Moon Over Montana (McCutcheon Family Series Book 5) (25 page)

The look on Luk’s face was the most frightening of all.

Painted Bear Stone called out to her, beckoning her close. When the deputy struggled, he pulled the knife slowly across the man’s throat, the bright red line of blood standing out on his chalk-white skin.

“Help! He’s killin’ me!” Bly screamed. “What are ya waitin’ for, you fools? Somebody kill this heathen!”

Fox Dancing did her best to block out all the commotion as she listened intently to Painted Bear Stone. At the same time, the tall man with Luk’s mother untied her hands. Released, she rubbed her wrists. As best she could, Fox Dancing conveyed what Painted Bear Stone had said to Luk’s mother. Painted Bear Stone fished in Bly’s pocket. What he pulled out, he placed in Fox Dancing’s palm.

Still on his horse, Luk’s companion motioned to her that he wanted the object. Taking it, he turned it over in his hands.

Luk’s mother addressed the crowd in a loud voice. “This young brave says he saw what happened to the men named Drake and Smith. The man he’s holding down came out to their claim on the river. The three men passed around a bottle of whiskey until it was gone. After that, they argued. He heard the words
money
and
poker
. The man called Drake stomped away toward the forest. When he turned back to say something, Bly picked up a gun and shot him. Bly shot the other man next, even though he pleaded for his life. Bly stole the money from their pockets and a sack of gold dust from their dwelling. He went away satisfied. The brave followed him. Bly found the quiver and bow lost by Fox Dancing. When he came upon the calf, he killed it for sport, nothing else.”

Luk’s mother took a deep breath and cast an angry glare at the man Painted Bear Stone held down.

“After Bly left, Painted Bear Stone extracted the arrows, intending to return them to Fox Dancing. Then, suspicious of Bly’s intentions, and knowing white men would be quick in blaming an Indian, he removed all tracks, hoping the kill would not be discovered before the wolves and coyotes carried it away.”

Finished with the explanation, Luk’s mother glanced at Fox Dancing, who nodded.

“This money clip, inscribed with DG, is ironclad evidence, Bly.” Luk’s friend turned it over once more. “It matches the belt Drake Greenly was wearing when I examined him at the undertaker’s. The story couldn’t be clearer.”

“Bly
has
been throwing a lot of money around,” someone shouted from the crowd.

“It ain’t true!” Bly screamed. “It’s all made up!” He struggled, but Painted Bear Stone held him down easily.

Luk dismounted and walked forward. Bly’s cries died in his throat. “You think you can pass your sins off on my little sister—”

“Wait, Luke!” the silver-starred man ordered, his agitated horse still dancing around. He seemed to be the only one Luk would listen to. “What I don’t understand is why, all of a sudden, Bly decided the story about them killing each other wasn’t enough. Something must have spooked him. Pushed him to cast suspicion elsewhere. We never even thought the calf and the men were connected. But he saw the opportunity to get everyone riled up over an Indian and pass her off as Drake and Smith’s murderer. She’d be hung—taking all suspicion away from him.”

The old man with the bloody rag to his head staggered forward. “I know what agitated the two-faced skunk. I began wondering about the second gun. To have a shootout, with the distance the bodies were found from each other, there’d more than likely have to be two weapons—and I only recovered one.”

Luk’s friend groaned. “Huxley, you never said there was only one gun! Don’t you think that was a pretty important piece of the puzzle to leave off?”

“What’d you say, Crawford? I didn’t catch that.”

“Hey, out there! Hello! What’s going on? Somebody come let me out!”

Luk’s companion swiveled around. “Charity?”

• • •

An hour later, with Painted Bear Stone already mounted and waiting, Fox Dancing slipped into her brother’s protective arms. Exhilarated at having found him at last, but also very sad about leaving him behind, she breathed in his unique scent, needing to remember everything. No one knew which way the wind would blow for her people—or how things would turn out. This might be the last time in this world she and her brother would be heart to heart.

She’d already said good-bye to the others, and they waited a few feet away. Painted Bear Stone had tried to give the man with the star his knife, in payment for the two chickens he’d stolen from ranchers while trying to keep out of sight—all while staying as close as he could to Fox Dancing. The man with the star had smiled and refused.

“I’ll never forget you,” Luk said, still holding her close. “Or that you came all this way to find me. It means more to me than you could ever know.”

All she could do was nod, for if she spoke, she’d disgrace herself in a gush of tears.

“This isn’t good-bye forever,” Luk went on, leaning back so he could look into her face. His mouth pulled down when he saw her tears. “I’ll come find you. Someday. And I’ll meet our father as well.”

Painted Bear Stone grunted out his impatience.

Luk cast him a look. “Take good care of her.”

She launched back into Luk’s arms and squeezed with all her might. With her cheek against his chest, she choked out a Cheyenne prayer for his safety and that of his family. When her tears began to fall, she jerked away. In three strides, she was at the side of her mare. Taking a handful of her mane, she swung aboard with ease, turned, and galloped off, Painted Bear Stone following behind her.

Chapter Thirty-Six

A
soft knock on the bedroom door brought Claire around from the dressing table, where she sat removing her jade earrings.

The door opened slowly.

“Do you have a minute?” Flood asked, standing in the doorway.

“Of course. And since when do you knock?”

Her insides fluttered nervously. Ever since the Pine Grove incident a week ago, when she’d ridden off into the dark night with Charity and the handsome Cheyenne brave named Painted Bear Stone, her nerves had been all the more raw. She wasn’t sure why, but it made her sad. Too many memories, she figured. Too numerous and too painful.

“It was a nice ceremony,” Flood said, sitting down on the bed. The corners of his lips pulled up. “The sight of that wedding dress brought back all kinds of memories.” His gaze found hers, his expression one she couldn’t read. Sadness? Uncertainty?

“Did for me too. Candlelight, a big fire in the hearth, snow falling for weeks—and our wedding.”

He nodded. “Never thought we’d see the day Brandon and Charity actually wed. Seems like a dream.” His chuckle sent a warm pulse of longing through her.

“Well, Jefferson Flood McCutcheon, I can assure you, your daughter is now Mrs. Brandon Crawford. As we speak, she’s snuggled in the back of the buggy with her legal husband, on their way to Cattlemen’s. I hope we don’t see either of their dear faces for a whole week. Think that’s asking too much?”

His eyes snagged hers again. Lingered. Made her feel sixteen and falling in love with him all over again.

“Make that two weeks,” he said. “After which, we can get back to ranching as usual.”

She fiddled nervously with the earring in her fingers. “When will you tell them about the land and the new home to be built?”

“Haven’t decided that yet,” he replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “When do you think?”

She released the bun on the back of her head and began unbraiding her hair. “After a month or two in the little house. It’ll make Charity more appreciative.” She couldn’t stop her smile, thinking about the surprise. “It’s wonderful that everything worked out well with Fox Dancing and Painted Bear Stone. When she finally understood all she had to lose, she realized she couldn’t live without him. It was quite romantic.”

Flood nodded. “Luke said she even looked excited to be going back. He’ll miss her, though.”

“I’ll miss her as well.”

She thought of the emotional parting, and how much Fox Dancing, with the proud tilt to her head and her flashing eyes, resembled her wonderfully complicated third son. But they were dancing around the subject Flood had come in to discuss, she was sure. She could always tell when he had more on his mind by the way he rolled and unrolled his shirtsleeves without realizing he was doing it. His tough exterior wasn’t enough to hide his loving heart.

Finished unbraiding and brushing her hair, Claire went over to the bed and sat next to him. The house was quiet. Everyone had departed well fed and happy. Since the big barn party at Luke’s had been such a short time ago, Charity and Brandon—worn out from all the excitement—had wanted a small wedding. Just family and ranch hands. That suited her just fine.

She placed her hand on his forearm. “I can’t believe Charity’s all grown up. Seems like just yesterday you were walking her around the room, rocking her in your arms and begging her to go to sleep.” She softly laughed. “The good ol’ days.”

He looked at her hand resting on his arm, but didn’t respond.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to share with you, Flood, but seems the time was never quite right. I’d like to do that now.”

He looked up with tortured, sad eyes. She remembered the first time she’d opened the cabin door, in a whiteout blizzard all those years ago, to the same amazing eyes that did wonderful things to her insides. She’d been fifteen, and him a few years older. Praise God, they’d been through a lot together. So many emotions moved across his face, she couldn’t differentiate them all.

“Go on.”

“I’ll start with saying I love you.” She couldn’t stop her eyes from welling up. “I always have. And darn you for that too. That’s why what I did when I was taken away to—”

He put a finger to her lips, silencing her voice but not the tears that crept over her lids to spill down her cheeks. A deep grief threatened to strangle her from the inside out. She hadn’t wanted those other feelings for Luke’s father. They’d just happened. And once they were there, they were a part of her, whether she liked it or not.

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “Shh, darlin’. You don’t have to say a thing.”

She pushed back, needing to see his face, his eyes. “I do, Flood,” she said, wiping the tears off her cheeks with the sleeve of her wrapper. “Don’t you see? This thing between us—my life in the Cheyenne village—will never go away unless I speak my mind. I don’t want to hurt you. As God is my witness, he knows it. But I fear what will become of us if I don’t.”

Flood just stared at her with a stony expression. Was he as frightened as she?

“All right.”

She swallowed, gathering her courage. “As the months passed and you didn’t find me, my hope began to fade. The village moved several times. Rains washed away our tracks. Even the stars in the night sky looked different so many miles away from home. I changed—and yet, I was always the same. Anyway, I thought that perhaps, with the little boys to take care of at home, you’d stopped searching.”

He picked up her hand and kissed it, his words fierce. “That would never happen.”

“You understand what I’m trying not to say because it’s just too painful?”

He nodded.

“About my Indian husband? Luke’s father?” Oh, how she hated this, and yet, she loved it too. After all these years—to say it aloud was freeing. Now that he knew, whatever happened, they could get through it. She believed that with all her heart.

“Yes. You fell in love with him.”

It sounded so odd coming from his lips. It was her turn to nod. “But I never stopped dreaming of coming home to you—and my little boys.”

Suddenly her mind tumbled back to the Cheyenne village. She was fighting her way through the screaming, pain-inflicted gauntlet. Her nails ripped to the quick and chunks of her hair pulled out. Time and time again, sharp pain buffeted her head, but she pushed forward, pushed on, always refusing to fall. Flood’s soul, deep in his eyes, appeared as battered and damaged as she’d felt then. She could hardly bear to look at him.

“But there’s more, Flood. I finally told Luke everything. I hope you understand that I had to. He’d been carrying around so much guilt over what happened to me, and what I might have suffered at the hands of his father, that it wasn’t right to keep the truth from him any longer. Telling him is one thing I don’t regret at all, and I wish I’d done it sooner. He’s been a different man ever since.”

Flood swiped his hand across his face, then tipped his chin up and gazed at the beams of the ceiling. She saw him swallow as he blinked in quick succession. “I wondered about that.” His raspy voice sent a shiver down her spine. “It was that morning about three years ago, when he came into breakfast dressed in his buckskins. You’re right, he was a changed man. All for the better.”

A bittersweet feeling gripped her. “Yes.” She dared to reach out and place her hand on Flood’s forearm, just below the roll of his sleeve. It was rough, warm. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking notice of all the sensations their connection created. She wasn’t sure how he’d respond to all this—
to her
—after the truth was completely out in the open. At this moment, their steady, rock-hard relationship was anything but.

“And I’m so sorry if it hurts you to know that he knows. I am, Flood. I guess, life is hard, that’s all. We do what we have to, to get through. Luke thinks of you as his father. He’s told me that many times. He loves and respects you so much. All the boys do.”

Flood turned and wrapped her in his arms. It was then that she knew everything would be all right. “That’s good to hear, darlin’,” he murmured, then softly kissed her lips. “It’s hard for a flesh-and-blood man to live up to a dream. Luke has said the same to me. Now I just have to find a way to trust his words.”

She wanted to pull him down to the bed, as was her habit, to make love, to share with each other all that God had given them, but she wasn’t that sure of her standing just yet.

“You had nothing to do with your abduction,” he went on. “It wasn’t your fault.” His voice was gritty and soft at the same time. “Nor were any of the feelings that grew as a result. I mean that, Claire. You’re a survivor. You’re even tougher than any of us realize. That’s what’s made our family so remarkable. I just wish I’d been able to find you quicker and bring you home. That’s my only regret in all this.” He kissed her hair, and she ran her hand up his chest. “Now, are you finished? Can we leave it at that?”