Montana by Debbie Macomber
He’d never guessed the cabin would become his love nest. Love nest. Silly term. Kind of old-fashioned. It made him smile. Sitting down, he arranged the chess pieces on the board and waited for Pearl to join him. She wasn’t long.
“I’m after revenge,” he announced, grinning up at her. Pearl claimed she hadn’t known how to play chess until he’d taught her. After the first few games he found that hard to believe. Her skill was amazing. It wasn’t only chess that she was good at, either. She had an incisive logical mind and grasped ideas quickly. Because of her reading difficulties, she’d assumed she was stupid when in reality the opposite was true. He marveled at her almost photographic memory. That, together with her wit, made an intriguing combination. She fascinated and challenged him. The Sundays he spent with her had become the highlight of his week.
He’d asked her about IQ tests in high school, and she had told him she’d dropped out before ever taking any. Then, when she confessed she couldn’t read, he’d decided to teach her. She picked it up with astonishing ease. He loved her reaction, the excitement and giddiness she didn’t try to hide. She was never without a book these days, and he was impressed by her insights into character and theme.
Ironic. Pearl had been his birthday present. An evening with a prostitute. He’d felt sordid, at first, going to her—as sordid as he’d always considered his older cousin. But what his cousin didn’t understand was that knowing her, loving her, was perhaps the greatest gift he’d ever received.
The one question that had hounded him for months was how she’d become involved in this life. Despite his curiosity, he’d never questioned her. Fear was the main reason for keeping his questions to himself. He’d recognized immediately that the subject of her career, for lack of a better word, was strictly off-limits. The one time he’d mentioned it, she’d refused to speak and had nearly run away. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, risk it again.
What most concerned him was the question of her pimp. She had one. Almost every hooker did. But Russell had never had the courage to ask who it was. So he had to pretend things were different. Pretend they had a normal relationship.
Either he was the biggest fool who’d ever lived or her love for him was as real as his law degree. As real as she said it was. He chose to believe her. It was as if there were two Pearls. One of them was the brazen cold-eyed hooker he’d met on his birthday. The woman who was a consummate actress, using soft baby talk with him and behaving in an almost subservient way as she offered tantalizing glimpses of her wares.
Then there was the other Pearl. The real Pearl.
He wasn’t sure why he’d suggested they talk first that night. Probably because he’d been nervous and on edge. His cousin had made a big deal of this evening, and while it had embarrassed and even disgusted Russell, he’d reluctantly gone along.
He’d never intended to go to bed with her, never intended to visit her again. But their first evening together had been…so wonderful. So unexpected. He discovered he could be himself with her, whereas with other women he felt self-conscious and shy. He knew women considered him attractive; nevertheless he’d never found it easy to talk with them.
Later his cousin had interrogated him about his gift. Pried him with questions. Russell had lied, saying as little as possible. His cousin had given him a congratulatory slap on the back, then lowered his voice and asked if he’d sampled Pearl’s specialty. It was all Russell could do not to slam his fist down the other man’s throat as he relayed in profane detail what kept Pearl’s customers coming back again and again.
Then Russell had stumbled on her in the grocery store, and they’d started meeting at his cabin. He was fairly sure no one knew, which was undoubtedly for the best. Their secrecy protected his reputation and, she’d once implied, her safety. And there was the fact that she wasn’t exactly the type of woman a man introduced to his mother. Yet Russell would gladly have married her. He’d asked her to be his wife a dozen times; he’d stopped only because he could see how much it hurt her to turn him down. Tears would fill her eyes and she’d whisper that he didn’t know what he was asking. Russell did know. But he’d let the matter rest and went about proving how much he loved her, even when it meant turning a blind eye to how she made her living.
Looking at her now, no one would ever guess her occupation. Her hair was tied back in pigtails and her baggy T-shirt disguised the fullness of her breasts and just about every other feminine attribute.
“Your move,” she said, glancing up and beaming him a wide triumphant smile.
It was difficult to stop gazing at her long enough to examine the chessboard. Once he did, he frowned. The obvious move would put him in check; any other move would place his queen in jeopardy. He reconstructed her moves and saw that there was no hope for it. She’d won. They could play to the end, if she insisted, but the outcome was inevitable. She’d outsmarted him again.
He looked at her and grinned. “Come here,” he whispered.
“Russell?”
He held out his hand to her. She knew what he wanted and blushed. The first time he’d seen that tinge of color on her cheeks he was convinced it was a trick. This woman knew everything there was to know about sex. But over time Russell had come to trust that everything between them was as new and fresh for her as it was for him. Like him, she was in love for the first time in her life.
“You can get out of that,” she said, pointing at the chessboard.
But Russell already had his next move planned, and it didn’t involve chess.
Pearl giggled, sounding like a teenager. She exhaled the softest of sighs, then gently placed her hand in his. Russell pulled her close.
Out here he could forget that this never should have happened. That he’d fallen head over heels in love with a whore.
On Friday morning Molly and Gramps received news from Sam that one of the water holes had been poisoned. The carcass of a calf had been dumped in the largest cow pond in the new pasture. Every indication was that this had been done deliberately.
Ten cattle were already dead and another thirty head were sick. Between the vet bills and the loss of cattle, this was one more disaster they didn’t need.
“We’ve got to do something, Gramps!” Molly cried in outrage as she stormed about the kitchen. She wasn’t sure how she expected him to respond. She’d thought it over countless times, and her conclusions were always the same. The record books told her they were already in financial trouble. Any more would cripple them. It was clear to her that someone wanted the ranch to fail. “Who would do this to us?” she muttered. “Who?”
“If I knew who’d do such a thing, Molly girl, I wouldn’t be sitting here stewing.” He’d played solitaire for the past hour, slapping the cards against the table and just as quickly snatching them up again.
“But why?”
Gramps slowly shook his head. “I wish to hell I knew.”
“Isn’t it obvious someone wants us to bail out?” Surely he hadn’t forgotten the offer Russell Letson had brought her a few days after her arrival. That seemed the perfect place to start looking. “Maybe we should ask Letson who his client is.”
“Sam already did that.”
“He did?” That the two men would exclude her didn’t sit well with Molly, but this was an issue she’d take up with Sam, not Gramps.
“Now, don’t go gettin’ your dander up,” her grandfather muttered. “It was a logical decision. You’d just arrived and we couldn’t see any need to drag you into something you knew nothing about.”
“So do you know who made the offer?” she asked.
“It wasn’t someone local, if that’s what you’re asking. No one from Sweetgrass would want this land so bad he’d be willing to hurt us in order to get it,” Gramps told her.
“Who is it, then?”
Gramps scratched the side of his head. “My guess is it’s one of those movie-star types outta Hollywood. I hear that’s quite common now. These people think they’re gonna turn back time and have bison
Molly agreed. But she was going to ask Sam about it. In the meantime she wanted to clear the air about something else. Something she’d put off since the Fourth of July.
“What exactly do you know about Sam?” she asked in what she hoped was a conversational tone.
“Sam?” Gramps’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Not that again! Why’re you asking this time?”
“Sheriff Maynard stopped by for a chat with us before the parade last week.”
“Oh?”
“He wasn’t particularly…pleasant.”
“Oh.”
“He seems to know something about Sam that we don’t.”
“Oh?”
The oh’s were beginning to irritate her. “Gramps, I know you like Sam. I do, too, and so do the boys. But something’s not right. Why would Sheriff Maynard want to make trouble for Sam? And even more important, why did Sam clam up afterward?”
“You’ll have to ask him.”
Gramps was hiding something from her. Molly was convinced of that, and it angered her. She was his flesh and blood. His granddaughter. And apparently he didn’t trust her enough to tell her the whole truth about a hired hand.
“Fine. I will ask him.” She was going to have so many questions for Sam she’d have to start a list. “The man responsible for keeping the law in this county looks at Sam as if he isn’t to be trusted and you’re pushing me to marry him. What kind of message does that give me, Gramps?” She didn’t allow him an opportunity to answer. “It says you’re so desperate to see me married off that you’re willing to throw me to anyone. Even a man you hardly—”
“Enough!” Gramps pushed the deck of cards aside. “You ask me what I know about Sam Dakota. I know he’s decent and honest. I know he cares for those boys of yours and he’d make you a damn good husband. That’s what I know. As for his trouble with the sheriff, you can think what you will, but it was nothing Sam did.”
“All Sam’s interested in is the land you offered,” she said. It still offended her that Gramps had dangled part of her inheritance as an inducement.
“Did Sam tell you himself that he’d only marry you if I threw in the land and cattle?” Gramps asked.
“No,” she admitted. “But he didn’t have to say it,” she added sarcastically. His attitude had said it all.
“Do you honestly believe I’d suggest you marry a man I don’t trust?” Gramps asked her quietly.
“Why him?” she cried. “Do you think I’m incapable of finding my own husband? What if Sam marries me, sucks the ranch dry and then leaves me?”
Gramps shook his head. “I told you before, Molly, that isn’t going to happen.”
“How can you be so sure?”
He sighed deeply and looked away. “Without Sam, I would have lost the ranch last winter.”
“Any hired hand would have saved the ranch,” she argued. “Sam was there when you needed him, but it could have been anyone.”
Again Gramps shook his head. “No. For one thing, he got the cattle sold off in time to pay my bank loan. I’ll grant you another foreman might’ve managed that for me. But the other thing he did…” Gramps rubbed at his eyes. “He pawned his silver buckle to pay back taxes. Those things are worth a lot, Molly. Remember I told you he was a world-champion rodeo rider until his accident? It was his prize that he hawked for the ranch. He didn’t tell me about it right away, either. I found out when I went in to the assessor’s office to ask for some extra time. That was when I discovered Sam had already been in and paid the bill. The only reason he told me was I pressured him into it.”
Sam had done that? Molly felt a sudden need to sit down.
“I’d been having a bit of a problem with money,” Gramps said, and Molly understood how difficult it was for her grandfather to admit this. “I put off thinking about it as long as I could, but when the dunning letters started coming in, I knew it was time I faced the music.”
“You told Sam?”
“No!” This was said with vehemence; she realized it hurt his pride to talk about his financial failures. “Sam was the one who brought in the mail. He saw the final-notice envelope himself.”
“How much was it?”
Gramps named a substantial figure. “He hawked the most precious thing he owned to help me. Despite what you think, Sam Dakota is a good man. Give him a chance to prove himself, Molly girl. You might be surprised.” Gramps hesitated and his voice grew gentle. “You should have seen him when he first arrived. He was mad as hell and the chip on his shoulder was the size of an oak. But after a while, when he got to working the land, he changed. The land will heal you, too, Molly. If you let it.”
Molly wanted the land to heal her. She wanted the contentment of a life lived close to the earth. She wanted the sense of accomplishing something real.
“Sam paid the taxes without telling me what he’d done,” Gramps whispered. “He’s that kind of man. You won’t go wrong marrying him. He’ll be good to you, Molly, and a decent father to your sons. I won’t be with you much longer.” He held up his hand to stop her when she started to protest. “Think about marrying him. I promise you, you won’t be sorry.”
Molly spent the evening doing just that. Thinking. Much later, while the house slept, she was still wide awake. Worrying. Wondering. What would she do without Sam? Who could she trust? Was it right to marry him?
Staring out at the moonless night, she felt alone and afraid. Someone was trying to frighten her off her land. Hurt her family. If ever there was a time she needed a strong ally, it was now.
Was that enough for a marriage, being allies?
The house was quiet and dark as she hurried downstairs. The clock on the stove said it was after midnight. She wasn’t sure what prompted her to look out the kitchen window, but she did, and the first thing she noticed was that Sam’s light was on.
Before she could lose her nerve, she pulled on a sweater and a pair of boots and made her away across the yard.
She knocked twice before he answered.
“Yeah? What is it?” He raked back disheveled hair as he opened the door.
“I…I thought you were up,” Molly apologized.
“I must have dozed off in front of the television.” He didn’t invite her in, which was just as well. She’d say what she had to say quickly and be done with it.
“Two things.” She straightened holding her head high, and forced her voice to remain calm and unemotional. “First, I’ve decided to approach you about Gramps’s suggestion.”
He didn’t say anything for perhaps a minute. Just stared at her. “You’re willing for us to get married?” he finally asked. He didn’t sound like he believed her.
“Yes,” she said, and nodded once for emphasis. “Are you willing?”
“I’m willing.” No ands, ifs or buts. No questions or hesitations, but then she’d doubted there would be.
“All right. We can get the license later this week.”
He nodded. “You said two things.”
“The next one is a question. Please be honest. Would you have agreed to marry me without Gramps’s offer of the cattle and land?”
“No,” he said, steadily meeting her gaze.
If nothing else, she appreciated his honesty. “That’s what I thought.”
Ten
Sam was sitting at the kitchen table when Molly came downstairs the following morning. The coffee was made, and she glanced his way before helping herself to a cup. His silence grated on her nerves. The night had been miserable. She’d slept, but only
Judging from the dark shadows beneath Sam’s eyes, he hadn’t slept any better. Neither spoke, although Molly knew he was as aware of her as she was of him. For two people who’d agreed to marry, they didn’t appear to have much to say to each other.
She noticed that he waited until she’d had time to drink half her coffee before he spoke. “Have you changed your mind?”
Molly’s gaze flew across the room. “Have you?”
“I asked you first.”
If he was trying to make her feel like a fool, he was definitely succeeding. “No. I’m willing to go through with a wedding if you are, but—”
“I am,” he interrupted, not giving her a chance to finish. He stood and reached for his hat.
“But,” she continued as though he hadn’t spoken, “I’d prefer the marriage to be strictly a business arrangement.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “You already know my answer to that. We’ll be man and wife in every sense of the word, or the whole thing’s off.”
“But you said…you admitted you’d never have agreed to the marriage if it wasn’t for Gramps’s offer.”
“Think of that as my guarantee.”
“Your guarantee?” she flared. She needed a guarantee if anyone did. This was no love match, after all. Even if her husband-to-be thought they were going to share a bed. That issue wasn’t resolved yet, as far as she was concerned. “Your guarantee?” she repeated. “Of what?”
“Who’s to say that a couple of years down the road, after I’ve worked my fingers to the bone, you won’t file for divorce and kick me off the place?” Sam asked coolly.
“Who’s to say you won’t sell off the cattle and abscond with the profits?” she threw back.