“Is that where we’re going?” Amelia said. She sounded dazed. Oliver was bewitched by the look in her eyes; it was pure wonder and amazement. A huge grin spread across his face at the sight. It was exactly what he hoped would happen.
“Yes,” he answered.
“It’s paradise,” Amelia stated. She got to her feet in the wagon. Oliver was sure to keep an eye on their surroundings. The area had many bighorn sheep, but it was the occasional grizzly and wolverine that needed to be looked out for.
Amelia chuckled. “It’s like someone ran their fingernails down the mountain,” she mused as she looked at it. “Do people climb up there?”
“I’m sure they do,” Oliver replied.
She looked at him immediately. “Have you?”
Oliver laughed. “No, not me. I don’t climb mountains. I like to keep my feet on the flats if I can help it,” he continued. “But I do like to come out here to look at it.”
“In your letters,” Amelia began. She immediately corrected herself. “In Melvin’s letters, he wrote about the mountains. He said the sunsets were wonderful to view.” She turned back to him with a bright smile. “He was right. I’ve adored every one of them that I’ve gotten to see,” Amelia added as she turned back to look at the mountain ahead of them.
“I’m glad,” Oliver replied.
“I can see why your father chose this land. If my father were like yours, I would have been much happier,” she commented.
Oliver felt his chest tighten.
If only you knew.
“You better sit now. We still have a little way to get before we get to the lake,” he stated.
“Oh, right,” Amelia said with a smirk as she lowered herself on the bench beside him. Oliver flicked the reins and the horse trotted on.
They arrived at the lake half an hour later. Oliver jumped down from the wagon and walked around to help Amelia. He didn’t need to. She was already on the ground by the time he got there.
Always taking care of yourself.
“This way,” he instructed as he grabbed his fishing pole from the back of the wagon and a basket for the fish.
Amelia followed him to the water’s edge. The water was bright green. The algae often turned its color depending on the time of year and how much rain they had. The mountains were rings of color that close. The lines ran almost horizontal to the lake, while grass tried to crawl up the rock face.
Oliver set his basket down and put his bait on the line. He rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned a few buttons to be more comfortable. He lowered his hat over his eyes to shield them from the glare off the water.
“It’s so magical.” Amelia was standing nearby, gazing at the colors in the rock.
“Have you ever cast a line?” he asked, as he stepped toward the water and prepared the line for the water.
Amelia shook her head. “Never.”
“Come here then,” he called.
She didn’t hesitate. Amelia walked right to him with an eager grin on her face. “What do I do?”
Oliver stepped behind her and framed Amelia between his arms. “You stand right there. Keep your feet even and steady. You need to have a good balance in case the fish wants to fight you,” he explained.
“All right,” Amelia commented as she did he instructed.
“Put your hands right there,” he continued as he placed her hands one above the other. “You only need to do this when you’re bringing it in, otherwise, one hand will do. You can let go of one,” he said. “We’re gonna cast the line now.”
Amelia kept her hand on the pole as Oliver covered it with his. He raised his hand into the air and gently whipped it back-and-forth until he’d gotten a good momentum, then he let the line fly. He watched as it soared through the air and landed with a plop in the water.
The first fish came easily. Amelia squealed with delight when they pulled it up onto the grass. It was a beautiful bass that Oliver guessed weighed something between eight and ten pounds. Several more followed, and each time Amelia was like a girl getting a surprise gift. Oliver allowed her to get the fish and put it in the basket, while he dealt with the more arduous task of pulling it in.
Oliver cast the line again, but this time the fish wasn’t coming easily. He struggled to draw the line in, both of his arms strained and his face wrinkled as he exerted energy to pull it in.
“Must be a catfish or something big,” he commented as he pulled back on the line with all of his weight.
“Let me help you,” Amelia offered as she stepped beside him. She placed her hands over his and leaned back with him. Repeatedly they worked together and still the fish put up a fight, finally, they won the battle.
Oliver rushed forward and Amelia followed him as the huge catfish was pulled up onto the grass. Oliver knelt beside it and rustled it with his bare hands, careful to avoid the areas around the pectoral and dorsal fins where the fish’s barbs could give a nasty injury. However, since this fish was of a larger size, its barbs were much duller and injury less likely as it tried to wriggle its way back to the water’s edge. Oliver wasn’t about to let it get away, not after the fight it had given them. They were having catfish for a week if he had anything to say about it.
“What happened to your arm?’ Amelia asked gently. “It looks like you got burned,” she continued.
Oliver swallowed hard. He did his best to hide the scars from that night. He usually kept his sleeves down and his shirt buttoned as much as possible. He hated the constant reminders, but there was nothing he could do about them.
“Nothing,” he answered. He hit the catfish with the club and dropped it in the basket. He rolled both of his sleeves down and buttoned up his shirt. “Let’s go.”
Oliver marched back to the wagon and helped Amelia onboard. She tried to engage him in conversation but Oliver had no wish to speak. Eventually, she stopped trying and the pair rode home in silence.
Chapter Ten
Amelia was falling in love with Rattleridge. The people were friendly and treated her well. No one knew about her past and therefore no one treated her like a pariah or felt pity for her because of her circumstances.
No one knew the true story of why she’d come to town, except for Florence and Archibald, and for the sake of her reputation, Melvin and Oliver had concocted a story. She was Melvin’s niece who had come to town to marry, but upon meeting Oliver, realized that things would not work, but had decided to stay on with her uncle. It was a fable, but a good one, that allowed her to remain respected in town and to hide the true reasons for being there.
Florence was becoming a true friend to her. The other woman was very happy in her marriage and as the wife of the proprietor of the Merriweather Hotel. She was sorry to hear that things had not worked out with Amelia’s prospects of marriage, and had offered to take her on a shopping trip to make her feel better. Amelia appreciated the gesture, but she could not afford to spend so frivolously and she was not about to let Florence pay her way, either. It was something her new friend seemed prone to do.
It was a lovely day at Glenore. Amelia woke before dawn and found herself in the kitchen to prepare breakfast. She could hear Melvin snoring from where he slept in the loft. It made her smile that a sound so big could come from such a thin man.
Glenore was especially lovely at that time of day. The sun, barely at the horizon, cast deep shadows and turned the surrounding hills into dark etchings against a lightening sky. The air was sweeter at that time as well, the dew still on the grass and leaves, and the coolness in the air. Amelia loved the smell of it.
She prepared breakfast of fresh biscuits, ham, cheese, and beans, with coffee. Oliver joined her in the kitchen before it was halfway finished, and Melvin joined them soon after. They talked about their plans for the day. Melvin was going out with the cattle, while Oliver was working near the house. She had her chores in the barn and some laundry that needed tending to. There was a lot of work for her on the ranch, but Amelia thrived in the busyness. She wasn’
t built to be idle, it wasn’t her way, and at least in this work, she found pride, equality, and friendship.
Amelia tidied the house once the men were gone from it. It seemed a natural state for them to make a mess, but she didn’t mind. They were far less trouble than her father used to be and more willing to help if she asked. They did their best to be tidier, for her sake, but sometimes they still left muddy boots in the corner, tracked mud through the house, and left a trail behind them, and occasionally forgot to pick up their soiled clothes from the washroom floor. It took a bit of getting used to, but Amelia was much happier in it than she had been at any point in her life before. She liked Melvin and Oliver, and it was that fondness that made all of the difference.
She pulled the sheets from the beds and put them with the pile of clothing that was waiting for her. She took the large metal basin that was kept in the washroom and filled it water and soap flakes. She rolled up her sleeves, grabbed the scrub brush, and got to work.
It took her a while to finish all of the washing, but it was far less than what she was used to cleaning for the mayor and the McClintocks. Life was considerably less stressful for her at Glenore.
Amelia tucked the basin under her arm and propped it on her hip as she walked out into the yard. Clear blue sky stretched in every direction, the sun bright and the wind high. It was the perfect conditions to get the laundry dry quickly.
She could see Oliver working in the field ahead of her as she walked toward the lines that were erected in the yard. A small smile spread across her face. She did her best to look away, but it was hard not to see his tall form at work.
Unlike Melvin, who was tall, thin, and strong, Oliver was tall with broad shoulders and a tapered waist. He was tanned from working outdoors all of the time and his curly hair was worn long and wild. He could often be seen brushing it from his eyes when the sweat caused it to stick to his forehead. Still, he refused to cut it. Amelia wasn’t sure why that was, but she had to admit that she did like it. She liked a lot about him.
Oliver Gyles was the most determined man she had ever met. If he said he was going to till six acres in a day, then that was precisely what he did. He always did what he said he was going to do. He was nothing like her father, who wanted everything done and gave nothing in return. Oliver offered her almost everything she had ever wanted and asked for nothing in return.
She started hanging out the clothes one by one. She had the pegs stuffed into the pockets of the apron she liked to wear over her clothing when she worked. She hung out two garments, but then her eyes wandered away to the field where Oliver was working. He was wearing an orange plaid shirt that was rolled up high on his arms.
Amelia still remembered what happened at Hidden Lake, and how he responded to her question about his scars. It was clear to her that he was hurt somehow. In fact, any question about his father immediately brought a quick dismissal of the entire subject. Whatever had happened, Oliver didn’t want to talk about it, and Amelia wasn’t going to press the subject. She turned back to the laundry.
Amelia was halfway through her work when she felt as if someone was watching her. It was a strange, but not unpleasant feeling, and when she turned around, she found Oliver standing in the field looking in her direction. Immediately, she smiled and raised a hand and waved. He did the same, and instantly her heart began to beat faster.
She turned away as her heart began to delight in its strange new beat. It was one she found it was doing more often, whenever she found Oliver looking her way. She glanced back in his direction as surreptitiously as she could, and found him still watching. She smiled brightly and hung out the sheet she had in her hand. She liked the feeling his looks gave her.
Once all of the laundry was on the line, Amelia took the basin in hand to walk back to the house. She had a light feeling as she strolled. She really loved Glenore and each day it was beginning to feel more and more like her true home as if she had never had another.
She lifted her eyes to the sky. The few white clouds there earlier were gone. The sky was completely clear. It was if it was showing her what her life would be like from then on—nothing could stop her, and everything would go her way from now on. That was what she was thinking of when her foot suddenly jammed itself into a hole.
It was so sudden that Amelia had no choice of recovering her balance. Her foot twisted sharply, the basin fell from her hand as her body fell to the ground. She instantly yelled out in pain. She looked and found her shoe had fallen into a gopher hole. The little vermin were everywhere, their holes hidden so well beneath the grass that they were easy to miss.
Amelia hissed as she rubbed her throbbing ankle. “So silly,” she commented. If she had kept her eyes on the ground and not on the sky, it wouldn’t have happened.
“Amelia?” Oliver’s concerned voice called as he dropped to the earth beside her. His eyes met her gaze. “What happened? I saw you fall.”
“The gophers,” Amelia said, as she lifted an exasperated hand in the direction of the hole that had tripped her. “I wasn’t paying attention and my foot got stuck in one of their holes.”
Oliver glanced in the direction she was pointing. He turned back; his strong hands were on her throbbing ankle as he inspected it for injuries. He raised her skirt slightly, just enough to expose her ankle, as he turned it gently in his palms. Amelia’s heart was galloping in her chest as she watched him, her breath rapid as she tried to be calm, but it was difficult. No one had ever shown such care and attention, far less a man, and certainly not a man who looked like Oliver Gyles, or who had his good character.
“Does that hurt?” Oliver asked as he turned her ankle in a circle.
Amelia grimaced. “Yes.”
“How about this?’ he asked as he gently squeezed his way up her shin.
Amelia waited for the pain but it didn’t come. “No,” she answered him.
Oliver looked up at her and smiled. “It isn’t broken, but it does seem to be a bad sprain.”
“Help me to my feet?” she asked. Amelia’s tried to hold Oliver’s gaze, but it wasn’t easy. His green eyes were so brilliant, and they looked at her so intently that it made it hard for her to breathe. Still, she did her best to keep her composure.
Oliver wound his arm around her small waist as Amelia wrapped an arm around his shoulder. He stood slowly, helping her up and Amelia allowed herself to lean on him.
“Thank you,” she said politely once she was standing. “I can make it inside.”
Oliver smirked. “No, you can’t.”
She had no time to protest. One moment her feet were on the ground and the next they were hoisted over Oliver’s arm as he carried her to the house. She called out his name at the unexpected action and wrapped both of her arms around his neck in surprise. He refused to listen to her despite her protests.
“Put me down,” she demanded. Her eyes darted about to see if Melvin was nearby. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her in such an awkward position.
“Once we’re inside,” Oliver replied as he strode across the yard and to the door of the house.
“Oliver!” she continued.
He stopped in mid-step and looked at her. Amelia’s heart almost stopped with him. His eyes met hers and her breath hitched. Oliver loosened his grip as if to drop her, and immediately she tightened her grip around his neck.
He laughed. “Now will you stop telling me what to do and accept my help, or do I need to leave you where I stand? What will it be? Do I take you inside or not?”
Amelia’s cheeks warmed at his comment and the intensity of his gaze. Oliver’s eyes were like the grass in the fields around Hidden Lake. It was beautiful, and as she was drawn to that place, she was drawn to the man before her.
“Inside,” she answered breathlessly.
Oliver smiled. “I thought so.”
Amelia remained silent as Oliver carried her the rest of the way. He cradled her against his body as he opened the door, and then strode inside. She could
n’t believe how easily he carried her. It was as if she weighed nothing to him. He set her down on a nearby chair.
“You need to put that foot up or else it’ll swell to twice the size,” he said. “I’ll get some cloth to wrap it.”
“You don’t…”
Oliver leaned over and placed a finger on her lips. “Now are we going to do this again?” he asked as he held her gaze.
Her breath hitched again. She couldn’t speak, so she shook her head in response.
“I’ll be right back.”
Amelia watched as Oliver walked away and disappeared in the washroom. A few minutes later, he returned with what appeared to be the remnants of a pillowcase that had been stripped into pieces. He set the strips on the floor as he kneeled in front of her. Meticulously, Oliver began to unlace her boot and remove it from her foot. His hand reached up to her skirt. His gaze moved to her face. “May I?”
For the Love of a Wounded Cowboy: A Historical Western Romance Book Page 9