Betrayal (7 page)

But he wasn’t in any hurry to leave — and that surprised him. More than a little.

Movement in the distance caught his attention. He squinted, shading his eyes with one hand. The cattle that had been grazing near the foothills earlier were now trotting toward the north. Something had disturbed them. From what he’d observed in the short while he’d been here, cows didn’t stop eating without a good reason.

He pushed off the fence and strode to the house. The front door was open, but he stopped — as he always did — on the threshold. “Julia?”

“Come in, Hugh.”

He stepped inside.

She was seated in a chair close to a window, plying the pale yellow fabric in her lap with a needle and thread. Sunlight created something like a halo above her hair.

“I’m going to saddle one of the horses and check on the cattle.”

She looked up, a question in her eyes.

“If your brother-in-law or his men got that wolf they were hunting, he’d let you know, wouldn’t he?”

“I believe so. Why?” She set aside her sewing.

“Something seems to’ve spooked the cattle grazing over near the foothills. Thought I’d better have a look, see what it was.”

Julia stood. “I’ll go with you.”

He wondered if she didn’t trust him to shoot a wolf if he saw one. Then again, maybe he’d miss if he tried. He was no expert with firearms, be they rifles or pistols.

“Get the horses ready.” She headed for her bedroom. “I’ll be right out.”

By the time Julia emerged from the house, Hugh was waiting with Teddy and another saddle horse near the corral. With a nod in his direction, she slipped her rifle into the scabbard and swung into the saddle. Hugh mounted quickly, and the two of them rode out of the barnyard, cantering east toward the foothills.

She could have let him go on his own, of course. He was capable enough. Over the past couple of days, she’d familiarized him with the layout of the ranch. They’d ridden the boundaries of her land together. She’d shown him the herd and the fences that kept them from straying onto neighboring land. He’d learned the best place to cross the river that cut through a corner of Sage-hen.

It confounded her how quickly he’d become a part of her daily routine. Even more surprising, she wasn’t afraid when she was with him. Like her good friend and neighbor, Peter Collins, she felt an innate trust when she was in Hugh’s presence. Unlike Peter, there was no logical reason to trust Hugh. Not really. Not when she
knew so little about him. But she did trust him. She could only pray to God that she wasn’t proving herself a fool once again.

The rolling landscape obscured the place where Hugh said he’d seen the cattle, and when they topped the final rise, Julia felt relief flow through her. No cow or calf lay in view, a predator feasting on its kill. There was no blood to be seen to indicate an attack of any sort. And most of all, Bandit gave no cry of alarm.

She reined in, and Hugh did likewise.

“They were headed in that direction,” Hugh said, pointing toward the north. “Following that line of trees.”

She nudged Teddy with her heels, and as the horse moved slowly forward, Julia studied the ground. Years before, a ranch hand had explained to her how to track a wild animal.
“To start with, Miz Grace, you have to know how and where to look,”
he’d told her,
“not just what to look for. The signs are there if you’re payin’ attention.”

Angus had fired that friendly young cowboy the next day. Julia never did learn to track wild animals. Not really. Good thing she had Bandit.

Looking up, she said, “Let’s see where the cows went.” She turned Teddy in the direction Hugh had indicated, setting the pace at a gentle lope. Bandit raced ahead of them, happy and looking for small animals to chase. The last of Julia’s concern drained away. They could turn around and go back if they wanted. No predator threatened the herd. She was sure of it. But she was content to keep riding, the sun on her face, the breeze tugging at her hair.

“Guess I was wrong,” Hugh said after a lengthy silence.

“Better safe than sorry.”

“I’m not much of a cowboy.”

She gave him a quick smile. “You learn fast.”

He looked like he would respond, but before he could, the cows they’d sought came into view. Julia and Hugh reined their horses to a stop. Some of the herd lifted their heads to look at them, then went back to grazing. Several calves cavorted, looking almost as if they were playing a game of tag.

“I love this time of year,” Julia said softly.

Hugh must have heard her, for he looked her way, as if waiting for her to expand upon her comment.

In a whisper, she said, “New life. Fresh hope.” And then her thoughts hurtled back to a distant spring when she’d been young — and even a little hopeful.

“Julia, sit still and look at me.”

When her mama spoke in that tone of voice, Julia was quick to obey. To do otherwise, she’d learned, would earn her a swat on the bottom and time spent sitting on a small stool in the corner. Julia hated the second even more than the first.

“You’re not to leave this house while Mama’s at work. Do you understand?”

“I get scared alone,” Julia replied. “It’s dark and I hear things.”

Mama’s expression softened. “Oh, my darlin’ girl. I know. I know you get scared when it’s dark and I’m not here and this old place creaks and groans. But I have to work or we’d go hungry. We wouldn’t have this little house, such as it is, to live in if it wasn’t for my work at the saloon. One day we’ll leave Grand Coeur and go some place far from here. Like a couple of birds, we’ll just fly away. Someday you’ll live in a nice home and nobody’ll look down on you no more. I swear it. If it’s the last thing I ever do, I swear I’ll make sure you don’t have to live the rest of your life the way I’ve
had to live mine. I want you to stretch your wings, my darlin’ girl, and learn to soar.”

Julia wasn’t sure what her mama meant by all she said, but she nodded as if she understood.

“I love you,” Mama added, cupping Julia’s chin in her hand. “When you get scared in the night, you just pull those covers over your head and you hear me say those words. Okay?”

Again she nodded.

“Someday it’ll be better.” Mama turned and looked toward the window. “Someday it will.”

“New life. Fresh hope.”

Julia’s simple words, spoken poignantly, had made Hugh think of his youngest sister. He didn’t know why. Julia didn’t resemble Diana. Unlike Hugh or Felicia, his baby sister had taken after their mother — red hair, green eyes, pale complexion. He recalled her as adorable and impish. Even when she got caught in some mischief, she’d managed to escape punishment. Even their drunk of a father had favored Diana, the child who saw the world through rose-colored glasses. He wondered if she still saw it that way, eighteen years later.

“My goodness,” Julia said. “We both grew rather pensive.”

He cleared his throat of unwelcome emotion. “Yeah, I guess we did.” He looked up the hillside to his right — and for just a moment, thought he saw something among the trees. Maybe a horse and rider? He squinted. No, he didn’t see any movement. But the hair on the back of his neck seemed to stand on end, and the feeling unsettled him.

“Shall we go back, Mr. Brennan?”

“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll ride the fence line while I’m out this way.” He looked at her again. “I’ll be back by suppertime.”

She returned his gaze for a moment, then called for Bandit and turned her horse toward the house.

Hugh watched her go and wondered what made her want to remain on this ranch so far from civilization. Alone. Unprotected. Vulnerable. He wished …

He shook his head and looked once more toward the trees on the hillside. Nothing there. His eyes were playing tricks on him. So were the hairs on his neck.

He nudged the horse forward. They moved down a slope and rode through the cows and up to the fence that followed the hillside about twenty yards from the copse of trees. There they stopped, and Hugh’s eyes once again raked the area. Only when he was completely satisfied did he ride on.

NINE

Another Sunday arrived, but unlike the previous week, this one dawned with clear skies. As soon as her morning chores were done, Julia saddled Teddy and rode to her favorite spot on the river. There, in the shade of several tall pine trees, Bandit exploring nearby, she spread a blanket and opened her Bible.

A few times in the early years of her marriage, she’d railed at God or begged Him to rescue her. More than once she’d demanded to know why things were as they were. There had been periods when she was convinced God thought even less of her than Angus did. Not true, of course. The Lord loved her. Somehow He’d broken through her fear, pain, and anger and revealed Himself and His love. When she couldn’t think of anything else to thank Him for, she always thanked Him for that.

This morning, she lay on her back on the huge rock that jutted over a bend in the river and called out a portion of a favorite Psalm:

For there is not a word in my tongue
,

but lo, O L
ORD,
thou knowest it altogether
.

Thou hast beset me behind and before
,

and laid thine hand upon me
.

She smiled as she let her eyes close. How marvelous to understand that no matter what path she was on, God went before her
and He was also behind her. He enclosed her. His hand was upon her. What a difference it made, knowing it. If only she could be conscious of it at all times.

“I’m trying, Father.”

Keeping her eyes closed, she sought to be still, she sought to listen to Him. But it wasn’t God’s quiet voice that came to her. It was Hugh Brennan’s:
“Some folks live their whole lives without ever knowing what they want or where they belong.”

His comment left her oddly disturbed. But why should that be so? She
did
belong here. Sage-hen was her home. True, at one time it had seemed more of a prison, but now it was her sanctuary.

“One day we’ll leave Grand Coeur and go some place far from here. Like a couple of birds, we’ll just fly away … I want you to stretch your wings, my darlin’ girl, and learn to soar.”

Julia opened her eyes and saw the trees above her sway in a gust of wind. A dozen or so birds abandoned their resting places, flying high and fast, as if giving her an example of what her mother had wanted for her so long ago.

If Julia had wings, where would they take her? What would she want to see? A big city? Perhaps San Francisco or New York. Another country? France or Italy or maybe Greece. The ocean? Any ocean. But try as she might, she couldn’t imagine herself anywhere but here. Even her childhood in Idaho seemed to have happened to someone else, more dreams than memories.

“Would you still want me to fly away, Mama?” she wondered aloud.

Madeline Crane had always wanted something better, something different for her daughter. She’d done what she could to make sure Julia escaped the kind of life she’d had. But it had all turned out so very wrong, and Julia had blamed her mother for that.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I know God forgives me for the harsh words
I wrote to you. I regret them so much. I hope you know I love you. Someday I hope you’ll forgive me too. If only I knew where you were. If only …”

She rolled onto her stomach. Lifting her upper torso by her forearms, she stared at the flowing water beyond the end of the rock. The river was deep and swift here. And cold. So very, very cold. Several years ago, after miscarrying her last baby, she’d come to this rock and considered throwing herself into the river. In her grief, death had seemed the only answer to her misery. But an unseen hand had fallen upon her shoulder, stopping her. An inaudible voice had spoken comfort into her heart, and somehow she’d found the strength and courage to live on. To face Angus’s fury at her continued failure to give him a living child.

Tears sprang to her eyes and slid down her cheeks.

Her babies. She’d wanted her babies. Despite the unhappiness of her marriage and the loathing she’d often felt for her husband, she’d wanted a child. Three times she’d almost had her heart’s desire. First there had been a daughter, stillborn at eight months. Then there had been a son, also stillborn. And finally there was the baby she’d lost when only three months gone. She’d nearly died too. The bed had turned crimson with her blood.

Had she lost that baby because Angus hit her? Or had he hit her because she’d lost the baby? It was hard to remember which was cause and which was effect. All she remembered for certain was the doctor’s grim expression as he’d told her it was unlikely she would ever carry a child to term, that it would be best if she didn’t try.

Julia hid her face in her arms and wept for the babies she would never hold.

The barnyard was empty and too quiet without Julia and Bandit
around. It surprised Hugh that he found it so. He was a man who’d learned to be comfortable with his own company and with silence. Solitude suited him. Only it didn’t suit him today.

He’d seen Julia ride out earlier, a rolled blanket secured behind her saddle, Bandit running on ahead of horse and rider as usual. Hugh had wanted to call after her, to ask where she was going, but he’d stopped himself. It wasn’t his business. If she’d wanted him to know, she would have told him.

As morning became midday and Julia hadn’t returned, hunger drew Hugh into the house to find something to eat. With a sharp knife, he cut himself a couple of slices of bread and several more of cheese. As he nibbled on the latter, he allowed his gaze to roam over the living area until it rested on the chair near the window. He pictured her seated there, sunlight gilding her hair, as he’d seen her a few days before. A different kind of hunger stirred inside of him, a desire to be the kind of man a woman like Julia Grace could look up to.

He might as well wish for the moon.

With a slow shake of his head, he moved toward the open front door. He was stepping onto the porch when a man rode into the barnyard.