Montana Standoff (15 page)

Molly studied his profile and thought that she could look at Steven like this forever, in quiet contemplation of a man she truly believed she couldn't live without, yet didn't begin to understand. “Well, I think he's wonderful,” she said.

Steven glanced at her briefly but made no reply. His silence got her dander up.

“He's going to marry your sister to a white man,” Molly said, “in spite of the fact that it goes against everything he believes in. And he gave you that old rifle he obviously holds so dear, and he made a stew for you out of an owl, which must have powerful medicine to protect you. I think he's wonderful, and I think you should have eaten some of the stew.”

“You've never tasted his cooking.”

Molly sighed. “Steven, it was rude not to have eaten any. You should have at least taken one spoonful.”

Steven cast her an unfathomable look. “Luther's owl flew through your dream.”

“Yes,” she said impatiently. “Don't you see? That's precisely why you should've eaten the stew.”

“You're Catholic, aren't you?”

Molly sighed. “My father's Catholic, my mother's Protestant, and I don't know what that makes me. Right now, I'm confused about life in general and my job in particular, but if you're asking what religion I subscribe to, the jury's still out.”

“Maybe that's why Luther liked you,” Steven said.

Molly brightened. “He did? How could you tell?”

“If he didn't like you, he wouldn't have acknowledged your presence. He called you Red Hair, which means you have a place.”

“A place where?” Molly asked, awed because the old holy man had both intimidated and intrigued her.

Steven's somber countenance never changed. “That remains to be seen,” he said.

Molly sighed. “Along with a whole bunch of other things,” she said. “Tell me about the Bow and Arrow, and the school you helped Pony start.”

“The Bow and Arrow was settled back in the mid-1800s by a man by the name of John Weaver, who drove a herd of longhorns up from Texas,” Steven began.

“Steven?” Molly interrupted, sitting up straight, a lurch of adrenaline souring her stomach as the guilt she'd been suppressing flooded back into her consciousness. “I was supposed to try and persuade you to drop the fight against the New Millennium mine.”

The Jeep's wheels whined on the asphalt and Steven kept his eyes to the front. Several minutes passed before he continued in the same deep, calm voice. “John Weaver was Jessie Weaver's great-grandfather. He married a Crow Indian woman who was given to him in thanks for giving the tribe some of his beef cows to help them through a bad winter.” He paused for a moment before glancing at her. “So, are you going to try to make me see that the mine will be a good thing?”

She shook her head. “No. I said that I had no intentions of asking you to.” She gazed out at the flanks of the mountains, bright gold with the color of fall aspen, and felt her cheeks burn with shame that she hadn't told
him this as soon as she'd arrived at his house. “Brad said the fight could get really nasty. He said more people could be hurt.”

“And a giant meteor could collide with the earth next week and wipe out all of civilization. Should we stop living because that might happen? Molly, the law is the law, and most people abide by it. What I'm doing needs to be done. If the mining companies won't follow due process, someone needs to be watching them.”

“But it doesn't have to be you,” Molly said passionately, turning in her seat to face him. “You shouldn't be the one getting beaten up for being the watchdog. The mine is in a national forest, and that makes policing it the federal government's job. It's not up to you to enforce the laws.”

“In a perfect world I might see things your way.”

“Okay then, what about Gregory Dehaviland. He's only been CEO of Condor International for less than a year, and I think there's potential for great things to come from his leadership. He talked to us both to get the real scoop as to what happened on the access road. You have to admit, that's an extraordinary thing for a man in his position to do.”

“Yes,” Steven said.

“He has the power to change things for the better. I believe he wants to do the right thing, and I also believe he's going to make sure his subsidiaries are toeing all the proper lines.”

“I hope you're right,” Steven said, “but either way, I'm not going to back down. Establishing an open pit mine in the middle of a national forest that borders on the Yellowstone ecosystem is wrong, and the laws need
to be changed to prohibit all mining claims on federal lands. Those laws were created in 1872 to promote westward expansion. We no longer have to offer land giveaways in order to settle the West. The West is settled, Molly, and has been for well over a hundred years. The savage Indians have been subdued and put on reservations. We need to protect what little wilderness remains, not continue to exploit it.”

Silence filled the Jeep. Molly could think of no good reply, so she folded her hands together in her lap and gazed out at the high beauty that surrounded them. “I still think you should've had some of your grandfather's owl stew,” she said.

T
HEY ARRIVED
at the Bow and Arrow just shy of three, and Steven was surprised that there seemed to be no one around. He narrated their approach to Molly as they drew near. “That cabin on the bend of the creek to your right is the original homestead, built by John Weaver in the mid-1800s. Caleb and Pony live there now. They prefer it to the main house. The ranch house was built above the cabin on the knoll just ahead. That's where the boys and Ramalda live. They're planning a new, separate building for the school itself, but construction of that won't begin until spring, and it will be where the original bunkhouse used to be, on that flat piece of land between the ranch house and the pole barn.”

Molly looked this way and that, taking it all in, rolling her window down and leaning out. “Horses,” she exclaimed with obvious delight. “And dogs, and
puppies!
And there, by the barn, isn't that a buffalo?”

“Absa,” Steven replied, catching sight of the young buffalo. “Her leg was broken shortly after she was born and she had to be hand raised. One of the boys, Roon, adopted her and she follows him around like the dog she thinks she is.”

“She's a pretty big dog,” Molly laughed. She was out of the Jeep practically before it stopped rolling, kneeling down to pat the two fat little pups that bounded down the porch steps of the ranch house and cavorted about her feet. “Oh, they're adorable, Steven. Look at them.” She swept one of the wriggling pups into her arms and it began licking her face. Within moments she had paw prints on her pretty blouse, several unruly curls had escaped her braid, and she looked thoroughly, beautifully happy. All vestiges of her previous torment had miraculously disappeared.

Steven watched her and felt an easing inside of himself. It was this place. The Bow and Arrow had the power to transport people beyond their immediate troubles. He'd felt that same magic himself a time or two before. He'd stood in awe and looked around him at the towering wall of the Beartooth Mountains, at the old ranch buildings near the bend of the creek and the slow curl of wood smoke from weathered fieldstone chimneys. It was a nurturing and timeless place that somehow made sense out of every dawn and sunset, and every moon that ever gave name to a season.

“Those are Blue's pups,” he said. “Blue belongs to Jessie and Guthrie. She's the cow dog that keeps everyone in line.”

“Well, puppies like to cuddle, and that makes them just about perfect in my book,” Molly said beaming, and he couldn't help the twinge of jealousy he felt toward the pup she cradled so lovingly in her arms.

At that moment the screen door banged open and Ramalda waddled onto the porch. She was holding a big wooden spoon in one fat fist and wearing her infamous
scowl, which she fixed first on Molly and then on Steven. “You are hungry,” she accused.

Steven glanced around at the absence of vehicles and other people. “Ramalda, my apologies,” he said. “Pony invited me to a barbecue, but I must have mistaken the day or the time. This is Molly Ferguson, my friend from Helena, and she hasn't eaten all day. She's too thin, and needs good cooking like yours.”

Ramalda's stern features softened as she fixed her gaze on Molly. “You need to eat much,” she agreed. “You too thin. But first, there is big problem down in the barn.”

Steven glanced down toward the pole barn. “Is that where everyone is?”

“
Si.
Yes.” Ramalda nodded, her scowl deepening. “It is always something. This time, a sick horse. They are down there. You go get them, tell them it is time to eat or they get sick, too.”

“All right. We'll round them up.” He caught Molly's hand in his and started down the slope. She was still holding one puppy while the other gamboled at her heels, and he heard her soft laugh as she fell into stride with him.

“She's intimidating,” Molly confided, “but I'm guessing she's a big softie at heart.”

“As well as a great cook,” Steven said. “She practically raised Jessie and Guthrie.” He stopped so suddenly that she stumbled into him.

“Steven? What is it?”

His eyes had caught the glimmer of sunlight on metal out behind the barn, metal where there shouldn't be metal, only grass and dirt and curlews and horses and
Absa, waiting on Roon. He stood in silence for a moment, processing the sight. “There's a party here today, all right,” he said, eyes narrowing, “but for some reason everyone's parked out behind the barn.”

Molly shifted the puppy in her arms. “That's not where they normally park?”

“No. Everyone parks just below the ranch house, where we did.”

“Maybe there isn't enough room there for all the people who're coming to the party,” she offered. She looked happy and content, the color in her cheeks bringing out the clear shine of her eyes. “Come on, let's go see what's going on in the barn. I want to meet that buffalo, too.” She abruptly abandoned him, continuing on at a brisk walk, still holding the one pup, who showed no desire to leave the cradle of her arms, the other one following behind her.

Steven hesitated only briefly before realizing that his trepidation was foolish, and he followed because there was no other place he wanted to be than with her. Thus they walked together into the dimness of the barn, and it was Molly who was astounded by the sheer number of people gathered there, awaiting their arrival to spring this surprise party on Steven. But it was Steven and Molly together who shared the enormity of the moment, who leaned into each other when all those voices shouted
“Surprise!”
and when the barn full of faces moved toward them, beaming and smiling and full of the celebratory essence of the word
party!

Molly looked at him, eyes shining and face alight. Still holding the puppy in her arms, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the cheek before the first of
the well-wishers reached them, and somehow, in that sweet, simple gesture, she made all the embarrassing fuss and fanfare bearable.

 

M
OLLY WAS DAZZLED
, entranced, swept away by her introduction to the Bow and Arrow. If not for the welcoming committee of two cuddly puppies and the scowling but soft-hearted Ramalda, it would have been for the sheer magnificence of the historic mountain ranch, the safe feeling of home she had experienced upon simply alighting here, and the unexpected presence of fifty people surprising them in the barn with a tribute and accolade to Steven that had brought tears to her eyes and had made her stand on tiptoe to kiss him with love and pride and something she couldn't even begin to identify because it was way beyond any emotion she'd ever felt before.

She was standing by the door, watching Steven be inundated by well-wishers, when Pony touched her arm and smiled in greeting. “I was afraid the two of you weren't coming. Steven hates parties. His birthday is next week, but we wanted to surprise him.”

“You certainly did. He's so deserving of this,” Molly said, her voice choked with emotion. “I think it's wonderful and it's just what he needs. What can I do to help?”

“Everything is pretty much done. We were just waiting for you to arrive. Come on, let me introduce you around.”

“Wait,” Molly said, indicating the puppy who lolled contentedly in her arms. “First introduction. Who's this?”

“That's Bonnie. Tessa is the one gnawing on your fancy boots. Tess belongs to Caleb, but Bonnie is as yet unclaimed, along with her brother Bandit, who's prob
ably in the kitchen keeping an eye on Ramalda. He has already figured out that the best place to be is close to the cook.”

Molly shook hands first with Pony's husband-to-be, Caleb McCutcheon, a handsome, athletic man with sandy hair and mustache, and keen blue eyes. Then Badger, a crusty old wrangler who took her hand and kissed it with a gentleness that made her smile and blush like a schoolgirl. Badger's friend Charlie promptly shouldered the old cowboy aside and removed his hat. “A pleasure,” he said, matching his friend's gallantry with a stiff bow from the waist that nearly did his arthritic body in.

She met Jessie Weaver and Guthrie Sloane. “Steven's told me so much about you and the Bow and Arrow.” Molly smiled. “I'm so glad to finally meet you and see this beautiful place.” The two of them looked so happy and content that it reaffirmed Molly's belief that true love wasn't just a myth perpetuated by fairy tales.

She met the five teenage boys Pony was fostering: Jimmy, Dan, Martin, Joe and Roon, all full-blooded Crow. She greeted Bernie Portis, Guthrie's cheerful and organized sister who was catering the barbecue, and the rest of her family, and so many others that the names and faces quickly became a scrambled blur. “There,” Pony said, as they trailed the group from the pole barn to the ranch house. “You have just met the entire population of Katy Junction.”

“Except for the buffalo,” Molly reminded her.

Pony paused and called to Roon. “Where is Absa?”

Molly then followed the boys to the corral, where she set down the puppy and, skirt be damned, scrambled up
and straddled the fence rails to watch the horses milling about while Roon fetched Absa. Steven came up to stand beside her, resting his forearms on the top rail. She glanced down at him and smiled. “Neat place.”

“Neat place.” He nodded.

The buffalo followed Roon from behind the barn like a dog. She allowed the boys to fuss over her while Molly climbed down from the fence and held her hand out cautiously. Absa gave it a brief sniff and appeared unimpressed, and Molly thought the buffalo calf was the oddest-looking creature she'd ever seen. “She's kind of cute, in a prehistoric sort of way.”

Roon regarded Absa somberly. “She's beautiful,” he corrected.

“She's a buffalo who thinks she's a dog,” Jimmy explained. “But she's just a calf still.”

“A three-hundred-pound calf,” Caleb McCutcheon said, joining the group. “She tried to come into the kitchen yesterday. Ramalda wasn't amused.”

“I can't imagine who taught that critter to come inside in the first place,” Badger groused, staring pointedly at Roon.

“That would be me,” Guthrie admitted. “The day Caleb took Pony and the boys to the Fourth of July celebration in Livingston, I was working on the books, and it just seemed easier to let Absa come inside with me where I could keep an eye on her.”

“Well, now, I wouldn't be too critical of that behavior,” Charlie interjected on Guthrie's behalf. “I mind the times when Badger and me babysat our fair share of orphaned beef calves in the old bunkhouse.”

“Just like Mother Roon,” Martin teased. “Absa thinks
Roon's her mother, so he sleeps in the barn with her, to keep her company.”

“Absa was hurt when she was very young,” Roon explained to Molly. “Her leg was broken and she couldn't nurse from her own mother, so we had to bring her back to the ranch and bottle-feed her. That's why she's so tame. The other buffalo are wild, the way buffalo are supposed to be. The herd is up near Piney Creek now, nearly a hundred head.”

“A whole herd of them must be something to see,” Molly said.

“I could take you up there,” Roon offered. “Do you ride?”

“Hold your horses,” Steven said. “We have a barbecue to attend, and people to mingle with, and lots of food to eat.”

“Yes, but we could eat really fast,” Dan said, “and then go see the buffalo, all of us together. It would be fun.”

Molly looked hopefully at Steven. “Could we?”

“Leave me out of this conversation,” he said. “I don't ride.”

“You rode a horse once,” Jessie reminded him. “Remember? It was the day we showed Caleb the ranch.”

“I'll never forget. I couldn't walk for a week afterward,” Steven said with a wry grin. “Let's eat first, and talk horses later.”

“Okay,” Molly promptly agreed because she was suddenly ravenous. “But it
would
be fun to see the buffalo herd.”

 

P
ICNIC TABLES HAD BEEN
set up behind the ranch house around the big stone barbecue pit itself, and the sweet
tang of mesquite coals flavored the crisp September air. Earthenware bowls containing several different salads anchored the red-and-white checked oilcloth coverings at each table. A big cast-iron pot of spiced beans steamed from a pot hook suspended over the fire, and in the old-fashioned kitchen, Ramalda, wearing a bright blue bandanna over her white hair, was baking pan after pan of biscuits so light that even after eating them for decades they could still bring a reverent expression to Badger's bewhiskered face. Ramalda caught him secreting some into his hat and spoke several rapid-fire sentences in Spanish while brandishing a wooden spoon in a threatening fashion.

“Quality control, old gal,” Badger said, sidling out of range and winking at Molly as he did. “Someone's got to make sure your biscuits are edible.”

Molly placed a basket of the piping-hot biscuits on each picnic table next to the butter crocks. She helped Bernie baste the ribs with sauce as they browned slowly over the coals, and absorbed the babble of conversations, the laughter, the interaction of the partyers as if it were a precious elixir. She hadn't realized how much she missed the big family atmosphere back home. When Steven found her and handed her a glass of wine, she had to restrain herself from throwing her arms around him in blissful gratitude. “This is so much fun,” she said.

“I just hope you're hungry,” he said as they found a table to sit at. “Remember what I told you about Ramalda.”

Pony and Caleb and the boys shared their table, and in between jumping up to help Bernie and Ramalda replenish the heaping platters, Molly ate more than she'd eaten in a long time. The food was delicious, and true
to Steven's prediction, Ramalda fully expected every last bit of it to be devoured. Molly had no trouble cleaning her plate several times, nor did anyone else.