“That’s ridiculous!” Cailean sputtered out. “No matter the lies and deception, she was a good teacher. She earned that salary.”
“And ye ken who’s makin’ such a demand. That wretched Jameson woman,” Ewan snapped.
Warren nodded. “The demand is preposterous, but I can see the reasoning behind it.” He glared the brothers into silence. “How did she obtain references? Was she truly a teacher in the past? Did she have any formal training as she stated? It was her claim of such training that convinced the school board to hire her and not wait for another candidate. If the school board found the copy of references she gave them and wrote to those listed, would they prove to be as false as the story she peddled to the town these past five years?” Warren shook his head. “You can understand the frustration from the townsfolk and the desire for some sort of retribution.”
Ewan snorted. “We’ve all been cheated by snake peddlers in the past. Ye never demand repayment because ye ken the money lost was payment for yer foolishness.”
Warren shrugged. “Not all are as sanguine as you, Ewan. And most snake peddlers have the sense to leave town before they are caught.” He watched the brothers for a few moments.
Ewan was filled with a restless energy, while Cailean attempted to maintain his composure. Alistair sat in shocked silence.
Finally Warren motioned to Cailean and Ewan. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like a moment alone with Alistair. We’ll join you in the kitchen when we’re done.”
When Alistair did not protest their leaving, Cailean and Ewan rose. Cailean gripped Alistair’s shoulder as he walked past him, before exiting and shutting the door behind him.
After his brothers left, Alistair met the lawyer’s gaze. “Whatever ye have to say, ye could have said in front of my brothers.”
“Perhaps. However, I feel you should have the right to reveal what you want at your own time.” He paused and met Alistair’s dispassionate gaze. “No matter how you act or what you do or don’t say, I know this isn’t as easy as you are pretending.”
Alistair motioned for him to speak as he clamped his jaw shut.
“Up to now, the townsfolk have focused their ire on Leticia. However, a growing group of people believes you were complicit in her deception and that you should also be held accountable.”
“Ye can’t be serious!” Alistair roared. “Ye saw me at that church. Anyone with eyes would ken I was as flummoxed as the rest of ye.”
Warren nodded. “I agree with you. However, for the few pushing for some sort of monetary retribution, they know they will never recover the money from Leticia alone. Thus they are looking to you. You have a successful business. You have money.”
“Greed wins out,” Alistair rasped. He rose and paced to the window, gripping the sill as he stared blankly into the darkening sky.
“I’m afraid that is what it seems.” Warren ran a hand through his brown hair.
“We have no money,” Alistair whispered. “The fools have no notion that we have no money.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “They think because I built that house for Leticia that I’m a rich man. Instead of doing my share to pay down our arrears, Cail encouraged me to look to the future rather than be hindered by the past.”
Warren sighed. “I must admit many are grumbling about your fine new home. And the fact your sister-in-law runs a successful business.” He met Alistair’s wild gaze. “There are always those who will want what another has.”
Alistair sat as though poleaxed. “Why would ye no’ tell me this in front of Cailean? The livery is half his. He stands to lose as much, or more, as I do. He’s married.”
“Nothing is certain. And I cannot discuss … extenuating circumstances with you regarding Cailean.” Warren raised his eyebrows and stood. “Shall we go to dinner?”
Alistair nodded and followed the lawyer to the kitchen and the round dining table to one side of the large room. He barely noticed the delicious stew Annabelle had prepared. Conversation flowed around him, and he absently listened as Sorcha teased Warren, and Ewan roused Cailean’s ire about his time at the Stumble-Out. After a few minutes, where Alistair had barely touched his food, he rose and fled the harmonious scene out the back door.
He stalked into the livery and stopped when he reached his horse’s stall. The familiar earthy scents of hay, horse, and resin eased some of his tension, and he took a deep breath. He clicked for his horse, and she whinnied, poking her head over the edge of her stall as she sought a treat. She nickered in disappointment but turned her head into his hand as he rubbed behind her ears.
“There’s my lovely lady,” he murmured. Although he had curried her earlier, he pulled out a brush and moved into her stall, brushing her again. As he worked, he spoke to her, discussing his current dilemma and his anger at what transpired. “I dinna ken what to do, Brindle,” he whispered, before chuckling out a mirthless laugh. “And I’m officially mad. Talkin’ to my horse.”
“You’ve always found solace talking with your horse,” Cailean said as he slipped into the barn. “Are you all right, Al?”
Alistair gave Brindle a pat and moved out of her stall. “I dinna ken. Just when I feel as though I’m on the verge of movin’ forward, somethin’ happens to push me back.” He set the brush down and moved to the pump, splashing water on his hands. He then sat on a stool. “I went to the bakery to speak with her today. To try to find a way through this morass.” He slumped on his stool. “She wasna there.”
Cailean’s silence acted as though Alistair were in a confessional, encouraging him to continue his rambling thoughts.
“I held wee Hortence in my arms again,” he whispered. “I’d refused to admit to myself how much I missed her. How the loss of her was nearly as painful as the loss of her mother.”
He dropped his head forward and swiped at his wet cheeks. Anger laced his voice as he slapped a palm against his thigh. “And now to realize I kent nothin’ about the woman I was to wed. A warrant was out for her arrest.” He shuddered.
Cailean took a deep breath. “You still must hear her side of the story, Al. All we’ve heard are accusations and memories that could prove false.”
“I now wonder if they’ll prove any less false than she is.”
After a few moments of silence, Cailean asked, “Why did Warren need to speak with you alone?”
“Dinna ask, Cail. Not tonight.” He looked around the darkened interior of the barn. “It’ll keep for tomorrow.” He sensed Cailean’s desire to pester him about Warren’s private discussion, but he maintained his silence.
“Fine,” Cailean said. “Tomorrow we talk.”
“Aye,” Alistair whispered. “Tomorrow we must talk.”
Chapter 7
By midmorning Cailean had mucked out stalls, fed horses, and filled water troughs. The promise of a warm late June day seeped into the barn on a dry breeze, and the doors at either end of the livery and to the paddock were thrown open. Horse flies pestered the horses, their tails swishing steadily in an attempt to swat them away.
As Cailean worked, he thought about his anniversary with Annabelle last week. He had hoped to sneak away for a few days with her, but had opted to remain in town and have a small, private celebration in their bedroom. He sighed, closing his eyes as he gave thanks for her understanding at his reluctance to leave Alistair at this time. As his mind wandered to his brother, he opened his eyes, his gaze darting around the livery as it searched for him.
“You’re unusually silent today,” Cailean said as he watched his brother and business partner work without whistling or making any noises to the horse he curried. “I’ve waited long enough to discover what Warren said that upset you.”
Alistair brushed harder than intended along the horse’s flank, earning a snort of reproof from the horse. He set aside the brush and rubbed the sore area, muttering a few words to the horse. “More of the same. Seems there are those determined to recover the money given to … her as salary.”
“Why would he ask
Ewan and me to leave the room?” Cailean shook his head.
“A few townsfolk are intent to prove a point at any cost. They are bandying it about that I knew of her lies. And, due to my knowledge, I should be held accountable.”
Cailean furrowed his brows and slung his arms over the stall door as he watched his brother. “Anyone at that church saw your shock. You couldn’t have feigned that.”
Alistair’s smile was rueful. “Memories have a way of shifting about to serve one’s purpose.” He met his brother’s gaze. “They want me to pay what she owes.”
Cailean squinted at his brother and tilted his head as though he were hard of hearing. “No one can be that obtuse.”
“It seems some are, and I suspect ’tis that vengeful Jameson woman looking at any way possible to strike out at her and us. I should no’ have doubted her meddlesome abilities when I spoke with her daughter a few days ago.” Alistair patted the horse once more before moving out of the stall. Cailean backed up to allow his exit and plopped down on a stool. Alistair joined him, picking up a piece of hay to twirl with his fingers. “An’ no, I will no’ be trapped by that woman,” he said, answering Cailean’s unspoken question about Helen Jameson.
“What do you have set aside?” Cailean asked.
“Very little. I put most of what I’d saved into the house Ewan and his men built for us.” His jaw tightened as he thought about the house sitting empty behind the bakery on a slight hill with a view of the mountains from the front.
Cailean sighed as he massaged his forehead. “As it was, they underpaid her.”
Alistair gave a soft grunt. “Thank God they did. Can ye imagine comin’ up with more than the $1,000 they’ll be demanding if this lunacy is allowed to continue?” He looked around the livery. “We’ll lose the business.” His bleak gaze met his brother’s.
Cailean glowered. “Don’t. Don’t you dare apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong. As far as I can see, neither has Leticia.” He waved his hand as though in a conciliatory manner. “She lied, but she taught those children, better than any teacher they’ve had to date.”
“I dinna have the money to hire Warren as my lawyer, and I refuse to ask him to work for me without payin’ him.” Alistair ducked his head.
“Aye. ’Tis a sound plan. The family will hire him,” Cailean said, anger causing his accent to thicken. “We must hire him now afore the lunatics on the school board agree to their course of action.” He patted Alistair on the leg. “Never forget. We stick together. When they attack you, they attack us.” He watched Alistair a moment before he rose. “I’ll go speak with him.”
He left his brother deep in thought and walked to see his friend. When he entered, Warren raised an eyebrow and motioned to follow him into a back room he used as a private office and storeroom. He shut the door, granting them more privacy.
“I wondered when you’d visit me,” Warren said as he watched his friend. He sat in a swivel chair behind a large desk covered in neat stacks of paper.
“We need to hire you. To help Alistair,” Cailean said. “I only hope you haven’t been hired yet by those opposing him.”
Warren shook his head. “They’re busy working on strategy and haven’t yet realized they will need a lawyer.” He shrugged. “Or they underestimate you.”
“I hope they continue to underestimate us so that we outmaneuver them.” He met his friend’s somber gaze. “We want to pay you what is properly owed you, Warren.”
He shared a long look with Cailean. “It may be expensive.”
Cailean took a deep breath. “How binding is that agreement I made with Belle before our wedding?”
Warren eased back into his chair and steepled his fingers. “Extremely. She will have to agree to break it.” He watched as his friend swore under his breath. “And I refuse to help you undermine her so that it is easier for you to manipulate the terms.”
Cailean nodded, respect shining in his eyes as he beheld his friend. “I wouldn’t want you to. I should never have asked such a question.”
Warren fought a rueful smile. “Desperate measures and all that.”
Cailean held out his hand, gripped Warren’s, and shook it. “As long as we are agreed, we will find a way to pay you whatever you are owed. Thank you, Warren.” He slapped his hat back on his head and left, his boots sounding on the floor.
That afternoon Cailean entered the back door to his wife’s bakery and frowned when he saw Leticia washing dishes. He looked into the spare room where Hortence sat at the small desk, drawing. He winked at Hortence and then turned to meet Leticia’s guarded gaze.
“Why are you here, Mr. MacKinnon?” Leticia asked.
His eyebrows rose at the formal address. “I’m Mr. MacKinnon to you? Hmm, times have changed.” He set his hat on a stool and sat on another. “I wanted to see my wife.”
Leticia waved a hand around, unintentionally spraying him with sudsy water. “As you can see, she’s not here.”
Cailean nodded as he looked around the tidy small kitchen. The butcher-block countertops were wiped clean, the ovens were off and slowly cooling after a day’s worth of baking, while only a few bowls remained to be washed. “You’re like a cat, aren’t you? Always landing on your feet.”
Leticia dried the bowl before setting it aside. She kept the towel in her hands as though to keep her hands busy. “I fear we have little to say to each other.”
He leaned across the countertop. “Do you even care what you’ve done to him?” He glared at her as she backed up a step, her expression guarded and blue eyes unfathomable. “He has always had the tendency to be serious, but now he’s lost all ability to appreciate joy. To laugh.” Cailean shook his head. “He only half smiles when it is at something ironic or disappointing. Not joyful.”
“I don’t see why you are concerned about our relationship. I’ve been informed, by numerous sources, that he has overcome whatever meager passion he had for me by frequent visits to the Boudoir.” She flushed at her words.
Cailean scratched at his head and bit his lip as though embarrassed to discuss such a topic with her. “One visit, Leticia.” They shared a long look. “You unmanned him in front of the entire town. With your deceit and lies. He spent years, true to you, and then to not marry you?” Cailean shook his head.
“I didn’t go running off with another man!” Leticia snapped, her hands on her hips.
“It may seem irrational and nonsensical to you, but it was what he needed.”
Leticia snorted with scorn. “Men and their need to feel manly.”
Cailean stood, the stool scraping as he rose with alacrity. “Don’t tell me that isn’t part of the reason you were attracted to Alistair. That he was strong, capable, and manly enough to protect you and your daughter and to provide for you?” He glared at Leticia. “You can’t have it both ways, Lettie.”
She blinked away tears and wrapped an arm around her. “I’m so disappointed in him. In me. In everything.”
His anger seeped away as he saw her tears, and he nodded. “You’ve created quite a mess, and only you can clean it up.” He watched as she swiped at her cheeks. His voice gentled as though against his will. “Keep trying to reach him. He’s angry and hurt, aye, but, underneath it all, there’s love for you.” He flushed as though he had said too much. “I should go.”
“Please spend a few moments with Hortence first. She’s missed all of you so much and doesn’t understand why we can’t go to the livery anymore.” Leticia sighed with apparent relief as Cailean turned toward the small room rather than the rear door.
Cailean entered the tiny room his wife had used as her living area—when she had first opened her bakery the previous year after her arrival in Bear Grass Springs. He ran a hand over Hortence’s head, her silky red hair slipping past his fingers. “Hello, Hortence. I’ve missed you.”
She looked up at him with serious eyes. “You’re mad at my mama. And you didn’t want to see me.”
He crouched next to her. “Of course I want
to see you. Sometimes adults can be hardheaded and not realize how they are hurting those they care about.”
“Like ’Stair with Mama?” She doodled on her paper, her gaze downcast.
“Yes, and like your mama to us.”
Hortence dropped her pencil and threw herself into his arms as he fell on his bottom.
“Shh, little one. It’ll be all right.” He held her and scooted on the floor until he leaned against the small cot Leticia and Hortence shared as their bed.
“You don’t hate me?” she croaked out.
He kissed her head and rocked her. “Of course not. You’re our Little Bug,” he murmured, calling her by the nickname Alistair had given her this spring.
“My mama’s so sad.”
Cailean heaved out a breath as her tears continued to fall. “I know. So are we.”
“We should have ice cream and cake and make it all better.”
He chuckled at her suggestion and held her closer. “I wish it were so simple. Although, in many ways, I think you’re right.” He heard the back door open and attempted to tease Hortence. “You don’t want Miss Annabelle to think I’ve made you cry, do you?”
She giggled into his shoulder but snuggled in tighter, refusing to ease out of his embrace.
He stilled when he heard a low voice, rather than his wife’s higher-pitched tones. He felt Hortence stiffen in his arms. “What is it?”
“It’s that bad man again,” she whispered. “Make him go away.”
Cailean rose, setting Hortence on the cot. He swiped at her cheeks and gave her a gentle pat to her head before he tiptoed to the doorway. He saw the man called Josiah Fry backing Leticia into a corner. His voice sounded as a low rumble, and Cailean could not make out the words.
“What are you doing here?” Cailean demanded. He smiled with grim satisfaction as the lanky man spun to face him. “Were you hoping to gang up on her while you thought she was alone?” Cailean pushed away from the doorjamb, entering the room. He stood at least three inches taller than Josiah Fry, and his hazel eyes glowed with anger.
Montana Grit Page 7
