A thick snout attached to a large, brown furry head pushed through the underbrush. Feasting upon a berry vine, the brown bear’s focus was elsewhere. Luke lowered himself to the ground and watched as it pushed fistfuls of berries into its mouth. Luke’s own mouth watered, and he worried his rumbling stomach would attract the bear. After what seemed an hour, the bear finally lumbered off downstream.
Luke waited another few minutes before crossing the stream and making his way to the tangled vines overhanging the water. He plucked one and sniffed it before licking the juice from his fingers. If it was good enough for the bear . . .
After he satisfied his appetite, he washed his stained fingers. Pulling up his shirttail, he wiped his mouth. The berry juice looked so similar to his blood stains that it was difficult to distinguish them. He stared down at the shirt for a long moment and blew through his lips, sounding remarkably like the horse. He tore off his jacket, unbuttoned the blood-streaked shirt, and tossed it aside with an oath to burn his sainted mother’s ears.
Angry at himself and his inexperience, he yelled, “Hey! Here I am!” His voice echoed off the rocks. Here I am! Here I am! Might as well make a complete fool of himself, he thought. The laugh rolled up from his gut, loud and absurd. The sound of it bounced from one rock face to the other as if the mountain agreed. Again, he released a laugh, louder this time. Raucous laughter answered him, reminding him of the crow taunting Bart each morning outside the barn.
He waited until the laughter faded, then repeated his declaration in a loud clear voice. “I am here! I am here!” The answer returned, confirming his claim.
Smiling, he picked up his rifle and started downhill.
***
“Don’t you think they should go after him? Make sure he’s all right?” Dawn twisted her hands about the walking stick, heedless of the rough bark scraping against her palms. “By his own admission, he’s not that good with a gun. He missed killing the wildcat the first time.”
Her father propped his rod against a boulder and drew her into his arms. “I’m sure Evan will go up there when he feels the need. Besides, technically Luke did shoot the cat.”
“That’s not the point! He doesn’t have the experience to protect himself,” she pushed herself out of his arms.
“But isn’t that the reason he went? Wasn’t he trying to gain experience, learning that very thing?”
“Why are men so stubborn about proving themselves?” She brought her hand to her temple, rubbing two fingers in circles on her temple.
“It’s our lot, I suppose. We’ve been doing it since Adam had to face up to the curse.” He wrapped his arms around her for a second time, squeezing her so tight she felt the air compress from her lungs. “You really do care for the man.”
She buried her face in his shoulder. “I don’t know. I’m confused.”
He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her cheek. “That’s usually where it starts. When I met your mother, I was so confused I couldn’t form a clear thought for months. Apart from her, it was worse. I was in a daze most of the time until I figured out that it must be love that had me so distracted.”
“But I hardly know the man. He’s so different from those you thought suitable. He will probably never be able to afford a house of his own. He’ll wander the west for months at a time if that’s what he decides to be his calling. I’m not even sure how a woman could be a helpmate to someone like, Luke.”
He laughed again and kissed her forehead. “The men I found suitable? Did I ever find anyone suitable for you? I think the question that should be asked is can he measure up to your expectations?”
She tipped her head back and stammered, “That’s just the point, Father. I haven’t allowed myself to dream. I had no expectations.”
Sadness creased the corners of his mouth. “I know.”
“I thought I’d forgotten how to imagine beyond today, except where your career was concerned. I just saw myself always by your side, a shadow to follow you wherever life took you.”
She heard the groan roll through his chest. “A shadow? Dear girl, you are meant to be so much more than a shadow of anyone.”
Bart and Evan left mid-afternoon in search of the cat. After observing a whispered conversation between Lena and Evan earlier, Dawn suspected she’d urged him to go in search of Luke. She sensed from Evan’s scowl that he didn’t agree. Could it be that Evan agreed with her father that Luke needed this time to test himself?
After they’d ridden out of sight, Dawn asked Lena if she could ride the mare. Lena frowned. “Just along the valley?”
Lena’s question revealed her concerns that Dawn might have intentions other than a casual ride. While the thought had occurred to her, her father’s practical influence dismissed the idea as foolish. No doubt, she’d become lost and more men would need to come in search of her. She shook her head, and said, “Yes, I just need to ride. It’s the only time I feel some degree of control these days.”
The woman gave her a sympathetic smile. “I understand. Would you like company?”
Dawn had thought the solitariness of a ride was what she most needed, but being alone with her troubling thoughts might not be her best option. “Yes. I would.”
Lena led them north and out of the small valley up a narrow side canyon. In plodding steps, the horses worked their way up the steep trail until the path flattened out onto a treeless plateau. A thousand feet above the ranch, the tableland afforded a breathtaking view of the vast mountain ranges rising north and stretching west. Oh, to be a man and have the freedom to travel such a wild country.
At this moment, she could imagine the lure of them for the artist. By now, he must have composed a hundred landscapes in his mind, filling canvases with color and life he’d never have known in the smoke-filled, industrially scarred eastern cities. Even the air carried an energy that excited the senses, filling her lungs with intoxicating fragrances of distant mountains thick with cedar and pine.
“How wonderful,” she murmured, for it seemed a place not meant for human voices. Somehow, their presence seemed an intrusion. They were blights upon the pristine wild.
Lena lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the setting sun. “When first I saw these mountains, I was at the same time terrified and filled with wonder.”
“Did Evan go in search of Luke?”
Lena didn’t give an immediate answer. She breathed out a sigh. “I asked him to. He said it wasn’t something he was willing to do.”
Alarmed now, Dawn asked, “But why? Luke could be in trouble. Especially if there’s a mountain lion hunting in the mountain where he was going.”
Lena lifted her arm, palm up. “The predators own this land, not us. There are many wild animals Luke might encounter. But he knew that, and he chose to go. That’s what Evan reminded me of. This is something he needed to do. Evan believes that if he goes out to rescue him, it could have long-lasting effects on how he feels about himself.”
Anger flared in her chest. Men spoke of women’s pride as if men had none to impede their judgement.
“But good marriages are full of compromises.” Lena gave a faint smile. “I suggested that while he was hunting the cat, he could also keep an eye open for Luke’s tracks as well. And should he come upon the man, he has a purpose in being there that does not suggest Luke needs looking after. They both save face.”
Of Dawn’s acquaintance were many women skilled at manipulating their way around their husband’s mandates. But the diplomacy with which Lena worked, suggested a relationship with her husband that more resembled a partnership. She’d have made an excellent politician’s wife.
Lena nodded to the western sky. “I don’t like the look of those clouds to the west. We should probably head back before they move in.”
By the time they made it within sight of the ranch house, the clouds had obscured the last rays of sun. Lena urged her horse into a faster pace, but they couldn’t outrace the rain. Mud was already forming in the yard as they led their
horses into the barn.
Dawn slid from the saddle, out of breath. “Oh my. Evan’s right, Idaho weather doesn’t waste time.”
“Oh, land’s sakes, what were you two thinking?” Jessie scolded as she rushed out to the barn with a towel for each of them. “Come in the house quick like. I’ve got a fire blazing.”
Edward looked up when Dawn entered the great room where he was sitting near the fire with a book in his hands. “Where have you been? I thought you were in the barn all this time.”
“I took a ride with Lena. We didn’t see the storm until it was too late.”
“You’d better change out of those wet clothes before you catch your death,” Jessie ordered.
Dawn glanced once more at her father and hurried to their suite before Jessie pulled out a switch and chased her down the hall.
Jessie had prepared a light supper of soup and bread. Edward, as the only man at the table, said grace and added a prayer for safety for all those out in the storm. Although the meal smelled wonderful and looked appealing, after only a few bites, Dawn found she had little appetite. The threads of conversation drifted off like spider webs, as it seemed everyone’s thoughts were with the members absent from their table.
Jessie had just set out her chocolate souffle when the sounds of horses and men’s voices came from the yard. In a rush of skirts, the women moved outside with Edward following behind. Under a sky still heavy with clouds, they could only make out the dark forms of two men still astride their mounts. There was a third riderless horse.
Dawn eyes swept the two men, taking in their weary faces and grim expressions.
“Bart, what’s happened?” Lena asked.
“Evan’s fine. We didn’t find the cat, but we tracked it a good way up Fox Peak.’
Jessie tugged on Bart’s sleeve. “Why didn’t Evan come back with you?”
Bart’s eyes darted to Dawn, then back to Lena.
Lena’s face grew still. “It’s better to hear straight out. What’s wrong?”
The poor man shifted his weight and nodded to the third horse being led by the ranch hand into the barn. “We found the bay.”
“Wasn’t that the horse Luke was riding?” Edward asked.
Bart nodded. “Yeah. She’s been hurt. Looks like claw marks on her neck.”
Jessie took a sharp intake of breath.
“Evan stayed back to scout about. But the recent storm washed away much of the mare’s tracks. I suspect he’ll be along shortly. Won’t be able to do much more till sunup.” He frowned. “I gotta see to the mare.”
Dawn’s father leaned against the doorframe. “Are you sure, you’re all right? Do you want to talk?” A tentative smile did little to alter his own anxious expression. “Tell you a bedtime story? I have a few fish tales.”
“No, Father, I’m fine.” This wasn’t what she wanted for them. Because, she’d again become the cause of his concern. As recently as last week, she’d been the one to respond to his anxieties, soothing his concerns for an upcoming speech or political betrayal. The smile that slid to her lips in a familiar path appeared to have its intended effect on him. “We’ll have a long conversation tomorrow.”
Relief transformed his features. The lines around his eyes softened. “I’d like that. I’d really like that.” He drummed his fingers on the doorframe and said goodnight, closing the door behind him.
She listened to the sounds from his room, heavy steps across the carpeted floor, the sudden expulsion of his breath as he sank onto the bed. She pictured him pulling off his socks and shoes, loosening his tie. All these years his presence had given her such comfort. Never once had she taken it for granted—waiting for him to return home from his office, unable to close her eyes until he’d poked his head into her room to say goodnight—standing in the shadows of a platform where he spoke before an audience of his peers. He was her centering presence.
Pulling the quilt tight beneath her chin, she stared up at the beamed ceiling, conscious of her breathing, far too conscious. She imagined herself no longer in her comfortable bed, beneath this ceiling, within this solid citadel of a house. The picture she conjured shimmered in its ephemeral form. She blew out a slow breath and closed her eyes, her senses sharpening. Beneath a clear night sky, the ground solid and uncomfortable beneath her, stars winked on across the velvet heavens.
Forcing herself to hold the image, she squeezed her eyes tighter yet. Lying nearly within reach of her fingertips, he too was focused on the sky. His piercing blue eyes were open, enraptured by some object of his attention beyond her sight. Damp, dark hair curled upon his brow. His unshaved cheeks and chin were dark with days of stubbled growth. He turned his head and met her gaze, holding it, his eyes the color of—” The image evaporated like fog in sunlight.
Her eyelids snapped open. His eyes were blue, yes, but the shade escaped her. She rolled to her side and punched the pillow ineffectively. What pillowed Luke’s head tonight? Was he shivering in elevations where snow still clung to sunless crevasses? Was he lost?
Muffled voices drifted into her uneasy sleep. Evan had returned. She sat up and wrapped the quilt about her shoulders, tiptoeing to the door. For a moment, she considered easing the door open just enough to hear the conversation in the great room. On second thought, she opened the door and quietly shuffled down the hall and closer.
Lena was helping Evan shrug out of his rain-soaked coat. “Did you find more tracks?” Lena whispered.
Evan shook his head and wiped a hand across his eyes, the unmistakable movements of a weary man. “Nothing that told me much I didn’t know. He’s taken a wrong turn, or he’s off chasing something he wants to draw. It’s not the direction we discussed. That’s for sure.”
Lena hung his coat on the hall tree, then wrapped her arm through his. “Come in the kitchen and warm up. I have a kettle on the stove.”
Evan pulled up short. “I’m sorry I spoke so harshly before.”
Lena reached up and lay her hand against his cheek. “You were right. The man needed to do this. You understood that. I didn’t. It’s that understanding that would have made you a good father to a boy.”
Dawn heard the catch in her voice.
Evan leaned down and brushed a kiss on her forehead. “Maybe. But things have changed since we talked. I think the man’s in trouble. He’s going off in a direction the map didn’t cover.”
“You can go back in the morning, can’t you?”
Evan brought his hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I will, before daybreak. I’ll take Bart along too.”
“What is it? There’s something you aren’t telling me.”
He hesitated before answering. “We found a recent campfire. It’s unlikely anyone else but Luke would’ve made it, especially the way it’d been thrown together.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“It’s what else we found that sent me searching in the dark. I found blood where the horse had been tethered. It was most assuredly from the mare. But it was the cat tracks that had me worried. I’m certain they belong to the same female Luke and I were tracking last week. They showed a limp. Usually, I’d count on her putting distance between a human and herself, but this cat’s shown herself to be unpredictable.”
Lena said, “And that’s what makes her dangerous.”
“Very dangerous.”
***
Luke sat clutching his knees to his chest, resting his head on his folded arms. He was so tired.
Shadows stretched long when he decided to rest. The rifle still lay across his lap. Not once in the last twenty-four hours had he let the gun out of his grip. Neither had he slept more than a few of hours in that same duration.
Twice in the past day, he’d heard what sounded like a low growl and twice the fine hairs along his spine had risen. Once, he’d heard a cat’s chilling, unearthly scream. Evan had told him the female’s called to the males that way. But it was unnerving, nevertheless. It meant she was out there.
From where
he rested, he had a clear view of the slope below. The tree at his back offered some assurance that she’d not surprise him by attacking him from behind.
The luck of the Irish. Well, wasn’t this it? The voice in his head said it with a familiar brogue. It would be easy to slip back into the old attitudes. Most of his countrymen were raised on a nutritious mixture of mother’s milk and a daily dosing of pessimism. It prevented them, he supposed, from reaching beyond their stations, hoping for things not destined. Unless one had the blessings of the faerie folks, fortunes and favors were for the gentry.
He failed to live out his lessons of late, allowing his misapplied affections for Dawn to blind him to his reality. But hadn’t she been fair? Hadn’t she the sweetest lips, etched by firm shapely lines? Hadn’t she the skin of an angel? His hand twitched in the twilight of sleep. He drew her brows, perfectly arched over eyes the color of precious jade.
Lukas, my boy, live a life you’ll be proud of. One to tell as a grand story to your children and your grandchildren, one without regrets.
It was his mother’s voice, soft and growing fainter in his memory. How he missed her! How much she’d sacrificed for him—living with a husband who despised himself and anyone who dared to love him. Working when her heart was as thread-worn as the fabric of her dress. She’d believed in him, her dear boy. One of two women who’d prayed and purposed his selfish life. For one short week, he thought he’d found a third in Miss Dawn Fairburn.
Had she returned his affections, he’d have changed, or at least he’d told himself he would. He would not be like his father, rejecting the comfort and support his wife offered—nor deny her the love she deserved. He not only wanted Dawn Fairburn, he needed her. He needed her honesty. He needed her to help him see what he could not.
“Le do thoil.” His mother’s second prayer echoed its lyrical submission to the greater power with the greater love. Thy will.
Chapter Twenty-two
“When love and skill work together, expect a masterpiece.” John Ruskin
July 8,1890
The sun appeared later in the valley than in the hills bordering it, allowing the pinks and golds of predawn to have their time of glory. By the time the bright sun crested the hills, the watercolor sky paled to the color of buttercups. Dawn pushed her nose beneath the quilt she’d brought with her to the porch. She felt a pleasurable anticipation for the sun’s warmth on her face.
A Portrait of Dawn Page 22