For a while, he stood there, wishing he could turn and see the lamp lit in the cabin, find her busy in the kitchen or waiting at the door. But she was gone now, he had let her go, too ashamed about his own foolishness to stop her, unable to tell her the truth of his feelings.
He hoisted himself up to sit on the rail and stared out. Evening began to close in and the horse whinnied a reminder, but Daniel waited for the scattered stars that made an early appearance.
Yes, he had been a fool.
But there was no reason to be one now.
****
The driver hauled back on the reins and fixed the brake, bringing the cart to a stop. “I can take you right in if you like.”
Emily smiled her gratitude. “No, no, that’s quite all right. You’ve gone out of your way enough for me. Thank you.”
“All right then. Here, lemme help you down, missy,” he said, jumping from his perch. He lifted Emily’s bag from the rear and strode around to give her a hand, watching as she cautiously placed her foot on the step and gave a little hop to hit the ground. “You know your way from here, do you?”
“Yes, yes. I follow the path across the creek, and it will lead me to the cabin.” She was anxious to get on but not anxious about what she might find.
“I’m thinking now I heard somethin’ ’bout Saunders taking off a week or so back, but then it might notta been him. Rumors start hereabouts, and it’s like a bunch of them Chinee whispering, things jus’ get spoilt in the tellin’.”
“Well. If he still owns the ranch—”
“Oh, he owns it right enough.”
“I’ll be fine. Thank you.” And she did feel fine. To her own surprise, she felt no fear, no trepidation, only a sense of home-coming, of being at long last in the right place.
The late afternoon had warmed the earth to a parched crust. As Emily ambled down the trail, the low hum of insects blended with the drumming of the cart’s wheels as they rolled away over the rocky terrain. Emily shaded her eyes to squint out at the hills, the gold of the dried grasses wavering in the autumn warmth. She wondered who looked after his stock while he was gone, if the cabin would be boarded up or padlocked.
And then, there it was before her.
A breeze ruffled the grasslands, sending puffs of seed flying into the air. A solitary bee buzzed right by her and, as she jolted her head away from its route, she saw a herd of elk moving across the plain in the distance.
But it was loneliness that greeted her. The cabin stood as if abandoned; the shade of the approaching evening and lengthening shadows gave it the aura of isolation now facing her. She knocked once before turning and calling his name to the prairie beyond, knowing, even as she did so, there would be no reply.
The cabin was neither locked nor boarded. Inside, she discovered an abandoned kitchen followed by the neglected bedroom. He had left in a hurry, that was certain. While Daniel had managed to wash up the last of his breakfast dishes, they were not put away, still laid out on the board next to the unrinsed kitchen basin. At the washstand, there were signs he had shaved, wisps of hair from a razor sloshed in left water, a scum of foam around the edge. In the bedroom, the bed remained unmade, blankets tossed aside, his dirty laundry piled in a corner.
Emily set to work, her own bag left packed, waiting.
Later that evening, when a hasty knock was followed by a man entering, a young man she did not recognize, her heart jolted. She laid a hand to her chest as they stared at one another.
“Well, who the heck are you?” he queried. “Saw the lantern lit.”
“I…Emily Darling. I...am Daniel Saunders’ cousin,” she ventured. “A very…distant cousin.”
A smile spread across the young man’s face. He removed his hat, turning it in his hands, his sandy brown hair hanging about his face, his ruddy features lit by his smile. “Well, heck, Daniel never said nothing ’bout expectin’ no one. Did he know you were comin’?”
“No. I…I was hoping to surprise him.” The lie, and the thought of that surprise, gave her a warm glow inside.
The young man took a few steps toward her. “Well, you sure as heck surprised me, ma’am. Jamie Jenkins is the name.” He extended his hand, which Emily shook. “Sure am glad to meet ya, Miz Darlin’.”
“Likewise, I’m sure.” At a loss as she was the intruder, she asked, “Were you…were you staying in the cabin? Has Daniel left?” She wanted confirmation, needed confirmation of what the cart driver had said.
“Left? Not if you mean for good. He headed out, asked my ma if I’d look after things for a spell. But, no, I ain’t stayin’ here. I come in to do the feeds, check the stock, that sorta thing. Then I head on home.”
“I see.” She went to pull across the bedroom’s net curtain, as if he might be horrified by the mess in there. Turning back, she asked, “Did he say when he might return?”
“Told Ma should be three week if all goes well. Didn’t say where he was headed though. Remains a mystery.” Jamie stepped from foot to foot as if he were practicing a dance. “Guess it were you what got the surprise.”
“Yes.” Outside, the indigo of night had dropped a curtain over the landscape. Emily stared out the window, before smiling at Jamie. “Well, I’m afraid I don’t know much about looking after stock, or I would take on your duties.”
“That’s all right, Miz Darlin’. I’ll be back about dawn. Won’t disturb you if I can help.” He started to leave, his hand stretched out for the door. “I take it you’ll be staying a spell?”
“Yes. Oh, yes. If I may. You must come and go as you please, as Daniel would want. But I’ll be staying.”
Jamie replaced his slouch hat and tapped the brim in farewell. He yanked the door open, had a foot out when she stopped him.
“Mr. Jenkins—”
“Jamie.”
“Jamie, then. I wonder…I wonder if you might do me a favor, but please,” she rushed on, “if it’s a huge inconvenience do feel free to say no.”
“Sure thing. What is it?”
“I wonder if you might teach me, as you go around, how to look after the stock, how to ride, even.”
“You don’t know how to ride?” Disbelief left his mouth hanging for a moment. “Shoot, ma’am. You surely ought to know how to handle a horse hereabouts.”
“Yes. So, will you?”
Jamie sighed, then the smile slowly crept back from ear to ear. “I guess I can stretch the time a bit. You be ready at five, then. That’s the morning, not the evening.” He chuckled as he strode out to his horse.
****
Begrudging the extra time it took to stop, Daniel reined in at the Jenkins’ place to the percussion of hammers hitting nails. Jamie waved from his perch on the homestead roof as his father acknowledged Daniel’s presence with a tip of his hammer before proceeding with work. The younger man climbed down the waiting ladder and jumped the last few rungs before turning to him.
“You’re back,” he stated.
“Yeah. Any problems?”
“Nope.” And then a grin spread from ear to ear. “Your cousin’s arrived.”
“My… Oh, yeah, Emily. Guess I been told by just about everyone from Cheyenne onwards. How’s she doin’? Did you startle her?”
Jamie laughed. “Well, I guess it was sort of mutual.” He dusted his hands together before offering, “Taught her to ride and a few bits about stock and such. Left y’all a couplea layin’ hens and a young rooster and some seeds might come up next spring. Sure is a looker, this cousin of yours.”
“Yup.” Daniel sat back in his saddle, the reins loose in his hand, trying to keep his own smile under control. “Thanks for the gifts, and for taking care of things. I’ll repay when I can.”
“If I were a few year older—”
“But you’re not.” Daniel’s tone was sure to make any man back down.
Jamie scratched a line in the dirt with his boot toe. “You really cousins, you two?”
He kept a straight face. “’Course we are. Distant
cousins. Very distant cousins.” His impatience to get home grew and he gathered his reins. News would be out around town soon enough. “Wedding’s tomorrow in Jackson. Arranged it with the minister on the way in. Be honored if you’d stand with me.”
Jamie burst out laughing. “Sure thing, Dan. I’ll be there.”
“Ten o’clock,” he called over his shoulder as his roan headed for home.
****
He couldn’t see her soon enough. The horse would have to wait.
Striding to the cabin, he found it empty, though it held every sign of Emily’s presence. Kitchen cleaner than it had ever been, bed made, laundry washed and put away, new curtains sewn from the fabric he had bought, his celebratory bottle of wine waiting on the table and her small bottle of lavender water on the side of the washstand. Daniel finally led the roan over to the barn, discovered his dun mare was gone, and returned with his jaw aching from smiling. He ran a hand over the two days of stubble and concluded the least he could do was shave.
As he strode back from emptying the basin and giving it a rinse, he spotted a moving figure on the horizon, coming in at a steady lope. He absently let the basin drop, spellbound. As Emily approached, he could see her wheat-sheaf hair flying out behind her, and, closer still, the look of pure joy on her face. He had the urge to carry her off, feel her skin against his own, ravish her in the autumn grass and see her hair blend into the gold.
He would, too.
The image flickered across his mind’s eye and the tension of desire grew as she rode closer.
She reined to a halt in front of him. A small smile turned up her lips, and her eyes, glowing like the sun on water, told him everything he needed to know.
“You’re back.” She was breathless from the ride, rosy from the wind.
“You’re here.” He stepped to take the reins and hold the horse steady as she dismounted, but there was no need.
“Where have you been?” she asked as her feet hit earth.
“New York,” he said flatly, knowing what her reaction would be.
She didn’t disappoint. Emily’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide.
“Looking to bring you home, of course. Graham told me Wilfred had capitulated, finding it cheaper to hire a housekeeper than lawyers. Said you had stopped in, told him where you were headed. He was appalled I’d come—”
“All that way, Daniel. All that way,” she finished for him. “I guess I’m not a surprise then.”
“You are.” He brushed back hair from her face, left his hand caressing her cheek, his thumb running over her lips as she kissed it. “Riding. Out on your own. Have you a gun?”
“No. But you’ll teach me to shoot. I reckon.”
He snorted at her mimicry.
“I do have one surprise, however.” Eyes bright with love and happiness, she took his hand from her face and placed it on her stomach.
Daniel’s smile widened. This woman was his now, his alone.
“You won’t be riding any more for a spell, then, that’s for sure.”
Emily straightened, suppressing her own grin, and looked him in the eye. “Mr. Saunders, are you going to be telling me what to do for the rest of my life?”
He gathered his future Mrs. to him, fingers entwined in her aureate hair, and kissed her in a way that brokered no question as to his possession.
“You bet. Absolutely. For the rest of your life.”
A word about the author...
Andrea Downing likes to say that, when she decided to leave New York, the city of her birth, she made a wrong turn and went east instead of west. She ended up spending most of her life in the UK where she received an M.A. from the University of Keele in Staffordshire. She married and raised a beautiful daughter and stayed on to teach and write, living in the Derbyshire Peak District, the English Lake District, Wales, and the Chiltern Hills before finally moving into London.
During this time, family vacations were often on guest ranches in the American West, where she and her daughter have clocked up some nineteen ranches to date. In addition, she has traveled widely throughout Europe, South America, and Africa, living briefly in Nigeria.
In 2008 she returned to the city of her birth, NYC, but frequently exchanges the canyons of city streets for the wide open spaces of the West. Her love of horses, ranches, rodeo, and just about anything else western is reflected in her writing.
Loveland, a western historical romance published by The Wild Rose Press, Inc., was her first book and a finalist for the RONE Award of Best American Historical. Lawless Love, a story, came out as part of The Wild Rose Press’ Lawmen and Outlaws series and was a RONE finalist for Best Historical Novella.
Andrea is a member of Romance Writers of America and Women Writing the West.
You can learn more about Andrea and her writing at http://andreadowning.com.
Thank you for purchasing
this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Dearest Darling Page 8
