by Lily George
“No, thank you.” Laura bounded up the stairs of the house. “I want to change out of this itchy wool dress. I want a cookie, too.”
He nodded, smiling. “Run along, sunshine baby.”
It was perfectly fine with him to spend time with just Ada. He wanted her opinion of the land, and, also, he should apologize more deeply for almost losing his temper.
To be honest, the idea of a walk with his wife was very sweet.
Chapter Eight
Something ever so subtle had changed in Jack’s demeanor. Ada took his arm as he led her down the drive and out into the pasture. Just recently, he would have been so angry with her for allowing Laura to handle the horses that he would have disappeared. In fact, when they’d first pulled up to the house, his expression had been so thunderous that she’d expected him to leave in a temper and not return for hours. Yet he had laughed with her when she couldn’t contain her mirth at the sight of father and daughter mirroring each other. He’d changed his mind and was allowing her to help Laura adjust to life on the prairie. This was a good sign. Things were improving.
“You did a good job back there,” she admitted as they crossed the pasture. The grass caught at her skirt, and she tugged it free. “Laura was beginning to feel you still think of her as a baby.”
“I do still think of her as I did back then,” he admitted after a short pause. “When I see her, I see the little bitty thing she was, being held in Emily’s arms. It’s hard to admit that she’s bigger now.”
“A little freedom will be a good thing for both of you, I imagine.” The grass snagged her skirt again. For the sake of progress, she gathered a bunch of the fabric in her free hand, holding it so it cleared the ground. “I think you did absolutely the right thing.”
“Thank you.”
They fell silent again as the wind picked up, blowing against her so hard that she struggled to keep her head up. She wanted to say more. But how could she say, Thank you for not abandoning us for hours just because you were upset? How could she imply that she was grateful he had held his temper in check without admitting she found his usual method of dealing with anger off-putting, to say the least?
Growing up, she’d had a governess who would always say the same thing after she and her sisters fought: least said, soonest mended. That proverb might work well in this matter. She had already praised him, so now it was better to not belabor the point.
They crested a small hill, and as they reached the top, Jack pointed out across the land. “We could build the chapel here. It’s a high point in some otherwise flat land. It’s got a pretty nice view, too.”
Ada gazed around them. The hill was just the right size for a building. It was high enough that everyone could see the chapel for miles around, given how low the surrounding area was. On the other hand, it was low enough that getting up and down the hill would not be a struggle.
She dropped her skirt, shielding her eyes with her hand. The view from up here was spectacular, a patchwork quilt of varying shades of green and brown fields, crisscrossed with fences. The sky seemed to touch the land at a distant point on the horizon. The wind still blew fiercely, but you expected that from a hilltop. It was more surprising to be buffeted about by the wind in a lowlying valley, but that was simply how it was in Winchester Falls.
“Oh, Jack,” she breathed, taking it all in. “It’s beautiful.”
“If you want it, it’s yours.” He spoke quietly. “I’m sorry I raised such a fuss.”
“Don’t be sorry. Besides, we already talked about this,” she reminded him. Least said, soonest mended. “Aunt Pearl and Mrs. Stillman will be so pleased. I’ll be able to write to Edmund St. Clair and let him know that we are getting a home church. That, coupled with the fact that Laura is going to do very well in school, should help our cause quite a bit.”
He nodded, gazing at the horizon. “You’ve helped out with everything so much. I don’t think I’ve done much for you.”
Ada pondered his words. Actually, according to the terms of their agreement, there wasn’t much he had to do. The bulk of the work of change had rested on her shoulders, for it was crucial that she create a home environment for Laura that would please the St. Clairs. Yet somehow, she could not deny that she was a different person now than when she had stepped off the train onto the station platform.
“You’ve shared your family and your home with me,” she replied slowly. “I appreciate that more than you can guess.”
He didn’t say anything but squeezed her arm more tightly against his side. As they stood together, looking out over the rolling pastures below, her curiosity was roused. Why would a man who was, for all intents and purposes, a good man, turn away from God?
“Why aren’t you a praying man, Jack?” She said the words softly, doing her best to keep any tone of judgment out of them. She really wanted to know.
“God played me a trick.” He wasn’t angry, but his words were terse.
“How?” She would match his tone unless he grew angry. Anger would not help anyone or any situation.
He shook his head and sighed. “Ada, I don’t know how to say this without sounding bitter. I’ve never said any of it to anyone, not even to Pearl. And Pearl has been like a mother to me. But you are different. You’re helping me out above what I’ve asked you to do. I don’t feel I can pay you high enough wages.”
She demurred, but he rambled on.
“I fell in love with a pretty little lady, Emily. Laura’s mother. I knew our life together was going to be perfect. Everything seemed right. Then we moved out here and our marriage fell apart. She yelled all the time. She cried. Emily hated life in Texas. I was stubborn, because I reckoned she had signed on for all the hardships as well as the fun. She was only thinking of the troubles we faced.”
Ada nodded, but stayed quiet.
“When Emily and I were first married, I thanked God for bringing her into my life. Later, as things got worse, I began to harden my heart toward Him. Emily got to the point that she didn’t even trust me to help raise our child. She turned to her father for help all the time. She spent months in Charleston. I don’t know that we would have ever divorced, but she was planning to leave me and take Laura with her when she caught that fever. She passed away, and even as she was dying, she had no kind words for me.” His voice, though still bitter, reverberated with sadness, as well.
Ada flinched. What a horrible situation to live in. Day in and day out, the one person who was supposed to be your partner would instead drag you down into the mire of hatred.
“I’m not proud of turning my back on God. I just felt so beat down,” he continued, his head bowed. “I didn’t understand why the Lord would bring Emily to me only to have us suffer so greatly. I figured my life didn’t matter that much to Him. Then, when Emily’s father took over guardianship of Laura, it didn’t seem that God was listening to me. And that’s why I am not a praying man.”
She didn’t know what to say. Her heart ached for Jack. In a way, too, she hurt for Emily. His first wife was likely spoiled and pampered, as Ada had been before her own life’s circumstances forced her to change. Emily had probably been bewildered. Jack had likely been stubborn. It was terrible that such a wedge had existed between the two of them.
Without pausing to think, she turned and placed her arms around Jack, resting her head on his chest. She wanted, more than anything, to infuse him with strength and love. Beneath the surface of his shirt, she could feel his heart beating against her cheek. He smelled of saddle leather and horses, comforting smells that reminded her of the stable back in New York.
He stood still for a moment, as though surprised by her sudden embrace. Then, slowly, he folded his arms around her. She closed her eyes. If only this moment would keep going forever, if only she could make him feel the warmth and the truth that she felt by resting in God’s word.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. It was all she could think of to say.
“It’s not your fault,” he replied, h
is voice tight with emotion. “You didn’t do anything. If anything, you’ve been fixing everything that was broken.”
“We’ve been working on building your home,” she replied softly. “If this chapel comes to fruition, perhaps we can work on building your faith.”
*
Jack didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to speak and say the wrong thing. If he did, he might break this wonderful closeness with Ada.
She was so small compared to him, and, yet, when she put her arms around him, he felt an incredible strength flowing into him. He breathed deeply. She smelled like starched linen and lily of the valley, two scents that were both pure and utterly feminine. Even with Emily, he hadn’t enjoyed intimacy on this level, a communion of spirits.
He lifted his gaze over the horizon, and as he did so, he spotted a line of cows playing follow-the-leader, heading toward the shed he had built to house their feed. Was it really time to feed them already? He glanced up at the position of the sun in the sky. Yes, it was already late afternoon. It was time to come back to earth, and the realities and responsibilities of life.
“Ada, I have to get back to work.” He heaved a disappointed sigh. “Thank you for listening to me.”
“You haven’t answered my last comment.” Her voice was muffled against his shirt. “May we begin working on your faith, too?”
For a moment, he hesitated. It was all so much change. Since meeting Ada, his life was transformed. Before she came, he had lived in a house that echoed with loneliness. He had taken his dinner plate and eaten out in the barn so he wouldn’t be reminded of how starkly isolated he was. His daughter had been far away in a boarding school. His wife had been dead for years, but her bitter last words still reverberated in his head.
“Why do you care?” He couldn’t hold back the question. Unexpectedly, the pain and anger of his long isolation seared through him.
“Because I can’t bear to see you so hurt.” She tilted her head back and looked him in the face.
Her eyes held a tender light. She cared for him. She cared about him, rather. That was not a look of love, which was just as well. He couldn’t love anyone yet, either. Not until his wounds had healed completely.
Ada Westmore Burnett cared about him as a friend. After years of exile from any kind of warmth or welcome, that was enough for him.
“Okay,” he replied, the pain and anger ebbing to the back of his mind. “If you insist.”
She gave him a final squeeze and pulled away. As she stepped back, the sudden loss of her sweet embrace was disconcerting and left him yearning for more. He’d have to impose a rule—no more hugs. After being alone, he was overreacting to a simple touch, and he needed to get used to that kind of thing slowly. It probably hadn’t meant half as much to Ada as it had to him.
“I do insist,” she replied firmly.
He chuckled. He couldn’t help it. Ada was decisive in every little thing she did.
“Do you want help with the cows? Or shall I return to the house and begin my report to Edmund St. Clair?”
For a moment he thought over her offer of help. If he allowed her to help him, he’d be lengthening the amount of time they spent side by side. Given the rawness of his emotions and the sweetness of her presence, that could lead to trouble. Namely, he might start letting go of feelings he’d held in check for years, and that could lead to doing something absolutely stupid, like falling in love.
He wasn’t willing to put himself in that position. Based on his experience, marriages went sour and love was fleeting. It was time for him to get back to what he knew best: working in the field. The brief moment on top of the hill was over, and he must return to work.
“You go write your letter,” he responded easily. “I’ll be back in time for supper.”
“All right.” She smiled and waved as she headed back down the hill. He watched her until she was a miniature figure heading across the pasture to the house. Then, and only then, did he trek down the hill to get the cows.
His pair of cattle dogs, Jud and Ed, were nowhere to be seen. They must be back at the barn. Sometimes they did that—heading back for an afternoon siesta and quick bite to eat before helping him herd the cows at dinner. He could go back to the barn and get them, but that would easily waste half an hour. He didn’t want to break his promise to be home in time for the evening meal, so he would just herd them himself.
The cows lowed as he came closer. They knew that it was time to eat. He gave a whistle, and they began to follow him, organizing themselves single file in a long procession behind him. Perhaps Jud and Ed would hear his whistle and come loping along to help.
The sun was sinking lower in the sky. He’d have to hustle or he’d be late. The moment they reached the shed, he shook grain out of a waiting tin pail into a long trough. The cows lined up, as well trained as dogs, and starting eating. He checked the water trough. There was plenty of water and it was still running clear. All was good. Time to go home. The quickest way to get there was to cut across the pasture.
The sun trimmed the horizon with one last blaze of orange, and the fields out beyond the pasture turned a dusky purple. He breathed in deeply. This was God’s country, no doubt about it. The wind was so free it made him feel as though he had wings, just like the hawk circling overhead. How could anyone prefer the rigid confines of city life to this? He had been born and raised in Louisville, Kentucky, but he never missed it. No, Winchester Falls was about as good as it got.
Up on the horizon, the house stood out in all its glory. A sense of pride filled his chest. This was his house. His family’s house. The house Emily had refused to name. His enthusiasm ebbed when he recalled what she had said. “Why would we name something like that?” And then she had laughed in her harsh tone, as if the house wasn’t worth her energy to think of. “It’s nothing like Evermore.”
After that, he had given up trying to make it home. If he referred to it at all, it was simply the ranch.
Lights came on, one at a time, throughout the house. It was captivating to see it light up little by little. Almost as if it were slowly coming to life as a living, breathing being.
He was about to turn toward the gate when a noise stopped him. He halted; the hair on his neck rose up.
The bull. That snort could only come from Asesino, the massive bull that belonged in the lower pasture. Someone, either him or one of the hands, must have forgotten to shut the gate in Asesino’s field this morning. Now he was here and, like any bull, he considered everywhere he went as his territory. The animal wouldn’t suffer an intruder gladly, and Jack was definitely an intruder.
Jack’s mouth grew dry, and his heart hammered against his ribs. He slowed his movements down to a crawl. If he could slowly mosey his way to the gate, he could make his escape. He could shut the gate quickly and be safe. If Asesino hadn’t noticed him, he would be all right.
There was nothing to do but edge along the pasture. He would be quiet and controlled. Even though his heart pounded like an Indian drum at a gathering of the tribe, he would make it.
In the pasture behind him, one of the cattle lowed louder than the others. The sudden sound startled Jack. He stepped clumsily, swaying a little as he tried to keep his balance.
Asesino caught sight of him and, with a mighty bellow, stamped his hoof.
If Jack had any spit left in his mouth, he would swallow. But he didn’t. He couldn’t even breathe.
Asesino charged.
With the instinct borne of many years as a cowboy, Jack bolted toward the gate. His boots pounded on the short-grass prairie. There was no way a man, unarmed and unprotected, alone and without any help, could do anything other than run. If he could make it to the gate, he could vault over it and be safe. This would then be a silly story he could regale Ada and Laura with later.
The bull’s hooves pounded along behind him. There was no other sound on the prairie than his boots thumping against the earth and the bull’s hooves hammering along behind him. He was going to make it
. In just a few yards, he would be safe.
The bull slammed into him, knocking him off his feet. He landed against the fence, clutching it for dear life. He could not draw a breath. His back went hot and then cold. The rough barbed wire caught on his hands, sticking to him, pricking him mercilessly. With his last ounce of strength, he managed to pull himself over the fence. He somersaulted onto the earth, landing with a smack that reverberated through his body.
There were more stars in the sky than he had ever seen before. Stars swirled and twirled around him. The prairie was silent save for a strange buzzing sound in his ears. His mouth tasted like metal.
He closed his eyes. The swirling stars made him dizzy.
He thought of Laura. Would she be sitting at the dining room table, waiting for him?
Ada. Where was Ada? If only he could shout loudly enough for her to hear.
“Ada.”
Chapter Nine
Ada gave another quick, furtive glance out the dining room window. Darkness had fallen, and Jack still hadn’t returned from feeding the cattle. No light glimmered outside. Surely if he had been delayed, Jack would ignite a lantern and carry it with him. The prairie was too vast to wander around without some kind of illumination. The moon was too new to shed much of its pale light onto the pasture.
She gave Laura a strained smile. She mustn’t worry her stepdaughter, especially when their relationship had started to improve. “Let’s start eating,” she announced in a cheerful voice. “Your father must have been detained.” She bowed her head and murmured a quick prayer.
“Amen.” Laura helped herself to a roll. “Do you think Father is all right?”
Ada nodded. Her voice would likely betray a tremble if she spoke aloud. Jack must be upset. Even though she had grown closer to him when they spoke out on the hill, he must have been angered by her prying. She should never have meddled in his spiritual life. Now he would be gone for hours.
“I hope he comes home soon,” Laura continued. If she felt disturbed by Ada’s silence, she didn’t show it. “I liked being able to laugh with him this afternoon. I don’t remember much about what life was like here when I was a baby, but I imagine we laughed a good deal more.”