“If a person sat here long enough, he’d see deer and all manner of creatures,” Gabe said. “The entire area is covered with tracks.”
“What about something dangerous, like a mountain lion?” she asked.
“Wouldn’t do to come up here without a gun,” he advised.
Her gaze slid to his vest, where the bump of his holster was visible.
At the water’s edge, they cupped their hands and drank the cold clear water until they’d had their fill.
Gabe wiped his chin with the back of his hand and studied her in the sunlight. The sparkling reflection from the water cast darts of light across her face and hair. Maybe it was this place or maybe it was because she’d softened toward him however minutely, but she seemed more at ease. Her whole demeanor was less rigid, and her enjoyment genuine.
Knowing he didn’t stand a chance with her didn’t prevent him from imagining how it would be if she married him and this became their home.
He didn’t even want to admit the fact to himself, but during his hours of work, whether it was sawing and planing logs or pounding shingles on the roof, he pictured her living here. He imagined the two of them sitting in front of the fireplace. He imagined sharing a room and a bed. He imagined children.
She’d run for the hills if she had an inkling of his thoughts. But the seeds were planted in his mind’s eye and he watered them daily.
Her family could come for Sunday dinners. Irene and Gil would join them. Their children and Irene’s children would grow up part of a family.
His throat got tight at the wistful thought. He reached for her hand. “Come on.”
He harnessed the horse and they took the buggy even farther from the ranch house, exploring the sights and enjoying the day. “There’s another deer trail,” she said, spotting one heading into the brush on a hillside.
“Want to follow it?” he asked.
“Let’s.”
“I’m getting hungry. I’ll grab the food this time.” He took the small crate from the rear of the buggy.
The trail led them higher and deeper into the woods than before. “Will we find our way back out?” she asked.
“We head downhill, right?”
“We should have left breadcrumbs.”
“What good would that do? The birds would eat them.”
She’d been leading, and she turned to look back at him. “I was kidding. That’s what Hansel and Gretel did.”
“Who are they?”
“It’s a children’s fairy tale.”
“Oh.”
Here the smell of the forest changed. The verdant scent of pine needles was masked by a sulfurous smell. The air seemed more humid, and Gabe broke out in a sweat.
It wasn’t long before the trail leveled out and brought them to a long steaming pool. At first he thought the vapor was a phenomenon caused by warm air and cold water, but the humidity and the smell said otherwise. There was no sound of running water here. The water seemed to move with an inner life.
Gabe set down the crate and walked straight to the rocks lining the pool, where he knelt and plunged his hand into the water. Even though he’d expected the temperature, the warmth shocked him. He plunged in his other hand. “It’s hot.”
Elisabeth drew up beside him and knelt, the hem of her skirt falling into the water. She dabbled her fingers and then her hand, and her eyes widened. She raised a questioning gaze up to him.
“A mineral spring,” he said in amazement.
“I’ve read about them,” she said. “Some think they have restorative healing abilities.”
He nodded.
“There are places you can go to bathe in mineral springs. Wealthy people do it.”
He nodded again. “And pay a lot of money for the privilege.” His mind rolled back over the incidents he’d questioned at the time, but dismissed. “This could be why Rhys Jackson keeps offering me twice what my land is worth—or what I thought it was worth.”
“Do you think he knows this is here?”
“There’s probably more than one spot where the water seeps,” he said. “It’s being fed from underground. Probably bubbling up wherever it finds an exit.”
“Do you suppose he’s known about this for a long time?”
“And kept it under his hat. He said he’d looked for the property owner, and now we know why. He wanted to buy the land and make himself rich.”
“You could be rich, Gabe.”
“It’s a tempting thought after all I’ve spent on building my ranch.” He took off his hat and ran his wet hands through his hair. “I don’t know that I’d want a lot of people traipsing across my land to get here though.”
“You can think about it,” she suggested.
“I don’t know that I want to eat here,” he said. “It’s warm.”
“I’m getting rather used to it,” she said. “And I’m hungry.”
He agreed and unpacked the food.
Elisabeth unwrapped a turkey sandwich. “This is a treat.”
“I wasn’t sure what you like or don’t like.”
“I like everything.” She paused before taking a bite. “Except olives.”
“Half the crate is olives,” he teased. “Guess I’ll have to eat them myself.
“Guess you will.”
After they’d finished their sandwiches, he washed shiny red apples. To finish off the meal, he uncovered slices of cake, which they had to eat with their fingers because there were no forks.
She laughed and washed her hands in the warm water. “Cleanup’s not a problem, but we can’t drink this.”
With a flourish, he produced a single jar of buttermilk and no cups, so they took turns drinking from the jar.
“I still want some water,” she said, once they’d finished.
“I’ll find you some cold water,” he promised.
“I haven’t been on a picnic for a long time. Of course we ate out of doors on Independence Day, but other than that.”
“I ate half my meals over a campfire when I was on the trail,” he said. “Ate a lot of hardtack and biscuits. Shot an occasional rabbit or squirrel. Nothing too big to eat in one sitting.”
“We ate a lot of rabbits on our way west,” she said. “I don’t remember having squirrel.”
“It’s not prairie game.” He gazed across the water, again envisioning a family. “Do you think your sisters would like to swim here?”
“I think they would. It’s not frightening in any way. In fact it’s rather like a big washtub. We’ll have to buy bathing wear first. We have none.”
“If it involves shopping, Irene will join you.” He chuckled.
They moved to sit comfortably on a bank of grass and pine needles. “You speak differently when you talk about Irene today,” she said.
He nodded and took the stone from his pocket. “I can’t change the past. That’s what you told me.”
“I also said you’d done the very best you could for her.”
“How many stones are in your pocket today?”
She reached into her skirt and produced three on her open palm.
“What is it they symbolize?”
“Sacrifice. Dedication.”
“Seems like I remember you said they remind you of the choices you’ve made and the results of those choices.”
She looked away. “Yes. That, too.”
“Which is it?”
She glanced back at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve thought a lot since you gave mine to me. I stopped blaming myself for things I couldn’t change. I regret missing those years with my sister, but I can’t change it. You helped me look at my plans for Irene honestly. I can only move forward and be glad for her because she’s in love and very happy.”
“That’s good, Gabe.”
“I’m having trouble with the logic of the stone, however.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because when I hold it every day, it reminds me of the past, not the future.”
>
Elisabeth studied his hand, now loosely holding the rock and opened her palm to look at her collection.
“You said we can’t change the past or the poor decisions we’ve made,” he said.
“That’s right.”
“But you carry around those rocks that remind you of something you feel guilty about. I was reading in Philippians…”
Her head shot up and she raised her eyebrows.
“Can’t remember all those words like you can, but the gist of it was that Paul said we should forget those things that are behind us and just look toward the goal out in front.”
Elisabeth knew exactly which scripture he referred to. She could have quoted it perfectly. I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before…
Before her sat a man who’d never read a Bible until he’d met their family. Now he spoke about truths of God’s Word. He hadn’t quoted scripture the way she could, but he’d obviously interpreted the verses and understood their meaning in a way she never had.
At first she wanted to be angry with him for questioning her thinking or for believing he had a better understanding than she…but she really wanted to get mad because he’d forced her to think about something she’d clung to for a long time.
The stones did remind her of sacrifice. And choices. And her mother.
Her eyes smarted and her nostrils stung. But the memories the symbols provoked were not happy memories of her childhood or of her mother as a sweet-natured, pretty blonde woman. They were memories of a woman floating facedown in the water, fair hair snagged in the brush along the shore. The reminders evoked memories of an ashen-faced person being wrapped in her parents’ wedding quilt and lowered into a grave.
All the memories made her regret her fear and behavior that fateful day. The mementos reminded her she couldn’t go back and fix what had happened. And when she thought about her regrets logically, she believed just as Gabe had said weeks ago that she’d been a frightened girl and had done what anyone else would have done in the same situation. She’d had no way of knowing that she would have been saved—or even that her mother could have been rescued in time.
She couldn’t live those hours over to change the outcome, but she relived what she perceived as her mistake every time she looked at or touched one of these stones.
The stones were her past. She didn’t know what her future held, but she couldn’t let it be filled with regret. From here on out changes had to be made.
Elisabeth got to her feet. One at a time, she threw the rocks into the steaming pond. Each stone made a satisfying plunk and created circles on the surface before the water swallowed it into its depths.
“What have you done?” Gabe now stood beside her.
“I put the past behind me.” She stared at the water.
Another rock sailed through the air and landed with a watery plunk where hers had disappeared. She turned to find Gabe staring at the spot where he’d thrown his stone. “Hope that was okay,” he said. “It bein’ a gift and all.”
“It was perfectly okay. I’ll give you another gift to replace it.”
“Not necessary.”
“I know. Thank you, Gabe.”
“For what?”
“For opening my eyes to the fact that I was punishing myself.”
“Wasn’t me,” he said. “That Paul fella said it.”
She laughed then, a laugh that came from deep in her belly and echoed across the water and off the rocks. She laughed until she wore herself out and had to stop to breathe.
Gabe shook his head. “As long as you’re laughing, I have something else to say that you might find amusing.”
She composed herself in preparation. “I’m ready.”
For a moment she thought he’d changed his mind about sharing whatever it was he wanted to say, but then he pursed his lips and took a deep breath. “I don’t expect you to do anything with this. I don’t expect anything. I just want to say it, and then I’ll have it off my chest.”
“Oh, my goodness. Is this something serious and not funny at all?”
“I guess that depends how you look at it.”
“All right. What is it?”
“It won’t change anything. You’re still you and I’m still me.”
“Gabe,” she said impatiently.
“I just want to be honest.”
This time she sighed. “Now you’re starting to scare me because you won’t just come out with—”
“I love you.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
His words stopped the sentence she’d been forming—and her brain—for about thirty seconds. Had she heard correctly?
“I realize I can’t measure up to the standards you’ve set for your future husband. I’m not going to regret that fact or bemoan it, because I can’t change who I am. I can’t change that I wasn’t raised in a family like yours or that I never really knew about Jesus until you spoke of Him. Until your father taught me. Now I’m inspired to be a better man. And that’s the future.
“I’ve lived a life you can’t condone, and that’s just a fact. So that’s why I’m sayin’ you don’t have to do anything with the information. You don’t even have to respond. It’s okay. I just wanted to say it. Just once.”
He turned and picked up the crate.
It took her a moment to get herself oriented and follow him. He led the way down the hillside, and the whole time she thought over his pronouncement. She was thankful he hadn’t expected her to say anything, because she didn’t know what she would have said. She felt as though she was a pebble rolling down a hill to spin off a cliff into midair. Her rational thoughts were suspended while she processed Gabe’s startling proclamation.
They arrived at the buggy and Gabe guided the horse back to the house. He dipped water from a barrel with a dented tin cup and handed it to her. The liquid was warm and nothing like the cold-water spring they’d visited, but it was wet and she thanked him.
“Well, you’ve seen it all,” he told her.
She took a last look at the house. “You’ve done an amazing job.”
“The first horses will be here in a couple of weeks.”
“Were you serious about bringing my family here? To the mineral springs?”
“Yes, of course.”
She nodded. “Good. When I return, I’m going to bring the rest of the stones and throw them in.”
“How many more are there?”
“Maybe twenty or so.”
“You’re welcome here anytime. Not just with an invite or with your family.”
She blushed, unable to prevent the rush of embarrassment. The last thing she wanted was for their friendship to get uncomfortable.
As though her high color had signaled him, he said, “I don’t want things to get awkward between us, Elisabeth. We’d just settled into something manageable.”
“I don’t want that, either.”
“All right. We’re friends?”
“Yes. Friends.”
He helped her aboard the buggy one last time and headed toward Jackson Springs.
Midafternoon, Gabe left Elisabeth in the shade on the boardwalk and pushed open the door on which gold letters spelled out the name of the bank above the name of the man he’d come to see.
The teller recognized him, and the man greeted him warmly. “What transaction can we help you with today, Mr. Taggart?”
“I’ve come to see Mr. Jackson.”
“He’s in his office.” The man turned as though to exit the caged area. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“No need,” Gabe interrupted. “The one with the big bold letters that spell his name, right?”
“Mr. Jackson doesn’t like to be interrupted without an appointment, sir.”
Gabe strode past the lobby and down a short hallway, where he opened the office door without a pause.
Startled, Rhys looked up from a ledg
er on his desk. “Mr. Taggart?”
He stood and reached behind him for his jacket.
“Don’t bother to dress for me,” Gabe said.
It was obvious the man was uncomfortable at not having had time to prepare for a visit or don his jacket. He gestured for Gabe to take one of the plush chairs that faced his desk. “Please have a seat.”
“This won’t take long.”
“What can I help you with today?”
“It’s about my land.”
His expression lightened, and his eyebrows rose. “Have you had a change of heart about selling?”
“It’s funny you should ask.”
With an eager step, Rhys came around the corner of the desk. “I’m prepared to sign a cashier’s check over to you.”
“No need to pay.”
Rhys stopped in his tracks. “What?”
“What are friends for, right? I just came to tell you to let your mother know she might want to buy a bathing costume.”
“What?”
“I recall her saying she has a touch of lumbago. Perhaps a nice hot mineral bath will relieve those symptoms for a spell. Bring her out, why don’t you?”
Rhys’s face turned as red as a ripe tomato. It was warm in the room, but Gabe detected his color had nothing to do with the temperature, but rather the anger and embarrassment of his deceit being discovered. He stiffened, straightened his tie unnecessarily and walked back to his chair where he dropped before mopping his face with a handkerchief. “A mineral bath, you say?”
“Yes. Who’d have known there were hot springs bubbling from those rocks up there? Isn’t that a wonder?”
“Yes, indeed.” Rhys folded the handkerchief. “Should you change your mind, I might be able to facilitate a sale. There are rumors that former President Grant is looking for a vacation spot.”
“What a coincidence.” Gabe flattened a palm on the desk and leaned forward. “I won’t be selling. Not to you, not to the former president, not to the king of England should he come lookin’.” Gabe straightened. “What do you say we never talk about this again?”
Rhys’s expression eased a measure. “Not to anyone else, either?”
“I won’t say a word. Miss Hart will likely tell her father, however.”
Marrying the Preacher's Daughter Page 19
