Montana Sky_An Unlikely Marriage

by Linda Carroll-Bradd

  Nodding, Nola rolled her hand in the air.

  “Of course, I told my family that I was married. I took on that responsibility and I’ve treated you with honor, haven’t I? Besides, I couldn’t very well ride up with a woman in tow after being together alone on the trail and not be married. First, I was raised better than that. And second, you need to get along with my family just until we figure out what happens next.”

  “What happens next is you buy me a train ticket to my desired destination.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s our agreement.”

  Gigi and Queenie looked between the humans and snuggled closer to Nola.

  The certainty of her tone stabbed at his heart. Somehow, he’d hoped the shared hardships of the trip had brought them closer. “True, I did agree.” Even if the closest railroad spur line was located in Helena, about ninety miles away from the ranch. And if he was right about the winter weather, snowfall would soon close down railroad traffic. “So, do you want to learn more about my family?” He held out his hand in her direction, hoping she’d take the hint he wanted her closer.

  “Of course, I do.” She pushed to a stand, disrupting the dogs. “I’m not heartless.”

  “I know you’re not.” His gaze moved to the cushioned bench. His tired body cried out for comfort wherever he could find it. “No, stay there.” He closed the distance in three strides and sat, then eased her into his lap. “This is much better.”

  She held her body stiff for only a moment or two then nestled against his chest. “I didn’t think we’d fit here.”

  “We fit just fine together.” He rested his left arm along the back and grasped her hand, entwining their fingers. “Since starting this trip, we haven’t had much time for conversation. What have I told you so far?”

  “Hmm, let’s see. You have a brother that you bet with about the mustangs, and a younger sister who named the pack horse.”

  “That’s all?” Her hair tickled his chin, and he smoothed down an errant strand. “Well, settle in. I’m the oldest—”

  “How old?”

  “Twenty-four in a couple of weeks. How about you?”

  She stiffened and pushed off his chest to meet his gaze. “Twenty-four last month. You’re with an older woman.”

  The smirk she flashed did him in, and he couldn’t resist stealing a kiss. Before he could hold back, he tangled his fingers in her air and pressed harder, exploring her mouth until she sagged against him. When they broke apart, they both breathed with hard sounds. “I wouldn’t change a thing.” His voice rasped with need, and he willed a lighter tone into his voice. “Morain’s twenty, Kaven’s sixteen, and Richelle’s twelve.”

  “I haven’t heard about the middle one. Is that a brother?”

  “Yep, the kid sprouted up this summer and is almost as tall as Morain.” He chuckled as he stroked a finger over Nola’s knuckles. “But he hasn’t filled out yet.” For the next hour, they shared details about their lives, something he wished they’d done earlier in the trip. He’d known Nola and Cinnia had been performing for a while, but he hadn’t realized they’d been orphaned for so long. Explained a lot about her need for control.

  “Tell me what your day is like at the ranch.”

  He liked that she was curious about his job. “Up early.”

  “I know that fact about you.” She groaned.

  “This time of year, we work the mustangs for a few hours outside, weather permitting. But mostly we train inside the building that houses an indoor corral. Lots of hours are involved in getting the wild horses accustomed to a bridle first, then a blanket before we attempt adding a saddle. There’s always tack that needs fixing or saddles that need repairing.”

  “Too bad Nic lives so far away. He could help.”

  “Right.” He lowered his arm and cupped a hand on her shoulder. “Missing Cinnia, are you?”

  “Some. So what does your mother do every day?”

  Her voice had a plaintive note, but he couldn’t figure out why. “Chores like you do—cooking, cleaning, laundry, mending.”

  “Will I help with the horses still?”

  “No, you’ll be in the ranch house.” He ran a hand down her hand, glad she was relaxing under his touch. “Probably your biggest chore will be to keep Richelle from dogging your every step. Might have to put a lock on our bedroom door to keep her out.”

  Nola stiffened. “Keep her out? Why would she be in your house if you’re working in the barn?”

  Torin paused, knowing he had to choose his next words with care. He suspected she might have an objection to this minor detail. “Because my bedroom is in the ranch house where all my family lives.”

  “What?” She jumped up and jammed her hands on her hips. “You still live with your parents? Your bedroom”—she pointed a finger between the two of them—“I should say, our bedroom for as long as I stay, is under your parents’ roof?”

  “Lots of ranch families I know live like this. Have lived like this for years. If my father hadn’t split off from his family because of a brotherly rift and moved west, he might have brought one of his parents to live with us. Families who love each other want to be close to one another, to help one another when needed.” He clenched his hands and pounded them on his thighs. “I’m sorry, Nola. I didn’t mean how that sounded.”

  Her lips pressed tight, Nola held up a hand. “I know, Torin, it’s okay. We didn’t really discuss what came next, because we were always so busy just getting through each day.” She wrapped her arms around her middle and leaned against a cupboard. “But I thought when you talked about Four Clovers you meant you lived in a small place somewhere on the ranch property.”

  “That’s an event that usually happens on a family ranch when a man knows he’s ready to take a wife. As you know, when I left the ranch, I had no idea what the next three weeks would involve. And that event can still happen.” Heart aching, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. The woman across the aisle looked farther away than only a couple of feet. She was unreachable. “If you stay, you can pick the spot where I’ll build our family house.”

  Nola stared at the floor, her shoulders rising in quick succession.

  After waiting for a response, he stood. “I’ll do my final check on the campsite.” He stepped until he was across from her, waiting until she finally lifted her chin. Her hazel eyes swam with unshed tears, and he wanted more than anything he’d ever wanted in this world to wrap her in his arms. But, looking at her set expression and her fearful gaze, he knew his gesture would not be welcomed. “Remember, we don’t go to bed mad.” With a gentle touch, he cupped her cheek with his hand and leaned down for a kiss. She gave him no response, but she didn’t push him away.

  As he put on his coat and leashed the dogs, he watched Nola drag the hammock out of a cupboard. Already, she was putting distance between them. Throat tight, he stepped outside and, out of habit, tilted back his head to look at the sky. A breeze almost blew off his hat, and clouds skittered across the sky.

  “How will I ever tell you goodbye, my sweet darlin’?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Only because Nola’d been at the door with her hand on the knob about the follow him outside had she heard Torin’s anguished question. She’d faked being asleep when he returned, but she’d almost opened her eyes at the soft touch of his finger as he ran it down her cheek. What felt like hours later, she still tossed and turned in the cramped hammock, her tormented thoughts keeping her awake. If Torin wanted her to stay, then he must believe their marriage could be made real. Did she want that? Or did she still desire her career?

  “Damnation. Nola, wake up.”

  Jerking, she spun the hammock and dumped onto the floor. “Ow.” A floor that instantly chilled her skin. “What?”

  “Snow.” Torin slid off the mattress, his undershirt still unbuttoned, wearing only his long underwear. He stepped around the still-swinging hammock and reached down a hand to help her up.

  Her mouth gaped at
the muscled thighs filling her vision. And she let him pull her to her feet. Right against his warm hard body. “What does this change?”

  “Everything.” He pulled open a cupboard and threw on clothes. “Horses will be more skittish, wagon might bog down. Depends on how deep the snow is and if more is on its way.”

  Her mind was still muddled from lack of sleep, and she could only stare as he dressed. She noticed he yanked a second flannel shirt over the first.

  “Hey.” Fingers snapped in the air.

  She met his gaze. “Uh huh.”

  “Cold breakfast, but put on a pot of coffee. Bundle up warm.”

  The word “warm” sparked a thought in her brain. “Oh, I have something for you.” She stooped under the hammock, opened a low cupboard, and pulled out the scarf she’d knitted. “To keep your neck and ears warm.”

  Grinning, he sauntered close. “You made that scarf? Because you were worried about me being cold?”

  Nodding, she held it out, hoping he wouldn’t notice the skipped stitches and uneven gauge.

  He draped it over his neck and, with his hands wrapped around her upper arms, he pulled her close for a quick kiss. “Thanks.” He set her away, turned her, and gave her a swat on her bottom. “Now, get moving.”

  A squeak sounded as she pressed a hand where his had touched. Warmth invaded her chest, and she paused for a second or two to savor it. His actions meant a truce was in force.

  Torin had spoken the truth when he said the snow made everything harder. The dogs didn’t want to walk in the cold stuff. She swore her boots were heavier when she moved through it. The wagon was harder to steer, because she couldn’t tell if small mounds were snow or snow-covered rocks. When her stomach told her the time for their mid-day stop had long passed, she spotted Torin walking back toward the wagon. Her heart lodged in her throat. What now?

  He trudged, chin tucked to his chest, and stopped at the side of the driver’s box. “Can’t rest. We have to push on. A storm’s brewing.” He reached out a gloved hand and patted her leg, covered with a blanket. “How are you doing?”

  Truthfully, she’d never been so cold in her life. Her feet felt like blocks of wood, and her legs quivered. “I’m all right. Are you warm enough?”

  “Could use an extra blanket, if you have one. My poncho isn’t much help against the cold.” He gave her a stiff smile. “Climb down and at least get your circulation going again.”

  They both spent a few minutes tromping circles in the snow and waving their arms across their chests. Inside the wagon, she handed out what would fit in their pockets—apples, biscuits, wedges of cheese.

  “Thanks. Best get back on the trail.”

  Unable to hold back, she threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his back. “This is so hard, Torin. I don’t want to disappoint you, but I’m scared. I’ve never been in the wilds like this.” The tears she’d been holding back since they’d started this morning gushed over her cheeks. And she didn’t even try to hide them. In his arms, she’d found warmth and protection and security, and she didn’t want to leave.

  “Hey, what’s this, darlin’?” He rubbed her back and rocked back and forth a bit. “You’re doing great, and I’m proud of how hard you’re working. No one could do better.” He cupped her face and lifted it.

  His gaze softened, and his smile slipped into the one that crinkled the skin at the corners of his eyes. The one that melted her heart. She couldn’t do anything but smile back. “Suppose you have to say that, so I’ll keep going.”

  “Nope.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “It’s the truth. You’re tough, and you can finish this drive. Remember, you and I are a team, and we’re in the home stretch.”

  Reluctantly, she stepped back and swiped at her cheeks. From the top shelf of the end cupboard, she pulled the last blanket she owned and passed it over. Then she followed his lead and marched outside, gasping at the cold wind that snatched away her breath clouds. Within minutes, the drudgery of the drive began again. At first, she tried to take her mind off the cold by counting the plodding hoof steps of the team. Then she sang the list of songs she’d performed at Hardy’s, silently in her head. Finally, when she couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering and when darkness crept in from the surrounding trees, she thought only of the mineral hot springs, and how wonderful the warm water had caressed and tickled her skin.

  When she realized her head bobbed toward her knees, she jerked upright in a panic. This behavior was how Torin got lost. Ahead in the snow were the hoot prints she’d been following for days. Off to the left of the trail were dots of light. Campfires? Had they stumbled upon other travelers? She blinked and shifted her gaze to the line of the mustangs. Torin was somewhere in the lead, having been swallowed by the darkness a while ago. Heads low, the mustangs she could see still moved in a slow line so whatever she saw hadn’t spooked them.

  Thundering hoof beats broke the silence.

  The team jerked up their heads. She braced—for what, she didn’t know.

  “Papa, I found them.” A rider came close to the wagon, only his green eyes shining over the scarf covering his face. “Where’s Torin?”

  “Up ahead. Leading the mustangs.” Relief flooded her body, and she wanted to curl into a little ball and just sleep. “This is Four Clovers?”

  “You’re close enough.” The rider spurred his horse forward and disappeared, his laughter coming back to her on the wind.

  As if the team soaked in some of his enthusiasm, they picked up the pace and almost trotted. She sat straighter and flicked her gaze around. The snow looked much thinner here. From the smoothness of the ride, she guessed they had reached a well-packed path. Moving through a break in the trees, she spotted what she’d first thought were campfires. Spaced along the posts of the rail fences were a dozen or so lit lanterns. Torin’s family set them out to help him find his way home. His words coming true—family helped family. Tears welled, and she scoffed at the frigid night air as the cause.

  Past the fence sat an even-sweeter welcoming sight. A two-story house with a light blazing from every window, stretching yellow oblongs over the white snow. Off to the side stood two cavernous barns and multiple corrals, but all her attention was on leading the horses toward the house.

  Until a solitary horseman rode into view, the tails of a blanket flapping behind him in the breeze.

  Nola started grinning. She didn’t want to pull her gaze from the easy way Torin moved with Aengus’s gait. How Torin sat tall with his body contained, in perfect control. Or how he rode straight toward where she waited.

  He slipped the blue-and-yellow scarf below his mouth before he spoke. “Well, we did it. We’re here.”

  “I admit I’m relieved. But you got us here, Torin, just like you said.” She was glad he’d given them a moment of privacy. Probably wanted to make sure she wasn’t sobbing during the introductions. “Quite a welcome.”

  “Yeah, soon enough I would have realized I’d turned onto the back path, instead of the front road. Now Morain will have new fodder for his jests.”

  “So the rider with green eyes is Morain?”

  His smile straightened into a line. “Ready to meet the rest?”

  A lump formed in her throat. What she was about to face might just be her biggest performance ever—that of a dutiful wife. “Tell me where to park this thing.”

  “Follow my lead.” He wheeled the horse and set off at a trot.

  Nola snapped the reins. “Heads up, Captain, and Banan. Only a few more steps, and a warm barn and tasty grain await you.”

  In front of the porch, Torin helped her down while Morain vaulted into the seat.

  “I’m the handsome brother, name’s Morain. Welcome to the family, Nola.” He grabbed the reins and turned the wagon toward a barn.

  “What?” She looked over her shoulder and held out a hand. “Wait, Gigi and Queenie.”

  Slipping an arm around her waist, Torin pulled her close. “My brother knows how to care for a couple o
f pint-sized dogs. Don’t worry.”

  Not trusting her shaky legs, she grabbed a handful of his jacket front and let him guide her.

  Their footsteps echoed on the wooden porch, and the door swung inward. Warm air wafted through the opening, and Nola followed it like a siren’s call.

  Standing in a row like a receiving line was his family. First was a tall man with graying hair and a proud stance like his son.

  “Nola, this is my father, Hiram. Papa, meet my wife, Nola.”

  Nerves attacked her stomach, but she extended her hand for a proper greeting. “Glad to meet you.”

  Instead, the man wrapped her in a firm embrace. “Handshakes are for strangers. You’re family now, Nola.”

  Then the rest of the family swarmed her, calling out names, stripping off her coat and scarf, and giving her hugs. From the corner of her eye, she saw Torin smiling at the scene.

  “See, Mama, I told you girls could wear pants. I want a pair.” Richelle planted herself in front of her mother but pointed at Nola. “I bet riding horses was easier, right, Nola?” Her head bobbed, making her long chestnut curls swing and sway.

  Nola glanced at Torin’s mother’s frown and wondered how best to respond. “Well, they are handy for riding. But I wouldn’t wear them to town. Folks aren’t ready to see women in denims now, any more than they approved of bloomers thirty years ago.”

  Richelle bounced on her toes. “You know about bloomers? Did you ever meet Miss Amelia?”

  Nola laughed at the girl’s enthusiasm. “No, I’ve never been as far east as I heard the famous lady lived.”

  “Hush now, Richelle, and let the adults get in a word.” Minnie rested a hand on Nola’s shoulder. “You look done in, my dear. What do you need first—food or a bath?”

  Nola blinked at the trim, blonde woman with blue eyes that sparkled like Torin’s. The fact she’d been given a choice took away her breath for a moment. “I’d love a bath, if it’s not too much trouble.” She glanced at Torin who nodded and slipped out the front door.