Her eyes widened, and then she closed them and chuckled. “Well, I guess yer a smart one. Can’t pull any wool over yer eyes, now, can we?”
Malcolm, fed up, threw down the dishtowel and, reining in his anger as best he could, got up in her face, steeling his emotions. “I asked, who were you with? Where did you go?”
She huffed and leaned back, away from his imposing face. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
The urge to strike her flared in his chest, but he snuffed it out. He’d never hit a woman in his life, and he never would—no matter how much he felt they could use a licking. It wasn’t his place to mete out justice; that was the Lord’s. Malcolm wiped his hands, and noted the symbolism of his actions. He would wipe his hands of Stella as well. As much as he’d hoped to make things work between them, it was obvious now his hopes had been foolhardy.
He studied her puffy eyes and powder-smeared face, feeling only disgust for this woman he had previously valued. But she was like fool’s gold—pretty and sparkling on the outside, but worthless and disappointing on the inside.
“I pity you,” he said. Stella swiveled and narrowed her eyes at him.
“Oh, is that right?” she slurred, bobbling her head.
He put his hands on his hips and clucked his tongue on his teeth. “You’re young and comely, and have a pretty smile. But you’re empty inside. You don’t care for others’ feelings. You know nothing about loving someone proper. No man will ever truly love you—not the way you are—no matter how hard you try to win that love. You’ll spend your life trying to find happiness, but it will always be just a finger’s reach away. Men only want one thing from women like you—”
Stella’s hand flew so fast, Malcolm felt the hot sting on his cheek before he realized she’d swatted him. Her cold, unloving eyes glowered at him, but he noticed her hands shook as she set them in her lap.
“How dare you . . .” She swung away from him and stared out the window, rigid in posture.
Malcolm regretted his outburst, but the God’s honest truth was she needed to hear his words. His gut soured as if he’d eaten a rotten apple. He wanted to march out, right now. Leave and never return. But he knew deep in his heart that Stella was the only person who could tell him who he was and where he came from. Neither strangling her nor leaving would procure him the answers he sought, yet he knew now that sweet-talking or coaxing her wouldn’t work either.
He stood, fuming, unblinking, unable to think, act, or decide on a course of action.
He looked over at his wife. She had fallen asleep at the table, her cheek pressed against the hard wood surface, her snores puncturing the silence in the small kitchen. Malcolm stared at her, befuddled and numb. How had his life taken such a turn? If only he could remember the past. Then, he would know what to do. He wouldn’t need Stella or her secrets.
He resolved to ride this out—for what other choice did he have? Stay in Fort Collins, work, mind his own business. He hoped in time the truth would come out, or his memories would return. He knew his dreams were showing him bits and pieces of his past, of who he was. In time, he might have enough pieces to form a picture.
He looked at the bed in his bedroom with its neat patchwork counterpane draped over the goose-down mattress he had bought at Matson’s Furniture Emporium in town. Stella had picked out the most expensive one in the store. She had spent all the money they’d brought with them to Fort Collins, which made him grateful he had a steady job. But no longer would he give Stella everything she wanted—or claimed she “absolutely must have.” He didn’t need much to live on, and since it appeared as if she’d found someone to share her affections with, if she needed money, why, she could just ask that scalawag for a few coins. Or maybe she was already wringing money from him—and who knew how many others.
Malcolm rubbed his face and blew out a long breath. He had hoped to make a good impression in this new town—his new home. But he now realized he’d probably have to leave sooner or later. How could he hold his head high once the rumors—no, the facts—of his wife’s infidelity trailed after him like a hungry wolf? He couldn’t bear the disgrace on his character.
He had hoped his integrity, honor, and upstanding comportment would be enough to earn the respect of those around him, but he didn’t think those qualities could withstand the repercussions of Stella’s wanton and churlish behavior.
He would just have to get to the bottom of her lies, he thought, looking around the house and trying to guess where she might have hidden something she wanted to keep secret from him.
He grunted and raked a hand through his hair. It was going to take a whole lot of digging to get to that rock bottom. But he had no other choice. And once he had his answers, he’d get shed of this town and go somewhere, far away, and start over.
Chapter 15
“This is it,” Clare said, pulling on the reins and steering the two draft horses to the right and along a wide, smooth dirt road bordered by splendid pines.
Grace was glad to have finally arrived at the Banks Ranch, having had to soothe Ben the whole way, who fussed in her arms impatiently, wanting to climb down and explore. He was so much like his father—already, Grace thought with a mixture of comfort and sorrow. Eager to discover new places.
She pulled Ben up to stand on her legs so he could look around, balancing him as he took in the sights with delight. He talked in his cute jumble of sounds, which made Clare laugh as she brought the horses to a stop and adjusted her bonnet.
At the end of the road sat a wood-planked ranch house flanked by three barns of various sizes. Pastures with pole fencing enclosed fields mostly buried in snowdrifts, which stretched out behind the simple house.
A dog with black and white splotches came running toward their wagon from behind the house, barking in piercing yips, but Grace could tell he was friendly. Clare tousled the dog’s fur as she stepped down from the bench seat. “You’re a cute one,” she told the dog, then looked around the spread. Off in the distance, close to the farthest and newest barn, a dozen or more horses stood near a water trough.
Clare held out her arms for Ben, and Grace handed him down to her, then alighted from the wagon. She was grateful for a warm June day after the heavy snowfall days before. How quickly the weather changed in Colorado! Water dripped steadily from the pines lining the road and from the eaves of the house, and the air smelled wonderfully damp and invigorating. Grace gathered Ben into her arms, and he squirmed to get down.
“Do I look presentable?” Clare asked, her tone revealing how nervous she was. She smoothed out the pretty Irish plaid dress she was wearing, and Grace could tell Clare was not a bit comfortable in her petticoats. But Clare wanted to make a good impression on Sarah, Eli’s mother. Grace chuckled recalling that Eli had sounded much more nervous than she about the meeting. But she couldn’t imagine anyone not liking Clare.
Grace had dressed in a simple cotton skirt and blouse, and now, standing in the warmth of the late morning sun, she was glad she hadn’t worn the heavy woolen traveling suit she’d first considered. The wind had made a bit of a mess with her hair, but she did her best to adjust the pins, which was awkward to do with a wiggling ten-month-old in her arms.
The door to the house flew open, and Eli strode out, walking toward them with a bright smile on his face. He was dressed in pressed brown trousers and a blue chambray shirt, and his wheat-straw hair was slicked back. His face was smooth, showing he’d just shaved, and he made a little clucking noise as he came up to Clare.
“Well, look at you,” he said with a tease in his voice. “You look right pretty, Miss Clare Ferne McKay.”
She punched his arm playfully and whispered, “You look like you’re about to be hauled to church.”
Eli chuckled and said hello to Grace, then tickled Ben under the chin. “Come on in,” he said, looking at the horses, who stood sleepily in the driveway, no doubt enjoying their reprieve from both the recent winter weather and the trek over from Fort Collins on the slushy road.
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“Let me get LeRoy out here to unhitch your horses, and then I’ll bring you in for proper introductions.” He gave Clare a wink and went back into the house.
Grace looked at her friend and saw the dreamy glow in her eyes. She smiled, glad for Clare’s happiness, but her own misery assaulted her as she thought how she used to look at Monty like that. How that spark of new love had flared into a brighter, hotter fire once they married. How even now when she thought of him her pulse quickened and her body ached for his.
She pushed her painful thoughts aside and waited. Presently, Eli came out with another young man, one with darker hair and eyes, and clearly of Indian descent. Grace noted he walked with a slight swagger, and he stood a few inches taller than his fairer brother.
Eli said to her, “This here’s LeRoy, Miss Cunningham.” LeRoy gave her a friendly smile and nodded hello. It was clear he’d met Clare before, for he shot her a welcoming look that was a little less reserved.
“Please, just call me Grace,” she told them both. It felt awkward to be called “miss” when she was truly a “missus,” but she couldn’t tell them that. No one in town deigned to refer to her as a married woman or even a widow. None except Alan. Patterson, the clerk. He at least seemed to believe her story.
The two men nodded, then LeRoy took the horses’ reins and led them, still hitched to the wagon, in through the open carriage doors of the nearest barn.
“Ma’s eager to meet you,” Eli said, mostly to Clare. “I shouldn’t have waited so long—she’s been givin’ me grief over it.” He took Clare’s hand and squeezed it, looking just as nervous as she. Clare drew in a long breath and straightened, then followed Eli into the house. Grace came in behind them, hoisting Ben in her arms. She hoped he didn’t fuss too much or get into trouble, and she was thankful Eli’s mother had allowed her to bring him.
A delicious aroma greeted her—baked bread and something savory, like stew. She took in the cozy kitchen with the yellow gingham curtains and the lacquered pine cabinets and plank flooring. A jar of perky yellow wildflowers sat on a big thick wood table, and Grace wondered where Eli’s mother could have found such flowers in the midst of all the snow. The table was set with simple crockery and silverware, but everything was neat and clean, and showed thoughtful placement and a woman’s touch.
Eli left Grace and Clare and went into the next room. Grace heard him calling, “Ma, Ma—where are you? Clare’s here.”
A back door slapped against wood, and presently Grace saw Eli come back into the kitchen with his mother.
Sarah Banks was a large woman with strong features, hers a round face with high cheekbones, her skin a gleaming brown. Dark hair fell back over her shoulders in two thick braids, and she wore a heavy brown linen skirt and something akin to a man’s tailored plaid shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. Her fist clenched around a bundle of cooking herbs, from what Grace could gather. Eli went and stood by the big cast-iron stove, his head cocked, staring at Clare with adoration. He looked pleased to have brought Clare home to meet his mother, as if eager to show her off, although a bit worried if Sarah would approve.
Sarah greeted her and Clare warmly, and Grace immediately liked her and felt at ease. Without asking, Sarah scooped Ben into her arms and looked a long while into his eyes. Grace was surprised at how quiet and focused Ben got, staring into Sarah’s face. Then Sarah laughed, and Ben joined her in his exuberant way, his eyes sparkling.
“He’s a darlin’, Grace. I bet he looks just like his pa.” Sarah ran her fingers through Ben’s wispy hair, and Grace thought with sadness—not for the first time—how much she wished her aunt was still alive so she could hold Ben in her arms. She had so loved children and had never had any of her own.
Grace’s throat choked a bit as she nodded. Sarah studied her with compassion, which made Grace wonder how much Eli had told his mother about her.
Sarah gently squeezed Ben’s cheeks, and he pulled on her hair. But instead of scolding him, she merely laughed and then set him down on the kitchen floor. He promptly headed over to a stack of pots and pans, but Sarah didn’t seem to mind. Grace was glad she was comfortable having a baby crawling around her house.
“Now,” Sarah said, turning to Clare and smiling approvingly. “I’ve been lookin’ forward to meetin’ you, Clare. Eli needs a woman that can keep him on the straight and narrow and outta trouble, and most of ’em he’s courted have done nothin’ but get him into trouble. You’ve made a new man of him, that’s plain to see. Something a mother is glad for.”
“Thank you for invitin’ us,” Clare said demurely, a blush on her cheeks. Grace hadn’t seen Clare this shy. “I’ve been so lookin’ forward to meetin’ you, Mrs. Banks.”
Sarah waved a dismissive hand in the air. “We don’t cotton to formalities here. Just call me Sarah. Come, girls,” she said, gesturing them to the table. “Sit here while I finish up preparin’ lunch, and we can talk.”
Clare threw Grace a nervous glance, but Grace shrugged and smiled. They both sat.
Sarah laughed. “Clare, Eli’s told me so much about you, I feel as though I already know you plenty. But don’t let that notion scare you—he only has nice things to say, and from the sound of it, you love horses almost as much as he does. And that’s sayin’ a lot.” She turned and looked at Eli, whose smile took up most of his face.
“Wait till you see her handle a horse, Ma. She’s the best roper I’ve ever seen.”
Grace laughed behind her hand. It struck her funny that these seemed to be the highest compliments Eli could offer on Clare’s behalf. But then, he and his mother and brother raised and trained horses. No doubt having some riding skills earned high marks with Sarah.
“I didn’t tell you this,” Eli said cautiously to his mother, “but Clare and I are gonna enter the team ropin’ at the centennial race next month.”
Sarah narrowed her eyes, then dunked the herbs into a tub of water that sat on the long wooden counter behind her. “Team ropin’, huh?” She shook the water off the herbs and started chopping them on a wood block. “You think ropin’ with a girl might raise a few eyebrows?” She turned and looked at Clare, assessing her. “Hmm. Maybe she’ll show you up, make you look foolish.”
Eli chuckled and waved a hand. “We’ve been practicin’. No one’ll laugh when they watch us take the ribbon.”
“You’re awfully confident,” she said, but she gave Clare a wink.
LeRoy came tromping in through the front door after wiping his feet on the rough doormat. “Hey, that smells great,” he said, going over to the sink and washing up. “Lunch ready yet?”
Sarah tossed the seasonings into the big cast-iron pot simmering on the flat top of the stove. “Another ten minutes.” She looked at Clare and Grace. “You girls want to freshen up after your ride? Eli, show them where the bathing room is.” She looked down at Ben, who was banging on the iron pans with his hands. “I’ll watch the little one.”
“Thank you, Sarah,” Clare said. “This is so nice of ya to have us over.”
“About time Eli brought you home. I was beginning to think he made you up.”
Clare laughed. “No, I’m real.”
“I told ya, Ma.” He chuckled, and then walked with them to a small room off the back of the house. “Privy’s just out there, if’n you need it. There’s a water pump just outside the door.” He pointed through the window. “Glad you had a nice day to travel. Run into any scalawags along the way?”
“No,” Clare said with a pout. “And I was itchin’ for a fight too,” she added in an exaggerated Western twang.
Eli snuck in a quick peck to her cheek, and his face flushed.
Clare smacked him on the head. “Eli!” she whispered harshly, “behave yourself. I’m trying to make a nice impression.”
He laughed and swung her in close. She covered her mouth with her hand as a squeal eked out.
“Well, my ma’s so keen to see me married and settled that I don’t think you could do anythin’ to spoil that
good impression. Less’n of course you say something unkind about her cooking. Or about her horses.” He thought a moment. “Or start talkin’ politics, or—”
Clare pressed her hand over his mouth. “Go,” she said. “We ladies have to freshen up.”
He smirked, gave an exaggerated bow, and spun around. Clare shook her head and said, “I really do love that man. He makes me laugh.”
“You’re well suited,” Grace said. “And it sure looks like he plans to marry you.”
Clare looked at herself in the mirror and fussed with her hair. Grace marveled at the rich red color that offset her shining green eyes. “You two will make some pretty babies.”
“Oh!” Clare said, her eyes wide. “I’m not even hitched yet and yer already talking babies.”
“Well, they usually follow . . . hitching.” She laughed, and Clare joined her.
“Don’t I know!” Clare said. “I’ve already spent most of my life changin’ diapers and washin’ clothes and chasin’ toddlers around. Wouldn’t be nothin’ new.”
Grace smiled. She was so glad to be away from Fort Collins, if even just for a day. Even though her problems would still be waiting for her when she returned, she vowed to push all her worries and heartache far from her mind and just enjoy the friendly company of people who didn’t gossip or think badly of her. She imagined Monty here with her, and thought how much he’d fit in. He didn’t abide pretentious people either, and liked nothing more than to sit around sharing adventure stories and learning where people came from and what they were interested in.
Monty. She let out a trembling sigh. She would never be able to stop thinking about him, stop hurting. He was such a part of her—how could she think she could push him out of her mind, even for a day?
She excused herself to go use the privy and went out back. When she finished, she washed up at the pump and smoothed her hair and clothing, then found Clare with Sarah and her family in the kitchen. Clare cuddled Ben on her lap. He had a slice of apple in his hand, and he used his four little teeth to scrape and eat the fruit, his face tight in concentration at the task. Grace noticed a big woven basket piled with clean white sheets next to the table.
Colorado Hope (The Front Range Series Book 2) Page 16