Linda Ford (6 page)

“Hope she doesn’t get lost.”

Ward thought it best to not echo his worry along the same line. After a bit the stew bubbled, and he moved it down the spit to simmer while the potatoes cooked. The smell of food was enough to flood his mouth with saliva. He’d eaten a fair-sized breakfast but nothing since. He guessed Red hadn’t eaten since the day before, and who could guess when Belle had last eaten. He hoped the aromas floating from the pot should soon bring her in. “How’s your leg feeling?”

“It’s fine.”

“I suppose your head is fine, too?”

“Yup.”

“Would you admit if it hurt like fury and your leg pained clear to your eyeballs?”

She laughed, a sound that startled him, expecting, as he was, another fierce argument. “I’ll admit it hurts some, but seeing as there’s nothing for it but to endure, doesn’t seem much point in bemoaning the fact.”

He’d told himself the same thing many times so couldn’t argue. Somehow hearing her say it made him like her just a little. “You will keep an eye on your leg and make sure it doesn’t get infected? If you see any sign of it, let me know. Linette will have ways of treating it.”

“I can manage on my own.”

“I was only being helpful.” He felt her wariness and recalled her earlier words. “And I don’t expect any form of repayment in return.”

“I would pay cash for the use of the cabin if I had any. I don’t. Nor do I aim to repay favors with favors.”

He sighed loud and long. “I would not take either.” He tested the potatoes with a fork. They were cooked. He trotted back to the cabin for dishes, paused to fill a bucket of water at the well. Back at the fire, he handed her two plates, forks and cups.

“Thank you,” she said.

He chomped down on his teeth to keep from saying it was good to see she had a measure of manners. “Call out and tell Belle the food is ready.”

“Belle. There’s food. It smells mighty good. Can you smell it?”

They both waited silently for a sound of the little girl. To his right, the grass rustled.

“She’s coming,” he whispered.

“Ward made lots of stew and there’s baked potatoes. When was the last time you had a whole potato?”

The grass rustled some more, then Belle hovered at the edge of the darkness.

“Come on, honey,” Red urged.

Belle darted glances at Ward as she made her way to Red’s side, going the long way around the fire to avoid having to pass him.

He tried not to let it bother him and failed miserably. Instead, he had to be content with handing them a heaping plate of food. He handed Red a potato. She took it. But when he held out one toward Belle, she shrank back. Red reached for it but Ward withdrew. He wanted Belle to trust him enough to take it from him. After all, he had provided the food. Besides, he was getting tired of being treated like one of the bad guys.

Belle’s fear was palpable, but so was her hunger. He offered her a towel. “It’s hot. Hold it with this.”

She snatched the towel, took another moment to consider the potato carefully, then, doing her best not to touch his hand, took it.

It was a start. Satisfied, he sat down with his own food. “I’ll say grace.”

He didn’t need to look at Red to feel her resistance. But Belle met his eyes steadily a moment before she bowed her head.

He prayed, and then they ate in silence. When he saw they’d cleaned their plate, he offered them another helping, which they didn’t refuse.

The evening deepened. Despite the warmth of the fire, he felt coolness moving in. “I need to do my chores.” Though likely Slim or Roper had seen to them by now.

Red sprang to her feet. “You go. We’ll be fine.”

Ward picked up his hat from beside him and slammed it on his head. “What’s your hurry?”

“I didn’t mean...”

“Don’t bother backpeddling. But if you don’t mind, I’ll see that you’re settled in the cabin and the fire is dowsed before I leave.” He grabbed the lamp and strode back to the cabin. He set the lamp on the tiny table.

Red slipped into the room. “Guess you can’t blame me for being leery. I want to make it on my own. Owe no man anything.”

“I could carve it in the log by the table so you don’t forget.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Lady, my stepfather made no secret that my presence set his teeth on edge. So I walked away from my family because I figured if I left they’d be better off. But I’ve never known if it was so or not. Instead I wonder. And I regret leaving. My only reason for helping you is to make up for leaving my family. It’s nothing to do with you. So don’t think I plan to take advantage of you. You mention it again and I will carve ‘I want nothing in return’ in that there log.” He slapped the chosen place.

“Well, fine then. Just so long as we understand each other.”

“I’m pretty sure we do. There’s the bedroom.” He pointed toward the door. “There’s the stove. I can light it now if you think it’s too chilly in here, though likely you would then roast like trussed chickens. There’s food in the cupboard. Not much. I’ll be back with more in the morning. The place is yours.”

He headed for the door, which was all of three steps away, and Red bolted out of his way. He stopped to give her a long, steady look.

She lowered her head and mumbled something that sounded vaguely like “thank you.”

He nodded briskly and stepped outside. “Call your sister. I’m going to put out the fire.”

At her call, Belle dashed past him to join Red.

He carried the dishes to the cabin and set them in a pot without any comment, then grabbed a shovel from the corner.

Smacking out the lingering flames and covering the embers with dirt allowed him take care of most of his frustration.

He wondered if rescuing this pair would in any way ease his guilt about having left his own family, or if he had bitten off more than he cared to chew.

Chapter Four

R
ed and Belle stood silent and motionless as Ward called from outside, “Goodbye. Be safe.”

Red knew Belle didn’t breathe any louder than she did as they listened to him stomp away from the cabin. As the sound faded she strained, but couldn’t tell if she still heard his footsteps in the distance or if it was the pounding of her blood against her eardrums. So she waited, not daring to move until she was certain. It seemed he had truly left, and her breath whistled out.

“Is he gone?” Belle whispered.

“Yes.” Thankfully. She was grateful for his help. Truly she was. But she didn’t plan to accept more than she was forced to.

“Are you glad?” Belle asked, easing away from the dark corner as if still uncertain it was safe to do so.

“We’re finally on our own. Just you and me.” Apart from Linette and Eddie up the hill, a cookhouse and cowboys across the road and Ward, no doubt, flitting back and forth. She would have much preferred Ward’s isolated cabin, but this would do for now.

“I’m glad, too.” Belle turned to study the room. “We gonna sleep here?”

“Yup. Just the two of us. Let’s have a look around.” The room held a small stove that would serve as a kitchen range as well as a welcome source of heat on cold nights. There was a tiny table, two chairs, a shelf with a few supplies and a bookcase with a few odds and ends. There was another doorway and they went to the small bedroom.

Belle edged over to the bed and touched it. “How long we staying here?”

Red crossed to Belle’s side, perched on the bed and caught her sister’s chin. “Honey, we need some place until I can come up with a plan. But as soon as I do, we’ll leave. We’ll find a place on our own where we’ll always be safe and always together.”

Belle’s gaze clung to Red’s. She could see her little sister wanted to believe in a future that held promise and possibility. Understood her hesitation to do so. Her faith in good things had been shattered in the past few months.

Red pulled Belle to her lap and held her tight. “We got away from Thorton and Old Mike. They’re both in jail and will never hurt us again.”

“They’ll stay in jail forever?”

“I hope so. But long enough they won’t bother us again.”

“Red, he prayed. He said we could trust God.”

She heard the wistful note in her sister’s voice and understood Belle referred to Ward.

How was she to deal with this? She had no trust left. Not for God and certainly not for any man. But how could she admit she felt God had abandoned them and rob Belle of any hope? On the other hand, she didn’t want her to trust anyone but themselves for their future. She closed her eyes and tried to marshal her thoughts together. It took too much effort, made her head ache. She’d deal with the matter later.

Belle looked intently into Red’s face. “You don’t like him, do you?”

The question startled Red. There was something about Ward that got under her skin like a red, itchy rash. His insistence on helping even though it was evident he didn’t care a whole lot about her. The way he took objection to her comments. Yes, they might have been a little barbed, but she couldn’t help it. It had become part of her armor. Yet, despite his contrary ways, he exuded strength beyond the power in his arms. It came from deep inside him. Born, perhaps, out of his own pain and experience. She had to respect that. Might even find it slightly appealing.

But she could not let herself like him. To like a man, she would have to trust him, and she could not, would not, ever again trust a man.

Belle waited patiently for her answer.

“Honey, we don’t know him well enough to have much of an opinion about him.”

Taking her cues from Red, Belle sighed. “Too bad he’s a man. Otherwise I might like him.”

Laughing at her little sister’s wisdom, Red hugged her tight. “Let’s check out the bed.” She pulled Belle down beside her and they flopped backward on the furs. “I think we’ll be very comfortable.” Sharing a narrow bed with her sister was not going to be difficult. Having her so close, she could feel her breathing would comfort her.

They returned to the other room and examined the items on the shelf. Containers of flour, cornmeal and sugar. “Guess we won’t starve to death.”

“Can I help you cook things?”

“Of course you can. We will have so much fun. Just the two of us.” She glanced at the darkened window. Would they see the mountains through that window? She touched the log where he had threatened to carve words. Her chest seemed wooden as a strange wistfulness filled her. She’d once known a secure home. So had Belle, but she wasn’t sure her sister could remember happy family times.

Red didn’t know what the future held nor where they would go from here, but perhaps in this little cabin she could give Belle some enjoyable times. Teach her to be happy and trusting again, though not too trusting. Look at the predicament they’d landed in because Red trusted people too much.

Belle stood in the center of the room and spun around. “I love it here.” She jerked to a stop so quickly she almost tumbled over. “No one will bother us, will they?”

A storm of emotions raced through Red. Anger that Belle should know such uncertainty, hatred toward the man who’d stolen the innocence of them both, despair at how little she could offer her sister. Then determination, solid as a rock, pressed down all other feelings. She would do anything, everything, she could to protect her sister from any more hurt.

“If anyone bothers us, I’ll take a shovel to the side of his head.”

Belle’s eyes widened. “You’d hurt him?”

Belle meant Ward. Red meant anyone who threatened them. “If he tried to bother us, I would.”

Rocking back and forth, Belle considered Red silently. Then she came to a decision. “Maybe you shouldn’t hurt him.”

Red’s head snapped back. This from a little girl who had as much reason to hate men as anyone. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, if you hurt him he might not want to help us. It’s scary and dark out there.” She tilted her head toward the door and Red knew she referred to the half hour or so she’d hidden in the bushes. “Besides, I like this.” She went to the table, climbed up on a chair and pressed her hand to a picture mounted on the wall.

Red hadn’t paid any attention to it, but now she moved closer. A sampler done in various stitches, pretty flowers and designs around words. The words, done in black cross-stitch,
“Whither shall I flee from Thy presence? The darkness and light are both alike to Thee.”
The words brushed a dark spot deep within. “It’s very nice. I wonder who made it,” Red said.

“I think someone’s mother.”

Red sat down on the bed and Belle sat beside her. “Why do you think so?”

“Because Mama made one like this for me, didn’t she? Remember? She hung it over my bed and said I should never forget the words.”

The memory rushed toward Red. She tried to dam it back. She could not let her thoughts hearken back to those happy, innocent days. Everything about her past filled her with crippling regret.

“I ’member her making it.”

So did Red. The dam broke and she was back at her childhood home. She was warm, happy, secure in her parents’ love and protection. Seems the house glowed with treasures, each representing love. Mama sat in a rocking chair that had been Grandma’s and told stories of sitting on her own mother’s lap ensconced in the same chair where Red remembered sitting on Mama’s knees and later, where she and Mama took turns rocking Belle. What a sweet baby she’d been. “A gift from heaven for us all,” Mama had said time and again. “After losing so many babies, God has granted us Belle to fill our hearts with joy.” Indeed the happiness in the house had reached new heights with the safe arrival of Belle. Mama had once said she might not live to see Belle marry and asked Red to promise she’d see Belle was properly cared for. Red had readily agreed, never suspecting an accident would thrust the role upon her so unexpectedly.

“Mama hung it over my bed on my fourth birthday.”

“I’m surprised you remember.”

“I didn’t till I saw this one. Then I ’membered.”

“I remember, too.” Mama had stitched a cradle with a baby in it, a window behind the cradle with light pouring in. She’d carefully selected the scripture. “I want something that will encourage Belle her entire life. No matter what may happen,” their mother had said.

Oh, how disappointed her parents would be that Red hadn’t protected Belle as she’d promised. She would live with that regret to her dying day and the moment she stepped into heaven, she would beg their forgiveness.

Not that she was sure God would let her into heaven after the events of the past year and her vow to never forgive Thorton.

“I remember the words, too,” Belle said.

Red did, too, though she no longer believed them with childlike innocence and wondered if Belle did.

“‘I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.’ Red, do you think Mama would be angry that I did forget them for a little while?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Red, do you still pray?”

She wished she could avoid the question. She had no desire to rob Belle of whatever faith and trust she still had. But she couldn’t lie. “Not much.”

“Me, either, but when I was locked in Old Mike’s cabin I remembered a prayer Mama said and I said it out loud. That’s what I was doing when you came for me.”

Her curiosity overcame her doubt. “What prayer was that?”

“‘God, You are a very present help to me, and I am receiving Your help even now as I pray. Thank You, Father. You are my refuge and strength, and because this is true, I will not fear anything or anyone.’”

Red pressed her tongue to the top of her mouth. Her nose stung. She could not breathe for dread of unleashing so many frightening emotions she feared she would drown.

Why had God forsaken her? Where was He when they needed help?

“God heard me. He hasn’t forgotten me.”

Oh, if only she could have the faith of her little sister. But never again could she be innocent and trusting. Nevertheless, she was glad Belle had found comfort in her prayers. She jumped to her feet, ignoring the protest from her injured leg. “Let’s make the bed.”

Together they folded the fur back. It would be much too warm this time of year. They punched the mattress into better shape and smoothed the blankets. She had no way of knowing the time, but it was dark and she was tired. Enough reason to go to bed. They had no other clothes but what they wore, so preparing for bed simply meant washing their faces and removing their shoes.

They lay curled together, Red’s arms around her sister.

“Red?”

“What?”

“We gonna wear these clothes day and night forever?”

Red giggled. “I don’t expect they’ll last forever.”

“Seems I’ve been wearing the same thing for almost that long.”

“I wish I could offer you more, but this is what we have for now.” There was a time when loving parents had generously provided all they needed. They would never again know that sufficiency. Truth was, Red had no idea how she would provide even basic necessities for them. Only that she would find a way that did not require depending on a man.

Even if for now, she had accepted help from two men, if she counted Eddie. Knowing it was Linette’s will that she and Belle stay in the cabin marginally eased her concern at taking charity from a man. Taking it from a woman was an easier pill to swallow.

A fresh thought entered her mind. Perhaps Ward had come in answer to Belle’s prayers. God, no doubt, still heard her words.

She fell asleep, soothed by the gentle snores of her little sister.

The next morning she woke to Belle tickling her nose. “Wake up. It’s morning and I’m hungry.”

Red groaned. Her body hurt from so many hours on horseback and her leg reminded her of her injury. “You sure it’s morning? I don’t see any daylight.”

“’Cause you got your eyes closed.” Belle peeled one eyelid up.

Red brushed her hand aside. “It’s cold in here.”

“You could start a fire in the stove.”

“I could, could I? Or we could wait for the sun to warm the place.”

Belle crawled over Red and pushed into her shoes. “I’ll help you.”

Red rolled over to study her eager sister. “First thing I’m going to teach you is how to build a fire so I can get up to a warm room.”

“Okay.” Belle rushed out of the room. The stove lid rattled. “Show me now,” she called.

With a long-suffering sigh, Red climbed out of bed. Her hair must be a rat’s nest, but they lacked comb or brush. She settled for running her hands over her hair to tame it out of her eyes.

“Hurry up.” Belle waited in the doorway, her hands on her hips in a pose that reminded Red of their mother.

Pain sucked at her insides. She closed her eyes and waited for the hurting to disappear. “Let me get my shoes.”

Belle tipped her head to one side and sighed as if the request was unreasonable.

Red chuckled. “I’m hurrying.” She fastened her shoes, then went to the stove. “First, you need some kindling.” She showed Belle how to build a fire and they watched with undue fascination as the flames took hold.

Soon the heat warmed Red and her brain began to function. For a minute she allowed herself a moment of joy that they were alone and safe. Thank God Thorton was behind bars. God had answered Belle’s prayers and she was grateful for that.

“What are we going to eat?” Belle asked, eyeing the cupboard of supplies.

“What would you like?”

Belle considered her as if wondering what she could ask for.

“Ask and if it’s possible with what’s on hand, we’ll have it.”

Belle held Red’s gaze in a hungry look. “You remember how Mama made teddy bear griddle cakes?”

Another memory flooded Red’s thoughts. Belle was little, still in her high chair. Mama had stood at the stove, wiping her brow in a weary gesture. Mama seemed to be tired a lot and Red had done all she could to help. But Belle fussed.

“She’s got a touch of tummy upset,” Mama had said. “I wish I could have kept nursing her. The cow’s milk doesn’t agree with her.”

“But we were so grateful for fresh milk.”

“Yes, I still am. God provided generously. Now I’m praying Belle will adjust to it soon.” She had set a place of griddle cakes before Belle.