Moon Over Montana (McCutcheon Family Series Book 5)

by Caroline Fyffe

  The hoot of an owl brought her back to the hillside overlooking the jailhouse in Pine Grove. At least thirty minutes had passed since Charity had left. She must be in trouble. It would be up to Claire now to get word out, to alert her family to what was happening before it was too late. Resolved to her course of action, she tied the two sets of reins she held to a bush and quietly approached the brave.

  He looked around. The darkness kept her from seeing his eyes.

  “I must go find help,” she said, searching slowly for the correct Cheyenne words.

  He tipped his head.

  She walked her fingers across her hands. “I must go. Get help.” Should she go alone or take him along? Would he go if she asked? “Charity…”

  He grunted and looked away. She was on her own—and as capable as anyone else of finding Stef Hannessy’s home. She had a gun and she was a McCutcheon. She’d best remember that if she felt her resolve waver.

  Back in the Indian village, she’d learned just how hard, how ruthless, she could be if needed. She’d battled for survival the beginning weeks of her abduction. First the gauntlet, the whippings from the other women, being starved for days and staked out at night like an animal. She’d done better than survive. She’d fought back, learned the language, proven herself worthy of one of the leading braves. Pride for how well she’d done blossomed in her heart. Was that wrong? She didn’t know. She’d surprised herself back then, and sometimes she hadn’t been able to stop a smile from curling her lips in the moments right before sleep, knowing that Flood would also be proud of her. By the end of her stay, she was a respected part of the community—one worth many, many horses in trade. Now it was time to test her mettle here. She’d not let her family or the Cheyenne down.

  Her thoughts drifted to Flood and all they’d been through over the years. All the love they’d shared. How she loved him. If something happened in the next few hours, this could be her last night on earth. She didn’t think so, but it was a sobering thought. In a few moments she’d be all alone, riding through the dark Montana night. The contemplation of death made one realize just how wonderful life was, even with its many ups and downs. She wished she’d told him today that she loved him. All that he meant to her. Thinking about her life, she knew she wouldn’t change a thing.

  The Cheyenne brave stood when she turned, and he walked with her when she went to her horse’s side and gathered her reins.

  Cupping his hands together, he waited for her to put her boot in so he could give her a leg up. “Go,” he said in English.

  • • •

  “Plan on being back in the saddle in ten minutes,” Brandon shouted, reining up in the McCutcheon yard with the rest of the men, intent on saddling fresh mounts. He pushed his hand through his hair in frustration, then repositioned his Stetson and pulled it snug on his head. Searching before they had any light was really a waste of time, but there was no stopping Luke. Perhaps they’d get lucky. Spot something that would point them in the right direction.

  The ranch door banged open and Brandon turned, expecting Charity. With this many men about, she was sure to hear the racket and wake up. Luke, Matt, Roady, and Smokey all whipped around at Esperanza’s shaky call.

  “What is it?” Luke asked, walking toward her. Brandon and the rest followed him over.

  The housekeeper appeared overwrought with anxiety, moaning and wringing her hands.

  “Has something happened? Where’s Ma? And Charity?”

  The woman was shaking so hard she could barely talk. “She, they—the Indian…”

  “Take a deep breath,” Matt instructed, putting a calming hand on the woman’s arm. “Just tell us what occurred.”

  A deep, burning fear gripped Brandon’s gut. It was almost as if he knew what she was about to say before she spoke.

  The housekeeper bit her bottom lip. “Mrs. McCutcheon get up after midnight and come to kitchen for tea. I help. We hear a noise and see Indian in room. I scream. Charity come down. She say he’s trying to help Indian girl.” Her eyes grew as round as saucers. “They go with him.”

  The men exchanged a look, then Luke bit out a heated curse, matched by one from Matt. Roady’s face all but turned white. Brandon felt as if he’d been hit over the head with a two-by-four. Fear for Charity and Claire burned like searing chunks of coal in his chest.

  “They went willingly?”

  Esperanza nodded.

  “Did they say where they were headed?” Luke gritted through clenched teeth. “It took my pa a year to find my ma the first time this happened. We’re not losing them a second time!”

  Tears sprang into the housekeeper’s eyes and she shook her head.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Brandon saw Smokey had gone to the corral and was almost finished saddling fresh horses.

  “Have any of the others been back here yet?” Matt asked.

  Again Esperanza shook her head.

  With nothing to go on, they’d never find Charity and Claire, let alone Fox Dancing. Brandon needed to get to his horse, do something.

  He hurried over and finished tacking the animal. They mounted. “I’m going into Y Knot to see if Jack knows anything. Luke, you come with me. Matt, you and Roady head to Grassy Gulch and see if anyone has spotted them. Smokey, you ride toward Waterloo. Esperanza, if Flood and the others show up, tell them what you told us and the places we’re headed. You got that?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m sure they’ll fan out in the opposite directions, covering the widest territory possible. We all best pray we can find them before they get too far.”

  • • •

  Charity hadn’t stopped asking for Sheriff Huxley since she’d been locked up. About two hours had passed, and her voice was hoarse from shouting to the other room, demanding to talk with him. The deputy who had thrown her into the cell had come and gone several times, but mostly she’d been ignored. Sinking down to the cot, she felt the chill of the dank cell settle in her bones. Fox Dancing sat still as stone, staring at the bars as if she could make them vanish. By now, her mother would be back anytime with help.

  At the sound of more horses approaching, Charity jumped up and ran to the window.

  Her mother! And Stef Hannessy! Arriving just as the sun was coming up. “They made it,” she gushed to Fox Dancing. “We’ll be released now!”

  The Indian girl had stood and followed her to the window. A sound came from her throat when she saw Mrs. McCutcheon. “Luk?” she asked.

  “Sorry, Fox Dancing. Still no Luke. But if I know my brother and Brandon, they’ll be here soon. You can count on it.”

  A few muffled words, a deep, accented curse—surely from the tall Swede, Hannessy—and the door separating the chambers from the office opened. Her mother ran over to the cell.

  “What’s going on, Mother? Are they going to release us?”

  At six foot four, Hannessy towered over her mother. Both his and her mother’s holsters were conspicuously empty.

  “Archie Bly has mush for brains,” Hannessy said angrily. “He won’t release the girl, says she killed some men. And won’t release you, saying you were trying to break her out. He’s waiting for Judge Wesley to come through to hear your case.”

  Charity groaned. “My case? Only me? Did you see the rope they strung up at the saloon?”

  “No,” her mother replied. “I guess we missed that. When did that happen?”

  Charity snagged her gaze. “A couple hours ago.”

  Deputy Bly ambled in, followed by another man holding a gun. “Time’s up. Can’t leave you in here all day.”

  Hannessy turned on the man, his face contorting in anger. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, Deputy, but I’m going to have your badge. What are you planning with the rope at the saloon?”

  “I think you can guess. Hanging this redskin for the murder of Drake Greenly and the other man, Smith.”

  “She hasn’t had a trial,” Claire said. “That’s against the law.”

  “
We found all the evidence we need. Why waste everyone’s time just goin’ through the motions, when we already know the outcome?”

  More excited voices sounded from the front room. Was that Brandon? Or Luke?

  “Mother,” Charity said quickly. “Did you get a note sent to Y Knot and the ranch, or Brandon—or someone?”

  “Not yet. I thought Stef’s presence would be enough to get you out.” Her mother looked stricken. “I’ll go do that now.”

  If help—real help—didn’t show up soon…

  Charity’s insides clenched and she felt her face blanch at what she was thinking, so she shoved the horrific thought away. Fox Dancing needed a miracle, and she needed it fast.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Jack Jones knew nothing about Fox Dancing or Charity and Mrs. McCutcheon, but when he began to tell Brandon about Huxley wanting to question Fox Dancing while he was away in Kansas City, Luke jumped in.

  “That’s right. Jack rode out to the ranch with him. With you showing up out of the blue tonight, and with everything else happening, that slipped my mind. Maybe Huxley had other intentions than he let on.”

  Something in Brandon’s gut told him Huxley would give them some answers. What those answers were, he didn’t know. But anything was better than nothing. Wheeling their horses around, he and Luke thundered for Pine Grove.

  “What in the blazes is going on?” Luke shouted to him as they galloped into Pine Grove on sweat-lathered horses. The place was alive with activity. “It looks like a lynching.”

  Along the street, more than a handful of men, most bleary-eyed and rumpled, stood with torches, watching. Deputy Bly came out of the jailhouse shoving Fox Dancing in front of him, her hands tied behind her back. Her eyes were large and frightened. A ferocious anger ripped through Brandon as he cut his gaze to see Luke’s reaction. He’d have his hands full keeping Luke from killing anyone.

  Just as he thought, Luke’s face was contorted with rage. Brandon drew his gun and fired a shot into the air, making his horse jump sideways. Everyone jerked around to see who had arrived.

  “What is this, Bly?” he shouted. He rode straight up to the man, bumping him with his horse, his gun inches from Bly’s nose.

  Bly stumbled back for a second, but kept Fox Dancing in front of him. His cronies stepped forward to make sure Brandon saw the guns they had trained on him and Luke.

  There was more gun pointing going on than at a turkey shoot. This could get plenty ugly, plenty fast. Brandon didn’t want Fox Dancing, or any other innocent person, to be killed. He chanced a quick glance around. Claire McCutcheon stood with the local mine owner and another man with a gun keeping them still. Where was Charity?

  “Untie her hands,” Brandon demanded. “She’s done nothing wrong.”

  “How do you know? I found her bow and arrows up at Drake’s claim.”

  “I searched that place myself and didn’t find a thing. Now they mysteriously show up a week later? Who discovered them? You? That’s mighty convenient, don’t you think? Besides all that, those two men were killed with guns.”

  Luke rode forward. “I should kill you right now for kidnapping her out of my house, you piece of dung.” A murmur went through the men. “What’s the matter?” Luke added, glaring pointedly at the saloon rats who were more than happy to participate in a hanging. “Didn’t Bly tell you that? He broke the law, and you’re all accomplices.”

  “Where’s Huxley?” Brandon yelled, looking around. He didn’t like the trapped expression on Bly’s face. The Pine Grove deputy still had Fox Dancing in his grasp.

  “Over here,” a feeble voice called out.

  Everyone turned.

  Huxley stumbled down the dark street in a nightshirt. He held a bloody rag to his forehead.

  “Bly knocked me out cold when I asked what the devil was going on out here.”

  Huxley’s appearance was the distraction Bly needed to pull his gun and put it to Fox Dancing’s head.

  “Let her go, Archie,” Brandon said calmly, calling him by his first name. “You don’t want to do this.”

  The deputy looked crazed. Brandon needed to cool everyone down. He nudged his horse forward, but the scoundrel yanked Fox Dancing’s arms higher behind her back, making the frightened girl wince.

  “No!” Bly shouted, his face contorting into an ugly sneer. “She’s a murdering Indian! Have you forgotten about Drake and Smith? They deserve justice! I should just shoot her now. One way is as good as another.”

  • • •

  Fox Dancing tried to keep a firm hold on her fear. She was a warrior! She dug deep for her calm, all the while wishing she had her knife so she could slit this white dog’s throat. Her grandfather’s voice repeated in her head, instructing her to call on her spirit helper, but with all the shouting and confusion, it was difficult.

  She was strong, she could—

  The deputy holding her jerked her arms back with force, but she stifled her cry of pain. She felt Luk’s eyes on her, firm and confident. She didn’t want him to be killed because of her. That would be an injustice she’d not be able to carry—even into the next world. She felt something else too as the masses of men crowded around them, the killing lust in their eyes. Their hate. Their fear.

  Painted Bear Stone. He was here somewhere. Someplace close. Her soul rushed with love and regret. She’d held back from him because she believed becoming his wife would change her into a different sort of woman. One who wouldn’t be able to ride and hunt. That seemed unthinkable. But now, he was here, and with all the white men about was sure to be killed—because of her. Thinking of his face, so stern and strong, brought a surge of emotion. He’d come after her because he loved her.

  A loud cry echoed through the dark night.

  Men jerked around in fear.

  Painted Bear Stone, bare chested, his face covered in war paint, leaped from the roof of the building behind her, taking down Bly and knocking her into the dirt.

  Joy burst through her—then fear for his life—as she scrambled to her feet. Before anyone could respond, Painted Bear Stone flipped the stunned deputy over and straddled him on the ground. With a firm grip on the ugly man’s hair, Painted Bear Stone pressed his knife to the dog’s throat.

  “Hold your fire!” the man with Luk yelled. His eyes blazed with anger as he shifted his gun from one man to the next. “The first person to fire a shot, I’ll take down myself!”

  “And I’ve got his back,” Luk hollered. “We won’t tell you twice!”

  Luk’s mother, followed by the tall man who’d come into the jail, ran forward now that their guard had been frightened off.

  “Everyone just stay calm. That goes for you too, Luke,” the man with Luk yelled.

  The look on Luk’s face was the most frightening of all.

  Painted Bear Stone called out to her, beckoning her close. When the deputy struggled, he pulled the knife slowly across the man’s throat, the bright red line of blood standing out on his chalk-white skin.

  “Help! He’s killin’ me!” Bly screamed. “What are ya waitin’ for, you fools? Somebody kill this heathen!”

  Fox Dancing did her best to block out all the commotion as she listened intently to Painted Bear Stone. At the same time, the tall man with Luk’s mother untied her hands. Released, she rubbed her wrists. As best she could, Fox Dancing conveyed what Painted Bear Stone had said to Luk’s mother. Painted Bear Stone fished in Bly’s pocket. What he pulled out, he placed in Fox Dancing’s palm.

  Still on his horse, Luk’s companion motioned to her that he wanted the object. Taking it, he turned it over in his hands.

  Luk’s mother addressed the crowd in a loud voice. “This young brave says he saw what happened to the men named Drake and Smith. The man he’s holding down came out to their claim on the river. The three men passed around a bottle of whiskey until it was gone. After that, they argued. He heard the words money and poker. The man called Drake stomped away toward the forest. When he turned back to say something,
Bly picked up a gun and shot him. Bly shot the other man next, even though he pleaded for his life. Bly stole the money from their pockets and a sack of gold dust from their dwelling. He went away satisfied. The brave followed him. Bly found the quiver and bow lost by Fox Dancing. When he came upon the calf, he killed it for sport, nothing else.”

  Luk’s mother took a deep breath and cast an angry glare at the man Painted Bear Stone held down.

  “After Bly left, Painted Bear Stone extracted the arrows, intending to return them to Fox Dancing. Then, suspicious of Bly’s intentions, and knowing white men would be quick in blaming an Indian, he removed all tracks, hoping the kill would not be discovered before the wolves and coyotes carried it away.”

  Finished with the explanation, Luk’s mother glanced at Fox Dancing, who nodded.

  “This money clip, inscribed with DG, is ironclad evidence, Bly.” Luk’s friend turned it over once more. “It matches the belt Drake Greenly was wearing when I examined him at the undertaker’s. The story couldn’t be clearer.”

  “Bly has been throwing a lot of money around,” someone shouted from the crowd.

  “It ain’t true!” Bly screamed. “It’s all made up!” He struggled, but Painted Bear Stone held him down easily.

  Luk dismounted and walked forward. Bly’s cries died in his throat. “You think you can pass your sins off on my little sister—”

  “Wait, Luke!” the silver-starred man ordered, his agitated horse still dancing around. He seemed to be the only one Luk would listen to. “What I don’t understand is why, all of a sudden, Bly decided the story about them killing each other wasn’t enough. Something must have spooked him. Pushed him to cast suspicion elsewhere. We never even thought the calf and the men were connected. But he saw the opportunity to get everyone riled up over an Indian and pass her off as Drake and Smith’s murderer. She’d be hung—taking all suspicion away from him.”