A Valentine's Choice: A Montana Sky Series Holiday Novella (The Montana Sky Series) (6 page)

The two men jostled each other in a friendly way, trying to be the first to reach her side.

Patrick let them by, one eyebrow cocked indulgently.

The tall one arrived first. “I’m Moss. Have I the honor of addressing Miss Bridget or Miss Alana?”

“I’m Bridget, Mr. Moss.”

“No, ma’am, not
Mr.
Moss,” he corrected. “Moss Callahan.

The stocky man edged around him. “I’m Buck Skold.”

Bridget smiled at their eagerness. “Is that a nickname, or do ye have another Christian name, then, Mr. Skold?”

“Yes, ma’am. Buchanan.” He shrugged. “Could be worse. But I prefer Buck.”

“Aye. And ye, Moss?”

“I do have a real name, Miss Bridget. But since my sainted mother isn’t here to object to me using a nickname, I’ll tell you only that I’m called Moss.”

“Aye, for your eye color, then.”

His smile widened.

James joined them in time to hear the last comments. He nudged Moss with his shoulder. “No, for rolling stone. As in no moss grows under his feet. Our Moss isn’t one to stick around one place for too long.”

She raised an eyebrow. “A gypsy are ye, then?”

Moss nodded, an expression of regret in his eyes as he looked at her, although his smile didn’t dim. “I’m afraid I have itchy feet, Miss Bridget. But perhaps a lady such as yourself could tempt me to plant myself in Sweetwater Springs.”

Bridget laughed, not believing him for a moment but amused by his flirtation. She wondered what might have caused his wandering ways.

The shorter man, who was stout enough to at least hoist a bale without effort, turned to James. “You read last week’s paper yet?” Buck asked. “President Cleveland made another darn fool statement.” From that comment, the conversation drifted into politics.

Normally, Bridget would have paid attention to the discussion, but they were speaking of American politics, and she hadn’t the least idea what was going on. She kept an expression of interest on her face and covertly surveyed the rest of the people crowded into the room.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mrs. Toffels hasten to Samantha’s side. Although she didn’t move away from the men, Bridget was close enough to overhear.

“The rest of the hands are waiting in the kitchen. Shall I tell them to come in here first to meet the young ladies before they sit themselves at the table?”

Wyatt slanted a grin at his housekeeper. “I wonder how many of our shy cowboys would take you up on that offer?”

“A few, perhaps.” Mrs. Toffels smiled, wrinkles fanning out over her face. “But I suspect, there’s a couple like Sid who still haven’t recovered from you bringing home a beautiful wife.”

Wyatt laughed. “Sid will adjust…in about five years or so.”

Samantha darted a speculative glance at Alana. “Our guests are very pretty. I’d like to keep them.”

Wyatt grinned at Samantha. “My darling, at this rate, we’re going to be sprouting cabins like mushrooms.”

His wife laughed. “How wonderful that would be, Wyatt. In a few short weeks, Sally O’Hanlon has become a friend, and I’d love to have more women nearby. I’m sure Mrs. Toffels agrees.” With a raised eyebrow, she glanced at the housekeeper.

The older woman nodded, and her two chins quivered. “I’d be delighted if Miss Bridget chose our James, and they settled down here.”

Bridget found herself coloring, but she dared not look over to see if James overheard.

Wyatt shook his head. “I won’t ask why you’ve settled on James for Bridget or who you have in mind for Alana. I’m staying far away from female matchmaking.”

As much as she wanted to hear the reply, Bridget knew this conversation wasn’t meant for her ears. With a smile she excused herself from the political discussion and moved toward Alana.

Her sister was teaching Tim some Gaelic words.

The young man gazed at her with an infatuated expression.

Bridget halted a few feet away. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the two shy twins engrossed in conversation. Even better was the animation on Alana’s face. In thankfulness, she placed a hand on her chest and exhaled a breath of relief.

Perhaps I can stop worrying after all.

But as she looked at Alana’s thinness, doubt still niggled at her.

CHAPTER FOUR

The next morning in the O’Hanlon’s cabin, the three women prepared for Alana’s departure. The night before, they’d done their best with a damp sponge to clean the wool gowns they’d worn for traveling, then left the dresses and their coats hanging outside in hopes the wind would blow away any lingering sooty smell from the train. After breakfast at the big house, the twins retrieved their dried undergarments and rolled up all of Alana’s things for tight packing.

Now, well-fed, clean in body and attire, Bridget should have felt a sense of well-being and gratitude. And she really did. But a tight band of unshed tears squeezed her chest.

We’ve never been parted for more than a single day.

Bridget and Alana donned their coats, hats, and mittens, as well as the new scarves their cousin had given them as welcome presents. Sally knitted scarves for the mercantile to earn extra money, and she’d allowed them to choose from several colors. They’d both selected dark-blue.

Sally had insisted on getting up and helping even though the pale cast to her skin indicated what the movement cost her. She still wore a robe over her nightgown and hadn’t gone to breakfast with them. “If only I’d felt better, I’d have prepared meals to send along.” She fussed with loading supplies onto the top of the table.

“Don’t worry,” Bridget assured her. “Alana is a fine cook, and Mrs. Toffels is sending food with her.”

Sally frowned in obvious distress. “Harry and I were showered with foodstuffs as wedding gifts, and I want to share with them. Portions of rice, beans, coffee.” She tapped each sack. “A jar of huckleberry jam, a hank of salt pork, and a canister of tea.” As she spoke, she picked up each item and tucked it into a round basket with a curved handle.

Alana laid a hand on Sally’s arm. “I’ll manage the meals just fine, cousin. No need to fret yerself so.”

Sally gave her a rueful smile. “I am fretting, aren’t I? It’s not as if my parents hadn’t laid down provisions to last through the winter, even though at times, we eek out what we have with wild game. They expected me to be living with them still, so, in a way, you’re just taking my place.”

“Not that I can take their daughter’s place,” Alana said in a soothing voice. “But this experience will give yer family and me a chance to form the bonds of kinship that we’ve lacked all our lives.”

“You’re right.” Sally relaxed and breathed out a sigh.

“I promise ye, I will give yer mother the same loving care that ye would.”

Sally embraced Alana. “I can’t tell you how thankful I am that you’re doing this.” Taking a step back, she glanced at both women. “You two are such a godsend—the answer to prayers I didn’t know I needed to pray.”

Alana touched Sally’s shoulder. “Comforting, isn’t it? That the good Lord knows our needs before we do.”

Bridget didn’t have Alana’s unquestioning belief. After all, she was the one who often had to pinch and scrape for both of them. A sudden thought struck her. James had appeared at the train station at the very moment they arrived.
Perhaps my sister is right. Something to ponder later.

“Now, back to bed with ye, Sally,” Alana said firmly. “We’ll see ourselves out.”

Sally released her cousin’s hand. “Thank you again.”

Alana pointed at the bed in a silent command.

“All right, all right,” Sally muttered in a mock grumble.

Alana picked up her satchel. She was also taking along the volume of Shakespeare, hoping to read to her aunt as she convalesced.

No sense sending the potatoes they’d stored in a corner of the loft.
Surely, we’ll be reunited before spring planting.
Bridget threaded her arm through the handle of the basket, lifted it, and turned.

Alana smiled a good-bye to Sally before following Bridget out the door.

The cold wind caught them first, but the freshness was welcome after the close air of the cabin. Bridget and Alana trudged through the snow on a path made wider by the recent comings and goings to and from the houses.

They reached the area between the barn and the big house to find the rented sleigh, a brown horse hitched to the front. The plan was for Harry to drive the sleigh to the O’Donnels and on the way home, drop off the conveyance at the livery, and ride horseback the rest of the way to the ranch.

Samantha came out of the house, carrying a crate that she gave to Harry.

Without a word, he stowed it on the front seat. He took the basket and satchel from the sisters and placed them on the floor in the back. “Mrs. Toffels heated the bricks.”

Samantha pulled a fur muff off her arm and handed it to Alana. “Borrow this for your journey, my dear.”

“Thank ye for yer kindness.” Alana stroked the fur then slipped the muff over one of her hands.

Samantha turned to Harry, ticking off her fingers as she talked. “Stop in town at the Camerons to warm up, heat the bricks again, and take along any medicine or instructions Dr. Cameron might want to give you.”

Mrs. Toffels bustled out from the side door of the house, her arms around a giant basket. “There are quart jars of chicken soup and beef stew in the crate. In here, you’ll find my Saskatoon preserves, a basket of eggs, several loaves of bread and butter, my elderberry cordial, and molasses cookies.

Harry inhaled a sharp breath, and then swallowed hard as if moved. “Much obliged, ma’am. On behalf of my wife and her family, I thank you.” He glanced at Mrs. Thompson. “I thank you both.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how we can ever repay you.”

“Nonsense, Harry.” Samantha smiled at him. “Sally is one of us now, and we take care of our own. There will be plenty of opportunities for turn and turn about.”

Alana moved to Bridget, extending her arms.

Bridget hugged her sister, holding her tight for an extra moment, her eyes stinging.

Alana clung to her, clearly just as
reluctant to part. But she was the one to break away, kissing Bridget’s cheek and murmuring, “
Go dtí le chéile againn arís.”
She climbed into the sleigh.

Bridget tucked the bearskin around Alana. Her throat clogged on repeating the words of farewell, so she thought them instead.
Until we meet again.
Then she, too, kissed her sister’s cheek, and straightened.

From the corner of her eye, Bridget caught a movement and turned to see James heading their way, carrying a gunnysack. He had blood on his hands. “I thought Alana might want some extra meat to take with her, so I set snares for some rabbits. They’re dressed out. Haven’t had time to skin them. In this cold, they’ll keep just fine.”

“How kind, James!” Bridget exclaimed. “Ye must have been up before dawn to have caught these.” His thoughtfulness helped ease the heaviness in her chest. She wouldn’t have her sister by her side, but she was surrounded by good people—new friends. Her gaze lingered on James, and heat rose to her cheeks.
Perhaps, a special new friend.

Although Alana appeared grateful and thanked James, Bridget noted no light in her eyes, as she’d seen before when her sister looked at Timkin.

Perhaps she truly isn’t interested in James.

But Bridget wasn’t so sure about James, who’d just given Alana a dimpled smile.

Harry climbed into the front seat, gathered the reins, and released the brake.

Her throat tight, Bridget waved good-bye. Shading her eyes with her hand, she watched the sleigh until the vehicle dwindled to a speck, and then passed out of sight. She inhaled a bracing breath, determined not to cry. Her new acquaintances didn’t deserve a moping newcomer in their midst. She plastered on a smile and turned to Samantha. “Would ye mind if I spent some time in the barn becoming acquainted with yer horses?” Shrugging, she gave a self-depreciating laugh. “I’m horse mad, ye see.”

Samantha’s eyes twinkled. “So am I. I’m going to check on Sally and see if she wants the broth Mrs. Toffels made. You go meet the horses. I promise you, there will be some that surprise you.”

Again, James’s smile showed his dimples. “I’ll join you after I’ve washed up, so I can show you around.”

Her spirits lifted, and Bridget wondered if the rise was due to the idea of horses, especially surprise horses, or James’s company.
Probably both.

Bridget moved toward the barn, careful of her footing on the icy spots. She pushed open one of the great doors and stepped inside, pulling it shut behind her.

For a moment she closed her eyes, just taking in the scent of horses, hay, leather, and manure. Behind her lids, tears pricked her eyes, and she inhaled a deep breath, feeling a blissful sense of homecoming.

A horse nickered, and she heard the stomp of a shod hoof. Unable to bear the suspense any longer, she opened her eyes.

The squire’s barn had been several centuries old, the walls made of stone, the ceiling lower and the light dimmer than in this soaring wooden structure. The immense space seemed empty, with only a few horses poking their heads over the stall doors. Most of the cowboys must be out on the range.