by Judith Pella
“Come on,” said Matt, casually taking Carolyn’s hand, “let’s go find the others and get some chow.”
81
The constant prairie breeze was colder now than it had been a month ago. What few trees there were had begun to lose their leaves, and the changing of the seasons was clearly evident. Carolyn had come to Stoner’s Crossing in the blazing intensity of a Texas summer, so it seemed appropriate that she should be thinking about leaving during the more temperate autumn.
It would not be a permanent departure; she had already decided that. She would return, but for now, she missed home—the Wind Rider Ranch. She wanted to spend some time with her mother and Sky and Sam—normal, relaxing time that was not clouded with all the intense emotions that had hung over them these last several months. But she would return to the Bar S Ranch. She would have to—it was hers now, at least part of it.
Once all the legal dust had settled and she’d had these last weeks to explore in peace, she was able to appreciate Stoner land. It had been nearly two months since her mother had been officially acquitted of the murder charges, and she, Sam, Sky, Griff, and the boys had returned to the Wind Rider Ranch. Lucy Reeves had been convinced to go north with the Wind Rider folks, and Carolyn was sure she saw pleasure in Griff’s eyes at that idea.
Jonathan Barnum had only recently left Stoner’s Crossing. He had stayed to help Eufemia Mendez, and as they had expected, a hearing determined she had acted out of self-defense. The judge reprimanded her strongly for allowing others to suffer because of her silence, but he understood her dilemma because of her unborn child and her fear for him.
There had been no way to spare Caleb’s and Leonard’s reputations in all this, but the truth came as no surprise to the people in town who knew them. It wounded Caleb that his son’s memory should suffer so; he would never be able to fully accept that Leonard was less than the image Caleb had built of him. It was almost as hard for Carolyn to let go of her childhood fantasies of a good and noble father. But at least she was learning that her father’s character did not have to reflect on the kind of person she became. The example of Jacob and Laban stood out to her. Caleb Stoner was their father, but Laban had allowed himself to be hurt and crushed by Caleb’s cruelty. Jacob had broken free and become his own person.
Carolyn was free now, too. Where she would go, what she would do might not be exactly clear, but at least there were no more shadows hovering over her.
She reined her mount to a halt on top of a rise from which she could survey several miles of Stoner land. It was good land—probably better, if not more beautiful, than the Wind Rider spread. But it could never be home. She had come here months ago seeking a family she had never known, and that search had more than ever made her appreciate the family she had left behind.
Her thoughts turned to her grandfather. He was dead now, in his grave a full week.
Physically, he had suffered terribly in those two months since the discovery of his son’s real murderer. In the end he had finally come to accept the love Carolyn had for him, and Carolyn hoped that helped ease the physical pain a little. She still felt deep sorrow that so many years of his life had been wasted on bitterness and hatred. A few days of love seemed so paltry by comparison. But only Caleb could be blamed for his empty life.
Carolyn didn’t want to dwell on that, however. She wanted to remember that last day before he died.
“You’re still here, Carolyn?” he had called to her so weakly from his bed.
“I won’t leave you, Grandfather.”
“That’s more than I deserve.”
“It’s not for me to judge.”
“You always were a good girl. And I hate to admit it, but that’s one part of you that is not from your Stoner blood. We were all a mean-spirited lot. If you think I was bad, you should have seen my father. As a child, I don’t remember a day I didn’t get a beating. And my grandfather was a captain of a slaver—the toughest, meanest man I ever knew.”
“There were no nice ones, Grandfather?”
“The women—some of them were decent. I had a sister—you didn’t know that. She was several years older than I was. She is long dead, but after my daily beating, she used to tend my cuts and sneak me food. Don’t get me wrong, Carolyn, more often than not I deserved those beatings. I was an ornery child.” He stopped for a while to catch his spent breath. When he began again, there was a more pleasant look on his wasted face. “I just remembered an uncle; I haven’t thought about him in years, probably since I left home. His name was Thomas Stoner, my father’s younger brother. He was a nice gentleman. He brought me presents and talked—actually talked!—to me, telling stories and such. I remember once when he was visiting, he grabbed the switch from my father’s hand right as he was striking me. Uncle Thomas turned the switch on my father.
“‘See how you like that, Jed!’ he yelled, hitting my father good. ‘You’re going to turn this boy into a devil if you keep this up.’”
Caleb smiled grimly. “Good old Uncle Thomas was right, eh, Carolyn?”
Carolyn didn’t know what to say. A lie rose to her lips but it seemed so false, so transparent, it couldn’t possibly be of any comfort to Caleb. Before she could form a better answer, Caleb interceded.
“Don’t worry, Carolyn, I won’t make you answer such a question. It doesn’t really matter what you think. What you’re doing is what I’ll remember, what I’ll take with me to my grave. No one, since my sister, has ever treated me with such care.”
He reached up and took Carolyn’s hand. His own hand was thin and bony, cold, with a bluish tone. She was glad she didn’t have to say anything. Maybe he was a sour and misguided old man, but he was her grandfather.
“At least you can’t say all Stoners were bad,” she said at length.
“The bloodline is improving, I’ll say that much,” Caleb said. “That Ramón is a decent fellow. But I hope he can run a ranch. He’ll need you around for a long while.”
Caleb had stipulated in his will that Carolyn and Ramón would inherit the ranch equally. Jacob did not want the ranch, even if he could have risked his freedom by accepting it. Caleb willed him cash instead, which he accepted. Carolyn had decided that she’d stay on to help run the ranch until Ramón knew the ropes. After that, she wasn’t certain what to do.
She wasn’t ready to think that far into the future. There was still so much to deal with while her grandfather lived. His attitude toward spiritual things had troubled her deeply for a time. And on that last day with him, it was on her mind more than usual. She desperately wanted to see him die in peace—as much peace as a man like him could possibly know. He claimed he knew “his Maker,” as he called God. But he didn’t intend on making any eleventh-hour death scenes. Let God judge him for the life he had lived, not for a few moments of so-called “weakness” at the end.
Carolyn read to him the story in the Bible of the laborers who were given the same reward whether they had worked all day or just the last hour.
“I will cheat too many people if I die and go to heaven,” he said with a dry chuckle.
“You never cared what people thought before,” Carolyn told him with mock tartness. “Why start now?”
He laughed, though it brought on a bout of coughing that lasted for ten minutes.
“I’ll think about it,” he said finally.
Caleb had died before Carolyn could speak to him again. She would never really know if he had indeed made his peace with God. But it was not too difficult to leave his final fate in the hands of a merciful God.
At least she herself had peace, knowing she had done all for him that was possible. But Carolyn’s peace went deeper than that, having to do with the struggles that had plagued her all her life. The things in her hidden past she had feared for so long had come true. They couldn’t have been worse, she supposed, if she had dreamed them all up in a terrible nightmare. Yet by the grace of God she had survived—not merely survived, but matured and grown. Her mother’s words to her
before she and Sam had departed for home would always be a dear memory:
“I am so proud of you, Carolyn! To think, nineteen years ago I had been afraid I was going to give birth to a monster. But God surprised me, and blessed me! He gave me you—a vibrant and dear girl…a woman now! You have truly grown up.”
Carolyn dug her heels into Tres Zapatos’ sides, descending the low hill at a brisk trot. In another fifteen minutes she came to the gate that announced she was at the Stoner Bar S Ranch. Maria would have lunch ready, and Carolyn was hungry. It wouldn’t be anything like beans and coffee from a chuck wagon, but the old housekeeper was a pretty good cook. Carolyn was glad Maria had decided to stay on to care for another generation of Stoners. With God’s help, the woman’s final years with the family would be more peaceful than her earlier ones.
Carolyn was greeted at the stable by Ramón.
“You’re not going to take my horse, are you?” she scolded. “You’re a rancher now, Ramón, not a stableboy.”
“Old habits, you know.” He grinned sheepishly. Carolyn dismounted and Ramón continued. “I’ll take your horse anyway. The foreman wants to see you—there’s a problem with the herd he’s getting ready for market, and I didn’t know what to tell him.”
“Where is he?”
“Out back.”
Carolyn gave Tres Zapatos’ reins to her half brother and strode confidently away. She had been faced with many of her limitations and weaknesses these last months, but she still had no doubts about her knowledge of ranching.
Matt Gentry was in the back corral working a newly broken filly. She was a pretty little thing, kind of dainty, but full of vitality. She was going to make a good mount. Carolyn had thought about keeping the horse for herself, but she could see that Matt was quite attached to the roan beauty.
“Matt,” Carolyn called after watching for a few minutes.
He looked her way, then strode to where she was standing at the rail. “Howdy, Carolyn.”
“Ramón tells me you wanted to see me,” she said to the new Bar S foreman.
“Just thought you oughta know I’ve found several dead calves lately. I’m afraid we got a wolf problem.”
“A big pack?”
“Could be.”
“You know any good wolfers in these parts?”
“There’s a fella used to hunt wolves for the Bar S. He’s kind of a character, though. I once saw him pick his cigarette makings out of a pocket full of wolf poison—mostly strychnine—and smoke all day and live to tell about it.”
“Yeah, we got some dandies up north, too. If you think the problem’s bad enough, we better take care of it.” She paused. “I guess Ramón could have told you that.”
“He ain’t an old hand like you, Carolyn. Give him time.”
Carolyn chuckled. “And how’s it going with you, Matt? You taking to this foreman’s work?”
“I reckon it’s growing on me. It’s more work than I thought it would be. You know us cowboys, always complaining about what an easy life the boss has.”
“Well, I think we make a good team,” said Carolyn. “I hope you stick around.”
“I ain’t going nowhere soon.” Matt rubbed his chin and studied Carolyn for a moment. He didn’t look at her in that frank way Sean had that was so disquieting, but it was with a kind of intensity that made Carolyn tingle. “I always figured this might be a good place to hang my spurs for a long spell.”
“Hey, that reminds me,” said Carolyn lightly, shaking away the odd feelings assailing her, “did you ever meet the banker’s daughter?”
“Matter of fact, I did.”
“You like her?”
“She was right nice.”
“Really?”
“You sound like that surprises you, Carolyn. You told me yourself she was nice.”
“I guess I did,” she replied slowly, with regret she couldn’t explain.
“Yessir!” Matt went on enthusiastically. “She fixed me chicken that melted right in my mouth; and can she dance! Why, it was like floating on a cloud.”
“Good. I’m glad.” Carolyn’s tone seemed to indicate otherwise.
“One problem, though…”
“What?”
“She wasn’t near as much fun as a gal I know who couldn’t open a can of beans properly even if a gun was held to her head, and who dances like a bow-legged horse.”
“Why, you—” Carolyn began irately, until she figured out that Matt’s words were as much a compliment as anything. “You really mean that, Matt?”
“Every word!” he answered with an earnest straight face, then grinned.
They laughed until their sides hurt. At last Carolyn said with complete sincerity and as much solemnity as she could muster, “I’m glad you’re sticking around, Matt.”
“Well, Carolyn, I know a good thing when it stampedes over me!”
JUDITH PELLA has been writing for the inspirational market for more than twenty years and is the author of more than thirty novels, most in the historical fiction genre. Her degrees in teaching and nursing lend depth to her tales, which span a variety or settings. Judy and her husband make their home in Oregon.
VISIT JUDITH’S WEB SITE:
www.judithpella.com
Books by
Judith Pella
The Stonewycke Trilogy[*]
Texas Angel (2 in 1)
PATCHWORK CIRCLE
Bachelor’s Puzzle
Sister’s Choice
RIBBONS OF STEEL[**]
Distant Dreams
A Hope Beyond
A Promise for Tomorrow
RIBBONS WEST[**]
Westward the Dream
LONE STAR LEGACY
Frontier Lady
Stoner’s Crossing
*with Michael Phillips **with Tracie Peterson
