Moon Over Montana (McCutcheon Family Series Book 5)

by Caroline Fyffe

  She shook her head. It was almost seven o’clock. The side of beef cooking over the fire pit would soon be sliced up and the rest of the dinner brought out to the table. The night would be gone before Brandon made a showing. Not to mention, she had spent two hours dressing. She couldn’t smell any sweeter if she tried.

  The music stopped and the musicians put their instruments down. It was the first break in an hour, and the silence at once sounded deafening.

  Chance and Evie smiled. “Good to see you dancing, Charity,” Chance said. “No need to worry over Brandon. He can take care of himself. But while you’re waiting, I’d like to introduce you to a newcomer to town who arrived when you were gone.”

  A lot of that happening lately. She thanked Luke for the dance, then followed Chance and Evie to the barn doors, feeling like a third wheel without Brandon. She smiled and nodded at friends. Chance stopped next to a new fellow standing by himself, who, even though he tried to cover it, looked bored. His sandy blond hair, cut just below his ears, was neatly combed, and his shirt was pressed. “This is Tobit Preece,” Chance said. “He’s relatively new to Y Knot. He lives several miles past our place with his grandfather. Tobit, this is Charity McCutcheon.”

  A surge of memories made her smile. As a girl, she’d galloped Buttercup, her first horse, over the meadows that bordered the Preece farm, splashing through the river on especially hot days. “Your grandfather is Isaiah Preece?”

  “That’s correct, miss,” he said with a somewhat shy smile.

  Charity couldn’t stop her smile from widening. “How is he? I haven’t seen him in a very long time.”

  “He gets around fair t’middling for a man who will be eighty-five this year. Well enough to drive the buckboard to town once a day, delivering milk to the mercantile, and to check on things ’round the farm I’m supposed to get done.”

  Tobit had a slight Southern accent, which made all his words sound warm and inviting.

  “I’m happy to hear that. When I was just a girl, I used to ride my horse up the river and venture out your way. I used to think him the nicest man in the world. If he spotted me, he was always so friendly. And he’d talk up a storm.”

  His mouth quirked. “That sounds like Gramps. Never lets his chores interfere with his jawing.”

  She looked around. “Is he here tonight?”

  “No, he stayed home.”

  Charity liked Tobit’s eyes. They were kind and inquisitive. Showed an intelligent wisdom. “I have to say, I’m surprised to meet you. I wasn’t aware Isaiah had any children, let alone a grandson. He never said anything.”

  Tobit’s smile dimmed.

  Me and my big mouth. The moment the words were out, she wished she could call them back.

  “Tobit has a lot of new plans for the farm,” Evie said, skillfully changing the subject. “And he’s sketched it all out on a big board, so even a city girl like me can understand.”

  Thank God for Evie. “That sounds really nice, Tobit.”

  “Charity,” Faith called, waving from across the barn. “Can you come here?”

  She nodded, and snagged Tobit’s gaze. “Be sure to tell your grandfather Charity McCutcheon says hello, and that I’m going to come out to see him sometime soon. Also, that I’m delighted to meet his grandson.” She reached out and touched his arm. “All the McCutcheons are, Tobit. Now that you know us, don’t be a stranger.”

  Tobit shook his head, then smiled at the Holcombs. “No, miss. Chance and Evie have taken me under their wing and are working hard to make sure I meet absolutely everyone in Y Knot.”

  Feeling a bit better, Charity set her hands on her hips. “And to think I thought I was special.” They all laughed.

  • • •

  Brandon rode toward Luke and Faith’s barn, which was full to overflowing with townsfolk. Buggies and wagons were everywhere. Horses were tied to hitching posts and trees. The sounds of laughter and the buzz of friends talking drifted out through the darkness to meet him.

  He glanced around, miffed at being kept away for so long. After completing several more chores for the good sheriff of Pine Grove that had taken a full day and a half, he’d gone back out one more time to examine the area where the calf had been found. After widening his search, he’d found a new set of horse tracks. Then two more. After climbing a steep embankment, one horse had headed toward Y Knot and the Heart of the Mountains, and then up to Luke’s.

  He didn’t know if it had anything to do with the dead calf, or perhaps with the men Huxley felt sure had killed each other, but it was disturbing that the trail led here. At this point, nothing about the Pine Grove case made much sense. He did know he was trail weary. His travel plans still needed to be worked out. He’d stood Charity up last night. And now he was arriving late to his own party.

  A shout went up from the partygoers when he was still fifty feet away.

  Everyone turned. They waved and called to him, their voices exuberant and cheerful in the cool evening air. It wasn’t but a moment before Charity spotted him.

  In a flurry of fabric, she dashed in his direction, holding up the front of her pretty dress so she wouldn’t trip. Her hair bounced on her shoulders, her eyes wide with excitement and relief.

  He could tell she’d gone to great lengths preparing for this night, which made his own trail-worn appearance seem all the worse. The letter from Kansas City pricked his mind.

  He wished he could just forget about the job interview, the letter, and what it represented. Pretend he’d never received it—surely, he did. If he had returned from Texas a week later, it would have been out of his hands. But he knew he wouldn’t.

  Timberlake. His parents’ death. After all these years. A connection more real than his dreams.

  As Charity ran toward him, he wondered: Was this a great opportunity, or the biggest mistake of his life?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Brandon dismounted and dropped his reins in time to swoop Charity into a massive hug. He kissed her lips, not caring who might see.

  “I’m so sorry, darlin’. I wanted to be here sooner—to be here last night.”

  “Oh, Brandon! I thought something had happened to you. That you were shot or killed.”

  Her words against his mouth were sweet until he tasted her tears.

  “Or that you were hurt somewhere and there wasn’t anyone to help you. That I’d never see you again.”

  He took her face between his palms. With his thumbs, he wiped away her tears, then kissed each eye. “I’m sorry. I hate that I worried you. But it couldn’t be helped. I got caught up with this issue in Pine Grove. Can you ever forgive me?”

  She wrapped her arms around his middle and laid her head against his chest. “Now I can. Now that you’re here and alive—and nothing more can go wrong.”

  “I must smell like a horse.” He tried to take a step back, but she squeezed him tighter.

  “You’re not going anywhere, Sheriff, so just get that thought out of your head this instant,” she said against his chest, her spunk returning. “You owe me a thousand dances, a thousand hugs, and a thousand kisses.”

  He chuckled. “All tonight?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, we better get moving, then. I see some brothers of yours on their way out here.”

  Charity groaned. She eased up enough to look over her shoulder. “Can’t they ever leave us be?”

  “I don’t think so. It’s their job to look after you.”

  “Soon that job will belong solely to you,” Charity said. “And I can’t wait.”

  He turned her away from inquisitive eyes for one more quick kiss. “I’m counting the minutes for that job, but you may be mistaken about your brothers relinquishing their hold on you. They won’t be giving that up anytime soon.”

  “Brandon,” Matt said when he arrived at their side with Luke and Mark. His brow arched at the sight of his little sister and the firm hold she had on Brandon’s hand. “Jack filled us in on the situation in Pine Grove. Did
you find out anything more?”

  “Not much.” He pulled Charity close and sent them a meaningful look. He’d not spoil another evening for her. Later, when he was alone with the men, he’d tell them he’d finally spotted a trail to follow. And surprisingly, it had led to their ranch, and now to Luke’s. He’d keep a sharp eye out tonight for anything that looked suspicious. Besides, with so many men here, the guests were safe if those responsible intended anything other than a good time.

  Matt slapped his shoulder. “Tomorrow’s another day. Maybe you’ll have more luck then. Let’s get back to the party. Flood should be finished slicing the beef. Hope you’re hungry.”

  Brandon barked out a laugh. “Hungry? Look at me.” He gestured to the two-day growth of whiskers that covered his jaw. “I’m not only starving, I need a good soak and shave.”

  “You look handsome to me,” Charity said, walking next to his side. She’d yet to release his hand. “I like this rugged look.” She looked up at him with stars in her eyes, and he reminded himself just how fortunate he was.

  “You like anything he does,” Mark said. “I remember the time he made you jealous by talking with Lynn Dray at Mr. Lichtenstein’s ice cream social. You didn’t think he was so wonderful then.”

  Charity laughed. “He wasn’t talking, he was flirting—outrageously. I remember that night well. You can’t blame me for dumping that bowl of ice cream over his head. I was only a girl. And it felt really good. That doesn’t count.”

  Mark gave his sister a pointed look. “You were thirteen. Plenty old enough to act like a lady, if you’d been so inclined. Mother was scandalized, as were we all. Even weeks later, the cowhands turned pink when anyone broached the subject.”

  Brandon rubbed the top of his head with one hand, and carried his hat, along with the reins of his bridle, in the other. “Don’t be hard on her, boys, I liked it. Cooled me off right quick and made my hair shiny for a week. As I recall, I actually enjoyed it when it started to melt and run down my face. Besides, it told me that Charity cared a lot more than she was letting on. I had to do something to get her attention.”

  Charity gasped. “You rascal! I couldn’t get your goat no matter how hard I tried. I went home and cried for a week.”

  He pulled her to a stop. “I never knew that,” he said regretfully. “You cried for a week?” The thought of her miserable over him hurt. He never wanted to be a source of pain to her again.

  “I cried more than that over you. I cried all the time. I just never let you know.”

  “Holy smokes,” Luke complained. “This is getting deep.”

  “By the way, Sheriff,” Charity said, her chin tilting to the side, a sure sign trouble was on the way. “Just how well do you know Fancy Aubrey anyway—and why is she on a first-name basis with you?”

  Her brothers burst into laughter, giving him the opportunity to swing Charity around in his arms and kiss her. “Not near as well as I know you, missy! You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  Back with the crowd, everyone gathered around and offered Brandon and Charity their good wishes for the upcoming event. Dr. Handerhoosen gave his congratulations, as did old Mr. Herrick, owner of the leather shop. All the while, Brandon paid close attention to the guests, taking note of who was where, and made sure everyone was accounted for.

  Stories flowed for a good twenty minutes until Flood called them over to get their plates. “Come and get it. The best beef you’ll get any side of the Rockies.”

  “Enjoy that status while you can, Mr. McCutcheon,” Chance joked. “Come next year, I’m going to have that claim.”

  “With what?” Luke threw out, a big grin on his face. “Those fancy-pants French steers?”

  “You bet your life. They’re maturing right nice. You wait and see.”

  Brandon watched Chance’s new wife nod with pride and then rub his arm affectionately. They made a nice couple. And soon, there’d be a little Chance running around. Imagine that. Pretty hard to believe, considering.

  Brandon warmed at the thought of having a son to hold, teach to ride, take fishing. He’d give that little man all the time he’d lost with his father—and then some. He was tired of being alone. He was ready to make a life with Charity and create a family to call his own.

  After dinner and desserts of apple-gingerbread cobbler and sweet potato pie, followed by another hour of dancing, the party began to wind down. Several families gathered up their belongings and children and departed in groups. Ike, Lucky, and Smokey packed up their instruments and headed for the bunkhouse, all smiles after the night of waltzes and merrymaking. Roady lounged against the barn door opening and watched him and Charity take one more round on the dance floor to imaginary music. The women had gone inside to bundle up the sleepy children for the ride home.

  Charity’s face rested in the crook of his neck. As he marveled at how good she felt in his arms, Roady pushed away from the wall and cocked his head. Listening to something. He went to the loft ladder and climbed up. Brandon didn’t think anything of it until Roady yelled down for some help.

  “Charity, go fetch the others from the house,” Brandon said as he headed to the ladder, gun drawn from his holster and ready. “Roady,” he called halfway up. “What’s wrong?”

  “Just get up here. I need your help.”

  At the top, Brandon hoisted himself onto the landing, expecting the worst.

  “I thought I heard something, so I came to investigate.” Roady squatted next to an Indian girl who was stretched out in the hay. He lifted her wrist, feeling for a pulse. “She’s barely alive. This wound in her shoulder looks several days old.”

  Brandon holstered his gun. The girl was smaller than Charity and must be several years younger. Her buckskin breeches clung to her slim shape, and the talisman that hung off the side of her chest signaled she was a warrior. She had a large knife sheath tied around her waist with buckskin straps.

  Roady looked around the dark interior. “Let’s get her down.” He gathered her in his arms.

  Brandon heard the pounding of boots and men’s voices as they responded to Charity’s summons. The loft vibrated when someone grasped the ladder. Brandon called out, “Hold up. We’re bringing her down.”

  “Her?” It was Luke’s voice.

  “Yeah. She’s unconscious. Someone go catch the doctor before he gets too far down the road.”

  Roady brought the girl over to the edge of the loft.

  Brandon descended a few rungs and Roady placed her in his arms. The men below steadied him as he descended. Who was this young woman? Where had she come from? And most important, why?

  Brandon hoped she would survive to provide the answers.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Luke reached up and steadied Brandon as he came slowly down the rungs. Flood and Matt leaned in, offering their help. Luke blinked, not trusting his vision in the dim interior of the barn. Supple buckskin, with fringe running up the sides, encased the girl’s legs, and her silky jet-black hair hung over Brandon’s arms like a blanket. The girl he held was not a neighbor from the party, like he’d been expecting.

  Charity gasped. “An Indian girl?” Her gaze sought Luke’s, drawn, he was sure, by his half-breed status. She blinked, then looked away, almost guilty at being caught. “What’s she doing in the barn?”

  The question went unanswered. Roady came down a few rungs of the ladder behind Brandon, then jumped the rest of the way. Without a pause, he put out his hands, as if by being the one to find her, he’d staked his claim. Brandon shifted her limp body over to him. The cowhand gathered her wounded arm close to her body and laid it over her abdomen.

  “Not just any Indian woman,” Brandon said. “A warrior.”

  “Girl,” Luke corrected.

  “That may be,” Brandon went on, standing eye to eye with him. “But I’ve heard they can be just as fierce as any male warrior—maybe even more so because they have more to prove.”

  “What on earth?” Claire stepped forward.


  Luke glanced over to see how his mother would take this unusual turn of events. Regret surged up in his throat, remembering her history of being abducted by Indians when she was a young woman, then living in the Indian camp for almost a year. He couldn’t imagine what she was feeling.

  “Brandon, you think this could be the person you’ve been tracking?” Luke asked. An unusual sensation snaked down his spine, as if all their lives would never be quite the same after this night.

  “Most likely.”

  Fingers lingering on the soft buckskin shirt, Charity jerked her face up to Luke’s and then over to Brandon’s.

  Faith and the other women slowly came forward.

  “What do you mean, the person you’ve been tracking?” Charity asked angrily. “Brandon, why didn’t you tell me what was going on as soon as you arrived?” She looked from face to face. “All of us, for that matter? We’re not children.”

  “Charity’s right,” Claire said, now standing at her daughter’s side. “It never astounds me how dense men can be when it comes to protecting their women. It’s downright irritating.” She laid a quivering hand on the girl’s brow. “She’s burning up. Let’s get her inside.”

  Luke nodded and stood aside. “Take her up to the guest bedroom, Roady. Mark should be back with the doctor anytime now.”

  • • •

  “I don’t know if she’ll make it through the night,” Dr. Handerhoosen said once he’d examined her. “By the depth of her wound, she’s probably lost an incredible amount of blood. And she’s thin. I’m sure she hasn’t had anything substantial to eat for some time.”

  Dark crimson swirled in the basin of water on the nightstand as he washed. He took the towel Faith offered him and dried his hands. After drawing the sheet over the girl’s limp form, he took his stethoscope from around his neck and put it in his medical bag and snapped it closed.

  Luke and the rest of the family crowded inside the bedroom, watching. Colton, Billy, and Adam, the oldest children, were still awake. They stood in the doorway, worried expressions stamped on their brows.