by Lori Wick
She went on for paragraphs, not meaning half of it, the words scathing and mean, but the end was near. Rebecca’s mind moved to the love she always saw in her father’s eyes, and with that she broke down. She crumpled the paper and threw it aside, sobbing into her folded arms.
Travis stood like a statue at the graveside of Andrew Wagner, not feeling the cold or seeing the blinding sunlight. The service had been over for an hour and still he stood, seeing his mother’s grave as clearly as the one before him. Lavena had said that Rebecca’s lips were turning blue and had taken her back to the house, but Travis could not make himself move. He had a beautiful wife, and he now owned a ranch, but Andrew Wagner was dead and Travis found no joy in his position. It niggled at the back of his mind that Rebecca needed him; they all needed him. He was the owner of the Double Star and they needed his stability, but right now he felt worthless.
How could You do this? he asked God for what must have been the hundredth time, but no answer came. He was going to have to go on by himself. He was going to have to be strong for everyone else, even if he was dying inside.
Another hour passed before he began the walk back. Lavena had some food ready, but he wasn’t hungry. He didn’t ask after Rebecca, assuming she’d gone to her room. With measured tread he moved toward Andrew’s study. Like no other in the house, this room was the man himself. His presence pervaded every nook and cranny. Travis wandered the floor, not touching anything, but looking and letting his eyes caress the huge desk, fine leather chair, and simple furnishings. Another hour passed before he sat very carefully in the desk chair. His eyes slid shut with pain, and fatigue overcame him.
His wife’s pain at the moment was no less than his own, but added to the hurt was fear—fear that she would be sent away and left all alone in the world. It did nothing but cause more hurt and fear when she came down an hour later and found Travis asleep in her father’s chair.
Lavena thought she would scream if she had to go another day with the silence in the house. Travis and Rebecca went through the day-to-day motions, but it was as if they’d died with Andrew. Her own grief knew no bounds, but she forced herself to keep on. Three days. Could it be only three days since they’d laid him in the ground? It was amazing that they’d been able to dig the frozen earth. It looked like spring would come early, but no one took notice.
It also crossed Lavena’s mind that Travis and Rebecca had been married for one week. But as they were in such obvious pain, it gave her no joy. She knew deep in her heart that they could make a go of it. The love she’d seen in their eyes for each other had given that secret away. And even though the circumstances surrounding their marriage had been unusual, Lavena knew their hearts were involved.
And indeed, Lavena was right. Travis and Rebecca did care deeply for each other. In fact, they were both to the point of needing to reach out to the other. Travis came off the range early to find Rebecca and talk to her, but Biscuit, who was now Travis’ responsibility, had a gripe. The crotchety old man was waiting for him in the barn.
“I’m not gonna put up with it,” he spat.
Travis sighed but kept his expression open. “What’s the problem, Biscuit?”
The old man spat again. “There ain’t no respect ’round here. No one tells me anything. I cook for six, but only four show up. Why, I—” and on he went.
Travis wanted to tell him he sounded like a fussy old woman but refrained. What did it matter how much food he fixed, especially in winter when things would keep? Biscuit often served the leftovers the next night anyhow, and the men never raised much of a fuss.
“I can see you won’t be any help. You just care about the money.”
He had Travis’ full attention now.
“What is that supposed to mean?” His voice was cold.
“You know very well.”
Travis saw a bitterness in the man’s eyes that he had never noticed before.
“At least she’s pretty,” Biscuit added contemptuously, “which makes it a little easier, I’d say.”
Travis was angry enough to plow his fist into the man’s face but only gritted out, “I think you’d better shut your mouth, Biscuit.”
“Can’t stand to hear the truth, boy? Is that your problem?”
Travis didn’t answer him but turned and walked out, never once seeing his wife in the shadows of a stall. She had so needed to be near him that she’d come to the barn to await his arrival. Not wanting to talk to the cook, she had remained hidden. Now she wished she had run away and not heard a thing.
Rebecca made her way slowly back to the house, but didn’t search out her husband or Lavena. She came to the supper table, but Travis did not. He did not seek his own meal for many hours, so busy was he in the office, making plans for the ranch, in order to prove Biscuit wrong and make Rebecca the proudest woman in the Colorado Territory.
Had he made an appearance, Rebecca might have reconsidered, but by the time she crawled into bed and lay looking at the ceiling for most of the night, her mind was made up.
11
Lavena paced the floor like a caged animal waiting for Travis to come home. Her mouth was dry, as it had been all afternoon, and she thought that if he didn’t hurry she’d be tempted to mount a horse and go find him. Her stomach churned.
After her husband drank himself to death eight years ago, she had walked out to the Double Star Ranch and told Andrew Wagner that he needed her. He had been ready to send her packing, but she had come prepared.
From seemingly nowhere, she had produced a pie. It had been in her bag, and the sight of the confection alone had halted Andrew in midsentence. It had taken her all afternoon to get to the ranch, and if he’d turned her away she was going to sneak into the barn and sleep before returning to town. But suddenly she was invited in. He never did tell her that she had the job, but while he devoured over half the pie, she started on the mound of dirty dishes in the kitchen. There had never been any talk of her leaving. She was now as much a part of the Double Star as the earth itself.
However, she was too old for this. She was too old for the heartache of seeing people in pain. She wasn’t even 60, but days like this, days when her stomach churned and she had no answers, she felt like 100. All day she had paced between the living room windows, which gave her a view of the road, and the window in the kitchen, which gave her eyes a clear shot of the barn. She was in the living room when she heard Travis come in the back. With a hand to her heart she went to him. One look at her pale features and he knew something was wrong.
“What is it?”
“Rebecca went to town right after you left this morning. She said she wanted to be on her own for a while and hasn’t returned.”
Evening was falling, but that didn’t stop Travis. He immediately pushed his hat back on and went out the door. Lavena watched from the door as his long legs ate up the distance to the barn. It wasn’t five minutes before he rode Diamond from the stable yard. He wasn’t beating the horse into the ground, but Lavena knew without a doubt that his mind must be going ten times faster than his mount.
Rebecca stood behind a tree, sagged against it, and begged God or whoever was in charge not to let her be sick again. It had started on the stage. At first she was certain it had been the rocking, but she’d been off the stage for two hours and still her stomach rolled.
Why did I leave? Why did I run like this?
Rebecca laid her head back against the tree and told herself she was not going to cry. What a time to get sick. All she could think to do was to get away, away from Travis and away from the memory of her father. Lavena had wanted to go to town with her, but Rebecca had lied and said she wanted to be alone. She could never have left with Lavena there, and now she wished she had allowed her to come. Much like when she left her aunt’s, her anger had carried her for miles, all the way through the first day and part of the second, but now on the third day she just wanted to throw herself at her husband’s chest and cry her eyes out. Right now she didn’t care why h
e’d married her; she just wanted to be home and safe in her own bed.
“Is someone there?” A husky feminine voice spoke out of the gathering darkness. Rebecca started. She tried to shrink back against the bark, but the woman was headed her way. She stopped less than a dozen feet off.
“Come away from the tree, please.”
Rebecca held very still, but the voice called again, and this time it sounded amused.
“If you’re going to hide in my backyard, the least you could do is tell me your name.”
Rebecca let out a sigh. What was the use?
“Rebecca,” she spoke quietly. “Rebecca Wag—” Again the sigh. “Buchanan.”
“Well, come here, honey. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Rebecca hesitated but then stepped toward the woman. Evening was gathering swiftly, but she could still make out a tall-looking figure in rather fancy evening clothes.
“I’m Angel,” the sultry voice said when Rebecca stopped some six feet in front of her. “You passing through Pine Grove or here for a time?”
“I’m not certain.”
“Which means you’re out of money,” she said knowingly, her tone matter-of-fact. “Will you be looking for work?”
“Yes, I suppose I will.”
Angel stared at her for a moment. “Come on in,” she finally said and moved, assuming Rebecca would follow. Rebecca hesitated only a moment before covering the distance to a small house and climbing the stairs into a small kitchen. It was very dark and dim in the house, and since her host had disappeared, and Rebecca froze. A match flared from beyond the kitchen door, and Rebecca saw a rising glow.
“Come on in,” Angel repeated. Rebecca shut the door and moved with quiet steps toward the light, which grew much brighter as she neared. This short walk brought her to a rather large sitting room, fully illumined by the lantern. Through a wide archway, she could see what looked like a dining room table and chairs. Again she found herself under Angel’s inspection. The other woman’s eyes, very knowing and shrewd, took in every aspect of Rebecca’s grubby appearance.
“There’s only one thing in the world that can make a woman look like you do,” Angel said without preamble. “A man. I don’t expect you to tell me about it if you don’t want to, but just know that I know.”
Rebecca dropped her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about Travis.
“You’re just into town?”
“Yes.” Rebecca looked up. “On the stage.”
Angel nodded. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
Again the look came, the woman’s eyes narrowing slightly. Rebecca looked back. Angel was beautiful, but there was a hard worldliness about her.
“Can you cook and clean? I hate to cook and clean.”
Wanting to lie, Rebecca blinked but just said, “A little.”
The next instant Angel’s front door burst open. Rebecca started violently. She stared wide-eyed at a tall man, also dressed for an evening out. He was coatless, but his tie, shirt, and pants were spotless and without wrinkle or crease.
“Preston is looking for you, Angel. You’d better put a move on it.”
Angel didn’t even look at him.
“Angel?”
“I heard you, Dan. You can tell Preston to keep his shirt on.”
The man did not look the least bit offended, but his eyes suddenly landed on Rebecca. He made no effort to disguise his interest.
“New girl?”
Angel cocked her head to one side, still taking in Rebecca’s huge eyes and exhausted expression.
“I don’t think so,” she said slowly, finally turning to the man. “Tell Preston I’ll be right along.”
Dan’s eyes swept Rebecca’s features one last time, his gaze lingering on her eyes before he slipped away. Angel looked back to her guest.
“If you want to cook and clean house for me, you’re hired.”
Rebecca hesitated.
“Or you can come down to the Silver Bell, and Preston can find work for you there.”
“The Silver Bell?”
“Yes. Pine Grove’s post prestigious dining establishment. The owner is always looking for girls to serve drinks and meals, or to dance and sing on the stage.”
Rebecca was speechless. Serve drinks? Dance on the stage? She had the vague thought that there must be more of Aunt Hannah in her than she realized.
“Or,” Angel drew the word out, “you can cook and clean for me.”
It never once occurred to Rebecca to refuse both. She was tired, three days’ stage ride from home, and completely out of money.
“I’ll cook and clean for you, but I’m not the best.”
“Anything has got to be better than cooking for myself. I’ll warn you though, I work nights, sometimes staying late when we’re extra busy. I like to sleep into the morning.”
“So you’ll need quiet.”
“No, I can sleep through a hurricane, but you’ll be on your own much of the time.”
Rebecca nodded, suddenly so tired she could hardly stand.
“Go on upstairs. My bedroom is the first. You can take the other one. Don’t worry if you hear me come in late. And don’t worry about doing anything tomorrow. Get rested up, and we’ll talk about your duties sometime after noon.”
All at once Rebecca wanted to cry. A shrewd judge of faces, Angel felt a deep stirring of compassion. It was an unusual emotion for her—she’d learned early that a woman couldn’t let her heart get involved.
“The stairs are behind you,” she said quietly as she pressed the lantern into Rebecca’s hand. “Have you got a bag or anything?”
“I left it by the tree out back,” Rebecca answered in a wobbly voice.
“I’ll put it in the kitchen on my way out. Go on now. Go upstairs and just crawl into bed. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Rebecca couldn’t answer. Travis’ face loomed in her mind, and then her father’s. She turned and found the stairway, telling herself to take one step at a time. Angel had said she would put Rebecca’s bag in the kitchen, but a few minutes later the other woman, carrying the small satchel, came to the door of her room.
“Here, let me get those buttons.”
Tears were pouring down Rebecca’s face, but she stood obediently with her back to Angel and allowed her to undo the back of her dress. When she continued just to stand and cry, even after the buttons were free, Angel pulled Rebecca’s dress from her shoulders and then pushed her toward the bed. She actually managed to divest Rebecca of dress and shoes before ordering her to lie down. Rebecca did so out of misery and confusion, suddenly not able to tell where she was. It didn’t last, however. The younger woman was asleep before Angel had time to blow out the lantern.
Preston Carwell, the owner of the Silver Bell, enjoyed a fair amount of respect in Pine Grove. For the most part he was a fair man, one who had gone after everything he wanted and eventually gotten it. The only exception was Angel Flanagan. Not that she knew his feelings. He’d been very careful over the years. He’d never once hinted that she was a woman he couldn’t live without, because in his business a man didn’t show his heart. However, when Angel arrived very late, her brow creased in what appeared to be anger, he approached.
“Problems, Angel?” His voice was typically casual.
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
Preston’s brow rose in question.
“I found a kitten on my back doorstep,” she explained. “She was more helpless than I first believed.”
“I could send Dan to get rid of her.”
Angel suddenly remembered the look in Dan’s eyes and shook her head.
“Trust me when I tell you that’s the worst thing you could do. This one is dangerous.”
Preston smiled cynically. “Are you telling me I might lose my heart?”
Angel’s smile was of the same variety. “Not you, Preston, and not me. But then, we’re not quite human.”
Preston’s eyes hardened and so did Angel’
s, but their thoughts were self-condemning and not directed toward each other. Preston watched as Angel plastered a beaming smile on her face and went to greet the evening’s first diners.
Rebecca woke slowly and stared at the lace curtain on the window. Not only was the curtain all wrong, the window itself was in the wrong place. She shifted her head against the pillow to find the door and in doing so caught the slightest hint of perfume. The night before flooded in on her.
Because she felt achy and a little sick to her stomach, Rebecca rose slowly and padded to the door. The floor felt gritty under her feet, and she remembered Angel’s words about hating to clean.
Her steps still quiet, Rebecca moved down the hall. The light from her own bedroom window illumined the hall as did the light from the bedroom she was approaching. Rebecca didn’t cross the threshold, but from the doorway she looked at her hostess, or rather what she could see of her.
Angel’s face was hidden, but a wealth of pale blonde hair lay fanned over the pillows. There was no sound and there was no movement, and Rebecca also remembered that Angel said she was a sound sleeper. She went back to her bedroom and had a swift look around. She felt little emotion at the moment and realized that she was simply too tired to care. Her head swung in the direction of Angel’s room as though she could see through walls. The other woman had made it sound as if she would sleep half the day away.
A noise came from outside, wagon wheels or a cart, and then a dog barked. Rebecca knew they would never disturb her as she climbed back into bed in broad daylight, something she had never done in her life. She was asleep in less than five minutes.
12