by Carol Arens
There was nothing she wanted more than Melinda’s happiness, unless it was Lantree’s.
It was after dark and still raining when Lantree called a halt to the day’s travel.
They didn’t bother with a fire, just ate some hardtack to curb their hunger.
When Lantree set up the bedrolls, he put hers and Melinda’s under the wagon. He lay down under a tree with the other men.
While it was wonderful spending the night with her cousin, laughing, gossiping and catching up, she well and truly missed lying in the safe circle of Lantree’s arms.
It broke her heart wondering if the reason he had set up their bedrolls yards apart was that perhaps he was already reconsidering his wish to make their marriage real.
Or maybe she had broken his heart by not introducing him as her husband.
Life was certainly confusing at the moment and since she could not do anything to make it happen one way or another, she said, “Good night, cousin. I’m glad you came.”
“Me, too, Becca... I’ve missed you.”
Rebecca closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the men’s breathing, easily identifying which quiet snore was Lantree’s.
Life would play out as it would...not particularly how she would wish it to.
Chapter Thirteen
A tree limb snapped. Lantree heard the crack of splintering wood, then the thud of the weight hitting the ground.
Melinda Winston screamed.
He abandoned the horses drinking at the stream and bounded up the bank, his heart pounding against his ribs.
Miss Winston lay on the ground with Rebecca kneeling beside her. Hershal, Jeeter and Tom all broke the perimeter of the woods at the same time, dropping firewood in their haste to reach camp.
Lantree was the first man to reach the scene. He knelt beside the fallen woman. She gazed up at him from under the broken branch, her eyes wide and, no doubt about it, angry.
“Never, ever, have I had a branch go out from under me.”
“You are a long way from Missouri,” Rebecca admonished her cousin. “Things are very different here...birds do have mothers to get them out of trouble.”
“Well, Mrs. Feather must have dozed off...and her poor baby not even able to fly yet. Didn’t you see some sort of a creature creeping up on the helpless little thing? Where is it anyway?”
Glancing about, Melinda attempted to wriggle out from under the log but she yelped and lay back down.
“It flew away—” Rebecca caught Lantree’s eye and nodded toward Melinda’s leg “—with its red-tailed mother.”
The rest of the men came upon the scene winded and worried looking.
With care, they all lifted the branch and set it aside.
“I believe I’ll need a doctor,” Melinda said, with a fine sheen of perspiration beginning to dampen her forehead.
Finally, the woman had the good grace to look sensibly frightened.
“You’ll be happy to know that my... That Lantree is a physician.” Rebecca held his gaze and gave him a firm nod. “A very fine one, too. He stitched up my foot and it won’t even leave a scar.”
He glanced sharply at his wife. She dropped her gaze. Why had she come so close to identifying him as her husband and then not?
He ran his fingers lightly along Melinda’s calf, over her stocking. Thank the Good Lord that the break was slight, that he would not have to look into Rebecca’s eyes and tell her that her cousin was in a risky condition.
He glanced at Hershal, giving him a nod.
“Let’s get back to our wood gathering, men,” he announced.
When they had their backs respectfully turned, he asked Rebecca to roll down Melinda’s stocking. She did that then lifted her cousin’s frilly petticoat past her knee. The flesh had already begun to swell and bruise.
“I’m afraid there’s a fracture, about halfway between your knee and ankle, but not a horrible one.”
He smiled to give her reassurance. In this case it was valid and for the first time in a long while he felt the love for healing scratching at his gut.
“Mother can never know about this,” Melinda said with a pleading glance at Rebecca.
“There are a great many things about living in these parts that your mother would be happier not knowing.”
Again, Rebecca glanced at him, but this time he swore that she shot him a brief conspiratorial smile.
Just now he’d take any sort of smile she offered. He’d give a lot to know what had changed her mind about the tenuous bond they had formed.
He could only hope that seeing Melinda again hadn’t made her long for the easier life that she’d had in Kansas City.
“Let’s get you home, Miss Melinda,” he said. “It’s not the worst break I’ve ever set, but you’ll feel better once you are under a proper roof and in a proper bed.”
* * *
It only took another full day to reach Moreland Ranch. It might have taken longer but the weather turned good and the roads were no longer muddy.
Once home, Tom carried Melinda up the stairs and into the main house. With the front door open he heard Barstow exclaiming and clucking hen-like over the new, injured arrival.
Rebecca waited behind, turning to Lantree when everyone else had gone inside.
“I hope you aren’t doubting yourself, Lantree. I know how brilliant you are at healing.” She glanced at the open front door, then back at him. For all her encouraging words, she seemed agitated. “Well...”
Here was the moment he had anticipated...or dreaded. Would she continue to live with him or not?
“I think,” she said, wringing her hands in front of her, “that Melinda is going to need me. She’ll need care at all hours, much of which you men would not be comfortable offering.”
She was right, of course, but... “You’re moving out?”
“For the time being. My cousin needs nursing...you understand?”
He shoved a bothersome hank of loose hair behind his ear. “What I understand is that since she got off the train something has changed...between us.”
He wasn’t imagining the moisture welling in her eyes.
“Yes, well, Melinda is special. She changes people, they fall in love with her and can’t...” She swiped at her cheek. “Can’t help it.”
“I’ll admit she’s charming, but—” He didn’t get to finish what he wanted to say because she turned and fled toward the house.
“I’ll be in directly to check on her,” he called.
* * *
“And so,” Melinda said, with two pillows propped behind her head and three more elevating her splinted leg, “the butcher was none too pleased when he discovered that Rebecca had fled. He came pounding at our door at ten-twenty-two in the evening. It caused quite a lot of attention among the neighbors, which, as you can imagine, Mama hated.”
As far as Rebecca could tell, Lantree was entertained by the story while he went about the business of checking Melinda’s leg. Every now and then he looked up from what he was doing to nod and smile.
Rebecca had already told Lantree about the butcher and about her own tangled relationship with Aunt Eunice.
“You should have seen it, Becca! Mama got out the broom and waved it at him, like she was sweeping filth from her stoop. Then Mr. Portlet from next door charged over the fence with the flap of his long johns hanging by one button—we can only guess that he came directly from the outhouse when he heard the commotion. Now, I can’t say for certain since I came here before I had absolute proof, but I believe that Mr. Portlet is sweet on Mama and she has taken a hankering for him.”
That was a surprise, indeed! She could not help but say so. Even Lantree raised a brow.
“I say this because she baked him a spice cake, and not only that but w
hen I told her I was going to Montana to be with you, her fainting spell only lasted ten seconds.”
“How long do you intend to stay, Melinda?” Lantree asked.
Her cousin looked at Lantree, her smile sweet and becoming. “I’d like to see how things develop.”
Then she slid her gaze to Rebecca. “This is an amazing country, cousin. I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”
What Melinda likely meant was that she wanted to see if Lantree had, or would, fall in love with her.
At some point she would have to reveal that they were married. She loved her cousin too much to let her become attached to a married man.
At least, married for now. Perhaps once they knew that Grandfather would remain safe—or that Lantree did not have to seek a safer place—she could have the marriage annulled.
So far she had not done anything to make that impossible.
All of a sudden she felt sick to her stomach because she could not tell which was worse, the two people she loved most in the world being together or not being together.
She rose from her chair all of a sudden.
“I’ve got to check on my calves.”
Rushing to the door she could not rid herself of the image of Lantree’s fingers touching Melinda’s forehead, grazing her cheek.
Clearly he was merely feeling for signs of a fever, but still, the sight hurt.
As much as she wanted to deny it, her big, strapping husband and her pretty, petite cousin made a fine-looking pair.
Lantree Walker was the very man, Rebecca was certain, that her cousin had been waiting for all these years.
Melinda was never meant to be a spinster.
Until lately, Rebecca had believed that she was destined to that fate. Perhaps it would not be so difficult to slip back into the role.
If only she could forget that she had married the man that she, herself, had been waiting for.
And that she loved him.
* * *
On a sunny afternoon in early September, Melinda leaned on the crutch that Tom had fashioned for her. She cooed to and petted Mocha.
As far as Rebecca could tell, no one had mentioned her marriage to Lantree.
Rightly so. They probably considered it her business to do it. And she would...one day very soon.
She had meant to do it the first day home, then last week, but the time never felt right and the more time that passed the less right it felt.
And, to be honest, she didn’t want to.
Still, last night she had nearly done it, even had the first word of confession on her tongue, while she and Melinda sat alone on the porch listening to the crickets and frogs.
But just then Lantree had come out of the house and asked her to go walking with him. She’d hesitated until Melinda yawned a great yawn, stretched and declared that she could not keep her eyes open one more minute.
They had walked to the paddock, sat and talked of this and that, then come back to the house. He’d held her hand, which made her feel elated...and guilty.
Maybe she should go back to Kansas City where life was predictable and emotions were uncluttered...where snowcapped mountains did not kiss the sky and where the wind did not whisper through treetops so tall one could hardly see the tips.
Where Grandfather’s smile did not greet her every morning and his kiss on her cheek did not send her off to bed...where calf noses, soft as velvet, did not nudge her palm in search of a treat.
She brought herself up short, knowing she would never leave this ranch. All she was doing was feeling sorry for herself when she ought to be rejoicing over Melinda’s good fortune.
“Becca.” She felt something tickle her nose. With a start, she saw that Melinda stood before her, stabbing her with a blade of straw. “Where have you been these past weeks? Ever since I got here you’ve seemed different...sad and not like yourself at all.”
Now was the time to speak if ever there was one.
Francie mooed. Rebecca stroked the cow’s soft ears, choosing her words.
“There’s something that you might need to know,” she began. “It has to do with Lantree...or his brother more likely.”
“That outlaw, Boone, you mean?” Melinda sat down on a hay bale so Rebecca settled beside her. “Tom told me about that. It’s such a sad story...poor Lantree being denied his brother’s companionship all these years.”
“Has Tom told you anything else?”
Melinda arched a brow at her. “That you snatched Boone’s likeness off the sheriff’s wall.”
Evidently, Tom had not told her about the marriage.
“Becca, what do you think of him?”
“I like Tom very much,” Rebecca answered.
“I don’t mean Tom and I think you know that. Lantree, what do you think of him?”
He’s my husband and I love him. And I ought to fight for him. That thought startled her... Fight for him against Melinda?
She loved her cousin far too much to stand in the way of her happiness. Besides, even if she tried, she would be no match.
“He’s kind...and he’s very devoted to my Grandfather.”
“I think he’s handsome. Don’t you recall the dream man we made up when we were young? It’s him if anyone is.” Melinda cocked her head to one side, studying her intently. “He will make some lucky woman a wonderful husband.”
This was her chance to give them her blessing but instead, she said, “Yes, if he’s not arrested by accident and hanged. It would be very difficult being his widow.”
“When did you become such a doom-and-gloom?”
“Since...always!” Was this true? She had spoken the words out loud. “Doomed to be tall, homely and always alone.”
Melinda stood, wobbling for balance on her crutch.
“Rebecca Louise Lane! If I hear you say such a thing again, I’m going to bean you over the head with this!” She waved the crutch madly in the air. “You are beautiful...but you are just too damn stubborn to believe it.”
Melinda covered her mouth. Her eyes went wide as saucers. This was the first time her cousin had used profanity.
“I’m going back to the house before you and your stubborn, ridiculous and very wrong vision of yourself make me someone Mama would be ashamed of...more than she already is.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Rebecca said, worried that the crutch might catch uneven ground and trip Melinda up.
“I can make it on my own, Miss Blind to the Truth. I don’t even need this thing anymore. I only use it to squash beetles and flip away snakes.” Melinda pushed her way out of the barn. “And for pity’s sake, stand up tall!”
Rebecca watched while her cousin made the long walk toward the house. Actually, Melinda was doing much better these days, but Lantree had not given her leave yet to abandon the crutch.
She was nearly ready to run after Melinda when Lantree strode around the corner of the bunkhouse.
He spotted Melinda, hurried forward and helped her back to the house. She spoke animatedly to him then glanced back to stab her with a frown.
When they reached the stairs, Lantree slipped his strong, supportive arm about Melinda’s tiny waist. He dipped his head down, speaking close to her ear while he helped her up.
Upon reaching the top he turned, looking at Rebecca through the dimming light of early evening. He was frowning and, she thought, none too happy.
Let him be angry if he wanted to. It was a far better state than the utterly brokenhearted one she was in.
She closed the barn door, then flung herself down on the hay bale and said, “One, no man will ever tell me what...”
Then she wept.
* * *
Supper had come and gone. Rebecca had not returned from the barn.
Lantree stood on the
porch of the main house, leaning against the post and looking down the slope, past the paddock. There was no light leaking under the barn door, which meant she had not even bothered to light a lantern.
A sad, very lonely melody drifted toward the house. Guess with her talent, she didn’t need light to guide her fingers.
She’d told him that Catherine Rose’s spirit was with her. The first time she’d said that he’d been a scoffer...but not anymore. Catherine’s soul came across in every note Rebecca drew from the instrument. He’d never heard the violin played with such beauty.
Right now she must be feeling desolate. Hell and damn, so was he.
Without a moon, the night was dark as pitch. In the distance he heard a wildcat screech. Closer in, bears would be silently prowling the night for food.
Lantree ground his boot heel on the porch in frustration.
Over the past few weeks, he’d given Rebecca space, time to work things out in her head. A man like him came with a load of problems.
But since his conversation with Melinda after dinner, he understood much more than he had. Rebecca’s feeling of being the ugly duckling went much deeper than her aunt’s treatment of her, and of growing up compared to Melinda most of her life.
Rebecca’s vision of herself had more to do with her mother’s desertion...and her father’s.
The image he had in his mind of a sweet little girl being left on her aunt’s front porch without a backward glance broke his heart.
If Eunice had been a more sensitive person, she might have nurtured Rebecca, not put the blame that her sister deserved on an innocent child. Until she arrived at the ranch, the only one who had shown Rebecca unconditional love had been Melinda.
He could only imagine what it had felt like for Rebecca, feeling as she did about herself, to be in the constant company of her cousin, a woman who drew comments of admiration wherever she went.
Hell and damn! That kind of thinking was going to end tonight. He was finished with this waiting game. Snatching his rifle from the rack beside the front door he stomped down the porch steps two at a time.
He was going to claim his wife.
