Moon Over Montana (McCutcheon Family Series Book 5)

by Caroline Fyffe

  The image of his parents lying dead on the cold November ground almost stole his breath. At the time it happened, Timberlake was a young man, probably younger than his own twenty-five years, and yet he’d taken the time to comfort a small boy he hadn’t even known. Brandon remembered crying in his arms for a good long time.

  The man had loaded his parents’ bodies, along with the outlaw’s, into the back of the buckboard and turned the conveyance around, then led the horses back to town. He’d let Brandon ride behind him on the horse. Brandon could still remember the feel of his fisted hands gripping the young lawman’s shirt. He’d cried again when Timberlake had left him with several ladies at the town church. And that had begun his life of moving from household to household until he was twelve, when he’d snuck away in the night. But before that, Timberlake would visit from time to time, say hello, take him for a meal. Brandon had lived for those moments.

  Monday would be like that, just like old times, wouldn’t it? He looked up at the stars, finally far enough from town to be able to make out the Big Dipper.

  Charity loved looking at the stars…

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Tired of moping around, Charity had decided enough was enough. She went out to the back corral to catch her palomino mare. She needed to get her emotions in check. Tomorrow would mark two weeks since she and Brandon had returned to Y Knot, filled with exciting plans for their future.

  How had things gone so wrong? It was hard to know. Getting away from the house might help. The tension between her parents wasn’t getting any better, and it had her more than worried. Her father was getting home late almost every night, claiming all sorts of chores as crazy excuses.

  Charity’s mare lifted her head when her mistress approached. Haltering her, Charity led her into the barn, and quickly tacked her up. She wanted to get over to Luke’s and spend some time with Fox Dancing. Plus, she intended to share her concerns about their parents with Luke.

  A noise caught her attention.

  She turned to find Francis hanging back by the barn doors, a rope coiled in his hands and uncertainty written on his face. He’d been scarce since her visit to the bunkhouse, and this was the first time they’d come face-to-face.

  “I could’ve got your horse for you, Miss Charity.”

  His contrite tone tugged at her. She wasn’t mad at him. She just wanted things to be back to normal. “Thanks, Francis. I enjoy saddling her, but that was a nice thought. How’ve you been?”

  When he came forward a few steps, she did the same, and they met in the middle of the barn.

  “All right, I guess. Most of the work doctoring the cattle is done, unless we find more infected beef.”

  His voice was so much deeper than she remembered. He’d filled out. His sinewy arms were now thick, and his chest wide. He stood a full head and a half taller than her. He hadn’t shaved today, and the beginnings of a dark shadow covered his jaw.

  Francis had bloomed and she hadn’t noticed.

  “We still got to keep them separate, though,” he said. “Until they can’t spread their infected saliva on the ground as they graze. You know, so the rest of the stock don’t pick it up.”

  “Good, good,” she said, nodding. She wanted to keep the conversation going, so they could get back onto solid ground. She’d missed Francis’s gentle teasing and friendly smiles. “If we stay to the twelve head we have quarantined, we’re getting off easy, at least in my mind. Are Smokey and Ike doing most of the doctoring?”

  He nodded, then, for several long seconds, glanced down the barn aisle to where her horse was tied. “Miss Charity, there’s something I’d like to say, and if I don’t do it now, I may not get another chance. I haven’t gotten much sleep these past few nights, and I’m sure you know why.”

  She could nod yes, but that might stop him, so instead she just looked at him.

  “Those things I said about Brandon and Miss Aubrey weren’t true. When I came into the saloon, they was talkin’, but not in any lovey-dovey secret kind of way like I led you to believe. I think Abe had just introduced ’em. I made that whole story up.”

  Her heart warmed. The color in his face had deepened to an overripe strawberry, and he looked cute.

  “I see.”

  “I hope I didn’t cause no trouble between the two of you.”

  She reached out and touched his arm. “No, you didn’t. But I appreciate you straightening it out for me.”

  “I thought maybe that was why Brandon decided to take that job in Kansas City. You told him what I said and the two of you got back to fightin’.”

  At the mention of Brandon’s name, she blinked and looked away. She’d been doing so well, enjoying the time spent with her horse, with big plans not to think of him today or wonder what he was doing.

  “Charity, I’m sorry.” It was a husky plea. “I don’t know what got into me.”

  “No, it wasn’t you.” And he hasn’t taken the job yet. If my prayers carry any weight at all, he won’t. If she tried to explain that Brandon was just thinking about the job, that it wasn’t set in stone, Francis would never believe her. Especially if the scuttlebutt around the bunkhouse was that Brandon had already gone. She didn’t have the energy to try to straighten it out. “I never mentioned anything to Brandon about what you said, so his leaving had nothing to do with you, Francis.”

  Francis nodded, but his eyes said he didn’t believe her for a minute.

  “That’s the truth. I’m not making it up to make you feel better.”

  The sound of voices from outside made him pull up straight.

  “I hope that’s true, Miss Charity. I want you to know I hope he comes back. And that the two of you get married, just like you planned. I do. Because I know that’s the only thing that will make you happy.”

  She stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug, even though he remained stiff as a fencepost. Finally, he put his arms around her. “Thank you. But you have to promise me that if that doesn’t happen, you won’t think it has anything to do with you—because it won’t. Nothing at all.”

  She felt him nod, and she stepped away. “Good. I’m glad that’s all cleared up.”

  “So am I,” he said sheepishly.

  “Now, will you please tell my parents when you see them that I’m riding over to Luke and Faith’s? I want to spend some time with Fox Dancing, get to know her. It’s about time I gave her a proper welcome to the family.” She strode over and gathered her horse’s reins. Passing Francis as she exited the barn, she called over her shoulder. “No more long nights lying awake in bed, you hear!”

  When he chuckled, she wondered if she could do the same. She wished sleep were as easy as that, but it wasn’t the case. She wouldn’t sleep a wink until Brandon was back for good. If he returned at all.

  • • •

  Oh, it was good to be outside of the dwelling. Fox Dancing lifted her face to the sun, absorbing its warmth and energy. She was overjoyed when Luk said they had found her horse. Now, filled with energy, and with an arm that barely hurt, she was happier than she’d felt in months. She walked beside her older brother, brimming with pride.

  Inside the barn, Luk stopped and looked over the side of a stall. “Here she is. She had a few scrapes, but I’ve treated them and I’m sure she’ll heal nicely.”

  When she looked in, her horse picked up her head from her feed and came to the gate, bumping it with her chest. Her ears flicked back and forth, and Fox Dancing was sure she was unhappy about being kept in the small, dark enclosure. It took her a minute to figure out the gate latch, then she opened the stall and went inside.

  She put her arm around her mare’s neck and a surge of homesickness washed through her. How was grandfather? Was his strength holding out? He was eager to put this life behind him and move on to better hunting grounds. What about her father and mothers, and also Painted Bear Stone? Did they miss her? What had they thought when she hadn’t appeared from the tepee for the morning meal? She rubbed her face against th
e warm coat, almost forgetting her brother stood very close.

  “Fox Dancing? Are you all right?”

  She jerked, surprised to feel a drop of moisture in her eye. She quickly blinked it away and turned to him.

  “Are you sad?” he asked in his deep, worried voice.

  She shook her head, and then smiled. “No. Happy.” Happy was a word Dawn had taught her, and it was coming in very handy. “Happy found white brother.”

  And she was. But she did miss her family more than she had anticipated she would when she began planning how to escape her marriage to Painted Bear Stone. The knowledge that he would be asking for her soon had kept her awake at night for the past months. He’d gone from boy to young warrior, and his company made her anxious. Made her nerves tingle and her blood run hot. The unsettled feeling confused her. He was overbearing, especially when he thought he had her full attention, flashing his charming smile as if he were the only male in their village. Now, he’d have to choose another bride from the other girls who had come of age this year. Any of them would eagerly take her place.

  Luk looked pleased. With a fisted hand, he thumped his chest twice, and then pointed to her. “I’m happy you found me too.”

  “Pa!”

  Dawn dashed into the barn, her dress billowing behind her. With a snort, Fox Dancing’s mare twirled away, frightened, and presented her hip. The child skidded to a halt at her father’s feet.

  “Hey there, honey.” Luke swung her up into his arms. “What’s so urgent?”

  She held out a handful of greens. “For Penlupee Fowers.”

  The child’s eyes sparkled with happiness, reminding Fox Dancing of the little children she’d left behind. Even with their hardships and hungry bellies, they found things to smile about.

  Luk tickled his daughter under her chin, making her giggle. “Did Ma give you that to feed her favorite cow?”

  Dawn nodded.

  “Well, let’s go. Follow us, Fox Dancing. We’ve failed to introduce you to a very special part of our family. She’s around this way, outside at the back of the barn.”

  “Luke.” They turned when Faith called from the house. “Charity’s coming up the hill. Her and two other riders.”

  Luk set Dawn down. “You go ahead, sweetie. Just stay on this side of the fence. Come back as soon as you’ve fed Penelope.” She nodded again, and darted off. Luk gestured for Fox Dancing to follow. “Let’s go see who’s coming for a visit.”

  • • •

  When Luke recognized Jack Jones and Sheriff Huxley riding in with Charity, he cursed himself. He’d expected the riders to be Smokey or Roady, or another hand from the ranch, not Brandon’s deputy and the sheriff of Pine Grove. He stopped, and Fox Dancing did too. She looked trustingly into his eyes.

  “Go inside,” he said, and pointed.

  Faith was watching them from the door. Her brows were pulled down and she seemed to pick up on what he was thinking. Why go looking for trouble?

  Fox Dancing’s gaze cut to Charity and the men. She nodded. Even at her age, she must know the ways of the white man and all the suffering they’d caused over the years.

  When the women disappeared behind the closed door, Luke turned to greet the new arrivals. “Charity,” he said as she dismounted. “Jack. Huxley.”

  Charity gestured to the men, who remained on their horses. “I ran into Jack and Sheriff Huxley on their way out to the ranch looking for you. When they learned I was on my way over here, they decided to come along.” Her brow arched when their gazes locked.

  He felt her anxiety. What were these men about? When she stepped close to his side, he wondered all the more.

  “What can I do for you, Jack? Sheriff?”

  The old man shifted in his saddle. “Word got to Pine Grove that you have an Indian staying at your place,” he said loudly. “And a wounded one at that. You know we had us some trouble recently. Just wanted to have a word with her, if I could. Ask her a few questions. See if she saw anything suspicious.”

  “An Indian girl. And no, you can’t.”

  “Luke,” Jack said, his lips forming an agitated, flat line. “It’ll only take one minute. Then we’ll be out of your hair.”

  “She’s not feeling up to it,” Luke lied. He’d do anything to shield his own flesh and blood, especially after her valiant effort to find him. Making that dangerous trip all by herself, even being so young, had touched him. He’d not give her up to them—ever.

  “We just saw her go inside,” Jack said. “She’s up and walking, at least. I’m sure she can answer Huxley’s questions. If not, we may get to thinking you’re hidin’ somethin’.”

  Luke took a step toward them, and he felt Charity’s hand on his arm.

  “This is her first time out of the house. She’s still weak. But that’s beside the point. I don’t want you to talk to her. What in the world could you gain from that?”

  “I’m under the impression she was traveling through our country right around the time that calf that Brandon helped investigate was slaughtered. And that’s about the same time Drake and his friend were killed.”

  Luke tamped back his temper.

  “You told Brandon those two miners killed each other. Got into some disagreement and ended up dead. Now, you’re changing your story because an Indian may have come within a few miles of their place?”

  Huxley took off his hat with a shaky hand and wiped his brow. “I just feel there’s more to the story now. You know how investigating goes.”

  “Sure I do. Don’t matter about evidence, just the color of the skin. Now, unless you came out for anything else, we’re done talking.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The row of two-story homes, most having seen better days, ran the length of the road, interspersed with businesses. Brandon dismounted, nerves pulled tight. It still amazed him how so many people could be crammed into one small area.

  He slipped his reins into a ring at the top of a waist-high black metal post and stretched his aching back. The ground might have been hard the last two nights, but the air, temperature, and sights were well worth sleeping out. He’d yet to eat, but planned to remedy that just as soon as he’d met with Timberlake.

  Still unable to spot the correct address, Brandon climbed the stairs of the nearest house and knocked on the door. A well-turned-out young woman answered. Her brows lifted after she looked him up and down. “The ice needs to be taken to the door ’round back,” she stated flatly. “I don’t know how many times we have to tell you people that.”

  Brandon clenched his jaw. “I’m not a deliveryman, miss. Was wondering if you could tell me where Marshal Timberlake’s office is.”

  Her lip curled up. “Oh, I’m sorry to mistake you.”

  “No harm done.”

  She pointed across the street.

  “His office is down that alley next to the blue house. It’s the lean-to. You’ll find it easily.”

  What? A lean-to in an alley? He hadn’t had big expectations, but a lean-to in an alley was far from it. “Thank you.”

  When she closed the door, Brandon turned and retrieved his horse. He didn’t mount, just walked across the road and down the alley. Just like she’d promised, a rickety lean-to butted up next to a blue house. All was quiet, and he wondered if Timberlake was in the house sleeping. Must be that this was his house, and the shanty out back was his office. Anything but pleased, he secured his horse out front, pushed open the door of the lean-to, and stopped.

  The place looked as if it hadn’t seen a broom for years. Paper and junk littered the place and the desk was piled high. Brandon wondered how the man found anything. Paperwork and cleanliness don’t make a lawman. Timberlake was credited with breaking up the Younger gang. That means more than housekeeping. There wasn’t an empty chair, even if he did want to sit down.

  Without warning, the door swung open. The man who came in wasn’t old enough to be James Timberlake. He pulled up, surprised.

  “Who’re you?”

>   He wore guns, a vest, and a star. He must be a deputy.

  “Brandon Crawford, sheriff of Y Knot, Montana.”

  The man hung his hat and went behind the desk. He started pushing papers around as if looking for something.

  “You’re a long ways from home, Sheriff,” he said, looking up briefly. “What brings you out our way?”

  They weren’t expecting him? Anger pricked Brandon’s mind. “James Timberlake. He here?”

  As if exasperated, the deputy scraped the junk off the chair and it clattered to the floor. He sat down. “Feel free to do the same,” he said, and pointed to a chair.

  “No, thanks. Just need to see the marshal. Is he inside?”

  “Inside?”

  “His house.”

  Seemed to take a few seconds for the deputy to pick up on his meaning, and then he barked out a laugh.

  “He don’t own no fancy house like that, just an old farm eight miles out of town. If you want to ride out there, I’m sure you’ll find him and his missus—probably working the fields.”

  Farming! Brandon struggled to wrap his head around the deputy’s statement.

  “He never mentioned me, or that I’d be arriving today?”

  An eight-mile ride out of town sounded as appealing as a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. Not after hanging around all day yesterday, fighting the crowds, breathing dank, heavy air that burned one’s lungs, and feeling as comfortable as a fish in sand. “To discuss the deputy job?”

  The deputy stood, shaking his head. “Damn the old codger. He talks about hiring a few new deputies about every other day. Never has as long as I’ve been here, and that’s a good six years.” He made a face. “I think it’s the opium eating away at his brain.”