Bridal Veil

by Hake, Cathy Marie

  “Thank you.”

  He soaked up that picture, then slowly turned to the next. . . and the next. “You captured the bark perfectly. I feel like I could touch this and pick up the rough texture. . . Mule deer step so daintily, don’t they? You have her poised exactly the way they do—I don’t know how you captured her in motion like that.”

  “I’ve always dabbled at home. Here, I can’t seem to help myself. Something inside demands I sketch or paint. I can’t explain it.”

  “Hit’s a matter of the right seed in the right soil,” Johnna declared. “You ken there’s places in a garden what’ll grow only a few thangs, but when those flower, they’re fearsome fine. I ’spect same’s true with you. You needed to come here to set your soul abloom.”

  Gabriel nodded. “Yosemite is like that for some of us. We come here, and it touches us deeply.”

  “I feel so close to God here,” Laurel confessed.

  Staring at the next sketch, Gabe murmured, “It shows.”

  He didn’t flip through the books as she’d expected. Instead, he took time over each sketch—even the silly ones she’d done of her cousins and brothers. “Boots, huh?”

  She laughed. “Look how scuffed up they are. Climbing is taking a terrible toll on their clothes—and we anticipated that, but I’ve never seen sorrier looking boots. By the time we make it back home, every last man is going to have to break in a new pair of boots.”

  “It’s only shoe leather,” April stated practically. “They’ve had such a good time, they won’t mind a few blisters.”

  “Kate’s mighty good with leather. She’s been repairin’ the boots regular-like.”

  “Is that so?” Gabe’s chin lifted. “There’s a rough spot on my packhorse’s girth strap. I’ve been padding it with a scrap of cloth. Think she could fix it?”

  “We’ll ask her,” Laurel said. “Leatherwork is where Kate’s talent shines.”

  “It’s plain to see where your talent lies,” Gabe said as he looked at Laurel. He’d set aside a handful of sketches and a pair of watercolors. “We need to discuss these. I want to purchase them.”

  “I’ve never sold my work. You’re welcome to take them.”

  “That’s generous of you, but I insist on buying them. In fact, I’m hoping to buy a view of Bridal Veil Falls from you once you’ve been there. My mother would treasure that.”

  The thought that he wanted to buy something already had her off-balance. Laurel couldn’t imagine he wanted to give her art as a gift. The thought stunned her. “I’m not sure what to think.”

  “Think about doing a watercolor of Bridal Veil,” he shot back. “Do you have any pasteboard tubes so I can preserve these? I’d hate to have them get crumpled or dog-eared.”

  “No, I don’t have anything like that.”

  “Jist use the back o’ one of them pads of yourn,” Johnna said. “That ought to work out.”

  “Good idea.” Gabe rummaged through the box. “These two pads are the same size, and you’ve filled them both. If we take the back of this one but keep them stacked together, the pictures ought to be protected still. What do you say?”

  “How do you intend to keep it curled shut?” Laurel wondered aloud.

  “Twine. I carry some in my pack. It’s handy stuff.” Gabe went over to the packs he’d removed from his horses, rummaged for a few minutes, and then reappeared with a decent length of twine in his palm. “This will serve our needs.”

  “Yes, I think it’ll work well.” Laurel tore the back off of a pad.

  Standing close, Gabe murmured, “Would you rather we spoke privately about the financial arrangements?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know what to do. I’m not a professional artist. Would a dollar be too much?”

  “A dollar!”

  Six

  Heat crept from Laurel’s bosom to her face. She’d tried to estimate how much the paper, paint, and pastels cost, then add in a tiny bit for her time.

  “Woman, that doesn’t even begin to cover your costs, let alone remunerate you for your talent!”

  Laurel could scarcely hear him for the relief that poured through her.

  “I brought one of those Kodak cameras with me. I took all one hundred pictures and sent it back to Rochester. It was twenty-five dollars for the camera, and the developing and reloading of the film was another ten. The sad fact is, I’m no photographer. Scarcely a handful of the pictures turned out at all, and the lighting on them is such that I missed most of what I wanted to show.”

  “Let’s do the arithmetic,” April suggested. “You got one hundred photographs for thirty-five dollars. That comes to thirty-five cents per picture.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Laurel protested as she rose. “It included film for one hundred more pictures.”

  “But not the developing,” Gabe hastened to say. “Nor the shipping.”

  “So charge him thirty-five cents per picture,” Johnna suggested. “That’s fair, isn’t it?”

  “No, it’s not.” Gabe’s voice rivaled a thunderclap. “I was attempting to illustrate that for thirty-five dollars, I didn’t get a fraction of the value of these beautiful works of art.”

  Though rarely at a loss for words, Laurel stood in shocked silence. She’d seen others feel this way about Mama’s pictures, but no one had ever been so moved over anything she’d done. The magnitude of knowing her art affected someone so profoundly washed over her.

  Gabe folded his arms across his chest. “I want to commission a watercolor of Bridal Veil, but I can’t if you and I don’t come to a reasonable agreement regarding these other pieces. I refuse to cheat you simply because you’re an undiscovered talent. Back in Boston or New York, I’d pay a pretty penny for anything like this—and believe me when I tell you it’s of the same quality of the drawings and paintings shown in galleries back East.”

  “What do you think is reasonable?” Laurel half-croaked.

  “Sixty dollars.”

  Her knees nearly buckled. Laurel blindly felt for the seat behind her and promptly folded herself back onto it before she fell. “Impossible!”

  He shook his head. “You’re a grand artist and a terrible businesswoman, Laurel Chance.”

  “Whilst she’s thinkin’ on that, d’you still have that camera?” Johnna grinned. “I’ve niver seen one. Oh—I seed the big ones them professional photographers cart around, but yourn sounds dreadful nice.”

  Thankful for the reprieve, Laurel watched as Gabe walked away and pulled the camera from his pack. He returned with not only the camera, but also a small stack of photographs. “These are the ones I kept—you can see they didn’t turn out very well.”

  Laurel slowly shuffled through the pictures. “You’re right. The lighting is wrong. These would have done better with early morning or late afternoon light so the shadows would give more depth and definition.”

  “So that’s what it was. I figured I needed the noonday sun to make everything show up more clearly.”

  She smiled at him. “So now you’ll know what to do, and the next batch will turn out better.”

  “I don’t share your faith in my ability.” He glanced at Johnna, who reverently turned the camera over in her hands. “I tell you what, Laurel: I’ll pay you forty-five dollars and give you my camera for the pieces I selected.”

  April and Johnna both gasped.

  Laurel shook her head. “Just the camera.”

  “And thirty dollars.”

  She’d never seen a camera like this one. It intrigued her. “I’ll get just as much enjoyment out of the camera as you do from the sketches—probably more.”

  “Oh, will the both of you stop haggling like horse traders?” Johnna handed the camera to Laurel. “Only horse traders want to cheat one another, and you’re bendin’ backward and pussyfootin’ ’round, trying to be fair.”

  Gabe chortled. The sound of his merriment made Laurel let out a self-conscious giggle.

  “It’s about time the two of you came to your senses an
d agreed on something,” April said. “I want to go on that walk, and you’re wasting precious time.”

  “Meet me in the middle.” Gabe looked at Laurel. “Twenty-two fifty and the camera.”

  “Fifteen and the camera,” she countered.

  “Are you always this stubborn, princess?”

  She merely laughed and nodded.

  “Hey, what’s going on—oh! Rutlidge!” Paxton and a few others strode up. Pax held up a string of fish. “How about you staying for lunch?”

  “I don’t mind as long as the cook doesn’t.”

  Laurel smiled. “I’m the cook, and I don’t mind at all.”

  ❧

  I’ve been wrong about her. Oh, I was right—she’s a princess. Regal and beautiful. But she’s more than just appearance. The woman can cook, and her artistic abilities are enough to put her in one of the finest European academies.

  Gabe ate the last bite of his trout almondine and wondered who thought to pack almonds with the supplies. “Great meal.”

  “Our table is always open,” Laurel told him.

  “Don’t say that too loudly. The cavalry is poorly provisioned. They might start ghosting alongside you and showing up for meals.”

  April shrugged. “They’re welcome. I expected the men to be more hungry than usual, so I almost doubled my provisions. We’re about halfway through the trip, and we’ve used about a quarter of what I packed.”

  “I hate thinking that the men who keep this beautiful place safe for all of us might have to do without.” Kate looked up from the girth strap she’d been repairing. Gabe hadn’t been able to talk her into waiting until after lunch—she’d been adamant about relieving his “poor little horse” at once. “Can we get word to them? How do we reach them?”

  “Captain Wood has a way of finding me,” Gabe confessed.

  He quelled a smile at the memory of their last meeting. The soldiers were disappointed he didn’t have any new food after having been to Wawona, but the licorice pipes more than redeemed him in their eyes. They’d been like little boys, relishing that treat around the campfire.

  “Captain Wood,” Caleb repeated. Gabe noticed he, Paxton, and Tobias tended to assert themselves as leaders in the group.

  “Yes. He’s a solid man, a good commander,” Gabe attested. “If he or his men show up, you can count on them being well-disciplined and helpful.”

  “Here. This is done.” Kate stood.

  Gabe rose. “I’m grateful. What do I owe you?”

  Kate gave him a disbelieving look. “Mister, it was nothing to fix. We Chances take care of horses.”

  “So do I. It was my horse, and you provided a valuable service. I can’t abide with mistreating a beast. I’d have stopped using him as a packhorse if this couldn’t be remedied, and that would have put me in deplorable straits.”

  “So I helped a fellow traveler.” Kate shrugged.

  “How about if you take the girls on a walk, and we’ll call it even?” Caleb swiped his biscuit across his plate. “They’ve been wanting to explore, and they’re driving us half crazy.”

  Gabe looked at the women. “Do all of you ride?”

  “We’ve grown up on a horse ranch,” Laurel reminded him.

  “Why don’t I take you on a ride? You’ll see more, and we could determine where you’d like to walk tomorrow.”

  “Laurel, take your camera!” Johnna urged.

  “Actually, you’d be better off leaving it here at camp and carrying it on the walk. I found my horse had a bad habit of moving just about the time I hit the shutter.”

  “Makes sense,” Caleb said. “You probably tense up a mite, and horses react to the least little signal.”

  “Then I’ll leave the camera here.” Laurel brushed a little speck off of her skirts. “We’ll be ready as soon as we do the dishes.”

  “We’ll see to saddling up your mounts,” Paxton said.

  Gabe watched as some of the men went over and prepared four nice-looking mares. Each of the beasts behaved perfectly. The bay with the special saddle had to be Kate’s since she loved to do leatherwork. The stockier mount would be for short, plump April. That left the other two—a dappled gray and a strawberry. He couldn’t decide which was Laurel’s and which was Johnna’s. Laurel would look like a princess on the gray, but the strawberry’s walk resembled a dainty march.

  Peter sauntered over. “I aim to go along. Promised Pa me or one of the boys’d stay with Sis all the time.”

  “Fine.” Gabe glanced at him. “So Johnna’s your sister?”

  “Yup. Folks named us all after the apostles. John was the beloved disciple, and it’s held true. Our Johnna’s something special—ev’rybody latches onto her. On account of that, Ma was downright worried ’bout her comin’ so far from home.”

  Gabe watched the women as they washed and dried the dishes. They chattered like happy little sparrows. “From what I see, all the women in the family are extraordinary.”

  “Uh-huh. April’s a fine gal. Nobody cooks better, and she’s got a big heart. Kate—well, a feller couldn’t hope to have a gal who’s a better listener. Laurel’s been the surprise. We all expected her to be a pain on this trip. Finicky and scared. Nary a complaint’s come outta her. Fact is, last night she told us we’ve got bears and snakes back home, so she didn’t know what the fuss was all ’bout.” He chuckled.

  I misjudged her, too. In fact, I’m no good at reading women at all. I was just as wrong about Arabella. “Just about the time a man supposes he’s figured out a woman, she changes on him.”

  “Ain’t that the truth!” Peter leaned against a tree. “Contrary creatures, but the dear Lord said it’s not good for a man to be alone, so I reckon I’ll marry up and have to tame one of ’em someday.”

  “Are you sure you’re the one who’ll do the taming?”

  Peter tilted his head back and let out a loud hoot. “Now that’s a poser, it is. I’ll exercise my mind on it someday. What ’bout you?”

  “Me?” Gabe scowled. “The last thing I want is to have to worry about what a woman wants out of me. Being footloose suits me just fine.”

  “You made ’em all happy with an offer of a ride.”

  Gabe merely shrugged. A few minutes later, he walked over and untied the tether on his mount. He prized his horse—a Tennessee Walker he’d bought with his hard-earned pay. Though he came from a wealthy family, his father insisted upon his sons having to work in the business and learn the value of a dollar. The lesson wasn’t in vain. Then again, Gabe never regretted a single cent he’d paid for Nessie.

  “That’s one fine beast you’ve got there,” Paxton said.

  Gabe nodded in acknowledgment of the praise.

  “You ever breed her?”

  “No.” Gabe gave the mare an affectionate pat. “I’ve been too selfish to give up riding Nessie for long enough for her to be in foal. If I ever do, her offspring will be sweet-tempered.”

  “Back home, we have a couple of stallions who would do her justice.” Paxton grinned. “I’m not just boasting. Chance Ranch is known for its horseflesh.”

  Looking over at their rope corral, Gabe commented, “You have a wide variety. You never specialized in any particular breed?”

  “We’ve got everything from bays and blues to mustangs and pintos. Army buys up a couple of sizable strings each season—enough to keep us in business. The rest go to regular folks—farmers, ranchers, travelers.”

  “Not a one of your mounts has marks.”

  “You mean a brand?” Paxton clarified.

  “No, lash marks—from harsh discipline.” Gabe watched Laurel’s brother’s face cloud over and hastened to add, “I’ve seen several horses—the wild mustangs that needed taming—that have gotten the spirit whipped out of them.”

  “Not at our place.” Laurel walked up. “Love works miracles. We care for our horses, and they give us their best.”

  Kate skipped up. “While we’re here, four of the younger boys are getting their horses. In our f
amily, everyone is given a horse when they turn twelve.”

  “A rite of passage?” Gabe marveled aloud.

  “Sort of.” Paxton winced and theatrically rubbed his backside. “The boys are given a rough horse and have to break it. If you ask me, the horse makes a man—not the man makes the horse.”

  “And the girls?”

  Laurel smiled. “We’re given mares that are already domesticated and saddled.”

  “Daddy said it’s because the Chances protect their women,” April chimed in, “but I always said it’s because the men would starve if anything happened to the girls.”

  “I don’t blame them. I’ve tasted your cooking.” Gabe grinned. “Are we ready to go now?”

  Tobias and Tanner brought over the girls’ mares. Gabe managed to be standing by Laurel, so it only made sense that he help her mount up on the dappled gray. “Here you go,” he said by way of warning that he’d put his hands on her. The satiny ribbon of her sash felt smooth and cool to the touch, and yards of buttery yellow fabric fluttered as he cinched hold of her waist and lifted.

  A gentleman never looked straight ahead or down as he helped a woman into the saddle. Gabe fought the temptation and kept his head tilted back until Laurel gained her seat: then he turned his head to the side and regretfully let go. He heard her fuss with her skirts to be sure her ankles didn’t show. He’d forgotten how potent the swishing sounds of petticoats and the fluff of ruffles could be.

  “Thank you, Mr. Rutlidge.”

  “You’re welcome, Miss Laurel.” He swung up into his saddle and turned to look behind him. “Are you all ready?”

  “More than ready!” Kate sang out.

  “Please don’t hold back on our account,” April begged.

  “Yeah,” Johnna agreed. “Don’t mean to sound boastful, but we cain keep up with whate’er pace you set.”

  Gabe soon discovered they hadn’t exaggerated their abilities. He’d originally planned a little half-hour jaunt, but these women wanted far more than anything that simple. They trotted along and called out several questions. Laurel rated as the most curious of them all. She wanted to know what animal different tracks belonged to, commented on the similarities and differences in the flora, and asked for comparisons to other areas of the preserve.