Free Mystic Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series Book 6) by Debra Holland Page A

to the cabin and pushed open the door. The interior hadn’t changed since he’d left yesterday morning—a cot on each wall with bare mattresses and two sawed-off ends of logs for seating near the fireplace that also could be used as firewood if a blizzard stranded a traveler and the woodpile ran out. An empty crate was nailed to the wall and held a pot and a tomato can. Two spoons sprouted from the rusty tin. With no windows, only the doorway provided light and air, except where both seeped through the places where the chinking in the walls had fallen out.
    As was the custom, when he’d left the cabin, Caleb had stacked firewood and kindling neatly in the corner—replacing what he’d used. He’d had the forethought to bring the right length of wood from home, so he wouldn’t have to search for logs and chop them into usable pieces. He quickly built a fire.
    Satisfied that everything was in order, he backed out and walked to the surrey, rubbing a hand over each horse’s head as he passed around the front. When he reached Maggie’s side, he slid one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, hefting her to his chest.
    She held the baby in the curl between her legs and stomach. “We must be so heavy.”
    “Yes,” he admitted with a cheerful grin. “But how often do I have a chance to hold not one but two beauties?”
    Maggie chuckled and rolled her eyes.
    What has gotten into me? Caleb Livingston, a flatterer. Careful of the footing, Caleb carried her to the cabin, turning sideways so they could fit through the door. He deposited mother and child on the nearest bed.
    She glanced around. “This is cozy.”
    “An improvement from yesterday.” He moved to the door. “I’ll start unloading.” He walked to the surrey and began with the bedding, so Maggie could lie down if she wanted, for she should probably sleep when the baby did. He glanced at the graying sky. For that matter, with no activities to do all day, he could use a nap, too.
    After everything was out of the surrey, he tended to the horses, watering and currying them, rubbing liniment on Pete’s injury. He staked out both teams to graze for a while before he moved them into the stable. When Caleb was finished, he washed up in the small stream, then stood and stared at the bubbling water thinking.
    He walked into the cabin to see Maggie nursing the baby. “I think you should soak your sprained ankle in the cold water. Maybe, ah. . .clean yourself a bit. I think we’ll have an hour or so before the storm hits.”
    “That sounds heavenly. But what about Charlotte?”
    He glanced at the baby. “I’ll watch her for you.”
    Maggie gave him a skeptical look.
    “Why Charlotte and I, we’re ole friends,” he drawled. “We spent the early morning together before you woke up.”
    “You did? I mean, I know you had her, but I thought you’d taken her up just the moment I awoke.”
    “Nope.” Even as he spoke, Caleb marveled at how he sounded. He couldn’t ever recall using a Western drawl. Does that mean Maggie is a good influence on me or a bad one? He knew what his Eastern relatives would believe. That thought was enough to banish the drawl for proper clipped Bostonian speech. He jerked his head toward the door. “I’ll be outside. Call me when you’re ready.”
    “I will after I change Charlotte. I’m sure you don’t want to cope with a wet diaper.”
    Fist to chest, he struck a mock heroic pose. “Madame, I am here to attend to your every need, including those of your delightful daughter.”
    Maggie giggled and waved him off. “Be gone with you.”
    Once outside, Caleb wandered to the stream, searching for the best place for Maggie’s ablutions. In front of a tangle of budding bushes, he found the perfect spot—with a flat stone on the bank where she could sit and dangle her feet in the babbling water, which formed a tiny pool surrounded by slimed green rocks. She could also bend to wet a cloth to clean her face and body.
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