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Montana paced in front of the stage depot, pausing only to check his pocket watch. They should have been here by now. Granted, he only cared about Mary, but his concern for her not showing grew when the whole stagecoach didn’t show. It normally arrived a few hours before noon, and it was nearly four in the afternoon. Maybe he better get Marshall? They could ride out to see if they met up with them along the way.
Having settled things in his mind, Montana stepped down off the platform onto the dirt road and headed across the street for his brother’s office. Being able to readily ask law enforcement to help, and knowing they’d actually do it, was one of the perks of having a brother as the sheriff.
Hillsboro was a small town in regards to population, but it became known as the county seat a little over a year ago. Which was beneficial to the town because it helped to get them the courthouse that they were currently building on the corner of Second and Oak Street. Not only would they get to have more holding cells to put criminals in, they would be able to prosecute them—no waiting for a judge to show up.
Montana entered the brick building. He nodded toward Marshall when he spotted him across the room, talking with another one of the deputies.
Marshall finished his conversation and came over to meet Montana. “What’s up, little brother?”
Montana laughed. “You realize I’m only a year younger than you are?”
His slightly-older brother smiled. “And you’re a couple inches shorter, making you my little brother no matter how you look at it.”
They both chuckled.
“I’ll give you that one.” Montana sighed, his expression sobering at the remembrance of the reason for his visit. “Have you heard any news concerning the stagecoach?”
“No.” Marshall shook his head as he sat on the edge of the desk. “You know something I don’t?”
Taking his hat off, Montana ran a hand through his hair before putting his Stetson back on his head. Maybe he was overreacting? The only thing he knew was that he’d feel better when she was here—with him. “Mary is arriving today, and the stagecoach should have been here already. It’s not like them to run so late, is it?”
“Hmm, not usually.” Marshall leaned slightly to look past where Montana was standing. “Chase, you heard anything about the stagecoach?”
Montana turned so he could see Chase’s face. He’d met him before—a nice man, he was a little on the lean side. Marriage agreed with his disposition, but apparently his wife had yet to master her cooking skills. At least Mary could cook, or so she said.
“There was a fella that rode into town this morning and said he’d passed the stagecoach. They were replacing a broken wheel,” Chase said. “I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”
Montana tipped his hat toward the deputy. “Thank you.”
“Not a problem.” The deputy went back to looking at the papers on his desk.
“You wanna grab a bite to eat while you wait?” Marshall stood. “I could sure use the company.”
He hated to make his brother eat alone. Even though he’d moved out a couple of years ago, he often showed up for dinner. “You really ought to think about getting a wife.”
Marshall let out a hearty laugh. “I said I wanted company, not a nag.”
“What makes you think a wife will be a nag?”
His brother shrugged. “Seems women tend to not understand that law enforcement requires a flexible schedule. The bad guys don’t seem to understand that crimes need to be committed sometime after breakfast and wrapped up in plenty of time so that we won’t be late for supper.”
“You don’t know that a woman wouldn’t be able to deal with your job.” Montana thought about how many times he could remember hearing about Marshall having to go on a manhunt, some of which took him away for days on end. Ma was practically a saint, and even she’d complained. “How about I just get a cup of coffee? Ma’s planning to have dinner ready when we get in.”
“Sure, rub it in.” Marshall patted him on the back as they headed toward the door. “You get Ma’s roast.”
“You can always come home for supper.”
“If I didn’t have to spend the night at the jail.” Marshall opened the door and Montana followed him out. “A deputy’s wife is having a baby, so I said I’d stay here tonight in his place.”
They both turned at the sound of horses and the stagecoach passing by, stopping in front of the depot. Montana stopped and stared. The air caught in his lungs. His destiny awaited him.
“Looks like I’m doomed to eat alone tonight after all.” Marshall nudged him, knocking him out of his trance. “Doesn’t mean I can’t at least meet my future kin.”
Marshall stepped down, picking up his pace, he quickly cleared the distance between him and the stagecoach. Once it registered, Montana took off at a trot to catch up with him. “You better be on your best behavior, Marshall.”
“Or what?” Marshall asked over his shoulder.
“Or she’ll never marry me and I’ll end up moving in with you, making sure you become a miserable man as well.”
“All right.” Marshall chuckled. “You don’t have to be so dramatic.”
When they rounded the back end of the stagecoach, two women stood on the platform, both had brown hair. The younger, and prettier, one said, “Mary,” when speaking to the other woman.
The older woman was Mary? Montana gulped and looked at Marshall, who was grinning from ear-to-ear. “Good luck little brother.”
He glared at Marshall. Pasting a pleasant smile on his face, Montana approached both of the women, forcing himself to look at Mary, so she wouldn’t be hurt by him gawking at the other beautiful woman. He reminded himself that it was her kind and loving spirit in her letters that had won him over. A peace settled over him as he thought about the letters she had been sending him over the last few months. With confidence, he approached them.
“I’m so glad you were able to make it.” Montana extended his hand to Mary. “I was worried when your stagecoach hadn’t arrived.”
Mary took his hand. “That’s very kind of you.”
“I would like for you to meet my brother, Marshall.”
To his credit, Marshall did not start laughing. He even did his best to school his enjoyment of the situation. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mary.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not Mary,” she said.
The other woman’s laughter sounded like music. Both men turned their attention to her. “It seems you have me confused with Mrs. Thompson.”
Marshall stopped smiling, his mouth slightly agape.
Montana’s spirits instantly soared. He said a silent prayer of thanks. His cheeks warmed when he remembered he was still holding Mrs. Thompson’s hand. He let her go. “I’m sorry for the confusion, ma’am.”
She smiled. “Not to worry, dear. You made my day.”
“And mine as well,” Mary said, a gleam in her eyes.
