He gave a brief nod as she walked by him.
The mercantile was a large, rectangular room filled with merchandise on shelves and tables. As always, it seemed to Julia that almost any possible thing a person might want could be found in this store, and what things couldn’t be found could be ordered. Not that her needs were great. A good thing since neither were her funds great. She walked to the counter where Nancy Humphrey, the proprietress, stood.
“Mrs. Grace,” the woman said, a genuine smile brightening her face. “How good to see you. It’s been a long spell since you were last in town.”
“Yes, it has.”
“Everything all right at your place?”
Julia nodded.
Nancy’s gaze shifted beyond Julia’s right shoulder.
She didn’t have to look to know that Hugh stood not far behind her. “Mrs. Humphrey, this is my hired hand, Mr. Brennan.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Brennan.” Nancy nodded in his direction.
Julia pulled the slip of paper from the pocket of her skirt. On it she’d listed the items she most needed to see her through the next month or so. Flour. Salt. Sugar. Coffee. Cornmeal. Vinegar. Oatmeal. Tea. Dried beans. And plenty more. The list was as long as the larder at Sage-hen was close to bare.
“I trust I can put some of this on my account, like I did last year. I’ll be selling off some of my herd in a few weeks and can pay the rest of the bill then.”
“Of course it’s all right. Your husband never failed to pay his bills. Not even in lean years. Mr. Humphrey and I know you’ll do the same.”
Julia felt herself wince and hoped Nancy didn’t notice. But she hated being tied to Angus even after his death. So what if her husband had paid his bills on time and in full? It had nothing to do with her. She was her own woman now. She belonged to no one. She would rise or fall by her own decisions, and God willing, she would make the right ones.
Was Julia as upset as Hugh perceived her to be? He couldn’t see her face, her back still to him, and yet there was something about the set of her shoulders that said she was distressed or angry or something.
None of my concern. He needed to remember that. He needed to remember that this was a temporary job for a woman who was nothing more to him than his employer. He was lucky to have the work. Time he settled for being content with that. Time to nip this … wanting … in the bud.
He turned and moved down one of the narrow aisles. Without money in his pocket, he wouldn’t be buying. And Mrs. Humphrey wasn’t likely to extend an unknown ranch hand credit the way she’d extended it to Julia. But it didn’t hurt to look around. When he arrived at a display of poles, rods, lines, and other fishing equipment, he stopped.
A memory from long ago returned. A pleasant memory of him and his dad, fishing together. He could hear their laughter mingling on a soft spring breeze. How old would he have been? Maybe fifteen. Sixteen at the oldest. They’d gone to the river early in the morning when the air was cool and fresh. Not only had his dad been sober, but he’d been in one of his rare good moods as well. On that morning, in that moment, Hugh had been glad his dad found him with that family in Nebraska and brought him back to Chicago. He hadn’t been glad very often. Only a few years later —
He closed off the thought as he continued down the aisle. There were some things best not remembered. But the memories continued to press in. To escape them, he went outside and stood on the boardwalk, letting his gaze roam over the main street.
Pine Creek wasn’t a big place, but it appeared to have all of the necessary businesses to make a town civilized. Not that he was likely to see much of it, it being so far north of the Grace ranch. And once his work for the widow was done, he would leave the area. He’d forget Pine Creek the way he’d forgotten plenty of other small towns between Chicago and this spot on the western edge of Wyoming.
Across the street and down a bit, a man stumbled out of the door of the saloon they’d passed on their way into town. Seeing the drunkard, Hugh was assailed with more memories. Some of the unpleasant ones he tried to avoid. How many times in his young life had he gone looking for his father, usually finding him drunk in a similar establishment? How many times had his father leaned down on Hugh’s boyish shoulders and the pair of them stumbled along the streets and back alleys toward whatever place they were able to call home at the time? Even years later, the stench of alcohol, sweat, and vomit seemed to fill his nostrils.
“Mr. Brennan? … Hugh?”
Jerked to the present, he turned to find Julia in the doorway of the mercantile, watching him with a puzzled expression.
“Mind helping me load the supplies into the wagon?”
“Sure thing.” He would be glad for something to do. Anything to turn his thoughts in a better direction.
A wounded soul could recognize another wounded soul. That was something Julia had learned over the years. She’d seen something in Hugh’s eyes a split second before he was able to hide it from her. A look that said he’d known deep betrayal, intense cruelty, or unmentionable sorrow. Perhaps all three. Like Julia.
Suddenly, Hugh was more than a stranger she’d hired to help drive the cattle to market. And perhaps he was also more than she wanted him — or anyone — to be. Because if she could see into him, then he might be able to see into her as well. That would never do.
The two of them loaded the supplies into the wagon in silence, studiously avoiding eye contact. They continued in a similar manner at the feed store, and it wasn’t long before the team of horses was pulling the wagon south, Pine Creek growing smaller and smaller behind them.
They might have made it all the way to Sage-hen without exchanging a word if they hadn’t met up with Reverend Thomas Peabody, pastor of the Pine Creek Presbyterian Church. Although Julia had seldom attended religious services in town, she liked and respected Reverend Peabody and was glad when he came calling, rare though those visits were.
“Julia Grace,” the reverend said, his entire face seeming to crinkle with his smile, “how good to see you.”
“And you, Reverend Peabody.”
“It’s been too long.” His kindly gaze shifted to Hugh.
Julia said, “This is Hugh Brennan. He’s working for me at the ranch.”
“Mr. Brennan. A pleasure.”
“Likewise, sir.” Hugh bent the brim of his hat as he spoke his greeting.
Turning to Julia again, Reverend Peabody said, “I hope you didn’t find the winter too difficult. I heard from Rose Collins that you’ve had no help on the ranch since last fall. Glad to see that’s no longer true. You’re well, I trust.”
“Yes, I’m well. Thanks.”
In the past she’d wondered if this godly man had guessed what sort of husband Angus was. A couple of times, she’d nearly told him, nearly begged him to help her escape. But where would she have gone if she’d left Angus? How would she have made her way? She wasn’t schooled beyond the ability to read and write. She had no special skills that would make her desirable as a teacher or a cook or seamstress, no breeding that would make her a suitable companion or governess. What if the only work she could find was in a saloon, entertaining men, like her mother before her? The last question caused her heart to squeeze.
“It was a mild winter,” she said. “The cattle weathered it well. They should bring a good price.” Oh, please, God. Let it be so. Let them bring a good price.
“I assume Mr. Prescott still wants to buy you out.”
“That he does, but I have no intention of selling.”
“Glad to hear it. Your friends would miss you.”
Her chest warmed. “Thank you, Reverend.”
“Once again, a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Brennan. I hope I’ll have the opportunity to see you again soon.”
Hugh nodded.
Reverend Peabody and Julia slapped their reins at the same moment, and the wagon and the buggy moved away in opposite directions.
“Common knowledge, I guess,” Hugh said.
“Pardon?”
“About your brother-in-law wanting to buy your place.”
“Yes.” She glanced at him.
“Is he offering a fair price?”
She thought on that a moment before answering, “Some would say so.”
“Maybe you’d be better off selling. You might find life easier elsewhere.”
“And go where?” Did his question anger her or frighten her? She wasn’t sure, but her tone of voice indicated the former.
“Anywhere you wanted. Another town. Another city. Another country.”
“This is my home. I have no intention of leaving just because my life might be easier elsewhere.” I’m safe here. No one can hurt me here.
“Sorry, Julia. Didn’t mean to offend.”
She drew a long, deep breath. She shouldn’t be so thin-skinned. It was one of her worst flaws. How could this man, this stranger, hope to understand what tied her to Sage-hen?
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Hugh added softly.
“No.” She shook her head. “It’s all right. You have no way of knowing how I feel or why I feel it.” She sighed. “I’m not going to sell to Charlie or anyone else. I’m staying right where I am.”
He turned his eyes away from her, staring off toward the mountains. “Guess you’re lucky then.”
“Lucky?”
“Knowing what you want. Some folks live their whole lives without ever finding what they want or where they belong. Some die still trying to figure it out. You’re lucky ‘cause you already know.”
“Are you still looking?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. Perhaps he hadn’t heard or perhaps he ignored her. She couldn’t be sure which.
With the baby in her arms, Rose stepped onto the porch and drew a deep breath. The air was rich with the smell of fresh-turned earth. In the distance, she saw her husband as he followed the team of horses, the sharp blade of the plow carving another row in the field. Peter must have spied her at the same time, for he raised an arm and waved.
There was something wonderful about being married to a man for so long that the two of them thought alike, could finish the other’s sentences, knew when they were looking at each other at a distance.
“Ma?” A small hand tugged at her skirt. “I can’t read this word.”
Rose looked down at the book Gomer held. “Did you ask Abigail to help you?”
The six-year-old shook her head. “She’s busy helpin’ Faith, and Bathshua’s out back, and Charity says I’m not to bother her when she’s writin’.”
“All right. You take your book back to the table and read the words you can. I’ll be in shortly.”
After her daughter obeyed, Rose turned toward the field again. Peter had started down another row, his hands grasping the handles of the plow, the leather reins draped over the back of his neck.
Mercy, how she loved that man. How blessed she felt to be his wife and the mother of his children. Of course, when they married, neither of them had envisioned they would be parents to ten daughters. A large family, yes. But all girls? It would have helped if the Lord had seen fit to give them a few sons to work alongside their father. Not that the girls didn’t help. They did. But it wasn’t quite the same thing.
Shame gave her conscience a quick sting. Shame for complaining, even in a small way. Shame when the Collins’ quiver was full to overflowing, while her dear friend’s was so empty.
She remembered the first time she’d laid eyes on Julia Grace. Married less than a month. Pretty and delicate. And sporting a black eye that scoundrel of a husband had given her the day before. Not that Julia had said, “Angus hit me.” It would be years later before Julia was that honest with Rose. Perhaps because she took the blame for his cruelty upon herself. Perhaps because she feared what would happen if Angus learned of it.
Rose had been taught by her own ma not to think ill of the dead, but it was difficult to come up with anything good to think or say about Angus Grace apart from his handsome face and the way he’d managed his ranch. It seemed to Rose that Julia deserved some peace and rest after all those years with such a brute, but she feared Charlie Prescott wasn’t going to give it to her. Land hungry, he was, and plenty persistent.
“Ma!” Gomer called, reminding Rose of her promise.
“Coming, Gomer. I’m coming.”
EIGHT
Hugh leaned against the fence and watched his gelding graze in the shin-high grass. After a week of rest and numerous rubbings of liniment, no sign of the horse’s injury remained. Whenever Hugh was ready to leave Sage-hen, his mount would be ready to carry him.
But he wasn’t in any hurry to leave — and that surprised him. More than a little.
Movement in the distance caught his attention. He squinted, shading his eyes with one hand. The cattle that had been grazing near the foothills earlier were now trotting toward the north. Something had disturbed them. From what he’d observed in the short while he’d been here, cows didn’t stop eating without a good reason.
He pushed off the fence and strode to the house. The front door was open, but he stopped — as he always did — on the threshold. “Julia?”
“Come in, Hugh.”
He stepped inside.
She was seated in a chair close to a window, plying the pale yellow fabric in her lap with a needle and thread. Sunlight created something like a halo above her hair.
“I’m going to saddle one of the horses and check on the cattle.”
She looked up, a question in her eyes.
“If your brother-in-law or his men got that wolf they were hunting, he’d let you know, wouldn’t he?”
“I believe so. Why?” She set aside her sewing.
“Something seems to’ve spooked the cattle grazing over near the foothills. Thought I’d better have a look, see what it was.”
Julia stood. “I’ll go with you.”
He wondered if she didn’t trust him to shoot a wolf if he saw one. Then again, maybe he’d miss if he tried. He was no expert with firearms, be they rifles or pistols.
“Get the horses ready.” She headed for her bedroom. “I’ll be right out.”
By the time Julia emerged from the house, Hugh was waiting with Teddy and another saddle horse near the corral. With a nod in his direction, she slipped her rifle into the scabbard and swung into the saddle. Hugh mounted quickly, and the two of them rode out of the barnyard, cantering east toward the foothills.
She could have let him go on his own, of course. He was capable enough. Over the past couple of days, she’d familiarized him with the layout of the ranch. They’d ridden the boundaries of her land together. She’d shown him the herd and the fences that kept them from straying onto neighboring land. He’d learned the best place to cross the river that cut through a corner of Sage-hen.
It confounded her how quickly he’d become a part of her daily routine. Even more surprising, she wasn’t afraid when she was with him. Like her good friend and neighbor, Peter Collins, she felt an innate trust when she was in Hugh’s presence. Unlike Peter, there was no logical reason to trust Hugh. Not really. Not when she knew so little about him. But she did trust him. She could only pray to God that she wasn’t proving herself a fool once again.
The rolling landscape obscured the place where Hugh said he’d seen the cattle, and when they topped the final rise, Julia felt relief flow through her. No cow or calf lay in view, a predator feasting on its kill. There was no blood to be seen to indicate an attack of any sort. And most of all, Bandit gave no cry of alarm.
She reined in, and Hugh did likewise.
“They were headed in that direction,” Hugh said, pointing toward the north. “Following that line of trees.”
She nudged Teddy with her heels, and as the horse moved slowly forward, Julia studied the ground. Years before, a ranch hand had explained to her how to track a wild animal. “To start with, Miz Grace, you have to know how and where to look,” he’d told her, “not just what to look for. The signs are
there if you’re payin’ attention.”
Angus had fired that friendly young cowboy the next day. Julia never did learn to track wild animals. Not really. Good thing she had Bandit.
Looking up, she said, “Let’s see where the cows went.” She turned Teddy in the direction Hugh had indicated, setting the pace at a gentle lope. Bandit raced ahead of them, happy and looking for small animals to chase. The last of Julia’s concern drained away. They could turn around and go back if they wanted. No predator threatened the herd. She was sure of it. But she was content to keep riding, the sun on her face, the breeze tugging at her hair.
“Guess I was wrong,” Hugh said after a lengthy silence.
“Better safe than sorry.”
“I’m not much of a cowboy.”
She gave him a quick smile. “You learn fast.”
He looked like he would respond, but before he could, the cows they’d sought came into view. Julia and Hugh reined their horses to a stop. Some of the herd lifted their heads to look at them, then went back to grazing. Several calves cavorted, looking almost as if they were playing a game of tag.
“I love this time of year,” Julia said softly.
Hugh must have heard her, for he looked her way, as if waiting for her to expand upon her comment.
In a whisper, she said, “New life. Fresh hope.” And then her thoughts hurtled back to a distant spring when she’d been young — and even a little hopeful.
“Julia, sit still and look at me.”
When her mama spoke in that tone of voice, Julia was quick to obey. To do otherwise, she’d learned, would earn her a swat on the bottom and time spent sitting on a small stool in the corner. Julia hated the second even more than the first.
“You’re not to leave this house while Mama’s at work. Do you understand?”
“I get scared alone,” Julia replied. “It’s dark and I hear things.”
Mama’s expression softened. “Oh, my darlin’ girl. I know. I know you get scared when it’s dark and I’m not here and this old place creaks and groans. But I have to work or we’d go hungry. We wouldn’t have this little house, such as it is, to live in if it wasn’t for my work at the saloon. One day we’ll leave Grand Coeur and go some place far from here. Like a couple of birds, we’ll just fly away. Someday you’ll live in a nice home and nobody’ll look down on you no more. I swear it. If it’s the last thing I ever do, I swear I’ll make sure you don’t have to live the rest of your life the way I’ve had to live mine. I want you to stretch your wings, my darlin’ girl, and learn to soar.”
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