Glorious Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series)

by Debra Holland

  Lina Barrett lifted her chin in obvious satisfaction.

  Joshua clapped his hand on the side of Jonah’s shoulder. “A good wife is above rubies.” He smiled at Lina. “I’m glad things changed for you.”

  “Like night and day.” Jonah nodded toward the children with him. “This is my son, Adam, and my daughter, Maria.”

  Joshua glanced from the girl with the curly brown hair in Jonah’s arms to Adam who’d been eying Micah. He broke into a grin. “I can’t believe you have children.”

  Jonah’s green eyes sparkled. “So do you.”

  “I know. But I still remember us as so young.”

  Seth Flanigan stepped forward and playfully jostled Jonah. “Let someone else get in a word, Barrett,” he said in a teasing tone, reaching out to shake Joshua’s hand.

  Joshua barely recalled Seth. The son of a saloon girl, the older boy had kept to himself in school and hadn’t attended church.

  Seth held a toddler who possessed the same compelling gray eyes as his father.

  Joshua glanced at a girl, who looked almost Micah’s age, standing next to a pretty blonde woman in the early stage of pregnancy, and then at the young one in her arms. Both children had the gray Flanigan eyes.

  Seth introduced his wife, Trudy, who wore a fashionable blue gown and matching hat.

  “My sister and her husband are missionaries in Africa,” Mrs. Flanigan said. “Do you know Anna and Martin Ramsey?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t.” Joshua shook his head. “Where in Africa? We were in Uganda.”

  “Cameroon.”

  “Ah, I know some information about Cameroon and would be glad to discuss it with you, give you details of the life of a missionary and his family.”

  Smiling, Mrs. Flanigan placed a hand on her chest. “I’d like that. Thank you, Reverend Norton. I dearly miss Anna.” She pulled her daughter to her side in a hug as if needing comfort.

  The Barrett and Flanigan children looked well-fed and well-dressed, bright expressions on their faces—as different as could be from the thin, scruffy boys their fathers had once been.

  Seeing the two happy families made Joshua realize what he was missing. I want what they have: a stable home blessed with an abundance of joy, me having meaningful work, and Micah with a happy smile on his face.

  Micah and Adam Barrett warily eyed each other—a pair of male dogs sniffing, not sure whether to fight or be friends.

  Adam pulled a wooden slingshot out of a pocket.

  Micah’s expression brightened. “I have one, too. Father made me pack it in the trunk. Can I see yours?” He set down the valise and held out his hand.

  The locomotive behind them gave a hiss and a chortle. The whistle blew, and the train inched forward.

  The Barrett boy handed his over.

  Micah studied the slingshot. “Mine is made of wood with a figure carved here.” He pointed to the Y. “These are the legs.”

  “Come, Micah,” Joshua said. “We are keeping your grandparents waiting. Give Adam back his slingshot. Perhaps you two can go hunting later.”

  Micah’s face closed up, obviously remembering the hunting he’d done in Uganda with his friends. He returned the slingshot and picked up the valise.

  Mrs. Barrett leaned forward toward Micah. The breeze lifted a strand of hair from her chignon. The corkscrew curl bounced against her cheek. “Your grandmother told me about you on our wedding day,” she said to the boy and glanced over at Mrs. Flanigan. “Do you remember that conversation, Trudy?”

  The other woman nodded, her expression nostalgic. “I do.” She looked over at Joshua’s mother. “Dear Mrs. Norton. You were worried about baby Micah, whether he’d be healthy in Africa. Yet, here he is, safe and sound, reunited with you. The answer to your prayers.”

  His father placed his hand in the small of his wife’s back. “Yes, indeed. Long years of praying for the health and happiness of the family we loved who were so far from us.”

  Sudden tears gleamed in his mother’s eyes. She made eye contact with each of the three men, then gazed at the children in front of her. “The answers to many of my prayers are standing here before me.” She spread her arms, fingers wide. “I feel very blessed.”

  Joshua glanced at his father, saw smiling, happiness softening the austerity of his face, and he felt a rush of gratitude for the steadfastness of his parents. He cleared his throat. “Shall we head home, or do you think I have to go around and greet everyone?”

  With a whoosh and a chug-chug-chug, the train pulled away from the station, the noise interrupting them.

  They waited a moment, then his mother said, “Oh, no, dear. There’s a party the day after tomorrow. You can talk to everyone there.”

  “The party’s not for us, I hope.” His dismayed expression must have conveyed his feelings because both Seth and Jonah burst into laughter.

  “It’s springtime,” Seth said. “The good citizens of Sweetwater Springs will take any excuse for a party. I’m told there’s supposed to be ice cream.” He winked at Micah.

  “Ice cream!” The boy perked up. While at the Maynards’, Micah had been introduced to the treat, and like any child, well, like any person, he loved ice cream.

  “Yes.” Mrs. Barrett beamed at Micah. “An ice cream social. Adam will introduce you to all the other children, won’t you, son?”

  Adam nodded.

  Joshua let out a breath of relief. “As long as we aren’t the guests of honor.”

  “You’ll be the unofficial guests of honor,” Jonah said. Laughter crinkled the lines around his green eyes, even though his expression remained deadpan.

  “Especially for the ladies,” Mrs. Flanigan added.

  Joshua suppressed a groan. “I’m still in mourning,” he said with a stiffness in his voice, which he hoped would convey his objection to any matrimonial schemes the women might be hatching. But even as he said the words, the thought of Miss Bellaire flashed into his mind, and suddenly, his objections vanished. He wondered if she’d wish to leave her father for long enough to attend the party.

  “You all head on home,” Seth told the Nortons. “Jonah and I will see to your trunks. We’ll leave them on your porch.”

  “Thank you,” Joshua said, grateful for the offer. “Good to see you both, again.” He gazed at their wives and children. “And doing well.”

  At his words, each man glanced at his wife and exchanged a look with her.

  The love on their faces made Joshua’s throat close. He remembered sharing those kinds of looks with Esther years earlier. He remembered too how the gazes had faded away, changing to expressions that were often pinched with disapproval and resentment on her part, withdrawn on his, until finally, there were no longer any loving exchanges. Esther hadn’t even softened to him on her deathbed, although Joshua had tried to remain caring until the end.

  Old sadness arose in him. Joshua said subdued good-byes and took back his valise from his son.

  A family stood at the foot of the stairs to the platform.

  He recognized John Carter and had no problem remembering his wife Pamela. Before Joshua left for the seminary, John’s journey to Boston to find a bride had been the talk of the town. When the couple returned, the newlyweds had an impromptu party, with people coming for miles around to celebrate their marriage. Mrs. Carter had gained some weight since Joshua had last seen her, probably from the three children she’d borne, but the kind expression on her plain face hadn’t changed.

  As he exchanged greetings with the Carters and they introduced their two oldest children to Micah, Joshua saw an air of assurance about Pamela that was far different from the timid bride he remembered.

  The couple waved good-bye, promising to meet again at the ice cream social.

  The Nortons moved on. Pondering the changes he’d seen in the people he’d talked to, Joshua fell into step with
his parents and Micah as they picked their way among the wagons, mounted riders, and pedestrians. He’d never seen Main Street so crowded. “Mother, you sure have powerful prayers. Goes to show you. . .Jonah and Seth are the last boys I would have expected to grow up and become solid citizens.”

  She took his arm and squeezed. “God’s hand has been on both of those boys. He led the right women to them, and that made all the difference in their lives. It’s given me a great deal of pleasure to watch them fall in love, have solid marriages, and start families.”

  With a pang of envy, Joshua looked away. The left side of the road looked familiar: the schoolhouse and white church with the steeple. On the right, however, a half-finished four-story hotel rose into the sky, very like the tall structures of any city. The brick mercantile and some of the false-fronted buildings were the same, although the structures had weathered. But another new place, not quite as tall as the hotel, was also half-finished. Simple Sweetwater Springs was growing up.

  He pointed. “What’s that going to be?”

  “Anthony Gordon’s office building.”

  Gordon? He didn’t recall the man.

  “Mr. Gordon’s only lived here for a year,” his mother explained. “Well, not even a year. He married our schoolteacher and started up a newspaper.” She waved to one of the wooden structures. “He’ll move when the new building is finished.”

  So many changes. “Are there a lot of new people around?”

  His father nodded. “If you count the babies born, probably several hundred more since you’ve been gone. Then we have the transient workman—carpenters, plumbers, and such. They’re busy ants. The rate those buildings are going up astonishes me. But Gordon and Livingston give the men Sunday morning off so they can attend services. And to their credit, most of them do. I’m hoping many will remain here after their work is over.”

  They walked past the white church with the broad gray steps and matching door. “Looks the same,” Joshua commented.

  “It is.” His father smiled. “Packed on Sundays. I’m starting to think we either need two services or a bigger church.”

  Joshua gave a wry shake of his head. “I can’t imagine that.”

  The parsonage sat behind and to the right of the church. The house looked smaller and more worn down than Joshua remembered.

  His mother hurried up the steps of the porch and turned to face them. She extended a hand to both Joshua and Micah. “Welcome home, my dear boys!”

  Micah stared at his grandmother with big eyes.

  His mother had always been the quiet one, loving and gentle. Her display of emotion surprised and touched Joshua. He took Micah’s hand in his and led him inside.

  Home. We’re finally home.

  Delia watched Reverend Joshua Norton move through the crowd. Even though her stomach was tight with fear for her father, the press of the minister’s hand lingered in her memory, and she felt comforted by his touch. She started to follow the men carrying Andre.

  Before she could move, Mr. Livingston held out his arm to her. “If I may,” he said with a charming smile.

  Anxious to follow her father, Delia slipped her hand around Mr. Livingston’s arm and allowed him to escort her through the crowd. She glanced up at the “Welcome Home” banner and, with a pang of guilt, realized they must have disrupted Reverend Norton’s homecoming celebration. I’ll have to apologize to him.

  At the foot of the platform stairs, a couple waited with their two children. A faded dusty carriage with yellow wheels was parked near them.

  “John Carter and his wife Pamela, their two older children.” Mr. Livingston murmured in her ear. “The foremost rancher in the area.”

  Delia said a quiet thanks to the Carters.

  Mr. Carter opened the door of the carriage so the men could maneuver her father inside. Andre’s normally healthy complexion still looked ashen. His eyelids drooped. But at least, he seemed to be breathing better.

  Delia released Mr. Livingston’s arm to hover anxiously nearby, feeling helpless to do anything to aid her father.

  The doctor motioned her to climb inside.

  She looked up at Mr. Livingston. “But what will you all do?”

  He gave her a reassuring smile. “My house is not far. We’ll walk and meet you there. In fact—” he glanced at the boy with him “—Ben, run ahead and tell Mrs. Graves that we’ll be having company and to turn down the bed in the blue guest room.” He reached for the valises. “Give those to me.”

  Ben wrinkled his nose, but he nodded affirmative. “Yes, Uncle Caleb.” The boy handed over the valises and took off running down the street.

  Delia climbed inside the carriage. The interior smelled of leather.

  Her father was propped across from her, his head back and legs stretched out.

  She placed a trembling hand on his knee. “You’ll be all right, Papa.” Please dear Lord, make him well. I couldn’t bear to lose him. I’ve only just found him!

  Andre managed a faint turn of his lips before closing his eyes.

  The movement reassured her, and, still touching him, she settled back against the cushions.

  The redheaded doctor climbed in through the opposite side. As soon as he was seated and the door closed, the carriage began to move.

  Dr. Cameron picked up her father’s wrist and placed his fingers on his pulse. After a minute, the doctor released the hand and looked at her. “Tell me about your father’s health, Miss. . . ?” he asked.

  There was an accent behind the doctor’s words. Scottish? “Bellaire. My father is Andre Bellaire, and I am Delia.”

  “Miss Bellaire, has your father suffered one of these attacks before?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know, Dr. Cameron. Most of my life, my father has lived in New York for business purposes.” The two of them had decided to stick to the truth as much as possible when explaining about themselves. Delia thought of her father’s mention of his will. “I suspect he may have hidden any health concerns from me.”

  “That wouldn’t be uncommon.” The doctor pressed his lips together. “He’s survived the attack and that’s important, lass. But I’ll want your father to have complete bed rest until I say otherwise, and he’s not to fret about anything, d’ye hear? The Livingston house is very comfortable. Mrs. Graves is an excellent cook. You both will be well taken care of there.”

  “Thank you, doctor,” she murmured. “Yet to throw ourselves on the mercy of strangers. . . .”

  “They won’t be strangers for long. Indeed, most of the town won’t be strangers for long. It’s not often we have visitors from the South, so you’ll be of interest to everyone.”

  The idea dismayed her. She and her father had planned to move to a city where they could blend in, avoiding the curiosity of small town inhabitants.

  Her expression must have shown her concern, for the doctor smiled, showing crooked teeth. “You’re in luck, lass. With Joshua Norton and his son returning home from missionary work in Africa, much of the townsfolk’s attention will be on him.”

  Africa! Under other circumstances, she would have been interested in hearing more about the man. She noted that Dr. Cameron hadn’t mentioned a wife.

  “In fact, there’s a welcome home party in two days. Although, Reverend Enoch Norton and his wife Mary, who are Reverend Joshua Norton’s parents, insisted their son wouldn’t be comfortable with an event in their honor, so we’re calling it an ice cream social. I think you should attend.”

  “I couldn’t possibly leave my father,” she demurred, not wanting to go among strangers, especially with her secret.

  “Well, we shall see how he does tomorrow, shan’t we now? And not just his body, but also his mind. He might want to keep you close. Or he might rather you spend some time enjoying yourself.”

  At that possibility, she made a sound of protest.

  “Re
member, ease of mind.” The doctor’s brogue deepened. “So, you must abide by his wishes, aye? But I predict ye’ll be able to get away for a little while, at least. After the scare today, a party will do you good.”

  Delia didn’t think so, but she had no intention of arguing. “Yes, Doctor.

  He patted her knee. “Good, lass.”

  The carriage rolled to a stop. “Ah, we’re here,” Dr. Cameron said. “You climb out first, then we’ll have Bart and Rube carry out your father.”

  Delia heard hoofbeats, the creak of harness, the snort of horses as other vehicles pulled up, and she wondered how many people had followed them.

  The door opened, and a man reached in to help her.

  She grasped the hairy, callused hand and allowed him to assist her in climbing from the carriage. “Thank you,” she said to the burly man, who’d carried her father. “We appreciate your help.”

  The man shyly ducked his head and stepped around her to climb into the carriage.

  Delia hastened out of the way of the other big man, casting a worried glance toward their accommodation.

  The Livingston home was a beautiful three-story brick mansion with many stained glass windows. A walkway edged in daffodils led through a thick grass lawn. More yellow daffodils bloomed in white planter boxes. A brick-and-iron fence surrounded the property. Beyond the house, green-forested mountains loomed, snow on their peaks and hollows. A lovely place! Relieved her father would be recovering in an elegant and spacious house, Delia let go of some of her worry.

  Ben Livingston hurried up to her. “Mrs. Graves has prepared a bed for your father, Miss Bellaire. She used the warming pan so he won’t have cold sheets.”

  “Thank you, Ben,” Delia murmured.

  He moved away to watch the two men work.

  Together, the large fellows maneuvered Andre Bellaire out of the coach.

  Delia was relieved to see her father making feeble efforts to help himself.

  Another newer carriage pulled up. The handsome driver gave her a friendly salute.

  The door flew open, and the Livingstons stepped out, followed by the Carters without their children, and a blonde woman she hadn’t met. The woman held a baby. They didn’t crowd Delia, but remained a respectful distance away.