A Promise to Believe In

by Tracie Peterson

  “A fellow who does the cooking, you say?” Simon looked at his brother. “See? I told you there was nothing wrong with a man taking responsibility for the kitchen.”

  Hank laughed. “Some of the best chefs in the world are men.”

  “I’d rather work with horses,” Nick said, shaking his head. “And eat here at Gallatin House. I figure, why bother to cook when the girls are just across the way?” He grinned at Beth and added, “They’re a whole sight prettier, too.”

  “Than what?” Lacy asked. “The horses?”

  Everyone laughed at this while Nick’s face turned beet red. Simon seemed to take pity on his brother and questioned Gwen. “How’s your garden working out this year?”

  “Better, but only marginally. We’ve had a good show with some of the greens and the beans. Hank suggested maybe I could get some better soil from one of the local ranches or farms to mix in with our ground and see even better results next year.”

  “Sounds worth a try,” Simon said, nodding. “Maybe even move it closer to the river. Your property runs all the way back.”

  “That’s true, but it puts me quite a ways from the house.” Gwen turned to Lacy. “Would you mind getting the coffee?”

  Lacy got up and did as she was asked. Hank wondered if the sisters had worked out their differences yet. He knew Lacy’s harsh words had deeply wounded Gwen, but she wasn’t one to hold a grudge—not that Hank could see.

  “So I’m sure you’ve heard by now that we’ll have Sunday services here a week from Sunday,” Gwen announced.

  “I would imagine you ladies have missed having a church to regularly attend.”

  Gwen looked at Hank and nodded. “There are a variety of churches we could travel to attend, but often the distance makes it unrealistic. It will be so nice to just have services here.”

  Hank began to envision the future for this community. More people would mean the need for schools and doctors. And if the railroad came through the town, it would definitely bring more business and settlers.

  “I heard there were also plans for a sawmill,” Simon said. He downed the last of his coffee and waited patiently for Lacy to make the rounds and fill his cup. “I know Jerry Shepard said there was some thought to have it to the south of here, but I told him to encourage it coming closer. We could definitely benefit from a sawmill.”

  Hank nodded. “I believe the man in question has been approached and is considering the changes. Not only that but one of the new couples in the area have experience in running a flour mill. Given the wheat that is grown in the area, I believe this would serve us well.”

  “Just think, Gwen—we could build on to Gallatin House and make it even bigger,” Beth said excitedly. “Maybe we could even employ Ellie and the others and get them away from Rafe.”

  Gwen seemed to consider that thought for a moment. “That would definitely have been in keeping with Pa’s desire to expand.”

  “Well, first things first,” Simon said. He pushed back his plate. “Tell us what you and Sherman have figured out for the store.”

  The conversation once again focused on Hank’s plans, and for several minutes the conversation dealt with thoughts on location and positioning of the actual building.

  “Will we see the store in place before winter?” Simon asked.

  “It’s my desire to see a small structure up before the end of summer,” Hank replied. “Bruce believes he can get the manpower to start cutting and stripping logs. We’ll start small and keep building so we can make it a profitable business right away.”

  “And you plan to remain here and run it?” Simon asked.

  Hank nodded. “Of course.”

  “I thought you came here on another task,” Beth said softly. “You were searching for your mother’s certificates, as I recall. What about that?”

  “And what about Boston?” Gwen asked.

  Nick eyed him intently. “Yeah, why would you move here?”

  Hank laughed. “Because I’ve fallen in love.”

  Everyone looked at Gwen, who looked at Hank as if he’d lost his mind. He laughed. “It’s true I came here with a different purpose, but Montana has wooed me and won my heart,” he said, grinning. “That, along with other things, seems to make moving here not only reasonable but necessary. I still haven’t found the certificates, but I can sell my Boston businesses and help my mother. In fact, I’ve already wired to start the process of finding a buyer.”

  Beth looked at him as if trying to size up the truth in his words. “You’ll find life here to be very different from Boston. There are many more dangers and problems to be had.”

  Hank couldn’t be sure, but he thought there was an edge of warning to her tone. “The city has its dangers, too,” he admitted. “But I find when you care deeply about something, you need to risk it all—take a chance to be a part of what you love.”

  Simon pushed back from the table and turned to Beth. “Looks like you’ve finished. How about I carry you back upstairs?”

  “Oh no, you don’t,” Nick argued. “I’ll carry her.”

  “I’ll flip you for it,” Simon said, pulling a coin from his vest pocket. “Heads or tails.”

  “Heads.” Nick watched intently as the coin slipped end over end. When it finally landed, it was heads. He grinned at his brother and then turned his attention on Beth. “Looks like I win.”

  “I don’t know that you’ll feel quite the same after you lift me,” Beth declared. “I’ve just eaten enough for three men.”

  Gwen was already gathering the dishes. She looked uncomfortable, and Hank hoped they might be afforded a few minutes alone when she instructed Lacy to go along with Nick to turn down Beth’s bed.

  Simon got to his feet as Nick gathered Beth in his arms. “I’ll come, too. That way I can keep an eye on Nick.”

  Hank laughed, but his thought was on how to explain his heart to Gwen. When he looked up to comment, however, Gwen was gone.

  The only thing Gwen wanted was to escape the table and all those curious stares. She hadn’t expected Hank to declare his love for anything, but when he’d made his comment, she found herself both terrified and hopeful that she might be the recipient of his affections.

  “You seem upset.”

  Gwen turned, her arms still full of dishes, and saw Hank watching her. “Upset? Why would I be upset? I’m just busy. I have a lot on my mind.”

  He walked toward her with determined steps. Gwen felt her knees weaken as Hank reached out and took the dishes from her. “Like what?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  He smiled, and Gwen felt her breath quicken. “Like, what’s on your mind? What has you so preoccupied?” He put the dishes in the sink and turned back to take hold of her hands.

  Gwen stared at him in dumbfounded silence. What could she say? She really couldn’t explain to him that her emotions were so jumbled, she couldn’t even hope to sort them out.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “I . . . uh . . .” She licked her bottom lip. “I . . . have the dishes.”

  “And they require washing but are hardly worthy of your thoughts.” He stepped closer, all the while stroking his fingers across the back of her hand. “Gwen, you have to know that I’ve fallen in love with more than just Montana.”

  “Ah . . . I . . .” She looked at her hands and found it mesmerizing to watch the pattern Hank traced upon her skin. She might have continued to watch this indefinitely, but Hank stopped and lifted her chin.

  He bent forward ever so slightly and pulled her face toward him. Their lips touched for just a moment before Nick and Simon called out from the front of the house.

  “Thanks for breakfast, Gwen. We’ll see you later.”

  Gwen startled and pushed away from Hank. She hurried into the front room just as the door closed behind the two men. Turning abruptly, she found that Hank had also followed her. He pulled her into his arms.

  “I’ve fallen in love with you, Gwen, and I think you’ve fallen
in love with me, as well.” He looked at her with such passion—such desire—that Gwen couldn’t even form words, much less thoughts.

  “You don’t have to say anything. Just promise me that you’ll think about it.”

  Gwen shook her head. “Think about what?”

  He let her go and stepped back with a grin. “About loving me.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Lacy saw the trio of cowboys on the road below well before they spotted her. She was on higher ground and able to watch them for some distance before sending her mare down the path to ambush them.

  Pulling up short of the lead man’s gelding, Lacy faced them with a sense of false bravado. “I want to talk to you,” she announced.

  The men eyed her, more out of curiosity than concern. The one whose horse now stood nose to nose with hers pushed back his hat a bit and smiled. “You’re that nosy little Gallatin gal who’s been asking all the questions about her dead pa, aren’t you?”

  “I’m Lacy Gallatin, and yes, I’m asking questions about the night my father was murdered.”

  “Hey, now,” one of the other men declared. “I heard that was just an accident. Some of the boys were whooping it up, and it just got out of hand.” He nudged his gray closer to Lacy’s mare.

  She didn’t like the feeling of being boxed in as the final man made his way forward and came up on her left. His flaxen chestnut seemed none too happy about the arrangement, either, and tried to dance a step to the side.

  Trying hard to appear unaffected by the men’s actions, Lacy leaned back in her saddle. “There are those folks who say it was an accident,” Lacy admitted, “but even accidents of such a careless nature should merit some kind of punishment.”

  “I was there that night,” the man on her left said. “Nobody knows whose bullet hit your pa. We were careless, sure enough, but no one would have wanted to see it cause the death of anyone. Fact is, I’ve made a pact with myself to leave the guns at home when I go drinking from now on.”

  Lacy shook her head. “It’s too little, too late.”

  The man cocked a brow. “Would you have us all hanged instead?”

  “You need to leave off with this, Miss Gallatin,” the first man said. “No one is going to admit to killing your father, even if there was a way to know whose gun did the deed. We’re powerful sorry that such a thing had to happen, but nothing can be done about it now.”

  “Even the sheriff said it was a closed case,” the man on her right added.

  Lacy fumed. “Oh, he did, did he? That doesn’t surprise me. However, it’s not a closed case to me. The sheriff and his dim-witted deputies can rot, for all I care. I intend to find the man responsible and see him pay.”

  The man on her left shook his head. He had a kind expression, and Lacy could see that he was neither angry nor amused.

  “Miss Gallatin, again, what is it that would suffice as pay? Do you honestly want to see another man die because he made a mistake?”

  Lacy was taken aback for a moment. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t advocate an eye for an eye—not really.

  “I suppose it would help me a great deal if the man would just admit to what he’s done,” she finally said. “I don’t want any more killing, to be sure, but my sisters and I are alone now. The least he could do would be to accept some sort of responsibility for what happened and try to make it up to us—to help us.”

  The man nodded. “I suppose that would be only fair. My name is Ben. Ben Mills. Why don’t we just say that my bullet was the one that struck your pa?”

  “Did it?”

  “I don’t think so, but let’s just say it did.”

  Lacy shook her head. “Why? Why should I say that if it’s not true?”

  “Because I’m trying to take your point on the matter. I’ll come and help you and your sisters when I can get away from the ranch. Right now we’re rounding up strays, but I should have some time tomorrow.”

  “I don’t want your help,” Lacy said, looking at him oddly. His dark eyes seemed to penetrate her façade of calm. “I want justice.”

  “You want something that can’t be had,” Ben replied softly.

  “Ben, you don’t want to be committing yourself to help those women,” the lead man declared. “You’ll never hear the end of it. They’ll have you doing their fetching and odd jobs for the rest of your life.”

  “Slim’s right,” the other man threw in. “There’s no sense in paying the price for something you didn’t do.”

  Ben’s gaze never left Lacy. “But isn’t this more about the need of the Gallatin women? They’ve been left without a man to do the hard work around the place.”

  “No!” Lacy declared. “I mean, yes, we’re without a man, but no, it isn’t about our need. It’s about justice for my father.”

  “Justice?” Ben asked.

  Lacy nodded. “It’s about the right person paying for what they did.”

  “But I’m willing to stand in his place.”

  The concept only served to confuse Lacy all the more. She didn’t want to admit that, seen in this light, her quest seemed almost silly. What did she really want from all of this?

  “It’s unacceptable to have an innocent man take the blame for someone else’s evil,” Lacy said, squaring her shoulders.

  Ben smiled. “Good thing Jesus didn’t feel the same way as you.”

  “Jesus? That’s entirely different.”

  “Not if we’re supposed to live like Him,” Ben countered.

  Now Lacy was really disturbed. His words made too much sense, and they caused her to rethink everything she’d been so sure of since losing her father. “It’s not the same,” she muttered and pulled on the reins gently. The mare backed up several paces, and Lacy turned her to exit the enclosure the men had created. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be late.”

  She kicked the mare into a hard gallop and raced down the road, not even looking back to see what the men were doing. Her mind whirled with a hundred thoughts, and none of them made any sense. She felt as though Ben Mills had stolen her purpose.

  Heading toward the Shepard ranch, Lacy tried to think through the situation, but there was no comfort in any conclusion she made. If Ben was right, then she needed to put aside her hunt and accept that he was willing to help her family.

  “Like we really need help,” she muttered and slowed the mare.

  The girls had been doing most of the work around Gallatin House. Their father was useful in his own way, but he never seemed quite organized enough to see anything through to completion. He might start chopping wood, but as soon as he saw Simon or Nick, he was off to talk and discuss any news they might have about the area. Lacy was usually the one who would pick up where her father left off. Her sisters had teased that she was the son her father had always wanted, but Lacy knew the truth of it.

  The only son in the Gallatin family had died trying to be born, and it was Lacy’s fault that he hadn’t made it. If she could have found their father in time, he would have been able to come and help their mother with the delivery.

  Lacy hated trying to remember the past. So much had gone wrong after the death of her mother. Their lives had been forever changed with her passing, and the good times were few and far between. The pain and sadness that followed had been so great that Lacy had worked with all of her might to forget it all. The only trouble was, Lacy found forgetting the bad also required forgetting a great deal of the good. Her mother was one of those good things. Lacy couldn’t remember her face or her voice. They didn’t even have a picture of her, but their father had often said that Lacy resembled her greatly. It was funny how Lacy could stare in the mirror for hours and never see it.

  That was maybe the worst of it. Letting go of the sorrow had also robbed Lacy of the joy and tenderness she’d known. She had asked Gwen over and over to tell her stories about their mother, but it never really helped her to remember.

  Thinking of Gwen, Lacy felt a terrible weight of guilt. She ha
d been cruel to Gwen, and even now, two weeks later, she had done nothing to make things right between them. It wore at Lacy like a rock in her boot.

  The Shepard ranch house came into view, and Lacy urged her mare to pick up the pace once again. Patience Shepard was the one woman Lacy thought might very well help her to understand what needed to be done to make things right—especially with Gwen.

  Gwen had never been so glad to see a stage leave as she was that morning. With Beth back on her feet but still taking it easy, and Lacy mysteriously gone for the day, Gwen had found herself overwhelmed with the work required. Even though it was nearly noon, she felt she’d hardly made a dent in the list of things to do.

  Of course, she might have been more efficient at her tasks had her mind not been wrapped up in thoughts of Hank and his declaration of love. He had left her alone—in fact, he had very nearly avoided her, choosing instead to spend far more time away from Gallatin House than in it.

  At first Gwen had been relieved, but as the days stretched into weeks, she found herself watching for him—waiting for him to reappear. She kept meals warming on the stove for him and continued to clean his room, even when he was gone for several days. So it only seemed reasonable that she be startled half speechless when he surprised her by walking into the kitchen as if he owned the place.

  “Afternoon,” he said casually. He smiled and made his way to the stove. “Mind if I have a cup of coffee?”

  “No,” she managed. She stood frozen to the spot, not even attempting to help him.

  Hank pulled a cup from where they hung and poured himself some coffee. “I suppose you’re wondering what I’ve been up to these last few days.”

  Gwen started to deny this but finally nodded. She leaned back against the sink and tried not to remember how his lips felt when he kissed her.

  “I’ve been making arrangements. Bruce has managed to get the details settled on the construction of the building, but there have been many other things to see to.”

  “You seem . . . well . . . to have it under control,” Gwen managed to say.