She cleared her throat, and he glanced up. “I’ll heat some water so you can wash up if you’d like.” She gestured toward the modest sofa. “You’re welcome to spend the night there, but come morning, I’m afraid that’s where my hospitality ends.” She smiled stiffly. “I’m sure you understand that it isn’t seemly for a lady to be alone with a man who isn’t her husband.”
He nodded. “Of course, ma’am. I’m thankful for the lodgings.” He got to his feet and his presence overwhelmed her in her small cabin.
She glanced away to catch her breath. Once she’d set the pan of water on the fire to heat, and put a rag and bar of soap on the table, she was glad to see that he’d moved to stand by the window. While he was still an impressive sight to behold, at least she could breathe easier without feeling as though he were looming over her.
“It’s still coming down pretty good out there,” he noted.
“Texas storms are known to be ruthless, especially in the mountains,” she returned. Then, without anything else to say, she murmured, “Goodnight then, Mr. Cade.”
He didn’t turn around. “Goodnight, Miss Erindelle.”
Chapter Three
Chauncey expelled a heavy breath, releasing the tightness that had gathered in his chest. He looked toward the closed door that his unwilling hostess had disappeared through and set his hands on his hips, glancing toward the ceiling. She had made it abundantly clear that his presence wasn’t welcome beyond this evening, and yet, something about her called to a part of him that he’d thought was dead and buried long ago.
Without warning, his heart had begun to beat again. Until he could figure out why, he was rather reluctant to venture too far from her side.
He glanced toward the bar of soap that she’d set out for his use and scratched his scraggly beard. Perhaps if he freshened his appearance a bit more, she might be inclined to let him stay a bit longer.
He walked over to the sofa and removed his bearskin coat and wool capote. His knee-length moccasins were next, and as he set them beside Miss Erindelle’s boots near the front door, he smiled when they easily dwarfed her dainty, lace-up ones.
He paused and swallowed hard. How long had it been since he’d beheld such a remarkable sight?
Clad in tan buckskins, a white linen shirt, and beaded belt that had been a gift from his last fort trade, he withdrew the knife he kept tucked into a sheath in the back of his trousers and crouched down by the fire. Using the silver reflection from the wash pan as a crude mirror, he realized that not only had his beard grown several inches since he’d left Canada and the Red River Colony, but his hair had also gotten a bit unruly.
With Beau at his side looking on, he lifted his knife to his chin.
A sharp gasp sounded behind him and he shifted his gaze to see Miss Erindelle standing in the doorway of her room, still fully dressed. Even from this distance, he could tell that her eyes were wide and her skin had paled to match the color of her hair.
Realizing he still held the knife up, he slowly lowered it, as if he was confronted with a skittish deer, but then, he didn’t wish to frighten her further. “Did you need something else, ma’am?”
“No… I…” She stammered, and then turned and fled, shutting the door firmly behind her.
Chauncey hung his head with a long-suffering sigh and lifted the blade once more.
***
Elise leaned against the door to her room with a hand over her pounding heart. She had only meant to tell Mr. Cade where the extra chamber pot was so that he didn’t have to trudge out in the weather to use the outhouse behind the cabin, but when she’d spied that knife near his throat—
She closed her eyes, attempting to blot out the alarming sight. It had been over a year since she’d been in danger, and yet, the memory of that afternoon still haunted her. A pair of Confederate bounty jumpers had surprised her when she’d been on her way home from the village early that summer. They had been a gangly sight in their worn gray uniforms. The stench of body odor had nearly gagged her, as one of them had pulled her off the seat and held a knife to her neck. He’d threatened the vilest things and for the first time since her mother’s death, she had actually been afraid that she lived so far away from Charming where she could easily cry out for help.
Thankfully, the blacksmith’s son had passed by from hunting at that time and shot at the miscreants, scaring them away. But the damage had already been done, for now the sight of a knife blade caused immediate trepidation. It was just one more reason for Mr. Cade to be on his way as swiftly as possible.
Heading to her bed, she lifted the coverlet up to her chin and shut her eyes. This was one night she didn’t dare change into her nightdress as she willed herself to drown out the unwanted recollections of the past. But they refused to abate completely as she tossed and turned throughout the night.
Elise was grateful for the incoming dawn, but one glance outside her bedroom window told her that it wasn’t positive news. The skies were still heavy and gray with the threat of more snow to come and there was already a foot or more on the ground. She leaned her forehead against the pane and warred between her conscience and her common sense. She didn’t want to send Mr. Cade out into such inclement weather and be responsible for his demise should the worst happen, and yet, she didn’t want him to remain there with her either.
Perhaps she could direct him to the village inn with a note to Grannie…
She shook her head and decided that she would simply head out of her room and confront him like the brave woman her mother had raised her to be. One couldn’t live off the land in the wilds of Texas without knowing how to survive a few challenges.
After taking down her hair and brushing it until it crackled, she braided it back in the same, single braid, and changed into the most dour dress that she could find, a dull light gray. She glanced in the looking glass above her washstand with a satisfied nod and opened the door.
She stopped there, however, for Mr. Cade’s hound had apparently taken it upon himself to be her protector; Beau was lying down on the floor at her feet, his head propped on his front paws. He lifted his head when she appeared, his deep brown eyes looking up at her almost sorrowfully.
Her heartstrings tugged as she bent down and scratched him behind his ear like she’d seen his master do. His tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth and she couldn’t help but smile at the blatant show of contentment. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Beau?” she cooed. For reply, he moved his head closer to her and she laughed. “You’re quite the charmer.”
“He likes you.”
Elise stood upright at the sound of the deep voice. Like last night, her jaw went slack, but it wasn’t due to fright this time. The man before her looked nothing like the lumbering hulk of the stranger from last evening. It was apparent that the knife had worked its magic, for his hair was now tamed down and shorn, his black beard neatly trimmed. If he was handsome before, now he was positively virile.
She glanced away from that intent, dark stare. “He’s a good dog.”
Beau lumbered over to his master, who patted him affectionately on the head. “This one had been abandoned on the streets of Oklahoma. He weighed next to nothing when I rescued him. I guess after I started feeding him scraps it made him rather faithful.”
His words sparked another memory for Elise, but this one was rather bittersweet. “I had a dog a couple years ago, very similar to your Beau, but when he passed away a few months before my mother, I didn’t have the heart to get another one.”
He lifted those intense dark eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Elise might have been imagining things, but he actually sounded sincere. “Thank you.” She ducked her head and made sure to give him a wide berth as she headed for the stove. She had left her apron on the counter last night, too discombobulated to hang it back up, so now she grabbed it and tied it around her waist.
She risked a glance over her shoulder to find that Mr. Cade was still standing where she’d left him, a sl
ight smile touching his lips. For the briefest moment she wondered what it would be like to kiss him, but since those were dark thoughts that would do nothing but lead her down a dangerous path, she quickly returned her attention to the task at hand. “I hope you don’t have an aversion to bacon and eggs.”
“I sure don’t.” He paused, and then said, “Is there something I can do?” This time, curiosity compelled her to look at him. He was wearing a rather sheepish grin, which only managed to enhance his masculine appeal. “I’m used to staying busy. I fear I’m not fond of inactivity.”
Elise considered his request. She glanced at the fire, but it was already burning steadily in the hearth. Any other time it would have burned out and she would have shivered while she waited for it to roar back to life. She thought of his thick bearskin coat and walked over to grab a pail from the shelf. She returned and handed it to him. “I could use some more water. There’s a pump in the back, but it’s likely froze and it takes some work to get it moving again.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He reached out to take the pail and for the briefest moment their hands brushed.
As if she’d touched something hot, Elise snatched her hand back and began to busy herself with breakfast, praying that the tingling in her fingers would soon abate.
***
Chauncey was grateful for his buckskin moccasins, for while they weren’t all that warm, they were durable and waterproof. He glanced out over the white-coated mountainside and couldn’t help but shake his head. What a difference a day made. Yesterday he’d been trudging through the barren landscape with its dormant vegetation, and now it was covered with a thick blanket of snow with the impending threat of more to come. He lifted his head and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent strong upon the air. Mixing with the faint aroma of pine, it reminded him of home.
He opened his eyes. As much as he might miss Canada, those days were over. After what had happened…
He shook his head and pushed his way forward through the heavy snow. If there was one thing he’d learned over the years, it was not to lament that which was already gone. He’d left the past behind to start a new life. It was why he’d decided to make his way to California, in order to join the Central Pacific tasked with the construction of the transcontinental railroad to the west. He’d worked in Nebraska with the Union Pacific for a time, but as usual, his traveling spirit had him moving on. The only thing he owned was that pack in Miss Erindelle’s cabin. It held everything that had ever meant anything to him, the only things that tied him to this earth.
He shook his head, determined to put any further maudlin thoughts out of his mind. For however long he might be here, he was determined to do what he could to make Miss Erindelle’s life easier. She had done him a courtesy by taking him in and he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize her hospitality.
Not only was she worthy of such consideration, taking on the task of living alone in such harsh conditions, but she had also accomplished something he hadn’t been able to do for the past four years—give him a reason to live.
***
Once the food was done, Elise took down two plates, as well as two cups for coffee. She set the table and then paused to stare at the extra setting, her throat tightening. For the past two years there had been but one place for her. There hadn’t been more than that since her mother had passed. While Grannie would trek up to see her now and then to pay a visit, she generally didn’t get many other visitors. The stigma that her mother had been a witch and passed down her trade to her only child still followed her.
Because of the villagers’ reluctance to fully accept her as just an eccentric flower seller, it was why Elise continued to stay at the cabin instead of venturing into the valley more often. It made the winters long and lonely, but she always looked forward to the spring when the mountain would thaw and she could fill her cart with the fragrant blooms that were known all throughout Charming and beyond. People clamored over one another to be the first to choose from her selection of flowers, but that’s where the familiarity ended.
She shook her head, determined not to travel down that same path, for it took her down a road she would rather not traverse.
Elise started to turn away, but as she shifted her gaze, something by the fire caught her attention. Her heart jumped in her chest, for she realized it was Mr. Cade’s pack. The leather bound bag was sitting there innocuously, but it likely held all the secrets of its owner. Did she dare investigate? But more importantly, did she even want to know with whom she was dealing?
Again, her conscience warred within her, but curiosity and the need for survival won out, for she started to move forward. She bent down by the bag, glancing at the cabin door as she did so. Mr. Cade could return at any moment, and she didn’t want to be caught digging through his personal effects. But neither did she want to harbor some sort of criminal, so which one was the lesser of two evils? While what she might be about to do was rather immoral, it wasn’t punishable by death.
With another glance at the door, she slowly pulled open the drawstrings of his pack. There were a few odds and ends inside, clothing and a few essentials for living on the land. At first glance there was nothing much of note, but when she was about to close the bag back up, something crinkled in the corner. She held her breath as she reached inside and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper.
Her lungs froze, for when she smoothed it out, she realized that it wasn’t just a plain piece of paper.
It was a wanted poster with a rather remarkable likeness to her current guest.
Chapter Four
“It’s starting to come down pretty good out there again.” Chauncey spoke as he opened the door to the cabin, stomping his feet on the worn rug by the door. But when he looked up, he could tell that something was amiss. Miss Erindelle was perched on the edge of her chair near the fire, eyeing him as if she wanted to flee. He wondered what could have possibly happened during his absence to make her so wary of him, but then he spied his pack sitting near her by the mantel.
He set down the pail of water he’d retrieved with a sigh. He didn’t even try to misunderstand the reason for her sudden reticence. “I take it you found the poster.”
She blinked; obviously surprised that he had admitted his perfidy so easily. But instead of replying, her rather guilty expression confirmed his suspicions.
He removed his moccasins and outerwear and went over to his pack. He knew that the only way to gain her trust in him would be to tell her everything.
Well, most everything, that is.
He set his bag on the table and pulled open the drawstring to find the poster shoved rather haphazardly in the corner. His lips quirked, for at least she’d done her best to make it appear as though it hadn’t been disturbed. He removed the crude likeness that someone had drawn of his features and smoothed it out on the table. He saw the bounty price of five hundred dollars and said, “Last I saw, the price on my head had actually gone up to a thousand.”
He glanced up to see that her face had whitened even further. He also noticed the rifle sitting at her side and applauded her for it. At least Miss Erindelle wasn’t stupid. She was wise enough to protect herself. “What did you do?” she breathed.
“Murder.” He heard her sharp intake, so he quickly added; “You might have done the same if these men had killed your family over something as inconsequential as fur.” With that, he reached into his bag and pulled out the small tintype. He stared at the image for a moment and then handed it to his hostess. After a brief hesitation, she reached out and took it.
He watched her features turn from horror to compassion as she put a hand over her heart. “That was my wife, Martha and our three-year-old son, Thomas. They were shot down in cold blood. They were innocent, caught in the midst of the growing feuds around the river, but because I was a rifleman assigned to Fort Garry they became a target for my enemies when I wouldn’t turn my head to any wrongdoing. When I found out what happened, I took the law into my own hands instead of let
ting the authorities take them to trial where certain forces would undoubtedly… set them free.” He lowered his gaze to the hardwood and added, “My wife and I were what they refer to as Métis people. Our fathers were French trappers, and our mothers were Ojibwe Native American women. In spite of this, I’ve had to fight for every ounce of respect. Now, I’m just trying to find a way to…exist without them.”
Silence followed his statement, and whether or not Miss Erindelle chose to believe him or not was up to her. He’d told her nothing but the truth.
Except for his occupation on the side, which wouldn’t do anything but make him out to be no better than the men he’d killed. But mercenaries on the hunt for renegades usually weren’t looked upon that favorably.
After a time, Elise handed the photo back to him. He tucked it and the poster back in his pack and set it on the floor. He didn’t know what to expect from her, either a demand that he leave right then, or perhaps a fit of hysterics upon learning he was being hunted. In the end, she merely said, “You should eat. The food is getting cold.”
***
Elise watched Mr. Cade as he consumed his breakfast. Now, more than ever, she was conflicted about what to do with this man who had entered her life on a gust of winter wind. She didn’t want to feel sorry for him, but his story was one of loss and heartbreak, something she knew a bit about. While she certainly wasn’t a woman who could “rescue” him from his current despondency, other than offer him shelter from the bitter cold of a Texas winter, she could relent enough to offer a bit of amicable companionship.
“Are you any good at cards, Mr. Cade?”
Frozen Fancy Page 2
