Vestige of Courage

by Sara Blackard

  As Chase had told her about the event the meeting was for, the more she had regretted not going. It intrigued her that local farmers and ranchers wanted to help others understand the importance of sustainable ranching and agriculture. A sense of satisfaction had settled over her knowing that Orlando’s dream of families thriving through sheep ranching had become a reality. She shouldn’t be surprised. Orlando always thought every situation and variance through to the minutest detail … well, that is except for Samara. That little filly had caused Orlando’s world to spin. Beatrice snorted and pulled the sheets more tightly around her, rolling over to try a different position.

  She chuckled at the memory of the movie Chase had—she searched for the word he had used. Not protected … projected. Yes, projected onto the house. She smiled smugly at herself. Her brain was almost full to bursting with all these new words and ideas, but somehow, by the grace of God, the information didn’t seem to be pouring right out through her ears. He had built a low fire in the backyard and brought blankets out from the house to wrap in while they lounged in the lawn chairs. The movie wasn’t as big as it would’ve been in town, but the hilarious situations still had her sides hurting with laughter. When she had wondered why the movie looked so different from what they had watched at other times, Chase had explained that The Long, Long Trailer was an old show made in the 50s. Maybe it was the fact that she was born a hundred years before the movie was made, but the slow pace and the simple details had been easier for her to follow than the movies Chase said were newer. She might have to start with the older movies, or classics as he called them, and work her way up. However, she might miss the way the newer ones made her heart race with anticipation.

  She rolled over to her other side, wondering if she’d ever get to sleep, but the memories kept her wide awake. Her favorite part of the night had been the gooey dessert called s’mores that he had made. She’d eaten three and almost made herself sick. Warmth pooled into her stomach as she thought about how he had stared at her lips with heat in his eyes. When he had leaned closer, she’d almost thrown herself into his arms. She was glad she hadn’t when all he had done was wipe some marshmallow from her lip. Heat exploded from her gut and raced up her neck and face.

  She flopped onto her back with a huff. Oh, how she’d wanted him to kiss her.

  A creak in the house jolted her upright. She slowed her heart and honed in on the sounds of the night. A breeze blew the trees growing next to the house, occasionally scraping the walls. The house must be settling is all. It often creaked and moaned at night like it couldn’t get comfortable either. She shook her head at herself and lay back down.

  Another muffled sound sat her right back up. That didn’t sound like the shifting of walls and flooring but more like the footstep of a person. She untangled herself from the sheets and silently stood from the bed, grabbing her holster from the side table. With a whisper of steel on leather, she slid the gun Chase had bought her out of the holster and moved to the bedroom door. Turning the knob as slow as she could, she cringed and froze when the hinges squealed.

  She squeezed through the small space she’d opened and slipped down the hall. She remained in the shadows of the hallway and scanned the living room, waiting for what seemed like hours. One had to be patient when hunting, whether it was animals or unexpected creaks in the night.

  She straightened, and her lips twitched as another noise sounded upstairs. She’d found her prey. Her fingers turned to ice at the almost silent sound of movement above her. Gliding through the living room and to the base of the stairs on noiseless feet, she contemplated what or who could be in the house. She stood still and took a deep breath. If she didn’t get herself under control, she wouldn’t be able to hear with her heart drumming in her chest.

  Once she had calmed herself, she carefully climbed the stairs, making sure to skip the ones that creaked. She paused at the top, listening for signs of the intruder. A faint shuffle and click came from the direction of her room. Maybe she should’ve texted Chase to come help her search? What a ridiculous thought. She’d always taken care of problems herself. She didn’t need Chase or anyone for that matter to search for random noises. Though she had to admit, it’d be mighty nice having someone to watch her back.

  Heart in her throat, she eased to the open doorway, the small gun in her hand pointed to the floor. Nothing moved or appeared out of place from the angle she could see. Taking a silent, deep breath she eased into her room and swung her attention into the rest of the space. Still nothing moved. She ghosted forward to check on the opposite side of the bed. Empty.

  Could the click have been the balcony door? Beatrice stalked to the door, pushing the curtains aside just enough to peer out. She inwardly growled at the moonless night. While it had been helpful when they watched the movie, the deep darkness covered the yard with insidious shadows. Was that movement dashing from the house to the trees?

  A rustling in the closet wheeled her from the window. Her heart beating so rapidly she knew it couldn’t be healthy, she inched her way to the closet door that stood slightly open. Hadn’t she closed that all the way? A loud meow startled her as the tabby barn cat, Whiskers, skulked from her closet. Her knees buckled so fast she would have landed on her rump if she hadn’t stumbled backwards to the bed. She laid her gun next to her and, with trembling hands, reached for the ornery cat.

  “How in the world did you get in here?” She rubbed her fingers behind the cat’s ears, eliciting a loud purr from the beast.

  She chuckled weakly, forcing the tension from her muscles. She couldn’t believe she let a silly little critter cause such distress. The shadow she thought she’d seen in the yard rushed to her thoughts. She must’ve imagined it. She shook her head, remembering how her pa had warned her not to chase ghosts through the woods without tracks to follow.

  “Sometimes our fanciful minds can create some mighty big beasts. Unless there’s an equally big sign to trail, you’d be better leaving imagined phantoms to their haunts.” Pa had winked at eleven-year-old Beatrice, rubbing her head in affection after she’d told him of the “giant” she’d seen in the woods.

  The memory loosened her limbs with the lightness of peace. It had been years since she had thought of that moment. She’d been so afraid when she had thought she’d seen the monster that was bigger than a bear yet walked like a man. The mountain men had told stories of the beast the last time they’d been through. She’d been filled with equal measure of fascination and horror and spent the next week working up her nerve to go hunting for it. The deeper in the woods she’d travelled, the darker the shadows became until the monster lurked behind every stump and boulder. She’d hightailed it out of the forest so fast her pa claimed he could see a dust trail.

  Beatrice stood up and walked to the balcony door. With a last scratch under the cat’s chin, she set Whiskers outside and shut the door. She slid the lock into place and made her way back downstairs. She supposed her pa’s advice still rang true. If Beatrice just focused on the trail and signs God laid out for her instead of worrying so much about shadows, she wouldn’t spend her time afraid and uncertain. After walking through the house and locking all the doors, she dragged herself into Chase’s room, falling asleep almost instantly.

  Chapter 21

  June 5, 1899

  Dear Beatrice, It’s funny how the desire to talk to you sneaks up at the most odd times. I pray for you every day, so you’re never far from my thoughts, but sometimes the loss of you hits me so hard I’m overwhelmed by it. I sat down to write a letter to my Chase who is off on an expedition to explore the Alaskan coast with a man named Harriman. When I wrote the date, I realized that come September, you will have been gone twenty years. How could twenty years go by so quickly yet seem like an eternity? I’ve decided that the good Lord is right in saying that our life is but a vapor. It passes much too quickly for us to dwell on the things we can’t change. If I might be so bold as to give you some sisterly advice, don’t squander time wherever y
ou’ve found yourself. Embrace all God has for you with open arms. Life passes much too quickly not to.

  A knock banged on the front door, and Beatrice bolted out of bed. She peered at the clock and sucked in a shocked breath. How had she slept to seven? She hastily made the bed and rushed down the hall as another knock tapped on the door. When she passed the mirror hanging on the wall in the entrance, she squeaked and attempted to smooth out her hair as she went the rest of the way to the door.

  She clicked the bolt and threw the door open. Chase turned where he’d descended the stairs, his forehead furrowed.

  “Are you okay?” He quickly climbed the porch steps, stopping right before her. His hand lifted slightly, then clenched at his side.

  Heat rose to her cheeks as she looked down and scuffed her toe on the wood. “Yes, I’m fine. I just overslept is all.”

  His mouth turned up slightly on one side. He lifted the hand he had clenched and tucked her wild hair behind her ear. “Why was the door locked?”

  “Whiskers somehow got into the house last night.” She crossed her arms and pulled at the collar of her nightgown. “I guess I just was a little, what do you say, freaked out. It was nothing, really.”

  “How did that cat get into the house? I swear he’s part Houdini.”

  “What’s a houdini?” She backed into the house to let him in.

  “Houdini was an illusionist. He was known for escaping impossible situations like being wrapped in chains and dropped in a tank full of water.” Chase pulled his jacket off, drawing Beatrice’s attention to his shoulders as they stretched his shirt tight. He caught her staring, his head tilting to the side.

  She backed up fast as her ears turned hot. “I’m just going to go get dressed.” She wheeled around and raced up the stairs.

  His chuckle followed her up. “I’ll get us some breakfast.”

  She escaped to her room and leaned against the closed door. She slapped her hands on her face and dragged them down her neck, clutching the collar of her nightgown and fanning her body with the fabric. First, she spent all night fantasizing about Chase when she should have been sleeping. Now, she couldn’t stop staring when the man simply took off his jacket. She was plumb loco and being a ninny. She couldn’t spend all her time daydreaming and gawking like those silly women in her dime novels. She pushed off of the door and got ready as quickly as she could.

  Stomping into the kitchen, determined not to make a fool of herself, she stopped short at the sight of Chase whistling while he stood in front of some new contraption. How many inventions did one need to cook a meal? She shook her head at the excessiveness of this time.

  The shiny silver box steamed out the sides as he reached over to move the food that sizzled in the pan. Sage and savory meat wafted to her. Her stomach growled so loud it felt like a bunch of rocks ground together. His whistle faded, and he peeked over his shoulder, his dimples out in full force.

  “Hungry?” His voice held laughter in it as he motioned toward the ice box—no fridge. “Can you grab the juice, and I’ll get this on the table.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him and crossed the kitchen. “What’s on the menu this morning?”

  “Waffles and sausage.” He grabbed the potholder and moved the sizzling pan to the table.

  Her stomach roared again. She looked at him, her eyebrows rising to her hairline. They both burst out laughing.

  “We better get you some food before that bear you have hiding in your pocket decides to attack.” He pulled out the chair for her and took the juice from her hands. “My lady, your table awaits.”

  She snorted as she sat down. The table was set with a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. A fruit salad beckoned her from a bowl, so she snuck a strawberry when he turned his back to the beeping invention.

  “So, what exactly is a waffle? They’ve been mentioned in different books I’ve read, but I’ve never actually seen one.”

  Chase brought a plate over, setting it in front of her with a flourish. “That is a waffle. Basically a pancake, but instead of cooking it on the griddle, you cook them between two heat plates. It makes them crunchy on the outside, not to mention the little squares that hold syrup perfectly. Speaking of which—” He whirled to the microwave and pulled out a small glass pitcher. “Warm maple syrup.”

  She took in the feast before her. The bright reds, purples, and yellows of the fruit and the variety of scents overwhelmed her. Their breakfasts back home had always been filling but simple. Hotcakes, eggs, and sometimes gravy with biscuits normally broke their fast. The mostly monotone meals hadn’t filled her with anticipation like the one before her.

  “Do you want to pray or do you want me to?” He had sat with his own plate while she’d been busy salivating over the meal.

  “I’ll pray.” She bowed her head. “Thank You, Lord for Chase and his willingness to feed me. Thank You for the many colors dancing before my eyes. And—” She cleared the emotion that clogged her throat. “Thank You for bringing me here. Amen.”

  He leaned toward her, his elbows on the table. His mouth opened when his phone rang. He slumped back and pulled his phone from his pocket. Inwardly praising God for the well-timed interruption that kept her from his questions, she ducked her head and dug into her food.

  “Hello. This is Chase.” He sat up and peered intently at her. “Are you sure?” He slumped back in his chair and rotated his plate back and forth. “Okay. Thanks for calling. Bye.”

  He stared at his phone long after he hung it up. She wondered at the distant look on his face.

  “Who was that?” she asked when the suspense threatened to kill her.

  “That was the doctor’s office.” Chase placed his hand on the table next to his plate and met Beatrice’s gaze. Her breath stalled in her chest. “Evangeline isn’t mine.”

  “Oh.” She pushed her fruit salad around on her plate while she tried to blink back the sting in her eyes. She cleared her throat. “How do you feel about that?”

  He raked his hand through his hair, and his eyebrows came low over his eyes. “I don’t know. I guess I’m relieved, but I’m also disappointed as well. Silly, I know.”

  “It’s not silly. Not at all. I’m disappointed, too.” She placed her fork next to her plate and leaned her arms on the table. “Samantha came by yesterday while you were gone.”

  “Oh no.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “What did she do now?”

  “Nothing. Evangeline had been begging to come back to see the horses, and Samantha happened to get the morning off. I really like her.”

  “Yeah, she’s a cute kid, that’s for sure.”

  “No, Chase. I really like Sam.” She sighed and took a drink of her coffee. “We talked for a long time while Eva rode a horse around the corral—”

  “You let her ride a horse?”

  She laughed. “Verne led the horse around. It never went faster than a plod. Though with the way Eva was whooping, you’d think she was galloping.” She shook her head and gazed at him. “I know … I know what Sam did was wrong. She feels horrible about it. But, I also know she’s lonely and struggling. She and I are a lot the same.”

  “No, you’re nothing like Sam.” He stabbed a bite of waffle and shoved it into his mouth.

  “Probably, in most ways at least.” She shrugged. “But we are both stubborn and determined to do things our way—even if it’s to our detriment.” She softened her voice to almost a whisper. “We’ve both been lonely, though we aren’t alone.” She shook off her melancholy and took a deep breath. “I’d like to have a friendship with Sam, but I also understand you might not. We’ll figure out a way that won’t be too awkward for you.”

  He turned his gaze from her and stared absently out the window. He closed his eyes and pulled on his earlobe. Had she gone too far too soon?

  “I—” He cleared his throat and looked at her. “I wouldn’t mind. That is, if Sam doesn’t.”

  Beatrice licked her lips and blinked rapidly. “I think you and S
amantha should talk, Chase. Enough years have passed that maybe you both could find your way to forgiveness.”

  He swallowed hard and lowered his eyes to his plate. “I hope you know there wasn’t ever anything more than friendship between us, at least on my side.”

  “She told me the same thing.”

  His head snapped up. “She said that?”

  She nodded. “She also told me she really made an almighty big mess and that she lost the only family she had when she used you like she did.”

  He rubbed his hand over his heart. His eyes shone bright, and his jaw clenched. She prayed he’d find truth in her words.

  He cleared his throat. “I think you’re probably right. I should give her a call, see if she wants to talk.” His eyes met hers across the table. “What happens now?”

  The directness of his question and the intent in his gaze brought warmth rising up her neck. She held in a smile and cut a piece of her waffle. She took a bite and held his gaze as she chewed.

  “What happens now?” She repeated his question, getting a nod in return. “As soon as I finish this delicious breakfast, I plan on rustling us up a turkey.” She speared another piece of waffle. “Care to join me?”

  Beatrice slid the sugary bite into her mouth, licking the syrup off her lips.

  Chase’s gaze followed the motion. “Absolutely.” His husky voice kicked up butterflies in her belly.

  She forced herself to take another bite, though she wanted to declare herself full and get going. Hunting had always brought her pleasure. The idea of hunting with Chase left her breathless, yet brimming with excess energy. Something had changed in him, even before the phone call had come in, like he’d got some wild hankering and wasn’t gonna let loose. That was all fine and dandy. She’d got a hankering of her own, a thoughtful, blue-eyed, and handsome-as-all-get-out one at that.

  A soft breeze blew a promise of winter down Chase’s neck. He pulled his jacket a little closer. The crispness focused his senses that had been overwhelmed with Beatrice since he went in his room to get some socks. Her faint scent of peppermint had lingered in his room, drawing him up short. He had then noticed the bed was a bit mussed. Pleasure and worry had warred within him, wondering why the independent Beatrice had slept in his room.