Mystic Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series Book 6) (19 page)

Dr. Cameron winked at his wife. “One more to deal with the needs of my medical practice and one to travel to the reservation, while I stay home with my family.” He spoke the last in a thickened brogue that had everyone laughing.

Maggie snuck a glance at Caleb under lowered eyelashes to see him looking thoughtful.

His lips firmed, and then he said, “We can cover Amos’s wages.” He glanced at Peter Rockwell and raised an eyebrow. “Or what you estimate you would have paid him for the game he hunted. Average the last couple of months and come up with a weekly sum.”

Mr. Rockwell nodded.

Delia leaned forward and bestowed a beaming smile on Caleb. “That’s
wonderful
.”

Caleb looked surprised by Delia’s reaction, and then he held the woman’s gaze. The corners of his mouth turned up.

What do they mean by their covert exchange?
Maggie wondered, unaccountably jealous. She didn’t like the idea that Caleb might share a secret with Delia.

The conversation flowed on, but Maggie stopped listening. Her stomach tight, she toyed with her food, having lost her appetite. She was not at all pleased with herself for allowing her emotions to interfere with her dinner.

With a growing sense of guilt, Caleb listened to the conversation about the Indians’ affairs, feeling torn between whether or not he should volunteer.
A ridiculous impulse, really.
He had no desire to haul off to the reservation and dig in the dirt, even if he knew a thing about planting or raising livestock, which he didn’t—beyond horses, that is.

He watched the faces of his guests. They were all attentive and obviously absorbed in the romantic notion of taming and saving the savages.

Maggie tracked the conversation, her eyes wide with obvious concern.

A growing sense of pressure made him consider the outlandish idea of participating in the plan. And because the impulse was so unlike him, he had to mentally take stock of his thoughts and feelings, although he was fairly certain the woman at his right and the baby in the cradle between them were responsible for the softening of his heart.
No, not heart, his outlook on life.

Before meeting Maggie and going through their trials of survival together, Caleb doubted he would have experience any such concern about the situation. The thought of traveling to the reservation wouldn’t even have occurred to him. He certainly hadn’t felt any stabs of conscience at the time of the first expedition to the reservation to help the Indians, which took place last autumn.

Caleb wasn’t sure if he was happy about the change in him, and, after a few minutes of thought, he decided he wasn’t.
Too uncomfortable.
Life was cruel. As his father, Black Jack Livingston, used to say,
It doesn’t pay to be soft.
But still he had to do something to alleviate the odd sense of obligation and in so doing, maybe please Maggie, as well.

I can pay others. That’s a reasonable compromise.

Relieved to have wrestled his conscience into some sort of order, Caleb took a sip of his water, wondering if it was too early to serve wine. He set down the glass hard enough to make a thud.

Curious eyes glanced his way.

“I’ll donate supplies and cover the wages of several men who’d like to go but don’t want to lose out on their regular pay.” To his own ears, his words sounded stiff.

Mrs. Norton clasped her hands together. “Dear Mr. Livingston. So generous.”

Instead of assuaging his guilt, the emotion only deepened.

Maggie glanced over. She had no smile for him, only a look of penetrating contemplation.

Can she read my mind, see my ambivalence?

Reverend Norton nodded, as if giving Caleb a benediction. “Like before, we can ask the ranchers to contribute cattle and the farmers food and livestock.”

Another idea came to him. “We might even talk to Michael Morgan when he’s here for the wedding to see if any of his miners or other townsfolk would want to go.”

“Excellent.” Delia leaned forward to gaze at him. Her eyes sparkled. “I’ve
never
experienced anything like the way this community comes together to help in times of need.” She tilted her head toward her father. “Have you, Papa?”

Andre rubbed his chin. “Not in New York or New Orleans.”

Caleb smiled at her, surprised that he and Delia seemed to have returned to their former amicable relationship.
I guess I’ve forgiven her
. He glanced at Andre Bellaire.
Both of them.
The thought made him feel lighter.

He turned to Maggie, expecting, no
anticipating,
similar approval on her face.

But instead, she appeared solemn, and a small frown pulled down her lips. She glanced at her plate, picked up her fork, and pushed around the uneaten food. She hadn’t eaten much, which was unusual for a woman with a hearty appetite.

His spirits took a downturn.

What is concerning her? And what must I do to make her smile again?

For in truth, Caleb cared more for her happiness and the baby’s than for the plight of savages distant from him and capable of murdering them all.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A
fter dessert, Edith offered to play the piano in the parlor while their guests drank coffee or tea.

With exclamations of pleasure, everyone trailed their hostess from the room.

Feeling heavy-hearted, Maggie remained seated at the table. Her shoulders drooped, and she couldn’t muster the energy to stand.
If only I could magically float instead of limp into the parlor.

Caleb returned to the dining room. “I’ll take Charlotte for you.”

Maggie tried to hide her flagging spirits. Apparently, she hadn’t succeeded.

Caleb swooped in on her. “You need to rest.”

“But the company,” she protested.

“I’ll take you upstairs, and anyone who wants to visit you can go to your bedroom. I’ll bring up Charlotte in the cradle.”

“I can walk,” Maggie insisted, feeling obstinate. “Besides, what will people think?”

“No one is around to see. They are all in the parlor, eyes and ears on Edith.” Caleb won the argument by picking up Maggie and carrying her upstairs.

Being in his arms, inhaling his familiar scent, felt so right, which in turn made her weepy. Feeling discombobulated by the emotion, Maggie held back tears so he couldn’t see them.

Caleb strode into the room and laid her on the bed on top of the coverlet. He took the extra pillow from the other side of the bed and used both to prop her upright. “Don’t move,” he ordered, leaving the bedroom.

Free of Caleb’s presence, Maggie hurriedly pulled her lace handkerchief from her sleeve, blotted her eyes, and blew her nose before stuffing the square of linen inside her cuff. By the time he returned with her daughter in the cradle, Maggie had erased all evidence, or so she hoped.

He set down the cradle, handed her the baby, and stopped to stare into her face.

Maggie avoided his gaze by cooing at Charlotte and leaning forward to kiss her forehead and inhale her baby smell.

“Magdalena,” he said, drawing out all four syllables. “Is everything all right?”

She flashed him a false smile. “My ankle was paining me, but now that I’m off my feet, I’ll be fine.”

He frowned. “Why are you so stubborn? You could have told me, and I would have brought you up earlier. You could have been resting all this time.”

“Don’t fuss so, Caleb.”

His eyebrows drew together.

“If you could be so kind and bring a glass of warm milk.” She put a plaintive note into her tone.

He gave her a shake of his head, his frustration apparent. “What am I going to do with you?” He stalked from the room.

She stared after him.
I don’t know.

Caleb soon returned with the milk, which he deposited on the table next to the bed. “Is there anything else you need?”

She forced her lips to turn up. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t look convinced. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

“Caleb, you have a houseful of guests. Go be a host.” She waved a hand toward the door.

Quick as a whip, he caught her wrist. “That’s the second time today you’ve done that, bossy lady.”

This time her smile was natural. “I may be bossy, but you don’t follow orders well.”

He chuckled. “You noticed that, did you? We’re quite a pair, then.” Keeping his gaze on hers, he bent to kiss the back of her hand.

Although Maggie tried to hide her reaction, the touch of his lips made her shiver. Something in his eyes said her attempts at concealment hadn’t succeeded.

“I’ll check on you soon.” He lowered her hand to the bed and left the room.

“That man!” Maggie whispered to Charlotte, scooping the baby into her arms. “Caleb Livingston takes pride in tumbling me about.” She warmed to her theme. “I’m a tumbleweed rolling in the wind around that man.”

Charlotte gazed at her face as if fascinated.

Maggie gently touched the baby’s nose. “Yes, your godfather. That’s who I’m talking about.”

A soft knock sounded at the open door.

“Come in,” she called.

Delia Bellaire stuck her head in and smiled. “I see you two are settled.”

Delia was the last person Maggie wanted to talk to, but she managed a friendly smile.

“May I keep you company?” The woman’s eyes looked concerned.

Maggie couldn’t turn her away. “Please.” She gestured to the wingchair.

“I couldn’t help but notice you were quiet tonight.” Delia took a seat. “Subdued, actually.”

How could she tell? I thought I was acting normally.

“Perhaps a bit. . .tired.”

Delia gave her a speculative glance. “Is that all?”

I can hardly tell her I’m bothered Caleb might be in love with her.

“You’ve been through quite an ordeal,” Delia said, as if feeling her way. She smoothed a wrinkle from the coverlet. “I’m sure your recovery will have setbacks, both physical and. . .emotional.”

Not knowing how to answer, Maggie dropped her gaze to Charlotte and ran a finger down the baby’s arm. Although the other woman spoke the truth about the switchbacks of the last week. . . .
How can I ask her what I really want to know?

“Please, won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

The baby turned her face to the sound of Delia’s voice.

Maggie couldn’t resist the appeal in that coaxing Southern voice. Before she could rein herself in, the question burst from her. “Why do Caleb and Edith avoid you and your father?”

Delia let out a sharp breath and sat back, her smile wiped away. Her hazel eyes looked stricken.

“I’m not imagining their distance,” Maggie said in a staunch tone. “I’ve seen their behavior on several occasions now.”

Delia couldn’t meet her gaze. “No, you are not imagining it,” she said in a low voice.

“It’s because Caleb is in love with you, isn’t it?” To Maggie’s horror, her voice shook. “He’s hurt because you chose Reverend Joshua.”

Delia’s hand flew to cover her mouth, and her eyes grew wide.

“Edith is probably hurt and disappointed, too.” Maggie warmed to the notion. “Caleb must struggle, knowing you are back in town. Every time he sees you, he feels his loss. Underneath that proper banker’s exterior, he’s nursing a broken heart. He can’t bear to speak to you or your father.”

A peel of laughter stopped Maggie from further embellishing her story. She narrowed her eyes at Delia. “I do not think this is a case for levity,” she said in an affronted tone. “We are talking about
serious
matters of the heart.”

Still chuckling, Delia held up a hand. “My dear Maggie, the situation is not at
all
what you think.”

“It’s not?” Taken aback, she stared at Delia, but the woman’s cheerfulness convinced her. “Then what is the problem?”

Delia looked away. “I cannot tell you. My father and I. . .Edith and Caleb. . .we had a serious difference of opinion. Shall we leave it at that?”

Maggie wasn’t convinced, but she wouldn’t stoop to begging for the story. Trying to hide her hurt, she lifted her chin. “I can see that you feel the matter requires discretion.”

Delia’s brow crinkled. “You think I don’t trust you?”

“Do you?”

“I have a secret I cannot share.” Delia played with her fingers. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you. It is not mine alone.”

Like the burst of a soap bubble, Maggie’s emotion deflated. She knew the feeling of having something to hide. She glanced down at her baby.
Someone to protect.
She stayed silent for a while, thinking. Finally, she lifted her head and looked directly into Delia’s eyes. “I understand, for I have a secret, too.”

Impulsively, Delia leaned over and touched the edge of Maggie’s gown. “I am to be a minister’s wife. All three of the Nortons have had conversations with me about my future obligations. In various ways, each of them has talked about the sacred trust we have in our roles, and of the need to hold people’s secrets, to not condemn, yet to guide. . . . For if we do not do so, those who are most troubled will not feel safe in coming to one of us for counsel.”

Maggie supposed Delia was right. “I never thought of that.”

“Reverend Joshua. . . .” Delia’s voice faltered. “He is most concerned. . .due to his previous circumstances. . . . He told me that I too am called by God to nurture and guide his people, even if I’m not formally invested with the title of minister. For many people, he says, especially younger women, will seek me out for counsel, instead going to him or his parents.”

Maggie gave a slow nod, absorbing what Delia had said. “I can see the necessity.”

Delia fiddled with her gold heart pendant. “I mean, I was never one for gossip. A friend or a servant could safely confide in me. But I didn’t realize the larger implications. . .the importance of my place at Reverend Joshua’s side. . .until I accepted his proposal.” A smile played about her mouth, and her beautiful hazel eyes sparkled. “Well, actually Micah and Reverend Joshua’s proposal.”

“That sounds like quite a story.”

Delia lost her smile. “The story is wound around the secret I cannot share.”

Thinking about what Delia said about the sacred nature of keeping secrets made Maggie take a leap of faith. “How about this? We’ll trade.” She wiggled her arm out from under her daughter and extended a hand. “I’ll tell you my secret, and you tell me yours. It would be nice to have someone beside Caleb to talk with.”

Delia’s air of solemnity vanished. “Oh, I’d love to have a friend with whom I could share.” She grasped Maggie’s hand. “As much as I love my dear future husband and feel I can confide in him, and in his mother, as well, it’s not the same as talking to a woman my age.”

“Better go shut the door.”

Delia squeezed Maggie’s hand and released her. She jumped to her feet and rushed to close the door, her motions more like a girl instead of a woman who was about to become a minister’s wife. She returned to settle in the chair and leaned forward, waiting.

“Very well.” Maggie took a deep breath and let the words spill out, starting with her marriage to Oswald.

Her new friend listened with her hands clasped in front of her. Her expression changed from curious, to horrified, to fascinated.

Then Maggie finally wore down.

Delia’s hand flew to her chest, and she collapsed back against the chair. “I’ve never heard of anything so frightening!” She patted her chest. “And Caleb delivered Charlotte! I can hardly believe he’d do such a—”

“He didn’t have any choice. Charlotte was coming will he or nil he.”

“I can see why you and Caleb would feel the need to protect your reputation and your concern for Charlotte. I don’t think people would judge you, but you might as well not put them to the test.”

“Caleb told Reverend Joshua.”

“Why, that betrothed of mine! He never said a word.” Delia exhaled an annoyed breath. “I know he can’t. I just didn’t know he was so good at secrets.”

“Other people’s secrets,” Maggie hastened to remind her. “Not his own.”

“You’re right. There’s a difference.” Delia glanced at the door. “I’ll give you the short version of my secret, and we can discuss it more another time. My father will be wondering where I am.”

Charlotte fretted, stretched out an arm, and arched her back, a move Maggie recognized meant her daughter would soon demand to be fed. She nodded at the baby. “Another reason to make things quick.”

“I’m not really Delia Bellaire. I’m Delia Fortier.” She rushed out the words, and then, wide-eyed, paused for dramatic effect.

“How can that be?” Maggie asked, puzzled by her new friend’s meaning. “You look like your father.” Then she realized what Delia meant. Her parents had not been wed. “Oh.”

“And that’s not the worst. My mother was a quadroon Negress, which makes me an octoroon.” This time when Delia hesitated, her body tensed as if waiting for Maggie’s condemnation.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means I’m one-eighth Negro.”

Maggie studied her friend, searching for any sign of her racial heritage. Careful to not disturb Charlotte, she sat up to lean closer to Delia and thrust her arm alongside the other woman’s so the sides of their hands touched. “Look, we match. I’m half Gypsy.”

Delia’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know Gypsies were in America. In the stories I’ve heard, they wandered around Europe.”

“Oh, there are definitely tribes here, too. Most are in the south. You might have run into some and didn’t know it.” She touched her earring. “They smuggle gold.”

Delia studied the earrings. “I never would have known those are gold. You’re so clever.”

Maggie sat back. “Hurry and tell me the rest.”

“My mother had financial problems—some bad business dealings. She was going to sell me to a powerful man to become his mistress.”

Maggie gasped. She shook her head as if shaking some knowledge into her brain. “I thought the war abolished slavery.”

“There are all kinds of slavery,” Delia said in a dark tone. “Legally, Marcel Dupuy wouldn’t have owned me, but to all intents and purposes, I would have been his slave.”

“What did you do?”

“I fled to my father’s house. He hadn’t known of my existence. To protect me, we left New Orleans, passing me off as his legitimate white daughter. On the train outside of Sweetwater Springs, Papa had a heart attack and almost died. Reverend Joshua and Micah were also passengers and came to our assistance, so we ended up here. Caleb and Edith took us in because the parsonage was too small to house us. Indeed, we are much indebted to them.”

“Are you
sure
Caleb didn’t fall in love with you?”

“A woman knows when a man loves her,” Delia said with calm conviction. “I believe Caleb toyed with the
idea
of courting me. But he never had serious intentions. I can assure you his heart was
not
engaged.”

Relieved, Maggie let out a long sigh. “But what
happened
?”

“I made the mistake of writing to my mother and telling her where I was. She sold the information to Marcel, who traveled here to kidnap me.”

Maggie’s mouth dropped. “And here you said you never heard of anything so frightening as my troubles,” she scoffed. “Your experience was scary, too.”