A Heart's Gift

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by Lena Nelson Dooley


  Mrs. Oleson sat in one of the two wingback chairs. “She has eaten a bit of breakfast, and she’s fast asleep.”

  He nodded. “That’s good.” Maybe now he could forget she was here. And get some work done. “I’ve been trying to figure out the best way we can help the woman.”

  The more he said her name, the more she seemed like a good friend. So he’d see how long he could get by without calling her by name.

  “I know that what we’re doing right now is helping her a lot.” Mrs. Oleson kept her eyes trained on his face.

  He hoped he wouldn’t give away his inner thoughts. But Mrs. Oleson had been with him long enough that she often discerned his thoughts before he spoke them. He got up and went toward the front window. Crossing his arms over his chest, he kept his attention on the great outdoors.

  “I wish she had some family, but she indicated she didn’t. I’d be glad to pay her way to wherever she wants to go.” He heard Mrs. Oleson shift behind him. Might as well get it all out in the open. “She can’t stay here.”

  The older woman cleared her throat.

  He knew she was not going to agree with him, so he turned to face her. “Do you have something you want to say?” He hoped his question would remind her who ran this ranch.

  She stood. “Maybe the good Lord had us rescue her for a reason. We mustn’t be too hasty to send her away. Besides the poor dear just lost everything. I think we should help her face the difficulties.”

  “We have helped her...a lot.” His statement sounded lame even to his own ears.

  Her frown indicated she thought so, too. “I know she’s thankful you saved her life, but this young woman will need a lot of tender care.”

  He wanted to say it’s not our problem, but the glint in Mrs. Oleson’s eyes alerted him that might not be a good idea. “I can talk to her and try to find out where we can send her.”

  The frown on his housekeeper’s face deepened. “You’re the boss, Mr. Vine, but there are other factors to consider.”

  When she called him boss and Mr. Vine, he knew how strongly she disagreed with him. “What factors?” He tried to smile to soften his words, but it felt more like a grimace.

  “She’s been through a lot in the last few months, and this latest thing is really affecting her.” Mrs. Oleson walked over to stand in front of him. “When I took her breakfast tray in, I had heard her cry out for her husband before I got to her door. And she sounded terrified. I think the poor dear was having a nightmare.”

  That put a new face on their dilemma. He didn’t have the heart to add to the young woman’s bad fortune. But helping her more would place him in a troubling situation. He was strong, so he could guard his heart and help her a bit.

  “If possible, we should offer her shelter for as long as she needs it.” Mrs. Oleson tucked her chin against her chest and waited for him to comment.

  She knew he liked to think things through, and evidently, she was giving him time without staring at him.

  He turned back to the window. The mountains on the other side of the valley, where his ranch nestled, stood tall. Covered with snow that glistened in the mid-day sunlight, they looked like a fortress protecting his holdings from the rest of the world. How could he not offer protection for a helpless woman and child? The Bible said a lot about taking care of widows and orphans. He knew without a doubt that he needed to help Mrs. Sullivan and her child. But it would take all his strength to keep himself aloof from her. And that was essential to his peace of mind.

  Lord, give me strength.

  Chapter 6

  Anticipating a visit to five other ranches spread over the valleys in Summit County, Franklin ate an early breakfast and was on his horse Major before first light seeped over the mountain peaks. He’d witnessed the foaling of his red chestnut stallion and had helped train him. He’d trusted his steed with his life on more than one occasion. Often, when he was currying the horse, he’d filled Major’s ears with a problem he was dealing with. Too bad Major couldn’t talk back and tell him what he should do about Mrs. Sullivan. The hard day of riding would give him plenty of time to think about the situation at home. He hoped to come up with some kind of solution before he returned to the Rocking V.

  Yesterday, Mrs. Oleson hadn’t been as helpful as he’d hoped she would. Instead of coming up with somewhere to send their unexpected guest, she’d convinced him she needed to coddle the woman. Even called her by her first name. Lorinda.

  What kind of name is Lorinda? He’d never heard it before...and he couldn’t get it out of his head. Without thinking, he let the word spill from between his lips. Somehow it sounded different when he actually said it.

  By the time he and the four hands, left on the ranch this weekend, came in to eat last night, Lorinda was sitting in the kitchen with Mrs. Oleson, clad in one of the older woman’s dresses that fit her like a tent. And her blond curls were tamed into a long braid that reached down her back. He’d kept his eyes averted from the woman as much as he could, but his gaze kept returning to her like steel balls to a magnet. And some flowery scent wafted through the air. He hadn’t remembered that from the time he held her in his arms on his horse. Where had it come from?

  At least today, he wouldn’t be anywhere near Lorinda Sullivan. Maybe he could gain control over his thoughts on this ride. Lord, what am I going to do about her? I need some answers. He wished God would just speak out loud to him for once.

  Reining in Major outside the gate to the RM ranch, he opened the latch and led his horse through. After closing the gate securely, he mounted up and headed toward the one-story ranch house at the end of the long drive. A number of outbuildings clustered close. Franklin hoped he would find Rand nearby, since it was barely dawn.

  When Franklin almost reached the front of the house, he spied his friend exiting the barn, so he wheeled Major toward the large, weathered-red building.

  “Hey, neighbor.” Rand greeted him after he dismounted. “What has you out so early this Sunday morning?”

  “Disturbing news.”

  Rand’s brow furrowed. “Come on up to the house for a cup of coffee while you tell me about it.”

  They went in through the back door and wiped their boots in the mud room.

  “I don’t want to disturb Stella this early.” Franklin followed his friend into the warm, welcoming kitchen.

  “We’ve already had breakfast, and she’s upstairs laying out the kids’ clothes. She always wants them to look good when we go to town for church.” Rand poured two steaming mugs from the coffeepot perched on the back of their kitchen stove. He handed one to Franklin and leaned back against the cabinet, with his ankles crossed while he sipped his drink.

  Franklin pulled out a chair and turned it around to straddle it. “You remember that miner Thomas and I took up to bury late last year?”

  “Sullivan, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Well, yesterday his widow’s log cabin burned to the ground. Thomas saw the flames when he was out on the range and came to tell me. We took four of the men with us and a wagonload of stuff to fight the fire, but the cabin was gone before we got there.”

  For a moment, the picture of Mrs. Sullivan when he first saw her yesterday flashed through his mind, and his heart stuttered. An unwelcome emotion rushed through him. He arose from the chair and stared out the window toward a peak flooded with sunshine that glinted off the snow like diamonds. He loved these mountains at any season of the year. He wished he could just forget his problem and go on a long ride through the passes.

  “What about his widow?” Rand set his mug down and crossed his arms. “You did say he was married, didn’t you?”

  Franklin turned back toward his closest friend and nodded. “She’d gotten out of the cabin by herself.”

  “Who had?” A feminine voice invaded their conversation as Stella joined them. “What am I missing?”

  Franklin liked Stella. She was just the kind of wife Rand needed. Daughter of a rancher and used to the isolation. But she
was interested in everyone who lived in Summit county.

  “I was just telling Rand the Sullivan house burned yesterday.”

  She gasped.

  “Mrs. Sullivan lost everything in the fire, except the provisions her husband had stored in the soddy they lived in before he built the log cabin.”

  “Oh my goodness. That’s awful.” Stella frowned. “We need to help her. I can find a few things to send to her. How big is she?”

  That question was hard to answer, and it took his mind back to when he put her on his lap on the horse. He felt his face start to heat. If anyone noticed, he could blame it on being out in the cold and then coming into the warm kitchen.

  “She’s small. About an inch shorter than you are. But...” He really didn’t want to keep talking about the woman. “...she is...large with child.”

  “She’ll be needing a lot of things then. I’ll go up and try to gather what we can do without before we leave to go to church. We can drop them by your house on our way.” She headed toward the doorway.

  “Thanks. I know she’ll appreciate it.” He knew no such thing.

  She hadn’t welcomed the help he offered, but she needed more than he and Mrs. Oleson could give her. And maybe Stella could come up with an answer to their dilemma.

  Franklin turned back toward Rand. “That’s not the worst part. Someone deliberately set the house on fire. I hate to think about an arsonist running around up here in the mountains. No telling where he might strike next.”

  Rand rubbed his chin while he considered that. “Do we know what he was looking for? Did he get it?”

  “I can’t imagine. Sullivan’s widow was asleep in the cabin when he started the fire. She could’ve been killed.” That thought sent a shot of fear through him, and sweat popped out on his forehead.

  “Maybe the woman might have enemies. We don’t know much about her.” Rand pulled out another chair and dropped into it. “Tell me everything you know about it.”

  After Franklin told him, they agreed the ranchers should start their hands patrolling around all the properties. Maybe even form three or four groups to cover more ground and not leave gaps unprotected.

  When Franklin was ready to leave, Rand got up and accompanied him out the door.

  “I’m going to talk to Hogan, Burke, and Shelton before I head back to my ranch.” Franklin mounted Major.

  “You want me to take a couple of them so you can make it to church?” Rand’s gaze slid across the landscape on this side of his ranch.

  “It shouldn’t take me too long. I might get there in time to hear Pastor Nelson deliver his message. I probably won’t stop for coffee at each ranch.” With a two-finger salute, he headed back toward the road.

  Once again his thoughts strayed toward the frightened woman taking refuge in his home. With all the work it would take to organize the patrols, he should be able to push her out of his mind...at least most of the time.

  Lorinda had been ravenous at breakfast. Maybe because Franklin Vine wasn’t sitting across the table from her. The hands had already eaten before she awakened, so it was just her and Mrs. Oleson. That woman made her feel welcome in a way she’d never experienced before. At supper last night, she’d felt out of place and wary.

  Mrs. Oleson wouldn’t hear of her helping wash the dishes this morning, so she walked around the lower floor of the house. Her body still felt some of the effects from the day before, so the walking helped work out some of the soreness in her muscles.

  The house was exceptionally lovely, so much nicer than any place she’d ever been. The cabin Mike built her couldn’t hold a candle to this place, and the house she grew up in was just a shack. She was afraid to touch anything, in case she should break something.

  Polished hardwood floors were in almost all the rooms. However, the parlor had a large area rug in a pattern Lorinda had never seen before. The chairs were upholstered in sturdy fabric with subtle woven designs. Ties of matching fabric held the floor to ceiling curtains back, and lace panels between allowed in plenty of light.

  Only the parlor was fancy. The rest of the rooms had a masculine feel to the heavier furniture, and the western decorations bespoke of the ranch owner. She assumed the man had never been married. The bedroom door beside the room where she had slept was closed tight, and she didn’t feel like snooping in there. But she stood in the entrance hall at the foot of the stairs and peered up toward the second story. According to what Mrs. Oleson mentioned when she arrived, there had to be several bedrooms up there. Quite a large house for a single man.

  The sound of an approaching buggy drew Lorinda toward one of the windows beside the front door. She hoped the lace panels covering them hid her from whoever stopped by the gate. A woman stepped down, leaving the others inside, and headed toward the front door. Lorinda hurried back into the kitchen.

  “Some people just drove up in a buggy.”

  Mrs. Oleson dried her hands on her apron, then removed it and hung it on the back of one of the chairs at the table. “Let’s go see who it is. We don’t get many callers out here.”

  She followed the older woman into the entrance hall but stopped beside the doorway to the parlor. That way, she could duck inside if she needed to.

  Mrs. Oleson opened the door as soon as the woman knocked. “Stella Morgan, come in.”

  Lorinda started to move into the room.

  “Come in and meet our guest.”

  Both women smiled at her, and she stopped.

  “So you’re Mrs. Sullivan.” The newcomer hurried toward her.

  Lorinda wondered how the woman knew her name.

  “If I’d have known you were living up on that mountain all alone, I would have come calling.” Her friendliness was overwhelming.

  Since she’d never had another woman as a friend, Lorinda didn’t know what to say.

  “How did you know she was here?” Mrs. Oleson led the way toward the sofa.

  “Franklin stopped by to talk to Rand this morning, barely at sunrise. He must’ve started out very early.” Stella stopped in the doorway. “When he told us of your plight, I knew I had to do whatever I could for you.” She turned toward Mrs. Oleson. “I have some things in the buggy for your house guest.”

  Flabbergasted, all Lorinda could do was stare at her. No one had ever gone out of their way to help her, except for Mr. Vine and Mrs. Oleson. She didn’t know how to react to such generosity.

  “Let me help you bring them in.” The housekeeper walked back to the front door with her.

  “Thanks. I think the two of us can carry all of the things in one trip.”

  Mrs. Oleson turned toward Lorinda. “Just have a seat in the parlor, and we’ll bring the things in there.”

  While they were gone, she watched them through the front windows. Each woman picked up a fairly large wooden crate and started toward the house. The things in there mustn’t be too heavy, because the women didn’t strain to pick them up. When they walked up the steps, Lorinda hurried to open the door for them.

  “Why, thank you.” Mrs. Oleson flashed her a bright smile. “I was just starting to set this down when the door opened.” She headed into the parlor and put the crate beside the low table in front of the sofa.

  Lorinda perched onto the front edge of one of the chairs on the other side of the table. She didn’t know what to say...or do. So she clutched her hands together and tried to hold them still. She’d always heard her father rant about accepting charity, even though they needed it. Now she felt awkward about this, but since everything she owned had burned in the fire, she and her baby needed whatever the woman brought.

  The visitor dropped onto the cushioned couch. “If some of the other women out here hadn’t given me assistance when Rand and I married, I don’t know what I would’ve done. So I do the same for whomever I can.” Her brilliant smile beamed at Lorinda. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Stella and Rand own the RM ranch, which is our closest neighbor.” Mrs. Oleson sat beside the rancher’s wife
. “And this is Lorinda, who owns property up on the mountain on the opposite side of our ranch.”

  With twinkling eyes, Stella studied her. “May I call you Lorinda?” After she nodded, the other woman continued. “And you must call me Stella. I want us to become good friends.”

  Lorinda wasn’t even sure she knew how to be friends with another woman. She felt overwhelmed by all of this, so she just sat and watched while Stella and Mrs. Oleson started unloading the crates.

  “I think these clothes will fit you.” The dress Stella pulled from the box was a beautiful shade of dark blue. It looked like a soft woolen fabric...and it had a lace collar with matching cuffs. Along the bottom, a ruffle was edged with the same lace. “I wore this when I was carrying both of my boys.”

  “I’m afraid something might happen to it.” But Lorinda wanted to wear that dress, more than she had ever desired a garment. “What if you need it again?”

  “I may or may not need it again.” Stella held it out toward her. “But you do need the dress right now. I want you to have it.”

  Finally, Lorinda took the garment and held the soft wool up to her cheek. “Thank you.”

  “And that’s not all.”

  Stella kept pulling things from the boxes. Four more dresses, one fancy like this one and the others plain. Unmentionables, some of them Lorinda had never seen before. She didn’t know how to wear them. A couple more nightdresses. Some thick stockings.

  “I don’t know if these shoes will fit you. When I asked Franklin if your feet were about the same size as mine, he told me you had been wearing men’s heavy boots when he found you, so he couldn’t tell.” Stella held out a pair of dainty, button-up shoes. “See if they’ll fit.”

  When Lorinda slipped her feet into the first one, the shoe fit as if it was made just for her. She held out her foot and turned it this way and that, trying to see how it looked.

  A broad smile spread across Stella’s face. “They’re a perfect fit. How fortunate.”

 

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