by West, Everly
He grinned and nodded. "I suppose that is true enough. The last three months I was here alone waiting on Melody and Victoria—"
Arielle watched Caleb struggle with his unintentional mention of his wife and her heart ached once again for his loss. He must have loved her very much if he still couldn't speak her name without hurting. A tiny prick of something she refused to label made her envious of the dead woman. As soon as the thought hit, she pushed it away. She wasn't a jealous person by nature and especially not of someone who was deceased. Ridiculous.
"Go on, Caleb. It's alright. Your pain will fade in time. Time heals all wounds or so I've been told. I, myself, have never experienced the loss of someone I love deeply. Therefore, it isn't fair of me to say I understand your pain, but in time, the pain will lessen and those lonely places in your heart will fill with lovely memories of your life together with—"
"I need to get goin'." Caleb stood abruptly and turned toward the kitchen door. Arielle watched him hesitate, his hand on the door's knob. "Sometimes memories are deceiving. They make you believe things were good when some memories are best left in the past." His voice vibrated with his emotions.
Arielle watched him stand at the door a moment longer. Then, he opened the door and left the kitchen, closing it behind him. Arielle stood staring at the closed door, her mind grasped for understanding at Caleb's parting words. "Memories are deceiving. Better left in the past.” But why? Was it just too painful for him to remember the life he had with his wife or was there something else that caused him to push his memories down deep?
Had something happened? She had to admit she knew very little about Caleb's wife, not that it mattered, she admonished herself. Besides, Caleb's life—and wife—was no concern of hers. Her job was to take care of his household and his daughter until she left for home in the fall. Until then, she didn't need to involve herself in Caleb's affairs.
Arielle busied herself with breakfast preparations for Jeremy and Melody, but her thoughts kept turning to Caleb's words. What could have happened that would make a man want to leave his memories of the wife he loved so much in the past?
She pushed and pulled at every imaginable scenario in her mind while she fried eggs and bacon. Once the biscuits were golden brown and the fragrance of breakfast filled every nook and cranny of the cozy kitchen, she finally came to the only conclusion possible. "I think I shall make an inquiry into the matter. For Melody's sake, of course."
* * *
Caleb arrived in town just a little after eight o'clock in the morning. The five-mile wagon ride into town hadn't taken long and he really wanted to get his business taken care of and get back to the ranch as soon as possible. He had a full day of stretching fence before that herd of horses arrived from Cheyenne next week.
He pulled his wagon to a stop in front of the mercantile store. Most of the citizens of Laramie were still asleep or finishing breakfast. As if on cue, his stomach rumbled beneath his gun belt. He grimaced and stepped into the store.
"Good morning, Mr. Montgomery. You’re up and at 'em early this morning. What can I do for you?" Mr. Collins, the store owner, called out to him from somewhere at the back of the store.
Caleb looked around and saw the portly gentleman make his way toward him through tins of nails and bins of tools and bolts of fabric and lace. "I need some fencing supplies, Mr. Collins." Caleb pulled his hat off his head and slapped it against his thigh to get rid of the dust.
Cecil Collins made his way to the counter and took out his ledger. "Got plenty of fencing supplies, Mr. Montgomery. How do ya want to pay for it?"
Caleb's anxiety returned. He was still waiting for his money from his bank account in St. Louis. His father was supposed to have sent it weeks ago. He needed to send a telegram to his father and ask him what the delay was. "I'm waiting on funds from St. Louis, Mr. Collins. I was hoping you could see your way to extend me a little more credit—just until the money comes." He hated to stand here and grovel like he was some sort of charity case. He had money. Some people would call it a small fortune. He just didn't have it in his hand at the moment.
Mr. Collins scratched his head and studied his ledger again. "I don't know, Mr. Montgomery. You already owe me almost five hundred dollars. That's a lot of money to me and the Mrs. We got three growing boys to feed."
"I know and I wouldn't be asking if my father had sent me my money like he was supposed to. I'm going to the telegraph office right after I leave here and find out why he hasn't. I don't want to impose on you any more than I have to, Mr. Collins. I hope you understand I'm not used to begging."
Caleb's pride took a beating, but he needed those fencing supplies and he would do whatever he had to do to get them. He couldn't handle any more horses in the current pasture, and more were on the way.
Mr. Collins raised his head and stared at Caleb for a moment or two. Then he nodded. "I understand your situation, Mr. Montgomery. I can go a bit longer on your credit. But you gotta promise me if that money doesn't come from St. Louis, you'll get the money somehow to pay me back."
Relief flooded through Caleb's body and he let out a breath he had been holding in relief. "Thank you, Mr. Collins. I swear, I won’t let you down. Even if I have to sell every horse on my property to get you the money."
"I don't think that will be necessary, Mr. Montgomery. I hear you have a nice herd of quality horseflesh. If you don't get the money, we can trade some horse flesh for your debt—if you're willin' that is."
"I'd be willin’, but it won't be necessary. I have the money. I just got to get my hands on it." Caleb assured the owner.
Mr. Collins smiled then and leaned across the counter. "Now, this little transaction is between me and you, okay? I don't want folks around here to think I'm a pushover and all. Besides..." he leaned closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. "There's no sense gettin' the missus all worked up about it. She ain't as agreeable to credit as I am. I've been short on cash before and I know how it feels when someone takes a chance on ya." The man nodded and made a notation in the ledger. "Gotcha down for fencing supplies, Mr. Montgomery. I can give you two more weeks and then I gotta have some money or my wife’s gonna give me what for and I'll tell, you don't want what for from that woman, no siree."
"Thank you, Mr. Collins. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. I won't let ya down. That’s a promise you can take to the bank—as soon as my money comes that is."
"Good to hear. Now, can you do me a favor?" Mr. Collins came around the counter and stuck out his hand. Caleb took it and shook it.
"Anything, Mr. Collins. Anything at all. You name it." Caleb had never had anyone who wasn't family or friend to stick their neck out for him before. He'd do just about anything for Mr. Collins right now.
"My friends call me Cecil. I'd say right about now, you and me is gonna be real good friends." He winked and Caleb grinned.
"I'd be right proud to call you friend, Cecil, that is if you'll call me Caleb."
"Caleb it is. Never can have too many friends, I say." He gave Caleb a good stout slap on his back. Caleb nearly dropped his hat.
"Yep, a man can't have too many friends."
"I'll have my son Adam pull your wagon around back and he and his brother, Eli can start loading your supplies. Maybe go get yourself a bite o' breakfast over at the Peterman Cafe. Food's not fancy, but it'll stick to a workin' man's ribs." He patted his round belly and slapped Caleb on the back again. It was obvious the man didn't know his own strength.
"I think I'll do just that." Caleb left the mercantile store and headed to the cafe, then changed his mind. First, he was gonna send his father a telegram and find out where the hell his damned money was."
7
The sun was high in the noon sky when Arielle heard the rattle of the wagon returning to the ranch. Caleb was back. Why on earth did that fact make her heart race? "He is not a prince, although he is charming—at times." She murmured.
"Who isn't a prince?" Melody asked from across the table c
overed in pastels.
"Um, no one. I hear your father coming so perhaps we should clean up our mess and prepare something for lunch. My goodness, where did the morning go?" She had been so preoccupied trying to figure out how to broach the subject of Melody's mother without upsetting the girl, the morning was all but gone. She thought perhaps if Melody were distracted by something fun, she would be open to sharing the unpleasant facts about her mother. That's when Arielle thought about the pastels.
Melody had been overjoyed to experiment with the finger-size pieces of pigmented chalk, but when Arielle suggested the little girl paint a picture of her mother, Melody's joy turned to sadness and her enthusiasm for the activity waned. Instead of drawing a picture, she swirled the different colors around and around on her canvas, creating nothing but a very large mess of colored chalk dust.
Arielle was more convinced than ever that something tragic had happened and that was the reason both Caleb and Melody refused to talk about Victoria. And as far as Arielle was concerned, that wasn't healthy. For either of them.
She heard the wagon rumble by the house toward the barn. She peeked outside the kitchen window just in time to see Caleb roll by. He turned as if he sensed her presence. She ducked out of sight. Why had she done that? Why hadn't she just waved him on? Instead, she was skulking in the shadows like...like someone with something to hide. "Nonsense."
"What's nonsense?" Melody was standing next to her.
"Oh, nothing. Why don't you help me get the table cleaned off so we can eat lunch? You can place the pastels into the tin. But be sure to seal it up tight so the colors won't dry out.” She clapped her hands together in mock severity. “Now hurry. We don't want to keep your father waiting."
"Can we color again tomorrow, Arielle?" Melody asked.
"I think we can manage it, but only if you will work really hard on your schoolwork. We shall have you reading in no time at all." A thought occurred to Arielle. "Did your mother read to you when you lived in St. Louis?"
Melody nodded. "No, Momma didn't like to read to me. She said it made her squint and squinting gave her wrinkles. Mrs. Haversham read to me after I had my bath. I miss Mrs. Haversham. She was funny. And nice. Like you."
"Well, thank you very much for the compliment, Melody." Arielle busied herself with placing the roast beef and yesterday's baked bread on the table. Interesting. So Melody misses a member of the household staff, but not her mother. Does that mean then that Melody was raised by a nanny instead of her mother? And if so, Caleb or his family must have been well off financially. Or perhaps it was Caleb’s wife’s family that had the money.
Arielle heard boots stomping on the wooden back steps. Caleb is here. Perhaps she could strike up a conversation and get some of the answers she could use to help Melody—and Caleb—
To deal with their loss.
Caleb stepped into the kitchen in socked feet. He nodded to her and held his arms out to Melody. The little girl ran into his arms and he hugged her tight against his chest. She was suddenly quite envious of the little girl.
"Good afternoon. Did your trip into town go as planned?" She asked as she poured cold water from the well into a clean glass.
"It did. I got the fencing supplies so I can start building the west pasture to hold the expectant mares separate from the colts and fillies." He helped Melody into her chair and pushed it up to the table, then he took his own chair while Arielle finished serving the food.
When everything was on the table, she took her own place at the table.
“Will Jeremy be joining us.”
“No, he said he’ll eat after he brings the hay up. I’ll take him something when we’re finished eating,” Caleb said, digging his fork into the roast beef.
Everyone ate in silence for a few moments before Arielle started up the conversation again.
"So, Melody. Tell your father what you have been learning this morning."
"I've been learning to use pastels, Papa."
"Pastels? As in paints?" Caleb stuffed a bite of roast beef and breading his mouth.
"I suppose they are similar to paints, but no, not paints. They are more like colored chalk," Arielle answered.
"Colored chalk? What on earth would you be teaching my daughter with colored chalk?"
Arielle sensed an objection in his tone, but what on earth could he be objecting to?
"Well, she has been learning her colors and she is learning to hold her hand steady in preparation for learning her penmanship. Do you have an objection to your daughter learning to enjoy the finer points of her education? I mean there is more to learning than just reading, writing, and arithmetic."
Caleb's jaw set and he shook his head to the contrary. "Melody will grow up here on this ranch. There is no need for her to learn things she will never have a use for. Her life on this ranch will be worthwhile and productive. Things such as…such as painting, are what pampered women use to justify their selfishness and I don’t want my daughter to be a—”
"A what, Mr. Montgomery? You think because a young woman learns a few pleasantries that help to soften the edges of life that makes her selfish? I don't know what kind of women you associate with, but I can assure you—"
Caleb pounded his fist on the table and lurched to his feet, knocking his chair over in his haste to stand. The sound ricocheted around the room at odds with the normally serene kitchen.
Stunned by his reaction, Arielle sat motionless and waited for the full force of his anger to hit. She didn't have to wait long.
"The kind of women I associate with is none of your concern. Your only concern, while employed by me, is cooking, cleaning, and teaching my daughter what she will need to survive on this ranch. Is that perfectly clear, Miss Dufossé?"
Anger heated Arielle's cheeks. "I think you've made your wishes quite clear, Mr. Montgomery.” She emphasized her use of his last name since it appeared they were no longer on an amicable first-name basis. “Now if you will excuse me, Melody and I have some reading to get to.”
She helped Melody down from the table and tugged her out of the kitchen and in the main room leaving the curmudgeon alone in the kitchen with his lunch.
She hoped he choked on it.
* * *
Caleb felt like a huge ass when Arielle took Melody by the hand and left him alone in the kitchen. What on earth had he been so upset about? They were coloring pictures for heaven's sake.
He knew where his objections came from. He wanted to make certain Melody did not grow up to be selfish and uncaring like her mother, but he didn’t need to take it out on Arielle. She wasn't like Victoria. She was a hard worker. Kind. Selfless.
He saw how she nurtured Melody daily. Just in the two weeks she had been on the ranch, Melody had gone from the clingy insecure little girl to...well, what she was today. All laughter and happiness. It was a change that gave his heart much joy to see. He knew what he needed to do.
He left the kitchen and headed for the barn. As soon as Melody was down for her afternoon nap, Caleb would apologize to Arielle for his outburst. Tell her he knew it was uncalled for and ask if they could start over. He owed a great deal of gratitude to this woman, and she didn’t deserve his rancor.
For the rest of the afternoon, he dug fence post holes deep into the ground. Thankfully, recent rains had softened the hard earth. But even with the Good Lord’s help, the work was hard and slow-going.
Sweat trickled down his back and made him itch. He needed a break from the heat so he pulled off his shirt and let the faint breeze cool his overheated skin. He rested in the shade on a large rock nearby until he was ready to go at it again.
Caleb jabbed his post hole diggers into the ground, scrapped the edges of the hole, and removed the loose dirt. He repeated this process for two more hours, moving from the finished hole and starting a new one. Lost in the endless task of fence building, he was startled when Arielle spoke.
"That looks like back-breaking work."
He whirled around to see her standi
ng next to the wagon with a basket in her hand and a jar of water. "I thought perhaps you could use a break about now. Unless of course, you aren't interested in a freshly baked apple pie and a cold drink of water."
"No—I mean yes. I would love a break."
She set the basket on the back of the wagon and pushed the cloth off the top to reveal the beautiful delicious looking apple pie. He wiped the sweat from his body with the rag in his hip pocket and grabbed his shirt off the fence post where he had left it. Stuffing his arms into it, he buttoned it up and went to stand next to her.
"Dang. That pie smells good enough to eat. You just bake this?"
He watched her cut into the thick pastry and scooped a piece onto the tin plate. She handed the plate to him with a fork. “Yes, it has barely had time to cool, but I thought you could use a piece.”
“Thank you,” he mumbled and stuffed a fork full of the delicious pastry into his mouth.
"I do hope it tastes as good as it looks. Melody and I thought we would do something more in line with your learning preferences. I was teaching her fractions and she used them to measure the ingredients for the pie. You know, one-half cup of this and two tablespoons of that. I hope my method meets with your approval, Mr. Montgomery." She teased.
He was glad to know she wasn’t one of those women who held a grudge forever and a day. And he did owe her an apology. He set the empty plate down on the back of the wagon and turned to her. "Arielle. About this morning, I...don't really know what to say except, I'm sorry. I wasn't angry at you, I was just mad at the world I guess."
She looked at him with sympathy and that made him feel even worse knowing she was being kind because she didn’t know the whole truth. He would like to tell her, but if he did, he knew she wouldn't stay. And Levi would be furious. This was such a mess and he had no choice but to keep his secret to himself as much as he hated the deception.