Her Winding Path_Seeing Ranch series_A Historical Romance Page 12

  At least he would be safe in town.

  “We will see,” Gemma answered. “Do not let your hopes diminish quite yet.”

  “What are you doing over here?” Elizabeth had come over sometime during their conversation and was now inspecting the decoration-making with interest.

  “Decorations for tonight’s party,” Gemma explained.

  Ida Rose watched Elizabeth’s face as she fastened another loop onto her paper chain. She had only shown mild confusion since their arrival at the hotel, but Ida Rose worried something was happening that was not obvious. Leaving one’s home, however temporarily, was enough of an upheaval. Did Elizabeth have the fortitude to handle the situation?

  “Yes,” Elizabeth nodded. “The party. Mrs. Dickinson told me about it. Let me help you girls.”

  She eased into a seat next to Ida Rose, settling her skirts around herself before picking up a piece of newspaper. Ida Rose caught Gemma’s eye and they both smiled.

  Though she had never told Gemma about Elizabeth’s ailment, Ida Rose had the feeling Gemma understood just what was going on. The young and beautiful woman was not only stylish and energetic—she was also smart. Very little, it seemed, got past her keen eye.

  They worked in silence for a while, Elizabeth adding to the other end of Ida Rose’s chain. Soon, the length of it stretched halfway across the room.

  “Delightful,” Gemma cooed, standing. “I will go and see if Mr. Garrison has a ladder, so we can hang these up.”

  “This is fun.” Elizabeth smiled as Gemma flitted away.

  “It is.” Ida Rose tore off another piece of newspaper, this one from the financial section. The newspapers were all old ones from Cheyenne and she had been half-reading the articles as she worked. So far, nothing of interest had caught her eye. The boring papers were far better off being used as decorations.

  “I remember when the first hotel was built. They had a party then, too. Mrs. Garrison had just married Mr. Garrison. Another man asked her to dance and Mr. Garrison threatened to fight him.” Elizabeth turned red with laughter.

  Ida Rose chuckled at the thought of friendly, gray-haired Mr. Garrison sticking his fist in another man’s nose. “I am having difficulties seeing him as so aggressive. He does not seem that way now.”

  “We were all younger then.” Eyes upturned, Elizabeth smiled.

  “What was it like out here? When the town was just being built?”

  Elizabeth pursed her lips, thinking about it, and Ida Rose waited patiently. She had done this several times before, tried to engage Elizabeth in remembering days gone by. Not only did the stories help distract Ida Rose from her worries, but she always suspected thinking back helped Elizabeth’s condition. Perhaps if she accessed her memories on a regular basis, they would become harder to lose track of?

  “It was hard,” she finally replied. “Lonely.”

  Ida Rose remembered just how alone she had felt upon arriving in Shallow Springs and realizing that Elizabeth was not the woman she had expected her to be. Even now, with a hotel of people around her, she fought the feeling of being sequestered off from the rest of the world.

  Ashamed to be thinking this way in Elizabeth’s presence, she turned her face toward her lap.

  “Sometimes, we went weeks without seeing anyone,” Elizabeth went on. Her lips twisted and she looked up at the ceiling, looking for something that was just out of grasp.

  “Surely, you had neighbors.”

  Elizabeth lethargically nodded. “A few.”

  Ida Rose bit the inside of her cheek to keep back a sigh. She was losing Elizabeth now. Oh, well. At least there was a seemingly endless amount of old newspapers to be turned into decorations. She picked up another sheet and a loud rip shot through the air.

  “When things went wrong, you were all on your own then.”

  Ida Rose glanced up at her, unsure of what to say. Elizabeth did not need any encouragement, though. She went right on, having a one-sided conversation.

  “If you broke a bone, you had to set it yourself. The nearest doctor was thirty miles away… Fire, horses gone...” Elizabeth shook her head. “Bandits.”

  The way she said the word sent a ripple of fear down Ida Rose’s neck. The word already had enough negative connotation as it was—especially now—but Elizabeth had taken it to a new, fearsome place.

  Smiling cheerily, she patted Elizabeth’s hand. “It is good that we have so many neighbors now. It is important to have others during trying times.”

  “Yes… No one was there the day the bandits came to the farm.”

  Ida Rose’s hand froze on top of Elizabeth’s. “What… What time are you speaking of?”

  Elizabeth’s glassy eyes turned to hers. “Henry was in the fields and I was up in the yard, hanging laundry.”

  Now, Ida Rose could hardly breathe. She struggled to accept fresh air, but it only scratched at her chest, not acting at all the way that air should. Were Elizabeth’s words true? Or was she simply confused? On two occasions that Ida Rose could remember, Elizabeth had awoken from dreams and spoke about them all morning as if they had been real.

  Perhaps this was another one of those instances.

  “Elizabeth...”

  “There were four of them. They took the horses that weren’t out plowing and the gold pocket watch...”

  “Are you sure you are not thinking of...” Ida Rose bit down on her lip. There was no appropriate way to suggest what she was thinking.

  “The three of them left to go and get the horses and their leader, he stayed in the yard with me… Told the others to disappear. Rocky… That’s what they called him.” She turned her gaze on Ida Rose’s. “Once Henry returned, they were gone. Henry told me I was lucky to have survived through it...” Elizabeth shook her head, tears popping up in her red-rimmed eyes. “But how can a man call another man taking what he pleases luck?”

  Ida Rose did not know what to say. She could not move, could not think. Her blood ran cold, and each individual hair on her body stood on end. Was Elizabeth truly implying…?

  No. She could not be.

  But, then again, why not?

  Rocky. She thought about that name again. It made her stomach ill.

  A long, long time passed. Finally, Elizabeth smiled, her eyes now dry. “It was a long time ago.”

  Despite the expression on her lips, her eyes were empty and distant.

  Ida Rose steeled herself. “Are you sure that… You are not confused? That this did not happen at all?”

  For the first time, there was real anger on Elizabeth’s face. “I would not make such a story up. I remember it clear as day. Rocky. That was his name. He had a scar through his eyebrow and… and...” Elizabeth stopped and frowned.

  “Yes,” Ida Rose carefully said, only attempting to placate Elizabeth.

  “I am tired,” Elizabeth announced with a sigh.

  “Go and rest. I will come and wake you in a bit.”

  “Yes. I will do that.” Her eyebrows bunched together in that way that said she was confused again, she rose and crossed the restaurant’s open floor. Ida Rose watched her climb the staircase, keeping a close eye on her to make sure she did not wander outside instead.

  It was then that she looked down at her hands and saw that they were shaking.

  “Ida Rose?” Gemma appeared along the wall, a thick stack of plates in her arms. Setting them on the table, she took Elizabeth’s vacated seat. “What is wrong?”

  “I...” Pressing her hands together, she made a split-second decision to throw caution to the wind. “I would like to tell you something, although you must know beforehand that it is a subject of the utmost secrecy.”

  Gemma’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward. “What is it?”

  “I suspect you might already know.”

  “Ah.” Slumping back in her chair, her eyes shifted sideways, toward the staircase. “Is this about Elizabeth?” she quietly asked.

  Ida Rose could only nod. Talking was difficult and she
needed to save her strength for when it was necessary.

  “I know.” Gemma frowned. “My great aunt had the same condition… I believe it was the same, anyway. The doctor said we would have to put her in an institution, but my father just kept her at her home with a maid. He never let her go out or anything.” She made a guilty face, as if she had just said something regrettable. “But that is not the case with Elizabeth. She is lucky to have you and Thomas.”

  Ida Rose licked her lips, but they stayed dry. “Did your aunt… ever tell you stories that were not true?”

  “You mean lie?”

  “No, not lie, but tell you that something happened when you knew it could not.”

  “Hm.” Gemma’s brows met as she thought on it. “Sometimes, she would make things up. She would say that the milk man had not come that day when he really had. So, yes, she believed he had not visited.”

  “But what about something bigger than that? Did she… rewrite history in her head?”

  “As in, argue that Napoleon was a British leader?”

  “No.” Ida Rose pressed back a sigh. “Never mind. It is nothing.”

  “Hm,” Gemma skeptically answered. “Are you quite sure?”

  “Yes. Very.” With a smile on her face, she rose. “Let’s finish decorating this room. I have this long garland and no means to hang it.”

  “Oh! The ladder! I forgot to ask Mr. Garrison for it. Mrs. Garrison had me taste the cake’s icing, then she needed me to fetch eggs. I just forgot...” Gemma rolled her eyes and dashed off, still talking to herself.

  Ida Rose stood, her legs shaking, but her heart resolute. Elizabeth was simply confused. That was all. A bandit had not come to the farm years ago and taken advantage of her. That could not be, because…

  Because what? Because Ida Rose did not want it to be so?

  Drawing her shoulders back, she went over to the children in the middle of the floor and began to help with their decorations. There could be no more thinking about this. What was done was done. If Elizabeth brought the story up once more, they would talk about it then.

  And if she did not, then Ida Rose could safely assume she had only been confused.

  But if that were the case, why was there a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach that refused to go away?

  18

  18. Tom

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mitch stared back at Tom, arms crossed and his face set into a scowl. “The farm will be all right for a few hours.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You have others looking after your ranch.”

  Tom quickly turned away and yanked on the well’s rope. It had been a cruel thing to say, not something he would usually toss at a man as good as Mitch. He hadn’t been right all day, though. Waking up in the hayloft, the same lonely ache that had filled his bones upon going to sleep was still there.

  “That’s not fair,” Mitchell argued.

  Blowing out a hard breath, Tom hauled the bucketful of water up and turned back to Mitch. “You’re right. It’s not. I’m nothing but a fool right now.”

  “Come to the party. Bring all your horses if it’s going to make you feel better.” He grinned. “Bring your pigs, too. I’m sure no one will mind.”

  That got a laugh from Tom. It was dry and short, but it was a laugh nonetheless. He hadn’t been laughing near enough lately, and dang, it felt good.

  “You know Ida Rose would love to see you,” Mitch quietly added.

  The mention of Tom’s fiancée made his heart feel like it had sprouted wings. “This party is the perfect opportunity for outlaws to swoop in and take our animals. With no one at the farms, they’ll be wide open to thievery.”

  “True.” Mitch nodded.

  Tom stared back at him. “I must have heard wrong. I just said-”

  “And I said it’s true. But what are you going to do if you’re here when they come? Take a whole band on yourself?”

  The thought was a sickening one. The truth was that the farm was in danger whether Tom was there or not, which meant being there put him in danger as well.

  Still, it was his responsibility. He wasn’t about to turn away from it.

  “There’s going to be dancing.”

  “Dancing?” Tom gulped. Perhaps he could go and just stay for a dance or two…

  Mitch smirked. He knew he’d hooked his bait. “You got anything to wear other than that dirty, farm boy smock?” He jutted his chin at Tom’s shirt.

  “What’s wrong with this?” Tom joked. “The womenfolk love it.”

  “Get inside and get cleaned up, you romantic.” Mitch took the bucket right from Tom’s hands. “I’ll water the animals.”

  Twenty minutes later, they rode for town, the two horses side by side on the road. Tom had changed into his Sunday best and taken care to wash his face and comb his hair back. The land was cooling down, dark a few hours away. With the musical sounds of nature surrounding them, the singing of birds and the rushing of a creek, it seemed for a moment that danger really was hundreds of miles away.

  How could there be bandits nearby when Tom was headed to a party to dance with a beautiful girl? A beautiful girl who wore his ring, who would soon be his wife.

  No. Life was perfect, if only for a little while.

  The festival nature could be felt as they rode into the edge of town. Men had come on horseback and in wagons, though a quick count of the horses told Tom that not even half of the male population was there.

  He thought about the other men, those who’d stayed on their ranches and farms to guard what mattered. He needed to be among their ranks. And soon, he would be.

  As he’d already come to town, he intended to enjoy himself. Just for a short time. One good, long look at Ida Rose and a dance or two, then he could go to sleep a happy man.

  The hotel’s front door was thrown open, tin lanterns with playful designs poked into their sides hanging in the doorway. Though it wasn’t yet dusk, the daylight was soft and the lanterns’ light still able to dance across the boards. Music wafted out of the hotel, a fiddle and a washboard clear among the other instruments.

  With Mitch by his side, Tom stepped into the hotel’s restaurant and did a quick survey of the room. The place still smelled of freshly cut wood and the long tables and chairs had been pushed to the walls to make space for a dance floor. High above, paper garlands were strung along the windows. The place was lively, bright with laughter and talk.

  Tom’s heart beat in the base of his throat and he swallowed hard. His mother was across the room, talking with a small group of women, but Ida Rose was nowhere to be found.

  He turned to speak to Mitch, but the man was already weaving his way through the crowd of mostly women and children, no doubt in search of his wife. Tom stepped away from the doorway, continuing to aimlessly search the room with his eyes.

  “Are you looking for anyone in particular?”

  Ida Rose’s eyes shimmered with liveliness, her cheeks red and her smile wide. Tom tried to say something, but nothing came. All he could do was look at her. The flowers braided through her hair. The white, flowing dress. She was a true vision, an angel descended right down from Heaven.

  She tucked her chin and raised her eyebrows in question. “Well?”

  “What… what was the question?”

  Ida Rose giggled. “You cannot be serious.”

  “Dance with me,” he breathed, the whole room around them turning into a blur. He wasn’t waiting for an answer—he didn’t need an answer. Slipping his arm around her waist and taking her hand in his, he swept her across the dance floor.

  It didn’t matter that he had two left feet and wouldn’t be able to find a beat if it was the only sound in the world. The most beautiful woman in the room was his and nothing would stop him from taking this dance.

  “I was not certain you would come.” Her face remained passive, but there was a hint of hurt in the words.

  “If I didn’t, it wouldn’t be because I didn’t want to.”
>
  A frown tugged at the corners of her lips. She was fighting it, just like she fought so much, but her unhappiness was something she could not hide from him.

  “Does that hurt you?” he asked.

  She looked at him in surprise. “It just makes me sad, is all. Thinking of you out there, all alone...” She looked away and his palm pressed against her back allowed him to feel the shudder running through her body.