by Anna Zogg
“Huh?” He straightened, pushing the brim of his hat back.
She stared down at her hands, clenched against her abdomen. “I noticed Mr. Callaway has not been present for any of the meals. Do you know why?” She again looked up at Guy.
His lips pursed and eyebrows clashed together. “I...” He shrugged. “I guess he don’t care to join us.”
“Is that normal? I mean, Cookie and Mrs. Johnson obviously are busy with preparation and serving, but do any of the other men eat at different times?”
He shrugged again.
Unwilling to single Rhett out as the sole purpose of their conversation, Ellie pressed on. “Which leads me to my next question. Do you know how Matt is doing?”
“Matt...?”
“The young man. With the blacksmith.”
“Think he’s doing okay.” Guy scratched his neck. “He don’t live here. He’s just an apprentice.”
Ellie inserted a level of sternness into her tone. “Please find out. And let me know.”
The foreman continued to squint at her. “Yes, ma’am.”
As he remained unmoving before her, she held out her hand to indicate the open doorway. “Go eat. Before your food gets cold.”
“Sure.” He nodded. “Uh, thanks.” Without another word, he wandered into the house.
Ellie remained outside, blowing out a breath of relief. And a small sense of victory. She strolled along the porch to the other side of the house and perched on the bench. There. She’d let Guy know she would follow up on any injuries that happened on the ranch. However, she had not yet settled how she was going to get to town. Or church.
Somehow she knew that if she let this matter slide tomorrow, the situation would only grow more difficult to resolve the next time.
* * *
Muscles aching, Rhett reclined on his sleeping spot in the rafters. His stomach complained about his missing supper. Dusk had fallen, but he didn’t feel like climbing down for food. Perhaps he had pushed himself too hard in his zeal to prove what a fine worker he was. Now he was paying for it. Not only was his body sore, but his hands were blistered and his feet ached from all the shoveling.
At least he could rest on the morrow. As the men had quit the house after supper, they chatted about their plans for the evening as well as their excitement about sleeping in. Some had ridden off already, no doubt on their way to Casper to spend their hard-earned money.
Rhett closed his eyes. What would he do on his day off? He pictured the nearby mountains. Perhaps there would be an appropriate place to worship. His horse needed a good stretch of the legs, and he wouldn’t mind getting back into the saddle. Yes, that’s what he would do.
As he dozed, the squeaking shed door startled him into wakefulness. Stealthy footsteps entered below. Rhett froze, listening.
“I know you’re somewhere around and you can hear me.” The housekeeper’s voice pierced the shadowy shed. “Guy Bartow is a sneaky varmint. And I know he told you not to come up to the house during meals. So here’s what me and Cookie decided. You can go into the kitchen lean-to anytime you want. Use the back door an’ help yourself to anything in there or the root cellar.”
Material rustled as though she was preparing to leave.
Without moving, Rhett spoke. “Thank you.”
The footsteps paused, then the door creaked shut.
He waited a little while, then clambered down. Mrs. Johnson’s permission would simplify his life considerably. At the mention of food, his stomach began to leap in anticipation. He made his way across the yard in the dark, then through the door leading into the lean-to. As promised, a bounty awaited. Careful not to make a mess, Rhett helped himself to beans, ham, bread and an opened jar of canned peaches. After he finished, he found a bucket of water and washed the plate and utensils he’d used. He was about to depart when the sound of horse hooves caught his ear.
Hand on the latch, he waited for the rider to depart. After listening more closely, he realized that someone was coming into the ranch yard, not leaving. Several horses nickered. He detected Marshall’s and Bartow’s voices. As they were talking, a third speaker joined them. Ellie.
Trapped, he hunkered down to wait. With them in the yard, they would see him if he exited the lean-to. He didn’t want to jeopardize the Johnsons’ generosity or cause any trouble. An interminable amount of time passed until footsteps moved inside the house. He was about to escape when he heard Ellie.
“What do you have against church?” Her voice drifted from the next room. “Or is it God you have a problem with?”
Unable to leave, Rhett flattened himself against one wall.
“My beliefs are mine,” her uncle answered. “You don’t need to try’n fix ’em.”
“I’m not.” She sighed. “I thought we were family. And families go to church together.”
Marshall snorted.
“Would you at least consider it?” Ellie’s wistful tone tugged at Rhett’s heart. “Especially since this is my first Sunday here and—”
“There’s nothing more to talk about,” her uncle interrupted in a hard voice. “Got it?”
Again she sighed, the sound full of more sorrow than exasperation.
“Remember Chicago?” She paused, seeming to wait for a response. “When you came to visit, you always went with Mama and me.”
“That was then, this is now.”
“But...” Again, she paused, her voice quavering. “Going to church is—”
“This discussion is over. And my answer is still no.” Silence filled the house. “I don’t want to hear about it again.”
Heavy boots stomped across the room. Marshall’s steps faded down the stairs.
Time to leave.
Rhett waited a moment longer, then reached for the exterior door. An odd sound made him freeze. Was Ellie crying? He remained listening, undecided. To go into the next room would be to betray that he had overheard their conversation. Besides, she might not want his advice or comfort. After slipping out the door, he latched it as quietly as possible.
Evening enveloped the ranch, yet enough light remained to expose Rhett. Across the yard, Bartow and another man stood, deep in conversation. Going back to the shed that way would be impossible. Rhett edged along the side of house, careful to not draw attention as he moved away from the men. Not until he reached the back of the house did he draw a breath of relief. Here he could wait until night fully fell. In the cover of dark he could slip past the men.
He tensed at a sound—a stealthy step on the porch that encircled the house on three sides. He crouched by the raised porch, listening.
“I don’t see why...”
A whisper reached his ears. Who was that? And who were they talking to? He heard only one set of footsteps.
“Stupid, stubborn.” A sharp sniff followed the words. “Why am I even here if...?”
Understanding dawned. Ellie was talking to herself.
With care, he rose to peer through the porch railing.
The frill of her skirt was about eye level. Head lowered, she paced back and forth as she muttered. Her fists clenched, one thumping against her skirt as she walked.
Mild amusement turned to concern. She obviously was in distress. About her uncle? She sounded like she wanted to talk to someone. Why not God?
Ellie stopped, looking toward the distant mountain range. “If he won’t, then what?” With her silhouette outlined against the dusky sky, she swiped fingers across her eyes.
“Forgive the intrusion,” he said softly before he had the sense to remain quiet.
With a gasp, she whirled.
“It’s me. Rhett.” Spreading his hands in what he hoped was a disarming gesture, he moved closer. “I’m sorry if I startled you.”
Clasped together, her fists pressed against her heart. She merely gaped at him.
S
everal feet from the porch, he paused. “I couldn’t help but hear. Is something wrong?”
“Where did you come from?”
He hesitated to tell her but needed to explain his presence somehow. “I was getting supper. When I heard you talking, I...”
Her hands slowly relaxed to her sides. Enough light from the rising moon showed her mouth open, then close. Like she wanted to ask him a question?
“What is it?” Keeping his voice soft, he stepped closer. “What has so distressed you?”
She stared at him another few seconds before her head suddenly ducked. “Everything.” A sniff followed. She dabbed at tears on her cheeks.
He knew what he should say—what his mother taught him. He should apologize for intruding on her privacy and excuse himself. However, his feet felt weighted, as though caked with mud. If Ellie had been praying, that would be one thing. But she sounded so forlorn, like she could confide in no one—not even God. Rhett couldn’t abandon her when she needed someone to talk to.
Moving slowly, he gripped the railing’s vertical slats and looked up at her. “Anything in particular?”
Tears darkened her lashes while a shiny streak marred one delicate cheek. She studied him as though assessing his trustworthiness.
He remained unmoving, praying she would see that he would never betray her confidence. “Tell me.”
She looked at her hands that twisted together. “Nothing’s as I expected.” Though she spoke in a soft voice, he detected her dejection. “Not the ranch. Not my life. Not—not my uncle.” She gestured toward the house.
He waited for her to go on. When she didn’t, he prodded, “How so?”
“It’s silly, I know, but I thought things with Uncle Will would be like they were in Chicago, when he visited. He was so loving. And kind. He promised so much in his letters.”
Gripping the railing, Rhett pulled himself up and balanced opposite Ellie. “And he’s not keeping those promises?”
“No.” She shook her head. “He’s different. He used to be so easy to talk to. But now, he won’t even listen to me.”
Several reasons why popped into Rhett’s head, but he kept his mouth shut. He’d heard the rumors about Will Marshall, about the coldhearted businessman who let nothing stand in his way. His name was known from Casper to Denver and beyond. But such information wouldn’t comfort Ellie, only distress her.
“I’m sorry.” What else could he say?
The floodgates seemed to open as her shoulders suddenly relaxed. “I don’t know why he...well, for instance, his attitude about you. I don’t understand why he is so irrational. If I told him how kind and helpful you were after the accident, I’m not sure he would believe me.”
“You’ve no need to correct his thinking.” Rhett straddled the railing, then swung his leg over to her side. “I don’t want to be the reason you two argue.”
“But, don’t you see, that’s the trouble.” She stepped closer. “There shouldn’t be any arguments. When I asked him to hire you, he shouldn’t require reasons. My word should be enough. But it wasn’t. And that’s what hurts.” Her voice cracked.
Having no thought but to comfort her, he dared to take her slim hand between his. Ellie’s breath caught, but she didn’t pull away. Remaining mute, he allowed her to cry. Silent, painful tears slipped down her cheeks. While he waited, an answer came to him.
She needs a friend.
She needed someone who didn’t take from her but gave. Considering his parentage, the difference in their social standing and their present circumstances, he had nothing to offer but friendship.
“I cannot change your situation,” he said simply. “But I know One who can.”
A small hiccup escaped her. “Who?”
“Our Father God.”
She jerked her hand away. Of all possible reactions, he hadn’t expected that.
“Don’t you believe He can?” Rhett questioned.
“I...” She shrugged. “Why would He? Besides, my feelings aren’t important.”
“They are to Him because you are. He cares for you, therefore He cares for what concerns you.”
Ellie rubbed her upper arms as though struggling to believe his words.
“If you won’t pray,” he said as he stepped closer to emphasize his words, “then allow me the privilege.”
Her head moved slowly back and forth as though in disbelief. “You’ve been nothing but mistreated since your arrival. Why would you concern yourself with me and my uncle?”
Because I care for you.
The answer hit him so hard that he nearly confessed it aloud. He opened his mouth to tell her, but clamped it shut.
They stood a mere foot from each other. The soft light of the moon caressed her face as a light breeze stirred her hair. He watched as realization dawned in her widening eyes. Everything in him wanted to kneel before her, take her delicate hand and pledge loyalty.
He couldn’t. Not yet. He must prove himself a faithful friend first.
Steeling himself, he stepped back. “I promise you, Ellie, I’ll pray for you and your uncle. That he will cherish you. That he will see—and value—all that you are.” With a small nod, he turned and leaped over the railing and onto the ground.
“Wait.”
Her soft cry stopped him. He looked up to see her leaning over the railing, her golden hair spilling over her shoulders.
“Thank you.” A tremulous smile rested on her lips.
He bowed as his mentor had once demonstrated, with a grand flourish.
Her smile broadened.
He took another step back and prepared to wish her good-night when she said, “I need a favor.”
“Anything.”
“I want to go to church tomorrow. But I have no one to take me—no one I’m comfortable asking, anyway.” She made a small sound of impatience. “Could you drive me? We’ll need to leave before anyone else is up.”
He didn’t understand her desire for secrecy but agreed anyway. “I’ll be ready before dawn.”
“I suppose that’s early enough. I don’t know when the service starts.”
“Then we’ll certainly arrive on time.” He knew the schedules of many Cheyenne churches, but not of those in Casper. His stagecoach job had always managed to interfere with Sunday worship when he passed through this part of the territory. “May I borrow your uncle’s wagon? I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding.”
She straightened. “I’m borrowing it. That will not be an issue.”
“Then I’ll see you in the morning.” He managed to speak softly though his heart hammered in anticipation. Before he said something stupid, he slipped away into the night.
Chapter Seven
In the morning, Ellie felt like a fugitive as she slipped from the house. Rhett was already waiting in the yard. Without a word, he handed her up into the wagon. Fingers on the harness, he led his appaloosa so that the wagon wouldn’t make any undue noise. Once they cleared the yard, Rhett climbed beside her and clicked for his horse to go.
Dawn was just breaking. After they were well away from the ranch and into the hills, Ellie peered over her shoulder at the scene behind them. Smoke began to rise from the chimney of the cooking lean-to, proving that Cookie and Mrs. Johnson were now up. Early-morning birds chirped in glee over the new day while the rustling in the nearby brush proved that creatures were hunting for their breakfast. The clop-clop of the horse’s hooves was the only other sound she heard. The crisp smell of pine warmed the air as streaks of light streamed through the trees.
Embarrassed about her behavior the night before, Ellie kept turning her gaze everywhere but to the silent man beside her. Most times, her eyes rested on her gloved hands, clenched in her lap. She smoothed her gown and shifted in the seat, but couldn’t find any words. What could she say? She cast a sideways look at Rhett, but he seemed c
ontent with the quiet. With his gaze fixed on the road ahead, he acted like nothing unusual had happened between them.
In truth, she didn’t understand last night’s exchange. One moment she’d been crying, then Rhett appeared out of the darkness. Before she knew what was what, he was holding her hand. However, he had treated her with concern and respect. Some men, including her own father, were kind to her only when they wanted something. Not Rhett.
Ellie cast a glance at him again. What sort of man was he?
A better man than any I’ve met. Or known.
Mrs. Johnson had called Rhett a rare man. More and more often, he proved this to be true.
When one corner of his lips curled upward, she realized she’d been staring at him. Turning away, she hid her heated cheeks by pretending to study the scenery. She tucked her hair into her bonnet to shield her face with one hand.
Why was she always gaping at him?
True, he was handsome. Despite his rough life, he always appeared well-groomed. He needed no padding under his jacket to build up his shoulders like the dandies who had primped and pranced about her in Chicago. Her father had encouraged their attentions, but only because he seemed to view the number of suitors as a reflection of his own importance. Now Ellie understood he never intended to marry her off because he needed her to help with his failing medical practice.
After Father died and creditors revealed the depth of his debts, all her admirers melted away. She sighed, pitying her father for throwing away his giftedness as a doctor. His skill was unparalleled.
Ellie’s gaze strayed to Rhett’s muscled hands as he guided his horse. She recalled the feel of his strong fingers, the skin roughened by work. Father’s delicate hands were as soft as hers, yet his heart was hard as flint. Rhett’s character seemed to be reflected by his hands—strength tempered by gentleness.
As she studied them, she caught a glimpse of his raw palms.
“Your hands.” She straightened with a jerk. “What happened?”