by Jill Barnett
The hills were even golder than the week before, and they rolled like yellow waves across the western horizon. Above them stood the oak- and pine-covered ridges, so dark a green that they appeared to demarcate the warm gold land from the ice blue sky. No rattling trolleys, no smudged gray sky filled with ash and smoke, no stench of human waste existed in her new world. Just birds, blue skies, and the sharp, clean scent of eucalyptus. The locals called their farms the home place, but for Addie this was a place to call home.
She smiled, her thoughts as dreamy as her mood. She dressed slower than usual, because her mind would drift and dream. She felt younger, more alive today, and the practical part of her said, "snap out of it, silly girl." Her shirtwaist was a soft, feminine shade of lavender, trimmed with lace, but her skirt was no-nonsense black. She brushed her hair, deciding to wear it down with a big black bow, but to offset it she slid her small feet into a pair of squat, practical shoes. But even the practical shoes couldn't keep Adelaide Amanda Pinkney from all but floating out of the room.
She fetched the fixings for breakfast, the eggs from the basket near the cellar door, ham from the meat barrel, plump red potatoes to fry with onions, and the ingredients for biscuits, less the plaster of paris. She smiled. He'd been a good sport about that, and she intended to make up for her bad meals, especially since he now knew the truth. And a good breakfast couldn't hurt her cause either. After all, there was that old adage about the way to a man's heart.
Addie set the ingredients on the worktable and went to light the stove. There wasn't any stove wood. Custus must have forgotten to bring it in. She crossed the kitchen and descended the back steps, her shoes clicking like impatient fingernails on the stairs. She all but skipped over to the woodpile and began to stack stove wood in her arms, humming "After the Ball."
She felt the warm heat of Montana's look, and smiled as she turned, arms filled with sticks of rough, splintery pine. He leaned on the water pump, his red shirt half undone, his hair wet from dunking his head, but best of all he wore that warm, delighted smile—the one Addie had wished for, and now gotten.
"Want to dance?" he asked around that smile.
"There's no music."
He began to whistle, and her heart swelled so, she thought it might burst from her chest. She reached to grab one more piece of wood and his whistling stopped.
"Don't move, Addie!" His voice was no longer teasing.
It startled her and she straightened.
"Don't move!" he shouted.
She froze, then heard it. The rattle.
She didn't move; she didn't breathe; she didn't blink. She did pray.
She caught a flash of red from the corner of her eye. He'd run into the barn. The snake rattled again. It was a beady, black sound, and it was so close it sounded as if it were in her ear. Chills raced down her back, her arms. The wood felt like iron, so heavy she wondered how long she could hold it, and her breath. The rattle went on and on.
A gun exploded. The bullet whizzed past her ear. The rattle stopped.
Montana pulled her arm so hard she dropped the wood. He held her tight, so, so tight. "Are you all right?" His voice was barely a rasp.
"Yes." She shook, so she held him even tighter, her small arms gripping his waist. Her face was buried against his chest.
"I didn't think I'd get back fast enough. God, Addie, but that was close." He dropped the gun, and before it thudded to the ground, his hands clasped her head, tilting it back. "God…'' he whispered just before he kissed the fear right out of her.
His tongue dove deep into her mouth, stroking, as if testing to see if she was real. Then he left her mouth and pulled back, but kept kissing her face, her eyes, her temples. "That was so close…''
"I'm okay, Montana. I am." She heard all his past demons in his poignant voice and felt as if she had to soothe him.
"You don't understand." He murmured against her lips.
"Yes, I do." She pushed away a bit and looked up at his face. "Will told me about your mother. I do know, and I'm okay."
He didn't say a word, he just held her, rubbing his hands over her small back, resting his chin on her head. She listened to his heart slow down until it beat at a normal rate.
"I care, Addie. I care so much. I didn't want to but I do. Please marry me."
She pushed away from him and looked up. "I love you," she told him.
He looked as if it was painful to speak. "I've never been in love with a woman. I don't know what it's like." His hands fell away from her, but he continued to look at her as he spoke. "I don't like to care about things, Addie, because when you care about something, something always happens to take it away. I don't know about this love business, but I know that I care about you."
He laughed a bit cynically. "Believe me, I fought it every step of the way. I do know that I don't want you to go. I know that I want to hold you, sleep with you, and make love to you over and over. I know that I'd like to try to make this farm a success, but I don't want to do it alone anymore. I want to do it with you. This should be our place, not your buildings and my land, your well and my water."
He turned and began to pace a short line in front of her. "I promise I'll be good to you. I'll provide for you and help you. I'm a hard worker, Addie, and I'll try not to let you down if you'll marry me. That's the best promise I can make to you, but I think we could have a good life. I'll try. Is that enough?" He stopped and looked at her for the first time since he'd started pacing and listing his qualifications as a husband.
There was a long silence.
"I'll always dance with you, Addie." He smiled a tentative, anxious yet teasing smile.
Lord but she loved this man, and she didn't think she would ever get another proposal like this one. She cared more about Montana then she did about the farm, but she wasn't sure he did. Before she answered him, she had to know. "Will you agree to sign a contract about the farm?"
"What kind of contract?"
"You can deed me half the land and I'll deed to you half ownership in the buildings and improvements. Then it will be our place, legally and in writing." She held her breath. His answer would determine hers.
He smiled. "If I agree to the contract, will you agree to marry me?"
She smiled. "If you'll agree then I'll agree."
Then he laughed, but to her joy there was a tinge of relief in that laugh. "You're still the little burr. Should we count to three and then both say yes at the same time?"
"Yes," she said.
"Yes, you agree to marry me?"
"Uh-uh. Yes, I agree to count to three." She didn't want to make this too easy for him. After all, he did dance with Rebecca.
"One… two… three…"
Neither of them said a word, but they both laughed.
Chapter 20
Where do we sign?" Addie asked Levi Hamilton.
"You sign here and Montana signs here. Then you'll both get a copy, and I've kept an extra here for Wade when he gets back from Sacramento." Levi looked at both of them. "I'm glad you two finally got this sorted out. Although working on Sunday is against my principles. Why did it have to be done today?"
"I was afraid she'd change her mind," Montana told him.
Addie handed the contract to Montana. "Here, you sign first." Then she grinned.
With an exasperated shake of his head, Montana took the paper and signed his name to the line where she pointed. She knew she was gloating, but she couldn't help it—and he did dance with Rebecca.
He handed the paper to Addie, and she signed it, but just to worry him, she took her sweet time. When she finished, she handed the contract to Levi and he witnessed it.
"Okay. It's official. You each own half of the other's property. Montana owns half the buildings and improvements and Addie owns half the land."
"Good," Montana said, turning to Addie. "Now will you marry me?"
Levi choked, then sat on his desk in a coughing fit.
"Yes," Addie answered, patting her lawyer on the bac
k.
Montana grabbed her hand. "Good, let's go." He pulled her toward the door and over his shoulder he said, "Thanks, Levi. Send those copies out to the farm, will you?" And he pulled Addie out the door.
"Don't you think we should have stayed to make sure he was all right?" she asked as Montana lifted her onto the wagon.
"He'll be fine, and I'm not waiting." He jumped up, sat, and the team took off toward the Four Corners Church. They careened around three sharp turns, with Addie gripping the rail on the wagon seat, before he reined in and ran up the church steps. The doors were locked.
"Goddammit! Since when is a church closed on Sunday?" Montana sulked down the steps.
"That was either very brave or very stupid," she told him.
"What?" he asked, climbing into the wagon.
"Standing on the church steps and cursing," she said, adding dryly, "and on a Sunday no less."
He just looked at her, then asked, "Where would the preacher be on a Sunday afternoon?"
"At home, or possibly having Sunday dinner with one of the parishioners." She adjusted her skirt. "We could wait unt—''
"No," he said, snapping the team into motion. A few minutes later they were at Reverend Fromer's home. Again Montana jumped down, then unlatched the small, white gate that opened onto a walk lined with a rainbow of velvety petunias and towering snapdragons. Up the front steps he loped and knocked on the red, wooden frame of the screen door. He rocked impatiently on his heels, waiting, and probably cursing the porch air blue, Addie thought. But she was secretly thrilled that he was so anxious. She watched him rock on his heels, mumbling, and she smiled.
After he'd killed the snake and they had agreed, in sorts, to their plans, he'd rushed her through breakfast and into the wagon. The next thing she knew, Montana had tracked down her lawyer and coerced him into drawing up the contracts. Apparently, from Levi's reaction, Montana hadn't told him about their marriage.
Another set of loud knocking rattled the Fromers' door. The reverend could be gone, and then they'd have to wait. If the truth be told, Addie really didn't want to wait either. Montana turned, his shoulders down just a notch, and the front door opened. Addie could see Mrs. Fromer's white bun through the screen. The woman was wiping her hands on a white towel while she listened to Montana. Then she turned and peered over his shoulder at Addie, who waved a quick, guilty little wave. She'd missed the service this morning. The two of them stood on the porch, spoke a moment more, then Montana came back to the wagon. He was smiling that cocky male smile of accomplishment.
"We're to go to the church. The reverend's working on his cistern pump and he'll meet us there in about a half hour." He hopped up and away they went again.
Forty-five minutes later they were still waiting, Addie sitting on the front steps of the church and Montana pacing a rut into the dirt. The Fromers' buggy pulled up and the reverend helped his wife down and then unlocked the church doors.
"Sorry I took so long. I can't seem to get that pump working," the reverend said, pocketing the big brass key and pushing open the doors. "I brought the missus here as a witness. She said you were somewhat… uh, anxious that the ceremony be performed today." He turned toward them.
Addie wondered if a preacher could tell if you'd sinned. His face sure looked as if he knew exactly what had gone on between Montana and her. She felt herself flush.
"Neither of us has any family left, so there was no reason for a wedding." Montana put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. "Besides, Addie here is a romantic. Today is the day her parents married, and she thought it would be special if we married on that day too," Montana lied, saving her moral face.
He gave her shoulder a quick, affectionate squeeze and added, "Isn't that right, sweet?"
Addie prayed for forgiveness and nodded.
The reverend smiled. "Let's get started, then." He turned and walked down the aisle and up to the front of the church, where he reached behind the podium and took out a book. He stood just to the left of the huge pipe organ and told them to stand in front of him and join hands.
As he spoke the marriage words, all kinds of thoughts ran like jackrabbits through Addie's mind. Was she making the right decision? Montana had said he liked her, cared for her, but was that really enough on which to base a lifetime? A home? Children? She looked up at him, so tall, his face so chiseled, his jaw so hard. She was scared.
As if ordered by fate, or because of some eerie ability to read her mind, Montana squeezed her hand just a bit tighter. She glanced up again and he winked. That was all. she needed. If he spent a lifetime draping his arm around her, dancing in the moonlight, and winking, well then, it was enough.
"Do you…'' The reverend paused and looked at Addie with a question in his eyes.
"Adelaide Amanda Pinkney," she answered.
"Do you, Adelaide Amanda Pinkney, take… ?"
"Montana Bartholomew Creed."
She tried to stop it, but a little snort of laughter escaped Addie's trembling lips. Bartholomew? That was the name of one of the twelve disciples. She got the giggles, imagining a dimple at the last supper.
Montana squeezed her hand really tight and she bit her lip. Then she realized that the minister, his wife, and Montana were all looking at her expectantly.
He repeated, "Will you, Adelaide Amanda Pinkney, take Montana Bartholomew…"
She grinned again.
"…Creed as your lawful, wedded husband? To have and to hold, from this day forward, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?"
"Do I have to go first?" she asked.
"Addie…'' Montana warned.
"Well, I don't see why I have to go first," she argued, not yet forgetting about the way he danced with Rebecca. "Can't he go first?"
Montana sighed and told the reverend to ask him first.
"This is highly irregular," the reverend said, glancing back and forth between the two of them.
"So is my bride," Montana said.
This time Addie squeezed his hand too tight, and out of the corner of her eye she saw him smile.
The reverend shook his head and said, "Will you, Montana Bartholomew, take Adelaide Amanda for your wedded wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"
"I will." Montana's deep, princely voice said the words of her dreams.
The reverend turned to Addie. "Will you, Adelaide Amanda, take Montana Bartholomew as your wedded husband? To have and to hold, from this day forward, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"
"I will," Addie said, but the words came out in a croak. God had a sense of humor. Here she was marrying Montana and she sounded like a toad. Addie bit back an embarrassed smile.
"Do you have rings?" the reverend asked.
She stood quietly waiting, wondering what Montana would do. She knew he didn't have time to get a ring. But he surprised her when he pulled out a small ring from his pants pocket. She breathed a sigh of relief, then quickly slid the nickel chain of her small chatelaine bag off her wrist. In her nervousness, the chain clinked and rattled. It sounded as loud as a train in the tense quietness of the small church. She snapped open the clasp and dug through the small bag, pulling out her father's wedding ring. It was special, and she looked at it for a moment before she tentatively handed it to the reverend.
Montana took her hand again and she stared at their clasped hands. Within seconds they both wore their rings, rings that would bind them together for a lifetime. Addie felt her throat tighten with emotion, and for a brief second she felt as if her family were there, standing just over her shoulder, watching with approval.
The spell broke when the reverend pronounced them man and wife.
She looked up at Montana. He was smiling that smile—the one she'd longed for and could now experience for a lifetime. But then he bent down and gave her a chaste peck on the cheek. It was a cool and empty kiss that left her completely baffled. Addie would have thought after t
he way he'd hurried that he would have picked her up and plastered his lips to her as soon as the ceremony was over.
The Fromers congratulated them, and she found the strength to don a phony smile on her face. No one could tell how she really felt—worried. Montana had half the farm now and they were married. Maybe that was all he wanted. Maybe his caring was all an act. Addie had a horrid sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, like she'd just swallowed a bundle of dynamite that would explode any minute, sending her into shattered pieces.
She turned her blank eyes to Montana. He had pulled some silver dollars from his pocket and handed it to the reverend, who shook his head. "Do you know anything about cistern pumps?"
"Yes," Montana answered.
"Good, then instead of a donation of money, how about if you help me get that pump running instead?" Reverend Fromer waited for his answer.
Montana looked as if the man had asked for his left arm.
"I might be willing to say a little prayer in your behalf about missing all those Sunday services." The reverend offered the bribe without a bit of shame in his voice, which also had just the right amount of authority in its tone. He had them.
Montana agreed. So for the next two hours Addie sat in the Fromers' parlor, listening to Mrs. Fromer and mentally giving Montana Creed, her new husband, all kinds of nefarious reasons for tricking her into marriage. By the time they had eaten with the Fromers, at their insistence, and had passed through town, it was dark. And so was her mood.
They passed the town jail, a brown-weathered, splintery, old building with a sagging porch roof. It was the last building in town. Montana made the turn onto the road that led home. She was so down that she didn't even notice at first that he'd stopped the wagon. Then it hit her and she looked up. "Why'd you stop?"
"For this." He pulled her up and into his arms so fast she hardly had a chance to take a quick breath before his mouth closed over hers. He kissed her like he'd waited for an eternity, like she was rain to his drought, like he'd die if he didn't. His hands roved over her small back, pressing her closer. His tongue was long, thick, warm, and rough, and it overtook her mouth, filling it, melting her. By the time he pulled back, she had stopped all conscious thought.
