Solitary Horseman

by Camp, Deborah

  Cocky, lying coyote! What foolishness had he been spreading to have Callum think that they had been sweet on each other? She had never taken Eller’s advances seriously and she’d told him so. He’d tried to force himself on her two nights before he’d run off with Lilah. She’d had to slap his face to make him stop pawing her. He’d stormed away, accusing her of leading him on.

  “You should be thankful that I care this much about you,” he’d told her, angry tears glistening in his eyes. “You’ll be sorry you turned me down. I’m the best man who will ever want under your skirts!”

  Shoving the memory aside, she finished the wash-up so that she could do some housecleaning before getting ready for the next meal. Making quick work of drying the dishes and putting them away in the cupboard, Banner grabbed the broom and swept the big kitchen, which opened into an even larger dining room that was dominated by a long table with benches on each side of it. It reminded her of the tables she’d seen in boarding houses. The only other furniture in the room was a sideboard and a tall china cabinet that held an incomplete set of china. Several of the cups and plates bore chips and hairline cracks. Examining the pieces through the wavy glass in the cabinet doors, Banner suspected they were a family heirloom – probably from Lacy Latimer’s ancestors. Her pa had told her that Lacy had come from a well-to-do family in Scotland. They’d arrived in America shortly after her birth.

  Funny how she knew more about Callum’s family than she did her own. She couldn’t say for the life of her from whence her own grandparents hailed or where her family had been before they’d settled in what was now Texas.

  As she swept her way through the dining room and into the living room, it became apparent that the floors not only needed it, they also could use a good scrubbing. The place verged on being downright dirty. Had Mary ever mopped these floors? The Latimer house was three times the size of hers. Her brothers had all bunked in the same room and she had slept in a small loft while her parents had taken the only other bedroom, which was now hers. The Latimer boys, however, had separate rooms. There were four bedrooms, all told in the house. Four! Two of which now sat empty.

  Seth’s rattling cough floated to her from the front porch. He was still ensconced in the big chair. He turned his head and let fly tobacco juice over the porch railing. Banner scowled. Disgusting habit. She made a mental note not to bother planting flowers around the porch. She stepped outside and swept bits of leaves and pebbles off the smooth, planked floor.

  “Could I fetch you a glass of water, Mr. Latimer?” When he didn’t answer her, she glanced at him from beneath her lashes to find him staring straight ahead, stubbornly ignoring her. She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  “If I could suit myself, you wouldn’t be here,” he grumbled.

  “There’s some coffee left in the pot. I’d be happy to bring a cup of it out here to you.” Again, no response. She stopped sweeping and turned to face him. “Mr. Latimer, if you can find your tongue to lash out at me, surely you can find it to reply to my questions. Do you want a cup of coffee of not?”

  “If I do, I’ll fetch it myself!”

  “Good for you,” she said, evenly. “You should be moving about as much as possible. Otherwise, your joints will freeze up like a water trough on a January morning.” Not waiting for any retort or scowl he might offer, she went back into the house where there was plenty of work to keep her occupied. She took a few minutes to sit at the kitchen table and drink the last cup of coffee, allowing the pain from her still-tender hip to ease before she set to work again. Smiling as she recounted Seth’s surliness, she enjoyed every drop of the coffee because she knew that he wouldn’t come into the house for it. Once he made it to his chair on the porch, she figured that he was there until meal time.

  Somehow, she would have to change that.

  ###

  “How’s it going over there at the Latimer house?” Hollis put down the bridle he was repairing and looked quizzically at Banner.

  She concentrated on applying small stitches to close a rip in one of her aprons. “Busy.”

  “You’ve been there a whole week now, so how do you feel about the deal you struck with the devils now?”

  “They’re not devils, Hollis. I’m fine with the deal so far. No complaints.” Other than Seth Latimer being about as friendly as a bee-stung bear. But Hollis didn’t need to know that.

  “They all like your cooking.”

  She smiled at the memories of compliments raining down on her. “Oh, yes. You and the other cowhands are like a pack of hungry wolves at each meal. Hardly any words are spoken. Y’all just sit down and start shoveling in food like you haven’t eaten for an age.” She laughed under her breath. “Even Callum.”

  “What do you mean? Even Callum?”

  “I don’t mean anything by it. It’s just that . . . well, he’s the boss and needs to set an example and—” She finished the mending and bit off the thread as neatly as she ended that particular thread of conversation. “How are things with the cattle?”

  “Got more help now. That makes a difference in how much gets done.” He squinted at her across the room. “I get the feeling that Callum’s going to cut Johnson and Baines loose.”

  “I believe that’s his plan.”

  “He told you that?”

  “He thinks they’re stealing our cattle.”

  “What do you think?”

  She held her brother’s gaze. “I think he’s right.”

  Hollis widened his eyes. “Then why didn’t you fire them?”

  “Because that would have left you and me to handle the herd and I figured they’d take them just to be spiteful.”

  Hollis dropped his gaze and shook his head. “You believe I would have stood by and let that happen?”

  “Hollis, what could you have done if they decided to stampede the herd and take off with them? You’re one man.”

  “And not much of one anymore.”

  She stood, agitated. “Hollis, you’re my rock. You know that don’t you? You’re the only person in this whole, wide world I can depend on and trust.”

  “What about Cal Latimer?”

  She blinked in confusion. “What about him?”

  “You depend on him. You trust him.”

  She smiled tenderly and moved to stand by his chair. Running a hand over his soft hair, she leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead. “I hardly know that man, Hollis. I’ve known you my entire life. Callum is a means to an end. You are my sweet brother and I love you.”

  His big, hazel eyes grew misty. “You still love me?”

  “Of course I do.” She kissed his crown where the hair grew in a swirl. “Never question that. I love you always and forever, Hollis Payne.” Giving his shoulder a pat, she left him to bank the fire in the stove. “Time for me to be in bed.”

  “I’m heading that way myself.” He stood, stretching his long arms above his head and trailing his fingertips across the exposed rafters. “What does Mary Killdeer do there now that you’re cooking and cleaning?”

  “She sees to the pigs, chickens, and goats and she works in the vegetable garden. She’s always busy. She helps me, too. Brings in water and empties the slop jars. That sort of thing.” As she talked, she walked to her bedroom. Pausing on the threshold, she glanced over her shoulder at Hollis. “Goodnight. Sleep tight.”

  “I hope to.”

  Sadness stole through her. Poor Hollis. Most nights he thrashed and wrestled with bad dreams. She dressed for bed and sighed expansively as she eased her tired body between the sheets. Tomorrow was Sunday – her day off from the Latimer ranch. After church, she’d clean the house and do laundry. By the time she arrived home every day from the Latimer spread, there wasn’t a lot of sunlight left for her to complete chores. She barely had enough time to unsaddle Pansy and feed her, see to the chickens and her three dogs, collect eggs, slop the hogs, and throw together a quick supper for her and Hollis.

  She wished Hollis would go to church with her, but she
knew he wouldn’t. He felt forsaken and she hadn’t been able to convince him otherwise. Her hope was that time would eventually heal his emotional and spiritual wounds.

  Would Callum be there? He wasn’t a regular churchgoer. Once every few weeks, he would show up in his boiled white shirt, black trousers, black kerchief tied around his neck, shiny boots, belt with a silver buckle, and his dark hair slicked back. A few months ago, she’d found herself behind him in line as they’d filed out of the church, each person speaking to the pastor. A bit of breeze had scampered in through the open door, past Callum, and into her and she had smelled his clean, soapy scent mixed with leather. He was one of the cleanest men she’d been around, and now that she spent time at the Latimer place, she knew why.

  He didn’t like dirt. Not one bit.

  Every morning when she arrived just after dawn, he smelled of soap and his hair was wet because he’d obviously given himself a scrub-down. When he came back for breakfast, he always stopped outside the back door to wash his face, neck, arms, and hands. Before the midday meal, he repeated the ritual. If he deemed his shirt too dirty, he put on a clean one before arriving at the table. Sometimes he would change his shirt three times in one day, which meant that the laundry seemed to be never-ending.

  After each meal, he retired to the back porch where he brushed his teeth, even using a jar of toothpaste. His toothpaste smelled different from any other, though, like it had spices in it.

  Yesterday, giving in to curiosity, she had opened the jar and sniffed it. The aromas of cinnamon and mint had wafted to her. She’d looked at the jar lid, surprised to see that it was the very same kind she purchased in the general store in town. How come hers smelled and tasted like chalk with a hint of charcoal? Glancing up, she’d found that she was the source of Mary Killdeer’s amusement.

  “I was . . . this smells good.” She’d fastened the lid back onto the small jar.

  “It’s my own mixture.”

  “Oh?”

  Mary had nodded. “I put cinnamon and the juice from chopped mint leaves into it. Makes it taste better.”

  “I believe I’ll try that myself.”

  “When Cal was a boy, he hated the taste of the paste, so I mixed good tasting things into it until I settled on the cinnamon and mint. Makes your mouth tingle for a long time after. My boys like it, too. They say the girls enjoy kissing them because of it.” Her dark eyes had danced with mischief. “I say the girls would kiss them anyways because they’re so fine to look upon.”

  Banner had chuckled with her. “I believe you’re right, Mary. You have handsome sons.”

  Mary’s eyes had widened a little and then crinkled at the corners. After that, Mary seemed to be friendlier toward her and had even chatted with her about the garden, the kind of laundry soap she preferred, and how to get blood stains out of different kinds of material. The woman was a wealth of information. Banner found her fascinating and good company, so she was perplexed when Mary had asked, “You like us Indians okay then?”

  She’d had to dissect the question before she could answer her properly. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I? You’ve been very kind to me.”

  “White people – a lot of them anyways – don’t want us here. They want us closed off on reservations.”

  “A lot of people don’t want me around either – or any of my kin. I don’t judge people by how they look or who they’re related to. Their behavior toward me is what is most important and I think we’re becoming friends.”

  Mary had smiled shyly at that. “I got to get back to work.” She’d glanced at Banner through her short eyelashes and a grin had poked at her mouth. “Friend.”

  Snuggling deeper into the lumpy mattress, Banner smiled into the darkness of her bedroom as her thoughts traveled to the subject that had become her nighttime indulgence – Callum Latimer. Everything he did or said interested her.

  As if he were a school book, she studied him every chance she was given. Everything about him was mesmerizing. The way he ate – the muscles in his strong jaw flexing as he chewed. The way he walked – a long-legged saunter that gobbled up ground. The way he sat a horse – back straight, shoulders squared, his big body moving liquidly with the animal’s movements.

  She enjoyed his expressions – even his scowls made her heart trip over itself. Every once in a while, she caught him looking at her in a way that made her insides melt as if they’d been torched. Did she imagine the flame of interest in his eyes? She didn’t think so, but she kept reminding herself that Callum Latimer would no more want her than he would pine for a porcupine! She was a Payne and that meant he viewed her as soiled. And he hated feeling dirty.

  With a long sigh, she turned over onto her side and closed her eyes against the burn of tears. No use crying over what you can’t change, she told herself. He’d been raised to disdain Paynes and that was a long-held tradition. Why, his father could barely look at her without curling his upper lip in a sneer. Not that she gave one whit about Seth Latimer not liking her. Surly, old goat! Had he always been such a disagreeable sort or had his personality curdled once he’d fallen off his horse and realized he’d never sit in that saddle again?

  She shoved aside thoughts of the elder Larimer and turned them toward something much more pleasant – his son. She filled her mind with the deep rumble of Callum’s voice and the verdant green of his eyes. Sleep came calling with dreams in tow. Dreams of Callum Latimer.

  ###

  Callum was in church the next day and was called on by Preacher Vancroft to come to the pulpit and read from the Bible. Callum’s deep voice traveled easily as he chose to read from John 15: 9-17 about loving one’s enemies and not seeing others as servants. Admiring how his shoulders filled out his blazingly white shirt and the cut of his dark gray trousers, Banner wondered if the words resonated in him or if he rejected them as impossible to follow.

  The reactions around her were split, with some murmuring “amen” and others making grumpy sounds of dissent.

  Did Callum view her as a servant or a partner? She wondered. As a woman or a trifle? Ever since he’d mentioned Eller to her, she’d fretted that Eller might have embroidered the truth, making Callum think that she’d allowed or even encouraged Eller’s advances. She knew Eller to be a liar, so she wouldn’t put it past him to even tell Callum that he’d had his way with her, giving Callum more reason to think of her as sullied.

  More than once, she’d been tempted to tell Callum that she had never allowed anything but a kiss from Eller, but then reason had stayed her. Why would Callum even care?

  She’d hoped to be near him in the line of parishioners leaving the church, each person pausing to shake Preacher Vancroft’s hand. No such luck. He was somewhere behind her. She could hear Sadie Winkler chattering away at him, her voice high and fluty. Her giggles grated on Banner’s nerves. What was so dang funny? Was Callum charming Sadie? Did he think Sadie was pretty in her pink frock and lacy bonnet?

  Glancing down at her own rather drab, dark blue dress, Banner wished she had more clothes. She had three dresses that were good enough for church. This one, the blue one with ruffles, and a yellow one with gingham trim. They were all worse for the wear. She’d had them since before the war broke out. She touched the rim of her bonnet – her only decent one.

  “What’s put that fretful expression on your enchanting face, Miss Payne?”

  She started and turned her wide-eyed gaze toward the man who had spoken. His moon-shaped face and benign smile made her feel a little queasy. Altus Decker, the Yankee from Ohio who wanted to buy their ranch. “Good morning, Mr. Decker,” she said, turning away from him.

  “Might I be so bold as to say that you look lovely this Sunday morning?”

  She nodded, tossing him a quick, polite smile, but saying nothing in return. He made her uneasy and she certainly didn’t want him to continue complimenting her. When he’d stopped by a couple of times and finally made an offer on the Payne land, she had been glad that Hollis had been with her because she
didn’t like the thought of being alone with Altus Decker. The way he looked at her – his pale blue-eyed gaze drifting to her bosom, lifting to her throat, slinking up to her lips – it made her want to curl into herself. She gave a little gasp when his fingers touched her elbow.

  “Allow me to walk you outside to your wagon. It would be my honor.”

  “There’s no need.” She tried to inch away, but his fingers tightened.

  “I insist. I’ve been told that you’re working for the Latimers. That can’t be pleasant for you. A lovely lady like yourself shouldn’t be doing hard labor. You should have others doing for you.” He leaned closer to her, his cigar-stale breath slipping across her skin. “I could make that happen.”

  “You’re crowding the lady,” Callum growled and unceremoniously jerked Decker’s hand away from Banner’s arm.

  “Am I?” Decker quirked a pale brow.

  “Yes, you are,” Callum assured him.

  Banner felt light-headed as she stared at Callum’s chiseled profile. Never in her whole life had she felt like a damsel in distress being saved by a conquering hero – not until that very minute. It took everything in her not to beam at him.

  “I was offering to escort this lovely, young lady to her vehicle,” Decker informed him, smiling from Callum to Banner. “Wasn’t I, Miss Payne?”

  “She doesn’t need an escort,” Callum said, stepping to Banner’s side and blocking Decker’s view of her. “She already has one.” He dipped his head slightly like a bull getting ready to charge. “Me.”

  Banner stared in amazement at him as her heart lifted like a bird on the wing. She caught Sadie Winkler’s squinty-eyed glare and couldn’t keep from grinning.

  Decker chuckled. “I know she’s working for you, but I didn’t know—”

  “I reckon there’s a lot you don’t know.” Callum turned to her. “Shall we say our goodbyes to the pastor and head out?”