Long Time Gone

by Mary Connealy

  “I’m trying to remember . . .” Finally Heath gave up and shrugged. “I can’t say her words exactly, but the impression I got was that under the peaceful surface, many people—or maybe just a few—want this land back as part of Mexico.”

  Justin tried to remember as well, not sure he’d even been there when Heath heard Rosita’s opinion. “We’ll ask her about it when we get home. And see if she knows what tener cuidado means. And we’ll see if she actually knows any people with those attitudes.” Justin thought of his questioning Miss Maria and what it had led to. He’d stop kicking up questions if he wasn’t fighting for his family’s life.

  Heath nodded. “Let’s get home. I don’t like that we’ve been gone for so long. And I don’t want to be on the trail after dark. Keep your eyes and ears and nose open. And keep low. No sense making a good target for anyone.”

  They set a quick pace. They’d made it about halfway home, when Heath said, “Mel headed out this morning and is back working at the orphanage. It’s time to send Angie home—you know that, right? Cole doesn’t need anyone sitting with him anymore. He mightn’t be at full strength, but no one needs to watch over him. We know for a fact the orphanage isn’t safe, either.”

  Justin had an image bright in his head of Angie at the orphanage, bullets flying, her dying under the gun of a dry-gulcher. He should keep her at the CR. He frowned at Heath, who grinned back at him.

  “And one of the two women leaving is making you upset. I wonder which one?”

  Justin wasn’t about to admit that Mel hadn’t even occurred to him. It was that delicate, sweet, beautiful, citified Angie who was in his thoughts. Which was stupid because Mel was one of the finest women he knew, and she’d make the perfect rancher’s wife, while everything about Angie told Justin she’d be better off back in a city. She looked like she belonged in refined clothes with an equally refined husband. And Justin wasn’t that. In fact, she’d be a perfect wife for Cole. And just thinking that made something burn in his gut that he’d never felt before.

  Jealousy.

  Justin didn’t want to think about it. “Just keep up. See if you can get some speed out of that puny horse of yours.”

  Of course, Heath’s buckskin was one of the prettiest critters Justin had ever seen. Big, strong, well-trained, and quick as lightning. But needling Heath was a good way to end this conversation.

  “See if you can stay with me, Boden.” Heath kicked his horse gently, mainly controlling the animal using his hands and pressure from his thighs. He surged ahead, but Justin was riding his pa’s fast bay, so there was no being left behind. His mount was a near-perfect horse, and one that loved a challenge.

  Yet their galloping had more to do with getting home than winning a race.

  “Cole, couldn’t you please stay in bed for just a couple more days?” Angie didn’t try to get bossy. She’d seen how Cole reacted to that with Mel, Sadie, and Justin. He just did exactly the opposite of what he got ordered to do.

  Cole came up to Angie, frowning. “Haven’t Justin and Heath come home yet?”

  Angie had to swallow hard to clear her throat enough to talk. “No, and I didn’t expect them to be gone so long.”

  “Is supper ready?”

  “Yes. I was just coming in to ask if you’re ready for me to bring in a plate.”

  “I’ll eat at the table. I managed breakfast. I’m about half out of my mind from lying around. Surely sitting in a chair won’t harm me.”

  Angie didn’t see herself winning any arguments with Cole, a man who clearly had a will stronger than her own. “Come on out. Mel’s gone home.”

  Cole frowned over that, too, and Angie imagined he was remembering their earlier fight.

  “Sadie and Rosita are putting food on the table right now. A chair won’t hurt you one bit.”

  With a nod of satisfaction, Cole rested his hand on her back to urge her out of the room. They walked into the kitchen. Sadie had made a plate up for Cole, and while she arched a brow in displeasure, she didn’t nag. She sat the plate down and grabbed a platter of fried chicken and another of Rosita’s wonderful biscuits as Cole settled in at the head of the table. Sadie sat down just around the corner from Cole on his right. Angie sat around the corner from him on his left. He wondered if they planned to cut his food for him. Maybe spoon-feed him?

  Rosita came and sat beside Angie. He enjoyed female attention to a point, but he was long past that point right now.

  The sun was low in the sky, and Sadie looked out the kitchen window compulsively.

  Then her tense shoulders relaxed. “Here they come. What could have taken them all day?”

  Cole heaved a sigh of relief just as Angie did. All three of them smiled at their matching sounds. Rosita stood and made short work of putting a plate at the other end of the table, another one beside Sadie.

  They were just in place when the back door swung open. Justin came in first, inhaled, and said, “Rosita’s fried chicken. That’s the best welcome—”

  “Justin, what happened?” Angie stood so quickly her chair slid backward and tipped over. “You’re coated in blood.”

  His lighthearted greeting faded. He looked down at himself. “I’ve got to go and change.” He left the room, and his footsteps could be heard pounding up the stairs to the second floor.

  Heath went straight to the basin to wash up. He wasn’t nearly as bloody, though there was a splatter here and there. He moved to the table and sank down beside Sadie as if he had little strength left.

  “I hate to say this . . .” Looking grim, his eyes slid from Cole to Rosita, then to his wife. “Miss Maria is dead.”

  Sadie grabbed his arm. “Not Maria.” Her voice broke as she went on. “No, please . . . not that. Not one of the ladies from Safe Haven.”

  “We think the gunman was shooting at Justin. The first shot was closer to him and barely missed him. Then there was more gunfire, and three bullets hit Maria. She ended up saving Justin’s life.” He reached for a chicken leg, but his arm dropped back. His expression said the thought of food wasn’t welcome now.

  Those at the table sat there stunned. Angie too, even though she hadn’t known Miss Maria long. And what she knew of her was sad. Maria spent every free moment closed in her bedroom. She wasn’t one to talk much or welcome anyone. She was given to melancholy and long prayers, all done on her knees, her face nearly to the floor as if begging for forgiveness.

  The children lifted her spirits, and Angie could tell she loved them. But it had worried Angie that the children were under pressure to cheer up their teacher every day. That seemed the opposite of how it should be. Orphans should be surrounded by people who were aware of their hardships and who did their best not to burden them further.

  But Angie knew that Sister Margaret and Sister Louise had loved their downcast friend, and they’d done their best, as had the children, to keep her spirits up. They would be heartbroken. She noticed tears sliding silently down Sadie’s face. Heath wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.

  Just then, Justin came back into the room. As he settled at the table, Angie had one more thing to say. “What a noble way to die. Maria gave her life for a friend—there’s no greater love. God is gathering her into His arms right now. I know she was a woman of faith. She is happier now than she’s ever been, secure at the feet of Jesus.”

  That brought everyone’s head up, including Justin’s. Angie saw everyone’s eyes brighten and their shoulders square. Sadie dabbed her handkerchief at her eyes. Heath reached for the chicken.

  Quietly, Justin said, “Thank you, Angie. It was a terrible thing to have her die in my arms, to die in my place. I feel so ashamed—I should have moved faster. I should have protected her.” He closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them and lifted his chin. “But you’re right. For someone to give so sacrificially, we need to respect that she died that way. I needed to hear that because I hadn’t gotten there in my thoughts yet. I hope I would have on my own, but I’ll do it sooner
because of you.”

  Rosita said, “Let’s all take a moment to give thanks to God that He sent Miss Maria into our lives. And pray for her happiness as she goes to a better place.”

  When they went back to eating, Justin told them what had happened. He included that Heath had driven the gunman off before a bullet could find Justin. They spoke of the sheriff and Sister Margaret’s grief.

  “I have to go back. They were already shorthanded.” Angie gave Cole a wry smile. “And you are well—not full strength, but in good shape. You no longer need someone sitting with you at all times.”

  “I don’t know, Angie.” Justin stopped eating his chicken, held in two hands. His eyes were shadowed with worry. “The orphanage is where this shooting occurred.”

  “But weren’t there bullets fired out here, too?” Angie reminded him. “Where in the entire West can a person be ensured of complete safety? Where in the whole world?”

  Justin got a stubborn look that usually foretold of an argument and orders being issued.

  She held up the flat of her hand. “I thank you for thinking of my safety. I plan to tell Sister Margaret that we all should stay inside or maybe play outside the front door rather than the back. It’s cold out and we have a lot of plans for Christmas next week, so I don’t think the children will mind. I’m sure she’s thought of many precautions already. But I have to go back. Two elderly nuns can’t run the orphanage themselves. And I won’t protect myself while the children go without care and my beloved aunt is overwhelmed by work. If they’re in danger, it makes me a coward to stay away when they can’t leave.”

  The silence at the table seemed to have weight.

  Finally, Justin nodded. “We’ve lost the light. It would be best if you could wait until tomorrow to go. You’ll be escorted on the trail to town.”

  “Thank you. I will go back in the morning.” Angie smiled through her sadness. She had enjoyed her time here, watching this family love each other, even when they squabbled. All the more reason she needed to get back to town and help her aunt, her only remaining family.

  She rose to begin gathering the dirty dishes, then stopped and looked at everyone. “As dangerous as it is here in the West, it’s the best place I’ve ever lived. I love it here.”

  She turned quickly, afraid of what she might see in their eyes. The best she could hope for was pity.

  13

  Justin didn’t give a lot of thought to what was proper in his life, but it was mighty hard to get rid of Angie the next morning, or he should say, get her home to the orphanage. And it all came down to propriety.

  “A woman should never ride out alone with a man.” She spoke it as if it were a commandment straight out of the Good Book.

  “I thought that was a rule for young women. Aren’t the rules for widows a little easier?” Honest, he’d never given it a bit of thought before, not until about one minute ago when he’d been stumped by her commandment.

  He boosted her onto her horse, and she grabbed the saddle horn to keep herself from going right over the other side. He caught her and centered her on the saddle.

  She glared at him until he felt like he might have burn marks on his face. It took him a minute to try to figure out why. “Uh . . . that is, I’m not saying you’re not young.”

  She sniffed and faced forward as they rode, both hands clinging to the saddle horn with the reins twisted here and there between her fingers.

  The woman needed riding lessons.

  “And anyway, who’s gonna be upset? Sister Margaret? I’ve known her my whole life. She trusts me.”

  “It’s still not proper.”

  Sadie and Rosita were up to their elbows scrubbing Cole’s bedroom upstairs because Angie had stayed in the room for the days she’d been here, and Cole had declared he was moving back in. Then they had Ma and Pa’s room to clean. He should’ve made Sadie quit cleaning to ride along, but they both knew Rosita would do it all herself.

  Justin found himself trapped into riding Angie to town. He needed to stay home and take action with his cowhands and root out the traitor. But for the same reason he didn’t feel like he could send Angie to town with one of his cowhands. Besides, that’d probably not be very proper either.

  “It’s not like there’s any chance we would behave improperly—that’s a concern for courting couples. And we don’t even like each other.” He said it to reassure her, even though as he spoke he knew what he’d said wasn’t strictly true.

  Turning the widest, saddest eyes he’d ever seen on him, Angie said, “You don’t like me?”

  “Well, I like you some.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Let’s ride faster. The less time together, the less improper it is.”

  “What exactly do you mean by improper anyway? Is this some high-society rule? I’ve ridden all over this country with Mel Blake. No one’s ever accused us of being improper. And Sadie rides to town with my cowhands as escort. She’s in good, safe hands with them.” Of course, he didn’t believe that anymore.

  “It’s fine, Justin.” Now she just sounded snooty. “Let’s just make the best we can of this improper situation.”

  It seemed whatever he said set her off one way or another. He wanted to apologize, say something to make it better, but every time he opened his mouth he made it worse. Justin found himself daydreaming about a longhorn bull he’d roped and thrown a while back. The bull had been limping, and he needed to check its leg. The slashing horns and churning hooves, combined with fifteen hundred pounds of gristle and murderous rage, was a whole lot easier to handle than one fussy woman.

  It had never once in his life before bothered him to ride long distances in silence, but for some half-witted reason right now he couldn’t stand it. So he asked the question that was burning in his gut. “Tell me about your life back in Omaha. It must’ve been real bad. Was your husband a louse? How long’s he been dead?”

  She stared at him, her hazel eyes wide and worried. There was such vulnerability there, for a moment he regretted asking. At the same time he was even more determined to know.

  “M-my husband had been dead over a year when I left Omaha. When he died, I found we were deeply in debt. I had to turn everything over to our bill collectors, and there were some financial troubles at the bank my husband owned. If he hadn’t died, there is little doubt he was headed for ruin and possibly prison.” She fell silent.

  There was no possible way he could help being curious. “So what did you do after he died?”

  More silence, until finally she said, “I moved here to be with Aunt Margaret.”

  Which he knew wasn’t a fraction of the story, but from the stubborn set of her chin, he didn’t think he could get more words out of her. Not now.

  He noticed the high hill rising up on the west side of the trail and the heavy forest closing in from the east. The trail was still wide, but a skilled rifleman would make his shot count. It wasn’t a long stretch. Yesterday with Heath, he’d ridden hard past it, bent low over their horses. Of course, they’d ridden like that the whole way home.

  That was beyond Miss City Girl’s riding skills.

  “We walk on foot for a while now.” He pulled his horse to a stop, and she was just seconds behind him pulling up her mare. He was already on the ground. Rounding his horse, he reached up and helped her from the saddle so that they stood sandwiched between the horses. He had to pry her hands loose from the saddle and untangle the reins from between each finger.

  “Why are we walking? I’ve never had to walk on this trail before.”

  “Haven’t you been on it only once before?”

  Her only answer was to sniff.

  “The reason I want to walk is because someone might be gunning for us from the highlands. Walking between the horses is safer.”

  They continued on quietly, Justin carefully studying the land, his eyes eagle-sharp as he watched for any unexplained movement, his ears listening for any sounds that didn’t belong. He kept his nose busy too, knowing you coul
d often smell a man before you could see him.

  “The trail widens soon. Then we can ride again.”

  Angie glanced sideways at him, her expression one of sadness.

  “What’s the matter, Angie?” Without thinking whether it was wise, he reached for her hand and held it as they walked, wanting to give her comfort. Hoping she could feel his strength and his willingness to protect her from this harsh world.

  A tiny shrug of one shoulder wasn’t an answer, and then her lips turned down even further. Justin thought they could ride the horses again, but he hoped if they walked just a bit more, maybe she’d tell him her troubles. He might be able to fix them.

  Speaking just above a whisper, she asked, “Do you really not like me?”

  He stopped in his tracks. Her horse stuck with Justin’s and stopped. Facing her, Justin tried not to be such a complete lunkhead. What does a man say to a woman to cheer her up? At the rate he was going, he’d probably make things worse.

  He prided himself on being an honest man. But that usually amounted to yelling orders while he and his men herded cattle. Still, he didn’t know any other way to be than straightforward. Surely there was a way to be honest without being a half-wit.

  “I like you real well, Angie.”

  She lifted her chin, and there was a spark of hope now in her eyes, peeking out from behind the sadness.

  He tugged his leather gloves off and tucked them behind his belt. Without really thinking what he was doing, he touched her cheek with his index finger. He had a cattleman’s hands—rough, scarred, and callused—made that way from long hours working in a rugged land. The moment he touched her, he knew he shouldn’t have.

  Because he found out how soft she was. Instantly a longing awakened within him to touch her again. “When you came to town and collapsed and I caught you, held you in my arms, I thought I held the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  “But my face was covered with soot. My dress was filthy, and I’m sure I smelled terrible.”

  “I admit I looked forward to seeing you all cleaned up.”