Ellie's Legacy

by Ginger Simpson

  Cook laughed as she poured a cup full of steaming black liquid and handed it to Ellie. “I can’t say as I blame you. Men can be a troublesome lot sometimes, but if you don’t take that scowl off your face, your brow is gonna end up as creased as mine.”

  Ellie smiled, but gave her brow a quick rub. The furrow relaxed, but only until Ty’s attempt to shield his laughter came to mind.

  “You best be getting your mother’s wooden tray,” Cook said, adding bacon to Ellie’s eggs. “It’s in the pantry, behind the flour barrel.”

  After fetching it, Ellie dusted off the treasured oak piece, noting the flowers etched deep in the grain. “Did Ma use this much?”

  Cook placed the heaped plate in the middle of it. “Oh yes. She loved to have tea in the living room, and when she got so sick, I served…” Tears pooled in Cook’s eyes. She dabbed at the wetness with the corner of her apron. “Your mother was a special lady. She would have been very proud of you, Ellie dear.” Emotion choked her voice.

  Would her mother really be pleased? Ellie wanted to ask the question aloud, but purposely avoided the touchy subject. There was little use in crying over a mother she didn’t remember. Besides, she’d done enough sobbing last night.

  After giving Cook a quick hug, Ellie grabbed a biscuit from the oven. “My eggs are getting cold,” she said, carefully balancing the tray and starting down the hallway. Her door had barely closed when she heard the men coming in from the bunkhouse.

  Ellie leaned against her headboard and took a drink of coffee, then puckered at the bitter taste. She sat the cup down, wishing she had chosen milk instead. Maybe associating it with children was silly. The ranch hands drank it all the time, although most preferred that disgusting buttermilk. Ugh! Just the way it left the empty glass looking was reason enough not to drink it.

  She finished the last bite of her egg and leaned forward to place the tray at the foot of the bed. Her bouncy movement sloshed unfinished coffee out of her cup and into a puddle on her mother’s treasured piece. To keep it from staining the beautiful veneer, Ellie quickly blotted the moisture with her napkin. She fingered the outline of a perfectly rendered rose and lost herself in thought.

  Memories of her mother other than photographic images failed to materialize. Why couldn’t Ellie remember Ma’s touches, her kisses, or her laughter? Despite an earlier vow not to cry, Ellie swiped away a tear and gazed at the tray. Maybe someday, she’d hand it down to her own daughter, along with a few other mementos she had tucked away. She raised her eyes to heaven and prayed if she had a daughter, they’d have the opportunity to know one another.

  After pouring fresh water into her washbowl, Ellie cleaned her hands and face. A glance in the mirror erased her sadness and curled her lips into a smile. Her hair was a comical mass of unruly curls left tangled by last night’s sleep. Luckily, Ty hadn’t seen her looking so disheveled.

  She puffed air through pursed lips. What did she care? Blast him, he most certainly didn’t. Agitated by her weakness for him, she screwed her mouth to the side and chastised herself for even wasting a thought on him. She pictured his mocking face…handsome though it was.

  With a sigh, she attacked her crinkled hair. It took several strokes of her brush to remove the gnarls, and Ty’s image, but the finished product was added shine to her copper curls. Ellie was about to change out of her nightclothes when there was knock on her door.

  “Yes, who is it?”

  “It’s Ty.”

  “What do you want?” She tinged her tone with ice.

  “Your pa is sick. I’m goin’ into town to get the doc.”

  Concern replaced her annoyance. Ellie clutched her wrapper and yanked the door open. “What’s wrong with him?”

  Worry etched Ty’s brow. “I don’t know. When he didn’t come for breakfast, Cook sent me to check on him. He’s burnin’ up with fever and shakin’ with chills.”

  Ellie pushed past Ty and raced to Pa’s bedside.

  She stifled a gasp. The gray pallor of his skin was a stark contrast to his white pillowcase. His face suddenly looked drawn and old. Although he clutched the patchwork quilt clear up to this chin, his body clearly trembled beneath the covers. He looked terribly frail as he peered at her through hooded eyes. It was hard to believe he was the same strong man who towered over her yesterday.

  Ellie smoothed a stray hair from his brow. “Pa, can I get you anything?” His skin burned beneath her fingers.

  “Thirsty,” he mumbled. “Want water.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Ellie bolted from the room, her heart thudding against her chest. She had already lost one parent to a horrible fever. Was Pa going to be next? A lump rose in her throat.

  Cook stood at the kitchen counter, wringing her hands. “Is he all right? I’ve seen lots of sickness in my life, but I’m always nervous when a body has such a bad fever.”

  “He wants a drink,” Ellie said, her voice faltering. She filled a glass with water and hurried back to her father’s side.

  “Here, Pa.” She gently lifted his head and held the liquid to his lips while he drank. She lowered him back down on his pillow. “Do you want more?”

  He shook his head and closed his eyes.

  Ellie placed the glass on the night table and perched on the bedside, stoking her father’s hand. “Ty went for the doctor, Pa. You just rest until he gets here.”

  Chills still racked his body, but he gave a discernable nod.

  “Cook,” Ellie called out. “Please bring a bed warmer.” She had to do something to stop his infernal shaking.

  Shortly, Cook arrived with heated bricks wrapped in muslin. Ellie pulled the covering from the foot of the bed, inserted the toasty packet near her father’s feet, and then tucked everything back into place. She went to the cedar chest for another quilt, and with a quick flick, spread a second layer over her his shivering body. “There, Pa. Now you’ll be warmer.” She felt helpless to do more.

  Within minutes the chills appeared to subside. His breathing grew deep and even, and he drifted off to sleep.

  Ellie inhaled and released it with a sigh of relief. She turned pleading eyes to Cook. “Please tell me he’s going to be fine.” Ellie’s voice trembled.

  The woman put an arm around Ellie’s shoulders. “C’mon, darlin’. Let him get some rest. The doctor will be here in two shakes.”

  Ellie shrugged away. “I can’t leave. I’ll sit quietly and keep an eye on him.” She motioned to the chair her mother had favored.

  Cook nodded. “Just call out if you need me.”

  Ellie plopped down in the rocker next to the matching cedar chest where the good linens were stored. Again, her mind filled with thoughts of what life would be like had her mother lived. That question would haunt her forever. So, too, would the answer.

  She pulled her feet up, tucked them to the side, and covered her chilled skin with her wrapper. With her elbow resting on the chair’s arm, Ellie leaned into her palm and kept her eyes trained on her father. He was her life, all that she had. She shouldn’t have been so rude to him. Nervousness churned her stomach, but his chest rose and fell in an even rhythm, and he appeared to be sleeping peacefully.

  When had he gotten sick? Yesterday when he demanded she remove her gun, he looked and acted fine. A pang of guilt tugged at her heart. Was she the reason for his illness? No! That logic was plain silly. Getting angry wouldn’t cause a fever…would it? She heaved a sigh. Had Ty gotten to Sparta yet? What kept him?

  Her eyelids felt so heavy.

  * * * * *

  Ellie awoke to tingling numbness in her hand and arm from supporting the weight of her head. How long had she slept? What a great job she did of keeping watch.

  A light snore broke the silence. She glanced at Pa’s sleeping form then at the clock on the bedside table. Two hours had passed since she sat in the rocker. It felt like much longer. Where the heck was Ty?

  Her face scrunched with pain when she tried to move her legs. Stiff from being bent, she unfurled,
stretched them out straight, then moved her toes in circles to hasten the blood flow back into her aching limbs.

  Wobbly, she tiptoed to the bedside and touched her fingers to Pa’s forehead.

  His fever still raged, but luckily the bone-racking chills appeared gone. Thoughts of her last defiant words to him flashed through her mind, and she felt ashamed all over again. Her temper always caused her to speak first and act later. She gazed down at her father, vowing to be more respectful, then lifted her eyes and prayed. “Dear Lord, please don’t take Pa from me. I promise to be a better daughter if you make him well. Amen.”

  A commotion outside drew her to the window. She pushed the heavy curtain aside and peered out to see Ty putting his horse in the corral. Doc Henry Smith, Sparta’s town physician, secured the reins of his buggy to the porch rail, and reaching inside the covered carriage, he retrieved his black bag.

  It was about time.

  Ellie hurried to the kitchen door. She threw it open, almost too breathless to speak. “Thank goodness, you’re here. Right this way.” She gestured down the hallway.

  Finally, she could quell her worrisome thoughts.

  Doc Smith stopped in the bedroom doorway and blinked several times. “How about opening up those curtains so I can see? It’s like nighttime in here.”

  Ellie pushed the heavy fabric aside and allowed sunshine to flood the room.

  Pa’s eyes flickered a few times before he opened them. His face mirrored his confusion when he spied the doctor. “What are you doin’ here?”

  “Well, well, well. You’re still alive, you old coot,” the doctor joked. “You’ve got the whole household in an uproar.”

  Doc Smith’s craggy face spread into a smile. His skin had the same weathered appearance as leather. A tall man, he stood with an apparent hunch, most likely from bending over the beds of so many sick people.

  Pa tried to sit, but collapsed back onto the bed. “There’s no need for all this fuss,” he insisted. “I just needed a little extra sleep.”

  “Looks like you need a might more than that.” The doctor pushed aside his black frock coat and followed the chain draping across his vest to retrieve a pocket watch. With eyes not straying from the second hand on his gold timepiece, Doc Smith held two fingers against the inside of Ben’s wrist. “Hmm,” he muttered, moving that same hand to the patient’s forehead. “Your pulse is stable, but you feel as hot as a flat rock on a summer day.”

  “I’m sure it was worse earlier,” Ellie offered. “I thought he was gonna rattle himself to death.”

  Doc Smith crossed his arms and peered down at his patient. “Looks like a bad case of the agues to me, but it’s nothing a little of my magic powders and rest won’t help.” The doctor turned, fished in his black bag and produced a small bottle.

  He handed it to Ellie. “This is Calomel and Quinine. See that your pa drinks a spoonful dissolved in water every four hours or so. It’ll help keep that fever down and ease any stomach discomfort or aches he has. You might want to give him a dose right now.”

  Ellie nodded and started for the kitchen, but Ty blocked the doorway. “How’s Ben?”

  She glared up at him. “Well, he isn’t going to die just yet, so if you had plans on becoming the new boss of Fountainhead, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.”

  Ty’s brow furrowed and the glow in his eyes dimmed.

  Ellie immediately wanted to reach out, grab the hurtful words and gobble them back down her throat.

  “Why would you say such a thing?” He glanced over her shoulder to the bed and lowered his voice. “You know how much your pa means to me.”

  Ellie had no answer. She brushed past Ty, daring not to look back at the doctor and feeling as though Pa’s fever burned her cheeks.

  She stood at the counter, filled a glass with water. and pondered her brash behavior. What in world came over her? Was she trying to hurt Ty the way he hurt her? There was no way she believed he was biding time, waiting for Pa to die. Maybe she had once, but that was just jealous fear.

  What possessed her to be so cruel?

  She inhaled, and with a trembling hand, carefully measured the Doc’s powder into a spoon and stirred it into the water. Immediately, the clear liquid turned murky and a foul medicinal odor drifted upward. Ellie held the container away, wrinkling her nose. The stench lingered in her nostrils just as the bitter words she’d spewed at Ty left a bad taste in her mouth.

  She paused outside the bedroom, chewing her bottom lip in nervous anticipation of facing Ty again, but Pa needed his medicine.

  An apology was in order, and she’d have to swallow her pride and offer it up. With a sigh, she steeled herself and marched back in, relieved to see he had moved from the doorway and stood next to her mother’s rocker.

  Her heart fluttered and an embarrassed flush heated her cheeks. She was such a dolt.

  Ellie avoided looking in Ty’s direction and concentrated on her father, helping him into a semi-sitting position. “Here, Pa. Drink it down like Doc says.” Swallow it like I wish I could my awful outburst. Tears stung the back of her eyes.

  “Well, Ben, it looks as though your nurse has everything under control,” Doctor Smith proclaimed. “I have to get over to the Miller’s. Zeke’s missus is due to have that youngun’ any day now. That man is so nervous you’d think this was his first one instead of his fifth.” Doc chuckled as he snapped his black bag shut. He walked toward the door, where he paused. “If you aren’t feeling better by next week, send Ty to fetch me.”

  “Thanks, Doc.” Pa’s voice cracked as he nestled back down against his pillow.

  “Yes, thank you,” Ellie said. “As soon as Pa is better I’ll come into town and settle the bill with you.”

  Doc Smith gave her a friendly salute. “I’m not worried about it.” He started out of the room again, but turned once more. “Oh, I almost forgot, Ellie, Clare asked me to find out if you’re coming to the dance this Friday.”

  Ellie swallowed hard, her face warming again. She looked up from tucking the covers around her father, slowly raising her eyes until Ty was in her line of vision. Words failed her. She had no idea how to answer. If only her throat had seized like this before she barked at Ty and made a complete fool of herself. Her heartbeat echoed in her head and the awkward silence made her want to die on the spot. She opened her mouth. “I…”

  “Yes, she’ll be there,” she heard from the other side of the room. “I have the pleasure of escortin’ Miz Ellie to the dance.”

  Her heart jumped into her throat. Why in the world would Ty want to go anywhere with her after the tongue lashing she’d delivered? Was he doing it to taunt her? She realized her mouth was still agape. She closed it and plastered a smile on her face.

  Doc nodded at Ty. “Well, you’re a lucky fella. I’ll let Clare know you’ll both be there. You young ‘uns have fun.”

  Fun? Ellie hardly doubted it. Surely there was a catch to Ty’s nobility. The unspoken tension in the room choked off her air. Ellie looked for an escape. “I’ll show you out, Doc Smith.”

  She stood on the porch and watched the doctor’s buggy until it was just a dot in the distance. The irony of his words made her shake her head. “Have fun.”

  The dance hadn’t even happened yet, and it had been nothing but a source of irritation. Now, nosy Clare Smith would be looking for Ellie to saunter in on Ty’s arm.

  Ellie’s lips thinned. Clare was the town’s worst gossip and uppity snob, and the last thing Ellie needed was for Clare to pity her for any reason. Could this day get any worse?

  * * * * *

  Ty rolled his eyes. What in the hell made him say he and Ellie were going to the dance together? It was clear from the verbal thrashing she gave him earlier that she no longer wanted to be in his company, let alone attend a social function with him. Maybe lightning would strike him and he wouldn’t have to worry about it. He already felt like he had been struck. A bolt of Ellie!

  He walked to Ben’s bedside with hat in hand. �
�Are you feelin’ any better, boss?”

  “I’m not feelin’ any worse, and I reckon’ that’s a good sign.” Ben’s usual gruff voice wavered with weakness.

  Ty patted the elder man’s hand. “Well, you rest and get better like Doc Smith says, and don’t worry. I’ll take care of things till you’re back on your feet. Ain’t seen hide nor hair of the Bryants, and that makes me a little nervous, so I’m gonna increase the guard rotation.”

  “Good idea,” Ben said while fighting a yawn. “I trust your judgment. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna take a little nap. Whatever was in that concoction the doc made up is making me real tired.” He rolled over, turned his back to Ty, but glanced over his shoulder. “How about shuttin’ the curtains for me. I never was one for sleepin’ during the light of day.”

  Ty pulled the window coverings back into place and left the room. He closed the door behind him. For a moment, he stood in the hallway wondering where Ellie had gone.

  The logical half of him wanted to talk to her, and the cowardly half wanted to run in a different direction. Damn, what she did to his brain. He didn’t have a clue what to say to her. He expelled a loud whoosh of air. Horses were sure a lot easier to read than women. Ben trusted his judgment? Hell, Ty couldn’t even make this simple decision.

  At the back door, he plopped his hat on his head and set the brim in his usual sheltering style. He turned the knob and came face-to-face with Ellie.

  Chapter Ten

  Ellie’s eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. She took two steps backwards, moving away from Ty and onto the porch. Still in her nightclothes, she nervously tightened the sash around her waist and fidgeted with the tip of the material. She gazed up at him.

  Beneath the brim of his hat, surprised eyes quickly narrowed into a sweeping glance from her sock-clad toes back to her heated cheeks. She braced herself for the lecture she deserved, but he remained mute. The awkward silence cried out for someone to speak. She swallowed hard and spoke in unison with him.