Page 16 of Storm in Montana (Montana Becketts, Wild Spirit Ranch #3)

The winter wind swept down Mystic’s main street, lifting Annalee Beckett’s skirt. She walked between her mother and Brodie, her gaze holding the same sharp assessment of the surroundings they’d always carried on the ranch.

He watched her from the corner of his eye as they approached Jennings Mercantile.

The girl he’d known had transformed into someone both familiar and foreign.

The wool skirt and heavy coat belied the polish she’d obtained while away.

Brodie also glimpsed the same determined set of her jaw, the same ready stance of a woman who could leap onto a horse at a moment’s notice.

Naomi Beckett pushed open the shop door, its bell announcing their arrival with a bright chime.

Inside, shelves lined the walls in neat rows, their contents arranged with Casper Jennings’s meticulous attention to detail.

The shopkeeper himself appeared from behind a display of canned goods, his face brightening at the sight of customers.

“Naomi, Sheriff… and Miss Annalee! What a pleasure to see you back in Mystic.” Casper hurried forward, hands clasped together in welcome.

Annalee smiled, moving deeper into the store with the grace of a society lady, though her fingers trailed along the merchandise with a rancher’s practical assessment. “Mr. Jennings, I see you’ve expanded your inventory since my last visit.”

“Indeed we have. Melody insisted we bring in some of the latest fashions from back East. Perhaps you’d like to see them?”

“Another time, perhaps.” Annalee turned toward a display of work gloves. “Today, I’m more interested in these. The stitching looks sturdy, much better for ranch work than what I found in Philadelphia.”

Brodie watched her fingers trace the leather seams, remembering how those same hands wrapped around Cricket’s reins, guiding the mare with the ease of someone born to the saddle. The memory struck him with unexpected force.

“We need supplies for the ranch,” Naomi said, producing a list. “And some items for the house.”

What followed was a careful dance as Annalee moved through the store, shifting between discussing the latest fashion plates with her mother and debating the merits of various tools with Casper. Her knowledge of both worlds appeared effortless, natural.

After settling their purchases, they made their way to Mystic Feed and Grain.

The familiar scent of hay filled the air as they entered.

Spotting a clerk, she asked several questions.

The clerk launched into a detailed discussion on new methods of breeding cattle.

Brodie found himself drawn to the animation in her face as she spoke, the way her eyes lit up when debating the finer points of ranching.

This was the Annalee he remembered. Sharp, capable, and unafraid to speak her mind.

Their final stop brought them to the Mystic Gazette office where Faith Goodell Beckett sat at her desk, surrounded by scattered papers and the steady click of her typewriter. She looked up as they entered, her face brightening at the sight of her friend.

“Annalee! I didn’t know you were coming to town today.” Faith rose to embrace her, ink-stained fingers careful not to mark Annalee’s dress.

“It was a last-minute decision. Mama needed supplies, and I wanted to see how my favorite newspaper editor was faring.” Annalee perched on the edge of Faith’s desk, her posture relaxed. “I thought I might stay with you and Joshua for a few days if the offer still stands?”

Brodie was surprised at the casual announcement. He’d assumed she’d return to Wild Spirit Ranch with her mother, not linger in town where he’d be able to see her daily.

Faith’s enthusiasm filled the small office. “Of course! Josh will be delighted. We can catch up properly, hear all about your adventures in Philadelphia.”

Brodie studied the scene before him. Faith’s obvious joy at having her friend near, and Annalee, balancing between the world she’d left in Philadelphia and where she’d grown up.

The words tumbled from Brodie’s mouth before he could consider their implications, his voice carrying across the Gazette office with unexpected urgency.

“Join me for supper at the hotel this evening.” His eyes fixed on Annalee, watching the surprise register on her face, followed by something warmer, more inviting.

Faith glanced up from the typewriter, her fingers frozen mid stroke. The invitation hung in the air, unexpected yet somehow inevitable.

Annalee’s lips curved into a smile, one he remembered from years past. The same smile she’d worn when accepting his offer to dance at the harvest festival, back when she’d been too young for him to consider as anything more than his best friend’s sister.

“I’d love to join you.” Her voice carried the refined edges of her Philadelphia sojourn, though underneath lay the familiar warmth he remembered.

Brodie looked at Faith. “You and Josh are welcome to join.”

“I’d love to have you two there,” Annalee said with a nod of her head.

Joshua walked in, looked around, and cocked his head at Faith. “What are you talking about?”

Smiling back at him, Faith burst out, “We’d love to join you.”

Plans settled, Naomi departed with the supplies packed in the back of the wagon, leaving the couples to make their way to the Mystic Hotel as evening approached.

The dining room welcomed them with lamplight and the scent of roasted meat. The tables draped in clean white cloth pointed to the establishment’s attempts at refinement.

The owner seated them at a corner table. Brodie found himself studying Annalee’s hands as she unfolded her napkin, noting how they retained their strength despite their newfound elegance. These were still the hands capable of calming a frightened horse or roping a steer.

“Tell us about Philadelphia,” Faith encouraged as their soup arrived. “Every letter you sent made it sound more exciting than the last.”

Annalee’s face lit up, her enthusiasm infectious.

“The city itself is overwhelming at first. So many people and so much activity. My aunt insisted I learn all the proper social graces, though Mama already showed me most of it before I left.” She demonstrated with an exaggerated flourish of her soup spoon, drawing laughs from her companions.

“Though I must admit, I missed the open spaces. The freedom of riding across our land with nothing between me and the horizon.”

“Sounds confining,” Brodie offered, his first real contribution to the conversation.

Her blue eyes met his. “It was, in some ways. Though I learned to find different kinds of freedom. Did you know they have special courts just for playing tennis? And croquet matches where ladies and gentlemen compete together?”

“How scandalous,” Joshua teased, earning a playful glare from Brodie.

“More scandalous than letting your sister rope cattle and break horses?” Annalee countered, a hint of her old fire showing through.

Brodie leaned forward. “From what I’ve seen, you haven’t forgotten how to ride. Haven’t forgotten anything about ranch life.”

“Sheriff Gaines, I will never forget either. I’m a ranch woman, the same as my mama.” The challenge in her voice stirred something in him, memories of races across open prairie, her hair streaming behind her like a banner.

Their main course arrived. Roasted chicken with vegetables for Faith and Annalee, and steaks for the men. The conversation shifted to local matters, with Joshua and Faith updating Annalee on recent changes in Mystic.

“The town’s growing,” Faith explained. “New families arriving every month. The Gazette’s circulation has nearly doubled.”

“Thanks to your writing,” Joshua added, his pride in Faith evident in his voice. “Your articles about territorial politics have caught attention even in Helena.”

Brodie watched Annalee absorb these changes, noting how she asked precise questions about new businesses, population growth, and town improvements. Her time in Philadelphia hadn’t diminished her practical mind.

“And what about you, Brodie?” Annalee asked, fixing him with those sharp blue eyes. “Any exciting tales to share?”

He found himself recounting a recent chase after bank robbers, drawn in by her genuine interest. She leaned forward, asking relevant questions, proving she hadn’t lost her understanding of the land and its challenges.

The evening stretched on, their empty plates removed, coffee and pie served. The dining room had nearly emptied, leaving them in a bubble of lamplight and comfortable conversation. Brodie noticed how Annalee’s shoulders had relaxed, how her laugh came more freely now.

“I have another early morning tomorrow.” Faith rose from her chair.

They all moved toward the door, the evening drawing to a close. Yet Brodie felt an overwhelming reluctance to let it end, to watch Annalee walk away. In the hotel’s entrance, she turned to him, her face shadowed in the lamplight.

“Thank you for supper.” The words carried an undercurrent of something warmer, more personal.

“My pleasure. I’ll walk you to Josh’s place.”

Their eyes met, and the years between them seemed to compress and expand. She was both the girl he’d known and the woman she’d become, familiar and mysterious, close enough to touch yet not quite within his grasp.

The night air carried an edge of frost as Faith and Annalee disappeared into the house, their voices fading behind the closing door.

Joshua turned to Brodie, his expression unreadable in the darkness.

Without speaking, they fell into step together, their boots striking a steady rhythm against the packed earth of Mystic’s main street.

It was common for the men to stroll the boardwalks after supper, talking while confirming all was well in the bustling frontier town.

Stars pierced the black canvas above them as lamplight spilled outside through windows and open doorways.

The town had settled into its nighttime quiet, broken only by distant piano music drifting from the Starlight Saloon.

Brodie felt the weight of his badge, heavy against his chest, a reminder of responsibilities and boundaries.

Joshua broke the silence first. “She’s changed.”

“Yes.” Brodie kept his eyes forward, though his mind lingered on the way Annalee’s hands had moved as she spoke, telling stories of her time away.

“Not as much as she thinks.” Joshua’s words carried a brother’s knowing tone. “Not as much as you think, either.”

They passed the darkened windows of Jennings Mercantile, their reflections staring back at them. Brodie’s hand brushed the grip of his revolver, an unconscious gesture born of years of habit.

Joshua stopped walking. “What are you planning to do about Annalee?”

The question hung between them, sharp as a drawn knife. Brodie turned to face his friend, reading the protective concern in his stance. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You do.” Joshua’s voice hardened. “I saw how you watched her tonight. How you’ve been watching her since she stepped off the train from Philadelphia three weeks ago.”

Brodie felt words rising in his throat, truths he’d been avoiding since Annalee’s return. “She’s not a child anymore.”

“No, she isn’t.” Joshua stepped closer. “She’s my sister. The same sister you’ve been keeping at arm’s length since she turned seventeen. The same one who used to follow you around the ranch like a shadow.”

“That was different. She was different.”

“Was she?” Challenge colored Joshua’s words. “Or were you just afraid then, same as you’re afraid now?”

The accusation struck home. Brodie’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to speak. “I care for her. More than I should, probably more than I have any right to.”

“Don’t hurt her, Brodie.” Joshua’s tone shifted, carrying equal measures of warning and plea. “She’s had enough of men keeping her at a distance, treating her like she’s something to be protected rather than understood.”

Before Brodie could respond, the night split apart with the crash of breaking glass. A man flew backward through the Starlight’s front window, shards of glass raining around him as he landed hard in the street. His body rolled, coming to rest face-down in the icy mud.

Both men’s hands moved to their weapons as shouts erupted from inside the saloon. Brodie exchanged a quick glance with Joshua, years of friendship allowing them to communicate without words. They moved forward together, approaching the prone figure with caution.

The man groaned, trying to push himself up. Blood dripped from cuts on his face, creating dark patterns in the snow. Inside the saloon, the piano had stopped playing, replaced by the sound of breaking furniture and angry voices.

“Stay with him,” Brodie ordered, drawing his revolver. He reached the saloon’s entrance in a few long strides, positioning himself to see inside while remaining partially sheltered by the doorframe. The scene before him froze his blood.

Two men stood locked in combat near the bar, while a third held a knife to Doyle Shaw’s throat. The bartender’s eyes were wide with fear, his hands raised in surrender.

“Sheriff’s here!” someone shouted, and the tableau shifted. The man with the knife jerked his head toward the door, his blade pressing closer to Doyle’s neck.

“Don’t come any closer,” the man snarled, his voice carrying a whiskey-tinged edge.

Brodie’s finger tensed on his trigger, his mind racing through options.

Through the broken window, he heard Joshua speaking softly to the injured man, heard the gathering whispers of townspeople drawn by the commotion.

And somewhere in the darkness behind him, a horse’s hooves struck the packed ice of the street.

The man with the knife shifted at the sound. Taking advantage, Doyle moved, throwing his elbow back into his captor’s ribs. The blade flashed in the lamplight at the same time as Brodie’s revolver roared.