Hunter's Montana Bride (Montana Ranchers and Brides #8) (2 page)

Trent cleared his throat and rolled his eyes. "Is that what it's called? I think Chloe's still learning what it means to cook real ranch style food."

"It was fine enough the last time I was over," Hunter said.

Trent smiled. "I know you're just trying to be polite."

Trent went to his horse, untied it from the hitching post and stepped up onto the saddle. He tipped his hat in farewell, turned his mount, started out across the yard and onto the trail, disappearing in a trail of dust.

Hunter leaned against one of the supporting posts and drank in the silence, now that his friend was gone. It was these kind of moments that really got to him. The quiet little moments just after people left him. They always made him think the one thing he spent most of his days and nights battling with. These moments always forced two maddening questions into his mind that he was always unable to resist.

Would he ever see Gretchen again?

Would he ever hold his wife in his arms again?

CHAPTER TWO

Gretchen Sinclair sat on the rear seat of the carriage which was being steered by her increasingly irate father, Gideon, along the trail leading away from the town of Billings . She stared out across the rolling green hills and tried not to be overcome by the memories of the last time she'd been on this same trail.

Across from Gretchen sat her mother, Beatrice Crosbie, a look of deep concern written across her kindly, even features. On the seats beside Gretchen and Beatrice, contained in two small baskets, were the main reason they were all in this carriage, heading away from town and out across the landscape that would lead Gretchen to the place where she knew her destiny lay.

"Gideon Crosbie! Can't you slow down just a little," Beatrice called out to her husband in response to yet another moment when the carriage jostled violently from side to side. Gretchen tried to contain a smile when she heard her mother's voice shake with ill concealed emotion. She figured it wasn't just the jostling carriage that was causing her mother's voice to crack. Her mother understood just what they were about to do, and she was no doubt overwhelmed with worry for the welfare of her daughter.

That was just as it had always been. Gretchen had always felt blessed that Beatrice had only ever had Gretchen's happiness in mind.

Gretchen's father turned and flashed wide eyes at his wife. His dark bushy eyebrows were furrowed. "I'm doing the best I can. But this trail is just so darn difficult. There are too many holes." He glanced quickly down at the seats next to Beatrice and his daughter. "How are they doing?"

Beatrice took a hold of the basket next to her and nodded. "They're fine. You just slow down a bit. There's no hurry. We'll get there soon enough," she said.

Gretchen sighed. Her mother was right on that score. They'd get there soon enough. There was only one thing that was making Gretchen fret. What would they find once they got there?

Gretchen gripped the side of the basket by her side. She reached inside and fixed a loose corner of the blanket back into place.

She turned as she heard her father's voice boom out above the sound of the rattling wheels. "It's not too late to change your mind, Gretchen. You know that, don't you?"

"Gretchen's made her mind up, Gideon. And you know what that means," Beatrice said twisting around to address Gideon. "We've talked about this more than enough. The decision has been made. It's what Gretchen wants. And that should be enough for you," she concluded with an emphatic nod.

Gideon's shoulders tightened visibly, and Gretchen wasn't sure whether it was because he needed to control the reins of the carriage, or because of his usual frustration that he was, once again, having to give in to the firm wishes of his wife and daughter.

Gretchen called out to her father, while trying to keep her voice down for the sake of what was on the seat by her side. "Papa. You know this is what I want. It's for the best. For all of us."

Gretchen saw her father's head shake from side to side, just as it had done so often back at their family home in Helena. Every time the conversation had turned to the subject of doing what Gretchen knew to be the right thing, it had always ended up with some kind of family disagreement. It seemed like that would continue for the time being. At least until they made it to the ranch. After that? Well, Gretchen had no idea. And it was with that realization that Gretchen understood just what a risk she was taking.

The biggest risk of her life.

How would he respond to her return? Especially like this, bringing such a surprise into his life.

And then she recalled how she had left him. How she had turned her back on him.

It had all happened so quickly. So soon after the wedding. The day after their marriage vows had been exchanged. The day after the most wonderful night of her life. Gretchen felt the familiar surge of emotion tighten her throat as she recalled her wedding night. She reached up and loosened the collar of her blue dress.

He liked blue.

That was why she had chosen it for today. The color matched the bonnet which was set at just the correct angle on her head. The angle he had told her so many times that he found curiously fetching. She felt the corners of her mouth crease slightly with a smile at that memory. She looked across at her mother and saw that Beatrice was watching her intently with gentle, understanding eyes.

Gretchen glanced up at her father's wide back and powerful shoulders. He had worn a dark suit in spite of Beatrice's protestations. Gretchen's mother had complained that today was a day of reconciliation, a time to put the past behind them. Black was simply not the appropriate color for such an occasion.

Glancing across the hillsides, she recalled the many times she had spent together on horseback, enjoying her time in this place, taking in the delights of the Montana landscape. She recalled how proud he had been every time he'd shown her the different parts of his ranch. How he had told her the ranch would belong to her as much as to him, once they were married. And she had shared in his delights, hopeful of their future together in this place, in this beautiful, inspiring land.

She took in a deep breath. The air was so clean here. Better for the health of everyone than living in a town filled with the odors and physical dangers of modern living. Gretchen glanced down at the basket by her side and laid a steadying hand on it's side. Better for the health of everyone, she thought.

"There's someone coming up the trail," Gideon called out.

Gretchen looked ahead and saw a rider on horseback coming toward them. She glanced at her mother and saw that she had turned around in her seat and was trying to see the rider.

"Looks like he's slowing down," Gideon said starting to pull on the reins. The carriage slowed to a halt and the rider pulled up next to them.

Gretchen felt herself freeze. She was sure that the blood had drained from her face. Looking up at the startled rider she managed to force his name out of her suddenly dry throat.

"Trent!"

From his vantage point atop his mount a very startled looking Trent McIntyre looked down into the carriage with a look of complete disbelief on his face.

"Gretchen. It's you," he exclaimed, his voice cracking with emotion.

There was a stunned silence between them which was only broken when Trent's horse shifted nervously, sensing the rider's tension. Trent tugged on the reins and glanced quickly at Beatrice and Gideon. Gretchen's father was still holding onto the reins with a tight fist.

Gretchen felt the sudden need to take control of the situation. "Mama. Papa. You remember Mr. Trent McIntyre," she said.

Trent straightened in his saddle. He raised his hat and smiled weakly at Gretchen's mother. "Ma'am. I recall we met at the..." he started to say. However his words immediately trailed off at the near mention of the wedding.

"I do recall, Mr. McIntyre. It's so nice to see you once again," Beatrice said.

Gideon tipped his hat and leaned across the long wooden front seat. "I recall you are a neighbouring rancher to my..."

"It's so nice to see you, Trent. How is your lovely wife?" Gretchen said, interrupting her father.

Trent's eyes widened and he paused, glancing from Gideon to Gretchen. "Chloe? She's fine."

"And your lovely little one?" Gretchen asked.

"Evan's great. And we have a little girl too, now."

"Really? That's wonderful. What's her name?"

Trent smiled at the mere mention of his recently born daughter. "Lily."

Gretchen cooed with delight. "That's so lovely. I am so happy for you," she said enthusiastically.

Trent nodded and his chest seemed to swell with pride. "She's got us both run off our feet. But she's adorable," he said.

Trent leaned on his pommel and tipped the front of his hat up. "Where're you folks headed?" he asked. Gretchen could see Trent's eyes narrow slightly. She could tell he already knew where she and her parent's were headed. There was nowhere else they could possibly be going.

"We're on our way to the ranch," Gretchen said.

After a moment Trent uttered one word which made something shift in Gretchen's middle. Something she'd felt so many times these past months. It was a feeling she'd tried so often to ignore, but had failed to do every time.

"Hunter's?" Trent asked, his voice deep and serious.

The word hung in the air like a challenge, demanding an answer. At first neither Gretchen nor her parents could respond to the word.

But after a long pause Gretchen spoke up: "Of course," she said, a tinge of defiance creeping into her voice. She immediately regretted taking that tone because one thing she knew about Trent McIntyre was that he didn't deserve to be spoken to with any kind of harshness. Trent was a good man. She recalled how Hunter had spoken about his friend. And the times she and Trent and Chloe had socialized had always left Gretchen with pleasant memories.

Gretchen wondered for a moment whether she should ask how Hunter was keeping. Was he well? Was he even happy? Was he alone?

The fact that Trent hadn't said anything must mean that Hunter was still at the ranch.

"Have you just come from Hunter's ranch?" Gretchen asked.

Trent paused and Gretchen saw him settle back into the saddle. He looked as if he were debating whether to answer. After a moment he nodded. "I was just there this morning, helping out with some of his improvements to the ranch house," he said.

"Improvements?" Gretchen asked.

Trent smiled. "Hunter likes to keep himself busy. He's making some extra room at the house."

"Why ever for?" Gretchen asked.

Trent's lips tightened into a thin line and he said nothing for a moment.

Gideon spoke up. "I'm pleased to know Mr. Sinclair is in today. We have some important business to discuss with him," Gretchen's father said gruffly.

"Papa. Why must you insist on calling Hunter, Mr. Sinclair?" Gretchen demanded.

Gretchen glanced at Trent and saw the discomfort on his features. He looked like he wanted to be on his way.

"Gideon. Don't be so foolish," Beatrice said loudly, turning to face her husband. "He's Hunter to all of us. Always has been and always will be," she said with a disapproving scowl. Gideon's lips drew tight into a thin line and he sighed noisily, admitting defeat once again.

Gretchen looked up at Trent. He was peering down at the two baskets, and he looked like he was trying to figure out the contents. But from his angle atop the horse Gretchen was sure he couldn't make out what lay inside either basket. She placed a protective arm across the basket by her side.

"I suppose we best be going," Gretchen said quickly. "It's been so nice seeing you Trent. I'm sure we'll meet again soon. Send my best wishes to your lovely wife," she said.

Trent frowned, a hint of surprise at the haste with which he was being dismissed. For that was what Gretchen was doing. She dearly wanted to avoid putting Trent in an awkward position, especially if he was to learn what was in the baskets.

Trent nodded and touched the front of his hat. "It's been a pleasure seeing you folks again," he said. "You all take care now."

Gretchen smiled at Trent. "Thank you, Trent."

And with a tug on the reins and a flurry of dust Trent rode quickly off, heading away along the trail.

Gretchen glanced at the baskets. She was amazed that they hadn't been disturbed by the temporary halt to their journey. They'd both slept since the arrival at the train station. Gretchen thought that, at the very least, the sound of the stranger's voice and the presence of the horse would have woken one of them.

Gretchen leaned down and pulled away the blanket and looked at the tiny face of the baby tucked safely inside the basket.

Still asleep.

Gretchen looked over toward her mother who similarly leaned into the basket by her side. Beatrice looked up, nodded and smiled.

"Still asleep," she informed Gretchen.

"Are we ready to continue?" Gideon asked staring straight ahead.

Gretchen pulled the basket closer to her and held it firm against her side. "We're ready, papa."

Gideon flicked the reins and the carriage started to move once more along the trail.

Gretchen glanced down at the baby's face.

Her daughter.

Hunter's beautiful daughter.

The little pink face looked so serene, so peaceful inside the protection of the layers of blankets. The pink hat was tied with a bow around the neat little chin. The baby's lips were set into a heart-achingly cute pout that never failed to make Gretchen's soul light up with pleasure. Gretchen could hear the soft breathing of her bundle of joy.

Gretchen glanced across at the other basket and saw that Beatrice was holding the basket close against her side as if her very life depended on it. Inside that basket was yet another bundle of joy.

Her son.

Hunter's beautiful son.

Gretchen looked up and wondered just how long it would take them to get to the ranch. Because she was suddenly very eager to get this whole thing over with. More eager than she'd ever been since giving birth to the children; more anxious than ever to tell the man she had married almost a year before that she was coming back to the ranch.