She let out a long, stuttering breath. “After I left the Boudoir yesterday, Fidelia and I went on a walk. I wanted to explain to her again how sorry I was. That I’d been an innocent fool, trapped by societal conventions and expectations. That I regret every day not supporting her. That I understand now why she’d run away, why the lure of Aaron’s love was so strong.”
Cailean’s touch gentled even further as he saw the despair in his wife’s eyes. “Some hurts are too deep to be soothed by a mere apology.”
“What else can I do?” She swiped at her eyes. “I’ve tried for the past month to make amends, and it’s done more harm than good.”
“Continue to show her that you accept her as your sister, regardless of her … profession. That you want to support her now however you can.” He sighed. “She needs more than words from you, Belle. When she visits you, she slinks in and out of your back door. When you go on walks, you walk out of town, rather than boldly down the boardwalk.” He raised her hand and kissed her palm. “Your actions don’t match your words, for they say you’re ashamed.”
She sat as though struck dumb. “I never meant … I thought …” She shook her head. “All I seem to do is make things worse.” She scooted away from him as though to rise from bed, and he grabbed her shoulder and eased her to her back, keeping a firm grip on her arms as he leaned over her.
“No. Ignoring her, never seeking her out would have been much worse. You’re doing the best you can, Belle. Let me help you. You’re not alone anymore.” He kissed her tenderly on her brow, cheek, and then finally lips. He eased away and met her worried gaze before she stared at a place over his shoulder as though considering how to remedy her relationship with her sister.
“Have her to dinner here with us.”
Her gaze shot to his and shook her head. “You don’t want her near Sorcha.”
“I want you happy.” He leaned forward and kissed her before a teasing smile flirted with his lips. “A wise woman once told me that it’s not a catching disease. And I know you’d like your sister by your side some Sunday dinner. I’d want my family with me if they weren’t already here.”
“Thank you, husband,” she whispered. She turned her face to kiss his shoulder. “Thank you for wanting to share my burdens.”
“Always, my Belle,” he murmured as he leaned forward, kissing her jaw and neck as his hips pressed into hers. “And to share the pleasure as well.”
She nodded as she blushed, arched up, and kissed him. He groaned, releasing her arms so she could snake them around his neck. “Ignore the livery for a little while longer. Make love with me,” she gasped as he eased her nightgown up and tossed it to the floor.
“Alistair will understand,” he rasped as he peppered her neck with kisses. “I’ll make it up to him when he weds Leticia.”
She giggled and forgot about her sister, Alistair, and the outside world.
Sorcha slammed a cast-iron pot onto the stove. When that failed to alleviate her frustration, she kicked the stove and then grunted as she stubbed her toe. She hopped a few times in an attempt to relieve the pain.
“Serves ye right,” Ewan said with a chuckle as he leaned against the doorjamb that led into the kitchen and dining area.
“Don’t ye dare laugh at me!” Sorcha swirled to face him, brandishing a wooden spoon and waving it in his direction.
“I don’t know why ye’re so upset. We’re having Sunday dinner like we always do, and Annabelle’s sister is coming this time.” He shrugged.
“Even ye can’t be that nonchalant about having one of the Boudoir’s finest present at our table.” She glared at her youngest brother as he shrugged again.
He sidled into the room, staying on the far side of the dining room table so as to remain out of her reach and the spoon’s thwacking distance.
“I never expected the likes of her would be in our house.”
“Ye’ve made yer peace with Annabelle now that ye no longer have to bake bread and she cooks most nights—even after all that time on her feet baking at her shop.” He studied his sister as he hitched a hip onto a windowsill. “It seems to me ye’ve taken to her company better than to almost any woman ye’ve ever known.”
Sorcha glared at him as she turned toward the stove and stirred the pot of stew. “Annabelle has been patient as I’ve adjusted to her living here. And I like not having to cook.”
Ewan nodded. “Then I’d think ye could repay her kindness by treating her sister civilly. It’s what Mother would have wanted ye to do.”
Sorcha’s shoulders tightened again at the mention of their mother. “Don’t speak to me of what she would or wouldna like.” She tapped the wooden spoon and took a deep breath. “It’s because of how Mother was that I’m determined to treat Annabelle’s sister well.”
Ewan froze as he studied his sister, but the moment was lost as Alistair, Leticia, and Hortence burst into the room. Alistair entertained Hortence while Leticia cut up a loaf of bread on the oak sideboard. Ewan filled a pitcher of water and then filled glasses at the round table set for eight.
A bright gingham tablecloth covered the table with a vase of wildflowers in the center. He watched as Sorcha faded to the back of the family gathering as Annabelle, Cailean, and Fidelia entered. Annabelle had looped her arm through her sister’s, and Cailean stood behind the two women, preventing an easy escape by Fidelia.
“Welcome,” Ewan boomed as the room quieted at their arrival. He moved forward and shook Fidelia’s hand. “It’s wonderful to meet ye at last.” His ears were tinged a bright red as everyone ignored the fact he had already met her numerous times at the Boudoir.
“A pleasure, I’m sure,” she murmured, her blue eyes gleaming with irony. Fidelia wore her most demure dress with a shawl covering her shoulders and bosom. Her face was freshly scrubbed, and she wore no scent. Without the trappings of her profession, she appeared years younger, and her eyes had lost the cynical squint she had perfected.
Alistair chuckled and reached out his hand. “I’m Alistair. And this is my Leticia and her daughter, Hortence. We’re to marry next summer.”
“God willing,” Fidelia whispered. “Lovely to meet you.”
“I’m Sorcha.” She stood by the stove, the wooden spoon gripped in her hands. She finally nodded her welcome to Annabelle’s sister.
“Thank you for welcoming me,” Fidelia said, her gaze on Sorcha. “What you have prepared smells delicious.”
“Well, Anna—” Sorcha began but was cut off by her sister-in-law.
“Sorcha has become a wonderful cook in the past few months. Although I believe her real talent lies in embroidery.” Annabelle squeezed her sister’s arm in encouragement and smiled at Sorcha as Annabelle coaxed her sister toward the table set for Sunday dinner.
After they were settled, and the food had been served, the discussion turned to the potential for statehood for Montana.
“I hope it occurs soon. Montana needs to have a voice in Congress and to be seen as something other than a backwater place filled with vigilantes, cowboys, and Indians,” Leticia said.
“I agree. We are a diverse group, and it would be good to see our needs represented,” Cailean said.
“However, as long as Congress remains split between the Democrats in the House and the Republicans in the Senate, I doubt they will agree for us to become a state. They don’t want any states to enter that might alter the balance of control,” Alistair said.
“It’s shortsighted,” Ewan argued. “No state remains affiliated with one party forever. Besides, we need to have the opportunity to represent ourselves in Congress. And raise our own taxes. We should be able to tax the railroad, but we can’t as a territory.”
“And vote for our own judges, rather than wait for Congress to send us a man who knows nothing about us,” Leticia said.
“Well, we’ll have to hope Congress will grant us statehood if the voters agree in November to the state constitution drafted in January. But I see no reason for it to change any
time soon.” Cailean sighed as he stretched out his legs and played with Annabelle’s hand.
“What do you think, Fidelia?” Alistair asked.
She sat, picking at her food as the family talked around her. “I don’t have an opinion. Why should I?”
Leticia laughed. “The question is, why shouldn’t you? You live here. You … work here. You have as great a right to be interested in what will happen and how it will affect you.”
“Few would care about those who live in the shadows,” Fidelia whispered.
After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Ewan smirked at Cailean. “Ye were smart to avoid Mrs. Jameson at the Fourth of July party a few weeks ago, Cail. She’s angrier than a beehive that ye married Anna and are happy with her.”
Cailean rolled his eyes. “That woman was too busy searching for another man for her daughter to notice us.” He looked at Ewan. “I’d be careful.”
Ewan laughed. “Why do ye think I spend all the time at the Boudoir? I dinna want the mothers in the town to get notions I’m the marryin’ kind.” He laughed harder when Fidelia snorted in disgust.
Everyone at the table became silent a moment before the conversation moved to the latest gossip about Tommy Twothumbs nearly blowing himself up with a stick of dynamite in the Obsidian mining camp up in the mountains. “I can’t believe he didna use a longer fuse,” Ewan marveled. “Almost destroyed his nickname.”
“I think he lived up to it. Bluidy idiot coulda killed himself and five others with his incompetence,” Alistair said with a shake of his head.
“I’m sure it’s not because of his clumsiness this time. It’s because he’s as miserly as he is all thumbs.” Annabelle smiled as they groaned at her poor pun. “The man’s always going on about costs. I hear him complaining when I’m talking with Tobias.” She rolled her eyes.
“That must be unpleasant,” Fidelia murmured. “Most things to do with that man are.”
The adults around the table laughed.
“If you mean Tobias,” Annabelle said, “I agree. I’m thankful Cailean negotiated a better price for my supplies. Tobias wasn’t pleased, but it’s a perk of being a married woman.” Annabelle shared a smile with her husband.
“The only good thing to come out of the explosion is the daft man managed to discover a new vein of silver. Used twice as much dynamite as he needed and blew the area to smithereens.” Alistair sighed as he pushed away his plate. “Now his main problem, other than losing the tip of one of his fingers, is keeping ahold of his claim.”
They laughed again.
“I can just see the man. Coming into town in a new suit with his chest puffed out.” Leticia sighed. “Some men will never learn.” She shook her head as Alistair took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
After dinner, the men moved to the porch to chat and sip on coffee while the women cleaned up. “I’m trying to convince them that, on Sundays, they should clean as we cooked, but I’m havin’ no success,” Sorcha grumbled.
Annabelle laughed, her arms elbow deep in sudsy water. “It’s faster with all of us working together.”
Leticia handed a plate to Fidelia to stack on the table to be put away. “How did you end up in Bear Grass Springs?”
Fidelia stared at her, dumbstruck a moment, and then accepted another plate from her. “The Madam moved from our previous town when the customers began to leave as the mine played out. She heard about this place and moved us here.”
Sorcha frowned as she studied Annabelle’s sister. “Why do what ye do? Ye’re smart and pretty.” She saw a flash of anger and disappointment in Fidelia’s eyes that were quickly masked by indifference.
“What else is a fallen woman to do? I had no man, no family to protect me or to offer aid. I lacked the references to become a schoolteacher.” She squinted as she saw Leticia flush. “I thank you for dinner. I must return to the Boudoir to prepare for this evening.” She shared a long look with Annabelle before she slipped outside through the front door, avoiding the men outside at the back door.
“I’m sorry, Anna. I never meant to make her go,” Sorcha whispered. She wrung a dish towel in her agitation. “I wanted to understand.”
Annabelle gave a small pat to her sister-in-law’s shoulder and attempted a smile. “I never thought she’d remain with us for as long as she did today, so I am thankful for the time I had with her. And she told you more in a few moments of questions than I’d learned after months in town.”
Cailean entered the kitchen and frowned. “Where’s Fidelia?” When the women gave a collective shrug, he sighed. “Perhaps she’ll remain long enough next time to eat your delicious dessert.” He kissed Annabelle on the forehead and squeezed Sorcha’s shoulder. “Thank you for welcoming her.”
Sorcha fought tears and repeated, “I never meant to make her go.” At Cailean’s confused stare, she whispered, “I asked her why she does what she does when she’s smart and pretty.”
Cailean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Never judge a person and their decisions, Sorch. Hunger, desperation, and the desire for perceived safety are powerful motivators. I imagine she preferred the protection a place like the Boudoir could provide, rather than attempting to live alone.”
Annabelle took a shaky breath and nodded. “I believe Sorcha was curious. But my sister is sensitive and sees judgment where there was none. Don’t worry, Sorcha. She’ll come back, and she’ll realize our curiosity is merely a way to know her better.” She leaned into Cailean’s side a moment before she extracted the huckleberry pie she had made to celebrate her sister’s visit.
“I fear she’s missed the best part of the meal,” Ewan said as he handed out small slices of the pie.
Annabelle smiled and deftly changed the topic. “I have so many huckleberries in my icebox that I barely have room for milk and butter. I fear you will be sick of huckleberries by the time I’m finished using them in my baked goods.”
Cailean took a bite of the pie and closed his eyes. “Not possible. This is even better than chocolate.” He smiled at Annabelle as she beamed with pleasure.
Alistair and Ewan laughed while Sorcha giggled. Cailean winked at Annabelle and gobbled down his pie.
Chapter 9
A few weeks later in early August, Ewan sat on a large wood stump, a piece of straw between his teeth as he watched Alistair work. He smiled as his brother shot a glare in his direction.
“Ye could help. Cail is detained again with his bride.” Alistair grunted as he pushed Ewan off the stump and picked up hay to spread over the floor of the stall. Ewan leaned against the wall before laughing and helping his brother muck out and clean the stall.
“Seems Cail is taken with Annabelle,” Ewan said as he moved to the next stall.
“If he were any more taken, they’d be a pair of those twins that move around together.” He nodded when Ewan’s confused expression cleared.
“The twin brothers from Siam, Chang and Eng, who were born joined together?” Ewan asked.
“Aye.”
When Cailean burst into the barn, Ewan leaned on the edge of his shovel. Cail hefted a wheelbarrow to push outside and smiled appreciatively at Ewan .
“Seems Sundays do ye good,” Ewan teased.
Cailean met the amused stares of his brothers. “Don’t start. I’ve already told Annabelle that I’ll have to make up this time after Alistair marries.”
Alistair puffed out his chest and nodded. “Aye, that ye will. I’ve waited long enough for my bride.”
Ewan laughed. “An’ Anna will have Hortence for company?”
Alistair groaned. “With my luck, I’ll still be to work on time.” He heaved his pitchfork into a pile of hay and sat down.
“Is Fidelia coming for dinner today?” Ewan asked as he swiped at the sweat on his brow. He loaded up the now-empty wheelbarrow.
Cailean shook his head and leaned against a post. “She wrote Belle a note yesterday, saying she felt under the weather.” He frowned. “Belle’s worried it means som
eone mistreated her, and Fidelia doesn’t want us to see the bruises.”
Ewan frowned. “I’ll go to the Boudoir tonight to ensure she’s all right.” Cailean nodded his thanks.
Alistair rose and crooned to one of the horses as he moved it into the mucked-out stall Ewan had just readied. Alistair ran a hand down its nose and earned a whinny of approval.
They worked in harmonious silence for a while before taking a break. “You seem distracted, Cail.” His eldest brother’s attempt at relaxed geniality was forced.
Ewan perked up at Alistair’s comment and nodded. “What’s the matter, Cail? I thought your lovely bride soothed all your restless worries.”
He growled and heaved his shovel against a far wall, earning a nicker of disapproval from the horses. “I ran into that busybody yesterday. Mrs. Jameson.”
Ewan and Alistair groaned. “I hope ye stayed downwind. Now that it’s summer an’ she doesna believe in washin’ herself, never mind her clothes …” Ewan sniffed as though attempting to clear his sinuses of the smell.
Cailean chortled out a laugh. “I fear many think I stink worse than she does due to working in the livery.”
“Ye bathe daily,” Alistair grumbled. “There’s no comparison.” He watched his brother and waited, setting aside a bridle he’d intended to repair and pulled out another large piece of wood to sit on so that he sat across from Cailean. Ewan plopped down next to him.
“The old chatterbox said she couldna wait for the bairn to be born.” He cleared his throat. “Assumed it would be afore our nine-month anniversary. It’s only early August now! We’ve not even been married two months yet.”
“The miserly biddy musta placed a bet on it,” Ewan said, earning a snicker from Alistair.
Alistair raised an eyebrow as he watched his somber eldest brother. “There are worse things than having the town believe ye anticipated yer vows.”
“Aye,” Cailean whispered. “Like Belle pregnant with our child.” He shook his head and ran a shaking hand through his brown hair.
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