A Promise to Believe In Read online

  “No. I didn’t want Pa to die either, and he was the most innocent of them all. He wouldn’t even take a drink, much less get drunk. Someone deserves to pay for this, and I intend to see they do.” Lacy stormed off to the house, not giving either Beth or Gwen a chance to speak.

  Beth looked at her older sister and shook her head. “You don’t suppose she’ll really do anything, do you?”

  Gwen sighed. “Knowing Lacy, we’d better hide all of our rope. I could see her becoming a one-woman vigilante movement.”

  “Yes,” Beth said, nodding as they began walking toward the two-story log house. “I’m sure you’re right. I think Pa probably had the best idea when he suggested we put a lock on Lacy’s door. One from the outside—not the inside.”

  Gwen smiled. “We may have to ask the Lassiter brothers to check into it.”

  That night after her sisters had retired to their bedrooms, Gwen crawled into bed and tried hard to forget the events of the day. She was grateful that the next stage wouldn’t be through until Wednesday. That gave her another day to focus on the matters at hand.

  She snuggled under the down comforter, feeling half frozen by the chill of the room. May in Montana meant the need for additional heat once the sun went down, but Gwen hadn’t bothered to light the stove.

  It started to rain again and the sound against the windows and roof made a rhythmic beat that comforted Gwen. She thought about praying, but it had been a long time since she’d given it much effort. After all, could God even deal with someone who was cursed? She’d often tried to find hope in the Scriptures, but verses continued to haunt her and give her reason to believe her cause was lost. She couldn’t deny that there were nearly whole chapters that spoke of curses being real—that cursing people, even entire nations, was something God had done frequently.

  It also looked to be that once God cursed someone, He turned His back on them, as well. Gwen could hardly expect that God would listen to her prayers if He had also cursed her.

  She slipped deeper beneath the covers and curled up with her knees to her chest, just as she had done as a child when situations became too frightening. How she longed for comfort—for hope that things might be different. But nothing ever seemed to change.

  “And now Lacy wants to take on the world—or at least the territory—and find Pa’s killer. Poor Beth is up in arms over Rafe’s soiled doves, and I’m stuck here, not knowing what to do about any of it.”

  Life in the Montana Territory hadn’t been all bad, she had to admit, but there were some definite obstacles—mountains to climb and conquer. She thought of Harvey Bishop and smiled. Harvey had been her knight in shining armor—or at least her wandering troubadour with a passion for life. Harvey had come into her life so quickly and had exited in much the same way. The day he and Gwen had married, he fell ill with measles. Ten days later, it was his grave Gwen stood beside.

  She stared up at the ceiling and tried to remember Harvey’s face, but the image was fading. Everyone had suggested she keep her own name rather than take Harvey’s. After all, the marriage had never been consummated. That alone had been a tremendous source of embarrassment for Gwen. Prior to marrying, she had worried about the merciless teasing that followed new brides. But everyone knowing and pitying her for not ever experiencing her marriage bed somehow seemed even worse.

  “Don’t worry about what those folks say, Gwennie,” her father had told her. “Ain’t no use listening to ’em or even givin’ ’em the time of day. Our Harvey was a good man, and that’s all that matters. You keep my name or his—don’t make much difference to me. You’re loved just the same.”

  Gwen was certain that her decision to retain her maiden name had been the right choice. Not many knew her here or in Bozeman. It was less confusing if three sisters all bearing the same last name showed up. There was no need to explain the past that way, and this suited Gwen very well. She wondered from time to time if Harvey would have been offended that she cast aside the name of Bishop, but it wasn’t something she dwelled on.

  As sleep finally took her, Gwen pondered the future in her dreams.

  Across the hall in her own bedroom, Lacy paced the floor until well past midnight. She might have failed at many things in life, but she would not fail at this.

  I will find Pa’s killer. I promise to find him, and I won’t rest until I do. If I have to lie or cheat, then so be it. It will be justified in the end.

  She knew her father and sisters would never have approved of such an attitude, but she didn’t care. The house felt empty without the large, boisterous man who’d raised them. The future seemed tenuous knowing he was gone.

  Reaching down, she gently stroked the flannel cloth of her father’s nightshirt. She hadn’t told Gwen or Beth that she’d taken it, but she knew they would understand. Wrapping her more feminine robe around her, Lacy crept from her room and went downstairs. Major Worthington was no doubt asleep at the foot of Gwen’s bed. Gwen had taken over their father’s bedroom, where their dog always slept. She said she’d done this so she and Beth wouldn’t have to share a room. Lacy believed, however, that Gwen desperately wanted privacy to deal with their loss.

  A harsh yowl could be heard out on the porch. Calvin J. Whiskers, their buff tabby, was letting her know that it was too cold to spend the night outside. Lacy opened the door and looked down at the cat. He yowled up at her as if to say it was about time she opened the door.

  “Well, it’s not my fault you were out playing Romeo to the Lassiters’ Juliet. I swear, you have a better love life than anyone in a ten-mile radius.”

  Calvin walked past her, not making so much as a comment one way or another. Lacy smiled and left the door open as she stepped out onto the porch. The night air had turned cold with the rain. She hugged her arms to her chest and shivered.

  Walking to the far side of the porch, she could see that even the saloon had quieted down. Without the weekend cowboys or stage travelers, there weren’t too many regulars to keep Rafe or his girls busy.

  Lacy studied the street, fixing her gaze on the very spot where her father had died. She tried to see in the night darkness, but there was nothing to see.

  “Nobody cares,” she whispered to the air.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Gallatin House, as it had come to be called, sat at a stage crossroads that took traffic from Bozeman to Butte and Helena, or south to Norris and Virginia City. It wasn’t impossible to get around the vast expanse of Montana Territory—it was just time-consuming and dangerous. The Battle for the Little Bighorn was not even three years past, and the Indian wars spurred on by that horrible defeat were still vivid memories.

  The Gallatin family had a good reputation with the stage line and with the local freighters. They offered clean beds free of lice, good meals with plenty of food, and pretty girls who were happy to listen to the rambling stories of weary travelers. And for an extra dollar or two, a fellow could even get his shirt and socks washed out and freshly pressed before the stage left the next morning. There were few establishments that could boast that kind of service. Not to mention the place had its own hot springs. For a saddle-sore cowboy or stage-bruised traveler, a long soak in the warm, healing waters exceeded expectations. It made the Gallatin House a much sought-after refuge, especially by the local drivers.

  There wasn’t much else to this wide spot in the road. Rafe’s Saloon was positioned only about a hundred feet away—much to the girls’ displeasure—while the Lassiters had a fine blacksmith shop and stables another twenty feet to the south of that. The Lassiters held the stage contract for service to the horses, as well as the responsibility to keep a fresh team. It only stood to reason that, over the years, the men had added more stock and had developed a reputation for having some very fine horses for sale or rent.

  There were several close ranches and a handful of small homesteads in the vicinity, enough so that there were constant rumors of how they should encourage a mercantile, doctor, and regular town committee to be formed
. The place didn’t even have a name but was simply referred to as the Gallatin House Stage Stop, so Gwen thought the talk of committees seemed silly.

  She had lived in cities both large and small—had known the rowdiness and brawling of mining towns and the busyness of noisy St. Louis and Denver—and her little stage stop suited her just fine. There wasn’t anything she needed that she couldn’t get . . . eventually. The key to living in the Montana Territory was to have a great deal of patience.

  Gwen figured things would go on much as they always had. George Gallatin had kept an open invitation for the Lassiter brothers to join them for meals whenever they liked, and Gwen certainly wouldn’t change that. The boys kept the Gallatin horses well cared for, not to mention everyday tasks such as sharpening knives, mending tools and horse halters, and the like. It was a sort of barter that kept everyone happy, since the brothers had no womenfolk to take care of them.

  Beth especially seemed to enjoy the attention given her by Simon and Nick. Gwen felt confident that her sister would one day marry one or the other of the men, but at present she wouldn’t even court them. At twenty-two, Beth had high ideals of what marriage and romance should look like, and it apparently didn’t resemble sweaty blacksmiths. Never mind that both men sported thick heads of coal black hair and brown eyes that could melt a girl’s heart. They were civil, too—took a regular bath on Saturday night and always used their napkins at the table.

  Gwen smiled even now as they sat across from her, doing their best to eat breakfast in an orderly fashion that wouldn’t result in spilling or breaking something.

  “We heard there was gonna be a railroad survey party come through this way,” Simon said after finishing the last of his coffee.

  Gwen brought the pot to refill his cup, but he waved her off. “Are they thinking the railroad will go through our area?”

  “It’s possible,” Simon replied. “With this being a well-established crossroads and the road from Bozeman being traveled more and more, I think they see the potential. We know the lines are gonna be laid through Bozeman and Butte. Seems only natural they’d come through this way, or somewhere nearby.”

  Nick laughed. “My brother’s a regular genius of deduction.”

  Gwen smiled, but it was Beth who asked, “Do you suppose the railroad will change everything here?”

  “It’s likely to change some things,” Nick admitted.

  “They won’t need the stage if the train is here,” Lacy commented.

  “Of course they will,” Simon countered. “Not everyone can afford the train, and besides that, the train doesn’t go everywhere. It can only follow its tracks, and those lines are pretty limited. The stage will always be needed. It might be slower and rougher, but once the railroad is in place, the prices to ride will drop.”

  “So our pay might drop, as well,” Gwen said rather absentmindedly.

  “Nah,” Simon said, shaking his head. “The lower prices will increase the number of folks travelin’. You might well have to add on to the Gallatin House again.”

  Gwen smiled. “Pa used to say that, too. He said one day this area would be settled with folks close enough to throw a stick at. He had plans to build out to the north side.”

  “Well, I think it would be good if you could get the place built in such a way that you wouldn’t actually have strangers sleeping in the main house at night. I know you were plenty safe when your pa was alive,” Nick said with a sidelong glance at Beth, “but now it’s more dangerous.”

  “We can’t send everyone to the addition,” Gwen replied. “There are only four rooms there, and that hardly takes care of everyone when the stage shows up full. Besides, we always let the drivers stay in the house. They have a regular room upstairs.”

  Simon put in his thoughts on the matter. “Nick’s right, though. You ought to consider doing things differently.”

  “Look, Pa thought of those kinds of things. We have a locked door on our hallway. No one can get down that way when we lock up for the night. We will be fine.” Gwen got up and began to clear away the dishes and added, “We Gallatin girls are very resourceful. Lacy’s become quite a crackshot with the rifle, Beth wields an oversized skillet like it was nothing heavier than a book, and I have my irons to assist me.” She smiled. “You boys need to stop worrying about us and just remember to never sneak over for a midnight snack.”

  Lacy was blessedly preoccupied, otherwise Gwen knew she would have weighed in on the topic and given both men a piece of her mind. She didn’t like anyone suggesting they were weak or incapable. Just to make sure her youngest sister held her tongue, Gwen thought up a chore.

  “Lacy, would you please go to the kitchen and bring more biscuits?”

  Lacy looked up and seemed to only partially shake the cobwebs from her thoughts. “What? Oh, sure. I’ll do it now.” She got up and left the room, her expression looking rather perplexed, as if she wondered what in the world they would do with biscuits.

  “We need to be careful what we say. Lacy is feeling very defensive about our position,” Gwen said in a whisper. “Suggesting that we can’t take care of ourselves will only set her on her ear.”

  “Sorry, Gwen. I didn’t think,” Nick said, nodding. “I’ll be more careful from now on.”

  To Gwen’s surprise, a knock sounded on the front door, and Rafe Reynolds waltzed in like he owned the place. The scruffy-looking form stood about six foot and boasted more muscle than most men. Gwen supposed it was from hours of lifting, but she couldn’t be sure. Clean-shaven and hair trimmed, she thought Rafe might be rather attractive, but his personality was definitely in need of more genteel training.

  “I see you’re all nice and cozy. Three gals for two guys. Now I’m here, and that evens things out.”

  Just then Lacy returned. She scowled and dropped the bread platter down with a resounding clatter. Biscuits danced off the plate and onto the table. “Why are you here?”

  Nick and Simon frowned. Gwen knew Rafe’s appearance could not bode well for the peaceful breakfast.

  “And at this hour,” Beth added in a snide manner. “In the four years since we moved here, I’ve never seen you up and around before noon.”

  Rafe gave her a wicked smile and winked. “I didn’t know you cared. If I’d known you were watching for me, I would have made the effort.”

  Beth blushed furiously, and Gwen could see the comment agitated the Lassiter brothers. “Enough of that, Mr. Reynolds. What is it you need?”

  “I came to make you a good offer.”

  Gwen frowned and looked at her sisters. “What kind of offer?” Please don’t let him suggest marriage. He’s got to know I would never accept him as a husband.

  “You’ve got nothing we could possibly want,” Lacy said, her eyes narrowing.

  “I figured, what with your pa gone to his glory,” Rafe began, “that you ladies would be considering what to do about the place.”

  Of course, Gwen thought. He wants to buy the stage stop. “No, I’m sorry. We haven’t been thinking of that at all.”

  “Well, you should. You gals won’t have a man around the place to do the heavy work. You won’t last long that way.”

  “If need be, Nick and I will help the ladies,” Simon stated firmly.

  Lacy smacked her hands down on the table. Gwen was rather embarrassed by the fact that Lacy was wearing pants instead of a split skirt but quickly realized that was the least of their concerns with regard to their sister. Lacy blamed Rafe as much as anyone for the death of their father, and Gwen was certain he was about to hear that very thought for himself.

  “We’re more than capable of taking care of ourselves,” Lacy said, glaring hard at the saloon owner. “We certainly don’t need the help of the very man who is partly to blame for our father’s death. And even if we were thinking about selling out, it wouldn’t be to the likes of you. We’re good Christian women, and we would never help to better your kind of business.”

  “You’re such a good Christian woman th
at you’re wearing britches instead of dresses,” Rafe said with a laugh. He pushed back thick brown hair and held up his hands. “But don’t think I mind watchin’ your shapely little behind sashay up and down the road. ’Course, it’s starting to attract Cubby, as well, and I’m afraid he’s going to be hard-pressed to know what to do about such stimulation. S’pose I could send him back to visit the girls, but—”

  “Mr. Reynolds!” Gwen exclaimed as Simon and Nick got to their feet.

  “Rafe, that’s more than enough,” Simon said. “The ladies aren’t used to that coarse kind of talk. Take yourself out of here.”

  At forty, Rafe wasn’t a man to be taking orders from another man. Especially a younger man. But with Nick standing alongside his brother, Gwen saw the decision in Reynolds’ expression. He would leave.

  “I apologize, ladies, if I’ve offended. I do hope, however, you’ll be considerin’ my offer.” He gave a mock tipping, as if he wore a hat, then made his exit in four long strides.

  Gwen looked at Lacy and shook her head. “Now do you understand what I’ve been saying all along?”

  “I won’t have that scum running my life. Besides, I wear a skirt when I go to Bozeman.” She lifted her chin rather defiantly and added, “I work too hard to wear a dress all the time. If I were some frail little wife who did nothing but lounge around all day and entertain, then I’d wear a ball gown.” She stalked off toward the back door. “I’ll be cutting wood in an ever-so-ladylike manner, if anyone needs me.”

  The back door opened and slammed before Gwen could respond. She began to gather the dishes once again, and this time Beth joined her.

  “Boy, she can sure work up a full head of steam Johnny-quick,” Nick said, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t want to even suggest someone making her his wife, unless he was ready for war.”

  Simon and Beth laughed, and Gwen couldn’t help but smile. “Let’s not talk about Lacy. She’s struggling with Pa’s death. She’s hurting, but she hides her feelings away so she doesn’t appear weak. In her mind, weakness equates itself to vulnerability… and then more pain.” Everyone seemed to understand and took Gwen’s gentle rebuke in stride.