A Valentine's Choice: A Montana Sky Series Holiday Novella (The Montana Sky Series)

by Debra Holland

  Mrs. Thompson tapped on the door, and then stepped to the side so the twins would be in view of whomever answered.

  Her stomach tight, Bridget turned to give Alana a reassuring smile.

  Her sister barely tipped her lips up in response.

  The door opened, and a man looked out. He had a tan, rugged face and brown hair and eyes.

  Mrs. Thompson waved toward Bridget and Alana. “Harry, I’ve brought visitors.”

  He looked at the twins with a bewildered expression but gave them a polite smile. “Come on in.”

  The group stepped inside. With just the light from the two windows, the interior was dim, although a small stove in a kitchen area emitted warmth that filled the room. A slight sour smell lingered in the air, remnants of Sally’s nausea.

  Harry gestured the twins forward.

  Bridget moved to his left, and Alana flanked her other side.

  On a bed tucked under a loft and taking up half the room, a young woman was propped against the pillows. She wore a navy wool dress. A shawl of the same color was draped around her shoulders.

  Bridget studied her cousin, searching for a family resemblance.

  Sally looked wan and tired, but when they entered, she slid her legs off the bed and stood. With her mouth in an O, she gazed at the twins.

  When Bridget saw her cousin’s dark blue eyes—the same eyes she saw in her sister and in the looking glass—the O’Donnell eyes—she relaxed, feeling an immediate sense of kinship, although she envied Sally her thick dark hair and refined nose.

  “I have a surprise for you, my dear,” Mrs. Thompson said gaily. “These are your cousins Bridget and Alana, come all the way from Ireland.”

  Sally gasped. Her hand flew to cover her mouth. Then with a happy shriek, she lowered her arm and lunged forward to hug Bridget first, and then Alana before stepping back, laughing.

  Bridget couldn’t but join in her cousin’s laugher

  “Oh, you must think me daft!” Sally exclaimed. “But Da will be so happy. He’s never stopped missing his family in Ireland.” She glanced behind them as if looking for more people. “Your mother? Catriona?” She spoke with an American accent.

  “It’s just us,” Bridget said with the bright smile she beamed to belie the pain of her stark statement. “We decided to come to our family in America.”

  “As well you should.” Sally leaned forward to take the hand of each twin and squeezed.

  James gave Bridget a questioning glance.

  She figured he was asking about giving Sally the information about her mother, and she nodded for him to go ahead.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I have bad news, Sally. Your mother is very ill, and your father sent word with Erik Muth to fetch the doctor to their place. That’s why I brought your cousins here, instead of to your parents’ home.”

  “My Ma!” Sally released their hands. “Oh, dear Lord. I must go to her.” She whirled toward the bureau as if to start packing.

  Harry caught her arm. “You cannot, love. You’ve been sick, too. You’re in no condition to take care of your mother. You couldn’t leave the bed this morning.”

  “No, Harry, I must! There’s just Da and the children to nurse her.”

  He touched her cheek. “If what we think about your condition is true, Sally, you can’t risk yourself or the babe.”

  Sally’s eyes welled with tears, and she sank onto the bed, the back of a hand pressing against her mouth.

  Harry took a seat next to her and placed an arm around her shoulders. “You know how competent Dr. Cameron is.”

  Sally nodded. “But he can’t stay to care for her.” Her voice quavered. “To see to the needs of my family…the children.”

  “I’ll go.” Alana leaned forward. “I’m quite skilled with herbs and nursing.”

  Bridget held her protest behind her teeth. She didn’t want to be separated from her sister in this new land, but when she looked at her twin’s stiff shoulders and the firm set of her chin, she held in a selfish complaint. Parting would be far more difficult on timid Alana. To leave the safety of her sister’s side and go amongst strangers—no matter that they were kin—took courage. Unexpected pride surged in her. For this crisis, Alana was the best choice. “My sister is right,” Bridget said, stepping close to Alana in solidarity.

  Sally’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

  Bridget glanced from the couple to Mrs. Thompson. “Will…will it be all right for me to stay here? I could help Sally…”

  Harry rose, his expression clearing. “I’d be obliged for you to do so, Cousin Bridget. You’re welcome, indeed. I haven’t felt right for Mrs. Thompson to remain here with Sally when I know how much else she has to do.” He shot Mrs. Thompson a look as if to quell an objection. His gaze swung back to her. “It would ease my mind to have Sally’s kin with her.”

  Sally touched Harry’s elbow. “But how is Alana to get to my family’s?”

  James moved forward. His swift glance toward Mrs. Thompson obviously asked for permission. “I’ll take her.”

  Harry made a negating motion with his hand. “Thank you for the offer, James. But I will do the honors for Cousin Alana. I know my way. And it’s my duty to my new family.”

  “But not until tomorrow,” Mrs. Thompson said firmly.

  Sally made a weak sound of protest.

  Mrs. Thompson leaned over and patted Sally’s hand. “Alana has had a long journey and must rest. Even if they left this minute, she and Harry couldn’t make it to your family’s farm before dark. It’s too dangerous driving on the prairie on a winter’s night.” She glanced at Harry. “And you’re to stay there if they need you. We’ll take care of your wife while you’re gone.”

  Silence followed her words.

  Sally exchanged an anguished look with her husband.

  Bridget’s heart went out to her. Newly married, happy, a baby on the way, then this bad news to dash their wedded bliss.

  James cleared his throat. “I’ll just leave these here and go see to Dusty.” He hefted the two sacks of potatoes before setting them in the corner.

  Harry nodded. “I’m sure you ladies would like some privacy. I’ve got to check on a horse or two, and there’s plenty of work we can do in the barn. We’ve been putting off the leather repair until there was more time. One of my reins is wearing thin. ’Bout to snap any day now, probably when I’m after an ornery steer.”

  “I must go also.” Mrs. Thompson glanced at Bridget and Alana. “Once the two of you and Sally have caught up, please come over to the big house and take advantage of our bathing room. Bring any clothes that need washing, and Mrs. Toffels will see they are cleaned. We’ll hang them over the stove in the kitchen to dry. And of course, you’ll have supper with us tonight. All of you.”

  Bridget stepped up to James and touched his arm—a daring gesture toward a man who was practically a stranger, even if he didn’t feel like one. “I don’t know how to thank ye for yer kindness, James. We would have been lost without yer assistance.”

  His gaze remained steady on her, although spots of color appeared on his cheeks. “I’m glad to help. I reckon you, uh, you and your sister are safe now.”

  Safe. She hadn’t felt safe for a long time—not since Ma died and their funds dwindled—she’d known they had only a few months before they could no longer pay the rent on their cottage. They hadn’t even had time to send a letter to Montana as a warning of their arrival.

  Although Bridget didn’t like to feel beholden to her kin, Sally and her family needed the twins’ help, which made her feel purposeful and went a long way to soothe the pricking of her conscience at foisting the two of them on their family.

  After James, Harry, and Mrs. Thompson left, the three girls looked at each other in curiosity.

  Sally patted the bed beside her. “Come, be comfortable. Since we’re family there’s no need to be formal, is there?”

  Bridget took off her coat and hung the garment on a peg by the door. Then she pulled
off her cap and mittens and tucked them into the pockets.

  Alana followed suit.

  Sally scooted back so she was propped against the pillows, looking weary. “I’m a poor hostess, I’m afraid. Sick in the mornings, then a burst of energy midday, then tired and needing a nap.”

  Bridget sat on the end of the bed facing her.

  Alana took her other side. “Not at all. Sometimes the early months of pregnancy can be trying. But then ye will feel better.”

  “I hope so,” Sally said in a fervent tone. “My dear Harry is so worried.” She pursed her lips. “Will you think poorly of me if I say I wish this baby had waited a few months? We’ve barely wed.”

  Bridget laughed and reached over to pat Sally’s ankle. “Not at all. I think I’d want a whole year, not just months.”

  “Now—” Sally nodded. “Enough about me. Tell me about Aunt Siobhan and Catriona.”

  The twins exchanged pain-filled glances. Her throat tight, Bridget gave a slight dip of her head to encourage her sister to speak up.

  “Our dear mother passed away six months ago.” Alana said in a voice soft with grief.

  Hearing the words, remembering their beloved mother, made moisture well up in Bridget’s eyes. I miss her so!

  Sally sat up straighter. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Da would often tell stories of your parents from when they were all young. I gather Aunt Siobhan had a forthright personality.”

  The twins laughed through their tears. “Aye,” Alana agreed with a mischievous glance at her sister. “And our Bridget is much the same way.”

  Bridget wrinkled her nose. “And Alana takes after our da. She’s as kind and gentle as ever a lass could be.”

  “And Catriona?”

  Abruptly, the laughter left Bridget, replaced by an ache of guilt. They’d left their older sister behind…never even had a chance to say good-bye.

  “Three months after mother died, Catriona eloped with a peddler,” Alana said, her expression pinched.

  Bridget laid a hand on Alana’s knee in a silent gesture of support. “We never heard from her again.” How Catri could have left them to such worry angered her. Instead of the three sisters supporting each other through their grief, Catri had selfishly left her younger sisters to fend for themselves.

  “We hated to leave without her knowing…” Alana’s voice died away.

  But I made ye go. Bridget finished for sister. “We left a letter with our mother’s dearest friend. We left word of our destination with several of our neighbors—” She nodded at Sally. “That of yer parents’ farm. If Catri returns home, she’ll know where we are.”

  “And if a letter from her arrives, Mrs. O’Bannon will forward it here.”

  Sally’s eyebrows pulled together. “Do you think she’s happy?”

  Bridget shrugged. “The peddler was handsome…. In fact, that man with the Thoroughbred, Mr. Gallagher, reminded me of him. Dark Irish, with bold eyes, and a confident air.”

  “I never liked the man,” Alana broke in with uncustomary harshness in her tone. “I say a rosary every day for her.”

  Sally wrinkled her nose. “It must have been hard to depart, knowing you might never have word from your sister again.” She shook her head. “I’ll say prayers for her, too. And that soon you’ll receive a letter.”

  “And we’ll pray for a swift recovery for yer mother.”

  Alana’s eyes filled with tears. “It will be hard not knowing what is happening to our sister.”

  “I know.” Oh, how I know. Sally will soon have the news about the outcome of her mother’s illness—hopefully a good one. But Alana and I might never know about Catriona. The thought made her heart ache.

  CHAPTER THREE

  James hurried into the barn, glad to be out of the chill. The brief time in the O’Hanlon’s cabin hadn’t warmed him enough from the long sleigh ride. The barn was dim and cold, lit only by lantern light and weak sunlight filtering through cracks, but not nearly as bad as out in the open. He inhaled the familiar smell of horse and hay, feeling an odd sense of contentment and excitement. With the arrival of Miss Bridget O’Donnell, his life had just changed, and he was impatient to get on with the business of courting her.

  In one stall, Deuce was busy rubbing Dusty down.

  Patrick Gallagher worked on the same task with Thunder.

  As usual, James stopped to eye the stallion, as fine a piece of horseflesh as he’d ever seen but with an unexpectedly gentle temperament. You’d think a Thoroughbred as black as the night would have a devil temper to match. Gallagher had sure lucked out with this stud. James checked his thoughts. No, to give the man his due, the horse was well-trained.

  Gallagher caught him eyeing the stallion. His hand on the currycomb didn’t stop, but he gave James a friendly nod. “So how did you end up bringing two unexpected lady visitors to the ranch?”

  “Found them at the train station. They were planning to go to the O’Donnell’s out on the prairie. But I’d stopped to speak to Erik Muth, a neighbor who was delivering milk to the mercantile, who told me of the illness of Mrs. O’Donnell. The ladies could hardly descend on a house of illness, so I suggested bringing them to their cousin, Sally.”

  “Quick thinking on your part.”

  James remained silent. He hadn’t acted out of self-interest. The two women needed a place to stay, and he’d had a solution. But then he thought of his attraction to Bridget. Well, at least mostly from unselfish motives.

  “I do like Miss Bridget, although it probably doesn’t matter which one I’d chose…if I were to chose. They’re alike as two peas in a pod.” Patrick hesitated and appeared to think. “Well, the glimpse I had of Miss Alana, she was thinner, and I do like a woman with more meat on her bones.”

  James bristled. “You make Miss Bridget sound like a pig to fatten up for dinner.”

  “That’s one way to put it. But I sure look forward to seeing her cleaned up and not wearing a coat and hat.”

  “She’s pretty, just the way she is,” James muttered, gripping the stall.

  “Well, I’ll wait and see. I have certain standards of what I require in a wife.”

  Wife. James’s heart sank. He knew Gallagher traveled all over with his stud and had plenty of opportunities to meet women.

  Why did he have to settle on the one I’ve chosen?

  * * *

  Clean from head to toe from their bath and wrapped in borrowed robes, Bridget and Alana sat with their backs to the stove, drying their long hair. Bridget had never seen such a big kitchen, replete with a table covered with a red-and-white checked cloth that matched the curtains, as well as an icebox, pie safe, china hutch, and great black cast-iron stove with its pipe angling up through the ceiling. Why, the whole main room of our cottage at home could fit in here with space to spare.

  Alana swayed in a rocking chair, petting the head of Matilda, the elderly black and tan dog.

  Bridget had chosen a straight chair. The red seat cushion made it comfortable.

  They chatted with Mrs. Toffels as she alternated between ironing their wrinkled Sunday dresses and cooking dinner. The short, plump housekeeper, with a cheerful round face and gray hair, had refused to let them help with the tasks, insisting they take their ease after such a long, arduous journey. Mrs. Toffels had washed their undergarments, which now hung over the stove, the water drips just missing the pot of beef stew and an iron heating up to be switched out with the one she currently wielded. The simmering stew filled the room with a rich scent.

  “There.” The housekeeper set down the second iron on the stovetop next to the other one and held up the blue dress. “You can go change, Miss Alana.” She glanced out the window. “The children will be home from school any minute now. Of course, they’ll have to see to their horses, but then they’ll traipse into the kitchen to warm themselves up.”

  Alana accepted the dress, thanked her and left the room.

  The housekeeper stared after her, a frown marring her good-natured countenance. �
�Your sister’s too thin. I suspect it’s more than the journey, else the two of you would look the same. Unless you didn’t start out the same.”

  “We did. Alana’s pining for home.” For Timkin.

  “Well, some of my good meals should do the trick, if I do say so myself.” The housekeeper pursed her lips and picked up Bridget’s dress—one almost identical to Alana’s because they’d gotten the bolt of cloth at a discount. “Too bad she’s not staying here. I’d fatten her right up. But don’t you worry, Miss Bridget. I’ll send plenty of food along with your sister.”

  “In that case, I won’t be worryin’ about food.” Bridget tried to inject a teasing tone into her words. “But with us parted, I’m sure I’ll still be fretting about her.”

  Mrs. Toffels spread the skirt over the end of the ironing board and picked up the heated iron from the stove. “Well, dear, I’ve lived a long enough life to know that one can spend time fretting over things that never happen. And there’s enough that does. I ought to know. I’ve buried three husbands—all good men. Best leave the worry for when you know there’s a real problem.”

  “Ye are right.” Bridget fell silent, thinking about the woman’s wise words. Perhaps I worry too much about Alana.

  Lost in thought, she didn’t notice Mrs. Toffels had finished the dress. “There you are, dear. I’ll look forward to seeing you two in them. That color will be beautiful with your eyes.” She gave the dress to Bridget. “Just leave the robes on the bed. Once you’re dressed, head to the parlor—down the hall thataway—where everyone will gather before dinner to meet you.” She waved in the direction. “I’ll have someone light a fire in that room.”

  On impulse, Bridget leaned over and kissed the woman’s wrinkled cheek. “I appreciate all ye are doing for us.”

  “It’s a downright pleasure to have young ladies visiting.” With a smile crinkling her face, Mrs. Toffels made a shooing motion. “Now off with you.”

  Bridget hurried upstairs to the guest bedroom, where they’d left their satchels on the big four-poster bed, spread with a pink and green quilt. The room smelled of roses from the dried petals in a crystal bowl on the nightstand.