A Valentine's Choice: A Montana Sky Series Holiday Novella (The Montana Sky Series) (7 page)

Deuce worked with his back to her, mucking out a stall at the end of the aisle.

Bridget decided not to disturb him, instead wanting to explore a bit on her own before James caught up with her. Scanning the aisle of stalls, she recognized the sleek black head of the Thoroughbred and walked toward him, her gestures slow.

The horse eyed her with curiosity.

“
Is buachaill álainn thú’
,” she murmured, while rubbing his neck.

“Thunder doesn’t know Gaelic.” A man spoke from behind her.

Bridget turned to see Patrick Gallagher looming near. She’d been too engrossed in his stallion to notice his approach.

He wore a black shirt that enhanced his dark eyes and hair. His eyelashes were long. But the chiseled planes of his face and the square chin kept him from looking soft.

He’s attractive, indeed.
She couldn’t help but respond to the sheer magnificence of the man and his horse.

“I don’t speak the language, either,” he admitted with a small shrug. “Too many generations away from the old country.”

“I told Thunder he was a beautiful boy,” Bridget explained.

“Aye, beautiful,” he said, staring into her eyes and dropped a hand on the stall door next to her.

She blushed and dropped her gaze. Uncomfortable with his closeness, she sidled to Thunder’s other side, putting the horse’s head between them. “Why a Thoroughbred here?” She rubbed Thunder’s nose.

“We have racing in Montana, you know. Even here in Sweetwater Springs. It might not be up to Irish standards, but we have our share of splendid winners.”

“The squire of our village was heavily into racing. From an early age, he allowed me to spend time at his stables helping out.”

“He must have trusted you, then.”

“Aye. He’s a dear man. ’Tis grateful, I am that he didn’t let the disapproval of his wife and son prohibit me from the place.” She patted Thunder’s muscled neck. “This one must be fast.”

“As the wind. Thompson has a mare who won the horse race here last August. He wants to breed her. I brought Thunder for Thompson to inspect and also so I could look over the mare. I plan to drop by the Carter and Sanders’ ranches as well. But Thompson and his missus have made me welcome, invited me to stay a while.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “I’ve taken them up on their invitation.”

* * *

Eager to find Bridget and spend some time together, James strode to the bunkhouse where, during the day, a kettle of warm water was kept on the back of the stove that heated the room. He stripped off his gloves and coat and unwound his scarf. He poured some water into the basin, washed, and shaved—something he hadn’t managed in the early morning darkness. Once he dried his hands and face, he donned his outerwear again and strode to the barn.

The sadness in her eyes as she’d watched Alana leave had made his belly tight, and James wanted to do something, anything, to bring a genuine smile back to Bridget’s face. And he knew just the trick—the Falabellas.

According to Samantha, the midget horses had worked miracles on her once-troubled adopted sons. Every man on the ranch loved the small creatures, even if a few grumbled about having nothing to do with such
toys
—although on several occasions, he’d caught one or the other of those same cowboys secretly slipping carrots or apple slices to a Falabella and even using
baby talk
. James snickered at the memories. He hadn’t said anything yet to the culprits. He was saving the revelations for a time when they’d have the most impact.

Now, James was certain the little ones would have a similar magical effect on Bridget. Just thinking of her reaction, he couldn’t help but grin.

Inside the barn, he saw Bridget talking to Patrick Gallagher while she stroked his horse, and James’s cheerful feelings gave way to jealousy. He stalked toward them, nodding at Gallagher but giving Bridget a warm grin. “Are you ready for your tour of the barn?”

“I am, indeed.”

Patrick frowned. “I’ll go lunge Thunder.”

Bridget cast the man a reluctant glance, as if wanting to see him work the horse. She gave a final pat to the stallion’s nose. “I’ll see ye again, sweet boy.” With a smile at Gallagher, she moved to James’s side.

“Come this way.” He led her to the middle of the barn. “I’m assuming you’d rather see the horses than the tack room or the hay loft.”

She nodded, a wide smile on her face.

“Wyatt had these doors shortened so the horses can see over them.” He gestured for her to look into a stall.

Bridget peeked over, and her eyes widened. “Oh.” She inhaled sharply in obvious delight at seeing the tiny black mare. “Why, I’ve never seen the like! Tell me, Jamie—” the nickname slipped out “—what is this dear wee creature? Surely not a pony. She’s too small.”

There’s the smile I was hoping for.
He liked how Bridget called him
Jamie
, the word taking on a different cadence when uttered in a musical Irish accent. Although he might have to beat up a man who called him Jamie, the name coming from her seemed intimate. With a sense of longing, he wondered if he’d ever hear her whisper his name while they were together in the dark of the night.

James realized Bridget was waiting for his answer. “A Falabella. Her name’s Chita, and she belongs to Daniel. Mrs. Thompson brought them from Argentina.”

“Them? There are more?”

“Yes. And you’ll see more around town because we only kept one foal. Let me introduce you to each Falabella, then you can choose which to get acquainted with first. They’re all good-natured and very playful.” James took Bridget’s hand and led her down the row, hoping she wouldn’t pull away. He tried to act casual, but his heart thumped so loudly he heard the pulse beat in his ears. “The chestnut is Bonita, the brown mare is Pampita. Mariposa is the gray. The Falabella stallion is Chico.”

“Such darlings.” Her face glowed. “I’m in love already.”

So am I.
He cleared his throat. “They do have that effect on people.” He stopped before the last shortened door. “This brown sweetie was born here. She belongs to Christine, who named her Tulip.”

“’Tis adorable, she is. I’ll start with her.”

“Go right ahead.” He opened the stall door and stood back.

Bridget took two steps inside and sank to her knees in the straw. Luckily, Deuce had already mucked out this stall.

At first, James thought to wander off and do some work, for there were always jobs around the barn. But he couldn’t tear himself away for long. Instead, he grabbed his bridle, a can of linseed oil, and a rag, and rubbed the leather while he leaned against the opposite stall and watched Bridget.

She never even noticed his regard, so absorbed in the Falabellas was she. She moved from stall to stall, spending about five minutes with each Falabella.

Right now, James could see by the way she smiled and caressed the horses, even kissing their noses, that no worries about her sister or her aunt crossed her mind. He wished he could make this time last—always keep her free from care.
But at least she has a respite.

After about half an hour, he stirred from his spot and quietly called out. “Bridget, if you want to see the rest of the animals, we’d best be going.”

“Oh, goodness, yes.” She ran a hand over Mariposa’s gray back and stood. “Sally will be waking soon, and I should be back by then.”

He took her toward some of the other horses, pulling a carrot from his pocket when they reached Dusty and offering it to Bridget.

“Oh, thank ye for helping me keep my promise to him.”

Her grateful smile warmed James all the way to his toes.
Who needs hot bricks when Bridget O’Donnell is around?

She held out the carrot, petting Dusty’s nose as the gelding happily crunched away.

James envied the horse her touch.

She tilted her head, closely examining the gelding, then stepped sideways to view one of the extra mounts, before sliding back to his side. “They’re different from our horses back home. I’m not talking about the Thoroughbreds, but our draught horses. Fine creatures, indeed. They’re short-legged and powerful. Deep of girth and strong of back and quarters. Light and fast on their feet for such heavy horses and—” she held up a finger and flicked it upward “—good jumpers.”

James liked the way Bridget’s eyes lit as she waxed eloquent. “What about their temperament?”

“Intelligent and gentle natured, reliable,” she said in a proud tone. “They’re bred for multiple jobs—to plow, sow, mow and reap, hunt, ride, and drive the family to church.”

He chuckled. “I guess that’s more than chasing and cutting cattle or riding into town.” He patted Dusty’s neck. “Although, as you saw, this one proved quite good at pulling the sleigh.”

She stroked the gelding’s head. “Ye did a fine job, Dusty, me boyo,” she said thickening her accent.

They moved on to meet Samantha’s mare, Bianca, a wedding present from her husband. The black beauty had four white stockings and a blaze down her nose. The mare nickered and snuffled Bridget’s arm.

“Oh, my.” She rubbed Bianca’s nose. “What a lovely lady ye are.”

“She’s a sweet goer, a perfect mount for the missus.”

He gestured to a chestnut mare in the next stall. “And this is our speed demon, Miss Midnight, although we call her Missy unless we’re trying to intimidate or impress people.”

“I would love to see her race.”

“She is something.” James placed a hand on her arm to guide her toward the back door. “Let’s go see the old barn.” He took her out and through a covered breezeway built last fall. Amazing the changes the boss had made around the place for the pleasure and comfort of his bride.

This barn was constructed when the previous ranch owner lived in a log cabin. The structure was smaller than the first and housed the goats, pigs, and milk cows.

Half of the space was taken up by a fenced-in area spread with thick straw where the small herd of goats milled around. Some were black and others dun-colored.

Holding on to the top rail, she leaned over the enclosure. “Somehow, I never thought to find goats on a cattle ranch.”

“They’re relatively new. A lot of things changed around here when the boss got married.”

She chuckled and nodded.

The musical tone of her laughter caused a flutter in his belly.

“I imagine so.”

He wrenched his thoughts back to the topic. “Mrs. Toffels has the knack for making cheese, and we learned to like the taste.”

“I love goat cheese.”

“Jack and Tim had a goat when Samantha adopted them. Actually, the story is that they didn’t have the goat anymore. They’d been staying with Widow Murphy, and she kept the goat—claimed it was in payment for the boys’ care.”

She turned and stared with a wide-eyed look. “How mean!”

His mouth turned up. “The twins stole back Nanny, and Samantha paid off the widow. After their marriage, Wyatt bought the boys another pair, one of which came with her two babies. He also acquired a billy goat. Now two of the dams have given birth. Twins each. We’re practically overrun. We’ll soon have more goats than cattle.”

Again, she laughed. “I’m sure ye are a long way from that.”

“Well, you know goats can breed twice a year and have two, and sometimes three babies…”

She shook her head at him, a smile pulling at her lips. “Can I go into the pen?” She waved toward the center.

He unlatched the gate of the enclosure and followed her inside. “Just be careful. Reggie will try to eat your skirt.”

Several curious goats approached. But the two mothers glowered and kept their kids tucked away in the corner.

“What are the rest of them called?”

“The twins are particularly fond of names beginning with R. Reggie, Rufus, Rocky, Roland, Ruff.” As James said each name, he pointed to the animal. “Then there’s Scruff, Bessie, Dessie, and Chessie.” He patted one on the head. “And here is Jack’s original Nanny.”

Nanny butted Bridget’s leg, and at the same time, one of the other goats bumped her from behind, collapsing her knee. She took a faltering step sideways and caught her foot in the hem of her dress, further unbalancing her stance.

James grabbed her before she could fall.

Bridget ended up pressed against him, one hand on his shoulder. She glanced into his eyes, and their gazes locked, their mouths only inches apart.

James couldn’t resist the temptation to kiss her. He lowered his lips to touch hers just as Nanny banged into him, making him jerk and straighten, and bringing an awareness of their circumstances.
Anyone could have come in and seen us.
He wouldn’t for the world want to sully her reputation or make her feel forced into marriage.

Although he wanted to pull her close to him again, James held Bridget away from his body until he was sure she was steady on her feet.

Her color was high, making her eyes vivid, and she gave him a shy smile. “I think I’d best be getting back to Sally.”

Reluctantly, James released her, but as they walked out of the enclosure, a new awareness shimmered between them. He escorted Bridget out of the barn and watched her walk to the cabin, wondering what the future would bring.