Wild Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series)

by Debra Holland

  The children ran out of the room.

  "We'd better go change," Pamela told Elizabeth. "Those two will be back in a minute and raring to go."

  #

  The uneasy feeling refused to go away. It settled between his shoulder blades like an itch he couldn't scratch. Nick tried to shrug it off his shoulders and out of his mind, but the sensation persisted. No matter how he busied himself with the horses and foals, the ominous feeling stayed and distracted him. Even the horses sensed his preoccupation. After the third normally placid mare shied away, he gave up.

  Collapsing on the nearest hay bale, he tried to figure out what was bothering him. When he thought about John, the cowboys and the cattle, his apprehension didn't intensify. But when he turned his thoughts to the women and children picking berries, his gut tightened with an almost physical cramp.

  Elizabeth! Is something wrong with Elizabeth?

  His uneasiness increased.

  Thinking himself a fool for rushing off on a possible wild goose chase didn't stop him from quickly saddling Outlaw and leading the horse outside. He tossed the reins around a hitching post, ran into the bunkhouse, pulled his gun belt off a peg, and strapped it on. The Winchester rested on the gun rack. He grabbed it and ran outside, shoving the rifle into the scabbard on his saddle. He flung himself on the horse, and urging Outlaw to a canter, headed for the berry patch.

  #

  The heat of the afternoon sun burned through Elizabeth's blue calico shirtwaist, sticking the material to her shoulders. Damp tendrils of hair curled around her face. She'd long since given up brushing them out of the way for fear of leaving purple berry smudges across her cheeks.

  For the first few hours, she'd enjoyed picking saskatoons. The acre-long thicket, situated close to where the river ran down from the mountains, provided multitudes of warm, ripe berries. In the beginning, they'd all picked near each other, and, with talk and laughter, the morning had passed quickly. The children ate almost as many as they put in the baskets, and the women weren't much better. Elizabeth loved the tart sweetness of the fruit.

  Even with all the saskatoons they'd eaten, they had plenty of room left for a picnic in the cool shade of the cottonwood and aspen trees near the river. Watching the bubbling green water play over mossy rocks had been so peaceful that Elizabeth had promised herself she'd return another day to paint. After lunch they once again settled in to serious picking. Elizabeth had worked her way around to the right of the patch, out of sight and earshot of Pamela and the children.

  She set her basket down and untied the strings of her straw hat. Yanking it off, she vigorously fanned herself. She debated about walking over to splash some cool water on her face. Rustling in the bushes about thirty feet in front of her caught her attention.

  That’s odd. I thought the others were picking berries in the other direction. "Mark, Sara, is that you?"

  With a growling grunt, a huge bear poked his snout through the bushes. Small brown eyes glared at her. Elizabeth jumped back. Oh, No. Her heartbeat quickened.

  The beast pushed out of the brambles, and opened its mouth about a foot, displaying huge yellow fangs.

  Terror jolted through Elizabeth. Her knees shook and threatened to buckle under her. She didn't know whether to turn and run, or back away. "Shoo!" Steeling herself, she waved her hat. "Shoo! Go away!"

  In horror, she watched the bear rear up, a grizzled monster with long, wicked claws. Lowering itself back down on all fours, it rumbled toward Elizabeth faster than she'd believed possible.

  She screamed. Her hat slipped from her limp fingers, and she took a few faltering steps back. Please, God, please.

  The crack of gunshots from behind her startled Elizabeth, and she screamed again. The bear staggered, then collapsed less than five feet away from her.

  Elizabeth almost joined the animal in a heap on the ground. Her heart pounded so hard it seemed to pull the blood from her head, leaving her dizzy. She looked behind her and saw Nick mounted on Outlaw, his Winchester still aimed at the grizzly. "Nick," she whispered. Never in her life had she seen such a wonderful sight.

  Nick leaped off the horse. Still pointing the rifle at the bear, he nudged the carcass with his foot, then lowered the rifle, and turned to Elizabeth.

  She threw herself against him. His arm tightened around her. Setting the rifle on the ground, he pulled her close.

  Elizabeth clung to him, still too shaken to even burst into tears. Nick had saved her. She glanced back at the carcass, still hardly believing what had just happened, then shuddered and buried her face in his shoulder.

  "Elizabeth, are you all right?"

  She nodded, but didn't lift her face. Her body trembled. A few relieved tears squeezed through her tightly shut eyelids.

  Nick reached up and stroked her hair, placing several comforting kisses on her head.

  "I was so frightened," she murmured into his shoulder. "Thank goodness you came."

  He pressed another kiss to her head.

  Elizabeth sighed in relief, her body shaky. Everything had happened so fast. But she was safe in Nick's embrace, and she didn't want to leave anytime soon.

  Nick scooped Elizabeth into his arms.

  She gasped, flung her arms around his neck, and clung to him.

  "Nick, I'm too heavy," she protested.

  "Lighter than those hay bales," he teased. "You make a better fit, too."

  Elizabeth blushed and hid her face against his shoulder. She'd never literally been swept off her feet before, and she loved the protective feeling of being held against his body while he carried her toward the river.

  All too soon they reached the water. He lowered her down by the edge, then knelt beside her. Still keeping one arm around her, he reached up and pulled off his blue bandana. Dipping the cloth into the water, he bathed Elizabeth's face.

  "That feels good." Nick's tenderness touched her all the way to her toes. She tenuously smiled at him. "I'm feeling better."

  "Beth!" Pamela sounded anxious as she hurried toward them. Sara and Mark running behind. "What happened? I heard shots. Are you all right?"

  Nick kept his arm around Elizabeth and jerked his head in the direction of the bear.

  "Oh, my!" gasped Pamela. "Beth, did it harm you?"

  "No, Nick shot it in time. But Pamela, I feel so weak. I've never been so frightened before."

  Pamela knelt down and took Elizabeth's hand. "What happened?"

  Elizabeth relayed everything. She finished, a shiver running down her spine.

  Nick's arm tightened around her.

  "The monster reared up on its hind legs, and it was so big!" she said. "It had the longest teeth and claws. I didn't know what to do." She managed a wry smile for her friend. "I didn't think a ladylike faint was my best option."

  Pamela squeezed Elizabeth's hand. "I never would have forgiven myself if something had happened to you."

  Elizabeth gave Nick a sideways glance. "I never even knew you were behind me."

  Pamela looked at Nick. "Why did you come out here? It's a miracle you were there."

  "Perhaps that's the reason. I think the Good Lord was trying to tell me something." He looked down at Elizabeth, still cradled against him. "The children told me you all were going berry pickin' and for some reason the idea just didn't sit right." He shook his head. "I tried to put it out of my mind, but it kept on worryin' at me. I finished up with the horses and decided to head out and check on things."

  "The Lord was watching over us," agreed Pamela with a sage nod. "We have much to be thankful for."

  "I'm just glad you listened to Him," Elizabeth told Nick with a slight return of her playfulness.

  Sara cuddled against her mother. She'd lost her hat and the freckles stood out on her pale skin. "I don't want to pick saskatoons ever again," she said in a small, fearful voice.

  "Now, honey, don't you worry none," Nick told her in an exaggerated drawl. "You've been picking berries here for years and never saw any ole bears until today." He wi
nked at her. "Besides, I don't think that grizzly was after Miss Elizabeth. I think it was more interested in her basket of berries."

  "Then why'd you kill it?" Sara asked, looking a little less fearful.

  "I saw that there grizzly, and I thought to myself, bear steaks! I sure do love bear steaks. And since your pa don't let me keep any bears in the barn, I rarely get to eat any."

  Sara laughed, and color returned to her cheeks. "Silly Nick. You can't keep bears in the barn!"

  "Well, maybe not. But I couldn't let an ole bear frighten a pretty little lady like Miss Elizabeth, now could I?"

  Elizabeth's heart lightened at the compliment, but she pretended not to hear. As Nick reassured the child, she could feel the strain inside her ease.

  "We'll get that bear's head stuffed and mounted," Nick continued. "Then Miss Elizabeth can hang it in her bedroom."

  "Don't you dare," Elizabeth exclaimed in mock horror. "I'd never be able to sleep!"

  Sara giggled.

  "Maybe the next time we pick berries, Nick will accompany us," Elizabeth suggested to Sara. "That way, we'll feel safe."

  Sara pulled away from her mother and leaned toward Nick. "Yes, Nick, will you?"

  He gently tugged one of Sara's braids. "I won't let you out of my sight."

  Pamela reached over and brushed some stray tendrils from Elizabeth's forehead. "You sound like you're feeling better, Beth. Would you like to head back to the house?"

  "I could put you up on Outlaw," Nick offered. "If I lead him, he'll carry you without a fuss."

  Elizabeth had a ridiculous vision of herself riding Outlaw. She'd make an outlandish sight straddled on a man's saddle. Why, her dress would be hitched up to her knees!

  "Thank you for the kind offer, but, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather walk. However, my knees still feel a little shaky, so perhaps you could walk beside me and allow me to hold your arm."

  Mark tilted his shoulder in her direction. "I'll help you too, Aunt Elizabeth. You could put your other hand on my shoulder."

  "That would be a big help, dear," she told him.

  Their concern and support sparked a feeling of love and warmth inside her that melted the last of her tension. She'd not experienced anything like this since before her parents and Richard had died.

  Nick released her. "Elizabeth, you sit right here with Pamela," he ordered, rising to his feet. "I'll take the children and gather up the berry baskets."

  He held out his hand to Sara and motioned Mark to follow.

  The two women watched until they'd walked out of sight. "He's a good man," Pamela said. "He's been such a comfort to me ever since I came to Montana." She looked at Elizabeth. "He's John's godson, you know. His parents died when he was thirteen, and he's been with John ever since. He lived in the house for a few years, then insisted on moving into the bunkhouse. He's quite an independent young man."

  "That's why you invited him to your party!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "I couldn't understand it at the time, and I was going to ask you, but then I met Caleb and everything else went out of my mind."

  "He used to dine with us more often, but since you've been here, he eats with the men. I haven't said anything to him because I thought he might be uncomfortable. He's always been shy around women. But now I'm going to insist that he start having meals with us again." She reached over and squeezed Elizabeth's hand. "You don't mind, do you?"

  "Of course not. He saved my life. Right now I couldn't deny him anything. I thought Nick was just a hired hand. I didn't know he was John's godson. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

  "I thought I did when I first moved out here and wrote to you."

  "You probably did." Elizabeth's smile was rueful. "That was a long time ago."

  The two women relaxed in silence for a few minutes. Elizabeth offered up a prayer of gratitude that came from her whole being.

  Nick and the children rounded the bushes. Sara and Mark had regained their hats and baskets. Nick took each of the baskets of berries and tied them to Outlaw's saddle. At first, Outlaw objected to having the strange objects against his sides, stamping a leg and shying away. Nick petted and soothed him, and soon the horse settled down.

  He was the same man she'd seen every day for the last six weeks, but suddenly Elizabeth saw him through new eyes. She watched how his muscled body moved with a graceful economy of motion, and the gentle way he touched the gray stallion and the children. She'd gotten used to his longer hair, but now it reminded her of the swashbuckling heroes from the adventure tales she'd read about in her childhood. He'd saved her today, just like in the storybooks. And he'd swept her off her feet, too.

  Wait until Laurence and Genia heard about her adventure. Well, maybe she wouldn't write them about it. They hadn't expressed a very high opinion of Nick. She smiled to herself. They couldn't understand him, and he'd never fit into their Boston ways. He was a Western man and belonged in this milieu. Yet she was still an Eastern woman. Wasn't she?

  #

  He'd been in tight situations before, but Nick had never been so scared as when he saw that grizzly charging for Elizabeth. He glanced down at her, reassuring himself she was all right. Her straw hat blocked him from seeing her face, and she clung to his arm. He'd like to place his other hand over hers, but he didn't trust Outlaw to obediently follow if the horse wasn't led.

  Nick had underplayed the danger Elizabeth had been in. He hadn't wanted to further frighten the women and children, but his knees had shaken for several minutes afterwards. What if he'd ignored his feeling and not ridden to check things out? He'd never have forgiven himself if something had happened to her. His heartbeat quickened imagining what could have happened.

  As if sensing his thoughts, Elizabeth looked up. Her pale face still showed signs of strain. He winked at her to see if he could bring out the dimple in the left corner of her smile.

  It worked. Her skin pinked up, and the dimple briefly appeared. That seldom-seen dimple really did something to his heart. The tiny indentation changed her from the proper Miss Hamilton to his Elizabeth. He had to restrain himself from leaning down to brush his lips across it. Maybe someday. Right now his heart overflowed with enough gratitude because they walked together, safe. If she hadn't just had such a dreadful experience, he imagined they could stroll for hours.

  #

  Bear steaks and saskatoons smothered in cream made for interesting supper conversation. Elizabeth joined the others for the meal, having recovered enough from her traumatic afternoon, even though she'd been reluctant to eat the meat. She felt certain that if she took a bite, she'd picture the sight of that grizzly and feel nauseous.

  However, Nick's presence made the idea palatable. When he'd arrived in the dining room, the good-natured teasing had started. Bear innuendoes and jokes had been tossed around the dinner table. Even the children joined in, and the meal passed in merriness. To Elizabeth's surprise, she even liked the slightly sweet taste of the steak.

  At the conclusion of dessert, Nick leaned back in his chair, satisfaction apparent on his face. "I sure do love berries and cream."

  "Me, too," Sara piped up.

  "'Bout the only thing better is a taste of one of your ma's saskatoon pies."

  A chorus of agreement echoed around the table.

  Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow at Pamela. "Your saskatoon pies?"

  John answered for his wife. "Best around these parts."

  Pamela's plump cheeks flushed at the praise. "Our last cook taught me," she explained to Elizabeth. "Her secret recipe. I've never shared it with anyone."

  "Sounds like an experience to look forward to. When will I have the honor of trying this famous pie?" Elizabeth teased.

  "How about tomorrow?"

  The three children emphatically nodded, eager looks in their eyes.

  "Oh, yes, Mama," Mark said.

  His mother smiled back. "Perhaps I should ask your Aunt Elizabeth to help me." She slanted a mischievous glance toward Elizabeth. "I'll teach you the recipe."

&nb
sp; "Oh, no, you don't, Pamela." Elizabeth shook her head. "You know I've never baked anything in my life."

  John joined in the teasing. "Now, Elizabeth, knowing how to make Pamela's saskatoon pie would surely be seen around these parts as an increase to your dowry."

  As he tried to suppress a laugh, Nick choked, then raised his napkin to his mouth. But his eyes danced with emerald glee, and Elizabeth knew the napkin hid a grin.

  Elizabeth stiffened, then with exaggerated haughtiness lifted her nose in the air. "My dowry is quite sufficient as it is, thank you, John." She said each word with snooty emphasis that ended with a smile and relaxation of her body.

  John gave a mournful shake of his head. "I don't know about that, Elizabeth. Good cooking is a sure way to a man's heart.

  Elizabeth shook her finger. "John Carter, I happen to know that when you fell in love with Pamela, she'd never even been near a kitchen except to give orders to the staff."

  With a rueful shrug, John grinned at his wife. "She's got me there, my dear. I'd love you even if you'd never cooked a day in your life.

  Pamela rolled her eyes.

  Elizabeth sat back, enjoying the banter. Somewhere in the conversation she had decided to learn to bake. Excitement thrummed in her stomach at the idea. She'd tell Pamela later. An Elizabeth Hamilton pie would be a nice surprise for Nick--a small token of her appreciation for saving her life.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Elizabeth gingerly pulled the saskatoon pie from the oven. As she saw the golden crust, she exhaled with relief, then inhaled the fragrant aroma that filled the kitchen.

  Pamela glanced over her shoulder from the dishes she was washing. "It looks wonderful."

  Elizabeth glanced around to make sure Smoky wasn't in sight. The gray cat had made his presence known earlier, following the proceedings with his golden eyes, rubbing around the two women's legs, and getting tangled in their skirts. After all her hard work, Elizabeth wasn't about to trip over the cat and drop her precious creation.

  She took four cautious steps from stove to the oilcloth-covered table, then set the pie on the rack next to Pamela's. She pushed away the towel she'd used to carry it, so she'd have an unobstructed view. After a moment of anxious scrutiny, she straightened in satisfaction.