Ellie's Legacy

by Ginger Simpson

  “Hmmm, not really.” Cook frowned, and returned to slicing. “It’s nothing I’ve actually seen, but I do think I recall your Ma mentioning it.” She paused, her knife suspended midair. “Wait a minute. Yes, there was something she shared with me, a long time ago.” Cook turned, pointing the knife. “A secret. If memory serves me, with the help of her father she bought some land as an anniversary gift for your Pa, but…” Tears glazed her eyes.

  Ellie’s heart seized at the sudden emotional display. “But what?”

  “Poor dear, your ma. She took sick, and I reckon she never got the chance to give it to him. God rest her soul, and her dear father’s, too.”

  Could it be Pa had no idea the deed existed? Ellie’s mind spun. Should she tell him? Oh Lordy, what a dilemma. He was such a private person, but so sentimental when it came to Ma’s things.

  Ellie dared not bring it up until she found out what the deed was for. If she was going to get into trouble for taking one bite, she might as well eat the whole pie. The deed had kept all this time; it’d keep until after the dance.

  * * * * *

  Ellie held her dress to her body and waltzed around the room. She tried to imagine what it would be like to be held in Ty’s muscular arms, to rest her hand on his broad shoulder and clasp hands with him. Her heart fluttered at the thought.

  She stopped and gazed at her image in the mirror. Her face was flushed from dancing…or was it thoughts of the upcoming dance and her evening with Ty?

  Gracious, what had happened to her? She cupped her chin, pondering the drastic change in her behavior of late, and spoke to her reflection. “What has happened to you, Ellie Fountain? Just a few days ago you virtually hated the sight of Ty, and now you can’t wait to see him. You’re like a dying fire that’s had a log added, but why?”

  She searched her image for an answer, and slowly shook her head. “I don’t know either.”

  Nothing had changed as far as she could see, except she finally realized what an extremely handsome man he was. He’d taken notice of her, too. But it wasn’t just that. There was a serious attraction…at least she hoped. Maybe she’d been going about things all wrong.

  Her smile broadened, bringing a sparkle to the green eyes looking back at her. Still imagining Ty was her partner, she danced from the mirror to her armoire to hang her new gown.

  She hunched her shoulders to quell the shiver he stirred in her and pushed her few remaining clothes to the side. With one last smoothing swipe at the soft, cottony material, she closed the doors.

  She’d made the perfect purchase and couldn’t wait to see the expression on Ty’s face when she wore it. She wanted to take his breath away like thoughts of him stole hers.

  Ellie glimpsed the undergarments on the bed and her thoughts turned to the deed hidden in the cedar chest. Was she doing the right thing keeping it from Pa?

  Raised voices outside drew her attention to the window. She scampered to investigate, pushing the curtain aside only enough to allow her a peek. Her mouth dropped.

  Dude Bryant and his sons sat astride their horses in the compound. It was apparent from Pa’s expression and a finger pointing toward the gate that he wouldn’t be inviting them to stay for supper. Seeing Jeb again made the hair on her neck bristle.

  He had such nerve.

  She scanned the yard for Ty. Where was he? Pa shouldn’t be facing those ruffians alone. He needed back-up. She let the curtain drop back into place and rushed to join her father.

  The kitchen door creaked when Ellie opened it, and all eyes focused on her. Of all the attention, Jeb Bryant’s lusting leer disturbed her the most. Something about the way he always ogled her made her feel like she just came from slopping the hogs. She found him despicable.

  Ellie squared her shoulders and stepped out onto the porch, trying to assume a casual, yet “in control” posture. She folded her arms. Nope, too stern. She placed her hands on her hips. No, assuming too much authority. Hell, she felt like she had too many arms. She hooked her thumbs in her pockets, leaned against the wall and listened.

  “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not interested in your offer,” Pa yelled. His face burned beet-red and his eyes bulged.

  Ellie’s vision shifted from her father to Ty, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Out of sight from her bedroom window, he stood against the corner porch rail, his arms crossed and his eyes stone cold and focused. On him, the crossed arms worked. The serious look on his face and his cocky stance was a warning to the Bryants, but were they smart enough to see it? She wanted to be just as threatening, but how?

  She couldn’t even decide how to properly stand under stress, and her gun remained tucked away in the barn. She cursed under her breath. How could she ever compete if she had to hide her weapon all the time? She looked around the yard and noticed several other ranch hands standing ready to fight if things got uglier. There was no need for her to worry. Besides by the time she crawled up in the loft and retrieved her Smith & Wesson, everything would be over. Just her luck.

  “Get your sorry carcasses off my land,” Pa spat. “And don’t come back again or you’ll be bitin’ off more than you can chew.”

  Dude Bryant scowled and yanked hard on his reins, but paused his mount mid-turn. He spat a stream of tobacco juice at Ben’s feet. “We’ll go, but just remember I made you a fair offer and, by the way, I was real sorry to hear about you losin’ some cattle. Let’s hope nothing else happens to your animals…” His gaze turned directly to Ellie. “Or your family.”

  His penetrating glare burned through her. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Ty immediately drop his arms to his side. One hand rested on the butt of his weapon. His closeness calmed her.

  The three riders departed in a swirl of dust, leaving Ellie to ponder Dude’s threat. As long as Ty and the others were around she needn’t worry, but maybe this was the perfect time to reveal her secret to Pa.

  She couldn’t always depend on others to take care of her. It was high time to quit stowing her weapon and start wearing it. Yes, she decided. Time for the unveiling.

  Pa stepped onto the porch, the veins in his neck clearly bulging in anger. He plopped down in his rocker, removed his hat and wiped perspiration from his brow. “If I didn’t think hangin’ would be my reward, I’d rid the mountain of that whole family. They’re nothing but trouble.” He wrestled to remove his boots then leaned back in his comfortable chair. Deep lines creased his forehead.

  Ellie knelt next to him and patted his arm. “Don’t let that big bag of wind get to you, Pa. There’s no way he’s gonna get Fountainhead.”

  He covered her hand with his. “Killin’ cattle is one thing, but when he threatens my flesh and blood…I’m not so sure I want to wage a war that might get your hurt. Besides, I’m gettin’ too old for this.” A loud sigh escaped him.

  Pa couldn’t give up. He’d worked too hard and long on this ranch. Everything here was part of him, and some of it her mother. Besides, someday, hopefully far in the future when Pa passed, this would be the legacy he left behind. Her birthright.

  “You don’t have to worry about me, Pa,” she assured him. “I can take care of myself. Dude Bryant is not going to win this fight. Not if I have a say so. I have a surprise for you. Wait right here.”

  Ellie jumped up and raced across to the barn. She scrambled up the ladder to the hayloft and moved bales until she uncovered her hidden treasure. Quickly, she did a cursory inspection to make sure the gun barrel was clear of debris, then spun the cylinder to assure it was loaded and ready. As she strapped the leather around her waist, her heart pounded with excitement. Nervous fingers made securing the rawhide ties to her leg difficult.

  Finally successful, she took a moment to inhale a calming breath, and then with extreme care, descended each wooden step back to the barn floor. She had no intention of falling and becoming her own victim.

  Ellie paused by the door. The realization of what she was about to do dropped like dead weight. What if they ridiculed
her? A female toting a gun wasn’t a common site. What if Pa got angry? She’d already put her foot in her mouth, and he was waiting for the big “surprise”. She released a pent-up breath. It was a little late to worry about things now. She squared her shoulders and steeled herself for whatever happened.

  Her feet refused to move, feeling as though they were mired in mud. How did one casually stroll out in front of a waiting audience? Swaggering flashed through her mind, but that strut was reserved for experienced gunslingers, and she hated it. Anything cocky repelled her.

  Gritting her teeth, she willed herself to move. She walked out into the sunlight for all to see, one hand awkwardly resting on her gun and the other swinging at her side like a dead limb in a windstorm.

  Her gait felt about as natural as the fake smile she had plastered on her face. If she could shoot as fast as her heart beat, she could take down the famed gunfighter, Wild Bill Hickok, a name she’d overheard in conversations among the men.

  “What the?” Pa jumped up and, in his stocking feet, padded to the edge of the porch. His eyes were so wide only a dot of brown showed in a sea of white.

  Ellie held up a hand. “Wait a minute before you get all riled. Let me explain.”

  Pa put his hands on his hips. “Well it better be damned good.”

  Ellie glanced at Ty. Was he laughing at her? He was either massaging his upper lip or trying to hide his amusement. She’d bet on the latter, but didn’t let his reaction deter her.

  “I decided it was high time I learned to defend myself and Fountainhead, so I bought me a pistol and I’ve been practicing. Even if I do say so myself, I’m pretty good.”

  Pa shook his head. “There is no way any daughter of mine is going to parade around wearing a gun and invitin’ trouble. You take it off this minute, young lady. My granddaddy used to tell me all the time, ‘don’t borrow trouble,’ and Roselle, you have no idea how much you’re borrowin’ if you aim to match your talents against the likes of the Bryants. There ain’t no land on God’s green earth worth losing you.”

  “But, but Pa…”

  “No buts about it, Roselle, I mean what I say.”

  Any time he called her by her given name, he meant business. She glanced around at the hired hands, most hanging their heads and acting disinterested, but she knew better. They were all laughing at her. She dropped her head, humiliation burning in her cheeks at being publicly scolded, like a naughty child taking a cookie without permission. She prayed for Ty to come to her defense. Surely he understood. She cast a pleading look in his direction. When he finally opened his mouth, she held her breath.

  “Ellie, I agree with your pa. Leave the defendin’ to the men. You’ll get yourself hurt.”

  Her mouth gaped. Ty’s words dashed her hopes. So, he still thought of her as a helpless little girl. Her temper flared. She stomped out into the middle of the yard. “You all may think I’m a child,” she blared like a preacher addressing his congregation, “but while you weren’t looking, I grew up. If you all think this is funny, go ahead and laugh. It won’t bother me none. I’ll wager I can match any of you shot for shot. My mother is buried on this land and it’s my legacy. I aim to run this ranch some day so I’m going to defend what belongs to my family and there’s nothing anyone of you can do about it.”

  She locked eyes with her father. “Pa, I know you always wanted a son, but you got me instead. I realize I’ve been a big disappointment, and that’s why Ty is so special to you. I’m through being jealous and trying to compete for your attention and approval. I don’t need it anymore. I’m old enough to take care of myself and that’s what I aim to do.”

  She stormed by her father and went inside. Tears streamed down her face as she ran to her room and slammed the door.

  Was she angry or hurt? These days it was hard to tell. Her emotions were a mess and took over at will. She looked in the mirror and blotted her eyes.

  The end result was the same whether she was mad or had bruised feelings. Right now she hated anything male. Her good intentions had been discredited, and she felt belittled by the two who meant most to her. How could they do that to her? Pa was probably fuming right now. She’d never really sassed him before, but maybe it was time she did.

  She filled the basin and washed her face. Some gun-slinging tough girl she’d turned out to be. At least she didn’t fall apart until she got into the house. Despite the tears, she felt proud at speaking her mind in front of all the men.

  But, was she as good a shot as she believed? She took her gun from its holster and studied it. Maybe buying it had been a bad idea to begin with; so far it had been nothing but a source of frustration.

  Still, there was something energizing about holding the cold metal in her hands that made her feel stronger and more determined.

  Using her shirtsleeve, she wiped the wetness from her face, and still peering into the mirror, held her head high and re-holstered her weapon.

  “I’m not going to let them get to me, and these girlish outbursts be damned. I’m probably as good a shot as most of these ranch hands. Pa says I can’t wear my gun around here. Fine! But what I do when I’m not on Fountainhead is my own business.” She liked the determined look reflecting back at her.

  Ellie opened her armoire, removed her weapon, and stashed it way back in the corner with her old shotgun. This hadn’t turned out exactly as she had hoped.

  Why didn’t that surprise her?

  Chapter Nine

  Ellie awoke to a rooster crowing right outside her window. Bright sunshine creeping into the room made it hard to focus her sleep-heavy eyes. She frowned and pulled the pillow over her head, hoping to muffle the annoying noise, but it was no use. God, how she wanted to shoot that bird.

  Her mind immediately flashed back to how horrible yesterday had been. The chorus of laughter still echoed in her head and tugged her lips into a frown.

  She sat up and stretched into a big yawn, but the cold air sent her nestling back down under the covers. It was far too early, and she wasn’t anxious to face the morning or the men.

  She preferred languishing beneath the warmth of her quilt to listening to snickers. While watching dancing sunrays stretch across the ceiling, she thought about the upcoming social.

  “Dang you, Tyler Bishop,” she mumbled, picturing his mocking face. Her teeth clenched in anger. How could she possibly go with him when she was back to hating him?

  Her growling stomach momentarily waylaid her anger. She massaged her belly to quell the rumble. In her fit of rage last evening she’d refused supper, choosing instead to stay in her room and pout.

  Like anyone cared.

  There she went again, acting like the child she kept insisting she wasn’t. At least she didn’t shoot anyone, although she’d been mad enough to.

  The fragrant aroma of frying bacon seeped beneath her door and beckoned her. Maybe if she went to the kitchen now she could steal a bite before the ranch hands came in to eat. Sure, she couldn’t avoid them forever, but her embarrassment was too fresh in her mind.

  Ellie scrambled out of bed, shivering as her bare feet touched the cold floor. Her nipples pebbled as she reached for the wrapper hanging on the bedpost. She tied the gingham sash around her waist, licked her lips in anticipation of breakfast, and shuffled down the hallway.

  How strange that Pa’s door was still closed. He was always up before that annoying rooster. Maybe all those orders he barked yesterday wore him out. She shrugged, chuckling at her own humor, but daring not to stick her head inside the door. If her face still felt hot from shame, his temper must be no less cool.

  Cook hovered over the stove, flipping eggs and turning pork. Ellie greeted her with a smile and hungrily surveyed the pans. She inhaled. “Breakfast sure smells tasty.”

  “Well, good morning to you. I’m not surprised you’re up early, and starving,” the plump gray-haired matron chided. “Growing gals shouldn’t go to bed without eating.”

  “I know. I just…”

  Cook
winked and handed her a plate. “You had a bad day didn’t you, sweetie? I heard bits and pieces over supper.”

  “Oh, those men make me so darn mad,” Ellie said, stamping her foot. “Even Pa. Why can’t people under-stand I’m not a child anymore?”

  Cook ran a smoothing hand down Ellie’s long tresses. “Well you’re always gonna be my little darlin’.” She turned back to the stove. “Do you want milk or coffee this morning?”

  Cook’s eyes always sparkled with warmth. There wasn’t a time when the house wasn’t filled with delicious aromas, or blinding white laundry hung drying on the clothesline outside.

  She was a short and rotund woman whose cheeks stayed a rosy shade of pink that matched her disposition, but only until one of the hands tracked mud onto her clean floors. Recollections of the day she took a broom after Pete for not cleaning his boots brought a smile to Ellie’s face.

  Ellie reached for a piece of bacon and smacked her lips at the salty taste.

  Somehow Cook was very distantly related to Pa, but Ellie never heard her called by a name other than the one describing her main role in the household.

  Cook had come to live on Fountainhead after her husband passed. She never spoke of him, and out of respect, Ellie never asked questions.

  Cook wasn’t overly affectionate, but Ellie had experienced her motherly compassion first hand. There had been many times throughout the years that Cook had cleaned Ellie’s skinned knees and dried her tears. Everything Ellie knew about chores, she learned from Cook. Had Ellie not been a tomboy she probably could have garnered a lot more knowledge.

  “I said, do you want milk or coffee with your breakfast,” Cook repeated, drawing Ellie from her thoughts.

  Ellie pondered her choices. Milk was for children. “Coffee please, and I’ll be taking my food to my room. I have no intention of sharing my meal with a bunch of polecats.”