Montana Sky: The Rancher And The Shepherdess (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Loving A Rancher Book 2) Read online

  The Rancher and the Shepherdess

  Montana Sky Kindle World

  Welcome to Montana Sky Series Kindle World, where authors write books set in my 1880s “world” of Sweetwater Springs and Morgan’s Crossing, Montana. Aside from providing the backdrop of setting and townsfolk, I haven’t contributed to the stories in any way. The authors bring their own unique vision and imagination to the KW books, sometimes tying them into their own series.

  The Rancher and the Shepherdess is written by Caroline Clemmons. This book is also connected to her earlier Montana Sky Kindle World book, Amanda’s Rancher. I met Caroline online in 2012. Although we met only briefly at a Romantic Times Convention in 2015, we are in several of the same Facebook groups and collaborated on a box set titled Courting The West. She has linked her KW book to her Kincaid series.

  I hope you enjoy reading The Rancher and the Shepherdess.

  Debra Holland

  Chapter One

  Sweetwater Springs, Montana, October, 1887

  Gormlaith McGowan’s heartbeat raced in her chest that threatened to explode as she peered around the Sweetwater Springs depot platform. She set down her tattered carpetbag and clutched her groom-to-be’s letter in clammy hands. There was no need to read it again. Hadn’t she memorized every word since the matchmaker in New York had given it to her?

  When no man stepped forward to claim her, she panicked. Cold wind whipped her thin cloak around her. What if Mr. Higgins had changed his mind? What would she do? Although she was lucky to have escaped her in-laws in New York, less than three dollars of the money he’d sent as traveling expenses remained.

  Limbs frozen, she peered around at what she could see of the town. False-fronted wooden buildings lined the dirt street. The most impressive structure was a brick mercantile. Only the saloon was two-stories, and its green paint was peeling.

  As if nailed to the spot, she watched a man amble across the platform, but he didn’t fit the letter’s description of her intended.

  He smiled and pulled aside his coat to reveal a badge. “How are you, Ma’am? I’m Sheriff Mather. You waiting for someone?”

  Dear heavens, not a lawman. Her knees threatened to give way. What if he’d had word to arrest her?

  “Mr. Jim Higgins. ‘Tis his mail-order bride I am. Would you be telling me how to find him?”

  The sheriff’s expression changed from friendly to sympathetic as he stepped closer. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Ma’am. Jim died last week.”

  Her legs gave way and she would have fallen had the lawman not grabbed her arms. “Steady now.”

  No husband and no money and nowhere to go. She struggled to regain her balance but composure was beyond her grasp. “W-What h-happened to him?”

  “He was in town to see the doctor when his heart gave out. Wouldn’t think of a man his age having a heart attack, but none of us is promised tomorrow.”

  “Poor man, God rest his soul.” Though she sympathized with Mr. Higgins’ plight, she had to deal with her own. “What will I do? Would anyone in town be needing a good worker?”

  He picked up her bag and guided her off the platform. “You’ve had a shock, but we can figure out something. You didn’t tell me your name, Miss.”

  “Mrs. Gormlaith McGowan. ‘Tis a widow I am.”

  Wind threatened to toss his wide-brimmed hat at the sky and he clamped a hand on the crown. “Come with me, Mrs. McGowan, and get out of this cold.”

  Shock changed to terror. “Am I arrested then? ‘Tis true I haven’t much money but I’m not a wastrel.”

  A broad smile split his face. “Don’t worry, I’m taking you to Mrs. Lavinia Murphy. She’ll rent you a room and feed you.”

  Didn’t he understand she had no place she belonged? “But what will become of me? I’ve used most of the money Mr. Higgins sent for my travel. How will I pay this Mrs. Murphy?”

  “Leave matters to me for now. This is a good town and we don’t desert those in need. Here we are at the Murphy home. She’s a good cook. Appears to me you can use some fattening.”

  Gormlaith heard chickens clucking somewhere behind the frame home. The sheriff opened the gate and marched up the walk. He turned back as if to make sure she was following before he took the steps then knocked on the door.

  The woman who answered didn’t smile. “Hello, Sheriff.”

  He explained Gormlaith’s situation. “I hope you’ll rent her a room until we can make other arrangements.”

  Mrs. Murphy stood aside so Gormlaith could enter. “Come on in so I can close the door against the cold. I serve breakfast and supper but you’re on your own for your noon meal.”

  The sheriff left and the landlady strode quickly through her home.

  Gormlaith followed the dour woman to a bedroom. Spartan it was, but clean. Certainly it was many times better than where she’d been living for the past two years. A lovely quilt covered the double bed and the curtains, though faded, were starched and ironed.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Murphy. This is very nice.”

  The other woman’s expression slightly softened. “No men in your room. I lock the door every evening at ten. If you’re not inside by then, you’ll be locked out.”

  Setting her carpetbag on the floor, Gormlaith said, “I’ve no reason to be out late and a man in my room is the last thing on my mind.”

  Mrs. Murphy cackled. “Smart girl. I suppose I could furnish you a snack if you’re hungry.”

  “Thank you, but I’m that exhausted from my travel. I think I’m too tired to eat anything.”

  “I’ve things to do, so I’ll leave you to get settled. Call out if you need me.”

  Imagine a room this size for only one person. She counted this as a blessing even though worry about her future plagued her. The train ride from New York had been tiring and her worry had added more weight on her. Perhaps she could have a wee rest before she went in search of a job.

  ***

  Garrett McDonald pulled the buckboard up to Cobb’s mercantile. He avoided the ill-humored couple as much as possible, but he had to load up on staples before the next storm hit. He climbed down from the wagon and hurried inside.

  Sheriff Mathers entered behind him. “Hello, McDonald. How’s the ranch?”

  He enjoyed talking about his place. “Doing just fine, Sheriff.”

  “You fixed it up to suit you yet?”

  “Lucky for me Pickens left most of the furniture when he and his family took off for California. Otherwise I’d be rattling around in an empty house.”

  “Now all you need is a wife to keep you warm this winter.”

  “Guess you’re right, but it’s too late for this year. Been thinking of writing away for one like Kincaid did. Figured I’d wait until spring.”

  Sheriff Mather clapped him on the shoulder. “McDonald, your problem is solved. Seems Jim Higgins wrote away for a bride before he died. Now the little lady is stranded here with no one to marry and no money.”

  Garrett remembered Jim talking about sending for a bride. The man had asked for a woman who knew about ranching and farming and wasn’t afraid of hard work. “You playing matchmaker now, Sheriff?”

  The sheriff chuckled and leaned against the store counter. “Matter of fact, I am. You need a wife and she needs a husband. Seems like a fair arrangement to me.”

  Garrett scrubbed his hand across his face. “I don’t know. I’d planned to write for a mail-order wife this spring and give her all summer to get used to Montana
. Figured I’d use the same agency Kincaid used.”

  The sheriff laid a hand on Garrett’s shoulder. “At least meet this woman. She’s a looker, and that’s a fact.”

  Garrett was torn. Cash was tight and feeding and clothing a second person wasn’t in his budget now. On the other hand, he sure could use a helping hand at home, especially if she could cook. And, he sympathized with a woman left high and dry through no fault of her own by Higgins’ death.

  “Reckon I will if you insist.” He handed his list to Mr. Cobb. “I’ll be back later for these.”

  He followed the sheriff to the Murphy’s home, glancing at the ominous clouds overhead. “Coming up a storm. I need to get moving toward home before it hits.”

  The sheriff acted as if he hadn’t heard. He knocked on the Murphy’s door. “Mrs. Murphy, I’d like for Widow McGowan to meet McDonald here.”

  She opened the door and stood back. “Come in and I’ll get her. I offered her a snack but she said she was too exhausted to eat. She may be asleep.”

  They waited in the parlor while Mrs. Murphy climbed the stairs. A couple of minutes later, she returned.

  As Mrs. McGowan became visible descending the stairs, the first thing Garrett noticed was she wore no shoes and the stockings visible were thin and mended in so many places there was little of the original fabric remaining. Her dress had been patched and washed so many times the colors had faded.

  Then she became visible.

  He figured his mouth must have dropped open wide enough for one of Mrs. Murphy’s chickens to enter. Mrs. McGowan was the prettiest woman he’d seen, prettier to him even than Amanda Kincaid. Her long auburn hair hung loose and her deep blue eyes looked as if she had just awakened.

  She patted her hair then tugged at her skirts. “Hello again, Sheriff. Pardon my disarray but Mrs. Murphy said I was to hurry.”

  The sheriff shoved Garrett in front of him. “This is Garrett McDonald, a rancher from over towards Morgan’s Crossing. McDonald, this here’s Mrs. Gormlaith McGowan, a widow sent for by Higgins before he died.”

  Gormlaith gave a slight curtsy. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. McDonald.”

  He blinked away his stare and fumbled for words, the brim of his hat grasped in his gloved hands. “M-Ma’am. Sorry to hear of your troubles.”

  The sheriff gestured to the couch. “You two sit and talk while I get on with my business.” He sent Garrett a meaningful glare.

  Garrett waited until Mrs. McGowan was seated before he sat in a chair near the couch. “Jim Higgins told me he sent for someone familiar with ranching and farming and not afraid of hard work. That describe you?”

  After arranging her skirts so they covered her stocking feet, she didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she stared at her hands folded demurely in her lap. “I looked forward to living on a ranch or farm, but now I’m at my wit’s end.”

  Her musical Irish brogue pleased his ears but he rubbed his jaw. Should he ask her to wed or wait until he could send for his own mail-order bride? She was here and he hadn’t had to pay her travel expenses so that saved him more than what she’d eat until spring.

  “I hadn’t planned on marrying right now, but if you’re willing to accept me in place of Higgins, we can marry today.”

  He saw relief spread across her face. “I’m willing. I hadn’t met Mr. Higgins and all I know about him was one letter he sent to the matchmaker. If the sheriff speaks for you, that’s good enough for me.”

  Garrett stood. “I’ll go alert the minister. You sound Irish, so you’re probably Catholic.”

  She nodded, bracing herself and wondering if she’d meet with the same prejudice against Irish Catholics as in New York.

  “You’ll have to settle for a Protestant wedding today. Father Frederick won’t be in Morgan’s Crossing for a couple of weeks.”

  She relaxed. Apparently her religion made no difference to him. “All right. I’ll put on my shoes and get my cloak and bag and pay Mrs. Murphy for the use of her room.”

  “I’ll return for you as soon as I’ve made arrangements.” He clapped his hat on his head and left.

  Gormlaith hurried back to the bedroom she’d briefly used. Would the landlady be charging her the full day’s rate? By skipping all but one meal a day, she had three dollars and sixty-two cents left of Mr. Higgins’ money.

  She’d not keep Mr. McDonald waiting when he returned. Quickly, she returned her hair to a neat bun and washed her face and hands again. Embarrassed, she examined her red, work-worn hands. At least her gloves would cover them for most of the ceremony.

  She made the bed and returned the room to the way she’d found it. She hadn’t replaced the water she’d used nor emptied the chamber pot. For use of those, Mrs. Murphy would likely charge her.

  She had no idea how much money her new groom-to-be had. He was handsome and his clothes appeared warm and new enough, but his boots were worn and scuffed. She fastened her shoes and donned her wrap and hat before pulling on her gloves and picking up her carpetbag.

  Downstairs, she found Mrs. Murphy dusting the parlor. After setting her bag near the door, Gormlaith approached the landlady. “Mr. McDonald asked me to marry him today. I tidied the room. ‘Tis asking I am how much I owe for the time I’ve been here.”

  “A quarter, if you please. I’ll still have to change sheets and scrub out the chamber pot and haul more water upstairs.”

  “I only turned back the quilt and laid my head on the pillow, so you won’t need to change anything but the one case.” Gormlaith paid the quarter as graciously as possible. Although she was in no position to argue, she thought the woman overcharged her. Still, she wanted no bad feelings toward her in this town.

  Uneasy now that she had paid Mrs. Murphy but couldn’t leave, Gormlaith sat on the parlor settee. Mr. McDonald was a handsome man with thick brown hair and kind brown eyes. He was built like a man who worked outdoors and was in fine condition.

  Shouldn’t she have asked more questions about him? She’d been so relieved he was willing to wed that she’d agreed without further conversation. If the sheriff recommended she marry him, sure and that must mean he was a law abiding man.

  Her cheeks heated at the thought of the night to come. She prayed he’d be a gentleman and not like her first husband had been. Conor’s roughshod ways in their first coming together had left her torn and in pain. What a foolish girl she’d been to marry Conor.

  There were too many people under her da’s roof and she’d needed to leave and make room. Her da had arranged for her to wed the son of his friend, Paddy McGowan. She wanted a home of her own and agreed to her father’s wishes—for she’d learned the McGowan family planned to come to America.

  Was she making another mistake now? As before, she had no choice. At least, none that she could see. Mrs. Murphy had assured her there were no jobs available in town for a woman.

  As if reading her mind, Mrs. Murphy said, “You’ll do well married to Garrett McDonald. I’ve heard he has a fine house and ranch. I know he has a reputation as a fair man who keeps his word.”

  Gormlaith sighed in relief. “Thank you for reassuring me. He appeared nice when we talked. I’m nervous is all, what with Mr. Higgins being dead and me not knowing what would happen to me.”

  The other woman spared her a sympathetic glance. “Of course, you would be a bundle of nerves. Plus, you’re exhausted from your trip then having so much trouble thrust on you. Looks as if everything will work out for the best now, though. And, I’ve heard said that Mr. Higgins’ cabin was small but Mr. McDonald bought a ranch with a good, sturdy house on it.”

  Knowing she’d have a decent place to live relieved her mind. A rap on the door startled Gormlaith and she jumped. Mrs. Murphy admitted Mr. McDonald.

  He held his hat in his hands. “Are you ready?”

  “I am.” She picked up her carpetbag but he took it from her. She said, “Goodbye, Mrs. Murphy.”

  The other woman said, “Good luck to you both.”

  “Is th
is one bag all you have or are there trunks at the depot?”

  She was embarrassed for him to know all she had was in that one bag. “I brought as little as I could.”

  “I see.” He gave her a speculative glance and she wondered if he realized that she had nothing of value to her name.

  He offered his arm and she clasped him tightly. At least he had manners, which was more than Conor had. No, she mustn’t think of the past. This was her future.

  Mr. McDonald smiled at her. “You can see the church steeple ahead a couple of blocks. Reverend and Mrs. Norton are waiting for us.”

  About a block later, the sheriff joined them. “Figure you’ll need a witness. Mind if I take part?”

  Mr. McDonald nodded at the lawman. “Not at all, Sheriff. Happy to have you.”

  Having the sheriff with them created knots in her stomach and her chest constricted. Why was he coming along with them? She had to stop worrying. If he intended to arrest her, wouldn’t he have done so before the wedding?

  They strolled toward the white steeple showing above the dusty town. Homes and businesses were visible in a variety of shapes and sizes. In spite of Montana being so different than anything she was accustomed to, Gormlaith thought this would be a good place to live.

  At least here the air was clear and refreshing. Overhead the sky was a bright blue with only a few clouds as fluffy as clean sheep’s wool, though darker ones rolled on the horizon. The day was cold against her old cloak, but the sun kept her from taking a chill.

  When they reached the church, a woman with gray feathering her blond hair met them at the door, her face alight with a wide smile. “Come in, my husband is ready for the ceremony.”

  Gormlaith had no idea what to expect in a Protestant church. There were rows of pews, but there were no statues of the Lord Jesus or of the Virgin Mary. The only decoration was a cross on the wall at the front of the church and it was empty of Jesus’ suffering body. ‘Twas a bit foreign but not unpleasant.

  The minister’s wife had blue eyes that twinkled as she took Gormlaith’s hand. “I’m Mary Norton, wife of the minister. Welcome to Montana, dear.”