by Anna Zogg
In the shimmering light of the fire, he imagined he saw a blush rising to her cheeks. She was the first to look away, but her softening expression told him his offer pleased her.
One sleepless night would be a small price to make certain she felt safe.
His empty stomach grumbled loudly.
Her eyebrows rose. “Hungry?”
He nodded.
“I confess I can’t get my last meal out of my mind.” She grimaced. “Now I wish I’d eaten every last crumb.”
He tamped down the urge to tell her of the many times he’d gone without food. For days. About how grateful he was to have work where he could get a decent meal on a regular basis. And, on occasion, a comfortable bed in which to sleep.
Something about this young woman compelled him to share his life. He wondered at the affinity he felt with her.
“What will happen tomorrow?” Ellie’s voice again grew tight. Scared.
“Pete will return with wagons. And more men.” When her pinched brow didn’t relax, he added, “He’ll bring provisions and a way to transport Mrs. Rushton in comfort. He’s reliable. And a fine man.”
One of the finest Rhett had ever met. In short order, they had become good friends.
With quick fingers, Ellie braided her hair. Then she wrapped her arms about her knees. “Tell me about yourself, Rhett. I never did catch your last name.”
He answered slowly. “Callaway. And as far as my life goes, there’s not much to tell.”
“I’m sure there is.” She leaned forward. “You’re educated. The way you speak gives that away.”
Amused, he puckered his lips as he debated how much to say. “I had a mentor.”
“You mean a private tutor?”
“Not exactly. A retired preacher took me under his wing.” Though Russell Callaway proved to be a tough taskmaster, Rhett considered him a father. The man ultimately became the husband Ma said she had never found in Pa. However, her second marriage was short-lived. They were wedded for ten days before tragedy struck that took Mr. Callaway’s life.
I miss him. Greatly.
Rhett fell silent, uncomfortable with sharing more.
“If he wasn’t your private tutor, then why’d he agree to teach you?” Ellie’s innocent question begged to be answered.
“He was a man of discipline, hard work and faith. As a youngster, I was nothing like that. Not that my mother didn’t try—but he taught me how to be a man. Without his intervention, my life might’ve gone a different direction.”
Ellie’s lips pursed, a bemused expression settling on her face. “He disciplined you with a heavy hand?”
“No.” Rhett shook his head for emphasis. “He saturated me—my life—with grace. When I least deserved it.”
Her head tilt indicated that she didn’t understand his explanation. “What do you...?”
Mrs. Rushton stirred, interrupting her.
Ellie jumped to her feet and rushed to the woman’s side.
“Where are we?” Mrs. Rushton’s hoarse question wafted to Rhett.
Though Ellie’s reply was unintelligible to him, he could hear her soothing tone. The injured woman seemed to ask a dozen questions before drifting back to sleep.
While Ellie returned to the camp’s center, Rhett dragged a heavy log closer to the fire. “How is she?”
“I honestly don’t know.” Ellie again sat. “It’s a good sign that she awakens—but this is the fourth time she asked where she was. And she acted as though she didn’t recognize Nicholas.” Brow pinched with worry, she stared into the fire.
“It’s late. You should sleep.”
“I—I can’t.” Ellie shook her head. “Every time I close my eyes, I feel like I’m back inside the stagecoach. Just after...” Her chin quivered.
The accident?
Rhett nearly offered to pray aloud for her. But she might consider that unseemly. Besides, he worked for a company that stressed no familiarity between workers and passengers. Ellie was free to ask her questions, but he should not initiate a conversation.
He raised his eyes.
Lord, please help Ellie. Give her Your peace.
When Rhett again met her gaze, she seemed to understand what he’d done. However, after a few minutes, tension again gripped her.
Chewing her lip, she toyed with her braid. “Tell me more about your mentor.”
He took a slow breath, contemplating how much to say.
“Please forgive my intrusive questions,” she hastened to add. “Talking helps keep me from thinking about...” She grimaced.
If this was the way the Lord decided Rhett should help, he would be happy to oblige. “My mother became his housekeeper, even though their views about God differed.”
Quite drastically—at least at first. But the Lord softened Ma’s heart until she embraced the Good News. At the same time, He was also working on Mr. Callaway. Although he was a decade or more older than Ma, they eventually fell in love.
“Why’d he decide to become your mentor?”
He chuckled at the memory. “Mr. Callaway said he couldn’t abide a wild boy, with no manners or education, running around his house.”
“Callaway?” Surprise crossed her face. “But didn’t you say that’s your last name?”
Rhett hissed at his slip.
“How’s that...?” Ellie’s eyebrows rose. “Did they marry?”
No use hiding the fact. “Yes.”
Her smile widened. “How lovely.”
He remained silent.
“You don’t think so?” she pressed.
“Yes, I do.” Forcing a grin, Rhett tossed more sticks into the fire.
Opposite him, her fingers stilled. “Something horrible happened, didn’t it?” Her hushed question filled the night. “Tell me.”
He was struck by her perception. Over the years, he had learned to mask his emotions, but Ellie had a way of delving into his soul. However, he felt like he could tell his story without recrimination. At least part of it.
“There was an incident. At the settlement. Where Mr. Callaway did what he called the Lord’s work.” Rhett paused. With painful awareness, he realized he had never spoken of it before.
“Go on.”
He swallowed the tightness in his throat that had nothing to do with thirst. “A conflict. In the Dakota Territory. Between the military and the locals. Tempers had been running high for months. Many battles have happened across this land, initiated by both sides.”
“And Mr. Callaway died?”
Rhett nodded. “He tried to intervene and was caught in the crossfire.”
Afterward, nobody admitted to starting the fire that consumed his house. When the military urged them to leave the area, Rhett and his mother were on the move again.
Ma told him that Mr. Callaway intended to legalize Rhett’s adoption, but never made it to a solicitor’s office. Regardless, Rhett took his mentor’s name.
Ma begged him to never reveal his birth father’s identity. Made him promise. Even after every member of the Walker Gang had been arrested or imprisoned, Ma warned him to never share their shameful secret. Folks never forgot—and rarely forgave.
“How sad.” Through the smoke of the fire and the sparks that flew into the air, the sorrow on Ellie’s face struck him. “How old were you?”
“Sixteen.” Yet better prepared to deal with life than when he was eight, when they had fled after Pa’s death. With the skills Rhett had picked up from his native friends and the education he’d gotten from Mr. Callaway, he could help provide for his mother. Although they still had their share of hardships, sleepless nights and hungry days were a thing of the past.
Expression troubled, Ellie drew up her legs and wrapped her arms about her skirts. “I’m sure you miss him.”
Rhett threw another stick into the fi
re. “Despite the sorrow, I consider myself blessed. God provided. Again and again.”
Mr. Callaway taught him to be grateful for all things, not only through what he preached, but in the way he lived and breathed the gospel. Time and again, he demonstrated the Lord’s love and forgiveness for all men.
Except for the popping fire and the distant sounds of animals, silence filled the night. For many minutes, Ellie didn’t move beyond her fingers absently twirling her braid. Finally, her gaze met his. “You’re quite a man.”
He could not suppress his grin. “But apparently my skills are suitable only for stagecoach work.”
He meant it as a joke. It had been only four months since their move to Cheyenne. Riding shotgun was the first permanent job he’d found in the area.
Most folks seemed to have forgotten about the Walker Gang, but there were exceptions. Like Mr. Tesley. Ma always said Rhett looked the spitting image of his father. No doubt his eye color provided a clue. The three outlaw brothers were known for their “sky-blue eyes.”
The only reason for their return to the area was Ma longed for home. How could Rhett deny her wishes? She worked as a milliner while he supplemented her income so that one day they could buy a small parcel of land with a tidy house.
Ellie leaned toward him. “Perhaps you could use your skills for something different.”
He rested his arms on drawn-up knees. “Tell me where to find this work.”
“My uncle’s ranch.” She scooted closer. “He wrote me that he’s always looking for good help. And from what I’ve seen, you have a knack with horses.”
He tamped down the impulse to accept her offer. For now he must fulfill his promise to Pete to stay on with the stagecoach company for a year. Rhett owed his friend that much.
“Who is your uncle?” He spoke slowly, buying time for a graceful way to decline.
“William Marshall. His ranch is not too far from Casper.” Her voice rose, a smile playing on her lips. “You may think it presumptuous of me to make the offer without asking him first, but he really is looking for help. He told me so. I am traveling there now. Why don’t you talk to him?”
With such a welcoming invitation, how could he say no?
Then cold reality stifled the warmth that had begun to blossom in his chest. He had heard of William Marshall, a long-time resident of the area. Heard of his hard-fisted business practices. No doubt he knew about the Walker Gang.
“I appreciate the offer.”
“But...?”
“I have an obligation to Pete. And to the stagecoach company.”
She rubbed two fingers across her chin, clearly pondering his words. “Very well. But give me your word you’ll keep my offer in mind—and that you’ll come see me if you ever reconsider.”
Heat again suffused him at the thought of seeing her in the future. Warmth that had nothing to do with the bonfire.
As Ellie sat on the other side of the flames, her face and hair glowed. The excitement in her eyes and open expression beckoned to him. Despite her filthy dress, dirt-smudged face and torn sleeve, she appeared the epitome of beauty.
No, her loveliness radiated from within.
Something expanded in his chest—as though a tight lasso around his heart had unraveled, allowing him to breathe.
“I give you my word. Gladly.” He hadn’t meant to whisper, but somehow, speaking aloud felt almost sacrilegious.
The sweet smile she bestowed on Rhett completely captivated him.
* * *
Ellie awakened, disoriented. Darkness blanketing the campsite, she sat up. The fire had died down to glowing coals. Occasional bright sparks snapped upward before fizzling out. Nearby, Mrs. Rushton’s form appeared as an inky hulk with Nicholas snuggled beside her. The faintest glow in the east promised a new day.
But where was Rhett? In the many hours after they had settled, Ellie awakened several times. She had drawn comfort from seeing his watchful form, motionless as he sat by the fire or stood sentry, listening to the night noises. Now, he was nowhere to be seen.
Fighting panic, she rose and peered into the surrounding darkness. Had he abandoned them in the middle of the night? A silly and unwarranted thought. After all, he had promised to watch over them.
A sound reached her ears—the faintest drone. Rhett? Ellie listened, trying to pinpoint his location. As her eyes adjusted, she saw his silhouette in the distance. A nearly full moon hung in the sky while countless stars paid homage to the greater light. Rhett stood with hands clasped to his chest, head raised. In worship? Prayer? He spoke just loudly enough to prove he was praying.
Intrigued, she listened. Nobody she knew prayed that way. Back in Chicago, Sunday mornings were filled with silent lips, bowed heads and bended knees.
Drawing nearer, she caught snatches of phrases.
“Thank You...my Father...provision...continued safety...increase my love for You.”
Father? Rhett spoke the title as if he meant it—in a familial way. She had never heard anyone address God as Father except in the rote sense. But...love? In her understanding, everyone’s primary responsibility was to fear and serve God.
As Rhett’s hands lowered, she beheld his expression. Ecstasy etched his features, clearly visible in the brilliant moonlight. Face lowering, he fell silent, as though listening to the God of the heavens.
What Rhett had told her that evening—about his life—hit her so hard she nearly doubled over. How could this man worship a God who would allow such tragedies to happen? And yet she had no doubt Rhett loved Him, evidenced from the rapture on his face. She didn’t understand. For her, God reminded her of her father. She’d spent years trying to please them both. No matter what she did for God, no matter how hard she worked to take care of the poor and do Christian acts of service, He was never happy. All she sensed from Him was tolerance at best, contempt at worst.
Rhett appeared to have a different relationship with God, obvious from the joy on his face and his reverent words.
Her confusion transformed into jealousy. She wished she could grasp what Rhett had.
Uncaring whether or not he heard her, Ellie wheeled and dropped onto her blanket. But it was a very long time before she again slept.
Chapter Four
“We’ll get you to your uncle in no time.” With one arm in a sling, Pete handed Ellie up into the wagon along with Nicholas. “And don’t worry about Mrs. Rushton. Doc is seeing to her.”
“But...” Having run out of protests and reasons to delay, she pressed her lips together. For the dozenth time her gaze strayed to Rhett. Before they parted ways, would they get to say their goodbyes?
She had no time to find out. In the flurry of the morning’s activities, Pete had arrived with several other men and wagons as Rhett had promised. Before she had a chance to talk to him, the men loaded her belongings and she was on her way.
The few times she glanced over her shoulder, he was nowhere to be seen.
Disappointment pierced her. Perhaps the camaraderie she and Rhett had shared over the night’s bonfire had dissipated in the stark light of day.
The trip to Casper dragged. Nicholas chattered, asking hundreds of questions as he sat between her and the wagon driver. Since the man didn’t answer, Ellie felt obligated to entertain the child. After they reached town, Mr. Rushton met them and took charge of his son. The driver unloaded the Rushtons’ possessions. Once freed from the obligation to look after Nicholas, Ellie looked about.
Casper was not the quaint burgh she had imagined. A handful of ramshackle buildings met her gaze appearing as though a strong wind or a single match could obliterate the structures. According to her uncle, the town had not yet been incorporated. He expressed hope about that happening once the railroad reached this part of the territory.
The wagon driver returned to escort her to the hotel. After they arrived, the proprietor offere
d her a place to freshen up. When she mentioned she wouldn’t be spending the night, he seemed to already know that her uncle was on his way.
“I have instructions to provide a meal, miss, if you like.”
“Yes, please.”
“It being Sunday and all, we don’t have many customers at this time o’day.”
She didn’t mind, not feeling up to visiting with anyone. While the proprietor served her a light dinner, exhaustion hit her in waves. Images of the stagecoach accident continued to flash through her thoughts.
As the man set and removed dishes, she fought to focus on his chitchat. Finally, he left her with a cup of tea. She grew restless as the afternoon’s sun crept into the sky. Would Uncle Will never arrive? More than once, her fingers crept up to her sore neck to massage the ache. Her whole body complained of stiffness as she yearned for a decent bed. She brushed at the dust on her skirt, longing to change out of filthy clothing.
As she finished her lukewarm tea, an oily scent assaulted her senses. Staring out the window, she ignored it.
“Miss Elinor?”
Ellie jumped at a man’s nearby voice, her teacup rattling in the saucer. When she turned to face him, the rancid scent of old pomade struck her in full force. A rough-looking cowboy stood nearby. A dark-striped shirt, speckled with grease spots, met her gaze first, then the shiny gun that rode low on his hip.
She craned her neck to see his face.
“Guy Bartow. Yer uncle’s foreman.” He swiped his hat from his head, then performed an awkward half-bow. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Nodding in reply, she studied his dark brown hair, slicked back, and a knotted, red kerchief at his throat. A black smudge of dirt behind one ear proved he had been too hasty with his ablutions.
Her neck began to ache from leaning back so far. As her eyes began to water, she resisted the urge to press a handkerchief to her nose. The foreman was so close, she couldn’t move.
She attempted to clear the odor of his pomade from herself with a cough. “How’d you do?”
