“Hello, Honey.” Gracie leaned against the stall and reached to stroke the soft jaw. “I’ve missed you. Are you ready to go for a small ride? How are you doing since your fall? I am sorry for that. I did not intend to hurt you.” The horse nudged Gracie’s jacket and she smiled ruefully. “Sorry, girl, I forgot the sugar.”
“Carrots are better for their teeth.”
A smooth voice intruded and Gracie grudgingly turned around. “Hello, Julia. Out for a ride?”
“That’s why I’m wearing a riding habit. And you?”
“I’m continuing my riding lessons now that my knee is stronger.”
Julia moved forward and held out a carrot to Honey. The mare grabbed it, tossing her mane appreciatively. “Honey and I have become good friends these past few weeks.”
Gracie sidestepped Julia as the woman led Honey out. She swallowed the lump of disappointment in her throat. Julia readied Honey for a ride, her movements meticulous and efficient.
Gracie watched from her place near the saddles. “You’re very good at saddling a horse. Have you been riding long?”
“Since I was a little girl.”
The image of Julia as a little girl was so incongruous that Gracie didn’t bother with tact. She said the first thing that popped into her head. “You’re so good with horses. Why didn’t you choose a career in ranching?”
Julia’s sharp movements paused briefly, and then resumed. Her face was hidden on the other side of Honey’s long neck.
“Ranching’s difficult. Backbreaking. The profession I chose offers good money, interesting people to meet. What’s not to like?” Her leg swung up over the saddle, and a stocking clad knee peeked out for a second.
“I do not believe you’ve been happy.”
“Believe it, little rich girl. Believe it. Some people like to do bad things. Any man will tell you that.” She nudged Honey sharply and the horse cantered down the stable aisle and into the blinding sun.
Gracie stared after the slender form. The poor woman.
Trevor came in through a side door and, stepping in front of her, grabbed a saddle. “You ready to ride?”
“Your mother took Honey. I’m not certain which horse to ride now.”
“We’ll find you one.” He tugged at his hat. “Julia was here, huh? I’m not surprised. She loves horses.”
“She doesn’t seem so evil now, just someone who’s bitter and selfish.”
Trevor opened a stall door, led out a tall black horse and threw a blanket on her, then started the saddling. “Don’t let her fool you, Gracie. Selfish and bitter is its own brand of evil.”
“I suppose so.” The horse pawed at the ground, jerking her massive head when he looped the reins over her neck. “Trevor, I really do not care to ride that horse. Look how nervous she seems.”
“She’s just ready to run.”
“What if I fall again? And isn’t it too cold for a good gallop?”
“You can’t be afraid forever.”
“I’m not,” she answered stiffly, unnerved by how the memory of being thrown still filled her with fear.
He slanted her a look, for a moment appearing empathetic before disinterest masked the emotion. “Falls are always tough to get over. The ground’s covered by snow, though. There shouldn’t be any ice around.”
“But I thought you didn’t want me to race the horses.” She stepped up to the big black and forced herself to stroke the soft neck. The mare stopped prancing as she absorbed the gentle touch.
“After this morning, I figured you might want to feel the wind on your face.” He adjusted the stirrups on the other side of the horse. Finishing, he came around to Gracie’s side and she caught a glimpse of his face, still set like stone. But his voice had sounded tender. She wanted to hug him but that would make things more difficult between them. Why was she fooling herself?
Until she found Striker and became independent of her parents, a relationship between them would be impossible. Things were not looking good and she almost wished she had never kissed him.
Almost.
She watched as his busy fingers straightened and adjusted, all the while her own fingers stroked the mare’s neck and mane.
“I would like to run far away,” she finally admitted in a low tone. Trevor’s head turned toward her briefly, and then he continued his tasks.
“Is Butch waiting outside?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She swallowed hard. “Trevor, I want you to know that I am not engaged to Hugh regardless of what my mother said. My parents arranged a betrothal without my consent. I refused the engagement, yet they brought him and continue to insist on a relationship.”
“You already told me this, Gracelyn.”
“I want you to believe me. A future between Hugh and me is ridiculous. It won’t happen.”
“You’d go against your parents’ wishes? Because it’s clear to me they’re set on you marrying him.”
“For love, yes, I would defy my parents.”
“Doesn’t the Bible teach you to honor and obey them?” He glanced down at her, mouth grim.
She crossed her arms. Was he baiting her? “I would, in a very honoring way, let them know again that marriage to Hugh is out of the question.”
“Let me help you up.” Trevor reached for Gracie and she grasped his shoulders as he lifted her onto the mare. He led them to the main doors of the barn and Gracie took in a deep lungful of fresh, winter air. Besides footprints, the world looked pristine. Clean. A few plant skeletons dotted the landscape, not dead, but waiting for the right time to bloom.
Trevor mounted Butch and they set off at a leisurely pace for the mountains.
“I’ve never seen where you keep the livestock. Would you show me?” She pulled on the reins to quiet her horse, who kept edging past a trot toward a canter.
“Not much to show. Cattle sales have been steadily decreasing so we don’t raise much now. Just keep a small herd going in case the industry picks up.”
Gracie grimaced. “That does not bode well for your dreams of running a ranch. What is this mare’s name? She’s wanting to gallop.”
“Name’s Velvet.”
“Because her coat is so smooth. I noticed that.”
“I don’t care about running a ranch,” Trevor said. “I’m more interested in settling down, raising a family in a steady environment.”
A man like Trevor would want a family. Something solid and secure. “And ranching will allow you to do that?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Ranching isn’t as lucrative as it once was. But there are other ways to make a living.” He sounded pensive.
His words explained the lack of ranch workers. But not other things. Wind bit at Gracie’s nose and she pulled up her red scarf from the neckline of her jacket. Her voice was muffled when she spoke next.
“Tell me this, Trevor. If sales are declining, how is it both you and Uncle Lou are making so much money?”
Chapter Seventeen
There was a drawn-out silence as Trevor formulated an answer.
“We hire ourselves out for different services,” he said slowly. “Can’t really explain them to you.”
“Hmm. Are these services the reason my parents disapprove of Uncle Lou?”
“Their differences are no business of mine. Let’s race.”
He broke into a gallop and Gracie followed suit, laughing as wind whipped through her hair and pummeled her coat.
She must’ve needed this, the escape from the confining study and the rigid life her parents offered. Didn’t take much to tell how the wind blew with Gracie’s pinch-faced mother. Trevor pointed to a tree some distance away and Gracie nodded her head, then urged Velvet to go faster.
“You beat me,” Gracie said, laughing several minutes later as she drew up next to Trevor. “But only by mere seconds. If I rode Honey I would’ve trounced you.” Her cheeks were pink from the wind. Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight. And her laughter filled Trevor with warmth.
She brought to the surface yearnings he’d put away while still a boy. Filled him with hope for a future he couldn’t quite see clearly yet. It would be without her, though. Whether or not she married Hugh, her fascination for Striker was misplaced. She’d see that someday and any respect she had for him would disappear.
He cleared his throat. “You do fine in the saddle. I think you’re done with lessons now. We’d better get back before your mother begins to worry.”
“I don’t really understand why they came. Do you think Uncle Lou will take me to town again? I did not get a present for Mary.”
They ambled toward the house, a small speck in the distance.
“I think we can arrange another trip into Burns. Mary has a few more items to pick up and Julia says she has errands, too.”
“You know,” Gracie slanted a glance at Trevor. “I could always drive us.”
“No.”
“I thought you might say that. I’d like to hear more about your and Uncle Lou’s business. Perhaps it will help me reconcile the figures in his books.”
Trevor frowned. “I should’ve never let you get away with that.”
“Will Uncle Lou be very angry if he finds out?”
“You never know.”
They rode in easy silence after that, content to listen to the swish of the horses’ hooves against the powdery snow. When they reached the stables, Gracie sighed mournfully.
“I can take care of Velvet from here, Trevor. I am sure you have plenty of chores to do.”
“I do. Gotta find James and see about fixing more of our fence line.” Trevor tipped his hat to her and she gave him a wobbly smile.
Before he could turn away she stopped him with a touch.
“Thank you.”
Why did her gratitude surprise him? He nodded stiffly and prodded Butch into a gallop, away from sparkling eyes and tender touches. Away from a woman whose words kept taking root down in his heart, making it impossible to forget her.
* * *
Three days.
Three weary days of mind-numbing needlework. Had her mother found out somehow that she’d spoken to Hugh? Was this punishment?
After her ride yesterday, Gracie had cornered Hugh and let him know in the kindest way possible that there’d been a misunderstanding with her parents. Months ago, before he left for service, she’d told him she could not marry him. He’d been quite mannerly about the whole thing then, and he remained so now. Disaffected, almost.
She glanced up from her needle-pricked fingers and crooked stitches to see her mother’s needle flying steadily across the fabric. She sighed.
“Gracelyn, that is the third groan you have uttered in the last five minutes. Do concentrate.”
“This is pointless.” She sighed again. “I don’t need any more new clothes and no one is going to want this mangled skirt for a present. May I please be excused?”
“For what?”
“I owe Uncle Lou a game of chess.”
“That is not a suitable pastime for a young woman,” her mother admonished. “Finish your skirt, Gracelyn.”
She lowered her eyes to the skirt but her hands remained still. If only the weather would clear up. This snowstorm ruined all her plans.
“Where is Father?”
“He’s resting.”
“I hope he’s feeling well.” She fiddled with the skirt.
“He just needs rest.”
Silence, but Gracie could not bring herself to continue sewing. “Why don’t you sew with Mary? She loves needlework.”
“I do not associate with people like her.”
She took the skirt off her lap and set it on the couch. “People like her? Do you mean because she is Indian? Or because she is Irish? You must be clear, Mother.”
Edith looked up from her stitches, hands pausing. “I do hope you are not being impertinent. You know exactly what I mean. She is a servant, as well as being of a different race.”
Gracie’s mouth tightened and she looked away. Thank goodness the door opened at that moment or she might have said something to later be repented of.
“Good morning, ladies.” Hugh stepped into the bright study and closed the door behind him. “I hoped to find you in here. May I join you?”
“Of course.” Edith shot him a radiant smile as he made himself comfortable in Uncle Lou’s chair. “Why don’t you two talk and I will have Mary bring some coffee and cake in.” She rose like a queen from her throne and allowed Hugh to escort her to the door.
Scowling, Gracie picked up her skirt and pretended to be absorbed in the uneven stitches.
“How are you enjoying your stay?” Hugh asked, settling back in his chair.
She forced a rigid smile to her lips and looked up. “It’s much different than Boston, but wonderful in every way. I particularly love the scenery and the wildlife. Did you know there are wild horses roaming about?”
“You don’t say? I miss Boston myself.”
Less than a week and he was ready to go back. She’d been the same way. “Are you happy to be out of the navy?”
“Absolutely.” For once his features shone with sincerity. “The military life isn’t for me. I prefer business. Your father was speaking with me about possible business opportunities.”
“Really? I didn’t know you enjoyed trade.”
“It is a solid and stable way to earn a living.” His fingers drummed the arms of the chair. “I understand your quest to establish the vote for women is nearing an end.”
“President Wilson has been fairly supportive.”
Hugh grimaced. “What do you plan to work on when you return to Boston, then?”
“Oh, I have other interests.”
He leaned forward and his hand snaked out to touch her shoulder. “Gracelyn, I have had enough of the small talk. You say you never wanted to marry me. I’ve thought about it and I don’t believe that.”
She shifted away, but kept her eyes on his face. “I don’t understand why you’re here. We spoke very clearly months ago, before you were ever drafted.”
He leaned back and studied her intensely. “I would not bore you, Gracelyn.”
Exasperation rushed through her. She tried to speak calmly. “You’re very kind but boredom is not the case here. We are incompatible.”
Just then Mary swung into the room with the coffee tray. She placed everything on the table between the couch and the chair.
“Can I get you anything else?” Her eyes lowered in a subservient manner.
Gracie hated it. “This is wonderful. Thank you, Mary. I’ll bring these to the kitchen when we’re finished.”
“That won’t be necessary, ma’am.” She swished out of the room and Gracie fought down an overwhelming sense of annoyance. So she would no longer help Mary with the chores? Absurd. She reached for her coffee, and then plucked a piece of cake off the tray, placing it on her plate.
“Do you think you should eat that?” Concern etched Hugh’s brow. In his hand he held a plate covered with two huge pieces of cake.
Gracie looked down at the sliver of cake on her plate, then up again. “My cake?”
“After all the weight you’ve lost, you don’t want to fill up on sweets, my love.” He gently reached for her plate but she moved it out of his grasp and with as much dignity as she could muster, set it on the table beside her coffee.
Spine rigid, she stood. “That is highly insulting. And since you feel at liberty to be so rude, I wi
ll reciprocate. I am not your love, nor shall I ever be. Excuse me.” She marched to the door. Stopping, she turned to face his bewildered expression once more. “I’ll have you know, Hugh Jeffers, most of my weight loss came from long walks and hard work, not a lack of food.”
She stalked out the door, heading for the stairs. How discourteous could someone possibly be? She no longer worried for his heart. The hall echoed with the force of her heels slamming up the steps.
After pacing her room to work out her frustration, Gracie turned to leave but her closet caught her attention. The position of the cracked door struck her as odd. She was tempted to close it but a premonition took hold of her.
The closet always remained shut because of her jewels hidden in its depths. Bending down on her knees, she pulled out the box and, with bated breath, opened it.
A sapphire necklace and ruby pendant glittered up at her and her eyes closed briefly in relief. She moved her fingers through the jewels. Diamond earrings, pearl rings, all accounted for.
And her notebook.
She fingered the bent pages, debating. Drawing a deep breath, she plucked it from the box and slid it into her pocket. She closed the box and shoved it to the back of the closet, then stood and shut the door firmly. Perhaps she should see if Uncle Lou owned a safe.
She shrugged the thought away.
Who here would paw through her room and then steal her jewels? She could not think it of Mary, Uncle Lou or James. Julia was another matter, but she wouldn’t dare step foot in this house again.
She wandered downstairs, worry hovering at the back of her mind. Maybe she’d forgotten to close the closet earlier. She peeked into the sitting room. Empty, so she followed the sound of conversation drifting down the hall.
Raised voices came from the office. Uncle Lou…and Daddy? She inched closer, then with a quick look around her, pressed her ear against the door. Before she could hear any interesting details, however, a chuckle snapped her attention.
Trevor had come around the corner from the kitchen and now lazed against the wall, a partial smile on his face.
“Eavesdropping again?”
Love on the Range Page 16