamented the loss of her cooking expertise, but he whispered gruff best wishes while squeezing her in a farewell embrace. The Melbyrnes’ caring support almost made up for her own family’s indifference toward her desire for her own career.

  At the Grand Island stop, a woman boarded to sell sandwiches and fruit. Although Savina hadn’t seen Estefan for hours, she bought food for three people and asked the woman to deliver two portions to the men in the livestock car. Without much of an appetite, Savina nibbled at the ham sandwich, knowing she needed to keep up her strength. This trip swallowed most of her savings, and she couldn’t afford to fall ill. From this point on, she had to count on her abilities and talents to provide her living. No more relying on the security of family.

  Darkness had robbed the passengers of a view of the prairie for many hours when Estefan slipped into the opposite seat and crossed his boot over his knee.

  Scents of horses and fresh air wafted to her nose. Straightening her slouch, she lifted her head from resting against the cool window. “D-did you receive the food I p-paid f-for?” His gray shirt with the short stand-up collar complimented his dark trousers. He was the perfect image of a successful businessman. A glance at the silver decorations on his belt reminded her she’d never asked what they were called. She’d miss his occasional phrases in his native language.

  “We did, and Bud sends his thanks.” After removing his hat and setting it on the
seat, he ran a hand through his hair. A straight piece flopped over his forehead. “I appreciate you thinking of us back there.”

  No reason to reveal he’d been a primary subject of her thoughts for the past month. “Everyone needs to eat.”

  “Your family seems nice, and they sure are proud of you.”

  Being together in the passenger car with others only a bench or two away wasn’t relaxed like it was on the ranch. Her heart ached at seeing the distant man before her. “I p-promised to stay in touch.”

  “Did you hear?” A smile flashed for a brief instant. “Perry said he’d put in a good word about my Appaloosas to Cody. Plus he’ll be seeing Clavo and Canela in the flesh.”

  “I’m happy for you.” And she truly was, even if her throat tightened. She wanted the train to stop its ceaseless chug-a-chugging eastward. The desire to return to the Rolling M Ranch overwhelmed her. She could keep practicing to perfect her technique—a couple dance steps had taken her months, not weeks, to learn. Estefan could work longer with the three year olds to shave precious seconds off their racing times. By attending Dorrie’s last dance of the season in September, maybe she and Estefan could recapture those special feelings. Unfortunately, their decisions had been made, and their paths were diverging. For each of them to achieve their separate goals, they must. Thinking about this conundrum made her head throb. “I’m tired and think I’ll rest.”

  “Want a pillow?” He tapped his arm and then scooted next to her.

  Savina stiffened, knowing she should move away. Neither of them had spoken aloud what they really meant. But she feared her true feelings shone from her eyes. In a few hours, they’d part—her traveling north to a connection in Chicago, and him heading south. She hadn’t wanted to know where. They’d not likely meet again…ever. For that very reason, she pulled out the hat pin, stuck it into the band, and tossed her hat with the silk roses next to his. Then she laid her cheek against his arm, felt the sturdiness of solid muscle, inhaled his familiar rosemary scent, and let out a long sigh. In the lonely nights ahead, she’d appreciate having this memory.

  At some point farther along the route, the hiss of brakes and screech of protesting metal jolted her awake.

  “End of the line, folks.” A conductor strode down the middle aisle. “We’ve reached Omaha. Everyone out.”

  Sometime during her nap, she’d burrowed her left hand into the crook of his arm and her other hand lay covered by Estefan’s. Rolling her shoulders, she straightened, disentangled herself, and looked around. Shades covered the windows, but no light showed at the edges. “What time is it?”

  After standing, he pulled out a pocket watch and squinted at the face. “Quarter past two.” He ran a hand over his face, rasping across dark beard stubble.

  All around them, slow-moving passengers gathered their belongings from the overhead racks or under the seats before trudging down the aisle.

  “Is this valise yours?” Estefan pointed to the battered leather case above.

  Small talk that a stranger might utter. Savina just nodded and let him carry her luggage. She picked up her hat and collected her reticule then followed him to the exit. Even at this early morning hour, people walked this way and that over the platform. Painted wooden signs declaring the name of cities at the top of poles pointed in various directions. A uniformed man stood where two paths intersected, looking ready to help confused travelers. Everyone seemed intent on a task.

  Someone bumped her side, and she stumbled forward. A strong arm at her back propelled her toward the side of the depot, out of the foot traffic.

  Estefan set the valise against the building then he paced away a few steps and returned. “I thought by keeping my distance, this circumstance”—he pointed a stiff finger between them—“would be easier.”

  So he does care—a little, at least. Her heart rate danced through her body. “I appreciate those words. I value all you taught me.” Fighting against what looking him in the eye would reveal, she forced up her chin. But she wasn’t ready for the anguish in his dark gaze. An ache lodged in her chest. “G-good luck with your races.”

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her close, his kiss demanding a reaction. “Saying goodbye is tearing me up inside.”

  Pulse tripping at the intensity of his kiss, she closed her eyes for a moment. Savina clung to the back of his jacket, an ear pressed over his chest. “F-for me, as well.” Pain seized her lungs, and she worried about getting a full breath.

  His arms encircled her shoulders. Estefan groaned and rested his chin on her head. “I don’t want to let you go.”

  Then don’t! A lump formed in her throat, and she licked her lips. No, her stutter would not block what she had to say. She cleared her throat. “We m-must honor our g-g-goals. All of our t-training and p-practice c-c-cannot b-be for n-naught.”

  A rhythmic humming sounded as Estefan stroked her back in slow circles. “I refuse to say goodbye.”

  Heat from his touch seeped through her clothes. Rumbling emanated from his chest, and she felt the vibration. The tune was like the last one from the dance. Savina gulped a deep breath and blew it out slowly, relaxing her throat and loosening her tongue. “Your h-hard w-work should b-be recognized. Winning a race will b-be further p-proof.”

  Nodding, he eased his embrace and cupped her chin. Dark brows wrinkled over his intense gaze. “And your talent should be shared and enjoyed by big audiences.”

  Who would provide her with needed support in New York City? She had come to rely on his approving nods and smiling gazes. Looking into his dark eyes, she drew strength and nodded.

  “Stay in touch with Trent, and I will contact you again.” His fingers caressed her cheek then rubbed a stray tendril of her hair and lifted it to his nose. He inhaled. “This is not the end, Savina Lombard. I won’t let it be, mi mariposa.”

  “How w-will I learn about your races? About your p-progress?” About your life. Off-balance, she gripped a handful of his shirt, as if he was her anchor after she’d spun too many pirouettes. How had she ever thought she could approach such an established performing troupe alone? Would her skills be impressive in a big production?

  “We’ll read the newspapers to learn the outcomes.”

  A tenuous connection, but a feasible one at a moment when she couldn’t think straight. Right now, right this moment, was goodbye. The man she had fallen in love with would get on a train and chug in the opposite direction. Within hours, she’d have no notion of where he was or how he was feeling. After his first race, the distance separating them would only grow larger, because they hadn’t talked about a race location past Kentucky. Hot tears burned her eyes, but she refuse to let them fall. This was her choice, and she had to live with it. “I c-can’t leave. You have to b-be the one to walk away.”

  “I’ve worked hard to get to this point.” His narrowed gaze focused on her face.

  “I know you have.” They’d had this conversation before while walking horses to cool them after a practice session. She remembered. That he needed to repeat it showed how he struggled with what she knew must be done.

  He cupped her face in his hands and held tight. “My ideas are sound, but the only thing that will convince my father is a race trophy. A win in a top race will prove my pacers are as good as his trotters.”

  “G-go, I w-want you to.” Bending her knees, she moved from his grasp and braced a hand against the depot wall. “I’m j-just not strong enough…n-not yet.” Selfishly, she wanted the last sight of his tall form to be as he moved toward what he wanted most in the world—to challenge his horses against the best in the racing field. To be honest, she wanted the same thing. He would never see himself as much of a man if he couldn’t prove himself to his father.

  With hands jammed on his hips, he threw back his head and let out a groan. Then he squared his shoulders and leveled his gaze. “I will save every article I get my hands on about your participation in the Wild West performances.”

  Her stomach jetéd, an
d her breath hitched. “And I will read about your races.” The tears she fought against welled and blurred his image. She bit the inside of her cheek, hoping the pain would shock her system into stopping.

  “Buenas noches, mi corazon.” Sweeping his hat off his head, he bent low from the waist, tucking his other hand at his back.

  Biting back a sob, she matched his grand gesture with a low curtsey. The finality of their separation grabbed her throat and pinched. By the time she lifted her head, all she could see was his tall confident body moving in and out of the circles of light cast by lanterns hanging from poles. Until he blended with the early hour darkness and was gone.

  Au revoir, my love. May you achieve your heart’s desire.

  Chapter Eight

  A week later, Estefan dragged himself upright on the canvas cot and scrubbed both hands over his face. Sleeping in front of his horses’ adjoining stalls was not ideal, but at least he’d finally reached The Red Mile. Traveling from Omaha took longer than he planned, due to unreliable railroad connections and long layovers between trains. The cars for transporting livestock were often overcrowded. During the trip, he forgot meals as often as he remembered, mainly because vendors serving the train passengers neglected to stop at the livestock cars. His loss of five or ten pounds would help the pacers’ time.

  Today was his only opportunity to practice before tomorrow’s race. Running on the track’s red clay would be different than the Rolling M’s rougher pasture—easier if it stayed dry, but tougher if rain fell. He hoped to get in two two-hour sessions for each team. Already, his muscles protested at the reality of eight hours bouncing on the sulky’s seat. After performing his morning ablutions with a sliver of soap, a ragged towel, and a bucket of cold water, he went in search of a food vendor. He thought fondly of the hot breakfasts Savina served. For a moment, he wished for time to roll back to those weeks on the ranch. But that wouldn’t achieve his goal.