Page 8 of Beyond Montana's Sky
“You mean you don’t like the impression that will givevisitors from Boston.”
He crooked a smile. “I suppose you’re right. Can’t be helped, though, unless I want to make a lot of unnecessary work for my staff, plus risk having them injured from carrying forty-four heavy pews up four flights of stairs and back down. Bad enough to have to do so after the wedding. Too bad they won’t fit in the new elevator.”
“Well, you were the one who wanted a wedding bigger than the church could hold. You were the one who decided everyone shouldsitand not stand.”
“You agreed.”
“I didn’t think you were going to order pews for a church that won’t even be completed for a year or two.” She was still a little irked that he hadn’t consulted her beforehand.
“We needed seating.” He shrugged. “What’s done is done.”
Edith switched back to the topic at hand. “Ben was going to take Matthew Salter with him. Do you think Matthew could manage on his own?”
“Any place in town where he could walk, certainly. But not driving. He doesn’t have enough experience.” Caleb narrowed his eyes. “You are not to either, or at least not with my horses.” Then from long familiarity, apparently remembering what happened when he grew dictatorial, he relaxed his expression and sat back in his chair. “Although I can’t tell you not to drive your own surrey.”
She flashed him a triumphant smile. Learning to drive, one of her first accomplishments after arriving in Sweetwater Springs, had given her a sense of freedom that she’d never experienced in Boston.
Edith found she enjoyed having more autonomy and had purchased her own vehicle and team. With a pang, she realized the surrey and her horses were something else she’d leave behind when she moved.
Her sadness must have shown on her face, for Caleb frowned. “Are you sure, Edith?” he asked, his expression concerned. “We’ll miss you, you know.”
A lump threatened to rise in her throat, but she thrust down the emotion. “You and Maggie—”
“I noticed you’ve stopped calling her Magdalena.”
“Maggie is impossible to hold at arms distance, at least for those who care for her.”
Caleb’s smile lit up his serious expression. “Maggie’s Gypsy magic.”
Edith wasn’t sure if she’d ever get used to the changes in her reserved brother since he’d fallen in love. “As I was about to say, you and Maggie deserve to start your life of wedded bliss unencumbered by the dampening presence of a sister and nephew.”
“You and Ben have never been encumbrances.”
She narrowed her eyes in disbelief.
He chuckled and held up a hand. “Challenges, yes. When you and Ben moved out here, we had a rocky start. Well…rockyyears.”
She started to bristle at his bluntness but didn’t want to mar their remaining time with bickering. Not that shebickered. Ladies didn’tbicker.I just pointedly express my opinion.“But a good ending.”
“Don’t sayending, Edith. We aren’t ending.” Caleb paused and then cleared his throat. “You know you and Ben will always be welcome here.”
“I know. And I hope you’ll come and visit us in Boston.” The lump was back. To hide her emotion, Edith swallowed, plucked two buttered slices of toast from the rack, and stacked them on a plate.
She picked up Ben’s teacup and saucer and the plate of toast and stood lingering. She wanted to say more—to acknowledge the debt she owed her brother and tell him how important he was to her. But the sentiments remained locked behind a lifetime of reserve, stemming from family strictures that made sharing emotions plebeian.
So instead, Edith chose the familiar path. She gave her brother a tremulous smile and left the room.
CHAPTER THREE
By the time Edith reached the outskirts of the Driscoll Ranch, she’d been driving for what felt like years but was probably no more than two hours. Her shoulders ached, and her arms felt heavier than lead. Under her leather driving gloves, hot spots on her palms told of blisters to come. Her earlier mental chiding for venturing on this fool’s errand because of a man’s dancing blue eyes and mocking smile turned into muttering a curse for starting on the outlandish journey in the first place.
Thank goodness the other ranching families have long since picked up their invitations.
Never let it be said that Edith Livingston Grayson hadn’t learned anything from her sojourn in the primitive West. No, indeed, for she’d considerably expanded her vocabulary due to overheard curse words uttered on the streets of Sweetwater Springs.
Then, feeling guilty, she quickly scanned her surroundings to make sure no one observed her bizarre behavior.As if there’d be anyone around, she scoffed. She doubted the local birds and bugs cared.
Since she was alone in the wilds of Montana, she was frustrated enough to let out a few of the more colorful curses. She broke into an unladylike grin.
