by Jillian Hart
“That is incredibly generous. I can’t expect you to do that.”
“I am your boss, so you will simply have to endure my decisions.” Selma leaned in to brush a strand of hair out of Ruby’s eyes, as concerned as a mother. “Will you at least be able to stay for the ball? I need every employee I have on staff, it’s such a busy evening. Your family could use the extra pay.”
“It’s my hope to stay here until Christmas, but I don’t know for sure. It depends on the banker. My father is trying to shield me as best he can, so he isn’t very forthcoming.”
“You be sure and talk to me. Let me know how things are progressing. If you need anything, you can ask me.” Such loving words, so honestly spoken.
“I have everything I need.” It was so easy to dwell on what was missing, on what one didn’t have. Her father lived a life of integrity, and she would, too. “I need to work off the doctor’s bill before I go.”
“I thought we agreed that was my responsibility.” Mrs. Davis drew back in her chair, appraising her carefully. “I noticed you walked to work this morning. Lorenzo told me about your horse. Is he still improving?”
“Yes, thanks to your son.” She tried, how hard she tried, to keep any hint of reverence from her voice. “He saved Solomon. He spent his only day off tending our horse.”
“Yes, because it was your horse, my dear.” Mrs. Davis patted Ruby’s hand. “You be sure and take your break. Go on with you and get some tea and scones.”
Her employer’s words troubled her all the way to the kitchen and through her lunch break. As she crocheted at the table with Cook, who was reading her Bible, she tried not to think about Lorenzo. But did she succeed?
No. Her mind stubbornly boomeranged to the conversation in the dining room. Mrs. Davis could not have been kinder. And to suggest Lorenzo had spent a long day in their little barn for her meant she hadn’t hidden her crush on Lorenzo from his mother. Heat blazed across her face, no doubt turning her nose strawberry red. She wrapped thread around her needle and triple crocheted. She was doing a very bad job of keeping control of her heart.
Her hook stilled in the middle of her next triple crochet. She couldn’t seem to control her thoughts, either, since they rolled back around to yesterday morning. After Pa had come into the shanty that morning, Lorenzo had joined them for breakfast and pleasant conversation about farming life. He’d stayed in the barn until suppertime, fighting to help save Solomon’s life. He’d driven away in twilight shadows, offering her nothing more than a silent wave.
You are in big trouble, Ruby. She shook her head to scatter her thoughts. Determined to try again, she focused on the big window looking out into the backyard. The magnificent Rocky Mountains soared from the prairie floor to the pale blue sky, the rugged peaks wearing capes of pearled snow. No matter what, God’s handiwork always managed to soothe her.
A movement caught her eye, a blur of color against the stretching white, shining snow, soaring purple mountains and reaching blue sky. Lorenzo, in his black coat, astride his bay horse, cut across a field. A trail of cattle ambled behind him, ears pricked, noses up, obviously fond of him.
A loud clatter rocketed through the kitchen and shook the table alongside her. She gasped, jarred from her thoughts as Mae scowled down at her.
“You should have fetched the tray, but as you are Mrs. Davis’s favorite, I can see I will have to be doing a lot more around here.” Her gaze followed Ruby’s to the window, and a look of knowing flashed in her narrowed eyes.
Had Mae guessed? She withered. Heat flamed more brightly across her face, making it red enough for everyone to see. Mae knew. Mrs. Davis knew. Who else had figured it out?
“The Christmas ball is coming up.” Mae’s tone turned speculative and sugary. “I’m sure he will beau someone suitable. Someone as wealthy as he is. He always takes Narcissa Bell. My guess is he will do the same this year. Wouldn’t you say, Cook?”
Why did she wince at the sound of Narcissa’s name? The mention of the woman made her feel two full inches shorter.
“Don’t mind me.” Cook didn’t look up from the Good Book. “I’m simply studying my Bible, where it says a body should mind her own business and not spread malice or practice jealousy.”
“Me? I’m not jealous. I’m just trying to help.” Mae gave her braid a toss. “He feels pity for you, Ruby. Nothing more. About to lose your house. How embarrassing. Hey, don’t look surprised. The walls have ears around here.”
So, her conversation with Mrs. Davis had been overheard. Now every employee in the house would know. The thread she held went fuzzy. She blinked hard, but it didn’t help. She listened to Mae’s footsteps fade away.
“Don’t pay Mae much heed. She’s just wishin’ the young master paid her such attention.” Cook closed her Bible thoughtfully. “I’ve never seen Master Lorenzo take to any lass the way he has you. Beauty is as beauty does, and to some and to Him, that’s what matters.”
Across the long span of snowy yard and field, Lorenzo, tall in his saddle, faced her. Although the distance was too great, and there was no way he could see her, her spirit tugged as if he could.
There was no safe way back. She was fooling herself to think there was. That she could control her heart and stop her feelings, to save herself from heartbreak. She gave her thread a tug, thread Lorenzo had given her, and made a wobbly stitch. She had fallen too far, wanting what she could not have. It was her own fault she hurt so much. She had no one but herself to blame. At week’s end, she would be packing to leave town and she would never see Lorenzo again.
Earlee Mills swept out of the post office onto the sunny, late afternoon boardwalk, heart tapping with excitement. Joy swooped through her like a sweet spring breeze as she plunked down on the nearest bench, ignored the ice and cold and ran her fingertips across the envelope.
Finn had written her name in his bold, confident script, and she took a moment to simply look at her name written in his hand. Earlee Mills. One day would she be Earlee McKaslin? Her pulse skipped a beat. It was her dearest wish.
If only Finn felt the same way about her. They had been exchanging letters since spring, regular letters, one or more every week. He’d been friendly, he’d been honest, and as time went on, he had been more and more open. But never had he given a single hint that he felt anything more for her than friendship.
Still, she dreamed.
“Hi, Miss Mills!” Tommy Bellamy skipped toward her down the boardwalk, holding his mother’s hand. Beside him, his brother Charlie made a funny face.
“Hi there, Tommy and Charlie.” She adored her little students, even the troublemakers. “Hello, Mrs. Bellamy.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Mills.” Clarice Bellamy smiled kindly. “How nice to see you. I trust my boys are behaving themselves better these days?”
“Much. Charlie had to write lines only once so far this week.”
“I suppose that’s an improvement.” The mother shook her head slightly, in good humor, as she herded her sons down the boardwalk.
So it was with a smile on her face that she carefully tore open Finn’s envelope and unfolded his letter.
Dear Earlee,
My day is always a bright one when a letter from you arrives.
Why, didn’t that make a girl hope? A smile stretched across her face, and she read on.
Life is the same here, work, sleep, work, sleep. But during the long hours of moving rock in the quarry, I have a lot of time to think and reflect on what I should have done differently in my life. Lots of time to think hard on how I will make better choices when I’m out. Working for my brother on his farm sounds like heaven right now. Even in winter. I miss hearing the prairie winds howling over the plains. I can’t wait to hear them again. The winds blow where I am, but it is a different sound that is lonely on the stone walls of the prison. When I’m in the quarry, the wind has a different tune in the mountains here, rustling through trees. I miss home and everyone there.
Her hopes wanted to read mo
re into that last line. He hadn’t written, I miss you, Earlee Elizabeth Mills, she told herself. So don’t pretend that he did.
But she sure wished he had.
I’m not surprised at all to learn you are a writer. Your letters have entertained me and made me feel connected to home, to someone, since I’m so lonely here.
He didn’t say he felt connected to you, she reminded herself, although the hope in her heart fluttered more.
Have you ever thought about trying to publish one of your stories? I think you should. I believe in you, Earlee. You have come to be very special to me.
Wow! She had to read that last line twice to make sure she hadn’t imagined it. He really cared about her. She clutched the letter to her heart, unable to keep her hopes from rising higher and taking all her wishes and dreams with it.
Tiny flecks hovered in the air, invisible in the nightfall. They swirled with her breath and dampened her face and iced on the road at her feet. Ruby prayed the buttons on her old shoes would hold for the mile walk to town and the even longer journey home. Her newer pair of shoes weighed down her bag, where they would stay dry.
She picked her way along the icy ruts. While she’d helped Cook prepare the Davis’s supper, talk of rustlers’ tracks circulated through the house. Likely Lorenzo would be too busy to go to practice tonight.
That would be a relief. She needed to start easing her heart away from him. He’d never really been hers. She hadn’t needed Mae to tell her that. She’d known it all along.
Behind her the faint squeak of approaching sleigh runners on the ice broke the stillness. The clip of horseshoes and the bell-like jingle of the harness grew nearer. She veered toward the edge of the road, to let whoever it was pass by. But she didn’t need the horse’s friendly nicker to know who was driving the sleigh. She felt the mellow glow in her soul crescendo, the way it did when Lorenzo was around.
So, he was coming, after all. She would have to see him. Have to fight the gathering heartbreak threatening to engulf her.
Poncho pulled up alongside her and stopped, his horsy eyes sparkling, glad to see her. He reached out with his whiskery lips to catch the fringe on her scarf with his teeth.
“Hello to you, handsome.” She knew Lorenzo watched her as she caught her scarf before his horse could tug it off her. She rubbed that velvety nose and muzzle with her mittened hand. “You look quite dashing. Did your mane get a trim?”
“He’s touched that you noticed.” Lorenzo held back the robes and offered his hand. “C’mon. Accept a ride. You’ll hurt Poncho’s feelings if you don’t.”
“Poncho. What am I going to do with you?” She gave the horse one more pat, the sweet guy, before facing the man who was her real problem. The plea in his dark blue gaze was impossible to turn down. It hooked deep into her, reeling her closer like a fish on a line.
“My mother told me you gave your notice today.” His fingers closed around hers to assist her into the sleigh. “How did it go?”
“It was hard, but once I got the words out, your mother was nice about it.” She gathered her skirts, settled next to him and extricated her fingers from his grip. “She offered to let me live in the maid quarters.”
“Really? That’s a good idea.” He leaned close to tuck in the robes. “Any chance you will?”
“No.” Her apology rang quietly in her words. She looked away from him, staring at the smudge of the town up ahead, dark against the endless, white prairie. “We discussed it last night after you left. This morning, Pa walked Rupert to the train and stopped by the bank on his way home.”
“Then it’s official.” He gave the reins a snap.
“Yes. Pa told them we can’t come up with the money.” She shrugged her slender shoulders as if she wasn’t devastated. “Oh, well.” She gave a little sigh.
He wasn’t fooled by it. “I really am sorry.”
“The hard thing is we were planning on packing the wagon bed and driving north. But now, Solomon is too frail to make the trip north so we have leave him here.” Her face crumpled. “I’m worried about what will become of him. Who would buy him in his condition? Probably someone meaning to render him.”
“I’m sorry, Ruby.” He wanted to reach out to her, but she sat at the far edge of the sleigh, as far away from him as she could get. “You grew up with Solomon.”
“I did. He was my only friend as a child. I would make dandelion necklaces, which he would proudly wear, and I’d always share my jelly sandwiches with him.”
He tried to imagine Ruby as a child. Petite and lean, with her fine, white-blond hair and winter-sky blue eyes. He reckoned she was probably the cutest thing around. Ruby’s daughter one day might look just like that.
Their little girl would have looked just like that. His throat tightened until he could barely speak.
“I have been praying for a good outcome for you and your family. For Solomon, too.” He cleared his throat, but the weight of his emotions remained, making him sound gruff. “When exactly will you be leaving?”
“That’s up to the banker. I’ll find out from Pa when I get home tonight. This is terribly painful for him.” Compassion and concern painted her eyes a deeper blue. The lantern light on the dash caressed her, finding ways to adore the curve of her cheekbone or the darling cut of her chin. Her heart-shaped face became even more stunning in the golden light. “I’m hoping I will spend Christmas here, where I have so many friends.”
“I hope so, too. I hate to see you go, Ruby.” He pulled back on the reins, slowing Poncho on the approach to town.
“You won’t miss me one whit when I’m gone.” Her Cupid’s-bow mouth hooked up at the corners, an attempt at a smile. It couldn’t hide the sadness in her eyes.
The sadness at leaving him? That was his hope. “I wasn’t kidding. I intend to write. I might be boring, I might be dull, all I do these days is work on the ranch, but I will write.”
“Then I suppose I would have to answer.” Snowflakes glimmered like diamonds in her hair.
“See that you do. Poncho would be mad if I didn’t keep in touch. We could always take a trip up north to visit. Just in case Poncho really gets to missing you.”
“What?” She bit her bottom lip, stunned at his offer. Lorenzo wanted to come see her? Anguish swirled within her chest. No, she wanted to say. It was what she had to say.
“After all, good friends need to keep in touch.” His words rumbled with intent, so intimate and respectful, his entire focus seemed to be her. His eyes were full of light, his features soft, his touch gentle as he cupped his hands to her face. Amazing tenderness filled the air, soaring from his heart to hers.
Never had she wanted anything so much. She grasped as hard as she could to her stubborn resolve, but she was not strong enough to resist. How could she be? The powerful forces of her feelings knocked down her last defenses. I will not love him, she thought helplessly as he leaned in kissing-close.
Escape. Quick. Now. Those were her last coherent thoughts as his lips slanted over hers, hovering, softening, only a breath could fit between them now. His eyes were as dark as a night sky and full of gently glowing affection. Her pulse galloped crazily, nerves skidded through her. His lips brushed hers as gently as a butterfly’s wing for one brief moment before he hesitated and pulled away.
Pulled away. Her lips tingled with the pure sensation of his kiss, but he had ended it. Disappointment, confusion, embarrassment tore through her, and she tried to make sense of it. Had he had second thoughts, changed his mind or finally realized she was never going to be what he needed? Maybe he’d regained his senses like she had and knew they didn’t belong together.
“You are the sweetest thing ever.” His baritone rang softly, full of feeling.
“Proof you don’t know me very well,” she quipped, unable to endure the exquisite tenderness as his gaze caressed hers. She looked away at the street, at the boardwalk, anything but him. She’d done the unthinkable. She’d let him closer when she should be pushing him away.
What was wrong with her? Why had she messed up everything so badly? Her father was counting on her. Her friends—heavens, what would they think about her if they knew how weak she was? How selfish?
“I know everything I need to about you.” He caught her chin in his hand and looked within her so deeply, there was no end. Only the sheen of his eyes where love lived.
This cannot be happening. She fisted her hands, trying to wrestle back to reality, but his chiseled lips captured hers again in the most wonderful, the most reverent, the most loving of kisses. Unbearable emotion stole through her as stealthy as the night, pulling at the deepest places of her spirit, cutting like a blade. Love she could not hold back tore through her like a winter’s torrent, a million snowflakes blotting out the world.
No kiss had ever been so flawless. She could feel his love for her, and tears prickled behind her eyes. His love, equal to hers. She had never imagined, never dared to dream. But as his lips stroked hers one last, pure time, she caught a glimpse of what could be. A perfect life spent in his arms. A perfect love.
A vision she had to let go of.
“Look where Poncho brought us.” His words rumbled against her ear.
She blinked, fighting to bring the real world into focus. A shadowed steeple speared upward as snow began to fall in earnest, airy flakes. The church, she realized as the sleigh stopped. Poncho nickered and arched his neck in pride at his cleverness.
“Ruby!” Earlee waved as she spun on the pathway. “What are you—” Her eyes popped wide in surprise as she recognized Lorenzo in the sleigh. “Oh, maybe I should just keep going.”
“No, wait.” The moment was over. She had to accept it. She tied up the ribbons of her heart, buried her love for him with all her might and flung back the driving robes. Lorenzo reached to help, but she stopped him with a touch of her mitten to his glove. “Thank you for the ride, but I’ll be fine from here.”
