by Jodi Thomas
He guessed part of the reason she’d never married was that she was taller than most men and so slender she barely had any shape to her. Then, to decrease her chances more, she lived out here in the middle of nowhere and worked all day alone. Her final handicap in the race to the altar would be her shyness. She did a good job of hiding it with her cold brisk manner, but he’d glimpsed her hesitance around men. She never let anyone close enough to hurt her.
She wasn’t homely or even plain. She just did nothing to make herself attractive. After seeing women painted up most of his life, the contrast was refreshing, he finally reasoned.
He dressed in one of the new cotton shirts and heavy wool trousers he’d bought and went down to the kitchen, deciding that Em wasn’t his problem. In a few days he’d be gone and it wasn’t likely their paths would ever cross again. Yet when he noticed a few slight bruises on his shoulder, he was glad he’d broken through to her, if only a bit.
Mrs. Allender and Rose were sitting at the big round table in the kitchen. They appeared to be drinking tea and talking as the smell of cinnamon filled the room.
“Morning, Lewton.” Rose jumped to her feet. “May I get you some coffee?”
“Please, sit down.” He smiled back at her, liking the way she greeted him. “I can help myself. If you don’t mind me joining you two sweet ladies this beautiful morning.” He was laying it on a little thick, but he’d decided last night that he’d give this courting thing one more try. He’d never walked away from a game until all the cards had been played, and he’d had the dream of a home and family too long to let it die. If all the saloon girls liked him, surely one of these ladies would see something worth taking home.
Rose handed him a cup and let him pour his own coffee while she watched, as if ready to step in if he made a mistake. She barely reached his shoulder, and he decided that if he could win her heart, he’d call her Little Darling.
He leaned down to smell the warm cinnamon air coming from beneath the cover of a white towel.
She wiggled one finger at him, silently telling him to leave her baking alone. “Later,” she whispered. “I promise.”
The thought crossed his mind to lift Rose off her feet and kiss her right here, right now, but Mrs. Allender would probably have a heart attack, and he wasn’t all that sure Rose would welcome his advances. She was nice, and friendly, but not all that friendly.
Mrs. Allender broke the mood by saying, “Join us. By the time you finish that cup of coffee, the breakfast rolls should be cool.”
“You two seemed deep in planning. Maybe I should leave?”
“Oh, no.” Rose followed him to the table and took her seat when he held out her chair. “We were just thinking about what we’d like to do today. Finally, it looks like we are going to have a sunny day. It’s a little cold and damp to have a picnic, but we could ride out to where the men do the spring branding. There’s a fire pit out there and rocks that would work as chairs. We could have lunch there and then ride up to the summit. The view is grand this time of year. Sometimes I think you can see for a hundred miles.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Lewt said, thinking at least there wouldn’t be any singing. He also felt a little more comfortable on a horse than he had when he’d arrived, thanks to Em.
“I won’t be going, of course.” Mrs. Allender shook her head. “Reverend and Mrs. Watson told me that if the group plans an outing anywhere a buggy can’t go, they’ll stay at home as well. The three of us could probably all use a nap. You young people are keeping us up too late.”
“I think we’ll manage without babysitters,” he said, winking at Rose.
She looked down, not returning his smile. He wondered if he’d been a little bold. “That is if I’m invited, Miss Rose.”
Those dark beautiful eyes met his. “Of course you’re invited; you’re our guest. We’d love to have you come along.”
Lewt might have thought her invitation a little more inviting if she’d said she’d like him to come along.
They talked of little things for a while, and the table slowly filled.
First Boyd arrived and shouted with the excitement of getting to ride after two days of being in the house. For all his talk of loving horses, Em had told Lewt that he’d never come to the barn to check on his animals. Since the night they’d played cards, Lewt had the feeling Boyd Sinclair was playing more than one game.
Next came the other two sisters. Bethie didn’t seem very excited about the picnic, and Emily complained that she feared she might not finish her sewing. Lewt couldn’t help but wonder if either of the girls was aware of how they’d hurt Rose’s feelings by dashing her plan.
He watched her carefully. She didn’t say a word. Didn’t defend the plan. She just packed a lunch for them all. He wasn’t sure if Rose didn’t care what her sisters said, or if she was just sure that, in the end, they’d give in and follow her suggestions. It was a good plan. After all, they’d been cooped up in the house all day thanks to the rain. Except for me, Lewt thought; he’d been out riding with Em.
As soon as he finished breakfast, Lewt said he’d go out to the barn and help get the horses ready. Davis was still eating breakfast, so he didn’t offer to help, but Boyd asked Lewt to tell his wrangler to have both his horses ready to ride in ten minutes. He was explaining to the women that he never made up his mind which to ride before he saw their moods.
Lewt walked toward the barn, wondering if any other man worried about his horse’s mood. In truth he’d volunteered to help with the horses only because he thought he might run into Em, but as he’d guessed earlier, Sumner told him Em had left a little after dawn.
“You have any idea where she went today?” Lewt asked the old man, who seemed to be in charge of the activities around the barn and corrals.
“Nope. I gave up trying to keep up with Miss Em twenty years ago. She rides over this ranch. That’s all I know. If I was guessing, I’d say she’ll be looking for tracks from that big cat. One of the men reported seeing a horse with fresh slashes, but no real damage. If the cat gets too close to the herd, they might stomp him. An animal like that hunts for the weakest, the one alone.”
“Anyone ever ride with her?” Lewt didn’t like the idea that she was alone.
“Nope.” Sumner bit off a plug of tobacco. “Before you, I never seen her ride with any man except her dad.”
“Where is he?” Lewt asked as he saddled his horse.
“Ain’t here,” Sumner answered. He moved beside Lewt and strapped a rifle in a leather scabbard onto his saddle. “Miss Em told me if the group went out, one of you men should be armed. You know how to use a gun?”
“I do,” Lewt said. “But I don’t like them much. Too much noise.”
Sumner frowned at him as if disgusted with his answer and walked off.
“Thanks for the visit,” Lewt yelled.
“Anytime,” Sumner yelled back. “Want to help me saddle the other horses?”
“Why not?” Lewt shrugged, surprised at how much he wished he’d ridden out at dawn and not hung around to go with the others. A picnic didn’t sound near as exciting as hunting a mountain lion.
Boyd’s horse wrangler appeared and worked with the Sinclair animals. He walked both horses, saddled and ready, out of the barn without saying a word to Lewt or Sumner.
The old man mumbled. “Now that’s fine horseflesh. Bred for speed, but my guess is they wouldn’t hold up a day working cattle.”
“Really.” Lewt walked the rest of the horses out with Sumner.
Sumner nodded. “They’re high-strung too. That bay reminds me of a cousin I had. One too many inbreedings in my family, I guess. He’d be just as normal as me and you and then for no reason at all, he’d fire up and start beating on whoever was closest to him.”
“What happened to him?”
“He was accidentally left home alone.”
“And?” Lewt asked.
“He beat himself to death.” The old man waited a few steps, then smil
ed a toothless grin at Lewt.
Lewt burst out laughing about the time the ladies came out on the porch.
“What’s so funny?” Beth asked.
“Nothing,” Lewt answered. “Sumner was just talking about his family.” He held her spirited black mare as Beth climbed into the saddle.
Rose was up before anyone could assist her, but Emily let Davis help her into the saddle. All three girls must have been born to ride, but apparently Emily had missed a few lessons. Lewt tied a pack to both his horse and Rose’s while Beth looked like she’d strapped on a roll of blankets behind her saddle. They were ready.
Boyd took a few minutes to pick which mount he wanted, then led the group as if wanting to show off his horse. He yelled at his wrangler to give the other horse a good run before taking him back to the barn.
The man frowned, as always, then took off in the opposite direction from the group.
Davis stayed close to Emily because she said her mount was acting up a bit. Beth stayed close to Davis as they all circled the corrals and rode toward open range.
Within a hundred yards Rose caught up to Lewt and slowed her horse enough to stay by his side.
“We’ve missed you being with us during the days, Lewton,” she said, smiling. “I hope Em showed you the ranch.”
“She did.” He thought he might as well ask a few questions. “Are you two friends?”
Rose was too busy pulling on her gloves to answer for a moment, then said, “We used to be very close. Now, she’s busy with the horses.”
“The last night we’re here”—Lewt began choosing his words carefully—“we might want to invite her to the party. I’d bet she’d like talking with Boyd about his horses.”
“I’ll do that.” Rose tilted her head as if looking at him in fresh light. “You’re a thoughtful man, Lewton Paterson.”
He smiled, thinking he’d finally said something right. After that, they talked easily. Rose told him about coming here with her mother and sisters and how foreign everything was to what she’d known.
He told her of the train trip out from Austin and how he enjoyed watching the land drift by almost as if he were sitting still and the scenery were moving.
She described growing up on a ranch and living in a little house in town when the weather was too bad to travel back and forth to school. “It’s the perfect house, really, nestled between the church and the school. My papa always called it the girls’ house because he said it was far too little for a man to live in. We all use it now and then when we have to stay in town late or the weather turns bad. Or”—she grinned as if admitting a weakness—“when a house full of people gets to be too much and we just want to be alone.”
She asked him about his home, but Lewt talked of the work he’d done while with Em yesterday. How could he tell her he never remembered having a home? Even now, the room he rented wasn’t something anyone would call a home. His mother had a room in the basement of a whorehouse in New Orleans where she spent her days doing laundry. His father sometimes came to visit, usually when he was out of money. By the time he was three or four he remembered hearing his mother yell for his father to “take the kid” when he left. Sometimes he did, and Lewt learned that there were levels of hell.
He looked over at Rose and knew he’d never tell her about his childhood. How do you tell someone surrounded by love what it was like to be starving but have to learn early to eat only half your food and save the rest because it might be days before you ate again?
He was glad for the distraction as they skirted a pasture with yearlings running across tall grass. The group stopped to watch, laughing and picking out which one they thought was the most beautiful.
Even if he married Rose and lived with her fifty years, she didn’t need to know about his childhood. He only wished he could forget.
Boyd Sinclair finally got tired of showing off and doubled back to join Lewt and Rose. The man went on and on about how wonderful his stallion was, and Rose listened politely. Lewt even asked a few questions. At least if Boyd was talking, Rose wasn’t thinking of any more questions to ask him.
Now and then, he’d glance back and spot Beth, Davis, and Emily behind them. Once in a while, when Boyd stopped talking for a few seconds, Lewt thought he heard Beth’s laughter. Part of him wished he were back with them, but Miss Emily rarely had anything to say to him, and Beth only had eyes for Davis.
By the time they reached the site where the fire pit and corrals were, he’d learned a great deal about Rose and her family and more than he wanted to know about Boyd Sinclair. Lewt wouldn’t have been surprised if his family had sent him north to find a bride just so he’d have someone else to talk to.
Lewt helped Rose down from her saddle, even though he knew she was perfectly able to swing down alone. She didn’t seem to mind his polite touch at all. In fact, she thanked him, which he had a feeling Em would never do.
All three McMurray ladies wore riding skirts made of heavy cloth and western boots to match their coats. The day was sunny, but still chilly, and the wind had turned from the west and now seemed to be blowing more from the north.
“Looks like someone already stacked the wood for a fire,” Lewt commented as they moved to a circle of rocks and downed tree trunks around a pit. He, for one, was looking forward to a fire.
“Probably Em,” Rose moved closer. “I said we’d be coming this way when I saw her.”
“Did she leave before dawn?” He swore he felt like she was a ghost following him. Even today when she was nowhere near, he was still thinking about her. He wouldn’t have been surprised to look up in the trees and see her watching them.
Rose smiled. “Em never leaves before dawn or stays out after sundown. She’s afraid of darkness. If you ask her, she’ll admit that when she was a girl someone always had to hold her hand until she went to sleep.”
Lewt looked up at the tree line, wishing Em were with them. He’d thought it strange when she touched his hand in the darkness on the corner of the porch last night. Now, he knew what it meant.
She trusted him. The woman to whom no one talked, who spent her days alone, trusted him. Maybe not a great deal, but some. In a strange way he felt like she’d given him a gift.
Boyd started the fire about the time Davis and the other two ladies arrived, laughing. As always, when Bethie was around, everyone’s mood lightened.
While the fire built to a blaze, they all gathered near, telling stories that could only be learned around campfires.
While the coffee boiled, Davis told about how Gypsy wagons used to stop and camp in a wooded area by their farm. One night, he and his older brother went down to the camp to see the fortune-teller. She was a woman, dressed in black except for one red scarf tied around her waist. She read their fortunes with her head down, never meeting their eyes. All he remembered seeing was her wrinkled face and twisted hands appearing almost deformed as she worked with the strange cards. When she finished, she stood and turned her back to them. There, where hair and a scarf should have been was another face . . . the face of a young woman, who winked at them.
Beth bought into the story. “She had two faces?”
“No, one had to be fake; problem is I have no idea which one. When we asked one of the others, he said she wore a mask on the front because it would be too frightening if people knew her head was on backward.”
“Maybe she’s been to hell.” Lewt smiled. “Like in Dante’s Inferno, where God turns all the fortune-tellers’ heads backward because they tried to see into the future.”
Beth poked him. “You read that poem? The whole thing?”
“I was bored one winter. I read everything I could get my hands on.”
“And it made sense to you?” Bethie made a face as if she’d tasted something sour.
“A friend told me the way to read it was to get so drunk you can barely make out the words. Then, keep reading and drinking and it all makes perfect sense.” Lewt smiled as he drew laughter from them all.
Boyd paced beside the fire. “Well, I for one, wouldn’t want to see into the future. It’d take all the fun out of living life.” He stopped in front of Davis. “And I believe she was simply playing a prank on two gullible boys. If her head were really on backward she’d be bumping into trees.”
Everyone laughed, and the conversation grew with the fire. By the time Rose pulled out sandwiches and fruit, everyone claimed to be starving. They ate, then spread out on blankets and talked as the day aged. They were all adults, all knowing their own mind, but something about being away from the house and the chaperones added a degree of openness, of honesty, that had been lacking before.
Boyd admitted that he worried about filling his father’s and grandfather’s shoes. Davis told of his dreams for buildings, dreams no one in Austin would probably allow him to fulfill.
Lewt could think of nothing to share, or, more exactly, nothing he wanted to share. He closed his eyes and listened. After half an hour, Rose asked him a question. When he didn’t answer, they all assumed he’d gone to sleep. Part of him wanted to absorb all their memories into his mind and make them his own.
Late in the afternoon, the wind kicked up, but no one seemed to be in a hurry to leave. Rose passed out the last of the cookies.
Lewt acted like he woke when he heard the word cookie. They all laughed and spent time telling him about all he’d missed. Only they didn’t tell their own stories, they told each other’s. Suddenly Boyd’s frightening story of being lost as a boy became funny when Beth repeated it, and Rose’s tender story of hearing ghosts in the attic when she was little sounded very different when Davis said the same words.
When they finally noticed the drop in temperature, everyone scrambled to collect their things and horses. If the weather turned bad, the two-hour trip home might seem endless.
Boyd’s animal went crazy as wind whistled through the evergreens and sent tumbleweeds dancing five feet high.