Montana heartbeat, p.1
Montana Heartbeat, page 1
Montana Heartbeat
By Vella Munn
Montana Heartbeat
Copyright© 2019 Vella Munn
Cover Design Livia Reasoner
Prairie Rose Publications
www.prairierosepublications.com
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Chapter One
Summer, 1880
Near Bozeman Montana
“I hate speaking ill of any living thing, but you are a worthless creature.”
If the mare understood what twenty-four-year-old Carrie Berrymen had told her, she gave no indication. The brown coloring on the animal’s head continued to swivel about while her ears stayed flat against her skull.
“You’re afraid of your own shadow. There’s nothing out here except endless open land.” She patted the mare’s neck. “Look around. Breathe in the clean air.”
The mare snorted and jerked her head up and down.
“Good grief, I swear you’d panic if you saw a rabbit.”
The head bobbed some more, prompting Carrie to tighten her hold on the reins. She hadn’t named the mare because she was waiting until she understood the animal better. Right now, anything she came up with wouldn’t be complimentary. Considering the effort she was going through to reassure the spooked creature, the least the mare could do was pretend to pay attention.
“Hopefully, you haven’t forgotten why we’re out here. What I’m asking is that you keep an eye out for the cattle.” Strangely, talking about the cattle was easier than acknowledging her mixed emotions about her surroundings. “Remember what they look like. You can do that, can’t you? Once we’ve found those who are about to give birth, hopefully we can get them to go home.”
Home. Far from the large brick house she, her parents, and younger brother had lived in in Philadelphia, but at least offering some safety, which she couldn’t convince herself of today.
Determined not to let her thoughts get mired down in comparing what they’d left behind with the isolated one- bedroom cabin the family had been living in for nearly three months, she straightened and took in the view. Hopefully, perhaps it would stop intimidating her at some point. She wasn’t sure she was still on the land east of Bozeman her father had bought. Maybe the family’s beef cattle had wandered onto another rancher’s property. If so, she might have to separate their small herd from their neighbor’s animals. There was another possibility, one that did nothing to settle her mind.
Montana was wild, rugged land; what some Indian tribes had considered theirs, until recently. Her understanding was the Indians’ lives had been severely disrupted. Many, if not all of them, resented settlers. There hadn’t been any hostilities for several years, but that didn’t mean she could relax.
As if she ever would.
“I hope you can’t feel my thoughts,” she said. “I’m trying not to let my unease show.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “You’re so high strung, I’m not sure you’ll ever—“
She’d been about to say she doubted the nameless mare had it in her to control cattle, or perform any necessary task, but that might upset the nag, so she concentrated on looking for wayward bovines.
The land all around was a series of hills and valleys covered by evergreens, hearty bushes, and large white flowers. The bluest sky she’d ever seen cradled everything.
The breeze had picked up since she left what her father called the homestead—he hated the word cabin. It pushed her long, loose dark brown hair about like it was doing to the mare’s tail and mane. If she had more than minimal interest in poetry, maybe she could turn this afternoon into a poem. Rid herself of a persistent sense of dread about this wild place. Freed of the dark emotion, she’d describe the many shades of green, compliments of vegetation she couldn’t name. Then, she’d turn her attention to the distant mountains with their snow-covered peaks, the shaded slopes where mountain lions, bears, and wolves lurked. When that increased her unease, as she knew it would, she’d focus on the nearby river. The river wasn’t just a source of nourishment. It was timeless, too wide and cold to swim across; challenging, of course, but also comforting. Hopefully.
“I wish this was our river,” she told her four-legged companion. “As much water as is in it, I imagine it runs all year. That way, I wouldn’t have to spend so much time looking for the cattle.”
The mare lifted her head so high Carrie couldn’t see around it, then the beast stopped and snorted.
“You are no help.” Carrie’s voice wasn’t as calm as she wanted it to be. “What is it this time? Flies? We’re looking for cattle, big things with impressive horns, some of them wider than the animals are long, which is why we call them longhorns.”
The mare let loose with another snort Carrie felt clear to her toes. If only she wasn’t alone. At least the mare lowered her head a little and started moving again when Carrie dug her heels into the animal’s sides. The mare’s breathing became louder, and she extended her muzzle. What was she smelling?
Stop it! Don’t scare me anymore than I already am. Acknowledging her emotions helped enough to allow her to speak. “Please tell me you’ve found the beasts. Between you and me, we wouldn’t be out here if Papa would make building the corral a priority. I don’t understand why he thinks—“
The mare shivered, stopped, and pawed the ground.
“Buying you was a mistake.” Keep talking. Don’t panic or let her think you might. “I begged Papa to let me accompany him when he set out to buy the horses we’d need. He knows I know more about horses than he does, but my guess is he didn’t want anyone figuring that out. It would be a blow to his pride.” Carrie was tempted to explain that her father’s pride had been sorely tested in Philadelphia, but the words would fall on uncomprehending ears. Besides, Papa wasn’t the only one ill-prepared for this unwanted chapter in their lives. So was she, not that she’d admit how much Montana intimidated her.
Instead of trying to get the mare to move faster, Carrie rose in the saddle, shaded her eyes with a tanned hand, and looked all around. She was again rendered speechless by Montana’s vastness. She wished she could love it. From what she’d been told during the few times she’d gone to the nearby town of Bozeman, winters were so fierce survival wasn’t a given—but this was summer. It was warm, and calves were being born.
Calves she was responsible for.
Her arm became weary as she continued to study the undulating land. The twenty head of longhorns Papa had bought with the money he’d gotten from selling their home came in an array of colors, making looking for brown or white a worthless pursuit. They hadn’t run away, nothing so organized. Rather, they were following their eyes, noses, and stomachs like the mare would, if she was free. A part of Carrie wanted to abandon the creatures, but if she did, her family might starve.
“Why does it have to be on my shoulders? Papa, where are your priorities?”
Self-pity reminded her of how Mama saw life, and prompted her to shake herself free of the notion. Right or wrong had nothing to do with it. She needed to find the creatures and drive the heavily pregnant ones back to the homestead.
When she spotted something in the distance that contrasted with the endless green, she reluctantly urged the mare to go in that direction. It might be nothing, maybe deer or elk, even a flock of large birds, but with her bottom protesting from being in the saddle so long, she was more than ready to have this task over with. She’d herd the fat-sided longhorns home, then water them and herself and the horse she rode, using the well.
Home? Not now, and maybe never.
“I should learn how to whistle and teach the cattle to associate my voice with…” Unlike when she’d spent much of her free time at her aunt and uncle’s ranch, she didn’t have any hay or apples to tempt the cows with. She should ask around to see if anyone had luck growing apple trees. Buoyed by a reason to talk to someone other than her family, she again focused on what had caught her attention. The mare was definitely interested in the same thing, walking at a good pace without having to be prodded. Maybe the mare was as lonely as Carrie was and thus willing to accept the company of long-horned creatures.
Feeling more upbeat than she had since she’d discovered the herd had taken off this morning, she again lifted her rear off the saddle. She’d focus on today’s task, nothing else.
“There they are,” she said when she was certain she’d found what she’d been looking for. Her plan had been to focus on the pregnant cows, but if the whole herd was together, she’d try to get them all home.
Questioning her ability to handle her responsibilities for the umpteenth time, she watched as the distance between her and what her family needed to survive decreased. The cattle, even the monster-size bull, paid her and the mare little mind. Instead, their attention was on a large group of evergreens, and they appeared nervous.
She should have brought along a rifle, not that she knew much about the one Papa had bought the day he’d purchased the mare. No one would hear if she called for help. She was as alone as it was possible to be, a speck in the middle of what felt like thousands of miles of nothing. She deliberately didn’t acknowledge the sky because she felt lost in it, but concentrating on the ground wasn’t much better. The re was so much of it. More to the point, the cattle were drawing closer to each other.
“Hold up,” she told the snorting, prancing mare. Her fingers around the reins threatened to cramp. “Stand here until I figure out what’s happening.”
The cabin might as well be a million miles away. This morning, Mama had looked confused when Carrie had explained where she intended to search. She hadn’t bothered telling her brother Roy. The fourteen-year-old was still a child, sour-faced as he reluctantly did his chores or equally reluctantly tended to his studies with Mama as his teacher. Ever since Papa had announced his intention to move the family to Montana, Carrie had found it best to leave her brother to his grumbling. She had enough to do dealing with her own emotions.
She waited out a wave of aloneness, then tried to get the mare to walk at a pace that wouldn’t startle the cattle any more than they were. The mare kept shaking her head while her ears’ position left no doubt that she didn’t like anything about the situation.
“Keep your attention on the bull. He’s the one we have to worry about. He—“
The mare squealed and stopped so abruptly Carrie was thrown forward. Alarm clutched her, the condition made worse by the cattle’s bawling. They stood like frightened children staring at an unseen enemy.
No, not unseen. A wolf was emerging from the trees.
“What…”
A gust of wind snagged her hair and blew it over her face. She clamped a lock against her neck while holding onto the reins. The bawling cut off in mid bellow followed by the mare rearing. Carrie struggled to get the stupid horse under control.
“Stop it! The wolf isn’t after you. It knows how tough you are, nothing for you to worry about.”
The mare landed on her front legs, jarring Carrie and nearly causing her to bite her tongue. Determined to keep the horse from bolting, she hauled on the reins. The mare arched her neck and reared again. This time when she came down, she kicked her rear legs back. Thanks to her aunt and uncle, Carrie knew horses saw themselves as prey.
“Don’t. Just don’t!” She kept the reins taut. “Bucking won’t solve anything.”
The mare whirled to the left then bounced up and down. She again flung out her rear legs, came down hard, repeated the action. Carrie gripped the saddle horn so tight she broke a nail. How she wanted off the crazed animal!
There was no controlling her, nothing Carrie could do except try to stay alive. She slipped to the side, managed to right herself, only to be thrown off balance again. Her jaw burned from clenching her teeth, her thigh muscles cramped, and her head felt like it was going to be snapped off.
Then, she was flying. She drew her arms and legs against her and twisted so she landed on her left shoulder. Hard. Her body went numb. As feeling returned, she gave silent thanks because she was still alive, followed by a long, low groan. She hurt everywhere, but mostly her shoulder and the side of her head which must have smacked the earth. As for the mare—
Despite what might be a wrenched neck, she lifted her head. The cattle were milling around, the still bucking nag heading for the horizon. She could no longer see the wolf.
Alone. Helpless.
“What was that?” she asked the invisible predator in a shaky voice. She couldn’t say whether she was more angry or scared. “You wanted to see what you could make the cattle do? Now you know. At least they didn’t stampede, unlike that horse.”
And I’m alone in the middle of nothing with no way of getting home except walking.
She’d never been a crier, but right now it seemed like an enviable talent. Crying would release some of her tension, wouldn’t it?
Maybe not.
Maybe she’d broken something and would die out here.
Nausea distracted her from fear. For a good half-minute, the only thing she could do was try not to throw up. Finally, the queasy sensation faded. Her shoulder throbbed. Groaning from the effort, she got her hands and knees under her. The horse was gone.
“Come back. Please.” Don’t desert me. “You must understand how much I need you, how much trouble you’ve gotten yourself into.”
No. The stupid horse didn’t care about retribution as a result of her actions. Didn’t care about the human she’d abandoned.
Carrie was touching her shoulder when movement to her left and a fair distance away caught her attention. Her throat closed. Dread pulled her into its depths. Fighting for calm, she realized she wasn’t looking at a wolf after all. Instead—
A man. On horseback. Coming her way.
A saddleless horse and a man who was naked from the waist up. Wearing jeans and boots.
An Indian.
Someone help me, please!
Chapter Two
“Can you stand?” the long-haired man with a firm chin and even firmer chest asked as he brought his coal black stallion within a few feet of her.
“What are you doing here?” Her heart pounded and her mouth didn’t want to work. If she panicked, he’d know. Use her fear to his advantage.
Maybe kill her.
No. Don’t think that.
“Can you stand?” He repeated. “I saw what happened.”
He’d been watching? Despite her battle for calm, she drew comparisons between what he’d admitted and how the wolf had stared at the cattle. When her mother admitted she dreaded moving to the wilds of Montana, Papa had brushed her worries aside, saying the Indians were no longer warlike. The once hostile tribal members been shown the consequences of trying to oppose the army, and had agreed to live on reservations. Carrie hadn’t seen an Indian since coming here, and hadn’t wanted to.
Now, she was staring up at a man who’d only existed in her nightmares. Seeing his bare chest and powerful arms was disconcerting. She sometimes saw Papa with his shirt unbuttoned and had cared for her brother when he was a baby. More telling, she’d had sex. If her ex fiancé had had his way, it would have been a daily occurrence; but touching Randal’s soft, loose skin hadn’t been pleasant, and she’d kept making excuses for not doing so. As for the act itself, other than discomfort down there, she hadn’t felt anything. He’d come so fast. When he’d stopped panting and rolled off her, he’d asked if it was good for her. She hadn’t answered, not just because she didn’t know what he meant by good but because, well, talking about such matters with the man her father had pressed her to marry made her uncomfortable.
She didn’t need to touch this stranger to know she’d find muscles beneath the dusky flesh. Everything about him proclaimed he lived his life in physical pursuits. He might not be able to read or write, but he could do other things…like sit astride a saddleless horse.
Like belong here.
“You landed on your shoulder,” he said. “Does it feel like it might be broken?”
“I didn’t—why didn’t I see you before? Were you spying on me?”
He frowned, the gesture making it hard for her to study his deep-set eyes. His eyebrows were bushy, his lashes thick and matching his black braids. She’d never expected an Indian man to be so striking, and didn’t know how to handle her reaction. “My attention was on the cattle,” he said. “Are they yours?”
“Yes.” Would he think she was lying? Technically, they belonged to her father, and…oh, what did it matter?
“Do you want me to help you stand?”
It was a simple question, a logical one, or it would have been if they weren’t so different. From what she understood, his people had lived on this land for generations. Then hers had arrived with their superior weapons, and changed everything for his. Maybe he was looking for an excuse to get close enough to wrap his hands around her neck.
No. He didn’t need to pretend he cared about her welfare. If he wanted, he could easily bury the large knife at his side into her. Someone might eventually find her body, but if he took his knife with him, her family would never know who’d murdered her.
“I don’t—I can do it.” She wouldn’t be surprised if he knew what she was thinking. She wished she could say the same about him, but he was a stranger, the strongest man she’d ever seen. He’d be at a loss in Philadelphia.
In contrast, he belonged here in ways she was just beginning to comprehend but would never accomplish.
