Zack's Montana Bride (Sweet, Clean Western Historical Romance)(Montana Ranchers and Brides Series)

Zack's Montana Bride

Montana Ranchers and Brides series

By

Maya Stirling

CHAPTER ONE

BUCHANAN RANCH,

MONTANA 1887

"They'll be here soon," Zack Buchanan called downstairs to his housekeeper, Mrs. Brodie. What was she doing down there? Didn't she understand that he had to find a way to fit the last of the three tiny beds into the smallest room in the ranch house?

"I'll be up there in a minute, Zack," Mrs. Brodie called out. "I'm just finishing off this chicken. Or are you planning on starving those poor children when they get here?" she teased.

Zack ran a hand through his dark, sweat dampened hair. He quickly pushed the thought of the children to the back of his mind. There'd be time to think about that once they'd arrived. He leaned against the door to the small bedroom and squinted at the single bed which was jammed against the wood panelled hallway wall. He'd never get that last bed into the room. He glanced at the other two single beds which he'd just about managed to fit in. One lay next to the window. The other was positioned parallel to it. But there was no way he'd get another into the room. It just wouldn't fit.

Zack heard the clattering of pots from downstairs. Mrs. Brodie ruled the kitchen like a potentate. No-one was allowed to intrude on her domain. Zack had learned never to cross her when she was busy cooking.

He went to the window and peered down into the yard. The ranch hands were busy going about their business, keeping his ranch running smoothly. Zack sighed. He loved ranch life, and these men meant so much to him. They were the reason why Zack had prospered so much; that and the fact that he had thrown himself into the hard labor, determined to make his spread one of the finest in Montana.

And he'd just about succeeded. For now, anyway.

He grinned when he saw Bert, one of the ranch hands, struggle to control a particularly ornery stallion.

Zack turned and frowned. How was he going to get the last of those beds into this room? The children would need someplace comfortable. But they were going to be squeezed into a room that was clearly too small for all three of them.

Three children!

Three girls.

Zack felt a tingle up his spine at the mere thought of three children, who he hadn't even met, coming to live on his ranch. Not just coming to live; coming to grow up and mature into fine young women, each of them every bit as refined and elegant as their beautiful mother.

Zack cleared his throat and tried to focus his mind on the task at hand, but he couldn't shift the image of her out of his mind.

Lydia.

She was coming back to him. At last.

Zack heard a groan from Mrs. Brodie down in the kitchen. It sounded like there was a battle going on there. He thought about going downstairs and seeing just what was happening. But common sense soon prevailed.

An image of Lydia floated into his mind and stayed, stubbornly resisting any attempt on his part to shift it away. But the image in his mind was Lydia as she had looked nine years ago. Had it been that long? Nine years.

Zack wondered how much Lydia would have changed since the last time he'd seen her, at the train station in Great Falls, waving goodbye to Zack, while her father tried to draw her resisting, determined figure back into the carriage of the quickly departing train.

A lump came to Zack's throat. The memory of that day had burned inside him for nine long years. The feeling of loss had ached in his heart for a very long time, and had refused to be buried with even the most extreme, hard ranch work. Long days and insensible nights hadn't granted him the forgetting he told himself he so desperately needed. Zack had thrown himself into making the most of the ranch, determined to drive all thought of Lydia, his dearest sweetheart, out of his mind.

Eventually he had succeeded.

Or at least he'd believed he had.

But now she was coming back to him. Just like he'd told her she could. Just like he'd promised she could.

"Zack Buchanan! What in tarnation is this bed still doing in the hallway?" Mrs. Brodie yelled as she stomped on the wooden floorboards of the hallway outside the bedroom.

Zack jerked to attention and strode to the door. He was met with the sight of the rotund, grey haired, portly figure of his beloved, and never to be defied, housekeeper.

The elderly woman's bright eyes fixed on her boss and a scowl twisted across her lips. "I thought you said you'd get that bed in there," she challenged.

Zack's head leaned to one side and he gestured toward the room. "There just isn't room."

"Of course there's room," Mrs. Brodie said pushing past him and surveying the inside.

"What possessed you to put that bed under the window?" she asked pointing a chubby finger.

Zack squinted. "It was the only way I could get both beds in," he claimed.

Mrs. Brodie cleared her throat and rolled her eyes. Zack tightened his lips, knowing that he should keep quiet for the moment.

"Men!" Mrs. Brodie ejaculated. "It's a wonder they can even dress themselves once they're grown up."

Zack remained silent.

Mrs. Brodie's eyes narrowed. "Look. Can't you see that if you move that bed from under the window to this side, next to the mirror, then you'll be able to fit the other two at right angles?"

Zack frowned and glanced around the room. She was right. Why hadn't he seen that?

"Now. Get to it," the friendly housekeeper ordered. "A strong young man like you should have no problem shifting those beds around like I told you."

Zack smiled. "Mrs. Brodie. What would I do without you?" He reached out an arm toward her shoulders, but Mrs. Brodie took a step back and narrowed her smiling eyes at Zack.

"You'd most likely starve and freeze to death, I imagine," she stated, a broad grin stretching across her features. "I still don't understand why we need to get all three beds into the same room."

"In the last letter I got from Lydia she told me that the three girls absolutely refuse to sleep in separate rooms," he explained.

Mrs. Brodie frowned. "Given what they've been through in recent times, I can well believe they want to be together. Especially at night. The poor dears. Things have been so awful for them. And their poor mother," Mrs. Brodie said, her voice dropping to a soft, gentle murmur.

Zack's brows furrowed. Mrs. Brodie was right. Lydia and her three daughters had been through the most hellish experience. Thinking about the pain Lydia had gone through made Zack's middle tighten up. No-one deserved to go through what that mother and her three daughters had gone through. Death was a terrible thing to accept, especially for children. Losing a father so young was an unthinkable loss that Zack could barely comprehend.

He himself had been eighteen years old when his father had passed away, leaving him in charge of the ranch. Zack's mother had died when he'd been a baby. Zack had only known the love and support of the most wonderful father he could ever have wished for. But at least Zack had had the chance to grow up, mature, adjust himself to the harsh realities of life.

Lydia's three young daughters had barely embarked upon their course in life. And now they'd lost their father. Zack felt a sharp pang of sadness at the mere thought of how hard it must have been for the three girls.

And their beautiful mother.

Zack wished he'd been able to go to the train station to meet them. But Lydia had insisted. He was not to go to the station to welcome her. It had been one of a number of requests she had made in her letters, and the one he had found most difficult to comprehend. However, the memory of their parting, the wrenching pain that he had felt at losing her once before, tempered his impatience to leap on his horse and go racing down to the town of Great Falls and stand on the small, narrow platform to await her return.

For that was what it was.

Lydia was returning to Zack in an almost unthinkable turn of events. She was coming back to him. Every time he'd thought about that during the last few days his hands had begun to shake and his heart had skipped a beat.

But it was true.

As Zack started to drag the wooden frames of the small beds into the only arrangement which would fit in the room, and as his muscles throbbed with the exertion, he felt his heart race and beat faster at the thought that he was about to be given a second chance at winning the only woman who had ever meant anything to him.

***

Lydia Robards clutched the side of the sturdy buggy with one hand and wrapped an arm around the shoulders of her youngest daughter, four year old Daisy. The buggy hit a rut in the trail and herself, her three daughters and Ned, the foreman from the Buchanan ranch who clutched the reins in a tight fist, were all thrown forcefully from side to side. Lydia heard her two older daughters squeal from their place in the seat behind her. The sound of their voices vanished into the silence of the wide, expansive landscape around them.

"Now girls," Lydia said turning to check that Kate and Gretchen were still seated safely. "It's just a bump in the road," she reassured them. Gretchen scowled at Lydia. "You said that about the last hole we almost fell into," she said angrily.

Lydia smiled and shook her head slowly.

In a moment the buggy had stabilized and they continued along the narrow trail.

Lydia glanced at Ned and he smiled, as if the minor mishap was nothing to be concerned about. But Lydia was concerned about a great many things. So many, in fact, that her mind was a whirl of confusing and contradictory thoughts.

And memories.

Lydia gazed across the rolling hills. In the distance she saw the sharp, high peaks of the mountains. The December air was chill and Lydia was glad she'd taken the precaution of wrapping herself and her children up in thick fur lined coats. She'd insisted that the girls wear woollen hats, in spite of their protests about how ugly the hats looked. This wasn't California, where even the winters were mild and dry.

They'd left that all behind. Lydia felt a familiar stab of regret.

This was Montana. The winter here was unforgiving and hard. That much Lydia remembered. She'd never forgotten the long cold winters she'd passed with her father. He'd been a doctor in Great Falls for the few years they'd both lived in the town. The harshness of the season had meant her father had always had work to do, patients to attend, wounds to heal.

But her father was no longer alive to tend to the wound that burned harsh and hard inside Lydia. The sharp pain of loss.

Daniel.

She smiled at the memory of him, but her heart tightened when she tried to comprehend the reality that he was gone. Forever.

"Mama. Look. Animals," little Daisy screamed excitedly, pointing far off into the distance toward some cattle who were being kept in check by mounted ranch hands.

Lydia drew Daisy's small figure close to her and leaned her head in close, inhaling the sweet scent of the loose strands of her daughter's soft blonde hair which peaked out from under the hat. "Those are ranchers," Lydia explained.

Daisy's eyes widened. Ned turned and smiled. "We're on Buchanan land now," he said.

Lydia looked at the dark haired, lean featured man with the friendly expression in his eyes. She nodded.

"Those cattle look horrible," Gretchen exclaimed, scrunching her face up in obvious disapproval.

"They're the reason the ranch exists. They also belong to Mr. Buchanan," Lydia said to her daughter, taken aback at just how those words sounded.

Mr. Buchanan.

Zack.

"Is he a good man?" Lydia's middle daughter Kate asked. It was such a mature question for a six year old to ask. But then, Kate had always been a thoughtful, quiet child, such a contrast to Gretchen, about whom Lydia had had so many sleepless, worry filled nights.

Lydia turned to Ned. "What do you think, Ned? You work for him. Is Mr. Buchanan a good man?"

Ned nodded and smiled. "He's the best man in these here parts. There's no-one more fair minded and trustworthy than Zack Buchanan. I've worked for him for five years. He's always done the right thing for all his employees. If he gives you his word, you can take that to the bank," he concluded with an emphatic nod of his head.

Lydia nodded. That sounded about right. It sounded just like the man she'd left behind nine years before. Always doing the right thing. Even if it cost him dearly.

And what he was about to do was certainly going to cost him dearly. He was going to keep his word, a promise he'd given Lydia so many years ago, that it seemed like another world. Another life.

But, wasn't that what she had come from California to Montana for? Another life? A life for her children, a new start after the pain and loss she and the children had had to endure in the previous weeks.

Ned drove the horses onward along the rough trail. Lydia gazed around the landscape, recognizing distant hillsides, forests, rivers that ran down from the high, distant mountains. This was a harsh, but beautiful land. Such a contrast to the sophisticated life she and her family had enjoyed in San Francisco these past eight years. The children had become accustomed to town life and all the ease and comfort that came with that. Lydia felt a stab of anxiety at the thought of how difficult it was going to be for her children to adjust to growing up on a ranch.