Linda Ford (13 page)

Her glower did not weaken. “How do you know about that?”

He smiled uncertainly, wondering how she would react to his admission. “I overheard you telling Belle.” She needed to hear the truth plain-spoken. “What happened to you is not who you are.”

She blinked. The only sign she gave of hearing him. Then she whispered, “Who am I?”

He silently prayed for wisdom to say the right thing. “You are a good big sister. You are a responsible adult. But above and beyond that, you are loved by God.”

The hardness in her eyes grew until he could have been looking at matching emeralds. She shrugged away from the weight of his arm. “I used to believe in God’s love.”

“He hasn’t changed.”

“But I have.”

“God doesn’t.” She had to believe it. For her own peace of mind.

“A person can be cast from His presence because of their actions.”

He reached for her hand, wanting to pull her back. Not just to himself but to faith in God.

She stepped away.

“Red, remember the verse my mother stitched. ‘Whither shall I flee from Your presence? The darkness and light are alike to Thee.’”

“It’s easy to believe when you haven’t experienced the things I have.”

He lifted his hands in defeat. “It’s pointless to argue.” All he could do was pray for her healing. “I’m going to work on Belle’s doll. Why don’t you come along and make some clothing?” As he suspected, she put aside her own misery to do something for Belle and retrieved her sewing kit while he settled on the log bench.

After they’d worked in companionable silence for a while, and he reasoned she’d had time for her emotions to settle, he brought up his plan. “I have a surprise.” He intentionally spoke to Belle.

Her eyes lit. “What?”

“I brought a picnic lunch. Cookie packed the basket and informed me all little girls enjoy picnics.” He hoped big girls did, too.

Belle bounded to her feet and jumped up and down. “I don’t think I’ve ever been on a picnic. Have I, Red?”

Her smile was sad. “Mama and Papa took us on frequent picnics. Do you remember a place by the river where the trees grew together at the top so it was a leafy, green room? That was one of their favorite places.”

Belle stared at her sister. “Were there wild roses? With prickles?”

“Lots of them. In June it smelled so good.”

Belle looked at a fingertip. “I remember getting a prickle in my finger because I wanted a pretty flower. Papa picked it for me and kissed my finger. He said a kiss was the best medicine.”

Moving slowly for fear of startling her, Ward shifted his gaze to Red. She stared at Belle but he saw emotions play across her face. Felt her sadness like someone had lassoed his heart with a tight rope and jerked him facedown in the dirt.

“He used to say that.” Her words squeaked from a tight throat. She turned. Her gaze connected with Ward’s. Silently daring him to pity them.

He smiled past his pain at what this pair had endured. He wanted her to know he cared how she felt. If a kiss would make it better, he would give her one, or as many as she needed, but somehow he understood—he knew not how—it would take more than a kiss, more than a thousand kisses to fix her pain.

“Then I really, really like picnics,” Belle informed them. “Where are we going?”

Ward eased his gaze from Red’s. “I think I know a real good spot.”

Belle looked skyward. “Is it time for lunch?”

Ward studied the position of the sun. “I think I might have time to carve a leg for Miss Sally first.” He could tell Belle struggled with wanting two things at the same time.

“I might be able to finish this dress,” Red said, her voice almost normal.

Ward knew she would deny everything he’d just seen—her pain and, beneath it, her hope. He was content to let her take her time in dealing with her past but he prayed God would heal her heart.

They worked steadily for an hour or so but Belle grew more and more restless until finally Ward closed his knife. “I guess poor Sally will have to wait until tomorrow for her other leg.” He handed the doll to Belle. “You think it’s time to go on our picnic?”

She nodded, mute with excitement.

He turned to Red. “What do you think? Is it time?”

She slowly slid her considering gaze from Ward to Belle and grinned at the little girl’s excitement. “I think it must be.” She turned back to Ward and her smile faltered only slightly before she ducked her head and gave her full attention to gathering together her sewing materials. She tied off a knot of thread and held up a little yellow-print dress. “It’s finished.”

Belle squealed. “Oh, thank you, thank you. Sally is going to wear a dress to her first picnic.” She hung the dress on her wooden doll. It almost looked like a real doll, though Belle’s imagination made it into far more. To her it was real and alive, her best friend. “Aren’t you excited, Sally?”

Ward picked up the basket he’d left at the front of the cabin. He led the way, first toward the river. He stopped several times to point out things to them—the tracks of a deer, the tree that had been cut down by a beaver, the sound of water rippling over the rocks.

Red’s expression grew more peaceful with every yard they covered. He understood it was difficult to harbor anxiety in the beautiful surroundings. They followed the river around a bend and walked through rustling reeds. He could see his destination and turned aside to an almost invisible pathway. A few more steps led them to a room-sized clearing with fallen trees providing natural seating. The trunks of the trees and the overhead branches formed a secluded room.

He led them to the center. “This is where we are having our picnic. It’s like our own outdoor room.”

Belle sighed in pleasure. “A picnic room.”

Red looked upward to the waving roof of branches, lowered her gaze to the wild roses. Slowly, she turned full circle. “It’s very nice.” Her husky voice revealed far more than her words. And the look she favored him with caught him by surprise. “It’s a lot like the place Mama and Papa would go. Thank you.”

He nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He’d wanted to please her, make her remember better times, but he hadn’t expected gratitude. He put the basket down and tried to sort out his thoughts. What else would they do on a picnic? He and Travers had always played tag or hide-and-seek. Was that appropriate for girls? Only one way to find out. “Who wants to play a game?”

“Me. Me.” Belle jumped up and down. “What game?”

“You have any favorites?”

She looked confused and he realized she’d been allowed few childhood games the past year or two. “Do I, Red?”

Red’s smile faltered only a bit. “You used to like playing chase.” The mischievous look she gave Ward tipped his heart sideways. “You would chase Papa round and round until you caught him, and then he had to chase you until he caught you.”

Belle eyed Ward with a begging look. “Will you play chase with me?”

“It sounds like a lot of work. And what does Red do?”

She plunked down on a fallen tree. “I watch.”

“Uh-huh.” How had he gotten roped into this? But he couldn’t deny Belle. Any more than he could disappoint Red. Despite her teasing indifference, he knew she ached for Belle to enjoy happy times and happy memories. “Okay. I’ll play.”

Belle ran away with a scream of delight. “You have to catch me.”

How hard could it be for a grown man to catch an eight-year-old girl? He soon found out it was more difficult than he could have imagined. She could slip through tiny openings and duck under overhanging branches that slapped him in the forehead and tossed his hat to the ground. Red chuckled. “Better leave your hat here.”

He scrambled over the undergrowth and dropped the hat beside her. She looked up, as innocent as could be except for the flashing amusement in her eyes.

“Why do I get the feeling you are enjoying this more than you should?”

She widened her eyes. “It’s good to see Belle having fun.”

“Uh-huh.” He studied her with narrowed eyes but she kept her expression blank. He turned away. “Funny that it’s me chasing through the trees scratching my face.” He made a show of rubbing a spot where a branch had attacked him.

Just before he stepped out of the clearing, she giggled. “Yup. It’s funny.”

He grinned as he trotted after Belle. He didn’t mind a bit being laughed at. In fact, it felt downright good. He finally managed to catch Belle and swing her off her feet to a good deal of squealing. Then he had to let her chase him. She seemed tireless but he soon hollered, “Uncle. I give up. Let’s eat.”

Belle grabbed his hand and marched back to the clearing.

Ward grinned. It felt good to have the little girl’s trust. As soon as Red saw them, her mouth pinched into a frown.

Ward sighed. It was going to be a good sight harder to earn Red’s trust.

He could only hope and pray that one day he would. Why did it matter so much? Well, because of his pride. He was a good man, and they ought to know it. But it went deeper. Back to his own family. If he could help this pair find what he’d failed to give his own family, somehow that would help ease his conscience.

If only Red would accept his help as it was given—freely and generously. He wanted nothing more from her. Not favors as she hinted. And not her heart.

Chapter Nine

R
ed understood Ward was doing his best to bring back good memories for Belle. Just as he made no secret of his desire to help her remember better times. On one hand she appreciated it. On the other, she wondered why it mattered to him. More important, how would Belle feel when they moved on?

If not for disappointing Belle, who could not remember going on a picnic, she would have gathered up her skirt and marched away. Instead, she allowed Ward to pass her a thick sandwich full of savory beef, seasoned with sharp mustard sauce. She tried valiantly to maintain a sense of annoyance but the peace of her surroundings, the enjoyment of good food and her pleasure at watching Belle play defeated her attempt.

Accepting the inevitable, she leaned back and looked up at the bright sky laced with the branches of evergreen trees. There was a time such a sight would have filled her with sweet thoughts of God’s love.

She jerked her attention from the sky to the fallen trees. One of them formed a sidewalk for Belle’s doll, Sally. Would she ever hear the name, or be able to say it without a thousand regrets and a world of longing catching at her heart?

Ward looked into the picnic basket. “Looks like that cake was the last of it. I hope you both got enough to eat.”

Belle glanced up from her play long enough to tell him her opinion. “I did. It sure was good.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Cookie. She’ll be pleased.” He turned to Red.

“It was very good,” Red allowed. “And I’m plenty full. Give my thanks to Cookie.” She wondered at the way his eyes flickered as if remembering something.

“Why don’t you tell her yourself?”

She didn’t care that her expression likely revealed her surprise and a whole lot more. Did he expect her to walk over and tell Cookie? “You aren’t bringing her to visit, are you?”

“Tomorrow is Sunday, and Cookie and Bertie have a little church service in the cookhouse. I thought you might like to go. Then you could thank her yourself.”

“It’s impossible.” How dare he even suggest it?

Belle left her doll stranded on the fallen tree and rushed to Ward’s knees. “Would Grady be there?”

Ward’s probing gaze left Red just long enough for him to cup Belle’s head and smile at her. “He’s there every Sunday. He used to be the only child.” He made it sound like Red was responsible for the child’s loneliness.

She stiffened her spine, preparing to defend herself.

But before she could voice her protests, he turned to her, his gaze intense, demanding, even challenging. As if he silently dared her to face the crew at the ranch. And maybe even God.

Her own gaze hardened as she pressed her lips into a tight line. Before she could reiterate her refusal, Belle stood before her. “Red, I never had a friend. Not since I was real young. I kind of remember the kids next door. There was a big boy who would give me a push on the swing and another boy about my age. He had a pretend farm under the tree. They had a baby, too. Sometimes I got to hold her. But that was when I was little. Maybe Grady would like to be my friend.” She swayed back and forth as she talked.

Red sighed. Belle had already turned Grady into her best friend. And she knew to refuse Ward’s invitation would rob her little sister of the chance to meet a child and enjoy a playmate.

From the way Ward grinned, she guessed he knew it, too.

The look she gave him should have erased all amusement, but he only grinned wider.

“Say yes. Please, Red. Pleeeeease.” Belle pleaded with her eyes as much as her words.

Red studied her eager sister. She didn’t want to face the residents of the ranch. They knew who and what she was. She could well imagine the speculative glances the men would give her. And the censure...

But what about Linette and Cookie? They’d shown friendship.

Their kindness only deepened her guilt and regret. She wasn’t sure she could accept any of this.

She especially had no interest in attending a church service.

However, it might afford her a chance to ask Linette if she knew of any jobs a girl like Red could obtain. She clenched down on her back teeth, not wanting to think of the sort of position people might think she was qualified to fill. Finally she nodded. “Fine. We’ll go.”

Belle squealed and spun in a circle, then raced back to share the news with her doll.

Red would not look at Ward. She couldn’t bear to see him gloat.

“I’ll take you over in the morning.” His voice was gentle, almost soothing. “Red, you won’t regret it.” He made it sound so simple.

She regretted it already, but having something to gain allowed her to overlook her misgivings. She shivered, but not from cold. “It’s time to go back to the cabin.”

Ward knew as well as she there was little cause for hurry.

Her promise to go to the service provided her an excuse. “If we’re going to church, I need to make sure our outfits are ready. And I’ll need to see to baths.” She’d already planned the latter even without church attendance. “Come on, Belle.”

Her sister walked her doll the length of the log and fell in step behind Ward.

Back at the cabin, he didn’t immediately leave despite Red’s barely contained hints.

“I’ll get a tub for you.” He ducked into the wood shed and emerged with a big square washtub. He carried it to the cabin and parked it in front of the stove.

Still he did not leave. Instead, he plunked two big pots on the stove. “I’ll carry in some water.” He filled both pots and the bucket.

“Thank you.” Would he ever leave so she could wallow in her regrets?

He stood at the door, turning his hat round and round as if measuring the brim.

Seems he didn’t intend to leave.

“We can manage the rest.” She nodded toward the tub.

Dull red colored his cheeks. “That was unnecessary.”

She didn’t relent.

“Red, stop forming everyone’s judgment for them. People aren’t nearly as harsh as you make them out to be.”

“Is this a warning about tomorrow? You telling me how to conduct myself?”

He sighed. “That is not my intention at all.” He crossed the floor to plant his face inches from hers. “What I’m saying is that you should give people a chance rather than slap them alongside the head with comments like the one you just sent my way.”

She tried to hold his demanding stare without blinking. But her eyes watered from the strain and she ducked her head. Was she really too defensive?

He made a noise of exasperation and headed for the door. “All I’m saying is let people decide what they want about you. Stop saying things that blatantly tell them they shouldn’t like you.” He strode from the door.

She waited until the sound of his footsteps faded, then sank into a chair. Did she do what he said? By her comments and attitude inform people how they should view her?

How could she help it? It was how she judged herself.

Determined to ignore her confusion, she searched through the items of clothing Linette had sent. “I need to thank Mrs. Gardiner for lending us these clothes.” Besides the clothing, Linette had sent a brush and comb, hair ribbons and a bar of sweet-smelling soap.

Belle looked up from her play. “Are you going to buy us new things?”

“As soon as I can.”

“When will that be?”

Red set aside the soap she’d been sniffing. “I’m going to find a job and we’ll have a place of our own.”

Belle glanced about. “This is a nice place. Maybe we could stay here.”

“No, we can’t.”

Belle’s face wrinkled in confusion and worry.

How could Red make her see the dangers of being so dependent on others? Never again would she allow either of them to be in their situation. Not one minute longer than absolutely necessary. “Belle, I want to take care of us.”

“You’re afraid everyone is like Thorton.” Belle shivered. “Sometimes I think they are and then I look at Sally.” She held up her doll. “Ward can’t be bad like Thorton.”

Red sat back. She couldn’t rob Belle of her assurance. “You might be right.” She returned to the stack of clothing. For herself, she selected a simple gray dress with white collar and cuffs. With a few tucks here and there, it would fit well enough. For Belle she selected a pretty blue dress. At the rate Belle was growing, these things would soon be too small.

The reality of a child’s needs fueled Red’s determination. She must find a position soon in order to provide for the both of them.

Later that night, she and Belle were bathed and in clean nightgowns. Belle crawled into bed to play with her doll but Red wasn’t a bit tired. She’d already disposed of the water, cleaned the tiny kitchen, swept the floor and even dusted the shelves. She’d worked on outfits for the doll until her neck protested and she’d set the sewing aside. How was she to spend her time? She eyed the knapsack. A book held a lot of appeal.

She knelt before the bag and ran her fingers along the seams. She gingerly loosened the tie and inhaled the scent of mothballs and old wool.

The little quilt lay on top. She lifted it to her face and sniffed. But all she smelled was mothballs. No baby scent. Nothing remotely like the woodsy, leather scent of Ward.

What had she expected?

Her movements jerky, she started to set the quilt to one side, then changed her mind and pulled it to her chest. His mother had made this for him. Ward had experienced a painful family situation and still seemed to know how to be happy.

He’d always been able to choose. He’d been in charge.

She dropped the quilt to the floor. From now on she would be in control of her life.

She turned back to the sack. The first book that came into view was the book of poetry. Her breath stalled halfway up her throat as her mind filled with images of her father reading poetry. It was a regular nighttime habit and had been the background to her evening activities. As she sewed, did schoolwork, knitted doll clothes or played, and later as she entertained Belle, Papa’s voice had spoken words of music and imagination. Keats and his “A Thing of Beauty Is a Joy Forever.”

Where had the beauty and joy of her life gone?

Probably his favorite was Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poem, “How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Ways.” Papa didn’t need the book to recite it. He knew it by heart and would say the words to Mama with such feeling she blushed.

Red sat on the floor with her back to the wall, the books forgotten as she wept silently for the parents she’d lost, the life that had been snatched from her and the bleakness of her future. She felt as if she were rudderless, homeless, hopeless.
Oh, God.
But she could not pray, ask relief from a God who’d abandoned her and who would now see her as dirty and shameful.

Her tears dried. She remained on the floor, staring at the darkness beyond the lamplight. Darkness that engulfed her soul. The lamp flickered and she shook her head. She realized that her leg ached where her wound still healed. How long had she sat there? What difference did it make? She turned the lamp down and crawled into bed, trying not to disturb Belle.

The next morning she woke aching from head to toe and regretting her agreement to attend church. With heavy limbs and a heavier heart, she made breakfast and endured Belle’s excitement over the outing.

Finally Belle slowed down. “Red, why are you so sad?”

Red tried to dredge up a smile to convince her sister she wasn’t. She failed miserably and her lips trembled. She swallowed hard and widened her eyes, determined she would not cry in front of her little sister.

Belle hurried around the table and threw her arms around Red. “If you don’t want to go, it’s okay. I don’t mind staying home.”

Red hugged Belle. She knew how much Belle wanted to go. And she deserved to. It was time life became more ordinary for her little sister. “No, we’ll go.”

Belle tipped her face upward and studied Red. “Is it because you don’t like Ward?”

“I—” She faltered. She liked Ward just fine. But there was no future in it. She closed her eyes and willed in strength. “There are times I miss Mama and Papa so much I can hardly bear it.”

Belle crawled into Red’s lap and cuddled close. “We have each other.”

Red laughed despite her tears. She’d told Belle that was all that mattered so often yet she wondered if either of them believed it. Today it was especially hard to cling to the idea, but she must. It had to be enough. “You’re right. Now let’s get ready.”

A few minutes later they were dressed. She’d pinned her hair back into as tight a bun as she could fashion and hoped it would stay in place. She did not have a bonnet of any sort but, unable to face the shame of appearing bareheaded at a church service, she had fashioned a bit of lace into a covering and hoped it would suffice.

Belle looked sweet and innocent in her dress with her hair curled into ringlets. Thank goodness she had been spared the bright color of Red’s hair.

She peeked out the window and watched cowboys file in. Even though no one glanced in her direction, she ducked back out of sight and pressed a palm to her chest as if by doing so she could control the pounding of her heart.

Belle took her place at the window. “I see a little boy up on the hill. It must be Grady.”

If not for Belle’s eagerness, Red would change her mind about attending.

“Here comes Ward.” Belle dashed to the door, pulled it open, and he stepped inside.

“My, don’t you two look nice?”

Belle pirouetted. Then grinned at Ward. “So do you.”

Indeed he did. Red couldn’t help but stare. He wore a crisp white shirt, black jacket and black trousers. His hat was a new brown Stetson. It appeared he had shaved only a few minutes ago. His blue eyes shone like sky reflected in water as he smiled at Red.

If she let it happen, she could momentarily forget her guilt and pain.

She fought a mental battle. If only she could pretend her past hadn’t happened but even if she could, others would be eager to remind her.

When Ward offered his arm to guide her across the yard, she hesitated. Touching him only deepened the chasm between who she was and what she wanted. She shifted her gaze past him to the distance between the cabin and the cookhouse. Without something to keep her headed in the right direction, she’d never make it.