Gabriel placed the saddle blanket on the stallion’s back. “Don’t tell him what?”
Etta retrieved a waxed paper package from the office. “Don’t tell him I feed the cats. He says barn cats aren’t pets and that if I feed them, they’ll stop hunting the rodents that steal the horses’ food. Besides, I’m just giving them a little leftover chicken.”
“Your secret’s safe with me. Besides, I haven’t seen your Papa since before I went away.”
Etta bit her bottom lip. “I’d bring you to visit, but now isn’t a good time.”
“Of course not. I’ll pay my respects when he’s feeling better. How’s he doing?”
Etta gazed out the open stable door toward the house. “I hired a former Army medic to help him. Dr. Russell said Mr. Simpson was trained as a reconstruction aide in the Army. Have you heard of that?”
“There were several medics who did that kind of work in the hospital in France. They help men with head wounds.”
“Hospital? Were you wounded?”
Gabriel shrugged one shoulder. “It wasn’t much of anything. Especially when you consider what some men are going through. But that’s why I got discharged early. The rest of my division will probably be home this summer.”
“Lots of mothers will be glad when that day comes.”
And others would grieve for sons who would never return.
Etta mounted her mare and rode through the open doorway.
Gabriel finished saddling Antares and led him into the afternoon sunlight.
Etta twisted in her saddle and patted the canvas saddle bags that rested behind her. “I brought some lemonade and sandwiches in case we get hungry.”
“Good thinking. My mother used to say I ate more than Sam Houston’s army.” Gabriel straightened in the saddle and lifted his face to the sun as a gentle breeze ruffled his hair. It seemed as though every part of nature had joined together to form the perfect spring day. He lowered his head and looked at Etta. She watched him with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. “Take the lead, Miss Davis, and I’ll follow.”
Etta directed her mare down a well-worn path. Gabriel let her set the pace, keeping his horse close, but not interfering with her. She was an expert rider, commanding the horse with subtle movements. Her braid bounced in rhythm as the mare traveled across the sloping terrain that led to Hamilton Creek.
How often Gabriel had thought of such a day when he’d been in the hospital. He’d will himself away from the smells and noise of wounded men and into the clean, refreshing countryside of his boyhood. He pulled his mount to a stop and breathed in the scent of wild cedar. This was no dream.
Etta turned and rode back. “Is everything all right?”
Gabriel leveled his gaze at the lovely young woman. “Better than it has been in a long time.”
A daring glint lit her eyes. “How about a race?”
“Are you prepared to lose?”
Etta’s face shone with humor. “You may have the bigger horse, but Mira can hold her own.” Etta pointed to the right. “See that live oak standing by itself? Last one there has to clean the boots of the winner.”
Gabriel squinted into the horizon. The finish line was at least five hundred yards away, far enough for Antares to work up a fast gallop. “You’re on,” he said as he slapped the stallion’s sides.
“Hey!” Etta laughed and urged her mare to follow.
Within seconds, Etta was at his side, her head level with her horse’s neck, the wind rippling her blouse. Gabriel knew his stallion could win, but he kept the pace steady. Cleaning Etta’s boots was a small price to pay in return for watching her. She was joy and purpose and pleasure all wrapped up in one.
But fifty yards from the finish, Gabriel rose slightly and gave the stallion its head.
Antares bolted forward, his hoof beats striking the hard ground like chisels into stone.
Etta turned her head and smiled as Gabriel passed her then urged her mare to accelerate across the imaginary finish line.
Both horses flew past the tree together.
“Who won?” a breathless Etta asked as she walked her horse back to where Gabriel waited.
Gabriel loosened the reins and allowed Antares to prance with excitement. “I guess it’s a tie.”
Etta looked at him from the corner of her eye. “You didn’t let me win, did you?”
“Did it look like I was holding back?”
“No. Not at the end anyway.” Etta leaned over and patted the mare’s neck. “Let’s go to the creek now. I imagine Antares needs some water.”
“My horse is tired, but yours isn’t?”
“Mira is part falcon. Did I forget to tell you that?”
Gabriel grinned at her joke and let her set a gentle pace, allowing the horses to cool down. How long had it been since he’d felt so comfortable in someone’s company? Even though he was just getting to know her, riding beside Etta in companionable silence felt as right as putting on his favorite boots.
“I saw you and your parents at church this morning,” Etta said. “Did you enjoy the service?”
He’d woken before daylight, his sheets twisted around him like a shroud and his mouth as dry as cobwebs. “I didn’t really want to go, but my mother talked me into it.”
“It’s a good thing you did. Otherwise, your circle of admirers would have been disappointed.”
Circle of admirers?
“Just my parents’ friends wanting to say ‘welcome home.’”
“I wasn’t referring to them. I was talking about all the young women who flocked to you like hummingbirds to nectar.”
He smiled at the realization that Etta was teasing him again. “Oh, I see. Jealous, were you?”
“Did you accept Mary Henderson’s invitation to dinner? Or Juliet Franklin’s hint about needing a partner for the dance contest in San Antonio?”
Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “Mary Henderson’s mother invited my whole family to dinner, and I told Juliet I don’t dance. What about you? Didn’t I see William Clark paying you special attention?”
Etta pursed her lips. “William was just asking about Papa.”
“Uh-huh. He didn’t look like he was thinking about your father. What’s William doing these days?”
“He’s the county prosecutor.”
“Awfully young for such an important position.”
“He took the position last year. He’s one of the men on the bank’s Board of Directors.”
Gabriel leaned across his saddle toward her. “I’d watch out if I were you, Etta. Mr. Clark has more on his mind than bank business.”
“Now you sound like the jealous one.”
“Maybe I am.”
Etta’s cheeks reddened, and she looked away.
Their good-natured bantering disappeared and tense silence wormed its way between them.
Of all the lamebrain things to do. He’d been in the company of men so long, he’d forgotten how risky it could be to tease a woman. Hadn’t he’d seen his mother dissolve into tears over some off-handed remark his father had made? “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, Etta.”
Her gaze flitted from the ground to him and back again. “I, uh…I’m not very good at…”
If he didn’t change the subject, she’d be as red as a radish, and he’d be in more trouble than Mrs. O’Leary’s cow. “I’m ready for some of that lemonade. How about you?”
Etta smiled, and he knew he’d been forgiven. “There’s the spot I was talking about,” she said with a nod of her head. “Shall we give Antares and Mira a rest?”
Gabriel tied the horses to a low branch where they could drink from the pristine waters of Hamilton Creek.
Etta took out a bundled sheet from her saddlebag, unwrapped two jars of lemonade, and spread the sheet over the shaded grass. She handed one jar to Gabriel. “I don’t imagine it’s still cool, but at least it’s wet.”
Gabriel unscrewed the lid of the jar and drank the sweet, tart refreshment. “It’s been a long time
since I had lemonade. The Salvation Army gave it to us sometimes in France, but mostly they had coffee.”
“I imagine lemons were hard to find during a war.”
“Not to mention sugar.” Gabriel dropped to the ground beside Etta. “One of the men in my platoon hated drinking straight coffee so much he stole sugar from the Germans.”
Etta’s eyebrows shot up. “He what?”
“Believe it or not. We overran a German camp near the Argonne Forest, and they’d left their provisions. Nichols was running around, opening tins trying to find sugar. Finally, Sergeant Schmidt told him the German word for sugar was Zucker. Nichols found four tins that day. Now, you might think he’d hoard it, but he didn’t. He shared it with everyone in the squad. Funny how a little thing like that could make ten men so happy.”
“Ten men in a squad?”
“Usually. And four squads in a platoon.”
“Did you like being in the Army?”
Gabriel braced his hands on the ground behind him and leaned back. “It’s not a simple answer. I liked being with my men, but I hated almost everything else.” Gabriel’s thoughts floated back to the smoke-filled battlefield and the cries of wounded men. So much confusion. So much desperation. Death could come in an instant or linger for months, but once it came, there was no escape.
“Don’t you think?”
Gabriel focused on Etta’s lovely face. “Sorry. I was daydreaming. What did you say?”
“I said, the bluebonnets are beginning to leaf out. We’ll have a lot this year, don’t you think?”
Fields of bluebonnets. Another thing he’d dreamed of during his mental forays back home. “That rain we got last week will help. Did you know they have bluebonnets in France?”
Etta’s voice took on an accusatory tone. “I don’t believe it. Everybody knows they don’t grow anywhere except Texas.”
“Captain Brooks said they were called lupines, and I’ll admit they were taller than our bluebonnets, but they looked almost the same.”
“You’d better not tell anybody else that story or you’ll be drummed out of the state.”
“Oh, I’m scared now.”
She tilted her head to the side and laughed. “Tell me more about France.”
What would he tell her? About the dead horses that lay in the streets still harnessed to carts and wagons? About the civilians who’d been unable to escape impersonal artillery barrages? Or should he tell her about his failure that led to the deaths of his friends? “How are things at the bank?”
Etta blinked but allowed the thread of conversation to drop. “Actually, things aren’t going so well.”
“How can things go bad at a bank? Jesse James didn’t show up, did he?”
Her voice grew quiet. “In a way...yes.”
Gabriel’s brows drew together in concern. “Someone robbed the bank?”
The color of Etta’s eyes deepened as she gazed into his. “I’d like to talk about it. I’ve been keeping it inside for a while, and I can’t decide what’s worse, the guilt at not telling my father or the worry about who I suspect.” She was too delicate to have so much on her shoulders.
First her mother’s death, then her father’s illness, and now a problem at the bank.
“Go ahead. I’ll listen.”
Etta drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Will you give me your word to keep it a secret?
“You have my word.”
Etta looked into his eyes as though trying to assess his trustworthiness. Although they’d known of each other for many years, she couldn’t know what kind of man he’d grown to be.
She withdrew two sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper. She passed one of the sandwiches to Gabriel. “I have to collect enough evidence to catch an embezzler without him knowing.”
A piece of the darkness that shadowed Gabriel’s soul broke off and floated away. Etta trusted him. His word was good enough for her.
“All of the loans our bank makes are overseen by one person,” Etta continued. “Do you know Arthur Lewis?”
“His youngest brother went to school with me. Didn’t Arthur remarry recently?”
“About two years ago. After his wife died, he married a girl from Belton. They have a baby now.”
“There was something unusual about his wife’s death, as I remember.”
“The gossips went wild with rumors, but nothing ever came of it. The newspaper account listed her cause of death as heart failure.”
“Then why all the gossip?”
“Because she was relatively young. William Clark had just become county prosecutor and, if her death had been suspicious, I’m sure he would’ve brought charges against Arthur.”
“Did Arthur gain financially from his wife’s death?”
“Not that I know of. My father hired him despite the gossip. Being in charge of loans is one of the most responsible positions at the bank.”
“Are you saying Arthur Lewis is involved with embezzlement?”
“No. Not yet, anyway. He discovered a discrepancy in the books, and it’s not a bookkeeping mistake. Someone is making false entries in the ledgers. Whenever there’s a problem like this, the best thing to do is call an outside auditor, someone who’s not affiliated with the bank in any way.”
Gabriel bit into the ham sandwich. “Have you already contacted this guy? The auditor?”
“He’ll be here in a few days.”
“Will you have to inform the Board of Directors?”
“Yes, eventually. We’re a privately owned bank, but we have a Board of Directors as a way to create trust between the bank and our clients. Everything we do is open to inspection by the board members.”
“How long do you have before you have to inform the board?”
Etta pulled her legs up and laid her cheek on her knees. “I need to get all the facts first. The next meeting is in mid-April.”
“And in the meantime? You’re going to just let the thief keep taking money?”
“I know it sounds wrong, but I need him to keep stealing. He’ll be easier to find if he keeps it up.”
“Do you have a suspect?”
Etta bit her bottom lip and looked into the horizon. “This is the worst part, Gabriel. I think it could be my Uncle Carl.”
“Your own family?”
“My mother’s brother. He took a key to my father’s office without permission, and I found him going over some account books. I don’t know this for sure, but I think he’s falsifying the ledgers.”
Gabriel let out a low whistle. “You’re in a tough spot, that’s for sure. But it sounds like you’re doing the right thing.”
“I hope so. But if the evidence points to Uncle Carl how will I ever confront him? Every time I think about having to file charges against a family member, my stomach doubles over.”
“You can’t let him get away with embezzlement.”
“I know. I know, but…” Etta reached for her braid and fingered the small bow at the end. “I wasn’t raised to do this kind of thing. I was taught to be a lady.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know. Quiet, demure, sweet, helpful. I like working with my father at the bank, and he’s taught me a lot about business, but I never thought I’d have to hold my own in a man’s world.” She was in her own kind of battle. The kind that helps a person find out what they’re made of.
“I know what you need, Henrietta Davis.”
“What’s that?”
“You need to be more of a man.”
Etta rolled her eyes. “How am I supposed to do that?”
“Toughen up. Ask yourself, ‘What would a man do?’”
“Easy for you to say.”
“What’s your other choice? Sit back and smile sweetly while someone steals from you?”
Her eyes flashed. “You know I can’t do that. I won’t do that. But I wish I could talk it over with Papa.”
She was protecting her father and fighting for her family’s go
od name, but there was no way Gabriel could help. “Tell you what, Etta. I’m not your Papa, and I don’t know a whole lot about banking, but I’ll be around when you want to talk.”
She nodded slowly and got to her feet. “I’d like to take a walk.” Gabriel started to stand, but she put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “I want a few minutes to think things over.”
Etta had a lot on her mind, and maybe a walk alone would help her sort things out.
“Go ahead. I’m going to stretch out and relax. If I hear any screams, I’ll rescue you from the terrible snake you’ve stumbled across.”
She rolled her lovely blue-gray eyes again. “There are only four kinds of venomous snakes in Texas, and I know how to recognize them. You won’t hear any screams from me.”
“I like that tough talk. You sound like a man already.”
She shook her head as if to dismiss his preposterous suggestion and headed toward the creek.
Gabriel laid down on the sheet, one arm under his head for a pillow. He closed his eyes and listened to the soothing sounds of a Texas spring. Was that a mockingbird singing nearby or a catbird? A breeze ruffled his hair as he released a bit of his ever-present restlessness. It was good to be home. To lie in the shade and listen to the creek, and to know that battlefields and violent death were far away. He’d spent many afternoons daydreaming when he’d been a boy, wondering about his future and constructing imaginary bridges across incredulously deep gorges. He’d come back as an older and warier version of that boy. He’d come back while others rested in French cemeteries for eternity.
Nichols motioned for him to follow.
But Nichols was dead. He was having a dream. Wasn’t he? Nichols held out a tin with black letters. “Have some, Lieutenant. Have some Zucker.”
Gabriel sipped his black coffee. “No, thanks. Save it for yourself.”
“I ain’t got no use for it, Lieutenant. You take the sugar.” Nichols poured the white crystals into Gabriel’s cup. “Take it all.” He emptied the container, causing Gabriel’s cup to overflow.
Gabriel watched the white grains fall slowly into the mud. “You’re wasting it, Nichols.”
The soldier smirked. “Don’t matter now. Nothing matters now.” He laughed and then climbed out of the foxhole and ran into clouds of yellow gas.
A Thousand Little Blessings Page 7