A Change of Scenery, page 26
He took a step toward her.
She took a step back.
“Do I smell that bad?”
A weak smile flashed, then faded, and she shook her head. “No. I—I just think . . .”
“Don’t pay any mind to Hugh. His mouth runs off ahead of him before he knows what he’s saying.”
She looked up at him from under her fringe, confirming that she’d overheard their argument.
“I want to talk to you, but I smell like that bear, and I need to clean up first.”
She raised her chin and her hands went to smoothing her skirt again. “If you’ll lend me Barlow, I can ride into town. I’ll leave her in back of the studio with Jed’s horse, Lucky, and tomorrow when you take the bear in, you can bring her back.”
A rock dropped his gut all the way to his boots. “There’s a storm coming.”
She looked out the window, and her fingers curled into fists. No way would he let her ride out in it. It was a fool’s errand and more so, given the storm that led to her accident and injury.
And the death of the man she loved.
It hit him full force. She loved Charles. Didn’t matter if he was dead. There wasn’t room in her heart for anyone else.
He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”
God saw fit to toss a lightning bolt close by and the boys stampeded inside. Ty reached for the inside door and slammed it shut, rattling the glass pane.
Ella stood shoulders hunched, eyes screwed tight, and both fists under her chin. His arms ached to pull her close, but he wouldn’t soil her. “Ella.”
Her eyes flew open.
“I can’t let you ride out in that.”
Another crash, and he took a step toward her. She didn’t move away, but she curled into herself even though she stood on both feet. He could taste her fear.
Jay went to her and wrapped his skinny arms around her waist. “It’s all right Miss Ella. We’re safe in here. I’ll take care of you.”
Ty snorted like his father, and Cale realized the boys hadn’t even asked after their pa. A sad state of affairs.
Helen sailed through. “Ella, would you please set the dining table. I believe you know where everything is. We’ll use the good china.”
The woman could turn the devil himself on his ear if need be. Her snappy order was his cue to leave.
As quick as the storm rolled in, dumping its load of water and roaring its head off, it rolled out. He didn’t know what storms were like in Illinois, but here they didn’t hold a grudge. Got in, got done, got out. Tomorrow the sky would be blue, the air fresh.
And Ella gone.
After a supper that loaded him down for a hard night’s sleep, he followed Ella out to the porch, where she stood looking at the stars.
If things had gone differently, he’d be holding her close.
He stopped at the railing, a foot away. He couldn’t erase what his brother had said—they weren’t his words to take back. But he could speak his own if he could get ’em lined up right.
Lord, I could use a hand here. “Can you forgive me?”
Her head turned fast enough to swing her hair across her eyes. She fingered it back and stared. “Forgive you? For what—saving my life?”
He swallowed a knot in his throat and plowed ahead. “For putting you in danger. Taking you out there in the first place.”
Her hands gripped the railing, pale in the half-moon’s light. “You didn’t know the bear would attack. And haven’t you always said they don’t strike during the day? How could you have known?”
He eased closer.
Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “If anything, I owe you my life.”
Hope spurred all the way up to his shoulders.
“Tug and the mare too.”
His pride took a hit, though she was right. It’d been a team effort.
She leaned on the railing and tilted her head back. “Look at those stars. It’s so clear and bright, a person could walk right down the road and see where they were going.”
“Promise me you won’t.”
She shifted her gaze to him.
He reached for her hand. “Promise me you won’t sneak out and saddle Barlow tonight.”
She almost smiled. “Now that you mention it . . .”
“I’ll have to bring up all the saddle horses and sleep in the barn if you don’t promise.”
Moonlight glinted in her eyes, and her lips curved up at the edges.
He moved closer, raised his hand to her cheek, and thumbed the corner of her mouth. “Stay.”
She slipped her hand from beneath his and dipped away from his touch, taking all her warmth and most of his hope.
He fought the image of the man she loved, the man she wouldn’t let go of. And he fought the foolishness of the words that were busting through him as sure as the pulley smashed through the barn wall.
“I love you, Ella.”
~
Ella’s breath caught in her throat, too late to hide. Too late to act as if she hadn’t heard his declaration. Her heart fractured, something she’d wanted to never happen again.
She had lost Charles. Now she would lose the only other man who had believed in her, who loved what she loved. Who apparently loved her in spite of her imperfections. She’d seen the truth of his words in his eyes today, felt it in his embrace. But she refused to come between him and his brother, and Hugh was clearly opposed to her. She was city gal and nothing more.
“I know you loved Charles.”
Against her better judgment, she raised her fingers to his lips, and the act sent a jolt of longing through her. He gripped her hand and held it against his galloping heartbeat. Her own matched its desperate flight, but she fled in the opposite direction. She’d had enough family division to last a lifetime and refused to create more. The irony cut deep. It was Hugh’s pain that illuminated her understanding, that prevented her from loving Cale.
“I’ll not come between you and your brother. I’ll not divide your family.”
“You can’t break what’s already broken.”
His other arm drew her against him, and he spoke into her hair. “Hugh’s been loco since Jane passed—full of anger and hate and sharp edges. I warned him that he’d drive his boys away if he didn’t get hold of himself.”
She freed her hand and wrapped both arms around Cale, resting her head against his chest. Minutes passed, and his pulse steadied. His arms enveloped her, shielding her from every threat of harm other than that which lay at her very core.
Gently she pushed back and looked into his dear face. “That may be true, but he showed me something I couldn’t see before I came here.”
Puzzlement drew Cale’s brows down, and his clear eyes, dark in the moonlight, grazed her face, searching for understanding.
She thumbed the crease at his forehead, rubbing it away, and let her fingers stray down the side of his unshaven cheek. He shuddered and tried to pull her to him again, but she braced her hands against him.
“Hugh showed me what was at the bottom of my father’s very similar manner. Sharp-tongued. Abrupt. Unsmiling. For years I thought I had disappointed him. Let him down somehow, and I tried everything to make it up, to be good enough. And I failed.”
“You could never fail.”
She closed her eyes, steeling herself against his graveled voice. “After Charles’s death, when I regained enough strength to walk unassisted, I answered a newspaper advertisement from Selig Polyscope for a seamstress willing to travel. I left against my father’s wishes.”
He brushed at her fringe, and his touch lit torches of desire across her skin.
“What’s that got to do with Hugh?”
She drew a shuddering breath and backed out of his reach. “Hugh strikes out in the pain of losing his wife. He doesn’t despise his sons or you or this ranch. He’s suffering, unable to find healing for his wounds. When I see Hugh, I see my father, lashing out against everyone around him after my mother died. Like a wounded animal, he attacked those nearest him who sought to help.”
Still Cale did not understand. His confusion clouded his eyes, and they darted across her face, frantically searching.
“I have to go back and make amends with my father. If I don’t, he will die a ravaged and lonely man, in spite of his wealth and so-called friends. I have to make him see that he must let go of the pain and loss if he wants to live again.”
“What if he won’t?”
She fisted her hands against the possibility and drew a shuddering breath. “I will have tried.”
Cale stood silent for a good while, staring out into the dark. An owl called, and hidden creatures skittered through the brush. The air hung heavy with the after-perfume of the storm.
When he spoke, his voice was low and soft, blending in with the night sounds. “How do you know this is what he should do?”
Her hands ached to touch Cale’s strong arms, comb through his hair, frame his face. But she clasped them in front of her. “Because that’s what I learned from you.”
Shock displaced confusion, and he turned from the railing to face her squarely.
If she didn’t speak now, she would lose her nerve. “You believed I could ride again and helped me do it. You believed I was valuable in spite of my limitations and helped me see that value. You risked your life to save mine. Twice. There is no greater gift.”
He stepped forward.
As before, she stepped back. “How can I not offer the same to my father?”
His eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she would not be dissuaded.
One moment she stood firmly resolved, the next she was crushed against him, his move so swift she could not react. One hand cupped her head, and his breath washed over her hair and seeped into her soul.
“Come back to me, Ella Canaday. Promise me you’ll come back and marry me. Be my wife and live on this ranch and let me show you every day why I love you.”
Yielding to his embrace and request outweighed the uncertainty of what awaited her at home. The only thing she knew for sure was that regardless of what happened there, she could not deny this man who had reignited such hope.
“I will,” she breathed into the soft chambray of his shirt. “I will.”
~
Hugh had not returned by morning, at least that she could tell. Cale harnessed a heavy horse to the wagon and pulled up in front of the house. Helen and the boys made a sad send-off party, and Ella fought back tears as each one hugged her and begged her to return. She made no promises, other than the one she’d given Cale the night before.
Stooping to Jay’s eye level, she laid a hand on his shoulder. “I know you’ll take good care of Tug.”
He swiped at his cheeks. “Tug’s just like those three boys you told us about. He did the right thing and God saved him.”
Tears threatened until she thought she would burst. Lord, may he never lose his tender heart, in spite of what life—or his father—may bring.
A final embrace with Helen, and Cale handed her up to the wagon seat. The satchel strap rested comfortably across her, a reminder to pick up her film at the paper.
The tarp covering the bear was little barrier against the odor and no help with the weight. The familiar ride into town took twice as long, and it was near noon by the time they reached Main Street.
With mixed emotions, she spotted the three touring cars parked in front of the studio and what looked like half the town gathered around them. The crowd divided like the Red Sea as Cale pulled up near the first automobile.
Thorson was first to the wagon, his face a familiar mass of disgruntlement. “You said yesterday, Hutton. I’m a day late leaving.”
“Look here!”
Cale turned toward the back of the wagon, where several men lifted the edges of the tarp. As many women fanned their faces with their hands and grimaced.
“It’s the bear!”
Three such small words, but what a commotion they stirred.
The company, Mr. Thorson, and everything else was soon brushed aside in deference to the “killer grizzly.” Young and old alike reached to touch its silvery-brown fur and vicious claws. Ella shivered.
Cale climbed out of the wagon and reached for her. “I need to deal with these people.”
She gladly gripped his broad shoulders as he lifted her down.
“I know.” Reluctantly, she withdrew her hands and patted her satchel. “I’m going to pick up my film, get the remainder of my things from the hotel, and say good-bye to Clara.”
Leaving the crowd behind, she crossed the street against what felt like a rushing current surging from the opposite direction. It seemed the entire town was on its way to see the bear, including the newspaper editor, who rushed out as she opened his front door.
“Pardon me, ma’am—oh, Miss Canaday. Your film is ready. Just check with my assistant, Priscilla. And it’s on the house.” He lifted his derby straight off his head and plopped it back down, then hurried on.
Behind the counter, Priscilla was craning her neck to see the commotion in the street, seemingly unaware of Ella’s presence.
“I am Ella Canaday, and I left a roll of film for development a few days ago.”
“Oh—yes.” Priscilla gathered herself. “It’s right here.” She dropped behind the counter and popped up again like a jack-in-the-box. “Lovely pictures. You have quite an eye. Mr. Hall wanted to talk to you about running some of them in the paper, but I’m afraid another more current event has taken his interest.”
She lowered her voice and leaned toward Ella. “Did someone really bring in the cow-killing bear?”
“Yes.” Ella slid the large envelope into her satchel. “Cale Hutton shot the bear. Yesterday afternoon on his ranch, the Rafter-H.”
Stunned, the young woman stared. “Really? How do you know?”
“Thank you for the prints. I do so appreciate it. Good day.” She didn’t have time, nor the inclination, to alleviate the girl’s journalistic curiosity. The editor would learn all he needed while photographing the bear’s remains.
People continued to flow like a stream toward the west end of town, including lunch patrons from the Denton. The dining room was empty, and Ella was selfishly glad. She pushed open the door to the kitchen.
Clara looked up and relief washed her face like a waterfall. “Girl, where’ve you been? You done cut ten years off my life worryin’ over you.”
Ella melted into her cushioned embrace and felt the familiar tug of tears. “I was at the ranch with Cale. He invited me out before the company leaves for Chicago.” She set herself back and swiped at her face. “Which evidently is any time now.”
Clara took a bundle from the back of the stove and pressed it into her hands. “This is for your trip. No telling where they’ll stop and let you eat, or if there’ll be a dining car with them fancy porters.”
“Oh, Clara, you’re the sweetest thing. But how did you know?”
“Done told you. I know everything goes on around here.” Her hand swatted the air, then sneaked up to rub her eyes.
“I promise I’ll write to you, but I must hurry. I can’t be left behind, and I don’t know what time the train leaves.”
Clara glanced at the clock atop a baker’s rack on the far wall. “You got a half hour. You best be going. But I’ll be lookin’ for your letter. I done heard about you ridin’ across the river, and I wanna hear all about the ranch and that handsome cowboy o’ yours.”
With a final hug, Ella thanked Clara for the meal and left before she cried a river in the kitchen. She still had her things upstairs to pack and must send someone from the studio back for the sewing machine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“Well, Hutton, what do you say?”
Cale tipped his hat forward at Thorson’s insistence and rubbed the back of his head. Almost felt wrong selling the grizzly.
“Let him have it.”
The graveled voice swung him around to his brother, swollen-eyed and worn around the edges. “The cattlemen can keep their reward money.”
“Where’d you go?”
Hugh tugged his hat down, hiding his eyes, and lowered his voice. “Cemetery. Waited out the storm in the church and woke up this morning on a back pew.” He wiped a hand across his face. “Did some talkin’ with the Lord.”
His brother left plenty unsaid, but Cale heard it all. He gripped Hugh’s shoulder and turned back to Thorson with an outstretched hand. “Deal.”
The crowd cheered.
“You’ll be glad of it.” Thorson pumped his arm and grinned. “He’ll make a splendid prop for our moving pictures, especially since I plan to return next summer. Is there a taxidermist in town?”
“This ain’t no he.”
Startled whispers and conjecture lifted around them, and Cale’s stomach clenched. He and Hugh worked through the townsfolk to a wiry fella at the back of the wagon.
“Samuel Pearson, wildlife scientist and taxidermist,” the man said. “You’ve got yourself a grizzly sow. About ten years old, I’d estimate, until I can get a better look at her teeth.”
Thorson pushed through to Pearson, and the newspaper editor started taking pictures. Cale backed off. Hugh followed.
“You know what this means.” Hugh ran a hand around the back of his neck.
“Mean’s this probably isn’t the end of things.”
“Excuse me, please.” Ella shouldered her slight frame past curious onlookers, wearing her satchel and a smart little hat, and carrying a canvas and leather bag.
She gave Hugh an uneasy look.
Cale took the bag, and with a hand at her waist ushered her inside the studio.
All the furniture had been shoved against the wall, and the empty cavern of a room mirrored what he already felt in his gut. He knew he had to let her go, but he didn’t have to like it.
She pulled a large envelope from her satchel and handed it to him. “My photographs. I promised my grandmother I’d bring her back a plethora of pictures from my trip.” She grinned at the fancy word. “So most of them won’t interest you, but the photograph of the two cowboys at the rodeo is in there. You may have that one.”
Based on the stack of black and white pictures, he guessed what plethora meant.
