by Nan O'Berry
Bethany Barringer seemed as befuddled as Callie. “I suppose,” she replied in a quiet tone.
“What’s your favorite, Momma?” Melinda spoke up.
“Oh, mine? Hum?” She murmured. “I think I prefer the yellow daisies.”
“And you, Melinda?” Augustus inquired. “What’s your favorite?”
The young girl grew thoughtful. “I like the Indian paintbrush.”
“Very pretty,” Bethany replied.
“Yes,” Callie remarked, but strangely, she didn’t feel any better.
* * *
The light caught the design in the glass and the image flickered on the wood of the table that stood behind the couch. Yet for all the glory, the only thing Callie sensed was the illusion of being happy. Unconsciously, she snipped the end of the flower stem and placed it in water. “Why does it bother me that Max went to another ranch?”
She heaved a sigh and reached for another blossom. Her mouth formed a thin line as she clipped the stem on the lupine. “I hope she is pretty.” Even as she mumbled the words a cold hand squeezed her heart in response.
Angry at herself, she snatched some Queen Anne’s lace to add to the vase.
“Oh, that does look pretty,” Bethany murmured walking through the dining room, wiping her hands on the edge of her apron. “I like the mix of colors.”
“Thank you.” Callie sensed Bethany coming to a stop. She could feel her eyes studying her as she worked. “There,” she stepped back and studied the arrangement.
Bethany stepped close and placed an arm around her shoulders. “It’s beautiful. Thank you for making my home look special.”
The warm words didn’t thaw the cold grip on her heart. Max’s mother seemed to sense the change.
“Callie, what’s wrong?”
She lifted her shoulders in a shrug.“Nothing really.”She brushed off her melancholy mood and stepped forward to finger the lacy design of the white flowers. Her emotions rose uncharacteristically filling her eyes with tears. “I haven’t heard a word from Seth. I thought—I mean, I hope he has not gotten cold feet.”
Bethany’s face filled with compassion. She reached out to Callie and placed a tender hand upon her arm. “It is going to be okay. I-I’m sure his work has just gotten in the way.”
Even though her chin trembled, Callie nodded. “I think I need to go upstairs for a bit. I-I….” she couldn’t finish her sentence.
“Go upstairs. You need a bit of down time.”
With a nod, she fled. Nearly running, she rushed up the stairs. Tears blinded her as she held out her hands and reached for the door, swinging it open then pushing it with more force than intended behind her. The sound seemed to echo throughout the house making even the floors vibrate beneath her feet.
Callie leaned against the door. Her hands, palm flat against the wood, she closed her eyes and let the tears slip down her face. For a moment, she gave into the pain that griped her soul. Then, with a sharp swipe of her hand, she brushed the tears away. “I have nothing to cry for,” she said aloud in hopes that the words would boost her spirits.
Instead, they rang hollow.
Feeling as if she were losing all hope, Callie hurried to her trunk. Dropping to her knees, her fingers trembled as she fumbled with the locks. Grasping the top, she swung it open. Her eyes searched the contents. “They have to be here!”
She ignored the panic in her own voice. Brushing back the folding stockings and pantaloons, she spotted the bundle of envelopes tied in bright blue ribbon. The frantic beat of her heart slowed. Callie reached for them. Once within her grasp, she pulled them to her chest. With a turn to put the trunk at her back, she melted to the floor. Her arms felt so heavy. Unable to hold them close, she let them fall into her lap.
For what seemed an eternity, she stared at the envelopes and the heavy penned ink that scrawled he name and the p.o. box from back in Richmond. A year ago, they had brought her such unbridled joy. Yet, today, they seemed faded. The paper crinkled like the dried up dreams she felt. What changed?
Even as the words echoed in the empty chambers of her mind, Callie knew. One word came to her mind, one word that served the purpose of her low spirits.
“Max,” she whispered.
The sound of his name filled the room and pressed down upon her shoulders.
“I came here because I promised to marry Seth. I can’t go back on my promise.”
She sniffled. Her fingers pulled at the ribbon and it fell free across her skirt. Lifting the first envelope, she turned it over and pulled the folded sheet of paper out. The paper was still white and the ceases crisp as she unfolded it.
Dear Callie,
My name is Seth Nolan. I came across your letter at Handley’s General Store. I am seeking matrimony and hope I’m not being to bold in taking pen to hand and writing.
Callie took a deep breath.
“No, you were not being bold at all.”
She focused on the rest of the letter as he introduced himself.
I am not a rather large man, but stand about average at five feet, round about ten good inches. I am blonde and blue eyed and turned twenty-nine on my last birthday. I don’t have a huge spread, but I run about a thousand head of cattle on my five hundred acre ranch situated near the town of Rattlesnake Ridge.”
“Yes, Seth, I wanted you to write to me. I wanted to come out here, to marry you…I just wish you were here.”
She put the letter down and stared at the lace curtains dancing in the afternoon breeze. Leaning her head back on the bed post, Callie closed her eyes. “Please, Lord, let my heart show me the man of my dreams.”
Behind her lids, an image began to emerge. She held her breath, but instead of the blonde blue eyed man she’d envisioned, a taller more muscular image with dark hair moved forward. Her eyes flew wide. Her right hand rose to try and keep the word from tumbling across her lips. But despite her efforts, his name tumbled forth.
“Max!”
* * *
The hour had grown late. Despite the need to head home, the desire evaded Max.
“You need me to freshen that drink, Max,” Dobson inquired as he paused to wipe the wide pine bar.
Max tilted the glass of beer toward him and stared down at the liquid. It wouldn’t help him to think, but it would sure ease the pain and drown his sorrows. His lips twisted. He gave a shake of his head and answered, “No.”
The bartender continued to move his towel over the invisible spot.
Max tilted his head to catch the man’s eye. “You got something to say?”
Dobson gave a shrug. “It’s not like you to come into the bar and hang out, Max. You didn’t even do it when your Pa passed.” He lifted his brow and took a breath before finishing his statement, “I just thought you needed a good ear to talk to.”
He let the words wash over him. Dobson was right, he needed someone to talk to, but a bartender wasn’t the best option. Max took a deep breath and swallowed. “Thanks, maybe next time.”
“Anything you say, Max.”
He waited for Dobson to move away, then grasping the glass mug, he moved toward the booths along the side. His glass slid along the wooden table as he took a seat. Tilting his hat forward, he hunkered down for the wait. If consistency made the cake, Lou or one of the others would be coming in for a quick drink.
“I need to talk to them,” Max mumbled.
The sound of boots and deep laughter drew his attention to the doorway. Sure enough, all three cowboys walked in. His eyes narrowed as he slowly stood. He watched them moved up to the bar and hook their boot heels onto the brass rod at the foot of the bar. His steps were measured as he moved behind them.
“Beer,” Lou called. “One for my friends as well.”
Dobson poured three mugs and sent them sliding down the length of the pine.
Max waited patiently for the right time to spring his trap.
Lou lifted his glass. “To the ladies.”
“To the ladies,” Teddy and Dill
echoed in unison.
Lifting the glass, Lou’s eyes caught Max’s reflection in the mirror behind the bar. The mouthful of beer choked him. Sputtering, he sent droplets flying across the bar.
“Easy there, Lou.”
“Hey there, watch yourself,” Dobson called angrily. “I’m not cleaning this bar all day long.”
“Sorry,” Lou coughed as he spoke.
Teddy who was standing next to him pounded his back. “You all right, Lou? Ain’t like you to choke on your drink.”
“Maybe it’s his conscience,” Max spoke.
Teddy’s hand paused midway. He turned his head and his eyes grew round.
Dill’s head gave more of a jerk, but he spoke first, “Howdy, Max, didn’t think we’d find you having a beer?”
He studied them for a moment. “No, I bet you didn’t. Why don’t you boys come over to my table? I think we have a matter to discuss.”
Lou picked up his mug. “Yeah.”
Max raised his arms to show them the way to his booth, with Lou in the lead, then Teddy and his brother followed.
“Good to see you, Max,” Lou began as he took his seat across from the foreman of the Nolan ranch.
“You too.” He glanced at Teddy and Dill sulking around undecided on where to sit. “Sit over there beside Lou, Teddy. Dill sit by me,” Max directed.
The two took their places.
Max wrapped his hands around the glass as the silence grew. “So, I’ve had Miss McBride around the ranch for nearly a week.” His eyes sent daggers at each of the conspirators. “How goes the raising of the money to send her back?”
Lou reached up and pulled at the bandana tied around his throat. “Well, it’s like this, Max. We’ve been working some odd jobs.”
“Odd jobs,” Max repeated.
Dill nodded. “Yeah, we took a load of wood out to the mine for Cameron. Got some mavericks rounded up and in the south pasture.”
“We’re plan on herding them over to Reno and sending them down by rail to Frisco. There’s a good market for beef.”
“How much have you saved?”
Lou glanced at the boys. “We had some expenses.”
“Uh huh.” Max hissed.
Lou grimaced and leaned to the right to pull a small group of bills from his pocket. “Got fifty-four dollars, if you count our pay for this week.”
Max hung his head. “Fifty-four dollars isn’t much. At this rate, it will be another six months before there’s enough money to send her back.” He shook his head despairingly. “We need to come clean. It isn’t right to keep her in the dark.”
“You can’t,” Lou hissed. He lowered his voice and leaned forward. “We could lose our jobs, Max. You don’t want to be a part of that, now do you?”
“Should have thought of that before,” he growled. “I’ve got things to do. I can’t play nursemaid another day.”
Lou’s hand shot across the table and grabbed Max by the arm. “Please.”
The urgency in Lou’s voice made Max pause.
“Give us just a little more time.”
Max drew his arm back. “Look Lou, that woman deserves better than this. She gave up a lot to come out here and marry and you…you messed it up because you brought her out here under false pretenses.” His tone grew harsher with each word.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think he’d marry someone else.”
“Well…he…did.” Max paused at each word.
Lou hung his head.
Max planted his stare at each man until they turned their gazes to look down at their drinks.
“She’s a lady. That’s what Caledonia McBride is – a lady. And you three aren’t fit to scrape the mud off her boots. Out of my way.” Max’s arm shot out and pushed Dill from the booth. He turned and placed his hands on his hips. Anger made his blood boil. This time, he didn’t hold back. “You three have one more week. Then by heaven, I’m going to come clean and tell her myself.”
The three cowpokes sunk down against the booth.
“One week.” He snarled before spinning on his heels and marching out the saloon doors.
Max let his horse gallop as he beat a path out toward the foothills. The beat of the animal’s hooves mimicked the raw throb of his heart. A mile or so from town, his mount slowed. Remorse overcame him and he slowed the animal to a walk.
“I’m sorry, Bandit.” He leaned down and brushed his hand across the damp neck of his dapple gray. “I’m taking my anger out on you.”
He let the dust of the town and the reluctance of the three cowboys to come clean slip away.
“I wish it was easy to come clean. To tell her, that it was a mistake. Lou and the boys made a foolish mistake trying to help a friend.”
The words he spoke aloud even had a hollow ring to his ears.
“I need a better way to come around this,” he grumbled.
Bandit snorted and gave a shake of his head.
“Why does telling the truth hurt so much?” Max took a deep breath and let it out slowly from his lips.
The rest of the way back to the homestead, he mulled his options. Pulling into the yard, he stopped in front of the barn and unsaddled his horse. After giving Bandit a rubdown, he turned the horse into the paddock and put his tack back in place.
The sun was dipping low in the sky. Several of the wranglers sat outside enjoying the last rays of the sun. Red gave him a nod as he walked past.
Max didn’t quite meet his eyes. His long strides ate up the ground as he crossed to the house. Opening the door, he found his family seated at the table.
One seat was vacant – Callie wasn’t there.
Chapter 12
Max tossed his hat onto the table and walked to his chair at the table. “Sorry I’m late,” he murmured.
He heard the clatter of a fork on the china and glanced over to his brother.
Augustus wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Did you get your business taken care of?”
Max pressed his lips into a thin line. “I met up with who I needed to see.” His words were cryptic but he could see by the twitch of his brother’s lips that he understood the hidden meaning. “I’ll just go in the kitchen and wash up.”
“Please do,” his mother replied. “I believe you have the scent of Dobson’s about you.”
Max hung his head. “Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled and cast a glowering look at his brother, who ignored him and picked up his fork.
Stomping to the kitchen, he gave the handle a hard push and the water flew into the tin sink. He grabbed the bar of homemade soap and rustled up a lather. Plunging his hands beneath the water, he scrubbed the dirt from the trail away. Snatching the towel, he wiped the moisture from his skin and hurried back to the table.
“Sorry for being late,” he offered the apology as he slid into his seat.
“No apology needed if you were working on a job,” his mother replied.
Still, her voice was crisp and Max knew she disapproved.
He slid his napkin into place on his lap and reached for the plate of beef. “Uh, where is Callie?” he finally asked the question that hit him when he first came in.
The table went silent.
Max paused and glanced up.
Melinda looked to her mother and then spoke, “She’s up in her room.”
Max put a fork of the sliced roast onto his plate. “She sick?”
Melinda picked at the vegetables on her plate. “No, not sick.” Her answer was a hair above a whisper.
Max put his utensil down. “Has anyone asked her?”
Augustus looked down at his food. “I knocked on her door. She said she was not feeling well.”
Again, Max could feel his anger rise. Reaching for the napkin, he tossed it onto the table and half rose from his chair. “Does anyone here have any feelings or concern for our guest?”
The fury in his voice made Melinda flinch as if he’d swatted her.
His mother lowered her fork and stared at him as if he had grown another head.
<
br /> “Apparently, you do,” his brother muttered.
Max leveled his resentment in his brother’s direction. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped.
Augustus shrugged. “Nothing.”
Max pushed his chair back with his legs. “I’ll be back.”
As he moved toward the stairway, he could hear his mother’s comment.
“What in the world has gotten into Max?”
What in the world? What in the world? The question leapt through his mind with each step along the stairs. Callie. Callie has gotten to me. He paused at the top step and took a deep breath. Lord knows, he was finding himself falling deeper and deeper under her spell. His hand hit the top of the banister. Pain shot through his palm. Max lowered his gaze to the carpet and tried to get a hold of his emotions. “She’s in love with another.”
But Nolan is married. His conscience reminded.
“But she doesn’t know that.” He grimaced.
He glanced at the closed door and took a calming breath. His steps were slower, measured, without angst as he moved toward her room. Standing at her door, he paused to listen to see if he could hear any movement.
None.
Max lifted his hand and gave a soft knock. “Callie.” He leaned his head against the wood. “Callie, it’s me, Max.”
The bed springs beyond the door creaked.
He closed his eyes and in his mind, he could see her moving toward him. Those blue eyes large and wondering, just the kind of eyes a man could drown in if he let himself be drawn in.
“I-I’m not feeling well, Max.” There was anguish in her voice. He pressed his palms against her door. “Are you ill? Do I need to ride for a doctor?”
“No, no, Max. I’m just very tired.”
Something was amiss in her tone. His hand went to the doorknob only to find it locked. “Callie, let me get my mom….”
“No. No, Max. I just need a good night’s sleep. I’m tired. I….” she paused. “I will see you in the morning.”
He listened to the strain of her voice. Laying his forehead against the wood, he whispered, “Are you really okay?”
