California Romance

by Colleen L. Reece

  Chapter 10

  Ellie had always scoffed at old wives’ tales and oft-quoted sayings. When one came true, she chalked it up to coincidence. Yet a week after her discussion with Tim about their father and brothers, something happened that shook her skepticism. It also brought back memories she wanted to forget.

  One evening, Seth came into the huge sitting room where the family had gathered after supper. A fire flamed in the huge fireplace and flickered on the colorful tapestries that brightened the walls. Seth walked over to Sarah and sat down beside her. His grim expression sent an alarm bell clanging in Ellie’s mind.

  “I’m glad you’re all here.” He slowly took a crumpled envelope from his pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “When Curly brought the mail home today, this letter was in it.”

  Ellie’s body tensed. She shivered in spite of the warmth from the fire.

  “It’s from Gus,” Seth said.

  Tim sent a startled look at Ellie. “Talk of the devil and his horns appear,” he mumbled, so low only she could hear him.

  Ellie shushed him and turned her attention back to Seth. She’d seldom seen him as serious as when he told Sarah, “This concerns you as well as me.”

  She gasped, and her face paled. “What does Gus want?”

  Seth’s face turned thunder-cloud dark. “The usual. Money.”

  “So what’s Gus whining about this time?” Matt barked.

  Tim leaped up from the rug where he’d been sprawled at Ellie’s feet. “The usual? This time? Has Gus asked for money before? How come I didn’t know about it?”

  “Settle down,” Seth told him. “There was no need for you or Ellie to know. Matt and I took care of it.”

  Tim’s eyes blazed. “You didn’t send him money, did you?” he choked out.

  “No. We won’t this time either.”

  “Good.” But Tim remained on his feet, fiery-eyed and rigid.

  Heartache and shame that they were Gus Stoddard’s children tightened Ellie’s chest. Why must they face humiliation again, just when she was trying to follow Tim’s lead and forgive her shiftless family?

  Seth looked even more troubled. “Ellie, I’m sorry you and Tim have to hear this, but you need to know what Gus has to say.”

  Ellie nodded, unable to get words out of her constricted throat.

  Tim snorted. Tall and straight, he flung his head back and said, “I’d rather never hear what he has to say. Is he trying to get Ellie and me back?”

  “He can’t!” Sarah protested. “Matt made sure of that when we adopted you.”

  “Gus has ways,” Tim reminded her. “Nothing could be worse than our being yanked back to St. Louis.”

  Amen to that, Ellie silently agreed. “Read the letter, please, Seth.”

  “All right.” He unfolded the page and read:

  “Dear Seth,

  “I need yer help. Peter and Ian showed up and got in a fight on the docks. A feller died. The boys didn’t kill him, but they got tossed in jail anyway. I would of sent a telegram but it takes every penny Agatha and me kin scrape together to get by. It don’t seem right, us starvin when you and Sarah are livin in luxury.

  “Wire five hundred dollars right away so we kin buy food and bail out yer brothers. You owe me, considering all I done fer you.”

  Seth threw the letter down. “Five hundred dollars? How dare that miserable excuse for a man come whining to Sarah and me after the way he treated us?”

  Ellie cringed, but Tim ground his teeth, snatched up the letter, and read on:

  “I can’t stand knowin Peter and Ian might git hung. It’s bad enough that I give up Timmy and Ellie when I wuzn’t thinkin straight. Send the money to…”

  Tim flung the letter toward the fire, but Ellie sprang from her chair and caught it.

  “Why did you do that?” Tim hollered.

  She shook her head. “I—I don’t know. Something told me it should be saved.” Tears dripped on the wrinkled page.

  “Aw, Ellie, don’t cry. I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He looked so contrite that she mopped her eyes and hugged him, glad he didn’t jerk away as he usually did when others were present.

  Matt came across the room and held out his hand. “I’m glad Ellie saved it, Tim. Gus’s story doesn’t ring true. Seth and I will get to the bottom of this. We’ll need the letter to investigate.”

  Ellie handed it to Matt, glad to be rid of the hateful thing. Barren of either please or thank you, it typified Gus’s approach to life: wheedle, whine, and take, take, take. What would Matt discover when he investigated?

  Early the next morning, Matt saddled up for the ride to Madera. Seth did the same. And Tim, who flatly refused to stay at the ranch. Matt would send a telegram to the lawyers who drew up the ironclad adoption papers on Ellie and Tim. “It won’t take long for them to get the truth about the Stoddards,” he said. “I expect an answer before nightfall.”

  Matt’s prediction came true. Late that afternoon, the three horseback investigators returned. Tim leaped from the saddle and onto the veranda where the womenfolk sat waiting. Matt and Seth followed close behind. Tim’s grin melted the cold, hard knot crowding Ellie’s chest.

  “Gus’s story has more holes than a tin can used for target practice,” he yelled.

  “It sure does,” Matt put in. “A dockhand who saw the fight cleared Peter and Ian.”

  The breath Ellie had been holding whooshed from her lungs. Her brothers weren’t murderers. Thank God!

  Matt continued. “The law released Peter and Ian. They left St. Louis before Gus wrote the letter!”

  “That’s not all,” Tim announced with a look of disgust. “Gus and Agatha don’t need food or anything else. Can you beat that? After all his bad luck at gambling, Gus made a killing on the River Queen. The lawyer said Agatha grabbed the money and invested it.” A look of satisfaction crawled across Tim’s excited face. “Serves Gus right.”

  Seth took up the story. “The lawyer also said that, according to gossip, Agatha only doles out a few dollars at a time to Gus. They have a cottage in a nicer part of town now. The old shack burned shortly after they left.”

  Good riddance, Ellie thought. She exchanged glances with Tim. His expression showed he shared her relief that the place where they’d endured so much heartache no longer existed.

  “I learned a whole lot more from the lawyer.” Matt laughed until tears came. “Agatha is the talk of St. Louis. Seems she’s bound and determined to make Gus respectable. She descended on every gambling hall he frequented. She brandished an umbrella and threatened dire consequences to anyone who gave him credit. Agatha Stoddard is one determined woman!” Matt wiped his eyes, then sobered.

  “I told the lawyer about the letter asking for money under false pretenses. He advised me to put it away for safekeeping. The lawyer is officially warning Gus that if he ever tries any more shenanigans, he’ll be jailed for attempted extortion. I seriously doubt we’ll be hearing from him again.”

  A collective sigh of relief went up from the group. Ellie felt a long-carried burden slip away. Was she finally unshackled from the past? A prayer rose from her grateful heart. Lord, please help Pa. No sheep was ever more lost than he is.

  That night, Ellie lay in bed, watching the stars through her open window. Suddenly the significance of the prayer struck her. For the first time in years, she’d referred to her father as Pa, not Gus. Was it the first step toward forgiveness? She fell asleep pondering the day’s events and thanking God for brighter tomorrows.

  Joshua Stanhope surveyed his new home and burst into laughter. “Lord, this parsonage could fit in the downstairs of the Nob Hill mansion with room to spare, but I love it. The church women sure made it shine.” He breathed in the resinous smell of furniture polish and the woodsy odor of carpets beaten in the fresh, summer air. Gleaming windows offered an ever-changing parade of swaying tree branches and scolding squirrels. A well-trodden path led between the simple wooden dwelling place and the church.

 
; Josh left his door open to the great outdoors as much as possible. It presented endless ideas for his sermons. He never tired of watching the squirrels and listening to the multitude of songbirds that filled his days with music. They lessened the heartache of the scene with his mother when he went to get his trappings for the move to Madera. Josh never dreamed he’d be hired after his first sermon so had arrived with only limited clothing and none of his personal treasures. Considering his mother’s opposition to him leaving San Francisco, it hadn’t seemed wise to ask for them to be sent.

  The confrontation with her had been intense. So was Josh’s parting with Edward. Only Charles Stanhope’s firm handclasp and quiet “I’m proud of you for doing what you know you must” eased Josh’s regret at causing his mother and brother pain.

  He picked up a letter from the hand-hewn table. The words blurred, but he knew his mother’s words by heart from many readings:

  You will always be my son, Joshua, but I refuse to encourage you in your madness. I spoke to the board at Bayview Christian. They are giving you a six-month leave of absence so that you can come to your senses.

  Charles says it isn’t legal to withhold the income from your grandfather’s trust fund, which I planned to do. However, I warn you: if you continue in your headstrong path, there will be consequences. I implore you to return to San Francisco where you belong. All will be forgiven and never mentioned again.

  Your loving mother

  Josh put the letter aside, but it had done its work well. For the dozenth time since it arrived, he asked himself, Is it more than chance for Bayview Christian to approve a six-month leave of absence when my position here is “contingent upon performing acceptably for the next six months”? God, are You giving me a loophole in case things don’t work out with Christ the Way after all?

  “No!” Josh slammed his fist on the wooden table so hard it made the bouquet of wildflowers one of the children had brought to his door jump. A sea of faces swam before him: Men, women, children. Old and young. Cattlemen and cowboys. Sheepherders. Townsfolk. Visitors who stayed in Madera before or after taking the scenic stagecoach trip to the Yosemite Valley. “I don’t belong in San Francisco,” he muttered. “I belong here among those who have welcomed me. And those who haven’t. Namely, Luther Talbot.”

  “Did I hear my name?” a cold voice asked from the doorway.

  Josh gritted his teeth and turned. The chairman of the board had a way of popping in like an out-of-control jack-in-the-box, especially on Saturdays. Josh knew from past experience the call would be one of three things: a critique of his latest sermon, a text for the next day, or a complaint about Josh’s attempts to carry the gospel outside the church walls. Josh wouldn’t stop. In the few short weeks he’d been in Madera, new faces had begun to appear in the congregation, thanks to his and Red Fallon’s efforts.

  Today’s session was a repeat of many others. By the time Luther took his sanctimonious self away, Josh felt like he’d been thrown into a thornbush. Worse, trying to prepare the next day’s sermon seemed impossible. How could he concentrate on God with Luther Talbot’s presence lingering in the parsonage like a bad smell?

  Longing to escape, Josh tramped to the livery stable and saddled Sultan. Matt had given him the black gelding shortly after Josh had returned from his trip to San Francisco.

  “You need a good horse. Sultan’s strong, smart, and gentle. Treat him well, and you’ll have a friend for life,” Matt had advised. “If you ever get caught out and don’t know your way home, let Sultan have his head. He’ll bring you back to the Diamond S.”

  Now Josh rubbed the gelding’s soft nose and swung into the saddle. “You’re everything Matt promised and more,” he told the superb animal. Sultan stomped one foot and whinnied as if impatient to be off. Josh nudged him into a trot, then a ground-covering canter. Right now the more distance Josh put between himself and cantankerous Luther Talbot, the better.

  Chapter 11

  Ashadow blocked the late August sunlight streaming through the parsonage doorway. Tim Sterling stepped inside. “Hey Josh, want to go cat hunting tomorrow?”

  Josh stared at his grinning visitor. “Cat hunting! Who hunts cats? I thought they were welcome around here to keep the mouse population down.”

  Tim rolled his eyes and looked disgusted. “You sure are a city slicker! Not pussycats. Cougars. Mountain lions.”

  Josh eyed him suspiciously. “Is this another of your jokes?”

  Tim shook his head. “Naw.” His grin faded. “There’ve been a couple of cougar sightings. Yesterday, some of our hands combing the draws on the far north side of the range found a downed steer. We’re going after the cat that killed it.”

  “What’s a cougar doing on the Diamond S this time of year? I thought they stayed in the mountains until snow came.”

  Tim scowled. “This one didn’t. Maybe he figured he’d get a head start on his buddies. Do you want to go on the hunt or not? Matt says you’ll have to stay at the ranch tonight. We leave at daylight.”

  Josh hid his trepidation at the idea of chasing mountain lions. “Of course I want to go. I’ll get Sultan and ride back to the ranch with you.”

  The next morning, a loud pounding roused Josh from deep sleep. He opened his eyes. How could the window of the parsonage have doubled in size overnight? Who had replaced his gingham curtains with rich, brightly colored draperies?

  The pounding resumed, followed by an insistent call. “Get up and grab some grub, or we’re leaving without you.”

  Josh laughed. No wonder he’d been disoriented. The guest room at the Diamond S had little in common with his humble parsonage bedroom. He sprang from bed, tingling with anticipation.

  “Be with you in a minute, Tim.” He poured water from a pitcher into its matching bowl and splashed his face. “No time to shave. Hope Ellie isn’t up,” he murmured, then laughed at himself. Living on a ranch meant Ellie had seen lots of unshaven men. He just didn’t want to be one of them! His admiration for Ellie had grown by leaps and bounds ever since he’d met her at the fiesta. And each time the Sierra Songbird sang in church, Josh’s hopes of some day winning her increased. “If I’m not a goner as Tim says, I’m pretty close to it,” he admitted.

  “You’re slower than molasses in January,” Tim accused when Josh followed him down the staircase to the hall and into the enormous kitchen. Josh cast a quick glance around. Good. No Ellie. Just Solita. She beamed and motioned Tim and Josh to the table. She set steaming fried eggs with chili sauce in front of them and a platter of warm tortillas.

  “Huevos rancheros.”

  Josh dove into the egg mixture. “Solita, I don’t know anyone in San Francisco who can make these like you do. Delicious.”

  “Gracias.” Her white teeth gleamed in a broad smile. “They stick to the ribs, as Senor Tim says.”

  “They sure do,” Tim said through a mouthful. He gulped down the rest and jumped to his feet when Matt, Seth, and Curly came in. Josh did the same.

  The men stepped outside into gray dawn and headed for the corral. But Josh couldn’t resist glancing back at the house. An upstairs curtain moved. A girl in a dressing gown appeared at the window, and a soft voice called, “Be careful.”

  “We will,” Tim promised. He vaulted astride the powerful blue roan that stood saddled and waiting. Josh took Sultan’s reins from the vaquero who held them and mounted. Matt, Seth, Curly, and several other cowboys swung into their saddles.

  Josh chuckled, caught up in the contagion of Tim’s excitement. How the Bayview Christian congregation would exclaim if they could see their former pastor now!

  “What’s funny?” Tim wanted to know. “Settle down, Blue,” he ordered his horse.

  “I was thinking about my church in San Francisco.”

  A wary expression crept into Tim’s eyes. “You’re not going back, are you?”

  Josh lowered his voice. “Not unless Luther Talbot convinces folks to kick me out.”

  Tim shook his head. “He won’t do
that. Amy won’t let him.” He hesitated, then said with deadly intensity, “We’re pards, right?”

  “Of course.”

  Tim’s jaw set. “I gotta warn you. There’s talk around town. Amy’s bragging she’ll be Mrs. Joshua Stanhope before your six months are up.” A grin chased away Tim’s obvious concern. “Folks are saying she’d better get a move on.”

  Josh had never been more flabbergasted. “She…I…what makes her think I’m interested in her?”

  “She’s Amy. That’s enough.”

  Josh’s heart thundered. He bit his tongue to keep from blurting out that Amy would never be Mrs. Joshua Stanhope. The first moment he’d looked into Ellie Sterling’s shy blue eyes, the title had been hers for the taking.

  Tim waggled his eyebrows. “Don’t forget. Cougars aren’t the only cats around here.” He bent low over Blue’s neck and raced off, but soon returned. “Have you ever seen a mountain lion?”

  Josh shoved aside the troublesome thought of Amy stalking him. “Hardly. They don’t come to Nob Hill.”

  “I guess not.” Tim pulled Blue closer to Sultan. “When Ellie and I first came out here, I was only eight years old and scared to death. Gus told us if we weren’t good, the mountain lions would eat us.”

  “Who is Gus?”

  Tim looked surprised. “Gus Stoddard. Ellie’s and my pa. Didn’t you know? I figured ol’ man Talbot would’ve told you before now.”

  Josh shook his head. “I thought you were Sterlings.”

  Tim’s eyes flashed. “We are. Gus sold us to Matt and Sarah a long time ago. Hey, don’t tell Ellie I spilled the beans. She hates being reminded we used to be Stoddards.” His face brightened. “We don’t have to worry about it any longer. Matt got a lawyer to fix it so Gus can’t bother us again without being in big trouble.”

  Good for Matt. From the sketchy information Tim had given, it appeared Gus Stoddard wasn’t fit to wipe his children’s feet.

  Tim didn’t seem to notice Josh’s silence. He chattered on. “Guess what, Josh? The first mountain lion I saw looked like a sleepy, overgrown pussycat. Seth and I went camping in the mountains about four years ago. A dandy place. Good fishing holes. We were having a great time, but on the way back down the creek to our camp, we heard screaming. It sounded like a woman crying for help.”