Texas Twilight (27 page)

J
ohn clucked to
the buggy horse and flipped the reins over the animal’s back.
Emmeline sat next to him, parasol up and lap robe folded nicely
over her legs even though the weather was balmy. She waved happily
to Charity and Becky as the buggy pulled away and then to Chaim,
who watched from the darkened doorway of the barn.

John was sick inside. He must tell her what
was going on in his head. She deserved the truth. Not some silly,
sweet talk that would only lead them deeper into trouble. This was
the right thing to do even if it was difficult. He glanced up at
the clouds, the same ones that had been over the far mountain range
this morning, and noticed that they blocked out a majority of the
sun.

Emmeline was lost in thought. “Hungry?” His
voice seemed to surprise her.

“Yes. I am. I can hardly wait to see what
surprises Maria has packed for us in the hamper. There’s been
nothing but good smells coming from her kitchen all morning.”

He nodded. “Did you have any breakfast?”

“I did.”

He nodded, again glancing forward. Small talk
seemed all he could wrangle out. She looked beautiful as usual, but
he could sense something was different today and wondered if she
could feel his uncertainties.

They traveled at a leisurely pace as the
coffee in John’s stomach thickened. Seeing a good sized plateau
with several large cottonwoods, he pulled up. “I didn’t eat though.
Mind if we stop and lay out the blanket and food?”

“Not at all. This spot is lovely.”

John set the brake and tied off the long
reins. Hopping down, he hurried to the opposite side of the buggy
and helped Emmeline to the ground.

They headed for a pretty spot and shook out
the blanket together, encased in a bubble of silence. John went
back for the wicker basket. A bit nervously, he sat down next to
her and removed his hat, setting it to the side.

“Emmeline.”

“John.”

They spoke at the same time, then laughed,
breaking the tension between them. “You first,” said John, taking a
napkin wrapped chicken leg she offered, but made no move to eat it.
“Please.”

“All right.” She scooted around, getting
comfortable. “Well…” She dabbed at her forehead with her napkin,
taking away the weather’s sheen. “I’ve been thinking. Thinking
about us.”

Her, too? Did she want to set the date? Firm
up their wedding plans? But, if that were the case, why was her
brow furrowed in worry?

It was like a gargantuan horseshoe fell down
from heaven and conked him on the head as realization dawned.

“John, are you okay?”

There it was again. An undercurrent of
remorse coloring her words.

“John!”

He shook his head, wondering if what he was
thinking could possibly be true. “I’m sorry. What were you about to
say?”

She looked at her hands for a long moment. “I
said I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about us,” she repeated in a
soft voice.

Honor demanded that he speak up now. Say
something. Anything.

“About us getting married.”

“About us getting married?” Again they spoke
at the same time, his a question, hers a statement. This time
neither laughed.

The misery behind her eyes told him clearly
what her next sentence would be. He couldn’t let her take the whole
responsibility of breaking up on her shoulders. Her conscience.
That wouldn’t be right.

Her hands began to quiver and she wiped at
her eyes with the napkin, and then crumpled it in her palm.

John hastily discarded the chicken leg and
took her hands between his own, quieting them. “I’m breaking our
engagement, Emmeline,” he said gently. “I hope someday you will be
able to forgive me.”

Her eyes widened for a moment, and then she
let out a little sigh. “You are?”

He nodded.

She daubed at her eye again, then gave him a
tremulous smile.

“
To be
honest, John, that is what
I
was
going to say. That I wanted to call off our wedding. Can you ever
forgive
me
?”

Ashamed for the tremendous relief he felt, he
struggled to think.

“Emmeline...” He pulled her a little closer.
“There isn’t anything to forgive. If what you said is what is in
your heart, then that is truth. And the truth will set you
free.”

He didn’t want to ramble on. He wanted the
right words. For them. For what they had once felt. For what they
would feel going forward.

She looked down where his thumbs were moving
back and forth across the backs of her hands. “You do forgive me
then?”

“
I’d not
have forgiven you if you’d gone forward knowing your feelings had
changed.
That
would be
unforgivable. Not this.” He threaded his fingers through hers and
brought her hand to his lips, kissing her fingertips. “I think
you’re an incredibly brave and wonderful woman. It takes courage to
do what you set out to do.”

Her face flushed. “I’ve been worried sick
about what I would say, and how you would take it,” she offered. “I
think you’re wonderful, too.” She looked up into

his face, all traces of her smile gone.
“Everything felt different when I arrived in Rio Wells.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry. I should have brought
it up sooner.”

She looked as if she was rallying. “No, don’t
you be sorry. I feel better now than I have for a couple of weeks.”
She leaned forward, wrapping him in her arms. “Friends?”

John closed his eyes and held her, thankful
for the way everything had worked out. “Always.” A moment passed,
then they both sat back, the same and yet after a simple, five
minute conversation, completely different.

“I’m sorry about your face,” she said softly.
“Was it horribly painful?”

He shrugged. “It’s almost healed now.”

“The scar will shrink, you’ll see. Please
don’t worry over it.”

She seemed to be searching for the right
words. He waited.

“Knowing that you’re not broken-hearted is a
whole lot easier to live with.”

“What will you do now?” he asked.

“I haven’t decided yet. Guess I’ll cross that
bridge when I find it.”

His heart squeezed, but for what he didn’t
know. She looked so young. And sweet. He could see why he’d fallen
for her in the first place. “Guess you will.”

W
ith John and
Emmeline out for the afternoon Charity decided she couldn’t sit
around another moment. Madeline and her Aunt Winnie were tending
the garden, but that held no appeal for her. Becky was holed away
in her room making some sort of secret plans for the Fourth. Chaim
had mentioned he was going into town in a few minutes and if she
wanted to go along, to meet him in the barn. That was right where
she was headed, dressed in her riding skirt and duffle bag in
hand.

“Knew you’d decide to come,” Chaim said,
handing her reins to the horse she’d ridden the day before. It was
groomed and saddled and nudged her when she came close.

She threw the stirrup up over the saddle and
checked the girth, giving it a small tug. With little effort she
mounted up and waited for Chaim.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Sure. Just getting homesick, I guess.” That
was part of it but, even more than missing her family, she was
missing Brandon. She tried to remember back if they’d ever been
apart this long before, not running into each other in Y Knot or on
the ranch. The wait was getting taxing.

Chaim put his boot in the stirrup and swung
aboard his mount. He gestured to her bag. “What’s that?”

“I’m staying in town tonight. That way I’ll
get to eat supper with John and also see Lily. I’m sure she needs
some help on Madeline’s dress since her aunt is still sickly and
the Fourth will be here before we know it.”

Charity sat easily in her saddle, enjoying
the wide open space. Her mount, a grey mare, moved with a
comfortable stride. Yesterday, Chaim stayed busy keeping the buggy
on level ground and away from any potholes. He and Emmeline had
chatted for hours. Surprising for a man of such few words. Now was
her opportunity to learn more about the family.

Charity glanced over before asking, “Does
Uncle Winston ever talk about his youngest brother, Gideon? He’s a
year younger than my pa, and from what I know he disappeared when
he was fifteen. Pa says they don’t know any more than that. Not
even if he’s dead or alive.”

Chaim wagged his head back and forth. His hat
was tipped up casually, giving her a good look at his face. A cross
between John and Luke, he was quite the charmer in a shy and
wholesome way, and a darn good-looking fellow indeed. And, in her
opinion, much more approachable than Dustin, who was guarded and a
little hard to get to know.

“Nah. Dustin and I used to wonder about that
but after getting stonewalled time and again, we gave up. I’d like
to know the full story, too. I’m sure there’s an interesting tale
there. Or a scandal, or somethin’ they’re hidin’. How old would he
be now?”

“Forty-eight, I think. I know what you mean.
We all used to speculate, too. He just up and vanished and was
never found. Strange. Sad, too.”

“And there is, or I should say was, Uncle
Rudolph McCutcheon. The oldest of the four boys. Our grandfather,
Augustus McCutcheon was only sixteen when he came along.”

Charity
laughed. “I know. Thank goodness Grandma Sarah was sixteen too, and
not younger. I’m nineteen. By their standards,
and
my mother’s—I don’t know if you remember but she
was pretty young when she had Matt—I should already have a passel
of kids. They moved to Texas in thirty-six, right after Texas was
annexed into the States, but before even my pa or Uncle Gideon was
born.”

“You know a lot.”

“My father has it all written down in a
ledger he made when he was a young man,” Charity said. “Has dates
and names and all sorts of interesting stuff. Says it’s important
to know who you are and where you came from. Also, to remember the
mistakes your forefathers made, so you don’t repeat them yourself.
Now he’s recording all the grandbabies and such and what and
where.”

Chaim grunted as if thinking over what she’d
just said.

“Come on, I want to show you something.”
Chaim reined his horse off the narrow, well-worn road and guided it
up a good-sized incline. Charity had to lean forward and give her
mare ample rein as the horse scrambled up the shale and rock. He
pulled up in front of a cliff that overlooked the whole valley and
had a nice view of Rio Wells.

“Beautiful,” she said softly, taking it all
in.

“Glad you like it. Kind of puts everything
into perspective, doesn’t it?”

“Sure does.” She sat there drinking in the
pinks and corals of the rugged land. The olive hues of the cacti
and ironwood bushes blended nicely with the dry, earthen brown of
the floor of the valley. A cricket of some kind buzzed behind her
as if upset at the intruders in his area. A bald eagle glided
across the horizon.

“Your brother Luke?”

Charity snapped around, looking at Chaim and
not sure what to make of his question. “What about him?”

“He was always off limits in our household,
too. I know he’s a half-breed, but not much more than that.”

She stared at Chaim for a few more moments,
then faced the valley in front of her. “Maybe that’s because it’s
none of your business.”

“Okay. Didn’t mean to offend.”

Several minutes passed. She could feel that
soon they would venture on and she didn’t want to leave the
tenseness between them. Besides, Chaim was family and in a way had
a right to know. It was out of ignorance that most anger and
suspicion was born.

“Chaim, I’m sorry. I’ve just had my fill of
stupid questions about Luke from people who didn’t have any reason
for asking. You’re family. You have a right to ask.” She hunkered
down into her saddle and crossed her arms over her chest.

“My mother, when Matt and Mark were just
little fellows, was taken off the ranch in an Indian raid. Back
then, Y Knot was nothing more than a one-cow town. Since there
wasn’t any Sheriff,” a pain jabbed Charity in the heart, thinking
about Brandon, “it was hard for my father to find anyone to help
search for her. Plus he had his little sons to care for. At first,
he didn’t have any choice and left them with a neighbor for a few
weeks so he could go after my mother. Returning without her, he
found Matt and Mark grimy and thinner than before. When they saw my
father they clung to him like a tick on a dog’s ear and he was
resolved to do better for them.”

“That’s when he brought them out here to Rio
Wells?”

“Yes.”

“That was before any of us were born,” Chaim
said quietly.

Again, she nodded.

“Does your mother ever talk about what
happened?”

“Never.”

They sat in silence as the eagle made another
pass across the horizon.

“What’s Luke like?”

Charity had to remind herself that Chaim, or
the rest of the family, had never met Luke. And since it was a
subject no one ever talked about, they probably had all sorts of
strange ideas about him. Perhaps they thought he had hair down to
his waist and rode around shirtless, looking for scalps. Or that he
pitched a tepee next to the ranch house. She pushed down a surge of
anger. “He’s just like the rest of us. No different.”

“
What’s
he
look
like?”

Charity
had to count to three. “Chaim,” she said, turning to face him. “Now
you
are
starting to
make me mad. What the hell do you think he looks like?”