Loner's Lady

by Lynna Banning

  They left the sheriff’s office in a daze. “Let’s go somewhere where we can talk,” Jess said when they were outside. “Somewhere we can be alone.”

  “There’s my room at the boardinghouse,” Ellen ventured.

  “I doubt we’ll get past Mrs. Everett’s front porch without raising a few eyebrows. As of this morning at breakfast, I think she knows everything.”

  “If what the sheriff says is true, as of this morning it may not matter. The whole town will know about us sooner rather than later.”

  “In that case, we’d better talk about the farm damn quick. Come on, Ellen. I know a quiet place.”

  Jess slowed the buggy he’d borrowed from Doc Callahan as the horse came up over the gentle hill on the far side of the cemetery. It was the quietest place he could think of, far enough from Dan’s grave so it wouldn’t upset Ellen, and hidden from the prying eyes of curious townspeople.

  He guided the mare into the sheltering grove of shady oak trees, and pulled up the reins. Beside him, Ellen sat silently, twisting her black skirt into one small handful of fabric after another. When the buggy’s motion stopped, she released the ball of sateen clutched in her fingers and let out a long, unsteady breath.

  Jess reached one arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “It’s hard to take in all that’s happened.”

  She nodded against his shoulder but said nothing.

  “You still feeling upside down?”

  She sat up and gave him a long, steady look. “Jess Flint, I have been upside down ever since that day you walked through my gate.”

  He tried to smile. “Not sure that’s a compliment.”

  Ellen shook her head wearily. “I have never felt so upside down about a man before.” She looked out across the hills, washed golden with the light from the setting sun. “I suppose I will just have to get used to it.”

  “Ellen, I think we should talk about—”

  “You said it last night,” she interrupted. “You don’t want to go back to the farm.” Even her voice sounded tired. He’d give anything if he could lie to her, but he couldn’t. Not to Ellen.

  “That’s true,” he said quietly. “I don’t. I can’t live there, where Dan died.” He spread his fingers and gently cupped her face. “On the other hand, I don’t want to be without you.”

  “Oh, Jess, the farm is my home. Don’t, oh please don’t ask me to give it up.” Her warm tears seeped under his fingers. He wiped them off her cheek, but they kept coming.

  “Looks like we’ve got a problem. I know it’s been your home, Ellen. But I want us to start over. Find another place.”

  “I don’t want another place,” she said, her voice breaking. “I want my place. I love that farm. More than that, I have earned it!”

  “True,” Jess said, his voice gentle. “But I haven’t earned it. I don’t love that piece of land, like you do.”

  She drew in a choking breath. “What difference does that make? It’s a good place, Jess.”

  “I’d hoped you might consider another.”

  “What other?”

  “Not sure yet. Just had to know if you’d think about it.”

  “No, Jess. I don’t want to think about it.” She turned her face away from him. “I don’t want to think about anything. I already know what I want—the farm is what I’ve always wanted. And now, dammit all, there’s you, as well.”

  She was sobbing now, and his heart twisted into a hard knot.

  He turned her until he could look into her eyes. “I love you, Ellen. Nothing’s going to change that.”

  “I know,” she murmured. “But I have to think about the farm. My farm.”

  He grasped her shoulder, pulled her against his chest and held her, smoothing her hair. “There’s something else, too. Doc Callahan’s made me an offer.”

  She jerked upright as if she’d been scalded. “An offer? From Uncle James? To practice medicine again?” Her voice rose with surprise. “Here, in Willow Flat?”

  “And in Partridge. Doc’s not a surgeon, and he needs the help. Partridge has never had a doctor at all, let alone one who can suture a wound or remove a gall bladder.”

  “But Partridge is seven miles from here! Practically in the next county!”

  “I know. No way around it, Ellen, you’re going to have to decide whether you want to come with me or not.”

  Jess looked up at the sky to gain control over his voice. The sinking sun had stained the clouds a rich crimson, shading into red-orange at the horizon. It was so beautiful it made his throat hurt.

  “Ellen, I know how you feel about the farm. I feel the same way about medicine. I always have, just didn’t let myself think about it over the years.”

  She sniffled in a breath and eyed him. “The way I didn’t let myself think, really think, about Dan.”

  Jess nodded, his eyes dark with pain. “I’ve got to do it. I want to practice again, if I can. If it’s not too late.”

  She reached up, rested her trembling fingers on his cheek. “It’s not too late for you,” she said quietly. “I think it is what you should do. It is too late only for us.”

  “You understand why I have to do this now?”

  Ellen stared for a long moment at the setting sun, then gazed into the sheltering trees surrounding them. Overhead the sky glowed purple, and gradually the shadows of the trees lengthened.

  “You would make a good farmer, Jess.”

  He groaned aloud. “Ellen, I don’t want to farm. I want to practice medicine.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes bright with moisture. “Yes. I think it’s right for you.” She touched her fingers to his mouth, blinking back tears. “Kiss me, Jess,” she whispered. “Kiss me hard.”

  Dr. Callahan lifted Ellen’s limp hand into his larger one and made a show of taking her pulse. “There’s nothin’ wrong with you other than normal grieving and a heart that’s being pulled two ways.”

  She felt an absurd desire to collapse into weeping again. “Oh, Uncle James, I just can’t seem to think clearly about any of it.”

  “The trouble is, Ellen honey, once a man finds himself after gettin’ off the track, it wouldn’t be right to stand in his path unless you’re going to walk it with him.”

  Ellen said nothing. Her uncle patted her hand and settled it back in her lap. “I’d say you need more sleep. And from the look of Jess this morning, he needs more sleep. What the devil do you two do all night that leaves you both so wrung out? Can’t get too lovey-dovey—the man can’t turn over without hurting too much to care about anything else.”

  Ellen surprised herself by laughing. Improper though her uncle’s remark was, her relief at being able to talk frankly to the old gentleman she’d known most of her life made her feel better.

  “We…talk,” she said at last.

  His silvery eyebrows waggled. “All night?”

  “Sometimes. Sometimes we fall asleep and don’t wake up until Mrs. Everett rings the breakfast bell.”

  “Ellen, you’re never going to conceive a child that way,” he said with a chuckle. “You’ve got to get that man healed up and then get on with life. With him or without him. You’re, let’s see, twenty-six—am I right?”

  Ellen nodded. “An old maid. But I don’t feel like an old maid.”

  “You’re not, by gum. Actin’ real womanly, if you ask me. Good for both of you. Scandalous, though,” he added with a grin. “Lord, I’m glad Iona—Mrs. Everett, that is—can’t hear me.”

  “Uncle James, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  The elderly man’s eyes fastened on her with an intensity she had never seen before. “Depends on what kind of question.”

  “A personal question. About Iona Everett.”

  His face went white as chalk. “Iona?” he rasped. “What about Iona?”

  Ellen laid her suntanned hand over her uncle’s freckled one. “Why have you never married her?”

  “Um. Well.” He swallowed audibly. “Such things take time, Ellie.�
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  She thought that over. “She’s been a widow for eight years.”

  “Yes. Well. So she has.” He ran his forefinger around the inside of his linen shirt collar.

  Ellen suppressed a smile. “How much time do you need? Come on, Uncle James. Tell me the truth.”

  “Aha. The truth. Well, the truth is…the truth is…”

  “The truth is you’re scared, aren’t you?”

  “Well, I… No. I’m not scared. Exactly. I—”

  Ellen gave him a long perusal. “Oh, yes you are. Exactly. No—don’t open your mouth to tell me a lie. I see right through you, you sweet old thing!”

  Instantly Doc’s lips snapped shut.

  “Now,” Ellen continued in a soothing tone, “let me prescribe something for you for a change. You are wasting precious time, Uncle dear. You’ve loved Iona Everett for years and years, and she…well, I can’t speak for her, of course. But don’t—”

  She broke off, remembering Jess’s face, full of pain and longing. For a moment time stopped as she sat immobile in her uncle’s office, remembering. Wishing.

  “Don’t let it slip by,” she added. “You mustn’t.”

  “I won’t, Ellie girl. One of these days I’ll—”

  “One of these days you will leave this earth. And like me, you will look back and wish you hadn’t wasted a precious minute of loving someone. Believe me, Uncle James.”

  Doc gulped and brushed his hand over his eyes. “I do believe you, Ellie. ’Course I do. And it’s not Dan you’re talking about, is it?”

  “No, it isn’t,” she admitted. “Not that I didn’t love him—or think I did, anyway. But it takes more than feelings to make a life together. It takes, well, being together. You do understand, don’t you?”

  Doc stared at her in silence. “My, how you have grown, my girl,” he said at last. He took her trembling hand in his. “I remember saying that to you a hundred times a year while you were growing up. Twice on your birthday. Now you’re giving your old uncle advice.”

  Ellen leaned her head against his shoulder. “You have to grow up, too, Uncle James. We all do.”

  Doc released a shaky breath. “You’re right, Ellie. You are purely right.”

  “Well, then…” She lifted her head and held his tired gray eyes for a long moment. “Here is my prescription, Dr. Callahan. Stop talking and go courting.”

  Ellen rose, swept her uncle’s whiskery cheek with her lips, and arranged her shawl. “Iona Everett would understand completely. She would probably applaud if you told her half the things you’ve said to me today.”

  “Ah, I couldn’t do that. I’ll not tell her what I’ve said to you. I’ll…I’ll tell her something else.” He dipped his head to hide the blush on his cheeks, which made Ellen smile.

  “Maybe you should tell her the smart, grown-up things I said to you?”

  Uncle James patted her shoulder as she reached the door of his consulting room. “As for you, Ellie. You just make up your mind about Jess and your farm and you’ll be fine. Indecision is the devil’s net.”

  Indecision! Her insides were ripping apart because of desperation, not indecision! This very afternoon she and Jess would ride out to the farm, and then…

  Her belly filled with cartwheeling birds. She didn’t think she could stand it. God knew she wanted to be his wife! But…she also wanted the farm she’d worked so hard for.

  And Jess was waiting for her answer.

  She choked down a sob and turned up the main street, heading toward the livery where Jess had boarded his roan.

  Today. It had to be today.

  Standing in the doorway of his office, James Callahan watched his niece, moisture stinging his eyes. “Don’t waste it,” he murmured. “But,” he added with a groan, “who am I to talk?”

  Ellie was right. He’d waited all these years, and time was running out. He had to do something about Iona Everett, and he had to do it pretty damn quick.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  In the midday sunlight the O’Brian farm glowed like a picture in a book, so serene and peaceful-looking Ellen caught her breath. Only as Jess drove the buggy through the front gate did she notice what she had not seen from the road.

  Her hens clucked in the chicken yard, but for the first time Ellen noted the gaps where the wire fencing had pulled away from the wooden henhouse. The rooster squatted in the only shady corner, listless from the heat and content merely to watch his harem rather than peck them into obedience.

  The cornfield was drying up. The tops of the stalks were seered brown, as were the edges of the plot. So, she observed as she gazed around the yard, was everything else.

  Worst of all, her garden was wilting. The once bushy green carrot tops had gone limp and now flopped over onto the ground. The sweet peppers were sunburned, the squash shrunken and desiccated. Only the tomatoes were thriving. Jewel-like, they hung like fat rubies ready to drop off the vines at a touch.

  In the far pasture she spotted Florence chewing her cud under a cottonwood, and the plow horse, Tiny, nibbling the sparse greenery that remained in the ochre-colored field. A shadow fell across her heart.

  Stiffening her resolve, she looked at the house. The back screen door hung open; the upstairs curtains were still closed. Other than bees buzzing among the yellow honeysuckle blooms, there was no sound. The shadowy gray emptiness inside her grew until she could scarcely breathe.

  “Want to go inside?” Jess asked, his voice quiet.

  “No,” Ellen said quickly.

  “The Gundersen boy said he cleaned up the blood. The kitchen floor’s stained, but—”

  “No,” she said again. “It’s the animals I care about. And my garden. What’s left of it.”

  She climbed out of the buggy and walked toward the rows of green vegetables, drooping like exhausted soldiers for lack of water.

  “I’ll fill a bucket,” Jess volunteered.

  He tied up the reins and had started to climb down when Ellen raised one hand. “No, Jess. Don’t.”

  She kept her back to him so he couldn’t see her face. With slow, hesitant steps, she moved past the chicken yard, running her hand over the sun-warmed wire fence, then stood inspecting the tumble of honeysuckle vines swathing the privy. The flowery smell covered the more earthy odors, and for some reason this made her smile. The sweet obscuring the rank. Nature, left to itself, did what was…natural. Her carrots and squash would wither in the late summer heat, would then drop their seeds to sprout again in the spring.

  Suddenly Jess was beside her. “You all right?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice calm. “Just admiring the honeysuckle.”

  “And that pink rose climbing up the other wall, see it?” He pointed to the far side of the structure.

  “It’s a Pink Cherokee,” she said softly. “I planted it from a cutting. I started another one last spring, against the side wall of the barn.”

  “They’re like children to you,” Jess murmured.

  Ellen’s mouth twisted. “No. They’re just roses.”

  “Ellen…”

  “Don’t, Jess. I know what you’re going to say. I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Maybe not,” he said, turning her toward him. “Maybe you don’t want to hear it, but I need to say it.”

  Her eyes shimmered. She raised her chin and looked him in the face. “Say it, then, and get it over with.”

  He gazed toward the pasture, then tipped his head down and held her eyes. “Sometimes you have to lose a bit of your life to keep from losing it all.”

  “I have lost enough,” she said, her voice uneven. “I’ve paid for this farm with my sweat and my tears, and no one is going to take it away from me. No one.”

  “The farm is one thing. Your life is another.” He gave her a gentle shake. “Face it, Ellen, there’s more to life than bush beans and sweet tomatoes.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” she cried. “But it’s the life I chose, and I am doing my very best to live it.�
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  She brushed her palm across her flooding eyes and pivoted away. Jess caught her before she could take a step, pinning her inside the steely circle of his arms. “You weren’t living out here,” he shouted. “You were just existing!”

  “No.” Her gaze slid sideways, then down to the ground.

  “Yes! Dammit, open your eyes and look at yourself. Why did you fall in love with me? Because your days were full and happy? Because you were satisfied? Because you were content breaking your back every day from sunup till dark? Eating your supper alone?” His voice rose. “Sleeping alone?”

  “Jess, don’t.”

  “I have to, honey,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I’m fighting for myself here. Fighting for my life.”

  Trembling with anger, she tipped her tear-swollen face up to his. “And I’m fighting for mine!”

  “You’re fighting, all right,” he growled. “But you’re so stubborn and pigheaded you can’t see what it is you really want.”

  “Oh? And I suppose you can?”

  “I sure as hell can. It’s not this hunk of ground, Ellen. It’s going to sleep at night and waking up in the morning with a man who loves you. Who wants to be with you.”

  She said nothing, just stared down at her hands.

  “Ellen, I’m asking you. I’m begging you, give this up and grab the life I’m offering. Now, before it’s too late!”

  She stood perfectly motionless for what seemed an eternity. Jess released her, but still she stood before him, not moving as much as an eyelash.

  He shouldn’t have yelled at her. Shouldn’t keep badgering her to come with him.

  Shouldn’t love her.

  But hell, he did love her. And he’d never yet walked away from a fight that mattered. His insides curled into a lump of stone. This one mattered more than any fight he’d ever had.

  Bees swooped in and out of the honeysuckle blooms. The cow lowed from the far pasture, chickens clucked and scratched. Still Ellen did not move. Then she looked up at him, and he saw the stunned look on her tear-ravaged face. He closed his eyes to blot out her pain.