Linda Ford (7 page)

“I’ll feed her.”

Mama had nodded. But Belle had refused to eat. In the end Mama had made a thin porridge and persuaded Belle to take a few spoonfuls.

Over the ensuing weeks, Belle had remained fretful, refused to eat more than a few mouthfuls at a time. She started to lose weight, grew peaked. They were all concerned. Mama had spent a lot of time on her knees beseeching God to make Belle strong.

One day Mama got up and fried pancakes in the shape of a teddy bear, round belly, round head and round ears. She had dropped raisins in for eyes. Belle was charmed. From that day forward food took on interest.

How times had changed. Since they’d fallen in with Thorton, she’d had to endure Belle begging for food on many occasions.

Red wanted to forget those worrisome months. Almost as much as she wished she could forget how Mama had prayed. How she constantly gave God praise for Belle’s health.

“I don’t know if there are any raisins, but we can surely make pancakes.”

“Can I help?”

“Certainly. Who knows? One of these days I might be sick and you’ll be in charge.” She’d been teasing, but at the sudden quivering of Belle’s lips she wished she’d considered her words more carefully. She hugged her sister. “I don’t plan to get sick anytime in the foreseeable future. Now you get a mixing bowl and the flour and we’ll get started.”

As they mixed up the batter, the room grew overly warm.

“Belle, open the door and let in some air.”

Belle paused at the window next to the door. “Everyone will see us.”

She understood how Belle felt. The isolated cabin would have been a better choice for them. Maybe she’d convince Ward to take them there. “We don’t have to open it all the way.” Seeing Belle couldn’t bring herself to face what lay outside the four walls, Red crossed to her side. She planted a log on the ground, holding the door open enough to let in the air but not enough for them to see across the road.

As she straightened, sunlight smacked into the mountains. She stared. Dark folds contrasted with shadowy blue. A thousand unfettered thoughts swirled inside her head. Verses her mama had quoted often.
We will not fear though the mountains shake.
Emotions she didn’t want to own bubbled to the surface. Hope, joy, longing for things she would not acknowledge.

She was Red. She had danced half-naked before men. She’d been touched in ways that made her cringe. Guilt and loathing quenched all other feelings.

“I like the mountains,” Belle said with utmost conviction. “What did he say they made him think about? God is like the mountains?”

“Something like that.” She would not repeat the exact phrase:
As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is round about His people.

“I thought you were hungry.”

“I am.”

“Then let’s get the griddle cakes made.”

An hour later they had washed up the dishes and cleaned the little cabin. Belle avoided the window, but sat cross-legged on the floor where she could see out the ajar door.

Red glanced out the window once, saw cowboys streaming from the cookhouse and jerked out of sight. But the open air beckoned. “Let’s go out back.” No one could see them behind the cabin.

Belle jerked to her feet and hurried to the table. “There’s too many people out there.”

Too many men, she likely meant. “I’ll make sure it’s safe.” She edged toward the window and studied the surroundings. Not a man in sight. “Nobody out there. Let’s go.”

They dashed outside and around the cabin. The shovel stood against the corner and Red took it with them. She hadn’t forgotten her promise to use it on any man who threatened them.

They sat on the benches around the cold fire pit, listening to the sound of birds and squirrels noisily going about their morning activities. Red lifted her face to the sun. “It’s very peaceful.”

Suddenly birds erupted from the trees in a great burst of noise. Sounds of horse hooves thundered through the air.

Belle bolted for the cabin. “Men coming,” she wailed.

Red’s initial alarm gave way to reason. “Belle, it’s only the cowboys riding out to work.” This was a ranch, after all. She followed on Belle’s heels into the cabin. “They aren’t interested in us.” But she spoke to an empty room. “Belle?”

* * *

He slowed his horse and waved goodbye to Roper and the others. He’d already spoken to Eddie. “I’m asking for light duties around the ranch for a few days until they’re settled.”

Eddie had readily agreed.

Ward saw Red and Belle race to the cabin. What had frightened them? The door slammed behind Red. Ward studied the area around the cabin. Tipped his head and listened intently. He heard nothing to alarm him. Saw no wild animals prowling nearby. Yet something had sent them fleeing for safety.

Then it hit him. They’d heard him approach and run from him. “Horse, I’m not the enemy here.” Yet over and over, he felt like it. If he had a lick of sense he would turn around and head out to the hills with the rest of the cowboys.

But he flicked the reins and continued toward the big house.

He asked Linette for some things the pair could wear.

“Goodness, what an ordeal they’ve endured. They must be frightened.” She waved him inside and instructed him to wait while she found suitable clothing. “I have the things the Arnesons can no longer use.” A couple had come to the ranch in the spring, ill and too weak to care for themselves. Linette had nursed them as they grew steadily weaker. When they passed away, Eddie had buried them in a nearby plot. They had earlier lost a child and still had her clothes. She quickly found items for both Red and Belle. And agreed to Ward’s request to give Red a day or two to settle before visiting them.

He rode to the cabin, dismounted and paused. “Hello, it’s me.”

Silence.

“Red. Belle. It’s me. Ward. I’ve brought some things.” He stepped forward.

Red emerged from the narrow door, her fingers curled around the handle of a shovel. Her fire-bright hair sprang out in disarray. Her eyes flashed defiance.

He roared with laughter.

She glowered, indicating she didn’t find it amusing.

“You gonna brain me with that?”

“If I have to.”

“Guess you should have done it yesterday before you decided to come along with me.”

“Being here don’t mean you can come and go as you please.”

His amusement ended abruptly. “Red, I promise I will not come and go without regard to the fact you and Belle reside here. No one will.” Eddie had warned the others to give them plenty of space until they were ready to socialize.

“Do you mind putting that aside? I don’t care to have my skull split wide open when I turn my back.”

She hesitated, then propped it next to the door.

He would have felt a lot better if she’d put it against the outer wall where he’d left it. “No one will bother you here. And the woods belong to God. He won’t mind if you enjoy them.”

She nodded. “Only until I get on my feet.”

“I brought some things for you.” He untied the sacks hanging from the saddle.

She said nothing as he carried the supplies to the door.

“You’re welcome.” He was beginning to think she would rather chew her tongue to shreds than express gratitude to him for anything. “Where’s Belle? Some of it’s for her.”

Belle peeked through the crack of the bedroom door. “What you bring?”

“Well, this bag—” he lifted it “—is heavy with food stuff. Cookie makes about the best cinnamon rolls ever. She has some for you at the cookhouse.” He paused long enough for the idea to settle in. Then he lifted the other bag. “This is full of clothes you might be able to use. Linette sent them.”

“Belle, you gonna come see?”

Belle opened the door wider but kept it between them. That was okay. He understood her caution.

He tossed the lighter bag on the table and set the heavier one beside it. “Who wants to see inside?”

Belle got as far as the edge of the door and hovered there like a dragonfly.

Red finally left her post outside the door and stepped inside. “Who is Cookie?”

“She’s the cook. Big, boisterous woman. Her husband, Bertie, helps her. He’s more gentle. But Cookie is a fine cook and a good woman. Every Sunday they hold church services in the cookhouse and Bertie preaches us a sermon. Only it ain’t as much a sermon as a friendly talk.” He had no idea if they cared about any of this, but he figured if he kept talking about ordinary things the pair might relax. “Linette and Eddie want to get a church built in Edendale—that’s the little town close by. Not hardly even a town, but it’s growing. I sometimes wonder if Sundays will be any better with a real church and a real preacher. I like Bertie’s talks.” He ran out of steam. Could think of nothing more that might interest them. Still neither of them moved.

Perhaps the food would hold more sway. He dug into the sack and pulled out the brown-paper-wrapped bundle, set it on the table and folded back the edges. “Cookie thought you might be a bit shy about visiting her this morning, so she sent fresh rolls.” The aroma from them was about more than a man could resist. “Cookie says it’s best to eat them while they’re warm. But I can tell you they’re pretty good stone-cold and two days old, too.” He reached into the sack again. “Didn’t know if you liked tea or coffee so brought them both. Cinnamon rolls with a hot drink is about as good as it gets.”

Belle rocked back and forth. He could hear her swallow from where he stood. “What can I drink?”

“Cookie thought of that, too, so she put in canned milk. Says it’s real good for making cocoa. You ever had hot cocoa?”

Belle edged closer. “Mama used to make it. Red knows how to make it, don’t you?” She appealed to her sister.

“Certainly.”

“That’s good.” Ward waited, wondering if Red would offer to make tea or coffee or hot cocoa. Or would she stand there, guarded and ill at ease until he left?

He shifted his gaze out the window. Up until a few days ago, he’d been content to go about his merry way, writing letters back home, not getting a reply but planning, building and hoping for the time the others would join him. He’d given little thought to how he lived each day. Just did what was next. What Eddie sent him to do or what appeared before him. Choices weren’t difficult.

Now he seemed unable to make an ordinary decision as to whether he should invite himself for tea or leave.

All because of one hotheaded, red-haired woman who got under his skin in a way that he didn’t mind.

He’d been in such a rush to get things together for Red and Belle, he hadn’t even taken time to eat one of Cookie’s rolls.

The least they could do was invite him to share the goodies. Ignoring the way Belle drew back when he moved, he reached for the kettle, shook it and discovered it heavy with water. He lifted the stove lid, stuck in a couple of sticks of wood, then set the kettle to boil. “We’re going to have hot cocoa and cinnamon rolls, and while the kettle heats we’re going to put the supplies on the shelf.”

Neither female moved.

He didn’t care. He pulled out a jar, held it out to Red. “Where do you want it?” Not that there was much of a decision to be made. The kitchen consisted of two narrow shelves and a larder box.

She scowled at him. Then, her lips in a tight line, she grabbed the jar and stuck it on the shelf.

He took out the items one by one and handed them to her.

Belle slipped forward, one cautious step at a time. She hovered two feet away, swaying back and forth. “Who made that?” She pointed to the picture over the table.

He stopped removing items and looked at it for a moment. His mother had sent it in a package that contained the only letter he’d received from her. Afraid the picture would get damaged kicking about the bunkhouse, he’d asked permission to hang it in the cabin after Linette and Eddie had married and moved into the big house. No one lived in the cabin then, and he thought it would be a safe place for the picture.

At Belle’s question, he was awash in memories of his mother making the picture during long winter evenings with Pa at the table reading while she worked. Pa had developed a keen interest in the free land to the west. He slid his gaze to Belle. “My mother did. A very long time ago when my father was still alive.”

“Did she try running away?”

“Not that I know of. Why?”

“Doesn’t
flee
mean to run away?”

That was exactly what he wanted her to do. Run from that horrible man she’d married after Ward’s father had died, and come West where he could look after her.

“Did you?” Belle asked.

“What?”

“Run away?”

Red touched Belle’s shoulder. “Don’t ask so many questions.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t run away. I left. Like I said, I thought things would be better if I wasn’t there. Sometimes to flee means to run toward something, too.” He hoped that’s what he’d done—run to freedom for both himself and the rest of his family.

“Are you scared of the dark?”

Strange questions, but he could see Belle had a real need for answers so he considered his reply. “No. But it is harder to know what’s ahead or what to expect. So I suppose I’m more wary in the dark.”

“It was scary dark in Old Mike’s cabin.”

Red grabbed Belle by both shoulders and leaned over to stare into her eyes. “Honey, no bad man is ever going to hurt you again. You hear?”

Belle nodded.

Red straightened and faced Ward with a fierce look, wordlessly warning him she would not allow him to hurt Belle.

Her continued distrust started to fester. “Not all men are bad. My father wasn’t. I’m guessing yours wasn’t.” He gave them a moment to acknowledge it. “And I’m not.”

He and Red dueled silently as she considered his words.

“I’ll prove it if you give me a chance.” He kept his words low, inviting. Though for the life of him he couldn’t explain why it mattered so much.

He only knew it did. He would somehow, he promised himself, win the trust of this pair.

As he waited for some sign of agreement or disagreement from Red, he understood winning her trust might prove a whole lot more challenging than winning that of her little sister.