“Tyler. What brings you all this way to Elk Lodge?”
The older man’s smile widened. “Nice to see you, too. I was in the area, and thought I’d stop by for a visit and see how you’re doing. We were just at the house to see Patterson. He told us we’d find you here.”
Lance’s gaze drifted to the ranch house in the distance, then back to Tyler. He shook Lance’s hand with a firm grip, then nodded toward the dark-haired man coming their way with the skittish colt. His hold on the reins was sure and confident, and his soothing voice and hand on the animal’s neck seemed to have a calming effect on the young horse.
“Trace Hawley.” The other man held out his hand for Lance to shake. “I heard Patterson hired you on the spot about a month ago when you were looking for work, before I had a chance to talk to you. Tyler’s told me a lot of good things about you.”
Lance shook Hawley’s hand. The man facing him couldn’t have more than five years on him, which was surprising, since he was the owner of possibly the most prosperous horse ranch in the surrounding valley.
“I needed work, and Patterson seemed eager to hire a trainer.” He jutted his chin toward Tyler Monroe. “Thanks to Tyler’s great references, he offered me the job right away.”
Trace laughed. “I won’t hold it against him. Especially since he’s interested in buying a few of my mares.”
Tyler stepped up and ran his hand down the horse’s nose. The colt stood calmly beside the two men, showing none of the tension he’d exhibited earlier.
“Haven’t you made friends with this colt, Lance? I don’t recall ever seeing you get thrown before, or a horse you couldn’t sweet-talk.”
“I wasn’t paying attention,” Lance grumbled. He adjusted his hat on his head when thunder rumbled again in the distance.
Tyler grinned and nudged Trace Hawley on the arm. “There are only two reasons I know of that keep a man from focusing on his job. Wouldn’t you agree, Trace?”
Hawley tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, as if appraising a horse at auction.
“I think you’re right, Ty. He’s definitely got that look about him.”
“What look?” Lance shifted his eyes from one man to the other.
“You’ve either been drinking too much, or you’ve got a woman on your mind.”
“You know I don’t drink.” Lance stepped up to the horse and took the reins from Trace Hawley. He cursed silently. Was he that easy to read? “I need to get this horse back to the barn before the sky opens up.” He glanced toward the dark clouds that threatened heavy rain shortly.
Tyler fell in step beside him on the way to the barn. “Laney sends her regards. She’s keeping Trace’s wife company at the Red Cliff Ranch, and I know she’d like to see you before we head home. You know how often she’s said that she hopes you find a nice girl someday and settle down.”
Lance stopped and looked at the older man. He’d always liked Laney Monroe. She was nearly twice his age, but she could ride with the best of the men. She was one of the only women he’d ever met, besides his mother, who’d never judged him because of the color of his skin.
And Ellie
He clenched his jaw.
“How long are you in the area?” Time to change the subject.
“I’ll be staying with Trace and his wife for a while. I’ve got some business in Deer Lodge, then we’re heading back to Bozeman.”
“Come to the Red Cliff Saturday after next,” Trace chimed in. “My wife is planning a little get-together with some friends, and I’m sure Tyler and Laney will want to catch up with you before they head home.” He pointed toward the clouds. “Right now, though, we’d best get going, or we’ll get drenched.”
The men shook hands again. Tyler stared at him, an unspoken question on his face. Thankfully, his former boss didn’t press him further about why he was unfocused.
A strong gust of wind blew as Tyler Monroe and Trace Hawley rode away. Lance stared after them. This could have been his opportunity to ask Hawley for a job. He glanced toward the house again. It would be better to leave the Circle P now before he’d completely lost his mind.
Chapter Eleven
Ellie ran the brush through her hair one final time, then used the two ivory combs her father had given to her on her sixteenth birthday to hold her hair back and out of her face. She buttoned up the high collar of her dress and smoothed the front with her hands. Outside, a buggy’s wheels creaked, and a horse snorted.
Women’s laughter drifted to her open window, followed by Aunt Fiona’s voice greeting her guests.
“Alma, it is so nice to see you. I’m so glad you could make it, despite the bad weather we had yesterday.”
“The road is a little muddy, but fortunately we didn’t get stuck anywhere.” The other woman laughed heartily. “Maureen and Frances wouldn’t have been too pleased if they’d had to get out and push, isn’t that right, Maureen?”
“I would have worn a nicer dress, Mrs. Patterson, but I didn’t, for fear that we might have to walk through the mud.” The younger woman’s voice was most likely that of Maureen, Alma Wilkins’ daughter. “Have you met my friend, Frances Halverston?”
“It’s been a while, Frances, but I do remember you from town. Your father owns the sawmill, correct?”
“Yes, Mrs. Patterson. Mother sends her regards, and I want to thank you for inviting me today.”
“My pleasure,” Aunt Fiona chirped. “My niece, Eleanor, is looking forward to meeting you all. She’s been anxious for some company with women her own age. Do come inside. I’ve just taken the apple pie out of the oven to cool and the coffee’s on the stove.”
Ellie glanced at her reflection in the mirror one final time. Her palms had begun to sweat, and her throat had gone dry. She reached for her notebook and pencil on the dresser. The book slipped from her hands, landing on the floor. The pages fluttered open to her drawing of Lance Taggart.
She stared at it for a moment before reaching for the notebook. Her eyes lingered on the drawing, then drifted out her window toward the barns. With a soft smile, she closed the book and moved to leave her room to greet the guests, but stopped before she reached the door. She’d much rather be in Lance Taggart’s company than meeting her aunt’s friends, but he’d made it clear he didn’t want to pursue their mutual attraction.
Rather than heading downstairs, Ellie moved toward her bedroom window. Several men mingled near one of the barns. Her heart leapt in her chest when a familiar figure strode from behind one of the buildings, leading two horses toward one of the larger paddocks. Mahto bounced around his legs, his tail waving in the air like a flag.
Her chest heaved in a relieved sigh. Lance didn’t appear to be walking with a limp, or look otherwise worse-for-wear after he’d been thrown from a horse the day before.
Yesterday, she’d stood quietly by when Uncle John had introduced her to his neighbor, Trace Hawley, and another mutual acquaintance, Tyler Monroe. Mr. Monroe was her uncle’s age, while Trace Hawley looked much closer to her own, maybe a few years older. Certainly quite young to own a large horse ranch. Both men had been polite and pleasant, and to her utmost surprise, Tyler Monroe had brought up the subject of Indian sign talk after Aunt Fiona had apologized for Ellie’s silence and inability to speak.
“Ellie knows some signs that were taught to her. Lance Taggart’s been able to communicate with her through hand motions.” Uncle John had smiled at her as she stood next to him. Aunt Fiona’s lips had tightened to a thin line, and she’d tossed a disapproving look at her husband.
Tyler had chuckled. “He’s a good man to have around. Works hard, knows horses, and most of all, he’s trustworthy and dependable. I was sorry to lose him.”
Ellie had listened with great interest. The burning question on her mind had been why Lance had left Mr. Monroe’s employ, but she didn’t have her notebook in hand to ask.
“Well, I think it’s a silly notion to learn about hand motions that no one else would be able to understand,”
Aunt Fiona had chimed in with a chuckle. “Eleanor is better off writing in her notebook when she has something to say. At least most people can read.”
Tyler Monroe had looked at Aunt Fiona for a moment, then directed his eyes to Ellie. “I’ve also heard about schools for the deaf, where they learn to communicate through signing with their hands. That might be something for your brother-in-law to look into, Mrs. Patterson.”
“That’s up to her father.” Aunt Fiona had smiled indulgently. “Again, it would seem that, unless everyone else can understand and speak with their hands, it wouldn’t be of much use.” She’d laughed. “We’d all have to attend this school, wouldn’t we? Ellie’s father, Edward Benton, is in Kentucky at the moment, and that’s why Eleanor is staying with us. We get along just fine without all the hand waving, isn’t that right, Eleanor?” She’d patted Ellie’s hand.
“Benton?” Trace Hawley had chimed in. “That name sounds familiar.”
“Don’t you have kin in Kentucky and race your horses there sometimes?” Uncle John had offered. “Edward’s sister-in-law, Lizette Benton, owns the Three Elms Farm, which was a very prominent horse breeding establishment for many years. Edward is there to help her get her affairs in order. The farm was struck by a tornado last year and has suffered devastating losses. Her only son was killed, and she hasn’t been the same since.”
“Well what a coincidence,” Trace had said, looking from Aunt Fiona to Ellie. “My cousin, Sam Hawley, used to train horses for her. That’s why the name struck me as familiar. Sam’s got his own place now, but he met his wife, Emma, at Three Elms.” He’d chuckled, and shaken his head. “Those two are a prime example of how two people from completely different walks in life can end up together.”
Ellie had stared at Trace Hawley. Lance’s reason to her for walking away had been because of his heritage, yet here stood a man who’d said that it was possible for two people of different backgrounds to be together. She’d been dying to ask Mr. Hawley to elaborate, when a crack of thunder outside had reverberated through the house.
“We’d best be going.” Tyler Monroe had glanced out the window. “Laney and Katie will fret if we’re not back to your place before it starts to rain.” He’d grinned at Mr. Hawley. He’d held out his hand to Uncle John. “I’ll be in touch, John. I’ve got some nice mares you might be interested in for your breeding herd.”
“Pleasure doing business with you, Tyler.” John had seen the two men to the front door. “And I struck a goldmine when I hired Lance Taggart out from under your nose.” He’d chuckled, and slapped Trace Hawley on the back.
“I’ll just have to make him a better offer,” Hawley had retorted good-naturedly, then stepped outside.
“Do you mind if I pay a visit to the barns and say hello to my former employee?” Tyler Monroe’s voice had carried into the house. “Maybe I can talk him into coming back to work for me.” Uncle John had laughed and told the men where they would most likely find Lance Taggart.
Ellie had stared after the two men. Her mind had been stuck on what Trace Hawley had said about his cousin and his wife.
It is possible for two people who come from different backgrounds and upbringings to be together. If only I could make that clear to Lance.
She’d excused herself from her aunt and rushed up to her room. She would have much rather run out of the house and followed the men, but she’d settled for sitting by her bedroom window to watch from a distance.
Minutes later, Ellie had nearly bolted from her chair to head to the barns when she’d witnessed Lance get on the skittish horse in the pen, and the animal had bucked and tossed him into the fence. She’d ached for him, but he’d gotten to his feet, and neither Tyler Monroe nor Trace Hawley had seemed at all bothered that he could have broken his neck.
Four days prior, Lance had made a false assumption that it was best that they not see each other again, and he’d used the excuse that he was of mixed blood. She wasn’t going to beg him, like some starry-eyed young girl chasing after her knight in shining armor, but soon she was going to give him a piece of her mind that she couldn’t care less about his heritage or where he’d come from.
Everyone spoke highly of him. Well, with the exception of her aunt. Her reasons were unfounded, and one of these days Ellie was going to make both her aunt and father understand what had really happened all those years ago, and that their hatred had been directed at the wrong people for too long.
Someone either hurt you, or you’re trying to be noble, Lance Taggart. Either way, I don’t care about your heritage. I care about you, and I know you have feelings for me, too.
She’d had internal conversations like this with herself over the last several days, and she’d not been able to come up with a sound reason why he’d ended their relationship so abruptly before it had even begun. If Mahto hadn’t barked, Lance most certainly would have kissed her.
When she’d asked him why he couldn’t see her again, he’d simply made the sign for ‘half-breed’. Did he really think she cared that he was part Indian? What she’d seen in his eyes before he’d ridden away had given her hope that he cared for her. Not seeing him again had nearly driven her mad over the last few days, but ever since she’d come home late from her ride with Lance, Aunt Fiona hadn’t let her out of her sight.
“What’s your father going to say when he finds out that you’ve been wandering around without someone to look out for you, and not telling anyone where you’ve gone? He entrusted you into my care, Eleanor. I don’t want anything to happen to you. What if you get accosted again?” As always, she spoke to Ellie in a tone one would expect when speaking to small children.
She hadn’t used Lance’s name, but the look in Aunt Fiona’s eyes had clearly conveyed that he was the one she’d meant about ‘accosting’ her.
Ellie had tried to explain that she’d been in no danger. She hadn’t told her aunt that she’d been with Lance. If she knew, Aunt Fiona would have made sure that Uncle John terminated his employment this time.
Women’s laughter downstairs pulled Ellie away from the window. It was time to meet her aunt’s guests. If they didn’t stay long, perhaps she could find a way to get to the barns today before Lance left the ranch to go to his camp. Clutching her notebook, she headed downstairs, taking in a deep breath at the bottom of the stairs. The lively conversation between her aunt and friends grew silent the moment she entered the living room.
Aunt Fiona was the first to move. She rose from her seat and set her china cup in its saucer on the living room table.
“Eleanor, you’re finally here.” Aunt Fiona’s skirts swished around her legs as she rushed up to put her arm around Ellie’s shoulders. With a wide smile, she directed her toward their guests, who also stood.
One of the younger women stood back slightly, raising her chin as her eyes scrutinized Ellie’s dress and lingered at her collar. Ellie forced a smile to ignore the woman’s blatant rude behavior.
“A pleasure to meet you, Dear.” Alma Wilkins held out her hand for Ellie to shake. She turned to the younger woman who’d stood back slightly. “This is my daughter, Maureen, and her friend, Frances Halverston.”
Frances shook her hand, then Maureen, whose smile looked rather strained. Ellie nodded at Frances. Her stomach churned when she pulled her hand from Maureen’s. Her eyes still scrutinized her with a cold look.
“Let’s head to the dining room. You girls can get acquainted while Alma and I get the pie and coffee.” Aunt Fiona led the way out of the living room. After the younger women were seated, she disappeared into the kitchen with her friend.
“I heard you lived at a fort, Eleanor,” Frances chattered. “How exciting that must have been, having all those handsome soldiers around all the time. Did you attend any officers’ balls while you were there?”
Ellie flipped to a blank page in her notebook.
There weren’t many socials at the fort. It was lonely most of the time. No girls my age.
The broad smile on Franc
es’ face faltered, then her eyes widened again. “But the soldiers must have been so dashing in their uniforms. I wouldn’t mind seeing them every day.” She giggled, and Maureen joined her.
“Yes, Eleanor, do tell us more about the soldiers. Did they go out and kill a lot of Indians?” Maureen leaned forward over the table. “Your aunt told us that you can’t talk because of what Indians did to you, and that you’re lucky to be alive.” Her eyes rested on Ellie’s neck.
Ellie shook her head. Her back stiffened. This was hardly the best topic of discussion with these two women. Especially since they’d only just met.
The Indians I’ve known have been mostly friendly.
She didn’t raise her head to look at the scoffs and sniggers as she wrote out her response.
“But you must have been terrified when it happened, and the horrible things that were done to your poor mother. Your aunt is still heartbroken over her sister’s death.” Maureen glared at her with a smug look in her eyes.
Ellie sat up straighter. Whatever notions she’d had of making new friends today quickly vanished. Before she could scribble a response to Maureen’s callous comment, Aunt Fiona and Alma Wilkins returned, carrying trays with pie and coffee.
The women chattered about common acquaintances in town and nearby ranchers living in the valley. Ellie sat and ate her pie. It was no different here than at Fort Peck. After everyone made mention of her horrifying ordeal as a child, they tended to quickly forget she was present. Even if she had the ability to speak, she wouldn’t have anything to contribute, since she didn’t know any of the people her aunt’s guests were discussing.
Occasionally, Frances leaned over and asked her a question about life at the fort, but moved on before Ellie could write out a proper response. Frances seemed most interested in men in uniforms, and she appeared to nearly swoon when she talked about how handsome soldiers looked all decked out in their finest. She’d never take the time to read a long explanation of how lonely life at an army outpost was in reality, so Ellie simply nodded at the other woman’s chatter.
In His Kiss: Blemished Brides, Book 4 Page 9
