To Dream Anew (17 page)

“Dianne will forgive me,” he murmured as he finished loading the last of his supplies on his horse. “She forgave Trenton for all those years without word.” Thinking of his older brother made Morgan feel a slight tug to head home. Maybe he would. Maybe he’d winter on the ranch. Maybe he’d suggest they all winter on the ranch. After all, Dianne would probably welcome all three of them with open arms if it meant seeing him again.

“I’ll mention it to Marley,” Morgan announced. His horse whinnied, as if confirming the plan. He mounted and patted the horse’s neck before taking one last look at the beautiful scene. he sighed. “I suppose we must head back.”

Morgan returned to a camp in the middle of chaos. Jackson was sitting outside the large tent they all shared. Muttering in between taking draws on his pipe, the normally easygoing redhead was not a happy man.

“Well, Jackson, I’m back as I promised.”

Jackson glanced up at Morgan and shielded his eyes. “You’ll probably want to turn that old nag right around and head back.”

Morgan dismounted and laughed. “What in the world would make you say …” His words trailed off at the sound of a woman’s voice coming from the tent.

“No!” she yelled. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand.”

“Tourist?” Morgan asked Jackson.

“Hardly. Might be a whole sight easier if it were.”

The woman blew out of the tent like a west wind ahead of a thunderstorm. She was a striking little thing with blond curls bouncing down her back. Marley Turnquist followed, raising his hands to the skies as if for divine intervention.

“You’re as stubborn as the day is long!” he called after the woman.

Morgan stood still, mesmerized by the young woman. She was decked out in some kind of riding outfit and straw bonnet, but it was the determination and fire in her expression that held him spellbound.

“Maybe it’s my Swedish blood,” she said sarcastically as she turned back to face Marley. “For years you allowed me to follow you around on your trips. You didn’t worry about what people thought then.”

“You were a child then,” the older man declared. Marley Turnquist was only forty-five, but he seemed to age before Morgan’s eyes as he dealt with the angry young woman.

“You’re twenty years old,” Marley continued.

“I’ll be twenty-one in January,” the woman protested. “I’m old enough to decide what I want out of life, and this is it. I hate living in Chicago with Mother. And Anna has been impossible since she married Stanley Newcomer. Now all she and Mother want to do is see me married off to one of Anna’s old beaus.”

“It wouldn’t hurt you to marry and settle down!”

“I’d rather eat a live grizzly bear with a spoon!” Now she was really mad.

But then, too, so was Marley. Morgan watched as the man went nose to nose with the girl. “If you aren’t careful, I’ll see to it that you get your chance.”

They stood in silence for a moment. Both were panting and oblivious to anyone else. Jackson looked up, his expression forlorn.

“They keep doing this,” he said, pulling the pipe from his mouth. “Been at it now for about two hours.” He looked like a man wishing for a means of escape.

“Who is she?”

Jackson never had a chance to reply.

“Angelina Turnquist,” Marley said, waggling his finger at her, “you’re going back.”

“I’m staying here,” she retorted, pressing forward enough that Marley had to lean back. “I worked too hard to get here, and if need be, I’ll find someone else to camp with.” She stormed back into the tent at this and Marley followed after, muttering a stream of obscenities such as Morgan had never heard.

Jackson got to his feet and pulled the pipe from his mouth.

“Old trapper brought her here about noon. At first Marley was kind of tickled to see her, but then the fighting started and it ain’t stopped.”

“So that’s his daughter. She’s a pretty little thing.”

“Pretty? Did you see that dress she’s wearing—if it can be called that. I ain’t never seen a getup like it. I think she’s wearin’ trousers under that long coat.”

Morgan grinned and shrugged. “Still, a fellow could lose his heart pretty easily to someone like her.”

“I don’t recommend losin’ anything to that wild cat. She’ll eat you for breakfast and spit you out by noon. No, sir. I wouldn’t lose anything around her.”

CHAPTER
12

“M
ARLEY,
I
THINK IT’S THE BEST CHOICE WE HAVE.
A
FTER
all, you said yourself that it looks like winter is going to close in here in the next couple of weeks,” Morgan told his partner. “My sister has plenty of room. She’s not going to care about a few more folks. We can winter there and have it easy for once. We can even set out and do some mapping in that area if we want to.”

Marley nodded. “You’re right. It’s about the only sane choice. I’ve got no way to get Angelina back to her mother at this point. Not unless I want to ride down to catch the train, and that’s a good two, maybe three weeks of hard travel.”

Morgan was glad that Angelina was nowhere around to protest the decision being made without her. She was off bathing in one of the icy streams while poor Jackson stood guard in the distance. Morgan pitied anything or anyone who tried to harass Miss Turnquist. The woman was an absolute storm waiting to unleash its fury. He grinned as he thought of her, however. She had a spirit that pleased Morgan through and through. It was probably why he’d fallen for her upon first sight. Now if he could spend the winter cooped up with her at the Diamond V, he might be able to convince Angelina to feel the same way.

“We can head out right away. We’ve got good weather so far,” Morgan reminded. “We can put a good ten miles under our belts if we hurry.”

Marley sighed. “Yup. Guess that’s what we’ll do. Sure hope you’re right about your sister. My wife would never take to uninvited visitors wandering in.”

“Dianne loves uninvited visitors. You just wait and see.”

Dianne couldn’t have been happier at the prospect of having Morgan home all winter. Zane’s decision to remain in Butte had been such a disappointment, but this clearly made up for it.

Now that the Indian troubles had diminished somewhat and folks had begun to relax again, everyone at the ranch had gone back to his own quarters. The only remaining houseguest was Portia Langford, and even she was slated to leave after Christmas. Sam Brady, Portia’s father, had written to say he would come and take her back to the fort two days before Christmas. Dianne planned to encourage Sam to stick around until after the holidays so the old soldier could have time to rest and enjoy family life away from the fort. Dianne didn’t know if he’d go along with the idea, but she certainly hoped he would.

Portia pulled on stockings and secured them with a garter. Her thoughts were on her future. Her father was coming soon to take her back to Bozeman, only now she wasn’t so sure she wanted to go. Living with the Selbys was convenient for her plans, and Mr. Lawrence had proven quite helpful.

She slipped her feet into delicate brocade shoes and grimaced. These were the last truly nice shoes she had. She thought of the trunks of beautiful clothes she’d left in Baltimore. If only old Mr. Langford hadn’t been so difficult. His letters questioning Ned’s death and demanding to have her relive Ned’s suicide were most maddening.

“Stupid man,” she muttered to herself.

Ned had been much too controlled by his father. She hadn’t seen this early enough, unfortunately. Life in Baltimore had been a series of confrontations, but not between Ned and old Mr. Langford. Rather they had been between Portia and Ned’s father.

He had constantly accused her of being a seeker of fortune. Portia had pointed out to him on more than one occasion that she was situated quite nicely in regard to financial need, but Langford never seemed convinced. By the time she found out he’d hired a man to investigate her and her bank account, Portia knew she was going to have to do something about her husband.

“Weaklings. All of them. Stupid and weak, just like all of the men in my life.”

Trenton Chadwick came to mind. Now there was a useful man. Unfortunately, he hated her. Still, he was the kind of man Portia could at least admire. He hadn’t cowered at her threats, but had countered with his own. For now, she would let him be. In fact, it might be fun to see what would develop.

Of course, there was that silly little Turnquist woman to deal with. She certainly had decided quickly enough to attach herself to the eldest Chadwick son. But it was of no concern. Portia knew that if she decided to take Trenton for her own, it would only be a matter of time until she had him. No one ever told her no—at least not for long.

But Chester Lawrence was proving to be beneficial, and in him, Portia saw a comrade-in-arms. He hated the Selbys, and so did she.

“I’m sure we can be mutually helpful to each other,” she said as she took one last look in the mirror. She smiled in approval. “Very helpful indeed.”

The weeks went by in pleasurable planning for Christmas. Dianne watched with a hopeful eye at the way Morgan had taken to the young Miss Turnquist. It was evident that he had strong feelings for the pretty blonde, but it didn’t appear Angelina felt the same way. In fact, if Dianne didn’t know better, she’d think that Angelina was far more interested in Trenton.

“I sure hope we aren’t putting you out, ma’am,” Marley Turnquist said as Dianne came into the kitchen with a stack of table linens.

“Not at all, Mr. Turnquist. As you can see, we have plenty of room and we very much enjoy the company. It can get very lonely out here at times.”

“I can well understand that,” the man said as he turned back to the stove where he had been about to pour himself a cup of coffee. “I lived a good part of my life in the big city, however, and it can be very lonely there as well. There were times, in fact, when I was the most lonely of all sitting right in a room full of people.”

Dianne placed the linens on the table. “Nevertheless, we’re glad you could spend Christmas and the winter with us. It affords me a chance to see Morgan, and since he went away to partner with you and Mr. DeShazer, I haven’t had that opportunity.”

“We do keep busy,” Marley said, turning with his cup.

“Well, you just make yourself at home,” Dianne assured. “I’m especially enjoying the company of your daughter. It’s always nice to hear the news from back East and know what fashions are being created. We get newspapers here and an occasional periodical, but it’s been more fun to spend hours over cakes and Tea discussing such affairs, pretending we’re completely up to date.”

“I believe Angelina is enjoying herself as well. She’s always been an unconventional child. I hold myself to blame for that. I wanted a son, and when my firstborn was a girl child, I was disappointed but held to the dream of a boy. Then Angelina came along and the doc said there’d be no more babies. I figured I could make a son out of a girl just as well as a boy.” Marley grinned. “Guess I made a wild cat instead.”

Dianne laughed. “She has a zest for life that will keep her strong out here. You have to have that passion—that enthusiasm—or the country will devour you whole.”