Her Winding Path_Seeing Ranch series_A Historical Romance Page 5

  The dog just tilted his head the other way. Sighing, Tom raked his fingers through his hair. He stood, took a few steps, sat back down on the bottom of the hayloft ladder, then stood again.

  He had messed up badly. How he was going to fix things, he didn’t know. He should have told Ida Rose about his mother’s condition in the very first letter. But he hadn’t, convincing himself he’d tell her about it if she ever wrote back. And then, she had written back… and he’d told himself he would tell her in the next letter. Then, it changed to “when she arrived in Shallow Springs.”

  He was a coward. That’s all that it really came down to. Figuring Ida Rose wouldn’t come and marry him if she knew what she was getting herself into, he had always found a way to talk himself out of being truthful.

  Lunacy. That’s what the doctor said Tom’s mother had. But what did that mean? It was a name slapped on people others couldn’t bear to deal with, people who had nowhere to go but an institution.

  But not Elizabeth Adkins. Over Tom’s dead body would his mother end up in one of those places. He’d heard the stories about what they were like, tales that made his stomach churn.

  And so, for the last two years since this trial had begun, he’d put his nose to the grindstone and done what needed to be done to keep his mother at home. He told close to no one about her condition. Not even Stephen, his brother, knew. He’d taken off to California before the first confusions had begun. Just like with Ida Rose, Tom couldn’t bring himself to explain such a difficult situation in a letter.

  On his darkest days, Tom liked to think Stephen had gotten the easy way out. He always regretted such thoughts once his mood had passed, but then, they came back around again eventually.

  With a huff, he left the barn. Sitting around was driving him mad. He needed to get moving, to engage in anything that might clear his head.

  A light still shone in the window of the house. It was early yet, fully dark, but not long after supper. They’d all been at the meal: Elizabeth, Ida Rose, and Tom. But close to nothing had been said. Barely able to choke down any food, he’d gotten out of there as soon as he could.

  And now, here he was, walking around a dark farm, hating himself.

  He didn’t have to think about where he was headed. The grass from the barns to his father’s gravestone had been worn down into a thin path years before. Parting the tendrils of the Weeping Willow, he settled down into the grass.

  The tree had been a sapling when Henry Adkins planted it. He’d had one at his childhood home in New York and Tom remembered him saying that a house in Wyoming wouldn’t be a home until they got a Weeping Willow in the ground there.

  When he died, right in front of the tree had been the only place to bury him. Tom reached out and touched the worn stone, running his fingers down over the name chiselled into its front.

  “I messed up,” he huskily breathed.

  The thought sent pain coursing through him. Ida Rose was a good woman, open-hearted but with that touch of steel that so reminded him of his mother. She didn’t deserve to be lied to. In the short time that she had been with him, the best parts of her had shone through. She would never lie to someone the way he had to her.

  Pushing himself up from the ground, a tiny glow caught his eye. A lantern?

  Curiosity pulled him from underneath the safety of the Weeping Willow and out into the open. The light was coming from near the creek, just across a field and through a swatch of trees. It was a spot no one lived in, close to the mountains.

  Tom’s stomach twisted itself into a tight knot. Without giving it a second thought, he set off toward the light. Keeping at a crouch, he stayed close to trees and walked as softly as he could, doing his best to not step on any branches or twigs.

  At the treeline, he veered right, up to a hill that overlooked a bend in the creek. Thanks to the area being one he’d spent his whole childhood playing in, he knew the terrain better than any man alive. To him, crossing it in pitch black would be the same as doing it at noon.

  Getting down onto his stomach, he pulled himself up the hill till he was peeking over it and saw… nothing.

  The woods were black, whatever light had been there gone. Instead, an acrid smell filled his nose. A campfire.

  So, someone had been camping out, but now, they were gone. Or wanting others to think they were.

  A vicious shiver clawed its way across Tom’s back.

  Suddenly, the woods that he knew so well seemed foreign, full of hidden dangers. He needed to go back to the farm, to make sure the animals were locked up tight, to make sure Ida Rose and his mother were safe.

  But he couldn’t until he knew for sure what was going on down by the creek bed.

  Taking himself down the hill even more carefully, he crept from tree to tree, stopping every few feet to listen for signs of others.

  An owl hooted. Something, likely a nut or a branch, dropped from a tree. Tom held his breath and took another careful step. And then, another.

  Finally, he was so close to the camp that, even dark as it was, he could see the smoke curling away from the extinguished campfire. It was just as he had suspected: someone had been here not twenty minutes before, but they had already moved on.

  Who moves camp after they’ve only just set up?

  The answer was too scary to even think about.

  His heart in his throat, Tom left the area, getting back to the farm in record time. He checked to make sure the barns were all closed up tight, the lock that only he had a key to secured on the door of the stable. Then, he headed into the house, expecting—and praying—he would find both women fast asleep.

  But Ida Rose was awake, standing in front of a dying fire. At the sound of the door opening, she turned around. The look on Tom’s face must not have been a good one because her eyes went wide. “Whatever is the matter?”

  He swallowed and turned away from her, fetching a glass of water as an excuse to not look into her face. Should he tell her about what he had seen? She was already worried about bandits. If she thought they might be close by, it would cause an undue amount of stress.

  Then again, they all needed to be cautious.

  “It’s probably nothing to worry about, but there was a campfire down by the creek tonight.”

  A confused look met his answer.

  Tom took his time picking words. “Usually, there’s no one down there. So, I’m not sure who it could have been.”

  Ida Rose’s gulp was audible. “All right.”

  “Are you worried?”

  Her eyes darted from left to right. “Yes… but there doesn’t seem to be much I can do, other than just keep my eyes open and heed your advice.”

  “I thought you would be too angry to listen to me right now.”

  “Yes,” she sighed. “I suppose I was for a bit. For a minute, I even thought about going back to New York. But I can’t do that.”

  “I don’t want you to.”

  Her lips twitched. Was that a ghost of a smile?

  “I know that a wife is supposed to trust her husband, to abide by his rules… and even though we are not married yet, it would be best if I began practicing such behaviors.”

  “You have as much power here as I do,” he inserted. “I’m not one of those men who has to control his woman.”

  She continued as if he had not spoken. “But what you did… lying to me… I see why you did that. I am just unhappy with the situation. I am very…” Her bottom lip began to tremble, but she pressed it hard against the upper one, stilling it. “There do not seem to be very many people out here.”

  “It can get lonely?” he suggested, hoping he was reading her right.

  “Yes. Already, I feel very removed from society. I saw very little women in Shallow Springs.”

  “That’s because there aren’t many of them. And the ones that are here are either above fifty or below ten.”

  “Good business for the mail-order bride industry.”

  He inspected her face carefully.
“Was that a joke?”

  “Perhaps.” She smiled the slightest bit.

  “Good. If you’re joking, I guess you can’t hate me that much.”

  “I don’t hate you. But I am… lonely.” She looked away as the last word escaped her lips, as if the very thought of wanting others’ company caused her shame.

  “You have me.” He stepped closer, stopping with only a couple feet left between them.

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  “It’s not the same as a mother and three sisters, is it?”

  “No,” she painfully admitted. “It’s not.”

  Tom’s heart ached at the look on her face. “My mother is really wonderful… when she is having a good day.”

  Ida Rose nodded. “I saw.”

  “And there are a few married ladies in town you might get along with. You’ll meet them at church soon.”

  The news made her face brighten. “I look forward to that.”

  “Good.” A smile swept across Tom’s face and, in turn, across Ida Rose’s. The heavy weight he had been carrying around all evening had been lifted. He was free. “I was thinking a summer wedding. How does that sound for you?”

  Her lashes fluttered. “I like June.”

  “So do I,” he softly responded. Even in the dim room, the woman in front of him was a gripping vision. Tom couldn’t decide which part of her face he liked best. Was it her strong brows, her high cheeks, or her full lips? Each feature seemed better than the last.

  “What are you going to do about the campfire?”

  He managed to swallow his sigh before it escaped. “I’ll go back there tomorrow when it’s light and inspect the area better. I imagine whoever was there has moved on, though. But be careful. Make sure you lock the windows at night. Red has the horses taken care of, so I might sleep in this room for a while.”

  She nodded and moved back right away. “I will fetch some blankets for you.”

  Ida Rose returned with an armful of blankets. He watched as she folded them, making as much padding as she could before gingerly creating the makeshift bed in front of the fireplace. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Despite what he’d done to hurt her, her movements were tender, caring.

  “Thank you,” he said once she was finished.

  She gave a quick nod, the rougher side of her persona back. “I believe you’re a good man, Thomas Adkins. We all make mistakes.”

  With that, she left him alone in the dark room, nothing but the dying embers to keep him company.

  7

  7. Ida Rose

  Chapter Seven

  “The puppies are the cutest things I ever did see,” Ida Rose gushed as she served Elizabeth the day’s picking of asparagus. “They will be ready to go to their new homes in a few weeks. I can’t decide yet which one I am taking, though. Tom likes the girl with the spots all over her fur.”

  “She’s feisty,” he grinned. “She’ll keep Red on his toes.”

  Ida Rose wrinkled her nose. “Yes, but feisty dogs do not often listen very well. Best to get one that has an easy demeanor. It will be easier to train.”

  “You are getting a dog?” Elizabeth asked.

  The table became quiet.

  “Yes, Mother,” Tom answered. “A puppy.”

  They had told her about the dog several times before, but this was the first time she had forgotten about it. Though the last week had passed in a fairly mild manner compared to Ida Rose’s first two days on the farm, Elizabeth’s mental capacities seemed to ebb and flow. The only predictable thing about them was that she could often be counted on to be confused in the evening hours. This was the first time in several days that she had displayed problems during the middle of the day.

  “Puppies are nice.” Elizabeth smiled at Ida Rose.

  Ida Rose smiled back. In between her confused states, Elizabeth was often very fatigued. Every once in a while, she became the cheery woman who had first welcomed Ida Rose into her new home. When that happened, Ida Rose’s heart ached dreadfully. The affection Elizabeth showed her reminded Ida Rose of the close relationships she had left behind in New York.

  “I need to get out to the barn.” Tom pushed his chair back and kissed the top of Elizabeth’s head. As he was leaving, he caught Ida Rose’s eye and jerked his head at the door. Picking up on the cue, she followed him outside.

  “Check in on her today every once in a while,” he softly said. “Don’t leave her alone for too long.”

  “You are worried she...”

  She didn’t finish the sentence, not quite sure what it was Tom was worried about. At her worst, Elizabeth was merely confused. Ida Rose had never seen her become a danger to herself or anyone else.

  “I just want to make sure she’s doing well. This is happening fast.” He ducked his head and cleared his throat.

  Ida Rose’s eyes smarted. Reaching across the small space between them, she lightly rubbed Tom’s arm. “It will be all right. Do not worry.”

  He looked back up at her and warmth blossomed in her belly. She knew everything would turn out fine, if only because Tom’s comforting presence made her feel it had to be so.

  “You came right in time, you know.”

  She nodded, saying nothing. What he meant was clear: Elizabeth was still capable of performing housework, but there might be a time soon when she would not be able to. Tom needed a wife now more than ever before.

  “Have a good day.” Leaving her with a long look that sent tingles down into her toes, he left for the barns.

  Ida Rose let herself back into the house, where Elizabeth was clearing the table.

  “Ida Rose,” she cooed. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

  She couldn’t hold back her smile. “No. I don’t believe you have.”

  “Well, you do. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Come. Help me do the dishes and we’ll talk about the wedding. I need to show you my dress. It’s a bit wide for you, but I can take it in.”

  They finished cleaning up in lightning-quick time, then Elizabeth brought her wedding dress out from a box stashed beneath her bed. Together, they spread it out across the comforter, its off-white ruffles stretched like lazy clouds.

  “It is beautiful,” Ida Rose murmured. She wanted to touch it, but felt like doing so would break the sacred moment.

  “I can’t wait to see you in it.”

  Carefully folding it back up, they put it away and hustled back to the morning’s chores. “Were you going to walk into town today?” Elizabeth asked from where she was sweeping all the dirt out of the front doorway.

  Ida Rose considered it. “I do have a letter to post.”

  “Go do it. Everything will be all right here.”

  Ida Rose sucked on the inside of her cheek. Tom had asked her to keep a close eye on Elizabeth that day, but she seemed to be doing just fine right now, and a walk into town and back would not take too long…

  “I’ll go,” she decided. “But I will be back soon as I can.”

  Taking the bonnet Elizabeth had sewn her the other day, she tied it securely under her chin to block the blinding sun, snatched the letter to Martha from the bedroom, and took off.

  It was her first letter to New York, and she had been very careful writing it. She mentioned the earthquake, making sure to be clear that everyone was all right, but had left talk of the bandits and Elizabeth’s condition out. Upon hearing about all those things, Martha would easily assume that Ida Rose’s life in Wyoming was already wonderful.

  Truthfully, it was not perfect. That could not be denied. But with all the tribulations came triumphs. She was learning to accept Elizabeth’s spells. She was getting excited about summer on the farm. She had a wedding coming up soon. She had Tom.

  All alone on the road, Ida Rose’s lips twisted in a giddy smile. Tom. A few times over the last couple days, she had snuck to the edge of the fields just to watch him work for a moment. Not only was he handsome, he was fast and strong as well. To think of him a
s her husband gave her pride like she had never felt.

  As the hotel, where the post was usually stored, had been destroyed, it took some inquiring to find the correct place to take the letter. It turned out the bag, half-full of letters, was in the sheriff’s office. After saying a proper good morning to the sheriff, Ida Rose added her own letter to the pile and promptly turned to go.

  “Oh!” a woman cried.

  Ida Rose dug her heels into the boards of the office’s porch, nearly toppling over in the process. The young blonde woman in front of her clutched her chest.