Page 32 of The Gunslinger’s Bride (Montana Mavericks: Historicals #1)

H orror prickled her scalp when she recognized Mr. Waverly. “Oh, my goodness! Mr. Waverly! Mr. Waverly, can you hear me?”

His crinkled eyelids fluttered. “I was…just nappin’.”

“I thought you’d gone home!” She knelt beside him.

“Heaven?” he asked. “I…didn’t make it that far. Unless you’re…an angel.”

“No, I meant…well, can you get up?”

He pursed his lips a couple of times. “Maybe in the mornin’.”

She looked him over. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Don’t think so.”

She would feel terrible if his shoveling that morning had been too much of a strain on his heart. She felt terrible already that he had collapsed in her store and lain here for who knew how long. “Let me help you. There’s a cot over here where Jonathon naps.”

“Can you reach me my cane?” he asked, coming to a sitting position with her help.

She dragged the cane over and handed it to him. “Oh, I wish there was a doctor in town. I can send for Laine.”

“I don’t want that China girl doctorin’ me.”

“Well, we don’t have a real doctor.” Abby helped him to the cot. “Ruth Kincaid, perhaps? Would you let her look at you?”

“That Cheyenne woman? That’s more like it.”

Abby rolled her eyes. Ruth probably did know more about elderly people than Laine, since she treated so many on the reservation. “Okay, you stay right here.”

Abby grabbed her coat and made her way, slipping and sliding, to the sheriff’s office, only to find it closed for the night. James’s cottage sat behind the jailhouse, so she followed the narrow path to the door. James promised to send for Ruth, and Abby went back to sit with the old man.

It was eleven by the time Ruth arrived, accompanied by Caleb.

She thought perhaps Mr. Waverly’d had a weak spell because of his aging heart, and suggested he rest for a few days.

They fashioned a travois out of the cot and, with Caleb’s help, carried him to the boardinghouse, rather than to his room at the livery, so that Old Lady Harroun could look out for him.

Caleb, who had waited for Ruth in the foyer, spoke to Abby as the two women came toward him. “Jonathon is just fine with us,” he assured her. “You can ride back to the ranch with us if you’d like.”

“Thank you, both of you, but I don’t have a worry about him while he’s at your place. And I’ll be fine here. I suppose Brock is with the boys now?”

“Brock and John,” Ruth told her. They stepped outside. “The little boys are all fast asleep and the big boys are probably still in a standoff at the checkerboard, waiting for us to get there.”

“We’ll bring Zeke and Jonathon to school in the morning,” Caleb told her.

He untied the reins tethering two horses to the hitching post.

“You didn’t bring a wagon?” Abby asked.

“Not in this snow,” he replied. “And the dark. Letting the horses have their heads is the safest travel.”

“Good night, then,” Abby told them. “Thank you for your help.”

They rode behind her until she reached the store and let herself in. The exhausting day had taken its toll on her mind and body. She extinguished the lamps and wearily climbed the stairs.

How much more chaotic could things get? Thank goodness Jonathon had gone to the Kincaids’, where he had a friend and someone to feed him a hot supper.

Abby wouldn’t have been up to it. She’d eaten only a few bites of the charred flapjacks and sausage Sam had prepared at lunchtime.

Now she forced herself to eat some cheese with a chunk of bread, and washed it down with warm broth.

She hadn’t seen Dilly that evening, so she assumed he’d gone to the ranch with Jonathon. She double-checked all the rooms and opened the back door to look out over the alley just to make sure.

She barely got out of her clothes before her head hit the pillow and she slept.

The following morning, she’d pulled herself from bed and was staring at her tangled hair in the mirror when a knock sounded on the outside door.

She pulled on her wrapper and padded to the kitchen. “Who is it?”

“Me, Mama!”

Abby threw open the door. Dilly bounded in ahead of Jonathon, snow clinging to his fur. Zeke followed Jonathon, giving her a shy smile, and Brock brought up the rear. He had his arms filled with a wooden crate, which he set on the table.

Abby hugged Jonathon and grabbed a towel for the floor.

“I’ve come to help you today,” Brock told her.

She blinked up from the pile of slush she was mopping. “Help me what?”

“Whatever you need. There’s breakfast in there.” He pointed to the crate. “I’ll heat water so you can have a bath.”

Even though the thought of a hot bath was delightful, the idea of him preparing it seemed all wrong.

“I’ll go down and get the stove hot, open the store, do whatever Sam usually does, while you take some time to yourself. The boys will come with me, and I’ll send them off to school.”

She stood and clutched the front of her wrapper. “I couldn’t possibly let you do all that.”

She remembered her disheveled hair and raised a hand self-consciously. Knowing how she looked and remembering what had happened the last time they’d been together, hot embarrassment rose in her chest.

“Well, you’re going to have to let me, because I don’t see how you’ll stop me without causing a scene in front of the boys.”

The children he referred to had tromped into Jonathon’s bedroom and were emitting horse noises.

“It’s so…so wrong,” she managed to say.

“For someone to offer a hand? The way I hear it, you spent the whole day helping Mary Rowland yesterday, and half the night taking care of Mr. Waverly—”

“I didn’t take care of him, really.”

“You’re tired and need a little time to yourself. Everyone can use a hand sometimes, Abby. It’s no disgrace. I’m going to heat water while you eat this food.”

He placed covered dishes on the table.

“Ruth sent this?”

He nodded and held out a chair.

Abby acquiesced and took a seat. The potatoes and some kind of meat casserole were barely warm, but delicious, and she indulged her appetite.

The whole time Brock filled her tin tub, she imagined him thinking of her bathing in it, and couldn’t meet his eyes. Finally, he had it filled and called to the boys.

“Don’t come down until you’re rested,” he told her. “I don’t care if it takes all day.”

“How will you know how to run the store?” she asked.

“I’ll figure it out. Come on, boys.”

“Bye, Mama.” Jonathon kissed her cheek and followed Brock into the hallway. Their boots thudded down the inside stairs.

Abby locked both doors, removed her nightgown and got into the steamy tub of water. It felt wonderful to her aching body. She never filled it this full herself, because filling and emptying it was such a chore.

An hour later, she sat before the heater, drying her hair, feeling drowsy and pampered.

How positively indulgent to sit here like this when the store was open below.

She’d never before had the luxury. Intending to merely rest her eyes, she woke an hour later, sat up on the divan and stretched.

How many customers had seen Brock working in her store by now?

Dressed in a fresh dress and apron, her clean hair neatly braided, she descended the stairs. The floor had been swept, she noticed right off, and the strong smell of coffee wafted through the building.

Following the sound of men’s voices, she discovered Brock and Harry Talbert in a discussion near the stove. One foot on a chair, leaning forward with his elbow on his knee, Brock held a cup and gestured with the other hand.

Her steps alerted them, and Harry turned first. “Held the store down for ya, Mizz Abby.”

Brock turned an appreciative gaze, and she hoped her blush wasn’t visible. “Thank you.”

“It’s thawing,” Harry told her.

Abby glanced at the front windows, where the sun shone weakly. “What have you heard?”

“It’s a Chinook,” Brock told her. “Thaw and rain in the forests in the high country.”

“Should we sandbag?” she asked with a worried frown.

“River is brown and muddy, but not overfull,” he replied. “I think we’ll have another snow before the week’s out. We won’t have a real thaw until April.” He stood and emptied his mug, then hung it on a peg. “Sam will be back to work tomorrow.”

She had sorely missed Sam’s help, but she knew Mary didn’t have family.

“Mary’s going to have someone in to help her for several hours each day,” Brock said, as if reading her thoughts.

“Really?” Abby asked curiously.

“Brock’s sister-in-law found a girl from the reservation,” Harry told her.

Abby studied Brock’s placid expression, but if he’d had a part in finding help for the Rowlands, he said nothing. He met her gaze evenly. Disturbingly sensual thoughts came to Abby, and she looked away.

Harry got up from his chair. “Need a couple of bolts while I’m here.” He hitched up his trousers and ambled off toward the back of the store.

“The boys got off to school just fine,” Brock told her.

“Thanks.” She didn’t know what to say to him. “And thank you for watching the store while I rested. I do appreciate the thought.”

“I’ll be going if you think you’ll get by for the rest of the day.”

“Yes, of course. You’ve done plenty. More than I would have expected.”

He settled his hat on his head and shrugged into his coat. “I’m going to dump your bathwater, and then I’ll be gone.”

She nodded and watched him stride toward the back. She just hadn’t had the energy to be angry with him that day.

Brock had been right. By the end of the week another snowfall had covered the landscape.

The air turned bitterly cold once again, and as luck would have it, calving began.

The first-timers had been kept in the corrals, and they got them over first, whisking the newborns out of the cold into the barns by wheelbarrow before their ears could freeze.

There, their ears would be bandaged prior to sending them back out to their mothers.