Читать книгу: «Big Sky Homecoming»

Chapter One

Bar Crossing, Montana January 1890

Rose Bell pushed back a scream of frustration. Even so, she spoke with more anger than sorrow. “The poor creatures. Pa, let me off here. You take Ma to the house and I’ll take care of these animals.” The sheep had been turned out of their pen and one of the older ewes was mired in a snowbank next to the shed. The others milled around, uncertain as to whether they should enjoy their freedom or panic because there were no fences to keep them safe.

At least they wouldn’t drown in the river today. It was frozen over. That was a mercy.

She hopped down before the wagon stopped moving and raced toward the ewe. “Come on, girl.” She pulled and tugged and cooed but the sheep had been there long enough her wool had frozen to the snow, anchoring her firmly.

“Can I help?”

With a startled squeak she turned around to stare at Douglas Caldwell, the golden-haired son and heir of the Caldwell family.

Everyone else called him by his nickname, “Duke,” but she couldn’t bring herself to. It sounded friendly and neighborly and the Caldwells were anything but that. Pa had bought this bit of land eight years ago and turned it into a productive farm. But it happened to encroach on the boundaries of the Caldwell Ranch. They learned later that the filing clerk had made a mistake. Despite that, the land belonged to the Bells—clear and legal.

To this day Mr. Caldwell refused to accept the facts. He had tried every means he could think of to get them to leave. He’d offered money. He’d talked; at first kindly then threateningly. When none of that worked he’d had his cowboys harass the Bells and their animals. The garden had been trampled a number of times. Caldwell cows had eaten or destroyed portions of the oat crop. Just a few months ago, one of the lambs had drowned when the animals had mysteriously escaped their pasture and found their way to the river. But the worst thing they’d done to date was stampede the cows through the yard as the Bells harvested the garden. Pa had been injured. He still had sore ribs. She knew by the way he moved and the number of naps he took that he felt poorly.

The cowboys always managed to make their activities look like accidents, so the sheriff couldn’t do anything.

It was on the tip of Rose’s tongue to tell young Mr. Caldwell she didn’t need his help but he’d already dismounted and come to her side. “It’s going to take a good pull to get her out of that.”

“I know.”

He grinned down at her. “Hello, Rose. How have you been?”

She pushed her hair back under her knit hat.

His gaze followed the movement of her hands. She half expected him to say something about her red hair as he’d done when they were in early grades at school. Instead his blue eyes darkened and he swallowed hard.

As if he liked what he saw.

She pressed her lips tight. The cold must be affecting her brain. Except she wasn’t cold. She’d worked up plenty of heat struggling with the ewe.

Surely she only imagined his look. She stole a glance at him. He still looked at what little of her hair showed from beneath her hat. He still had a bemused look about him.

Remembering his question, she said, “I’ve been just fine, Mr. Caldwell. Did Philadelphia survive your visit?”

He’d been gone a year, visiting his grandparents, and had returned a couple of weeks ago. In time to spend Christmas with his family.

“Philadelphia won’t even notice I’ve left.”

Odd way to put it. She hadn’t given it much mind but if she had, she would have expected him to sound regretful at having to leave the city. No, she hadn’t given it much mind, she silently mocked herself. Only thought of it maybe once or twice a day. She’d half expected to see him every time she went to town and every Sunday at church and even when she was out riding. That’s what happened when two people grew up in the same community. You got accustomed to seeing each other even if you weren’t on friendly terms.

The young man who seemed to be his new sidekick hurried over to the ewe and fell to his knees at her side. “You poor thing.” He wrapped his arms around her neck.

“Billy, this is our neighbor, Rose Bell.” Duke spoke softly, which brought Rose’s attention back to him so fast her neck creaked. She preferred to think of Duke as brash. Hearing him speak so gently, so tenderly—

Good grief, she was losing her mind.

“Rose, this is Billy Taylor.”

Billy got to his feet. “Hi, Rose. Pretty name. Just like your hair.” Billy stared at her hair.

Rose resisted an urge to push it more tightly under her hat. She felt again Duke’s study and forced herself to look directly at the young man he’d introduced. “Nice meeting you, Billy.”

Billy’s grin was wide and eager. He pressed a hand to his mouth and looked embarrassed.

It was hard to gauge his age but she guessed him to be in his early twenties. He didn’t seem the kind of companion she’d expect Duke to pick. But then, what sort did she expect?

She couldn’t rightly say. She’d done her best to avoid Duke all her life—partly because he teased her about her red hair but even more because he was a Caldwell. It had proved difficult to ignore him. They’d attended the same school. He was only a year older so they’d often ended up working together on some project. They’d gone to the same church. They’d even gone to the same gatherings where he’d often managed to become her partner at games.

Mostly, she assured herself, to annoy her and to tease her about her red hair.

Duke stepped into the deep snow beside the ewe. “What do you think, Billy? How are we going to get her out of this?” The ewe bleated at his arrival.

“You won’t hurt her, will ya?” Billy’s face wrinkled with concern. She realized he had the mind of a child, which confused her even more.

“Not if I can help it.” Duke tried to lift the edges of the ewe’s fleece. “She’s froze in.” He stood to his knees in snow, tipped his hat back and scratched his forehead. “I don’t know anything about sheep. Can we pull her out?” He turned to Rose.

She realized she’d been staring at him and jerked her attention back to the sheep. What was wrong with her? She sucked in a steadying breath. The same thing that had been wrong with her the year before he’d left. She’d struggled with reconciling the teasing boy he’d been with the handsome young man he had turned into. He was even more handsome now. His blue eyes drilled into her thoughts and sent them skittering back and forth like the sheep around her. Some running, glad to be free, but then stopping, uncertain what they wanted to do with that freedom.

Now she was thinking like a stupid sheep. She closed the door to such foolishness. She, Rose Bell, age eighteen, was a levelheaded, practical sort of person. One who dealt calmly with challenges.

She moved closer to the ewe, which brought her closer to Duke. She stumbled in the deep snow and he caught her by the arm.

“Steady there.” His voice deepened.

Her cheeks burned and she knew they would be almost as red as her hair. He dropped her arm. A warm spot remained where it had been. She forced her attention to the bleating sheep. “She wouldn’t feel it if we pulled her wool free from the ice. Though she’ll likely be frightened.”

Billy tipped his head down to meet the ewe’s eyes. “We’re going to help you so don’t be scared. Okay?” He patted her head.

Just as Lilly would do.

Rose missed her twin sister so much. And her older sister, Cora, too. Not that she didn’t see them almost every Sunday. She even visited Lilly most Saturdays, as well. But Cora had married Wyatt in the fall and Lilly had married Caleb in December. Rose, alone, remained at home. Likely she’d stay with her ma and pa until they passed.

She was happy for her sisters in their newly wedded state but she didn’t figure she’d ever marry. Too many people cared about the background of the Bell sisters—or rather, their lack of background.

Ma and Pa Bell had found the three of them on the prairie when Cora was five and the twins only three. The girls could remember their papa riding away in a wagon with a promise to return, but two days and a night later, he had not. The Bells had taken the girls home and when no birth parents could be located, they’d adopted them. Not everyone approved. Not everyone thought the girls belonged in the community.

When she was about eight, Rose was in the store with her sisters and Ma. She had wandered down the aisles, fascinated by the display of the many colors of embroidery threads. Two women were in there, as well, and one had said to the other, “I wonder what the Bells have gotten themselves into. Taking in orphans like those girls. Who knows what sort of family they came from? I tell you, there’s something wrong with people who would abandon their children, and goodness knows how those traits are passed down to their offspring. Mark my words, you’ll see that mental weakness come to light soon enough.”

Then a teacher in school had made a point of calling the girls “adopted” at every opportunity. As if it marked them in a special—but not good—way.

All of that she could have overlooked if it hadn’t been for her unhappy experience with George Olsen. She’d thought him kind; a gentleman who’d eagerly accompanied her on walks about town.

But his mother had put an end to that. “We know nothing of their background. It’s important to think about that when you court a girl. You never know what kind of family you are getting involved with in Rose’s case. What kind of bloodlines does she carry? No, it’s better that you know what you’re getting into.” Mrs. Olsen had been unaware that Rose had seen and heard every word.

Rose had turned and fled. Her sisters and parents had persuaded her to tell them why she’d been so upset. Ma had hugged her and assured her the only background she needed was to know she was loved. “You are my sweet Red Rose. A young woman with determination in her veins. Rose, my dear, you will someday thank God for giving you your strong nature.”

After that, Rose had forsaken any idea of finding a beau. But she had not thanked God for her strong nature. Or her red hair.

Cora and Lilly had found men who were willing to overlook their lack of background.

Rose did not expect to be so fortunate.

Especially with someone the likes of Duke Caldwell...

She pressed her hand to her forehead. Where did such foolish thoughts come from?

Duke watched her with steady eyes filled with concern. “We can’t leave her here.”

He’d mistaken her despair for concern for the sheep, not concern for her own security. She knew where caring about a man would lead. Especially a Caldwell.

Not that she cared about Duke. Not in the least. Never had. Never would.

She started to pull the wool from the snow, strand by strand.

Billy murmured comfort to the sheep and Duke worked by Rose’s side, following her example. His hands were sure and gentle. He seemed not a bit put out to be helping a sheep even though he was a cattleman and they hated sheep. How many times had she overheard remarks in town? “Woolies destroy the grass. They eat it to the roots. It never grows back.”

She could have told the cowboys they were wrong, but knew there was no point. People believed what they chose to believe.

But Duke acted as though the ewe was no different than a cow or a horse. Or maybe he didn’t care what others thought of sheep.

It must be sweet to be so sure of oneself.

“This is Lilly’s first ewe. She calls her Mammy. Mammy will come when Lilly calls her.” She couldn’t stop talking. “But she won’t come when I call her. You wouldn’t think it would make a difference, would you?”

“I hear Lilly is married now.”

“And Cora, too. Cora and Wyatt and his brother, Lonny, are on Jack Henry’s ranch. You remember Jack Henry?”

“Yup.” He continued loosening wool and she continued her endless chatter.

“Lilly married Caleb. He has a little son, Teddy. They’re in town for now, though Caleb says he’ll be getting his own ranch come spring. Right now they want to be in town so Teddy can go to school. He couldn’t walk for a while.”

“That so?”

“It is.” And as suddenly as the burst of words had come, they ended. She couldn’t think of a thing to say.

They had Mammy’s wool loosened on one side and together they moved to the other.

A couple of minutes later Duke straightened and stuck his hands on his hips.

She grinned to herself and ducked her head. His stance should look powerful but with snow up to his knees it only looked as if he might lose his balance.

“What next?” he asked.

She waded out of the snowbank and turned to call, “Mammy, come, Mammy.”

Mammy bleated but made no effort to move.

Rose jammed her hands into fists. “Why will you come when Lilly calls you and refuse to come when I do?”

Billy hugged the sheep around her neck. “It’s okay. She’s not mad at you.” He backed up. “Come on, Mammy. You don’t want to stay here. The snow is cold.” As he backed toward Rose, Mammy followed.

“Good job. How did you do that?” Rose asked Billy, so pleased to see Mammy out of the snowbank she could have hugged the young man.

Duke chuckled. “Billy gets along well with animals.”

Billy beamed at Duke’s praise, then turned to Rose. “Where do you want her?”

She led him to the sheep pen and Mammy followed, bleating happily to be back inside.

Rose turned to contemplate the other animals. “Now, if only they would come as easily.” Then realizing it sounded as though she meant to ask them to help, she smiled at Billy. “Thanks for your help.” She turned to Duke. Her breath stuck halfway up her throat at his wide smile and flashing eyes. Must he look so handsome? So happy? So appealing?

“Thanks for your help, as well.” She managed to squeak the words out.

“Thank me when we’re done.” He held her gaze a moment, then turned toward the other milling sheep. “Billy, do you suppose you could call them in?”

“I’ll try... Come, sheepie. Come.”

A couple trotted toward him but the rest acted as though they couldn’t hear.

“Stupid sheep,” Rose muttered as she marched around the furthest one—the headstrong ram—hoping to head it in the right direction. Of course it ran the opposite way.

Duke ran around the animal, waving his arms. “Shoo. Shoo.”

The sheep skidded to a halt and looked around for a way of escape.

“Shoo. I said shoo.” He jerked his hands toward the sheep.

The sheep baaed and lowered his head. Should she warn him about how the ram reacted to being chased?

But before she could, Duke jumped toward the ram. She stared at the way the animal backed up, still bleating his protest. He turned tail and trotted toward the pen, never once losing his voice.

Duke hurried after the ram. “Shoo. Shoo.”

A cowboy on foot chasing a sheep! Who would have thought she’d ever see the day? When she told Lilly, they would get a good laugh out of it.

Grub, their flop-eared, useless but well-loved dog, loped toward the sheep. Until now he’d been supervising Ma and Pa unloading the wagon, hoping for a handout.

He ran straight into the midst of the sheep, scattering them every which way.

Duke’s eyes grew wide. “Stop. Shoo. Shoo.” He waved his arms madly at the sheep.

Rose started to giggle.

Duke pulled to a halt at her side. “Share the joke.”

She shook her head, not because she didn’t want to but because she wondered if he might be offended.

He nudged her with his elbow. “No fair. I like a good joke.”

“Very well.” She fluttered her hands toward the sheep who’d decided to ignore Grub and follow the ram. “Shoo. Shoo.” She tossed her head like an annoyed sheep. “Baa. Baa.”

No doubt seeing in her actions how silly he looked, he grinned at her and then a chuckle rumbled from him. They held each other’s gaze as they laughed.

“They’re all in,” Billy called.

Rose pulled the gate closed and secured it firmly, as she did each and every time.

“How did they get the gate open?” Duke asked.

“Not by themselves, you can be sure.” She slowly came about to face him. “And I think you know it. This is another of the Caldwell tricks.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. His expression grew fierce. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Oh, come on. Since we moved here, the Caldwell cowboys have harassed us endlessly.” The injustice of it burned a hot path through her thoughts. “Cows stampeded over the garden. Sheep turned out.” She waved at the tracks through the snow. “This fall a lamb drowned.”

Billy gasped.

“And my pa was injured when cows were run through the yard this fall.”

“I had nothing to do with it,” Duke averred.

“You’re a Caldwell.” She faced him squarely, her eyes burning with her raw feelings.

He studied her for a moment. Shock gave way to indifference. “Come on, Billy. It’s time to go.”

Without another word, they returned to their horses.

“Thanks for your help,” she said, reluctant to end the afternoon on such a sour note. For a few minutes they had worked together and laughed together.

Too bad it couldn’t be like that more often. But the land feud put them at enmity. That fact burned up her throat.

“Tell your father that the Bells aren’t leaving.”

* * *

“Rose is a pretty lady,” Billy said.

“She sure is.” In the year he’d been away, she had blossomed from child to woman. Not that she’d ever been ugly. He’d known her most of his life, attended the same school and the same church. But ever since he’d turned eleven years old they’d been separated by a wide chasm.

His father had never, nor would he ever, accept the mistake that had allowed the Bells to start a farm jutting into the boundaries of the Caldwell Ranch. Father resented the Bells taking advantage of the clerical error. The honorable thing to do, he’d insisted throughout the years, would be to stick to the spirit of the law rather than the letter of it. Worse still was the fact that the intruders were sodbusters who broke the land and put up fences. But the worst of all was that the Bells refused to budge despite every offer to buy them out and numerous attempts to drive them from the land. The whole disagreement had grown over the years until it had become a feud that made no sense.

“I like her,” Billy continued.

“Me, too.” He always had, though he hadn’t been able to express it properly when they were kids so he’d teased her. She’d gotten all prickly but beneath the prickly thorns was a beautiful Rose. He’d always known it but it had never been more evident than today.

He sat back in his saddle, reliving every moment of the afternoon. Rose, her face flushed from her exertion. Rose, her green eyes flashing as she laughed at him chasing the sheep. He grinned. He didn’t normally chase things on foot, but it had been worth it for those few moments of shared laughter.

His pleasure was cut short. She held him at least partially responsible for the feud simply because he was a Caldwell.

This feud should have ended years ago. His father had no call to try to drive the Bells from their land. It had to stop before someone got seriously injured. He’d noticed Mr. Bell limping the few times he’d seen him in town. He’d put it down to age. His teeth clenched. Instead, Rose held the Caldwells responsible. He knew Father would say it was an accident. Not the Caldwells’ fault in the least. But Duke knew Rose was likely correct—Caldwell cowboys had done it. And next time it might not end so well.

He rode up to the ranch house and dismounted.

“Billy, can you take care of the horses?”

Billy grinned as he took the reins of both animals. “I’ll brush ’em really good, Boss.”

Duke chuckled. Normally he wouldn’t have been so eager to take care of the animals, except all the cowboys were away, so no one would tease him. He’d met Billy in Philadelphia and, when he realized the young man had no family, had brought him back with him. Billy hadn’t started calling him “boss” until they’d arrived at the ranch and Billy had realized Duke’s family owned the place.

Still chuckling, Duke entered through the kitchen door. Mrs. Humphrey slipped cookies from a baking sheet onto a cooling rack.

“Mmm. Cookies. Smells good.” He snagged up two as he passed and bit into one. “Hot.”

Mrs. Humphrey shook a towel at him. “They just came out of the oven. What did you expect?”

“I sure did miss your cooking while I was away.” He crossed toward the sitting-room door.

“Glad to have you back, Duke,” she called.

“Not half as glad as I am to be back.” He’d enjoyed meeting his grandparents, aunts and uncles and cousins in Philadelphia but every day he’d missed Montana.

He stepped into the sitting room and stared at the traveling bags lined up. Mother laid a coat across a nearby chair.

“You going away?”

“Governor Toole has sent your father an invitation to attend some meetings. Your father thinks he might be asked to work on a committee.”

“I need to speak to him before he goes.”

“You’ll find him in the office.”

Duke crossed the room and stepped into his father’s office. Father gathered papers together and slipped them into a satchel.

“Can we talk?” Duke waited, hoping his father would give him his undivided attention. He didn’t.

“By all means. I’m leaving you in charge while I’m gone.”

Duke’s chest swelled with anticipation. Since his return, he’d wanted to take on more responsibility.

“Not that there’ll be anything requiring attention. Ebner has things under control.”

The foreman. Duke’s chest deflated. Would his father ever see him as capable? It was ironic. Father—the one person who should value him as a Caldwell—didn’t, while others couldn’t overlook it.

He’d experienced it many times over his life. Like the time when Duke was fourteen and a man befriended him. Duke soon learned it was only so he could approach “Mr. Caldwell” for a favor.

Then there was Jane Johnson, a gal he’d courted for a very short time before his trip to Philadelphia. She’d expected gifts and tokens, and when he’d failed to bring them she’d claimed surely a Caldwell could afford to win her affections that way. He wasn’t interested in her anymore.

In Philadelphia, being a Caldwell had brought the ladies flocking to his side. He’d thought they were truly interested in him. Especially Enid Elliot. She’d hung on his every word. Made him feel ten feet tall. They’d even discussed marriage. He’d been about to offer his hand when he’d overheard her talking to her friends.

“He’s a Caldwell. His name and money are worth overlooking the fact I find him a bit loutish. All he talks about is his horse and his ranch.” She’d made a dismissive noise. “I have no intention of living out west. He’ll soon come to see my point of view.”

He’d come to his senses rather quickly after that and the offer of marriage had never been made. In hindsight, he considered himself fortunate to have discovered the truth beforehand, but it hurt to know her attention had been for such a selfish reason.

To Enid, being a Caldwell meant she could benefit from his name.

To Rose, being a Caldwell meant he was her opponent.

He wished he could just be Duke and have someone care about him for his sake alone.

He sucked in a long breath and focused on what he meant to say to his father. “I’ll manage everything.” He sank into a chair in front of the big mahogany desk. How often had he tiptoed into this room when Father was away and sat in Father’s chair, taken up pen and paper and pretended he was in charge? He’d planned the things he’d wanted to do, the changes he’d like to make. He’d implement a new breeding program with imported bulls. He’d put up hay for the winter—

Now was not the time for dreaming. “Father, could you sit down a moment?”

His father gave him a distracted look, then sat. “I don’t have long. We’re planning to leave first thing in the morning.”

That would give Father plenty of time to listen to Duke’s request and to act on it. “Father, I happened to ride by the Bells on my way home and found their sheep had been let out of the pen.”

“They should have better fences.”

Father and son studied each other, measuring, assessing. Duke would not blink, would not show any sign of weakness in front of this powerful man who considered his word to be law.

“Their fences and gates are perfectly adequate and I think you know it. Someone opened the gate and let the sheep out. Just like someone purposely drove the cattle over their property and did a number of other destructive things. Father, the land is theirs. We have no right to harass them. It’s wrong.” Knowing his father meant to go to Helena to see the governor, Duke saw how he could use that to his advantage.

“Governor Toole would not view it as appropriate. Don’t you think it’s time to end this?”

Father tented his fingertips and looked thoughtful.

Duke pressed his point. “Inform the cowboys to end their harassment before you go, then you can go to Helena knowing you’ve done the honorable thing.”

“Son, I think you’d make a good politician.”

Duke would be happy being a good neighbor.

Father pushed back from the desk and got to his feet. “You have a point. I’ll deal with this before I leave.”

Duke got up, too, and offered his hand to Father. They shook.

The feud was over.

He’d tell Rose himself.

* * *

He’d fine-tuned his plans last night and rose Sunday morning eager to start the day. He knew the Bells didn’t work on Sunday, so that afternoon would be a perfect opportunity to pay them a visit.

His parents left early for Helena as he and Billy prepared for church. They rode their horses into town, many greeting him as he swung down and strode toward the church steps.

The Bells were already seated in their customary place. He studied the new husbands some. They looked like nice enough fellows.

The Caldwells always sat on the left side of the church, two pews from the front. But today he chose a spot across from the Bells, in a back a row where he could watch Rose without appearing to.

She wore her rich red hair braided and wound around her head in a fetching way. Strands of it had escaped to hang down in little curls that brushed her neck.