The Man from Shenandoah

by Marsha Ward

  “That’s a funny looking saddle,” he said, grinning, as they started off. “What’s that high thing in front for?”

  Ellen patted the horn. “This here thing is for wrapping a rope around after you get it on a cow. I watched some Mexicans tending cattle down to home, and it’s so exciting what they can do with a rope and a good cow pony. I’ve been practicing throwing a rope, but only when Pa’s not around,” she admitted, wrinkling her nose as she grinned. “He thinks a girl should stick to kitchen chores, but he could use some help when inside work is done.”

  “Sounds like you have your house all built.”

  “Pa put up the cutest little sod house. It ain’t very big, but it’s enough for the three of us for now.” A lock of red-gold hair got loose from the rest and Ellen pushed it back into place. “Lawsy, I’m going to look a sight when we get to the dance.”

  Carl looked at her a long time. “I reckon you’ll do,” he said. “You look kind of carefree and happy, and full of fire.”

  Ellen blushed. “I never knew you had a silver tongue, Carl Owen,” she exclaimed.

  “I don’t. You look so excited. You’ll be the most fetching girl at the dance. I surely hope you’ll save me a right smart lot of dances.”

  “Well,” she said, looking down at the ground. “I’ll think about it.”

  The trail they followed dipped into a stream bed, and Ellen slowed her horse to cross it. Dun Baby suddenly stopped and lowered her head to drink. Ellen kept her seat and laughed, then looked around her.

  “She won’t move till she’s had her fill,” she called to Carl, who turned Sherando and came back to the stream. “What a pretty valley,” she said, smiling. “And that bench up there, with all those trees. I can almost imagine a cabin built in there. Why, I believe I do see a cabin up there!”

  “You do,” Carl said, grinning. “It’s mine. Ain’t it a purty place?”

  “It’s right lovely.” Ellen eyed him closely. “Are you bringing Ida back, now that the cabin’s built?”

  Before he could answer, Chester Bates and his wife caught up with them.

  “I reckon you’re stuck there till she drinks the stream dry, daughter,” Chester mused as he came alongside. “We’ll go on ahead.” He and Muriel trotted their horses out of sight toward the north.

  Carl turned to watch them go, his heart pounding. He had almost forgotten Ida in his pleasure at Ellen’s company. Slowly he faced the girl in the stream, setting his teeth and flexing the muscles of his jaw. “Yes,” he said slowly. “She’s expecting me.”

  Dun Baby quit drinking, continued across the stream and ascended the bank. Ellen pulled up alongside Carl. Her face was white, and she lifted her chin before she spoke. “I thought you had more sense than to ask one girl to dance while on the way to wed another, Carl Owen.” Her green eyes seemed to be filled with brown sparks as she sat erect on her mare. Then she kneed the dun and started off across the rising valley slope after her parents.

  “A man can dance until he’s wed,” he shouted, urging Sherando to follow her.

  The rest of the journey was a misery for Carl. Ellen answered when spoken to, but the ease of their conversation had vanished. She rode beside him, but her excitement and joy were gone, and he shrank from the knowledge that he had robbed her of them. The bright, crisp day seemed gloomy and overcast to him. Finally, he rode silently through the tedious miles across the prairie.

  Chester called a halt at noon, on the sandy bank of a waterhole. After the horses drank their fill, he allowed them to crop the brown buffalo grass on the plain surrounding the water. When the travelers had eaten and the horses were rested, they resumed their trip.

  ~~~

  Five o’clock had come and gone before Chester Bates and his party rode into Pueblo. Rand Hilbrands’ hotel was well lit for the festivities. Candles burned on every wall inside, and they found that the formerly dim dining room was ablaze with light. The tables and benches had been cleared away, and the space was reserved for dancing. Three musicians tuned their instruments for the next dance set.

  Carl glanced around the room, excitement building in him in spite of his miserable trip. He did not see Ida, and turned to Ellen with fierce determination.

  “I’ve seen you this far, and I’m claiming the first dance,” he told her, and before she could deny him, he took her hands and pulled her onto the dance floor. Ellen allowed him to lead her into the gaiety, but her stiff movements betrayed her reluctance to dance with him.

  “This ain’t fair, Carl Owen,” she whispered grimly, as he held her hands firmly in his.

  “Nobody promised you life was fair,” he grunted back.

  When the music finished, Ellen removed her hands from Carl’s and fled. He turned to watch her go, and saw Ida coming into the room from the kitchen. She wore a pale yellow dress, the same color as her hair, which was piled upon her head in a new style.

  She seemed to see him, then her eyes slid past his in an embarrassed manner, as she continued her advance into the room. Carl felt his heart leap as he made his way through the press of people. She was as pretty as ever, and soon she would be his.

  Ida stopped in front of a group of strangers, three young men and two ladies of expensive foreign dress. She greeted them warmly as Carl came up beside her. The strangers replied, and Carl heard the unfamiliar cadences of the King’s English for the first time. He strained to understand the odd phrases and inflections they used as he nervously waited for Ida to break off her chatter and acknowledge his presence. Carl sensed a tensing in her, a strain in her voice as she continued her conversation with the people in the group.

  Becoming impatient, and feeling a slow heat creeping up his neck at her continued snub, Carl placed his hand on her elbow to draw her attention. She stiffened, and glanced at him uneasily.

  “Hello, Carl,” she said coldly. “Can’t you see that I am talking to my friends?”

  A dark-haired young man detached himself from the group and came to Ida’s other side, an air of protectiveness hovering over him. He glanced sharply at Carl and said in an aggrieved voice, “I say, what’s the meaning of this? Take your hand off her arm, your boorish fellow.”

  Carl tightened his grip and turned to face this challenge. He looked closely at the Englishman, and saw that the young man was a few years older than himself, slight, and had a long, straight nose, a thin mouth, and a jutting chin. His swaggering manner suited his expensive clothes. Reading disdain in the man’s pale eyes, Carl turned a questioning look on Ida, who avoided his eyes.

  “I reckon I have a right to speak to the lady,” he said, trying to get her to look at him. “I have to speak to you, Ida, and we’d best be alone.”

  “Say your piece here, Carl. Whatever it is, my friends can hear it, too.” She finally looked at him, then away again, her eyes resting on the young Englishman and his party.

  Amazed at her treatment of him, Carl dropped his hands and shifted his weight. “I reckon this has to be private, Ida.” Then realizing the import of his message, he continued. “Hush, if you want your new friends to hear, that’s proper. The whole town will know soon enough.”

  He grabbed Ida’s hands, turned her to face him, and looked down at her lowered eyes. “I’ve come for you, Ida. The cabin’s done.”

  Ida jerked up her chin and looked at him, then her eyes slipped sideways to look around the room, as though in a panic.

  Carl spoke again. “We’ll find a preacher and get wed, enjoy the party, and then we can go home.”

  Ida looked directly at him then, a strange light burning through her eyes. “No, Carl,” she whispered, and pulled her hands from his grasp.

  Pale Eyes stepped forward, muttering, “This is a muddle. Who is this chap, Ida?”

  She waved a hand at the Englishman, stopping him in his tracks.

  “Wait, Cecil. I have to tell him.”

  Carl focused his attention on Ida’s eyes, trying to read her expression. “Who is this feller, Ida?” he echoed, his voic
e barely above a whisper. “Why’s he acting so familiar with you?”

  Ida flew to the offensive, stamping her foot and fisting her hands. “He has more right than you, Carl Owen. You said you’d visit, and I waited for you ever so long. You never came, Carl Owen, so you gave up any rights to me. Mr. Gilbert, here, came along and asked for my hand, and I figured it was mine to give. I’m getting wed, all right, but to him!”

  Chapter 14

  Carl staggered backward, as though Ida had buried her small fists in his belly. His jaw dropped, and he took a long shuddering breath.

  “What’s this man got that I ain’t?” he shouted, his voice hoarse. Then he read his answer in her hard, glittering eyes, as she looked from him down to the gems sparkling on her finger. “He bought you from me,” Carl grunted. “He bought you with pretty things, and you was fool enough to let him.”

  He bunched his fists to swing at the sneering stranger who had put his arm around Ida’s waist, but two pairs of arms caught him from behind, and his father and James hustled him away from Ida and her beau.

  “I’ll be a pinch-toed son of a red-wattled turkey buzzard!” James exclaimed when he and Rod deposited a struggling Carl in the hotel lobby. “You’ve been double-damn-crossed, big brother.” James scowled, looking as angry as Carl.

  “Rand told us when we got into town, son. Ida convinced him she was free to marry,” Rod said, scratching his head. He looked at Carl, then plunged ahead with the story. “This Englishman came into town and stayed. After a while, he asked Ida to marry him, and she went ahead and accepted him.”

  Carl paced the lobby, alternately gripping his hands tightly together and driving one fist into his other hand. He cursed Ida, her love of money, and her shabby treatment of him. Then his voice lowered as he cursed himself for falling prey to her charms. James retreated to the dining room, leaving Rod to deal with Carl.

  “Why, Pa?” Carl turned to his father, his voice rasping. “I was good enough for her in Virginia. Why ain’t I good enough for her now?”

  “I don’t have an answer to that, Carl. You cool off, and if you feel like you can keep your temper in check, you can stay and try to salvage this party. There are plenty of pretty girls here. But if you feel like making trouble, you go on home.” He waited for a moment, then added, “I know you’ll be angry at me for saying this, since I arranged your marriage in the first place, but now I think you got off luckier than Mr. Cecil Gilbert over yonder.”

  Carl glared at his father. His father stared back, waiting for Carl’s decision.

  The young man breathed hard, resumed his pacing, then after several minutes had passed, he stopped in front of his father and nodded his head. “I’ve come this far, so I’ll take hold of Rand Hilbrands’ party with both hands.” He shook his fists in illustration. “That two-faced little fox won’t get the best of me.”

  “If you can’t hold your tongue, you’d best leave right now,” Rod warned.

  Carl slumped into a nearby chair. His body shook with released tension. After a few minutes he said, “I’ll mind my manners, and I’ll hold my tongue, but you can’t expect me to smile.”

  “No man will ask that of you, son” Rod answered gently. “Come in and find a pretty-looking gal to dance with. The night is plenty young.”

  Carl nodded grimly and followed his father into the dining room. A dance was in progress, a waltz, and his eyes glanced over the swirling couples to find Ida. They found Ellen, encircled by James’s arms, gracefully moving in three-quarter time around the room. She was smiling, then laughing at James’s joke, then her eyes met Carl’s and she looked away, face gone white.

  He tore his gaze from her face, disgruntled that she was occupied when he wanted her company. But he could not keep from watching her, and when the waltz ended and James went to get refreshments, he was ready.

  He came up behind her in the corner where she stood, apart from the rest of the party-goers, and placed his hands on her shoulders. She stiffened, and he bent over to whisper in her ear.

  “I reckon I can ask you to dance now, and have no anger betwixt us.”

  Something in his shaky whisper made Ellen whirl around and stare up at him. Her eyes searched his face. “What do you mean?”

  Carl closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked straight into Ellen’s. “I’m a free man, Ellen. Ida found somebody more moneyed than me, and she kicked me loose.”

  Carl saw the flame of joy that leaped into her eyes before she could lower her head. He said, “Pa said I should come in here and find a pretty girl to dance with. You’re the prettiest one I know. Will you take a whirl with me?”

  “James went—”

  “Forget James. He’ll be gone a while. Dance with me.”

  A shadow crossed her face, then she straightened and smiled a bit. “I’ll do it.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  ~~~

  Carl was able to dance with Ellen one more time before he came across Ida in a corner kissing Cecil. Anger rose up in his throat, threatening to choke him, and he knew the time had come for him to leave. He shook as he turned his back on all that he had worked for, and walked slowly toward the lobby door, his eyes glazed, fists clenched.

  Someone reached out and touched his arm, and he started to shake off the hand, then realized that Ellen was standing there, trembling at the sight of his glowering face.

  “Carl?”

  “I’ve got to get out of this place. I can’t mind my manners any longer.” He turned his red-rimmed eyes on her, and she gave a little cry at the wildness in his face. “Come with me,” he pleaded. “Come help me ride the meanness away.” Then he turned and bolted through the door.

  ~~~

  Ellen, shaken, jumped at the touch of a hand on her arm. She turned to see Marie standing next to her, smiling.

  “I told you a time would come. Go with him. It’s just his pride that’s wounded. He calls your name in his sleep.”

  “Oh,” Ellen gasped, and ran out the door.

  The lobby was empty. Ellen grabbed a cloak from a coat rack beside the dining room door, and swirled it around her as she walked out into the darkness of the street.

  Pausing to get her bearings, she looked down the street toward the livery stable. A lantern burned beside the big front doors, and she stepped off the hotel porch and hurried toward the light. The stable boy was asleep beside the open door, and she ran past him into the barn.

  Carl stood beside Sherando, saddling the gray gelding by the light of another lantern. His face was gaunt in the lamplight. She walked toward him, and he looked up, surprising her with a wan smile.

  “Good girl. I figured you’d come.”

  “What?”

  “You’re a stayer.”

  “Is that something good?”

  “Means you stick to a task.”

  Ellen shivered. “It’s cold tonight.”

  “We can leave right now,” Carl said, ducking under Sherando’s neck and going into the next stall. His voice floated back over the side of the wooden enclosure. “We’ll get some exercise and warm you right up.”

  He returned, leading Dun Baby, already saddled. A grin spread over his face. “I took a chance on being ready, but I wasn’t wrong about you.”