Lizzie and the Rebel

by Stephy Smith

  The only explanation she could come up with was that he cared enough to come to her rescue. A move she never expected. She would have to remember to thank him for saving her life. Her gift would be to set him free from her heart. A gift he wouldn’t ever possess. The gift he refused to accept. Tears welled up in her eyes.

  Chapter Nine

  Frank started a fire in the wood burning stove. He set to work on the stalls. He had to do something to calm his nerves. How could Lizzie be so selfish to leave without a word? What did she hope to gain from the outlandish exploit? The more he thought about her, the madder he got. The madder he got, the harder he worked.

  The handle of the pitchfork bore blisters on his hands as he tossed hay in the air. His arms ached with each mucking stab at the stall floors. A picture of a mountain lion crouched on the boulder, set to pounce on Lizzie scorched his brain. Moisture heated his eyes. Depths of agony clenched and twisted his heart. The loud bang of the gun surprised him when he shot the cat. It was the first time he had fired since leaving the war. He shivered.

  What was she thinking? Did she know he had spent hours, even days trying not to care for her? How could she not realize how much time he spent to put a wall between them in order to keep his heart in one piece?

  The noon hour had come and gone. Yet, he remained in the barn where he could burn off the stress of the morning. Not finding her in her room had sent the worst fear through his veins.

  Not even in the war had he felt so lost and hopeless. The guilt of being a burden to her life stabbed at him. He’d run to the barn and discovered the horse missing. His fear of her trapped on the mountain in a blizzard or the sight of the big cat feasting on her ambushed his thoughts.

  His eyes burned and he wiped the moisture from them. How could the tiny woman bring a grown man to tears? He fought the desire to yell out or punch something. He balled up his fists and then let them relax. After a few minutes rest, he took hold of the pitchfork and set back to work.

  One dark corner to go before he finished, he rested his head on the handle of the pitchfork. His eyes scanned the barn to check his accomplishments. That’s when he saw the trunk tucked in the corner.

  A strong desire pulled him to it. The trunk held some kind of magnetic force. It didn’t look much different than any other trunk he’d seen and, yet, there was still some kind of mystical power he couldn’t dismiss. He didn’t know how long he stood over it, nor did he care. All he knew was he shouldn’t open it.

  A quiver shook his hand when he reached for the clasp. To peer inside would be invading on Lizzie’s life. What kind of secrets had she bottled up inside the wooden structure? His curiosity of the mystery couldn’t still the love he felt for her.

  To invade on her privacy was not an option, something he refused to do, yet the intrigue of why it was in the barn and the possibility of her life story tested his inquisitiveness.

  Steady as he went, he cleaned around the trunk. His eyes glanced in its direction. No matter what he did, even when he turned his back, he could still feel the force pulling him closer. It had to be Lizzie’s trunk. She was the only thing in the world that had that kind of power over him.

  He fought a constant battle to stay away from her and the feelings she exposed in him. No matter what he tried, his love for her grew stronger every day. How would he walk off this mountain without her?

  He couldn’t. Plain and simple, he couldn’t.

  He glanced back at the trunk. Dust and hay littered the top and sides. It appeared to have been covered at one time. With a handful of hay he bundled together, he dusted off the deserted trunk.

  Looking to the barn door, then back at the trunk, he longed to know why he should stay with a woman as complicated as Lizzie. He reached for the leather straps, unbuckled them, and buckled them back. No matter what kind of mystery pulled him, he would not pry into Lizzie’s life. If she wanted him to know what was hidden inside, she could tell him.

  He hoisted the trunk from the frozen floor and carried it to the door of the cabin.

  Lizzie stood in front of the fireplace. The cabin sparkled as bright as possible for a crude structure. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She remembered her mother, who’d always kept the place cheerful and shiny.

  Her mother would stand by the fire, looking over the cabin as Lizzie did now with a smile on her face. She once asked her mother why she was happy after a hard day of cleaning. Her mother simply stated, “That’s what pleases your father.”

  One more glance around, and she entered her room. In front of the mirror, she glared at the reflection staring back at her. Reaching for the brush, she organized her hair in a bun and walked to the closet. Her fingers ran over the dresses inside, and she pulled out a green velvet dress with puffy sleeves.

  The low neckline accented with white lace was sure to catch Frank’s eye. Without many choices, she would prove she could be a proper woman.

  Her smile faded. Why should she prove anything to such an impossible man? He yelled at her and didn’t have a reason. She was taking care of her ranch, which had been neglected far too long. The heartache he caused her was wrong.

  She brushed off the pain and focused on winning his favor. No easy answer came to her as to how she would accomplish this endeavor. She couldn’t give up. Soon it would be time for him to leave this mountain. The reality of the situation slapped her in the face. She couldn’t let him go.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  One last glance in the mirror, Lizzie made up her mind to make him want to stay. If he wanted to stay he should say so, but he said he wanted to go.

  How would she show him what he would be missing if he left? Thunder pounded in her chest. A deep desire for his touch scorched her body. Why did she need him to stay, want him to stay? Her mind refused to accept anything other than that he would stay.

  The dress clung to her body, and Lizzie returned to the closet. On the floor inside the door, she bent down and picked up the carved wooden jewelry box. Her father had carved roses in the lid and the side to present to her mother. Her long fingers traced the beautiful roses and worked up enough nerve to open the lid to the beautiful jewelry inside.

  A cameo set against green velvet rested on top. Lizzie grasped the precious piece and fastened it around her neck. Tenderly, she placed the box back on the floor of the closet and walked to the dressing table for one last view.

  She wrestled with unquenchable desire. The steadfast mission to entice Frank to stay transformed a mountain girl into a fine, upstanding woman. One that she hoped he would be proud to stand beside and claim as his.

  Pleased with the reflection, she glanced to the door. A loud thud from the front room drew her attention to the outer room. She took a deep breath before she twisted the handle on the door. She stood straight. She casually walked out with her thundering heart.

  Frank’s back was to her. He glanced over his shoulder. An appreciative eye scanned her from head to toe. Openly, he stared at her with awe-inspired approval. They stared at each other. Neither said a word. Neither made a move.

  Lizzie’s heart picked up pace. She couldn’t force herself to look away. Something about the rugged, handsome face of Frank after a hard day’s work, the expanse of his shoulders, his slender waist that melted into long legs, sent fire to her core. She’d never paid much attention to the man as a whole before. This must be the way her mother had felt when her father entered a room.

  “I brought the trunk in. I hope you don’t mind,” Frank said, pointing to the large container.

  “Where did you find it?” She took a step closer to the trunk.

  “It was in the back of the barn. I thought you would like to have it inside.” His voice was mellow and controlled.

  Lizzie floated across the room with grace, pulled a chair next to the trunk, sat on the edge, and softly said, “Let’s see what’s in it.”

  The last time she’d seen the trunk it had been at the mansion. None of the people there would have touche
d her mother’s things let alone transfer them to the cabin without some kind of notification. She hadn’t sent for it. Too many painful memories locked inside caught her breath. Now was the time to face the things she’d run from for years.

  Frank’s breath wedged in his chest at the sight of her. Unable to pull his eyes from her, he stood speechless. He tried to think of something to say. His mind wasn’t helping. All he could do was gaze at her clear blue eyes. Her rosy lips invited him to taste when she smiled, and the pink in her cheeks added a glow to her soft face.

  Stars sparkled in her eyes and he watched the gentle flow of Lizzie’s movements. With delight, he couldn’t help but watch the woman. He struggled to regain his composure. Awkwardness as he moved across the room to the other chair brought a flush to his cheeks. Desire brought his body to attention like no staff sergeant could. He carried the chair closer, then he reached down and unbuckled the hinges.

  “Do you know what’s in it?” he asked.

  “No, do you?” Her face took on a delicate but curious look.

  “No. I wanted to look. I didn’t feel it was right,” he confessed. Lizzie pulled a key from a leather strip on the back and handed it to him. He opened the lid and gasped. He twisted around to her.

  Tears glistened on her long lush lashes. She stared at the beautiful doeskin dress. She reached down and picked it up. With her eyes closed, she rubbed it across her face. The softness, the smell, and the beads that hung from tiny strands on the dress brought a smile to her lips. Holding it out, she rubbed it against Frank’s cheek to let him feel the tenderness, love, and care put into the making of the dress.

  “This was my mother’s wedding dress.” Her voice came soft and slow.

  An unexplainable heat stirred within him. “You look beautiful tonight.” He rocked back and tipped his head. A deep flush rose from her chest to her cheeks. He had never seen her so humble, pure, and intoxicatingly beautiful. Her transformation from mountaineer rancher to well-defined woman was incredible.

  “Thank you. What do we have next? In the trunk.” She blushed. She appeared happier, and that impressed him. The light in her eyes intertwined with her curiosity of what treasures the trunk held.

  The unquestionable glow on her face reminded him of a kid in a candy store. He handed her two tortoise shell combs. “These would be beautiful in your hair.” His discomfort sounded in his own ears.

  She laid the combs in her lap. “I thought all of these things were lost to me.”

  Frank tensed. “Lizzie, I know I should not have pried in your business. I’m not going to say I’m sorry I did. I am sorry I overreacted.”

  She lightly touched his arm. “I should’ve told you where I was going. Can we continue this discussion when we finish with the trunk?”

  Frank sighed as he relaxed.

  “Was this your mother and father?” he asked, pulling a family photo from the trunk.

  Lizzie’s laugh filled the cabin. “That little rebellious girl with the pouty lip is me,” she pointed out.

  “You? Rebellious? I don’t see it. And this? What’s this?” he asked, handing her a large book.

  “That was mother’s diary. She wrote in that book every day. Someday I’ll read it,” she said, placing the book aside. A photo fell from within the pages.

  Frank picked up the photo and stared at it. He reached up and held it close to Lizzie’s face. He couldn’t believe how much she had matured, yet the resemblance was uncanny. “You haven’t aged a bit. You look so much like your mother. Where was this taken?”

  “At the mansion in town,” she said.

  “Was it in the family?”

  “It still is. Father wanted to prove Mother was as good as any of the women in town. It took a few years, but she proved her worth.”

  “Did you live there?”

  “In the winter. We stayed out here in the summer with Father. Every spring, Mother loaded us kids in the wagon and drove us out here. She taught us how to track, shoot, and look out for the ranch. Father always went along with us even though he knew Mother was a better protector in this area than he was.” Lizzie’s smile reached her eyes. “Mother would arrange to have social gatherings during the winter. She would have balls and serve up the best meals in town. She raised money for the needy by selling seats at some of the dinner parties. She funded the building for the orphanage. She was quite a woman,” Lizzie said with pride.

  “That’s what I’ve heard. You are too.”

  A musical laugh filled the cabin. “Mother served up a meal fit for a king. One of the women in town asked her for the recipe. Mother told her she didn’t have one, but she could teach her how to make the meal. This lady got real excited and invited one of her friends to come with her when she took the lesson.”

  “What happened?” Frank asked when Lizzie paused. The strong urge, the need to hear her voice, to see her smile and the twinkles in her blue eyes, gave youth back to him.

  “Mother loaded us all up in the wagon and brought us out here. She handed those two women rifles and told them to kill a deer. The looks on their faces were unmistakable horror. One of the women cried and couldn’t do it. Therefore, mother shot it for them. Then mother taught them how to skin it and prepare it for cooking. The other lady threw up when she plunged her knife in to gut it.” Choking back the laughter, Lizzie pulled her wits about her.

  Mesmerized by her story, he waited patiently for her to continue. He absorbed every word, every expression, and every tone in her laughter.

  “The other woman fainted, hit her head on a rock and had to get stitches. Mother always carried her needle and thread. She sewed the woman’s head. After dressing the deer, the women loaded it in the back of the wagon with us kids and we headed back to town where mother taught them to cook the deer on an open pit.” Lizzie grabbed her stomach and bent over.

  Frank panicked, jumped to his feet, and grabbed Lizzie’s shoulders. “What’s wrong? Does your stomach hurt?” He pulled her up to look at her face. Fear twisted his insides like a tornado tearing into a barn. What was wrong? Was she getting sick again?

  To his surprise, he found Lizzie laughing. Relief washed over him and he tried to calm his nerves. Her laughter floated in the air, adding life in the cabin. A peaceful comfort he hadn’t experienced since before the war. It was a special kind of warmth of being home. Acceptance and joy settled in his soul. He knew this was where he was meant to be. With this woman, sharing her life, sharing his life, raising their children, and making their own joyous memories.

  “Anyway, Mother gave the women a lesson in herbs and how to take the gamey taste out of the meat. Those two women never asked Mother to teach them how to cook again. They never refused to come to one of Mother’s dinner parties either.”

  Frank dabbed at the tears of laughter rolling down her face before he caught her silky cheeks in his hands. He pulled her close to him, kissing her with an unspeakable desire of making her his own. In that instant, he knew his heart now belonged to her. It didn’t matter what it took, he would make her his, make her want him and, more important, make her love him.

  The knock on the door interrupted the moment. Frank opened it furiously. Spirit sprang in and Doc followed.

  “Looks like you’re getting along well.” Doc strained for a better glance.

  “Yes, I’m well. Thank you.” Lizzie swiveled around.

  “I could hear joyous laughter halfway down the trail. I’ll be quick. If your offer still holds true to help out in town, we could sure use it. Half the town is sick,” Doc said.

  “Is in the morning soon enough?” Frank fought to keep his annoyance at bay.

  “That will be fine. I better get back,” Doc said, exiting the cabin.

  “Where were we? Oh yes, I think I was about to kiss you, Lizzie.”

  She walked toward him and wrapped her arms around his waist. His lips lowered to hers and he kissed her gently. That wasn’t enough for him. He intensified each kiss, letting his lips float across her cheeks,
ears, and down her soft, sensual neck. She leaned into him. Her smooth hands crossed his chest, testing his flexing muscles to the point of complete elation.

  He didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want her to stop. If she did, she may not come back to the place where they were now. The heaven he’d searched for, for so long was fixing to slip from him. He wasn’t ready to give it up.

  She pushed on his chest. “We better call it a night. We have a long day tomorrow.” Her voice was low and she slipped from his grasp before he could refuse.

  Chapter Ten

  Lizzie woke early, made breakfast and coffee, set the table, and finished the chores. Frank walked into the room. He ran his long fingers across his freshly combed hair. With a slight nod at Lizzie, he walked over, kissed her cheek, and bid her good morning.

  “If the clothes in the closet fit you, I would like you to have them,” Lizzie said. “They were Father’s. It would make him proud for you to wear them. There are more at the mansion. We’ll stay there while we’re in town.”

  “Do you plan on having a ball while we’re there also?” Frank teased, then he laughed.

  “That’s not a bad idea.” Her eyes sparkled. “We haven’t had one in a long time. You can get to know the town people.”

  The lead rope urged his cousin’s horses down the trail. Lizzie and Frank rode into town. Tufts of stutTnow tucked away under the shadows of trees hadn’t melted. The rush of the river soothed the strains of being pent up in the cabin. Fresh, crisp mountain air invigorated Lizzie’s lungs and skin.

  “I love these kinds of days. There don’t seem to be many of them. You have to take hold and burn them into your mind or you can lose them.” She raised her face to the sky and took a deep breath.

  Lizzie led the way to the mansion and pulled up in front of the iron gates. An elderly man appeared and peered up at the riders. “Miss Lizzie. Welcome home. It’s nice to see you’re better. The doc said you were ill for a few weeks.”

  “Yes. I feel fine now. This is Frank Walling. He’ll be staying here. We’re going to help Doc take care of the sick.”