Wild Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series)

by Debra Holland

  She tried to set her fears for Lizzy's health aside. After all, the child looked healthy.

  Dark brown hair curled around a delicate face. Long brown lashes lowered shyly over big blue eyes, and a few freckles sprinkled across her tiny nose. Unlike the sturdy bodies of the two older children, Lizzy was small-boned.

  Elizabeth found herself tumbling into love with the beautiful little girl. She longed to pick her up, but judged it best to wait until the little girl felt more comfortable with her.

  "Hello, Lizzy, I'm your Aunt Elizabeth," she said. "When I was your age, everyone called me Beth. Sometimes your Mama still calls me Beth."

  Lizzy gave her a brief smile before once again ducking out of sight behind her mother. Elizabeth straightened up and smiled at Pamela. "I guess it'll take a while for her to get used to me."

  "Just give her some time." Pamela wrapped her arm around Elizabeth's waist and led her to the house. "You must be exhausted," she said with sympathy. "Which would you like first--a rest, a bath, or food?"

  "A bath would be heaven. I've wanted to crawl out of my skin for the last two days! After that I'd like to sleep."

  "I thought you'd feel that way," Pamela replied with a laugh. "I remember how it was for me. The tub is already in your room. I just need to send up hot water."

  "Pamela, you're an angel." Elizabeth put her hand over Pamela's. "I can't wait to see your home, get acquainted with your children, and talk with you, but first I simply must scrub myself clean."

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a suppressed smile from Nick. Heat seeped into her cheeks. How could she have so forgotten herself? She couldn't believe she'd just spoken in such a personal way about her body. And in the presence of men! Avoiding Nick's eyes, she turned toward Pamela and said with forced gaiety, "Lead the way."

  The two women entered the house. Elizabeth's possessions followed in a grand procession. John and Nick each carried one end of a trunk, and all of the children insisted on helping. Even Lizzy hugged the hatbox to her chest.

  Elizabeth scarcely had time to notice any details in the broad entryway before the chattering group swept her up the stairs. They trooped along a wide hall. Through canted doors, she glimpsed simple pine beds covered in colorful quilts.

  "The children's rooms," Pamela said with a gesture toward the open doors. "I'll show you around later.

  "I look forward to the tour."

  "And this will be your room." She opened a door and ushered Elizabeth inside. The procession followed them into the spacious room and deposited her belongings on the polished plank floor.

  "I'll go get that last trunk," Nick said, and left.

  John pushed the other trunk into the corner next to an armoire, then stacked her carpetbag, satchel, and the hatbox on top.

  In a few minutes Nick reappeared carrying the trunk. He made it look so easy, but Elizabeth knew its weight.

  "Look out, children." She herded them out of the way. "How about that wall, Nick?" she asked, pointing to the only available space. He lowered the trunk.

  John cleared his throat. "I'll take the children and leave you in my wife's capable hands, Elizabeth. We'll see you at dinner if you're up to joining us."

  Elizabeth smiled in acknowledgement, and he ushered the children out of the room. Before leaving, Nick sent her his shy smile and touched his hat. Something about his smile elicited an answering one from her. For a few seconds, she forgot the clamor around her. "Thank you for your help, Nick," she said. "You provided a lovely introduction to Montana."

  Behind Nick's retreating back, Pamela cocked a questioning eyebrow.

  Once again, Elizabeth's cheeks warmed. She rushed into an explanation. "He stopped to show me the view of the ranch from the top of the valley. I must confess, at first I was a little rude to him." She hoped Pamela would attribute Elizabeth's pink cheeks to her confession of discourteous behavior and not anything else. Not, of course, that there’s anything else to it.

  "Stopping like that sounds a little unusual for Nick," Pamela said. "He's usually reserved around strangers, especially women."

  Elizabeth was eager to turn the subject away from Nick. Finally she could ask the questions she'd bottled up for the last hour. "Pamela, there's something I must ask you. In town, I caught a glimpse of a man who looked strikingly like Richard."

  The look on Pamela's face changed from curiosity to concern. Her gaze dropped to Elizabeth's gold locket, then flitted back to her face. "You must have seen our banker, Caleb Livingston."

  "I almost fainted from shock! Nick actually had to support me." Elizabeth shook her head at the memory. "Poor man. I don't know what he must have thought."

  Pamela's eyes filled with sadness, and she reached for Elizabeth's hand. "I wish I'd been with you. I know how affected I felt when I first saw him, and I wanted to spare you that. It never occurred to me that you'd see him in town." One tear dripped down her plump cheek.

  Matching moisture welled up in Elizabeth's eyes, and she leaned forward to kiss her friend's cheek. Still holding Pamela's hand, she led her over to the bed, and they both sat down.

  "I understand why you kept it a secret. Perhaps it's just as well." Elizabeth gave a shaky laugh and pulled out a lace-edged handkerchief from her sleeve. With gentle fingers she dabbed the tears from Pamela's eyes, before brushing her own away. "It gave me an interesting welcome to Montana. She made her voice sound light.

  Pamela managed a smile.

  Elizabeth leaned in. I'm pleased to know there's at least one cultured gentleman in Sweetwater Springs. I was afraid you'd taken the only eligible one for yourself!"

  Pamela gave her a playful look. "There's more than one. I've arranged a dinner party so you can meet some of our friends. Of course, Mr. Livingston will be in attendance."

  "At least this time I won't faint. I'm so glad he didn't see my reaction. And how horrid I looked. I'd hardly have made a good impression."

  "Your bath!" Pamela stood up. "I'll send Annie up with hot water. She hugged Elizabeth. "I'm so glad you're here. Now I'll stop talking and get your water. Oh, and I'll send up a tray with some food."

  Once she was alone, fatigue overwhelmed Elizabeth. She sank down on the bed. The cozy featherbed on the four-poster invited her to sleep. Although tempted to lie down and relax, she knew she wouldn't remain awake. Instead, she studied her surroundings.

  The large room had two windows curtained in white lace looking out to the mountains. Elizabeth couldn't work up the energy to go over and examine the view.

  The walls, covered with white wallpaper dotted with purple violets, matched the embroidered violets on the white linen bedcover. Pamela's handiwork. She'd always embroidered so beautifully. Violets were Pamela's favorite flower; similar paper had hung in her childhood bedroom. Elizabeth liked the feeling of familiarity the wallpaper gave her.

  A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

  "Come in," she called.

  The door opened. A stout Chinese woman, lugging two buckets of hot water, walked and bowed to Elizabeth before pouring the water into the tub. A taller girl with similar black hair, but whose round brown eyes and dark skin proclaimed her Indian heritage, followed her into the room. The Indian girl also carried two pails of steaming water, which she added to the tub.

  "You must be Annie," Elizabeth said to the first woman.

  "Yes, Missy."

  Pamela appeared behind them. "Dawn helps as my personal maid," she said, laying her hand on the tall girl's shoulder. She also takes care of the children. Her Indian name means beautiful dawn, so Dawn is what we call her."

  She smiled at Dawn. "I'd like you to help Miss Elizabeth with her bath and settling in."

  Pamela motioned Annie out the door and followed her. Dawn silently helped Elizabeth undress. Once in the water, Elizabeth gave herself over to the girl's ministrations. Lavender scented soap, the same kind she used in Boston, cleansed the last of the travel aches from her mind and body. Never in her life had she been so grateful to s
oak in a warm bath!

  "Dawn," Elizabeth said, "Will you please unpack some of my clothes and iron one of my dresses? I'd like to relax for a while until you return and can help me wash my hair."

  The girl nodded and crossed the room to the nearest trunk. Piece-by-piece she removed the clothing and hung them in the large mahogany armoire. Almost as large as the one Elizabeth had in her room in Boston, this one would easily house the reduced wardrobe she'd brought with her.

  "That one will do," Elizabeth said indicating the lawn nightgown Dawn pulled out of the trunk. "Please get rid of the clothes I've been wearing. I don't care what you do with them. I don't ever want to see them again."

  Dawn bundled up the discarded clothes and left the room. Elizabeth lay back and closed her eyes. Despite her fatigue, her body tingled with elation at her welcome, especially at being reunited with Pamela. So different from her recent experiences in Boston.

  If she wasn't exhausted and soaking in a bath, she might have danced around her room in pure childish delight. Instead, she allowed herself to bask in the soothing hot water. She couldn't remember feeling this happy for a long, long time. Not since Richard....

  "Oh, my darling," she whispered. "If only you were here; everything would be perfect. If you're watching from heaven, please wish me well."

  #

  Birds chirping outside her window dragged Elizabeth out of a dreamy sleep. She opened her eyes, gazing blankly at the violets on the wallpaper, and struggling with a moment of disorientation. As her memory returned, she snuggled deeper into her pillow in drowsy contentment.

  The night before, Pamela had urged her to sleep as late as she wanted. So Elizabeth allowed herself to enjoy the first peaceful, rested morning since receiving the telegram announcing Laurence's marriage.

  After a period of pleasant dozing, Elizabeth recalled their reunion dinner last evening. The children had been so excited about the presents she'd brought. All during dinner, she'd basked in the glow of the loving Carter family. She couldn't wait to experience more.

  That thought propelled her out of bed. She chose a Swiss embroidered muslin shirtwaist and a brown calico skirt that she could easily don without a maid's assistance.

  She managed to brush her hair into the style she'd worn the evening before. She missed Josie's help and decided to tie her corset as best she could. Thankful for her small waist, Elizabeth knew she couldn't handle the tight lacings by herself. She supposed in the future, Dawn would wake her and help her dress.

  When she finished, she studied her image in the looking glass over the dressing table and decided she could be taken for a pioneer woman. She smiled and then whirled around to inspect her back. Genia would faint if she saw me wearing calico. I must mention it in my first letter home.

  On her way downstairs she noted the white painted walls and bare wooden steps. She stopped to examine a framed watercolor of a seascape and realized she'd painted it. Pamela had requested several of Elizabeth's paintings before she left and had chosen views of the sea to remind her of Boston.

  Elizabeth smiled at the memory of clambering over the jagged rocks to reach this particular view. She'd almost been cut off by the tide before finishing the picture. How lovely to see her work again. It had been a long time since she'd scrambled around to find the perfect scene. How young and energetic I was then.

  For the first time in a long while her fingers longed to paint. Good thing she'd brought her art supplies, both watercolor and oil. Attempting these majestic mountains should be quite a challenge.

  Elizabeth proceeded down the steps and strolled along the hall. She stopped and peered through the first open door into Pamela's parlor.

  Brown-and-green floral paper covered the wall. The brown velvet sofa sported plump, embroidered pillows. Several tan-and-green damask wing chairs invited comfortable lounging. One of her oil paintings hung above the sofa. Pamela had displayed the portrait of her and Elizabeth over the fireplace. How young they looked ... and how happy....

  Pamela glanced up from her embroidery. "Good morning," she greeted her with a warm smile.

  "Morning." Elizabeth crossed the room, sat down on the sofa, and picked up a green pillow embroidered with pink roses to study the pattern. "You still do beautiful work."

  "Not as much as I used to," Pamela said. "The children keep me too busy, but there's more time for handwork in the winter." She folded her embroidery and put it aside in a woven basket on the round oak table next to her. "Did you sleep well?"

  "Very. The best rest I've had for weeks."

  "Good. I'm afraid you've missed breakfast," Pamela said with a playful smile. "Luncheon will be served in about half an hour. At least you didn't sleep through dinner." They both laughed. "Are you hungry or can you wait?"

  Elizabeth smiled ruefully. "I'm sure I can manage to wait. Where are the children?"

  "They're in the barn. One of the mares foaled last night, and they were eager to see the filly."

  "Oh, I'd like to see her too."

  Pamela's forehead scrunched up in a question.

  Elizabeth laughed. "I've never seen a newborn foal ... or any foal for that matter."

  "The children would love to give you a tour of the outdoors after we eat. Since we have some time now, do you want to see the rest of the house?"

  "Of course. In a way I feel as if it's already familiar because you've written so much about it."

  "I've enjoyed furnishing and decorating the house." Pamela ran her hand over the smooth finish of the table next to her. "The decor is much more informal than what I was used to in Boston, but it suits us."

  "It's different, but I like it." Elizabeth hesitated a moment then added, "How do you keep it up? I haven't seen many servants around."

  An uncomfortable look crossed Pamela's face. "I have to warn you, I do some of the housework myself."

  "Really?" Elizabeth tried to control her shocked reaction to such a statement. In Boston, upper-class women did not do their own housework. That's what servants were for. Yet Pamela didn't look unhappy....

  "It isn't the same," Pamela said as if she'd read her thoughts. "In Boston, women in domestic service are plentiful. Out here, men outnumber women and an available woman marries quickly. Even if I hire someone from the East, she doesn't stay for long. So I just have Dawn. The ranch foreman's wife comes in twice a week to clean or do laundry. With Dawn's help, I keep things neat the rest of the time."

  "What about Annie?"

  "Annie has her hands full with the cooking. In addition to the family, she cooks for most of the men." There was another pause. "Sometimes I help her."

  "You help her cook," Elizabeth said in an amazed tone of voice. This was a facet of her friend's life she hadn't anticipated. "Did she teach you?"

  "No, the woman I had before her taught me a few things. I mostly do some baking and preserving, but sometimes Annie needs to have time off, so I've learned to cook a simple meal."

  "I'm shocked you have to work so hard."

  "Beth, I wish you could understand. I like to do these things. In Boston, all we did was socialize and shop. I don't think we even knew how unimportant our daily lives were."

  Elizabeth wasn't sure she understood. Pamela's domestic duties sounded very unappealing. She hoped she wouldn't be expected to cook and clean. She wouldn't have the faintest idea what to do.

  She glanced down at her smooth, white hands with their perfect nails. She'd always been proud of her beautiful hands. Pamela's looked brown and rather work-worn, so different from the way they'd been back home.

  She rose and hugged her friend to sooth away her distress. "I'm amazed at your zeal for life, that's all. Now, please give me the grand tour. I want to see the rest of your house."

  I might make my home here.

  #

  Pamela led Elizabeth upstairs, showing her the children's rooms and the other guest bedroom. Then she brought her to the room she shared with John. The carved four-poster bed, with its crisp white linen cover, dominated t
he room where Pamela and John spent so much of their intimate lives.

  As if reading her mind, Pamela said, "The children were all born in this bed." She sat down on it, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle on the cover, then patted the bed in an invitation for Elizabeth to join her. "After each birth, when I finally held my baby in my arms, I was so incredibly happy."

  "I remember how I waited for days wondering about your delivery and whether you'd had a boy or girl. Thank goodness for John's telegrams."

  Pamela reached over and clasped Elizabeth's hand. "There was always something lacking because my parents and brothers, and you, my dearest friend, weren't here to share my joy." She smiled mistily at Elizabeth. "It means so much to have you here."

  "I envy you," Elizabeth said with a frankness of emotion she rarely exhibited. "Since Richard's death, I've made myself stop thinking of having babies. Meeting your children makes me realize how much I want some of my own."

  "Beth, I'm sure having children will happen for you." Pamela squeezed her hand in reassurance.

  Elizabeth leaned over and kissed Pamela's cheek. "It's so nice to talk to someone who knew Richard and how much I adored him."

  "We all loved him," Pamela murmured. "But the love you two shared was special." She reached out and, with one finger, lightly touched Elizabeth's locket. "I see you still wear this."

  "Yes, always. Since Laurence's marriage, I've thought about Richard a great deal. Before their wedding, I kept myself so occupied that on many days I managed not to think of him. Now it seems the pain is always with me."

  Pamela's hand tightened over hers.

  Elizabeth remained silent for a moment. "I haven't wanted to settle for less than what we had," she said with a sigh. "Perhaps that was a mistake. But I want a marriage like yours with John. A husband who adores me. Someone I can love and respect."

  Pamela's brown eyes sparkled with mischief. "Maybe Mr. Livingston will fit your description. You'll have a chance to find out at tomorrow night's party."

  The thought of meeting Mr. Livingston made her nervous. "I'm sure it will be a pleasant evening." She refused to give in to her friend's teasing; having Pamela and John watching her reactions wouldn't help matters. "Who else is invited?"