Chapter 5  

The wet nose of the sow pushed through the gap in the slats and sniffed Clayton’s pant legs as her new piglets tottered after her on quick hooves. Would he ever have a place of his own? The odds of his winning a 160-acre homestead in a race and holding on to it through the winter weren’t promising. He couldn’t leave to register in Goodwin until he’d completed his job here, and now he’d lose a half a day going to town for supplies.

Just the thought of appearing in Dry Gulch made his head hurt. When a stranger walked into town, people bristled. They steered their children away, held their bags closer. If something went missing, he’d be the first accused. If something broke, he’d be the first questioned.

But this wasn’t Fort Worth.

Here, no one knew that he was the son of a horse thief. No one in Dry Gulch remembered the hanging. They had no reason to suspect him of wrongdoing. In Fort Worth, he never knew if it was his appearance that caused people to recoil or his family’s reputation, and truthfully, even he couldn’t separate the two. Not when the attackers had screamed accusations against him as they struck.

But didn’t he believe that his standing in God’s sight held more significance than human opinion? Then why couldn’t he look people square in the eye?

He slid his jaw from side to side, feeling the familiar catch. Grace hadn’t seen the scar, and she’d never hear the charges. Her openness to him gave him hope that a fresh start in Oklahoma Territory awaited him. And while he couldn’t imagine another woman that’d measure up to Grace, he’d do well to find someone less pretentious to love.

And maybe the next lady wouldn’t be Irish. He couldn’t keep the smile from breaking out on his face. Grace wanted a husband. How surprised she must have been to find him on the opposite side of her door. He must’ve seemed like a gift dropped from heaven. Especially when she couldn’t see. He shooed away a fly. Would Emilie tell her about the scar? Did they talk about him at all?

The door opened. Grace stood at the threshold in a smart rust-colored getup. The ribbons of her bonnet caught in the wind and streamed like happy fish tails flapping in a cold stream.

“Good morning,” he called.

She turned her head in his direction. “Good morning. I hope you’re ready to start out.”

He pushed off the fence. “Yes, ma’am, but I didn’t know if you wanted my company this morning.”

“I’m stuck with your company regardless. I might as well dilute it with some variety.” Her head tilted saucily. The red of her shirt heightened the color in her lips.

“Do you know the way?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I haven’t been to town since they brought me here. I’m relying on your navigation.”

“Never fear.” Too bad he didn’t have Sal. But his reminiscing was cut short as he noticed that she hadn’t budged off the porch. “Have you ever left the cabin?”

“Not yet. I’ve meant to acquaint myself with the grounds, but I didn’t want to be in your way.”

Truly, or was she afraid? He strode to her. “Once we finish up our errands today I’d be glad to take you around.” He gently touched her shoulder to warn her of his intention, and then slid his arm through hers. “There are three shallow steps down. There you go. You can catch the handrail here, but we need some way for you to find the barn and house. Wouldn’t want you missing them and wandering into a gully.”

Her arm tightened. “I’ve been thinking about that. Could you hang some wind chimes on the house and barn? Then I could find them.”

“I’ll do that. Of course you won’t hear them when the wind dies. We could string up a guide rope.”

“But what if Emilie didn’t see it and her horse got tangled? Besides, once I gain my confidence, I won’t want to hang on to something to find my way.”

He couldn’t help but look at her slender hand clutching his sleeve.

“Perhaps we could put down some paver stones,” she said. “I’d know the second I stepped off the path.”

“What about snow?”

“If it snows, we’ll hang up a guide rope.”

“We? Did you plan to employ me throughout the winter?” But the thought of seeing snow with her warmed him.

Her lips curled in a modest smile. “I misspoke. Naturally, you won’t be here that long, because you have to— What exactly are you doing, Mr. Weber?”

He turned his mind from foolish imagining and scanned the grassy road ahead as it wound between mesas and around gulches. When would he learn that such dreams weren’t for him?

“I’m buying a horse. Mine broke her leg just outside of town.”

“Oh, the poor thing.” Grace grasped his cuff. “I’m sorry.”

“I loved that old horse, and I won’t do much good in the land rush without her.”

“Land rush? You’re not—”

His steps slowed. “Running in Oklahoma Territory with the rest of the harebrained fools?”

She stopped. Her neck tightened with her grimace. “Oh dear. I hope I didn’t—”

“I’m not offended.”

“I hope I didn’t entrust the upkeep of my farm to a howling lunatic.” Her dark eyebrows animated her statement.

“Ah. Why would I expect an apology out of you?”

She grinned and he winked before remembering it was wasted.

Even with Clayton at her side, Grace’s first steps in town terrified her. She could picture her surroundings, but she also remembered the chaotic nature of Dry Gulch. Horses might race down the road. People hurried from building to building. Like them, she’d enjoyed the hustle, but now it left her confused and disoriented.

“Good day, Miss O’Malley.”

She turned to catch the voice. Whose was it? “Good day. I’m afraid I can’t—”

A touch at her elbow and Clayton whispered, “He’s gone. He just spoke in passing.”

“Can you believe all the covered wagons passing through for the Land Rush?” another man intoned.

“Covered wagons?” Grace stopped. “You don’t say? I thought since the railroads came through no one—”

“Poor suckers,” a gruff voice interrupted. “Packing up their families and traveling all this way for nothing. I heard there were over fifty thousand camping around Ark City alone.”

Grace’s hand fell limply to her side. “He isn’t talking to me, is he?” she whispered to Clayton.

“No, ma’am.” He moved her on down the sidewalk until the conversation faded.

She’d passed hours in her cabin wishing for someone to talk to, but now that she was surrounded by people, she’d never felt more alone. She couldn’t see who was speaking to her, couldn’t tell when they approached or when they left. Not only had her navigation been compromised by her blindness, but also her communication. Was anything left untouched?

Clayton’s hand remained steady beneath her elbow as they moved forward.

“Step up. You’re in front of the diner now.” Through the din his voice penetrated, firm and sure. “Smells good, doesn’t it? I suppose the hardware store is near.”

“Claasen’s store will have what you need. It’s just across the street.” People muttered greetings to her but forgot to introduce themselves. Why wouldn’t anyone slow down?

“Here comes your friend,” Clayton said. “The one who visits you.”

Grace strained against his arm. “Emilie? Where?”

“I’m here.” Emilie grasped her by the shoulders and kissed her cheek. “You look beautiful, by the way. How do you manage without the benefit of a mirror?”

Grace smoothed her skirt. “Walking two miles in this heat was a trial. I’d forgotten the convenience of living in town.”

Clayton cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, I’ll drop by Claasen’s while y’all catch up.”

“That’d be dandy.” Emilie took Clayton’s place at Grace’s side. “So is your hired help all you’d hoped for?”

Grace frowned.

“Don’t worry. He’s gone. I wish you could see the looks he’s getting walking down the sidewalk. If I’m not mistaken, Danielle Fowler will find an excuse to go into Claasen’s . . . yep. Like a bloodhound on the scent.” Emilie giggled. “Has he told you what happened to his face? Was it a duel? An Indian attack?”

Grace turned in at the milliner’s without asking, guessing where Emilie was headed. “He never mentions it, and I don’t think he’d want me to.” But Danielle would have the nerve to ask. Would Clayton talk to her?

“I’ve tried to get a good look at it, but he keeps his face turned. Lucy and I decided that if given a chance we’d ambush him from opposite sides. Then he couldn’t hide from both of us.”

“Who all knows he’s at my place?”

Emilie opened the door for her and released her arm, leaving Grace floundering just inside the establishment. “Every one, I suppose. After the spelling bee he asked around until Mr. Stevenson gave him directions to the homestead. And I might have mentioned a stalwart gentleman working for you at the sewing circle yesterday.” Emilie paused to exclaim over the ruby lushness of a bonnet.

The sewing circle. No use for Grace there—or anywhere. Grace stepped timidly toward the display table, relieved it hadn’t been moved since her last visit. While she couldn’t appreciate the hues, she luxuriated in the richness of the velvets against her fingertips. Greedily, she traced a wide brim, spiked with starched lace and topped with a billowy feather. In many ways, her blindness had erected a barrier between her and the sighted. On the other hand, it pushed her into close physical proximity with anyone who wanted to help. Contact reserved for family and close friends became necessary to communicate, or even to find her way around.

When Clayton first appeared, Grace hadn’t expected they’d spend much time together. Now, with him taking his meals inside and their growing interactions, she felt as if she should have a chaperone. If she were still working at the school, the school board would definitely have objections.

She stepped to Emilie’s side. “What do people think about his being here? Isn’t it scandalous for us to be alone on the homestead together?”

“No one will think a thing of it,” Emilie assured her. “You aren’t in any kind of disreputable arrangement.”

“Why not? No one knows his character.”

“But they know yours. Despite my encouragement, I doubt the proper Miss O’Malley would consider carrying on with her hired hand . . . would she?”

Grace tucked her chin at Emilie’s laugh. “It’s just that I don’t want to take my reputation for granted. We should be vigilant against temptation.”

Emilie patted her hand. “No one suspects you of being a temptation, my dear. We’re just glad that someone is getting that place fixed up for you.”

Grace bit the inside of her lip. If her friends couldn’t imagine her with a beau, why would Clayton consider it? And when had a good reputation felt so insulting?