She returned to her bedroom that night relieved that the day was at an end. There were fewer hours remaining to discover the answer to her most pressing question. Were her feelings trustworthy?
As she closed her eyes, willing herself to relax, she tried to picture him out there. Was he pleased with what he’d done this day? Was he finding the answers to his own questions? Was she a part of one of those questions?
***
Luke collapsed before the small campfire, resting his back against his saddle. Bone weary, he had less desire for food than he did to pull off his boots and sleep. But along with a hand-drawn map, Evan had given him clear instructions on precautions to take in defending his camp from predators. Sleep would have to wait.
He pushed himself back to his feet and stumbled to his saddlebags, where he pulled out some jerked beef. Stuffing one piece into his mouth and the rest in his pocket, he pulled Evan’s carbine from the saddle scabbard and tucked it in the crook of his arm. As an after-thought, he pulled out his sketchbook. For the second time, he checked on his horse’s tether. Convinced he’d secured it as Evan had shown him, he returned to his seat by the fire.
The day was better than he’d imagined. Stumbling upon a large herd of pronghorns strung out along a hillside, he sat for hours sketching them in different positions. None were identical, nearly, but not exactly. He hadn’t bothered with his watercolors, finding enough pleasure in drawing their lines and curves. As he flipped through the pages, he smiled, recalling the delights of his first day. His last sketch was of the badger he’d come upon at twilight as it ambled across a bare patch of earth, sniffing at prairie dog mounds.
With sigh of satisfaction, he closed the book and lay back against the saddle. He considered the flames dancing across the sticks of firewood, primary and secondary colors—red mixing with yellow to form a brilliant orange. The flames flared blue, overlapping the red, creating an unusual shade of purple. His eyelids drooped, and his head dropped back against the saddle. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes when his eyes snapped open. The fire had dwindled to coals. More than a few minutes, then.
A rustling came from the brush where the horse stood tethered. The mare snorted. Luke grabbed for the rifle as he jumped to his feet. As though Evan were standing at his side, he heard the rancher’s advice. Keep low. Make yourself a smaller target.
He took a cautious step away from the firelight, allowing his eyes time to adjust to the dark. As he waited motionless, his arm trembled with the strain of holding the gun still and locked in position. He lowered it, aiming from his waist and took another step closer to the horse. Tense minutes passed as he strained to hear movement. Nothing.
His shoulders sagged as he lowered the gun. He rubbed a hand down his face. Jumpy, he thought. After another minute of listening, he checked on the horse. She rubbed against his shoulder, knocking him off balance. “You jumpy too?” The horse leaned into his neck scratches, then lifted her velvet muzzle to his ear and snuffled.
Before returning to the campfire, Luke took a few steps beyond where the mare stood, squinting into the darkness. He glanced back over his shoulder at the mare. Her ears were forward, alert and listening. “You’ll let me know, right? I’m counting on your keener senses.”
After propping the rifle within easy reach, he threw the last branches on the smoldering embers. In moments, flames licked at the dry wood, the light casting ghostly shadows into the tree canopy. Squatting before the fire, he extended his hands, palms to the warmth. At what point, did a man feel confident, one lone man against the wildlife?
He sat back, stretching out his legs, socked feet to the fire. Letting his head fall back against the saddle again, he could see between the branches, the heavens sprayed with glittering diamonds. His heart quickened at the vision of countless stars. “Go raibh maith agat.” It was his mother’s favorite prayer. She’d said it so often, especially when times were most difficult. And it still made him wonder. It seemed the more her illness pained her, the more frequently she uttered it. “Thank you.” The English translation lacked the same power as it did in his native tongue, nor did it contain the beauty.
The only thing that would have made the day more perfect was if he had left the Hartmann Ranch with the promise from the fair lass that she would wait for him. The more he thought of her, the more he chastised himself for leaving without declaring his feelings. He cast his eyes heavenward again and spoke his own short prayer into the night. “Le do thoil.” Your will. Not knowing if the prayer would be heard, the familiar words still comforted him.
He awoke again when the moonlight supplanted the star lights. A howl pierced the night, the sound sending shivers down his spine. He grabbed for the rifle, listening. A hundred screaming howls and barks shattered the stillness. The coyotes weren’t close. Evan had explained that too. He knew they numbered probably less than half a dozen, but their hunting cries made sleep unlikely.
Holding his rifle across his chest, he lay back. This would be no silent night, but one filled with the baying of distant wolves and skittering rodents. He stared up through the tree branches, searching for familiar constellations. A rustling of leaves high in the canopy and a large shadow spread its wings taking silent flight.
The mare blew, her feet drumming nervously against the earth. Luke sat upright, listening. He held his breath while seconds passed. Then a scream rent the air, raising hairs along his arms. The cry, so like that of a woman, echoed beneath the canopy, bouncing off the tree trunks.
Luke jumped to his feet and squinted into the shadows. A crash in the underbrush near the mare snapped his head around. Closer this time, something running. He chambered a round into the gun. Another scream, the horse this time, and a cry of pain and terror. Luke lifted the gun barrel and fired into the air.
Chapter Twenty
Beautiful and Wild
“God never made an ugly landscape. All that sun shines on is beautiful, so long as it is wild” John Muir
July 6, 1890
Nathan took the reins, while Lena and Dawn crowded together beside him on the front seat of the buggy. Nathan immediately began chattering about the possibilities of a New York studio, and his excitement at learning a new art form. Lena fed his fire of enthusiasm with questions. As much as she was fond of Nathan and delighted for him, Dawn found it difficult to concentrate on the conversation.
She could not prevent her thoughts from drifting to the hills where Luke was, even now, testing his resolve. Would his interests, his passions for his future still encompass her—if they ever had? Confidence had not been something she’d been lacking these last few years. In these new landscapes of discovery, the well had dried.
Even with her father’s reassurances, her sense of purpose wavered. Surely, as Melody Corbyn became a more integral and intimate part of his life, Dawn would become less. Even the opportunity to tour Europe with her aunt held only a momentary remedy to her uncharted future.
“Would you like to join us, Dawn?” Lena asked, her question jolting Dawn from her private thoughts.
Dawn turned to look at Lena. “I’m sorry?”
“I was saying, Maddie Reynolds has invited us to tea.”
“That would be pleasant, yes.”
Against the backdrop of the hills rising west of town, the doctor’s house stood close to the banks of the river. A stately brick home, Dawn surmised it to be one of the first houses built as Ketchum’s mining industry rose to its zenith. Lena led them from the sidewalk through a wooden trellis carrying the weight of fragrant, peach colored roses.
It was a surprise for Dawn when Mrs. Reynolds greeted them at the door to her exquisite home at the edge of town. She’d expected a maid, not the mistress of the house. Maddie showed them into the drawing room where she served them tea, she’d brewed herself. Whether the young doctor’s wife preferred to wait on her guests personally or it was a matter of economics, there was no way to determine without inquiring. Dressed in perfectly trimmed shirtwaist and ski
rt cut to permit a glimpse of her laced kid boots, Maddie would have blended well into the best New York society.
As she passed a plate of, what Dawn surmised to be scones, Maddie gave an apologetic smile. “I know it’s difficult to believe that I used Jessie’s recipe, but I did, or at least I tried. She made me swear not to share the recipe, but after sampling these, I doubt anyone would request it.” She held one in her hand and peered at it with a wry smile. “Except for the fact that they’re round, they bear little other resemblance.”
Lena nodded, a smile crossing her own face. “I understand your frustration. Even though I follow the same recipe, I can’t replicate her baking accomplishments. She has a distinct talent.”
Dawn washed down her bite with a sip of tea, moisture returning to her tongue. “You have a lovely home, Maddie.”
In contrast to its formal exterior, the furnishings about them were modest. The result created a cozy, relaxed setting, a place for people to engage in stimulating conversations. It was just the atmosphere she had tried to accomplish as she had decorated her father’s study, one that became her favorite room in the house. Her eyes roamed the walls lined with bookcases. Even considering the two thousand miles separating her from the only home she’d known, Dawn believed she could feel at home here.
“I confess, I wasn’t that pleased when we first moved here. David, Dr. Reynolds, purchased it before I knew anything about it. I’d really wanted to be a part of finding the perfect cozy home for us.” She spread her arms to the lofty ceiling. “This wasn’t quite what I’d expected.” She exchanged a knowing look with Lena. “But with a little imagination, it’s become a place I’m content.”
Lena said, “Yes, contentment is a place to which we all must arrive if we’re to be happy. I can remember visiting this house when dark, heavy drapes covered every window. You’ve transformed the gloomy mansion, and I suspect it’s glad for it and thankful to you.”
“I hope so,” Maddie said, with a peal of mischievous laughter. “There are times when I have this sense the house is more—at ease. Dawn, I’ve been curious since we first talked in the bookstore. You are familiar with the more obscure classics. What attracted you to them?”
“I had a rather unusual education. When I was a young child, my father became disillusioned with formal education. He began a concerted search for tutors, those measuring up to his standards. I can say with confidence, it gave me a rather broad exposure to teaching styles. Through it all, literature became the foundation and salvation of my education. I could read to my heart’s content and learn without the filter of a teacher’s personality to sour my opinion on any subject. Eventually, I moved from fiction to books that allowed me to explore the sciences. My father welcomed the transition.”
With an indeterminate smile, Maddie asked, “Is he biased against fiction, as so many men are?”
“No, not biased. He simply doesn’t see the value. He doesn’t see how fiction improves the mind.”
“And improving one’s mind is the only purpose of a book, while challenging one’s perspectives on subjects of the heart is of lesser value?”
Dawn read the disapproval in Maddie’s response, but the manner of her smile indicated this was a familiar subject, perhaps one often debated.
Maddie tactfully redirected the conversation and said, “I don’t suppose you would ever wish to spend more time in our little town. It might be a nice change from the city on infrequent occasions. Having someone like yourself take charge of the bookshop when I’m traveling would be a great blessing.”
Lena asked, “Is this about the new book you’re planning? The children’s series?”
Maddie rolled her eyes to the ceiling, a weary sigh and then a nod. “It’s proving to be more work than I’d first thought.” She directed her explanation to Dawn. “It was a proposal for a single book, but when the editor read it, he came back to me with a request to expand it into a series of books. I agreed with the stipulation that I approve the illustrations.”
Dawn asked, “And that means you have to travel to New York?”
Leaning back against a brocade cushion, Maddie nodded.
“Well, don’t try to make us believe that a trip to the city is something so dreadful,” Lena teased. “If I recall correctly, you enjoyed the last excursion you took with David. Didn’t you refer to that trip as a second honeymoon?”
Dawn detected a slight flush of color rise to Maddie’s cheeks.
“That’s the problem, don’t you see? I’m to go alone. David doesn’t feel at ease leaving his patients for such a long trip. There is a fine doctor in Hailey, but not everyone can make the trip there. Sometimes care requires urgency.” She sat forward and picked up the teapot, offering to refill their cups. “We aren’t here to discuss me. I would love to learn more about you, Dawn. Nathan told me about your political talents. Is it true your father is running for state senator?”
“Yes, although it may not be widely known at home.”
“It would seem you’ll have your hands full when you return,” Maddie said.
“That is a possibility.” She smiled in her studied manner of misdirection. Rising to her feet, she stepped to the bookcase where a long row of expensively bound books sat prominently displayed. “Are these English translations?” She ran her fingers along the embossed leather spines.
“They belonged to my husband’s grandfather. For David, they hold as much sentimental as monetary value. Those to your right, the books by Victor Hugo, are my own recent additions.”
Dawn studied the various titles, those she knew but had not taken the time to read. She tried to imagine herself working amidst them in a bookshop such as Maddie managed. Would her father approve of such a life? She frowned and dropped her hand. If she were an independent woman, did his approval matter so very much?
Their conversation turned naturally to the subject of literature. Obviously, it was a passion the two women shared. An hour passed and Lena explained their luncheon engagement with Nathan. Maddie led them to the door only after exchanging addresses with Dawn and securing a promise from her to correspond.
As they left the doctor’s house, Lena took Dawn’s arm and slowly strolled along the lane leading back to Ketchum’s main street. “You know that Maddie was serious about her offer, don’t you?”
Dawn turned a questioning glance to her.
Lena’s eyes shone with amusement. “About managing the bookstore in her absence.”
***
Luke squeezed cool stream water from his bandana, watching it flow in pink rivulets along the mare’s neck. Her skin rippled in response and she disapprovingly stamped her front leg. The claw marks left by the cat carved four distinct lines, like a rancher’s brand.
“I’m sorry, girl. Need to keep those wounds clean.” He scratched behind her ears. “So, should we turn back? Those cuts aren’t that deep, but they aren’t on my neck.”
Her nostrils flared, and the mare gave out a loud snort. Luke studied her ears for further interpretation, but none followed. He reached across the saddle and pulled Evan’s map from the side pack. After studying it for a time, he looked up, checking the area for landmarks. He frowned. “I think we’re near the summit, and we should be able to make it in an hour or so.” Scowling, he glanced down at the map again. “If I have my bearings right. We could be back at the ranch tonight.”
With a toss of her head, the mare blew again, her sides expanding with the breath this time.
“Was that your opinion?”
She tossed her head, more violently this time, the movement rippling down her flank.
“Guess so. Too bad, I don’t speak horse.” Luke adjusted the angle of his hat and studied the narrow game trail as it wound uphill through a stand of dead pines. “I’d like to find those Bighorns. They might be just a few feet higher in those crags up there.”
Luke shook out the bandana he’d used to wash the horse’s wounds and draped it over the saddle horn. Mounting up again, he sat for a time,
listening. The mare’s left ear twitched, pointing a little to the rear. Luke turned in the saddle, studying the trail behind them. If something was there, the brush would make it difficult to see. He shifted his gaze to the narrow trail ahead. “Looks like we’ll be out of this underbrush just up ahead. Think we’ll both feel better when we do.”
As he had days earlier with Evan, Luke pulled the rifle from the scabbard and balanced it across his lap. With a slight pressure of his knees to the mare’s flank, she stepped out and back onto the trail.
***
Throughout the short walk to the hotel cafe, Dawn asked Lena questions about the town, doing all she could to avoid further discussions of her plans upon returning to the city. She held far more questions than answers about her future. It was more pleasant focusing on the town, and her new friends here and all their hopes for the years ahead.
Nathan was waiting for them outside the café.
“Have you been waiting long?” Lena asked.
“Not at all. I met with the editor of your Ketchum Keystone and he purchased a few of my earlier sketches that he plans to run along with Luke’s.” He glanced at Dawn as he asked, “So, have we heard when Luke is returning? I’d hoped to speak with him before I leave for Wyoming.”
Lena answered, “Evan doesn’t expect him before tomorrow evening. I’m afraid you’ll miss him.”
Nathan’s brow furrowed, and he passed Dawn a quizzical expression.
Lena stepped aside from the pair and said, “I have some items I promised to pick up for Jessie. I hope you’ll enjoy your lunch without me. Honestly, after Maddie’s scones, I’m quite full.”
Nathan followed Dawn to a quiet corner of the room. As he held her chair for her, he leaned into her ear and asked in a hushed tone, “So, tell me what’s Luke up to? Why did he leave saying nothing to me? Or did he leave without speaking to you, too?”
Dawn pulled her napkin into her lap, leaving her hands folded there, intentionally out of Nathan’s sight. He didn’t need to know how shaken she was by Luke’s abrupt departure. “I don’t know more than Evan told me this morning. Evan said he’d decided to venture out on his own.”
A Portrait of Dawn Page 20