“Maybe we should go to the hotel,” he whispered suggestively. “Find a room with a bed.”
“No, thanks,” she murmured.
“Hey, don’t be so quick to turn down a good thing. We could have a lot of fun together.”
“No, thanks,” she said again, her tone reinforcing the message.
“Pity. We could be good together.”
Ellie sincerely doubted that.
As Richard opened the door to the mercantile, the hinges squeaked loudly and Ellie shivered. The sensation persisted, the feeling that she was being watched.
The inside of the old store was like something out of a museum. The counter stretched the length of the room, with shelves built behind it. What Richard had said was true; there were several tin cans scattered about. The cans themselves were swollen, their labels faded.
“What happened to make people move fast enough to leave goods behind?” Life was hard in the Old West, and food was often in short supply.
“Who knows?” Apparently Richard didn’t find her question of any interest.
The cash register was there, too, the till open. Bramble weeds littered the floor. Ellie saw a couple of old barrels and a table, but no chairs.
“Okay, we’ve seen it,” she said. “I’m ready to go back.”
“You don’t want to see anything else?”
“No.” Her curiosity was gone and all she wanted now was to escape. Even knowing that her father’s great-grandparents had walked these very streets and stepped inside this store wasn’t enough to keep her.
“Come on, let’s go look at the hotel,” Richard urged again. “There’s quite a fancy staircase—if you ignore the occasional broken step.”
“Richard!” The hotel had to be riddled with danger. If the staircase collapsed or they fell through a damaged floor, heaven only knew how long it’d be before someone found them.
Glen would come. Ellie was genuinely relieved that she’d told at least one other person where she was headed, even if he disapproved. If she did turn up missing, Glen would leave no stone unturned. He’d look for the town until he located it again. Then he’d mount a search-and-rescue effort, enlist everyone’s help. He wouldn’t rest until he knew exactly what had happened and why. He was that kind of man. That kind of friend.
“I want to check the cemetery,” she decided as they left the mercantile.
“The cemetery? As jittery as you are?” Richard said. “Why?”
“I want to look for a grave. A little boy by the name of Edward Abraham Frasier.” Since the Bible had given no information about what had caused his death, perhaps a grave marker would.
“All right,” Richard agreed, but she could see he wasn’t enthusiastic.
The sensation of someone following them grew less intense as they walked toward the outskirts of town. The gate to the cemetery hung by one hinge.
“Someone’s been here recently,” Ellie said, stopping just inside the fenced area. The dirt had been churned recently to plant a rosebush.
“Savannah,” Richard said. “She was after some old roses and replaced the ones she took.”
“Savannah’s been here?” Ellie wasn’t completely surprised. Savannah scoured the highways and byways for old roses, hoping to find unfamiliar and unusual species. And replacing the roses she’d removed? Savannah never took without giving; it was her nature.
“What was the name again?” Richard asked.
“Edward Abraham Frasier.” Some of the graves were marked with wooden crosses that had badly deteriorated with age. And only a few names were legible on the stone markers. After a couple of minutes she gave up the effort.
“You done yet?” Richard asked, sounding bored.
“Yeah.” While she wished she’d found the grave, she didn’t want to linger in town any longer.
Richard held her hand as they scrambled up the incline, then followed the rocky path that led to the truck. He helped her into the cab—obviously charm died hard—and climbed inside himself. “Put on the blindfold,” he instructed her, turning the ignition key.
Ellie complained under her breath. He had nothing to worry about; she had no intention of returning to Bitter End. She didn’t know what had made her ancestors leave the town; all she could say was that she didn’t blame them.
Once the blindfold was securely in place, Richard put the truck into gear.
The ride back to Promise was accomplished in half the time it had taken to drive out. Once again the truck pitched and bucked over the uneven terrain, leaving Ellie to wonder how he’d found Bitter End on his own. Of one thing she was sure—neither Glen nor Cal would have taken him there. Nor would Grady or Savannah. No one she knew would purposely return to Bitter End. She wouldn’t. Never again. Glen was right; once was more than enough.
Richard dropped her at the feed store. “Thanks,” she said, and was about to open the door and climb out when he stopped her.
“Hey, there’s no need to rush, is there?”
She did have work to do. “Well—”
“Don’t you want to thank me?” he asked.
“I thought I already had.”
“A kiss wouldn’t hurt.” Without giving her a chance to respond he reached for her shoulders and brought his mouth to hers. Technically it was a kiss, but Ellie experienced none of the warmth or gentleness she had with Glen. None of the surging passion. What Richard classified as a kiss was little more than the touching of lips.
Apparently he wasn’t satisfied, either, because he opened his mouth and twisted it over hers. Ellie still felt nothing. Which surprised her, considering how attractive the man was.
Richard released her and smiled. “I’ll give you a call soon,” he said as though nothing was amiss. “We could have something good together, Ellie. Think about it, all right?”
She stared at him, at a total loss for anything to say. The kiss that had left her cold had somehow convinced him they could become romantically involved.
“You’re coming to the Cattlemen’s dance with me, right?” he asked, when she finally climbed down from the truck.
“Ah...” She stood with one hand on the door, ready to close it. “I’ll let you know for sure, but I don’t think so.”
Richard’s eyes widened with surprise. “But I’ll see you there?”
“I...I don’t know.” She wasn’t in the mood for much partying. “Perhaps,” she said vaguely.
“In any case I’ll see you soon,” Richard said cheerfully, and with a jaunty wave drove off.
Ellie walked into the store and George Tucker handed her a pile of pink slips. “Glen Patterson called three times,” he muttered in a way that told her he wasn’t keen on being her secretary. George’s expertise didn’t extend to the office.
“Glen phoned?” Her heart reacted immediately.
“Would you kindly put that young man out of his misery?” George asked. “I’ve got better things to do than answer his questions about you.”
Smiling to herself, Ellie headed for her office in the back of the store. Maybe, just maybe, there was some hope that she and Glen could resurrect their friendship, after all.
***
Glen hadn’t been worth a plugged nickel all day. Glen and Cal had been out at Cayuse Pasture, which was approximately twelve miles square in size. They were grazing about 400 cows and yearlings there. Even the dogs didn’t want anything to do with him, and Glen saw their point. His mood had been murderous all day. Three times he’d left Cal and the other hands to race back to the house so he could call Ellie. His frustration rose each time he was forced to leave a message with George. Now that he was back at the ranch house, he discovered his disposition hadn’t improved. The answering machine showed that Ellie hadn’t tried to call him back, which meant she was still with Richard in Bitter End. He didn’t like
it, not one damn bit.
“If you’re so concerned about Ellie,” Cal said, “why don’t you drive into town and find out what happened to her?” Cal himself would be driving into town later for his weekly visit to Billy D’s, the local watering hole. Most single ranchers met at Billy D’s for a cold beer on Friday and Saturday nights. Then some of them would wander over to the café in the bowling alley or the Chili Pepper for a barbecued steak. Adam Braunfels served up one of the best T-bones in the state. Glen would probably join his brother and friends—after he’d talked to Ellie.
“You’re letting a woman mess with your mind, little brother,” Cal said with the voice of one who’d been disillusioned by love. He opened the refrigerator and reached for a can of soda. “Take my advice or leave it—that’s up to you. But the way I see it, Ellie’s already got a ring through your nose.”
“The hell she does,” Glen argued. Sure, she’d been on his mind, but only because he was worried about her and Richard visiting Bitter End.
“I was thinking about moseying into town early,” Glen admitted, making light of it.
“Yeah, fine,” Cal said with a decided lack of interest. “Why don’t you just marry Ellie and be done with it?”
Glen frowned at his brother, but rather than become involved in a pointless argument he tore up the stairs to shower and change.
By the time Glen reached the outskirts of Promise, anger simmered just below the surface. He intended to check in with his friends at Billy D’s in a while, but he wouldn’t rest easy until he’d spoken to Ellie. He needed to see for himself that she was all right.
When he arrived at the feed store, George Tucker took one look at him and pointed him toward the business office. So Ellie was back, but she hadn’t bothered to return his calls.
The door was half-open and Glen saw Ellie sitting at the desk, her fingers flying over calculator buttons. She glanced up when he walked into the room. Under normal circumstances he would have poured himself some coffee. Not this afternoon. At least not yet. He wanted to find out what her mood was like first.
“You went to Bitter End, didn’t you,” he said quietly. Although he wished she’d taken his advice, his relief that she was safely home overrode any real anger.
“Did you honestly expect me not to?”
“No,” he said, knowing his actions the night of Ruth’s party had made that impossible.
“I...I wasn’t overly impressed with the town,” she admitted.
Well, he thought, that was a start in the right direction.
“Why didn’t you ever mention it before?” she asked, and he noticed a hurt tone in her voice.
“I never talked about it with anyone.” He walked across the room and reached for the coffeepot. “If I’d told you, you would’ve wanted to see it for yourself—which you did.”
“To tell you the truth, I understand why you didn’t want me there.”
That was what he’d figured. “I was worried about you,” he said.
“I know. I talked to Cal a few minutes ago.”
Glen frowned. He could just imagine what his brother had said. On second thought he didn’t want to know.
“You plan on making a return visit?” he asked, instead, keeping the question light.
“Go back? Not on your life.”
“Good.” He raised the mug to his lips and took a sip of coffee.
“I think we should talk,” Ellie surprised him by saying.
“Talk?” He froze, not sure he liked the sound of this.
She laughed softly, and Glen realized how much he’d missed hearing that. She had a deep rich laugh, unlike a lot of women he knew who had delicate laughs. Ellie’s was robust and confident, as if she didn’t need to prove her femininity by being reserved. He found her unique in any number of other ways.
“We can try to ignore it, pretend we’ve forgotten it, but the best way to deal with...what happened is to discuss it.”
His eyes held hers. “Are you talking about...” He was having as much trouble saying the word as she was.
“The...kiss.” There, she’d said it.
“The kiss,” he repeated in low tones, as though this were something dark and dangerous. He was beginning to think it was.
Ellie laughed, and soon he did, too.
“We should acknowledge that we were caught up in a momentary impulse,” she suggested primly. “And... Oh, hell, let’s just forget it.”
Leaning against the edge of her desk, Glen cradled his coffee mug in both hands. “I don’t think that’ll work.”
“Why not?” Ellie stood and replenished her own coffee.
Because they’d been friends all these years, Glen knew exactly what she was doing. What had prompted her sudden burst of activity wasn’t a craving for more coffee but an effort not to let him see what was in her eyes.
He set his mug aside and touched her shoulder. She jerked around as though he’d burned her.
“I don’t want to forget the kiss,” he said with blinding honesty. He didn’t recognize it as the truth until the words left his lips.
“You don’t?” She sounded startled.
“Do you?” He was a fool to ask, but he couldn’t have held back the question for anything.
“I...I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” If he could hang out his pride to dry, then she’d damn well better be prepared to do the same thing.
She blinked twice. “All I want is for us to be friends.”
“We are. That hasn’t changed.”
“But it has!” she cried, gesturing wildly with her hands. “That kiss changed everything. I used to be able to talk to you.”
“You still can.”
“No, I can’t.”
“Try me,” he challenged.
She threw back her head and laughed, but this time her amusement lacked sincerity. “We can talk about anything, can we?” she flung at him. “Fine, then we’ll talk about how Richard’s kisses leave me cold and how all I could do was compare the way I felt when I was in your arms.”
Glen didn’t hear anything beyond the first few words. “So you’re kissing Richard now. Is there anyone else I don’t know about?”
“See?” she cried, tossing her arms in the air. “My point exactly.”
“What point?”
“We can’t talk.”
“We’re already talking! What do you mean?” This was the kind of convoluted conversation women suckered a man into—giving him just enough rope to hang himself. Glen had seen it happen often enough and had always managed to avoid it with Ellie. Until now.
“You said there wasn’t anything I couldn’t discuss with you, and already we’re at each other’s throats.”
“I am not at your throat!” he shouted, his patience gone. The entire day had been a waste. First he’d fretted about her with Richard in Bitter End. Then he’d attempted to revive their friendship, only to learn she’d been locking lips with Richard Weston.
“You’re welcome to him,” he said, setting the mug down forcibly enough to send coffee sloshing over the sides. “As far as I’m concerned, you and Richard deserve each other.”
“Oh, please, now you’re acting like a jealous fool.”
He was out the office door before he realized he’d had more than one reason for seeing Ellie. He walked back and leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms.
Ellie glanced up and waited.
“You going to the dance?” he asked finally, as if her answer didn’t really matter.
“I...haven’t decided yet. Are you going?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I probably will, too.”
“See you there?” he asked, his mood brightening.
She nodded. “Will you wait for me?”
She smiled back.
Five
As the evening wore on, Glen’s feelings toward Richard Weston grew even less friendly. He resented the other man’s putting Ellie at risk by escorting her to Bitter End. The more he thought about it, the more irritated he got. Richard’s dating Ellie had never set right with him, either. Especially now, when she was at a low point in her life following her father’s death and her mother’s move to Chicago. Although Ellie generally had a level head, Glen didn’t want Pretty Boy taking advantage of her.
And then there was his own unresolved—and unexpected—attraction to her.... But no, the real concern was Ellie’s vulnerability to a superficial charmer like Richard.
The only thing to do, Glen decided, was speak to Richard personally. Clear the air. Set him straight. He’d wait for the right opportunity. He was well aware that Ellie wouldn’t appreciate his having a chat with Richard on her behalf, but she didn’t need to know about it, either. Someone had to look after her interests. Glen liked to think of himself as her guardian. Okay, guardian was probably the wrong word, seeing as they were close to the same age. What she could use was a sort of...advocate. A concerned friend. Yes, that was it. An advocate. Someone who had her best interests at heart. Stepping in where needed.
With his role clear in his mind, he held off until late Wednesday afternoon before driving out to the Yellow Rose Ranch and confronting the youngest Weston. This was between him and Richard. Man-to-man.
He turned into the drive and parked in the yard beside Grady’s truck, then slowly climbed out of the cab. Savannah was in her rose garden wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat to shield her face from the sun. Richard sat on the front porch, strumming a guitar, apparently so involved in his music that he didn’t see or hear Glen’s approach. Rocket, Grady’s old black Lab, slept on the porch, sprawled out on a small braided rug.
Carrying a wicker basket filed with fragrant pink roses, Savannah waved and walked toward Glen.
“Howdy, neighbor,” she said, smiling her welcome.
“Savannah.” He touched the tip of his Stetson. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
Heart of Texas Series Volume 1: Lonesome CowboyTexas Two-StepCaroline's Child Page 26
