Tamera Alexander - [Timber Ridge Reflections 01] (14 page)

“I’ll admit, I’ve heard about cameras like yours before.” Mathias mouthed something to Luke, who took a potato and passed them on. “But I never saw one before today.”

“I’ll be happy to explain how it works after lunch. And I’ll make a copy of the photograph of the children once I get back to town and send it to you via the mail service next week.”

The children giggled, and Elizabeth’s blue eyes went round.

Oleta, who sat next to her, reached over and gave her arm a squeeze. “The mail wagon doesn’t run out here, dear. But Mathias goes into town every few weeks for supplies, and the children always race over to the store to check. Whenever you get the image made, you can just leave it for us there. We’ll be obliged to have it.”

Little Libby, who had clamored to take a seat beside Elizabeth, leaned forward. “We run like Mama says, but nothin’s ever waitin’ for us.” Her tiny lips pursed. Libby was small for five, like her older brother Davy, but she was sharp as a whip.

Smiling, Elizabeth nodded and lifted her glass as if to take a drink, then stopped and peered into it. She frowned.

Daniel watched from where he sat and willed her to look past whatever it was and just take a drink. A little dirt wouldn’t hurt her. He doubted she noticed that she’d gotten the only real glass the Tuckers owned. He and Josiah were drinking their water from saucers, which was how he remembered his grandfather taking his coffee, and the children shared tin cups they passed back and forth among them. Mathias and Oleta provided refills from two pitchers on the table and took sips as the cups passed.

Elizabeth’s frown deepened. As did Daniel’s concern.

She glanced at Oleta, who thankfully wasn’t looking at the moment, and set the glass down. Daniel pulled off a piece of meat with his teeth and chewed. How could the woman not feel the hole he was boring through her?

“Mr. Daniel?”

Daniel looked to his left, where Davy sat.

“Thank you for my present.” The boy’s eyes lit despite the shadowed half moons beneath them. “It’s the best thing I ever got.”

Daniel couldn’t answer right off. He smiled. “You’re welcome, Davy. I wish I could’ve brought him here to you, so you could have seen him close up. He jumped heights that would’ve taken you and me a ladder to climb up. He was so strong.”

“Was he m—” Davy’s lips formed a thin line. A frown eclipsed his tiny smile.

“Magnificent?” Daniel filled in, remembering their past conversations and how he’d described the animal to the boy. “Yes, he was. I followed him for a few days, watching him, waiting so I could—”

“Get a clean shot, because something like him don’t deserve any less.”

Daniel’s chest tightened. “You don’t forget a thing, do you?”

“No, sir. When I grow up, I want to hunt like you. See faraway places, live in the mountains with a dog, just like you do. So I best pay attention—that’s what Pa says.” Davy forked a bite of potato, and that’s when Daniel noticed them. The bruises on his arms.

Mathias had told him earlier about the bluish marks that had started appearing, for no reason that they could identify. If Daniel didn’t know Mathias and Oleta as well as he did, he might’ve suspected they’d been harsh with the boy, but he’d known the Tuckers for almost ten years. Mathias would give his own life before he laid a harsh hand to any of the children. He and Oleta dedicated every ounce of energy to these kids, all of whom had been abandoned in some way or another.

“Thank you for the elk, Daniel.”

Mathias’s voice drew Daniel’s attention. The older man’s gaze traveled briefly to Davy, then back again. His expression held answer to the one question Daniel hadn’t had the courage to ask Mathias yet. Daniel stared at the boy, watching him eat, refusing to accept the truth.

“Davy, I—” Daniel cleared his throat. “I’ll get you a picture of an elk like that one so you can see what he looks like. Up close.” His focus skipped to Elizabeth, who still wasn’t looking his way. “I promise I will.”

Davy smiled and stuffed his mouth with bread. When no one was watching, Daniel snuck the remainder of his meat onto the boy’s plate, winking at him as if it was their secret. Smiling, Davy glanced quickly from side to side, then shoved the morsel in his mouth.

Lively conversation from the opposite end of the table garnered attention, and to Daniel’s surprise, Elizabeth wasn’t contributing to it. She only smiled and nodded when the children asked her a question. Either that or shook her head. For being so quick and detailed in telling him what to do, she had seemed awfully guarded since arriving.

Oleta extended the bread plate to her, and she took a piece. “Behind our house there’s a real pretty stream, Miss Westbrook. It’s a ways up the mountain but not too far a climb. The children go there to hunt and to play on the rocks. It’s right pretty and might work nice for your picture box.”

“Thank you, ma’am. It sounds like the perfect setting.” Elizabeth picked up the meat on her plate, again glanced at Oleta, who was distracted with helping Abby, then took a discreet sniff. She looked across the table at Josiah, whose plate was empty, squirrel bones picked clean, and took a cautious bite.

“Up the stream a ways is where we caught them squirrels.” Pride puffed young Luke’s voice, reminding Daniel of his own childhood and stirring memories of having taught Benjamin to hunt. “Me and Mason and Zachary got us some traps up there. We’ll show you after lunch, ma’am, if you’re wanting to see ’em.”

Elizabeth chewed good and long before finally swallowing. “Thank you, I’d . . . like to see your squirrels.” She took another bite, and conversation around the table paused.

“See ’em?” Mason’s puzzled look gave way to a grin, as if Elizabeth had just told a joke. “Won’t be no more seeing ’em, ma’am. We done ate ’em.”

Elizabeth’s jaw froze midchew.

Mathias and Oleta exchanged a look and Daniel felt a rush of heat. The children started giggling. He had to admit, Elizabeth’s expression was priceless, but he couldn’t share the humor. She looked at him—
finally
—as though asking if she’d heard correctly.

With as inconspicuous a nod as possible, he answered her question, and she put a hand to her mouth.

She looked from child to child, all of whom were now laughing. It looked as if she might have managed to swallow what was in her mouth, with effort. But judging from the pallor of her face, Daniel wasn’t certain that had been the best choice.

She choked a cough and her eyes watered, whether from embarrassment or because she was going to be sick, he didn’t know—maybe it was both. But he wished he could help her.

One of the boys chose that moment to let out a loud burp, which challenged the others to try and outdo him, which just encouraged more laughter.

Amidst the fun making, Elizabeth took a sharp breath and leaned forward in her chair. It looked as if she was having trouble breathing. Daniel rose. Oleta covered her hand, concern filling the woman’s expression. But it was Josiah who reached her first.

12

E
lizabeth coughed and struggled to get a breath, hearing the children laughing at her. She’d tried to swallow the meat, but it hadn’t gone down, and still wouldn’t. The realization of what she’d been eating had caught her off guard, then made her gag.

“It’s all right, Miz Westbrook.” Josiah knelt beside her and discreetly held out his hand.

She knew what he was asking her to do but was loath to obey. She leaned to the side and spit the meat into her own palm. “Outside—” Breathing was like trying to suck air through a cracked reed. “Please . . .”

Josiah led her to the front porch, supporting most of her weight. “You needs your medicine, ma’am?” he whispered.

She nodded and motioned to the wagon. He sat her down on the porch steps and ran. Elbows on her knees, head in her hands, she leaned forward, wheezing. This didn’t feel like a normal episode, as the doctors referred to them, but her condition made even the simplest problems worse.

An arm came around her shoulders, and her embarrassment deepened.

“What can I do to help, Miss Westbrook?” Ranslett knelt beside her on the steps.

Elizabeth shook her head, unwilling to look at him.

He moved to sit beside her, and his hand moved in slow arching circles on her back, comforting and soothing in one way—while not, in another.

Her wheezing grew louder. She concentrated on breathing and gripped the stairs until she felt the soft wood give beneath her nails.

Josiah ran past them back into the house, and returned seconds later with her glass. She didn’t inspect it this time but downed the entire contents as quickly as her body would allow. The medicine tasted bitter without the herbal tea to diffuse it, and she shuddered in response.

“Is she all right?” Strain tightened Mrs. Tucker’s voice.

Josiah spoke first. “She be fine in just a minute, Missus Tucker. Miz Westbrook just got herself a little choked up, is all. Happens to me too, whenever I’m eatin’ too fast or tryin’ to talk too much.”

Elizabeth caught his wink meant just for her and wondered if Mrs. Tucker would believe his fabrication.

“Oh . . . I’m so glad.” If Mrs. Tucker didn’t believe him, she didn’t let on. “I’ll go tell the children. They were worried. Especially Libby.” She went back inside, leaving the door open behind her.

The warmth from Ranslett’s hand on her back penetrated her shirtwaist. “Does this happen often, Miss Westbrook?”

Choosing to answer from the standpoint of choking on squirrel, she shook her head.

“I think she be fine in just a minute, sir. The fresh air be fixin’ her right up.” Josiah gestured toward the wagon, the bottle of medicine tucked discreetly in his grip. “I put this back in your pack, ma’am. Then I get everything ready so we can make that hike upstream.”

Elizabeth trailed Josiah’s path with her gaze. Anything not to have to face Ranslett.

As the muscles constricting her throat began to relax, so did she. A warm flush spread through her body and the wheezing gradually lessened. Tillie used to tell her she sounded like someone on their deathbed from pneumonia during her episodes. Such a comforting thought . . .

“I’m sorry, Miss Westbrook.” Ranslett’s voice came out soft. “I should have warned you . . . about the squirrel.”

“Yes . . .” She cleared her throat, testing her voice. “You should have.” So he knew the reason for her choking. Mrs. Tucker probably did as well but was too kind to admit it. Oh, she felt so foolish, and more than a little miffed at him. “I thought we had an agreement to be blunt with each other.”

“I tried. I just couldn’t get you to look at me.”

“Ah . . .” She looked at him then. “So it’s my fault?”

His smile would have charmed a tempest. “I didn’t say that, but what else could I do?” His voice lowered, reminding her of the open door behind them. “Announce that you’re about to eat a rodent?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I wish you’d done.” But she didn’t really mean it. “I’ll do the same for you if the time ever comes. But I have a suspicion . . .” She glanced behind them to make sure no one was there. “That with your upbringing, your dining habits encompass a broader and far less cultured fare than my own.”

“Well . . .” He let out a low whistle and slowly pulled his hand back. Beau perked his ears but didn’t move from the bottom step. “That was a mite tacky, ma’am . . . even for you.”

Elizabeth let her mouth fall open. “
Even for me?
What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It just means that people with”—he stared pointedly—“your upbringing aren’t usually the most polite folks around.”

His tone was teasing, but there was a seriousness to it that hadn’t been there a moment before. “Listen, Ranslett, if I’ve offended you, I certainly didn’t mean t—”

“Sure you did. You just meant to do it in a way that wouldn’t make yourself look bad.” He turned to look at her more fully, and his eyes narrowed, though not in malice. “When you’ve got something to say that isn’t kind, Miss Westbrook, there’s no way to couch it so that it is. Or to hide from how it makes you look when you do. That’s something us good ol’ Southern boys learn real quick about women.” His accent thickened, comically so. “Your gender may say things with a smile, all soft and gentle-like, but some of you—granted, not all—have a dagger hidden in your skirts. Us country boys may not be as quick as some, ma’am, but it don’t take us too long to figure out who those women are.” He winked at her. “We just check each other’s backs for the bloodstains.” He stood and reached behind him as though feeling for something. “Yep, feelin’ a little sticky back there.”

Elizabeth sat for a few seconds, somewhat stunned. Feeling thoroughly, though gently, rebuked. While also surprised at the depth of this man’s insight. Not that it was earth shattering. She just hadn’t expected such an observation from him. Nor the smooth delivery. To say that Daniel Ranslett knew who he was, was like saying that the sun knew a bit about shining. This man was more comfortable in his own skin than anyone she’d ever met, and she found that quality attractive. No, more than just attractive. She envied him for it.

She accepted his help in standing, the kindness in his smile making her more aware of the warmth of his hand.

Later, as she took two photographs of the children by the stream, she saw the afternoon, and their hunting trip, slipping away. But after the conversation they’d had and knowing what greater request she had yet to make of him, she decided to let it go for now. As she worked, she took the opportunity to watch him. Daniel Ranslett acted the same, regardless of who was watching or what anybody else thought. Whether he was with a child of five or an adult of fifty-five.

By the time they reached the outskirts of town later that afternoon, she had decided how to broach the topic of his leading her excursion to the cliff dwellings. Now to wait for the right opening. She wanted it to sound casual, natural. As if she could find someone else if she so desired.

He hadn’t uttered a word since leaving the Tuckers’. He’d spoken with Mr. Tucker off to the side before they’d left, and when he’d climbed into the wagon, the burden etched in his features had been enough to keep her quiet. Even Josiah had stopped humming a mile or so back. She turned around to find Josiah asleep in the wagon, Beau curled up beside him.