She rushed back out into the open. A dark cloud obstructed much of the sunlight from earlier, matching the gloominess in her heart. Ellie’s eyes darted to where a couple men smoked cigarettes and laughed in front of the bunkhouse. They looked up at that moment and stared at her from across the distance. She swallowed back her sudden fear. They were the same two men who’d cornered her before, and who continued to leer at her every time she saw them.
Ignoring their animal-like stares, she continued on, checking the next barn. His horse wasn’t here, and neither were the familiar sounds of a dog’s happy barks. It quickly became apparent that Lance hadn’t arrived yet for work. Ellie blinked away renewed tears and headed back to the house.
Each breath she took was agony to the heaviness in her chest until it nearly crushed her heart. Would Lance blame her for her father’s actions? Things of which she had no knowledge, and that had happened many years ago? Could she ever forgive her father, knowing what he’d done?
Uncle John opened the front door before she’d even reached the porch.
“He’ll be here soon, Ellie.” He took her hand and led her into the house. “I’m sure he just rode off to clear his head.”
Ellie swallowed back the tears. Uncle John was right. He had to be. She’d written out a long explanation to everyone gathered for dinner at the Hawleys as to why Lance had reacted so oddly after Trace had mentioned her father’s name. Trace Hawley had offered to ride after him and bring him back, but Tyler Monroe had advised that they give him time.
“He’ll be back. I’ve known Lance the longest out of anyone here. He’s never told me much about his past, but it sounds like he’s got things to sort through in his mind.” He’d looked at Ellie with a smile. “The way his head’s been in the clouds over you, he won’t be gone long.”
Supper had been a rather quiet and somber affair after that, most people speaking in hushed tones. The only ones who’d seemed unaffected had been Albert and Alma Wilkins. Uncle John had taken her and Aunt Fiona home shortly after. While she’d been quiet during the ride home to the Circle P, Aunt Fiona had offered a sympathetic shoulder for Ellie to lean on.
“Your aunt has breakfast ready, Ellie. Come and eat, then we’ll go back to the barns together. He’ll probably be here real soon, and we’ll find him working horses.”
Uncle John was wrong. Ellie had rushed through breakfast and returned to the barns shortly after, but Lance still hadn’t shown up.
“He’s been late before,” Stubbs had offered in his gruff voice. “No sense frettin’ over him. He tends to come along when it suits him, and he ain’t never missed a day of work.”
Ellie scribbled a hasty note to the foreman.
I want to ride out to his camp
“Don’t be silly, Eleanor,” Aunt Fiona chimed in with a wide look of disbelief in her eyes. She’d followed Ellie and her husband to the barns after breakfast. The older woman held out her hand for Stubbs to give her the note. “There’s no use making yourself sick over this. Like your uncle and Mr. Stubbs have said, Lance Taggart will be here in due time.”
Ellie shook her head. Aunt Fiona had never liked Lance. Even though she’d been much more cordial to him after he’d rescued Uncle John and fixed her roof a few days ago, she probably hoped he wouldn’t return.
She wasn’t going to argue with her aunt. One way or another, she would find a way to get to Lance’s camp. Waiting for him here at the ranch was simply torture.
“I’ll go look for him myself if he don’t show up by afternoon,” Stubbs had offered. “I think I got a fair idea where he’s got his camp.”
“I’ll fix us a nice hot cup of tea, Eleanor. Perhaps a warm bath would soothe you, too.”
Ellie nodded, forcing a smile. Maybe asking for a bath would buy her the time she needed to sneak out of the house. It would have been better if she had a horse to ride, but she’d made it to Lance’s camp before on foot. She could do it again.
A twinge of guilt passed through her after all the work Aunt Fiona went through to get water heated and buckets carried to Ellie’s room for a hot bath she had no intention of taking.
“Take all the time you need, Eleanor. I’ll knock if there’s word that Lance Taggart is here.” She’d offered a quiet smile and closed the door to Ellie’s room.
Ellie waited for Aunt Fiona to go back downstairs. She opened her door to listen. The front door opened and closed, and her aunt’s voice mingled with Uncle John’s much deeper one. Once the voices faded from near the porch, she left her room and rushed down the steps. She darted through the kitchen and out the back door, then ran along the path past the garden to the trail leading to the creek.
She didn’t slow until she reached the trees that lined the banks, which concealed her presence if anyone should look in that direction. The creek was muddy and rushed past, unlike the other times she’d been here and had safely crossed. Ellie stepped up to the water’s edge. There was no other way if she wanted to get to Lance’s camp. It didn’t look too deep, but the current might be stronger and she couldn’t see the bottom.
Breaking off a branch from the tree to use as a support, she waded into the water with her shoes on. She gasped at the cold water that surrounded her legs. Ellie pressed her lips together and moved forward, using the stick to test the creek bottom before setting one foot in front of the other.
Holding up her skirts in one hand and the stick in the other, she pushed through the current to the opposite bank. The water came past her knees by the time she reached the middle of the creek.
Ellie swallowed and gritted her teeth. She’d come this far, and couldn’t turn back now. Lance might be furious with her for crossing the creek, but her determination pushed her forward. She needed to see him and tell him that she loved him. She needed his reassurance that he loved her, too, regardless of what atrocities her father might have committed. Surely he could see that she was not like her father.
With her next step, her foot slipped off a rock and she lurched forward, nearly losing her footing completely. In the process, water soaked the front of her dress. Her skirt and petticoats had become incredibly heavy as the material absorbed more and more water.
She scrambled up the creek bank and followed the trail into the hills. Her waterlogged skirts caught on every shrub and picked up dirt as she walked. Her shoes made loud squishing sounds, but it didn’t matter. Her sole focus was finding Lance. If he was on his way to the ranch, she’d run into him on this trail.
Her heart pounded from the strenuous walk, and her throat had gone dry by the time she finally reached the clearing where she’d been twice before. It had to be well past mid-morning at this point, yet the sun hadn’t done much to warm her up or dry her clothes.
She swiped at the hair that clung to her cheeks, which were damp from both perspiration and the occasional tear that had fallen while she’d made her way here. Birds chirped in the surrounding trees, but there was no welcoming bark from Mahto, nor the snorting of Lance’s horse. Walking toward the lean-to, it became apparent that the camp was empty.
Ellie frowned. There was no wood in the fire ring, or even charcoal that might still be warm from a recent campfire. Her heart sped up again. She looked at the lean-to. It was empty. Lance’s blankets and even his saddlebags were gone.
An icy chill of dread rolled down her back and consumed her very core. Lance was gone. By the looks of the empty camp, he must have come straight here from the Hawley’s ranch, packed his things and left. There were no fresh footprints after last night’s rain. The heavy weight of increasing sadness and despair that consumed her brought her to her knees in front of the shelter.
Ellie sank onto the damp earth, ignoring the cold that seeped through her wet skirts. She shivered uncontrollably as she covered her face with her hands, and cried. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and a few drops of rain fell on her head. She curled up on the ground, tucking her knees up close to her chest.
She cried as the rain began to fall harder - crie
d for the man she loved. He’d left because he couldn’t bear to be with her after knowing what her father had done. Could she blame him? He’d lost his mother and everything that had been familiar to him because of her father.
Ellie cried until no more tears came, and then the sky cried down on her. She was no longer cold and she stopped shivering. She smiled, keeping her eyes closed. Lance’s strong arms held her tight and his tender, yet passionate kisses warmed her insides.
Ellie forced her heavy eyelids open. She squinted and blinked to bring the fuzzy images into focus. Her groggy head rolled to the side on a soft pillow.
Where am I? What happened?
She opened her mouth to form the words, but no sound came out.
She motioned with her hands. I can’t speak
“She’s waking up.”
A woman’s voice sounded like it came from a great distance, the words echoing in Ellie’s head. In the next instant, the mattress underneath her groaned and dipped slightly. A hand enveloped her own.
“Eleanor? How are you feeling?”
With great effort, Ellie brought her head around to the sound of the voice. She blinked again. Aunt Fiona’s smiling face was inches from hers. Her eyes looked worried and tired.
Ellie nodded. Her aunt reached a free hand to Ellie’s forehead. The pounding in her head became excruciating.
“Can I get you some water, Dear? You must be thirsty. The doctor said the effects of the medication he gave you to sleep would linger for another day or so.”
Ellie frowned. Medication? Doctor? She forced her eyes to the nightstand next to her bed. Her arm stretched out, heavy as if a huge weight was strapped to her wrist, and her hand fell with a thud against the top of her notebook.
“No need to try and communicate right now, Eleanor.” Aunt Fiona reached for the glass of water next to the notebook and held it to Ellie’s lips, supporting the back of her head.
Ellie gulped the water. Her mouth was dry as cotton. She turned her head away when her stomach could take no more.
“How is she?” a deeper voice asked. Uncle John came into view, standing next to the bed.
“Sleepy, but she looks fine.” Aunt Fiona continued to smile. “She’s going to be all right.”
“You gave us quite a scare, Ellie.” Uncle John reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.
Ellie shook her head again, scrunching her forehead. She reached for her notebook again.
Where’s Lance? What happened? She scribbled with a shaky hand, making her words look nearly illegible. After peering at the notebook, Aunt Fiona tossed a somber look over her shoulder at her husband. She stood from the bed and moved to the side to make room for her husband to step closer.
A sinking feeling swept through Ellie. She’d had the same feeling before, and she’d been so cold, colder than she’d ever been in her life. Ellie pushed herself to a sitting position, blinking away the dizziness in her head.
Uncle John took Aunt Fiona’s place at her bedside.
“Ellie,” he said slowly. “Lance hasn’t come back. No one’s seen him in three days, since the night he rode away from the Red Cliff Ranch.”
Three days!
“I found you nearly frozen to death at his camp in the late afternoon after you snuck off,” Uncle John continued. “We got you warmed up, but we had to call the doc from town because you wouldn’t calm down after you thawed out.”
The memories rushed back as Uncle John told her what had happened. Ellie turned her head and squeezed her eyes shut. She’d been given medication to calm her nerves, and it had made her sleep for the last two days. There had been no sign of Lance. He was truly gone. The thought that she was the daughter of the man responsible for his mother’s death had been too much for him.
“Trace Hawley checked every inch of his property and for several miles in all directions, but it rained again and any tracks got washed away.” He touched the top of Ellie’s hand. “If he wants to be found, he will be. I’m sure he just needs some time to think about things.”
Ellie turned away from her uncle. He didn’t sound as if he believed his own words. Lance was gone. She cried into her pillow, the same silent tears she’d cried after her mother’s death and she’d woken in bed with well-meaning people around to console her. Once again, she was all alone.
She stiffened when Aunt Fiona touched her gently on the shoulder.
“Eleanor, there’s something else,” she said, her voice sounding unsure.
When she didn’t continue, Ellie turned her head to glance at her aunt. Aunt Fiona smiled an uneasy smile. She held out a piece of paper.
“It’s a telegram from your father.”
Ellie’s heart sped up. She reached for the paper, and scanned the words. He wanted her to come to Kentucky immediately. He’d already arranged for someone to escort her by train. Ellie read the words again, then looked at her aunt.
“I wrote to him a while ago, telling him of my concerns about you and your infatuation with a half . . . with a horse wrangler. He seemed to agree it would be best that you join him in Kentucky.”
Ellie shook her head. When Father had first brought her here, all she’d wanted was to go with him. Now, she’d found someone she loved. She shook her head. He was gone. He hated her after what he’d found out. Why else would he have left without at least telling her goodbye to her face?
The need to lash out at her father gripped her with sudden force. How could he order the killing of innocent people? He was like a stranger to her, and her whole life seemed unreal.
As much as she dreaded going to another foreign place, to meet more people who wouldn’t understand her, there was nothing for her here. Everywhere she looked, she’d be reminded of Lance. Perhaps it would be best that she left, as well. At least she could confront her father face to face, and this time, he would listen to her. She reached for her notebook.
I’m ready to go to Kentucky
“I sent the telegram to your father before I realized how wrong I was about him, Eleanor. I didn’t want you to associate with Lance. That was before he saved John. I was wrong and shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions about him.” Aunt Fiona squeezed her hand. There was a tear in her eye. “I never meant to hurt you. I can see how much that man means to you.”
Ellie buried her head in her pillow. It didn’t matter how much she loved him. He’d made his choice. She didn’t open her eyes again until many minutes passed and her door opened and closed. Then she reached for her notebook and flipped to the page of her drawing of Lance.
She crossed her wrists over her chest, then pressed his image against her heart.
Chapter Nineteen
“Perhaps you’d like to go for a buggy ride this afternoon with me and your aunt? It’s a beautiful day today.”
Ellie raised her head to cast a disinterested glance at her father, who sat across from her, sipping his morning coffee and reading the newspaper. He uncrossed his legs and set the paper down, then leaned forward over the table and met her gaze.
“I have a meeting this morning, but I’m free this afternoon.”
Ellie pushed the eggs around on her plate with her fork while still looking at her father. Today was no different than the last. Since leaving Montana, the life seemed to have been sucked right out of her.
“You need to get outdoors, Eleanor,” her father continued. “You’ve been here several days, and you haven’t so much as set foot outside. Would you care to tell me what’s bothering you? I thought you’d be happy that I’d summoned you to Kentucky.”
Ellie set her fork down. Anger and resentment swelled in her for the man who sat across the table from her, the man she’d loved and admired all her life. He’d become a stranger all of a sudden.
In all her years after the tragedy that took her mother from her and robbed her of speech, she’d never insisted she be heard. Perhaps it was time to let her father know what had consumed her mind since finding out what kind of man he truly was.
She opened h
er notebook, and began to write.
You never cared to hear my thoughts before, Father. Why ask now?
Edward Benton read the note, then turned his gaze on her with a wrinkled forehead.
“I’ve always listened to you and supported you, Ellie. I’ve sheltered you and kept you safe because of your handicap to the best of my ability.”
Maybe that’s been the problem. You’ve always thought that my inability to speak made me slow. I have a mind of my own, and I can think for myself, and I can learn to communicate, if you would only listen.
Ellie’s hand shook by the time she was done writing and shoved the paper at her father.
Across from her, her father’s lips tightened in a thin line. He sat straighter, and his pulse visibly throbbed at his neck.
“Your Aunt Fiona was correct when she sent me that telegram, letting me know you’d been out of sorts,” he said in a clipped tone. “I made a mistake by not bringing you with me in the first place. I never thought you’d run amuck after I left. It appears the stable hand you’ve been seeing has been filling your head with all sorts of nonsense.”
Ellie scribbled in haste while her father was still talking. If she could speak, she would have interrupted him. Her eyes filled with tears of frustration, momentarily replacing the tears she’d shed over the last few weeks when her heart had shattered into a million pieces.
That stable hand is an accomplished horse trainer and the kindest, most thoughtful man I’ve ever met. He was the first person to take the time to truly listen to me, and he taught me how to communicate. We understood each other.
Adding that she loved Lance, and he loved her was too painful to reveal. Lance had clearly been unable to move past her identity. Aunt Fiona had promised to send a telegram as soon as anyone there had received any news of Lance’s whereabouts, but so far, there had been no correspondence from Montana.
For days after her recovery from exposure, she’d hoped and waited, but Lance hadn’t returned. None of the neighbors had seen or heard from him, either. With a sinking heart, she’d left the Circle P and Montana behind. Starting a new life in Kentucky and forgetting the man she loved seemed impossible. Even though the countryside was beautiful, nothing could compare to what she’d left behind in Montana, namely her heart.
In His Kiss: Blemished Brides, Book 4 Page 16