Drifting from Deadwood: The Pioneer Brides of Rattlesnake Ridge, Book 6
Page 13
Zachariah sat on a chair beside her bed while Mrs. Wagner brewed tea and hummed a song she used to sing when she was content while cooking at her large stove in the ranch house. “Jack was here, and I fear it will always remain a mystery why the house burned. Perhaps a candle overturned.” He shrugged. “It’s impossible to say.”
Her hold on her boys tightened. “How did we survive?”
“I was able to rescue the boys from upstairs, and Mrs. Wagner jumped out of her bedroom window.” Zachariah ducked his head and flushed as though he were embarrassed or ashamed.
“And Mr. Lance dunked himself under the water pump before racin’ into the house to find you and save you, Mama!” Simon said in his excited voice. “He saved you.” His small arms wrapped firmly around her waist, and he buried his head into her side.
“Shh, little love, I am fine,” she murmured. “Tired and sore, but fine.” She looked at Zachariah. “I have no memory of what happened. How can that be?”
Mrs. Wagner approached with a tsk and urged her to sit. “Come, sit up and drink some tea. This will help the aches and ensure you continue to improve.” She watched as Eleanor pushed herself up until she sat propped against the pillows. Her boys remained at her side.
Eleanor took a long swallow of the tea and grimaced. “That’s terribly bitter.”
Mrs. Wagner looked at her unrepentantly. “There is little honey left, and we’ve not been to town for supplies. Be thankful Doc Gracie left willow bark, or there’d be nothing to help soothe you now.”
Eleanor smiled weakly in agreement and took another sip before handing the cup back to Mrs. Wagner. “Did Doc say if I had a head injury?”
Zachariah shook his head. “She could find no reason why you weren’t waking up. You were in the smoke a long time.” He shared a long look with her but refrained from saying more as he nodded to the boys in her arms.
“Well, I’ll be fine now,” she whispered. “What… How did Lance return?”
Zachariah shook his head. “That’s for you to ask him.” He rose. “I’ll leave you to have time with your boys.”
Eleanor watched him leave and then focused on her boys. “How are you both?” Her grip on them tightened again as she fought images of what could have happened to her precious sons.
“We’re fine, Mama,” Peter said. He sat up and moved to the chair Zachariah had vacated, although he continued to hold her hand. “As long as you are better, we are fine.”
“Have you been minding Zachariah and Mrs. Wagner?” she asked as she stroked a hand over Peter’s forehead and pushed back a lock of his hair.
He smiled and nodded. “Yes. And Mr. Lance made us work extra hard. Since he hurt his hands, he can’t do the work he’d like. So we do it for him.”
“He hurt his hands?” She frowned as she looked from one son to the other.
Simon shrugged as he played with a loose string on her dress. “He scorched them when he saved you from the fire. Doc Gracie gave us salve to put on his burns, and he has to keep them covered and dry for a while. Can’t do no… any heavy lifting.” He corrected his language as though Lance were there to scold him.
“I had no idea,” she whispered. “I must thank him.”
“He says he won’t leave, Mama,” Simon said, his voice betraying his fear. “But will you make him go away again?”
“Shh, that’s not a concern to worry about now,” she soothed. “Mr. Gallagher and I have much to discuss.”
Peter frowned and looked at his mother with confusion. He seemed to have grown into a young man while she slept, and she silently mourned the loss of her son’s innocence. “Is part of your discussion about your agreement to marry Mr. Hayden?”
“What?” Eleanor gasped. She gaped at her son and then met Mrs. Wagner’s worried gaze as she sat in a corner in the room. “What a preposterous notion. Who would say such a thing?”
“Mr. Hayden,” Peter said.
“I thought Mr. Lance would give him a facer!” Simon said with glee. “I wish he had,” he whispered.
“So do I,” his mother muttered as she kissed his head. She shook her head in confusion. “I’ve only ever rebuffed his advances toward me. I have no interest, now or ever, in marrying the man.”
“He seemed convinced you’d want to marry him,” Mrs. Wagner said. “Even I heard his proclamation from in here.”
Eleanor shuddered. “The only way I’d marry him is if I were unconscious and unaware of what I was doing.” She shook her head and then laughed. “I wish I could have seen Zachariah react.”
Peter grinned as Simon giggled. “He loomed over him, Mama, and scared the dickens out of Mr. Hayden!”
“The deputy would not have been pleased to have such violence occur,” Eleanor said. She admonished her boys, “Violence is never the solution.”
“Mr. Hollis didn’t care if Zachariah and Mr. Lance beat him to a pulp. Turned his back on what was going on and said he wouldn’t come to Mr. Hayden’s rescue,” Simon said with glee.
“Oh my,” Eleanor whispered.
“There are those who still need reassurance that Mr. Hayden spoke lies,” Mrs. Wagner said. She nodded as Eleanor flushed.
Simon peered up at her, his blue eyes shining with curiosity. “Do you think you might marry again though, Mama? Some other man?”
She flushed and kissed the top of his head. “We’ll see.” She looked at Peter and squeezed his hand. “Thank you for taking such good care of your brother.”
“We took care of each other, Mama, just like you taught us to,” Peter said.
She kissed Simon’s head again and pulled Simon close so she could kiss his cheek. “You are precious, my little loves.” She rested for many minutes with her sons nearby as she considered the conversation to come.
* * *
Lance pulled out his bedroll and slung it over his shoulder. Although the nights had begun to cool now that it was mid-September, he needed time alone. Zachariah was not an overly talkative roommate, but Lance feared Zachariah would have much to say this evening. Lance ensured Amaretto was settled and slipped from the barn. The sound of laughter trickled out of the bunkhouse, and he smiled as he envisioned the tales Simon and Peter told their mother. With a sigh, and a pang of longing, he turned to walk up the hill to find a comfortable place to pitch his bedroll.
After walking a short distance, he found a place on the apex of a hill where he could see the ranch. After unfurling his bedroll, he sat and contemplated the day’s events. “Ellie,” he murmured as he thought about seeing Eleanor’s bright blue eyes again. Their brilliance had been dulled when she first woke, but then the sparkle slowly returned as she fully returned to them.
He plucked a piece of prairie grass and twirled it between his fingers. When he stood at the foot of the bed, watching her hug and reassure her boys that she was well, he yearned for just such an embrace. However, she had spared him barely a glance, and he’d keenly felt the absence of her regard.
“Perhaps I should have stayed,” he muttered as he rubbed at his head. With a sigh, he flopped backward onto his bedroll and stared at the stars overhead. He raised an arm as he tried to determine the constellations shining in the sky overhead and then dropped it to his side as he fought a quiet ache. His wife, Amy, had known the constellations and had enjoyed teaching them to him. Letting out a deep breath, he realized this was the first time he’d searched for constellations since her death. His eyes pricked with unshed tears as he mourned the life he would never have with Amy and their daughter.
After a moment, a sense of peace filled him as he felt no guilt in loving Eleanor. Amy would want him to find another to love. She would want him to be happy again. As he stared at the stars, he gave thanks at having the chance at creating a life with Eleanor. He hoped she would welcome the gift of a second chance that had been granted to them. An owl hooted, and he sat up and stared down at the ranch in the distance. Tonight, Eleanor needed time with her family. Tomorrow, they would talk.
Chapter 8<
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The following morning, Eleanor had bathed and was in a clean nightgown Gracie had brought out to the ranch. Gracie had had the foresight to bring a set of clothes for her and the boys when she visited again yesterday after Eleanor had awoken. She rubbed at her forehead and then smoothed a hand over her clean hair, sniffing with distaste at the faint scent of smoke that clung to her locks.
“Why the disgust?” Lance asked from the doorway.
She flushed and dropped her hand to hold on her lap. “I wish I still didn’t smell like a fireplace.”
His eyes flashed with regret and fear as he looked at her. “Be thankful, Ellie,” he rasped. He ducked his head at the use of his nickname for her. “I beg your pardon.”
“Ellie?” she whispered. “No one’s ever called me Ellie before.”
When he met her inquisitive gaze, he made sure his was shuttered, and he stood with impeccable posture. “Forgive me for returning when you asked me to leave.”
She rolled her eyes and motioned for him to enter the room. “I would be dead if you hadn’t returned, Lance. Mrs. Wagner has told me that so many times since I woke up.” She paused as she stared at him with a touch of wonder. “You returned.”
“I did,” he whispered and then cleared his throat. “Sterling Hayden visited while you were unwell.”
Her eyes flashed with annoyance, and she gripped her hands together on her lap. “I know. The boys asked me if I was going to marry him.” She saw Lance tense as he waited for her to speak. “I’m not. I never gave him any encouragement.”
“Good.” The tenseness in his shoulders eased as his gaze roved over her.
She bit her lip as he remained standing beside her bed and said nothing further. “I was distraught to know you’d already departed.”
“What?” he asked, his eyes flashing with curiosity and surprise.
“Will you sit?” She peered up at him. “I don’t care to add a crick in my neck to the list of things that ache.” They shared a brief smile, and he sat without touching her.
“After supper that night, the night I asked you to leave, I sought you out. I didn’t really want you to go.” She watched him with wide luminous eyes, and the hope in her gaze faded as he watched her impassively. “Say something.”
He stared at her a long moment and then murmured, “What would you have said to me had I still been in the barn?”
She flushed and gripped her hands together. “I would have admitted I’d been a fool.” She looked at him pleadingly and then continued, “I would have asked you to stay.”
“Why?” he whispered, his gaze no long impassive. It shone with passionate intensity as he stared at her.
As she met his gaze, she relaxed. “Because I wanted you to stay. I can’t imagine the ranch without you here.” She swallowed. “I…I want you here.”
He reached forward with bandaged hands and brushed a wisp of hair off her cheek. “What are you saying?”
“Was it a dream when I fought to regain consciousness?” She seemed to gather her courage as he shook his head in confusion. “You called me your love. You professed your love for me. Did I dream that?”
“No,” he said in a low voice. “I love you. I have for some time.” He cupped her face and leaned toward her. “I…Why would you want a ranch hand?”
She made a scoffing noise and turned her face to kiss his bandaged palm. “You are beloved, Lance.” Her voice broke as tears leaked out. “I almost lost you to my pride and stubbornness.” She sniffled. “I love you, so very much.”
“Eleanor,” he rasped as he rested his forehead against hers. “My Ellie.” He looked at her. “I know I don’t have much to offer, but my hands will heal, and I will work hard to help you rebuild the ranch house. I will do everything I can to help you have a successful ranch.”
“Do you want to run it?” she asked.
“Only with you,” he said, and he smiled as her eyes brightened. “Marry me, Ellie.”
She ran her hands through his thick blond hair, her smile brilliant and her eyes shining with happiness. “Yes, my Lance. My beloved. Yes.” She met his kiss and then held him close as he hugged her.
“I’ve never been so afraid in all my life,” he whispered into her hair as he ran his hands over her back. “When I thought you were upstairs, and the stairway was filled with flames…I couldn’t have reached you.”
“Shh,” she soothed. “I’m fine now.”
He shook his head and leaned away, his eyes tear-brightened. “I swore, after Amy and Laura died, I swore that I’d never love again. That I’d never risk hurting like that again.” He looked at her with wonder. “I never expected to find you.”
She laughed and traced a finger over his cheek, her thumb running over and around his dimple. “Do you believe after all I lived through with Alan that I ever expected to love again? To trust another man again? To ever consider marrying again?” Her eyes filled, and she studied him. “I never thought I would be able to. You proved me wrong.”
He pulled her close. “Oh, Eleanor, we will have the most wonderful life. You, me, and the boys.”
She sobbed as he held her, and he loosened his hold. “Forgive me,” he whispered.
“No,” she said as she grabbed his hand to prevent him from moving away from her. “It’s a miracle to me how much you care for them, too. I never thought…I never thought another man would care for them as though they were his own.”
Lance’s eyes shone as he made her a vow. “I do, Ellie. I could never love them any more than I already do. They are wonderful boys, and I would be proud to call them my sons.”
She nodded as tears leaked out. “Yes.”
“We will have a beautiful life together,” he whispered.
“Yes,” she said again as she hugged him one last time before Mrs. Wagner returned.
* * *
Three days later, Eleanor was up and about and helping to oversee the transformation of the bunkhouse into a small home for her family. The large room for the men had been partitioned into two small rooms. The boys had their own space, and she and Mrs. Wagner shared a room. The kitchen area had been expanded to hold a table. Although small, Eleanor knew they would be fine.
She decided to take a break after the bedrooms were arranged and sat on one of the rocking chairs on the front porch. Smiling, she watched as Lance worked with Peter and Simon. The boys exulted at the news that Lance and she were to marry. She sighed as she looked back at the small bunkhouse as she didn’t know when the marriage would take place with such cramped living quarters. She frowned when she saw Simon look down the lane and then race toward her.
“Mama, Mama, Mama!” he yelled as he careened toward her.
She opened her arms and caught him so he would not fall. “Yes, my little love?” she asked as he panted from his mad dash from the paddock.
“Mr. Hayden is about to arrive,” Simon said.
“Oh my,” Eleanor breathed as she rose. She placed a hand on Simon’s shoulder for a moment, but he squirmed to be free and raced away again just as Sterling’s horse trotted into the yard. She raised a hand over her eyes and shook her head at Lance who walked in her direction. Lance stopped in his tracks and watched from a distance as Sterling approached her.
After Sterling dismounted, he tied his horse to a paddock rail and walked in her direction, ignoring Lance and her boys. When he reached her, he doffed his hat and reached for her hand. When she moved in a way to prevent him from clasping her hand, he frowned. “My dearest Mrs. Ferguson,” he murmured. “I am most relieved to see you much improved.”
“Are you?” she asked with one eyebrow raised. “I should have thought it would better serve your purposes were I to have remained unconscious.”
He frowned and shook his head in confusion at her words. “I fear you may still be recovering from your illness for you have no idea what you are saying.”
“I assure you, Mr. Hayden, I am in complete control of my faculties, and I am well aware of what I say. And I me
an what I say.” Her eyes flashed with annoyance as he looked at her as a father would a recalcitrant child.
“My dear Mrs. Ferguson,” he began again, fighting a glare when she shook her head in disagreement. “I was most concerned about your well-being. They would not allow me to see you the last time I visited.”
“I was in no condition to see anyone. Only the doctor visited me,” she said. When he took a step closer to her, she backed away a step. “I thank you for your concern, sir, but, as you can see, I am recovered and well taken care of by my family.”
“That’s just it,” he said in a low voice that grated on her nerves. “I want to be family. I want to care for you.”
Her eyes flashed with annoyance and resentment. “Is that why you lied to Mr. Gallagher and Mr. O’Neill, informing them we were betrothed?” She waited for a rebuttal or denial but watched as he gaped at her. “For you know as well as I do that I never accepted you.”
He quickly recovered his composure and smiled with as much charm as he could muster. “That is a mere formality between those who care for each other as you and I do. For we’ve known for some time that the only future for us is wedded bliss. Is that not so, Mrs. Ferguson?”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “No, that is not what I foresee. For I do not care for you. Not in that manner and I will not marry a man I do not love.”
He scoffed and looked at her as though she were a naïve girl still playing with dolls. “Who needs love when we could establish a formidable ranching empire?”
“You have no idea, do you?” she whispered as she looked at him with blatant pity. “For if you do not have love, then none of it is worthwhile. Not the number of cattle, not the masses of acres, none of it.”
He flushed red and leaned toward her. “To speak to me in such a manner, I assume you imagine yourself in love with another.”
“Yes,” she said, refusing to back away as he towered over her. “Although it is not my imaginings. It is the truth.”