She Shall Be Praised

by Ginny Aiken

  “How long were you out of commission?”

  “Not long, but I reckon it must have been for a handful of minutes. Maybe ten at most.”

  Adam rocked his chair onto its back legs. “How do you know how long you were out?”

  The last bit of patience Peter had left now hung on by a thread—a fraying thread. “I can’t know for certain, but it was just a mite lighter gray when I came ’round as it was when I went out.”

  “Where was Wade?”

  “In the woods.”

  “Where was Colley?”

  “At the cabin with Robby.”

  On and on and on the questions came at him.

  All of a sudden, Colley stomped a booted foot. “All right! That there’s enough, young man.” She glared at Adam and bolted to her feet. “I did it, you hear? I kilt that skunk, and I ain’t one bit sorry I did it. Would do it all over again, if I had me another chance at him.”

  Adam crashed his chair down onto all its four legs. Every hint of his usual casual attitude vanished. His eyes narrowed, his lips tightened, his body stiffened, and his hand went straight to his holstered gun. “Do you know what you’re saying, ma’am?”

  “Don’t you ma’am me none!” She strode right up to him and met his gaze full on. “I knew something was wrong that night. Peter left me to watch Robby, who was sleepin’ like a bear in wintertime. The feeling in me got so bad, I couldn’t just sit and wait for ’em to turn up with Miss Emma.”

  “And how did that turn into you killing him?”

  Colley shrugged, then crossed her arms, her expression defiant. “I came up on ’em, and the boss were all out on the ground. So was Miss Emma, but the skunk was standing over her, hands on his belt, fixin’ to—to… well, you know.”

  Emma let out a mewling cry.

  Peter shuddered.

  Adam glared. “And you just up and took it upon yourself to kill the man? You didn’t think to just wrassle him off the girl? You look right strong enough to me to do it, ma’am. Did you have to go and kill the fella?”

  Colley seemed to lose all her strength. She took a pair of stumbling steps back to her chair, where she collapsed. All color drained from her face.

  Peter grew alarmed. But before he could react, she spoke again.

  “I’m fine,” she told him, her voice firm if quiet. “I couldn’t just let him get away with it, just so’s he could go and do it again to another girl.” She drew a deep breath, and sat straighter in the chair. “I reckon I best be getting all this out. Ain’t no good to keep on keeping it to myself.”

  In a dull, emotionless voice she told a tale that chilled him to the bone. Years earlier, she and her husband had worked side by side to build a ranch on the raw ground they’d chosen to settle. Bountiful was little more than a building or two, and other farmers were few and far between. Once a quarter, the family would travel to Pendleton to shop for the ranch’s necessities.

  It was during one of those trips, while her husband attended to the business of packing their purchases on their wagon, and their girls were at the milliner’s, choosing fashionable new hats, that she found herself walking down the street with only her son at her side. As they turned a corner, a strange man came up and started a conversation with her. Eventually, it turned inappropriate, and he made it clear her looks and feminine manner appealed to him. Too much so.

  Colley did everything she could to discourage the stranger, but he wouldn’t be put off. She’d hissed to Charles to go for help, but in the end, her attacker dragged her into a darkened doorway and forced himself on her.

  By the time the youth returned, the scene that greeted him was one no woman should ever experience, an attack no child should see committed on his mother. Still, he fought the beast with all his strength, giving Colley the opportunity to gather her wits about her. The two of them did battle with the foul creature, determined to seek justice. When the law showed up, the attacker lay on the sidewalk, his head split in a bloody mess from where it had struck the wall on his way down. A smear of blood on the sharp brick corner told the tale of the injury as well as mother or son could. Better even, perhaps.

  Months later, unable to deal with his failure to protect his mother, Charles had left home. His father had fared no better. Consumed by the guilt of having left his wife and son alone while he worried about the ranch more than about them, he let his political conviction take over, and he joined the war effort. He lost his life on a battlefield, leaving Colley to fend for herself for the rest of her life.

  “Oh, yes, Marshal Blair,” she said, her voice now as strong as ever. “I killed that Sawyer fella, all right. Wish only I coulda kilt the man what did me wrong all them years ago. He stumbled and fell trying to run away from Charles and me. Hit his head as he went down.” Satisfaction bloomed on her worn features. “But it was my bootlace what I wrapped around Sawyer’s neck. Pulled right hard, and it got tight on his neck. Dragged ’im off Miss Emma, too. Weren’t gonna let her go through what I went through. It ain’t what-all a woman can get past just like that. And I would do it again, if I found ’nother like ’im going after her—or any other lady.”

  The horror of Colley’s experience turned Peter’s stomach. His pride in his ranch manager grew only greater. “Well, folks, it would seem our mystery’s solved. We can all go back to work now, and Emma—Miss Crowell can get on with her trip back to her father. She’s worried he’s suffered enough, thinking her dead.”

  The day she left, Peter would suffer, too. But for different reasons.

  He had no right to ask her to stay. And she’d given him no suggestion she’d even want him to. She had spoken time and time again about her father, the pain her disappearance had to have caused, and the joy father and daughter would experience when they reunited.

  Sure, he’d struggle once she left. He refused to think much about it. He would use his internal strength to make sure his every thought stayed fixed on his son’s well-being, something that mattered greatly to him. And he’d think about his ranch. But he’d never forget what Colley had just said. Her husband had suffered unspeakable regrets because of his extreme attention to his ranch, not only on the day she was attacked, but also the day he gave his life on a battlefield, leaving his family to fend for themselves. Emma had been right on that matter.

  “Not hardly likely,” Adam said, rising. “I don’t rightly know just what I’m gonna do ’bout Missus Colley here, seeing as she’s just told us she’s a killer, and all. Maybe twice over, even. I’d be one sorry excuse for a marshal, don’tcha think? ’Sides, who’s to say she didn’t up and kill the first fellow, then turned around and said he’d done her wrong and stumbled himself to death? See how that sounds?”

  Although he waited, no one dared to speak. Emma looked furious, and Peter felt outraged. He couldn’t come up with the words to tell Adam how stupid his argument sounded. Before he got himself under control enough to talk, Adam went on.

  “Can’t just go ’round saying ‘good job there, Missus Colley’ and letting her walk all over the law. That ain’t right, folks.”

  Colley marched right up to him, stared him in the eye, standing toe-to-toe and nose-to-nose, and wagged her index finger at him.

  “Now, you listen to me good, young man. I ain’t no killer like you’re wantin’ to say. Sure, I did kill that Sawyer, and I’m getting myself happier ’n happier about the whole awful thing every minute here with you. What did you want me to do? Give ’im a whack or two, and then let ’im fight me, kill me, even, so’s he could have his filthy way with Miss Emma? That would just leave ’im to go off and do it again and again. He wasn’t giving up, I tell ya.”

  When Adam didn’t answer but kept his expression blank and his gaze on Colley, she shook her head. “Oh, no. Not at all, son. Not when I could have me a say-so in the whole ugly matter. And the future, too. I had to do something, stop him, keep him from ruining anyone else’s life.”

  “Thank you, Colley,” Emma said. She stood, walked over to the olde
r woman’s side. “I’m nowhere near as strong as you are. I wouldn’t have survived it had Sawyer… if I’d had to suffer what you did. You didn’t take a life that night, you saved mine. Thank you.”

  The two women embraced, tears pouring down their faces. Peter had never seen strong, capable Colley show so much emotion, much less weep. His throat tightened and his eyes burned. An impressive pair of ladies, indeed.

  And one of them was about to ride out of his life.

  And Robby’s.

  Could he stand by and let it happen?

  What should I do, Father? What would you have me do?

  Chapter 20

  “Do tell. Just what kind of idiotic fool is that sorry excuse for a marshal?” Emma asked, furious. She paced back and forth across the now-empty parlor at the Chalmers’ home. “Who would insist on jailing Colley? Especially after being told quite clearly why she did what she did?”

  Peter didn’t answer, but sat in the sturdy maple chair, arms crossed, a bemused expression on his lean, tanned face.

  “And you! Are you simply going to sit there, sir, let the fellow lock up a woman as wonderful as Colley is? For nothing more than saving my life?”

  He unfolded himself and stood in front of her, his gaze steady and clear. “I’m going to trust the Father’s got the whole situation under control—”

  “Under control! Your son is lying on a doctor’s table, still unconscious, and your wonderful ranch manager is behind bars for doing something good. What do you see under control there?”

  “I didn’t say the circumstances were under control. I said God has the situation under control—His control. Those two things are completely different.”

  Emma felt her anger drain away. “I suppose it’s another of those Bible things I need to study more carefully. I just… I can’t stand to see Robby like that, and the thought of Colley locked up is more than I can bear.”

  Peter came to her side. “Believe me, Emma, I know exactly how you feel. I feel the same way. But it won’t help Robby or Colley for me to get all in a state, will it? It won’t help them if you do, either.”

  “But I’m supposed to head home soon. I can’t leave with things all unsettled.”

  He took another step closer, a smile tipping his mouth up a bit. “Then don’t leave until things are resolved. No one’s chasing you away.”

  She pursed her lips and gave him a narrow-eyed look. “That’s not what you said up on the mountain. You said you were bringing me to town to send me home to Papa.”

  Something in her words caused Peter to react, and it showed in the widening of his eyes, in the additional step that brought him only inches away, in the slight but measurable widening of his smile. For some reason, it made Emma’s thoughts fly back to the kiss they’d shared. Her cheeks heated, and before she knew what she was doing, her palms were pressed tight against her cheeks.

  Peter donned a questioning look. “I thought you were in such an all-fired hurry to get yourself back to all your parties and your ‘regular’ life. It was right near all you could ever talk about.”

  Emma’s cheeks felt ready to burst into flames. “When I first came to your camp, yes, that would be true. But that was then. None of that matters anywhere near as much as Robby and Colley do.”

  The questioning look turned into a frown. “But what about your father?”

  Oh, dear. There was Papa.…

  “Well, now,” she said, searching her heart for a way to express the feelings she didn’t fully understand. “Papa’s a different matter, of course. I do need to let him know I’m not dead, somehow.”

  Peter rubbed his unshaven, sandpapery chin with a long, work-roughened finger and thumb, his expression full of confusion. “You’d have to go to Milton or Pendleton to find a telegraph machine. Bountiful’s still too small, even though a telegraph line is due here soon.”

  “How long would it take to get to either town?”

  He shrugged. “They’re both about the same distance away, in slightly different directions. I’d say about… oh, eight hours by horseback—with almost no stops, that is—and maybe twenty to thirty hours by wagon, depends on what stops you do make.”

  Disappointment knotted her middle. “Oh. I see.”

  Peter took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He seemed to come to some kind of decision. The change caught Emma’s attention.

  “There is something else you could consider,” he started. “You seem to have grown quite fond of your life out here, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Oh, yes.” She smiled, thinking back on her experiences at the camp. “There’s so much to learn. A woman would never grow bored out here.”

  He grinned. “Does that mean you were bored in your other life?”

  She’d never thought so before. “I daresay, sometimes.”

  “I know you’re fond of Robby and Colley, and you enjoyed the challenges you faced while with us. You could decide… well, what I mean is that you don’t have to leave… at all.”

  “But—”

  “Please hear me out.” He ran a hand through his hair again, this time smoothing the rumpled waves. “This is awkward, and I’m not very good at speaking of these kinds of things. But… well, I would hope you’ve grown to tolerate me enough that after you let your father know how you are you might consider a life with us here—”

  “You’re asking me to become your housekeeper?”

  “Well, yes, but—I mean, no… um… maybe.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking as awkward as Ned ever had—and almost as young, even though he was more than a few years older. “Let me say this. I… I’ve grown… um… fond of you, and Robby does need a mother, and the ranch and cabin do need a woman’s touch, and I reckon I need some civilizing, myself, and you seem to fit the bill better than anyone else I’ve met.”

  Emma’s eyes widened in surprise. “Do you mean… are you asking me—”

  “I’m asking you to consider marrying me, Emma. I’m sorry this isn’t the most romantic, lords-and-ladies, King Arthur and his Roundtable type of proposal, but…” He shrugged.

  The knot her nerves had become tightened further. An odd battle began in her midsection, a tussle between a foreign excitement and a queasy anxiety. “Oh, dear.” She twisted and wrung out her fingers. “I’m afraid I—I’m in no position to even consider your offer, Peter.”

  “What do you mean?”

  How to tell him something she couldn’t understand herself? She drew in a deep breath. “I… ah… am not at liberty to consider any gentleman’s proposal. At least, not at this moment.”

  “Why on earth not?”

  “Be—because I’m… betrothed.”

  “Betrothed?” he echoed as though he didn’t know the word.

  “Yes. Engaged. To be married.”

  His eyes widened in a snap. “Engaged!” Anger tightened his jaw. “And it didn’t cross your mind to let me in on the secret?”

  “It never was a secret.” She tipped up her nose in indignation. “The matter just never came up in our conversation, now did it, Mr. Lowery?”

  “Not even when we were on the ground kissing?”

  Oh, dear. Now she felt a scalding blush from the very tips of her toes to the roots of her hair. Blast her redhead’s complexion!

  She too, took cover in anger. “I’m not some flighty girl who flits from man to man to—”

  Emma stopped, chagrined. All the women she’d known had indeed thought of her that way. And in truth, she had been more than a touch flighty. But that felt so very foreign to her now, as though she were looking back at someone she once knew. Not as a memory of her actions.

  She had changed. She’d become a different woman.

  “I’d only accepted the gentleman’s proposal that morning before I left Denver, and more because my father, my aunt, and my uncle wanted me to so badly. I didn’t object to Joshua, but I can’t say I was ever madly in love with him. So, as you see, it wasn’t the kind of promise many other women would hav
e made to their future husband. It had been more of an expected transaction.”

  “I’m mighty glad I don’t live in your kind of world. A body’s word is something precious, Emma. One doesn’t go giving it unless one does mean it.”

  She looked down at the tips of her pathetic boots. “I never gave my word before, and I believed I meant it. I’m sure you can understand how foreign it all was to me when I left Denver right afterward. It was such a very new thing for me, and you must admit, since the carriage reached the foot of these mountains, I’ve suffered a series of dreadful upheavals. They overtook my memory in the most absolute way. I must be forgiven, if not excused, for not remembering my new and very recent change of estate in the midst of it all.” She gave him a reproving glare. “At any rate, you, sir, are hardly a gentleman—”

  “We agreed on that a while back,” he ground out through clamped teeth, a formidable frown on his face, arms crossed tight across his broad chest, feet planted wide on the floor. “Very early on, if I recollect. I suppose, then, you’ll be the sort of woman who takes her promises lightly if something should come to upset your day shortly after you’ve made those promises.”

  She gasped. “I most certainly am not. I just explained to you what happened. Were you not listening?” She ticked off fingers as she continued. “A holdup, being held captive by outlaws, being stowed away in a cave, a new captivity in a rustic cabin—which I’m expected to keep with the help of a book or two—sheep, sheep, and more sheep, a surly rancher, a debauched attacker—dear me! The list could go on. Those details might have shoved a new circumstance out of my mind—as I already said.”

  He sighed. “Look, Emma, I am no fussy frou-frou lord-this-or-that, and I reckon I can’t compete with some fancy-pants man with money and a house in town, so I won’t. I’m a rancher, and I look at what needs to be done for the ranch. It’s what pays for our food and the roof over our heads.”

  She blinked and shook her head. Nothing changed, however. He still stood before her, looking much like the solid mountain where he’d built his camp and as enigmatic as the dark forest that surrounded it. But… he was arguing food and roofs. After proposing. While his son lay in poor shape at a doctor’s clinic.