by DiAnn Mills
“At the bunkhouse.”
Crushed, I forged on while biting back the tears. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Charlotte said nothing, her countenance filled with compassion.
“He doesn’t want me to know.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry, but I gave him my word.”
“How has he gotten his meals?”
“When everyone is gone.”
Now I was convinced he despised me. Was this the answer to my prayers? “What happened? Why isn’t he with his family?”
Charlotte sighed and glanced down at her hands in her lap. “He told me he could no longer stay with his people. I sold him my truck so he could store his medical equipment and supplies here. I didn’t feel it was appropriate to ask why.”
“You’re right.” I took a couple of deep breaths to calm my shattered nerves. “It’s wrong for me to force myself on him.”
Charlotte moved from the chair to sit beside me. She took my trembling hand. “My dear, he is hurting as much as you are. Give him a little more time.”
“Every day is like torture. I want to see him, hear his voice. Oh, Charlotte, I’ve never been so miserable.”
She laughed. “It’s love, my dear, and Dr. Tahoma doesn’t have a prescription to ease the pain.”
“Yes, he does.”
This time we both laughed, but for me the humor kept the tears at bay.
“Seriously, Eva, I’m not sure how he would react if you confronted him.”
“Is it a culture issue?”
“More like a man issue. His pride’s at stake, and he has much to work through.”
I stared into her dark brown eyes, the color of walnuts from the trees at home. “I can’t imagine the load he’s bearing, but I will do my best to wait for him.”
“Wise decision. Oh—” She glanced around her. “I picked up the mail yesterday afternoon, and there’s a letter for you.”
My pulse sped. News from home meant changes. I wasn’t sure I wanted to read it. She handed me the envelope, and I saw it was from Victoria. What a treat and a relief when I needed a diversion. I slipped it into my pants pocket to read later in the privacy of my cabin.
I stayed about thirty more minutes then said my good-byes and hurried out into the cold. The evening had not gone as I’d hoped, and I did have much to ponder.
Tahoma. Are my feelings for you worth nothing? Charlotte had indicated he cared for me, but his actions did not prove it. In fact, his avoidance of me proved quite the opposite.
I held my breath in the cold trudge home. Charlotte wanted me to set aside my new faith until life settled down. Could she be right? Was God for Sunday mornings in a fine church with a reverend and hymns and Scripture reading? I’d felt peace when I gave my heart to Jesus. That was real. I refused to believe Charlotte’s views of an insensitive God, but her words continued to repeat in my mind, causing me to doubt. If only there was someone who shared my faith.
That someone was Tahoma, but he wanted nothing to do with me.
Once at home, I added a log to the fire and curled up next to the crackling warmth. With the door locked and bolted and the curtains drawn, I felt safe from the outside world. Pulling the envelope from my pocket, I eagerly opened the letter from Victoria.
Dearest Eva,
I miss you terribly, and I worry whether you are in good health and safe from those who seek to harm you. If only I could have you here and make our worlds right again.
Why Murdock sent you to the high desert is far beyond my reasoning, when you could be with me and tucked away here with modern conveniences and paid bodyguards. He neglects to return my telephone calls, the insensitive mongrel.
Meals are so empty without you. My favorite roast duck with cranberry orange sauce does not satisfy me. And the fine pastries and rich cakes taste flat. I’ve taken to wine at midday and evening to dull my longing for you.
I want you to come home. We can hire a reputable man to protect you. I’ve looked into how we could be assured of your safety, and I have two highly qualified men in mind who will keep lawbreakers away from this house. Life is unbearable. I have no one but you. I’m sure Murdock is wrong. Whoever caused your grandfather’s death is far from Syracuse.
Please forgive me. I’ve gone on and not asked how you are faring. It must be utterly miserable with those uncouth people. Are there snakes and insects, to say nothing about inadequate lodging and meals?
In your previous letter, you mentioned tutoring a family of three boys. How dreadful, but I admire your courage to endure such long, grueling days. I’m sure you’ve come to recognize all that I taught you about the incorrigible male species. Thank heavens in the past you had the foresight to heed my warnings about gentleman callers—of whom none were true gentlemen. It’s merely a term for the lesser species.
Eva, you don’t have to lie to me; I can only imagine your horrific life. Come home where you belong, and we will take care of each other.
Sincerely,
Victoria
I folded the letter and inserted it back into the envelope. My hands shook, and my stomach twisted as though I’d be ill. Out of respect for her, I didn’t toss it into the fire. Victoria’s letter sounded like the woman I remembered, but had she always been so insistent upon the finer things of life? I’d written her glowing letters about how much I enjoyed my stay here. I’d talked about Charlotte and the ranch hands and poured out my heart to her about how I loved Brice, Alex, and Cuttin. I’d told her how much I wanted to one day have sons of my own. She’d ignored my missive to her, and I was glad I didn’t mention Tahoma and his father or my new faith. She’d have ridiculed me for sure.
I’d asked about snowfall and Mrs. Jessop’s niece, who’d been engaged to a delightful man. Mr. Stiles had been plagued with a terrible cough, and I wanted to make sure he was all right. I asked her about regularly placing flowers on Grandfather’s grave and to send me my favorite book containing Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poetry. Her letter sounded…self-absorbed. Had I been that way too? Was I still?
There were three people in my life whom I cherished: Victoria, Charlotte, and Tahoma. All of them had disappointed me. But I think if I looked at what had happened of late, they would say I had disappointed them.
I stared into the fire and brushed a tear slipping over my cheek.
I’d disappointed Victoria by settling into my life here.
I’d disappointed Tahoma by stating Walt Chambers had the right to a lawyer and should not endure coercion.
I’d disappointed Charlotte by embracing God.
What should I do? If I gave in to their way of thinking, then I denied myself. Perhaps I was the selfish one after all. Perhaps they all were right.
CHAPTER 35
On Saturday, I was so disheartened by the events in my life that I walked to the Monarchs’ home to see if I could spend some time with the boys. Perhaps a game or reading to them would raise my spirits. I hadn’t read my Bible this morning or prayed. If I admitted the truth, I’d confess to being angry with God. After all, I’d given my life to Him, and He’d done nothing to stop the turmoil and angst raging through me.
So many questions about life raced through my mind that I could not stay inside another minute. In the past, I’d wandered through the barns, but I didn’t want to meet Tahoma face-to-face. A big part of me feared he and his parents had parted badly. Could he have revealed his faith?
On my way to the Monarchs, I stopped on the road and whirled around. “Tahoma, I know you are out there, and you’re watching over me. I also know you’re living at the bunkhouse. I hope things with your parents are all right.”
All that greeted me was silence, but I didn’t expect him to answer.
“I greatly regret we parted. I miss you terribly.”
When he didn’t respond, I realized our friendship was over. I continued on, and when the Monarchs’ home came into sight, my heart calmed. This part of my life here had become like paradise. No matter that the boys c
ould be stubborn or fought with each other or treasured rocks and insects. They were my joy. Teaching them had unloosed something inside of me that I would otherwise never have known. Watching a child successfully complete a lesson made me smile. Preparing creative ways to draw them to their studies caused me to learn in the process. In short, my dear boys had given purpose to my life.
Brice saw me first and came running. “We’re about to take a ride with Mr. Whitman. Would you like to come along?”
“I’d love to. But please ask him first to make sure I’m not an imposition.”
Alex appeared from the side of the house with Cuttin. They waved and Cuttin ran and hugged my waist, although we’d just parted yesterday afternoon. He glanced up at me with an impish grin that accented his freckles.
“I wish I could see you every day,” the younger boy said. “Even when you make us mind or study.”
“I’d like seeing all of you every day too,” I said. “Even when you don’t mind or refuse to study.”
We laughed, and I planted a kiss on the top of his head.
Brice returned with an invitation from Mr. Whitman to accompany them on a horseback ride. Their parents were going along, which made me feel a little uncomfortable.
“Since this is a family outing, maybe I should come back another time,” I said.
“Absolutely not,” Mrs. Monarch called from the doorway. “Perhaps you could share with us one of your fabulous history or geography lessons.”
I waved at her. “I reserve those for your sons.”
Mr. Monarch, a tall husky man, appeared leading a horse and carrying his rifle. My weapon had become like a piece of clothing too. Now I understood why the family took the same precautions.
“We’ll take you anyway,” he said. “However, one day I want one of those exciting lessons.”
Oh, for a few hours we could escape our problems and enjoy this ride across the high desert. I soon climbed onto the saddle of the palomino I’d ridden there in the past. The mare pranced, and I held the reins firmly. No doubt the cold weather sparked a need to run for all of us.
We galloped across the hard ground in the direction of Abiquiu. Mr. Whitman stayed behind. Maybe he’d see Tahoma, and I envied him.
After we slowed our horses, Mr. and Mrs. Monarch conversed with their sons, so I lingered and joined Mr. Whitman.
“You’re missing the fun,” he said.
I laughed and noted how his attention seemed to be in every direction. He was a stern-looking fellow, one I’d not want to agitate. “I should have followed my original instincts and stayed behind.”
“They wouldn’t have invited you if they hadn’t wanted you to join them.” He had yet to look at me, but he was being paid to be watchful and alert.
“They were being polite, and I’m interfering with your work,” I said. “I’m sorry.” I tapped the palomino’s sides and trotted ahead.
“Miss Fortier. Stop!”
My gaze flew to his face. His jaws were clenched, and his lips pressed together. I knew something was amiss.
“Stay here. I see something I don’t like, and Tahoma is not on this side.”
“Should I warn the Monarchs?”
“Stay here.”
I startled at the forcefulness in his voice.
He galloped off toward a clump of cottonwoods with his rifle raised. He fired once in the air, and the Monarchs immediately halted. Mr. Whitman motioned for the family to ride toward me. Mrs. Monarch and the children raced back, but Mr. Monarch lifted his rifle and raced toward Mr. Whitman.
A flood of memories rushed through me from the afternoon Tahoma and I were attacked. I feared for the family. I prayed for God to protect them.
A shot fired, and Mr. Whitman fell from his horse.
Mrs. Monarch screamed and waved her sons on toward me. I pulled my rifle from the scabbard, ready to blow a hole through anyone who tried to harm my precious boys. Mrs. Monarch’s attention seemed to be torn between her husband and her sons, and I shouted for the boys to hurry.
“Get them back to the house.” She tossed a glance my way then rode in the direction of her husband and Mr. Whitman.
I met up with the boys, whose faces had turned pale, and Cuttin was trembling. “We’re racing back to your home, just like your mother said.”
“But what about our parents?” Brice looked to the east where his father had dismounted and leaned over Mr. Whitman. Their mother had her rifle lifted, peering all around.
“We are to do what your mother ordered, and that means to ride hard.” My words sounded firm, even to me. “Now go. Fast.” My hand wrapped around the butt of my rifle.
They obeyed, which had to have been a miracle straight from the portals of heaven. I knew Tahoma would be watching out for us in case there was trouble at the Monarch home.
I glanced to the west and saw a long figure riding toward us. Tahoma. I kept the boys at a fast clip, knowing he’d catch up. This was not how I wanted to see him, once again a helpless female in need.
“Ride straight to Ghost Ranch.” He grasped his rifle. “Let’s not take any chances with these boys. Someone could be waiting at the Rancho de los Burros. Once I see you there, I’ll head back to help here.”
I nodded. The biting cold nearly stole my breath. Or was it fear threatening to overtake any semblance of logic? “You heard the man. Get riding.” My voice sounded forceful, but I failed to feel the same strength.
We took off, and Tahoma led the way. I pushed his image from my mind. The boys mattered the most. I hurried them past their home, on down the two-and–a-half-mile road to the ranch.
The boys and I rode toward the stables, where I knew I’d find Rex or Juan. Three more shots fired, and I thought my heart would burst from my chest. Please, God, keep them safe.
Juan rushed from the barn. “I saw you riding, senorita, and I hear rifle fire. Is there trouble?”
I nodded because I couldn’t catch my breath.
“Mr. Whitman’s been shot,” Brice said. “My parents are with him.”
“At the Rancho de los Burros?”
“No sir. We were riding toward Abiquiu. Mr. Whitman and Miss Eva were behind us. We heard a shot and saw he’d ridden east.”
Juan stared up at me. “Did you see anyone?”
“No. Tahoma escorted us most of the way here, but he turned back to help them.”
Juan frowned. “Go to Miss Charlotte. I’ll see to the trouble.”
“I want to help,” Brice said. “I can use a rifle as well as my dad.”
My heart went out to him. “Have you ever shot a man?” I mimicked what Charlotte had asked me weeks before.
“No ma’am. But I’m not afraid.”
“Good. You can protect me and your brothers at Miss Charlotte’s.”
I dismounted, and the boys followed. We led our horses into the stable, but Juan told us to leave them until later.
Alex and Cuttin were strangely quiet. I herded all three on to where Charlotte would know exactly how to handle the situation. My knees weakened and dizziness threatened to overtake me. I hadn’t had this reaction when Tahoma and I were in danger, but I thought I knew why I had it now. I’d been through near-death before, and I didn’t want my boys to experience any of it.
CHAPTER 36
Tahoma kneeled beside Whitman. The bodyguard grimaced and gripped his bleeding right thigh with both hands. A steady flow of blood seeped onto a thin layer of snow and faded several inches from where he lay. Mr. and Mrs. Monarch moved aside for Tahoma, their rifles aimed into the trees where the shot had come from.
Not sure of the Monarchs’ skills with a rifle, Tahoma joined them and studied the area where the shot had been fired. He needed to get Whitman back to the ranch where he could dig out the bullet and stitch him up.
“If you’re in there, you’d better step out before I open fire.” Silence met his ears. No sound of a man fleeing on a horse. Nothing. “This is your last chance.”
Again silence.
Tahoma fired three times. “Watch those trees,” he said to the Monarchs and bent to tend to Whitman.
“Idiot shot me.” The man moaned
“I can see what he did.” Tahoma jerked off his coat and shirt.
“What are you doing?”
“Using my shirt for a tourniquet.”
Whitman cursed and stared at his thigh. “How bad is it?”
“Oh, you could probably take three more bullets and still recover.” But Whitman needed care fast. “Never hurts to have a doctor around during moments like these.”
Mr. Monarch fired into the trees. “Just to make sure he knows we mean business.”
Tahoma quickly tied the tourniquet. The next hurdle was to get Whitman back to the ranch. “Can you ride?”
Whitman cursed again. Wasn’t anything Tahoma hadn’t heard before. “Guess I’ll have to.”
“I imagine Eva found Rex or Juan to give us a hand,” Tahoma said. “Sure hope they bring the truck.”
Mrs. Monarch leaned over Whitman. “I wonder if the shooter was after you or Eva.”
Tahoma had heard the Monarchs’ story and knew the man who shot Whitman could have been after them, but a nudge in his spirit told him otherwise. “Does it matter?” he said. “A man with a rifle who aims at women and children needs to be stopped.”
“Help me up,” Whitman said to Tahoma. “Mrs. Monarch, you should have gone with Miss Fortier and your sons.”
“I’m not a runner,” she said. “You needed me here.”
Mr. Monarch helped the wounded man to his feet and wrapped an arm around him. “No point arguing with her. I gave up the first week we were married.”
Tahoma chuckled at the reminder of his parents’ bantering. His Eva was clearly as headstrong, as her actions had proved more than once. “As soon as I get you fixed up, I’ll see if I can find a trail.”
He turned his attention to the sound of a truck bouncing across the rough terrain. “Good. Putting you on a horse didn’t sit well with me.”
“Me either,” Whitman said. “I’ve been shot before, but I don’t remember it hurting this badly.”