“Which is why education is key,” Lily said.
“I can’t disagree with you either,” Moses conceded.
“Education is the starting point,” Christian charged on, “but we’re a long way from perfection. I think we, as a town, should come up with a way to make sure that the Flathead children receive the education they deserve in such a way that their presence won’t rile up the dunderheads who are slow to accept new ideas. That way we can make a gradual transition without baiting the bear.”
Lily shook her head. “I’ve listened to your alarmist suggestions all day now, Mr. Avery. Enough! Bright, eager children should not be kept away from the school because it might upset a few backward-thinking citizens.”
Christian sighed. “As I’ve told you all day, Miss Singer, I can appreciate what your aim is, but it’s my responsibility to make sure peace and order are maintained in Cold Springs.”
“You’re being extreme. Allowing Sturdy Oak’s grandchildren to attend the Cold Springs school is hardly a cause for mass rebellion and rioting.”
“Want to bet?”
A flash of inspiration struck her. She jumped to her feet, heart racing. “Yes, I do!”
He blinked at her, clearly disarmed.
“You do what?”
“Want to bet.”
Energy raced down her spine and through her fingers and toes as the idea formed and grew with lightning speed.
“I bet you that Red Sun Boy and Martha and all of the other Flathead students will, in fact, not cause a riot at the school. I bet you that they will excel and cause the other children to excel.”
Christian shifted his weight to one hip and crossed his arms. “How do you intend to prove that?”
“The academic games.” Lily stood taller as her idea took shape.
“What about them?” Christian narrowed his eyes.
“The teams for the academic games will be made up of students from all classes and ages,” she explained. “They will be asked questions through a series of rounds aimed at different age groups. The team that gives the most correct answers receives a special supper at the new hotel.”
“So what do you want to bet on?” Christian asked.
Lily took a step closer to him. “The teams are being chosen on Sunday after church. I bet you that the team I will coach—a team that I will make sure is comprised of Flathead children and the other children together—will win the competition. I bet you that they will become friends in the process, regardless of race, and rather than stirring up trouble in Cold Springs, their partnership will foster a greater understanding between their parents as well.”
A buzzing silence followed her declaration.
Christian burst into laughter.
“That’s the tallest order I’ve ever heard,” he chuckled.
Lily fumed. “If you’re too timid to take the bet….”
He shook his head, rubbing his face but not wiping his smarmy grin away.
“No, no,” he said. “I’ll take the bet. I’ll even make it easier on you. Let’s just keep it at ‘if your team wins.’ What then?”
A hitch caught in Lily’s chest. She hadn’t thought that far ahead.
“If my team wins,” she ventured, “then you, as justice of the peace, will personally teach a series of lessons to my students about the laws that guarantee equality and our civic responsibilities in upholding those laws.”
His grin faltered, twitching around the edges as if uncertain whether the whole thing was still a joke.
“And if they don’t win?”
“Name your prize, Mr. Avery.”
He was silent as his thoughts turned. A grin spread slowly across his face. “If you don’t win, you have dinner with me. At the saloon. On a Friday night. Then you can see just how civilized and forward-thinking the citizens of Cold Springs truly are.”
Lily’s face burned. The saloon was bad enough. She didn’t need to see for herself how easily barroom fights and foolish arguments started. But dinner with Christian Avery?
“You have a deal.”
Christian grinned. “May the best man win.”
Lily sent him a scathing look then turned to their baffled and bemused hosts. “Mr. and Mrs. Wright, I’m glad that Amos is home safe.” With a tilt of her chin she crossed the room, heading for the hall. “Now if you will forgive me, I need to be getting home.”
“Me too,” Christian followed, Hattie and Moses behind him.
She winced as he strode past her to the hooks holding their coats. Always clawing for the last word, always pushing her out of the way. If her every word would prompt an instant reply from him, then she would never speak to him again. After the games.
He shrugged on his coat and fixed his hat on his head, then reached for her coat, hat, and mittens before Hattie could get to them. He held her coat open, challenge in his eyes.
She clenched her jaw and her fists and considered marching out into the cold evening without a coat. Instead, she met Christian’s eyes with enough defiance to wither a lesser man. Christian merely stared back at her, lifting her coat a few inches. He wouldn’t move if she didn’t move.
In the end, she broke the impasse by turning to thrust her hands violently into the sleeves. Christian fitted the coat up over her shoulders. The subtle scent of cedar and tobacco curled around her for the briefest of moments as he leaned close. She drew in a breath of it, rich and spicy, invigorating. Her heart thundered against her ribs. She tugged her coat tighter and jerked away.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Wright,” she said, snatching her hat and mittens from Christian then ignoring him. “I would stay for a longer visit if I could.”
“And I’d have invited you to supper if I’d had more warning,” Hattie replied. She nodded over Lily’s shoulder to Christian. “I’d have invited both of you. It would have made for an exciting evening, I think.” Her lips twitched.
Christian snorted a laugh. Lily held her disgust inside by a thread. Moses moved to open the front door, his face neutral, his eyes too amused for Lily’s comfort.
“Next time.” Christian put on his gloves and touched the brim of his hat to Hattie. “We’ll make an occasion out of it.”
Lily stepped out onto the porch. The frosty Montana air enveloped her. It was such a sharp contrast to her overheated body that she gulped for breath.
“Good evening,” she said her final farewell. She turned to stomp down the steps to fetch her horse from the back of Christian’s wagon.
“Hold on a second there!” Christian caught up to her. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Untying my horse,” she told him.
“Why bother. Let me drive you home. I have to return Michael’s wagon anyhow.”
“No thank you.”
Try as she did to work loose the knot he’d used to tie the horse to the wagon, her hands shook too hard. She gave up with a huff.
“Would you be so kind as to return the horse to Peterman’s livery.”
She didn’t wait for an answer, but spun on her heel and charged off down the road. The impersonal homes on either side of her with their bright windows and cozy lives only furthered her irritation.
“Lily, wait!”
Christian scrambled after her, slipping on the fresh snow under a streetlight. She ignored him, tucking her hands under her arms.
“Wait! Singing Bird!”
She stopped dead, turning to face him, trembling with fury.
“You have no right—”
“Why don’t you let me walk you home? I’m sure someone will keep an eye on the wagon for me.”
She marveled at his arrogance. He had no idea how infuriating he was.
A touch of inspiration hit her. She clasped her hands behind her back and plastered on a smile. “Why certainly, Mr. Avery. Walk me home.”
“All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”
He took a few steps but stopped when she didn’t move.
“I said let’s go.”
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“Certainly.” She nodded. “You lead the way.”
Christian huffed out a breath and shifted his weight, catching on. “Where do you live?”
“You mean you don’t know?” Lily arched an eyebrow.
“No, I do not.” He matched her smarmy tone.
“Imagine that,” she said, shaking her head and marching off ahead of him. “Christian Avery, Justice of the Peace, rushing to stick his nose into something he knows nothing about.”
Christian was silent. Lily charged on, hoping that at last he would leave her alone. She heard the shuffle of his feet behind her, but nothing he could say would make her turn around.
“You are one hell of a—”
A sharp crack of gunfire cut through the night. The suddenness of the noise froze Lily in her spot, heart in her throat. She cowered as the front door of the house to her right banged open.
Two men in buckskin coats with bandanas over their faces pushed out into the front garden. Each of them held a sack in one hand and a pistol in the other. One of them fired a shot into the house before rushing towards the gate in the garden fence. The shot was met by a woman’s scream. More shots followed, whizzing inches past Lily’s head.
Christian threw his arms around her, yanking her out of the street as the gunmen charged at them. His grip was tight and protective. Lily buried her face against the soft wool of his coat. More gunshots. Christian’s chest heaved with quick, alarmed breaths. His arms squeezed her close. The gunmen shouted, but their words were indistinct over the muffled panic ringing in Lily’s ears. Or was that Christian’s hand cradling her head?
With a strange rush of heat, her tension evaporated. Christian held her. She wouldn’t fall, she couldn’t be hurt. He wouldn’t let that happen. Somehow she knew that.
She took a deep breath, tobacco and cedar, then summoned the courage to look up over Christian’s shoulder at the scene around them. The gunmen slipped on the snowy street only a few yards from where they stood. Samuel Kuhn dashed out of the house and onto the porch, fully dressed in fur-collared coat and top hat, a gun in his hand. He’d fired a shot that went over Lily and Christian’s heads then fired another one for good measure.
“Stop them! Stop those Indians! I’ve been robbed!”
Christian cursed. Lily felt tension ripple through him. Her own fear returned with it. He wavered between holding her and loosening his grip before giving up and letting her go.
Her hands clenched the lapels of his coat, keeping him close. She met his wide, flashing eyes, loathe to release him. She was safe, safe in his arms.
Sense struck a moment later and she let go with a gasp. Christian reached out as though he would take her back, then twisted to find the robbers. With a tight curse he turned to chase after them.
The sudden cold air and withdrawal of support left Lily off-balance. She grabbed the fence of the yard beside her and squinted across the flickering light of a streetlamp to follow Christian’s pursuit. He only made it a few yards down the street before another crack of gunfire split the air.
Lily shrieked as Christian wheeled to a stop. She held her breath, eyes wide. Christian didn’t drop. Instead he turned back. He jogged to where an irate Samuel Kuhn was running out into the street.
Christian hadn’t been shot. Wild tears sprung to her eyes. The shock of her reaction left her gasping. She swallowed and wiped her face with her mittened hands before anyone would be the wiser.
Samuel fired one last shot into the dark. Try as she did to keep her dignity, Lily flinched and burst into uncontrollable trembling.
“Put that thing away!” Christian shouted, striding up to meet Samuel.
“I’ve been robbed! I have a right to defend my home and property!”
“Not when it’s too dark to see if you’re firing at a thief or a neighbor!”
Samuel let out a harsh breath that misted in the scant lamplight. Doors and windows in the surrounding houses opened as neighbors came out to see what had happened.
“This is insufferable!” Samuel said. “I haven’t even lived here a full year and that’s the second time I’ve been robbed! First my business and now my home! And by Indians too! I told you—”
“They didn’t look like Indians to me.” Christian shook his head.
“They were! You can tell by those damn leather coats.”
“Anyone can own a buckskin.”
“Well who else would take to robbing folks in their own home? I’m surprised we still have our scalps!”
“They weren’t Indians! You can file a report with Sheriff Porter in the morning and he’ll track down the real thieves,” Christian growled. Even in the poor light Lily could see the frustration lining his face. She stepped closer, needing to be near him.
“Your Sheriff Porter is an incompetent boob incapable of performing his job!” Samuel snapped.
“I’d defend Kent Porter if I could,” Christian said, “but I agree with you.” He shifted to look past Samuel. “You all right, ma’am?”
Mrs. Kuhn stood at the top of her porch steps, hugging herself, eyes wide, dressed in her winter coat and an elegant hat. “We only left the house to go to dinner at the hotel,” she lamented, voice shaking. “We weren’t gone for more than an hour. How could this happen?”
“I’ll tell you how this could happen,” Samuel said, shaking the gun in his fist. “It’s because we live in a two-bit, backwoods piece of nowhere overrun by Indians!” He turned to Lily.
She should have been irate at the suggestion, but she was still numb with fading panic and could only blink.
“Now just a minute,” Christian jumped to the defensive. “I won’t have you insulting respectable citizens or making accusations without proof.”
“What more proof do you need?” Mr. Kuhn spit. “There’s no law and order here whatsoever!”
“Excuse me,” Christian shouted, “but we’ve got law. I’m the law.”
Lily stared at Christian, too much in shock to scoff at his comment the way she should.
“I have half a mind to wire my contacts in the U.S. Army to come set this place in order,” Samuel railed.
“You can’t make any changes to the town’s law enforcement without a vote by the town council,” Christian argued.
“Yeah? Then maybe I’ll bring it up for a vote at the next meeting. Maybe I’ll call for a vote to ban Indians from town too.” Again he glared at Lily as if she had robbed his house herself. “The whole lot of you are nothing but trouble.”
“I’m warning you!” Christian growled, but it was too late. Samuel spun on his heel and walked away up the path leading to his robbed house and his whimpering wife. Christian swore under his breath, then called after him. “Make sure you go over to the jail tomorrow to file a report!”
“Oh, I’ll file a report, all right.” Samuel turned back to him. “I’ll file an official complaint over the gross mismanagement of this entire town!” He slammed his front door behind him.
Christian hissed out a curse and rubbed his face. “Do you see?” He directed his frustration at Lily. “Schoolyard fights in the morning, accusations of thievery in the evening. What next?”
Lily was beyond answering. She drew in a breath of cold air and stepped around him, avoiding his eyes. She was shaking, her skin prickling with a fine layer of sweat, and the man who had made her feel so safe for one fleeting moment had been replaced by an arrogant bastard.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Christian fell into stride beside her.
“Home,” she answered, then frowned at the quiver in her tone.
She hugged herself against the encroaching cold.
“Where is home?” Christian asked, in no mood to play games.
“Miss Viola Jones’s boarding house,” Lily conceded.
To her surprise, Christian swore again. “You would live out there, wouldn’t you,” he growled.
She should have called him out for his rudeness. She should have scolded him and taught him manners. But
her heart was still pounding so hard the only thing she could say was, “Yes, I would.”
“Come on, then. I’m driving you home. No arguments this time.”
It was a testament to how frayed her nerves were that she only swayed on her spot for a moment before trailing after him. Her world had been so clear and ordered that morning. Now, thanks to Christian Avery, it was a mess.
Chapter Five
Christian leaned against the counter in Michael West’s general store, chewing on the end of the cigar he had yet to light. “It was enough to make a man wish he’d never gotten out of bed that morning,” he finished up his sorry tale of the day before.
The store was packed and Michael could only nod as he tallied up Angus McGee’s tab. “That’ll be eighteen dollars and forty cents,” he told Angus. He followed that immediately by saying, “Sounds like you enjoyed it,” to Christian.
“I most certainly did not,” Christian groused. He tucked the cigar in his pocket and scooted out of the way of a middle aged woman and her daughter on their way to the sewing notions. “Being frozen solid, spoken to like a child, and shot at are not pastimes I enjoy.”
“Then how come you always seem to be in somebody’s line of fire?” Michael replied. “Good morning, Mrs. Folsom,” he greeted the next customer. “How are you this fine morning?”
“Tired of waiting,” Mrs. Folsom answered with a huff. “Can’t some of these people shop at Kuhn’s Emporium in the new part of town? They’re new people anyhow.”
“You wouldn’t grudge me my business now, would you?” Michael smiled at the woman, proving why his business continued to boom in spite of the competition.
“As I understand it, Mr. Kuhn has just as much business as we do,” Michael’s wife, Charlotte ‘Charlie’ West, commented as she breezed through the curtain from the storeroom. Her black hair was done up in the latest fashion and her clothes were fine enough for the Philadelphia society she and Michael came from, but she wore a plain apron over her finery and carried a box of canned goods in her arms. “The town has grown so much even two stores can’t supply everyone.”
In Your Arms (Montana Romance) Page 5
