Free Mary Connealy by Montana Marriages Trilogy

woman
has
to have a man. You can make it on your own. As long as I’m alive you’ll have a home with me. We run this ranch smooth and easy.”
    “Well, Ma, we work from can see to can’t see.” Emma slapped her gloves against her hand. “We bust broncs and brand steers and dig dams and cut and stack hay. So
easy
ain’t ‘zactly right.”
    “I mean easy except for the backbreaking work. By
easy
I mean we do it right. The ranch runs easy…without a hitch. Don’t interrupt me while I’m explaining things to you.”
    “Sorry, Ma.” Emma tucked her gloves behind her belt buckle.
    “This is an important point. That little woman today …”
    Belle considered Cassie little more than a child. Both in age and in temperament. The woman was being led along by that meddling Muriel and Red Dawson. Truth be told, Belle wasn’t yet thirty, but she felt as old as the hills that surrounded her beautiful mountain valley.
    “That woman, Cassie, wasn’t given a choice today. I don’t know much about the man they forced on her. There’s such a thing as a decent man, I’ve heard. Seen little sign of it, but that’s not my point.” Belle wondered if Sarah had supper going in the house yet. Most likely. A dependable child, her Sarah.
    “What is your point, Ma? I’ve got chores left.” Lindsay looked bored.
    Belle suspected she’d told her girls all of this before…a thousand times or more. But seeing Cassie today, quiet, obedient, being told what to do and who to marry and most likely how to breathe, had scared Belle to death. Belle was ten times as strong as Cassie Dawson, and
she’d
fallen into the same a-woman-had-to-have-a-man trap as Cassie.
    Belle had to save her girls from such a fate. “You don’t have to marry some man just because you’re of marrying age. A woman can get by on her own. I am raising you girls to work and work hard. The strength of your back and the sense in your head will carry you through life without having to drag some worthless husband along with you. Might as well just tie an anchor to your leg and tow that.”
    Belle took a couple of steps toward the barn door so she could see the house. “Has Anthony come around?”
    “He’s not on the roof?” Lindsay came up beside her.
    “No. And I saw him in town today, but I had a lot of errands and figured he headed home before me. And riding horseback he’d’ve made good time. I suppose he’ll come back. Free food.”
    Emma pointed toward the Husband Tree. “He’s there.”
    Belle squinted. Sure enough, Anthony was sitting on his backside…as usual. But instead of climbing on the roof, which he was partial to—somehow that must make him think he was beyond Belle’s reach, as if Belle would ever
want
to reach him—he was sitting, his back propped up by the Husband Tree.
    “Does he know he’s sitting on one of the other husbands?” Lindsay asked.
    Belle shrugged. “Don’t know. You can’t tell there are graves there anymore. I didn’t waste time markin’ ’em. But I’m sure that’s the side your pa is on. I wanted him to face the ranch. I don’t remember if I buried Gerald on the left or right side. I didn’t give it much thought. And I sure didn’t care if
he
could see the ranch layout. Better he should face the Golden Butte in Divide.” Gerald had liked the Golden for its liquid pleasures, while Anthony was more interested in the sweeter enticements of the place. William had never gone there, she’d give him that. He’d just grumbled and griped and taken long walks.
    “Well, Anthony’s still alive and kicking so far.” Lindsay turned to look at the chicken coop. Belle was proud of the girl for being more interested in chores than the problems of being yoked to a slug of a man.
    Belle sighed. She’d been a long time in town, and then she’d had the heavy buckboard to pull home. “He could live a long time, I reckon, although he’s stupid, and stupid’ll get you killed in the West.”
    “Are you done telling