| |
––––––––
“You’re what?” Ma glared at Montana from her wooden rocking chair in the living room. “Don’t you think you should have told me about her well over a month ago?”
“Well...” Montana stuttered, wishing the couch would open up and swallow him whole. He never did like being on Ma’s bad side. “I—”
“...definitely wasn’t thinking,” Ma finished her own version of what she figured he should have been saying. “We’re supposed to get everything gussied up around here within a day or two?”
Montana fidgeted with his hat in his hands, nodding and making an apologetic face. What could he say?
“You know this home doesn’t have a lot of feminine touches.” Ma looked down at her trousers and then back toward Montana.
He knew what she was thinking. Ma didn’t dress like other women. She dressed like a man because she worked as hard as one.
“When your pa died, I had four boys to raise while taking over the responsibilities of the ranch.”
“I know, Ma. You’ve always been hard working and had to do the work of a man. We appreciate how good you’ve always looked out for us.”
The frown lines around her mouth softened, a look of tenderness in her eyes. There wasn’t much that softened Ma’s exterior façade.
“I already talked with Mary and she knows what she’s walking into and that life on a ranch is a lot of work.” Montana didn’t want Mary finding out any surprises, and he didn’t want any either. That’s why he’d made her promise to be honest with him from the beginning, and he would be, likewise.
“Who knows what they’re walking into?”
Montana turned to see Marshall closing the door.
“Dinner smells good, Ma.” Marshall sniffed. “Is that stew?”
“Yep. I even made some biscuits to go with it.”
“Sounds good.” Marshall hung his hat on the rack by the door and took a seat on the other end of the couch. Crossing his leg, he brushed off some dust off his boot. “So little brother, continue. I’d love to hear who she is and what she might be walking into.”
“Don’t you have some sheriff duties to tend to?”
“And miss out on this conversation?” Marshall chuckled. “The fact that you’re trying to get rid of me tells me I’m right where I need to be.”
“I think your brother would rather let me digest the news before he has to deal with you and the others ribbing him about his engagement,” Ma said.
Marshall’s attention darted from Ma to Montana, then he did a double take, checking to see if their expressions belied any sense of humor. “His engagement?”
Montana tossed his hat on the coffee table. He glared at his older brother. “There’s nothing wrong with a man wanting to get married.”
“Did you ever think that maybe you should meet her and get to know her first?” Marshall’s eyes widened momentarily as he gave Montana that, ‘are you really that dumb’ stare.
“We’ve been writing each other for a couple months and have gotten to know a lot about each other. Part of marriage is getting to know everything there is about the other person.” While he and Marshall may have shared very similar facial features, except Montana only had a mustache, not a beard, the two of them were very different. Perhaps his brother’s position had made him more cynical concerning people. He spent his days dealing with less than desirable elements. It was likely to have an effect on his view of people. “I feel confident that Mary is exactly the type of person she has portrayed in her letters.”
“Yeah, cause lots of people who write strangers, claiming they want to spend the rest of their lives with them is perfectly normal behavior and shows that you can trust them.” If Marshall’s facial contortions weren’t enough, his comment was laced with obvious sarcasm. “Tell me, what convinced you more—the way she wrote each letter on the page, or perhaps you were too intoxicated by the perfume she scented each page with?”
Montana grabbed for his pocket, feeling to make sure Mary’s letter was still there. “How did you know she used perfume on her letters?” If Marshall read any of them, Montana would surely be wanted for murder, because he’d kill his older brother for snooping where he didn’t belong. “You didn’t even know about Mary before you got here.”
“I can smell the perfume.” Marshall smirked. “Obviously you’ve been handling that letter a lot today.”
Ma chuckled.
Heat rose in Montana’s face. He couldn’t refute Marshall’s comments. They both knew Ma didn’t wear perfume, and Sarah couldn’t handle the smell of it in her current state.
“In all seriousness, little brother, I’m just worried about you.” Marshall’s expression sobered. “While things may have worked out for Jessie with Sarah, her pa did try to kill him. I would feel better if you let me do a little digging to see what I can find out about this woman and her family first.”
Montana ran his hand through his hair. “It ain’t her or her family that I’m worried about.”
“You didn’t mention you had any concerns.” He didn’t like the scowl on Ma’s face.
“It isn’t anything really,” Montana said. “Mary’s aunt and uncle introduced her to a potential suitor and she didn’t feel anything for the fella, she only wrote him out of politeness to her kin. However, this fella does not seem to understand that when a woman says she ain’t interested that it means she really doesn’t want to see you again. He wrote and told her that he was on his way, so she is coming here. I figure the stagecoach may take a little longer than the mail to arrive, so it could be a day or two before she gets here.”
“What’s the name of this fella?” Marshall bit the one side of his lower lip, like he always did when he was thinking about a problem that needed to be solved. “I can ask around, see if anyone has heard of the guy.”
Montana didn’t need to look at Mary’s letter. He wouldn’t forget the guy’s name anytime soon—definitely not before he and Mary got hitched. Once the man saw that she was married, he was sure to move on. “His name is Calvin Peters.”
