Betrayal (3 page)
His mum used to say, when he wasn’t sure what to do, to keep moving forward and eventually God would make things clear. He sure hoped she was right.
At this time of the year, sunrise arrived at Sage-hen Ranch shortly after 5:00 a.m. On this particular morning, Julia was up, dressed, and outside as a pewter dawn spread across the barnyard. But before she reached the chicken coop, Hugh Brennan appeared in the barn doorway. He stopped when he saw her. She did the same.
“Morning, Mrs. Grace.”
“Morning, Mr. Brennan. I hope you found the quarters comfortable.”
“I did, ma’am.” He motioned toward her basket. “Would you like me to gather the eggs for you?”
The offer surprised her. Angus would never have volunteered to go anywhere near the henhouse. Gathering eggs was woman’s work, and he’d never allowed her to forget what her work was.
“Ma’am?”
She gave her head a slight shake. “No. Thank you, Mr. Brennan. I’ll do it. I’ll call you when breakfast is ready. But you could feed the horses in the corral, if you don’t mind.”
As Julia started forward, Bandit left her side and trotted over to Hugh. Unlike in the night, this time the dog didn’t stop out of reach. He seemed to have made up his mind about the man. She
hoped Hugh was deserving of Bandit’s trust. And her own, guarded though it was.
It didn’t take long to gather the eggs and return to the house. Breakfast was the same as the day before, only this time she scrambled the eggs and toasted the slices of buttered bread in the frying pan. When everything was ready, she went to the front porch and called for Hugh to join her before returning to the kitchen.
A short while later, he arrived at the open door. “Are you sure, Mrs. Grace?”
She didn’t have to ask what he meant. Yesterday, she’d served him two meals, both times taking a plate to him outside. “I’m sure.”
He stepped inside, lowering his head so as not to hit it on the doorjamb on his way through. She wondered, considering his height, if his feet hung off the end of the bunk in the barn. She thought they must have — and she found the image that popped into her mind disturbing.
“Smells good.” He settled onto a chair at the table.
“There’s not much damage a person can do to eggs and bacon. That’s what my husband used to say.” The instant the words were out of her mouth, she was sorry she’d said them. She didn’t like to talk about Angus. Talking about him only served to bring up bad memories.
She took her place opposite Hugh, bowed her head, and gave silent thanks for God’s provision. When she looked up again, she saw that Hugh had bowed his head as well. Was he waiting for her to speak a blessing over the food? Just in case, she said, “Amen.”
“Amen.” He opened his eyes, tossed her a brief smile, and began to eat.
He wasn’t much of a conversationalist. That was for certain. Normally, she wouldn’t mind. She was comfortable with silence and her own thoughts. But she’d gotten an idea early this morning
when she couldn’t go back to sleep, and now she wanted to know more about the man seated across from her.
She picked up her fork. “Where do you come from, Mr. Brennan?”
“Illinois. My sisters and I were born in Chicago.”
“Then you’re a long way from home.”
“Yes’m. I’m a long way.”
“And where are you headed?”
“To Boise.”
She waited, expecting him to elaborate, but he didn’t. She decided to change tack. “How is your horse’s leg this morning?”
“He’s still favoring it. Can’t tell why. I haven’t found any sort of wound, and there’s nothing in his hoof that I can see. Afraid I don’t know much about doctoring animals.”
“There’s liniment in the tack room. That might help.”
He nodded.
Julia set down her fork. She might as well get to the point. “Mr. Brennan, would it be a problem if you delayed your trip to Boise for a short while longer? A few weeks at most.”
He cocked an eyebrow but said nothing.
“I’m going to need help driving my cattle to market, and the men who used to work for my husband have been hired on by another rancher. Besides, I can’t offer much of a salary, and I couldn’t give you any money until after the cattle are sold. But if you’re interested, you’ll eat good and you’ll have a roof over your head at night. The way it is now. Would you be interested?”
Hugh seemed to ponder the offer, and Julia couldn’t decide if she wanted him to accept or reject it. She still knew little about him and wasn’t sure why she’d felt compelled to ask him to work for her, other than because she needed the help and he seemed to like her cooking enough that he might not quibble over his pay.
At long last, he replied, “All right, Mrs. Grace. I don’t suppose a few weeks more or less matters. Not where I’m going. I’ll admit I wouldn’t mind more of your good vittles. A man gets tired of beans day in and day out. But you should know, I’ve never done any ranch work. Green. Isn’t that what you call it?”
Julia released the breath she hadn’t known she held. “When my husband was alive, I wasn’t involved with the everyday duties of running the ranch. I tended the home and Angus looked after the cattle. But since he died, I’ve been learning. If I can learn, so can you. Can you rope?”
A smile slipped into the corners of his mouth. “No, ma’am. Not much call for roping in the city.”
Was he laughing at her? She bristled, and her feelings must have shown on her face.
He quickly sobered. “Why don’t you tell me a little more about the place and what you’re wanting me to do?”
Her irritation cooled. She was too sensitive, and she knew it. “Sage-hen isn’t a large ranch. Less than two hundred acres. It’s all fenced and the soil is rich. Irrigation from the river that runs through it allows enough forage to keep a couple hundred cows, each with a calf. I don’t have that many. I had to sell more than I wanted last year after Angus passed on.” She took a sip of coffee.
Hugh gave a brief nod, showing he listened.
“In the next week or two, I need to brand this year’s calves. By the first of June, I’ll have to drive the cattle I’m selling down to a ranch on the plains. It’s not a long drive, and the two of us should be able to handle it without more help.” They’d better be able to handle it. She couldn’t afford to hire another hand, even an inexperienced one like Hugh Brennan. “Until then, you can make a few repairs around the place and help care for the livestock.”
“I reckon I can at that.” He took a few quick bites, cleaning the last of the food from his plate.
Normally, Julia was wary of men. Strangers in particular. But there was something about this man —
“Where would you like me to start, ma’am?”
“Perhaps you could start by calling me Julia. I’m afraid all your ma’ams are making me … I don’t know … self-conscious.”
His smile returned, and she noticed for the first time that it was slightly lopsided, lifting higher in the right corner of his mouth. Was it due to the pale scar on that cheek? Perhaps. But no matter the cause, the smile was appealing. Most women must find him attractive.
The heat of embarrassment rose in her cheeks. Lowering her gaze to her plate, she said, “Go ahead and tend to your horse. I’ll be out to show you around after I’m done with the dishes.”
Julia Grace was a strange one, Hugh thought as he worked the liniment into his gelding’s leg. She couldn’t seem to decide whether or not she should trust him. Or like him, for that matter. One moment she said to call her Julia because being called ma’am made her feel self-conscious; the next she dismissed him without a glance. Maybe that’s what came of living alone out in the middle of nowhere without another soul to talk to.
People were meant to have relationships. That’s what he’d heard a preacher in Nebraska say. That’s what God intended. His people were meant to be in community, giving and sharing, praying and blessing. True enough, he supposed. But the risk of betrayal increased with close connections to others. A solitary existence could be lonely, but it was also safer. That’s how Hugh saw it.
He looked toward the house, wondering again about the woman inside. Living here alone couldn’t be easy. Surely she could find another husband without much effort, as pretty as she was. But there was something else about her, something that made him think of a canary in a cage.
There are many kinds of prisons
. That thought was followed with words he’d read in the Bible that morning.
Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage
.
Hugh had a talent for memorizing, an aptitude he’d honed over the years. Too often he hadn’t had easy access to books so he’d learned to commit words to memory. That way, he always had a story to remember. That talent was proving a blessing as he sought to have a better understanding of his Savior.
His mother had had a strong faith in God. Hugh remembered that about her. He’d always known it. Why had it taken him so many years to come to believe for himself? Maybe his father had something to do with it. Sweeney Brennan hadn’t believed in much beyond the next bottle.
God, help me learn to forgive him
.
It wasn’t the first time he’d prayed those words. Probably wouldn’t be the last. Not until he got an answer. Not until he was able to let go of the memories. Not until the pain of betrayal lost its grip upon his heart.
“Please be careful, Mr. Brennan.” Julia shaded her eyes against the glare of the sun.
She’d noticed the hole in the barn roof earlier this spring, but there had always seemed to be something more important to do — with her time as well as her money — than repair it. The weather had been fine for weeks. It could wait to be patched, she’d reasoned.
Hugh Brennan thought otherwise — which was why he was up on the roof now, doing a balancing act on the ridgeline.
A fall will kill him
.
Hugh wasn’t the sort of man who let the grass grow under his feet, that was for certain. In the past twenty-four hours, he’d mended the fence in the paddock behind the barn, organized the tools above the workbench, and given his living quarters a thorough cleaning. And now he planned to patch that hole in the barn roof — if he didn’t kill himself first.
She released a held breath when he reached his destination and knelt down. In that position, he seemed more secure. Perhaps that was an illusion, but she took comfort in it anyway.
How strange. Why should she take comfort in his safety? Why should she
need
comfort? He wasn’t a friend or even a true ranch hand. He was a drifter, a stranger from Illinois on his way to Idaho.
No one of importance in her life. Not really. She supposed the comfort was because, as a Christian, she should care about her fellow man.
Any
fellow man.
But that doesn’t mean I need to stand here gawking at him, as if I have no work of my own to do
.
And yet she had no desire to look away. The truth was, it wasn’t only concern for his safety that kept her eyes on him. There was something pleasing about watching him work. Perhaps it was his dark good looks. No, she’d learned that physical appearance alone did not draw her interest. There was something else about Hugh. She wished she could put her finger on it.
Drawing a deep breath, she turned away from the barn and moved with resolution toward the house. Today she meant to tackle the laundry, her least favorite chore, and one she too often put off until later.
“Rejoice in all things,” she whispered. “I’m not doing very well at that, am I, God?” The question made her shake her head. She would need to change a great deal before she successfully practiced that biblical command. “The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”
Inside, Julia set to work, scrubbing the clothes and linens that had soaked overnight. The task took a good couple of hours, but it seemed like much longer and left her arms sore and her back aching. Next she rinsed the laundry — first in plain water, then in bluing — and then everything went into a large basket that she carried outside so she could hang the clean clothes and linens on the line.
It was there Hugh joined her.
“The roof’s fixed,” he said. “Let me help you with this.” He pulled a sheet from the basket and shook it, being careful to keep it from touching the ground.
Julia knew she was staring at him as if he’d sprouted another head, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
A wry smile curved the corners of his mouth. “Doesn’t hurt a man to help with the laundry. Not if he appreciates clean clothes and bedding.” He dropped the sheet over the line. “And I do appreciate such things. More than you know.”
In all her years of marriage, no one had ever helped Julia with the laundry. Not even when she was big with —
She clamped down on the thought, not allowing it to fully form. Remembering was too painful.
“Something wrong, ma’am?”
She looked at Hugh; his brown eyes were filled with concern. “No,” she answered at last. “Nothing.” She grabbed one of her skirts from the basket and took it to an empty space on the clothesline.
“If I said something to upset you —”
“You didn’t.” She drew a deep breath and faced him again. “Truly you didn’t. I’m just so used to spending my days alone, I’m not very good at carrying on a conversation.”
His jaw clenched and released. “I’m a lot like that, Mrs. Grace. I’ve spent a good share of my life alone with my own thoughts.”
“Call me Julia.”
“Julia.”
“You never married?” she asked him.
“No.” He shook his head, then retrieved another item to hang on the line. “Never had much opportunity.”
A good-looking man like you?
She was grateful the words stayed in her mind rather than escaping her mouth. Especially since she knew good looks did not make a man good. He could be attractive and also be cruel or unkind or thoughtless. She’d learned that lesson well. And to be honest, it bothered her that she even noticed
Hugh’s physical appearance. It wasn’t like her. Hadn’t been like her for years.