9781631054617HeLovesMeCole Page 3

  “Ouch! That water’s too hot.” Emily pulled her foot back and glared down at the basin. “Besides, it’s not going to help anyway, Kat.” The sweet fragrance of Epsom salts and turpentine wafted upward. She wrinkled her nose. “Why does everything happen to me? And why now?”

  “Oh, for goodness sake, Emily, stop whining.” Her older sister, a tall, willowy redhead, sighed and sank down onto the settee beside the miserable girl. “Stop fussing and put your foot in the water. The sooner you start soaking it, the sooner the pain and swelling will go away.” She looked down at Emily’s bruised, discolored ankle and frowned. “I probably ought to send for Mama.”

  Amanda Phillips, the girls’ mother, served as the midwife around Sunset, and for a good many years had been called upon for other types of healing, as well. She kept a well-stocked cabinet of first-aid supplies and always stayed up-to-date on the latest patent medicines and healing techniques. She knew an entire repertoire of old-fashioned home remedies, too. Whatever ailed a body, Amanda Phillips could usually cure.

  “No, please!” Emily grabbed Kat’s arm. “We both know she’d have me flat on my back in bed, and my whole holiday would be spoiled.” Not that it hadn’t already been spoiled, she thought, fighting to hold back another bout of waterworks. For weeks, she’d looked forward to coming home, and now, she’d done nothing but cry since she’d arrived. Sniffling, she squeezed her eyes shut, determined not to shed another tear. Her effort proved futile. Breaking into frantic sobs, she wailed anew. “It’s all so awful, Kat! What am I going to do?”

  The two Barron children came rushing into the room, apparently alarmed by—or perhaps merely curious about—their auntie’s outburst. Kat shook her head and gestured toward the door. “Not now, Kitty. You and Joel need to go back upstairs. You’re both supposed to be napping,” she reminded them. They made glum faces but obediently turned and left the room.

  Seeing her sister take charge of her home and family left Emily only more unsettled. Kat was living the sort of life she wanted for herself. But with Ben turning away and acting so strangely, her entire future seemed as uncertain as the thin clouds of steam floating up from the basin.

  “It’s all your fault, Kat,” she accused, plunging her foot into the water again. She didn’t care how much water splashed out onto the parlor rug. “You shouldn’t have let Ben quit.” Looking up with a scowl, she drew in a deep breath. “You should have stopped him.”

  Kat threw down the towel she held in her hands. “And how was I supposed to do that? Ben’s an adult now, and he’s got the right to work wherever he wants. It was different when he was younger. Legally, he was our responsibility.” When his father had been put in prison, fourteen-year-old Benjamin Brooks became the ward of the Phillips family. Until recently he’d lived and worked at the J Bar K ranch.

  “You could have talked some sense into him. Joshua should have said something. You know Ben has always listened to him.” Not ready to give up her argument, Emily kept up a steady stream of protests. “And why didn’t you let me know? How do you think I felt, coming home and finding out that everything had changed while I was gone?” She swished her foot around, sloshing more water from the basin.

  “Emily, stop it!” Kat jumped to her feet. “You’re making a mess, and there’s no need for any childish tantrums. For pity’s sake, don’t be so melodramatic.”

  “I need to talk to him. He owes me an explanation. After all, we do have an understanding between us. At least I thought we did. He’s got no right to treat me this way. I’ll go out there, and I’ll insist—”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” Kat grabbed the towel she’d tossed aside and handed it to her sister. “Men don’t like demanding females,” she said in a quiet voice. “It’s a woman’s place to support a man’s decisions and stand by his side.” She sighed and pointed to the water-stained rug. “Clean up the mess. I’ll go start dinner.”

  Tears pooled in Emily’s eyes. Nobody cared. Not even her own sister.

  Kat paused in the doorway and turned back. “Later, I’ll soak some newspaper in vinegar, and we’ll wrap that ankle. That’s what Mama did when Kitty took a fall last summer. You should be good as new in a day or two.”

  Emily nodded. She knew her sister meant well with the advice she’d given, but seriously, Kat knew so little about men! A fine one she was to talk about a woman’s place.

  For now, she would have to bear a bit of pain, Emily decided. On Saturday she’d be on board the stage, headed back to Denver, and that left very little time for her to figure out exactly what was going on with Ben. She wasn’t about to let a sore ankle stand in her way, nor was she about to heed any sisterly advice, no matter how well-intentioned.

  * * * *

  Early the next morning, Emily crept down the stairs. Even though it had been years since she’d lived in the old ranch house, she still remembered which steps creaked and which ones groaned and how to avoid any tell-tale sounds. How many times had she slipped up or down the stairs to catch Kat, her mother, or her father unawares? Like flouncing, sneaking about was an art.

  The sun had come up only a short time before, and shadows still lurked in the entry way. With one last triumphant step—not a simple task with an ankle wrapped tightly with bandages—she reached the front door and let out a rush of breath. So far, so good.

  Or not-so-good.

  Emily gasped as the shadows suddenly came to life—in the form of her tall, slender sister.

  “Kat, you startled me.”

  Kat said nothing. She folded her arms across her chest, and stood tapping one foot. She knew Emily all too well, had obviously suspected this early morning foray, and knew that if she waited long enough, a confession would come pouring out.

  “I thought I’d go for a drive.” Emily tugged at the strings of her bonnet and turned her head, hoping her sister wouldn’t notice the rouge and face powder on her cheeks. Kat was much too simple to appreciate beauty aids. She didn’t approve of artifice. “I thought maybe I’d drive into town…maybe…”

  “Save the fibs for somebody a bit more gullible, all right?” Kat’s sigh had a distinctly weary sound about it. “You’re going to see Benjamin. Against my wishes, of course. Apparently against his wishes, as well. Sneaking out at first light isn’t going to help matters, you know.”

  Emily glanced down at the smoothly-waxed floor. “It’s a long drive. I needed to make an early start.”

  “He obviously doesn’t want you there.”

  Despite her intentions of keeping her face hidden from view, she jerked her head up in protest. “Ben doesn’t know what he wants! I know he still cares about me,” she said, “and besides, I want to let him know he’s welcome to come to dinner for Thanksgiving.”

  “He knows he’s welcome here anytime. You don’t need to make a trip all the way out to the Henderson place to inform him of that fact.” Kat took a step closer. “Have you put rouge on your cheeks?” she asked, leaning forward to get a better look. “I swear, Emily, if Pa caught you painting your face, you know he’d turn you right over his knee and paddle your behind.”

  “I’ll wash it off after I get back.” Her eyes stung, but she didn’t dare allow her tears to fall, knowing her artful applications of rouge and face powder would be ruined if she did. “Please, Kat, can’t you understand how important it is for me to see Ben again? Something’s wrong, and I need to find out what it is.”

  Kat shook her head. “The last thing you need to do is go snooping around, sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

  “Kat, please!” Emily reached for her sister’s hands. “I’m not snooping. Really, I’m not a little twelve-year-old brat any longer.” Not by a long shot. She was nearly a grown woman, had been off to school, on her own, and she’d learned all the facts of life—courtesy of Miss Helen Brundage and her lectures on human sexuality. She blushed now at the remembrance. “I need to talk to Ben.”

  “You spoke to him yesterday.”

  “But that wa
s…different,” she said with a shrug, unsure of precisely what had been different about it. “I wasn’t prepared for all he was telling me. Honestly, couldn’t you have written me to let me know he’d quit working for you?”

  “Maybe I should have.” Kat ran a hand through her long auburn tresses. “I didn’t think it was my place to tell you. I figured he’d write to you to let you know. I’m sorry, Em.”

  “I need to see him. I’ll drive out there now, talk to him, and I’ll find out what’s bothering him. I’m not going to stir up any trouble. I promise,” she added, making crossing motions over her heart. She pecked a quick kiss on her sister’s cheek.

  “Oh, all right. I can tell there’ll be no stopping you.” Kat’s features softened. “Come into the kitchen with me first. We’ll put together a little gift basket you can give to Lucille.”

  “Thank you,” Emily whispered, touched by her sister’s kindness.

  * * * *

  A light snow began to fall soon after she left Sunset. By the time Emily reached the Henderson place, a blanket of white covered the frozen ground. After parking the wagon a short distance from the bunkhouse, she took a deep breath and hugged her thick woolen cloak around herself.

  Tom had made a lot of improvements to the place, she noted, recalling how it had looked when he’d first inherited the property three years before. With a growing family to shelter, he’d added on to the main house, making it larger and more spacious now. The barn and bunkhouse both boasted new paint, obvious signs of the success and determined efforts of the owner.

  The old spring house still stood nearby, along with a few new outbuildings. Smoke billowed from the chimney of a small cottage-like structure behind the house. Probably a second kitchen, Emily guessed, judging from the savory aromas wafting from it. She sniffed the air. Roast fowl. Root vegetables. Her mouth watered.

  The Henderson Horse Farm was obviously doing well. Little wonder Ben had accepted the offer to work there.

  All the same, he should have told her of his plans before making a move, not merely written about it after the fact in a senseless letter that didn’t deserve a thorough perusal.

  Emily hummed softly as she climbed down, grateful to Kat for suggesting she bring a gift—a thoughtful gesture, as well as a logical reason to make the long drive. Smiling, she lifted the small wicker basket from the wagon, then spun around when the door of the bunkhouse creaked open.

  “Emily?” called Ben, squinting against the morning light.

  Dressed in work gear with a heavy leather jacket, he looked more handsome than she’d ever seen him. Like Kat said, he was an adult now, a grown man, and Emily’s throat went dry at the sight of him. She couldn’t take her eyes away. She’d been gone only twelve short weeks, but in that time, it seemed as though Ben had grown taller, stronger, and more rugged.

  If only he would smile at her.

  Something was amiss. Something Ben wasn’t going to reveal without a little prodding.

  When in doubt, check it out.

  Emily recited the words silently, then rolled her eyes, scarcely able to believe what she’d just done. She’d heard those words from Hattie Mae, her roommate at the academy. Dear Hattie had a penchant for adages. She had at least one for every possible occasion.

  Of course, this time, Hattie was right.

  Something was definitely amiss, and Emily meant to find out what it was.

  She threw back her shoulders, thrust out her breasts, and lifted her chin. With a bright smile, Emily approached the lanky cowboy, who leaned against the bunkhouse wall, watching her with guarded eyes. She’d taken great care with her appearance. Beneath the woolen cloak, she wore her best yellow frock—Benjamin’s favorite color—and she’d spent nearly an hour that morning curling each long ringlet of her golden hair. With the delicate touch of rouge and the spot of lip color she’d added, she appeared the perfect picture of femininity. Surely she could capture his attention and break through his reserve.

  Walking across the yard proved an arduous task. Her swollen ankle ached with every hesitant step. Emily ignored the pain, swaying her hips slightly as she approached Ben. A few deep breaths calmed her racing heart. But as she drew closer, the scowl on Ben’s face deepened. His golden eyes turned dark.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see Lucille,” she said, holding up the basket. “Of course, I was hoping to see you, too.” She wanted to say more, but his look silenced her.

  Slowly, Ben pushed away from the bunkhouse wall and stepped forward. His expression remained unchanged.

  “I told you not to come back. For God’s sake, Em, why won’t you listen?” His mouth pinched together, and he folded his arms over his chest. The look in his eyes frightened her. Ben glanced toward the house. “Go pay your call on Lucille. I’ve got work to do.” He turned away.

  “Benjamin Brooks, what is wrong with you?” Shaken to tears by his rejection, Emily fumbled in the pocket of the cloak. Her fingers closed around a handkerchief. She pulled it out and dabbed it to her cheeks. The lacy piece of linen came away stained pink with rouge. No doubt her face looked a sight now with streaks of artificial color. She sniffled, trying to hold back her sobs. She was so tired of crying, but how could she stop?

  Ben glanced over his shoulder, muttered a few words under his breath, and then turned again.

  Her face paled. “What did you say?”

  “I said you look like a cheap whore,” he answered in a loud voice, refusing to meet her gaze.

  She gasped, pressing gloved fingertips to her parted lips, all the while staring incredulously at the young man who’d once promised to love and cherish her forever. Of course, they’d been kids when he’d made those promises, but Emily clung to that precious memory. For the last seven years, Ben had been at the center of her life and her heart.

  In all that time, not once had he ever spoken so sharply to her. Not once had he found fault with her. Never had he shown such blatant disregard for her feelings.

  Unable to respond, she turned away and stumbled toward the house, then shook her head. In no mood now to visit with Lucille and her family, Emily headed instead for the wagon.

  Behind her she heard Ben’s heavy footsteps, but she didn’t slow her pace, rather she walked more quickly, limping as she struggled against the pain of her swollen ankle.

  “Wait up, Em,” he finally called as she put one foot on the step to climb aboard the wagon.

  “Why should I? It’s obvious you don’t want anything to do with me. You’ve ignored me, insulted me, and now you want me to stay and listen to more?” Her feelings had been wounded, and she quickly went on the defensive. Hefting herself up onto the wagon’s hard bench, she shook her head. “I don’t want to hear another word from you.”

  Emily continued to stare daggers at Ben even as she reached for the reins. When he suddenly jerked around, her gaze followed his. She clamped her mouth shut. Her breathing stopped, and the cold chill settling over her was from more than the late November air.

  A beautiful young woman stood at the corner of the kitchen-cottage, a few feet from the open door. Long, raven-colored tresses fell across her shoulders in a brazen display of immodesty. No decent girl would go around flaunting convention with her hair loose and free. Although she wore a gray, woolen shawl, beneath it, her dress, too, appeared a trifle inappropriate to Emily’s judgmental eyes. Too colorful, too frilly, too fancy.

  She pulled her own cloak tighter around her shoulders.

  “Good-bye, Benjamin.” Her voice came out a bit shaky.

  He said nothing, but nothing needed to be said. Emily understood now why he’d claimed to be too busy to see her when she came home to Sunset. She knew, too, exactly what he was busy doing—and with whom he was busy doing it.

  She jerked the reins free, flicked them over the horse’s back, and set the wagon in motion, her mind reeling from the shock of all she’d seen. No more than a look had passed between Benjamin and the dark-haired girl, but that lo
ok had spoken volumes.

  * * * *

  “She’s very pretty.”

  “Yes, she is.” Ben stood watching as the wagon rolled away. Although the sun shone brightly, the morning remained frigid. Coldness settled over him and left him chilled. Even his heart felt as cold and heavy as the stones that formed the walkway around the bunkhouse.

  He hadn’t heard Della come to stand beside him. His attention had been fixed elsewhere.

  “Are you going after her?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No. It’s better this way.”

  When the wagon finally disappeared over the crest of the hill, he turned toward the corral. Della placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

  “You’re not riding out this morning, are you?” Worried gray eyes searched his face. “It’s Thanksgiving. It’s a holiday. Surely you’re not expecting any trouble today.”

  “Trouble doesn’t take holidays.”

  With a tip of his hat, he strolled toward the barn, and within moments he’d saddled up his Appaloosa gelding and was riding toward the foothills.

  Did he expect trouble? Hard to say, but he’d been hired to do a job. He wouldn’t let Tom Henderson down.

  As he rode along the edges of the property, keeping eyes and ears open, Ben did his best to push aside all thoughts of Emily. The last thing he needed right then was any distraction. More than ever, he had to keep his wits about him.

  He reined up, cocked his head and listened, certain he’d heard something moving about in the underbrush. A rabbit darted out, hopping about in a crazy zig-zag pattern as it made its way back to the safety of its burrow.

  His ears pricked up. In the distance, hoof beats sounded. Ben had been given a keen sense of hearing, and it served him well, made it hard for anyone to get the jump on him. He looked off in the direction from which the sound had come, but he saw no one.

  He drew to the side of the trail beneath a stand of quaking aspens. Their rust-colored leaves rustled in the wind, and sure enough, if a man had a mind to believe in spooks, he could probably find them—or at least, believe he had. A weary sigh slipped out.