Montana Sky: Laced By Love (Kindle Worlds) (Entertainers of The West Book 1)

by Linda Carroll-Bradd

  “Her name’s Sacha, which means defender of men. As in guard dog.” Nic hefted their bags from the wagon and turned toward the cabin.

  Cinnia scooped up the puppy and buried her nose into the fur at its neck. “At least, he spoke to me. That has to count for something.”

  A wet kiss on her cheek was Sacha’s only response.

  With the puppy tucked under her arm, Cinnia grabbed the blankets and her pillow and trudged toward the small building. On the next trip, she made sure to grab a hank of yarn and the knitting needles. At least, she’d have something else to focus on instead of being tempted to beg Nic for an answer to his abrupt change.

  The next day was a repeat of the first, without any semblance of a real husband and wife interaction. Her heart numb, she performed the tasks she knew needed doing before he could order her. This time, she’d moved Sacha’s crate so it sat in the wagon bed right behind her seat.

  They arrived in Morgan’s Crossing late in the afternoon. After setting the brake, a grim-faced Nic jumped from the wagon and charged into the shop.

  As strange as that action seemed, she’d noticed his increasing tenseness as they approached the town. Probably thinking he was being unobtrusive, he cut glances in every direction, his face set into stern tightness.

  What is he looking for? Her whole body tightened at the frustration of him not talking to her. Husbands and wives were supposed to share, to turn to the other for help in solving whatever problem had descended into the middle of their lives.

  “Cinnia, climb down and come with me.”

  Another order, not a request. She glanced at his rigid body waiting on the boardwalk. Looked for a sign that he would come to help her down but saw none. Huffing out a breath, she brushed a hand over Sacha’s head and then climbed down. She walked close, her arms over her clenched stomach. “Yes?”

  He jerked his head toward the interior of his shop then walked inside.

  She followed and spotted the back door was ajar. Moving into the grass behind the shops, she was surprised to see another open door in a place where she’d never noticed one before.

  Nic held it with one hand and beckoned her closer.

  Curiosity drove her forward to look into a space about four feet wide that had been built in between the two shops. Huh, she’d always thought the center wall was a shared one.

  “If anyone you don’t know comes to my shop or yours asking for a Nicolai Andrusha, you are to come directly here and lock yourself inside. The padlock is here”—he pointed toward a hook then gestured toward a wooden pallet several inches thick—“Then stand this wooden platform against the door and move to the center of the space.”

  “What are you talking about? Who’s Nicolai—” She gasped and turned to look at him.

  “Do not open the door until you hear my voice.” He narrowed his gaze, his lips tight. “Do you understand?”

  “Nic, you’re scaring me. What is happening?”

  Glaring, he gripped her shoulders. “Cinnia, answer me. Do you understand?”

  A lump wedged in her throat, and she could only nod.

  “This is for your own good. When I’m free to do so, I will explain.” He brushed a kiss on her forehead then released his grip and stepped back. “Until then, move into the room in your shop. Open your business, announce our marriage, but keep out an eye for strangers. Breakfast and supper will be shared in my house.” He pressed a key into her hand then turned, walked to the corner of the shop, and disappeared.

  For several moments, she glanced between the spot he’d been and the dark hiding space. The good thing was, he expected to see her each day. Taking the key, she let herself into the back door of her shop and went through the motions of unloading her belongings.

  Sacha inspected every corner of the place then plopped down on the gray blanket and curled into a ball.

  At least, one of us feels like we have a home.

  ****

  The days following their return to Morgan’s Crossing were the most tortuous Nicolai had ever spent. The telegram that awaited him in the mine office had been brief.

  SOON STOP BE VIGILANT STOP LOVE PAPKA END

  Each day, he was aware of Cinnia’s comings and goings. He could hear her chatting with Dorrie, or talking to Sacha. Thinking he could keep the furry puppy from her had been a stupid and desperate wish. Only an adult dog would have provided the protection Nicolai so wanted to provide for her. When he thought she couldn’t see, he watched her teaching Sacha to fetch a ball. Thankfully, Cinnia hadn’t refused to use the small collar and leash he’d made on their first full day back.

  The thirty minutes they spent together in his small kitchen every morning and evening were precious to him. So many times he wanted to say the words that he knew would remove the stiffness from her posture and allow her expression to soften toward him. Maybe even grant him a smile. When he saw her lavish affection on the puppy, he could only swallow hard against the lump that lodged in his chest. Each night was torture, knowing that a short hallway over the hiding space was all that separated their beds.

  One night, late into the wee hours, he’d been so lonely that he’d opened the door on his side and crawled that distance to press his ear against the wall, just to listen for her breathing. He assured himself that when all the facts were known, she’d forgive him this short patch of reserved silence. As he’d crept back to his cold bed, he’d vowed that on the very day he received word of the patent’s approval, he cut a hole into that wall and connect the living spaces. Maybe build a big double bed on one side and move their trunks and chest of drawers in the other room.

  Mid-afternoon, he stood at his vat, shifting the hides, not paying much attention. Tonight, he’d make the suggestion that Cinnia might want to see the place where he disappeared to each morning and afternoon. Away from the shops, they might find topics of conversation that would put life back into her eyes that now shone a dull green.

  A strong breeze scuttled clouds over the low-hanging sun. Chills ran along his neck. With a start, he realized the temperature had dropped enough that his hands were stiff and a little bluish. A storm was on its way. He thought of Torin and Nola and hoped they found a safe spot to hole up.

  After covering the vat, he sprinted down to the springbox and grabbed the crock that held the remainder of a small roast Cinnia had cooked two days earlier. He mounted Yasha and headed uphill toward the mine. His ears burned from the cold, and he decided not to stop at the mine office as had become his habit. Somewhere in the bottom of his trunk were his winter scarves and gloves. Time to unpack those.

  “Hey, Andrews.”

  He jerked at the sound of his name and glanced over his shoulder.

  Milton, the mine guard, waved him over, a paper flapping in his hand.

  Was this what he’d been waiting for? He spurred Yasha forward.

  “Got another telegram.”

  Nic leaned over, accepted the paper, and unfolded it. His hands wrinkled the paper. He had to read it twice to make sure he understood.

  PATENT APPROVED STOP COME HOME END

  He let out a whoop, making Yasha dance to the side. “Thanks, Milton. Great news.” He leaned over Yasha’s neck and urged the horse into a canter toward town, toward Cinnia, toward the only home he wanted. Hurrying through unsaddling and rubbing down the horse, he kept glancing at the shop’s back window, hoping for a glimpse of her reddish hair.

  Nicolai ran into the kitchen then stopped. No delicious scents hung in the air. No pots sat on the stove. That was odd. He moved through the shop, checking his possessions, but everything looked the same as he’d left it several hours earlier. Striding to the board walk, he moved to Cinnia’s shop and opened the door, but she wasn’t there. “Cinnia?” His gut tightened. Where is she? Where’s the pup?

  When he got no answer, he looked for signs of a disturbance. Although he hadn’t stepped foot inside her shop since their return. The bolts of fabric stood upright in a neat row in a wooden crate. The yarn had been
rolled into balls and filled the other end of the crate. From the top of the window molding hung a brown skirt and a black one. Her wooden box of tools sat on the table. Everything looked undisturbed.

  Pulse tapping like a cobbler’s hammer, he dashed outside, over to where Dorrie’s wagon remained parked next to the buildings, and pounded on the back door. “Dorrie? You in there?” Frustration made him consider running down to the boarding house.

  Maybe Cinnia took Sacha for a walk and just lost track of time. Blood pounding in his ears, he jogged down the incline toward the river, cupped his hands around his mouth, and yelled, “Cinnia!” From behind, he heard his name. Faint, but repeated again and again. Followed by excited yapping.

  Releasing a tight breath, he ran to the shop and pounded on the small door. “Cinnia, it’s Nicolai. Are you there?”

  “You finally came.”

  Metallic clinking sounded, and then the door pushed open.

  His lovely bride threw herself against his chest and clung to his neck. “Oh, Nic. I was so scared. Two strangers stopped at the boarding house, asking questions, and Dorrie snuck out the back door to come warn me.”

  On shaky legs, Dorrie walked out behind Cinnia and pointed toward the puppy in her arms and then gestured toward her wagon. She grinned and gave him a big wink before sauntering away.

  Nicolai closed his eyes and just breathed in the scent of soap and flowers…and his sweet Cinnia. “You’re all right. I’m here. Did the men come here? Into the shops?”

  “I don’t know. I did what you said and came straight here.” Her hands smoothed over the shoulders of his jacket.

  His heart finally slowed to a normal beat. “Tell me what happened.”

  “No, just hold me.” She lowered her hands so she could burrow them inside his jacket and clasp his back.

  “My lisichka.” His heart swelled at knowing these past few days had been as hard for her as they had been for him. He cupped a hand on the back of her head and eased it to his chest. “Let me talk then. Just listen.” Moving with small steps, he turned them until he could brace himself on the shop wall and pull her close. “I’ve been waiting on an important telegram, my sweet. Actually, I’ve been waiting more than six months for the news. It finally came today, and now I can tell you what I learned in Sweetwater Springs that ruined the closeness we’d shared.”

  She tipped back her head and looked upward. “I don’t know what to ask first. What did you learn? Who were those men and what did they want? What did the telegram say? Are you rich? Why couldn’t you tell me?” Her brows wrinkled. “No…what I most want to know is if your name is really Nicolai?”

  “Of all those other questions, that’s the one you choose?” He looked down into her face. The sparkle was back in her beautiful green eyes, and a happy smile graced her lips. Dryness invaded his throat, and he swallowed hard. “Yes, my real name is Nicolai Andrusha. And my family—”

  Cinnia stretched on tip-toes and kissed him, pressing her lips hard against his.

  Nicolai wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held tight, letting her explore the wonders of lovers’ silent communication. He pulled away to catch his breath. “Don’t you want to hear the rest? About the family you now have?”

  She tossed back her head and laughed. “Not when we have a lifetime to share our histories. All I care is that I have back my husband.” Cinnia gave him one more squeeze. Then her head jerked up and she stared, wide-eyed. “Are we even really married?”

  “In my heart, we are.” He kissed her forehead and stepped away.

  “What are you doing?”

  Grinning, he glanced over his shoulder to see her confused expression. Knowing his Cinnia, she’d catch up before he reached the shop. “Getting a saw.”

  DEAR READER,

  When I was offered the opportunity to participate in Debra Holland’s Montana Sky Kindle World, I was flattered and excited. I’ve been a part of this special fictional world, behind the scenes as an editor, since 2012. I’ve grown to love these characters as if they are family members.

  So, I wanted to find a story that would bring new characters into the world that hopefully readers wanted to meet and would come to care for. I also wanted to have Debra’s beloved characters cross paths with mine in interesting situations. That was a given.

  The bonus came as I was researching. I like to use real customs, foods, or historical events in my stories to enrich them. Early on, I’d decided the hero would be a saddler, a worker of leather. At first, I thought he’d just make things from hides he purchased. That led me to investigating how hides were cured and where he would find these.

  As often happens with internet searches, one click lead to another until I read about famed Russian leather in the 18th century that had a special aroma and was so hardwearing that companies in Europe sent spies to Russia to discover the secret. (Here was the reason my hero had to be in hiding.) I read about an incident in 1973 where deep-sea divers discovered the hull of a ship called Metta Catharina (that set sail from St. Petersburg for Genoa in 1786 but sank) and brought to the surface big bundles. The bundles were cleaned of the mud and opened, the hides contained within, because of the special oils, had suffered almost no water damage.

  The divers went to a local pub that night talking about this unusual find. A local leather worker overhead them and asked to see the find. He was allowed to help clean the hides and as he worked with them, the unmistakable sweet scent was released. The famed Russian leather that was thought to be only historical legend was verified. The leather was in, fact, more than 200 years old AND was usable. The first pair of shoes made from this leather sold to Prince Charles.

  Rumor remains that more bundles lay at the bottom of Plymouth Sound, but recovery is deemed expensive and dangerous.

  Travelling vaudeville troupes gained popularity following the Civil War and were evident in all parts of the country. For obvious reasons, late spring to early fall were the traveling months. A few companies continued in operation into the early 1900s. Having such a group come to a small sleepy town would be a big event.

  At first, I wanted this troupe to be the thing that the heroine rebelled against. In early plotting, I envisioned the troupe would be gone by chapter three. But as I wrote the scenes, I kept seeing how the relationships Cinnia had with the other performers made them all a family. You may not get along with them all the time, but they are who you travel with and face each day—like it or not. Those irritations kept working into new scenes and ways to highlight various aspects of my heroine’s personality.

  Don’t worry that I’ve sent Torin and Nola off into the wilderness. I’ll be writing their story next—a road-trip adventure through the wilds of Montana Territory.

  Linda Carroll-Bradd

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Linda grew up in northern California as part of a five-member family but loads of people in the neighborhood thought her parents had only two daughters. Why? Because she loved to read and was usually lying on her bed instead of playing outside with the other neighborhood kids. The summer she was twelve, she read Gone With The Wind and was hooked on romantic stories. She delved into the Phyllis A. Whitney and Dorothy Eden books of her mother’s and then discovered Harlequin. As a mother with young children, she would lose herself in stories of glamorous people in exotic places—so different than the day-to-day diapers and crumbly teething biscuits.

  After years of working in secretarial positions, she decided to use the creative side of her brain and learn how to write one of the romances she loved reading. Easier said than done. Twelve long years and many contest finals later, and with the help of various critique groups, she received her first call and had a confession story published. She was hooked. Married with four adult children, she now lives in the southern California mountains with their two beloved dogs. In addition to working as a freelance editor, she writes contemporary and historical stories that are heartwarming with a touch of humor, many with a tie to her previous home of Texas.
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  OTHER HISTORICAL TITLES

  Libbie: Bride of Arizona, Book #48 in “American Mail-Order Brides” series

  Wandering Home, #1 in the “Dorado, Texas” series

  Storybook Hero, #2 in the “Dorado, Texas” series

  Capturing the Marshal’s Heart , #1 Escape From Texas series (spicy)

  Between The Lines in Lariats, Letters, and Lace (8-author anthology)

  Wishes On A Star in Sweetwater Springs Christmas (holiday anthology)

  Dreams of Gold

  The Ring That Binds

  Lone Star Angel (sensual)

  Learn more about her author life on her website. www.lindacarroll-bradd.com

  To join her newsletter list to be notified of upcoming releases, click here

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