Montana Promise
Copyright© 2026 by Komiko Yakamura
Chapter 2
The morning came cold and clear, frost still clinging to the grass when Elias woke. He’d barely slept, listening to the quiet sounds of Ellie Mae moving around in the loft above him. Twice he’d heard her get up, heard the creak of floorboards as she paced. She was nervous too, then. That was somehow comforting.
He built up the fire, put coffee on, and was washing up when she came down the ladder. She’d changed into a different dress—still simple, but a soft gray wool with ivory buttons down the front. Her hair was pinned up carefully, and she’d done something to her face that made her eyes look even larger.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Morning.” He poured her coffee, watched her wrap both hands around the cup like she was trying to steal its warmth. “You sleep?”
“Some.” She sipped, met his eyes over the rim. “You?”
“Some.”
They stood there in the early morning light, two strangers about to become husband and wife, and the absurdity of it all suddenly hit him. He must have smiled, because she raised an eyebrow.
“Something funny, Mr. McKinney?”
“Just thinking this is the strangest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Marrying me?”
“Marrying anyone this way.” He gestured between them. “Two days ago, I didn’t know you existed. Now...”
“Now we’re business partners entering a legal arrangement.” But there was a softness in her voice that took the edge off the words. “It doesn’t have to be more than that. Not if you don’t want it to be.”
He looked at her—really looked at her. Small and fierce and beautiful in his rough kitchen, holding his chipped coffee cup like it was fine china. “What if I do? Want it to be more?”
She was quiet for a long moment. “Then we’ll figure it out. After we save the ranch.”
“After we save the ranch,” he agreed.
They ate a quick breakfast—more of her miraculous biscuits with honey—and then hitched up the wagon. The ride into Bozeman was quiet, but not uncomfortable. She sat straight-backed beside him, hands folded in her lap, and he could practically see her mind working.
“You nervous?” he asked as they came into town.
“Terrified,” she said simply. “You?”
“Same.”
She reached over and squeezed his hand once, quick, then let go. That brief touch steadied something in him.
Reverend Walsh lived in a small house behind the church. He was a thin man with kind eyes who’d known Elias since he first came to Montana. Those eyes widened when he saw Ellie Mae, but to his credit, he kept his thoughts to himself.
“Mr. McKinney,” he said. “And this must be Miss Brennan.”
“Yes, sir.” Ellie Mae extended her hand with that same confidence she’d shown yesterday. “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.”
“Well, Elias sent word yesterday.” Walsh looked between them. “You’re both certain about this?”
“Yes,” they said together.
Walsh nodded slowly. “Then let’s not waste time. Do you have witnesses?”
Elias hadn’t thought of that. But Walsh’s wife appeared from the kitchen, wiping flour from her hands, and a neighbor who’d been visiting agreed to stand as second witness.
They stood in Walsh’s small parlor, morning light streaming through the windows. The reverend opened his Bible, and suddenly it was real. Elias could feel his heart hammering in his chest.
“Dearly beloved,” Walsh began, and the familiar words washed over him. Love, honor, cherish. For richer or poorer. In sickness and in health.
“Elias Jacob McKinney, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
His throat was dry. “I do.”
“Ellie Mae Brennan, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
She looked up at him, and her voice was steady. “I do.”
“The rings?”
Elias felt his stomach drop. He didn’t have rings. Hadn’t even thought—
“I have them.” Ellie Mae reached into her reticule and pulled out two simple gold bands. Nothing fancy, but real gold, worn smooth. “They were my parents’.”
Her parents. She’d brought her parents’ wedding rings all the way from Boston, carried them through weeks of travel, kept them safe. The weight of that trust hit him like a fist to the chest.
She handed him the larger band, and he slipped it onto her finger with shaking hands. It fit perfectly. Then she took the smaller band—her mother’s ring—and slid it onto his finger. Her hands were steady where his trembled.
“By the power vested in me by Montana Territory, I now pronounce you man and wife.” Walsh smiled. “You may kiss your bride.”
Elias looked down at Ellie Mae. She looked up at him. The moment stretched between them, full of uncertainty and promise and something he couldn’t quite name.
He bent down—she was so small he had to bend quite far—and kissed her softly. Her lips were warm, and she smelled like rosewater and coffee. It lasted only a moment, chaste and careful, but when he pulled back, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright.
“Congratulations,” Walsh said warmly, and his wife was already hugging Ellie Mae, welcoming her to Bozeman.
They signed the register—Elias McKinney, Ellie Mae McKinney—and Walsh gave them the marriage certificate. Official. Legal. Done.
Outside, Elias helped Ellie Mae up into the wagon, very aware that she was his wife now. The word felt strange in his mind. Wife.
“Land office next,” she said, all business again.
The land office was a single room above the mercantile. Chester Briggs, the land agent, was a careful man who kept meticulous records. He looked up when they entered, then did a double-take at Ellie Mae.
“Elias,” he said carefully. “What can I do for you?”
“Need to add my wife to the deed.” Elias put the marriage certificate on the desk. “As equal partner.”
Briggs picked up the certificate, read it slowly. “You got married this morning?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you want her as equal partner? Not just ... as your wife?”
“Equal partner.” Elias kept his voice level. “Fifty-fifty ownership.”
Briggs looked at Ellie Mae. “Ma’am, do you understand what that means? You’ll be equally responsible for the mortgage, the taxes, all debts—”
“I understand perfectly, Mr. Briggs.” Ellie Mae’s voice was crisp. “I also understand that without equal legal standing, I have no authority to conduct business on behalf of the property. Which is exactly what I intend to do.”
Something in Briggs’s expression shifted. Respect, maybe, or wariness. “All right then. I’ll need both of you to sign the new deed.”
It took twenty minutes to draw up the paperwork. Elias signed first, then Ellie Mae, her signature neat and precise. Briggs witnessed it, stamped it, and entered it into the territorial records.
“There you go.” He handed them the new deed. “Congratulations, Mrs. McKinney.”
“Thank you.” She folded the deed carefully and tucked it into her reticule next to the marriage certificate. “Now, Mr. Briggs, I have a question about Montana Territory usury laws.”
Briggs blinked. “Ma’am?”
“What is the maximum legal interest rate for mortgage loans in Montana Territory?”
“Twelve percent per annum.”
“And what are the penalties for charging interest above that rate?”
Briggs sat back in his chair. “Well, the loan can be voided, the excess interest must be refunded, and there can be criminal charges if fraud is proven. Why do you ask?”
“Just educating myself.” She smiled sweetly. “Thank you for your time.”
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