Married in Montana

by Jane Porter

  He finally broke the silence. “I’ll be leaving early in the morning, probably before you’re up.”

  She closed her eyes and held her breath, holding the pain at bay. He said he liked her emotions but she knew he didn’t like her emotions when she was tearful or demanding. “I’ll see you off,” she said as cheerfully as she could.

  “No need. Sleep in—”

  “What if I’d rather get up to see you off? What if I want to say goodbye?”

  “I’m not trying to quarrel, Ellie. I just thought you might enjoy sleeping in since we’ve had a number of... late nights.”

  What was going on? Why was he being so hard and distant? She didn’t know where everything had gone wrong. The warmer he was in bed, the colder he was out of it. “Why do I feel like you’re running away from me?”

  He made a low, rough scoffing sound. “That’s foolish.”

  Even his tone was sharp and hurtful. She struggled to smash her pain. “So you’re not trying to escape me? Or avoid me?”

  “No.”

  “Then why not invite me on the drive? Let me help. I’m a better cowhand than half those boys.”

  “It’s no place for a woman.”

  “My father thought it was.”

  It was the wrong thing to say because his features hardened and his dark eyes narrowed. “But your father isn’t here, is he? I’m here, and I’m not comfortable having you on the trail, much less a steep trail with five hundred head of cattle.” He drew a short, rough breath before softening his tone. “I don’t want to worry about you, Ellie, and I would. You’re safer here at the house. I’ve got some of the hands staying down here, too, and they’ll be keeping an eye on things as well.”

  “Now who is the one treating me like a glass vase in a curio cabinet?”

  “My job is to protect you, Ellie—”

  “Then stay here and don’t go. If you’re that worried about my safety, stay with me and protect me instead of leaving me for a week in the care of another man. Unless the issue is that you don’t want me anymore, and if that’s the case, just say so!”

  “I don’t have the time or patience to argue with you. I gave you my answer, I’m not going to change my mind. You’re not going. I want you here—”

  “Even if I don’t want to be here?”

  “It’s not up to you, Ellie. It’s my decision and I’ve made my decision. I need to turn in, but you know I won’t go to bed until you’re inside and everything is locked up tight.”

  “You’re just going to go to bed now? Even though you know I’m so upset?”

  “God, I could use a drink right now,” he muttered.

  “My father has a half dozen decanters in the parlor. All kinds of whiskeys and port and brandy. Go drink yourself silly.”

  “Married to you, it wouldn’t be hard to embrace the drink, and then I wouldn’t worry so much about doing the right thing, or saying the right thing. I wouldn’t care about self-control. Instead I argue with you, and fight with Harrison every time he lets me know I’m not doing something right, and then when I’ve had enough here, I could go to town and drink all day at Grey’s Saloon, too, and then I could stagger out onto Main Street, taking our troubles public.”

  “And how would that help?”

  “Because that way everyone would pity you. Poor Ellie Burnett, married to that useless Irishman.”

  “I’ve never said that, and I certainly don’t want anyone to pity me.”

  “But you pity yourself, don’t you?”

  “Don’t think you can sleep in my room tonight. You may return to your room. You’re not welcome in mine.”

  “Is that how this is going to go?”

  “You’ve stripped me of all my control. This is the only power I have left.”

  “Well then, by all means, use it, Mrs. Sheenan,” he answered bitingly.

  Chin high, she entered the house and stood stiffly in the hall as he locked the front door behind her. They climbed the stairs not speaking, and she went to her room and he went to his old room for the first time in over a week.

  Ellie tried to hold on to her anger, needing it to protect her, needing the fury and hurt for strength, but she couldn’t sleep and couldn’t relax and couldn’t distract herself, either. She missed her father. She missed his steadiness and his love.

  Thomas didn’t want her love. He wanted her body, but not her heart.

  She wouldn’t cry, though, and she made herself lie still, even though her eyes burned and her throat ached from all the pent emotion.

  When her door opened a little later, she grabbed her pillow and threw it at the door. It hit Thomas in the chest before bouncing off the door. “You’re not welcome here, Mr. Sheenan!”

  “What about a truce?”

  “No. I’m still mad at you.”

  “What if I can make you forget you’re mad?”

  “That won’t happen.”

  “You’re not even giving me a chance,” he said, approaching the bed. He leaned over and kissed her, even as he stroked her hip, and then up.

  He kept kissing her and touching her until she forgot about everything but him, and how much she cared for him, and how much she wanted to be with him, until she woke up the next morning and discovered Thomas gone.

  Waking up to discover that Thomas had left for the week without saying goodbye, crushed her. If he’d shut her out because she’d been rude, or ungrateful, or selfish she could understand. But to push her away because she wanted him?

  Because she cared about him?

  Her eyes stung and she wrapped her arms across her middle to keep from picking something up and throwing it.

  He didn’t understand that she’d never tried harder to please anyone. She’d never tried so hard to be a good woman, and what she hoped was a proper wife.

  She’d tried to cook and set a pretty table. She’d gathered flowers and put them in glass jars and even tried to make his favorite dessert. And he’d been fine with all that. He was fine with the hot meal and the nice table and the not-perfectly-set fruit tart and then making love after. But that was all he wanted from her. She could cook for him, and clean for him, but she was not to have feelings. Not to care.

  And she was most definitely not to ask him to care.

  She should have just moved into the house on Bramble. She could have had a housekeeper and a gardener and more gorgeous clothes than she knew what to do with. Even better, she would have her independence, and complete financial freedom.

  No interfering, arrogant husband to give her orders.

  No irritating Irishman to drag her to bed.

  No beautiful but impossible man to call her own.

  No one to love.

  And how she loved Thomas, which was what made it all so much worse.

  Heartsick, she went to the mudroom door and stepped out on the porch to look up at Emigrant Peak. Thomas was up on that mountain somewhere. He and Harrison and a half dozen men were driving the herd, and it was a big herd this summer. They could have used her help. It would have been fun to get out there and ride again, and prove her worth again. She’d spent too many months in the house and she’d lost a little bit of herself this spring—

  Ellie grimaced. She wasn’t that interested in moving cattle. She wanted to be on the mountain because her handsome, irritating, impossible husband was there. And maybe it wasn’t a place for most women, but she wasn’t most women, she was his woman. She loved him. And wherever he was, she wanted to be.

  Ellie stared at the peak another moment before turning away. It was too late to head up now, but at first light tomorrow, she and Oisin would be on their way.

  Chapter Eleven

  Out on the trail leading toward the mountain, Thomas finally felt as if he could breathe again.

  He’d felt suffocated for the past few days, trapped in a situation that threatened to only get worse, not better.

  He hoped that distance from Ellie would give him perspective and a chance to clear his head.

&
nbsp; And yet with a whole day in the saddle ahead of him, he had nothing but time on his hands, and his thoughts returned to her again and again. She was always there in his mind, and just remembering her quick eager smile made his chest grow tight. In the last week she’d become so full of warmth and light, and the happier she was, the guiltier he felt.

  She deserved more. She deserved a man who’d love her properly, a man who had wooed her and won her, fighting hard for her. A man who’d say the things she’d want to hear, and put her first, and give her tenderness, not just hot carnal sex.

  He was good at sex. But the other stuff... it wasn’t him. It would never be him and she needed to accept facts or she’d be perpetually disappointed.

  Ellie left a note for the men who’d remained behind, letting them know that she was with Thomas and all was well, and then after saddling Oisin, she set off for Emigrant Peak, leaving early to make the most of the cool morning.

  As she reached the foothills she felt excited, as well as a little bit nervous. She really hoped that once she reached the camp, Thomas would be glad to see her. She didn’t expect instant jubilation, but once the shock wore off she wanted him to be glad she’d made the effort and joined him. He needed to realize that she hadn’t been born in an Irish village. She didn’t need to be fussed over and protected. Ellie knew she was an excellent horsewoman as well as an experienced hand, and she’d grown up with tremendous independence on the ranch, and with that independence came responsibility.

  Her father had insisted she be as skilled as any boy and so she’d been taught how to read animal tracks and be alert as to the wildlife around her. She’d learned about the weather in the valley and how to differentiate the clouds, and know which predicted storms.

  But as the hours passed and she and Oisin continued to climb, her excitement gave way to unease. He wasn’t going to be happy, was he?

  Ellie’s stomach churned, making her queasy. She ought to go back home. She ought to turn around but the more worried she became, the more determined she was to prove to Thomas that he shouldn’t have excluded her because she wasn’t just a pretty face, but as hardworking and knowledgeable as any of the ranch hands.

  She’d driven cattle through streams, rivers, scrub brush and ravines and she wanted to be there, at Thomas’s side, so they could drive the cattle together.

  She’d wanted a partnership. Someone who would let her be her. Someone who appreciated how much she loved the land, and her history on this land.

  Last summer her father had been too ill to drive the cattle to the high pastures, but he’d done it every other year before and she’d been on each of those trips with him.

  The work could be hot and miserable, but there was also beauty in the drive. The whispering aspens, the fragrant summer grass, the breathtaking views from the higher elevation. And she wanted to share it with him. She wanted to share all of life with him.

  He had to understand that she was more than a woman, and she was certainly not fragile. She wasn’t going to get sick and die, either, and she couldn’t help wondering if that was his fear. He’d lost so many of his sisters, and maybe he even blamed himself.

  Ellie sighed and pushed back her hat, today wearing her father’s beloved straw one. She’d worn it as much for nostalgia as for courage.

  She sighed again, fidgeting unhappily in the saddle as a little voice whispered inside her that she was maybe making a mistake. What if Thomas wasn’t happy to see her? What if he was irritated that she’d gone against his wishes?

  But why should he be irritated? Why shouldn’t he include her? This ranch was her life, her land, her heritage. It’s how she knew herself, and it was also a connection to her father. Being left behind, much less left behind in a house, would never make her happy.

  Harrison’s low whistle caught Thomas’s attention and Thomas glanced at the older man and saw him pointing toward the horizon.

  Thomas narrowed his eyes against the bright afternoon sun, staring hard into the distance until he saw what Harrison had wanted him to see.

  And then he couldn’t believe his eyes. He stared hard at the horse and rider, jaw tight, molars grinding together.

  Even with the hat, he recognized her, but it wasn’t hard to recognize her, not on that huge black horse. Oisin was not a trail horse. He was meant for smart buggies, gently undulating meadows and well-paved roads. His height and long elegant legs made him particularly unsuitable for the narrow path that zigzagged up the mountain.

  He knew that Harrison and the ranch hands were watching him, waiting to see what he would do. He disliked being put in that position, of having to rebuke his wife in front of employees, but he wasn’t about to welcome her with open arms. He wasn’t about to welcome her at all. This trip was no place for Ellie, and he made that abundantly clear.

  In fact, he couldn’t have been clearer if he tried, which meant Ellie didn’t care what he thought, nor did she respect him.

  Thomas wasn’t happy. He wouldn’t even look at her. Ellie pretended to be oblivious, kicking her foot free of the stirrup, and then shifting her skirts to jump down from the saddle.

  She landed lightly on her feet and Mr. Harrison approached, offering to take Oisin and have him fed and watered and rubbed down. She thanked Mr. Harrison and then peeled off her gloves and asked if Mrs. Harrison needed help with dinner.

  “She might,” Mr. Harrison answered noncommittally. “Check in with Mr. Sheenan and if he has nothing for you, you might see if my missus could use the help.”

  The last thing Ellie wanted to do was speak to Thomas now. She could feel his fury from across the camp. But she couldn’t put Mr. Harrison in the middle. She nodded and headed toward Thomas, heart beating too hard.

  She saw Thomas glance at her and then he averted his face as she approached. “Hello,” she said, voice not entirely steady. “Surprise.”

  He said nothing.

  She laced her fingers together. “I know you didn’t want me to come, because you didn’t think I could handle the drive, but you’re wrong. I’m able to help, and I made it here easily. Yes, it’s a long ride, but Oisin handled the trail beautifully. We had no accidents and no problems—”

  “But if you had a problem, or an accident, what would you have done?” he interrupted tersely. “Who would have come to your aid?”

  She counted to five, and then to ten. “But there were no problems. See? All in one piece. Good as new.”

  He shook his head and walked away from her, going to speak to Mr. Harrison about who knew what.

  Ellie perched on a rock and tried to stay out of Thomas’s way, hoping that if she gave him some time, he’d calm down.

  The horses were tied to the aspen trees, while the huge cattle herd was resting and grazing in the clearing. They were only halfway to the high pasture but this was where her father and Mr. Harrison always stopped for the first night since there was water in the small valley and plenty of shade, too.

  Restless, Ellie finally tracked Thomas down. He was standing, talking to some of the hands, his back to her.

  She approached, tapping him on the back. “I’m going to pick some berries over by the stream. Just wanted you to know so you didn’t have to worry.”

  His dark head inclined. “Fine.”

  Her fingers balled into fists. She was so nervous and unsettled. She hated it like this. She hadn’t come all this way for him to be so angry.

  “Want to keep me company?” she asked quietly, hopefully, trying to smile but not sure it was the brightest or most confident.

  It took him forever to reply and when he did, his answer was curt. “Sure.”

  He didn’t look at her, though, as he walked next to her to the reach the wild tumble of vines growing along the stream, but she looked at him, and in the long, golden rays of afternoon sun, he looked glorious.

  The breeze caught at his pale blue chambray shirt, pulling it away from his shoulders and giving her a tantalizing glimpse of bronze skin and his broad, muscular chest. Her
fingers itched to touch his skin, and her lips tingled, aching for a kiss. Instead, she crouched next to the vines and began picking the wild blackberries. Every summer she picked them when she was here, turning most over to Mrs. Harrison for her famous cobbler, but also eating as many of the sweet-tart fruit as she could.

  “I’ve always wondered who planted the first vine,” she said, gently dumping a handful of berries in a corner of her skirt since she didn’t have a basket.

  Thomas looked at her and then away, jaw jutting with displeasure.

  She glanced at his hard profile and then quickly back at the dark green vines, trying to focus on the purple black fruit. “I discovered these as a little girl,” she continued. “They die every winter and then come back every summer. Over the years, the bush has grown considerably from just a few vines to this wild patch.”

  She kept her hands moving as she talked, determined not to take his silence personally, determined not to let him see how much he was hurting her. She didn’t understand him at all. She didn’t understand how he imagined his silence helped the situation.

  When she’d collected a generous pile of berries, enough for Mrs. Harrison’s cobbler, she stood, careful not to lose any of the berries as she shifted the apron she’d made from her long skirt.

  “I’m going to take these to Mrs. Harrison,” she said lightly. “Want to walk with me?”

  He shook his head. He didn’t even glance her way. “I think I could use some time alone.”

  She looked at him a long moment, chest tender, heart bruised. “Are you going to be angry with me all night?” she whispered.

  “I’m not going to be happy with you, no.”

  “But you’re going to be like this?”

  Finally she had his attention, and the look he gave her cut to the core. “As long as you are like this, yes.”

  Her hands shook as she adjusted her grip on her skirt. “I just wanted to be with you, Thomas. And I’m sorry—”

  “But you’re not sorry. You’re only sorry that I haven’t given you a warmer reception. But I didn’t want you here. I didn’t want you to make this trip, and not because you can’t ride, but it’s not appropriate, Ellie. I’m here to work, not play house. I don’t like being distracted, and I don’t appreciate being disrespected.”