Read Online Moon Over Montana (McCutcheon Family Series Book 5) by Caroline Fyffe - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Caroline Fyffe
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we’ll never know.”
Francis glanced around at the men’s pinched looks, and even from where Charity stood, she could see the top of his ears turn pink.
She lifted her chin, hurt that Francis would want to wound her this way. Her more sensible side cautioned against believing his words, even though a warm sensation crept up her neck as she pictured any woman doting on her man. And Brandon? Was he interested?
“Well, I’m sure he was glad you stopped in, Francis—when you finally caught his attention, that is. He never has anything but nice things to say about you whenever we talk. Thinks of you as family.”
Some men kept their gazes on their plates and others looked like they wanted to skin Francis alive. She felt Lucky’s hand on her shoulder.
“You pull up a chair and squeeze in between John and Smokey,” he said firmly. “I’ll fix ya a plate of flapjacks, just the way you like ’em—drowning in sweet butter and maple syrup. I have the batter right here and the skillet hot. Why, when you was a little tyke, you’d beg me to make ’em practically every week. ‘Lucky,’ you’d say in that sweet little-girl voice. ‘I ain’t had your flapjacks in a month of Sundays,’ and it had only been just the week before you said the same thing. You’d smile at me with a gap-toothed grin, and I’d melt like butter. I made ’em, sure enough, and was happy ta do it.”
All the men chuckled.
Charity struggled to keep her smile in place.
Francis stepped away from the table and went over to his bunk at the far end of the room, where he took his black leather vest from a peg over his bed. He drew the garment on, then sat on his cot as if he didn’t want to hear her stories.
“I’ve already eaten inside, Lucky, but thank you. You always did make the best flapjacks this side of the Rockies. Esperanza filled my plate with so much food, you’d think she thought I hadn’t eaten since I’d left the ranch.”
“That’s good,” Lucky replied affectionately. “You could use a little fattening up. But that don’t mean ya can’t have some coffee and visit with us.” He gimped over to the stove and filled a mug halfway with dark liquid, then poured cream to the brim. “You’re not getting out of here without telling us all about Rio Wells and John and his new wife—so stop thinking ya can. We’ve been waiting impatiently.” He handed her the cup and guided her over to a chair.
“Please, Miss Charity,” Roady said. “We really do want to hear.” Smokey and the others nodded.
“That’s right. Three months is a long time.” Uncle Pete scratched his whiskered cheek. “I’ll bet you have lots to tell.”
Charity took a deep breath, unwilling to let any of the hands see how much Francis’s words had shaken her. They shouldn’t, she chided herself. She trusted Brandon. He was the sheriff. It was his job to check on the people, all the people, of Y Knot. Saloon girls included.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t meet this woman too, and let her know Brandon was spoken for.
Chapter Nine
F ox Dancing wiped the water droplets from her mouth, rolled to her feet, and stood, surveying the land. She’d never been this far south. The dull ache in her stomach reminded her that her dried meat was gone and she’d have to start hunting if she wanted fresh. Right now, foraging for berries and roots would have to do, regardless that those were considered old-woman’s food. She’d be grateful to have them.
The sharp cry of an eagle pulled Fox Dancing out of her musing. She climbed the bank of the pebble-strewn beach and walked to her Appaloosa mare. Searching the afternoon sky, she spotted the eagle overhead, a small black speck in the clouds.
A good sign.
She smiled. The Great Spirit was watching out for her safety. Would make her journey successful. Bring her to her brother’s dwelling, where she’d see him with her own eyes.
Luk Macatceen’s legend in their village had grown
Francis glanced around at the men’s pinched looks, and even from where Charity stood, she could see the top of his ears turn pink.
She lifted her chin, hurt that Francis would want to wound her this way. Her more sensible side cautioned against believing his words, even though a warm sensation crept up her neck as she pictured any woman doting on her man. And Brandon? Was he interested?
“Well, I’m sure he was glad you stopped in, Francis—when you finally caught his attention, that is. He never has anything but nice things to say about you whenever we talk. Thinks of you as family.”
Some men kept their gazes on their plates and others looked like they wanted to skin Francis alive. She felt Lucky’s hand on her shoulder.
“You pull up a chair and squeeze in between John and Smokey,” he said firmly. “I’ll fix ya a plate of flapjacks, just the way you like ’em—drowning in sweet butter and maple syrup. I have the batter right here and the skillet hot. Why, when you was a little tyke, you’d beg me to make ’em practically every week. ‘Lucky,’ you’d say in that sweet little-girl voice. ‘I ain’t had your flapjacks in a month of Sundays,’ and it had only been just the week before you said the same thing. You’d smile at me with a gap-toothed grin, and I’d melt like butter. I made ’em, sure enough, and was happy ta do it.”
All the men chuckled.
Charity struggled to keep her smile in place.
Francis stepped away from the table and went over to his bunk at the far end of the room, where he took his black leather vest from a peg over his bed. He drew the garment on, then sat on his cot as if he didn’t want to hear her stories.
“I’ve already eaten inside, Lucky, but thank you. You always did make the best flapjacks this side of the Rockies. Esperanza filled my plate with so much food, you’d think she thought I hadn’t eaten since I’d left the ranch.”
“That’s good,” Lucky replied affectionately. “You could use a little fattening up. But that don’t mean ya can’t have some coffee and visit with us.” He gimped over to the stove and filled a mug halfway with dark liquid, then poured cream to the brim. “You’re not getting out of here without telling us all about Rio Wells and John and his new wife—so stop thinking ya can. We’ve been waiting impatiently.” He handed her the cup and guided her over to a chair.
“Please, Miss Charity,” Roady said. “We really do want to hear.” Smokey and the others nodded.
“That’s right. Three months is a long time.” Uncle Pete scratched his whiskered cheek. “I’ll bet you have lots to tell.”
Charity took a deep breath, unwilling to let any of the hands see how much Francis’s words had shaken her. They shouldn’t, she chided herself. She trusted Brandon. He was the sheriff. It was his job to check on the people, all the people, of Y Knot. Saloon girls included.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t meet this woman too, and let her know Brandon was spoken for.
Chapter Nine
F ox Dancing wiped the water droplets from her mouth, rolled to her feet, and stood, surveying the land. She’d never been this far south. The dull ache in her stomach reminded her that her dried meat was gone and she’d have to start hunting if she wanted fresh. Right now, foraging for berries and roots would have to do, regardless that those were considered old-woman’s food. She’d be grateful to have them.
The sharp cry of an eagle pulled Fox Dancing out of her musing. She climbed the bank of the pebble-strewn beach and walked to her Appaloosa mare. Searching the afternoon sky, she spotted the eagle overhead, a small black speck in the clouds.
A good sign.
She smiled. The Great Spirit was watching out for her safety. Would make her journey successful. Bring her to her brother’s dwelling, where she’d see him with her own eyes.
Luk Macatceen’s legend in their village had grown
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