Montana Courage (McCutcheon Family Series Book 9) by Caroline Fyffe

Author:Caroline Fyffe [Fyffe, Caroline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: groom, Frontier, Amnesia, Montana men, inspirational, mail order brides, western fiction, rodeo, series, sisters, McCutcheon family, Texas fiction, Pioneer Hearts, mail order husbands, Wyoming men, Coldwater, whispering, Cove, Family life, touching romance, desert, page turner, cowboy novel, Texas men, mail-order brides, Wyoming fiction, historical fiction, brothers, saga, Western historical romance, sweet, Sky, Harbor, mystery, arraigned marriage, Gambling, spurs, horses, HISTORICAL WESTERN ROMANCE, Second chances, Literature, Genre fiction, Mail-Order Brides of the West, Medical, wedding, Indie books, Creek, Montana fiction, Caroline Fyffe, Wild, Award winners, Prairie Hearts, Lonesome, bachelors, buckaroo, Pioneer, ransom, love, Fiction, Happiness, clean romance, boots
Publisher: Caroline Fyffe
Published: 2017-01-12T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Five

“What happened?” Luke shouted as he ran out the door and made for the bunkhouse.

The men had shoveled a path from the ranch hands’ living quarters to the barn, corrals, and house. His boot hit an icy spot. He slid but caught himself before he fell and kept going. An unfamiliar sleigh careening into the yard and up to the bunkhouse porch had caught his attention from his father’s office window, but not until he recognized Pedro and John lifting a body wrapped in blankets out of the conveyance was he spurred to action.

Who was it? Was he dead, or just hurt? Pedro, John, and Uncle Pete had been detained in Pine Grove when they’d gone to check on Widow Blanchard. The two black horses hitched to the sleigh were covered in sweat. Steam lifting from their hot bodies mixed with the snowflakes.

Luke was right behind the men as they carried the person through the door, held open by Lucky. The cook’s face was stricken with grief.

Pedro and John were fine. That meant that the person in the blanket had to be Uncle Pete.

On the way in, Luke grasped Ike’s shoulder. “Go get Pa. And Roady.”

Ike ran out the door.

Francis and Smokey crowded beside Pedro who, along with John, gently laid Uncle Pete on his cot. Lucky gimped into the group of men huddled around the bunk.

Uncle Pete. Badly injured. Luke’s chest pinched with regret. He went to the head of the bed and dropped to one knee to examine the damage. The gashes were difficult to look at. He turned and glanced over his shoulder, noticing Pedro had also sustained some wounds to his hands.

“What happened?” Luke asked again.

Hickory must have followed in Luke’s footsteps from the house to the bunkhouse, because the boy stood wide-eyed at the foot of the bed.

“Wolves.” John’s word weaved quietly through the room.

Each man stared at their wounded comrade, their mouths pulled down, their eyes dark. Every day was filled with danger and the possibility of meeting your end. But reality never ceased to shock.

“On our way back to the ranch, we decided to make one more call on Widow Blanchard, make sure she was still doing all right since the snow had begun to fall. Uncle Pete was tending her stock in the barn. When he started for the house, he was attacked.”

“Attacked? But it’s the middle of the day,” Francis said, his gaze never leaving Uncle Pete.

John rubbed a large hand over his face. “Didn’t make no difference. They were bold as brass. Pedro was restocking wood on Widow Blanchard’s front porch and didn’t see anything until he heard the noise, since the barn is shielded by the side of the house. When he pulled his gun, it was too late. They were too quick. He started for Uncle Pete, hollering at the top of his lungs. He fired and grabbed the ax on the way over. When I heard the commotion and got outside, I saw him swinging away at the snarling knot of animals, trying to get them off Pete.

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