Page 61 of Montana Groom of Convenience
She lifted her hand in a tiny salute. “Never.” She didn’t mean it. She didn’t take chances, just didn’t harken to silly rules of society—no trousers for a woman, women couldn’t be cowboys, she should prettyup if she wanted a man. See, she’d gotten married without following those rules.
He tipped his head. “I know. That’s what concerns me.”
“I don’t do dangerous things.”
“I know.”
A silent understanding formed between them. As if he accepted the way she dressed and acted. And as if she promised not to do foolish things. “Okay,” she said, agreeing to the unspoken pact.
Her heart floated as she rode onward.
Not so long ago, she would have ridden the land alone and thought nothing of it. Still, now, she remembered Sawyer and Jill accompanying her and saw dozens of things she would have liked to share with them...the billowing white clouds, the hawk diving for its prey, the antelope racing away, and the profusion of wildflowers. She would pick some on her way home and put them on Mother’s grave.
She found the cattle had moved to the west, grazing contentedly in a large, open pasture. Twenty more calves had been born. Well-fleshed in comparison to the longhorn stock. Father had done well to start the new breeding program.
She watched for a bit but was anxious to get home and turned back. She picked flowers before she reached the homestead. Again, she passed Sawyer. He was at the far corner, his back to her, so he didn’t notice her return. She rode by without stopping.
Her first thought was to take the flowers to the cemetery, but she reconsidered and as soon as Sunny was taken care of, went to the house. Jill and Father were outside, entertained by the kitten. “I have flowersfor Mother’s grave. Does anyone want to come with me?”
“Aye,” Father said.
“Can I come, too?” Jill asked.
“Of course.” The trio climbed the hill, taking their time as Father hobbled along.
She let him go in first and stood back, letting him pay his respects in private. She looked at the grave markers. Something to the left of Mother’s grave caught her eye. Four wooden crosses standing side by side. From where she stood, she could make out the names. John Gallagher. Sarah Gallagher. Judith Gallagher. Cecil Gallagher. Had Sawyer done this?
There was no other explanation.
“Jill, look.” She pointed.
Jill gasped. “Mama and Papa.” She tiptoed to the markers and sank down to her knees before them.
Carly followed slowly. She hunkered down beside the girl. “Would you like some flowers?”
Jill nodded, her eyes bright.
Carly divided her bouquet in half.
Jill placed a few flowers before her parents’ markers. “Maybe I should give some to Sawyer’s mama and brother.”
“That would be nice.” What a sweet thought to include the two she didn’t know.
Jill drew in a shaky breath.
Uncertain how the child would react, Carly followed her heart and pulled Jill close. When Jill turned to Carly, clinging to her, Carly hugged her, making soothing noises as Jill cried.
After a bit, the tears were spent, but Jill remained in Carly’s embrace. Carly was not the least bit anxious toend the moment. A bond had been forged from her heart to Jill’s. Love had sealed the bond.
“I’m going back to the house,” Father said.
“I better go, too,” Jill said. “Skippy might be missing me.”
“I’ll be along shortly.” She waited until they were down the hill before she went to Mother’s grave. She placed the flowers near the headstone, then sat back.
What would her mother say if Carly could tell her about the confusion and uncertainty in her heart? How her feelings toward Sawyer were changing so that she wasn’t sure how to handle them.
“It isn’t what we agreed on. But I can’t help but admire him for so many things. His steadfastness, his tenderness toward Jill, his acceptance of me, his respect for Father.” She stopped talking. Bringing the words out in the open gave them too much power, made them too real.
