Montana Maverick

by Ramona Flightner

  Ewan tsked in the back of his throat. “Take comfort in knowin’ he’s miserable with his wife right now.” He smiled as she burrowed again into his embrace.

  She sighed. “I returned home, disheveled and emotional, two states that were never to occur under my father’s roof. His prodigy was there, and he was astute enough to surmise what had happened after one glance. My father threw me out of the house without a penny.”

  Ewan growled in displeasure. “What did ye do?”

  “I had some money saved, in a box under my bed. When the house was asleep, I snuck in and took the box and a few clothes. I traveled to Saint Louis, with copies of stories I’d written, and got a job there.” She sighed. “But my father casts a long shadow, and he said he found a man who didn’t care about my past transgressions. He was sending a man to bring me home.”

  “So ye fled here.” Ewan held her closer. “Why’d ye no’ change yer name? It only makes it easier to track ye.”

  She raised her eyes and met Ewan’s gaze. “What good reason would I have to give to the town? I write the headlines. I refuse to be the headline.”

  Ewan held her close and kissed the top of her head. “Ye have to live the life ye want, Jessie. Yer father sounds like a horrible man, but ye dinna need to prove yerself anymore.” He met her watery gaze. “An’ ye dinna want to allow yerself to become so hardened that ye become like him.”

  He swiped at her cheeks, brushing away tears. “Be more like yer mother. Embrace joy. Chase after butterflies. Laugh with exuberance.”

  “Ewan,” she breathed, arching up to kiss him.

  “Marry me, Jessie,” he whispered as he stroked a hand over her head. “Marry me, and ye’ll have another name. Ye’ll have the protection of my family. Ye’ll never doubt who ye are again.”

  She sat up, holding the sheet to her breast. The wonder of a few moments ago disappeared from her gaze, and she glared at him. “How can you have listened to my story and not understand?” When he shook his head in confusion, she said, “I have no desire to be under any man’s control again. And I know you. You would want to control me, in little ways that seem innocent, but that would end up destroying my spirit.”

  “Ye have an inability to distinguish between love and control, Jessie. I want to love ye. To support ye. To hold ye when ye’re sad.” He shook his head when she stared at him dumbfounded. “How can ye no’ want that?”

  “I do not love you,” she whispered.

  Ewan pushed away and launched himself from her bed. He roamed the back area of the print shop as he searched for his underclothes and pants, unhindered by his nudity. When he found his clothes, he pulled them on, his breaths emerging in agitated gasps. “I’ll no’ ask ye again, Jessie. I’ll no’ be a fool three times for ye.”

  “Ewan,” she whispered, her voice filled with a plea.

  “Nae, woman, ye are too blinded by fear to ever ken what ye could have had.” He stuffed his feet into his boots and slapped his hat on his head. “I hope ye have a good evenin’.” He slipped out the back door as soundlessly as he had entered it.

  When he emerged behind her print shop, he hugged the shadows and moved a ways beyond her establishment before he paused and leaned against the back of a building, dropping his head forward until his chin rested on his chest. He rubbed at his neck and then strode toward home.

  Chapter 10

  Ewan curried a horse he had borrowed for an afternoon ride out to see the homesteaders, his movements brusque as he focused on his thoughts rather than the horse.

  “If you show no regard for the animal, it will show you none when you need it,” Bears said in his deep, wise voice. He half smiled as Ewan jumped at his voice. “Focus on each task set before you, and you will find peace.”

  Ewan glared at Bears. “Do you ever tire of spouting your nonsense?” When Bears watched him with implacable patience, Ewan heaved out a sigh. Rather than throwing the currying brush across the room as he desired, he gripped it tighter before letting out another breath and then focusing on the horse. The horse whinnied with approval, and Ewan’s tension eased further. “I hate that ye are right.”

  Bears chuckled. “Your woman has more spirit than most. You need to learn to approach her with as much care.”

  Ewan raised a brow. “Are ye sayin’ my Jessie is like this horse?”

  Bears shrugged. “Wouldn’t you?” For once he seemed content to pause in his work and speak with Ewan. “When have you had success with her?”

  Ewan frowned. “When I’ve treated her with kindness and patience.”

  Bears nodded, his loose hair flowing around his shoulders like a black waterfall. “She’s not like your family. Loud. Constantly arguing. Teasing.”

  “She is when she’s talking about her writing.” Ewan focused on the horse for a moment. “But that’s when she’s in charge. When she feels like she’s no’ in charge, that’s when she becomes …”

  “Pricklier than a porcupine defending its soft underbelly,” Bears said as he tapped the top of the stall. “Earn her trust, Ewan. Respect her.”

  Ewan watched as Bears walked away with an innate grace, his back straight, and his head held high and proud. Ewan finished currying the horse before returning the saddle and tack to the tack room and shutting the door behind him.

  He paused as a customer entered the livery, lingering in the shadows, as Bears approached the man.

  “I don’t want no half-breed carin’ for my horse,” the man said with a spat of tobacco in the dust. He leaned forward. “And, if you touch my horse, it’s half price.”

  Bears stood tall and straight, his impassive gaze meeting that of the customer. “I’m afraid we will be unable to care for your animal. If you are unwilling to have me touch your flea-ridden, mud-fevered horse at the sole price we charge at the livery, you’ll have to take your business elsewhere.”

  The man puffed out his chest. “Listen here. You have no right to turn me away. You’re the only livery for miles!”

  Bears nodded. “Yes, we are. I am a partner here, not a laborer.” He stared at the man, waiting a few moments until the reins were thrown at him. “Your horse will be returned to you when your entire bill is paid.”

  The man swore before storming out of the livery.

  Bears patted the horse, earning a gentle nicker from the horse. “Shh, sweet one. You’ll feel better soon, although I cannot cure your misfortune in owner.”

  Ewan laughed, and Bears looked over his shoulder. “Does this happen frequently?”

  Bears nodded. “Yes. It occurred before the article, and it was more common for a little while. But men like him will always exist.” He shrugged. “The furor after her article has eased.”

  Ewan watched as Bears clicked to the horse, leading him into a cleaned-out stall with fresh hay. After a few moments Ewan left the livery and moved next door to the kitchen, surprised to find Annabelle there. “What are ye doin’, Anna?” he asked.

  She watched him with amusement. “Preparing dinner or I’ll never hear the end of belly aching from all of you.” She took a deep breath and arched her back.

  “Perhaps ye should take it easy.” He held up his hands as she pointed a wooden spoon at him. “I’ll say nothin’ to Cail.”

  “You’d better not.” She stirred the stew again, turned down the heat, and then sat at the table, smiling when he joined her. “You’ve seemed out of sorts for days, Ewan. What’s bothering you?”

  “There’s a big poker match tomorrow. It’s distractin’ me.”

  She shook her head. “No, you only find that entertaining. Whatever happened has injured you in some way. Your smile doesn’t shine as bright.”

  He flushed. “This is what I get for having a sister who kens so much.” He smiled as she continued to frown at him. “I had hoped I would marry.” He nodded to her hands covering her stomach. “Maybe have a bairn of my own someday.” He shook his head.

  “You will, Ewan. You’re still young. Barely thirty. You have your whole life
to live.”

  His lips lifted in a mockery of a smile. “She doesna want me, Anna. Twice I’ve asked, an’ twice she’s declined.” He met his sister-in-law’s shocked gaze. “There’s no reason to ask her again.”

  Annabelle grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Oh, Ewan, I’m so sorry. I know how much you care for her.”

  He shrugged. “I’m the fool. In all the times we quarreled, talked, and shared secrets, I canna remember tellin’ her that I loved her. Why should she have faith in me?”

  Her eyes glinted with righteous anger for him. “You showed her in every way you could how much you loved her. If she didn’t understand, then she’s a fool.”

  “Nae, Anna. I am. For a woman like her, words are important. I should have kent that, but when I stormed out of her print shop, I was so angry, I could barely see.” He rubbed a hand over his face, his whiskers now more of a beard.

  She sighed. “There are other women in this town, Ewan.”

  He glowered at her. “Dinna even consider pushing that Jameson woman in my direction. I willna marry her. I refuse to even speak with her.”

  His sister-in-law smiled. “I know. But there are others.”

  He shook his head. “No’ right now. No’ for me. Maybe someday.” He rose. “Thanks, Anna.”

  When he approached the hallway door, she called out. “Ewan?” He paused to face her. “Don’t do anything foolish tomorrow night.” His mischievous smile resurfaced, and she shook her head in consternation.

  “I willna make promises I canna keep.” He winked at her, and his boot steps sounded on the stairs as he headed to his room.

  Ewan sat at the poker table, ignoring everything but the three players around the table. A miasma of smoke, sweat, and perfume filled the air, but he focused solely on his cards and the other players, searching for any signs or tells that would give him a hint of what they held in their hands. However, they were as experienced as he was and sat with impassive expressions as the hand played out.

  A single oil lamp hung from a hook in the center of the room, lighting the table, but casting the rest of the room in deep shadows. Spectators hovered in those shadows, witnessing the intense gambling between the four who had not ceased playing for hours. Outside, dawn’s rays peeked over the mountains. Neither Ewan nor the others cared what time of day it was. This final hand would determine if they were bankrupt or rich.

  As the pile of money in the center of the table increased, Ewan felt a trickle of sweat run down the middle of his back. He stood to lose his business if he lost this hand. “Call,” he demanded in an authoritative voice. He ignored the gasp from the corner of the darkened room as the Madam placed a piece of paper on the table.

  “Money, Madam,” a man grunted.

  “That’s better than any amount of money,” she snapped. She smiled with satisfaction as the scrap of paper was handed from man to man, and the grunts of agreement confirmed her words.

  Ewan glared at her but showed no other emotion as he waited for them to display their cards. One man had a pair of jacks and a pair of queens. The other smiled and laid down a straight. The Madam gave a long-suffering sigh. The man who had laid down the straight ignored her as he assumed she had little of worth in her hand.

  Then her gaze turned triumphant as she smiled and made sympathetic eyes at Ewan. “I’m so sorry about your business,” she murmured. She laid down her cards with a slight thwacking sound that set Ewan’s nerves on end. “Full house.”

  Ewan met the Madam’s jubilant gaze. “I’m sorry about the loss of yer best whore.”

  The spectators gasped as he dropped his cards on the table.

  “I believe four of a kind beats yer full house.” He pushed away her hands and pulled the earnings toward him, scooping them into his hat.

  The Madam sat in horror at his cards. “You’re a cheat!”

  Ewan rose, leaning over the table. “Never say that again, unless ye wish to die a painful death.” He flushed. “Ye’re no’ dead now only because ye’re a woman.” He met the glances of the other two men who glared with equal fervor at the Madam. “I wouldna have been invited here had there been any doubt of my honor.”

  The Madam stood with false bravado and flung her shoulders back. “I wonder if you would be willing to renegotiate?”

  “Nae, Madam, I would no’.” He rose, smiling his thanks as someone from the shadows tossed him a burlap sack. He transferred the money from his hat into the sack and stared at the Madam. “I will meet ye at the Boudoir in ten minutes.”

  “She won’t be ready to leave,” the Madam protested.

  “Perhaps no’ but ye have no say on whether she stays or goes.” He nodded to the men who had played with him and walked down the stairs leading to the main section of the saloon. When he stood on the boardwalk, he took a deep breath of fresh air before cramming his hat on.

  He jumped off the boardwalk, crossed the street, and walked behind the other row of buildings until he approached Alistair’s house. He knocked on the door and waited. When his brother opened the door, he met his frown with a smile. “I won,” he said as he held up the burlap sack.

  Alistair tugged him inside, shutting out the cold. “Are ye daft? Ye should no’ boast of yer winnings.” He then laughed and pulled Ewan into a bear hug. “Well done, little brother.”

  “I did no’ just win this money, Al. I won freedom.”

  Alistair shook his head in confusion. “I dinna ken what ye mean.” He motioned for Ewan to follow him into the long hallway. He pulled up the loose floorboard under the tattered rug, and he watched as Ewan put the sack of money there. “As ye can see, we dinna have many valuables to conceal in the hideaway ye made for us.”

  “This will keep it safe until I can go to the bank,” Ewan said.

  “Aye, although ye should leave here with another bag. Someone will have seen ye come here with it, and I dinna want my home a target for burglars.” He led Ewan into the kitchen where Leticia and Hortence were having breakfast. Hortence beamed at Ewan.

  “Hello, imp,” he said as he ruffled her hair. “Are ye off to school soon?”

  “Yes, and we learn what parts we get in the Christmas play today.”

  “Who do ye want to be?” Ewan asked as he smiled his thanks to Leticia for the cup of coffee she set in front of him.

  “A Wiseman.”

  “Ye ken they were men, no?” Ewan asked as he shared a smile with Leticia.

  Hortence bounced in her chair with restless energy. “Girls can be just as wise as boys.”

  Her uncle laughed. “Aye, ye have me there, wee Hortence.” He watched as she jumped from her chair to run upstairs for a moment before school.

  After listening to her daughter scamper away, Leticia focused on Ewan. “Now, while we have a few minutes free of little ears, would you like to explain why you show up here in the early morning, smelling worse than the Boudoir and Stumble-Out combined?”

  Ewan rubbed at his untrimmed beard and flushed. “I was at a poker match last night. All night.” He nodded his thanks as Alistair set a sack filled with rice and rocks next to him. “I won.” He smirked as Leticia gaped at him.

  “Does this mean you will cease playing?”

  He shrugged. “It means I have no desire to play at this moment. I wish I could go home, crawl into bed for the day, and then take a hot bath.”

  “What was it about winning freedom?” Alistair asked as he took a sip of coffee.

  A triumphant smile bloomed on Ewan’s face. “The Madam participated last night. And lost.” He met their curious stares. “She did no’ have enough money to cover her last bet, and she wagered one of her whores.”

  “She has no right!” Leticia gasped.

  “Perhaps no’, but, if she is no’ an idiot, I have won Fidelia her freedom.” He looked at Alistair. “Will ye come with me to the Boudoir as I extract her from the Madam’s control?”

  Alistair smiled. “Aye.” He kissed Leticia on the head. “Perhaps today would be a good day for
Annabelle to close the bakery. She will want to be home with her sister.”

  Leticia nodded. “I’ll inform her of your news as I walk Hortence to school.” She clasped Ewan’s hand. “Well done, Ewan.”

  Ewan smiled and flushed, grabbing the decoy burlap sack as he and Alistair walked outside. They approached the Boudoir, sharing a long look before they stepped onto the back porch. After their knock went unanswered, they eased the back door open. The kitchen was deserted, as most of the women breakfasted closer to noon.

  “Come,” Ewan said as he ascended the rear stairs. He paused when he saw Ezekial standing outside of a crib. “Do you think ye can prevent me from collectin’ what is owed to me? A bet’s a bet.”

  “I think you are being unreasonable in denying the Madam one of her most important assets.” Ezekial glared at the two brothers as he fingered his billy club.

  Alistair glared at the brute. “Ye are barely tolerated in town, an’ I would think long and hard afore harming either of us. My wife is en route to inform Annabelle about her sister. Enough people in this town are aware of what occurred last night an’ this mornin’.”

  “I believe an arrangement can be agreed upon.” Ezekial slapped the club in his palm.

  “Aye, the arrangement where I collect what is owed to me,” Ewan hissed. He turned to the crib Ezekial guarded and banged on the flimsy door. “Wake up!” he snapped.

  Ezekial backed away.

  After a moment Ewan poked his head into the room and sighed. “Why in God’s name did I win a whore?” he muttered. He approached the bedside, frowning when he saw the small blue vial next to the bed on the miniscule table. “Laudanum,” he muttered. “A whore and an addict, all for one price.” He shook her shoulder until she woke. “Get up an’ get dressed. Ye dinna live here anymore.”

  Fidelia Evans, known as Charity in the whorehouse, stared at him through bleary eyes. “Go away, Ewan. I saw my quota of customers already.”