Painted Montana Sky: A Montana Sky Series Novella (7 page)

Tyler figured they were safe from the witch. “I believe Miss Maxwell is due a refund for the money she advanced.”

“She stayed here, didn’t she?” Her bony hand waved a circle in the air toward the house. “Took advantage of me being gone on an errand of mercy. Her dog’s probably soiled my house, spread fleas everywhere, chewed on the furniture.”

“She did not,” Lily fired up. “And Dove doesn’t have fleas. I bathe her regularly.”

Tyler tried to insert some levity. “Certainly not after her swim in the river.”

Lily cast him a fulminating glance before turning her attention back to the widow.

Guess she’s not ready to joke about what happened to her dog today.
But Tyler couldn’t be sorry he’d tried to tease her. He admired how anger animated Lily’s countenance, flushing her cheeks and sparking her violet eyes.
Mrs. Murphy’s riled up the mother bear
, he thought with some amusement.

He held up a placating hand. “Mrs. Murphy, you can check on the condition of the carpet and the furniture. If there’re no wet spots or tooth marks, I think you can agree to refund Miss Maxwell’s money.”

Greed warred with common sense on Mrs. Murphy’s face. Greed won. “No,” she said firmly.

Tightening her hold on the dog, Lily hissed in anger.

Tyler caught her attention and winked.

Startled, she relaxed.

“Heard we have a new sheriff in town.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the jail. “I say we lay the problem before him…well, her.”

Lily gave him a puzzled look.

“We have us a female sheriff,” he drawled.

“Outlandish,” Mrs. Murphy sniffed. “The woman strides around in men’s clothing like she owns the place. Carrying guns. I object to having her here, and so I told John Carter and Reverend Norton. But there was no budging those men.” She crossed her arms over her scrawny chest. “I’m not going to pay that female any mind.”

Tyler found himself enjoying the sparring match. Too long had passed since he felt so charged up by anything but the situation with Laura, and that one had been much too painful. This one was sort of fun. “As you said, K.C. Granger has the guns.
And
, she also has the power to throw you in jail.” He tilted his head in the direction of the jail. “Shall we? I haven’t met our lawwoman, and I’d sure like to.”

Mrs. Murphy frowned and narrowed her eyes. “No need to go to all that trouble.” With bad grace, she gave in. “But I will
carefully
inspect the room before I refund the money.”

Tyler felt almost disappointed not to fight longer. “Miss Maxwell,” he addressed Lily formally, for there was no use in providing Mrs. Murphy with fodder for gossip. “I’ll watch Dove. You go pack, then I’ll come inside to load everything into the wagon.”

Lily pursed her lips, considering his proposal.

Tyler felt an unexpected urge to drop a kiss on them. But Mrs. Murphy made an effective chaperone, and, instead, he reached for the dog.

Lily handed Dove over and walked into the house.

Mrs. Murphy shot him an annoyed glance and then followed her.

Left alone with Dove in his arms, Tyler looked down at the little varmint. “You sure are stirring up a pack of trouble today.”

Dove looked up at him with limpid brown eyes that proclaimed her innocence.

Tyler couldn’t help responding to the dog. He ran a hand over her head and rubbed behind her ears. Dried from the swim, her fur was silky. He gave a gentle tug to one of her floppy ears.

She wiggled with happiness and swiped his hand with her tongue.

Yep. Tyler had a feeling that this little critter’s fall into the river might just have changed his life. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Confused as all git out, that’s for sure.

CHAPTER EIGHT

On the way home, his bad mood banished after besting Widow Murphy, Tyler had to keep his grin inside his face, lest Lily, who still vibrated with anger on the seat next to him, caught his amusement. He had a feeling she might have a temper, and he didn’t want it stirred up against him.

Although…in other circumstances, riling her up, seeing the color animate her face, and her eyes spark, yep, in other circumstances, a good fight might lead to a good time. Tyler shifted on the hard seat.

Considering how eager he’d been to get rid of her, he should be sorry to be driving her back to the ranch. But he wasn’t sorry…not at all.

That thought sobered him.
Best I help her do her work before I become too attached, and she makes me sorry she’s leaving.
“Where do you plan to paint next?”

 
“I saw some flowers near the house that will work. Maybe you can suggest some other places within an easy walk.”

He cast his mind around the ranch, searching for the kind of wildflowers she’d want. Most were too far to walk to and inaccessible by wagon. He had a feeling getting her back on a horse might be a difficult proposition. Not to mention hauling her equipment on horseback. “The best places are along the river.”

She shuddered. “Not by the river.”

He frowned. “You can’t avoid rivers for the rest of your life.”

“Not all rivers. Only the one on your property. When I think of what almost happened to Dove….” She paled.

He transferred the reins to one hand, took her fingers in his, and squeezed. “You can’t do that, Lily. Thinking about what could have been. That’s enough to keep your mind spinning. Not good for your body either. Makes your heart race, gives you shortness of breath. Makes you not sleep at night.”

He sounds familiar with the experience.
“I can’t help it.”

He gave her hand a little shake, trying to get through to her. “Dove’s alive and well, Lily. Focus on thankfulness for that instead.”

She took a deep breath. “You’re right. Guess I need to thank God each time I’m tempted to dwell on Dove in that river.” She looked up at him. “I’ve been thanking God for you being there…for you risking your life for Dove. I’ll never forget it, Tyler. I’ll never forget
you
.”

At her words, something inside him melted. Maybe it was his heart that had been so frozen for so long. “Truth is, Lily, I’ll never forget you, either.”

~ ~ ~

The next day, Lily sat at her easel in front of a thicket of thimbleberry trying to capture an image of the maple-like leaves and white flowers, with five flat petals that shaped a star.
A relatively easy specimen
. Or so she’d thought.

The thicket made a natural hedge between the clothesline and the small meadow, and with the height of the shrubs, Lily didn’t even have to bend to see them, or pluck off a specimen for closer study.

Dove slept nearby in the shade of the thicket, exhausted from playing with her new friend, Patches. The bigger dog had worn out the spaniel, and then ambled off to the barn, presumably to look for Habakkuk.

After another frustrated attempt, Lily ripped her current composition off the easel. Without waiting for the painted side to dry, she tore the drawing in half, then quarters, wadded it up, and petulantly tossed it to the ground to join its fellows. That action wasn’t enough to ease her ire, so she stood and, with her good leg, kicked the ball.

The paper sailed up and into the hands of the man coming toward her, splattering green paint across his cheeks.

Tyler held up the paper, laughter in his eyes.

Horrified about being caught in such a childish act, Lily clapped her hands to her face and wished she could sink into the ground. Maybe by the time she reappeared, Tyler would have forgotten her unladylike behavior.

Dove surged to her feet and scampered over to sniff Tyler’s leg.

“Mighty fine kick you have there, Lily.” He wiped the back of his hand across his face, smearing the paint.

Lily let out an inward groan. She smoothed down the paint-splattered apron covering her dress and leaned over to pick up a damp rag hooked onto the bottom of the easel. She held the rag out to him. “You have paint on your face. And the back of your hand, too.”

Tyler crooked an eyebrow, looking mischievous. “Then I guess you’d better wipe it off. I’ll probably just spread it around.” He walked forward, pushed back his hat, and leaned close.

Lily gently scrubbed at his cheek. When she finished, she had to resist kissing the reddened area. “There.” She made her tone sound hearty. “All better.”

He straightened, waving a hand to the scrunched-up papers caught in the thimbleberry shrub.

She pressed her lips together, and then sighed. “My unsuccessful attempts to paint a thimbleberry flower. Something that should be easy.”

He used both hands to center his hat on his head. “Oliver’s home from school, and Mrs. Pendell sent me to tell you she just took out a batch of oatmeal cookies.”

Lily cast a longing glance in the direction of the house. “No,” she said reluctantly. “I need to stay here and focus. The deadline hangs over me waking and sleeping.” She sank onto the campstool and resolutely clipped another sheet to the easel.

Tyler extended his hand to her. “I happen to know Mrs. Pendell’s oatmeal cookies are good for what ails you. Taking a break for a few minutes might do the trick.”

Lily had to laugh at his combination of timeworn phrases.
Maybe he’s right. But I shouldn’t….

Laughter lit his eyes. “Or, maybe some of Mrs. Pendell’s thimbleberry wine will provide some inspiration.”

 
“I give in. Cookies, though, not the wine.” She put her hand in his and let him assist her up.

He held on until she was steady, then lingered before releasing her hand.

Touching him felt so good. Lily had to resist clutching his fingers and not letting go.

Only a few more days
, she lamented, longing for more time with Tyler. But she also knew she needed to leave before Green Valley Ranch and the people who lived here burrowed too deeply into her heart.

CHAPTER NINE

Tyler halted Domino in the side yard between the two-story Thompson ranch house and their big barn. After partaking of cookies and milk with Lily and his son, he’d set out to ask a favor from a woman he barely knew, but whom he hoped would look favorably on his request for assistance.

A boy dashed out of the barn—Daniel Rodriquez, the son of Thompson’s new wife. The child showed his Argentine heritage, with his golden skin and dark hair, although he had his mother’s blue eyes. Daniel skidded to a stop far enough away so he wouldn’t spook the horse. “Hiya, Mr. Dunn.” He gave a little bounce, his eyebrows rising. “You didn’t bring Oliver?”

“Nope. Left him at home this trip.”

Daniel’s eyebrows drooped. “Too bad. I could have shown him the Falabella foals.”

Tyler knew how much his son would love to see the midget horses and their foals. “Maybe next time I can bring Oliver. Is your ma around?”

“Yep. In the kitchen.” The boy opened the gate of a picket fence that surrounded a bed of red tulips Lily would surely like to paint and trotted up the brick walkway. He opened the door and, without going inside, bellowed, “Mama, company!”

Tyler smiled and shook his head.
Boys.

Samantha Thompson walked outside. The sun glinted off her auburn hair. She wore a pale blue dress that made her eyes look like cornflowers and a flowered apron that couldn’t quite hide the small bulge of her pregnancy. “Mr. Dunn. Welcome.”

Her smile reminded him that she was one of the most attractive women in Sweetwater Springs. Before she’d married, he’d admired her from afar, but even her beauty hadn’t been enough to banish the bitterness about Laura that had frozen him into a block of ice over the last years. Tyler smiled, nodded, and touched the brim of his hat before swinging down from his horse.

Daniel dashed back, holding out his hand for the reins. “I’ll water him, Mr. Dunn.”

“Thank you, son.”

His mother brushed a loving hand over her boy’s hair. “After you take care of Mr. Dunn’s horse, I want you to change out of your school clothes.”

“Yes, Mama,” the boy said in a longsuffering voice.

Tyler and Samantha exchanged amused glances.

“Would you like to come inside?” She waved toward the house. “Mrs. Toffels has put the kettle on for tea.”

“I have to be getting’ back, ma’am.” He shuffled his boots in the dirt. “I just came to beg a favor. I have a guest at the ranch, a Miss Lily Maxwell. She was staying at Mrs. Murphy’s. Then the widow discovered Miss Maxwell had a dog.”

Amusement gleamed in her eyes. Mrs. Thompson held up a hand. “Say no more. I can imagine the rest.”

“Miss Maxwell is only here for a week. She’s painting a series of botanical drawings. She suffers from a damaged hip, making it difficult for her to get around. She refuses to ride because her injury was caused by a fall from a horse. But the wagon can’t navigate the places she needs to go to find her flowers.”

Her smile widened. “And you’d like to borrow the Falabellas and their cart for Miss Maxwell.”

“Yes,” he answered, glad she saw the need before he even asked.