Chapter Five
The past couple of years had taught Amelia many hard lessons, chief among them how to remain calm and cool in the face of uncertainty or danger. She wasn’t sure what she had expected when she’d arrived in Gunnison, but it certainly wasn’t the reception she had received.
She’d brushed it off when the rancher, Mr. Walker, had instructed her via letter to take a freight wagon from the depot out to the ranch rather than meet her himself.
It would have been easy to assume that it was due to being unable to suspend the work of a ranch for even a few hours—Amelia knew enough to know that spring and early summer were busy months.
Her worst suspicions were confirmed when she arrived and seemed to take the man of the house a little by surprise.
A little? she thought dryly. I’ve seen ambushes that were less deadly.
“Well?” Mr. Walker demanded, staring daggers at his daughter.
To the girl’s credit, though her cheeks colored, she didn’t lower her gaze. She seemed thoroughly unashamed, though the same could not be said for her brother. He ducked behind her, gazing out at everyone with solemn brown eyes.
“I—we—wrote those letters,” Ruby said at last, staring at her father but speaking to Amelia. “I’m sorry for the deception, but… well, Pa would never have agreed otherwise.”
Amelia absorbed this information, giving herself a moment to consider.
The kind man who had driven her out to the ranch took this as his cue to quietly climb back into the wagon and engage in the all-consuming business of getting them turned around and exiting the ranch as hastily as possible.
No one acknowledged his leaving, and Amelia doubted that he was put out by this particular lack of manners.
Everyone was busy staring at someone else: Ruby at her father, Amelia at Mr. Walker, and Mr. Walker at Ruby and Logan by turns.
Amelia had seen a standoff in Dodge City that looked similar to this, only everyone had been carrying a gun.
She wasn’t sure which she preferred at this particular moment, as the awkwardness stretched and sharpened to agonizing levels.
“Ruby, why would you do this?” Mr. Walker asked finally.
“Because I’m tired of being his mother!” she retorted, flinging an arm haphazardly backward to indicate the boy who clung to her.
To Amelia’s surprise, the girl’s voice sounded strangled and tight, as if she were suddenly choking back tears.
Amelia shifted her attention to her, and though she wasn’t particularly prone to strong emotions these days, she couldn’t help but feel a tug at her heart for the girl.
It would be hard enough for her to be poised at the razor’s edge between girlhood and being a young lady as she was, but it was also clear from the letters and the limited conversation thus far that she’d had to become the woman of the house far too young.
It was a heavy responsibility, and one that Amelia was all too familiar with.
Can’t blame her for sharp resentment in that case, Amelia thought.
“I want the chance to be his sister, not his ma,” the girl continued, her voice softening into a raw plea. “I want the chance to have friends and buy ribbons and walk out with a boy when the time comes!” She was breathing hard, her nostrils flaring.
There was a heavy silence again, and then the boy, his brown hair falling across his eyes, peered out from behind his sister again. “I just want a real ma,” he added.
Amelia’s gaze shifted to Mr. Walker. He seemed thunderstruck by this sudden confession.
He didn’t move, going deathly still for a good long moment.
Amelia held her breath, unsure of what direction things would take.
She was acutely aware that whatever sort of man Mr. Walker was would be revealed by his response.
“We—we’ll talk about that later,” Mr. Walker said at last. “I can spend more time with you,” he offered. This seemed to disarm Ruby and Logan for the time being.
At last, Mr. Walker turned his gaze on Amelia.
She resisted the urge to take a step back, as she had yet to meet his eyes until this point.
They were dark, far darker than she had expected.
They were framed by lines born of the sun and squinting into the distance, giving him a fierce expression.
His jaw was square and well-shaped, but he held it as if he wouldn’t open his mouth any more than absolutely necessary.
I wonder if he’s had his jaw broken at some point? Amelia found herself wondering idly.
“I would like to apologize, Miss Stone,” he said slowly, as if considering each word before saying it.
“You seem to have been a victim of circumstance, and that isn’t your fault.
We’ve also not been on our best behavior, even for us uncouth country folk.
” He shot a glance at his children at this.
“Y’can stay the night,” he added, clearly believing this to be a great show of generosity.
“After that, I think it’s best you go back where you came from. ”
Amelia bristled at that last comment. She got the impression that this was one of the longest speeches this man had ever made, but she wasn’t about to let him send her off that easily.
She’d taken stagecoaches, a ferry, and two trains to get here.
She was exhausted, physically and mentally.
More to the point, she had no place to go back to and no means of getting there.
“Mr. Walker,” she began, lifting her chin proudly.
She may have had nothing, but she refused to be treated like nothing.
“While it is clear that we have both been the victims of… hoaxing, shall we say, it is also clear that you do not appreciate the full scope of the situation. I came here at great personal cost at the invitation of your family, and I will not be shunted off with only the sting of false promises to take with me.”
The muscles on either side of Mr. Walker’s jaw worked as his dark eyes bored into Amelia’s.
She could almost reach out and feel the force of his will for her not to make this difficult, for her to just turn tail and keep his life simple.
Her own dignity and a growing sense of compassion for the children kept her rooted to the spot.
She stared right back at him, back straight and chin up.
“Oh, Pa, why can’t she stay?” Ruby interjected.
“Because,” Mr. Walker ground out, his eyes never leaving Amelia’s, “she can’t.”
It was impossible to say how long they might have all stood like that, Amelia and Mr. Walker glowering at each other, the children pleading, if hoofbeats hadn’t been heard coming up the path. Mr. Walker’s gaze shifted slightly to over Amelia’s shoulder.
“Oh, hell,” he muttered under his breath.
Amelia raised her eyebrows at that, then turned to see a rider coming up the drive. He was too far to see his features distinctly. Her stomach clenched in sudden fear, and she squeezed her fists against the sensation. As always, her mind immediately flashed to Dean.
How could he have found me so soon? He can’t have, he just can’t have, she thought wildly.
It became clear, however, as the rider approached, that it wasn’t Dean. The man on the plodding brown-and-white paint horse was far older than Dean, older than Mr. Walker. He sported an impressive white mustache that hung over the corners of his mouth, giving the impression of a permanent scowl.
It also quickly became clear that it wasn’t just his mustache that made him look like he was scowling—his entire face seemed to pull downward, his eyes narrowed beneath bushy white brows into scrutinizing squints.
He wore a dark suit that didn’t button quite right over his midsection anymore and a wide-brimmed black hat.
“Walker!” he called.
From behind Amelia, she could hear Mr. Walker let out a muffled groan that eased into a sigh.
“Carter,” he replied evenly. “What brings you out here on a Sunday?”
“It is precisely because it’s the Lord’s Day that I’m here!
” the man—Mr. Carter—said. He pulled his horse up and swung down from the saddle with a grunt, landing on bowed legs.
“I heard a rumor of a skirt arriving in town and looking for you. I thought this can’t be right, you wouldn’t possibly entertain the notion of a young woman come a-calling. ”
Mr. Carter took his horse’s reins in his hand and led it over to the small group arranged on the sparse lawn.
He walked with a slight limp, his back slightly hunched.
All of this gave him the impression of a frail old man, but when he got closer, Amelia realized that this wasn’t entirely accurate; he may have been white of hair, but he had a restless, fiery energy that radiated out of him.
Unfortunately for all, it primarily radiated out from his mouth.
“Then I see old Leery drivin’ that painted up wagon of his out here, and what do I find? Y’ve got a bit of calico on your property!” Carter continued.
Amelia raised a brow again, unsure if she should be offended at being referred to as “a bit of calico,” but she held her own counsel for now.
“It seems that Miss Stone will be staying the night with us,” Mr. Walker replied evenly.
“What!” Mr. Carter cried. “You can’t possibly expect a single woman to stay under the same roof as you for the night. The impropriety of it all!”
At this, Amelia’s forehead creased in confusion.
She wasn’t sure if it was because Mr. Carter was a relic of a bygone place and time, or simply because he was one of those moralizers that inserted themselves into anyone’s business, but his interference was more than a little confusing.
Generally speaking, social mores were more relaxed, and women were given greater freedom in the West than in more eastern regions.
“A woman living with a man unmarried!” Carter continued. He jabbed a gnarled finger in Mr. Walker’s direction. “You ought t’know better—your pa would roll over in his grave if he could see such a thing!”
“I’m not sure—” Mr. Walker began, but Carter ran roughshod right over him.
“I’d thought all the wickedness was contained to Gunnison, what with all two—two!—saloons, and their music halls and dances, but now to find that it’s spilling over right out into the whole county. In my own backyard!” he railed.
If he’s worked himself into a lather about this little town, he’d have an apoplexy if he saw Tombstone, Amelia thought wryly.
“It’s not in your backyard, it’s in our front yard,” Ruby piped in helpfully.
Mr. Walker sent her a withering look, and Amelia covered her mouth with a gloved hand to hide a smile.
“I’m going to tell the parson right this instant,” Carter said, turning and placing his hands on the saddle as if to pull himself back up. “This won’t stand! I won’t have it! And it’s not just me—no respectable person will buy your cattle again, lest they be tainted by your immorality!”
“I’m confused,” Logan said quietly, tugging on Ruby’s skirt. “Does he mean the people, or that our cattle are tainted?”
Ruby turned away quickly to quiet Logan, but Amelia saw that she, too, was fighting a smile as she turned away.
Mr. Walker, however, was clearly less than amused.
He was looking at Carter with growing agitation.
He glanced around as if looking for a way out of all this, when he caught sight of the fact that they now had an audience.
Amelia looked off toward the stockyard where a loose collection of cabins sat in a loose formation around a large barn.
A number of workers had emerged and were now creeping closer, their faces curious.
Amelia had grown so used to living in mining and cattle towns that she had grown accustomed to being in overwhelmingly masculine environments. It didn’t even register for her anymore that it wasn’t altogether proper for her to live among all of them as an unmarried woman.
Mr. Walker, however, clearly seemed to appreciate the situation. He glanced over at the men he employed, men for whom it was vital that they respect their employer in order to maintain order. He looked at Amelia for a moment, then back to Carter, who was still struggling to get into his saddle.
“She’s—she’s my wife,” Mr. Walker blurted. His words cut through all lingering tension and left a profound silence in their wake. Amelia fancied that even the insects, humming away in the growing heat, had gone quiet.
“Your wife?” Carter repeated.
“Yes,” Mr. Walker said, shooting a sidelong glance at Amelia that seemed to be pleading with her to go along with what he was saying. “She’s… living here. With us. Now.”
Amelia tilted her head for a moment before Carter turned his attention back to her, looking her over. Amelia ground her teeth at being inspected in such a manner yet again but gave Mr. Carter a look that she hoped was appropriately demure for him.
“Unh,” he grunted. He released the saddle and came closer to peer directly into her face. “You come from good stock?”
“I believe so,” Amelia answered, and hoped it was true.
Carter grunted. “I imagine you were married before traveling, then?”
“Yes,” Mr. Walker supplied.
This seemed to satisfy Carter, who nodded and returned to his struggle to mount his horse. “Very well,” he said grudgingly. “I imagine that’s good enough. Some of the ladies of the county will likely want to pay their respects.”
Amelia blanched at that but kept her serene expression. “I look forward to it,” she said blithely.
Carter grunted again and managed to hoist himself into his saddle. He got the horse wheeled around and set off back down the drive, leaving everyone looking a little worse for wear. Amelia turned to Mr. Walker, who sighed.
“Ruby, Logan,” he said, “help Miss Stone with her trunk.”
“Isn’t that ‘Mrs. Walker’?” Ruby asked helpfully.
Mr. Walker shot her another despairing look before ambling off to speak with his ranch hands.
The children, meanwhile, eagerly took a side of her trunk and invited her into the house.
Logan struggled to hold his end so that it sagged, and he had to walk in an awkward sidestep, but his enthusiasm was so endearing that Amelia couldn’t help but smile a little.
Still, she paused at the porch step and cast a glance over to Mr. Walker. She could see his displeasure in the way that his shoulders were hunched. Amelia bit her lip.
What have I gotten myself into?