Free Her Montana Man by Cheryl St.john

and down the stairs to cross the empty lobby, which was lit by a
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    dimly burning oil lamp on the wall. Remembering the row of cushioned wicker chairs across the porch,
    she slipped out the front door and stood at the porch railing, gazing out at the silent street and the
    expanse of dark sky.
    As young girls, she and Jenny had often made pallets on their front porch and spent carefree summer
    nights speculating about the stars and their futures. Eliza had ruined her own future years ago, and Jenny
    had made the mistake of falling for Royce’s slick charm. Her chest ached with regret and sadness for
    their broken dreams.
    Back then she’d never envisioned a future without Jenny. A wave of panic washed over her at the
    responsibility she now held, and she placed her fingers over her lips.
    “Somethin’ wrong, Miss Sutherland?”
    At the deep voice behind her, Eliza spun to face Jonas. Her heart pounded against her ribs. “No,” she
    answered, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself. “I couldn’t sleep is all.”
    “Is your room sufficient?”
    “Yes, of course. It’s quite nice, actually. I’m just…having some trouble making adjustments.”
    He moved to the railing and leaned back until he sat with one thigh crooked atop the rail, the other foot
    on the porch floor. “Like losin’ your sister?”
    She held the front of her wrapper together under her chin. “Mostly.”
    “I never did know what caused her to be sickly.”
    “She had scarlet fever when she was a child. Your father and the other doctors believed it weakened her
    heart.”
    “It’s a wonder, isn’t it, how some folks go their whole lives with everythin’ falling into place, while others
    have to face double the hardship? Kind of makes a body wonder how it all evens out in the end…or if it
    ever does.”
    A deep thought from a man who appeared so rough around the edges. Was he referring to her or to
    himself? She wasn’t comfortable asking.
    He shrugged then, as if he didn’t know either way.
    She sensed an underlying current in the air…something he wasn’t saying…something she wasn’t
    admitting. “All we know about most people is what they let us see,” she said finally.
    “Unless we dig deeper,” he answered. “Or get to know ’em better.”
    He’d managed to surprise her again. “Are you a philosopher?”
    He chuckled.
    The sound put her at ease for the first time in days.
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    “Everybody who’s spent enough nights around a campfire is a philosopher,” he answered.
    “How many campfires have you seen?”
    “I spent my youth drivin’ cattle, playin’ cards, listenin’ to the old-timers. Did my time in the army after
    that.”
    “You always seemed very mysterious,” she admitted.
    “When you arrived in Silver Bend after all those years, stories were tossed about. There was
    speculation. Some said you and your father never got along. Others said you had a wild wandering spirit
    you had to satisfy.”
    “Are you digging deeper?” he asked.
    “If I am, are you going to let me see another side of you?”
    The words were far bolder than she’d intended. Her cheeks grew warm, and she was glad for the cover
    of night.
    “I left when I was thirteen because I couldn’t stand to watch my father drink himself into a stupor every
    night.”
    Surprised at his straightforward admission, Eliza turned to face him. “I heard talk about his drinking,” she
    told him. “But I didn’t know whether or not to believe it.”
    “Believe it.”
    “It never affected the care he gave my mother or my sister.”
    “He was always good at doctorin’,” he said with a nod. “Not so good at fathering. He had so much
    remorse festerin’ inside, he couldn’t get on with life.”
    “I’m surprised,” she told him, forced now to wonder about the man she’d seen so often, yet