It felt bittersweet to see James so happy for me, for he only wanted the best where I was concerned, specifically to see me well married. His happiness, though, was unfounded and based on a lie, and I ached to tell him the truth, that my friend was being held for ransom and I had to deliver the money. But he would hate me soon enough for stealing from him. Lying about a beau was trivial in comparison.
I ached to tell him about Mr. Grimsby, but he would ride to Butte and threaten him. I’d rather have had him hate me for stealing than be shot by Mr. Grimsby. Tennessee’s father had been shot in cold blood. I couldn’t do anything to put James in jeopardy. Alive and angry was better than dead. I could live with that. And yet I didn’t want him to hate me either.
He was my only relative; our parents died in a fire when I was small—and where I’d gained the scar—and he’d raised me singlehandedly. I hadn’t said anything when he’d bought a ranch and moved us from Omaha to start over. I hadn’t complained when he shipped me off to Butte for school since he was doing what he thought best. Perhaps he was protecting me from the stares of those who were cruel, those who thought I was disfigured. Ugly. Like Mr. Grimsby had said.
Until the Landrys inside the church. Their eyes on me made me feel anything but.
And as they came across the churchyard toward James and me, I wanted to tell them I was free to court, free to love. I’d put a man of my own making in the way, and I ached to tell them the truth.
They looked so handsome I wanted to leap into Gabe’s arms and kiss him as Tucker stroked my back, whispering some private, carnal words in my ear. I wanted to them to grab my hand and drag me down by the river and kiss me senseless.
“One of the Landrys would make a good husband,” James commented, leaning close. Obviously he didn’t know the truth about Bridgewater, where two men married one woman. “But you’ve got your Aaron.”
My stomach dropped. “Yes,” I replied. If I hadn’t made up a silly beau, I could tell James of my interest in both Landrys, for they would marry a woman together. Since he’d known them for years and they were friends, I had to assume he’d approve of them as suitors. As… more. “Still, you are quite the matchmaker,” I added, when he looked concerned. Clearly, he’d heard the dejected tone when I mentioned Aaron.
“I want to see you happy, and that means married.”
There wasn’t much else for a woman to do in these parts of the Montana Territory besides marry. Have children. And he was protective of me, ever since the fire. He was a good older brother, if ludicrously overprotective, but he’d seen me hurt enough, and not just physically.
“You don’t belong on the ranch with me and the men. Hiding.”
I hadn’t been on the ranch for two years. I’d always felt like he’d put me in the school to have me hide there, but I didn’t tell him anything of the sort. What I called hiding was his overprotectiveness rearing its head.
I loved my brother and liked being on the ranch. It was my home and almost all I remembered. But I agreed with him. I didn’t belong there anymore, keeping house. I longed for a place of my own, children, a man with whom to share it all. As the Landrys stopped before us, I realized I wanted to share that dream with not one man, but two.
They tipped their hats at me before shaking James’ hand.
As Gabe and James spoke of a foaling mare, Tucker winked at me—again!
“You are friends with Theresa, then?” he asked. Most people studied the scar on my right cheek, but he didn’t. His pale eyes held my gaze and kept it. While his question was idle chitchat, I was thankful for his starting the conversation. Most men avoided me altogether, perhaps afraid my old injury was contagious.
“Yes,” I replied, so nervous my knees all but knocked.
“I believe you also know some of the women at Bridgewater?” He cocked his head ever so slightly. With his strong jaw and full lips, it was hard to look him in the eyes as I spoke.
I knew I couldn’t just say yes again as he’d think me completely addlebrained for not forming full sentences. “Laurel and Olivia helped with the decorations for the picnic.”
“Are you glad you are back with your brother?” Focused on the sun picking up glints of gold in his fair hair, I almost forgot his question. I was done with school and home. Except to return to save Tennessee. Once I gave Mr. Grimsby his money, I’d be gone from Butte for good.
James and Gabe ended their conversation and were listening for my answer. I offered a quick peek through my lowered lashes at Gabe, whose dark gaze focused squarely on me. It took all my effort not to look at his mouth and wonder if his beard would be scratchy when—no, if—he kissed me.
“Oh, um…” I realized they were waiting for an answer. “Oh, yes. I missed it here.”
“And yet I heard you might return to Butte,” Gabe said, his deep voice slow and steady. “To marry and settle.”
Where had he heard that? I hadn’t told anyone I would go back to Butte in the next few days, but then I considered the last of Gabe’s words.
“Marry and settle?” I repeated. I had no interest in Butte. I would go back long enough to help Tennessee, but certainly not to settle there permanently. I hoped never to set foot in the town again.
James laughed and held up his hand. “These plans to marry the man in Butte are new. I haven’t even met him yet.”
We all turned when we heard James’ name called. Mr. Bjorn, the man whose property abutted ours on the south side, waved him over. James excused himself.
I watched him walk away and, when I turned back to the Gabe and Tucker, they seemed closer. Had they stepped nearer? I tipped my chin back to look up at them and realized they could see my scar straight on. With much practice, I turned my face slightly to the right to hide it. Their pale and dark eyes were so intense I had to swallow again and glance away. Did they know I was affected by them? Could they see my nipples were hard beneath my corset? Could they discern the frantic pulse at my neck?
“Is there something wrong with your fiancé you are not sharing with James?” Gabe asked.
“Fiancé?” I squeaked, looking at them full-on. When I first told the ladies the tale, I’d said Aaron had come calling. Nothing more. Just enough to make it seem real. But, now, a fiancé? “I’m not… I mean, it’s not true.”