Charlotte Maclay - Courtship, Montana Style

Only after he’d left town had she realized she was pregnant. Steve hadn’t hesitated once he learned she was expecting. He arranged to fly home. They’d marry—

Even after a year, Elizabeth’s throat still tightened on the painful knowledge that if he hadn’t been coming home to marry her in haste his plane never would have crashed. He’d be alive today. And they’d be together, she, the man she’d loved all through adolescence and the baby they’d created together.

A small army of assistants dressed as French maids flitted into the private dressing room, scooping up the gown and veil to be safely wrapped for the trip to Elizabeth’s home and thence to the same church on Saturday that had seen equally extravagant weddings for three prior generations of Morley-Tilden women.

Still in her satin slip, Elizabeth sat down after everyone had left the dressing room. Despite her worries, she smiled at the precious sleeping baby in the carrier she’d placed on the floor next to the plush-velvet couch. Suzanne.

Her baby…and Steven’s.

As unintended as her pregnancy had been, Suzanne was now her life. Her love.

That was far from the case for Vernon, who had shown little interest in her three-month-old daughter.

Elizabeth’s parents had been heartsick—and embarrassed—to learn she was pregnant and unwed, a social scandal, they’d said. With grief weighing her down, Elizabeth had agreed to become engaged to Vernon Sprague, a wealthy investment counselor with considerable political clout. The perfect brother-in-law to enhance her brother Robert’s political ambitions. The marriage—of money, influence and wealth—would take place after the baby’s birth. There would be no disgrace for the Tilden name.

Through a haze of despair and guilt, Elizabeth had agreed to the arrangement. As usual she had given in to the wishes of her prominent family.

But now she was responsible for another person’s future happiness. She needed to decide what was best not only for herself but for her baby as well, a far more important decision.

She ran her fingertips over the blond fuzz on the top of Suzanne’s head, so light in color it was barely visible and as soft as down. A deep, abiding love filled Elizabeth’s chest, making it difficult to draw a breath.

How in heaven’s name could she raise her daughter to be a strong woman when she’d always been such a weakling?

Since her morning visit with her older sister, Elizabeth had more doubts than ever about her impending marriage. Victoria, like their mother, lived with the knowledge of her husband’s infidelities and was miserable because of it.

Not only had this past year left Elizabeth with nagging questions about Vernon’s faithfulness, but he’d already talked about hiring a nanny and sending Suzanne to boarding school as soon as she was old enough.

Elizabeth balked at the suggestion and they’d had a terrible argument, the issue as yet unresolved. But she vowed she would never give her baby over for someone else to raise. She’d experienced too much of that in her own childhood.

Struggling with indecision, idly she picked up a women’s magazine on the coffee table and flipped through the pages. An article caught her eye about Montana’s Foster Dad of the Year, a rancher in a remote part of the state who provided refuge for unwanted children.

That’s what Elizabeth and her baby needed. A refuge. A place where she would have the time and freedom to decide what was best for their future without the interference of her family and the pressure she had so much trouble resisting.

She was such a wimp when it came to wanting to please her family.

That’s why simply moving into an apartment of her own wouldn’t do, although she could easily afford to live on her own because of the trust fund her grandmother had left her. She needed to be far away from her family. And Vernon. In an entirely different state where she’d avoid any chance they’d find her, confront her, and she’d bow to their will once again.

In her heart, she knew starting a new life was the best thing she could do for her daughter.

Reading down the page, her gaze landed on a quote in bold type from Walker Oakes, the rancher in question. “We’re pretty self-sufficient here on the ranch, but with this many teenage boys it would sure be nice to have a housekeeper.”

A housekeeper.

That wasn’t such a hard job. Not that Elizabeth had any experience to qualify her for that kind of employment. But how difficult could it be to dust and vacuum and put a load of wash on? Surely a college graduate who spoke Italian, German and French with some fluency could handle the job with a minimum of effort.

With a mental stiffening of her spine, she glanced one more time at the article, folded the magazine and tucked it beside Suzanne in the car seat. That’s where she and her baby would go, to Montana, as unlikely a place as she could imagine. No one in her world would come looking for her there, certainly not on a remote ranch where she’d be an anonymous housekeeper.

If that other bride had found the courage to walk out on her wedding day, Elizabeth could drum up enough spunk to leave now before it was too late—and escape the confrontations she so dreaded.

For Suzanne’s sake, she could do it because she couldn’t imagine raising her child in a household where her father ignored her.

As her own father had been indifferent to her.

The only remaining problem was to avoid leaving a trail that would lead Vernon or her family to her secret hideaway in Montana before she reached her decisions. To make her admittedly impetuous scheme work, she’d have to be resourceful—and lucky.

She’d also have to lie convincingly, another talent she lacked. For the sake of Suzanne’s future, she’d damn well learn! This was no time to let her well-developed conscience get the upper hand.

This cowboy’s ranch was going to be a refuge for both her and her baby. Meanwhile, she’d pretend to be someone she wasn’t—a strong, determined woman who could handle a dust mop as well as the next woman. If her acting was good enough, maybe she’d actually become that confident person.

A half hour later, with her wedding gown in the trunk of her BMW and Suzanne still dozing comfortably in her car seat, Elizabeth drove to her bank to make a substantial withdrawal. Later she’d call her mother to assure her that she was safe—and ask her to cancel the wedding. Speaking to her on the phone would be much easier than in person.

Worst case, she could hang up and turn off her cell phone.

STEPPING UP ONTO THE BACK porch of his ranch house, Walker Oakes slapped his Stetson against his thigh and stomped his boots. Dust billowed up like a miniature tornado.

By June the rangeland in this part of northern Montana should have been boot deep with nutritious grass for his cattle to graze. Instead a cold, dry winter had led into an even dryer spring, stunting the grass, leaving barely enough for the prairie dogs to nibble on. The lightest breeze stirred up a dust devil. Riding herd on his cattle meant eating dirt from dawn to dusk.

Muttering a curse under his breath, he went into the house and hooked his hat on a peg in the mudroom.

The well-equipped kitchen was huge with a table big enough to seat a dozen people when stretched to its limit. This time of year it only had to handle five: himself, the three boys currently in his foster care and Speed Pendrix, his foreman, the slowest talking, slowest moving man north or south of the Missouri River. A man Walker Oakes would trust with his life, and had more than once.

Walker needed to know the going price for beef cattle so he headed for his office to check online. Unless they got rain and got it damn soon, he was going to have to cull his herd, getting rid of cows that hadn’t produced a calf this spring. He might even have to sell off some of the yearlings at half the price he’d be able to get after a summer’s grazing fattened them up. Sometimes to save a ranch a man had to walk a tight-rope, making tough decisions.