by Anna Zogg
They’re all liars.
Every person she had known and trusted betrayed her. Ellie’s mother. Father. Grandmother. Uncle Will. Even Rhett. He had promised her Tripper was out of danger. Why had he lied?
Ellie couldn’t decide who had wounded her the most.
Another tear—one of thousands—slid across the bridge of her nose. Never before had she felt so alone. Even after Father had died, leaving her world in shambles, she hadn’t felt this abandoned.
She hiccupped as she corrected herself. Even after the man she thought was her father had died, she hadn’t felt this alone.
Pack up and leave.
The unbidden thought came to her. But where could she go? She had no one. Distant cousins resided in New York and San Francisco, but she knew nothing of them. She couldn’t just show up on their doorstep. As tears again consumed her, Ellie buried her face into the pillow.
When she finally calmed herself for the tenth time—or the eighteenth?—she sat up in bed. After scooping water from the basin, she cooled her face. Her eyes lit upon her mother’s diary.
“You knew what it was like,” Ellie whispered.
If what she suspected was true, her mother had faced pregnancy alone.
With me.
The thought shook Ellie anew.
Her palm rested on the embossed leather of her mother’s diary. “How did you find the strength to go on?”
Inside on the back cover, Mama had written several Bible verses. In her time of trouble, she had turned to God.
But wouldn’t trusting Him only result in more hurt? A lifetime of experience seemed to support her fears. Although Ellie had prayed and prayed, Mama had died. She’d miscarried several times until the last pregnancy killed her.
Then there was Uncle Will. He had done what was right in coming back to the ranch after the attack. While he was away, his love had been married off to another—Ellie’s imposter father.
Why hadn’t God intervened?
Her fingers traced the delicate paper as hand-written verses jumped off the page.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.
Ellie sucked in a slow breath as the words filled her.
I will be with you.
Knees shaking, she slowly sank beside her bed.
Father, increase my love for You. The memory of Rhett’s prayer brought fresh tears to her eyes. He knew his true Father in heaven. And trusted Him. Despite the travesty that dogged his footsteps, he had never lost faith in God.
I will be with You.
Ellie looked upward. “Are you with me, Father?”
The image from the barn—of the roof splitting open to reveal the heavens—flooded her mind. The sensations she had experienced once again flowed into her. She felt as though a soft cloud settled in her soul and buoyed her up.
A long sigh escaped.
Yes. He was there. And with Him, she could face anything.
* * *
For the remainder of the day, Ellie sequestered herself. Only by the next morning did she feel ready to interact with anyone. Despite the turmoil in her soul, the Lord had granted her a night of sweet, restful sleep. With a new awareness of God, she started her day with a prayer of thanks for His constant and comforting presence.
Earlier than her usual time, she opened her bedroom door.
“There you are.” Will’s sad smile met her the moment she stepped out.
He was alone in the great room, sitting at the end of the table.
Breakfast appeared to be long over and no one was in sight. In the kitchen, she could hear Mrs. Johnson puttering at the stove. Ellie sank into the nearest chair, several feet from...
Confusion gripped her. How should she address this man? She had no idea how to share what she’d learned.
Mrs. Johnson bustled into the room and set a plate of food before her.
“Thank you,” Ellie said before the woman hurried back out.
“I’m sorry.” Will’s voice held a gravelly note of regret that she’d not heard before. “I should’ve told you. About your horse. Before...” He huffed out a breath, then grew silent, lips pressed together.
Ellie held her tongue to keep from saying, “It’s all right.”
Shooting Tripper without her permission or knowledge was not okay, but that wasn’t what was uppermost in her mind. The pale, downcast figure before her was.
What if he was her father? Did he know? When Mama was alive, he had visited a few times. After her death, his letters had been sporadic. Ellie couldn’t imagine his neglecting her if he knew the truth. Will Marshall was a man of action and passion. She recalled the tone of the letters he had written to his precious Adel. Surely, if he knew she was his daughter, he would have wanted her by his side.
But how to broach the subject?
Ellie picked up her fork and nudged a potato slice toward a chunk of ham while Will looked on. For his sake, she cut off a sliver of meat and ate it.
He appeared a dozen years older. Had her passionate outburst two nights before distressed him that much? She wouldn’t have believed it unless...
Perhaps they shared a bond that he was not yet aware of.
As she set down her fork, she prayed for the right words.
Will held up one hand. “Before you say anything, I need to tell you something, Ellie. Something you’re not going to like.”
Her mind raced, but she couldn’t imagine what he might mean.
“Yesterday, after dinner,” Will spoke as he sat back, “Guy asked to meet with me. He said he’d noticed cattle disappearing over the last couple weeks. He hadn’t wanted to tell me until after he double-checked the numbers. I rode out myself and surveyed the herds. He’s right.”
When he paused, Ellie asked, “Where’d they go?”
“Stolen.”
Her first thought—more outlaw trouble?
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you know who took them?”
“Yes.” His voice rasped.
“Who?”
“That’s the part you’re not going to like.” Will reached across the table to cover her hand. “I have irrefutable proof that Callaway is the thief.”
Rhett? She jerked her hand back. “Impossible.”
“No. It’s not.” Will shook his head. “I personally talked to the businessman who bought them. Mr. Tesley didn’t talk to him personally, but one of his men described what sounded like Callaway. When Tesley found out the cattle might be stolen, he promised—”
“No.” Ellie pressed her arms to her sides. “I—I don’t believe it. Rhett is...”
She wanted to say, “Rhett is the most honest and honorable man I’ve met.” But Will’s expression proved he wouldn’t believe her. Only recently had he begun to trust his newest employee. But if he had to make a choice, Will would believe the word of his foreman over a man he’d always been inclined to distrust.
“Tesley also gave me this.” Will pulled a yellowed sheet of folded paper from his pocket and spread it on the table.
A wanted poster?
The face on it looked like Rhett, from the cleft in his chin to his neutral expression. The first phrase that jumped off the page was bright blue eyes, followed by the bold words bank robbery, cattle rustling, murder.
She shoved the paper back toward her uncle. “This poster is nearly two decades old. That can’t be Rhett.”
“I know.” Will’s mouth settled into grim lines. “But he’s related to this man. Everett Walker. For years, I kept a wanted poster, just in case I ran across him. I memorized every line of that face. I knew ‘Callaway’ looked familiar, the second I saw him.”
“But...” Ellie shook her head. “You can’t hold Rhett responsible for the actions of someone—someone who looks like him.”
“Blood doesn’t lie. The man who
calls himself Rhett Callaway has outlaw blood.” Will’s finger stabbed the paper’s visage. “Cattle rustling runs in his family.”
Blood doesn’t lie.
The significance of those words struck Ellie with such force that they silenced her. What about her own bloodline? She had a father she couldn’t claim. Rhett had one he wouldn’t. His refusal to talk about his family explained so much.
“You might as well know the whole story.” Will’s voice gained a flinty edge. “This morning, I told Callaway to clear out. And to not set foot on my property again.”
Shoulders slumping, Ellie remained dumbfounded.
“No doubt you think I’m harsh.” Will’s gaze tore through her. “But I could’ve had him strung up on the nearest tree. Around here, that’s what we do to cattle rustlers.”
She could only stare at her white hands, clenched in her lap.
The chair squawked as Will rose to his feet. He strode to the door, then paused to add one final threat. “If he shows up—anywhere on my property—my men have orders to shoot him.”
Chapter Fifteen
For the fourth evening in a row, Rhett skirted the edges of the ranch. Of course, Marshall’s trigger-happy men might not care that he was technically outside the property. Several times, he had heard them riding the perimeter. Looking for him? Every morning, Rhett made certain to hide the evidence of his presence. His only worry was that Wash might whinny a greeting to the other horses.
How soon before Marshall’s men gave up, believing that he’d moved on?
If he had any sense, he wouldn’t continue to hang around. However, Rhett was determined to stay. He had to speak to Ellie. Each night he watched and prayed for an opportunity, asking the Lord to protect her, himself and even Will Marshall.
But even as he wished for an occasion to meet with Ellie, he knew it would likely be the last time he saw her. Would she listen? Believe him when he insisted he wasn’t a thief? Perhaps not. Many a man had been tempted by greed.
If nothing else, he could reassure her he had not shot Tripper. According to Pete, the gelding would live—as long as the horse remained away from the ranch and the chance to be poisoned again. His friend had taken him to his home, to provide the kind of care Tripper needed. Pete guessed someone had used arsenic. Another couple days and the gelding would have succumbed.
But what weighed on Rhett the most was his need to warn Ellie—she and her uncle were in danger from Bartow and his men.
Would she believe him?
As Rhett crouched on a hill, the evening reached out with long fingers to gather shadows. From a safe distance, he watched the ranch. As he began to rehearse various scenarios of how the evening might play out, Rhett shook his head. Best not plan for a specific possibility. He needed to prepare for any eventuality.
Time to move. He gathered a handful of ashes and rubbed them into Wash’s rump to hide the appaloosa’s white hairs. Every night he tied his horse with a long, loose lead, so that he would stay put if undisturbed, but could escape if threatened. Remaining low to the ground, Rhett moved closer to the ranch house. He found a dip in the terrain where he could observe without being seen.
As per custom, the ranch hands emerged from the house after supper. Some lingered in the yard. Two men headed for the corral and saddled up. Looked like they were the ones to make the evening’s rounds. From Rhett’s distance, he couldn’t identify who they were.
Ellie, exiting the house, riveted his attention. After pacing one length of the porch, she turned and walked past the open door to the other end. Then she wrapped her arm about one column and stared into the night.
In his direction.
He wished he were close enough to see her face. Was she thinking of him? Or merely enjoying the cool evening? Didn’t matter. Rhett found himself longing to look on her delicate beauty and perhaps even catch a whiff of her lavender perfume. His heart thrummed in longing.
She seemed unaware of the stares of the ranch hands or the dark clouds that rolled across the sky. When Marshall stepped onto the porch, the men in the yard stopped ogling her. Some appeared to bid the ranch owner good-night as they tipped their hats and sauntered toward the bunkhouse. The owner appeared to speak to one man at the bottom of the steps before joining his niece. Soon the remaining ranch hands wandered away, leaving only Marshall and Ellie. Even from a distance, Rhett could tell her uncle was speaking earnestly to her. He laid a hand on her shoulder while she...
The sound of horse hooves sent an icy shaft of alarm through Rhett. Stupid of him to forget the danger of his own situation. The two riders who were checking the perimeter of the ranch drew closer. No time for him to run. No place to hide.
Rhett flattened himself into the earth’s depression, praying they wouldn’t see him in the gathering dusk. Above, clouds blanketed the sky and covered the moon.
“Hold up,” one man called to his partner. Gates might have been the speaker. “This is the area.”
Rhett held his breath. Horse hooves drew closer, then paused.
“Ain’t nothing here,” the second man spoke. McCoy? The creak of saddle’s leather sounded mere yards from Rhett.
Body immobile, he slowed his breathing.
“And I’m telling you I saw something.” Gates seemed to be farther away.
McCoy growled. “If you ask me, this’s a waste of time.”
“Ain’t your decision, cowboy.” Gates’s voice grew hard. “We got orders.”
“Yeah, from Bartow. Not Marshall.”
Gates didn’t answer.
“Bartow’s lording it over everyone. Like he’s the boss.” McCoy’s voice lowered. “I even heard him and Whitey talking trash about Marshall’s niece.”
“So what?”
“So...? No man should speak about a lady like that. Bartow should be whupped.”
“I suppose you think you’re the one to do that?” Gates let loose a harsh laugh.
“I could be.” McCoy spat. “If it’d be a fair fight. But Bartow’s cronies would make sure it weren’t.”
“That’s a fact. Come next week, there’ll be more of ’em to steer clear of.”
“What’d’ya mean?”
“Bartow is hiring more men. Fair certain he handpicked them.”
McCoy blew out a disgusted breath. “Figures.”
They fell silent.
“Let’s move on,” Gates said. “We still got a lotta ground to cover tonight.”
The sound of retreating hooves met Rhett’s ears. However, he stayed where he was, just in case one of them remained behind. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen that trick. After many minutes of listening, he cautiously raised his head. He truly was alone.
But it was a good reminder that he needed to exercise more care when he stepped on Marshall’s land. His life depended upon it.
* * *
“It looks good.” Mrs. Johnson inspected Ellie’s fabric as they stood by the window. The bright morning sun highlighted the seam, which Ellie had sewn and torn out multiple times. Not until the piece was nearly perfect had she shown it to the housekeeper.
“Thank you.” Smiling, she fingered the placemat. A small accomplishment, but one that filled her with satisfaction. Ellie set aside her project. “And have you thought about my request?”
The woman threw her a sideways glance as she continued to gather the dirty dishes from breakfast.
“Last time I was in town, I bought some real work clothes.” Ellie followed her as she spoke, picking up a few items from the table. “I’m not afraid to try something new.”
“Hmm.” The woman went about her work. When they reached the kitchen, she took the plates from Ellie. “I’m not just concerned about your pretty clothes getting spoiled, but your hands.”
“My hands?” She studied her palms.
Mrs. Johnson wiped hers on a towel before ho
lding them up. “Do you want yours looking like mine?”
As she inspected the housekeeper’s calloused skin, broken nails and the permanent dirt etched into the surfaces, she tried to maintain a neutral expression. True, she didn’t want her hands appearing as rough as that, but she also didn’t want to sit around and sew all day.
“I want to be useful.” Ellie inserted determination into her voice. “Doing something that’ll help my uncle.”
That something would keep her from melting into tears, especially as she grieved Rhett’s departure.
Mrs. Johnson met her gaze. “Take care of Will. He’s most important.”
Yes, he was. And Ellie grew aware that she had done little for him over the last several days. More and more, she found herself staring into the distance, thinking of Rhett. Instead of diminishing over time, her longing for him had grown more intense. Where had he gone? She had made a few quiet inquiries in town to no avail. Even Pastor Charles said he hadn’t seen Rhett.
If not for the man who called himself her uncle, Ellie might have relocated to Casper by now. Or even Cheyenne to try to find Rhett. Someone would know something. She wanted to make certain he was well and had enough money to survive.
To that end, she spent a lot more time praying. Praying for Rhett’s safety. Praying for wisdom about what she should do. Praying for the perfect time to confront Will about her parentage.
Because her vigilance in watching over Will had grown lax, he had begun riding out to the range for longer hours. That resulted in his coughing more.
Ellie drew herself up. “I still want to help with the chickens. Maybe the garden too. I’ll wear gloves.”
The frown on Mrs. Johnson’s face slowly gave way to a small grin. “Very well. We’ll start tomorrow after breakfast.”
“Why not now?”
“Got my hands full today.”
“All right.” Ellie gave a nod. “Thank you.”
Arms full of dishes, the woman ambled out the back door.
