Thundering Sunset, page 2
She glared at him and then reached behind her, trying to tuck in the ripped section of her skirt into her waistband as best as she could, but as she struggled with the angle, she only made it worse.
“Ma’am, if you’ll let me.”
She looked at him for a long moment before nodding. Trying to hold back his laughter, he reached for her small waist, pulled up the edges, and tugged it into her belt, so it didn’t gape behind her. Doing the best he could with what he had to work with, he finally got it in place so that her underclothing wasn’t privy to the entire world. He wanted to be the only man to see her that way, and he was going to do his best to see that happen.
Marie was horrified. What started as a bright and hopeful day had turned disastrous. She had begun the day excited about the suffragist meeting, but it hadn’t ended as planned. After another disappointing meeting with her suffragist sisters and the lackluster response they were getting, her carriage had careened uncontrollably down the road until it crashed in front of the smithy. Then, to make matters worse, she hadn’t been able to maneuver herself out of the carriage without his help.
What aggravated her more than the failed meeting was the fact that she had to ask a man for assistance. She was an independent woman who didn’t need a man for any reason, except when she was in that unfortunate position, apparently. She hadn’t had the arm strength to push herself out of the carriage.
The man had broad shoulders and a scruffy beard but the darkest of brown eyes. They twinkled as if he were trying hard not to laugh at her predicament. If she hadn’t been so frustrated with the events earlier, she might have been more inclined to laugh. The situation was quite hilarious, but the events of the morning were nothing to laugh about, and she was in a foul mood.
Marie tried to glare at him, but a smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and it brightened his face. It was unfortunate that his beard covered his chin and cheeks. She wouldn’t mind seeing what the line of his jaw looked like under all that black hair. Was it chiseled? Were his cheeks pronounced? Were his lips full or thin?
Stop!
She wasn’t interested in men and hadn’t been for years. They served no purpose other than to ensure women didn’t have equal rights. In fact, having a husband was tantamount to having a prison sentence. They controlled everything.
Some women had some say in their marriages, such as Eloisa Scranton and Greta VanKleef. Their husbands were prominent supporters of women’s rights, but they were the exception. Many women trying to join the fight had husbands who were adamantly against their participation, and as such, they hadn’t gained as much traction as Marie would’ve liked. At the rate they were going, it would take years before Montana granted women the right to vote, and she didn’t want to wait that long. She wanted it to happen now, but she didn’t have that much control.
She pulled on the lapels of her jacket and straightened it as best she could. Good manners dictated she be courteous for the help he had offered, but a small part of her was infuriated that he had offered before she had asked. Why men always assumed women were helpless was a question that haunted her at night.
“Thank you, Mr….”
“Michael Seymour, ma’am.”
He was one of the Seymour brothers. She thought he’d looked familiar, but his scruffy beard hid his appearance, and she hadn’t recognized him. Marie had only met him once, the year before, when his brother Luke had found himself in a bit of a pickle. Luke and her brother, Walter, had been embroiled in quite a mess before things had thankfully resolved themselves without too much bloodshed, although if she remembered correctly, he had been responsible for saving his brother’s life.
“Ma’am,” he said again.
Marie was flabbergasted that it was him, but she also bristled at his continued insistence on calling her ma’am. She had already mentioned more than once that she preferred not to be called ma’am, but he was being stubborn and insolent.
As she gazed at him, she wondered if he wasn’t doing it just because she didn’t want him to. She remembered Luke saying on more than one occasion that his brother was the jovial one in the family, always making jokes and trying to lighten any heavy or somber mood. Was this his attempt at poor humor?
“You need to quit calling me ma’am.”
“Certainly, Miss…?”
She ignored him and stared at the carnage of her carriage. Some men had taken Princess and Rufus in hand and were calming them, but it was obvious her unsettled horses wanted to flee if given half the chance.
Marie didn’t understand what had caused the accident, but she had felt something snap, and it’d startled the horses enough that they had bolted unexpectedly. Marie had tried to stop them, but no amount of pulling on the reins or yelling had stopped their erratic, uncontrollable running.
It hadn’t taken long before Marie had hung on for dear life, praying no one would get hurt as the horses dragged the broken carriage and Marie behind them. Eventually, a wheel must have hit a rut, causing it to flip on its side before it careened to a crashing halt. She had been thrown forward into the cavity of the carriage, luckily staying inside. She had tried to protect herself, but she’d still found herself stuck with her head, arms, and chest at the bottom and waving her legs in the air. It had been the most uncomfortable position, but she’d been alive and spared any lasting harm.
Marie shuddered at the thought of what could have happened. She wasn’t necessarily concerned with herself, but if any children had been maimed or killed by the scared horses, she wouldn’t have been able to live with herself.
But she was alive with intact limbs and no obvious injuries as far as she could tell. Walter wouldn’t be too pleased if he found out she had ruined his best carriage, but it certainly wasn’t any of her doing. She hadn’t caused the accident and hadn’t even been going very fast, but that would be of little concern to her brother if he thought she had been reckless.
Living with her older brother had its advantages, but his overprotective behavior was trying. If he thought any misdeed had occurred, there was no telling his reaction. He’d likely try to keep her from continuing with the suffragists, but she was determined that no one and nothing would stop her until the women in Montana could cast their vote. Until then, nothing could stop her from doing what she was destined to accomplish.
Approaching the fallen carriage, she took stock of the damage. One wheel lay twenty feet away, in several pieces. The carriage itself was on its side, just a mere foot or two from the open doors of the flaming forge in the blacksmith's shop.
She grasped the side of the carriage and pulled at it, making no progress, when muscular male arms appeared next to hers and pulled. She wanted to protest, but as Michael intervened, she surmised she couldn’t do this alone, although she would never admit it.
Together, they righted the carriage, even though it leaned precariously without the one wheel, and it appeared the other wasn’t in better shape. One thing was clear, however: there was no way she was going to take it home tonight. She’d have to come up with a plausible excuse as to why Walter’s carriage was at the livery.
She guessed it was sheer luck that the carriage had crashed to a halt in front of the Thundering Sunset Smithy and Livery. Michael was just the person to fix her carriage, and she’d have to hope he would.
“Your carriage is gonna need some work,” Michael said.
“Yes,” she muttered. “That’s clearly obvious. I’m glad your eyesight hasn’t been damaged.” He was either really smart or a know-it-all. Neither one was something she wanted to deal with today.
“If you’d like, I can pull it into the back of my barn and see if I can fix it.”
“How soon until the repairs are done?”
He stroked his scruffy beard and then walked around it, clearly examining what he was dealing with. When he came around to her side, he said, “It’ll probably take me at least a week.”
“A week?” She muttered a curse word under her breath. She couldn’t hide this from her brother for that many days. There would be too many questions, and she wasn’t an expert at lying. In fact, most times, if she tried, she failed. It was better, to be honest.
Michael lifted an eyebrow. “Both wheels sustained damage. The one that’s still attached looks to be in decent shape, just need to make sure the spokes aren’t broken. The other one, however, is completely useless. I’ll need to build a new one.” He knelt in front of it and pointed to a spot on the axle. “The axle’s broken as well.”
“Ugh, I don’t need this today. Is there any chance you can fix it any faster?” She had no other mode of transportation. Princess and Rufus were nothing more than carriage horses, and she had never learned to properly ride either. She also had multiple meetings this week, and it would only complicate matters if she didn’t have a carriage.
Michael stared at her over his shoulder for a long moment, shook his head, and stood, bracing his hands against his knees. “I’ve got carriages for rent if you need one.”
“Yes, that should work.”
“Follow me inside, and we can get the paperwork started. I’ll hitch up a buggy, but I’m not sure your horses should pull it. They’re both still pretty agitated.”
She glanced over at them and had to smother another sigh of frustration. “Yes, they are. Do you have others?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He smirked. “I do own a livery and have a few around. I’ll hitch up one and tie yours to the rear. Is your husband––”
“I don’t have a husband,” she snapped, jutting her jaw. Of course, he’d ask if she had a husband.
He looked at her for a moment, the beginnings of another charming smile turning up his lips. “Sorry to hear that. Is there someone I should send for? To make sure you get home safely, that is?”
“No, I’ll be perfectly fine on my own.” She marched inside the smithy.
As she walked away, she heard him murmur, “Oh, I’m sure you will.”
Two
Michael secured the lock. Looking up at the sign, he smiled. Thundering Sunset Smithy and Livery, proprietor Michael Seymour. He was carrying on the tradition of naming his place after their family ranch, Thundering Mountain. Their mother had started it, and he and his siblings were all following suit.
Slapping the door, he turned and headed toward the diner. The unexpected carriage accident had made him late. When he discovered it was Marie, Walter’s sister, he’d been gobsmacked. She’d been forced to tell him her name before he let her rent one of his buggies. Irritation had lined her lips until he explained she was like any other customer. If she wanted what he offered, then her name and where she lived were required before he let any horses or carriages out of his sight.
As soon as she repeated her name through pursed lips, he’d immediately realized who she was. He thought he’d recognized her, but the last time he’d seen her was when she’d stood next to Louisa as she pledged to marry his brother almost a year ago. He’d been reeling from everything that had happened and had been unlike himself that day and for months after.
Marie’s brother had been invaluable in helping to end the woman who had ruined their family, and they were indebted to him. Without Walter’s aid, Connie would have escaped, and things could have turned out much differently. Seeing Luke helpless with Connie holding a gun aimed straight at him was something Michael would never forget.
Hurrying down the dirt road, he dodged men and women alike, murmuring apologies when he might’ve brushed past them too abruptly. Ben wouldn’t mind that he was late, but he hated making him wait on account of him. His smithy was only a few blocks from Mimi’s Diner, and he would get there in a few minutes.
Jogging up the path to the diner, he grinned when he saw Ben sitting casually on a wooden chair as though he had nothing better to do. His brother was the head of their family and worked hard to keep them intact. They’d had a rough few years, but they were growing stronger as a family unit, and for that, he was appreciative.
“Ben. Sorry I’m late. Took longer than I expected.”
Ben stood, holding his hat in his hand. “That’s all right. I just got here, as a matter of fact. No harm done.”
“I’m mighty hungry.” Michael’s belly grumbled at that exact moment. He’d built up an appetite after the afternoon’s excitement.
“If you can wait a bit longer, we might have a better time somewhere else.”
“Oh, and where’s that?” Michael raised an eyebrow.
“I ran into Walter. Ever since Luke and Louisa left, he’s been itching to hear how they’ve been doing. He’s having friends over and thought we might care to join them.”
Michael grinned. “Will his sister be there?” He avoided looking at Ben. He was astute enough to wonder why Michael was asking, and if he saw Michael’s face, he’d be even more curious.
“I’d imagine so,” Ben said. “Why are you asking?”
“No reason.” He was lying through his teeth, as he wasn’t sure Marie would be pleased to see him, but he wanted to see her again, especially after she had left in such a huff.
Ten minutes later, they arrived at Walter’s place. Lights blazed in every room, and loud music and laughter boomed. While the windows were closed tightly to keep out the cold winter air, the occupants inside were having a good time, and joyful sounds oozed from the cracks in the walls.
They knocked, and Walter ushered them in. A rush of warm air enveloped them as they stepped into the foyer.
“Ben, Michael. I’m glad you’re here. Come in, come in.” Walter’s cheeks were red, and there was a merry twinkle in his eyes. He was a tall man with black hair, almost as dark as Marie’s. He held a glass of whiskey in his hand and appeared to have had a few drinks already. “We need to get you both a drink right quick.”
Michael chuckled under his breath. Clearly, Walter was having a good time, and as evidenced by the people loudly singing, it appeared others were having an equally good time.
They followed Walter to his large parlor on the right, where he wove through the throngs of people inside and to a high table laden with decanters of liquors and tasty treats. The sweet smell of sugar mixed with warm savory bacon made Michael’s mouth water, but first, he wanted to find Marie. He hadn’t seen his buggy and horse, but they could’ve been in the barn behind the house.
He wished she would’ve let him get a doctor to look her over, but she’d insisted she was fine and had been bristly when he suggested it. Michael would’ve followed her home, but because he’d continued to call her ma’am, he might have angered her far more than he realized. He was the jokester in his family, and getting her riled up had tickled something deep within him. He normally wouldn’t have joked with someone he didn’t know, but he couldn’t stop.
“I expected you earlier.” Walter handed them each a glass of amber whiskey.
“It was my fault. There was a snag at the livery and…”
Marie had walked into the room. She had changed and didn’t look as though she’d been in a serious accident. She was in a white blouse and a dark blue skirt that hugged her hips and shimmered when she moved. Her cheeks were pink, and she’d pinned her black hair off her neck, showcasing her long neck.
Heat crawled up his neck. He was unsettled. She was perhaps the prettiest woman he had ever laid eyes on. He vaguely remembered her from Luke’s wedding, but he’d been distracted. He wished he had noticed.
Marie was a spitfire, full of energy and gumption. She intrigued him far more than anyone else he’d ever met. Probably more than she should have after meeting with her only a few times, but watching her stirred his blood.
She raised her eyes, and their gazes met. She frowned, sending him an evil glare as though he shouldn’t be there, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. While he teased her earlier that day, he had been distracted by the accident, and she hadn’t given him much of a chance to observe her. Now, he had an unobstructed view, and he was shell-shocked and fascinated.
“And what?” Walter asked.
Michael swung his gaze back to Walter and stared at him, stupefied. He couldn’t recall what Walter had said. He wasn’t typically distracted, but clearly, he was more discomfited than normal, especially standing in front of Marie’s brother.
He swallowed hard, hoping Walter hadn’t noticed his reaction to Marie. “Not sure I understand.”
“Whatever happened earlier must’ve addled your brain. Might want to take a sip or two of that whiskey”––Walter nodded toward the glass of whiskey in Michael’s hand––“and then get yourself something to eat if you can’t remember.”
Michael chuckled to hide his confusion. It was as though every coherent thought he’d ever had had disappeared in the blink of an eye. Marie’s gaze had undone him, and he didn’t know why. She hadn’t done a thing but walk into the room, but she stripped him bare with one look from her silvery blue eyes.
Ben nudged him, and the glass of whiskey slipped from his fingers and shattered on the wooden floor.
“Shit!” He stared in dismay at the mess he’d made.
The sounds in the room stilled. The laughter and music ground to a halt, and all eyes swung to him. Embarrassed, he dropped to his haunches to pick up the broken pieces of glass, muttering to himself. He’d just compounded his foolishness, and staring at her like a lovesick calf would not impress her.
The rustle of dark blue silk appeared in his peripheral view. Marie came to his rescue, which further humiliated him. Avoiding her gaze, he continued to pick up the broken pieces of glass, trying not to cut his fingers but was unsuccessful. Blood oozed from a long gash across his palm, but he’d ignore it. The last thing he needed was for anyone to notice that he’d hurt himself like a child.
A white handkerchief fluttered next to him. A moment later, the glass was removed from his fingers, placed into a wicker basket, and long, soft fingers wrapped the cloth around his palm.
