Love on the Range

by Jessica Nelson

  Stalking toward them with the grace of a tiger hunting prey, he scowled fiercely, and for a second it flashed through Gracie’s mind that her uncle might be as dangerous as Trevor.

  She shook her head.

  That was ridiculous. Nobody here was dangerous except Julia, who was now scrambling to her feet with a panicky look on her face. Her long blond hair tangled around her shoulders, giving her a youthful air and lending to her an innocence Gracie was sure she didn’t possess.

  Gracie shrank back farther against the wall but luckily Julia’s attention stayed riveted to the man in front of her. When Uncle Lou spoke, he directed his comments to Trevor.

  “She stays at your place. I don’t want her in this house again. She’s to keep away from Gracie and Mary.” Then he pushed past Trevor and went outside.

  Julia, of course, had not finished with the dramatics. She fell into a silken-skirted heap, weeping loudly. The only thing that kept Gracie from rushing to her again were the obvious theatrics. The woman never could have succeeded on stage.

  Still, her heart went out to Trevor’s mother. Surely, despite the obvious masquerade, Julia was sad. Perhaps lonely. She had nowhere to go but here, and it was here where her presence was not wanted. After being spit on, however, Gracie was reluctant to get any closer to this family quarrel. She would not be here much longer, anyhow.

  Past Christmas, and into early spring perhaps. And then she’d leave and go back to a house that no longer felt like home, back to her golden cage. Unless she found Striker—and quick.

  Trevor leaned forward and gently pulled his mother to her feet, his response clashing with the rock-hard expression on his face. Gracie thought he might hate his mother, and yet his touch appeared to be soft. He murmured something in her ear and she went out the front door, still sobbing but saying nothing more.

  Mary hovered near the steps, statue still, her skin dusky.

  Trevor walked past Gracie, who felt as frozen as Mary looked, then paused and turned back to her. “I apologize for Julia.” He cleared his throat. “Do you need help getting upstairs?”

  She shook her head, loosening her death grip on the crutches. Mary followed Trevor down the hall and into the kitchen.

  Shuddering, Gracie let out a deep breath. She was not used to such emotional outbursts. False or not, the scene left an ache in her heart.

  She decided to relax in the sitting room for a while. Perhaps the crackling fire would ease her throbbing knee and tense nerves. Taking out her hankie, she dried Julia’s spittle from her skirt and then propped her crutches beside one of the plump scarlet chairs near the fireplace. She sank into one and sighed as the soft fabric embraced her. She couldn’t remember feeling so stressed in her entire life. Of course, she’d experienced bumps in life and there were times she felt suffocated by the restrictions of society and the unrealistic expectations of her parents. But no one had ever believed her to be a liar, to her knowledge, and certainly no one had ever looked at her with such undiluted hatred as Julia had.

  It was unsettling, she admitted. Her honor meant much to her. If she didn’t have these crutches she would go outside and race Honey as far as she could, shedding her worries in the wind. But she was stuck here, forced to endure the endless cycle of thoughts spiraling through her head. There was always her notebook, which patiently waited in the closet, stashed away when Gracie had heard about Connie.

  She watched the small flames flicking back and forth, devouring wood. Crackling in their greedy hunger.

  Trevor’s disbelief hurt. She sighed again. Quite possibly she might be getting her first gray hair over the entire matter. If only there were some way she could convince him of her innocence. But there was nothing she could do, no way she could prove the truth.

  Why did it matter anyhow? She would find Striker, establish a career and never see him again. Life would continue and soon he might become only the faint memory of a man she once kissed.

  Right.

  Gracie closed her eyes, feeling warmth from the fire on her face. When she went home, Boston would be different. She was used to doing everything with Connie, from jazz halls to church luncheons to secret writers’ meetings. How would she be able to go back and not be reminded every day? Suddenly the quietness of Oregon seemed much more appealing than the bustle of Boston’s social life.

  God, I know Connie is up there with You, but I miss her so much. My soul is heavy from her loss. Please help me, Lord. And Trevor’s accusation haunts me. Forgive me for losing my temper, for my rudeness to him. Please show me Your goodness and give me peace. Please make me more like You. Thank You, Father.

  She continued to pray for a few minutes, the quiet room lending to her heart the solitude she needed. Gradually, peace calmed her nerves and stole her worries.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Later that evening, after the others had retired to their own activities, Trevor joined Gracie in the parlor. She didn’t hear him come in, only the soft slide of his clothes against the couch when he sat. She looked up and the flickering shadows against his face did funny things to her insides. Her gaze shifted to his hands. Strong and calloused. The hands of a man who’d worked hard to make a life in this desert. He held a green leather-bound book.

  After trying to read the spine of it she gave up and settled back into her own novel, a rousing reread of Tom Sawyer.

  Pages whispered as they turned. This was ridiculous. She set her story down, marking her spot with a bit of ribbon. She couldn’t concentrate with Trevor so near. “I’d like to go to town soon.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Really, Trevor. Uncle Lou always goes without telling me. I’ve Christmas presents to buy.”

  He looked up from his book. “In a few days we’re going. I’ll give Lou a heads-up.” He went back to his story.

  Gracie snatched her book up, feeling triumphant. At last. She could shop, talk with others and perhaps glean information on Striker’s whereabouts. Even if he hadn’t returned, surely he owned a home somewhere. Knew people. Perhaps even had family nearby. She grinned and opened her book.

  A sound at the doorway pulled her gaze upward. Uncle Lou poked his head into the room. “Trevor, have you been looking for a letter?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Gracie saw Trevor’s head snap up. “Yes,” he said.

  “Let’s go to my office and discuss it.”

  Both men glanced Gracie’s way and she tried to keep her face blank, pushing down her disappointment at missing out on what might be an extremely enlightening conversation. She couldn’t help but admire Trevor’s long, confident stride as he left the room. She finished a chapter, and then reached for her crutches.

  She thought she understood why Trevor was reluctant to discuss striking out on his own with Uncle Lou. From what she knew, they had been friends for more than ten years, before they’d ever owned a ranch. Trevor probably didn’t want to hurt her uncle by going into business himself.

  She put the fire out, casting the room into a soft darkness. Loyalty was hard to come by nowadays. Trevor had risen above adversity, become an honorable human being. This was just one more example of his thoughtfulness to those he loved.

  But he didn’t trust easily. Only time and a healing God could change his heart. She picked her way laboriously up the steps.

  She could not forget how gentle he’d been with his mother earlier, even though she saw the disgust practically steaming off him. He was a man of great self-control.

  His image didn’t fade as she readied for bed. His black eyes, intelligent and perceptive, his confident walk, his protective and loyal character. Gracie’s heart thumped. Nine years wasn’t such a great difference in age.

  Drawing back the covers, she dragged herself into bed, amazed her energy had fled so quickly. Her flannel nightgown billowed around
her and she pulled her knees up against her stomach. The deep feelings Trevor inspired posed a problem.

  Striker was supposed to be the one she longed for. She frowned. Was she so shallow, then? Perhaps Striker merely represented what she admired in a man. After all, she had never met him. Didn’t know his weaknesses or fears. Could she truly love someone she did not know?

  Of course not.

  Trevor, on the other hand…

  She had never wanted to marry, hadn’t wanted to place herself in a position to be controlled. No. There was no room in her life for a man like Trevor.

  In the morning she’d develop a plan of action for when she arrived in Burns. Questions to ask, a way to snare the townspeople into revealing more about Striker.

  * * *

  “So you want out.” Lou tapped the letter against his desk.

  “It was a temporary thing.”

  “I know.” Lou’s eyes appraised Trevor.

  He shifted, wishing he didn’t feel like he was letting down his best friend, his country, by his distaste for what he’d become. “It’s time to move on.”

  “You think you’ll like ranching?”

  “I like honest work.”

  “Killing wasn’t in the plan, you know.”

  Trevor nodded. “But it happened.” Sure, he’d only killed criminals, most of the time in self-defense, but he didn’t like how killing numbed him. Made him react without heart. If he would have slowed down at Council Bluff, given the lawbreaker in his sights time to put his weapon down, maybe the child who appeared out of nowhere would have run past unscathed. Shoving down the deep remorse that plagued him, he met Lou’s gaze. “I’m done now. The neighbor’s spread will make money. They’ve got good land, steady stock. They’re moving to Arizona to be with their oldest son so I figure I can buy their property and move in within the year.”

  “You’ve done good things for your country, Trevor. For Mary. If you hadn’t found her…”

  They both fell silent, knowing full well the evil that would’ve befallen her at the hands of Mendez so many years ago. Thanks to one of his mother’s Paiute “friends,” Trevor had learned at a young age the art of tracking in the desert. The skill served him well after Julia’s betrayal, helping him find Mary and then making him specialized enough the government had enlisted him as a spy. He’d met Lou that way, quickly working his way up the ranks until his last job….

  Even now, his chest burned at the memory of so many lost lives.

  “We’ve been through a lot,” he said finally, meeting Lou’s gaze. “But I need to do this.”

  Lou’s fingers tapped against the desk. He glanced at the letter again then slapped it down and leaned back, hands resting behind his head. “You set on this particular property?”

  “Seems like a good choice.”

  “’Cause I’ve got a proposal for you.”

  Trevor leaned forward, intrigued. “I’m listening.”

  * * *

  The following morning slithered by slowly, despite Gracie’s many tasks. She helped Mary dust, mop and do laundry. Then she snuck into Uncle Lou’s office to discreetly check his account books while he and the other men were out on the ranch, doing whatever they did in winter.

  She found the extra money during a calculation. Or rather, the record of money. The ledger in her hand confirmed a payment of fifty dollars for which there was no designation and, though it was not the first such payment, it was most definitely the largest. And most obviously the reason why her figures would not calculate.

  Feet scuffled outside the office door. She stuffed the ledger back and shut the drawer. She was on the floor, but because of her knee could not stand quickly. She popped her head up just in time to see the door swing open. Then it slammed shut.

  Trevor stood there, hands behind his back and a bemused twist to his mouth. Gracie groaned. She could tell by his lips that inwardly he was laughing at her, and when a stray hair floated in front of her face she blew it away impatiently. It was no mystery what he found amusing. No doubt she looked a mess.

  Pressing her left hand against Uncle Lou’s heavy leather chair and her right on his teak desk, she managed to push herself into a somewhat standing position.

  “Does Lou know you’re in here?” Trevor walked to the other side of the desk and lazily sat down, the chair creaking in protest.

  “I think you’re too big for that chair,” she pointed out, desperately racking her brain for a plausible excuse for being where she was. She sat down, relieved to get the pressure off her weak knee. “I’m helping Mary clean today.”

  “It’s obvious you’re fiddling with Lou’s account books again, but I’ve decided to let it go. Lou probably needs the help, anyway.” He leaned forward. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  She felt heat rise in her cheeks. She liked the way Trevor was studying her, even if there did seem to be a spark of humor in his eyes. She resisted the urge to shove her hair back where it belonged and instead focused on smoothing her paisley skirt.

  Trevor seemed to be taking a moment to collect his thoughts, so Gracie figured she would help him along. There really was only one reason she could think of that he’d be looking for her.

  “Thank you, Trevor, for coming to apologize. That takes true honor and I find your action admirable.” She rested her hands on the desk, hoping to radiate composed benevolence.

  With difficulty, Trevor swallowed his snort of laughter.

  Gracie wondered why he was choking but he recovered so quickly she didn’t feel the need to rush over. She was willing to forgive him his distrust, especially in light of his painful past. Thank goodness things had been solved so neatly.

  “What did Uncle Lou say happened?” she inquired serenely.

  “Found the letter on his desk and looked it over.”

  The crinkles around his eyes when he smiled grabbed Gracie’s attention. She let her gaze linger. “I suppose he had good advice?”

  “Yeah, he wants me to buy this ranch. Seems he wants to travel for a spell.”

  “He wants to sell? But it’s so beautiful and peaceful. How could he?”

  “He’s like you, Gracie, doesn’t want to be stuck in the desert.”

  “I like it here,” she said stiffly. “It bothers me that it will no longer be in the family.”

  Trevor met her gaze, deliberately challenging her.

  She flushed. “I’ve become more attached to Oregon than I realized.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll be quite sad if he sells the ranch. The land—” her lashes fanned across her cheeks “—does something to me. It makes me yearn.”

  The huskiness of her voice pulled at Trevor. He tapped his feet, figuring she probably didn’t see the shock she’d given him. He’d thought she couldn’t wait to get away. He’d assumed she hankered after city life, but now he saw that Harney County had worked itself into her heart, just as it had him so many years ago. His chest tightened.

  Her eyes opened and she pinned him with her amber gaze. “When are you going to buy the land?”

  “We didn’t get that far. Just discussed it, is all.” She looked so distressed that he added, “Don’t worry. I’d rather be an equal partner in the ranch.”

  “Oh.” He heard the relief conveyed in that single utterance. “James said I can remove my bindings permanently today.”

  “That’s good news.”

  “Yes. And you’re to break a wild horse this afternoon?”

  He nodded.

  “Mary says the horses listen when you speak to them. Is that true?”

  “I guess.” He shifted, embarrassed. “Are you coming to watch?”

  “I’d like to very much.” He saw her glance at the little clock sitting on the corner of Lou’s desk. She made a tiny
noise, a little catch of breath he found strangely endearing. “Oh, goodness. I’m to help Mary with laundry.” She pushed her chair back, lifted the crutches and stood. “I want you to know I completely forgive you.” She paused, head tilted to the side. “And thank you for coming to apologize.”

  Trevor tensed. “That wasn’t why I came.”

  “Didn’t you say Uncle Lou had your letter the whole time?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So you know I never saw it.”

  “Yeah. Look, Gracie…it was a logical assumption that you saw my letter. I’m not sorry for that.”

  “But you called me a liar,” she said, her words whispery thin.

  “Not important.” Trevor rose, shoulders stiff. He was annoyed at the way the conversation was getting away from him. He didn’t need to explain himself. Not to her. Not to anyone. “I came in here to say thank you for not lying to me. I appreciate your honesty on that matter.”

  Gracie blinked. “Thank you? You called me a liar, hurt me with your unreasonable distrust, and now you do not even have the courtesy to apologize? Your thanks is terribly insulting.”

  She hobbled past him, holding her head high.

  “Now, Gracie, you’re being silly.”

  “Don’t you talk to me like you’re my father,” she shouted, obviously past her limit of endurance. “I am not being silly! My honor, my very character, was besmirched by your accusations. And now you wish to treat me as a silly girl so you won’t feel guilty.”

  Trevor cringed. An uncomfortable feeling was spreading through him, some emotion he couldn’t identify that cramped his gut and coated his palms with sweat.

  Gracie pursed her lips, blinking quickly. “You have too much pride, Trevor Cruz. I forgave you anyway, before an apology, but you ought to be ashamed of yourself. How hard is it to say you’re sorry?”

  The door cracked shut behind her, sounding very much like the splintering pieces of Trevor’s ego.