Montana Unbranded. Nadia Nichols
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Molly’s brother a lot last night. Too much, truth be told, but it was the wedding gown that mattered, not Joe Ferguson. This would be no ordinary wedding gown. This was going to be a graceful sweep of elegance suitable for the red-haired Scots/Irish goddess who was marrying Steven Young Bear, the hard-hitting environmental attorney thought by many to be one of the rising stars in Montana’s political arena.
Molly’s gown had to be perfect. She wouldn’t let her best friend down on such an important day, but creating the perfect gown for the mother-to-be would require a big investment of time. This weekend’s excursion into the Arrow Roots to photograph the wild horses might be her last until after the June wedding. Which meant she shouldn’t be lying in bed, squandering one precious moment of this fine spring day.
Dani pushed out of bed, reached for her robe and wrapped it around her as she went downstairs to start the coffee. She’d lived in Helena for five years in this comfortable house, built in the late 1800s, with a big fenced yard for the dogs and only five miles from her office, but since Jack left she’d found herself wishing for a piece of land to call her own, large enough for a horse barn and pastures. It was no longer important to live within a stone’s throw of the airport. So she’d taken the plunge and recently listed the house with a real estate agent, who’d called yesterday to arrange a showing for Saturday. Perfect timing, since Dani and the dogs would be off hiking. Maybe now she should seriously start looking for that special place. A change would do her good.
She organized her camera gear while the coffee brewed. Stuffed her backpack with supplies while she sipped the first strong cup. Took a long, hot shower and dressed in comfortable, layered clothing. It got cold in the mountains when the sun went down. She plaited her long dark hair and laced up her well-worn leather hiking boots. The dogs watched all this preparation with increasing excitement. They knew she was taking them camping. They smelled the smoke of a hundred other campfires in her camping gear. They loved hiking with her, and she in turn felt safer in their company. Remmie and Win were well behaved, never roamed far from her side and their keen sense of smell and hearing had proved invaluable in finding the small band of wild horses that roamed the Arrow Roots.
She always stopped to see Luther Makes Elk when she crossed into the Crow reservation and today would be no different. She packed a jar of homemade raspberry jam for him and would pick up some Chinese food at the little restaurant in Bozeman. Luther loved his MSG.
By sunset she and the dogs will have reached the old line camp on the flanks of Gunflint Mountain. The thought made Dani happy. She was anxious to see if any of the mares had foaled yet, and if the wildflowers were in bloom on the mountainsides. She wanted to once again hear the coyotes howl and admire a night sky so full of stars it made her heart ache with the beauty and mystery of it.
Before eight a.m. she was loading her Subaru with camping gear. The two dogs jumped into the backseat when she opened the side door, then she climbed behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition.
“Okay, gang, let’s hunt us up a herd of wild horses.”
* * *
JOE WAS UP well before dawn. He was restless, and the time difference made it feel as if he should have been up far earlier. He dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, the same clothes he’d worn the day before because he had no other clothes to wear. Just lucky that Rico had brought these clothes to the hospital yesterday morning. He wandered into the kitchen of the small house in Gallatin Gateway that Molly shared with her fiancé, Steven Young Bear. Joe had always been protective of his baby sister and had been skeptical that any man would be good enough for her, but the moment he met Steven, he knew instinctively that this man would take good care of her. Molly had told him that Steven was a Crow Indian and an attorney of great merit and integrity, and that she loved him very much. She spoke of him with such unrealistic praise that Joe hadn’t been prepared to like the man, but from the first handshake he was sold. Young Bear was quiet and self-possessed, and Joe had no doubt that he could handle any situation life threw at him. Last night the three of them had shared a simple meal of stir-fried chicken in the cozy kitchen of the small post-and-beam home, after which Joe had retreated to the guest room, exhausted.
Yet in spite of his fatigue, he hadn’t slept well. He couldn’t blame it on being in a strange place. Nothing was stranger than a hospital. Maybe it was the absence of constant interruptions. No nurses, no doctors, no badges checking on him hourly. Maybe it was the silence. The sound of the wind pushing around the sides of the house was all he heard here no matter how hard he listened. No sirens, car horns or traffic noises. Maybe thirty-six years of city living had been what kept him awake his first night in the heart of the Wild West.
He wandered into the kitchen and saw that Molly had left the coffeepot ready to go. He pushed the start button. The coffee grinder whirred and the smell of fresh ground beans infused him with comfort. Water began to hiss and thump and drip through the filter and into the pot. He leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter and gazed out the window at a landscape that was both foreign and compelling. No snow remained on the ground and the grass was just greening up. The leaves of the aspen in the grove near the house were a pale, newly minted green, quivering in the early breeze. Majestic mountains in shades of blue and gray loomed on the horizon. He could easily get used to the big spaces, the tall mountains and the silence. For the first time he understood why Molly had never wanted to come back home. This was home for her, and she told him she’d felt it the moment she first stepped off the plane. I just knew it in my heart, Joseph. I knew Montana was where I was meant to be.
Montana was a far cry from the Boston Fergusons, and Molly loved her big Scots/Irish family, but she loved it here even more and appeared to be sublimely happy with her life. Joe wondered if he would ever find anything like what his sister had found. Last night he’d watched the pair at supper, watched the way Molly looked at Young Bear, the shine in her eyes, the way she so openly adored him. The feeling was obviously mutual. Mutual enough that when Molly opened the bottle of red wine and neglected to pour herself a glass, Young Bear had looked at her for a long, thoughtful moment before nodding and saying, “I thought that’s what the doctor was going to tell you. I hope it’s a girl, and I hope she has beautiful red hair, just like her mother.”
Turns out his baby sister was going to be a mother, and watching the two embrace, Joe realized how empty his own life was. Oh, he wasn’t sorry about the divorce. Nothing had made him more miserable than five years of being married to Alison Aniston, but their loveless marriage had ended a year ago and for the last few months his contact with women had been purely physical. Which had suited him just fine until meeting Dani Jardine yesterday. At first he thought maybe his lung had collapsed again, but the fact of the matter was, she’d taken his breath away. He hadn’t realized a woman could be so naturally beautiful and vibrantly alive. Being Molly’s best friend made her especially off-limits. Better for him if he kept far, far away from her.
He padded into the living room, dropped onto the sofa and cradled the hot mug of coffee. The picture window looked east, toward a big mountain range. Some of the taller peaks still cradled snow near their summits. The sun was rising behind the mountains, turning the snow crowning the peaks a pale shade of yellow. He took a swallow of coffee and watched the show. He thought about Molly’s suggestion, of bringing Ferg out here. His son would love it, but would Alison allow it? She was fighting for sole custody, and she was a nasty fighter.
“Morning.”
Molly’s voice startled him. She’d come into the living room quiet as a wraith, red hair loose upon her shoulders and freckles plain in her pale face. She looked very much like a little girl, not a young woman soon to be married.
“Coffee’s all made,” he said.
She shook her head and made a face. “My stomach can’t handle it lately. Sleep well?”
“Like a rock.”
“Don’t lie to me, Joseph. You didn’t sleep at all and neither did I. All I could think about was Marconi and how he almost killed you. Once he’s behind bars and after you’ve testified, you’ll be safe, but I have a plan to keep you safe in the meantime.”
“I can hardly wait to hear it.”
“Don’t