Moon Over Montana (McCutcheon Family Series Book 5)

by Caroline Fyffe

  The old man with the bloody rag to his head staggered forward. “I know what agitated the two-faced skunk. I began wondering about the second gun. To have a shootout, with the distance the bodies were found from each other, there’d more than likely have to be two weapons—and I only recovered one.”

  Luk’s friend groaned. “Huxley, you never said there was only one gun! Don’t you think that was a pretty important piece of the puzzle to leave off?”

  “What’d you say, Crawford? I didn’t catch that.”

  “Hey, out there! Hello! What’s going on? Somebody come let me out!”

  Luk’s companion swiveled around. “Charity?”

  • • •

  An hour later, with Painted Bear Stone already mounted and waiting, Fox Dancing slipped into her brother’s protective arms. Exhilarated at having found him at last, but also very sad about leaving him behind, she breathed in his unique scent, needing to remember everything. No one knew which way the wind would blow for her people—or how things would turn out. This might be the last time in this world she and her brother would be heart to heart.

  She’d already said good-bye to the others, and they waited a few feet away. Painted Bear Stone had tried to give the man with the star his knife, in payment for the two chickens he’d stolen from ranchers while trying to keep out of sight—all while staying as close as he could to Fox Dancing. The man with the star had smiled and refused.

  “I’ll never forget you,” Luk said, still holding her close. “Or that you came all this way to find me. It means more to me than you could ever know.”

  All she could do was nod, for if she spoke, she’d disgrace herself in a gush of tears.

  “This isn’t good-bye forever,” Luk went on, leaning back so he could look into her face. His mouth pulled down when he saw her tears. “I’ll come find you. Someday. And I’ll meet our father as well.”

  Painted Bear Stone grunted out his impatience.

  Luk cast him a look. “Take good care of her.”

  She launched back into Luk’s arms and squeezed with all her might. With her cheek against his chest, she choked out a Cheyenne prayer for his safety and that of his family. When her tears began to fall, she jerked away. In three strides, she was at the side of her mare. Taking a handful of her mane, she swung aboard with ease, turned, and galloped off, Painted Bear Stone following behind her.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  A soft knock on the bedroom door brought Claire around from the dressing table, where she sat removing her jade earrings.

  The door opened slowly.

  “Do you have a minute?” Flood asked, standing in the doorway.

  “Of course. And since when do you knock?”

  Her insides fluttered nervously. Ever since the Pine Grove incident a week ago, when she’d ridden off into the dark night with Charity and the handsome Cheyenne brave named Painted Bear Stone, her nerves had been all the more raw. She wasn’t sure why, but it made her sad. Too many memories, she figured. Too numerous and too painful.

  “It was a nice ceremony,” Flood said, sitting down on the bed. The corners of his lips pulled up. “The sight of that wedding dress brought back all kinds of memories.” His gaze found hers, his expression one she couldn’t read. Sadness? Uncertainty?

  “Did for me too. Candlelight, a big fire in the hearth, snow falling for weeks—and our wedding.”

  He nodded. “Never thought we’d see the day Brandon and Charity actually wed. Seems like a dream.” His chuckle sent a warm pulse of longing through her.

  “Well, Jefferson Flood McCutcheon, I can assure you, your daughter is now Mrs. Brandon Crawford. As we speak, she’s snuggled in the back of the buggy with her legal husband, on their way to Cattlemen’s. I hope we don’t see either of their dear faces for a whole week. Think that’s asking too much?”

  His eyes snagged hers again. Lingered. Made her feel sixteen and falling in love with him all over again.

  “Make that two weeks,” he said. “After which, we can get back to ranching as usual.”

  She fiddled nervously with the earring in her fingers. “When will you tell them about the land and the new home to be built?”

  “Haven’t decided that yet,” he replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “When do you think?”

  She released the bun on the back of her head and began unbraiding her hair. “After a month or two in the little house. It’ll make Charity more appreciative.” She couldn’t stop her smile, thinking about the surprise. “It’s wonderful that everything worked out well with Fox Dancing and Painted Bear Stone. When she finally understood all she had to lose, she realized she couldn’t live without him. It was quite romantic.”

  Flood nodded. “Luke said she even looked excited to be going back. He’ll miss her, though.”

  “I’ll miss her as well.”

  She thought of the emotional parting, and how much Fox Dancing, with the proud tilt to her head and her flashing eyes, resembled her wonderfully complicated third son. But they were dancing around the subject Flood had come in to discuss, she was sure. She could always tell when he had more on his mind by the way he rolled and unrolled his shirtsleeves without realizing he was doing it. His tough exterior wasn’t enough to hide his loving heart.

  Finished unbraiding and brushing her hair, Claire went over to the bed and sat next to him. The house was quiet. Everyone had departed well fed and happy. Since the big barn party at Luke’s had been such a short time ago, Charity and Brandon—worn out from all the excitement—had wanted a small wedding. Just family and ranch hands. That suited her just fine.

  She placed her hand on his forearm. “I can’t believe Charity’s all grown up. Seems like just yesterday you were walking her around the room, rocking her in your arms and begging her to go to sleep.” She softly laughed. “The good ol’ days.”

  He looked at her hand resting on his arm, but didn’t respond.

  “There’s something I’ve been wanting to share with you, Flood, but seems the time was never quite right. I’d like to do that now.”

  He looked up with tortured, sad eyes. She remembered the first time she’d opened the cabin door, in a whiteout blizzard all those years ago, to the same amazing eyes that did wonderful things to her insides. She’d been fifteen, and him a few years older. Praise God, they’d been through a lot together. So many emotions moved across his face, she couldn’t differentiate them all.

  “Go on.”

  “I’ll start with saying I love you.” She couldn’t stop her eyes from welling up. “I always have. And darn you for that too. That’s why what I did when I was taken away to—”

  He put a finger to her lips, silencing her voice but not the tears that crept over her lids to spill down her cheeks. A deep grief threatened to strangle her from the inside out. She hadn’t wanted those other feelings for Luke’s father. They’d just happened. And once they were there, they were a part of her, whether she liked it or not.

  He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “Shh, darlin’. You don’t have to say a thing.”

  She pushed back, needing to see his face, his eyes. “I do, Flood,” she said, wiping the tears off her cheeks with the sleeve of her wrapper. “Don’t you see? This thing between us—my life in the Cheyenne village—will never go away unless I speak my mind. I don’t want to hurt you. As God is my witness, he knows it. But I fear what will become of us if I don’t.”

  Flood just stared at her with a stony expression. Was he as frightened as she?

  “All right.”

  She swallowed, gathering her courage. “As the months passed and you didn’t find me, my hope began to fade. The village moved several times. Rains washed away our tracks. Even the stars in the night sky looked different so many miles away from home. I changed—and yet, I was always the same. Anyway, I thought that perhaps, with the little boys to take care of at home, you’d stopped searching.”

  He picked up her hand and kissed it, his words fierce. “That would nev
er happen.”

  “You understand what I’m trying not to say because it’s just too painful?”

  He nodded.

  “About my Indian husband? Luke’s father?” Oh, how she hated this, and yet, she loved it too. After all these years—to say it aloud was freeing. Now that he knew, whatever happened, they could get through it. She believed that with all her heart.

  “Yes. You fell in love with him.”

  It sounded so odd coming from his lips. It was her turn to nod. “But I never stopped dreaming of coming home to you—and my little boys.”

  Suddenly her mind tumbled back to the Cheyenne village. She was fighting her way through the screaming, pain-inflicted gauntlet. Her nails ripped to the quick and chunks of her hair pulled out. Time and time again, sharp pain buffeted her head, but she pushed forward, pushed on, always refusing to fall. Flood’s soul, deep in his eyes, appeared as battered and damaged as she’d felt then. She could hardly bear to look at him.

  “But there’s more, Flood. I finally told Luke everything. I hope you understand that I had to. He’d been carrying around so much guilt over what happened to me, and what I might have suffered at the hands of his father, that it wasn’t right to keep the truth from him any longer. Telling him is one thing I don’t regret at all, and I wish I’d done it sooner. He’s been a different man ever since.”

  Flood swiped his hand across his face, then tipped his chin up and gazed at the beams of the ceiling. She saw him swallow as he blinked in quick succession. “I wondered about that.” His raspy voice sent a shiver down her spine. “It was that morning about three years ago, when he came into breakfast dressed in his buckskins. You’re right, he was a changed man. All for the better.”

  A bittersweet feeling gripped her. “Yes.” She dared to reach out and place her hand on Flood’s forearm, just below the roll of his sleeve. It was rough, warm. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking notice of all the sensations their connection created. She wasn’t sure how he’d respond to all this—to her—after the truth was completely out in the open. At this moment, their steady, rock-hard relationship was anything but.

  “And I’m so sorry if it hurts you to know that he knows. I am, Flood. I guess, life is hard, that’s all. We do what we have to, to get through. Luke thinks of you as his father. He’s told me that many times. He loves and respects you so much. All the boys do.”

  Flood turned and wrapped her in his arms. It was then that she knew everything would be all right. “That’s good to hear, darlin’,” he murmured, then softly kissed her lips. “It’s hard for a flesh-and-blood man to live up to a dream. Luke has said the same to me. Now I just have to find a way to trust his words.”

  She wanted to pull him down to the bed, as was her habit, to make love, to share with each other all that God had given them, but she wasn’t that sure of her standing just yet.

  “You had nothing to do with your abduction,” he went on. “It wasn’t your fault.” His voice was gritty and soft at the same time. “Nor were any of the feelings that grew as a result. I mean that, Claire. You’re a survivor. You’re even tougher than any of us realize. That’s what’s made our family so remarkable. I just wish I’d been able to find you quicker and bring you home. That’s my only regret in all this.” He kissed her hair, and she ran her hand up his chest. “Now, are you finished? Can we leave it at that?”

  She nodded. “Yes.” When she glanced up, she found tears on his face. It was almost her undoing.

  “You sure?”

  She nodded again, so thankful for the wonderful man she’d married and for the feel of his arms around her. Strong and safe—always her man. There was no one on this earth who could hold a candle to him, or to what he meant to her. She loved him now, in this moment, more than she ever had.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Francis drew the buggy to a halt in front of the hotel. Brandon felt a little silly sitting in the back when he’d rather be driving, but Luke had insisted that Charity would be disappointed if they didn’t arrive in style. A few streamers had been attached to the bumper, making him feel even sillier. Jack Jones stood out in front of the sheriff’s office, smoking a cigarette as he watched the buggy with interest. Brandon gave Charity a quick peck on the lips. “We’re here.”

  When she didn’t respond, he looked at her questioningly, until he realized she was actually nervous. Could that be? Her strength and her confidence were two of the things he loved most about her. She could give as good as she got. He respected that. A feminine hothouse flower wouldn’t fit into his world—nor would he want one.

  He held back a chuckle. Well, she’d learn soon enough there wasn’t anything to be nervous about. Tonight, he’d make sure she felt like a woman—his woman. He was up for the challenge.

  Francis hopped out and grabbed their two small bags and carried them into the hotel. Earlier, he’d been griping that he was becoming a regular chauffeur, what with driving Hayden and Heather’s wedding coach just last month. It was sort of a mean thing to ask him to do it again today—for Charity, considering his longtime crush on her. Oh well. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

  Already outside the buggy, Brandon held out his hand to Charity, who still wore her mother’s pretty white wedding dress.

  “That sure fits you nice,” he said, admiring her feminine attributes. The ones that were usually hidden away behind a chambray shirt and leather chaps. She placed her hand in his, and he pulled gently until she was settled on the boardwalk. Well aware they’d drawn more attention, he wrapped her in his arms and dipped her for a long kiss. She came up sputtering when clapping broke out from several different directions.

  “Brandon! What’s gotten into you? I thought you didn’t like attracting attention to yourself.”

  “Seems you don’t know everything about me, wife.” Charity was finally his, and he could hardly believe it.

  She cuffed him on the shoulder. “Well, watch it.”

  He took her hand and settled it in the crook of his elbow, then pushed open the door to Cattlemen’s.

  “I plan to, darlin’. Now, act like a lady. We’re not on the ranch anymore.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

  He laughed.

  As they entered the lobby, Francis came back down the tall staircase, now empty-handed. He passed Brandon the key to their room.

  “Bags are all inside,” he said a bit sullenly. “Congratulations.”

  Charity smiled. “Thank you, Francis. Be ready. When you least expect it, you’ll look into your own true love’s eyes and fall hard.”

  His cheeks flushed red, but this time he didn’t duck his head as he usually did.

  “I don’t know about that, Charity,” he said. “I best be getting back to the ranch.”

  They watched Francis go until he disappeared out the door. The lobby was quiet. Still holding her hand, Brandon brought it to his mouth and kissed it, his gaze finding hers. “You ready to go up to our room, Mrs. Crawford? Or would you rather get another bite of dessert in the dining room? I’m game for whatever you’d like.” If she was nervous, he didn’t want to rush her.

  She dropped her gaze. “No, I’m ready to go upstairs, Brandon.” Her tone said different.

  “That’s my girl,” he said teasingly, as he’d done for so many years.

  Could this finally be happening? He felt as if he were walking on clouds as they ascended the staircase. How could he have ever thought going to Kansas City could replace this, their home? Y Knot, Montana, was nothing less than heaven on earth.

  • • •

  When Brandon opened the door to the only room on the top floor of Cattlemen’s Hotel, Charity sucked in her breath. She’d never taken the time to look at the bridal suite, although she’d heard stories of it. Most people couldn’t afford a room of such luxury, and stayed in their own homes after getting married. She noted several candles around the room, already lit, warming the walls in a golden glow. A pretty bouquet adorne
d a small table by the window, and another on the table beside the bed. She was glad now that she’d never taken the time to come up and see it. It made a wonderful memory that she’d hold dear for the rest of her life.

  Brandon opened the top drawer of the dresser and extracted a small package. “For you.”

  “Oh, Brandon, you shouldn’t have.” With a shaky hand, she took the proffered gift.

  “Go on and open it,” he urged. “Kansas City didn’t get all my money—though it tried.”

  Charity slipped the pink bow from around the small square box. Opening the lid, she found a beautiful heart-shaped silver locket dangling on a delicate chain.

  “I thought when we got tired of the sights in Y Knot, we’d take a proper honeymoon somewhere special and have our pictures made. So you could put them inside. I know it’s not much, but—”

  She took his face between her palms. “It’s the most beautiful necklace I’ve ever seen in my whole life. Thank you, my love.”

  Before she even had a chance to kiss and thank him correctly, he took her hand and led her across the room to the tall screen sectioning off a corner of the area. There, she found a bathtub already filled to the top with hot water. A big, fluffy towel sat folded and ready to be used, as did a dollop of soap. Charity went over, picked it up, and held it to her nose. “Roses.”

  “Yes. Just for you.” It was as if he were looking into her soul. “When I was in Kansas City, this is all I could think about. This night and how I’d make it special for you.”

  “Oh, Brandon.” She closed the distance between them and he wrapped her into his arms. The kiss was long, different from any she’d ever felt. They were man and wife. It was like no other feeling in the world.

  “Turn around.”

  She did. He slowly undid the thirty-five buttons that ran down the back of her dress. He slipped one shoulder off and kissed her skin. Instantly, her breathing increased, and she tipped her head back, enjoying the way his lips made her skin tingle.