“I won’t be staying, John. I need to get back to town as soon as possible so that I can take the next coach to Deer Lodge first thing in the morning.”
Ellie didn’t turn to look at her father. He’d already told her he was in a hurry and he’d have to tell her a quick goodbye when they arrived at the ranch.
“At least help me carry your daughter’s trunk up to her room,” John Patterson said.
Ellie’s father followed Uncle John up the stairs. Aunt Fiona ushered her from the entrance into the main room. Ellie’s gaze immediately fell on the massive fireplace and stone hearth that graced almost an entire wall of this room. A large cowhide rug lay before the hearth, and was surrounded by a leather sofa and two matching leather chairs. Several paintings of horses and cattle decorated the walls. Aunt Fiona turned to face her.
“Eleanor, you’re the spitting image of Eliza.”
Ellie’s aunt directed a genuine, warm smile at her. Her hand went to her mouth, and she sobbed. Ellie stared into the woman’s eyes, which pooled with tears. Eyes that looked familiar, from a distant memory. Her mother’s eyes.
Ellie blinked to dispel her own urge to cry. She squeezed Aunt Fiona’s hand when the woman reached for hers.
“You have no idea how happy I am that you’re here, Eleanor. We’ve got so many years of catching up to do.”
Ellie returned her aunt’s smile and nodded. Perhaps her father was right. It would be nice to have a woman to talk to. Hope sprang to life that perhaps it was a good thing that she was here. Aunt Fiona was a living link to her mother, the woman she’d lost a dozen years ago and could barely remember. Memories of her mother also brought the echoes of screams filled with horror, and then the recollections of unbearable pain.
She mentally shook her head, shutting out the pictures and sounds that followed in her head. Thankfully, her father and uncle returned from upstairs and entered the parlor at that moment. Ellie turned to face them, dabbing at a tear in the corner of her eye.
“Well, it’s time I’m on my way.” Her father stepped up to her and reached for her hand. A smile passed over his tight lips. “You’ll do fine here, Ellie,” he said before glancing at Aunt Fiona. “I’ll write as soon as I get to Kentucky and assess the situation with my sister-in-law.” His gaze returned to her. “Then I can send for you.”
Ellie nodded her acceptance. What else could she do? Asking her father to take her with him was no use. She’d already done that numerous times. He reached for her and pulled her into his arms. She clung to him, swallowing back the lump in her throat and the threat of more tears.
When he released her, he looked at Aunt Fiona. The two exchanged a quick glance of concern.
“Don’t worry about a thing, Edward. I’m glad you finally brought my niece to spend some time with me rather than keeping her secluded at Fort Peck all these years.”
Ellie’s father nodded. “I have no doubt she’ll receive plenty of attention, otherwise I wouldn’t have given her over into your care. You know she has special . . . requirements. Because of what happened, she can be a bit . . . slow.”
Ellie clenched her jaw. A spark of anger rushed through her. Why did he tell people she was slow? No matter what she’d done, she hadn’t been able to convince him in twelve years that her mind was as sharp as anyone else’s. On the one hand he was an overprotective father, while at the same time he hadn’t truly paid attention to her over the years. She wasn’t slow, as he put it. She’d simply not been allowed to prove it.
“Not to worry,” Aunt Fiona said. “John and I are aware of Eleanor’s disability, and I’m sure we’ll understand each other just fine.”
“Well, I leave her in your capable hands, then.”
Edward Benton embraced her again. Ellie gripped his shoulders in a final plea not to leave her behind. She squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears from spilling out. All too soon, he stepped away from her.
“I’ll write as soon as I arrive in Lexington.” He looked again at Aunt Fiona as he spoke. Without favoring her with another glance, he turned and stepped from the room. Uncle John followed. Seconds later, the front door creaked open and closed.
Ellie blinked, staring after her father. The lump in her throat grew steadily until it hurt and her hand went to the scarf she wore around her neck. She raised her gaze to her aunt in time to see the pity in the woman’s eyes. What else did she expect? It had always been this way. People either pitied or completely ignored her because they didn’t know how else to interact with her.
“I’ll make some refreshments. You must be famished after your journey.” Aunt Fiona spoke slowly and raised her voice, as if she were speaking to someone who was hard of hearing.
She leaned forward, her eyes widening with an expectant look. Ellie shook her head. She’d much rather disappear somewhere and be alone. Her aunt’s eyes roamed over her. She was clearly unsure of what to say or do next.
“Well then, I’m sure you’re tired from your long trip.” Aunt Fiona clapped her hands together. “How about I show you to your room, and you can rest for a spell before supper?”
Ellie smiled and nodded. There was no other way to respond. She followed her aunt up the stairs and to the room at the end of the hall. Aunt Fiona opened the door and moved aside to allow Ellie to enter. She didn’t follow when Ellie stepped into the room.
“Make yourself at home, Eleanor. There’s water in the pitcher on the dresser if you’d like to freshen up. I’ll come and get you when supper is ready.”
The door closed behind her before Ellie had a chance to turn and acknowledge her aunt. She sighed, then glanced around the spacious room. The curtains with pink roses embroidered on the fabric caught her eye. They fluttered in the slight breeze coming from the partially open window.
Ellie smiled despite the sadness that gripped her for being in this stranger’s house. Fort Peck had been her home for as long as she could remember, and although she’d been lonely and isolated there, she didn’t feel any differently about her new living situation.
Give it time, Ellie. You’ve just arrived. Things might be different here.
Ellie blew some air through her nose and shook her head. Aunt Fiona seemed very nice, but she was as uncomfortable around her as any of the officers’ wives she’d met over the years.
She inhaled a deep breath and released it through her mouth, then stepped fully into the room. She glanced toward the window, admiring the beautiful white lace on the curtains. Ellie smiled. She’d never been in a room with fancy curtains or quilts before. She stepped up to the bed, running her fingers along the elaborately carved wooden frame.
A painting hung over the bed of a little girl in a pink dress, standing in a meadow and holding a bouquet of flowers. The sun’s rays that streamed in from the large window illuminated the cheerful colors. The soft breeze entering the room caressed Ellie’s cheeks as if beckoning her to step closer. Outside, horses whinnied and her uncle’s voice mingled with that of another man’s.
Ellie’s gaze swept over the sprawling grounds of her aunt and uncle’s ranch. The distant mountains appeared as dark green mounds, breaking up the blue of the summer sky. Several barns and outbuildings stood apart from the main ranch house and yard. Three men rode from the barn area, sending up dust as they galloped off into the distance.
The bellowing of cattle mixed with an occasional horse’s whinny and a rhythmic metallic clanking. Probably a blacksmith’s hammer on an anvil. She’d stood and watched the fort’s blacksmith many times as he’d worked to bend and shape hot iron into horseshoes.
Ellie’s uncle stood with a considerably shorter man near one of several circular corrals. Both men watched a horse as it ran around one of the pens, her uncle leaning toward the short man and nodding. In the center of the pen stood a man holding a coiled rope in one hand. Whenever the horse slowed, the man slapped the rope against his thigh and took a step toward the animal, sending it forward again.
Ellie pushed the curtain aside. Her hand reached f
or the white wooden trim around the window as her eyes followed the horse circling around the pen, and the man standing in the center. She’d seen soldiers try to catch unruly horses with lassos before, but this man was clearly not trying to rope the horse. He was making the animal move away from him. Her forehead scrunched in puzzlement.
Fascinated, she leaned against the window frame. She pushed wisps of her hair away from her cheek that had come loose of the pins that kept the long strands out of her face. The ends of her scarf tickled the underside of her jaw, and she ran a finger underneath the material to loosen it. Perspiration dampened her skin, so she unwrapped it completely from her neck. The breeze cooled the moist skin along her throat.
Her eyes returned to the scene outside. Watching the horse moving around the pen had a soothing effect on her jumbled insides. The wrangler remained in the center of the pen, only stepping forward when the horse slowed. He barely moved when he raised his arm and pivoted his body. As if on cue, the horse suddenly turned toward the man and took off in the other direction.
Mesmerized, Ellie stood rooted to the spot. The man sent the horse forward with only the slightest shifts of his body, so subtle that not many people would have noticed. When the animal lowered its head, the man stood still and, judging by the way his hat tilted forward, he’d also lowered his gaze. As if it had been given an invisible signal, the horse stopped and walked toward the man, coming to a halt directly in front of him. The man touched his palm to the horse’s forehead, then walked away. The horse followed close behind him, even though there was no rope attached to its head or neck.
He was talking to that horse. Communicating without words.
Ellie’s heart fluttered as her limbs tingled with an inexplicable sensation of excitement.
Uncle John and the shorter man met the wrangler at the fence. The two men nodded vigorously, clearly pleased about something. The wrangler patted the horse’s neck, then ducked between two of the fence planks and stepped out of the pen. He removed his hat from his head, revealing a mop of trimmed, raven black hair. Standing next to Uncle John and the other man, it became apparent even from a distance that his skin was a shade darker.
Ellie’s heart picked up its pace a second time. A slight gasp escaped her mouth. Was he Indian? She shook her head. His hair was short. No Indian she’d ever encountered wore his hair short. From what she knew about them, it was an insult for a man to cut his hair. Perhaps his skin was merely darker from hours spent in the sun and, combined with his dark hair, gave him the appearance of an Indian. It was too far to see to know for sure.
Ellie inhaled a deep breath to calm the sudden unease that flowed through her body. She was about to step away from the window when the wrangler lifted his hat back to his head. Before he put it on, he looked toward the house. His head raised to the upper story. Ellie stumbled backward. Before she’d moved away from the window and out of sight, the man had stared directly at her.
Chapter Three
Ellie rushed down the stairs and headed for the kitchen. Early morning sunshine streamed in from all the windows in the house, lifting her mood. After the rain and thunderstorm yesterday, it looked to be a beautiful day, perfect for spending outdoors. Aunt Fiona had promised to take her on a tour of the ranch today.
She slowed her steps as she walked past the living room. The house seemed unusually quiet. Each morning since Ellie’s arrival two days ago, her aunt had already been up and working in the kitchen by the time she’d made it down the stairs. She wasn’t a late riser, but clearly her aunt and uncle started their days before dawn. Her uncle was never in the house after breakfast. He worked in the barns or on the range with his hired men and rarely returned before the evening meal.
As she rounded the corner into the kitchen, Ellie held the new sketchbook her father had bought her in one hand and her pencil in the other. Aunt Fiona wasn’t there. Several plates covered with cloth lined the counter.
Ellie’s gaze fell to a large piece of paper that was propped up prominently in the center of the kitchen table, supported by a small vase containing a bouquet of prairie flowers.
She moved fully into the kitchen and reached for the note. The writing was clearly her aunt’s, but the words were written in large block lettering, not her usual elegant handwriting . . . as if she was writing to a child still learning how to read.
Dearest Eleanor,
I’ve gone to a neighbor’s house this morning. I should return by late afternoon in time to prepare supper. I’ve left a breakfast plate out for you, ready to eat, and also a plate for your noon meal, should you get hungry. You will find some needlework to occupy your time in the living room. Please remain in the house while I’m gone.
Aunt Fiona
Ellie shook her head. Anger and disappointment filled her. She curbed the urge to crumple the note in her fist, but folded the paper instead and left it on the table. Her heart sank, taking with it the good mood she’d had since she’d awoken.
She’s clearly taken Father’s words to heart, that I’m ‘slow’. I’m not eight years old anymore, and perfectly capable of fixing my own breakfast. I could have fixed supper for everyone this evening, as well, had she only trusted me enough to ask.
Ellie lifted the cloth that covered one of the plates, and helped herself to a biscuit. Without buttering it, she took a bite and walked to the window. The morning sun beckoned to her. She’d been here two full days, and she wasn’t going to spend another boring day confined to the house.
Ellie sighed. While her aunt meant well, she’d been treating her like a little child. For the last two days she’d been cooped up in the house, listening to her aunt reminisce and talk about Ellie’s mother. Ellie had offered to help with the cooking and other chores, but her aunt had waved her off each time.
“Once you’re all settled in, you can help, Eleanor. For now, just make yourself at home and relax. Life on a ranch is much different than on an army outpost, I’m sure, and it’ll take some time for you to adjust.”
While her aunt was correct that the ranch was different than Fort Peck, a lot of things apparently wouldn’t change. She was as isolated here as she had been at the outpost.
Because of yesterday’s rain, Ellie had resigned herself to sitting in the living room, stitching flower patterns on handkerchiefs for hours at a time, or passing the afternoon in her room, staring out the window. Once the rain had let up right before supper, she’d watched the horses in their pens or the men working in the distance. She’d especially been on the lookout for the wrangler she’d seen the first day, eager to see him communicate with the horse again.
Aunt Fiona had caught her staring out the living room window after the supper dishes had been put away.
“I promise to show you the ranch once the weather clears,” Aunt Fiona had told her with a bright smile “You musn’t go out by yourself, however. The ranch is quite large, and with no one to look out for you, it might not be a safe place.”
“Why not?” Uncle John had chimed in, staring at his wife with a puzzled expression.
Aunt Fiona’s lips had come together in a tight line, and she’d shot a stern look at her husband after glancing at Ellie.
“Well, because . . . you know how the men can be, John,” she’d stammered in a clipped voice. It had sounded as if she’d said the first thing that had come to her mind, but not necessarily the real reason she didn’t think it was safe for Ellie to go outside unchaperoned. She’d placed a protective hand on Ellie’s arm. Apparently, her aunt was as overprotective as her father.
Uncle John had looked even more puzzled. “You’ve never had a problem with any of my men acting improper, have you?”
Aunt Fiona had laughed. “Of course not, but it might not be suitable for Eleanor to walk the grounds alone. A young lady her age shouldn’t be walking around where there are a bunch of rowdy men.”
Uncle John had merely shaken his head and moved to leave the room. “If you ever think any of the men behave rudely, you let me know.�
�� He’d looked from his wife to Ellie, then left them alone in the living room. Aunt Fiona had glared after her husband and mumbled something unintelligible under her breath.
Well, Aunt Fiona might not want her to walk outside by herself, but clearly her uncle saw nothing wrong with it. Ellie reached for another biscuit, which she tucked into the pocket of her skirt. Gathering her sketchbook and pencil, she headed for the front door.
Perhaps it was a good thing that her aunt wasn’t here, so she could explore at her own leisure. She’d be back before her aunt returned to the ranch. Not that she should have to hide the fact that she’d stepped out of the house. Another day of being cooped up and it would have been no better than a prison. Even at Fort Peck she’d had the freedom to leave the residence.
Touching the top buttons on her high-necked dress, Ellie clutched her pad of paper and pencil in her hand, then headed down the porch steps. She glanced over her shoulder a final time after the front door clicked shut, as if someone was standing behind her and calling her back. She inhaled a long breath, the fragrance of the morning air enhanced by yesterday’s rain.
The distinct odor of horses was in the air. It was a recognizable smell, much like at Fort Peck, but the scent of cattle was something new. Ellie closed her eyes, taking in both the familiar and unfamiliar scents and sounds. Birds chirped happily, chickens cackled somewhere in the distance, and the occasional whinny of a horse filled the air.
Ellie glanced around. When her father had driven the buggy toward the house, they’d passed several grassy pastures with horses. She could go that way, or she could head toward the smaller paddocks and buildings in the opposite direction. Her eyes went to the round pens near one of the barns. They looked empty at the moment. Would she see the wrangler who’d communicated with the horse using only his body language?
In His Kiss: Blemished Brides, Book 4 Page 2
