Carved in Love

by Savanna Sage

Chapter 4

  “What does he want?” Ellie asked, her chest pounding like a convict breaking rocks. She searched her fuzzy memory for anything she might have done this morning that was worse than she had recalled. Was the sheriff here because the rip in her dress showed an indecent expanse of underthings? She fingered the neck of her dress. That wasn’t her fault. Well, it was in a way, but she hadn’t meant for her hasty stitches to pull loose.

  Why wasn’t her memory clearer? Her head throbbed as if reminding her that it had recently been smacked against an unforgiving train rail. “I don’t want to see him,” Ellie said in a small voice. She ignored the faint sound of sleigh bells knocking at her brain. A good night’s sleep had to make her head right again. “I can’t see him. I can’t see anyone. I’m not well.”

  Before she finished speaking, Sheriff Childs appeared, his jingling spurs quieting as he planted his boots so wide apart that he took up her whole doorway.

  Ellie gripped Jesse’s hand, willing him to stay with her. When he covered her hand with his free one, she sighed.

  Sheriff Childs turned toward her, his tanned skin as dark as an Indian’s. Lines etched from years of riding horses under the Colorado sun ran from the corners of his nose to the unsmiling ends of his mouth. More lines were carved between his eyes, which squinted even when he was indoors. For good measure, wrinkles radiated from the corners of his eyes, too, disappearing into his gray hairline. In spite of her trepidation, Ellie couldn’t help thinking that the sheriff’s face would be an interesting one to carve.

  Catching a glimpse of Ellie seated on the bed in her simple gray dress with hair spilling over her shoulders in dark, cascading waves, the streak of moonlight white adding luminosity to her wide, blue gaze, the sheriff cleared his throat. Averting his eyes, he twisted his sweat-stained hat in his hands. “Miss Eleanor Ransom,” he said in a voice as gruff as a croaking frog, “you are hereby banned from the train station.”

  “What?” Ellie tried to stand, but Jesse kept a firm hand on her. “Why?”

  “Station master’s sayin’ you’re careless, and having a fatality on the tracks’d be bad for business.”

  “It was an accident!” Ellie protested.

  “One he don’t want repeated,” the sheriff said, studying the room’s whitewashed wall at the head of the bed. “Now you mark my words if’n you don’t want to spend a night in a jail cell.”

  Linnea gasped, but Sheriff Childs did not even spare her a glance. “Trust me, the beds in that place aren’t the same as the nice one you’ve got right there.” He nodded sideways at Ellie, his eyes still avoiding her. “Jus’ stay away from the station.”

  Ellie clenched her fists, her fear turning to indignation. What had happened at the station could have happened to anyone, especially a woman in a skirt as long as a ship’s sail. “It’s just because I’m a poor seamstress!” Ellie blurted.

  The sheriff paused, finally looking directly at Ellie. “That don’t make no sense.”

  “She’s not well,” Linnea explained. “She hit her head when she fell.”

  “All the more reason to keep away.” Sheriff Childs turned and disappeared through the doorway, his spurs clanking more faintly with each retreating step until they sounded like distant sleigh bells.

  “Think about what he’s saying,” Jesse said, lowering himself to sit beside Ellie. “He might be right. I heard that you almost got killed.” He gently squeezed Ellie’s hand before pulling away, which was as close as he would ever get to saying, “I love you.”

  “Is that what David told you?” Ellie was so hot with anger that she wanted to dunk her head in the river. Or, better yet, dunk David’s head in it. “I had plenty of time to get out of the way. I only fell because of the wind, and that… that… stupid dress!”

  Linnea put her hand up. “I looked more closely at that stupid dress, and it was not sewn properly.”

  Guilt cooled Ellie’s anger, and she dropped her shoulders. “I don’t like sewing.”

  “But look what working with wood has done to you.” Linnea walked to the bedside and lifted one of Ellie’s hands where a small hairline cut was healing on her finger. “That’s not from Jack hitting you with the door.”

  “It doesn’t hurt,” Ellie said.

  At the same time, Jesse asked, “Jack hit her?” as he quickly tucked something into his pocket.

  “He didn’t know I was there.” Ellie folded her fingers and said quietly, “Getting a cut is no worse than being poked by a needle.”

  Jesse snorted. Linnea gave him a sharp look. “What?” Jesse asked. “She has a point.”

  Ellie could have hugged him.

  “What’s for supper?” Jesse asked, then without waiting for an answer, he added, “Where’s Jack?”

  “Fried chicken for supper,” Mama replied, “and your brother’s making a delivery to the Bremmer’s.”

  Jesse shot to his feet. “The Bremmer’s? As in Maisie Bremmer?”

  “No, he took a skirt I sewed to Maisie’s mother.”

  Mrs. Bremmer seemed only able to afford either a skirt or blouse each time she had Mama sew for her. Ellie couldn’t help wondering why Mrs. Bremmer didn't just wait until she could afford a whole dress.

  Maybe it was because of all the children she had, seven of them, with Maisie being the oldest. Ellie had noticed Jack stealing glances at Maisie in church, but now Jesse? What was it about Maisie that appealed to both her brothers, who were so unlike that some people wouldn’t guess they were related?

  Mrs. Bremmer seemed to like wrapping Maisie up like a general store peppermint stick, all done up in pink and white. It was a daring color palette. Brown, gray, and dark blue were much more practical for mature ladies, according to what Mama advised her customers. The only bright colors Mama allowed herself to wear were on aprons she pieced together from scraps of sewing projects she’d done for other ladies. Many of her clients still preferred red, forest green, and every once in awhile something like a print with little purple flowers scattered across a light background. Ellie still liked wearing the apron with pockets made from scraps of that fabric.

  So why had Mama made Ellie sew a pink monstrosity? Since the quilt Grandma helped make didn’t have a stitch of pink in it, perhaps Mama had thought it the proper color for parents to advertise their daughters. Prospective bride right here!

  Ellie giggled.

  Mama’s eyebrows lifted, eyes wary. “Now don’t you go getting a case of the hysterics,” Mama warned. “I”m going to make you some tea. Stay with her,” she ordered Jesse, then marched out of the room.

  “I’d like some chicken,” Ellie protested.

  “If you’re having hysterics, you could choke,” Mama answered in her no nonsense voice.

  Ellie gave Jesse a helpless glance, hoping he’d speak up for her. Instead, he pushed his hand into his pocket and pulled out the carved rabbit. “Didn’t think you’d want Mama to see this,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at Ellie. His gaze was aimed at her window, jaw clenched, gray eyes stormy. Even though he resembled Mama, he was quite handsome in his own way.

  “Thank you,” Ellie said, taking the wooden rabbit, nearly warm enough to be alive from her brother’s touch.

  A loud bang sounded outside, making them both jump. Jesse raced to the window and Ellie struggled to her feet, the thought of attacking Indians crowding her mind. They must have taken Papa, and now they’d come back for his children.