by Bobbi Smith
"It would be fun to ride out and sketch some more landscapes away from town, but there's not really enough time before dinner."
"We need to find someone who knows the area and can show us around. Maybe Paul can suggest someone for a guide."
"That would be wonderful. As vast as the countryside is, we'd probably get lost if we tried to ride out on our own."
"I have no doubt about it."
"How long do you want to stay here in Dry Creek?" Glynna made sure she sounded innocent as she asked. Since she had never seen her aunt react this way to any man before, she was certain that, even though Mimi denied it, she cared deeply for Paul Chandler. She smiled to herself, thinking how alone Aunt Mimi had been for so many years and how much fun it would be to play Cupid for her.
Mimi looked a bit surprised by her question. "We'll stay as long as you want to, dear. This trip is for you. When you're ready to move on, we'll go."
"I think I'd like to stay here for at least a few more days."
"Fine. That will give you plenty of time to work."
They returned to their rooms, Mimi to rest a little and Glynna to start painting.
Paul returned to his small house after he'd finished at the church, and he sat in his parlor in silence, staring off into the distance. Mary Catherine's appearance in town had stunned him. It had been so long....
He had thought he was over her, but seeing her today had been pure torment for him. So often over the years, he'd regretted leaving her, but his life had been hell back then. She'd deserved better... and that had been precisely why he'd disappeared. He knew it had been a cruel thing to do, but at the time he'd believed it was the only way.
And now she was back.
The knock at her hotel room door startled Glynna as she stood before her easel, paintbrush in hand, concentrating on the image she was creating. Only at the interruption did she realize how much time had passed. It was after five! She had been so engrossed in her work that she'd forgotten everything else.
"I completely forgot the time!" she said as she opened the door to let her aunt in.
"You've been so quiet, I wondered what you were up to. Mind if I take a look?" She was curious to see what Glynna was working on.
For some strange reason, Glynna felt shy about Mimi seeing the painting, but she did not try to stop her from crossing the room to study it.
"Glynna," Mimi said softly, in awe of what was being created on the canvas. "This is wonderful!"
As she stared at the rendering of the man named Hunt, her respect for her niece's talent grew even more. She was impressed. Somehow Glynna had managed to capture the raw excitement of the stranger who had saved her from possible harm. Her bold strokes had brought him to life right there on her canvas. It was a powerful picture, showing him riding fast, leaning low over his horse's neck. Her ability to create such beautiful, realistic scenes was definitely a gift.
"Your talent is amazing. I don't know how you do it," Mimi told Glynna.
Glynna was standing back, frowning as she studied her work. "Do you really think it looks like him?"
"Oh, yes, but when I saw him he didn't look quite that intense. Is that how he looked when he came riding at you to save you from the longhorn?"
Glynna nodded. "I was terrified. He looked so..." She paused, searching for the right word.
"Savage?" Mimi provided.
"That's what I thought it was at the time. Now that I know why he was charging at me at way, though, I know it wasn't a bloodthirsty look. It was more a look of fierce determination."
"Well, he looks all that and more in your painting. This is one of the best you've ever done."
"Thank you." She wiped her hands on her paint rag, knowing she had to quit for now. "It's almost time for dinner, isn't it?"
"Yes, Paul should be coming for us soon. That's why I thought I'd check in on you."
"I'll get cleaned up and be ready to go when he gets here."
Mimi started from the room.
"By the way, Aunt Mimi, you look very nice tonight," Glynna told her, noticing the gown she'd donned to wear to dinner. It was a deep emerald green, and the color was very good on her. Her aunt always paid careful attention to her appearance, but tonight she looked even lovelier than usual. That convinced Glynna that her aunt truly was interested in the reverend.
Paul arrived at the hotel on time to take them to dinner. He knocked on Mary Catherine's door and waited for her to answer. He wasn't sure why he was a little nervous, but he was.
"Good evening, Paul," Mimi said, as she opened the portal and stood before him.
He gazed down at her, thinking she'd never looked prettier. "You look lovely, Mary Catherine."
"Why, thank you," she said politely, as if his compliment was just ordinary conversation. Secretly, though, she was most pleased that he'd noticed.
"Are you ready to go?"
"Absolutely, all we have to do is get Glynna and we can be off."
Glynna was ready to go, and they engaged in small talk as he escorted them to the restaurant.
"So what in the world brought you to Dry Creek?" Paul asked after they'd settled in at a table.
"We almost didn't make it," Mimi said.
"Did something happen?"
"The stage we were on was robbed."
"You were on that stage!" He was shocked that they'd been in such danger. "I heard the talk about the robbery, and how there were two ladies from back east on it."
"That was us."
"Thank God you weren't hurt!"
"They did shoot Hank, but the sheriff told us that he's going to recover."
"Do they know who did it? Did the sheriff say?"
"Yes. They thought it was the Wilson gang, but they weren't sure."
"How much did they get away with?"
"They stole some money from Aunt Mimi, but mostly they were just after the strongbox," Glynna told him.
"You were very lucky." He looked over at Mary Catherine, and tension filled him at the thought of her in danger.
"We know. For a few minutes there, I was afraid I might not get to paint any of Texas," Glynna agreed.
"You're here to paint?" He looked back at her with real interest.
"Glynna is an artist, and a very fine one, too, if I do say so myself. She toured Colorado last year, and her paintings of the mountains sold very well at the gallery. Her work is very much in demand now back in New York, so she decided to come to Texas for more inspiration."
"I've never met an artist before. I'd love to see some of your paintings. How did you get started?"
"A stroke of luck pun intended." Glynna laughed. "While I was in school, an art teacher told me I had potential and that I should work at my painting. My father allowed me to go to Paris to study at an institute there for six months, and when I came back home, I knew what I wanted to do."
"You're very lucky to have found out so early in life," Paul said. "Many people are middle-aged before they figure out what they're good at."
"I've been very blessed," Glynna admitted. "Just to be able to do what I love and get paid for it is amazing."
They laughed.
"So, you think Texas will inspire you?"
"It already has," she answered, her thoughts centering on Hunt.
"Considering how successful her paintings of Colorado have been, Glynna wants to concentrate on the West, and possibly even do some more Indian paintings, if at all possible. Those that her trip to Colorado inspired were excellent."
Paul looked a bit stricken at the thought. "I wouldn't wish too hard for any Indian encounters while you're here in Texas."
"Why?" they both asked.
"Because the only Indians around here are renegades off the reservation, and after meeting them, you might end up dead."
"Oh." Glynna paled at the thought, remembering her initial reaction to her encounter with Hunt. She had been terrified, and he had been civilized. She could just imagine what running into a real renegade would be like. The tho
ught was chilling.
"I know our driver Al mentioned after the stage was robbed that we should be careful because there might be some renegades around.... Have there actually been raids here lately?"
"There has been one band of renegades causing some trouble in the area." He didn't want them to know any of the details of the attack on a ranch west of town. It had been deadly, and by the time help came, the Comanche had been long gone.
Glynna and Mimi shared a troubled look.
"But don't worry about that. As far as painting scenery goes, there are some beautiful vistas north of here. Tom McAllister's a friend of mine, and he's got a big spread out that way. He'd probably enjoy showing you around, if you planned to stay for a while."
"We'd appreciate any help you could give us," Glynna told him. "I was hoping I could make just such an outing. The scenery on the ride into town was wonderful."
"Have you made any plans for tomorrow? If not, we could ride out to the McAllister ranch in the morning and talk to old Tom."
"That would be wonderful. What time would you like to go?" She was excited by the prospect.
"It's over an hour's ride to his ranch house, so we should head out by eight or so."
"You don't have to work tomorrow?" Mimi asked.
"Sunday is my hardest workday, so I can take Monday off with no problem. My boss is lenient with me." Paul grinned.
He looked so youthful and charming that Mimi's heart constricted. Had it really been so long ago that they had been happy together? How could so many years have passed so quickly?
After they'd eaten, he walked them back to the hotel and bade them good night.
Mimi was pleased that Paul was going to help them find a guide who could take them out into the countryside. She'd been disappointed that they hadn't had the chance to speak on a more personal level, but realized that she should have been prepared for that possibility, since Glynna was with them. She told herself that it didn't really matter, anyway. If he'd truly cared about her all those years ago, he wouldn't have abandoned her. Obviously, as far as any kind of relationship between them went, the past was just past.
And that was fine with her.
It was well after midnight. Hunt lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was tired, but sleep would not come. He had finally brought in the longhorn that had given him such trouble. The bull had been smart and fast, but his own patience and perseverance had won out. The animal was back with the herd where it belonged.
Hunt tossed and turned, seeking comfort and forgetfulness. His body was exhausted, yet his mind gave him no rest. She was constantly there in his thoughts.. .her beauty beckoning to him... her smile mesmerizing and taunting, for he knew there could never be anything between them.
Closing his eyes, Hunt wished himself asleep. Fight it though he might, a vision of the woman still floated before him. Glynna. In his mind, she enticed him, and he struggled against the attraction.
As his thoughts grew jumbled, his guard slipped. He wondered how Glynna would feel in his arms not fighting him, but welcoming him.
Sleep claimed him then. And with sleep came the dream....
Glynna was there-in his embrace her sweet curves pressed tightly against him. He reached for the pins that held her hair up and freed the dark mane from its confinement. She lifted her arms to link them around his neck, drawing him down to her.
"I want you to kiss me," she whispered.
He bent to her-as their lips met, it was ecstasy. He had never known a kiss so sweet-
Then, suddenly, hands were brutally upon him, tearing him from her, dragging him away.
He looked back and it was no longer Glynna, but Jenny, and she was laughing as her brothers beat him.
"Never touch a white woman again. Stay away from white women-"
Hunt sat up in bed, shaking from the power of the emotions the nightmare evoked in him. Sweat beaded his brow, and his breathing was harsh.
With a curse, he threw himself from his solitary bed and went to stand at the window. It was still dark out... as dark as his soul.
He turned away from the night view and left his room to seek out the bottle of whiskey his father kept downstairs for medicinal purposes. Without a thought, he opened it and took a drink straight from the bottle. It burned all the way down and he was glad. It would strengthen him, and it would kill the pain. He put the bottle away before he was tempted to drink more.
Raking a hand through his hair, Hunt stood in the middle of the dark parlor alone. It had become a way of life for him being alone. It had taken a while for him fully to understand that he did not fit in either world, white or Comanche. But he understood that now.
When Hunt had left his father after the terrible encounter with Jenny's brothers, he had sought out his mother's people. He had hoped to fit in there. But the time he'd spent in the Comanche village had shown him that he didn't fully belong there either. Not that he hadn't tried. He had studied hard under his uncle's tutelage. His mother's brother, Striking Snake, had taught him along with his own son, Painted Horse. Hunt had worked hard and had learned all the skills he'd needed to survive as one of the People how to ride, hunt and track. He'd mastered the use of a bow and arrow, too. Yet, for all his accomplishments, he had still felt like an outsider.
His vision quest had revealed to him the truth of his torment. He had seen himself standing in a mist. His face had been divided half had been white, the other half Comanche. He had been both white man and warrior. And he had been neither. He had been alone.
When Hunt had returned to the village from his quest, he had taken the Comanche name of Lone Hunter. He was destined to fit in neither world. On his shield, he had painted the face from his vision the face of his torment.
The whiskey finally eased his tension, and Hunt went back upstairs to his room. He knew he wouldn't sleep, though. The rest of the night would be long and empty. He would wait for dawn.
The following morning Paul came for Glynna and Mimi in a buckboard. They were waiting for him in the hotel lobby, dressed in suitable attire for venturing into the wilds. Glynna wore a split leather riding skirt, blouse and vest, while Mimi had donned a fashionable yet practical riding habit. They both wore boots and Stetsons.
"You dressed smart," he told them, pleased, as he took Glynna's art supplies from her and stowed them safely in back. He then helped them up to the driver's bench.
"I learned it was ridiculous to worry about fashion when I was in Colorado," Glynna told him. "Sometimes it pays to be practical."
"It can be pretty rough if you're out wandering around on foot," he said.
"I found that out when we were stuck on the roajd after the robbery."
"I stopped by the sheriff's office last night, and he said that there hasn't been any word on the gang. Looks like they got away clean."
"Did he say how Hank was doing?" Glynna asked, concerned.
"He's coming along just fine."
"That's good news."
He climbed up beside them, and they headed out of town for the McAllister spread.
Glynna found herself falling more and more in love with Texas. It was a harsh, rough land, yet in that harshness she found pure beauty. The colors, the textures and the wide-open spirit of the land were all there just waiting for her to capture them. Some people hunted with guns; she hunted with her paintbrush. She grew more and more excited with each passing mile.
"Tom McAllister's had a pretty rough year," Paul was telling them as they neared the ranch. "He's been sick, and his son came back about six months ago and stayed on to help him with the ranch."
"It must be a very rugged life, living out on a ranch," Mimi observed.
"It's not New York City, that's for sure," he commented. "A man's got to fight for everything. Nothing comes easy."
"How did you end up here in Dry Creek?" Mimi had to ask. "And how in the world did you end up preaching?"
He was silent, thoughtful for a moment; then he answered her. "It was the year after we
last saw each other. I'd been gambling and drinking all night. Another gambler accused me of cheating and shot me point-blank over a hand of cards. I thought I was a dead man. I nearly was."
"I didn't know...." Mimi went pale at the thought that he'd been gunned down.
"A preacher in town stayed with me while the doe worked on me, and between the two of them, they saved me in more ways than one."
"You took up preaching after that?" Glynna was curious.
"Not right away. I went back to my old ways for a while, but it didn't take me long to realize that gam bling was wrong for me. I had to straighten out my life. I figured God had given me a second chance, and I owed it to him to do something with it."
"I would never have thought you would end up a minister," Mimi said quietly.
"I would never have thought it either. Life's strange sometimes. We never know what challenge is going to come our way."
"I know," Mimi agreed, and said nothing more.
She was very glad when the McAllister ranch came into view.
Hunt was working in the stable with the horses when he heard Gib, one of the hired hands, call out that someone was riding in. Visitors were a rare thing at the ranch, and he went outside to see who was coming.
"Looks like it might be that preacher man driving the buckboard, Hunt," Gib said. "And he's got two women with him."
Hunt was surprised that any women would be coming out to the ranch, but then he shrugged, thinking they were probably friends of the reverend's just along for the ride. Or at least he allowed himself to think that until the carriage drew close enough for him to get a look at its occupants. He scowled and muttered to himself under his breath when he recognized one of the women as Glynna.
"I'll go tell my father that we've got visitors," he said tersely, turning away from the sight of the incoming buckboard.
The memory of his dream taunted Hunt as he stalked away. He didn't know why Glynna was com ing to the ranch. He wondered how she'd found out where he lived and what she wanted. Whatever her reason for coming, he planned to make himself scarce. He didn't want anything to do with her. She was walking trouble for him.
Hunt went inside to get his father.
