Montana Dawn

by Caroline Fyffe

  It was a long time before he spoke. When he did, he said, “I finally understand. It took me a while to get it through my head, but…you don’t want to be tied to a half-breed. That would make your children breeds, too. I’m surprised at you. I didn’t figure you for that type, Faith.”

  “What are you talking about?” His accusation shocked her. She spun around and looked him in the eye. She knew nothing about what he was saying.

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t figure out Flood isn’t my father. Or that you never noticed I was the only one in the family with black hair, olive skin…You’d have to be blind not to.”

  She stared at him, silent.

  “Now if it were Mark or Matt doing the asking, wouldn’t your decision be a mite different?”

  She shook her head, unbelieving. Race would never make a difference to her. She loved him! Every itsy-bitsy part of him. Indian or not, red, green or blue, he’d always be the love of her life.

  His eyes blazed with anger, his expression a mask she couldn’t read. For the first time she recognized the Indian heritage he was talking about.

  “You see it now, don’t you?”

  His anger was frightening. She took a step back.

  “What’s wrong? Afraid I’ll lift that beautiful head of hair? It would make a notable trophy.” He took a menacing step in her direction.

  “Stop it,” Faith said. “I can’t believe you’re talking crazy like this. Stop, stop, stop!” She put her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut.

  When she opened them, Luke wasn’t standing where he’d been. She saw him putting the bridles on the horses, getting ready to ride out. She hurried over to Buttercup and, lifting her skirt, stepped into the stirrup.

  “Ready?” he asked as she lifted herself onto the saddle. His voice was emotionless.

  “Yes.” “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  BACK at the house, Faith paced from one side of her bedroom to the other, the crumpled telegram from Christine Meeks in her hand. She couldn’t stay much longer. Things had become too tangled, too involved; people she truly cared about would be hurt when she left. Her image of Luke as she swore she didn’t want him tortured her mind, piercing her heart just like a knife.

  The inevitability of her leaving was a fact. She’d find Ward and tell him they needed to leave as soon as possible. She’d get him to agree that leaving with Joe Brunn—for cover purposes—would be best. Then she’d meet up with him on the trail. She couldn’t bring herself to let the family know she was leaving with Ward; he would just have to understand. But when was Joe going to be done and come to fetch her? Waiting any longer didn’t seem like a good idea. Especially not after today.

  Collapsing with a sigh onto her bed, Faith crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the ceiling. She closed her eyes and relived the kaleidoscope of feelings Luke had created inside her. She remembered the hardness of his chest and how wonderful it felt pillowing her cheek. The wonder of it set her blood spiraling through her body. With a sob, she reached for Dawn, who was sleeping by her side, and held the baby tight until she squirmed for release.

  Faith relaxed her hold. “Things will be fine,” she said,

  looking into her child’s face. “Somehow this will all work itself out, and then…”

  A knock sounded on her door.

  “Yes?”

  “Mrs. Brown?” Esperanza called. “The mistress says dinner will be at six o’clock tonight.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Would you like the tub brought up?”

  “That would be lovely.”

  The maid’s footsteps retreated down the long hall.

  Maybe the hot water would help her wash away memories that kept haunting her. Memories of angry black eyes, reaching for the bottom of her soul.

  Faith waited for the last possible moment to descend the stairs. She’d heard voices for some time now, talking and laughing, but she just couldn’t summon up the courage to face Luke.

  Luke! Part Indian? Now that he’d pointed it out, she was surprised that she hadn’t noticed it herself. He’d always seemed different from the rest of his family, and yet she’d been unable to put her finger on just what that difference was. In her opinion, he was definitely the most handsome of the three boys. And the wildest. Faith wondered what had happened to Mrs. McCutcheon for Luke to be born in between her other children, sired by a different man?

  She checked on Dawn one more time, making sure her baby was still fast asleep, then forced herself to the stairway. She’d tried to spruce up one of her simple dresses, but it wasn’t much use. She felt drab. The only thing that lifted her spirits was the flower Esperanza had placed in the room. She’d fastened it in the back of her hair, which was now styled like Charity’s, half up and half down.

  From the upper landing, Faith surveyed the main room. Everyone was there. Rachel sat on the sofa with Matt by her side. He proudly held their family’s new arrival. Colton, Billy and Adam walked around the long dinner table, sneaking bits of roast meat from the platter. Esperanza was having a time shooing them away.

  Faith spotted Luke lounging next to the stone fireplace. He was staring straight at her, and she suddenly knew what a sparrow felt when it came face-to-face with a hungry cat. His gaze scorched her from head to toe. Form-fitting buckskin breeches hugged his muscular thighs like a second skin, disappearing into delicately beaded, knee-high moccasins. Fringe swayed slightly as he crossed one foot over the other. Never taking his eyes from her face, he slowly lifted his glass tumbler to his lips and drank.

  Swallowing hard, Faith straightened her shoulders and stiffened her spine. With determination, she lifted her chin, plastered a pleasant expression on her face and descended the stairs. He was even more stunningly handsome in his native clothes. She tried to keep her eyes from his face, his body, his all-too-sure-of-himself expression. Surely someone must notice how strangely the two of them were acting!

  “Look, everyone, Faith’s here,” Charity called out, skipping over and gathering Faith in an enthusiastic embrace.

  Luke raised his glass. “A toast to the guest of honor,” he said, light sarcasm lacing his voice.

  Faith glanced at the others, who clapped and cheered, people who had become so very dear to her. Confusion held her immobile.

  “What is this?” she finally managed to say.

  “It’s a party for you. In honor of you, and to thank you. We wanted to wait until Rachel and the baby could join us before throwing it,” Flood explained. “We’re very grateful and indebted to you for what you did for Rachel. For all of us.”

  A hush descended over the group as Matt stood and approached, carrying his tiny little baby girl. “Would you like to hold Faith Elizabeth McCutcheon?”

  The baby, who was sleeping in her father’s arms, woke when he handed her over. She fussed a little and then started rooting around at Faith’s breast, looking for something to eat. Everyone laughed.

  Everyone except Luke. As she glanced his way, pain, regret and something akin to anger stormed across his face. He got up and strode to the small table with the decanter and refilled his glass.

  “What do you think of her, Faith?” Amy asked, looking down at the baby. “Isn’t she sweet?”

  “Yes, she is.” Faith barely got the words past the lump in her throat. “Adorable. But you really shouldn’t have named her after me.”

  “Nonsense. It’s because of you that she’s here right now,” Rachel said. Her eyes were filled with tears of gratitude. “I’ll never, ever, be able to thank you enough. We’re going to call her Beth for short.”

  To Faith’s relief, Billy and Adam started arguing, and most everyone’s attention turned to them. Colton made his way through the group to stand at Faith’s side.

  “How are you, Colton?” she asked. “This is the first I’ve seen of you all day.”

  “Fine, Ma,” Colton said, standing on tiptoe so he could see Beth. “I stayed out at the corrals with Smoke
y and Roady. They was teachin’ me, Billy and Adam ta throw a rope. I was almost gettin’ the hang of it, too.”

  He was thriving here, her little boy with the giant chip on his shoulder. All the attention from the men was good for him, making him happier than she’d ever known him to be. Colton’s smile had returned a few days ago, and now that it was back, he wasn’t selfish with sharing it. How would he hold up when they made the trip back to their old home, and how would he feel about the change? Everything the future held for them was just so uncertain.

  “What’s wrong, Ma?”

  Faith knelt down and hugged him with her free arm. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just happy you’re enjoying our visit so much.”

  “I am. I like it here a lot. I don’t even mind Luke so much no more.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Nope. He’s usually right with whatever he tells me, and Francis said he learned everything he knows from Luke. I guess he ain’t so bad.”

  Faith nodded and stood.

  Flood appeared. “Here, let me take Beth from you. You have enough baby-holding every day, what with Dawn,” he said, smiling.

  Faith carefully placed the infant in his large arms. Here was the man she’d thought was Luke’s father. Now, as she looked a little closer, she was amazed she’d ever thought that, because they looked nothing alike. Feeling uneasy, she glanced over her shoulder to find Luke watching. His expression was clear: he knew that she’d been comparing them.

  “That Luke, he’s a handsome lad. Don’t you think so, Faith?”

  Her heart felt as if it just might pop. Did Flood know about the two of them? Had Luke said something to him? “Why, yes I do,” she admitted. What else could she say?

  “He’ll make a fine catch one day for some lucky young lady. Why, it’s a nuisance to take him to town, what with the women and all. Makes no difference if they’re married or not. He’s an attention-getter, all right.”

  Flood was sweet. But Luke would be furious if he knew what his father was up to.

  “Is that so?” she said, laughing a little, smiling at Flood brightly and then glancing purposely over her shoulder. She made eye contact with the subject of their conversation, who frowned.

  “Yes, it’s been that way since he was just a boy,” Flood continued, warming to the subject.

  “Tell me, Mr. McCutcheon, what was he like as a child? I wonder at his moods sometimes.”

  This clearly threw Mr. McCutcheon. A tiny line of worry creased his brow, and Faith almost regretted asking.

  “He does have times when he’s in deep thought, but that’s all that they are. Why, he outgrew his temper and fighting days years ago.” Seemingly a bit embarrassed, Flood cleared his throat and went on. “That is, except for this last fracas with Mr. Brown. Got a worthy heart, he does.”

  Luke appeared. “What are you two so deep in conversation about?”

  Faith looked innocently to Flood. The older man actually beamed. “You, Son.”

  Luke’s eyes narrowed. “That so? And just what exactly were you saying?”

  “Your father was telling me—”

  “Dinner is served.” Mrs. McCutcheon clapped her hands as she called them all to eat. Everyone moved eagerly to the dining table, which was laden with all manner of dishes.

  Luke pulled out Faith’s chair for her, and she couldn’t help but notice his fluid grace as he himself sat. He was like some kind of wild animal, dangerous and hard, especially in this dark mood. Her hand itched to reach out and test the softness of his lovely buckskin pants, which clung to his body indecently, and the contrast between his white shirt and the darkness of his skin…well, she was ashamed at the way her thoughts kept running wild.

  Grace was said and the food passed around. Luke was quiet, but if anyone noticed they didn’t mention it. The most talkative were the boys, who entertained everyone with their stories of their day learning to rope and trying to ride some of the motherless calves kept close to the barn.

  A knock on the door interrupted Billy, who had them all laughing. Flood stood and went to see who it was.

  “Come in, come in,” his voice rang out. He came back with a young man Faith had never seen. Mrs. McCutcheon smiled brightly and gestured for him to sit.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” the man said.

  “Nonsense, Brandon. There’s plenty here. I’d be hurt if you didn’t join us.”

  Faith noticed the look that passed between the newcomer and Luke, after the fellow’s first shock at seeing Luke’s black eye. “Thank you, I’d love to,” he said with a smile. “It’s been too long since I’ve had Esperanza’s cooking.”

  The maid quickly set an extra place while the broad-shouldered fellow hung his coat and hat by the door. When he took a seat across the table from Faith, she couldn’t help but smile a welcome.

  Flood made the introductions. “Faith, this is Brandon Crawford. He’s the sheriff in town. Brandon, this is Faith Brown, who’s staying here at the ranch for a spell. And that tough-lookin’ hombre down at the end of the table is Colton, her son.”

  “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” Brandon said politely. He nodded to Colton.

  Faith wondered what the handsome lawman and Luke were up to. “The pleasure is mine.”

  She watched Brandon’s eyes skim down the row of faces and stop on Charity. He nodded slightly. Charity’s cheeks turned rosy.

  Matt took a heaping scoop of potatoes and passed the dish along. “So, Brandon, what brings you out our way this evening?”

  “I have a little news concerning your dead bull calf.” He took a drink from his water glass. “But it can wait until after dinner. Nothin’ urgent.”

  Faith wanted him to go on. She felt it would indeed concern her. Or was she just being foolish? The men seemed to accept the lawman’s appeal to wait for later, dishing up food and eating heartily.

  “Congratulations on your new young’un, Matt,” Brandon said. “Doc says you got yourself a little girl this time.”

  “I sure did. She’s over there sleeping by the fire. You’ll have to take a look when you’re done eating.”

  Luke broke apart a biscuit and popped half in his mouth. He glanced at Charity, who ate slowly, the picture of refinement. What a time for Brandon to show up! How would Charity receive Brandon after what he’d told her a few days ago about the sheriff being involved with the schoolteacher’s niece?

  She looked at him now, a silent challenge in her eyes. Luke slowly shook his head. A smile he knew all too well appeared on her face. Trouble was brewing.

  Chapter Forty

  WHAT’S the news in town, Sheriff?”

  Charity glanced at Brandon with the most innocent, beguiling look, and Luke cringed. Brandon just seemed taken aback that she’d addressed him. He wiped his mouth on his napkin, and swallowed.

  “Not much new in town, Charity. It’s been mighty quiet this past month.”

  “I’m surprised to hear you say that.” She let her statement dangle, leaving not only the sheriff wondering what she meant by it, but also everyone else at the table. Everyone except Luke.

  “Well, the new dry goods place did finally open up for business. They had themselves a little shindig commemorating the occasion.”

  “Ah, good,” Flood commented. “Someone needs to give old man Swanson a little friendly competition. He’s had it too easy for too long. I don’t like the way he treats some of the people in town.” The family all nodded in agreement.

  Charity said, “Oh, I wish I could have gone. It’s been so long since I’ve had a party to attend.” The statement, and the way it was gushed with gooey sweetness, drew many surprised looks. “I suppose everyone in town was there?”

  Brandon looked to Luke in silent question. Luke shrugged.

  “I reckon.”

  “And Miss Langford. She was there and brought her niece?”

  Brandon swallowed his food. Again he politely wiped his mouth. Thinking for a moment, he nodded. “Yes, they wer
e both there.”

  “I’ll bet she was just the belle of the ball,” Charity continued, as if unable to stop herself. Most at the table had now guessed that she was in some sort of jealous snit, but poor Brandon hadn’t a clue. “With her beautiful flaxen hair”—Luke’s eyes went wide at the fanciful description he’d not given her—“and charming smile. Did she flash her baby blues your way, Sheriff?”

  Brandon almost spit his water all over the table.

  “Charity, mind your manners!” Mrs. McCutcheon scolded. “Mr. Crawford is our guest tonight, and you’ll treat him accordingly.”

  “Well?” Charity pressed, as if she hadn’t heard her mother.

  Irritation flashed in Brandon’s eyes. “Yes, as a matter of fact, she did.”

  Resembling the trial lawyer the family had once seen in Bozeman, Charity seemed to be satisfied with his answer and let the subject drop.

  The women settled in the parlor with little Beth, leaving the men to venture outside for a smoke. Flood lit his cigar and puffed a few times, creating a cloud around his face. “So, Crawford, what have you learned about the calf?”

  Brandon took the cigar that Flood held out, rolled it between his fingers. He smiled. “I think you’ll be pleased to know I have two men in custody for maiming your bull.”

  “What!” the three McCutcheons said in unison. “Who?”

  “Do the names Earl Morton and Will Dickson ring a bell?”

  “Earl? That no-good bastard,” Luke growled.

  Flood shook his head. “I’d expect something like this from Will Dickson, but Earl? You sure? We were pretty certain we knew who did it.”

  “Heard it with my own ears. Tilly overheard them laughing about it in the saloon. I stood in the liquor room and listened through the wall. By the way, Luke, Tilly said she’d have my hide if I didn’t remember to tell you hello. She misses you.” He chuckled a moment, then continued. “When she heard Earl murmuring the McCutcheon name to some of his cronies, she got suspicious. That’s when she came and got me.”