A Bargain Struck (Choc Lit)

by Liz Harris

  He resumed walking.

  He didn’t know the answer. Maybe he’d said what he had for one of those reasons, or maybe it was for something entirely different. It didn’t really matter. All he knew was that he felt as if he’d let himself down by not being totally honest with Aaron, and that by saying what he had, he’d been unfair to Ellen.

  Chapter Ten

  Aware of the curious stares of the people who hadn’t seen her before, Ellen walked out of the wooden cabin into the shadow thrown by a white wooden cross that was fixed to the sloping roof of the church. She glanced at the people clustering in front of the church, their eyes on her face, and she left Connor’s side and went quickly to a place on the edge of the crowd. Standing there, her eyes firmly fixed on the ground, her face shaded by her bonnet, she waited for Connor and Bridget to finish exchanging words with their friends and neighbours and to be ready to return to the homestead.

  ‘Be you all right?’

  She looked up and saw Connor standing in front of her, concern on his face. She nodded. ‘I’m fine, thank you.’

  ‘We’ll say hello to the Reverend, and then we’ll go home,’ he said. ‘By we, I mean you and me.’

  She looked again at the ground, and bit her lower lip. ‘If you wish.’

  ‘Pa!’ Bridget ran over to him and put herself between him and Ellen, her back to Ellen. ‘I want to go and visit with Martha. Her ma and pa said I can. Her pa said he’ll bring me back before supper. Can I, please?’

  He shook his head. ‘’Fraid not. Another time, you can, but you’ve got things to do for school this afternoon and I want your help with cutting the corn from the cobs.’

  She stamped her foot. ‘It’s not fair. All my friends were allowed to sit with Miss Quinn in church, but you made me sit with you and her. It was horrible. Everyone from outside Liberty stared at us when they saw her face.’ She turned and scowled at Ellen. ‘And I don’t blame them.’ She turned defiantly back to Connor. ‘I did what you asked me, and now I’m askin’ if I can go to Martha’s.’

  ‘We came as a family and we’re leaving as a family,’ he said firmly. ‘Now go and say goodbye to Martha while I introduce Ellen to the Reverend. And then we’re leaving.’

  Bridget glared at her father. ‘She’s your family, not mine.’ She threw another black look at Ellen and ran off in the direction of Martha and her family.

  ‘I could speak to the Reverend another time,’ Ellen said. ‘He …’

  ‘We’re gonna speak to him now,’ Connor said firmly. He slid his hand under her elbow and urged her towards the tall man in a black suit, who was shaking hands with the members of his congregation who had lined up to speak to him.

  ‘Good morning, Reverend. That sure was one fine sermon,’ Connor said when they reached the front of the line. ‘I’d like you to meet my wife, Ellen.’

  Ellen looked up at the Reverend. She saw his eyes run across the part of her scar that was visible beneath her bonnet, then he held out his hand, his smile steady.

  ‘I’m mighty pleased to meet you, Mis’ Maguire,’ he said, and he turned to Connor. ‘I was happy to hear you’d taken a new wife, Connor, and I’ve been praying you’d find your way back to the church.’ He smiled again at Ellen. ‘I can see that my prayers have been answered, praise the Lord.’

  ‘We’re trying to get back to normal,’ Connor said.

  The Reverend nodded. ‘I hope that Sunday School is part of that normal. Bridget should be learning her verses along with the other children. I’m sure you and Mis’ Maguire can teach her many things,’ he said, ‘but Miss Quinn has a certificate for teaching Bible, and you’d do a fine thing for your daughter if you let her be instructed by Miss Quinn on the Sundays between my monthly services.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ Connor said.

  ‘As I said, it’s been a long time since you joined us on Sundays, Connor – too long – and I’m real glad to see you here today. And to meet you, ma’am.’ He inclined his head towards Ellen.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, and she turned to move away.

  ‘You’ve done a fine thing by takin’ in a woman that looks like that,’ she heard the Reverend tell Connor. ‘You’ve been a true Good Samaritan. There’s many here that wouldn’t have done what you’ve done.’

  ‘Good day, Reverend,’ Connor said. Ellen heard a trace of anger in his voice. She glanced quickly at his face as he came to her side and she saw fury burning in the depths of his eyes. She looked at him anxiously. He met her gaze, and his expression softened. Giving her a rueful smile, he took off his jacket and slung it over his shoulder. ‘Don’t mind him, or people like him. I’ll get Bridget and we’ll leave. You can wait by the wagon, if you wish.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ she said, and she turned away and began to walk quickly towards the group of horses and wagons tethered to the nearby hitching posts.

  When she reached Connor’s wagon, she climbed up into her seat, sat back and sighed with relief at being away from the townsfolk. At least that first visit to the church was over. The worst must now be in the past as there couldn’t be many people left in the area who hadn’t yet seen her face. As Connor had once said, the first time for a thing was always the worst, but there was only ever one first time.

  She closed her eyes and let the conversations that were taking place in front of the church recede into a low buzz behind her, a distant hum broken every so often by the chirrup of a bird or the warning cry of a hawk overhead.

  After a few minutes, she moved her head to one side to look at the fields on the right of the wagon. The rays of the sun had found the patches of yellow rabbitbush dotted throughout the green expanse and had painted them gold. She stared at the view for several moments, a smile on her lips, then she tilted her face towards the sun, pulled the rim of the bonnet so that it shielded her scarred cheek, and let the sun’s warmth creep through her body. For the first time that day, she felt herself truly begin to unwind.

  After a few minutes, she sat upright and looked back at the church to see what Connor and Bridget were doing. She saw they were still talking to folks from Liberty, so to pass the time while she was waiting for them to return, she took off her bonnet and began to roll up the first of the ribbons that hung from each side, trying to rid it of the creases that had come from being tied to the other ribbon. When she’d finished rolling the first ribbon, she started on the second. Then she stopped abruptly and looked up.

  She was being watched.

  At the height of the midday heat, she felt a cold chill wrap itself around her. Her skin prickled and goosebumps ran along her arms.

  Frowning, she stared in front of her towards Main Street, but there was no one to be seen in the street ahead. It was empty of everything except for the tethered horses and wagons. And the small part of the sidewalk in Main Street that she could see from where she was sitting, that, too, was deserted. And in the fields on either side of her, there was no one to be seen. She turned around and looked back at the yard in front of the church. Everyone there seemed engrossed in conversation: no one appeared to be paying her any mind.

  Turning back, she bit her lower lip. There really was no one to be seen. She must have imagined it. But the sensation that had come over her … For a moment it had felt very real to her that someone had been watching her. Not staring at her – she was used to that – but actually watching her.

  She shivered, wiped her clammy hands on her skirt, then shook loose the coil of ribbon, put her bonnet back on, tied the ribbons firmly beneath her chin and sat upright. Connor would soon return, and when he was sitting next to her, she’d be able to laugh at her silliness.

  ‘Are you going to sit in the back or up in front, Bridget?’ Connor voice came from just behind the wagon. Bridget’s reply was to scramble noisily up into the back.

  She felt herself relax a little.

  He came around the side of the wagon, pulled the reins over the top of the post and climbed up into his seat. Glancing in the back, he told Bridget to
sit down and to stay sitting, then he shook the reins and started the horses along the narrow track that led to Main Street.

  ‘I’m glad you’re back,’ she said as he turned into Main Street.

  He looked across at her in slight surprise. ‘I wasn’t exactly far from you, nor gone for long.’

  ‘For a moment or two, I thought someone was watching me,’ she said, keeping her voice low. She looked quickly behind her and was relieved to see Bridget didn’t appear to have heard what she said. She was too busy staring over the side of the wagon, waving at the people they passed.

  ‘People often look at you, Ellen,’ he said quietly. ‘I know this cannot be pleasant for you, but …’

  ‘No, I mean really watching me, Conn. Not staring at my face. It was more than that.’

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘I don’t know. And I don’t know that there was anyone there – I certainly couldn’t see anyone – but it felt as if someone was watching me. Just for a moment or two.’ She shrugged her shoulders dismissively. ‘Ignore me. I think I must have imagined it. I doubt if there was anyone there.’

  She turned away from him and stared at the sidewalks on either side of the track as they drove slowly through the centre of town and out on to the open range.

  ‘Is this the first time you’ve felt eyes on you?’ he asked after a while, pulling back on the reins to keep the horses at a gentle gait.

  ‘Yes, it is. But I feel easier in my mind now that I’ve told you, and now that I think I was mistaken.’

  ‘Maybe so. But I reckon I’ll tell Aaron and the hands to be extra vigilant.’

  ‘Thank you. I would like to think I was wrong and it was my imagination.’ She gave him a half-smile. ‘I normally don’t like being proved wrong, but in this case I would be happy if it were so.’

  He grinned at her. ‘Then I reckon you’re no different from any woman I’ve met. No woman of my acquaintance has ever wanted to be proved wrong, no matter how wrong they are.’

  She laughed. ‘I’ll have to let that pass. Men are well known for their stubbornness and determination to get their own way, and if I argue that women are more willing to accept being at fault than men, you’ll use it as proof that no woman ever wants to accept that she’s wrong.’

  ‘So we’re stubborn, are we?’ he asked, amusement in his voice. ‘Then the least I can do is try to live up to your opinion of men. If I do that, you’ll have the pleasure of knowing that you’re right, and I’ll enjoy stubbornly asserting myself. We’ll both benefit. Yup, I like this way of thinking.’

  ‘I’m not so sure that I do,’ she said, laughing again. ‘I rather think I’ve unintentionally given you permission to adopt a characteristic that would be hard to live with. I think I’d do well to change the subject.’

  ‘As you wish,’ he said, turning to her. His face broke out into a lazy smile. The blue eyes that ran across her face were flecked with gold in the late morning sun, she noticed.

  She met his gaze, and smiled back. For a long moment, their eyes lingered on each other, then each turned at the same moment to look at the path ahead.

  ‘How did you feel, going back to church for the first time since Alice died?’ she asked after several minutes.

  ‘That we did the right thing for Bridget. When Alice was first gone, I didn’t feel much like church, and nor did Bridget. And later on there was always something to do on the farm and we never even got as far as hitchin’ up the wagon. But we must start going again for Bridget’s sake, if for nothing else. It’s what Alice would have wanted. And what about you? I know you’ve not mentioned going to church since you got here, but back in Omaha, were you a churchgoer?’

  ‘Not since Robert died. In a town as large as Omaha, there were services every week. My brother went with his wife and children every Sunday, but I wasn’t allowed to go with them, and I sure was glad about that. Some of those worthy God-fearing folks could stare the hardest and be the meanest. I hated going anywhere where I’d be seen.’

  ‘I think you’re finding that folks in Liberty don’t stare as hard as folks in Omaha. Leastways, most of them don’t.’ He glanced across at her. ‘Don’t let the horses that took your husband and destroyed your face, destroy your life, Ellen. My house isn’t your brother’s house.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m very grateful to you.’

  He burst out laughing. She looked him in surprise.

  ‘I reckon I’m getting to know you,’ he said cheerfully. ‘And I guess we’ve reached the point where you can stop being a mouse about the place all the time, always being grateful, never saying what you think. You’ve shown me that you can give back as good as you get, so that’s the way it’s gonna be from now on. Liberty Homestead is your home now as well as mine, and it’s time you started to relax and act normal.’

  ‘So thanking someone who’s been kind, and feeling grateful for that kindness, isn’t normal, is it?’ she asked, smiling at him. ‘If it isn’t, I shudder to think what your normal is.’

  He grinned at her. ‘Well, it sure isn’t creeping around and whispering thank you all the time. Nor is it letting a rude miss get away with it,’ he added, his face suddenly serious. ‘OK, I’m as much to blame as you for the last one – more so, in fact, as she’s my daughter. But you’re to start saying what you’re thinking. When she’s rude, you can tell her so, and I will, too. I reckon we’ve given her long enough to settle.’

  ‘I’ll do that.’

  ‘What I’m trying to say is, I want you to be like you used to be when you lived with your husband … with Robert, I mean.’

  ‘How do you know I was any different when I was married to Robert?’ she retorted lightly. ‘Maybe I thanked him daily for taking me to live on his parents’ ranch. I’ve already said that that was one of my best years.’

  ‘Instinct,’ he said with a grin. ‘It’s not only you women who’ve got instinct. We men have it, too. And my instinct tells me you can be quite spirited, when you’re not thinking you mustn’t be seen or heard, that is. I’ve seen a look in your eye that I used to see in Alice’s. You’re both Irish, and Irish women have a liveliness that makes them good company. It was one of the things in my mind when I got myself another Irish wife.’

  ‘Maybe my family has been in America for so long that we’ve lost all of our Irish characteristics,’ she said with a sideways smile.

  ‘Maybe that’s true. You certainly don’t sound Irish. On the contrary, you sound like a town-bred American. When did your family leave Ireland?’

  ‘My great-grandparents came over in the late 1700s. They settled near the port where they’d landed as they couldn’t afford to move inland. When they’d made something of themselves, they went to live in Chicago. After they died, my grandparents moved south to Omaha. They wanted to be seen as full Americans, and they thought that that would be easier in a town which didn’t have such a large Irish community as Chicago has. So I was brought up as an American first and foremost.’

  ‘Do you feel at all Irish?’

  ‘Strangely, I do. I know I don’t know much about my Irish heritage, which is another reason why I probably shouldn’t have answered your advertisement. But whether that means that I have the lively Irish spirit you were looking for, I wouldn’t know.’

  ‘I’m inclined to think you have, and I wanna see more of the Ellen from before the accident, and less of the Ellen from after it. And that’s an order.’

  ‘Aha! You’re now proving that I was right when I said men were stubborn and determined to get their own way. Am I allowed to thank you for the smug self-satisfaction that I now feel?’

  They turned to each other, a smile on their lips. Again their eyes met and held. Slowly their smiles faded away, and her heart missed a beat.

  ‘What’s the matter with you, Pa? We’re never gonna get home today if you don’t go faster,’ they heard Bridget call out from behind them. ‘What are you talkin’ about?’

  They swiftly turned to look at
the path ahead, and Ellen straightened her bonnet. Bridget’s face appeared next to Connor’s elbow. ‘Like you said, I’ve gotta get things ready for school and do my chores, Pa. And I’m hungry.’ The face disappeared and there was a thud as she slid back down to the floor of the wagon.

  ‘OK, Bridget. Hold tight!’ Connor shouted back to her. ‘You, too, Ellen.’ And he urged the horses into a gallop along the rutted track.

  Her heart beating fast, Ellen gripped the side of the wagon with one hand, and held her bonnet to her head with the other. If only Bridget hadn’t chosen that moment to bring their conversation to an end, she thought in despair. She’d been enjoying it, and she thought Connor had, too. And they’d seemed to connect. It was just for a moment, but it was a connection all the same. Maybe …

  No, she thought, angry at herself. There was no maybe. Once again, she was in danger of letting herself see something that wasn’t there. There wasn’t a maybe, and there never would be.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ellen stopped checking the rows of cobs that she’d put out earlier in the day to dry in the sun, straightened up and looked anxiously around her. Not for the first time that day, she felt as if she were being watched. It had been no more than a vague suspicion at lunch time, and she’d decided that she was probably imagining it and hadn’t said anything to Conn or Aaron, but the feeling was stronger now. There was definitely someone out there, someone she couldn’t see, but who could see her, and that was frightening her.

  Until that afternoon, she’d been inclined to think that her fear after church two days ago had been the result of imagination combined with the midday heat and the discomfort caused by the stares of people who’d never seen her before. But to feel the same sensation again …