Montana Sky: In His Corner (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Entertainers of The West Book 6)

by Linda Carroll-Bradd

  At signals from Iola, both Lettie and Odette stood and started clearing away the dishes.

  The manager droned on and on about the boxers and their capabilities and the crowds they’d drawn.

  Both Viktor and O’Leary grew quiet.

  The plates in her hands shook as she stacked them. Frustration at what she heard tightened her movements. “Excuse me, Mister Stanislav, but if you believe in the abilities of your fighters like you claim, why aren’t they competing in larger venues? Sweetwater Springs is hardly a hotbed of population.”

  Mister Stanislav’s face reddened, and his eyes narrowed. “Well, part of the exhibition tour is…to introduce the sport to a-a…wide range of people. That’s it. We can’t reach the ranchers and farmers if we stick to the big cities.” He looked around the table. “Our show is family entertainment. I hope to see all of you there tomorrow.”

  Iola started, her eyes wide. “I hardly think children should attend.”

  “Ah, Mom.” Ronan slumped his shoulders.

  Mister Stanislav leaned forward, his belly pressing against the table. “Quite the contrary, ma’am. Performances are perfectly acceptable for women and children.”

  Performances? Was that a slip of the tongue? Odette filled the coffee pot and set it on the stove. Then she opened the canister of ground coffee beans.

  “Gentlemen, let’s retire to the sitting room.” Karl stood and led the way.

  “You know, Karl, large venues are not always the answer.” Mister Stanislav hurried behind his host. “In fact, I’ve planned a surprise for the attendees of tomorrow’s exhibition.”

  The voices faded into indistinct, deep-throated mumbles.

  Moments later, Iola carried over the remainder of the dishes. “What got into you, Odette? Why would you confront a guest in that manner?”

  Her pulse raced. She was mad enough with herself for losing her temper. “I’m sorry, Aunt, but that man is such a braggart. Didn’t his grandiose way of talking bother you?”

  “I’ve learned to put up with the different manners of many people over the years.” She tsked as she pumped water into a pot to warm for washing.

  Being chastised for her outspokenness churned Odette’s stomach. Especially since she felt justified in asking for an explanation. By the time the dishes were done and the coffee brewed, she’d regained her calm. Aunt Iola carried in the tea set while Odette followed with a silver tray of dessert servings. The children were left to eat theirs in the kitchen.

  Offering plates of apple cobbler, Odette started around the room. She walked to Viktor who held the delicate tea cup and saucer suspended in front of him. “Cobbler, Mister Andrusha?”

  He shook his head. “No, thank you.”

  With a dip of her knees, she lowered to his eye level and smiled. “Please take one, or you’ll hurt my aunt’s feelings.” Seeing his indecision, she jerked her chin. “Balance the saucer on your thigh while you handle the dessert.”

  Mister O’Leary quickly followed suit, his gaze fixated on the golden dessert.

  As she turned to her uncle, she thought she heard a deep moan from one of the boxers. By the time she reached Mister Stanislav, she spotted him frowning at his boxers and their empty plates. Hiding a smile, she settled into the remaining rocker and savored the spiced apples and doughy topping. When she set her plate on the carpet, she angled herself to allow an occasional glance in Viktor’s direction. Seeing him in these surroundings warmed her insides. He contributed knowledgeable comments that showed he’d been paying attention. The topic of railroad travel didn’t interest her so she let her mind wander. Hearing Viktor’s voice sent her thoughts back several hours to their meeting in the meadow. The romantic dance in the woods, the wonderful feeling of being lifted, and that yummy kiss. She rubbed a finger along her lips and sighed. At the voicing of her name, she jerked and opened her eyes. “What’s that?”

  “Our guests are leaving.” Iola stood with Karl near the front door.

  “Oh.” She scrambled to a stand, brushing out the wrinkles in her skirts. “Very nice to meet you.”

  “Missus Rowyn, thank you for a delicious meal.” Viktor stood erect and bowed a few degrees at the waist.

  “Yeah, thanks.” Mister O’Leary dipped his chin and stepped over the threshold.

  Karl shook Mister Stanislav’s hand. “I appreciate hearing of your experiences and look forward to the exhibition.”

  Mister Stanislav lifted a hand in the air. “Thanks, ladies. Good night.”

  Odette stepped to the window and watched the men move down the walkway. She turned and a black hat on the coatrack caught her eyes. After grabbing it, she dashed to the front porch and waved it aloft. “Vik—, uh, Mister Andrusha, you forgot your hat.”

  He jogged back and held out his hand. “I hoped you’d spot it.” He glanced around then turned back to face her. “More is at stake than you know. Please come with your uncle tomorrow. I’ve always wanted to have a special someone in the audience.”

  Her body stiffened, and she stepped backward. “How can you ask that of me? I’ve invested too much in healing your wounds. Watching as new ones mark your body—” Her throat closed, and she could barely swallow. “I can’t.” She shook her head. “I won’t.”

  Huffing out a long breath, Viktor settled his hat on his head. “Goodnight, Odette.”

  She blinked against hot tears filling her eyes. “Goodbye, Viktor.”

  Chapter Six

  Saturday after finishing the morning chores, Odette pulled on her gray cloak and headed to town. Today the gloomy clouds had cleared, and sunshine took the worst of the chill from the fall air. Her aunt was on the mend and using her cane less frequently. Remorse lay heavy on Odette’s thoughts. She regretted not getting through to Viktor about the seriousness of what he faced if he continued with his boxing career.

  Following a good long cry the previous night, she’d made up her mind about returning home. Not to the engagement, but to work with her father again. The herbal salves and decoctions showed promise. If only she could convince her father to use them with their patients. Then she could check for any ill effects before getting the recipe patented. Perfecting the medicines was where her future lay. Once she had enough money, she’d enroll in medical college. And she would always have the bittersweet memory of her time with a special man in a meadow in Montana Territory.

  Men on horseback and in buggies filled the main street. A half dozen horses stood tied to the rail in front of Hardy’s Saloon. Customers moved in and out of Cobb’s Mercantile so quickly she imagined the bell didn’t stop jingling. Past the livery that bustled with more activity than usual, she walked up the steps to the brown-and-yellow painted train depot and entered the windowed waiting area.

  “Good afternoon, young lady.” A short man greeted her from the ticket window. “You caught me just before I was ready to hang up the closed sign.”

  So early? She glanced at the nameplate stating, Jack Waite, stationmaster. “Mister Waite, I’d like to see the schedule for trains to New York starting the middle of next week.”

  “Sure enough. Don’t get much call for such long trips.” He bent down and rummaged under the counter. “Got one around here somewhere.” Papers crinkled and he popped up, his salt-and-pepper hair sticking away from his head. “Here it is.”

  She nodded her thanks and accepted the multi-page schedule. City names and numbers stacked in long columns jumbled before her eyes. “How do I read this?”

  He pointed with a twisted forefinger. “Find the destination in this column and the departure dates are in this one.”

  Rheumatism had set into the older man’s joints. “Warm bay laurel oil will help with the ache in your hands.”

  “Huh? How’d you know?”

  “I’m a nurse.”

  “Ah.” He leaned an elbow on the counter. “Are you the one who was spotted by the creek north of town with one of those boxer fellows? Tyler Dunn and Kael Kelley were telling a story about seeing a couple danci
ng out on the prairie.”

  A chill went down her spine. She sniffed and narrowed her gaze. “Hmm.” So, those young riders had seen them. At least, word hadn’t yet reached her aunt.

  “Maybe you could come back on Monday for the ticket.” He jerked a thumb toward the pendulum clock. “Gotta catch Taylor’s last wagon out to the exhibition match. The man is making a bundle on transporting folks out there from the depot.”

  “Boxing is an interest, is it?” Irritation stiffened her posture. Does no one see the sport’s bad side?

  “Most men enjoy watching a good bout of fisticuffs.” Eyes bright, he leaned his head through the arched opening. “Plus, I heard a big name ex-champion arrived on today’s train. That flashy-dressed man who is always smiling met him, and they joked about him taking on both of the boxers. This exhibition is the closest men of today get to seeing true gladiators in action.”

  No. Her stomach clenched. Gladiators fought to the death. Facing off against a fighter intent on a spectacle was different than going a few well-practiced rounds with a regular opponent. She shoved the schedule across the counter. “I’ll come back on Monday. Thank you, sir.” Pulse racing, Odette hurried out the door, intent on catching her uncle before he headed to the match. She had to warn Viktor.

  **

  Viktor held a towel over his head and stretched five times to the right. Ten feet away, O’Leary ran through his own warm-up routine behind a curtain strung between two trees. Beyond stood the outdoor ring—a wooden platform carried in sections under the train car edged by wooden posts and ropes. Conversations of the gathering crowd buzzed like a hive of bees. He was sure Fyodor stood at the break in the entrance rope enclosure, collecting the dollar entry fee.

  “Andrusha.”

  Viktor turned and blinked twice at the sight of the familiar approaching man. “Mister Tudor.”

  The average-height man extended a hand. “It’s John, and I’m glad to finally locate you.” He grinned and put both hands on his hips, pushing aside his jacket. “You look to be in good shape.”

  Why was the man who managed the acts for the Carbonate Theater here in Montana Territory? He returned the handshake then tapped a fist on his rock-hard belly. “I am.”

  “Quite a write-up in the local paper. Percy’s a friend from way back, and he telegraphed me about the exhibition match.”

  Interesting, but not an explanation. Viktor grabbed his robe from a nearby tree branch and wrapped it over his shoulders. “If you’re still working in Leadville, then you’ve come a long way for an exhibition match.”

  He shrugged. “Figured my message to Fyodor had gone astray, and I’d better deliver it in person. Goldsmith tracked me down in Salt Lake City where I was booking an act for the spring. I didn’t mind the excuse for a short trip.”

  “Message?” He glanced to see if O’Leary was listening, but the man was intent on his jumping jacks.

  “Didn’t your manager tell you of Goldsmith’s offer for you to be the theater’s fight promoter? I talked to Stanislav last December.” He ran a hand over his face. “I’m stretched thin with managing both McDaniel’s theater and the Carbonate. In the interim, I tried a couple of local boxers, but they don’t have the contacts or the reputation in the business you do. Pay is two hundred fifty a month. Offer’s open until the end of the year, or I’ll have to search for someone else.”

  As connected to the boxing world as Tudor was, maybe he already knew about the stain on Viktor’s reputation. Why would Fyodor keep silent about the offer? “Appreciate it, John. I’ve got to continue warming up.”

  The men shook again before Tudor moved out of sight.

  Viktor tossed away the robe and ran in place with arms pumping to loosen his muscles.

  “Did that man call you Andrusha?”

  An unfamiliar voice. Viktor stopped, dread tightening his gut at the thought that finally, after all this time, the authorities had tracked him down. “Yeah, who’s asking?” He shoved both arms into the robe sleeves before turning. Just inside the curtain stood two blond men, the taller one wore his hair shaggy. But looking into their crystal blue eyes was like seeing his own reflection in a mirror.

  The men glanced at each other before the shorter one stepped forward. “I believe we’re your cousins, Viktor. I’m Nicolai, and that lug is Valerik.”

  The word “cousins” allowed Viktor to draw a full breath. In a daze, he shook hands with them both. Would they know of the shame his father heaped on the family name? “But how?”

  “Our last name is not that common. When I heard it spoken, I verified with Nicolai that’s what the gentleman who just emerged said.” The tall one limped close. “I remember a summer your family stayed with us in San Francisco. I was about eleven, so you and Nicolai were only seven or eight.”

  Vague memories of a household with a bunch of rambunctious boys being warned to watch out for toddler and baby girls. “The three-story house with lots of windows on the hill.”

  Nicolai grinned. “You do remember. Mama and Papa still live there with Katya and Orlenda.”

  Reality crashed down. These men were from the prosperous side of the Andrusha family. The one his father always resented. But that resentment had never felt right to Viktor. That summer spent with his three boy cousins had been a special time. “I remember challenging the neighbor boys to games of wall-on-wall boxing.”

  Valerik snorted. “With linked arms, the Andrusha boys would mow them over every time. So, you kept on with boxing?”

  Viktor spread his arms. “That’s where my skills are. What about you? Wasn’t your father a leather worker?” He desperately wanted the conversation to stay focused on their family. No need for the long-lost arm of the family to learn his father was in prison.

  “Still is, and he owns a storefront in San Francisco.” Nicolai placed a hand on his chest. “I own a saddlery shop in a little mining town called Morgan’s Crossing a couple days’ ride from here and supply the store with products and special orders. My wife, Cinnia, owns a seamstress shop.” He turned to Valerik and jerked his chin.

  “My wife and I own a ranch an hour outside of Morgan’s Crossing and raise cattle to provide the hides for the family business. Dorrie grows vegetables that she sells in town.”

  His cousins had definitely put down roots. “Living close must be nice. What about Petya?” His muscles were tightening in the chilly air, but reconnecting with his family took precedence.

  “He got married just last Sunday.” Valerik crossed his arms and grinned. “He and his wife, Fantine, are guardians to seven children. Now, that’s a long story.”

  The passing minutes weighed heavy on his mind. “I’m glad you sought me out, but I have a fight to ready for.” He waved toward the blanket. “I don’t mean to be rude.”

  “Of course.” Nicolai dragged him into a tight embrace. “Увидимся.”

  The Russian salutation seeped into his soul. Viktor cleared his throat. “See you later, I hope.”

  Valerik extended a hand and rested the other on Viktor’s shoulder. “Удачи. We’ll be rooting for you.”

  “Appreciate the good wishes.” He clasped his cousin’s strong hand and squeezed. “Maybe we can share a meal later.”

  “Sure. We drove here in my wife’s traveling wagon from her vaudeville days and planned to camp out tonight near Sweetwater Springs.”

  Viktor chuckled. “Vaudeville? I can’t wait to hear the stories.” He watched as the brothers disappeared, amazed at the unlikelihood of finding relatives in this frontier town.

  “Who were those men?” Fyodor rushed into the practice area and stopped wide-eyed. “What the dickens is going on? Why aren’t you warming up?”

  After the heartfelt nostalgia of reuniting with cousins, he rankled at the reprimand. Viktor slipped off the robe and started a set of jumping jacks. “Don’t worry. I’ll be ready.”

  **

  Odette gripped the edge of the wagon seat as it bounced over the uneven prairie. Too much time
had been wasted in convincing her uncle to allow her to accompany him and the boys to the boxing match. She’d had to share the details of her medical experiment and endure her uncle’s skepticism over her forward behavior. Worry constricted her chest and kept her breathing shallow. Why hadn’t she asked that arrogant manager what his surprise was? Maybe then Viktor could have been warned.

  “There it is.” Ronan stood behind the wagon seat and pointed off to their right.

  “I see it.” Karl guided the horses in that direction.

  “Will you look at all the people?”

  Doyle’s voice held awe, and Odette had to agree. She hadn’t seen a crowd of this size since they journeyed west. As the wagon drew closer, she heard the cheers from the audience, but she couldn’t discern who competed inside the ring.

  Karl steered the wagon toward the left of the ring as close as he could at the back of the gathering. “Here’s a good viewing spot.”

  “But we want to get closer.” Pointing, Ronan leaned into the space between his father and Odette.

  “And get trampled by that crowd?” He turned a deep frown toward the boys. “We three are escorts for your cousin.”

  Guilt stabbed her conscience, but her uncle was right. The boys would get lost in that crowd and probably wouldn’t find a place with a better view. She turned her attention to the ring and spotted Viktor and O’Leary moving in place along the back ropes. Both men’s torsos shone with sweat in the afternoon sun.

  Fyodor raised his arms, and the crowd quieted. “Now, we give members of the audience a chance against the fighter of their choice. Stay upright for two three-minute rounds and earn twenty dollars.”

  “I’ll have a go.”

  Odette gasped as a mountain of a man emerged from the audience and stepped to the outside of the roped area. Broad and bald, this man’s arms were like tree trunks.