Linda Ford (10 page)

Then she smiled, a trembling, uncertain flash that disappeared so quickly he almost wondered if he’d imagined it. But he knew he hadn’t.

“Thank you for everything.” She ducked her head and developed a great interest in one of Belle’s rocks.

He couldn’t move. He’d come to expect sharpness, sarcasm. Come to half enjoy it. But gratitude? It slipped past his reason for helping them and started a fresh journey in his thoughts. One that had nothing to do with trying to make up for leaving his family behind.

And everything to do with starting over.

He spun on his heel, too confused by this sudden shift in his thinking to know what to say.

He strode away from the cabin with no destination in mind. Then his thoughts cleared. He’d promised Belle a doll and he meant to get started on it. He veered toward the cookhouse, hoping to catch Eddie there.

Cookie greeted him at the door with a welcoming whack between his shoulders. “How’d they like the cinnamon rolls?”

He sucked in air to refill his lungs before he could answer. “They thought they’d died and gone to heaven.”

“Good. Good. You think they like them enough to trot themselves over here and enjoy them with me?”

“They’re both a little fearful yet.” Ward glanced past Cookie. Only Bertie sat at the table, peeling potatoes.

“We’ll give them time, won’t we, love?” Bertie asked his wife.

Cookie snorted and returned to the stove. “Best thing for them would be to meet us and learn they needn’t be afraid of us.”

Ward half agreed. “The boss around?”

“Up at the house.”

“I need to talk to him.” Leaving Cookie muttering about how no one had any reason to be afraid around her, Ward left and jogged up the trail to the big house.

Eddie opened the door. “Come on in. Linette’s waiting for a report.”

As Ward crossed to the sitting room, he tried to think what he would tell them.

“Are they getting settled?” Linette asked. “I’d feel so much better if they were here where I could care for them.”

Eddie took her hand. “You must allow people to deal with things in their own way.”

“I know you’re right, but they must be lonely and afraid. Ward, how are they? How is her wound?”

“She said her leg is fine.” Though he’d noticed her favoring it a time or two. As soon as she realized she did, she stopped. “They’re very wary about people. Red hesitates to accept help. I wouldn’t be surprised if she suggests a way she can repay you.”

Linette smiled gently. “If she mentions it to me—or to you—” she nodded toward Ward “—you say the only thing I want in exchange for what little we can share with her is for her to become secure and confident.”

Red’s goal was to get on her feet and become independent. “Belle seems to relax when she knows no one will suddenly show up. I took them up the far hill.” He told how Belle had played but kept Red’s behavior to himself. And his own. The way his heart had thudded when she tripped and fell. Then raced like a runaway horse when she’d taken his hand and accepted his help in getting to her feet. Behind that emotion lay concern about her questions about caves in the mountains. He’d be keeping a close eye on them to make sure they didn’t decide to go in search of one and disappear. “Belle said she’d like a doll. I promised to make her one if you don’t mind me using some scraps of lumber.” He directed the latter to Eddie.

“Help yourself.”

He turned back to Linette. “I wondered if you had some scraps of fabric you might give Red to make clothes for the doll.”

“I’ll do better than that. I’ll make them myself.”

Ward didn’t want to argue with the boss’s wife, but he had to give his opinion. “I think it might be good for her to make them.”

Linette chuckled. “I expect you’re right, and how keen of you to realize it. How did the clothes I sent fit?”

“I left before they looked at them. I’ll ask when I see them again.”

“And when will that be?” Linette watched him carefully.

“I haven’t given it much thought.” He kind of thought he’d spend most of the day there, but maybe that wasn’t what they needed. “I’m not sure how much to leave them alone. What’s best?” Surely Linette would know. She had a knack for helping others.

Linette looked out the window toward the cabin. “Do you know how they got into the situation where you found them?”

“No. Except I know it was not Red’s choice.”

“You said we all needed to give her time and space to learn to trust us. Perhaps your own words are the best advice for all of us. So long as she has what she needs.”

Ward nodded. No doubt wise words from a wise woman, and he would heed them even though he wanted to do otherwise. At least Red was close enough she could call for help if she needed it, and he could see them flit out to the fire pit as he worked in the barn.

* * *

The next morning the sensation of starting a new journey returned. Yes, he might salve his conscience over leaving his family by helping Red and Belle, but it was far more than that.

He’d spent the previous afternoon selecting a piece of pine to carve into a doll. Linette had sent a package of fabric along with thread and needles. Thinking of how Red thought Belle might enjoy the prospect of a doll as much as getting it, Ward decided he would do as much work as possible on it where she could watch.

He hurried through the chores Eddie assigned him so he could start work on the project, but it was Red he was anxious to see. Would she be all prickly today or welcoming? Either way he looked forward to showing her the piece of wood he’d selected and handing her the material for doll clothes.

He found them sitting on the logs beside the fire pit. This time they didn’t skitter away at his approach. In fact, Belle waved as he rounded the corner of the cabin. Red never left off watching him.

He greeted Belle, then returned his gaze to Red, aware something had shifted between them, uncertain how to describe it even to himself. He managed a suggestion of a smile before he revealed the length of wood, his knife and the package Linette had given him.

“What’s that?” Belle eyed the wood.

“It’s going to be your doll.”

“It is?” Her doubt was evident.

“You wait and see.” He moseyed over to sit on a log a healthy distance from the pair and held the wood for them to see. He’d rough-cut the basic shape and figured they could likely see the shape of a body and head. “This is going to be the face. I’ll carve the body here. I figure to attach arms with screws so they move.”

Belle edged closer as he flicked open his knife and started carving off curl after curl of wood. She hung back at a safe distance but too far to see how each cut brought out the developing outline of a head.

He held it up. “Can you see the beginning of her head?”

She nodded.

Ward spared a glance toward Red. It was meant to be fleeting but her gaze caught and held his, delving deep, as if searching for answers or something more. He had no idea what she sought or if he could provide it, but he let her look as long and hard as she wanted. She blinked, sucked in air and shifted her attention to her fingers.

His thoughts circled for a way to interpret the moment. He found none and returned to carving the doll, hoping it would tempt Red to move closer, but she seemed lost in contemplation of her hands. Perhaps if he talked about something else, something that might be of some interest to them.

“When Grady came to the ranch, he was awfully scared. Cried if anyone looked at him. Seems no one but Linette could get near him.” He concentrated on his handwork for a moment but managed to sneak a glance at his audience. Belle watched every move of his fingers. Red didn’t give any indication she heard him except for the way she cocked her head toward him as if anxious to catch every word.

Satisfied he had her attention but wishing for more, he continued to talk about Grady. “For Christmas last year I carved some animals for him.”

“How come he’s at the ranch?” Belle asked.

Ward studied his answer. Seems life should be sweeter for children. “His mama died and he had nowhere to go, so Linette brought him with her.”

“His papa died, too?”

Ward wondered how much to tell her. “No, his pa is alive but he can’t take care of Grady.” Or didn’t care for the responsibility. Eddie had told him how Linette had challenged the man to take Grady and raise him and how she continued to send letters hoping to persuade him.

“How old is he?” Belle asked.

“He’s five.”

“He’s happy?”

“Linette and Eddie care about him very much.” But he knew, as did everyone on the ranch, that Grady would have times of sadness wondering why his father didn’t want him.

His answer seemed to satisfy Belle. “How long does it take to carve a doll?” she asked.

“Well, this particular doll is extra special because it’s for you. So I might take a little longer in order to make it real nice.”

Her eyes sparkled with joy at being made to feel special.

Ward turned toward Red, expecting appreciation in her expression, but instead her eyes were wide and filled with fear. “Red, what’s the matter?”

She blinked back her feelings and gave a smile that went no further than the corners of her mouth. “Nothing. I’m—”

“I know. You’re fine.” If he heard it one more time... “Only you’re not and you might as well stop pretending you are. Your life has not been pleasant. Your future is uncertain. Likely your head hurts and who knows what else is not sitting well with you—”

“Now that you mention it, I am wearing borrowed clothes.”

“I noticed. Nice dress.” The dark blue fabric made her eyes look more blue than green.

“I got a different dress, too,” Belle said.

“I noticed.” A faded red dress fit well. “You look very nice, too.”

Belle smiled but the tension in the air did not dissipate. It lay so thick between Red and Ward that he was tempted to cut it away with his knife.

“I have something for you, Red.” He picked up the package from Linette. However, she refused to move closer so he shuffled over and held the parcel toward her.

She stared. “What is it?”

He jiggled it teasingly. “Only one way to find out.”

Still she did not reach for it.

Belle stood inches away, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Red, hurry up and open it.”

Red slowly, reluctantly, took the sack from Ward’s hands and opened the drawstring. She pulled out fabric, a pair of scissors, needle, pins and thread.

“For doll clothes,” Ward explained.

Belle reverently touched several pieces. “All satiny. And this one so cuddly. Maybe my dolly can have a blanket, too?” She fingered a soft piece of wool.

“You will have the best-dressed doll ever,” Red said. She turned to Ward. “Let me see the size.” She measured a bit of fabric against the length of the wood.

Ward held very still as she bent over the beginnings of the doll in his hands. She was so intent on her task that she seemed unmindful of how close they were. He studied her hair. She’d brushed it and tamed it into a thick braid, but already bits of curls escaped and crowned her head.

She marked a couple of places in the fabric with pins, and then sat up straight.

There were but six inches between them, but the distance seemed vast. He felt alone in a totally foreign way. In an attempt to corral the sensation, he returned to carving the doll.

They worked side by side, she often leaning over to measure this or that, he holding up his work frequently to let them see his progress. Belle sat on the ground in front of them, watching progress on both fronts and playing with her collection of rocks and twigs. At times they seemed to be animals she herded around. Other times she talked to them as if they were family members.

At first Red and Belle said little or limited their conversation to how long would the arms be? How big the head? Did Red think he should carve curls into the head? She did.

“At least they will be blond,” she murmured.

Ward studied Red. Shifted his gaze to Belle. Her hair wasn’t as curly as her sister’s and was more brown than red, though it had mahogany glimmers. He turned back to Red. “You don’t like your hair?”

She puffed out her lips in a rumble. “Hate it.”

“It’s kind of pretty.”

The look she favored him with dripped with a load of denial. “It makes everyone stare.”

“Yeah, well, only because it’s eye-catching.”

“I could do with plain.”

He thought of her statement. “Don’t most women prefer beautiful to plain? Don’t they like to be noticed?”

“Can’t say being noticed has been such a treat.”

Aah. Now it made sense. He tried to think of a way to tell her that people would no longer view her as Thorton had. Nothing came to mind. “What’s your real name?” Perhaps if she stopped using Red she might start to think of herself as someone besides that woman.

She didn’t even glance up from stitching together a seam.

Belle did, though. “It’s—”

“Belle.” One word with a heap of warning attached. She flashed a defensive glance at Ward. “Red is the only name you need to know.”

He regarded her, waiting for her to meet his look, and when she finally did he saw defiance and perhaps, if he let himself imagine it, a longing that dug deep into his heart. “Someday you will tell me your real name.” It was part promise, part prayer.

“Dream on, cowboy.” She jabbed the needle into the fabric so viciously he half expected to see her draw blood from her finger. But she deftly guided the sharp point away from her flesh.

Perhaps if he talked about his family it would make her realize she no longer had to be Red. She could be free of that part of her life and again become the woman she was born to be. “My ma used to say she wished she had a daughter so she could make doll clothes. She told us that when she was a little girl she’d fashioned all sorts of costumes for her doll and dreamed of doing the same for a daughter. She had a collection of paper dolls in families and hundreds of outfits she’d collected over the years. She would let us look at it only under supervision. She figured—and rightly so—that as boys we might not treat it as reverently as she wanted. If she ever had a granddaughter, she planned to pass the collection on to her.” He stopped, unable to go on as a lump of despair swelled in his throat. Travers was twenty now. For all Ward knew, he was married and had provided Ma with a granddaughter. Or Ma might have had a child or two in her new marriage. Maybe Ward had another brother or sister.