Page 26 of Storm in Montana (Montana Becketts, Wild Spirit Ranch #3)
Lamplight danced across the wooden beams of the Beckett ranch house as steam rose from serving bowls in lazy spirals. Around the long oak table, the Beckett family settled into their usual places, their conversations more reserved than most times.
Naomi Beckett placed the final dish, a steaming platter of roasted beef, at the center of the table before taking her seat at the head of the table. Her keen blue eyes swept across her gathered children.
Brodie sat between Annalee and Joshua, his sheriff’s badge catching the firelight. His presence at their table meant something. Everyone knew it, though no one spoke of it. The knowing glances passed between siblings told the story clear enough.
“Grayson, would you say the prayer?”
“All right. Lord, bless this food and bless those who share it.”
“Let’s eat! Tell us about the wolves, Brodie,” Nathan urged, breaking a piece of fresh bread.
Setting down his fork, he cast a look at Annalee, who smiled her encouragement.
“Well, the whole thing started when three of the wolves threatened us on the trail to the ranch. We shot one and scared off the other two. When the storm passed by, we spotted tracks heading south.” His deep voice settled into the rhythm of storytelling.
“Fresh prints in the new snow, heading toward the mountains.”
“Where the avalanche nearly buried Cody and Nathan?” Elijah asked, his usual stoic expression softening with the memory of almost losing his brothers.
“Yes,” Brodie answered. “We followed those tracks as best we could. The snow made it tricky. It kept filling in their prints almost as fast as we could track them.” He looked at Annalee.
“I tried to get Annie to head on to the ranch, but she insisted on coming along. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. ”
“Of course not,” Grayson commented with a knowing smile. “When has Annalee ever taken no for an answer?”
Laughter rippled around the table. Even Parker, usually lost in his own thoughts, grinned at the barb aimed at his sister.
“The wolves led us straight to a cave not far from where Cody and Nathan had been trapped,” Brodie continued.
“We could hear them inside, their howls echoing off the rocks. Then—” he paused for effect, noting how even Lily had stopped eating to listen.
“An avalanche bigger than any I’ve ever seen roared down the mountain. ”
“The sound was like heaven itself crashing around us,” Annalee said. “The entire mountainside just… shifted.”
“Providence,” Naomi said firmly, passing the gravy to Joshua. “The Lord works in ways we’ll never understand.”
“Providence or not,” Brodie continued, “the avalanche sealed those wolves in tight. They won’t be threatening any more cattle or people.”
Conversation flowed after Brodie finished, the family falling into their usual patterns of teasing and talk. Joshua spoke of their new foal. Grayson mentioned the need to purchase another bull. Through it all, Brodie’s gaze kept finding its way back to Annalee, drawn like a moth to a flame.
As the meal wound down and darkness pressed against the windows, Brodie pushed back his chair. “I should head back to town. Thank you for the wonderful meal.”
“Nonsense,” Naomi said sharply, rising from her seat. “It’s pitch black out there, and the temperature’s dropping. We’ve got a perfectly good guest room.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose—”
“It’s not an imposition,” Naomi insisted. “Besides, these trails can be treacherous at night, especially with all the snow we’ve had.”
The siblings exchanged knowing looks around the table. Grayson suddenly became very interested in his coffee cup. Joshua and Nathan developed sudden coughing fits. Even Lily failed to hide her smile behind her napkin.
“I… thank you for the invitation. You’re very kind.” Brodie’s eyes flickered to Annalee, who studied her plate with careful concentration, though a smile played at the corners of her mouth.
“This way,” Naomi said, picking up a lamp. “I’ll show you to your room.” She led him toward the stairs, her voice carrying back to the dining room. “The quilts are fresh, and there are extra blankets in the chest if you need them.”
In their wake, the dining room erupted in hushed whispers and stifled laughter. Annalee’s face burned red as her siblings’ knowing looks fell upon her, each one wearing a different version of the same knowing smile.
“Not one word,” she warned, pointing her fork at Nathan, who looked ready to burst with commentary. “Not. One. Word.”
Her siblings’ laughter was warm as the firelight, filling every corner of the room with the comfort of family and the promise of love blooming in the depths of winter.
Brodie lay atop the quilt in the guest room, fully dressed except for his boots, listening to the quiet creaks and settling sounds of the sleeping ranch house.
His pocket watch ticked steadily on the bedside table, marking time in measured beats.
The rhythm reminded him of hoofbeats, of long rides along the trail, of countless nights spent tracking outlaws across southern Montana.
The life of a sheriff brought danger as regular as sunrise, yet he’d never questioned his choice. Not until recently.
The ceiling beams above him held his gaze as his mind wandered through memories of recent weeks.
The rustlers they’d caught trying to drive Beckett cattle across the state line.
The wolf pack they’d tracked through treacherous mountain passes.
The avalanche which had nearly claimed Cody and Nathan’s lives.
Each incident carved deeper lines of worry into his thoughts, not for himself, but for Annalee.
He remembered her face when they’d found her brothers, how the fear had melted into relief, how she’d gripped his arm so tight he’d found bruises later. She hadn’t cried—Annalee never cried in crisis—but her hands had trembled against his sleeve.
The pocket watch ticked on, counting heartbeats in the darkness.
A floorboard creaked somewhere in the house, and Brodie’s hand instinctively moved toward the gunbelt hanging on the bedpost. Old habits died hard.
He’d developed these instincts over years of service, learning to wake at the slightest sound, to react to the smallest hint of danger.
Those same instincts had saved his life more times than he cared to count.
But they weren’t the kind of instincts a husband should need.
A husband should wake to his wife’s gentle breathing, to the sound of children sleeping down the hall, to the ordinary peace of home and hearth.
Not to the phantom echoes of gunshots or the memory of wanted posters bearing desperate men’s faces.
Brodie rolled onto his side, studying the window where frost patterns created interesting shapes across the glass. The moon hung low now, a pale circle shining through wisps of cloud.
He thought of Annalee’s smile earlier at supper, how it had lit up her face when he’d told the story of tracking the wolves.
She’d always been fearless, even as a girl.
He remembered her at sixteen, riding her mare at breakneck speed across the prairie, her hair streaming behind her like a banner of defiance.
Now she was twenty-three, a woman grown, still fearless but tempered with wisdom. Still beautiful, but in a deeper way, catching his heart and not letting go. She understood the risks of his job. Yet she never flinched, never asked him to be less than what he was.
The watch marked another hour’s passing. Brodie sat up, running a hand through his hair. The decision had been forming in his mind for weeks, maybe months, while she’d been visiting family in Philadelphia. Tonight, in the quiet darkness of the Beckett guest room, it crystallized into certainty.
He would ask her to marry him. Not because he wanted to protect her, though God knew he did. But because together, they were stronger than apart. Because her courage matched his own. Because when he imagined his future, every version of it had her at its center.
The first gray light of dawn began to seep through the frost-covered window.
Brodie stood, pulling on his boots. His fingers checked his gunbelt out of habit, another gesture from the life he led, and would continue leading, even after marriage.
Annalee wouldn’t expect him to change, wouldn’t want him to be less than the man she’d known all these years.
He made his way downstairs, each step carefully placed to avoid waking the household. The kitchen, however, already showed signs of life. Naomi Beckett stood at the stove, her small frame outlined by the cooking fire’s glow.
“Annalee’s gone out with her brothers,” she said without turning, as if she’d expected him. “Cody, Elijah, and Nathan needed help checking the herd after all the wolf trouble.”
Disappointment settled in Brodie’s chest, heavy as lead. “I see.”
“Sit,” Naomi commanded, gesturing to the kitchen table. “No sense riding out hungry.”
The smell of flapjacks and coffee filled the kitchen as Brodie took his seat. Naomi moved with ease, setting a loaded plate before him along with a steaming cup of coffee.
“Thank you. For everything.”
She paused in her work, fixing him with those sharp blue eyes. “You’re welcome, Brodie Gaines.” A slight smile touched her lips before she turned back to her stove.
After breakfast, Brodie mounted his horse and pointed its head toward Mystic. The weight of the unspoken proposal sat heavy in his chest, but alongside it beat a steady certainty. Soon. He would ask her… soon.
His horse’s hooves marked steady time in the snow, each step carrying him closer to town, to duty, to the life he’d chosen.
But his thoughts remained behind at the ranch, with a fearless woman who rode out in the dawn light to help her brothers, who faced danger with a steady heart, who had claimed his love so completely he could no longer imagine life without her.