How wonderful that sounded.
She made a sound that was part sigh, part groan, and then, shaking her head at her own foolishness, she recommenced braiding her hair. It did sound wonderful, but she couldn’t afford to dream. Not since she had been a child in her mother’s arms had she dared. And her mother was long gone... her sister... her father...
Only Katie remained, and she wouldn’t lose her, too, she determined. Not if she could help it.
Haven’t I gone out of my way to prove to you that you can trust me? Damn you... have a little faith...
Elizabeth started at the little voice in her head, and for a moment, instead of her own reflection in the mirror, she saw Cutter’s, the earnest appeal in his shadowed eyes.
Reckon you’re the one with the problem, Elizabeth, and not Elias?
Elizabeth stared at the mirror a long moment, horrified by the pain she saw in those accusing eyes, and cried out suddenly, tearing the braid free. It just couldn’t be!
This, she resolved, her expression determined, was going to be the most convincing performance she could muster. If Cutter thought he could do it... then by God, she would stand by him while he tried. He knew how much this meant to her, and she felt instinctively that he wouldn’t let her down.
It was, after all, a matter of trust.
As Cutter had predicted, the ride to the Bass spread took most of the morning and into early afternoon.
During the ride out, Cutter’s manner was less abrupt than it had been, though he still appeared jaded somehow, and the dark circles remained. But at least he was speaking to her, Elizabeth reflected.
“And so Katherine’s husband was killed in the war?” Elizabeth asked, trying to ignore the ache that was growing in her rear. Cocoa, in her weariness, had fallen into a gait that was absolutely brutal upon the posterior.
Tapping his hat up out of his eyes, Cutter nodded, and uncharacteristically refrained from remarking over her grimace of pain.
“Seems so,” he said, raking his fingers through his beard. Had he been in the mood to smile, the sight of her sweet little butt bouncing off the saddle would have had him grinning from ear to ear. As it was, he was amused, but wouldn’t show it. “As far as I can tell, Elias had only one son.”
“When?”
“Petersburg,” Cutter replied. His eyes met hers, then traveled the length of her admiringly. She was wearing her new outfit, a turquoise-colored riding skirt and matching shirtwaist. Her hair was loose and shone like yellow sunshine down her back. A few shorter tendrils curled appealingly around her face, framing it beautifully.
Elizabeth nibbled her bottom lip a moment in thought and then announced, “I can’t believe Mr. Bass would worry me as he did. In his letter he wrote that they’d both been killed—killed,” she stressed, her tawny eyes seeking out Cutter’s. There was a peculiar sheen in them, as she asked, “Can you imagine how that made me feel? He had me thinking that both Katherine and her husband had been in an accident—or that they had been murdered, even!” She shook her head with disgust, her expression growing gloomier by the second. “Elias Bass has a lot to learn about the phrasing of his words.”
She couldn’t help but speculate that her sister might still be alive today... that her little daughter might not be orphaned... if only their mother hadn’t taken Katherine away... if she hadn’t been so terrified of being scalped alive that she’d run off to St. Louis without so much as a good-bye. She glanced up at Cutter suddenly to find that he was watching her. How right he was; life wasn’t fair! “How did you happen to discover so much in such a short time, anyhow?”
He lifted a brow. “Ain’t much a few drinks and the right questions can’t ferret out.”
Elizabeth’s brows knitted as she remembered the night they’d first met, and the drinks he’d plied her with. It seemed to be a favorite ploy of his—this getting people lushed so he could have his way with them. Against her will, she suddenly found herself wondering whether he’d gleaned his information from some jezebel like Bess. “While you were at it... you didn’t happen to discover how it was that Katherine died, did you?”
Cutter sighed. “Nope,” he said, “but it won’t be long before you can ask Bass yourself. Looks like we’re here.” He tipped his head.
Turning, Elizabeth caught the dazzling reflection of the afternoon sun on the distant windowpanes. They glittered like jewels.
The ranch and its accompanying buildings were surrounded by cottonwoods and oaks. As they neared, the big house began to take shape, and Elizabeth thought it was the most beautiful place she had ever seen in her life.
So this, she marveled, was the place Katherine had called home.
With its double stories and whitewashed brick facade, it was also the grandest place she had ever laid eyes upon. Yet there was a lonesome beauty about it, too, emphasized by the fact that there was no one bustling about with chores, no one rushing out to greet them. The lawn, with its tall, unkept grasses, hinted of defection, and was infiltrated with wildflowers of every color. To Elizabeth it looked more like a meadow than the manicured lawn it was supposed to be.
Two cottonwoods sat, one on either side of the walkway, the lush green of the leaves contrasting with the white of the house. The effect was striking. Adding to it were the white-painted trellises built high against the brick. Red roses in full bloom climbed askew. Some of the branches grew free of the trellis and fell forward untrained, the leaves spotted and yellow, while other branches were completely bare but for the thorns, and a cluster of red blooms at the extremity. The thought that came immediately to mind was that the war had taken its toll here, as well. It was obvious that someone had once cared very much for the place... and that now no one seemed to bother.
Nor were there servants about to work the small vegetable garden off to the right of the house—or to paint the small picket fence that surrounded it. The whitewash was chipped and peeling. At their approach a small black and white spotted dog perked its ears and then barked succinctly, as though the effort were more than he should have been expected to give. Again it barked, swaying on its feet, as though battling the urge to flop lazily to its belly.
“Dat’s Shifless,” a child’s voice called out as they neared. “But don’ worry... he won’t hurt you none!”
As though in affirmation, the dog squatted, keeping its ears perked and its eyes fixed on the trespassers.
Startled by the voice, Elizabeth felt her heart vault. She reined in, her eyes searching frantically, desperate for a glimpse of the child who had spoken. It would have to be Katie, she knew intuitively. And it seemed as though she’d waited and waited and thought of this moment for an eternity.
