Debra Holland - [Montana Sky 02] (14 page)

Nick looked up and noticed her. He leaned over and said something to his wife, and she turned toward Samantha, a welcoming smile on her face.

Nick stepped over to greet her. “Good morning, Mrs. Rodriguez. I’d like you to meet my wife, Elizabeth.” He ushered Samantha over to stand with their group. The quiet pride in his voice reminded her of Juan Carlos when he’d introduced her to new acquaintances, and she had a quick stab of missing him.

“Mrs. Sanders.” Samantha held out her hand for a brief clasp. “Your husband assured me we’d become friends.”

Elizabeth Sanders gave her husband a radiant gaze, a slight flush brushing her glowing skin. Her blue eyes matched the color of the azure sky arching overhead. “Then it must be true. Please call me Elizabeth.” She touched Samantha’s elbow. “Mrs. Rodriguez, as my newest friend, I’d like you to meet my oldest friend, Pamela Carter, and her husband John. Pamela and I grew up together in Boston.” She extended an arm to indicate her friend.

The forest-green silk of Pamela’s dress swished as she stepped forward to take Samantha’s hand. Unlike the beautiful Elizabeth, Mrs. Carter’s plump-cheeked, hooked-nose face could only be considered plain, until one saw the warmth shining from her brown eyes. “Elizabeth and I know what it’s like to move to the West, Mrs. Rodriguez,” she said, letting go of Samantha’s hand. “It can be a bit of an adjustment. Let us know how we can help.”

Samantha felt an affinity with both women, and her nervousness subsided. “Just having new friends is wonderful. I envy you
your long relationship. My parents were in the diplomatic corps, and we moved around so much I never had friends for more than a few years.”

John Carter, a narrow-faced older man with thinning sandy hair, nodded in understanding. His kind blue eyes held their own welcome for her. “Nick and I are Westerners, born and bred.” He cupped his wife’s elbow. “But we certainly have welcomed the beautiful women who’ve made Sweetwater Springs their home.” He shot a teasing glance at Nick.

Nick’s cheeks reddened, but he grinned and nodded.

Three children rushed up. Samantha recognized Mark and Sara Carter, who boisterously greeted Daniel and Tim. But she hadn’t met the little girl trailing after them. The delicatelooking child sidled close to Pamela Carter. Long brown curls framed her dainty face; dark-lashed blue eyes peeked at Samantha before she ducked behind her mother. Sara and the little angel wore forest-green dresses, miniatures of their mother’s gown.

Elizabeth laughed. “That’s exactly the same reaction Lizzy had to me when we first met.” She reached behind Pamela and picked up the child. Lizzy buried her head in Elizabeth’s shoulder “Now, my dear, I know you aren’t as shy as you’re pretending to be.”

John Carter reached over and gently tugged one of Lizzy’s long curls. “Mrs. Rodriguez, this is our youngest, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth chimed in, “And my goddaughter.” She bent to her and said softly, “Remember the horses I told you about?”

The child lifted her head enough to glance at Samantha. “Baby horses?”

What a sweet child.
“Yes, I have the little horses. But even though they’re small, they’re not babies.”

Raising her eyebrows, Lizzy looked around.

Samantha interpreted her unspoken question. “They’re back at the ranch. We used the big horses today.”

Lizzy’s pink lips puffed in a pout.

Samantha couldn’t resist. “You’ll have to visit so you can see them for yourself.”

The child nodded gravely.

Nick laughed. “Mrs. Rodriguez, you’ve become the newest captive of our little bird. No one can refuse her anything.” He reached over to take the child from his wife. “We’d better get inside.”

Elizabeth squeezed Samantha’s hand. “Mrs. Norton is ill. I’m playing the organ for her. We’ll talk after church.”

They walked away, still carrying Lizzy. Pamela waved toward her daughter. “You’ll think we all spoil her.”

John’s grin crinkled the sun lines around his eyes. “And you’d be right.” His smile faded. “She’s always been frail. We’ve almost lost her several times.”

Pamela nodded. “Every day is a gift.”

Samantha’s heart squeezed into her throat, and she thanked God for Daniel’s robust health. He’d missed most of the childhood illnesses, instead being inclined to sprained ankles and broken arms. Those had been bad enough. She looked over at her son, chattering away to the Carter children, and couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. He was all she had.

Over to one side, Tim stood by himself, arms hanging at his sides, a drooping, solitary figure in the midst of all the people. No, not all I have, she corrected herself. My family is growing. And so is my circle of friends.

She gestured to Tim. “Too bad more parents don’t consider their children to be blessings.”

“Some people don’t deserve to be parents.” John growled the worlds out.

“I can’t help but agree.”

John narrowed his eyes. Samantha could tell he was looking at the Cobbs. “Some folks will say you’ve gone and shot yourself in the foot, taking on those boys. But I admire you for it.”

In the steeple, the bell tolled. Her heart beat in turn with the bell. The previous nervousness that had dissipated during her conversation with the Sanderses and the Carters poured back into her stomach. She hoped she wouldn’t make a mistake in following the service. Everyone would notice.

Pamela nodded toward the church. “Usually Elizabeth and Nick sit with us. But today they’ll be near the organ. Why don’t you and the boys sit in our pew?”

“Thank you.” Samantha dropped her voice to a whisper. “It’s been so long since I’ve attended a Protestant church, I’ve been afraid of doing something wrong.”

Samantha’s confession didn’t seem to bother Pamela. “Sit next to me. I’ll nudge you when necessary.”

Samantha collected Daniel and Tim. With a hand on each boy’s shoulder, she followed the Carter family into the church, all of them trooping down the aisle. Inside, light flooded through the clear glass windows.

Curious glances fell on her from left and right. It was impossible to ignore them. Her cheeks warmed, and she lifted her chin, fighting the tension that locked her stomach tighter than her corset. For the last two years, any attention directed at her had always been critical.
It’s normal for the congregation to be interested in new people,
she reminded herself.

Pamela stopped beside one of the wooden front pews. “You children can sit together provided you are well behaved.”

Pamela didn’t know her Daniel. Maybe the novelty of a new church would keep him quiet. To insure his cooperation, she held on to his shoulder, letting the other children file in first. She seated herself next to Daniel, Pamela on her other side.

Samantha looked around, liking the simplicity of the room. No dimly lit ornate interior, no scent of incense. No niches with saints, rows of candles burning before them. The only candles were white tapers set into heavy brass candlesticks on a linendraped altar.

A wooden cross hung above, without, she felt thankful to see, the tortured figure of Christ drooping from it. A green glass vase set between the candlesticks held red tulips like those she’d seen growing in Wyatt’s yard. She wondered if he’d brought them.

As if prompted by her thoughts, she saw Wyatt, holding Christine by the hand, striding down the aisle. Dressed in a navy suit with a gray shirt, he seemed to fill the room with his presence. Mrs. Toffels followed at a more sedate pace.

Samantha’s heartbeat sped up. Annoyed by her response to him, she froze her gaze ahead of her.

Elizabeth began to play the organ. Samantha recognized the music of Johann Sebastian Bach, although she couldn’t pinpoint the exact piece. Her parents had loved Bach’s music. In Germany, they’d had plenty of opportunities to hear his work in church and by going to concerts. It had been a long time though, and she let herself be caught up in a wave of nostalgia.

The memories carried her through the rest of the service, and she followed Pamela’s lead, rising and sitting, singing, and being still. It wasn’t too different from what she’d remembered. Occasionally she did have to place a restraining hand on Daniel’s leg when he wiggled too much.

Elizabeth chose another piece by Bach for a recessional. As they rose to leave, Samantha stepped out into the aisle at the same time Wyatt emerged from his pew.

Underneath her stiff corset, her stomach tightened. Why did this man so unnerve her?

“Morning, Samantha.”

“Good morning, Wyatt.”

Christine rounded Wyatt’s side, tucked her arm through Sara’s, and the two started whispering.

As Wyatt watched his daughter, his gray eyes silvered in amusement. He shrugged. “Little girls. At least they didn’t squeal when they met up. Not bein’ able to chatter for a whole hour is difficult.”

“Or sit still.” She glanced over her shoulder to see Daniel half skip, half walk down the side aisle, then slither through the crowd by the door, Tim behind him. She shook her head. She’d catch up with them later.

From the corner of her eye, she could see several women stop to observe them. Her cheeks warmed. She pretended not to notice, instead falling into line with the congregation.

Wyatt walked beside her. “Settlin’ in all right?”

“Just fine, thank you.” She remembered that he wanted to buy her ranch. Soon, they’d need to have a little discussion about that topic. He needed to know her ranch
wasn’t
for sale. She tried to ignore him standing next to her, but it was difficult when her awareness of him jangled her nerves. Annoyance, she tried to tell herself. But she knew better.

Outside, Reverend Norton stood shaking each person’s hand, his white hair ruffled by the breeze. “Mrs. Rodriguez, how nice to see you again. I’m only sorry I haven’t had a chance to introduce you to my dear wife. I’m afraid she’s home in bed.”

“I’m sorry to not meet—”

“She’ll be sorry too. I’m sure she’ll be well by next Sunday.” He looked past her shoulder. “Ah, our banker and his sister, Mrs. Grayson. Have you been introduced to them?”

“Mr. Livingston and I have met. However, I haven’t had a chance to meet Mrs. Grayson,” Samantha said.

“Well, let me remedy that.” He performed the introductions.

Edith Grayson’s lavender silk shirtwaist and skirt with its darker velvet trim made Samantha feel dowdy. Diamond drops glittered in her ears. Like her brother, Edith Grayson had striking chocolate-brown eyes and dark hair. They shared the same straight nose, although her mouth was wider, the full lips so lush and pink Samantha wondered if she painted them.

Those lips parted in a smile. “Mrs. Rodriguez, ever since my brother told me about you, I’ve been looking forward to making your acquaintance.”

Caleb Livingston, tall and handsome in a different brown suit than the one he’d worn the day of their meeting, looked on with approval.

Samantha hoped she’d like the sister better than she liked the banker. “And I you.”

“I understand you, too, are a widow?”

“Yes.”

“We have much in common, then. Widows trying to raise our only sons in the Wild West. Is your loss recent?” She glanced at Samantha’s black dress.

“Over two years. But in Argentina, a widow always wears black. I’m looking forward to escaping the color.”

Mrs. Grayson smiled in understanding, and Samantha warmed to her.

“I’m afraid your choices in Sweetwater Springs will be very limited. But one manages.” Edith shrugged her shoulders and ruefully pursed her full lips; a dimple lingered in the corner of her mouth.

Samantha thought of her limited bank balance. “I don’t know that it will matter. I’ll need to concentrate my spending on the ranch and the boys. You know how fast they outgrow their clothes.” She smiled with pride. “I’m no longer just the mother of one.”

Edith gestured at Tim, lingering on the edge of the crowd. “He must be one of those twins I’ve heard about.”

“Yes, Tim Cassidy.”

“Where’s the other?”

“At home helping with chores.”

“Are you going to trade them back and forth? One every other week?”

“I hope not.” The wry tone puckered Samantha’s mouth.

Edith laughed. “Sometimes just one boy can be difficult. I don’t envy you three. Best of luck.”

Wyatt joined them. “Good day, Mrs. Grayson.”

Her lips widened into a sensual smile. “Mr. Thompson.”

“I see you’ve met my neighbor.”

“We were just getting acquainted. Tell me, Mr. Thompson…” Mrs. Grayson lowered her voice.

Mr. Livingston chose that moment to slide his hand under Samantha’s elbow. “Perhaps I could escort you to your buggy.”

“It’s just a wagon.”

“A practical vehicle.” He ushered her away.

She cast one final glance at Wyatt, absorbed in his conversation with Mrs. Grayson. She swallowed the frisson of jealousy rising in her throat when they didn’t seem to notice her leaving.

They deserve each other.

But why didn’t that thought make her feel better?

Wyatt focused his eyes on Edith Grayson’s mouth. He’d wanted to kiss her ever since he’d set eyes on those lushly contoured lips, one of the reasons he’d put her on the top of his prospective wife list. Yet today, stare as he might, Edith’s sensual lips failed to rouse his former responsiveness, and the words that issued from them buzzed in his ears. His attention wandered, following Samantha and Livingston.