Enraptured montana bache.., p.1
Enraptured Montana Bachelor: Bear Grass Springs, Book Fourteen, page 1
Enraptured Montana Bachelor
Bear Grass Springs, Book Fourteen
Ramona Flightner
Grizzly Damsel Publishing
Copyright © 2021 by Ramona Flightner
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems – except in the case of brief quotations in articles or reviews – without permission in writing from its publisher, Ramona Flightner and Grizzly Damsel Publishing. Copyright protection extends to all excerpts and previews by this author included in this book.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. The author or publisher is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.
Cover design by Jennifer Quinlan.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
20. Sneak Peek at Fervent Montana Devotion
A Little Extra About Enraptured…
Never Miss A Ramona Flightner Update!
Also by Ramona Flightner
About the Author
Chapter 1
February 1890
The train whistle sounded, and Cole Tompkins glared at everyone around him. He had dallied longer than he should have, and now he’d have to race to catch this train. Or risk missing the third train home. He’d dawdled enough in Minneapolis, after leaving Chicago nearly a month ago.
He raced down the platform, grabbing the metal bar and leaping up the steps, just as the train heaved into motion. His brothers, Frederick and Peter, would never forgive him if he waited another few weeks to return home to Montana. Glancing back toward the slowly receding Minneapolis skyline, Cole sighed. He was leaving behind a life of adventure and freedom to tie himself to the yoke of family responsibility. Could anyone blame him for chafing at that prospect?
With a groan, he turned and entered the plush first-class cabin. He had reserved a seat in the main room and also a private sleeping compartment, as he had no desire to sit by himself for days on end, with only his thoughts for company. After speaking with the porter, he settled in his seat, thankful he had a place by the window.
The seat beside him was empty, and, although he hoped to have a companion to chat with at some point, he was relieved to be alone right now. He needed to work through his resentment at returning to Montana, before donning the polite facade of a cattle rancher, eager to return to the family ranch.
Around him, passengers settled in, with most already seated. The train jerked, as it rounded a corner, and a woman walking past him toppled onto him. Cole reached up, chuckling as he wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her. “Easy, ma’am,” he teased. “There’s no need to go to such lengths to meet me.”
He froze when he gazed into her rich brown eyes that were a startling contrast to her honey-blond hair. Easing her upright, he nodded at her in a deferential manner. “Ma’am.”
“Sir,” she murmured in a husky whisper. “I beg your pardon for my clumsiness.”
“You ain’t clumsy. Just take care you don’t go falling into another man’s lap, or you’ll break my heart.”
When she blushed beautifully, he grinned at her. She gave a small nod and looked demurely away, gripping the back of the chair, as though she searched for her seat.
Cole patted the empty space beside him. “Sit with me. No one’s getting on for miles and miles.”
“That wouldn’t be proper,” she stammered, meeting his mischief-filled gaze. “You’re a stranger.”
“Cole Tompkins of Bear Grass Springs, Montana. I’m pleased to meet you, ma’am.” When she hovered in the aisle, he waved at the aisle seat again. “Please. Join me. When you realize how boring I am, you can move on and find someone else to charm.” He winked at her.
Holding a hand to her chest, she murmured, “I’m Mrs. Lane.” She took a deep breath and settled in the seat beside him, her skirts swirling around her ankles. “You’re returning to Bear Grass Springs?” At his nod, she smiled, her eyes lighting with joy. “How fortuitous. I considered stopping there for a while, before continuing on my journey.”
Cole studied her, wearing a refined travel dress in dark blue with no bustle. He imagined it was more comfortable for travel, but, from his experience mingling with the wealthy in Chicago, as he sold the Mountain Bluebird Ranch’s cattle, he knew the bustle-free style to be woefully out of fashion. However, she would blend in perfectly in Montana. “Are you also making a return trip to Montana?”
“I should think, if I had escaped such a terribly remote and untamed place, I’d have the sense to find a way to remain free of it.”
He flushed and nodded. “Not all of us are sensible. And you’re correct. It is remote and wild. And beautiful.” He looked out the window at the fading day, watching as the late afternoon sun cast a warm glow on snow-covered fields. Against his will, he yearned to see the mountains again and to breathe the fresh air at the ranch. He simply wished he didn’t have to stay forever.
“You’re returning then?”
At her quiet question, he gave a grunt of agreement. “I’m from there, and, when I get off this train, I’m there forever.” He met her curious gaze with a chagrined smile. “For the past decade, I’ve been driving a herd of cattle up from Texas with my brother every year. I spend a few months a year on the ranch, before going to Chicago and then back to Texas for the winter.” He sighed. “But that’s not possible now, with all the fences marring the land and preventing easy travel with a herd, and I must find a way to be content in one place.”
“You’ve the soul of a gypsy.” She flushed at her impertinent comment. “Forgive me. I speak before thinking.”
“No, I find it refreshing. You don’t simper and hide behind innuendo.” Grinning at her, he stretched out his legs. “Where is Mr. Lane?” He frowned, when he saw her sober. “I beg your pardon.”
“No.” She played with the wedding ring she still wore on her left hand. “He died late last year, before the holidays.” She shook her head. “No apology or sympathy is needed. I’m fine.”
Cole studied her forced indifference and grunted, although it wasn’t obvious if in agreement or in calling her bluff. A stilted silence settled between them, and he turned to stare out the window again.
Part of Cole knew he should offer her the window seat, but he relished staring out and losing himself to the passing landscape. He relaxed, as he sensed the woman beside him become less tense as the moments passed. He’d not meant to offend her, although he had wanted to know if he should temper his teasing and flirting. Although he delighted in flirting with a beautiful woman, and he’d seen her appearance as a way to help pass the dreadfully dull days, he had no desire to enrage a husband. Not again.
With a sigh, he tried to push away thoughts of Dolores, but he saw her impish smile, her eyes glowing with joy at the sight of him, the yearning in her gaze. With a sigh, he rubbed a hand over his heart and stilled. She had never been his nor would she ever be.
For now, he should focus on the beautiful, mysterious woman beside him and should find a way to ignore the ever-growing panic at the prospect of returning to Bear Grass Springs.
Wilhelmina Lane sat in uncomfortable silence next to the gorgeous man who said he was going to her destination. She’d never expected to tumble into the handsome blond man’s lap and to have him be so affable. She hadn’t wanted him to believe she was married, but she hadn’t wanted him to ask her questions about her husband. Groaning inwardly, she chastised herself for not introducing herself as Miss Lane, although that would have been foolish as she still wore Harland’s ring.
Rubbing at her forehead, she cast a furtive glance in the handsome stranger’s direction, noting that he seemed spellbound by whatever he looked at through the window. Letting out a sigh, she relaxed into the comfortable seat, knowing she’d soon have to leave to find her place in the third-class car. She couldn’t possibly afford a seat in the first-class vestibule. For now, she would enjoy the luxury.
Looking around, she noted the finely carved dark wood, the shiny ornate light fixtures that would soon flicker to life, and the plush red velvet fabric covering the seats. She had almost missed the train and had thought she was boarding the correct car. Running her hand over the sumptuous fabric, she wished she were.
Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to daydream. Her mother had always chastised her for having too vivid an imagination, but it had helped keep her sane, especially after her father had died in the War and her horrible uncle had taken over their farm. Then, when she’d married out of necessity
Now she had a chance to start anew, although, if her plan went awry, she would be destitute in a town where she knew no one. She’d never considered herself all that brave, or foolhardy, but she realized she must be, if she had willingly used the last of her money to board a train to travel to the wilds of the new state of Montana.
Losing herself to her imaginings, she daydreamed the man beside her adored her and couldn’t wait to introduce her to his family. That they were returning from their extended honeymoon, sated and giddy with joy.
When a hand clasped her shoulder, shaking her from her reverie, she shrieked. Gazing into the scornful eyes of one of the porters, she flushed. “Hello, sir.”
“Don’t ‘hello, sir’ me,” he snapped. “You know you are in the wrong seat. I told you where to go when you boarded. Two cars down.” He waved in the direction where she should have gone, as he stood before her, rocking gently with the swaying motion of the railcar, perfectly at ease with the subtle movements that had unbalanced her. “You’re in third-class, miss, not here. How dare you interrupt this fine gentleman’s journey.”
“If I may,” Cole said in his soft but authoritative voice, “I’ve enjoyed my short acquaintance with Mrs. Lane and discovered we are traveling to my hometown. Perhaps you’d allow her to continue to accompany me as we travel to Bear Grass Springs?” He smiled, although a warning was held in his blue-eyed gaze. “I’ll pay for any inconvenience of course.”
“This is highly irregular, sir,” the porter stammered.
Shrugging, Cole smiled affably and nodded in Wilhelmina’s direction, as she blushed and stared at her clenched hands. “Perhaps, but then travel induces all sorts of irregularities. I find being hospitable the most civil course of action, don’t you?”
Wilhelmina looked at the porter, seeing him flush with indignation, although he appeared unwilling to argue with a rich patron. “Of course, sir, if that is your desire.” He marched away, muttering to himself.
Heaving out a sigh, Wilhelmina relaxed into the plush seat. “I should decline your generous offer, but the thought of sleeping in this comfortable seat, rather than the hard lumpy one in the third-class cabin makes it hard for me to refuse.”
“Then don’t,” he said, with a devilish smile. “And don’t worry about your reputation. Nothing untoward will happen.”
She froze. “My reputation?” Glancing around, she noted that none had taken any interest in them and then relaxed. “Why would my reputation suffer?”
“We are unwed, not betrothed, and appear to be traveling together. However, it’s wholly appropriate, as I’m escorting you to meet up with long-lost family.” He winked at her. “Is that not correct?”
“Something like that,” she murmured, staring abashedly at her hands, as she had no desire for him to realize he had correctly guessed why she was traveling to Bear Grass Springs. Biting her lip against blurting out her question—about whether or not he knew her brother—she let out a stuttering breath and repeated, “You’re my chaperone.”
“Something like that,” he teased.
Sighing with pleasure, Wilhelmina relaxed and attempted to relish her time in first class.
Wilhelmina poked her head into the curtained-off area, where the porter had hinged down a sleeping berth and had made another bed below it, so they were like bunks. She sighed with pleasure at the luxury of sleeping in a bed rather than in a chair, whispering, “Thank you, Cole.”
“You’re welcome.”
She swallowed a shriek, a soft squeal sounding, as she jerked back and looked up to see him peering at her from the top berth. “What are you doing in here?” She gaped at him with wide-eyed horror. “I can’t be behind a curtain with you!”
“If you feel that strongly about it, you can sleep in the chair out there.” He waved to the plush chairs just behind her. “But I’m exhausted, and I want to sleep here.” He propped his head on his hand and grinned down at her. “Besides, nothing improper will occur.” Yawning hugely, he made a circular motion with his other hand. “I’m up here, and you’re down there.”
“I know that, and you know that, but everyone out there doesn’t know that!” she hissed, her brown eyes flashing.
He stared at her and sighed. “Fine. I’ll sleep out there.” He hopped down, landing near her. The subtle scent of his sandalwood cologne, mixed with sweat and something that was all this man, swirled around her, and he yawned again, as he yanked at the suspenders hanging by his lean hips. He reached back to tug at the blanket and to grab his pillow, before slipping through the curtain.
Wilhelmina stood as still as possible in the swaying train, as she fought guilt that he’d given up his comfortable berth for her, yet relief that she could sleep without concern for her reputation. Turning, she ensured the curtain was closed and quickly slipped from her dress to sleep in her underclothes. Although she’d prefer to remove her corset, she knew that was impractical.
Moaning with delight, she laid down on the lower berth, cocooned in comfort, as sleep beckoned.
Chapter 2
The following morning Cole stretched and arched his back, cringing at the popping and cracking sounds when he moved. Although he was used to roughing it while out on the range, he had accustomed himself to the comforts of downy feather beds while in Chicago, selling the family’s cattle. “I’m getting soft,” he muttered, as he yawned and stretched again, his muscles quivering.
“You don’t seem soft,” she murmured.
Jerking his head in the direction of the quiet voice, he grinned at Mrs. Lane, all prim and proper in her traveling dress. He had a sudden urge to see her with her hair unbound, as she threw her head back and shrieked with laughter. Or with passion. Forcing such an image from his mind, he hoped his gaze was friendly but not lascivious. “Ma’am.”
“Did you sleep well?”
He shrugged, and his smile broadened. “Well enough. I can see you did.” When she flushed, he winked at her. Standing, he motioned for her to walk in front of him. “Are you ready for breakfast?”
At her nod, he urged her to walk to the end of the car, through the small door onto the covered connecting passageway that led to the next car. Gripping her elbow to steady her, he ensured she maintained her footing, as they crossed the few perilous steps to the adjoining railcar that served as the main dining car. After she sat, he doffed his hat and settled in the seat across from her.
“I have sandwiches in my bag,” she whispered. “I’m perfectly fine with those.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “You might as well have a cup of coffee or tea and a warm breakfast. Then ponder life for a few hours, before venturing back for lunch. Then repeat for dinner. It’s what helps pass the time, as the hours seem longer than usual.”
She grinned, eyeing him flirtatiously for a moment. “I thought I was supposed to help with that.”
“Mrs. Lane. How scandalous.” He chortled, as she bit her lip and looked away, ostensibly in search of a menu. “There’s no menu. They’ll just tell you the few things that are available, and you choose what sounds good.”
“How many times have you traveled on a train?”
“Oh, a couple dozen at least,” he said, as he beamed at the waiter, who arrived with a cup of coffee for him. “Hello, Mr. Frank.”
“Mr. Tompkins, always a pleasure to see you again. Where’s your brother?”
Grimacing, Cole shrugged. “In Montana, with his wife and newborn babe. I’m escorting a friend home to reunite with her family. Mrs. Lane, the man who brews the best coffee you’ll ever drink, Mr. Frank.”
