Drifting from Deadwood: The Pioneer Brides of Rattlesnake Ridge, Book 6

by Flightner, Ramona

  Lance shook his head. “No, but that doesn’t mean it’s not complicated.”

  Zachariah laughed. “If it’s not complicated, then it’s boring and it ain’t life.” He spun his horse around. “Come on, let’s run them for a bit.” He urged Rogue into a gallop, and Lance held on as Amaretto eagerly followed.

  * * *

  Eleanor walked to the barn to find Zachariah and Lance. She wanted to ensure they would be at supper. She paused at the barn door when she heard their deep voices. She stiffened as she heard Zachariah murmur, “When do you think you’ll tell her?”

  Lance muttered, “I don’t know how to tell her. Perhaps she doesn’t need to know.”

  “Fool,” Zachariah said with a sigh.

  Eleanor barged into the barn and glared at Zachariah and then Lance. She stood with hands clamped in fists, her cheeks flushed and eyes flashing with anger. “How dare you attempt to conceal what is occurring on the ranch from me?”

  Lance shook his head, but Zachariah approached Eleanor. “El, what are you doing here? We never considered hiding anything from you.”

  “That’s what it sounded like to me,” she snapped. She mimicked Lance’s voice. “I don’t know how to tell her. Perhaps she doesn’t need to know.”

  Lance paled. “Eleanor,” he whispered.

  “Don’t,” she snapped. “I was taken in once by a handsome face and sweet words. I won’t fall for them again.” She stood as tall as possible and firmed her quivering jaw. “I want you to leave by sunrise.”

  “El, you can’t mean that!” Zachariah protested. “He’s the best worker we’ve ever had. Besides …” He broke off and swallowed a curse as Lance made a warning sound in his throat.

  “Besides what?” she asked as she looked from one man to the other. When they remained silent, she nodded. “You claim you’re not keeping something from me, but you’re lying.” She glared at Zachariah as she fought tears. “You promised you’d never lie.”

  Zachariah approached her, gazing deeply into her eyes. “Not everything has to do with the ranch.” He stormed out of the barn, leaving her alone with Lance.

  She stood there, clasping and unclasping her hands together as Lance stood with his back to her. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, unable to find any words to speak now that they were alone.

  “Did you mean it?” he rasped. “Do you want me to leave tomorrow?”

  She sniffled. “Are you concealing something from me?”

  He looked over his shoulder at her, his gaze guarded as he looked at her standing with poise and challenge as she awaited his answer. “Yes.”

  She flinched as though he had struck her. “Then, yes, I would like you to leave. I have had enough deception for one life.”

  He flushed with anger and turned to fully face her. “I have never deceived you.” He frowned as a tear coursed down her cheek.

  “I deceived myself,” she whispered before she spun and raced from the barn. She tumbled to the ground when she ran into Simon, hovering near the barn’s door and eavesdropping.

  “Mama!” Simon protested as she plastered into him.

  “This is why you shouldn’t listen in on conversations,” she rasped as she fought a sob. She pushed herself upright and continued her flight to the ranch house, racing up the stairs to her room. Slamming the door behind her, she wished for a lock on the door so she could barricade herself inside.

  Rather than throw herself onto her bed and cry her eyes out as she desired, she forced herself to sit on her comfortable chair as tears coursed down her cheeks. She rocked herself in place, unable to cease sobbing. When the door creaked open, she covered her face with her palms, unwilling to have her grief on display.

  “Ah, there’s no need for this,” Mrs. Wagner said as she closed the door softly behind her. “You’ve had your first spat with your man.”

  Eleanor accepted the handkerchief Mrs. Wagner pressed into her hand and swiped at her sodden cheeks. “No,” she hiccupped out around her sobs. “I ordered him to leave. He’s hiding something from me.”

  Mrs. Wagner made a noncommittal noise as she pulled over a small straight-backed chair to sit near her. “And do you know what that is?”

  “Zachariah claims it has nothing to do with the ranch.” She balled the handkerchief in her hand. “I fear it’s the first time since Alan died that Zachariah has lied to me.”

  “Oh, girl. You’ve had to depend on logic and reason for too long as you managed this ranch. For once, use your heart rather than your head.” Mrs. Wagner clasped her hand and waited for Eleanor to meet her worried gaze. “Why else would a man keep a secret from you?”

  Eleanor flushed and ducked her head.

  “He has feelings for you. They’re as plain as day to anyone who looks.” Mrs. Wagner smiled as Eleanor shook her head to dispel such a notion. “Is it that you find the idea offensive or surprising?”

  “Wondrous,” Eleanor whispered. “I thought I…” She flushed. “Why wouldn’t he speak to me of his feelings?”

  Mrs. Wagner squeezed her hands. “Simon told me how Lance lost a wife and daughter. For a man like him, that would leave a deep scar.” Eleanor nodded at her friend’s words. “And you’re his boss. It does put a man in an awkward position.”

  Eleanor shook her head. “Why should that matter?”

  “The man lost everything. His family. His homestead. His identity.” Mrs. Wagner looked out the window as though seeing Lance at the paddock or bunkhouse. “He’s found another home here, with you and your boys. I doubt he’d want to risk losing everything again.”

  She closed her eyes as two more tears tracked down her cheeks. After a moment, she opened her eyes and met Mrs. Wagner’s understanding and compassionate gaze. “What should I do?”

  “Find a way to ask him to stay,” Mrs. Wagner said. “For, if he leaves, I fear you and your sons will miss him forever.”

  * * *

  “Mr. Lance! Mr. Lance!” Simon yelled as he barreled into the barn after his mother careened away toward the ranch house. “You aren’t leaving, are you?” He stood there, his blue eyes wide with shock as he watched the man he was coming to dream of as a father move to his horse and begin to saddle it.

  Lance refused to look at him as he focused on the task in front of him. “Yes, Simon, I fear I must. I’ve overstayed my welcome, and I think my work is done here.”

  “No!” Simon screamed as he hurled himself at Lance’s leg and wrapped his arms around his thigh as though his bodyweight would anchor Lance in place. “Don’t leave us too.” He pressed his face to Lance’s middle, his shoulders heaving as he sobbed.

  “Oh, lad,” Lance whispered as he dropped to his knees and pulled Simon into his arms. “I’m sorry.” He held Simon close as Simon sobbed onto his shoulder. “I wanted to stay, but your mama wants me to leave.”

  “I could ask her to change her mind,” Simon stuttered out. “I’ll beg her.”

  Lance ran a hand over Simon’s head and shook his head. “That’s not fair to her, son. If she doesn’t want me here, I should go.”

  “But I want you here!” Simon sniffled and stomped his foot. “It’s not fair she can force you to leave.”

  Lance held onto Simon’s shoulders, waiting for the boy to meet his gaze. “She’s your mother, and she’s doing what she thinks is right for her family. For her ranch. No one should question her.”

  “But you like her,” Simon protested. He stared at Lance with confusion. “Don’t you?”

  Lance closed his eyes but did not release his hold of the boy. “What I feel for your mother is between your mother and me.” He opened his eyes and met Simon’s disappointed gaze. “I want you to understand something, Simon.” He waited as the boy sniffled and nodded. “Leaving here will be one of the hardest things I have ever done. I…” His voice broke, and his eyes shone with unshed tears. “I love you and Peter as though you were my own boys. I hope you’ll continue to grow into the fine young men I know you can be and that you’ll
always be a help to your mama.”

  Simon threw himself forward and wrapped his small arms around Lance’s neck. He continued to whisper, “Don’t go,” over and over again as he clung to Lance.

  After many long moments, Lance eased Simon away and stood. He swiped at the tears on Simon’s face and whispered, “I have to. I must honor your mama’s wishes.” He cleared his throat. “Come, help me with Amaretto. For he is going to miss you, too.”

  A little of Simon’s inherent vivacity seemed to vanish, and his shoulders stooped. “Yes, Mr. Lance. I’ll miss Amaretto, too.” He moved with Lance to help saddle the horse, petting Amaretto on his velvet nose and talking to him in the soft way Lance had taught him, the entire time hoping his mother would enter the barn and change her mind.

  * * *

  Eleanor walked into the barn, and stood stock-still when she noticed Amaretto missing from his stall. “No,” she whispered and trotted to the nearby bunkhouse. She knocked on the door, pushing it open when it remained unanswered after a few minutes. She marched inside and froze. The only evidence that Lance had lived here was the faint scent of coffee.

  His mattress was rolled up to match the others. No shirts hung from a doorway drying. No socks were slung over the back of one of the chairs. Everything was pristine and in its place as though awaiting the next occupant. “No,” she said again as she raced outside and looked up the long drive. No rider was visible, and she would have fallen to her knees had Zachariah not grabbed her around her middle.

  “He left, El,” Zachariah whispered.

  “I…I waited too long,” she murmured as she turned her face into her friend’s shoulder. “I was vain.”

  He shook his head in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I didn’t want him to see me splotchy faced with red-rimmed eyes. I waited so I’d look more attractive.” She covered her mouth with a hand as she fought a sob. “And I lost him.”

  Zachariah slung an arm over her shoulder and held her close. “That man would never care what you looked like, El. He wants you, as you are.”

  “I’m such a fool.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Simon will never forgive me, and Peter’s hiding in his room, acting like he’s fine. But I know he’s just as upset as Simon.”

  “If you leave early tomorrow morning, you have a chance of finding him in Rattlesnake Ridge. He won’t have gotten far tonight. Amaretto is tired after a hard day wandering the range.” He smiled at her as she watched him with dawning hope. “You hurt him, El. You have to be prepared to humble yourself.”

  She took a deep breath as she closed her eyes. “That’s the hardest part,” she whispered. “For so long, I’ve had to be strong and dependable and know the answer to myriad questions.”

  Zachariah nodded. “Alan was my best friend, but I’m not blind to his faults, El. You had to carry the weight of responsibility for too long.” He paused as though weighing his words. “You have to be willing to share it, or there’s no reason to seek out Lance.”

  She took a step away from her friend and turned to face him, meeting his worried gaze. Wringing her hands together as she considered his words, she whispered, “I am so afraid of giving up any control. What if I’m wrong again, and he proves unworthy?”

  Zachariah sighed. “Again?” He smiled gently at her and traced away the tear that tracked down her cheek. “You’re brave, El. Braver than you give yourself credit for. What does your instinct tell you about Lance?”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then another. “He’s a good man. He cares for my boys.” She paused. “It’s so hard to overcome this fear, Zachariah.”

  He squeezed her arm. “If anyone can, it’s you.” He smiled at her. “So, I should have horses ready tomorrow at dawn?”

  Her expression brightened, and she nodded. “Yes. I must find him and tell him the truth. Even if he doesn’t return to the ranch, I must know I did what I could.”

  Zachariah nodded. “I’ll see you at dawn, El.”

  She watched as he walked toward his small cabin while dusk cloaked the ranch. With a sigh, she returned to the house, doubtful she would sleep much that night as she waited for dawn.

  * * *

  Lance rode onto the rangeland rather than into town. Although he no longer worked for Eleanor, he had no desire to be in town and forced to make conversation as he arranged a room at the boarding house or found a meal at the café. Instead, he set up a bedroll on a soft patch of grass near the creek, settled Amaretto, and pulled out beef jerky to snack on.

  He sat on a boulder by the creek as he contemplated the day. It had started so well. Talking with Zachariah. Working the forge and sharing that with the boys. Riding part of the ranch with Zachariah. Closing his eyes, Lance attempted to calm his roiling emotions by breathing deeply of the fresh mossy scent of the creek and the melodious sound of the water tumbling over the rocks. However, nothing calmed his sense of unease and heartache.

  Visions of Eleanor, standing in front of him, disappointed and disillusioned, filled his mind. He ran a hand through his thick blond hair and berated himself for not having the courage to speak up. To admit his true feelings for her. The fear that clawed at him every time he thought of settling down. Of losing everything he cared about again.

  He grimaced when he thought about his conversation with Simon. He flicked at a piece of grass as he remembered fighting the urge to cling to Simon as strongly as the boy had clung to him. “He’s not yours,” he whispered to himself. He closed his eyes as the truthful agony rolled through him: he wished Simon were. He wished Peter were, too.

  He sat for long hours by the creek as he thought about Eleanor and his time at the ranch. For the first time since he’d buried his wife and daughter four years ago, he had found peace. A place he wanted to call home. A woman he dreamed of building a future with. He rose and wandered to his cold bedroll. Rather than unfurl it and curl up inside, he stood staring at the valley illuminated by the bright full moon.

  Unbidden, he remembered the reverend’s words. You must hope that you have someone by your side who helps ease the ache. He rubbed at his chest as he realized that Eleanor was the first woman he could imagine wanting by his side since he’d lost Amy. Running away would not change that. “I must fight her fears as well as my own,” he said as he looked at the stars.

  “She told me to stay ’til morning,” he muttered to himself. “I’ll return and speak with her.” He hefted his bedroll and moved to Amaretto who nickered in protest as he was resaddled. Rather than ride Amaretto, Lance led him by the bridle over the uneven terrain toward the ranch. He had no desire to wake the family with his arrival, and he wanted more time to consider what he could say to Eleanor to persuade her to believe him.

  When he reached the lane leading to the house, he sniffed the air and shook his head in confusion at the scent of wood smoke. Panic filled him as he realized what it could mean and he leapt onto Amaretto’s back and raced in the direction of the ranch house. When he arrived, the ranch house was engulfed in flames. Simon and Peter stood flanked by Mrs. Wagner. She kept a firm grip on their shoulders as the boys screamed out for their mother. Zachariah knelt in front of them coughing and gasping for breath as tears coursed down his ash-covered face, muttering that he’d go back in after a moment.

  Lance leaped off Amaretto, yelling, “Eleanor?” He knew instinctively that Eleanor was inside. He ran to the water pump by the barn and doused himself in water and then raced for the house. He ignored Simon and Peter screaming his name.

  Just as he entered the house, he heard Mrs. Wagner yell to look in the kitchen. As he entered the house with fire licking at the sides of the doorjamb, he gasped from the heat and smoke and pulled up his bandana to cover his mouth. He said a silent prayer that Eleanor was not upstairs as they were engulfed in flames, and he’d have no way to reach her. Crouching near the floor, he half walked, half crawled to the kitchen area. The kitchen was filled with smoke, and the walls were ablaze. He feared the
room would turn into an inferno any moment.

  He squinted in an attempt to see anything through the thick haze of smoke. After bumping into a chair, he careened into the table. When he righted himself, he swore softly as he stumbled again, only this time belatedly realizing he’d tripped over one of Eleanor’s legs.

  “Eleanor,” he gasped and coughed. He fell to his knees, fighting dizziness and lightheadedness. A loud crash sounded behind him, and a fiery timber now blocked the hallway he’d just walked down. He placed his head close to the floor in hopes for fresher air, but the entire room was filled with smoke.

  “The back door,” he muttered as he hefted Eleanor up, her body weightless as her arms flailed to the side and her head bobbed backward. His lungs burned as he took a too-deep smoke-filled breath, and he struggled to his feet. He yanked the bandana from around his neck and wrapped it around his hand, twisting the door handle. Although he’d protected his hand, a soft burn still penetrated his palm. After he managed to kick the door fully open, he stumbled onto the back porch and to the backyard.

  After walking as far as physically possible, he laid Eleanor on the ground. Glass crashed, and timbers snapped, and he looked over his shoulder to see the kitchen fully ablaze now that the door was open. “Eleanor, please,” he rasped as he traced a hand over her cheek. He ran to the water pump near the root cellar and wet his bandana. When he returned to her, he pressed the cool, damp cloth over her brow, face, and neck, frowning when she remained unconscious.

  He turned when he heard the boys scream. The house seemed to give another loud groan, and then it toppled in on itself as the flames consumed it. He grunted and picked Eleanor up, moving to the area in front of the house. The boys sobbed inconsolably in Mrs. Wagner’s arms while Zachariah was absent.