Love on the Range

by Jessica Nelson

  Trevor ate quickly, trying to digest her words. It just didn’t sound right. More than likely townspeople feared exposing him because they weren’t sure what he might do about it. That made more sense.

  Thirty minutes later, the ladies excused themselves from the table to go wash dishes.

  “I thought that girl’s prattling would never stop,” James commented as soon as they left. He shoved his chair back and stood, stretching his arms high and groaning before leaving the room.

  Trevor kind of liked the babbling, but figured he’d keep his mouth shut.

  Lou knew him too well. “She’s young. I don’t like it, Trev. Not at all.”

  “She’ll go home to Boston and be happy there come spring.”

  “You kissed her.” Lou’s tone was accusing.

  Trevor ran his fingers through his hair. “It was an accident. A lousy thing to do.”

  “You’ve satisfied your curiosity, now stay away from my niece.”

  He ignored that, got up and started for the door.

  “By the way, Trev, she’ll be going home after Christmas. I got a letter the other day. Her parents will be here tomorrow, so don’t get too close.”

  “Fine,” he said, then stepped into the hallway and took a deep breath. He felt like he’d been socked in the gut. This was where curiosity had brought him. To feeling vulnerable and stupid.

  So her parents were coming. It meant she’d be leaving and all that would be left of her was a memory.

  * * *

  At least Mary could do things right.

  “Beautiful.” Gracie stood in front of Mary’s full-length mirror the day after her horrendously botched sewing attempt. She turned to one side and studied her figure. “They fit perfectly.”

  Mary sat on the bed, feet tapping as she hummed.

  Gracie twirled one more time and sighed with pleasure. “Thank you so much for making these for me. I have longed to wear trousers since I was eight years old and mother told me I could not climb trees in a dress.” She smiled. “Are you making yourself some?”

  Mary stopped humming and looked up. “I’ll keep my skirts, thank you.”

  “Very well. I think I’ll head down to clean up the dishes from breakfast so you can rest.”

  “Oh, I slept fine. I’ll be right behind you.”

  She left Mary and skipped down the narrow hallway toward the stairs. She was halfway down before she stopped abruptly. Voices floated up, male and female, tinged with the sharp diction of Boston’s higher society.

  Her parents.

  “Gracelyn, is that you, dear?” Mother moved to the foot of the stairs and gasped. Her jewel bandeaux glittered in her dark hair. “William, come here at once. Look at your daughter.” Her strident tones rang through the hallway, and then the quieter creak of Father’s wheelchair as he reached his wife.

  Gracie felt frozen beneath her mother’s withering gaze, but as soon as she saw her father’s warm smile, hesitance melted into an answering grin.

  “Daddy!” She hopped down the rest of the stairs and bent over her father to kiss his cheeks.

  “Gracelyn, upstairs—immediately.”

  “Now, hold on, Edith. Let me get a look at our girl. Trousers, eh?” William’s perceptive gaze floated over Gracie. She kept her eyes down, glad only Uncle Lou witnessed this spectacle.

  “I knew that girl was trouble, I did.” James popped into the hallway, followed by Trevor. They stood near Uncle Lou, whose arms were crossed tightly against his chest. Trevor lounged against the wall, hands tucked lazily into his pockets.

  Gracie held her tongue, just as she’d been taught.

  Father touched her arm. “My dear, why are you wearing pants when you know your mother and I disapprove?”

  Edith’s mouth set as she took in her daughter’s attire, but good manners prevented her from interrupting her husband in the presence of strangers. Gracie glanced at her mother, then at Trevor. Despite his relaxed stance, his face was devoid of emotion and he looked as cold as a block of ice. She shuddered and faced her mother.

  “Well, my legs chill wearing these silly skirts and you really haven’t forbidden homemade trousers. I thought it might not be an issue if there was no one to see me.”

  Edith’s lips flattened even more, if possible, but William smiled. “Your trousers are flattering, my dear, a little too much so. I take it you did not make them yourself?”

  She shook her head slightly.

  “Well then, why don’t you change into a dress to make your mother more comfortable and we can discuss this later.”

  “Yes, Daddy.” Gracie leaned over again and brushed her lips against his pale forehead. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered against his ear. He took her hand and squeezed it.

  The men began making introductions as she trudged up the stairs, her mother close behind. As soon as they went into the bedroom, Edith closed the door and turned to her, a frown marring her patrician features.

  “Gracelyn, I cannot believe you would wear something like that. Whatever were you thinking?”

  She sighed and sat on the bed. “Today’s the first day I wore them, Mother. This is not Boston. There are no society ladies here to gossip on my deplorable manners.” She moved off the bed, restless. “I’m surprised you and Daddy risked traveling with all the grippe outbreaks. How was your trip?”

  “Tedious.” She sniffed. “We wrote to inform you we were on our way.”

  “That must’ve been the letter I threw away. It had gotten wet, you see, and I could not read it.” Gracie walked to the window seat, needing a fresh view before her nerves exploded.

  Mother followed her. “You must be ready to leave. I had no idea Lou’s place was so remote.”

  An odd disquiet carved a hollow place in Gracie’s chest. “At first I grew bored here, but now I find plenty to do. The land has grown on me. This place seems to have caught God’s special attention. As if He spent special time crafting these hills.”

  “Really, Gracelyn.” Edith’s nose lifted. “As if the Lord cares. We’ll leave within the week.”

  She stiffened. “I have heard the influenza is still spreading,” she said slowly.

  “Oh, posh, you will be perfectly safe with your father and me. We do not feel comfortable with you so far away, and with Lou, no less.”

  “I would feel uncomfortable being in Boston at this time, Mother. Even if there were no influenza, the fact that Connie is dead is difficult to deal with in a place filled with memories. I would rather stay here.”

  Remorse flickered across Edith’s face. “I did not think.” She lightly touched Gracie’s cheek. “I will speak with your father.”

  “It was dangerous for you to come here.”

  “In what way?”

  “The influenza, Mother.” And Mendez, but her mother needn’t be bothered with that.

  Edith laced her fingers together. “We simply had to come. Sending you here was a mistake.”

  “Because of Uncle Lou?” She picked at an invisible speck on her skirt. “Daddy practically forced me into this trip. And now you’re changing your minds?”

  “Your father’s tiff with Lou is their business, and I have told you to refer to William as Father.” Edith stood and patted her stylish chestnut hair. “I must freshen up and then find somewhere for your father to sleep. He cannot make it up these stairs.” Her skirts moved silently about her ankles as she stepped into the bathroom. “Does your uncle have a bedroom downstairs?”

  “Yes,” Gracie answered, trying to keep sullenness from her voice. How was she supposed to search for Striker when her mother would be watching her every move?

  Edith emerged from the bathroom and picked out a dress from the closet for Gracie to change into. It was one Mar
y had altered. She yanked it on, trying to pull it down so Edith would not notice the shorter length.

  “You’ve lost weight. It has made your eyes stand out.” Edith appraised her carefully before adding, “Are there any others here besides that scarred worker and old man?”

  Gracie had to work very hard to keep from bristling at her mother’s descriptive. “Mary, the housekeeper, and Julia, Mr. Cruz’s mother.”

  “Very good.” Mother marched out of the room, and Gracie followed.

  Life was about to become very dull, indeed. Down the stairs they went, Edith’s perfectly erect posture reminding her to straighten her own shoulders.

  Flickering lights crept out of the study and she trailed in after Mother, hands clasped and head bowed.

  “We do ranching, a little bit of business here and there. Trevor here is in the process of becoming part owner of the ranch,” Uncle Lou was saying.

  “It seems like a nice little spread. I would love for you to show me around sometime.”

  Gracie’s head whipped up at the familiar voice.

  The gentleman who had spoken stood, firelight glinting off his fair head, and stepped forward to reach for Gracie’s stiff fingers.

  “Gracelyn, my dear, you look lovely,” said Hugh.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hugh’s gaze lingered on Gracie’s face before she dropped her head in a demure gesture and gently removed her hand from his sweaty grasp. “How nice to see you. I did not realize my parents had brought a guest.”

  “Come now, Gracelyn. Your fiancé is not just any guest.” Edith clucked her tongue and moved to an empty spot on the couch opposite Trevor.

  Her fiancé? Gracie reluctantly followed her mother. She’d been quite clear about this engagement.

  Uncle Lou sat in his customary chair, with William to the right of him and Hugh to the left. She settled between her mother and Hugh while Trevor lounged alone on the couch across from them. She did not look at him.

  “It’s been a long time since we saw each other,” she said to Hugh. “Do you plan to stay long?” She smiled tightly, teeth grinding together. Manners dictated she remain calm and polite when what she really wanted to do was throw something.

  “I plan to stay as long as your parents do.” He grinned. “I’ve needed a vacation since I came back from overseas and this was the perfect opportunity.” He glanced at Lou. “I really look forward to seeing how your ranch operates. I’ve had enough of war and hope to invest in some property of my own.”

  The conversation turned to politics but Gracie didn’t hear a thing. Her parents obviously planned to push an engagement between her and Hugh. There could be no other explanation for his presence, despite his supposed interest in owning land.

  Well, he wouldn’t own her.

  She glanced at Trevor, whose face looked hewn of granite. She remembered his distrust over the letter he’d written. Would he believe her now despite her mother’s words?

  Gracie struggled to keep her face impassive as the men spoke of President Wilson and the influenza. Mother did not speak, and for once Gracie had no desire to, either. After fifteen minutes of interminable conversation she asked to be excused.

  Father appeared surprised at her request but he assented and she left the room. Once in the hall, she heaved a huge sigh and rested her head against the wall. Christmas was so close and now she would have to share it with Hugh, a man intent on taking what her parents offered. She groaned and straightened. Plucking Trevor’s leather jacket from the coat rack, she let herself outside into the bright winter sun and plopped down on a rocking chair.

  She closed her eyes against the sharp wind and rocked for several minutes. Back and forth, the soothing cadence of the chair against the porch floor creating its own song. Trevor’s scent surrounded her and she inhaled deeply.

  The door opened behind her, and then the chair beside her creaked as someone sat down.

  “Gracelyn, I have raised you better. Please come back inside before Hugh thinks you are avoiding him.”

  She opened her eyes. “I am, Mother. Why did you bring him here? There’s nothing between us.”

  “He is perfect for you. Calm, dependable. He is what you need in a husband.”

  “He doesn’t believe women should vote.” She shivered.

  “Come inside, out of the cold. What does it matter what he thinks?”

  It mattered, but her mother wouldn’t appreciate her opinion. They rose and went back into the too-warm study. Conversation still flowed smoothly and no one looked up as they reentered. This time Gracie sat next to Trevor, ignoring her mother’s startled look in favor of straightening her skirt.

  “Would anyone care for coffee?” she asked when there was an opening.

  “Mary is getting it,” Uncle Lou said, then continued his discourse on the government’s economic policies. Gracie shifted in her couch, snuck a peek at Trevor. He appeared engrossed in conversation and his eyes did not once stray her way. Hugh, on the other hand, ogled. She scowled.

  If her parents were not here she could speak freely, but now she was bound by propriety and manners. She had missed her parents but she would never miss the strict regulations they imposed.

  “I’ve heard scientists are working on a motorized wheelchair,” Trevor said to William. His gaze looked past her as though she did not exist.

  “I believe some have sold in London, though I’ve heard they’re unreliable contraptions.”

  “The technological advances are incredible,” Gracie put in. “And now that the war is over, I think opportunities are going to arise for women like never before.”

  “Are you still on that soapbox?” Hugh flashed a patronizing smile at Gracie before winking at Trevor. “Gracelyn is out to save women from the big, bad world.”

  A scalding burn prickled through her body. “Only because women have been treated deplorably since the beginning of this nation. To think our gender should prevent us from the vote, or even from earning a decent wage, is reprehensible.”

  Father’s hand gently touched her fingers, which had curled around the side of the couch. She swallowed the rest of her words, though they almost choked her going down.

  “Before you know it, we’ll be getting a woman president,” Uncle Lou joked as the study door swung open. Mary appeared, carrying a tray laden with cups and a kettle of coffee.

  Gracie jumped up. “Let me help you.”

  Edith cleared her throat softly. “I am quite certain Mary can handle serving us. Sit down, Gracelyn.”

  She obeyed, feeling the noose around her neck tightening. How could she have forgotten what living in a house with her mother was like? These last few months of freedom had been bliss.

  And now they were over.

  “Thank you, Mary.” Gracie tasted her coffee.

  “Are you restless, Gracie?” William peered at her over the top of his spectacles.

  “It is impolite and unthankful to be restless,” she said by rote.

  Uncle Lou chuckled. “Then why is your foot tapping so loudly?”

  She looked down. He was right. Her left foot seemed to have a life of its own and with a force of will she crossed it behind her right ankle. She sipped the bitter brew and began silently counting to one hundred in French.

  “Hugh, I’d love to hear about your travels while in Europe. Why don’t you join me in my office?” Uncle Lou set his cup down with a sharp click and from the shadows Mary retrieved it.

  “Excellent idea.”

  “Mary, show William and Edith to the guest quarters beside the office. We’ll be back by dinner.” Uncle Lou rose and gave William a stiff hug, then nodded to Edith.

  At the door, Hugh stopped and flashed Gracie a dimpled smile. “I will see you this evening, my darli
ng.”

  Gracie wanted to throw her cup at him but managed a genteel grimace instead. She turned to Trevor. “Perhaps we should check on Honey. I’ve not ridden since my fall and I’d love to try the Western saddle again. I promise I’ll obey all orders.”

  Mother brushed past. “Do you not have sewing to work on?”

  She wet her lips. “I’m sure you and Father need to get settled in first, and I am positively bursting to get back in the saddle. Mr. Cruz, I’ll need your help, of course.”

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mother’s eyes narrow but thank goodness Mary stepped forward, still carrying the coffee-laden tray. “If you wish, I can show you your room now.”

  “Very well,” Edith said briskly. She helped William maneuver his chair back so he could turn around.

  “Have fun, Gracie,” her father said.

  “I will. And Mother, Mary is an excellent seamstress. You two would probably enjoy knitting together.”

  But Edith was already following Mary out the door.

  She turned to Trevor. “Let us leave quickly, before Mother has a chance to stop me. I’ll meet you in the stables. I only need to pull on some winter clothes.”

  She ignored his cold expression and leaped up the stairs, two at a time.

  She had to explain one more time about Hugh. Perhaps now that Trevor knew she’d told the truth about the letter, he might believe her over her mother. She might not get another chance to talk privately with Trevor.

  If she didn’t find Striker soon, she would have no choice but to go back to Boston with her parents. Regardless, she wanted nothing to do with Hugh, especially after his degrading comment about her being out to save the world. What a heel.

  * * *

  The thick scent of hay, leather and manure permeated the stables. Gracie stopped at the entrance, instantly transported to the last time she’d been in here. The way she’d felt when she watched Trevor saddling the horses. She breathed deep and trailed her fingers along the door of each stall, pausing to say hello to a horse when it nickered.

  She stopped at Honey’s stall. The mare watched her casually, tossing her long, black mane.