Montana (20 page)

“Neither have I.”

He ignored that. “I'm not proud of my past, and as my wife you have a right to know what you're getting in the husband department.”

“It doesn't matter.”

“Some of it does,” he said. The stiffness in his back and shoulders made her wonder what that might be.

“Are you healthy? Are there children you're supporting? A common-law wife?” Those were the important issues.

“Yes to the first question—I had enough blood tests in the hospital to be sure of that. And no to the others. To the best of my knowledge I've never fathered a child and I've never had a wife, common-law or otherwise, but my past—”

“Is past,” she interrupted. “Confession might be good for the soul, but in this instance…I think not. Let's start with a clean slate, shall we? What's in your past has nothing to do with the future, and the same applies to me.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You're sure about this?”

“Very sure.” She smiled. “There's lots I want to hear about your life—your family and your childhood, your glory days in the rodeo, where you've worked since. But anything you feel guilty about, you can keep to yourself. Okay?”

He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I intend to be a good husband, Molly. I realize these circumstances aren't the best, but if we both try, we can make this a good marriage.”

Was it possible? Molly didn't have an answer to that, but she was beginning to feel real hope.

 

Three days later at five o'clock in the afternoon Sam stood with Molly in the office of Reverend Ackerly at Sweetgrass Baptist Church. Tom, Clay and Walt crowded around them. Sam couldn't help smiling at Walt's attempt to appear suitably solemn—as befitted a member of the wedding. He and Mrs. Ackerly had agreed to be their witnesses.

Molly wore a floor-length dress in a pretty shade of pink with big buttons and a wide belt. She wore the cameo that had once belonged to her grandmother and pearl earrings. Her auburn hair was freshly cut and curly. Sam had never seen her look so pretty and had difficulty not staring at her. Although he hadn't said anything, it pleased him that she'd wanted to make something special of this wedding. It boded well for their marriage.

What
didn't
help was that she knew nothing about his prison record. He'd tried to tell her, but had backed down when she'd insisted she didn't want to know about his past scandals. Her insistence had relieved him, because he was afraid that once she heard the truth, she'd change her mind. Not that he'd blame her. She sure wasn't getting any bargain.

Someday, he promised himself, he'd tell her about that part of his past. But not now. When the trust between them was firmly established, then and only then would he feel safe enough to reveal the darkest shadows of his own life.

Before the wedding ceremony they'd stopped at the jeweler's and purchased simple gold bands, but Sam's gaze had wandered over the diamonds. A year or two from now, when he could afford it, he'd buy Molly the diamond she deserved. Maybe by then he'd be the husband she deserved, too.

He quickly reined in his thoughts. Although they both wanted the marriage to work, fooling himself into believing this was a love match would only lead to trouble. He wasn't stupid. He knew why Molly had developed this sudden desire for a husband. She was scared and, frankly, he understood that. Especially when someone—some unknown person—was after the ranch and willing to go to just about any lengths to obtain it.

Sam didn't mean to be so distracted by these problems in the middle of his own wedding, but the worry was there. When it came time to say his vows, he had a few of his own he intended to silently add. He would protect Walt, Molly and the boys or die trying.

On the minister's instructions, he spoke his vows. His voice was strong, firm, clear. The words came directly from his heart. It'd taken him thirty-six years to marry, and he only intended to do it once.

He didn't know if what he felt for Molly was love. He did know he genuinely cared for her and her children. He knew he wanted her in his life and longed to be part of hers.

Molly repeated her vows in a voice just as strong and confident as his. Sam instinctively recognized it as bravado and admired her for it. He respected this woman for a number of reasons. Her love for her grandfather. Her courage in coming to Montana—and in marrying him. The fact that she loved her children and worked hard to be a good mother. His own mother had been a teenager when he was born, little more than a child herself. Her husband, Michael Dakota, had adopted Sam as his own son. Through the years, his stepfather hadn't played favorites among the children, and neither would Sam. If sometime in the future Tom, Clay and Molly were willing, he'd like to look into adopting her boys. He only hoped he could be as good a stepfather as his own had been.

He thought about Michael with renewed sorrow and genuine regret. He wondered about his mother and the rest of his family. He'd call or write them soon….

Then the ceremony was over, and they signed the documents, witnessed by Gramps and Mrs. Ackerly. When they finished, Gramps shook Sam's hand and said he'd have Letson draw up the paperwork on their agreement.

“What about dinner?” Gramps said as they walked out of Pastor Ackerly's study. “My treat.” The old man looked pleased with himself, as well he should. Sam suspected that Walt had planned this wedding for quite some time.

“What do you say, Mrs. Dakota?” Gramps asked, smiling at Molly.

Mrs. Dakota.
They'd discussed the possibility of her keeping the name Cogan, if for no other reason than it was the name she shared with the boys. Molly had declined. This was Montana, and while it was common practice for women to keep their surnames in other parts of the country, it wasn't here. Besides, she had no loyalty to Daniel or his family.

Mr. and Mrs. Sam Dakota.

Not only did Sam have a wife and two stepsons, but he was a husband now. The unencumbered life was forever behind him. And Sam was glad of it. He felt nothing but gratitude to an old man who'd had the insight to suggest this marriage—and the shrewdness to offer him the right incentive.

Gramps chose the restaurant, claiming he wanted to eat at the new steak house. Sam smiled at the way Clay eyed the dessert platter the minute they entered the place. The hostess greeted them warmly. “Congratulations, you two!” she said. “We'll be bringing you some complimentary champagne and appetizers.”

“Thank you,” Molly murmured, then cast Sam a puzzled look.

“How'd she know?” Sam asked once they were all seated.

Gramps cleared his throat, looking spry and happy. “I called the radio station and they announced it.”

“Gramps!” Molly groaned, and Sam watched the color brighten her cheeks.

“It isn't every day my granddaughter snares herself a husband. I wanted folks to hear the news.”

Actually it didn't bother Sam one bit that the town knew he'd married Molly.

“They talk about weddings on the radio?” Tom asked, shaking his head in wonder.

“Between the beef prices and the garage sales,” Gramps said with a chuckle. “And after bingo.”

That launched a conversation about Clay's most recent bingo success; he'd gotten to the phone fast enough this time and won himself a big five dollars.

“I suspected I'd find you in here,” Ginny Dougherty called out as she made her way across the restaurant. She wore clean blue jeans and a red plaid shirt. “So how's the happy couple?”

“Married,” Walt answered on their behalf. “I imagine you're looking for an invitation to join us. Damn snoopy neighbors,” he grumbled.

It was all for show, Sam realized with a grin. He caught a glimpse of Molly's twinkling eyes. Every time he looked in her direction it was hard to pull his gaze away.

The waitress returned with a bottle of champagne and four glasses.

Walt peered at the label. “Where's it from?” he asked as though he was some kind of connoisseur. Sam hid a smile.

“You never could see worth a damn without your glasses,” Ginny said, pulling out a chair and making herself at home. “It's domestic—from California.” She took Molly's discarded menu and read through it.

“My eyesight's good enough to know you're an interfering old woman,” Walt complained.

“Gramps!”

“Well, she is. No one invited her to dinner.”

“I did,” Molly said.

“When?”

“Just now. Please join us, Ginny. I apologize for my cantankerous ill-mannered grandfather.”

“You'll do no such thing,” Walt growled.

“I brought a wedding present. From Fred and me,” Ginny said, changing the subject before a full-blown argument broke out, which it often did when Ginny and Walt were together. Sam used to wonder why these two fought so much, but over the months, he'd come to realize they enjoyed sparring with each other. He had to admit Walt showed more life when Ginny was around than any other time.

“A present?” Molly sounded delighted.

Sam wanted to kick himself. He should have bought Molly something. Not that he could afford much, but he should've picked out some little gift just to reassure her that he wasn't a heartless cold-blooded bastard marrying her for a piece of land.

“I figured,” Ginny said, “neither Walt nor Sam would've done anything about a honeymoon.”

“We couldn't afford one,” Molly explained, making it sound as if they'd carefully weighed the decision. In reality, not a word had been uttered by either of them.

Once again Sam felt lacking. He hadn't been a husband more than an hour and already he'd failed Molly. Not once, but twice!

“Well, you're gonna have a honeymoon now,” Ginny said, grinning sheepishly. She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a key. Holding it up, she let it swing a couple of times before handing it to Sam.

“What's that?” Walt asked, frowning.

“The key to a hotel room, what else? I booked the best room available, so Molly and Sam can celebrate their wedding night in
private.
”

Gramps glared at his neighbor. “I wasn't planning on making a video recording of it, if that's what you're implying.”

“Gramps!”

“All right, all right,” he muttered, looking none too pleased.

“It was a very thoughtful thing to do,” Molly said. When she realized Sam was watching her, she lowered her gaze.

Sam wondered if anyone else noticed how the tips of her ears turned as red as her hair. So she was a bit hesitant. That was fair; he had a few qualms of his own. It'd been a long stretch since he'd last made love.

Just then the waitress brought the promised platter of appetizers—tiny ones, no more than one bite each, in Sam's opinion. Things with shrimp and smoked salmon and a white substance that was apparently goat's cheese. Molly and Ginny loved them, Gramps complained about the size and what he considered odd ingredients, and the boys wolfed down a bunch, surprisingly without comment. Sam ate a couple, finding he wasn't all that hungry.

“Can I order the lobster?” Clay asked once the appetizers were gone.

“Not now,” Gramps answered. “You can order it when Sam's buying, not me.”

Clay closed the menu. “I don't see anything else I'd like.”

“I'm sure there's something,” Molly said and read off a number of entrées Clay had apparently enjoyed in the past.

The boy repeatedly shook his head. “Can I have chocolate cake and cherry pie, instead?”

“Sure,” Sam answered.

“You most certainly may not,” Molly said at the same time.

Clay frowned. “Can I or can't I?”

“You'd better not,” Sam answered.

“I suppose it wouldn't hurt you this one time,” was Molly's response.

Again they'd spoken simultaneously.

Sam looked at her and she at him, and they both laughed. It felt good. As far as he was concerned, laughter was something this family could use.

The meal was ordered and the champagne was drunk. With great fanfare Gramps asked for a second bottle to accompany their entrées. He proposed a toast that brought tears to Molly's eyes, wishing his granddaughter and her husband a marriage as happy as his own had been.

Ginny wasn't the only one who came to offer congratulations. Twice during the meal, businessmen stopped by their table to shake Sam's hand and to offer their best wishes. The Wheaton name had been part of the Sweetgrass community for a lot of years. In other circumstances Sam might have resented the intrusions, but not now. He was being welcomed. He'd become part of the community, no longer a drifter, a man without roots. This marriage made people feel differently about him; he understood that. It meant he'd made a commitment not only to Molly but to a vision of the future. Sweetgrass was where he belonged and where he intended to stay.