Montana Sky_An Unlikely Marriage Read online

  Guilt stabbed him square in the chest. Even at those numbers, he’d been sugar-coating his estimate. If they rose at dawn, they could travel five hours before an hour-long break at mid-day and then ride another five before setting up camp. Forty miles was his goal, but he’d settle for thirty. Unless they ran up against a mountain range. Which was a distinct possibility, because he hadn’t yet spotted a familiar landmark. “Eat up, darlin’. I’m hungry as a bear and am having more.”

  He stood and stepped to the stove. As he refilled his plate, he watched her in the reflection of the window and saw her eat a few more bites. This time her wince wasn’t as deep. In silence, he finished his second helping. The exertions of the day and his recovery from imbibing too much alcohol pulled on his energy. The stove kept the small space heated and before his last bite, he noticed his eyelids growing heavy. “Let me wash the dishes tonight.” Her plate was almost empty, and he figured she’d had enough.

  Torin stood and rested his good hand on her shoulder, waiting until she looked up to meet his gaze. “I’ll step outside so you can put on your night clothes and be back in five minutes. No hammock tonight. You need decent sleep, so we’ll share the mattress like on our first night.”

  Nodding, she reached her hand to cover his and squeezed.

  Before he left, he set the kettle onto a burner so dishwashing could be accomplished with the greatest speed. Outside, he made one last check on the horses, tugging at the knots, and looking at the hobbles to make sure they were still in place.

  Far off in the distance, a wolf howled echoed by its mate. The whoop-whoop of a bird’s wings—probably an owl—faded. A small critter rustled in the underbrush. All sounds that comforted him, informing him that no danger was near. The air wasn’t as cold tonight, and he credited the trees with trapping the horses’ body heat.

  Upon entering the wagon, he saw the leashes draped over the settee and figured this was Nola’s way of telling him he needed to walk the dogs. Ten minutes later, he dried his hands after finishing the dishes. Even though he hadn’t heard his wife’s voice since first thing that morning, he didn’t feel lonely. They’d communicated as best they could, and she’d been within his sight for the majority of the day. He stripped off his denims and flannel shirt and was about to drop them on the floor. Instead, he opened the cupboard where he’d stashed his coat and laid them underneath. Tonight, the sling topped the clothing stack.

  Moving as gently as he could, he climbed under the quilts and curled up behind Nola’s sleeping form. As a last thought, he pulled open the curtain over their heads, so the dawning light could be their alarm clock.

  With a wiggle, she scooted backward until her back pressed against his chest.

  Unable to resist, he rested his hand on her hip, his finger fitting perfectly curved on the slender bone. The touch was like a brand that claimed mine.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  One day bled into another, and the routine was the same. Rise at dawn, cook food, ride Captain leading a string of horses, stop mid-day and cook food, ride for more hours, then stop in the waning sunlight and cook again. The only difference was in the make-up of their meals—either fish caught at a stream or sage grouse when the path took them away from running water.

  Thankfully, the weather held and the days were cold, but no rain or snow fell. Nola barely thought of anything past completing one task before gritting her teeth and moving on to the next. Complaining about her situation would gain nothing—this arrangement she toiled under had been her idea, and standing in that house of worship, she’d vowed for better or worse. Unfortunately, all she’d endured so far could only be classified as the worse part.

  After the third day, the soreness in her throat disappeared, and she’d regained her voice. The aches and pains in her body from riding all day had subsided to an ever-present tightness. One positive aspect from the experience was her gratitude at how much easier riding while wearing trousers was. Her past suffragette reading included articles mentioning the Bloomer Craze of the early 1850s, and Nola should have paid more attention. Those women had the right idea about dressing to achieve physical freedom.

  Following their noon meal, she guided Captain down a small rise into a valley. The air was definitely warmer than they’d been experiencing since leaving Sweetwater Springs. Both sides of the valley were bounded by tall mountain ranges, taller than she’d seen so far on their trip. She hoped the path to Torin’s ranch wasn’t over them.

  Without the need to tuck her chin tight to her chest, she glanced around and spotted brilliant colors of red and orange where leaves still clung to branches. Under a tree canopy, she caught movement and focused on a group of four deer grazing. She didn’t think she’d ever seen these animals in the wild, and they were smaller than she’d imagined. A whinny from one of the horses startled the group, and they jerked up their heads, ears erect, then scattered out of sight with graceful leaps.

  Sitting more erect in the saddle allowed her to appreciate the beauty and wildness of the territory they rode through. A different focus helped keep her alert. The mountains weren’t all one color like they appeared from a distance, but they were actually a mixture of greens, browns, and grays with white snow capping the peaks. A wide variety of trees dotted the valley and climbed up the foothills.

  “Yahoo.” Torin’s shout broke the silence and echoed from the hills.

  Twisting in the saddle, she looked back to the wagon for what the shout meant .

  He stood in the driver’s box, signaling her to wait for him to catch up.

  “Whoa.” She pulled back on the reins, easing Captain to a halt, and then watched that the mustangs followed his example. Straightening her legs, she eased her bottom off the saddle. When she got a chance, she’d have to write Cinnia and tell her the benefits of horseback riding and the tautness the exercise had given her legs. The team pulled abreast of her on the right with about ten feet separating them and her horse.

  “This is great. See those mountains to the east.” Torin extended his arm toward the right, past where he’d stopped the wagon. “Those are the Castle Mountains. I’ve heard about those spires that spawned the name. Up ahead will be a community called Ringling.”

  The excitement in his voice sparked a suspicion. Over the past days of travel, he hadn’t pointed out landmarks or named any place they’d passed. “Does this mean you haven’t known where we were headed until now?”

  He grinned and shrugged. “I knew by riding north we’d run into something familiar eventually. When I spotted a known landmark, I’d know how to alter our course.”

  The man sure had an adventurous spirit. But in their short time together, she’d come to rely on his judgment. “Some might interpret that to mean we’ve been lost?” She did her best to scrunch her face into a disapproving expression but couldn’t hold it. His excitement was infectious. “Oh, Torin, you are one of a kind. So does this mean we’re close to Four Clovers?”

  “Nope.” The grin faded. “But we are about halfway.”

  Nola couldn’t help the sigh that slipped through her lips. Four more days of riding.

  “If it’s any consolation, we’re making good time, Nola. I know the trip is tough, but you’ve been great.” He smiled again, and his eyes glinted in the sunshine. “What would you say to stopping a couple hours early to take advantage of a mineral hot springs?”

  She couldn’t hide her gasp of delight. “A real bath? I’d love it.”

  “We’ll cross to the eastern side of the valley and stop in Ringling for directions. Be thinking of any supplies we need.”

  Giving him a short bow, she swept her hand forward. “Lead on. I’ll follow the wagon for a spell.”

  Her thoughts were filled with anticipation of being clean again. Such a luxury. For the next few hours, Nola didn’t notice the discomforts of the ride. She passed the time guessing the names of the trees and bushes she saw, wondering if Torin’s family had a book with such details. At the mercantile in Ringling, a town consis
ting of a single block of businesses, Nola opted to remain on Captain. The mention of a bath forced her to take a realistic look at her appearance, and she was too embarrassed to be seen—even by folks she’d never meet again. Chalk up the sentiment to being a performer and wanting to always put her best foot forward.

  Luckily, the hot springs were only a few rods into the foothills, and the path was hard-packed so the wagon managed well. Torin steered the team in a half-circle under a tall oak tree and called a stop. They both set to work on their chores. In this location, the sticks for the rope corral were needed for a portion of the enclosure, and Nola performed her part of the task without prompting. She thought of what food was in the larder and what would be the quickest to cook.

  “Looks good, thanks.”

  Nola arched her back and glanced around at their campsite. “I just noticed you have a knack for picking places to camp that provide protection on at least one side.” Tonight’s spot was backed by a rock wall, with a canopy of tree branches over the wagon, and looked out on open prairie.

  “Been riding out to collect mustangs for six years now. I’ve learned a thing or two about recognizing a good spot.” He used his boot to roll a stone toward the flat ground near the wagon. “Tonight we’ll have a campfire.”

  Nola bent over, gathered a good-sized rock, and walked it over to the other one. “I’ll appreciate that for drying my hair.”

  “I’ll finish the fire ring. Gather your bathing things, and I’ll show you where the pool is.”

  “You’ll get no argument.” She grinned and dashed to the wagon. Within a minute, she stuffed what she needed into a cloth bag and clambered down the steps.

  Now Torin stood inside the small circle of rocks and used his boot heel to scratch away weedy grass.

  Impatience to get to the hot springs fueled her moves. After watching as long as she could stand, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Maybe I can help.”

  He glanced up and grinned. “I wondered how long you’d wait.”

  She still wasn’t used to being teased so she just shook her head.

  “Take my hand, and I’ll lead you. The rocks might be a bit tough.”

  Only a couple of inclines and a switchback separated their camp from the pool surrounded by boulders. But she was happy for his help. The air smelled humid, and spirals of steam rose from the blue-green surface. “How hot is the water?”

  “The man at the mercantile said people come out here all the time. So I suppose it’s not too hot.” He stepped down to the edge, squatted, and swished his hand, causing ripples to dance. “Warmer than bath water but tolerable.” Torin glanced around then pointed. “Those rocks look the smoothest, but be sure to keep your boots handy.”

  That he put her safety first melted her heart. “Okay, now off with you.”

  He rose. “Sure, you don’t need help scrubbing your back?” An eyebrow cocked at a devilish angle.

  “Been doing it just fine all these years.” She clutched her bag close. “Thank you for making this detour. I noticed we had to go off course a way to reach this spot.”

  Torin grinned, but he shook his head. “You’re not the only one anxious for a soak. Get in the water so I can have my turn.” Then he climbed down the rocks out of sight.

  As fast as she could, Nola hurried down the rocks to the water’s edge and stripped off her shirt and jeans. The cool air nipped at her bared skin. She lined up her soap, towel, and night rail in the order she’d need them with her boots at the far end. Then she slid into the water wearing only her chemise and pantalettes. The heated water caressed her body like a warm quilt on a wintry day.

  After a couple of tries, she found a flattish rock that served well as a seat and leaned back her head. Closing her eyes allowed her to focus on how her muscles loosened and the tightness disappeared. By scooting forward a few inches, she could dip her head into the water. Overhead, patches of clear blue sky peeked visible through the branches. This would be a magical place to soak under a starry sky.

  Whatever was in the water gave her limbs a floaty feeling. She swirled her arms over the surface, enjoyed the water’s caress. Suddenly feeling the water on her calves and arms wasn’t enough—she wanted it on every inch of her skin. Before she thought her action through, she peeled off her chemise and wriggled out of her pantalettes. In a flash, she washed each and stretched them on a rock in the sun. A faint memory rose of skinny dipping in a pond near the farm where she grew up. That was the last time she’d been totally naked in nature.

  To wash her body, she had to perch on a rock above the water line, reminding her of a scandalous Hieronymus Bosch painting she’d seen of men and women naked together in a garden scene. As she rubbed the cake of soap over her body, she thought of Torin and what sharing the pool with him would be like. Did married people bathe together? A decadent thought, to be sure, but a thrill went through her, making her pulse race.

  “Nola? You still there?”

  She squealed and ducked below the surface, expecting to see his head rise above the rocks at any second. “I’m almost done.” With no more lingering, she finished bathing and stood shivering as she dried and pulled on her night rail. At the last minute, she ducked her jeans and shirt into the water and scrubbed the soap bar over the smelly clothes. Slowly, she picked her way down the rocky path, holding the dripping clothes away from her body.

  Torin walked toward her, a bundle slung over his left arm, and held out his hand. “Feel better?”

  Happiness filled her smile. “I feel wonderful.” They walked together until the path flattened then she waved him away. “Go. Enjoy your soak.”

  “Oh, I will.”

  Nola had gone only a dozen steps or so when she remembered she hadn’t passed him the soap. So she turned and trudged back up the path. Just as she reached the top of the second incline, she spotted Torin slipping into the pool, his naked legs and backside disappearing from view. Her breath caught in her throat, and a strange sensation invaded her belly. When she dared to look again, she saw him running soapy hands over his muscled arms and his broad chest.

  Of course, he’d have his own soap. What have I done? She’d invaded his privacy, and she really should apologize. Her thoughts were in a tumult as she retraced her steps, aiming to be as quiet as possible. An hour passed as she dried her hair and prepared their meal before she could meet his gaze. When she stretched out on the mattress that night, she couldn’t banish the image of his strong muscled body. Not only did the memory keep her awake long after she heard Torin’s light snores, but she fought to deny the need to touch the carved marble exquisiteness of what she’d seen. How was she to follow her dream without satisfying that need…if only just once?

  ****

  Three days of hard riding brought them within a day of Four Clovers. They lingered in the folding chairs set near the campfire, finishing the last of the evening meal. The skillet hash that Nola prepared must be easy to fix, because she varied it little. Torin looked forward to tasting his mother’s cooking again. Then immediately he felt disloyal to Nola. Maybe he’d whisper in Mama’s ear that Nola was too shy to ask for cooking lessons. He leaned down to grab the coffeepot he’d bought in the small town. A week without coffee had been long enough. “Nola, the end’s in sight.”

  Her head popped up. “You mean we’re almost there?”

  “Yep, we should arrive mid-afternoon tomorrow, barring emergencies.”

  She looked all around then jumped up and ran to the wagon, knocking twice on the side. “Don’t even say the word.”

  “You’re superstitious?” He laughed at her furtive attitude.

  “Only a little. But based on years of performing. Why tempt fate?” She sat again, turned up the collar of her coat, and shivered. “The temperature’s dropping.”

  “Let’s go inside. We’ll talk there.”

  A while later, the dishes were done and put in the cupboards. The dogs had been fed and were curled up on the settee.

  Th
ey sat at the table, cupping a hand around their beverage of choice.

  Torin flexed his fingers, glad his wrist was getting stronger every day. He’d abandoned the sling after the soak in the hot springs, but he still kept his wrist wrapped. Today was the first day he’d ridden Aengus, and based on the dull twinge in his wrist, he might need a dose of willow bark tea before turning in. “I need to tell you what to expect.”

  “That sounds ominous.” She leaned her forearms on the table. “Probably they’ll be surprised you’re not alone.”

  “Won’t be a surprise. I wired that news from Sweetwater Springs.”

  “What did you say?” She sipped at her tea, watching him. “That you hired someone helping with the mustangs.”

  “That I was arriving with a wife.”

  Her eyes shot wide. “A temporary wife, right? That we married just so I could help you.”

  “Not exactly.” Guilt settled in his gut. He should have told her this earlier. So she could have a longer time to adjust. “Telegrams are expensive, and I just said I’d married and should return within two weeks.”

  “You could—oh.” She jumped up and paced to the end of the wagon, the dogs trailing her path. “This will be awkward. Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Quaid, how do you do? My name is Nola York. Sorry but I don’t really use your last name, because this marriage was just so my reputation wasn’t besmirched by traipsing through Montana Territory with your son unescorted.”

  “Nola.” The anxiety in her voice pained him. He wanted to tell her that over the past two weeks since he’d met her he’d fallen in love. Carefree Torin had given up his heart to a feisty woman who he suspected had her heart set on continuing her career.

  “Even if we never met a soul who would have cared about two people driving horses over the prairie.” She threw out her hands to the side. “Add to that the fact that I was practically unrecognizable in my trousers and bulky coat.” She plopped down on the settee.

  “Done with the dramatics?” He sipped his lukewarm coffee and waited. Her little tirades were usually short-lived and then she’d listen to reason.