Chapter 15

 

“This is it,” Clare said, pulling on the reins and steering the two draft horses to the right and along a wide, smooth dirt road bordered by splendid pines.

Grace was glad to have finally arrived at the Banks Ranch, having had to soothe Ben the whole way, who fussed in her arms impatiently, wanting to climb down and explore. He was so much like his father—already, Grace thought with a mixture of comfort and sorrow. Eager to discover new places.

She pulled Ben up to stand on her legs so he could look around, balancing him as he took in the sights with delight. He talked in his cute jumble of sounds, which made Clare laugh as she brought the horses to a stop and adjusted her bonnet.

At the end of the road sat a wood-planked ranch house flanked by three barns of various sizes. Pastures with pole fencing enclosed fields mostly buried in snowdrifts, which stretched out behind the simple house.

A dog with black and white splotches came running toward their wagon from behind the house, barking in piercing yips, but Grace could tell he was friendly. Clare tousled the dog’s fur as she stepped down from the bench seat. “You’re a cute one,” she told the dog, then looked around the spread. Off in the distance, close to the farthest and newest barn, a dozen or more horses stood near a water trough.

Clare held out her arms for Ben, and Grace handed him down to her, then alighted from the wagon. She was grateful for a warm June day after the heavy snowfall days before. How quickly the weather changed in Colorado! Water dripped steadily from the pines lining the road and from the eaves of the house, and the air smelled wonderfully damp and invigorating. Grace gathered Ben into her arms, and he squirmed to get down.

“Do I look presentable?” Clare asked, her tone revealing how nervous she was. She smoothed out the pretty Irish plaid dress she was wearing, and Grace could tell Clare was not a bit comfortable in her petticoats. But Clare wanted to make a good impression on Sarah, Eli’s mother. Grace chuckled recalling that Eli had sounded much more nervous than she about the meeting. But she couldn’t imagine anyone not liking Clare.

Grace had dressed in a simple cotton skirt and blouse, and now, standing in the warmth of the late morning sun, she was glad she hadn’t worn the heavy woolen traveling suit she’d first considered. The wind had made a bit of a mess with her hair, but she did her best to adjust the pins, which was awkward to do with a wiggling ten-month-old in her arms.

The door to the house flew open, and Eli strode out, walking toward them with a bright smile on his face. He was dressed in pressed brown trousers and a blue chambray shirt, and his wheat-straw hair was slicked back. His face was smooth, showing he’d just shaved, and he made a little clucking noise as he came up to Clare.

“Well, look at you,” he said with a tease in his voice. “You look right pretty, Miss Clare Ferne McKay.”

She punched his arm playfully and whispered, “You look like you’re about to be hauled to church.”

Eli chuckled and said hello to Grace, then tickled Ben under the chin. “Come on in,” he said, looking at the horses, who stood sleepily in the driveway, no doubt enjoying their reprieve from both the recent winter weather and the trek over from Fort Collins on the slushy road.

“Let me get LeRoy out here to unhitch your horses, and then I’ll bring you in for proper introductions.” He gave Clare a wink and went back into the house.

Grace looked at her friend and saw the dreamy glow in her eyes. She smiled, glad for Clare’s happiness, but her own misery assaulted her as she thought how she used to look at Monty like that. How that spark of new love had flared into a brighter, hotter fire once they married. How even now when she thought of him her pulse quickened and her body ached for his.

She pushed her painful thoughts aside and waited. Presently, Eli came out with another young man, one with darker hair and eyes, and clearly of Indian descent. Grace noted he walked with a slight swagger, and he stood a few inches taller than his fairer brother.

Eli said to her, “This here’s LeRoy, Miss Cunningham.” LeRoy gave her a friendly smile and nodded hello. It was clear he’d met Clare before, for he shot her a welcoming look that was a little less reserved.

“Please, just call me Grace,” she told them both. It felt awkward to be called “miss” when she was truly a “missus,” but she couldn’t tell them that. No one in town deigned to refer to her as a married woman or even a widow. None except Alan. Patterson, the clerk. He at least seemed to believe her story.

The two men nodded, then LeRoy took the horses’ reins and led them, still hitched to the wagon, in through the open carriage doors of the nearest barn.

“Ma’s eager to meet you,” Eli said, mostly to Clare. “I shouldn’t have waited so long—she’s been givin’ me grief over it.” He took Clare’s hand and squeezed it, looking just as nervous as she. Clare drew in a long breath and straightened, then followed Eli into the house. Grace came in behind them, hoisting Ben in her arms. She hoped he didn’t fuss too much or get into trouble, and she was thankful Eli’s mother had allowed her to bring him.

A delicious aroma greeted her—baked bread and something savory, like stew. She took in the cozy kitchen with the yellow gingham curtains and the lacquered pine cabinets and plank flooring. A jar of perky yellow wildflowers sat on a big thick wood table, and Grace wondered where Eli’s mother could have found such flowers in the midst of all the snow. The table was set with simple crockery and silverware, but everything was neat and clean, and showed thoughtful placement and a woman’s touch.

Eli left Grace and Clare and went into the next room. Grace heard him calling, “Ma, Ma—where are you? Clare’s here.”

A back door slapped against wood, and presently Grace saw Eli come back into the kitchen with his mother.

Sarah Banks was a large woman with strong features, hers a round face with high cheekbones, her skin a gleaming brown. Dark hair fell back over her shoulders in two thick braids, and she wore a heavy brown linen skirt and something akin to a man’s tailored plaid shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. Her fist clenched around a bundle of cooking herbs, from what Grace could gather. Eli went and stood by the big cast-iron stove, his head cocked, staring at Clare with adoration. He looked pleased to have brought Clare home to meet his mother, as if eager to show her off, although a bit worried if Sarah would approve.

Sarah greeted her and Clare warmly, and Grace immediately liked her and felt at ease. Without asking, Sarah scooped Ben into her arms and looked a long while into his eyes. Grace was surprised at how quiet and focused Ben got, staring into Sarah’s face. Then Sarah laughed, and Ben joined her in his exuberant way, his eyes sparkling.

“He’s a darlin’, Grace. I bet he looks just like his pa.” Sarah ran her fingers through Ben’s wispy hair, and Grace thought with sadness—not for the first time—how much she wished her aunt was still alive so she could hold Ben in her arms. She had so loved children and had never had any of her own.

Grace’s throat choked a bit as she nodded. Sarah studied her with compassion, which made Grace wonder how much Eli had told his mother about her.

Sarah gently squeezed Ben’s cheeks, and he pulled on her hair. But instead of scolding him, she merely laughed and then set him down on the kitchen floor. He promptly headed over to a stack of pots and pans, but Sarah didn’t seem to mind. Grace was glad she was comfortable having a baby crawling around her house.

“Now,” Sarah said, turning to Clare and smiling approvingly. “I’ve been lookin’ forward to meetin’ you, Clare. Eli needs a woman that can keep him on the straight and narrow and outta trouble, and most of ’em he’s courted have done nothin’ but get him into trouble. You’ve made a new man of him, that’s plain to see. Something a mother is glad for.”

“Thank you for invitin’ us,” Clare said demurely, a blush on her cheeks. Grace hadn’t seen Clare this shy. “I’ve been so lookin’ forward to meetin’ you, Mrs. Banks.”

Sarah waved a dismissive hand in the air. “We don’t cotton to formalities here. Just call me Sarah. Come, girls,” she said, gesturing them to the table. “Sit here while I finish up preparin’ lunch, and we can talk.”

Clare threw Grace a nervous glance, but Grace shrugged and smiled. They both sat.

Sarah laughed. “Clare, Eli’s told me so much about you, I feel as though I already know you plenty. But don’t let that notion scare you—he only has nice things to say, and from the sound of it, you love horses almost as much as he does. And that’s sayin’ a lot.” She turned and looked at Eli, whose smile took up most of his face.

“Wait till you see her handle a horse, Ma. She’s the best roper I’ve ever seen.”

Grace laughed behind her hand. It struck her funny that these seemed to be the highest compliments Eli could offer on Clare’s behalf. But then, he and his mother and brother raised and trained horses. No doubt having some riding skills earned high marks with Sarah.

“I didn’t tell you this,” Eli said cautiously to his mother, “but Clare and I are gonna enter the team ropin’ at the centennial race next month.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes, then dunked the herbs into a tub of water that sat on the long wooden counter behind her. “Team ropin’, huh?” She shook the water off the herbs and started chopping them on a wood block. “You think ropin’ with a girl might raise a few eyebrows?” She turned and looked at Clare, assessing her. “Hmm. Maybe she’ll show you up, make you look foolish.”

Eli chuckled and waved a hand. “We’ve been practicin’. No one’ll laugh when they watch us take the ribbon.”

“You’re awfully confident,” she said, but she gave Clare a wink.

LeRoy came tromping in through the front door after wiping his feet on the rough doormat. “Hey, that smells great,” he said, going over to the sink and washing up. “Lunch ready yet?”

Sarah tossed the seasonings into the big cast-iron pot simmering on the flat top of the stove. “Another ten minutes.” She looked at Clare and Grace. “You girls want to freshen up after your ride? Eli, show them where the bathing room is.” She looked down at Ben, who was banging on the iron pans with his hands. “I’ll watch the little one.”

“Thank you, Sarah,” Clare said. “This is so nice of ya to have us over.”

“About time Eli brought you home. I was beginning to think he made you up.”

Clare laughed. “No, I’m real.”

“I told ya, Ma.” He chuckled, and then walked with them to a small room off the back of the house. “Privy’s just out there, if’n you need it. There’s a water pump just outside the door.” He pointed through the window. “Glad you had a nice day to travel. Run into any scalawags along the way?”

“No,” Clare said with a pout. “And I was itchin’ for a fight too,” she added in an exaggerated Western twang.

Eli snuck in a quick peck to her cheek, and his face flushed.

Clare smacked him on the head. “Eli!” she whispered harshly, “behave yourself. I’m trying to make a nice impression.”

He laughed and swung her in close. She covered her mouth with her hand as a squeal eked out.

“Well, my ma’s so keen to see me married and settled that I don’t think you could do anythin’ to spoil that good impression. Less’n of course you say something unkind about her cooking. Or about her horses.” He thought a moment. “Or start talkin’ politics, or—”

Clare pressed her hand over his mouth. “Go,” she said. “We ladies have to freshen up.”

He smirked, gave an exaggerated bow, and spun around. Clare shook her head and said, “I really do love that man. He makes me laugh.”

“You’re well suited,” Grace said. “And it sure looks like he plans to marry you.”

Clare looked at herself in the mirror and fussed with her hair. Grace marveled at the rich red color that offset her shining green eyes. “You two will make some pretty babies.”

“Oh!” Clare said, her eyes wide. “I’m not even hitched yet and yer already talking babies.”

“Well, they usually follow . . . hitching.” She laughed, and Clare joined her.

“Don’t I know!” Clare said. “I’ve already spent most of my life changin’ diapers and washin’ clothes and chasin’ toddlers around. Wouldn’t be nothin’ new.”

Grace smiled. She was so glad to be away from Fort Collins, if even just for a day. Even though her problems would still be waiting for her when she returned, she vowed to push all her worries and heartache far from her mind and just enjoy the friendly company of people who didn’t gossip or think badly of her. She imagined Monty here with her, and thought how much he’d fit in. He didn’t abide pretentious people either, and liked nothing more than to sit around sharing adventure stories and learning where people came from and what they were interested in.

Monty. She let out a trembling sigh. She would never be able to stop thinking about him, stop hurting. He was such a part of her—how could she think she could push him out of her mind, even for a day?

She excused herself to go use the privy and went out back. When she finished, she washed up at the pump and smoothed her hair and clothing, then found Clare with Sarah and her family in the kitchen. Clare cuddled Ben on her lap. He had a slice of apple in his hand, and he used his four little teeth to scrape and eat the fruit, his face tight in concentration at the task. Grace noticed a big woven basket piled with clean white sheets next to the table.

Sarah took Ben from Clare and looked him over. His cheeks had bits of apple stuck to them. Sarah took a cloth from a drawer and wiped his face. “He’s ready for a nap,” she said. As if on cue, Ben yawned and fussed, making the mewling sounds that indicated he was tired.

“Too much excitement for the little one,” Sarah said, and set him gently down in the basket. Ben nuzzled into the sheets and closed his eyes. Sarah adjusted Ben so that he was lying on his back, looking up at her. She said to him with a mock stern expression, “Time for sleep, little one.” And then she said something else, in a language Grace didn’t recognize. She assumed it was Cheyenne.

To her surprise, instead of crying—his usual response to being put down for a nap—Ben closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep. Grace’s mouth dropped open.

“How did you do that?” she asked Sarah, who only gave her a shrug, her eyes twinkling in a mischievous way.

“She uses Indian magic,” LeRoy said, standing by the stove and eyeing the large pot. “Is lunch ready now?”

Sarah rolled her eyes and went to the stove. “Yes, now.” She looked at Clare pointedly. “These young, strong men—they eat a lot. Do you know how to cook?”

Clare was startled by Sarah’s directness. “Oh, yes, I do—”

“She’s a great cook, Ma,” Eli said in her defense, and from Sarah’s expression, Grace thought maybe she had said that to bait him.

Eli continued. “I told ya she helped raise six younger brothers and sisters.”

Sarah nodded thoughtfully and hefted the large pot with two heavy towels. She set it on the table, on a wool pot warmer, and LeRoy pulled a tray of steaming bread rolls out of the oven. The yeasty aroma filled the kitchen, and Grace’s mouth watered.

Sarah shook her head thoughtfully and said, “She can cook—and rope calves too. Imagine that.”

“Ma!” Eli protested, “you’re gonna scare her off.”

Sarah shot Clare a smile. “Too late for that, I think.” She laughed, then pointed at the ice box in the corner. “Eli, there’s sweet tea in there.”

He promptly fetched the tea and poured it into the glasses on the table. LeRoy sat down across from Grace and Eli across from Clare. Sarah brought over a bowl of applesauce and set that down too. Then she eased into her chair and nodded to LeRoy.

“Lord,” he said, cuing them all to lower their heads. “We thank you for thy bounty and for thy grace this day. For friends and family and good health. Amen.”

Grace said amen with the others and sighed. The comfort of this gathering soothed her heart, and a pervasive sense of peace seeped into her. At Eli’s urging, she passed her plate, and he filled it with a dollop of the hearty stew of beef and vegetables Sarah had made. She chuckled watching Sarah’s boys slather butter onto their rolls and trying hard to eat with table manners, saying please and thank you and chewing with their mouths closed. She got the impression this wasn’t how they normally ate.

Little was said as they enjoyed the food, and Grace complimented Sarah on her cooking. This was the best meal she’d had all year. Charity’s meals were simple and bland—she didn’t believe in seasoning food, and had a tendency to overcook everything. But Grace had done a lot of cooking at the boardinghouse, and her aunt had been a wonderful cook. She’d taught Grace how to make a variety of dishes—from traditional to Cajun to French. She’d cooked for Monty when he stayed there, and after they were engaged, he “confessed” that he was only marrying her for her cooking. She’d laughed—because she knew how much he loved to eat, and he was a good cook too. Having lived on his own for years, and off on so many expeditions, cooking skills were a necessity—although many men were content to subsist on cans of beans and pemican. She and Monty had spent many fun and happy hours in the kitchen together, as improper or inappropriate as it may have seemed to some. But they hadn’t cared. Grace missed that—the sharing and laughing and experimenting with ingredients.

Without realizing it, her eyes had filled with tears, and everyone around the table had grown quiet. Sarah was looking at her intently, studying her as if she were a strange animal she’d never seen before. Eli and LeRoy stopped eating.

Grace’s face heated up in embarrassment. What was wrong? Had she done something to offend them?

“I’m . . . I’m sorry,” she said, not sure what she was apologizing for. She suddenly felt self-conscious, and not wanting to spoil the light mood they’d been enjoying, pushed her chair back, about to excuse herself.

Sarah held out her palm. “No, stay, Grace. Sit.”

Grace stopped. She felt all eyes on her and looked down at her empty plate, uneasy. Clare took her arm, and the touch comforted her.

Grace wanted to crawl under the table, but then she heard Sarah say, “It is a good thing to hope, no? Hope gives strength, fortitude.” She got up and came over to Grace and knelt beside her. Then she touched the silver pendant on her neck.

“This is Cherokee,” she said, studying it. “But the Cheyenne have a similar symbol for hope.” She muttered a few words in her language with her eyes closed, and Grace saw from under her lashes that Eli and LeRoy were paying close attention to their mother. The room felt as still and solemn as a sanctuary.

“You fear all hope is lost,” Sarah told her, stepping back and looking at her. Her voice was even and calm, but Grace had the sense that Sarah’s mind was far away. “But it is not. You must not run away. You must not be fearful. The terrible thing that haunts you will lift you and carry you once more. Like a raging river, it will hurl you over the falls.”

She stopped speaking and picked up Grace’s hands in her own warm and weathered ones, and Grace’s heart pounded in her chest as the memory of Monty being swept downstream played in her head, stabbing her with renewed pain, as if she’d torn a scab off a festering wound. A moan came from her throat, strangling her.

Sarah gave Grace’s hands a gentle squeeze, and then she smiled at her with the tenderness of a loving mother. “Grace, you cannot see the end to your pain. But it rests at the bottom of the waterfall. The fall is terrifying, for with it all hope seems cast upon the water. But below the falls is the calm pool, where the water gathers and rests, then flows to the waiting sea.” She touched Grace’s pendant once more. “Hope is your lifeline. Cling to it. You will see. Let the river carry you, take you over the falls. For only then will you get to the quiet, clear pool where your pain will be washed out to sea along with the silt and mud.”

Silence fell like the night—heavy, thick, and muffling Grace’s thoughts. Gradually she groped through the pain to the other side of whatever spell Sarah had enwrapped her in so tightly, like a cocoon. But in moments the burden lifted from her, and she could breathe again. She’d felt as though she had fallen in the river with Monty—no, seeing through his eyes, feeling his terror.

Then, a strange calm lapped at her heart. She looked at Sarah, whose face was soft and unreadable. Then Sarah turned and looked at her sons.

“Do not sit easy, Eli. LeRoy. There is danger in this for you as well.” She let her words hang in the air between them. Danger?

Grace, perplexed, noted a flash of alarm in the brothers’ eyes, but they did not flinch. Sarah let out a sigh and glanced down at Ben, sleeping unperturbed atop the tangle of sheets. Eli and LeRoy, as one, exhaled, and their shoulders slumped.

“So, Ma, what is it? What danger?” LeRoy asked.

A songbird warbled outside the window. Grace looked out at the calm spring day, then turned to look at Clare. Her friend sat deep in thought, somber, respectful. Grace wondered what she might be thinking of all this. She herself didn’t know what to make of it. Sarah’s sons seemed to take stock in every word their mother had said. But what did her words mean? Her heart had clenched in fear and despair, and yet, Sarah had spoken of hope. That somehow, some way, maybe . . . Maybe Monty might come back to her.

Sarah’s voice roped her attention in. “You still searching for that wild herd—the one with the appaloosa stallion?” she asked her sons. Eli nodded, but LeRoy only narrowed his eyes.

He said, “We’ve been following tracks for weeks. They’re somewhere west of Fort Collins.”

Sarah nodded. Her sons waited for more. Abruptly, she got up and started clearing the table, stacking plates and humming quietly. When Eli and LeRoy made to get up and help, Sarah put out her hand to stop them. Grace felt she should help as well, but stayed seated, waiting. Sarah clattered around, putting dishes in the wash basin, collecting glasses and silverware. Then she stopped and looked at Eli.

“You heard about them bank robbers, over in Laporte?”

Eli frowned. “Some think they’re those two outlaws from the Dutton Gang. The ones we went after last year. But that robbery was weeks ago. The trail went cold.”

Sarah nodded at LeRoy. “You and your brother—you need to go look for those horses. And talk to the sheriff over in Fort Collins. He will need some good trackers. Some with good sense. Or good men will get killed.” She looked over at Grace, and an icy cold chill raced up Grace’s spine, as if someone had dumped snow down her neck.

“Blood will run,” Sarah added without emotion. Then, with a smile that broke the thick tension around them, said, “I know you’ll be careful. You always are. And heed what I always tell you—don’t shoot unless you have to.”

Eli and LeRoy nodded dutifully, then LeRoy pushed his chair back from the table. The noise woke Ben, who let out a little frightened wail. Grace leapt to her feet and cradled him to her chest. More chairs shuffled and shoes and boots stomped around her as the others cleaned up and put dishes away, washed pots and pans, and put things in the ice box. Sarah poured dark beans into a grinder box, and soon the delectable aroma of ground coffee beans filled the kitchen.

“Are you all right, Grace?” Clare came up to her and smoothed Ben’s wayward tufts of hair. Grace nodded. Questions hung in the air between them, and Grace wondered what Clare thought about this Indian woman who might very well become her mother-in-law someday. Now Grace understood what Eli had meant about Sarah being a seer, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about the things Sarah said to her. They sat as uneasy as a teetering rock on her heart, swaying her willy-nilly from fear to hope to worry.

Sarah came up to them and said, “We’ll have some coffee and dessert—I made an apple pie just for the occasion.” She gestured them into the small den, which had big overstuffed chairs and a ponderous sofa that looked inviting. Eli brought out two pieces of pie and set them on the low table in front of the sofa, and LeRoy followed with mugs of steaming coffee. All the food sitting in her stomach made Grace suddenly sleepy, and she nestled with Ben on the cushions, sipping her coffee and trying to get bites of pie into her mouth without Ben waylaying her fork. Sarah went into the kitchen and came back with a small wooden bowl of applesauce and a spoon.

“A snack for the little one,” Sarah said, swooping Ben onto her lap and tucking a piece of towel under his chin. Grace watched, amused, as Sarah fed Ben. She imagined Sarah was more than ready to have a passel of grandchildren, and wondered if LeRoy was sweet on anyone. Eli hadn’t made mention of anyone, but LeRoy was plenty handsome and had a kind disposition. He seemed thoughtful and gentle, soft-spoken—although Grace imagined he had no trouble speaking his mind. It was clear Sarah loved her boys. Which made Grace shiver at the thought of her sending them into danger. Just what did she think was about to happen, and why wouldn’t she say, specifically? Did she even know, or was this just a feeling, like an intuition? Her sons, though, reacted as if whatever was about to happen was unavoidable.

While Clare and Eli bantered happily with Sarah and LeRoy about horses and roping and competing in the upcoming horse races, Grace mulled over the things Sarah had said to her. Why weren’t they as worried and fearful as she? A sense of doom and danger simmered below the conversation—something to do with outlaws who had robbed a bank. Sarah had told Eli and LeRoy to help the sheriff—track those men? But what did that have to do with her? And what did Sarah mean about letting the river take her over the falls? Her relaxing visit had turned ominous, but she didn’t want to be gloomy or give in to fear. Yet, Sarah had told her to hold on to hope and not let go. So that was what Grace would do—although she didn’t see any other option.

Sarah finished feeding Ben and cleaned his face, then handed him back to Grace. To Grace’s surprise, Sarah took her hand and patted it.

“Do not fret with worry, Grace. Wait and trust. Do not forget that calm pool that waits for you at the bottom of the falls. There is where you will recover what you lost.”

Even though Grace didn’t understand what Sarah implied, the words soothed her soul. She gulped back tears and nodded, and Sarah gave her a cheering smile and patted Ben on the head.

Not long after, she and Clare had said their good-byes and were seated on the wagon bench ready to head back to Fort Collins. Sarah and LeRoy left to tend to their horses, while Eli stood next to the wagon, holding Clare’s hand.

“LeRoy and I’ll be over in a few days,” he said, his voice laden with seriousness. “We’ll go talk to that sheriff, and see if there’re signs of that herd in the vicinity.” He scrunched up his face. “We almost caught those two outlaws last year. Followed them into the mountains west of Burlington, but somehow they plumb vanished, like some magical disappearin’ act. If’n they’re near Fort Collins, I want to help catch ’em. I won’t rest easy while those killers are runnin’ loose anywhere near you.”

Clare clasped his hand tightly. “You just be careful, Eli. I know how reckless ya can be.”

He cocked an eyebrow and shook his head. “You’re starting to sound like Ma.”

“Well, I don’t want ta lose ya.” She added with a sly smile, “A good ropin’ partner is hard ta come by.”

Eli chuckled and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. He looked at Grace. “Thanks for comin’ with Clare. Ma doesn’t often see somethin’ portendin’ for a stranger—or maybe she does but just doesn’t say. I know her words kinda scared you, but if she says everythin’ will work out in the end, it will. It may be a bumpy ride, but, well, what you’re dealin’ with ain’t a bed of goose feathers. I side with Clare—like I said, the truth always comes out. I’m hopeful your man will get his memory back, and your family will be reunited. Like Ma said: wait and hope.”

Grace tried to swallow past the rock in her throat. She hugged Ben close and said, “Thank you, Eli. I’m grateful for your kind words, and your mother’s hospitality.”

He nodded and looked at Clare with a cockeyed grim. “Be sure to miss me.”

“Count on it, Cowboy,” Clare replied. She shook the reins and led the horses around, then headed out the wide drive to the road leading north and west toward Fort Collins.

“Well,” Clare said after they’d traveled a few minutes. “That went better than I’d expected.”

“Sarah likes you,” Grace said. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Now, if I can just get Eli to propose. I already found a dress I like.” She squirmed uncomfortably on the bench. “Ugh, I can’t wait to get out of this corset and rid myself of these petticoats.”

“It makes me wonder what kind of wedding dress you have in mind,” Grace said with a bit of a laugh.

Clare laughed too. “I can bear wearing somethin’ fancy for a few hours. I found a picture in a ladies’ magazine of the prettiest dress . . . but my family has no money for such a purchase, and I’m sure it will cost a fortune. I’m hopin’ to save some money from the punch work I’m doing, but I don’t think it will be enough.”

“Show me the picture, Clare. I’m sure I can make it for you—I’ve sewn plenty of wedding dresses.”

Clare turned and looked at Grace in astonishment. “You have? I knew you worked at a dress shop, but I had no idea you could make a fancy dress just from an advertisement.”

“I’d love to make your dress for you—you can just pay for the fabric, and I’ll sew it for free. My wedding gift for you.”

Clare erupted in giggles of glee. “Thank you! Well, now I just have to get Eli in the saddle. I’m thinking of a midsummer wedding.”

“My, you aren’t wasting any time. Maybe I should get started on that dress.”

“Good thinking,” Clare said, smiling wide and settling into the rhythm of the horses trotting along the road. “I’m glad we’re friends, Grace. And I’m gonna help ya get your Monty back. I don’t know how, but there has to be a way.”

“Thank you, Clare. I’m grateful to you. And I’m looking forward to watching you and Eli tie the knot.”

Grace sat with a sleeping Ben in her arms, the warm midday breeze caressing her face, listening to the soothing clopping of the horses’ hooves and taking in the miles of farmland green with fields of wheat and hay and vegetable crops. Summer was coming, and all the snow that had dumped earlier that week had almost melted away.

Like the green vegetation around her, a sprout of hope grew in her heart. Would it thrive and come to fruition? Or would it wither and die? Only time would tell. She could do nothing but wait.