by Annie Boone
“It wasn’t anything,” Mr. Rigsby said, squirming more and more with every word. He clearly didn’t like to think of his actions as heroic, much less be praised for them. Ellie thought that was rather sad. His bravery was most uncommon, and his decency even more so.
“How is he?”
“Mr. Gideon? He’s well, so I’m told. I am going to visit him, shortly. Dr Hale was kind enough to let him stay, and so he is receiving the very best of care.” Jude nodded slowly as if thinking about the man he’d saved. “Dr Hale has somehow managed to fix his bones. I thought that there was no hope of repair and I feared he would have to lose his leg after all.”
Ellie could sense just how genuine Mr. Rigsby’s feelings were, that his concern was not feigned in any way. It rather endeared him to her, even more so than she had thought possible. She smiled at him, wondering if he would accept an invitation inside for tea. She doubted it. His carefully worded apology had assured her that he would never be alone with her again.
“Might I fetch you some refreshments?” she asked, hoping he might agree to continue his visit with her, if they remained in full sight of the town out on the porch. “Mrs. Grieve brought some lemonade, and I have a cake from Mrs. Jenkes.”
Mr. Rigsby hesitated, and Ellie could see that he wanted to accept, but was torn. “I should go and see Mr. Gideon,” he said finally.
“He will still be in his sickbed in half an hour,” Ellie said. “Please, join me out here on the porch, so we might enjoy the sunshine and get to know one another better.”
Grudgingly, it seemed, he agreed, and took a seat in one of the rocking chairs. Ellie grinned and ducked inside. She fixed a tray quickly. She did not want to run the risk that Mr. Rigsby might change his mind and disappear while she was inside. Ellie still did not know for sure why she wanted to be near him, all she knew was that when she was, she felt happier than she had in a very long time.
Her instinct was that she was falling in love with him. Since she’d never been in love before, she wasn’t sure. Rather than ponder on the matter right now, she hurried back out to the porch to be with her guest.
Mr. Rigsby leaped out of his seat as she pushed the door open with her foot, moving to hold it wide. He was on the wrong side though, so he had to reach above her head, so she could pass underneath his arm. As she did so, she couldn’t help but take a deep breath of his very particular manly scent. He truly did smell almost delicious.
She chanced a glimpse up at his face, as she passed by him, so close. His eyes were closed, as if he didn’t dare see the tiny distance between them, a gap that would be so easy to broach with just the smallest of caresses.
“My Mama would have liked it here,” she said breezily, as she laid the tray down and poured them both a cup of lemonade from the large jug. She handed him one, and their fingers brushed against one another. Mr. Rigsby jumped back, as though he had been burned. “She loved the country, hated living in the city, though she was born and raised there.”
“It’s lovely here in Springville,” Mr. Rigsby agreed, seeming to have calmed himself once more. “You should see the view from the ridge. You can see the whole world. Well, at least it seems that way when you’re there.”
“I should like that very much. Will you take me up there one day?” Ellie asked, innocently enough, but she longed to see his home. He was so obviously enamored of it.
“I shall ask my good friend, Mae Ellison to bring you up there one day,” he said, and Ellie smiled at his intention to ensure they were chaperoned.
“I should like that,” she said. “I believe I’ve met Mrs. Ellison at church. Her husband—I believe his name is Nate—invited us to Sunday lunch. I’m looking forward to it.”
He nodded with a smile but didn’t respond. It would have been nice for him to share his knowledge of the Ellison couple, but Ellie didn’t push. She felt it was important just now to wait on him to share his thoughts. And so, they drank their lemonade and Mr. Rigsby ate his slice of cake in silence.
Unlike the day they’d met in Fort Worth, though, it was not companionable and easy. Today there was a tension between them, and Ellie felt a little sad that so much had changed, in such a short span of time between them. She hoped that maybe someday that they might be able to feel at ease with one another.
She so longed for him to see that she was coming to care for him. In fact she yearned for him to take her into his arms and kiss her. But, his last letter had made it quite clear that he believed he was somehow not a suitable match for her. Ellie had been dismayed at his words and still was. So much so that she feared the distance between them might never be resolved.
Mr. Rigsby stood up. Ellie looked up at him, wondering what it might feel like to run her fingers along his jaw, to scratch her skin against the stubble on his chin. Feeling almost foolish for having such thoughts, she jumped to her feet, too, and they stared at one another for a moment.
“Ahem,” he coughed. “I should be on my way.”
He gave a polite nod and then began to make his way down the path. He was about to open the gate when Daddy came bounding up. “Ellie, you have to come and see the church! And the school, of course. They are quite magnificent.” He paused, looking Mr. Rigsby up and down.
Ellie waited nervously. She looked at Mr. Rigsby, trying to see him through her father’s eyes, not her own besotted ones. He was unshaven, and he’d dressed for practicality rather than to impress. His chaps were good quality leather, but they were old and worn. His boots had clearly seen him through many winters. Mr. Rigsby’s unshaven face, which was ruggedly handsome to her, might seem less so to her father.
“We’ve not met,” Daddy said finally, holding out his hand.
“Jude Rigsby. It’s a pleasure to meet you Parson Fletcher.”
“Ah, the town hero? I have been hearing all about you, everywhere I turn. I don’t believe we’ve ever seen you in services.”
“No, sir. You wouldn’t be likely to see me in church. I’m not a believer, at least not anymore.”
“Well now, that’s a shame. A man needs faith, keeps him on the straight and narrow. Though, by the sound of things, you have moral fiber by the cartload. War hero, too, so they tell me.” Her father’s words were kind, but his tone was odd, as though he was being sarcastic, maybe even a little hostile.
Ellie was puzzled. It seemed strange to disapprove of the things her father was saying about Mr. Rigsby. Surely, such traits showed exemplary character, and should be celebrated. And, she had never known her father to be so dismissive of a man who did not share his ideas on religion before. In fact, he was normally quite welcoming of such discourse. It was his calling to bring the non-believers to God. He also admitted that having such talks helped him to reaffirm his own faith.
“I should go,” Mr. Rigsby said. “It was a pleasure to meet you, thank you kindly for the refreshments, Miss Fletcher, and I do hope I will see you both around town.”
Ellie waited until he was gone, then turned on her father. “That was incredibly rude of you,” she said, her hand clenched in fists and set upon her hips.
“Do I have to send you back to Fort Worth to live with your aunt?” Daddy said angrily. “Do you really think it appropriate to be seen, alone, on the very first day in town, with a man like that?”
“A man like what, Daddy?”
Her father gave her an exasperated look, but did not seem to have an answer. He spun on his heel and barged into the house, his face almost crimson with anger. Ellie did not know what was wrong with him. She had never seen him like this and she didn’t wish to again.
Chapter Seventeen
It was clear that the parson had not been happy to find his daughter alone with a man like Jude, and Jude didn’t entirely blame the man for that. He knew he shouldn’t have accepted her invitation to stay, but just being near her made him feel alive in a way that he simply hadn’t felt in too long—if ever.
He could understand why a father might not want his beloved, innocent da
ughter to fraternize with a man like him. He was a loner, a misfit. He lived out on the ridge, and few people knew that much about him other than that he had saved Mr. Gideon. Well, and the fact that he didn’t go to church.
He wondered if it was time for him to stop being such a recluse. It wasn’t healing the wounds that had been left on his heart and mind, and it was clearly making him the object of much suspicion. Jude wasn’t sure if he was ready to be around people, to try to fit into the community yet, but he suddenly had a reason to try. Maybe attending the service on Sunday when the little church opened its doors for the very first time might be a good start.
He wasn’t sure if he would ever find his faith in God again, but if it was what was needed to be accepted into the community, he would try. Vaguely, he thought he owed himself the effort of trying. To gain a level of acceptance and maybe to trust in something that at one time had been all important to him.
But, in the meantime, he had chores to do and a cowboy back up at the shack to feed. So he made his way along Main Street, where he made purchases at the bakery, the mercantile. Then he made a final stop at Dr. Hale’s home. His housekeeper, Mrs. Grieve, ushered Jude inside. “Well, I know that Mr. Gideon will be happy to see you,” she chirped. “He’s looking much better, been sitting up and demanding we all stop our work and talk to him.”
“That sounds like a good sign,” Jude agreed, following her to a bright and airy room beyond the parlor. An iron-framed bed sat in the very center of the chamber, with a washstand to one side, and a large chest of drawers to the other. In the bed, Mr. Gideon beamed when he saw that he had company.
“Mr. Gideon, I doubt if you remember, but this is Mr. Rigsby. He’s the gentleman who saved your life,” Mrs. Grieve said, by way of introduction. Mr. Gideon’s smile spread even wider across his lean, and slightly pale face.
“Well, I’m right glad to meet you properly,” Mr. Gideon said, holding out his hand. Jude moved towards him and shook it firmly.
“And you. Last time I saw you, I feared for your mortality, my friend. You were quite unconscious, and that leg didn’t look like it could be saved.” Jude looked down at the heavily splinted limb.
“Dr. Hale would appear to be a bit of a clever fellow,” Mr. Gideon said.
“That he is. He’s obviously taking perfect care of you.”
“Indeed. I’m not entirely sure how I’ll be able to make payment for such care. I’m not a wealthy man, just a poor trapper trying to make ends meet.”
“I’m sure that something will be arranged, he’s a good man,” Jude said, silently vowing to check with Dr. Hale just how much Mr. Gideon would owe for his treatment and ongoing care. He could certainly contribute to the costs if needs be.
“They tell me I am lucky I fell where I did, that it was just below where you live,” Mr. Gideon said. “I must confess, I didn’t feel too lucky at the time, but I am beginning to. Will have to make my way to this new church just as soon as I’m allowed out of bed to thank the Good Lord for his sending me an angel.”
“More a sinner than a saint,” Jude said with a wry grin. “It’s a lonesome spot, up on the ridge, but, I am glad to have been there to help.”
Mr. Gideon was beginning to look a little tired, but Jude had a feeling that he would be too stubborn to admit it. “I had best be getting on my way. I have a hungry cowboy in need of a good meal boarding at the shack with me tonight. But, I will come visit you next time I’m in town.”
“I should like that. You know, your face is ever so familiar,” Mr. Gideon said, just as Jude had reached the doorway. “Were you in the war?”
“I was,” Jude said grimly.
“Confederate or Yankee?”
“Confederate.” Jude nodded hesitantly.
“I was with Braxton Bragg. You?”
“Stuart,” Jude said.
“Ah, one of the reconnaissance boys? I doubt you know just how many lives your intelligence saved. But I’m guessing this may not be the first time you’ve saved my life, though neither of us would have known it back then.”
“It wasn’t an easy way to serve, but I’m glad to know that it saved at least a few of my fellow soldiers. It was a brutal war. My uncle joined up on the Yankee’s side.”
“My brother did, too. I was lucky I never had to actually face him on the battlefield, and both of us made it out alive. But, we still fight the battles over and over, neither one of us giving an inch.”
Jude didn’t say anything. He’d come to believe that there had been no right side in a war that set friends and family to fight against one another. He also believed that neither side could claim any moral high ground. And now, he’d rather live alone up on the ridge, than ever be drawn into fighting the battles of the wealthy and powerful again.
He left and made his way back up to his tiny home. Pete, the young cowboy staying with him for the night, was snoozing by the fire. Jude began to fix their supper and wondered if he had maybe been hasty in only building such a small shack. He was seeing more and more folk come by this way, having heard from others that a bed and a hot meal was available to them at a good price.
But, he only had limited space and more than three bunking down in the shack would have everyone on top of one another. He was starting to make a little income from his enterprise. Maybe he could afford to build a real house up here if he could convince anyone to come up and help him raise it.
But, what if he never had more than one fella a night come to stay? He’d rattle around in a big house on his own. Parson Fletcher had made it more than clear that he didn’t approve of Jude as a prospective suitor for his daughter.
He’d never wanted anyone but Ellie in his life, though he doubted that fact wouldn’t soften the old man a bit. Would going to church, building a real home, and doing good deeds be enough to convince the parson? Or would he always be the reclusive and strange man who didn’t quite fit in?
He chopped the carrots and threw them into the pot. Some gravy splashed out, and a tiny drop landed on the bare forearm of the young cowboy. He jolted awake, glaring round angrily. “Oh, it’s you,” he said, seeing Jude pouring chopped onions into the stew.
“Sorry, it spat,” Jude said, nodding to the stew. “You feeling a bit more rested now, Pete? Your cattle are settled quite happily in the corral.”
“I should go down and check on them,” he said, rising to his feet. He was tall and lanky, and his legs seemed too long even for a tall drink of water like him. “I can’t say how glad I am to have somewhere to stop for the night.”
“I’ve done a bit of herding, and nights up in the hills were always the worst,” Jude admitted. “I just thought I could do something to make it easier.”
The cowboy sauntered off, and Jude finished adding the vegetables to the pot, then went inside and laid out the pallets, for later that night. Again, it struck him just how basic his life was up here. How could he ever let someone like Ellie Fletcher see how he lived? She’d be appalled. Not that he would ever be given the chance, her father would never let her come up here, not even if she was chaperoned by every other woman in town.
Pete didn’t come back for over an hour, by which time the stew was almost ready. Jude offered him coffee from the fresh pot he’d simmered and the pair sat drinking in silence, looking out as the sun set, creating a spectacular display of color on the horizon. “Nights like this, they make it all worth it,” Pete said softly.
“It is a hard life you’ve chosen,” Jude said.
“It chose me. I’m not good at much else, other than this. My Daddy got me a place with Mr. Calhoun over New Mexico way. He trusts me and pays me on time with no deductions if I lose a few here and there. It’s a better life than I might have had. I didn’t come from much. I never expected much.”
Jude couldn’t help but think that having such simple expectations would serve this boy well. He had grown up with the weight of expectation on his shoulders. His family’s plantation had been one of the finest in Georgia, and he’d
been considered bright and capable to take on the running of the place. But, he’d never wanted it, at least not the way his father and grandfather had run it.
They were old fashioned and didn’t subscribe to new ideas. He’d fought for the Confederate Army because it was expected of him and because his name had meant he had little choice. He wasn’t ready to choose sides, but his choice had already been made.
It had been heartbreaking to return and see the damage the war had brought to his home, to his family. While losing his family and everything they’d worked hard to build had been devastating, it had freed him in a sense. He was now free to make something of himself on his own, on his own merits.
“Hey, we expecting company?” Pete asked, pointing to a small cart trundling up the path towards the shack.
“I wasn’t, but I to tell the truth, I never do,” Jude said grinning. “You boys just drop by.” He stood up and made his way to the spot where the path came to an end. The cart was a few hundred yards away still, and Jude could make out four figures. If they wanted to stay the night, it would be a tight squeeze.
As it drew closer, Jude was surprised to see Nate, and Mae. He rushed towards them. “What a wonderful surprise,” he exclaimed, and then realized who was perched on the back of the cart, her arm wrapped around a small boy. “Miss Fletcher, and you, well you must be Zach,” he said shaking the young lad’s hand. The boy beamed, and Miss Fletcher grinned up at him.
“My father was out with a few of the town elders, so I thought I would go exploring. I met Mrs. Ellison, and young Zach, and we have become fast friends. I mentioned how lovely the sunset was, and Mrs. Ellison said that seeing it down in the valley was nothing compared to seeing it from up here. So she convinced Mr. Ellison to bring us all,” Miss Fletcher said breathlessly. He could see she was nervous, but she was doing a good job of hiding it. He doubted that anyone else would have noticed as none of them knew her well enough to know.
