Debra Holland - [Montana Sky 02] (29 page)

But did he want marriage and children with her?

In the lamplight, Wyatt studied the Blackfoot boy. Although Wyatt had seen Little Feather plenty when he’d visited his daughter during her illness, his mind had been preoccupied. Now he took the time to really assess the child.

The boy’s long black hair was tied with a piece of leather into a horse tail. His face had rounded out, the prominent cheekbones no longer cutting through the brown skin. He still wore Wyatt’s shirt. In fact, now that Wyatt recalled, he’d never seen the Indian without it. But the blue stripes had faded, and the cloth had become a bit threadbare. He’d have to see about replacing that shirt when it finally wore out.

Little Feather murmured to the Falabella in his own language. Calming words, Wyatt could tell by the cadence.

Pampita struggled to get to her feet.

Wyatt grabbed her, keeping her on her side. At least with this small one that crucial task wasn’t so difficult.

A grunting heave from Pampita forced two tiny black hooves out of the vaginal opening. Wyatt waved Little Feather forward. “Go ahead.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed in concentration; his forehead furled. He chanted under his breath. Since Little Feather knew what he was doing, Wyatt knelt back on his heels, allowing the boy to be the sole assistant to the foal’s birth.

Samantha entered the stall, the straw whispering beneath her boots. Her assessing glance took in the situation, and she
touched Wyatt’s shoulder, smiling her approval. Quietly she dropped down next to him.

Time passed as they watched the age-old struggle for a new life to enter the world. Although Wyatt couldn’t even count how many animals he’d seen born, the wonder never left him. He saw by the rapt look on Samantha’s face, that she experienced the same sense of awe.

Under the cover of the straw blanketing the floor, his hand crept toward hers, until, with a tiny electric charge, their fingers touched, entwined. He wanted her. The fecund imagery of the birth had sent primal signals coursing through him, and he could barely keep from pulling this woman into his arms. But the boy was there, and the other children filled the barn with soft laughter and cooing words of encouragement to the new mother and son. Wyatt drew in his desire and told himself there would come a day.

For the rest of the time, Wyatt alternated between observing Little Feather competently deliver the foal, and studying Samantha. The dim lantern light illuminated the panes of her face and shadowed the vivid blue of her eyes, but couldn’t hide the glow of her expression. In the yellow glimmer, pride in Little Feather crossed her countenance, followed by a Madonna-like reverence for the birth process. And once or twice, Wyatt thought he caught a sideways glance at him, and a pleased expression flickering across her face.

When the delicate brown filly wobbled to her feet and Little Feather guided her to suckle, Wyatt squeezed Samantha’s hand in celebration.

She pressed his fingers in return, then, releasing his hand, stood and made her way around the horses to Little Feather. She gave the boy a quick hug, as if afraid the young man wouldn’t
accept the embrace. But Wyatt saw the happiness in the boy’s eyes, and knew Little Feather welcomed the gesture of affection.

“Well done,” Samantha murmured, before bending over to fondle Pampita, crooning praises to her in Spanish.

Well done, indeed
. He’d been wrong about Samantha taking in this boy. Had he been wrong about the others?

Wyatt paced back and forth in front of the steps of the schoolhouse. He’d arrived early, even before Miss Stanton, and had sent the twins and Daniel around to the outhouse to stack the ruined boards. Christine had trotted along by Daniel’s side, eager to supervise.

He stopped, tempted to pull his pocket watch out of the faded denim pants he wore, but resisted. Instead, he glanced around. Across the street at the mercantile, Mrs. Cobb vigorously shined the outside of the plateglass window. Even at this hour, he caught a glimpse of Henry Arden slinking through the shutter doors of the saloon on the other side of the store. Down from the schoolhouse, next to the side of the livery, Pepe perched atop a wagon of hay, forking it up through the loft window of the stables.

Wyatt had come early to catch Miss Stanton in order to fill her in on his notion to have the boys help. He knew Arlie Sloan’s parents didn’t care what trouble their son got into, nor about any punishment he’d receive. But Edith Grayson would be another matter. Already prejudiced against Miss Stanton, she’d be bound to blame the teacher if her son worked out his punishment. Wyatt wasn’t so sure what would happen if the demand came from him. Might have to spread on a bit of charm to smooth over any rough patches.

That idea didn’t sit too well with him. Nevertheless, Ben needed to be disciplined. A spot of honest labor might straighten the boy out.

Down at the end of town, he spied Nick Sanders riding his Appaloosa, Lizzy Carter perched in front of him. He turned onto the main street, accompanied by the two oldest Carter children on their ponies. Good. Wyatt would have time to run his plan by the man. Although he’d bet his ranch that Sanders would leave the sweet-talkin’ of Edith to Wyatt. Until Elizabeth Hamilton happened along, Sanders had never publicly spoken more than a few words to a woman.

Amazing what love could do to a man.

His thoughts flicked to Samantha and the strong attraction pulling his emotions and body to her, regardless of what his mind had to say about the matter. Yesterday, she’d been mule stubborn about his suggestion to remain behind at her ranch and let him run the outhouse show. But he’d finally convinced her. A wave of satisfaction settled over him. He was learning to handle the lady. He knew she’d be by after school to speak to Miss Stanton and inspect his handiwork.

Nick rode up. Like Wyatt, he came dressed for messy work in faded old denim pants and a grayish flannel shirt. He touched the brown hat he wore. “Morning, Thompson.”

“Sanders,” Wyatt nodded a greeting. “Hello, Mark, Sara, Lizzy.”

“Good morning, Mr. Thompson,” the older two chorused, both sliding off their ponies.

Nick handed Lizzy down to Mark, then dismounted, untying his saddlebags. He tossed the reins over to Mark and jerked his head toward the livery. Both children started in that direction, leading the horses.

Nick hefted the bags over his shoulder. “Ready to start?”

“First I need to tell you that the Cassidy twins and Daniel will be helping us. I’ve already started them on the cleanup. I also want to rope Arlie and Ben in. Maybe a little hard work will make them all think twice about fighting.”

“Maybe so. But Ben?”

“I’m going to speak with his mother. I’m sure I can get her to agree.”
He hoped.

Nick raised one skeptical eyebrow. “All right, then. Well, guess I’ll be seein’ what the boys are up to.”

Wyatt laughed. “You do that. And I’ll tend to Mrs. Grayson.”

“Think I’d rather have my job.” Nick flashed Wyatt a wry grin.

Me too, Wyatt thought. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of green through the half-open mercantile door. “Here comes Miss Stanton.”

“I’ll go pick out a spot for the new outhouse.” Nick beat a hasty retreat.

Wyatt shrugged in sympathy. Nick didn’t want to face Harriet Stanton any more than Wyatt wanted to talk to Edith.

Miss Stanton hurried over, a pile of books clutched in one arm. She stopped short in front of Wyatt, her cheeks pink, gray eyes lit with pleasure. “Mr. Thompson. I’m so glad to see you this morning. And I noticed Mr. Sanders is already here too. I certainly hope the children appreciate your efforts. I certainly do.” She took a couple of quick steps in the direction Nick had gone. “And I’ll have to go and tell Mr. Sanders so.”

“Wait.” Wyatt broke into the flow of words before she could scatter off after Nick. “The twins and Daniel are going to help us. They’re already back there stacking the wood. I figured the work
would be a suitable punishment for them. I’d also like to have Arlie and Ben involved.”

“What a marvelous solution, Mr. Thompson.” She fingered the circle of gold pinned to the neck of her dress. “They’ll still have to make up any schoolwork they’d miss, plus the extra studying I’m going to assign them.”

“I’ll inform the other boys when they get here.”

“Very well, Mr. Thompson.” She turned to leave. “I’ll just go check on how things are going.”

With the teacher’s back to him, Wyatt could safely release the smile that had threatened to leak out during their conversation. Poor Sanders. A captive for the day. Wyatt would bet money that this was going to be the fastest outhouse raisin’ ever.

The Livingston buggy drove into sight; the two matched brown horses trotted with precision. Wyatt’s amusement faded. He braced himself for the coming encounter with Edith. However, on closer sight, Caleb Livingston, not Edith, accompanied his nephew. Wyatt wasn’t sure whether or not to feel relieved.

Livingston pulled up in front of the school. Ben, wearing his blue suit, hopped down. The banker nodded. “Good morning, Thompson.”

“Livingston. I’d like a word with you.”

The man hesitated, then applied the brake. Keeping a hold on the reins, he climbed down.

Dressed in an immaculate brown suit and a haughty air, the banker made Wyatt feel shabby, a familiar feeling from his childhood. He had to remind himself he was a successful rancher, and his worn apparel was practical, not a sign of poverty. But still, old shame could cling tighter to a man than a burr to woolen cloth.

“What’s on your mind, Thompson?”

“I promised Miss Stanton that I’d rebuild the outhouse. The twins and Daniel Rodriguez are helping. I want Ben and Arlie to work too. Suitable punishment, wouldn’t you agree?”

Livingston hesitated, apparently pondering the question. “Although Ben defended himself from an attack, he was still involved in the destruction of the facility. You’re right. This will be a good object lesson for him.”

“He’ll need to change out of those clothes.”

Livingston pursed his lips, thinking. “I’ll return to the house and find something for him. If I send Ben, he’ll disturb his mother. She’s laid down on her bed with a headache. The situation has upset her. I think she needs a time of peace and quiet. I won’t bother her about this.”

“Before you go, please break the news to your nephew.”

“Of course.”

Better you than me,
Wyatt thought. He pulled his thoughts up short.

While Livingston went over to talk to Ben, who’d been petting his uncle’s horses, Wyatt contemplated his reluctance to deal with Edith. Not a good situation for a man who’d been considering taking the woman to wife.

Now he could see that with the sun of Samantha Sawyer Rodriguez blazing on his horizon, his shallow attraction to Edith had set. A feeling of relief that he hadn’t started to court Edith settled in him. Even if he managed to ignore his fascination with Samantha, he was through with Edith Grayson.

Ever a showman, Chico pranced as he drew near the schoolhouse, Bonita matching his pace. They pulled the buggy precisely in
front of the hitching post at the edge of the steps, and Samantha halted them. The little brown stallion shook his head, jingling the harness, black mane flying as if he expected the admiration of all eyes. Unfortunately, with school still in session, no one but Samantha could see him.

Miss Stanton’s voice floated through the open windows of the white frame building: “Fourscore and seven years ago, our forefathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.”

Samantha recognized the words of Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, and goose bumps shivered down her arms. Her father had been a fervent admirer of Lincoln, and had once seen the great man speak at a political rally. Many a time her father had read the famous speech to Samantha, his sonorous voice tolling out the fateful words. If her son and her twins missed this lesson by working outside, it would be a pleasure for her to help them with their homework.

As if called by her thoughts, Daniel pelted around the building. His clothes looked dipped in dust, and he had a new tear in his beige shirt. Skidding to a stop at the sight of her, he then broke into a skip step, ending with a hop to her side.