As they prepared for bed, Daniel kept turning over what Josiah had said, weighing the possibilities, and watching Elizabeth as she tugged a hairpin still caught in a tangle. Countless times she had pinned those curls up in the morning, taking no telling how long to get them fixed, when they looked so pretty trailing down her back.
They needed to talk, and would. Her reaction to him a few nights ago had jarred him. It hadn’t frightened him or scared him off, just made him realize how far-reaching decisions were, and how lasting. Looking back to the first day they’d met, he would never have been able to imagine how intertwined their lives would turn out to be.
“Do you need some help with that?”
She looked over at him. “Yes, if you don’t mind.”
He circled the fire to her pallet and knelt down, seeing Josiah was already asleep. “Hand me your brush.”
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
He gave her a look. She gave him the brush. He had the pin out in less than a minute, which was really a shame. He should’ve taken longer.
“Thank you,” she whispered, then looked at the darkened cliff dwellings carved into the mountainside above. “Have you figured out a way for us to get up there?”
“Not yet . . .” Daniel stretched his shoulder, working the sore muscles. He didn’t know why, but some days the wound hurt more than others. “But I will.”
She twirled her finger. “Turn around.”
“Why?”
“Just turn around.”
Getting her meaning, he did as she asked, not sure if this was wise.
Her hands were surprisingly strong and went to the exact spot on his back that ached. Then he remembered, she’d seen the wound before.
“Is that too hard?”
He shook his head. “Not at all. Feels good.”
“Let your head roll forward.”
Her fingers worked across his shoulders and down his upper arms, then to the back of his neck, and to his right shoulder again.
“If I’d known you could do this, I would’ve asked for my pay in back rubs.”
She chuckled and her fingers dug harder. There was no way she could rub too hard for him, but when she moved to his upper neck, then into his hair, he stood.
She looked up at him. “I guess you’ve had enough.”
Was she really that innocent? He looked more closely. Yes, she was. And he planned on keeping it that way. “Yes, ma’am. That was real good, thank you.”
“I hope it’ll help you sleep.”
Not likely. “I’m sure it will.”
It took Daniel a while to finally get to sleep, and sometime later, he awakened to a nudge. He opened his eyes and liked what greeted him in the fire’s waning glow. His thoughts turned to those of a more intimate nature, and glad she couldn’t read them, he rose on one elbow. “What’s wrong?”
“Good morning.” Elizabeth brushed back her curls, but they paid no heed.
He looked around. “It’s not morning. It’s not even sunup yet, woman.” He lay back down.
“I think I figured out a way for us to get up to the cliffs.”
“Does that way involve daylight?”
She giggled, bending over him, which only fed his former musings.
“Yes, of course it does. But I think we can climb to the first ridge—did I tell you that I can climb, I think I did—and then we can . . .”
He stood and stretched, listening but needing to move. Mainly away from her.
By the time the sun shone pink in the eastern horizon, they had walked the perimeter of Mancos Canyon with the aid of a torch, and with Beau trotting along beside them. Daniel had been to the ruins before, but he’d never taken the time to explore like this, and he had to admit, he was enjoying it. Over breakfast, they finalized their plan for scaling the cliffs.
Elizabeth made quick work of the breakfast dishes while Daniel and Josiah went into town for more rope. She studied the cliff dwellings above, eager to see inside, to feel the centuries-old rock walls beneath her hands, and to experience the same view as had the people who built the castle-like chambers. If allowed more time, Daniel said he could have built a pulley system to hoist the camera up, along with the rest of her equipment. But the freighter would be back through in two days, and she still needed to take pictures of the sights on their trip back to Timber Ridge. Maybe someday . . .
Daniel and Josiah returned with rope, and by noon they were ready to start climbing. Remnants of rope lay at the base of the cliff, most of it rotted, evidence of climbers who’d come before them.
Daniel removed his boots and looped the rope over his arm and neck, winking at her. “If I start to fall, get ready to catch me.”
She didn’t find it funny. “If you start to fall, hang on.”
“You best be careful, Mr. Ranslett, sir. I don’t wanna be havin’ to find my way back to Timber Ridge on my lonesome.”
Elizabeth swatted Josiah on the arm. “I’d be with you to help.”
Josiah raised his brow. “Like I said, sir, if somethin’ happen to you, I be on my lonesome.”
They all laughed, and she gave Daniel’s hand a squeeze. “Please be careful.”
He was a good climber, gripping the crevices with his hands and finding footholds. He scaled the first twenty feet of the wall as if he were climbing a ladder, but she didn’t realize how good he was until he got to the narrow overhang, roughly sixty feet above the floor of the canyon. She held her breath as he let go of the wall with his right hand and gripped the rock ledge. In one fluid motion, he pushed away from the wall, got a grip with his left hand, and hoisted his body up.
He slipped, and her heart leapt to her throat.
He hung from the ledge, his hands gripping the rock. The muscles in his fingers had to be aching. Hold on, hold on . . . Inch by inch, he pulled himself up until his chest was even with the ledge, and then he swung his right leg up, somehow found a grip, and pulled himself onto the ledge. He went down on his back, and she could only imagine the rush of accomplishment he must be feeling.
Still on his back, Daniel stuck a hand over the ledge and gave them a pathetic wave. Josiah let out a whoop, and she clapped along, so proud of him.
She cupped her hands around her mouth. “What took you so long?”
When he finally stood, they clapped again. Daniel took an awkward bow and acted as if he were falling off the cliff. She shook her head at him.
He secured the rope and tossed it down.
Wishing she had her split skirt, Elizabeth bent at the waist, grabbed the back hem of her dress, and tucked it into the front of her waistband. “Not as good as your pants, but it’ll have to do.”
Josiah snugged the rope around her waist. “You’ll do fine, Miz Westbrook. You’s made for this kinda thing. I just wish that teacher of yours could be here to see you now.”
She smiled and hugged his neck. To her surprise, his expression took on a shy look.
“In the end, ma’am, people is what matters.” He glanced at the cliff far above them where Daniel stood. “That’s a good man up there. You’s a good woman too. Some people’s hearts . . . they point true north. You can trust ’em, no matter what comes. Sure is good when you find somebody like that, Miz Westbrook.” He shook his head. “And it don’t happen often in this life.”
Understanding what he was saying, she nodded.
“Now you hurry yourself on up there before he comes down here and gets on to me for huggin’ his woman.”
“I’m not his woman, Josiah.”
He just smiled. “Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say, ma’am.”
Hiding her smile, she found a grip and started up. It was much harder than Daniel made it look, and she slipped numerous times. Only because he was holding the other end of the rope did she not fall and break her neck. As she continued climbing, she realized how true that was in her career too—God had held her, guided each move. In recent days she’d found herself wanting her writing and her photography to have more mea
ning, more lasting purpose for Him. Something that would make a difference for the better in people’s lives. Something more than simply increasing the circulation of a newspaper . . . But what?
When she reached the height on the wall where she had to let go and grab the ledge, everything within her resisted. Every muscle in her body trembled. Her breath came heavy. Her energy was spent. The thought of letting go of this rock wall—her only certain means of support—scared her to death. She couldn’t do it.
“Just let go, Elizabeth, and grab on to me.”
It was Daniel speaking above her, but it was God’s inaudible voice she heard. God would show her what He wanted her to do with the talents He’d given her—in His time, on His terms. Taking a deep breath, she let go and reached out.
Her right hand connected with the cliff.
“Now quickly—with your left!”
She did as Daniel said and grabbed the ledge, then felt him take hold of her arms. He pulled her up and she clung to him, excited and relieved all at the same time.
He kissed the top of her head and held her for a moment, then slowly encouraged her to turn. “Take a look.”
What struck her first was that as high as it had seemed from the ground looking up, it seemed even higher now that she was looking down on the valley below. The ceiling of the dwelling loomed overhead. “Can you imagine living up here?”
“Not if I had to make that climb every day, I couldn’t.” Smiling, Daniel reached around her waist and pulled the knotted part of the rope toward her front. He tugged the rope playfully, pulling her toward him again, and she took full advantage.
She slipped her arms around his neck, knowing it would get his attention. “We need to have a conversation, Daniel.”
Looking only mildly surprised, and mostly pleased, he pulled her close. “I know we do, Elizabeth. But one thing you need to know, darlin’ ”—his drawl went thick—“is that when we’re close like this, talking’s not the first thing on my mind.”
“I’ll try to remember that, when the time comes.” She stood on tiptoe. Surely this was enough of a hint, even for the daftest man.
His smile said he understood her desire. The teasing in his eyes said he wasn’t going to comply that easily. “So am I to understand, Miss Westbrook, that we’re not going to have that conversation right now?”
“Daniel Ranslett . . . I’ve never asked a man to kiss me before, but I promise you, if you don’t—”
He complied fully, softly at first, and with a sweetness she hadn’t imagined possible, not when he was holding her so tightly. He deepened the kiss, and gradually, she recognized a familiar taste.
She smiled, their lips still touching. “You’ve been eating peppermint.”
Eyes still closed, he kissed her again, more slowly this time, and she got an even better taste.
He drew back slightly. “I got a new tin at the store this morning. Want some?” Flirtation filled his question.
“Yes, but I want my own piece.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” He pulled a wrapped bundle from his shirt pocket. Nested inside were three sticks of peppermint. “It just seemed appropriate for the occasion.”
“I ain’t realized I done tied that rope so good up there, Mr. Ranslett! I sure sorry about that, sir. You havin’ trouble gettin’ it undone?”
They both laughed, able to tell from Josiah’s tone that he wasn’t serious.
Daniel untied the rope and let it down again, looking over the ledge. “Try not to tie this thing so tight next time, will you? Took me ten minutes to get it undone.”
Josiah’s laughter drifted up to them as he started the climb. He lacked Daniel’s finesse but matched, or maybe even exceeded, him in strength. Daniel gripped hold of him as Josiah transitioned to the ledge.
Once he gained his bearings, Josiah sighed and looked out over the canyon. “Ain’t this somethin’ up here.” He accepted the candy Elizabeth offered and swirled it in his mouth. He gave her a wink, casting a glance at Daniel. “I’m thinkin’ this was worth the wait, ma’am.”
She smiled, knowing what he meant and knowing Daniel was listening. “Yes, it was definitely worth the wait.”
They spent the afternoon exploring the dwelling. Inside several of the rooms, they found pieces of pottery. Some pieces had been smashed, and remnants of recent fires darkened the rock floor of the dwelling. Some of the pottery was in good condition, as if whoever had used them last had intended to return.
After a brief discussion, they decided to take some of the artifacts back to Makya and his people. They would be safer there, since word of the dwellings’ existence was spreading—and would spread even more once her pictures appeared in the Chronicle. The thought gave Elizabeth pause.
Using the rope, Josiah fashioned a sort of net, and they lowered several pots to the canyon below.
“I’ll ask Makya on our way back if he’d be willing to donate a few pieces of the pottery to the museum in Washington. It would be preserved there for years to come.”
“If he says yes, will you mail the pots . . . or take them back with you when you go?”
Daniel’s question caught her off guard, and raised other ones she wasn’t prepared to answer. “I’ll most likely pack them and take them with me on the train. To ensure their safety.” She could tell that wasn’t the answer he’d wanted. But that was all right. It wasn’t the answer she’d wanted to give.
37
Occasional rains followed them for the better part of three weeks on their way back to Timber Ridge. Despite its being July, the mountain air was chilly and damp, and the moisture only served to push the chill deeper into Elizabeth’s bones.
She started each day looking forward to stopping again that night. Once dinner was finished and cleaned up, her favorite part of the day began—huddled close to the fire, wrapped warm in Daniel’s bearskin, and cradling a cup of his coffee while the three of them talked. She felt more at home in those moments than she’d ever felt in her life.
She’d sent a total of twenty-seven photographs to Wendell Goldberg, via the freighter Daniel had arranged. The trip to Mesa Verde had been more of a success than she could ever have imagined. Makya’s prediction had been right—visiting that place, so sacred to his people, had changed her.
Hanging from the cliff that day, as she’d heard the eternal whisper inside her, she’d known then that she still wasn’t the woman she wanted to be—but she’d also become aware of God changing her. Little by little. She didn’t understand how. She didn’t know exactly what He was doing, but she trusted Him to make her into the woman He wanted her to be. And she could hardly wait to share her experiences—and the photographs—with Makya and the Ute people on their way back.
Daniel leaned down. “More coffee?”
“No thank you. I’m fine.” She drank the last of hers and set her cup aside. She purposefully waited until Daniel settled back down on his pallet before asking her question. “Do we have any peppermint left?”
He looked over at her. “You couldn’t have asked that while I was up?” He started to rise.
Smiling, she motioned for him to stay seated. “I’ll get it. Where is it?”
“In one of my saddlebags over there.” He lay down and sighed, making a show of rubbing one of his shoulders. “My neck sure is tight tonight. . . .”
She shook her head, knowing what he was hinting at, and secretly enjoying that he liked her back rubs. She liked giving them. “Subtlety is not your strong suit, Daniel.”
Yawning, he cradled one arm beneath his head and closed his eyes. “Never said it was, ma’am.”
Josiah’s soft laughter earned her attention, and he smiled up at her from his bedroll as she passed. Pages of Belle’s journal were spread out before him. “I ain’t sayin’ nothin’, ma’am.”
“Well, that’ll be a first.” She enjoyed the way his eyes went wide.
“You’s one sassy woman, ma’am. And gettin’ more so, if you ask me.”
�
��I’m not sassy. I’m just . . . straightforward.”
“Mm-hmm . . .” Josiah smiled up at her. “Whatever you says, ma’am.”
Giggling to herself, Elizabeth rummaged through three saddlebags before finding the peppermint tin. She pulled it out and a folded piece of paper came with it. She picked it up and was starting to put it back when the salutation caught her attention.
Dear Senator Westbrook, United States Congress . . .
It was a letter, and before it fully registered with her what she was doing, she’d read the first paragraph. A cool wind of reality swept through her.
I’m writing to you and your colleagues in the United States Congress in an effort to gain attention for the preservation of the Colorado Territory and, more recently, of the ancient ruins at the Mesa Verde Cliff Dwellings. . . .
She scanned the rest of the letter, her sense of trespass eased by an overriding sense of betrayal. Especially upon seeing Daniel’s name signed at the bottom.
If you will permit me, sir, I would appreciate the opportunity to provide photographs of the land that I believe would demonstrate not only the importance of this issue, but the reason why my proposal deserves your serious consideration.
It was clearly a rough draft. He’d marked out sentences and had started them over again, having obviously put a lot of thought—and himself—into it.
She folded the letter and slipped it back into the saddlebag, along with the tin of peppermint. Josiah didn’t look up as she walked by. Daniel’s eyes were closed, and he didn’t move when she lay down. His soft snoring soon confirmed why.
Elizabeth curled onto her side—mostly numb. All this time, she’d thought Daniel’s interest in her had been personal. And it had been, in two ways. He wanted to use her photographs—which she would have gladly shared. And he wanted to use her to get to her father—just like many men before him, which is what hurt the most.
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