“Don’t know.” Francis had yet to say a word since they’d headed out of the ranch yard.
“Let’s check it out,” Shad replied. They were now only ten feet away. The snow-covered object looked too angular to be a person or animal, but still they were curious.
Shad’s mount snorted and shied away. Using leg pressure, Shad pushed the unreliable gelding forward, encouraging but insistent when the animal hesitated. One of Shad’s specialties was finishing newly-broke horses; that’s why Luke had hired him on. He’d yet to start a new batch of colts, so until then, he’d been riding the less broke mounts. Putting on miles, making them dependable.
This particular gelding hadn’t settled in as expected and was avoided by most of the hired hands, which made the problem even worse. A mount like this needed miles, and lots of them, especially in every sort of condition, as the weather was today. Shad had chosen him for the ride into town, thinking the snowstorm would be a good training day. He hoped he wouldn’t regret his decision.
With a light touch on the thick split reins, Shad gave a gentle pull, which brought the gelding’s head around by way of his snaffle bit to face what was spooking him instead of letting the horse turn away. Horses were animals of flight. As soon as they perceived danger, whether actual or not, their instincts told them to bolt, to put space between them and the threat. That was, unless you trained that impulse out of them. This leggy chestnut had good breeding and was built well, but had the brain of a peanut. He wasn’t going to learn the lesson in one day.
Smokey rode right up to the scary-looking snowbank with branches sticking through white. “It’s just two saplings. One broke off and made a bridge, enough branches to catch all the snow.” He leaned forward and brushed away some snow, then gave a tug on one of the limbs. Chunks of snow dropped away, and the intact tree snapped up straight.
The burst of motion made Shad’s horse almost drop to the ground in fear.
Francis cut his frowning gaze to Shad. “Jeez, Shad, did ya have to ride that spook today?”
“Guess it wasn’t such a great idea. Wanted to get him some experience. He just might leave me in a snowbank.”
The howling wind and snow stole away his words. Didn’t even know if anyone heard him, but it didn’t matter. They were almost to Y Knot. He’d welcome a cup of coffee in Brandon’s office.
Shad hitched his head and they ventured on. A quarter mile out of town, he pulled up and pointed to the road ahead, which until this moment had been a beautiful undisturbed bed of white for the whole ride out.
“Tracks,” Francis hissed. “A hell of a lot of ’em.”
They rode closer in silence. The sight made a tingle of awe tickle up Shad’s back. He’d never seen so many wolf tracks in one place. The evidence didn’t bode well.
“How many you think?”
Smokey shook his head. “That’s some pack. I’d say twenty or more.”
The scent of the predators made Shad’s mount paw the snow nervously, so Shad reached down and patted his horse’s sodden neck with a moist leather glove. Here’s something you should be afraid of, boy. I won’t tell ya no on this.
They all should be troubled. A hungry wolf pack was nothing to trifle with. Single wolves could be a problem when their bellies had been empty too long. He didn’t like to think of twenty or more.
“Come through not long ago,” he hollered into the wind. “Tracks are still visible. By the looks of it, a fairly large male is leading ’em. I don’t remember seeing a paw print that size before.”
The falling snow was already covering the sign of the menace lurking in the trees. As if on cue, all three men glanced around uncertainly.
“Let’s get to town,” Francis said. “I’m getting colder by the second. Won’t be long ’fore you’ll have to pry me out of this saddle with a crowbar. Knowing you two, you’d leave me on my horse without a backward glance.”
Nudging their mounts, they moved along slowly as the visibility grew worse. Shad was hard-pressed to see his horse’s ears.
He didn’t like the thought of Nick and Tanner traveling in this storm. Surely his brothers would hole up somewhere and wait out the weather, even if that took three months, wouldn’t they? They were smart men, and he shouldn’t worry. But anyone could get turned around in a whiteout like this. More than a few stories existed about grown men getting lost on their way to a barn or outhouse.
Empathy for the cattle filtered through his mind. Going into this winter, the grass had been scarce from the hot, dry summer. With the frozen earth, many would go hungry. The thought rattled his nerves. The ranch horses too, the ones that stayed out. At least the McCutcheons had some hay stored. The feed in the pole barn at Covered Bridge would help, but maybe not long enough.
Poppy Ford’s smiling face appeared in his thoughts on the wall of white in front of him, chasing away his concerns for the livestock. More than the animals could be at risk. City dandies too.
“Almost there,” Smokey called out.
They rounded the corner into Y Knot, and as expected, Half Hitch Street was deserted. The freezing, howling gale had already whipped the snow high against buildings. Not a person was in sight. A window in the butcher’s shop glowed from within, but other than that, the places were dark.
“We should take the horses to the livery before we go to the sheriff’s.” Smokey pointed down the street. “We may be here a while. Then, if Brandon and Justin haven’t done it yet, we’ll go from shop to shop to make sure no one is missing.”
“Sounds good,” Shad replied, hunching against the cold. Getting out of this weather sounded darn appealing. A body could withstand this cold only so long. “Let’s get this done.”
Crossing Main Street, the three arrived in the undisturbed snow out front of June Pittman’s large barn that served as Y Knot’s livery and forge. Shad glanced down the street to Lou and Drit’s boarding house, hoping to see a light or two in the windows there. He had a special love for Lou’s beef stew and hoped she had a large pot simmering on the stove. When lunchtime rolled around, he’d be sure to check that out.
They were close enough now to see a light flickering in Brandon’s office.
“Whoa,” Shad crooned to his frightened horse.
He swung out of the saddle, barely able to clench his fist around the stiff leather rein. Shouldering open the livery’s large wooden door, he stood back to let Francis and Smokey ride inside. Once they passed through, he pushed the door shut, blessedly closing out the howling wind. The quiet felt good, although he still felt the imaginary snow beating against his back.
“Welcome, boys,” June Pittman called out as she strode up the barn aisle, pitchfork in hand. Her shoulder-length brown hair was a mess sticking out of her wool hat. She was a different sort of woman, a breath of fresh air. Her mischievous glance said they must look a sight.
Morgan Stanford followed at her side, his distinctive limp pronounced by the cold.
The scent of the hay, mixed with the lamp oil, was welcome. Shad took a deep breath, relieved to have arrived in one piece. “You have room for our horses?” Every stall looked occupied.
June nodded. “We’ll make room. They’ll have to double up, but that can’t be helped. I’ll feed and water ’em, as well.”
Morgan watched as the three began unsaddling. “What brings you into town in a blizzard like this?”
“Just thought we’d go for a little stroll,” Smokey said sardonically. He lifted the saddle from his horse’s back and slung it onto a nearby sawhorse. He laid out the wet blanket on top, and then crooked a wet eyebrow at Morgan. “Actually, Luke sent us in to check the road. Make sure no one was stranded. Don’t take long to lose your fingers and toes from frostbite.”
“Let alone your life,” Shad added.
“That was good thinking,” June said, receiving the reins of Smokey’s gelding and leading him away. “Seems we’ve been waiting on this storm, but now that it’s arrived, feels like it dropped on us out of nowhere.” She t
urned and gave them a look.
Her uncharacteristic expression caught Shad off guard. He’d seen fear, and something else, etched on her face.
She opened the gate to the second stall and pushed back the horse that was interested to see what was going on. She clucked her tongue.
“Get on back, boy,” she said patiently, pushing the horse back with a hand to his chest. “Go on. You’re getting a little company. No kickin’.” Smokey’s horse went inside eagerly to meet his new companion. “There may be a little ruckus at first,” she said. “But they’ll wise up soon enough.”
After repeating the process twice more, the five stood around the stove in the front area, the three ranch hands shivering from their wet clothes.
“Everything in town is closed up tight,” Morgan said.
“Have you moved into your upstairs living quarters?” Francis asked.
Morgan nodded. “I have. I miss Lou’s cooking at the boarding house, so I still take most my meals there.”
“You’re not cookin’ for him, June?” Francis asked, surprised. “He’s your fella, ain’t he?”
She raised one eyebrow at him.
Smokey turned to Francis with a smile. “Never miss a good chance to shut up.”
June crossed her arms over her chest, plenty comfortable to stand boot toe to boot toe with any man. “Cook for him? I say he needs to cook for me. That’s what’s holding up this wedding.”
Chapter Fourteen
In the quiet of her cabin home, Sally Guthrie, dressed in her thick coat and wool scarf, gazed into her small travel trunk, debating on what she’d need at the McCutcheons’. Roady hadn’t said how long they would stay, only that he couldn’t leave her here alone when a good possibility existed he could get snowed out. Besides, in this brutal cold, he had no way to keep this cabin as warm as he’d like in her delicate condition. She smiled over his protectiveness. At the moment, he was at the McCutcheons’, but he’d be home soon enough. Before the road became impassable for the wagon, he’d said.
Taking another dress from the wardrobe, she folded the garment and placed it in the half-full trunk. Her life had changed since venturing to Montana last September. A warm glow heated her face. God had blessed her and dropped into her lap a savior in the form of a loving husband.
She recalled the first few weeks after she’d discovered she was with child. She’d been an unwed mother without a future. Despair had almost crippled her after the attack that had changed her life. Mr. Greenstein, her boss at the St. Louis newspaper, might have forced his advances, but he hadn’t destroyed her. After realizing she was the only person who had control over her fate and could direct the outcome, she’d picked herself up, given herself a stern talking-to, and made some plans.
As I best do right now before Roady returns to find I’m not ready. He said time was of the essence.
Hastily, she chose one more skirt and petticoat, folded both, and set them inside. Finished for now, she went to the window. The large, delicate snowflakes falling from the sky reminded her of rosettes, the German delicacy Aunt Tillie liked to fry on holidays. Her mother’s younger sister often made a large batch, all dusted with powdered sugar so fine that sometimes it melted into the warm, greasy goodness before anyone had a chance to consume them.
Sally glanced out the window. The pines, covered in a white blanket of snow, looked larger, almost touching the sky. The tracks Roady made earlier to the barn were long since gone. Everything was still, white, and quiet.
She pulled her shawl tighter. As much as she tried, she couldn’t get warm. Even with the fire blazing and the cookstove loaded with as much wood as it would hold, her hands felt like two blocks of ice. She’d be glad when Roady returned.
The dancing snowflakes reminded her of a ballet performance she’d once seen in St. Louis. Since the tickets were much too expensive for her family, her oldest brother, Travis, had bribed someone to leave the alley door of the theater ajar. Even though she, Heather, and Anita had to take turns peeking through, the night was one of the most exciting of her life. Melba, her youngest sister, had only been five. Much too young, and her health too fragile. She’d had to stay home.
Realizing she missed home, Sally sighed. That didn’t mean she regretted marrying Roady, or that she wanted to go back to St. Louis. Just that she missed seeing her beloved family. Her mother wasn’t getting any younger, and that was a fact. And Melba, always on the verge of going to the angels, had only so long to live.
Movement on the edge of the forest caught her gaze. Nothing now, though. Her contemplation wandered to the barn. Another dark flash brought Sally’s gaze back to the timberline. Had she seen something move or had it been the wind in the trees? A coyote? Or maybe a stray steer from the main ranch? Impossible to say.
Her skin prickled, and she let her hand fall to her ever-growing middle, thinking of the little one nestled inside. She was being silly. As long as she stayed indoors, nothing could hurt her child.
Two riders appeared out of the wall of white. Both men, hunched in their saddles, their shoulders and hats covered in white, rode without talking through the snow that almost reached their horses’ knees. Close enough now, she recognized her husband and Luke. The men entered the barn without dismounting.
Excited, she kept watch. Roady soon appeared, and on his way to the cabin, he looked up and caught her watching. He smiled and waved. Eager to get to the ranch this morning an hour before dawn, he hadn’t taken time to shave, and stubble now shadowed his jaw. She admired her handsome husband, and then laughed when a gust of wind almost took his hat.
The ride to the McCutcheons’, although short, would be plenty cold, but she was looking forward to the adventure. Sally hurried to the door and greeted him when he stepped in.
He looked at her and then down at the doorknob. “Didn’t you lock the door when I left?”
“Yes, I did. I guess I forgot to re-lock it when I went out on the porch for wood.” She helped him out of his thick winter coat covered in white. She took it from his hands and hung it on a peg.
He patted her backside. “Be more careful.”
“That’s some storm out there,” she said, affected by his looks and the warm thoughts she’d been thinking.
Now divested of his snow-covered outer garment, he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close. “Warm me up, darlin’. I’m cold.”
All too happy to oblige, Sally rubbed her hands up and down his arms, and then pounded his back to get the blood flowing. “You’ve been out there a long time—too long.”
They kissed, something they did often.
He chuckled. “You’re right.”
“How’s that feel? Warmer?”
“Not yet.” He nuzzled her neck. “But gettin’ there.”
His frigid face sent lances of cold down her frame. She gasped and pushed him away.
“Fine. If you don’t want me, then I’ll have to find my kisses elsewhere,” he said playfully.
“And your goose will be cooked, if you do.”
He placed one more final kiss on her lips, his hands cupping her face, and stepped back. “Unfortunately, we don’t have all the time in the world. The snow hasn’t let up a bit, and the temp is still falling. I just wonder how I’ll keep you warm on the ride over.”
She glanced at the door. “Where’s Luke? Isn’t he coming in?”
“Nope, he’s hitching the wagon. We don’t have time to spare.” He glanced to their bed and the trunk. “You packed and ready?”
Sally nodded. “Your things, as well.”
“Good girl.” He looked her up and down. “Have on all the layers you can under that coat?”
She held out her arms. “Can’t you tell?”
He nodded. “Hickory will be there too.”
She smiled. “Wonderful. I’ll take along some of my favorite books, and we can work on his reading.” She went to her small bookcase, pulled out a few titles, and set them in the trunk.
Roady went to the window, loo
ked out, and turned back to her. “Have a surprise for you.”
She felt her eyes go wide. This man was a wonder. He never stopped trying to make her happy.
“Francis was in Y Knot yesterday and went by the mercantile.” A smile drew across his face in pleasure. “Picked up a letter for you from Mr. Simpson. As usual, it arrived a while ago, and he had it filed in someone else’s box. I hope it’s not important.”
“Every letter is important,” she said on a gasp. Over a month had elapsed since she’d had any word from home. A letter now felt like Christmas. She also worried about Melba. “Can I have it?”
He glanced out the window and shook his head. “Here’s Luke now. Grab several blankets off the bed while I put on my coat and get the trunk.” He quickly checked the stove to see the door was latched tight, and then made sure the screen was in front of the fire.
“Did you see who it was from?” Most likely the author was Anita, or perhaps Melba. Her mother didn’t have much free time to write after working to keep food on the table.
“No name, just a street address. From St. Louis, but not your home.”
She followed Roady to the bed and did as he asked with the blankets after he’d closed the trunk and hefted it into his arms.
No name? How strange. “I guess I’ll have to wait a little longer.” Sally pulled the door closed after Roady exited, locking it with the long silver key.
“Wait here until I load this,” he said, crunching down the steps. “The ground is slippery. I don’t want you to fall.”
Wrapping herself in her arms to ward off the cold, she wondered about the note. Her excitement about the visit to the McCutcheons’ was now overshadowed by something she couldn’t put her finger on.
“Morning, Sally,” Luke called out. “Everyone’s excited for your visit.”
“Good morning, Luke. I am, as well.”
He laughed with good mirth. “And the warmth?”
“Absolutely the warmth. But your mother’s companionship most of all. I’ve missed her.”
Montana Courage (McCutcheon Family Series Book 9) Page 7
