by Barbara Goss
Again, Ram was missing from dinner. Relieved, Laurel ate heartily. Her father seemed silent and thoughtful throughout the meal. When the dishes were being cleared, he made an announcement that made matters worse between her and Ada. “Ada, my daughter needs clothes. Take her into town and buy her everything she needs, as soon as possible.”
His wife, who'd been drinking from her wineglass, set it down carefully and glared at him. “But Angus, there's so much to be done here. Surely you would rather Maggie took her.”
“My mother can't talk. How can she bargain with merchants?”
“Flora would take me,” Laurel offered.
Angus pounded the table and shouted at his wife, “You will take her! She is your stepdaughter, and you will do this for me.”
“Very well. We'll go tomorrow,” Ada said, with her head held low, so Laurel couldn't see her face. Yet when Laurel got up from the table, she caught a look of indignation in Ada's eyes.
The uneventful shopping spree brought Laurel a complete wardrobe of clothes. Dutifully, Ada had done a thorough job of outfitting her stepdaughter. Although she never melted into friendliness, Laurel had caught Ada actually enjoying making the feminine selections. Perhaps she had always wanted a daughter to shop for. Yet the older woman held herself politely aloof.
As Laurel entered the dining room for dinner that evening, wearing a blue silk, square-necked dress, she was surprised to see everyone, including Ram, awaiting her.
She looked at her father anxiously. “I'm sorry. Am I late?”
“Not at all. We were merely early.” He patted her chair. “Come, sit down. You look lovely.” Angus then addressed his wife. “You did well, Ada.”
Ram, who stood upon her entering the room, reseated himself as Laurel took her place between him and her father.
“May I say,” Ram turned to her, “that you do indeed look lovely. Yet no lovelier than the first day I saw you—a blue cotton frock, wasn't it?”
Laurel felt the color drain from her face. She was too stunned to speak.
“Beauty such as yours,” Ram added, with a devilish twinkle in his eyes, “needs no finery. How can one improve perfection?”
“Thank you,” she murmured, embarrassed. Had Ada or Angus realized that she'd worn a pink dress the night she first met Ram at dinner? She guessed not, for they both ate, unaware of the comment. Remain calm, Laurel scolded herself. After all, she and Ram both knew he'd seen her that day, running alongside the creek. Did he know she'd also heard their conversation? The thought swept away her appetite.
“So,” began Angus, “did you get your kitten?”
“No. Jer—Captain Grant thought my room too small to confine a pet.”
“Do you miss this cat?” he asked.
“I do. He is such a darling and keeps me from getting lonely.”
Angus looked at Ada sternly, and she braced herself, as if ready for an argument on this score. Before Angus could say a word, Ada sprang to the defensive. “Ram cannot have cats in the house! He sneezes and breaks out in a terrible rash! A cat running about would make him miserable!”
Angus looked as if he'd pound the table in anger, when Ram made his surprising comment. “Her room is large enough and has a balcony. Why can't she keep the cat in her room and use her balcony doors to let it roam whenever it chooses? He can help cut down on our rodent problems in the barn.”
Laurel stared at him in surprise. “But won't it bother you?”
He shrugged. “It only happens when I'm in close proximity with a cat.”
Laurel swung her gaze to Ada. “Then Smoky can come here?”
Ada shrugged sourly.
“Of course he can," roared Angus. “Thank you, Ram, for the excellent suggestion. You will have a roommate, Laurel. Bring him home with you Sunday.”
“Sunday?” Ram asked.
“My daughter has been invited to attend church services and have dinner with the Grants.”
Ram frowned and concentrated on spearing his food with his fork. “I see. How considerate of them.” Suddenly he perked up. “I never did show you the ranch, Laurel. Tomorrow's Saturday, and I can take a few hours off to take you about. Would that be all right, sir?” he addressed Angus.
“About time, I'd say,” he muttered, then looked Ram directly in the eyes and shook his fork at him. “Guard her life well, for it will cost you yours if anything happens to my daughter.”
Angus's words and Ram's public invitation assured Laurel that she would be perfectly safe riding the perimeters of the ranch with him.
Dressed in a riding suit of royal blue, with shiny, high, black boots, Laurel met Ram at the stable at the appointed time.
Ram rode alongside her and explained each point of interest. He named each outbuilding and explained what function it served. They toured the corrals, where horses pranced and whinnied, as well as the fields, where cattle grazed. Laurel wondered if any of the animals were stolen.
The areas he showed her were widespread, so a good hour had passed before they reached the shanty where Laurel had overheard the men talking about stealing Indian supplies.
“This is my headman's place. Hey, Sam!” he yelled. “You in there?”
For the first time that morning, Laurel became nervous. Fear knotted inside her. She hoped Sam wasn't in and frowned with disappointment when the door opened to show a grubby, bearded man in disheveled clothing.
He nodded in their direction.
“I'd like you to meet Miss Laurel McCallister,” Ram emphasized her last name.
Sam slid his hat off and held it to his chest. “Mighty nice to meet you ma'am.”
Laurel merely nodded and felt glad when they rode on. Trotting slowly, Ram managed to continue the conversation. He elaborated the duties performed by Sam, but Laurel hardly heard, for ahead was the very spot she'd first seen Ram—and he, her. A trickle of perspiration ran down her neck.
Ram uttered an oath and spurred his horse ahead. What had he seen? As Laurel kicked her horse to follow, she saw a figure on the ground ahead. Ram jumped from his horse before it had even stopped and ran to the inert form. Laurel could see that it was a man. Was he asleep? Hurt?
She reached Ram's side just as he turned the body over. Laurel stared in shock. The body with the hole through its head was no stranger. She screamed.
“Laurel,” Ram's voice sought to calm her. “I need your help. Do you know this man?”
Gasping and crying, Laurel could only nod frantically.
Ram felt for the man's pulse. “He's dead.”
Laurel felt a scream rise in her throat, but before she could utter it, Ram shook her gently. “Laurel, who is it? Who is this man?”
Chapter 12
Laurel turned from Ram, ran toward her horse, mounted, and rode off in the direction of the ranch. Her head pounded so hard she barely heard Ram's pursuit. His words that day in the shanty ran through her mind, “I'll take care of them.” She shivered, despite the heat of the day, and urged the horse on faster.
Moments later, Ram overtook her, grabbing the reins and stopping her horse. He pulled her roughly from the saddle and stood her up before him. “Are you crazy? Why did you race off like that? Your father would have my head if you'd fallen off your horse or gotten thrown!”
Laurel's limbs trembled. Ram tried to comfort her by embracing her, but she pulled away.
“Who was that, Laurel?" he asked. She felt sure he knew the man, yet she played his game, for she was tired and scared.
“Dusty, the Indian scout friend who….” Laurel stopped herself from telling him she'd traveled alone with the two men. “A friend of the Grants—and my friend, too.”
“I'm sorry,” he offered, not sounding remorseful. “We’ve had trouble with poachers on the land recently. One of them must have shot him by mistake.”
Laurel fumbled for her horse's reins. “I must get word to Captain Grant.” She spun around to face Ram. “What will we do about… him?”
“I'll go back for him,” Ram sa
id. “You ride carefully back to the ranch. I'll get word to Captain Grant and handle everything.”
Laurel ran to her room and threw herself onto her bed. She wept for Dusty and for herself and Jeremy. She was sure she and the captain would be next.
There would be no funeral, for Dusty wished his remains to be returned to his family, for burial with his own people.
Laurel did not go to church or dinner with the Grants the next day, for her heart ached too much, and she imagined the Grants felt the same. According to her father, Ram had notified Jeremy, and he'd come and taken Dusty's body that very day.
The following Saturday a note came from the Grants, delivered by a young Mexican boy, inviting her to church and dinner. Jeremy would pick her up at nine Sunday morning.
That night, as she played checkers with Angus, she asked him what he thought had happened.
“It's hard to say, lass,” he said. “Finding men with bullets in them is not an everyday occurrence, yet it happens from time to time. No one ever knows what happened. An argument? A fight perhaps? Could even have been an accident. The sheriff is looking into it.”
“Do you know why he was on the ranch?” she asked.
“Coming to visit you?” he asked slyly.
“No. He was watching out for me.”
Angus looked surprised. “I'm sorry, Laurel. I didn't realize your relationship was—”
“He was my friend. That's all.”
Her father let out a breath of relief. “Thank goodness. I'd hate to think you'd lost someone with whom you were in love. It's something you never quite get over.”
“Did Ram know Dusty?” she asked.
“Captain Grant and Dusty were a well-known sight around town. If Ram didn't know him, he at least knew who he was, especially with Ram taking up with Grant's old girlfriend, Melita. Why?”
“No reason,” she fibbed to save him worry. “I was just curious.” She pointed to the game board. “It's your move.”
Sunday morning, perched upon the seat of the wagon, Laurel gazed at Jeremy. He seemed sullen, as if coming to the ranch brought back unpleasant memories.
Jeremy turned and gave her a slight smile. “Yes, Laurel, I'll miss him.”
“Me, too,” she said wiping a tear from her cheek.
He stopped the horses and dropped the reins. “Can you tell me anything about what happened, or is it too upsetting?”
“There isn't much to tell, but you're welcome to whatever information I have.”
“Please” was all he said.
“Well, Ram was escorting me around the ranch when he saw something and galloped ahead. By the time I'd caught up, he was already turning over a body. When I saw who it was, I panicked and went to pieces.”
“That's it?”
“Yes. Except I wonder about a few puzzling things.”
“Like?” he urged.
“Like why did Ram insist I tell him who the man was, when I'm almost sure he knew who Dusty was.”
“Of course he knew who Dusty was. We had our horses shod by Ram just a few months ago.”
“Then why did he ask me who he was?”
Jeremy shook his head. “I don't know, unless he had something to do with Dusty's death and acted dumb to throw you off the track.”
“That's what I thought, because he did mention you and Dusty that day to his friend in the shanty. Do you think he was testing me? To see if I'd show that I knew that he knew who Dusty was, because I'd listened to the conversation?”
Jeremy shook his head and smiled. “Whoa, you've really thought about this!”
“Too much, probably, huh?” Her brow became furrowed.
“Maybe. What else puzzles you?”
“Ram claimed that they’d had problems in the area with poachers, and that probably one of them shot Dusty by accident. The place where we found him was exactly where I first looked up that day and saw Ram staring at me. Do you think that's significant?”
Jeremy picked up the reins. “Anything and everything is significant where Ram Atwood is concerned.” He clucked the horses into movement.
Laurel's first time in church held her in awe. While small, the building also felt familiar and sacred. Before the service began, Jeremy explained in a whisper that it was also used for a schoolroom during the week. The teacher's desk had been pushed aside and covered with a white cloth. A candle holder upon the linen-topped desk held six flaming white candles, giving it a ceremonious appearance. A wooden podium had been placed at the middle front, and the Reverend Billy Childs took his place behind it.
The church filled to capacity. Several times Laurel had begun counting the people, but she kept losing track each time Jeremy leaned close to explain something . She guessed there were nearly forty people there.
An elderly woman with a large flowered hat played a piano at the rear of the room. Everyone sang a catchy tune. Laurel didn't know the song, but hummed and tapped her toes. She dared not gaze up and stare at Jeremy, though she appreciated the sound of his singing. She hadn't thought Captain Jeremy Grant the singing type, yet he sang beautifully. Laurel felt disappointed when the happy tune ended.
Laurel's attention was drawn to a slight commotion two rows ahead of them. A woman entered, and everyone made room for her. Flora nudged Laurel and whispered, “Melita. Always late.”
Laurel noticed Melita's violet dress and smiled to herself. She no longer felt inferior to Melita where clothes were concerned, thanks to her father. Her own green, ruffled dress, complete with a bustle, looked every bit as stunning as Melita's. Laurel gazed around the room and felt fortunate indeed. Most of the women were dressed as she had been before Angus's generosity. Homespun cottons were nothing to be ashamed of; the women wore them proudly. Laurel almost wished she'd worn one of her cotton frocks, for she thought she could better relate to the women who wore them than she could to Melita and her sophistication.
The Reverend Billy Childs dedicated the service to Dusty and told them not to mourn for him, for Dusty was with his God in heaven. Laurel wondered how Billy Childs could know that. The Tatums had given her the impression that everyone would be judged when the world ended, and God would decide who would enter heaven or hell. If that were true, how could Billy Childs be sure Dusty was already in heaven? She must remember to ask Flora or Jeremy.
After the service, as they stood by the wagon, Melita called out to Jeremy. They turned, and she caught up to them, greeting everyone cordially.
“I'm sorry to hear about your friend, Jeremy,” she said sweetly. “Do you know what happened?”
Jeremy frowned at her. “No, but I intend to find out.”
“If I can be of any help…” she began.
“You mean that?” Jeremy asked.
“Of course,” she purred.
“Thank you. I may take you up on that offer later.” He helped Flora and Laurel into the wagon, jumped up himself, and flicked the reins, to move the horses toward the Grant home.
Later that evening, riding back to the ranch with Jeremy, Laurel gazed at the twinkling stars.
“Make a wish!” he exclaimed.
“What?”
“Look! A falling star. Make a wish! Quickly.”
Laurel's mind raced frantically. What did she want that she didn't already have? Safety. She wished that their lives were not in danger.
“Did you wish?” he asked.
“Yes. Does the falling star mean it will be granted? Is that a sign from God or something?”
Jeremy laughed. “No. Absolutely not. In fact, Billy Childs would lecture me for seven Sundays if he heard me telling you to wish on a star.”
Laurel looked at Jeremy with puzzlement. “Why?”
“Wishing on a star is sort of folklore. Not true, just fun. And if your wish comes true, it's coincidence.”
“Oh-h-h,” Laurel sighed disappointedly. “I wish it would come true.”
“I'm sorry,” he said sincerely. “I forget that you don't know these things . . . and take them literall
y.” One hand left his reins and lifted her chin. “There's still hope for your wish, you know. You can take it to someone who can grant your wish.”
She looked at him hesitantly. “More folklore?”
“No, the honest truth. Have you forgotten God and prayer? Turn your wish into a prayer.”
“I don't think I've ever had a wish or prayer granted,” she confessed.
“Oh, I'll bet you have. Perhaps it came much later, and you'd forgotten you'd asked. What about finding your family?”
“I can't recall ever asking God for that,” she said.
“No? Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“You never felt lonely and asked God to help you to feel better or something?”
“Well—yes,” she said hesitantly.
“Then God answered—gave you your wish.”
“Before I'd fall asleep,” she said excitedly, “I'd ask God to help me feel as if I belonged. I'd ask for someone to love me. Yes,” she said, “God did answer my prayer. Not exactly what I'd asked for, but better.”
Jeremy stopped the wagon and turned to her. She saw his eyes sparkle in the moonlight.
“Did you never have anyone love you before you found Angus?”
“Just my best friend, Singing Bird. She's somewhere on the reservation.”
“What about your Indian mother?”
“Yellow Moon? She was kind some of the time, but it wasn't the same. She didn't protect me from Big Bear; I guess she feared him, too. I saw Yellow Moon do things that kept me from ever wanting to get closer to her.”
“Like what?” he asked.
“Things I've never told anyone, even Dusty.”
“You don't have to tell me,” he said softly.
“I think I'd like to. Maybe the nightmares would end.”
He took her hand in his. “Then tell me.”
“Big Bear took a second wife when I was about five. Yellow Bird hated it when the other wife, Flower, became with child. Because of envy, she tried several times to cause Flower to lose her baby. One day I watched Yellow Bird trip Flower as she carried a pot of water. Flower lost her baby.
