Her Winding Path_Seeing Ranch series_A Historical Romance Page 15
The man cocked his head and squinted his eyes. “We spoke the other day. Remember? Just around here.”
She studied his face, his well-cut features finally ringing a bell. “Oh, yes. I do. Excuse me, I did not recognize you at first.”
“William Eder.” He inclined his head.
“Ida Rose Lowry.” She smiled, not sure if she had introduced herself to him the first time they had met or not.
“Is there anything I can assist you with today, Miss Lowry?”
“No, thank you. I am just...” She cleared her throat, searching for an excuse. “Just doing some chores. Preparing supper for the multitude of women and children staying in the hotel.”
Mr. Eder frowned. “Ah. Yes. I do hope the outlaws are caught soon, so everyone can return to their homes.”
“I am sure they will be.” Her eyes slid past him to the front of the hotel. The street was unusually empty, perhaps because it was so close to evening and supper time.
“You are from New York, correct?”
She dragged her gaze back to his. “Yes. That is correct.”
He was only being polite—or perhaps he was interested in her in a deeper way. The way he smiled at her, the way his eyes shone… Mr. Eder had the look of a man who fancied a woman. It made Ida Rose’s stomach churn. At another time, far removed from the current maelstrom of her life, perhaps she would give this man a second look—or more. With his nicely formed features and kind manner, he certainly seemed like a person the ladies would fawn after.
But that was not possible now. And it was not something she wanted, either.
Unless… Her eyes flicked down to his hand and she saw that there was no ring there.
What am I doing?
“Excuse me. I really must be going.”
She stepped to the side, but he put his hand up. “I am sorry. Did I do something wrong?”
“No, I just...” She chewed on her lip. “This is an uncertain time.”
He smiled ruefully. “Yes, it is. I understand your concerns entirely. It might all be over soon, though. Perhaps the posse will return tonight with a story of success.”
“The posse?” she slowly repeated.
“Yes. They rode out just twenty minutes ago. Did you not hear? A man of questionable character was spotted down by the river. Sheriff Mayes and over half a dozen men went to find him, to see if he indeed is one of the bandits.”
Half a dozen men… Was Tom a part of that number?
Mr. Eder’s brow furrowed. “Miss Lowry? You look pale.”
“I—I am fine,” she stuttered. Thinking about Tom out hunting down bandits once more made her feel ill. But what did not make her feel ill anymore?
“Have a good evening,” she said, with much more force this time. As she walked away, he said something in return, but the words were indistinguishable.
Making her way down the street, she passed the hotel’s front door and kept walking. Supper would be served soon, but she would not be there for it. Not only could she not stand the idea of being around others, she also would not be able to stomach so much as a bite of food.
I should not be this worried about him, she told herself, repeating the mantra with each step.
He was not going to be her husband. He was no longer her fiancé.
Yet, why did she still wear his ring?
She curled her fingers, feeling the cold band against her thumb. Why indeed? It was time she took the ring off and returned it.
But then, what would she do? Return to New York? Find a job as a maid?
Or stay in Shallow Springs and marry another man? There were plenty of them here.
Halting her fevered walk, Ida Rose glanced over her shoulder at the place she had left William Eder. He was gone, the area in front of the hotel empty. A man like him would make a nice husband.
Her stomach spun, making her feel as if she would throw up. She did not want another husband. There was only one man she wanted to marry.
And it was wrong to even want him.
Tears filling her eyes, she moved on again, going as fast as she could without garnering attention. Something was wrong with her. That had to be it. How could she still feel so passionately for Tom, knowing that he was her cousin?
It was awful. Immoral. Despicable.
For the first time in a long time, Ida Rose hated herself. She hated herself to the very core.
By the time she got to the doors of the church, the tears could no longer be checked. They spilled down her cheeks, rolling under her chin and continuing their journey down her neck, so hot they burned.
The doors were unlocked, the church empty. Holding onto the ends of the pews for support, she stumbled to the front of the church, where she collapsed on the very first bench.
She needed to pray. She needed God’s strength so much, it hurt. But what should she ask for?
What she truly wanted, she could not have. Her whole life had come to this very moment, to everything she had set up for herself in Shallow Springs, Wyoming. And now, it all seemed to have been in vain.
Still, she had to try. Clasping her hands together, she bowed her tear-streaked face.
God, give me strength.
In such a time, it was the most she could ask for. Just like in the rubble of the general store, she needed to submit. It was time to forget about her will and turn all plans over to God. Perhaps a grander blueprint for her life existed, and perhaps it did not.
As she was not privy to this information, what did it matter either way?
“Just make me who I need to be,” she whispered into the quiet of the church. Her words flowed out and vanished into the air. God must have heard her. In such a silent place, how could He not?
She opened her eyes, shocked to discover the church growing dark. How long had she been sitting in there for?
Wiping her face and smoothing down her hair, she slowly left the church, making sure to pull the door carefully shut behind her. With the coming of dark, a cool breeze had graced through the town. It kissed Ida Rose’s face, tossing up the loose strands around her ears.
The breeze felt like a gift, a promise. An assurance that God had indeed heard her prayers… And perhaps already answered them. For, though nothing had changed on the outside, Ida Rose could feel herself morphing on the inside.
The world was breaking down around her, but thanks to that, she was becoming something more.
Shoulders tossed back, she took a slow walk back toward the hotel. Halfway there, a ruckus from behind her made her spin around.
It was a group of riders, coming into town from the south. The horses slowed down as they entered the streets, coming to a gallop. Ida Rose pressed her hands together and took in a long breath, which refused to come back out.
Several men she recognized passed her by, their faces only visible in the dim light for a few minutes more. The sheriff passed. Mr. McGraw. And then… Tom.
He stared straight ahead, his face set in a grim expression. If he noticed Ida Rose there, he showed no indication.
The posse continued down the street, going to the main part of town, where Sheriff Mayes’ office was. Ida Rose stayed planted in the dirt, watching the retreating horses.
Tom had not seen her.
Or he had not wanted to see her. In that moment, despite everything they had been through together, she was a stranger to him.
Using the darkness close to the buildings as concealment, she carefully edged her way toward the center of Shallow Springs. Half of the men were riding off, the other half staying behind to talk. Judging from the slumped shoulders and lack of prisoners, the posse had not been lucky.
Ida Rose searched for Tom, desperately scanning each face. What she would say to him, she did not know. She just needed to see him, to hear his voice once that evening.
Perhaps once she did, she would be capable of moving past everything that had happened. It made no sense in her head, but her heart screamed on, telling her to just find the man. Once you are together,
everything will work out, her intuition seemed to say.
But he was not around. He had slipped into the darkness, a quiet phantom who might never have been there at all. Defeated, Ida Rose trudged back in the direction of the hotel.
He must have seen her, and that must have been why he made such haste leaving town.
Another thought occurred to her, this one more painful than the last: if they never set eyes on each other again, it could be a good thing. It could allow them to more easily move on.
The awful thought stung, salt across her gaping wound. It additionally hurt to know that such a theory was, in most likelihood, the absolute truth. Despite what they had shared, Tom and Ida Rose might never speak again.
22
22. Tom
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Hallelujah,” Eddie gasped, straightening up from where he was busy planting peas. Whipping his hat off, he closed his eyes and opened his arms wide, embracing the wind that blew across the garden.
It was the warmest day of the year thus far, May sliding in on a swell of heat. Usually, Tom’s mother took care of planting the vegetable garden—tending the area that was intended for their own consumption. Since she was still in town, though, and since the farm life didn’t wait, the task had fallen upon Tom and Eddie.
Tom didn’t mind it. Extra work was good. It took his mind off everything. Ida Rose. The bandits. Ida Rose.
Ida Rose.
Her name was like the tick of a metronome in his head, ringing out over and over. He’d seen her in town twice the day before, which meant the sightings had been two times too many.
He would have to talk to her sooner or later, but he already knew nothing good would come of the exchange. They needed to move on with their separate lives now, and any more interaction would only cause more pain.
“You think they’ve up and moved on?” Eddie asked, bending down and getting back to work with the peas. They hadn’t talked about the bandits for hours, but it was a conversation that never really ended.
At the end of the squash row, Tom paused and thought about that. “Can’t really say.”
They’d found no signs of the man who had spoken to Tom, but before riding out, he and Sheriff Mayes had questioned the injured man who survived the bandit attack and arrived at Tom’s farm.
The man, Bernard Long, thought the fellow Tom described sounded an awful lot like one of the bandits he’d been assaulted by.
Perhaps they had finally moved on. The problem was that it had seemed like this before.
Whoever these criminals were, they were good at laying low, experts at popping up when others least expected it.
Red padded in front of Tom, stepping right into one of the mounds.
“Red!” Tom gently pushed the big dog out of the way. “Get on out of here.”
“Did you hear that?”
Tom looked up. “What?”
Eddie was standing up straight, looking toward the yard. “I thought I heard a horse. Aren’t they all out grazing?”
“Yeah.” Tom took a slow step toward the yard. The vegetable garden wasn’t that far off from the house—only about ten or so yards away from it. He should have noticed if a rider had come up, but he had also been preoccupied by talk and unnecessary thoughts.
“Wait here.”
Leaving Eddie where he was, Tom slunk along the side of the house, taking his sweet time. The very edge of the yard came into view and he poked his head around the corner. Acorn waited in the trodden grass, tail flicking and ears twitching.
Tom froze. He’d been fearing bandits, but knowing Ida Rose was here didn’t make him feel much better.
He turned to go back to the garden, but a noise near the front door stopped him. “Tom?”
Sucking in a long breath, he tightened his shoulders.
No matter what happened, no matter what he felt or wanted to say, he was determined to do what was right.
For everyone.
Slowly pivoting on his heel, he turned to face Ida Rose. She was just outside of the door, his mother’s sewing basket looped over her arm. She blinked at him, looking hurt.
“What are you doing?”
“Planting the garden.”
“But what are you doing right there?”
“I was, uh...” Tom scratched his neck. Very suddenly, he was hot and itchy all over. “Just seeing who was here.”
“Oh.” Her face reddened.
His eyes fell on Acorn, who had walked over to get some water from the trough and was now staying close to the barn to enjoy the shade. “You should put the horse in the stable. It’s hot out.”
“I was not planning on staying. I just needed to quickly grab Elizabeth’s sewing basket.”
“I see.”
He inwardly cringed at the response. He sounded cruel, cold. This wasn’t him. And this wasn’t the way that Ida Rose deserved to be spoken to.
He just didn’t know how to treat her anymore. She deserved to be cherished, loved. To be treated gently. But all the ways he had treated her before no longer made sense. They were actions that now could not apply.
She wasn’t his fiancée, someone to kiss and hold tight.
She was his cousin.
Their fathers had grown up together—shared schooldays, prayers, and fights. Tom had heard a few stories about all this growing up, and had kept his uncle’s name tucked away somewhere in the back of his mind. He’d also known that he was an accountant.
But not in a million years had he thought that man could be the same one who fathered and raised Ida Rose.
Ironically, it turned out Tom and Ida Rose had more in common than they could have ever hoped. Most people would be talking about the surprise relation, draining each other for more and more information.
But Tom never wanted to speak of it. He needed to forget that any of this had happened.
Ida Rose daintily cleared her throat. “What happened yesterday? I know the posse went out again.”
“We didn’t find anything.” Tom crossed his arms, then dropped them. Then crossed them again.
Darn arms.
“That is unfortunate.”
“Yes.” He swallowed hard. “You really shouldn’t be out riding by yourself still. Just because we didn’t find the gang doesn’t mean they’re not still around.”
“Who else was going to fetch Elizabeth’s sewing basket?”
“I would have brought it in.”
“When would I have asked you to?” she quickly shot back. “I saw you in town yesterday and it appeared you were ignoring me.”
“I...” Tom shut his mouth, ears burning.
Her eyes searched his. “We are still the same people we used to be.”
There was so much pain in her voice. So much longing, despair, and regret. Tom couldn’t look at her. His eyes fell to the dirt.
“Are we?” he asked the ground.
“Are we not?” she slowly retaliated.
“We’re now people we didn’t know we were.” He angled his face back up to catch her eyes. “We’re cousins.”
“That does not mean you are not still important to me,” she whispered. “And the same goes for Elizabeth.”
“I understand.”
How did he tell her? How could he let her know that finding out he couldn’t love her in the way he wanted to made him afraid to care for her at all?
Ida Rose lifted her chin. “Anyway, Elizabeth is asking after you.”
“I was just there.”
“But she is worried about you.”
“Does she… remember what happened?”
He couldn’t even say the words. The letter. The discovery. They would taste like poison on his tongue.
“Yes. For the most part. She was confused yesterday evening, of course.”
“Of course,” he intoned.
Another long moment stretched by. Tom wanted the painful conversation to end, but he also could not bring himself to make that happen.
“How is town?”
Surprise flickered across her face. “Well. I think… I think I may stay.”
A strange mix of sensations filled his chest. “You mean you won’t be going back to New York?”