Head drooping, the huge dog lumbered down the steps and disappeared around the corner of the house. Cherilyn sympathized with Reb. She wished Cole would be a little more tolerant of house pets and worried that he might still find Arabella’s presence objectionable.
****
“And if those Witherspoons get to acting up, you just come on to my place.” Mrs. Haliday put her hand out. “It was real nice meeting you, Cherry, and good of you to share your grandma’s recipe with me. I declare, that’s a tasty cake. If you get the notion to make cooking a real job, I’d be glad to have you in the kitchen at the boarding house any time. Any time at all.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Haliday. Glad you enjoyed the cake.” Cherilyn waved as the bustling lady in the red poppy print dress moved away.
Cole strolled up carrying cold drinks. “Meeting all the ladies, I see.” He handed her a frosty bottle of Coke and took a pull from his own.
“I think your laundry lady has told the entire county that I’m visiting from ‘up north somewhere,’ and they’ve all come by to see the outlander.”
“Told you she was a talker. Miz Haliday won your cake in the auction. She tell you?”
“Told me and was so enthusiastic I wound up giving her the recipe.”
He cocked his head, listening to the sound of instruments above the chatter around them. “Sounds like the boys in the band are tuning up again. Risk your pretty little dancing shoes with another swing around the floor?”
Cherilyn gave him a mock curtsey. “I would be pleased to, Mr. Witherspoon.” The country band—just a banjo, guitar, bass, and harmonica—was far better than she had expected. The harmonica player had a good voice, as well, and the music was lively and familiar. Cole was also a bit of a surprise when they first stepped onto the dance floor. He knew the age-old country dances well and was good at them.
“I don’t know if I told you, Cherry, but tonight you look about as pretty as early morning dew on a wildflower. I know girls wear a lot of pink, but I don’t think I ever saw any girl who looked as good in it as you do.”
“Why, Cole, I don’t know what to say. I didn’t think you ever noticed things like dresses, much less what color they are.”
Under his deep tan, Cherilyn saw Cole flush a little. “I don’t s’pose I ever noticed much before, but you kinda get my attention. It’s like you notice whether a critter is a heifer or a bull, but that’s all you notice unless one of them is special. Once that happens, it’s the only one you see.”
The band slowed for a quieter piece, something about lost love and lonely nights that wasn’t familiar to Cherilyn, but the melancholy tune touched her. Cole had drawn her closer and seemed to hesitate before each step.
“I’m thinking we could walk down the road a ways where it’s cooler, get away from the crowd for a minute.” His words were soft against her hair.
“It is pretty warm with everyone dancing,” Cherilyn agreed, hoping he had more than the hot night on his mind.
He took her hand and made a path for them through the dancers at the edge of the floor. As they stepped into the darkness, a fresh breeze fluttered her full skirt and teased the waves in her hair.
“It’s been a great evening, Cherry.”
“I’ve had a good time, too. Everybody is so friendly and looks like they’re having such fun.”
The road was dark, with only grey mist at the corner where the milky globes of the streetlight cast soft rays against the night.
“Just about ever’ soul in the county came out tonight. The school did pretty good, I think.”
“Looked like the auction went well,” Cherilyn agreed. They walked on in silence. “All the women in driving distance must have made something to sell. All of it good, too.” Tall grass whispered against Cole’s boots and her ballerina flats at the edge of the road. “The county’s full of pretty girls,” Cherilyn ventured. “And you’re a fine-looking man. How is it that you had to resort to a want ad to find a girl for yourself?”
“Kinda like your story, I guess. When the war came, Davis didn’t get drafted because he had the ranch to run. That exempted him from service, that and him having Sylvie and the baby. He didn’t get called up, but I was just the right age and single. Not necessary to the ranch, as far as Uncle Sam could see. So I went off to war, and by the time this Johnny came marching home, there was a passel of work needing my time and attention around the place. After Sylvie died, Davis, well, he just couldn’t get his mind straight after she was gone. By the time things settled down at home, most girls I might have taken to had found somebody else or had headed into the city for better choices. Any girl still here was too young to be legal or just not interested in me or ranch life. Time raced along and, before I knew it, Nate was all but grown, Davis had pretty well reconciled himself to single life, and I was getting older by the minute. Figgered I’d better do something or I’d wind up like Uncle Abe, batching it and getting a little more set in my ways ever’ day. I admit the want ad was pretty drastic, but I had to take a chance.”
“Drastic, maybe, but a pretty creative way to approach the problem.”
They had reached a narrow bridge and stopped to look down at the river curling below. Behind them the dance went on, but the music had faded to little more than background, a part of the swish of water, the rustle of leaves, and an occasional motor.
“You been thinking about us, Cherry? Thinking maybe we can make something good here, build a life together?”
“Of course I’m thinking of it, Cole. Every minute of every day. I wouldn’t have come if I hadn’t been serious about the possibility of staying. It’s a good life here. And the ranch, well, it’s demanding. I know you—all of you—work hard, but it seems to me there’s something good to work for. It’s building on what you have and making your own future.”
Having Cole’s arm around her felt right. When he drew her closer, oh, that felt right, too. With a solemn nod, as if an unspoken question had been answered, he bent and kissed her. Cherilyn’s heart seemed to stop, then beat frantically, blood rushing to her head. Her vision narrowed to the face looking down at her.
“I’m not sure I got that right, Cherry. Just to be certain, maybe I should try it again.”
Her knees almost failed to hold her. “If you get it any more right, I might not recover.”
He kissed her again, his arms tightening to hold her against him. “I’ll hang on to you, young lady. Having you right here feels real natural, like you were meant to be next to me.” He stroked her hair, his long fingers making her quake inside. “You’re going to stay, aren’t you, Cherry? You wouldn’t go away? I didn’t remember what ‘home’ was all about till you came and reminded me. Don’t think I could handle you going back. Don’t want to think about it, anyway.”
“I hoped you’d want me to stay. I’ve been happy here, feeling like I was part of a family again.”
He held her head against his shoulder, where she discovered his heart was pounding as hard as hers. “Maybe we should head on back and start talking about making plans. We’ve never said a word about any future more distant than when the next bus comes through.” He kissed her again. “Don’t think Monday’s gonna be the end of time for us, do you?”
“I might have thought so yesterday, but not now.”
****
Cherilyn didn’t think about much of anything as the truck rolled along the country road in the starlight. Cole reached over to take her hand and hold it against him as the wheels rumbled over the gravel. The radio picked up a station in San Antonio playing an evening concert. She didn’t recognize the music, but it made a silvery background for the drive. They didn’t talk, by silent agreement saving their plans for the time when they could sit in the porch glider, close together, and share thoughts and dreams.
Still lost in hopes and plans, Cherilyn barely noticed when Cole turned into the lane that led to the rutted path running up to the ranch house. He squeezed her hand.
“I didn’t pick up the mail be
fore we left. Guess I might ought to go on and get it. Mind going to the end of the lane before we talk?”
“I could get out here and walk down to the house, have some sweet tea ready when you get back. I think Nate may have left a few of the cookies I made yesterday.”
“Walkin’ down in your dancing shoes? You sure?”
“I’m sure. They’re flats, not heels, and the path is clear. I’ll have tea for you when you get there. You won’t be more than ten minutes behind me.”
Cole got out, opened the gate, and helped her down from the pickup. “Less than ten minutes, Cherry. This truck can sail over gullies and leap boulders when it needs to.”
Cherilyn waved as Cole refastened the gate, jumped back behind the wheel, and roared on down the lane. Making plans, building a home, a life together in a place where I’m wanted and needed. She hugged herself and hurried along toward the ranch house. As she rounded the bend where she could see the long front porch, Cherilyn noticed the front rooms were still lit. Wedges of yellow light spilled out over the porch, cutting a swath through the night.
Is Davis back? Are he and Abe still awake? She bit her lip in vexation. With the two men still up, probably playing checkers and devouring the last of the cookies, she and Cole would have precious little chance of some privacy. As she drew nearer, Cherilyn heard a raised voice. An argument? Davis doesn’t argue with anyone. He doesn’t talk enough to argue. And Abe doesn’t give anyone a chance to answer back.
As she hurried along the path, she heard more noises—the sharp yelp of a dog, a man’s hoarse yell, and above all, the screech of an enraged cat. Arabella! Something had happened to Arabella!
Gathering her flimsy skirts, Cherilyn ran the last few yards, pounded up the front porch steps, and threw her weight against the door. It gave way, toppling her straight into Abe. Something clattered to the floor.
“Stand back, girl. Don’t get in the way. We got some kind of wild varmint in the house. It might attack. Stand back till I get my gun and can draw a bead on the critter.” Another yelp punctuated his outburst, and Reb thudded across the floor and pushed between them, tail between his legs, to take shelter under a corner table half his height.
In the opposite corner, with fur standing on end to double her size, Arabella dug her claws into the back of a quivering rocking chair and let loose a blood-freezing shriek. Abe scrambled for the gun on the floor.
“Stay behind me, Cherry. I can take that wildcat down. You’re safe.”
“You’re not going to shoot a cat!” She knew she was screaming at the old man, but he wasn’t paying any attention. He was totally focused on his aim. She shoved his shoulder—hard—and saw his unsteady hand drop. Slapping the gun from his loosened grip, she caught it as it fell. He grabbed for it. “No! You aren’t going to shoot that cat.”
“Hell I’m not!” He pointed at Arabella, who was clinging to the upholstery and hissing at the uproar. Her erect tail was a bush of orange fur and her yellow eyes glared with fury. “That ain’t no reg’lar cat, Cherry. That’s some mad, wild thing come up from the river bottom. Don’t know how it got in here, but Reb knew it was here. Ran between my feet, right into the house. Kept sniffing and whining at your door, and when I opened it, that—that thing busted out and attacked him! Cat, my hind foot. That thing is tetched, plain tetched. Cats don’t go chasing down dogs, not Reb’s kind of dog. You gotta let me git rid of it, put it down, before it jumps one of us.”
Cherilyn pulled away from his grip, carefully put the gun on top of the mantel, and went quietly toward her enraged feline. Holding out her hand, she spoke softly. “Arabella, did that big dog come poking his nose into your place? Did he do that? Did he scare you, baby?” She was close enough to reach out. With a slow touch she stroked the flaring ruff, gently picking the cat up. Arabella struggled for a minute, but Cherilyn didn’t let go or stop her soothing words. The cat seemed to realize she was safe and ducked her head against Cherilyn’s neck. Still stroking, she moved toward the bedroom, carrying the cat to sanctuary.
“Ain’t natural, that’s what. Cat chasing a dog. I tell you…”
Abe’s words followed her, but Cherilyn closed the door between them. She sank down on the bed, holding Arabella, shaken at how close she’d come to losing her precious furry friend. “It’s all right now, sweet thing, it’s all right.” She crooned to the cat, but her words were an attempt to ease her own fears as much as Arabella’s. She was still sitting there, stroking the russet fur, when the door opened and Cole stepped in.
“You’re not hurt?”
Cherilyn stared in surprise. “No, no, of course not. Arabella is all right now, too.”
Cole shut the door and leaned against it. “Abe told me what happened. Reb looking for some critter in the house and the cat jumping him, all that.”
“He told me.” She put Arabella on the bed and stood up. “He was going to shoot Arabella, Cole.” She barely kept her voice from shaking and her eyes burned with angry, unshed tears. Forcing back the urge to throw herself into his arms and cry out her fright, Cherilyn turned to face him. “If I’d been a minute or two later…” Her words died. The thought was too horrible to finish.
Cole was silent. He raked long fingers through sandy hair, his forehead puckered in thought. “We’ve got to think practical about this, Cherry. About the cat, I mean.” He shifted awkwardly and cleared his throat. “Look at what happened. The cat attacked Reb. She came at him, by what Abe says, with claws and teeth, screaming like hell’s own demon. It was the dog this time, but good night! It coulda been you—or Nate—or anybody. It’s hard, Cherry, I know, but facts are facts. The cat’s dangerous. Vicious. I think Abe’s right about that, and we need to put her down before she hurts somebody.”
Cherilyn felt the room spin. She grabbed the window ledge for support. “Put her…down? Kill Arabella?”
“It’s the sensible thing, Cherry.”
“No!” Cherilyn stood up straight. “No, you will not kill my cat! She’s mine, my cat, and that’s not going to happen.”
He reached out an importuning hand. “I told you from the start I wasn’t comfortable letting a cat live in the house with us.” She evaded his touch, but he moved toward her. “Looks like I was right. You’ve got to think through this, Cherry, think clear.” His hand was heavy on her shoulder, and his grasp almost painfully tight. “You’re a practical woman, and when you’ve weighed it all, you’ll see it’s the only thing to do. I hate having to say it, because I know you set a store by the animal, but there it is.” He shrugged and looked across the bed to where Arabella was still smoothing her ruffled fur. “It’s not just Abe’s superstition this time. He’s made a strong argument, one I can’t gainsay.” Cole retreated to the door and opened it. “I know you need some time to come to terms with this, so I’m gonna go calm Abe down a bit. I’ll be back and…and take care of things. Remember, it’s just a cat.”
Cherilyn watched him close the door. Her throat tightened, and she couldn’t get words out. But words wouldn’t stop him or make him see reason. He wouldn’t back down or even listen. She stood stock still for a moment, conquering the hard sob that choked her, then opened the closet, brought out her suitcases, and unfastened Arabella’s wire cage. “It was a good dream while it lasted, wasn’t it? We almost had a family, a home, a place where we belonged. But it’s going to be all right, Arabella, and nobody is going to hurt you. We just have to go away from here, go someplace where people have real hearts and know you’re not ‘just a cat.’ We’ll be fine.” Her voice broke, but she reached over the pile on the bed and rubbed the tufted ears. “Wherever we go, it’s going to be in a place where a big orange cat is welcome.” She closed her eyes for a second, pushing her fear and anger aside, and got on with packing. Cole could either drive her into town tonight, or she’d sit on the porch and wait to ask for a ride from Nate’s friends when they brought him home. Either way, she’d not spend another night where Arabella was threatened.
****
&n
bsp; “You, my little brother, are some kind of a damned fool. What kind I can’t say just yet, but soon as I find the words for it, I’m gonna cuss you all the way up the hills and clear down to the cellar. For now it’s enough just to say you are a damned, no, a twice-damned fool.”
The week since Cherry left had been one long, miserable string of silent days and lonely nights. Cole didn’t want to hear whatever lecture Davis was starting. Irritated at so many words—so many angry words—coming from his brother, Cole dropped the checker piece he’d been turning around in his hand. “Meaning what? In what particular way am I a twice-damned fool?”
Davis shoved his chair back from the table and stomped across the kitchen floor. He stared out the window long enough for a cloud to pass across the moon. At last he turned slowly so Cole saw his face in the dim light. “Do you or do you not love that little lady you brought out here to marry? Have you decided to sit out here watching the years drift away and become as much of a dried-up hermit as your uncle and your brother? Or are you gonna go do something about your sorry self?”
Cole didn’t see how he could answer Davis, when he’d asked himself the same questions every hour for most of the week. “Don’t rightly see there’s anything to be done,” he said at last.
“Well, you might start by admitting you were on the far side of dumb to go and make some jackass threat against her cat.”
“Wasn’t wrong. Abe said the cat attacked Reb, and you’ve seen the claw marks on his muzzle and ears yourself. Dangerous, that crazy cat, just plain dangerous.”
Davis shook his head, half laughing and half dead serious. “You remember telling me about some five-foot-three GI in your unit who took on a whole machine gun nest of Germans? Remember telling me the little squirt had more raw courage than any man you ever saw, no matter what his size?”
“Yes, I told that story a dozen times or more. Still think Bennett was the bravest man in the outfit. What’s that got to do with anything?”
Help Wanted: WIFE (Santa Rita Series) Page 3
