Snowbound in Montana

by C. J. Carmichael

  “Well, thank you. It’s nice to be appreciated.” Mable rounded the corner into the room, using her cane to make her way to her favorite chair in the corner. She was dressed in one of her wool, knee-length skirts, with a cashmere twin set and pearls. As always, her hair and make-up were impeccable.

  Eliza gave her aunt a kiss, then put the kettle on to boil to make her aunt’s favorite English Breakfast. “How were things here? I hope it wasn’t too much work.”

  “I wish I could score some brownie points and claim I was worked off my feet,” Caro said. “But you were so organized, the guests were all sweeties, and everything went very well.”

  “Thank goodness that musician didn’t decide to hang around,” Aunt Eliza said. “That would have changed everything. But, yes, Caro’s right. With all the baking in the freezer, and your pre-planned menus, everything went off without a hitch.”

  “I’m relieved to hear that.”

  “And what about your ski holiday?” Caro asked. “We were worried about you when that storm set in. I’ve never seen so much snow. Believe me, Frank and I were really regretting not going to the tropics with Mom and Dad.”

  “Well, at least you still had power. And heat. The lodge ran out of propane on the third day of the blizzard. And the snow was so bad, no one could get in or out for four days.”

  Of course, that only brought on more questions, and Eliza was scrambling to provide all the answers while she kept breakfast preparations going smoothly.

  Finally, she held out her hand. “Stop. No more questions until after breakfast, okay?”

  Caro jumped to her feet. “Sorry. I’ll set the table, then I’ll make coffee. If you’re wondering about Frank, I told him he could sleep in this morning.”

  Good, Eliza thought. At least that was one less person peppering her with questions. As she grated lemon zest into the compote, she thought about Marshall. What was he doing today? Had he thought about her at all?

  She’d been such an idiot on the trip, worried about giving him the wrong idea, when all along, she’d been the one with the wrong idea, thinking John Urban was the only man she could ever love. Every time poor, sweet Marshall had made a tiny move on her, she’d foolishly pushed him away.

  She was desperate to see him again. To test out her new theory that it just might be Marshall, not John, who was the love of her life.

  But first she had to get through this breakfast….

  *

  Two hours later, breakfast had been served. Frank came down in time for a serving of the cinnamon dusted French toast topped with blueberries, and several sausages. Then, he offered to handle clean-up duty so Caro and Eliza could relax with a much deserved cup of coffee.

  “Thank you, Frank.” Eliza gave her brother-in-law a hug, then filled her mug with coffee and joined her sister in the library. Aunt Eliza was already in her chair, working on her cross-stitch, a cup of tea on the table beside her.

  “So, tell me more about your winter adventure,” Caro insisted, as soon as they were settled. “Especially this Marshall fellow. He sounds like he has potential.”

  Her sister had good instincts with men. Eliza had to give her that much. “He held things together, and it wasn’t easy. It was a very fractious group, especially in the beginning.”

  An hour later, she’d shared most of her stories, leaving out the little moments between her and Marshall when a potential attraction had seemed to be brewing. She wouldn’t feed Caro’s imagination any further, at least not until she’d had a chance to talk with Marshall and see if she was right.

  “So how much longer can you and Frank stay? Have you had a chance to see much of Marietta while you’ve been here?”

  “Sorry, Sis, but we’re leaving this afternoon. Our flight leaves Bozeman around five o’clock, so we should get on the road soon.”

  “That’s too bad,” Eliza said, feeling guilty because she felt the exact opposite. The sooner Caro and Frank left, the sooner she could call Marshall and see if he wanted to see her.

  “By the way, you and Aunt Mable have been invited to the Circle C for dinner tonight.”

  “Oh?” Eliza didn’t often receive invitations from her cousins. And she certainly hadn’t been planning on one tonight.

  “Count me out,” Aunt Mable said. “We were just there for Christmas. That place is mayhem. After poor Beverly died, those girls were left to run wild. Especially the youngest, that Callan. I hear she hangs out at Grey’s Saloon on Fridays, drinking and playing pool like she was some sort of cowhand.”

  Caro rolled her eyes at Eliza privately, signalling that her definition of “mayhem” wasn’t the same as their aunt’s. “We had a fun time, actually. Frank and Sage’s new husband, Dawson O’Dell, really hit it off. And Dani’s new baby is such a sweetie. I would have held her all night long if Dani and Eliot had let me.”

  “She is a good baby,” Mable allowed. “Even if she does have that Downs problem. And it’s only proper that Danielle named her after her mother.”

  “Down Syndrome,” Eliza corrected, automatically. “I would love to see everyone while they’re together. Plus, it can’t hurt to ask once more if they’ll let me read their mother’s diaries. It would help fill in a few blanks in the family history.”

  “Are you still working on that?”

  “I’m almost finished. Maybe next year I’ll be able to give a published copy to everyone for Christmas.”

  “Well, I guess I should call the Circle C and pass along my regrets,” Aunt Mable said.

  “And I should get packing.” Caroline finished her coffee and was rising out of her seat, when something out the window caught her attention. “My, oh my. Looks like we have a visitor coming up the walk. This is a wild guess, but any chance this is your Marshall McKenzie, Eliza?”

  “He’s not my anything,” Eliza replied, quickly turning so she could see what Caro was talking about.

  Sure enough, Marshall was out there. He’d parked his truck across the street and was slowly making his way up the walk toward their front door.

  “For the record,” Caro said. “I’d take his rugged good looks over John’s GQ face any day.”

  Her sister’s words hardly registered with Eliza. Marshall had stopped when he reached the porch. Now, he was looking like he might be about to change his mind and leave. She couldn’t let that happen. She ran out of the room, and flung open the old walnut door. Cool air and sunshine washed over her as she ran in her slippers across the porch floor, to the top of the stairs.

  “Hi, Marshall.” It was such a lame thing to say, but suddenly she was nervous. She felt like she was seeing him for the first time. And Trish was right. He was ruggedly good-looking, a solid, athletic man who was kind and generous and just about everything a smart woman would ever want.

  He didn’t smile, just climbed the stairs, and then stood next to her, keeping a respectable distance between them. “I came to return this.”

  He held out a white envelope with his name on it. It took her a moment to realize it was the tip she’d left for him.

  She glanced from the envelope to his eyes, which seemed far too serious. She searched for some sign of warmth, or friendliness. She’d never seen his expression so cold. “But—that’s for you.”

  “I found the envelope when I was finishing up my paperwork this morning. I can’t take this money from you.”

  “It isn’t enough?”

  “Damn it, Eliza. The company should be paying you, for all you did. Besides, as a man, I just can’t accept it.”

  “But—I don’t understand. Are you angry at me about something?”

  Finally, his expression softened. “No. Of course, not.”

  He held out the envelope again, but she was afraid if she took it, he’d turn around and she’d never see him again.

  “Please talk to me,” she begged him. “Tell me what this is really about.”

  He took a deep breath, then turned away from her, staring at something down the road, or possibly at n
othing at all. “You told me from the start you were in love with someone else, but I couldn’t stop myself from falling for you. It’s not your fault, you didn’t lead me on. And I know I could never stand a chance, not next to a guy like that. But—just take the envelope, okay? I have to go.”

  When she still wouldn’t take it, he placed it on the porch railing, and then began loping back to his truck.

  It took a few seconds for the words he’d said to sink in.

  And then Eliza was running after him, her slippered feet skidding a little on the icy walkway. “Wait! Don’t go!”

  He’d already crossed the street. When she caught up to him, he had his hand on the driver-side door and was just turning in her direction, when her foot hit a snowy patch. Under the snow was ice. Suddenly, she had no traction whatsoever. Her body pitched forward. And in a flash he was there, sliding under her, breaking her impact with the street.

  She gasped as every molecule of air left her lungs. Dazed, she opened the eyes she had involuntarily closed, only to find her face inches from his.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Her body rested entirely on his. She had the strange urge to rest her head on his chest. Instead, she used her arms to perform a half-push-up, raising her head and upper chest from his. She could see him more clearly now. Why had she ever thought he wasn’t that handsome?

  “You totally saved me. How did you do that?”

  “I play baseball. It was sort of like sliding into home.”

  “Only in baseball, the other players don’t fall on top of you, do they?”

  “Not usually. But maybe they should. In some cases.”

  “I suppose I should get off of you and let you stand up.”

  “Actually, I’m in no rush.” He reached up and she felt him touch her hair. Then, he wove his fingers through it and cupped the side of her head.

  His touch warmed her through and through. She wanted more. But first she had to make a few things clear. “You should know John left Marietta last night. I asked him to.”

  “You did?”

  “I can’t believe I ever thought he was the love of my life.”

  The warmth was back in Marshall’s eyes. “He’s not?”

  “Not even a pale imitation.” And then she let her head lower again, bringing her mouth within kissing range.

  Marshall needed no further invitation. He closed the last few inches and kissed her tenderly. And then, passionately. For a few minutes she forgot they were lying on the side of the street on a stretch of icy, cold pavement.

  But then a car drove by. The driver lowered his window and called out, “Get a room!” But he sounded more amused than offended.

  Marshall slipped out from under her, stood, then helped her up as well. For a few moments they just stood by his truck, smiling shyly at one another.

  “What are you doing tonight?” he asked.

  She couldn’t stop drinking in every nuance about his face, remembering in detail the sweetness of his kisses. Finally, she recalled the conversation from that morning. “Family dinner at the Carrigan ranch. Want to come? It’ll be crazy. Lots of new people. Actually, kind of like the past five days, now that I think of it.”

  “I’d rather be alone with you. But I’ll take what I can get.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‡

  When Marshall arrived at the door of Bramble House at five-thirty, Eliza invited him inside to meet her Aunt Mable. “You look great,” she told him, admiring the contours of his fit, masculine body under his dark-blue cashmere sweater and black-washed jeans.

  “You look better.” He took her hands, then kissed her a little shyly. “I’ve been so happy today.”

  “Me, too.” She glanced at the big mirror at the far end of the foyer. They made an attractive couple. Even their clothing was complimentary. The scarf she’d worn with her skirt and loose-weave grey sweater, had strands of the same blue as his sweater.

  She took him to the library room, where Aunt Mable offered them an aperitif. She looked Marshall up and down, like he was a horse on the auction block, and in turn Marshall was polite, but not cowed.

  Conversation began with Mable asking questions about his past, his education and his prospects, before she turned to her own favorite subject—the importance of the Bramble family and their role as first families of Marietta. To his credit, Marshall gave the impression he could have listened to her all night long. But after thirty minutes, Eliza pointed at her watch.

  “We have to leave, Aunt Mable, or we’ll be late.”

  Being late was not an option. Aunt Mable promptly dropped the subject and enjoined Marshall to drive safely.

  “She’s quite the lady, your Aunt Mable,” Marshall said later, when they were out on the road that cut through the valley.

  “I hope she didn’t bore you too much. She never married, and the most important thing to her is preserving the Bramble family heritage. When I first moved here, she asked if I would write our family history and she managed to get me hooked on the subject, too.”

  “How’s the book coming along?”

  “Very nearly finished. The chapter on Beverly Bramble—my father’s sister—is a little sparse, though. My grandparents weren’t happy when she chose to marry Hawksley Carrigan. I suspect there’s more to that story than any of us know about, but I’ve been unable to get permission to read my late Aunt Beverly’s diaries.”

  Marshall slowed the truck as they neared the turn-off. Fortunately, the plows had been through and the roads were clear. But the fields and trees had thick blankets of snow and even the barbed wire of the fences were frosted with about an inch of the stuff.

  “Have you been down this road before?”

  “No, but I’ve hiked a lot in the Gallatin Range. See that peak?” He pointed dead ahead. “That’s Blue Rock Mountain. Great views from up there.”

  “I’d love to see that.”

  “Then, you will.”

  He reached for her hand, and she gave it to him. She loved the promise in his words and felt a delicious anticipation for all the possibilities that stretched out before them. The hiking and skiing trips they would take together, but also the quiet moments alone…and in bed. That would happen soon, possibly even tonight, once this dinner was behind them.

  They passed the MacCreadie ranch, then the turn-off to the Douglas’s spread. She told Marshall about the terrible tragedy that had happened, shootings that remained unsolved even to today. And then they were passing the Sheenan’s ranch. Up ahead she could see the vast tracts that had belonged to the Carrigans for more than five generations. Thanks to the marriage of her aunt Beverly and Hawksley Carrigan, this place was now a branch of her family, too.

  The truck rumbled over the cattle guard as they passed under the wrought iron gate at the top of the Carrigan’s lane. On their left, cattle penned in by barbed wire fences, watched them curiously. Most were solid black, but some had cute white faces. Eliza didn’t know much about ranching or cows, but she was aware that every fall the Carrigans moved their cattle in from the high country so they could be closer to home when the heavy snows fell. She bet the cows had been much happier here, during that last blizzard, than they would have been out in the mountains.

  Numerous trucks and a few cars were parked out front of the spacious log home. Beyond were the outbuildings, corrals and more land stretching out to the mountains in the distances. A couple of horses were standing next to one of the barns. They, too, seemed to be interested in their arrival.

  “Impressive place.” Marshall parked at the end of the line of vehicles, then killed the engine. He took a deep breath. “I’m ready when you are.”

  She took the bottle of wine she’d bought for a gift—Marshall had one, too—and stepped out of the truck. Marshall took her arm. “Don’t want you to slip,” he teased. “Though it was awfully fun last time.”

  The tall evergreen that stood in front of the house had been strung with Christmas lights, and a thick cedar wreat
h hung on the massive front door. Before Eliza could knock, that door was flung open, and the newlyweds, Sage and Dawson, welcomed them inside.

  Within minutes, introduction had been made, hugs exchanged, and glasses of mulled wine offered and accepted. Eliza didn’t know how Marshall would ever keep all the names straight. Even she had trouble, and she was family.

  Dinner was served at a massive oak table, with room for all of them. Mattie, the oldest daughter, and newly engaged to a very handsome man in his mid-forties, Nat Diamond, stood to make a toast.

  “This family has seen a lot of challenges and changes in the past two years. Some of them sad, some of them happy.” At this, she glanced warmly from Sage and Dawson, to Dani’s baby who was being held by her new boyfriend, Eliot, and finally to Nat, who reached over to squeeze her hand.

  “I think we can be proud that we survived,” Mattie continued, “and that we all managed to get together this Christmas. Mom would be happy, if she could see us now.”

  Eliza felt tears well up at the mention of her Aunt Beverly. It was easy to see, looking around the table, how much her daughters had loved her. What a tragedy that she’d died so young.

  “So let’s drink to family,” Mattie concluded. “And please, God, may the New Year be a little less dramatic than the last two.”

  Much clinking of glasses, laughter and chatter followed this toast. And then the meal was served, and with each dish came a special family story.

  “Remember the time Mattie boiled the potatoes into mush?”

  “How about when Sage decided to add chocolate to the gravy?”

  Eliza was content to listen, and smile, sometimes laughing, sometimes commiserating. Every now and then Marshall would give her a private smile. She was proud at how easily he fit in and how comfortable he seemed. If she had brought John to a gathering like this one, he would have made himself the center of attention. Marshall didn’t need to do that. But she already knew, that when the need arose, he could take command of any situation.