Healing Montana Sky by Debra Holland Read Free Book Online

idiot. Yes, he’d just lost his wife, but he still had his farm. She’d not only lost her husband but her home, too. And her way of life. He wondered how she’d be able to adjust. His shoulders ached with tension. Another burden.
    Mrs. Cameron bustled over. “Let me hold the wee lassie while you eat.” She reached for the baby.
    “What about your food?”
    “I’ll be fine. I had a head start on the bacon.”
    Carefully, Erik handed Camilla over to the woman.
    The baby didn’t stir.
    Mrs. Cameron sat on the other side of him.
    “I’ll say grace,” Reverend Norton said. He waited for them to bow their heads.
    Before Erik closed his eyes, he noticed that Mrs. Valleau was half a beat behind everyone else, and he wondered if she usually prayed before meals.
    The boy, Henri, didn’t bend his head, instead stared at everyone with wide gold eyes.
    I wonder if they’re Catholic? Not that it mattered. Between the farmwork and the weather, he often didn’t make it to church on Sundays. Although sometimes, Daisy had put her foot down and forced the issue of their lack of attendance.
    Even as he thought the words, Erik realized he and Daisy would never have Sundays together again. Guilt swept over him. Daisy had enjoyed going to town, worshiping in church, and spending time with other women. Why, then, had he not seen to it she had more chances to do so?
    How long will it take before I believe she’s gone?

    Antonia wished she could do justice to the eggs and bacon, bread and jam like Henri was. The bacon, especially, smelled so good. But the food all tasted like wood to her. Might as well chew bark.
    Yet, she realized the truth of Mrs. Cameron’s statement about needing to keep up her strength. She not only had her boys depending on her but Camilla, too. She glanced over at Mr. Muth, who had stopped eating and seemed lost in unhappy thoughts. Perhaps the meat tasted like wood to him as well.
    Mrs. Cameron cast a pointed look toward Mr. Muth’s plate.
    Obediently, he picked up his fork and began to eat.
    She was glad to see that Henri, who’d only picked at his food since Jean-Claude’s death, ate another helping.
    Mrs. Norton started a conversation with Mrs. Cameron about some of the people in town. Their husbands joined in.
    Too lost in her own thoughts, Antonia allowed their words to flow over her.
    Dr. Cameron set down his glass. “Cleeves had a pig disappear, and an Indian was seen in the area.”
    Oh, no. Her gut clenching, Antonia sat up.
    “After service on Sunday, Harrison Dunn told me a few of their cattle disappeared, and from the trail, he suspected rustlers. He reported the loss to Sheriff Granger.”
    Mr. Muth frowned. “Last week, the O’Donnells mentioned they’d lost four hens, with no sight of blood or feathers to indicate what had taken them. Quite upset, Mrs. O’Donnell was. The family relies heavily on their chickens. I hadn’t realized more incidents had occurred.”
    Mrs. Norton placed a hand on her chest. “Do you think it’s the work of Indians?” she asked in a timid voice.
    A forbidding expression drew the minister’s face into severe lines. “Let’s hope that isn’t the case. The last thing we need is folk becoming enflamed against the Indians.”
    “If they be, ’tis because they be starvin’!” Antonia said, her tone sharp. “The white men done killed off the buffalo, their main food. I be not sayin’ that thievin’ be right, or even that the Blackfoot be doin’ such. But I do know their babes and elders be dyin’. Others be weak, vulnerable.”
    “I’ve seen some sad cases of grippe and malnutrition,” the doctor commented.
    “Sometimes the Indians come to our door,” the reverend said. “And we never turn them away with empty hands. I don’t know what more we can do.” He glanced at his wife and his severe expression eased. “First of all, we must not let these rumors get out of hand. Sheriff Granger needs to know, of course. But she’s a levelheaded