Chapter
Thirteen
The yellow sun sat high in the summer sky,
throwing its brightness over the big land. Coffee cup in hand,
Laura wandered onto the front veranda, careful to stay within the
shade of its roof and avoid the full glare of the sun. Her gaze
traveled over the ranch yard, seeking out each and every area of
activity, but at this late hour of the morning, there was little to
be found.
Almost belatedly she became aware of a
figure in her side vision. Laura turned and smiled when she saw her
grandfather sitting in one of the wooden rockers, eyes closed and
chin buried in his chest.
She walked over to the rocker and
pressed a light kiss on top of his gray head. “Good morning,
Gramps.”
He came awake with a start, blinked,
and hurriedly rubbed a hand across his mouth as if to rid it of any
inadvertent drools. He threw a quick identifying look at her. “It’s
you,” he said, then glanced at the coffee cup in her hand. “You
just getting up?”
“More or less,” Laura admitted and
again let her attention wander to the ranch yard. “Where is
everybody?”
“Your mother’s at the ranch office, and
Laredo said he was going to South Camp this morning. Trey went to
doctor a couple of steers in the home pasture.” There was a trace
of sly humor in the sideways glance he sent her. “Or was it the
Englishman you were wondering about?”
“As if you didn’t know.”
“He rode along with Trey. I don’t
imagine he would have if you had gotten up at a decent
hour.”
“You know I’ve never been a morning
person, Gramps.” Laura raised the cup to her mouth and breathed in
the coffee’s fragrant aroma before taking a sip of it. At the same
time, she kept a covert watch in the direction of the home pasture,
so named for its nearness to The Homestead. “How long have they
been gone?”
“A couple hours, maybe more. You can
bet Trey will be back in time for lunch.”
“In that case, I’ll miss them,” Laura
said with a touch of regret.
Her remark drew a frown from Chase.
“Why?”
“Allie wants me to run into town.
According to the trusty range telegraph, Fedderson’s received a
batch of fresh strawberries this morning, and Allie wants some for
dessert tonight,” Laura explained, referring to the woman who ran
the kitchen at The Homestead, and had for the last ten years. “I
offered to go after lunch, but she’s worried that they’ll be sold
out by then. I was going to ask Sebastian if he wanted to ride
along with me, and we could grab a bite to eat at
Harry’s”
“If he was here, I’d give you odds that
he would jump at the chance,” Chase observed dryly.
“Probably.” She took another idle sip
of her coffee. “You do know that Sebastian is very anxious to get
his hands on my money.”
“I know.” Chase nodded and slanted a
twinkly look at her. “Judging from the way he looks at you, I think
he’d enjoy getting his hands on you as well.”
Laura clicked her tongue in mock
dismay. “You aren’t supposed to notice such things,
Gramps.”
“I may be old, but I’m not dead,” he
retorted.
She laughed. “I should hope
not.”
But Chase didn’t choose to get
sidetracked by her comment. “I get the impression you might have
some feelings for this Englishman. Otherwise, knowing what you do
about him, you would have already shown him the door.”
Laura pitched her shoulders forward in
an uncaring shrug. “If Sebastian chooses to stay, knowing that I am
going to marry Boone, it’s his time he’s wasting.”
“That reminds me,” Chase said.
“Crockett called earlier this morning. He said he’d try to reach
you tonight sometime.”
“You might as well give up, Gramps. You
are not going to rile me anymore by calling him Crockett.” A trio
of riders approached the home-pasture gate. Laura crossed to the
edge of the veranda, put two fingers to her mouth, and whistled
shrilly. Trey answered with an acknowledging wave and swung the
gate open from horseback, held it open for the other two, then
maneuvered it shut.
One rider split away to head for the
corrals while Trey and the second man branched off toward The
Homestead. Laura watched them approach at a steady trot, her
attention centering on Sebastian. A straw Resistol sat atop his
head, its brim shading his face. He wore a pair of faded Levis and
a plain blue shirt. From a distance, he could have passed for one
of the ranch hands, but the riding boots gave him
away.
When the pair reined up near the front
steps, Laura declared, “You almost look like a cowboy in that
saddle, Sebastian.”
“If I do, the credit belongs to your
brother,” he replied. “He informed me that if he caught me posting
at the trot—his words—he would knock me out of the saddle straight
to kingdom come.”
“Trey!” Laura was too stunned by his
rudeness to a guest to do more than stare at her
brother.
“Good God, Laura, it’s one thing for
you to do it, but if he started bouncing up and down, you know all
the other guys would look at him sideways the whole time he’s
here,” Trey said with force.
Sebastian made light of it. “When in
the West, do as the westerners do. Of course, I also didn’t know
how far it might be to kingdom come, and I felt certain I didn’t
want to find out.”
As always, the dryness of his humor
made Laura laugh. “I’m glad you’re back all in one piece. I have to
go into town. Want to ride along and see what one of our western
villages looks like?”
“It’s almost lunchtime,” Trey said in
protest.
“We can grab a bite at Harry’s. The
food won’t be as good as what Allie will put on the table, but
it’ll do,” Laura replied and looked at Sebastian. “What d’you say?
Are you coming or not?”
“After tangling with that steer, I’ll
need to wash up a bit.”
“No problem,” she said. “I still have
to get my purse and the keys to the pickup.”
“I’ll take care of your horse,” Trey
offered. “You go on inside and clean up. Knowing Laura, she’s just
as apt to leave without you.”
“Only if he dawdles,” Laura teased as
Sebastian swung out of the saddle and handed the horse’s reins to
Trey.
“I have been accused of many things,
but never dawdling,” Sebastian countered as he came up the
steps.
“There’s always a first for
everything,” Laura retorted and headed for the door.
After it closed behind them, Chase
fired a glance at Trey. “Did he really tangle with a
steer?”
“I guess you could say that. After we
got the steer down, he sat on his neck to hold him while Baker and
I doctored the gash on his hip. At least he pitched in to help,
which is more than I can say about Crockett.” Clicking to the
horses, Trey reined away from the house and set out for the
barns.
The shadow raced alongside the pickup
as it sped over the highway. On either side of it the land rolled
away, stretching from blue horizon to blue horizon.
Laura took her eyes off the road long
enough to run a glance over Sebastian’s profile. “You’re unusually
quiet.”
“I suspect this land is to blame,” he
said with an absent smile. “It gives one a new appreciation for
that trite phrase ‘wide open spaces.’ ”
“I suppose.” She looked around, trying
to see it through his eyes. “I can remember my gramps once saying,
‘This land makes a small man smaller and a big man king.’
”
“I suspect your grandfather looked
every inch the cattle king in his day.” There was an underlying
note of admiration and respect in his voice. The sound of it warmed
something deep inside Laura and brought a faint swell of
pride.
“From the stories I’ve heard, he wasn’t
a man to tangle with,” she said.
“I dare say he still
isn’t.”
In the distance the rooflines of Blue
Moon jutted into view. “Town’s just ahead of us—such as it is,”
Laura said. “When I was growing up it was a lively place. But that
was back when the mine was in full operation.”
“A mine? What kind?”
“Coal. There’s tons of it underground.
I can take you to a half dozen places on the Triple C where seams
of it are exposed. Back in the old days it was just about the only
fuel they had to heat their homes, other than cow chips, of
course.”
“And what might cow chips
be?”
Laura smiled at Sebastian’s puzzled
look. “Manure.”
His eyebrows shot up in instant
reaction. “Indeed, burning coal is infinitely preferable to burning
manure for heat.” As they approached the outskirts of town, Laura
reduced the truck’s speed, and Sebastian directed his attention to
the buildings before him. “When did the mine close?”
“About a year ago, I think. The
entrance to it is ahead on the right.” Laura pointed to the tall
gate, chained and padlocked to prevent access. “After it closed,
there was a mass exodus from town, with almost everybody moving
away to find other jobs. The population of Blue Moon probably
numbers only around thirty or forty people now.”
She flipped on the left turn signal and
waited for a southbound semi to roar past, then made the swing into
Fedderson’s lot. “Strawberries, here we come.”
“You intend to purchase strawberries at
a petrol station?”
“There’s a grocery store inside, as
well as post office and a small snack area. They even have a
miscellaneous section where they sell everything from automotive
supplies and hardware items to trinkets and magazines. Fedderson’s
is really what used to be called a general store. Clothing is about
the only thing they don’t sell.” Laura pulled up in front of the
building and switched off the engine. After slipping the ignition
key into her purse, she climbed out of the pickup while Sebastian
exited the passenger side. “The Feddersons don’t actually own it
anymore. Old Mrs. Fedderson sold it about eight years ago to Ross
and Marsha Kelly,” she explained as she started toward the store
entrance. “He drives a truck, so he isn’t here very
often.”
“Surely his wife doesn’t run it all by
herself, does she?” Sebastian reached ahead of her to open the
door.
“Her brother works here, too, mostly at
night. He’s a Vietnam vet who lost his leg in the war. Between the
two of them and some part-time help, they do fine.” Laura preceded
him into the store.
Marsha Kelly was behind the counter, a
slightly built brunette with apple cheeks and the first few strands
of gray showing in her hair. Her smile was quick and warm when she
recognized Laura.
“Hi, Laura. Let me guess: you’re here
for the strawberries,” she said.
Laura responded with a confirming nod.
“Allie’s orders. I’m supposed to buy a whole flat.”
The woman grinned. “I swear I’ve had
more customers this morning than I had all last weekend.” She
pointed to her right. “All the strawberries I have left are on that
table over by the fresh produce.”
Laura made her way to the produce
aisle, trailed by Sebastian. After that, she simply had to follow
her nose to the source of the sweet strawberry smell. Half the
table was already bare of fruit, but one look at the berries’ red,
ripe perfection and Laura understood why.
“Don’t they look luscious,” she
marveled as she scooped up a flat of them.
“Indeed they do,” Sebastian agreed and
reached for the flat. “Let me carry that for you.”
“Thanks.” Laura surrendered it to him
without hesitation and retraced her path to the counter. “You still
have six quarts left,” she told Marsha.
“They’ll be gone before the afternoon’s
over, I imagine. Is there anything else you need?”
“Not this trip.” Laura removed the
wallet from her purse as Sebastian set the flat of strawberries on
the countertop.
“By the way,” Marsha said as she rang
up the sale, “let Allie know that Ross is making a run to the Gulf
Coast this week. He’ll be bringing back shrimp and some
honest-to-goodness homegrown tomatoes, if he can find
any.”
“I’ll tell her,” Laura promised and
pushed a twenty-dollar bill onto the counter.
“I need some more ones. Just a second.”
The woman reached under the counter and pulled out a thick
bank-deposit bag, unzipped it to reveal a bulging stack of bills,
then exchanged a ten-dollar bill from the cash drawer for ten
ones.
At the sight of such a large quantity
of cash, Sebastian frowned in concern. “I should think having so
much money on hand would be an invitation for robbery. Aren’t you
worried about such a possibility, being a woman, here by
yourself?”
“Not really,” Marsha Kelly replied with
marked indifference. “Everybody knows I keep a loaded .38 under the
counter as well. And they also know my brother Bob made sure I know
how to use it. When you live in the middle of nowhere, with
anything remotely resembling the law a good fifty miles away,
people have to be willing to protect their own
property.”
“I see,” Sebastian
murmured.
Smiling to herself, Marsha glanced at
Laura and tipped her head in Sebastian’s direction. “Is this your
fiancé?”
“The ever-reliable range telegraph has
been at work, has it?” Laura wasn’t at all surprised that the news
of her recent engagement had already made it to Blue Moon.
“Actually, Sebastian is just a friend,” she explained, then made
the introductions. “Marsha, I’d like you to meet His Lordship, the
earl of Crawford, Sebastian Dunshill, from England. Marsha Kelly,
the proprietress of Fedderson’s.”
Flustered by the title, the woman
searched for an appropriate response. “Welcome to Montana, Your
High—” She darted a frantic look at Laura, unsure of the proper way
to address him.
“Sebastian will do,” he said
graciously.
“Sebastian,” Marsha repeated, and
awkwardly bobbed her head.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs.
Kelly.”
“The same,” she mumbled, suddenly at a
loss for words, and belatedly remembered to give Laura her change.
“I think that’s the right amount.”
“It is,” Laura confirmed. “We’re on our
way over to Harry’s to grab some lunch. Could I leave the
strawberries here and pick them up when we’re done?”
“That will be fine,” Marsha assured
her.
“Thanks.” Laura started to move away
from the counter, then paused when she saw Sebastian selecting a
handful of strawberries. “What are you doing?”
“A little something to whet our
appetites.” His mouth slanted in a lazy smile. “Allie won’t miss
these few.”
When he finally turned away, he held a
half dozen berries in the cup of his hand. Laura sketched a
farewell wave to the woman and pushed her way out the
door.
Somehow Sebastian managed to reach the
pickup ahead of her and opened the driver’s side door. “Thanks,”
Laura said, but he stopped her before she could slide behind the
wheel.
“Have a strawberry.” He offered one to
her, holding it by its green cap.
Rather than allow him to feed it to
her, Laura took the plump berry from his fingers and bit into it.
She hadn’t expected it to be so juicy. She hurriedly reached up to
catch the drips before they fell onto her clothes.
“Mmmm, delicious,” she murmured and
popped the rest of the succulent berry into her mouth except for
its leafy cap. “They’re so sweet they don’t even need
sugar.”
“Really?” he said in a doubting voice
when she reached up to delicately wipe any bit of juice from her
lips with her fingertips.
As his head bent toward her, she was
slow to recognize his intention. When she did, Laura was aware only
of the quick thrill that raced through her, knowing his lips would
soon be covering hers. The pressure of them was persuasively light
yet delving—and all too brief.
Sebastian drew back only inches.
“Nothing enhances the flavor of a strawberry like a
kiss.”
“That was sneaky,” Laura said in mock
reprimand.
“You knew sooner or later I’d steal a
kiss.” His gaze drifted once more to her lips.
“But I didn’t expect it to be in a
public place in broad daylight,” Laura chided, not the least bit
offended. In truth she would have been disappointed if he hadn’t
made a play. “I expected you to be more discreet than
that.”
“What could be more discreet than
this?” Sebastian countered, his crooked smile barely wavering. “The
cab of the truck blocks any view of us from inside the store, and
I’m shielding you from the sight of anyone who might be watching
across the street.
“It was still a sneaky thing to do.”
Laura plucked a berry from his hand and climbed into the
truck.
“I noticed how much it upset you,”
Sebastian replied, eyes agleam as he pushed the door shut and
walked around to the passenger side. Laura started the truck and
waited for him to slide onto the seat next to her. “We’re off to
Harry’s, are we?”
“We are.” She reversed the pickup away
from the store and pointed to the bar and grill across the
highway.
“Is there a Harry?”
“Not any more. He died a few years ago.
His son Jack runs it now. According to Trey, he has the place
listed for sale.”
He studied the building with its
chipped and peeling paint. “I should think my chances of selling
Crawford Hall far exceed his.”
“Is that what you’re going to do?”
Feeling a sharp twinge of regret, Laura threw him a quick
look.
“My options are limited,” Sebastian
reminded her dryly.
“And I’m one of them,” she said with a
slight taunt.
“Easily the most beautiful one.”
Sebastian replied.
“Too bad,” Laura declared with a saucy
lift of her head and drove across the highway and into Harry’s
graveled parking lot.
Sebastian climbed out of the pickup and
looked around with interest. “Is this the extent of Blue Moon’s
business district?” he asked and took a bite of berry.
“It is now,” Laura
confirmed.
“Are you particularly hungry at the
moment?”
“Not really. Why?” She halted halfway
to the door, a little surprised by his question, and a lot
curious.
“I’d rather like to go for a walk and
look around. After all, this may be my first and only visit to a
true western town.”
“Ghost town, you mean,” Laura inserted
dryly, but she had only to remember her own visit to the lush
English countryside to realize how starkly different this was to
him. “But you’re right. It’s nothing like England. We’ll start the
tour over there.” She motioned to the side street.
They set off at a leisurely pace,
walking along the edge of the street for a block before they
reached a sidewalk. Sebastian studied the first grouping of
buildings.
“Most of these look new,” he
observed.
“Relatively speaking, they are. Most of
them were built between twenty and thirty years ago by Dy-Corp when
the mine first opened. That one over there is a medical clinic.
It’s staffed by a physician’s assistant two days a week now.
There’s talk of it shutting down. The one on the left used to be a
branch of the sheriff’s office, but everybody works out of the
county seat now. About the only police presence in Blue Moon is
Logan. Since he lives west of here, he usually makes a patrol
through town on his way to the sheriff’s office in the morning and
again when he comes home at night.”
“Did I mention I met your uncle the day
I arrived at the ranch?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“He gave me the impression he was a man
who knew his business,” Sebastian said and held out his hand. “Have
a strawberry.”
“As long as it’s just a strawberry I
get,” Laura said in playful warning and took one from him. When
they reached the end of the block, she made a left turn. “Now we’re
entering Blue Moon’s residential area. The homes along here are
mostly old and mostly empty.”
The grass grew tall in the yards, tall
and already seared by the relentless sun. The few occupied homes
were easy to spot, thanks to their mowed lawns and the flowering
plants sitting in pots on their porches or front steps. But those
few splashes of color only seemed to emphasize the rundown and
neglected state of the rest. Laura found it a bit depressing until
she spotted the corner house on the next block. There was an
immediate lifting of her spirits at the sight of it.
Without thinking, she reached over to
lay a hand on his arm, seeking Sebastian’s full attention and using
physical contact to obtain it. “I was wrong. There is a touch of
England here in Blue Moon.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Laura ignored his doubting look and
grabbed hold of his hand. “Come on. We need to cross the street.”
With traffic in Blue Moon all but nonexistent, she didn’t bother to
look to see if there were any cars coming; she simply led him
across the street at a running trot. “See that place ahead of us?”
She pointed to the white house on the corner lot, its front lawn
alive with varying shades of reds, pinks, and whites, punctuated by
touches of yellow and peach. “It’s the Fedderson
house.”
“Those are roses, aren’t they?”
Sebastian realized.
“Tons of them. I couldn’t have been
much more than four or five years old the first time I saw them,”
Laura recalled with a nostalgic smile. “I had never seen so many
flowers in one place before. Mom says that after that, every time
we came to town I’d hound her until we drove by here. I’ve had a
soft spot for flowers ever since, especially roses.”
Sebastian’s glance shifted from the
house and its rose garden to the treeless expanse of plains that
surrounded the town. “I can see why it would make such an
impression.”
Laura nodded absently and slowed her
steps to prolong the view of the garden. Climbing roses rambled
over the picket fence, up trellises, and over arbors while
mountainous shrub roses hugged the sides of the house and its
porch, leaving room in the lawn’s center for beds of hybrid
roses.
“I was told old Mr. Fedderson planted
these as a tribute to his wife,” Laura recalled idly.
“I assume her name is
Rose,”
Laura flashed him a grin. “Obvious,
isn’t it,” she said as they neared the corner. “The last I heard
she was still alive.” She grew thoughtful. “Do you know it’s been
years since I’ve been by the house—probably not since I started
high school.”
“Your tastes likely changed to
something more sophisticated.”
“Ouch. That was a dig.” She fired him a
look of pretended offense.
“Not really.” Sebastian smiled. “Most
teenagers like to act smug and worldly—and much too mature to savor
something so simple as the joy of flowers.”
Suitably mollified by his explanation,
she agreed, “You’re probably right.” She stepped off the curb and
started across the street, her attention still focused on the
riotous abundance of blooms. Not until she was nearly to the other
side did Laura notice the slight white-haired woman in a faded
housedress sitting in a lawn chair near one of the rose beds. Laura
leaned sideways and whispered to Sebastian. “Look. There’s Mrs.
Fedderson. We’ll go say hello.” Without waiting for his reply, she
quickened her steps and cut across the lawn toward the elderly
woman. “Good morning, Mrs. Fedderson. It’s Laura
Calder.”
The woman lifted a frail hand to shield
her eyes from the sun’s high glare. “Laura,” she said in
recognition. “My, haven’t you grown up to be a pretty girl,” she
declared, then peered past Laura, eyes squinting at the sight of
Sebastian. “Is that young Trey with you?”
“No, Trey’s at the ranch. This is a
friend from England. His name is Sebastian Dunshill.” This time
Laura didn’t bother with his title.
“From England, you say?” The woman
repeated with a slightly worried look. “My hearing’s not too
good.”
“From England, yes,” Sebastian
confirmed, slightly raising the volume of his voice. “It is a
pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Fedderson. Laura was insistent that I
see your rose garden. You do have a most spectacular
display.”
After listening intently, the woman
nodded. “The roses. Yes, Laura always did like them. My Emmett
planted all of this for me.”
“So she told me,” Sebastian
replied.
Laura caught a movement in her side
vision and turned, smiling at the sight of a young toddler, still
in her pajamas, her dark, uncombed hair hanging in straggles about
her smudged face. Clutched in her stubby fingers were a bunch of
rose petals as she made a beeline straight for Mrs.
Fedderson.
Bending down, Laura touched the woman’s
arm and pointed to the little girl. “I think you have a dirty-faced
angel coming to pay you a visit.”
“What?” The woman frowned, then saw the
child.
The little girl toddled right up to the
chair and held out the crushed petals. “Coo-kie,” she said, giving
Laura the impression she wanted to trade the flower for a cookie.
To her shock, the old woman scowled at the girl, demanding,
“Where’s that brother of yours?”
“Coo-kie,” the girl repeated and
dropped the petals in the woman’s lap.
“He sent you, didn’t he?” Rose
Fedderson accused and flung a shooing hand at the girl. “Go on.
Scat! He’s not going to steal from me this time.” She struggled to
push herself out of the lawn chair.
“What are you talking about, Mrs.
Fedderson?” Laura said in protest and reached out to offer a
helping hand.
“That brother of hers is a thief,
that’s what I’m talking about.” There was no mistaking the
conviction or the anger in the old woman’s voice. She made a
painful turn toward the porch. “It took me a while to figure out
why things were coming up missing.” Head down and back hunched with
age, she started for the house at a hobbling gait. “The little brat
sends that baby over here. Then he slips in the house and takes my
things.” When she saw the little girl toddling after her, she
flapped her hands. “Shoo! Shoo!”
Sebastian came up alongside her and
pointed. “You wouldn’t be referring to that young man, would
you?”
Laura turned in time to see a
dark-haired boy making a mad dash across the backyard of the
neighboring house. He had something tucked under his arm, but her
glimpse of the object was too brief for Laura to identify
it.
“Come back here, you little pup!” Rose
shouted. “Come back here, I say!”
“I’ll catch him for you.” Sebastian
broke into a long, loping run, giving chase after the
boy.
Laura scooped the little girl into her
arms and caught a strong whiff of a stinky diaper. “Where do they
live? Do you know, Mrs. Fedderson?”
“Down the street, two or three houses.
The one with all the trash in the yard,” she said with
contempt.
“Coo-kie,” the little girl demanded and
pushed out her lower lip.
“Later,” Laura said and set off to take
the girl home, careful to keep her head averted to avoid inhaling
the smell of the dirty diaper.